Fuck Change, Dude.[Stan MarshxKyle Broflovlinski](Style){South Park}

Chapter 3-Stan's POV

Kenny runs off, and I step onto the bus.

Ok, one single thought.

What the fuck?

Whatever, I can't deal with that now.

I still have work to do.

Kyle is in deep trouble, and I need to save him before it's too late.

A year ago, he and his family went missing.

Kyle, he doesnt do that. He doesn't just not tell me something. If he doesnt, I can tell.

But this was even worse then knowing if he was hiding something.

It was like his soul was screaming in pain, for help, and I couldn't do anything.

I haven't been sleeping.

Because I always dream the same thing.

It ususally starts pitch black, until you see the green uskanka burning off to the side, then you see Kyle running from no where, to no where. It's noticeable that his eyes are grey, not his normal color. He's crying, his arms, ankles, and somewhere around his theighs are bleeding. His hand was cluching on to a rope like it was his life line, and you hear a small sound like pills were stuffed in his pocket and hitting each other. Kyle's running, and then, he trips.

He moans in pain, and shakes as he stands back up.

Kyle takes something out of his pocket, and holds it to his head.

Stan, I couldn't live without you. I shouldn't have to, I won't, and I can't. I'm fighting back with my life.

There's a loud cracking sound, and he falls to the ground, limp.

And so far, I haven't seen him move after that.

I can't take this.

It's already sucked enough without him, but it's worse now that he's in a possibly deadly situation.

A few days ago, I decided that shouldn't be sitting on my ass twiddling my thumbs for news, I have to do it myself.

I made an appointment with a psychologist for this afternoon, to try to work it out with him about the dream, then I'm informing the police, who suck, but I have to try.

I already have a few posters printed, and I'm brainstorming for other stuff.

-tardis jump {i havent done this in awhile} to after explaining to the psychologist (who was stan's mom's old friend so she aint bullshit)-

"What did the green ush... hat mean to him?"

"He wore it every day. It kinda seemed like it was part of him. To me, it symbolized Kyle in general."

"That probably means if it's burning Kyle has changed. Alot. The darkness he endlessly ran in getting no where may have meant depression. Him tripping may have represented a something pushed him too far. I also noticed how he had a rope, a possiblility of pills and eventually there was a loud bang and he never moved after that. Those are all the normal ways of suicide. The bang was probably a gun."

I open my mouth to protest.

"I'm not done. What did he seem to say to you?"

"Wh... Stan, I couldn't live... er... without you. I shouldn't have to, I won't, and I can't... I'm fighting... back with my... life."

"What does that sound like?"

"Oh... god. I really have to find him."

"I may have to myself. This kind of thing needs to be checked, because Stan, dreams are almost never coincidences. Whats his last name?"

"Broflovlinski."

She doesn't say anything.

"What?"

"Well... uh, you may want to sit down."

"Ok?"

"You said Broflovlinski correct?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I had a woman come in the other day with that last name. Sheila, I think."

"Thats his mom! What did she say?"

"Stan, that's confidential. I can't go into specifics, but, I think she was talking about Kyle. No sense in telling anyone, then."

"Telling anyone what?"

"I cant say."

"Oh."

"I believe our time is up."

"Well, thanks."

I walk out.

"Two more things."

I turn around.

"Yeah?"

"Just in case, here's a perscription for felling like you do now, and if you think you need it, use it. And think about it. Sheila came HERE. Next to SOUTH PARK. I think someone may be coming back."

"OH MY GOD."

She smirks. "Do me a favor and give Sharon a hello for me."

"OK."

"Bye then."

"BYE."

Once I turn around I can't help myself.

I squeal like a girl.

I usually wouldn't admit that, but this is a different occasion.

KYLE IS COMING BACK!

FUCK YEA!

As I walk away, I push the mixture of giddiness and absloute dread down my throat.

He was alive.

He was fine.

Right?