Second oneshot book

Don't know 2/2~Kyndy (South Park)

I don't know, yet again, in honour of the ability to move on.
Warnings: Cursing and still... kinda mentions of death.
Ages: 22 both.
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Kyle's POV.

I don't know why I even do this. I've been the shoulder to cry on since I was maybe 10... even 9? Or could have been 11 already? Ever since, I haven't been crying, I haven't been laying in bed in despair. I haven't burned any pictures, nothing. But I mean... I'm allowed to hurt... aren't I? Well sometimes it feels like the answer is no. Why did I choose to be the help? I was there when he died, i, if anyone, should be allowed to express trauma... Wendy and I.
Yet I've gone 7 houses in one hour, people I didn't even know cared. I don't think they did before he died. And each one, as obsessed with getting sympathy as the last. It's been two years, even Wendy, who gave birth to his child for fucks sake, she had the right to cry... even she is finally getting over his death.

I knock on Wendy's door. She smiles and opens it.

"Bad night?" She asks.

"You can't even understand how bad," I say.

"What happened?" She asks.

"I've been comforting everyone around here, everyone sudden cares for him. They 'can't let go' after three years yet Stan, while alive, has said he doesn't know them. What is it with the sudden love for him in the fucked up town?" I ask.

She sighs.

"I don't understand that either. Who is as sick as to get attention with someone's death. Death!" She says, loudly.

I nod.

"I don't understand how someone can be so much like a damn sociopath without being one. It's as if they have no respect for the fact he's DEAD. He isn't here to defend himself and so everything is left on the people he knew while alive," I say.

She nods.

"Well, you wanna come in?" She asks.

I come into her home, getting an immediate hug from Wilma.

"Hey little one," I say, petting her head.

"My mom was waiting to see you!" Wilma says.

"Oh was that so?" I ask.

Wendy is blushing, looking off to somewhere far away.

"Yeah! She said you have been a huge help and that she wouldn't be able to thank you enough," Wilma says.

"Aw, Wendy, it's all fine," I say.

She's someone I don't mind helping. Her grief is real and that's enough for me to feel good helping her. Doesn't make me any less likely to help that she is one of the best people I've met. I like her, quite a lot, she has a smile on somewhat often now and she tries to help other people that have forgotten that they are alive.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" She asks.

Wilma nods quickly, as if she wishes for me to stay.

"I mean... I don't have anything else anymore. I can," I say.

Wilma hug me fairly tightly, keeping such a strong grip it doesn't feel like what a four years old would hold you like.

"I'll go wash my hands," I say.

She nods and I go wash my hands, taking a moment to look in the mirror.

Oh dear Lord if Stan was alive, I wouldn't have found out how wonderful Wendy is. Really, my impression was always through Stan. I hated her when we were young, was her best friend when he was dating with her. But we never really connected, a bit too scared of the idea since the friendship was on Stan. But then Stan died and I came to help her. I helped her constantly, trying my best. And now, by doing that, I know she is much more than Stan ever told me she was. She's incredibly kind yet very very strong. I don't know how I managed to fall in love with my deceased best friend's girlfriend. Oh god that sounds like the title for a shitty romance novel. Doesn't mean I'm happy Stan's dead, not at fucking all. I'm just think that there is one little positive to a huge negative.

"Is everything okay, Ky? You didn't wash yourself down, right?" Wendy asks.

"I'm fine," I say.

I get out of the bathroom, facing her.

"I'm not convinced that you didn't flush your glasses down the toilet or something," she says.

I laugh.

"That is quite okay. That's possible, I could have done that. I sadly didn't but I could have," I say.

"Not convinced," she says.

She laughs and walks past me back into the kitchen.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" I ask.

"I mean, not right now," Wendy says.

She puts something on the table.

"Unless you want to get Wilma," she says.

I laugh and go into the bedroom, meaning Wilma's room.

"Hey, Wilma, food's ready," I say.

She smiles.

"You love mom, don't you, Kyle?" She asks.

For an incredibly young kid, she is bright.

"I mean. I think I do," I say.

She giggles.

"Mom loves you too. She said I shouldn't tell you because 'It's slightly weird to move onto the pretty much brother of my old boyfriend'. But I think despaired times need despaired measures or what the fudge it was again," she says.

I nod and we go back to the table.

"Mom, mom, he loves you," Wilma says.

I was counting on her gossiping.

"What do you mean?" Wendy asks.

"He told me, just minutes ago," Wilma says.

More like some seconds but okay. It's okay if she can't tell the difference between a minute and a second.

"Really?" Wendy asks.

"Yeah, I did," i say.

She looks very surprised.

"I'm sorry if this is too soon or-," I say.

She laughs.

"No, it's quite fine," she says.

I kiss her, which, she does kiss back so it isn't assault.

"Can we just eat?" Wilma asks.

Both Wendy and I laugh. I don't know where this'll go but i'll live for now.