A gasp.
A shot.
Time slowed for Kyle Broflovski.
He could feel his heart stutter in his chest, he could feel the life drain so slowly out of his body, it was almost torture. The iron smell of blood clogged his nose and invaded his mouth. Deep red spattered his plain walls and plain sheets. He grinned as his being was escaping out of this world, and breaching into another. He would be reunited with him soon.
Bliss enveloped him, and he didn't feel the tears leak down his cheeks as images flitted in front of his eyes, reminding him of so much better times. Times of strong arms wrapped around his waist. Times of feelings flowing out of the redhead. Times of blue eyes following him wherever he went, caring and love so plainly shown in them. Times of Kyle being with a boy he loved so dearly against what everyone said. nothing else mattered but him. That golden haired angel.
Then there were images of when he was taken away from Kyle.
White splotches drifted in swirls around the redhead as he walked down the sidewalk, excitement giving his steps bounce. His pale hands clutched a small sphere wrapped carefully in smooth wrapping paper, hidden in his orange jacket pockets that his fingers were buried in. The night was oddly calm as Kyle trekked through the usual March cold, and he kicked an ice chunk that happened to be in his path into the steadily growing pile of snow on the left of the concrete sidewalk. In South Park, snow in March was normality.
Sirens wailed and Kyle cocked his head in curiosity, now trying to see where they were and what happened. Yet as he got closer, a stone of dread clumped in the bottom of his stomach and made his pace go from happy to anxious. The ginger soon broke out into a sprint down the road. The streetlamps glowed ominously as he passed underneath.
Don't be what I think you are, please, God, please, don't do this to me, the Jew thought, his mind getting more and more frantic as he neared the ambulances and police cars. He was thinking the worst, and soon his fears would be realized.
Pushing through the crowd of people, Kyle's feet stopped abruptly before a mangled corpse. "K-Kenny?" he choked out, recognizing the dingy orange parka and orange sweatpants. His breathing became hyperventilating as he collapsed to his knees. He felt arms pulling at his body, but he just screamed at them to let him go and let him be with his lover. "KENNY! KENNY, GOD DAMN IT, YOU'RE NOT DEAD! Y-YOU CAN'T BE DEAD! YOU…you just can't...please be alive f-f-for m-m-m-m" Kyle just couldn't spit out the word. His brain was shutting down, and everything was starting to become numb. Then, his vision went black.
He woke up in his bed with his parents sitting by him.
Groaning, he looked around curiously. Then he remembered. And he was screaming again.
When his mother and father tried to calm him down, he yelled for them to get out, to get out and leave him alone.
"Kenny, I'll be with you soon."