"Yeah... thanks again, dude. Sorry for imposing or anything. I'll talk to you later."
Stan offered Kyle a somewhat pained smile as his friend exited his and Wendy's home, but Kyle ignored it with the ignorance he'd been dragging along with him for the last five years. Nestling his face into the concealment of his striped monochrome scarf, he let his eyes drift past stop lights and dead intersections as he walked down the street for the tedious trek toward the home that he and Eric Cartman had been living in for about two monthes. The scarf courteously took away from the healing bruise marking Kyle's left cheek bone from one of many 'arguments' they had on a frequent basis.
Occasionally he wondered how he had ended up living in a house with the one person that had plagued his existence since pre-school, but he dealt with it. The living was decent - they shared a rather well-off lifestyle. They broke up at least twice a month - but they still progressed forward blindly, and Kyle didn't care anymore.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, he dug about for his keys as he stepped up the front steps to his home, kind of hesitant to return so soon after such a fall out. He cupped his cheek again a moment with a sigh as he glanced around, as though expecting the neighbours to be peeping out their windows with their popcorn ready. Rolling his eyes at his own self-consciousness, though, he sighed and entered his home to escape the cold that was creeping up on Colorado now that the end of August had crept upon them.
Kyle could have died happy at the grace of silence, even though he knew it wouldn't last. Tiredly removing his token green ushanka that he'd still somehow managed to hold onto since he was a kid, he looked down at the hat for a long moment before brushing a hand tiredly through his scarlet curls and walked into the kitchen, tossing his scarf, jacket and hat onto a chair and then sinking into it.
He folded his arms over his head in exhaustion and started counting down from ten.