A oneshot idea I got from no where in particlular. After seeing many fanart pictures of Style, i decided to write a one-shot of them.
Dedication: In loving memory of my cell phone my mommy just washed by accident.
As long as I can remember, I've always liked Kyle. Well, we were Super Best Friends. I always had some sort of obsession with something related to him.
When I was younger, it was usually always an obsession of going over to his house. I didn't care that his mom never spoiled us with candy, like Cartman's mom did. I never seemed to mind her forcing us to nap, and it didn't matter to me that she only served us Jewish food.
To me, a visit to Kyle's house was the highlight of my week. It wasn't as great as the visit to Disney World, but it was pretty damn close.
Entering into the upper elementary, my obsession of Kyle grew a little more complex than just going to his house once a week. We became closer, and earned the title "Super Best Friends." Our relationship wasn't complicated, but more of him having to be my first choice for school teams, and school group work.
In middle school, we slightly drifted apart. Kyle was in all honor classes, and had a completely different schedule than I. It was then when I started to miss Kyle, even when he was around. I realized then we were something more than "Super Best Friends." Towards the end of middle school, I realized that I indeed, had a crush on my red-haired friend.
We grew closer in high school, after having just about every class together. We became way more than "Super Best Friends," and we earned the title as "Lovers." We went out a few years, then we broke up, right before going to college.
It was then when I was away, I knew I had to see him. It started out as every few weekends, and before I knew it, I moved in with him.
It was fine then, since I'd see him every night, and between class breaks. I saw Kyle just about twenty-four seven.
It was near the end of college when he had his first full-time job. He'd be gone from eight A.M. to seven-thirty at night. It was becoming harder and harder to let him go. I'd sit at home all day, waiting for him to come home. It was then when I knew I was more than obsessed with Kyle.
Kyle was only thirty-five then. We were living together for almost fifteen years. That is, we were. Kyle went to work one night, and never came home. I found out a week later, that he was killed in an accident.
Life was becoming harder. It was like trying to stop smoking, after doing it for thirty years. I couldn't stand the silence in my home. In our home. And I realized there was only one thing to do.
I went to the grave yard, and dug up Kyle's coffin, and opened the lid, and climbed inside. I wrapped my arm around his waist, and put my head on his chest, cuddling him. The lid on the coffin snapped shut, and was being pushed back into the hole.
And the final reasons for my death were simple.
I was addicted.
I was addicted to Kyle Broflovski.
Kyle Broflovski was my drug.
End.