Summary: Kyle Broflovski hasn't stepped foot in South Park for seven years---and he doesn't plan on ever going back. But when a chance encounter with old friends force him to return, he's got a lot to deal with. Mostly explaining why he left his hometown for good . . . and why he broke one of his best friends' heart. Of course he doesn't plan on saying anything, that is until he realizes just how hard it is to be a martyr when the one you're protecting happens to be the only one who can get under your skin; and make you spill the truth.

Pairings: Kenny x Kyle, Pip x Damien, Cartman x Wendy, Stan x Heidi (I had to give him someone), Kenny x Gary (he's the mormon kid and that we'll be explained later), possible Christophe x Gregory (but I'll only hint at that), Clyde x Bebe, Craig x Tweek, Token x Lola (more on that later), and slight Red Goth x Curly Goth.

Rated: Teen for now, but I will probably have to change that as the story progresses into some darker moments.

Author's Note: Okay, this story has been fighting to be told for a very long time. I can't even begin to go into detail about how many times I'd listen to a song on the radio and think, "Wow, that would be perfect for Not Falling Apart." and then I'd be like, "Wait, when the hell did I give that idea a name?" (Yes, the title came from a Maroon 5 song; but that's another story) Soon enough I'd decided to type it. But it wasn't until I received a reply from SekritOMG regarding what I like to call her 'awesomeness' that I finally came to the decision that this was one story I wanted to publish. This story was actually born out of a really fucked up dream I had, but it evolved into something entirely different. Before I knew it I was researching Jewish philosophy and searching J.M. Barrie quotes (I have been on a Peter Pan fetish ever since I finally watched Finding Neverland) like mad. The result is this story. Now the only person I'm writing this for is myself, but if other people enjoy it then I guess that's just a bonus. Oh, and be warned: this prologue is sort of dry, but I needed to set a foundation for the rest of the story to be written upon, and to be honest, I myself have always wondered about Gregory and Christophe's past. So sit back, relax, and enjoy. Plus read the quote. The whole story revolves around it, and the idea of what we would and wouldn't do for love . . .

"Love is not blind; it is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard."

--------------James Matthew Barrie

Prologue: An Unexpected Guest

Seven Years Ago

Christophe DeLorne and Gregory Thorne had shared a lot of things in their lifetime.

Both of their mothers had grown up together as childhood best friends, and it was in this mindset that they expected their children to follow suit. Needless to say neither of the boys disappointed them, becoming closer each year they spent together, albeit arguing about almost everything and anything. Their personalities clashed all the time as well. Gregory acted superior to everyone around him (especially Christophe), despite the fact that he was three months younger than all the boys in his age group. Christophe on the other hand tended to frighten the shit out of people and was left alone to brood with only Gregory by his side. Not many people could stand such a temperamental boy, and even Gregory sometimes left his friend alone if he became to moody.

When first grade came around the two 'gentlemen' were sent to the prestigious school of Yardale, located on the western-most outskirts of London. While the tuition might have been considered by many as to steep a price to pay, neither the Thrones nor the DeLornes even gave it a second glance. Gregory's parents were very well off, his mother worked for the Scotland Yard while his father was the most well-liked politician in the United Kingdom. Christophe's family on the other hand had acquired their money by more dubious means. Madame DeLorne spent her days as a con-woman, and his father skulked around as a hired mercenary. So while Gregory held the uppermost respect for the law, Christophe was constantly bending it. Yet while such a major difference in not only social class but morality as well would normally have ruined such a fine relationship, the two's friendship was only strengthened. Together they formed a partnership: Gregory found out about a case and did all the background work before handing it off to Christophe who did most of the action. Of course every now and then Gregory got his hands dirty, but what could he say? Christophe did have a tendency to rub off on people.

Everything seemed to be going perfectly, until third grade came around and all was shot to hell.

Unexpectedly Mr. Thorne resigned from office and both he and Mr. DeLorne ran away, deciding to pursue a relationship with each other instead of their wives. Each wife coped in their own respective way: Mrs. Thorne drank, while Mrs. DeLorne became religious---though Christophe would rather have had his mother do the former.

With the two mothers bitter and resentful, they decided to move to the red-neck hick town of South Park, Colorado to bitch to each other about their failed love lives. And it was in South Park, Colorado, that the duo met Kyle Broflovski.

Who just so now happened to be standing wild-eyed inside their apartment ten years later, at six am.

The Brit and the Frenchman looked at each other curiously, before beckoning Kyle to sit down. He did so shakily, tightly clutching a suitcase with his right hand. Being that he was small and oftentimes mistaken for a girl---though he quickly corrected anyone who thought so rather violently---Kyle seemed even more diminutive than the last time they had spoken to him. The melodious ring to his voice was sickeningly hollow, his eyes held the most unsightly bags under them, and the teen appeared to have aged considerable. Refusing the offer of Earl Grey Tea (Gregory) or Scotch (Christophe), Kyle began to nervously look around the small apartment, muttering incoherently.

It was a tiny place, but the rent was cheap enough. The décor was horrible obviously; one half of the apartment was neat and prim while the other half looked as if it had been bombed, but it was a comforting place nonetheless. Both Gregory and Christophe were going off to college together that year, and they had decided to rent a place not far from the campus. Already they had corners of certain rooms stacked with Political Science and Co-vert Ops books, schedules taped up on the fridge, and even secret routes to the nearest library mapped out. So yes, the place was rather nice . . . but not many people knew where, well, where it was.

Needless to say the two men did not have many friends. Kyle was the closest thing they even had to a companion---and that was only because they had met him through many business arrangements since his younger brother was a mercenary after all. (The Jewish red-head of course had never took part in the actual 'mercenary' shit, but he had kept an eye out for his brother) Gregory couldn't even remember giving him their address, so as he sat down next to Christophe, he began to ponder why exactly Kyle was even there.

"Wat ze 'ell are you doing 'ere, Broflovski?" Christophe asked bluntly without any tact whatsoever.

Kyle sighed, and looked up to meet his friends' eyes. "I need a place to stay. Not permanently, just until the transfer to your college is complete and I can get my own dorm."

Gregory furrowed his brow, uncomprehending. "But I thought you were going to Colorado State with---"

"Don't! Just . . . please . . . don't say his name." he spoke softly, his eyes almost welling up with tears.

Christophe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was all Gregory's area of expertise; he himself was not good at the whole 'there, there' crap. Plus, he didn't like tears. He never really knew what to do when someone he cared for burst out sobbing, and things would become awkward really fast.

"Well I suppose you could stay here for a little bit, but perhaps you should tell us the full story. Lord knows we deserve that much." the blond reasoned idly, leaning back more comfortably in his winged leather chair.

"Faggoty bitch." Christophe muttered at the afore-mentioning of God, taking out a lighter and cigarette. Hell, he needed a cigarette.

" . . . The beginning. Yeah, I guess that's a good place to start." Kyle frowned, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. Finally a wane smile crossed his face, and he took a deep breath as he began to tell his tale.

"In the middle of last night, I packed my bags and hopped on the first flight that would lead me to your place. I've---I've left South Park." He then looked up, a wavering sadness edged with steel in his eyes. "And I'm never going back."