"Uh huh. Yeah. Yeah, we're getting there."

The sun was barely visible anymore, most of its circle hidden behind a cloudy blanket that was hovering over the mountain tops. On the back seat, Kyle shifted, scanning the flashing surroundings with his tired eyes – the ride was horribly, horribly long, and he was too frustrated to try putting on a happy face. His back was complaining, and he wanted to stretch his legs more than anything, but there just wasn't enough space in the car, and so he had to keep them bent. The bottle of water he'd bought hours ago at a gas station was lying empty next to his thigh.

"About an hour. No, I know exactly where we're going. We're neighbors now, after all. Yeah. Yeah, okay, see you soon. Bye." Gerald dropped the phone back into his pocket and smiled at his wife when he caught her watching. "Don't worry. I've got this."

Nobody was one hundred percent certain what it was that he had gotten. The entire moving event had just fallen through the ceiling of their little merry abode one day, stood right up and proceeded to kick the unsuspecting family in the balls. Kyle, who'd barely stepped into adulthood with a luggage full of unrealized plans, was forced to abandon everything - his friends and little brother included.

During the last family gathering back in Miami, Ike had noticed the troubled expression his brother was wearing, and attempted to comfort him. He'd said that the mountain air was fresher, and the nights there were quieter… just like in Canada. Kyle had smiled at him, but he would be lying if he said he didn't envy his little brother. Ike was still bound to college and thus didn't have to go through this nightmare.

Miami seemed so distant, so unreachable now. Kyle had managed to get his lawyer degree before their family nearly went bankrupt, and now his best shot was to start his law practice in Colorado, alongside his father. He supposed it was better than dealing with the rapidly dropping variety of clients back at their state. Besides, he wouldn't say that everyone in here was a complete stranger.

"They're expecting us." Gerald caught his son's reflection in the mirror. "I bet you're excited to see Stan again. It's been what, two years?"

Kyle nodded absently, absorbed by the scenery outside. Stanley Marsh was his "sort of friend", that kind of a friend where you're considered such just because your parents developed a habit of calling each other on various occasions. They'd met only once, actually: two years ago, during a football game in Denver. Kyle didn't remember the meeting very well because he hadn't been paying much attention, and he suspected the same applied to Stan. However, now that Kyle was about to dive into a world full of awkward social loneliness, he hoped to get closer.

An hour later, South Park finally revealed itself to its residents to be, and it looked quite attractive with its long rows of little houses and well-kept gardens. Birds were chirping merrily from their nests on the large trees, and probably due to that harmony the spirits, albeit reluctantly, started to rise. Sheila's hands, however, remained stiff against her knees: concerns refused to let her be. South Park was a good choice, but the Broflovskis put their entire savings into this unpredictable future. They chained themselves to the town, and if something horrible decided to knock on their door, they'd have to shut their mouths and roll with it.

"There they are!"

Kyle leaned away from the window and glanced to where his father was pointing: up ahead stood a dark green building – the Marshes' house. In front of it, two men in two nearly identical brown jackets were waving their hands, and a dog was running circles around them, its ears sticking up and tail restless.

A tiny smile found its way to Sheila's face. "Come on, Kyle, let's say hi."

Gerald parked the car by the sidewalk and turned the ignition key, putting the engine to sleep. As soon as the doors were open, cold air rushed inside, and Kyle shivered at the intrusion. He'd been eager to get out of the vehicle for a while now, but when he saw Stan approaching, his confidence quivered. Kyle stood up and squeezed the door, searching for an appropriate greeting; meeting new people wasn't usually hard, but this was crucial because he didn't know anyone in here except for the Marshes, and he didn't want to mess things up.

Stan didn't seem to have such concerns. He greeted his new neighbors with a polite smile, nodded to Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski and then let his eyes slip to their son.

"Hey, dude." The smile widened as politeness bloomed into genuine friendliness. Kyle blinked at the change, slowly smiled back and raised his hand in a greeting. Stan shook it without hesitation.

"Hi."

Kyle briefly wondered why he'd never bothered calling this guy.

"Go get some food, boys!" Randy gestured towards the house. He had an arm wrapped around Gerald's shoulders, and the latter laughed as if it was a part of their daily routine. "You can talk inside. We'll join you in a few, just need to take care of the furniture first."

"Come. You must be starving." Stan nodded at the entrance, and Kyle grinned.

"Yeah."

He hadn't visited Stan's house before – despite all the promises his parents had made, it had never come to that. The living room was large and spacious; Kyle took a moment to look around when he entered. The walls had a nice purple color to them, and there wasn't much furniture scattered around – only the necessary stuff.

Stan led him further into the house, past the couch and the working TV, and it was then when Kyle's nose caught a mix of magnificent, mouth-watering smells. Stan snorted.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a few years ago," Kyle mumbled.

"Good. Mom's made so much food our table is literally breaking."


All things considered, Stan was a great friend. Of course, only a day had passed, but he paved the progress with giant steps, acting like he'd known Kyle for his entire life. He was direct and honest, and his sense of humor had familiar twists and borders. Plus, he suggested becoming Kyle' guide to South Park and its surroundings before the latter even asked - and he was good at the job. Kyle quickly discovered where to go should he find himself bored, learned where to get fresh coffee or where to meet his newfound friend during his working hours – Stan spent them at his uncle's gun shop and was next in line to becoming the owner.

South Park wasn't a very large town, and a couple of hours was plenty to discover the bigger part of it. People all around seemed to know each other's faces, and everyone was everyone else's friend – a trait no other place Kyle had ever visited possessed. Initially, it had occurred to him as weird, and he wasn't sure exactly how much work he and his father would be getting here. With time, however, he accepted this peculiarity and chose to deal with any upcoming difficulties upon their arrival.

Stan introduced him to a few interesting spots for his yet nonexistent weekends and days off: Stark's Pond was perfect for a quiet rest with a book or two, Jimbo's gun shop was located next to a bar (though Kyle wasn't counting on going there often), and then there was a mall. Stan described the latter as a good place for meeting new people or spending some quality time in a company – apparently, that was where he went with his friends and/or girlfriend. Kyle had yet to meet both.

There was just one nagging flaw in all of South Park, and it lived behind the railroad that happened to be separating Kyle's house from the poor area of the town. Kyle himself hadn't stumbled upon any poor people so far, but if he cared to look out of the window at night, he could see light pouring out of the tiny cracked windows that belonged to the old buildings. That, and he could swear he'd heard someone shouting before he went to bed last night.

He tried not to think about that too much.

The following Monday morning marked the beginning of Kyle's new working routine. He woke up five minutes earlier than his alarm and maneuvered his way into the bathroom, avoiding the obstacles made of unopened boxes – he simply hadn't had time to deal with them. As soon as his hair was tamed and his teeth were brushed, Kyle joined his parents down in the kitchen, and a breakfast later he rose up again and followed his father outside. He was eager.

…sadly, his first day in the office didn't turn out to be much of a challenge. Despite continuously asking for work, Kyle ended up doing mostly trivial tasks like moving stuff around and checking various documents while his father loaded all the major parts onto his plate. At times when Kyle found himself sitting idle and helpless about it, he wondered what it would've been like if he'd managed to stay in Miami and got himself a decent job instead of this. During one of those sad moments Stan sent him a message and made the day even duller.

[Sry, can't meet u 2day. Wendy needs me]

Kyle groaned; he'd been looking forward to the mall trip. Stan had texted him earlier today, saying that a bunch of over-confident people had opened a new coffee shop somewhere on the second floor, and he was incredibly skeptical towards "the best coffee in all of South Park". "Tweek makes the best coffee," he'd said. "You know I'm right, you've tried it yourself. They can't just walk in and take the title he and his family took years to establish."

Well, the degustation would have to wait. Kyle sighed as he typed the reply.

[Don't sweat it. We can meet tomorrow.]

Which left him with absolutely no plans after work, as if the already oppressive calm wasn't driving him crazy enough. Kyle pouted at his friend's contact number and then brushed it away, switching to the list of tasks he'd made for the day. All points were crossed out, duties fulfilled by him or his father, but maybe Kyle had forgotten to type something down…

The phone buzzed, and another message popped up.

[Thanks]

"No problem," he muttered, turning off the screen and tucking the phone back into his pocket. It was no use; his father had taken care of everything.

The rest of the day went painfully slow. Kyle's eagerness to work never learned to shut its mouth, and there was nothing he could do about it. Fortunately, the darker it became outside, the less persistently it gnawed at him until it finally receded into the background and let him have his peace. At about eight in the evening his father announced that the day was over and offered Kyle a ride to their house, but he didn't feel like going there yet and opted to take a walk around instead. The unopened boxes could wait another hour.

It was relatively cold when they got outside. Gerald climbed into the warmth of his car and started the engine, and as Kyle watched him drive off, one part of him regretted not bringing a hat while the other brushed it off, assuring him that his hair was enough. Kyle rarely cut it – didn't see any necessity – and it remained wild and fiery and stuck out in different directions if he forgot to comb it (and sometimes even if he didn't). That usually attracted lots of glances, but he'd already gotten used to that during his years in college.

The car disappeared around the corner, and Kyle began his way to nowhere in particular, hands in his pockets and eyes locked on the ground. Currently, Tweek Bros. attracted him most: Kyle remembered where the building was located, and coffee sounded like a great reward for the first day of work, be it fruitful or not. Didn't really matter, Kyle was fond of the rough drink. It reminded him of his former life, which he longed for.

There weren't many people wandering about on the streets, and the more Kyle walked, the fewer he met. He'd figured everyone was tired because unlike him, they'd actually done some serious work today. Someone's dog ran past him, and he saw plain disapproval on its face.

The phone came to life again. Kyle fished it out of his pocket and was glad to read Stan's name above the message.

[Cya after work tmr?]

Heavy thoughts backpedaled. Of course. There was always tomorrow.

Kyle smiled and was about to begin typing back when a noise distracted him. His head shot up, and he looked around only to see unfamiliar walls towering over him from both sides - he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. His eyes scanned the area for a possible source and found nothing but garbage cans and empty containers; whatever had made the noise, it was gone. Maybe a mouse. Or a cat.

He returned to the screen as his fingertips ran over the letters.

[Sure thing.]

Kyle hit the send button, nodded to himself and turned back to the area he knew. Less than a step later, he bumped into something huge.

"-oof!"

Something… or someone. Rubbing the back of his neck, Kyle glared up at the obstacle and met the eyes – he was positive about it being eyes – of an animal. A pig, to be precise. His breath hitched, and his hand fell back to his side, the realization of danger coming at him but not quite sinking in yet.

Two seconds weren't enough to send him running.

"What the- GAHH!"

He gasped as a firm hand gripped his hair and yanked him towards the sudden assaulter. Survival instinct kicked in, and Kyle tried to defend himself with everything he had - which was his arms and legs. Sadly, none of his studies back in Miami had included self-defense, and thus he wasn't much of a fighting type. Moreover, the person he was struggling against had an obvious advantage in both height and weight.

"LET GO!" Kyle shouted. His words went unnoticed.

Then he caught a glimpse of steel. Kyle's heart sank to his stomach, and he attempted to catch the attacker's hand before the weapon reached him - but he simply wasn't strong enough. With an excited yell, the pig person struck, and steel found its target… which turned out to be Kyle's hair. For a split second, an image of scissors flashed through fear, and then the attacker threw him towards the garbage cans. Kyle hit one with his back and slid down, pain surging through his nerves like a torrent.

Coughing erratic breaths out of his lungs, he rolled on his side and caught an eyeful of the pig person in the process: at the moment, they were busy examining the newly acquired piece of loot.

It was a man, no doubt about that. He was tall and thick and wore a mask – or maybe it was an actual head of a pig. Kyle wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be true because not only this detail was standing out, there was also… more hair. Red hair. Glued to the man's dark coat, to his gloves…. to his mask, too. If Kyle hadn't been scared shitless and hurting, he would've been looking for cameras.

He backed away carefully, trying to make as little noise as it was physically possible. Had to flee while the pig person's attention was consumed by the hair in his grasp. The man wasn't moving, not an inch, and the way he kept staring motionlessly sent goosebumps down Kyle's skin. He'd never thought of his hair as something majestic, but his attacker definitely had another opinion. Not that he was going to complain...

Kyle continued to crawl back and was almost reaching the corner when luck turned its back on him again. Suddenly, the pig person came back to his senses and spun around, spotting Kyle with a horrifying yell. He dashed forward, and Kyle sprang to his feet, voice rushing through his throat in a desperate scream. He didn't make it far: the attacker caught his elbow and instantly brought a hand up to deliver another strike.

"Jesus Christ-!"

It didn't come through. Kyle felt an impact but wasn't the one who received it. His attacker, on the other hand, staggered and then tumbled to the ground with a stiff grunt; meaty fingers slid down Kyle's elbow, and he shuddered in disgust.

"…you alright?" an unnaturally low voice reached his ears.

"Yeah..."

That was it; someone must have heard him crying out for help and came to the rescue. Broken relief washed over Kyle, and he turned around, taking deep breaths and ready to face his savior. When he saw who it was, however, the urge to search for the cameras returned full-force.

"What the…"

He didn't know what he'd been expecting to see after meeting the pig person, but… it definitely wasn't this. He wasn't expecting to be saved by some weirdo who'd messed up his clothing order. The man in front of him was wearing a dark purple cape and a mask, and those were the only normal parts of his costume. Never before had Kyle seen anyone wearing pants under their underwear.

The most important thing, however, was that despite being thinner and smaller than the pig person, this man managed to take him down. The attacker was lying flat on the ground, without moving, and that could only mean one thing: the underpants guy was actually pretty tough.

"You need to get out of here," he rasped, pulling a roll of duct tape out of the bag that was attached to his belt.

Kyle hesitated at first, but was about to follow the command when the guy noticed the lack of movement from his side and decided to steal a glance at him. Their eyes locked, and both froze on their spots. For some reason, Kyle felt shivers running down his spine again; the guy looked indescribably ridiculous in his superhero outfit, yet the air around him was charged with some kind of mystical energy that made it difficult to look away. Kyle felt his lips go dry, licked them on instinct. The caped man shuddered.

"Run," he grunted. "Now."

That was all he managed to say before the attacker stirred and started to rise again, his hands barely put together by the tape. Kyle didn't need to be told thrice and bolted out of the narrow alley, leaving his hero to deal with the pig person while he called the police. Even with his mysterious appearance and precise punches, the caped guy wouldn't be able to hold the attacker down for long. It was a matter of minutes before he got crushed.

A gunshot rang through the night air when he was dialing; Kyle nearly jumped out of his skin. He tripped over his own feet and barely managed to catch balance.

"Police department," a tired voice muttered into his ear.

"There's an emergency! Please, I need help!" he hissed at the phone, his voice shivering. Gunshots were never a good sign. "I'm… I'm at…" Kyle had no idea where he was. He slowed down and looked around, searching for anything that would help specifying his location. Tweek Bros. was nowhere in sight, and the street he was currently on only had houses and gardens at its disposal. A few people showed up at their windows, attracted by the shot.

"Where are you?" the dispatcher pushed.

"I- I…" Of course. House numbers. Kyle willed himself to calm down and named the closest buildings. It seemed to be enough.

"What is your name?"

"Kyle."

"Okay. A gunshot was reported in the area, can you tell me what's going on?"

"Yeah, I… I walked into an alley, and that guy attacked me. He's wearing a pig mask, I think, and he's armed with a knife, or scissors- or whatever… and a gun, apparently. Another guy helped me escape, and… I don't what's going on in there. They're fighting, or… were fighting... God damn it, can you just send someone here, please?"

"The police are already on their way, Kyle," the dispatcher answered. He sounded indifferent, as if Kyle was trying to sell him a religious brochure or some shit. "I need you to stay on the line in case anything happens. You said someone helped you escape. Are you safe?"

Kyle could still see the alley from where he was standing. "I don't know. I think I should…"

Get out of here.

"…get out of here." Squeezing the phone, he leaned onto a dead light pole for support. His knees felt weak.

"Hold on. There should be a police car nearby. Do you see it?" the dispatcher asked.

Kyle squinted his eyes, searching the darkness for a working vehicle.

"No, I... Wait." He was about to give a negative when a movement further down the road caught his eye. There it was, a lonely patrol car he'd been waiting for. It must have been somewhere close when he'd reached the dispatcher. "Yes, I can see it."

"Good. Now, I must ask you to remain where you are and listen to the officers. Everything is going to be alright, Kyle," the voice on the other end promised lazily.

"Yeah, I… thank you," he said.

He really hoped they weren't too late.


The night was impossibly long. By the time the interview ended, Kyle felt like an overused sponge that had served its last purpose ages ago and was finally thrown to its resting place among other pieces of garbage. He was exhausted, scared now that the adrenaline rush had faded, and couldn't recognize his own reflection. He'd barely moved in to South Park, and some sick freak had already taken a fancy to him.

Said freak, by the way, had vanished into thin air together with the guy that had saved Kyle from his dreadful fate. It was unclear who'd shot whom: no blood had been found in the area, no bullets, no nothing. The police returned to the department empty-handed (except for Kyle, their only witness. They unleashed all hell upon him in the interrogation room).

Kyle wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep tonight. There were only two things that kept his inner alarm from bursting: the underwear guy and, surprisingly, Stan. Both were unreachable. Well, Kyle supposed he could call Stan, but the clock showed well past midnight, and he was probably fast asleep next to his girlfriend. As much as Kyle wanted company, he couldn't bring himself to alert his friend when he knew he could handle the situation on his own.

…especially with his parents practically losing it at home. Kyle's mother was hugging the living soul out of him as soon as he crossed the doorstep, and Gerald just wouldn't leave his son's driver alone. It took an hour to get past them and into the silent darkness of his room, and even then Kyle didn't feel better. His entire body was trembling, and his brain produced hundreds of images per minute. Most of them stood out for their gruesomeness, and some featured his savior. Both he and the pig person had walked straight out of a horror comedy show; if someone else had been the victim and told Kyle about it, he would've had trouble believing.

Pictures and thoughts kept him awake through the bigger part of the night. Kyle couldn't help turning under the blanket; he felt the need to sleep but was unable to grasp it. Faintest noises claimed his attention, be it a lonely bark of a street dog or the constant ticking of clock coming from his bedside table. Unconsciousness opened its embrace only when the first rays of sun peaked over the mountains, and Kyle was more than willing to accept the invitation. Gerald had ordered him to stay at home and recover, so he'd have to do that.

At about seven in the morning, Sheila opened the door to her son's room as noiselessly as she could, checked if he was doing okay and then left without waking him up. Exactly two minutes later, a soft click disturbed the stillness, and the only window in the room slid open. Kyle shifted under the blanket and pulled it up to cover his bare shoulders, but that was all he did.

A lithe figure climbed in, moving quietly, stealthily into the warmth of his safe place. The dark purple cape was wrapped around the intruder's middle to allow better mobility, but that didn't prevent him from disturbing a baseball bat that was resting under the window. He barely got it with his foot.

Once the man was inside, he straightened and crept towards the bed – there lay Kyle, oblivious to the world outside his deep slumber. The caped man sighed, and for a long time he couldn't tear his eyes away from the fire of Kyle's hair, or his skin, cool from the air that he'd just let in. Kyle shivered, pulled the blanket even higher, and the man felt the shiver spreading until it reached him too, seeping through the layers of his clothes. He could hear Kyle's peaceful breath, and blood was pulsing in his temples like mad.

"What the actual fuck…?" he whispered, bringing up a reluctant hand. He took off his glove and then slowly, very slowly, as if the wrong move could kill, pressed a finger to Kyle's cheek.

He withdrew it immediately. Kyle didn't respond to the touch, must have missed it entirely, which had been expected. His visitor, however, winced and stumbled back with the grace of an elephant, almost hitting a wardrobe with his leg. Luckily for him, his hand reached the obstacle first and prevented him from producing more sounds. The man pressed himself to the wall, watching the sleeping form with wide eyes.

No way, he mouthed. This can't be happening.


"You. Should have called me."

Kyle cringed, rolling on his side. The bed creaked in protest. "Dude, it was past midnight! Besides, you were with Wendy. How could I take that away from you?"

"Simply!" his friend growled. "You should have taken your phone, found my contact number and called me! Hey, Stan, someone followed me into a dark alley and tried to bash my head open!"

"Stan-"

"Dude. Seriously. I hope there won't ever be a second time, but if something does happen to you, promise you'll give me a call."

Kyle sighed; he couldn't struggle against such an enormous amount of concern. He had no idea why Stan cared so much, they'd only known each other for a mere couple of days. But he supposed it was fair – back at the police department he'd wanted to see Stan too, even before his parents. "Alright. You'll be the first one to know. Or the second one."

"Huh?"

"There was that weirdo in a cape," Kyle explained, playing with a corner of the blanket. "He saved me."

The line fell silent for a few moments. When Stan responded, his voice sounded slightly lower than usual. "A weirdo in a cape?" he repeated. "You mean Mysterion?"

Kyle blinked. "You've got to be kidding me. Is he your local superhero or something?"

"Uh… you could say that. Hold on a second." Stan pressed his palm to the phone if the soft sound that followed his words was any indicator. Kyle could hear him talking to someone, but his voice was too muffled to understand. Half a minute later, Stan spoke to him again. "Kyle, are you feeling good enough for a walk?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Remember when I wanted to check that new coffee shop in the mall?"

Kyle snorted, sitting up. Sure thing he remembered. "Yeah. Wanna discuss this Mysterion guy over a cup of coffee?"

"Uh huh. Get dressed and meet me downstairs in ten."

"Got it."

Stan hung up, and Kyle tossed his phone aside with a small smile. He stretched, and it was unbelievable how much benefit could be taken from several hours of sleep. He still worried about the pig person and still wondered why his savior chose to wear underwear in a way that would make everyone see it, but busying himself with just that wasn't healthy. Stan was right, he needed a distraction, and now Kyle could use this excuse to not only think about those things on his own but also drown his friend in them.

"Good morning, Kyle, dear," his mother greeted him when he appeared in the living room nine minutes later. Sheila examined her son from head to toe and nodded in approval. "I see you're feeling better. And about to head out?"

"Stan suggested going to the mall," he said, grabbing his coat from the rack and putting it on. "I'm gonna eat there. Do you want anything?"

"I want you to have a good time."

Kyle smiled. "Thanks, mom. I will."

After buttoning every button there was, he went to the mirror and fought bravely to flatten his disobedient hair. Force of habit, he supposed; he was planning to wear a hat today. Of course, Kyle was nowhere near done when a knock interfered - still, he deserted and hurried to the door, and Stan was waiting on the other side just like he'd promised.

"Hey," He said, then raised his voice to greet Kyle's mother. "Good morning!"

"Good morning, Stan!" she greeted him back.

Kyle grabbed a green ushanka hat from the rack – he'd bought it during his first day at the town, thinking it would look nice on him. When he saw himself in the mirror back at home, his opinion changed, but he let the hat be.

He put it on, and Stan lifted an eyebrow. "Dude. Nice."

Kyle laughed. "Shut up. I've been attacked by a pig-faced man and saved by Mr. Super-Underpants. You are wearing a silly hat as well. I need to fit in."

"I'm gonna be a good dear and only and pretend I didn't hear you comparing me to those two."

Kyle shook his head, waived to his mother and then joined Stan outside. It was a little colder than yesterday, and wind attacked his face right away.

"It's still showing," Stan muttered, pointing at a red curl.

Kyle shrugged. "Better than nothing."

The walk to the mall wasn't very long, but it definitely was enlightening. Kyle kept his mouth shut about Mysterion, saving the subject for coffee, and Stan took the opportunity to continue his role as the guide and acquainted his friend with everything they came across. By the time they reached their destination point, Kyle felt like he'd been living in South Park since his birth.

"Here we are," Stan announced, facing away from the building and drawing a huge bow in the air with his hand. Like he was introducing Kyle to a whole new world or something. "Now let's burn that poor excuse for a coffee shop to the ground."

"Aye, sir!"

They directed their feet to the glass doors, and Kyle couldn't help scratching his hat: despite it being Tuesday morning, there were a lot of people around. That made him realize that Stan should have been working too, but here he was, babysitting his miserable friend instead. Probably took a day off.

"Is your uncle okay with you being here?" Kyle asked.

"It's no problem."

The mall was even busier on the inside: people roamed about the giant hall, countless bags hitting them both at every opportunity. A bunch of kids ran past them and towards the escalators in the center, shouting cheerfully and pushing the adults aside without noticing it. Obviously skipping classes. All this lively chaos actually reminded Kyle of the crowds and busy streets back in Miami. In fact, it reminded him of his former habitat so much that for a second he forgot where he was standing.

He flinched when Stan nudged him towards the elevators, but followed without reluctance. They mixed with the horde at the bottom of the stairway that was going up, and Kyle eyed the vast variety of colorful ads that were plastered all over the place save for the shop entrances.

only you

can make all this world seem right…

Stan walked onto the moving stairs first.

"You know, I might be considering visiting your shop." Kyle took the spot next to his friend and clutched the handrail. Stan nodded absently.

only you

can make the darkness bright…

"Honestly, I've been thinking about that too. But you'll have to learn how to use it." Stan wasn't against him carrying a weapon, that was good news. Kyle appreciated that.

Someone turned the music volume up.

Only you and you alone

can thrill me like you do

"Thanks, dude," he said. "Yesterday was insane. I'm struggling to keep it cool, and you're helping me a lot. South Park may have its uh… guardian angel, but I doubt he'll be watching over me all the time. I need to be able to stand for myself, and the only way I can- what the fuck?"

A horde of goosebumps rushed over Kyle's skin, following the soft touch that was sliding from his elbow to his wrist. The touch lingered there, and he barely managed to register it before the warmth disappeared. Kyle frowned and raised his eyes, and there, on the escalator that carried its passengers back to the ground floor, stood a man. He was grinning.

And fill my heart with love

for only you

Time slowed down, and colors exploded all around them. Kyle's heart skipped a beat, his brain blacked out, and he just couldn't look away from that one person that was being carried away from him. The stranger didn't look away either, and his smile never wavered; he brought a hand up, ran his fingers through his perfectly straight blonde hair, and that made Kyle's stomach flip.

Only you can make

all this change in me

The air filled with sparkles, and a flock of white doves burst in through the glass doors. The birds flew up, feathers floating everywhere and landing on the floor, on people, on the stranger. Kyle felt his legs shaking, his knees giving out, and he grabbed Stan for support.

"Kyle? Kyle, dude, are you alright?"

For it's true,

you are my destiny

The orange parka the stranger was wearing had to be the damn best parka in the whole world. Kyle had seen lots of parkas, he knew he was correct. He would be so happy to touch it and-

"Kyle?!"

When you hold-

The stranger stepped off of the stairway, and within a second the crowd devoured him. Immediately, music lost its volume, colors returned to their borders, and birds evaporated, leaving no traces behind. The mall was its normal self again. Kyle blinked a few times, lifted his head and stared at Stan who'd apparently dragged him away from the escalator and was still holding him, worry clear on his face.

"Are you alright?" he repeated, and it took a moment for Kyle to process what was going on. He straightened up and released Stan from his clutch, ignoring the question completely.

"What the fuck was that?"


Song: Only You by The Platters