All South Park characters belong to Matt and Trey, I'm just borrowing them.
Warning: This does get pretty explicit down the line, but most of all it is about love, and not sex, though that will come later. Pairings: KyCart
Glass smashed somewhere in the house.
Kyle Broflovski shot up in bed, green eyes open, adrenaline shooting into his system like someone had stabbed him in the gut. For a second he froze, his skinny arms supporting his 110 pound frame, red curls dangling in front of his vision. His ears were listening for any other sounds…anything. Perhaps a shout, another smash. Something to assure him that what he had heard was real. His ears caught the slight sound of the stairwell groaning under the weight of someone's foot and his heart began to beat faster. He felt frozen to the bed, like a deer caught in headlights and waiting for the final impact of a truck. What the fuck was that?
Another groan from his complaining staircase.
Did someone break our window? Kyle swallowed and commanded his body to move. He shifted achingly slow from his bed, settling his feet on the floor and pushing back the covers. His heart thumped in his ears and nearly covered the sound of his breathing. Cold air hit his body and horripilations sprang from his skin, the cold invading even the boxers he wore to bed. He nervously brushed his springy red hair back from his forehead, only to have the curls teasingly bounce back. The footsteps had stopped, as if the intruder was in the same posture Kyle had been but a moment ago, and then receded down the stairs. Kyle ran to the door, heart in his throat, and ripped it open. His eyes darted around the dark staircase, then his parent's hallway to his left. No one was there, and from what he could see of the living room down the stairs, it was unoccupied.
He heard the door open and he ran for the stairs, then he felt a twinge in his ankle, his leg giving way, and his body meeting the stairs with the agonizing slow fall of someone realizing a horrible mistake. Pain shot through his body and he tumbled down the stairs, the pain in his ankle only intensifying to a white hot heat running through his calf and foot. He cried out, tears filling up his eyes as he hit the carpet at the base of his staircase. He forced himself to look up, blinking stinging salt water out of his green orbs and trying to make out a figure. A darkened man, an open door, and a blast of cold hit him. The figure paused for but a second, then the door slammed and Kyle was left alone in the blackness.
He had no idea how long it was before light pierced his eyelids and forced them open with blinding needles. "Bubbalah what happened?!" the frantic, nasal voice of his mother met his ears. "Oh my god…Gerald! We've been robbed!" she shrieked.
Kyle winced and buried his face in the carpet. His ankle felt at least six times its normal size. The pain was dull now, splintering up through his entire leg like small imps were driving needles into his skeleton. He looked down at it. It was swollen, near purple. He tried to move it and cried out in pain, his fingers clutching the carpet while his ears desperately tried to block out the sounds of his mother crying about their belongings.
"Kyle? Are you ok? Look at your ankle! Don't worry I called the police and asked them to bring an ambulance…" he felt his father kneel next to him on the carpet and gently touch his ankle. Kyle screamed in pain and Gerald flinched. "Don't worry Kyle, we're getting help." He reassured him with a hand on his side. "Just don't move."
Don't move? Why the hell hadn't I thought of that before? Kyle thought acidly, glaring with his eyes squeezed shut. Why did this have to happen to me of all people? Why doesn't Cartman get robbed…his house has all the expensive stuff because of his fucking mom. He lifted his head and looked around the room, but the rest of his body felt immobile. His Okama Gamesphere...their television…it was gone. He shifted slightly, his joints complaining after being forced to lie still on a carpet all night. Two of his windows were broken, one by the door and the other a ways down the wall. He'd never heard them come in the house…only when they were about to leave. From his mom's babbling, he could decipher that her good china had been stolen as well.
He sighed heavily, forcing his temper down. There was nothing he could have done. What had he been thinking? If that man had been armed he could be sitting here with a lot worse than a broken ankle. He caught his mom moving across his vision and Ike slowly coming down the stairs. "Dude what's up with your ankle?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
Of course my brother would care more about my ankle than my fucking mother. Kyle added to his bitter thoughts. She's more worried about her dishes. He let his ten year old brother help him limp to the couch and ice his ankle.
