A text from Kyle woke Kenny up at ten that Sunday morning. It was a text begging for rescue, pleading for Kenny to come pick him up. Apparently his mom was going wild at his synagogues' bagel brunchen fundraiser thing, dragging him about, forcing anyone who'd listen (and everyone who wouldn't) to relive the exact moment she heard her darling little Kyle had got his acceptance notification.

Kenny had agreed to stage a rescue in a heartbeat, ecstatic that skipping church was finally paying off. He was out the door and running down the street before he'd even finished getting dressed.

It took him a little while to reach the synagogue, it would have taken him longer, but the prospect of rescuing Kyle, seeing Kyle, talking to Kyle, being near Kyle (made sweeter with the absence of Stan) brought out a run in him. Kenny was quite the runner when he wanted to be.

The first thing Kenny noticed when he reached the synagogue was the ecstatic face Kyle made as he excused himself from his mother, bid farewell to his Rabbi, beelined across the gala, and speedily exited with Kenny.

The second thing Kenny had noticed (before Kyle had pulled him away like Cartman had set the synagogue was on fire again) was that everyone around him had been dressed in smart clothes. He didn't know why people felt the need to wear stuffy, smart suits to worship. If he was God, he'd rather people dressed in what made them feel happy, or what made them look pretty. Floaty skirts or baseball shoes or that one pair of jeans you adore. He'd rather kids worshiped him in comfortable clothes they loved. At least then they wouldn't spend the rest of their lives equating him with awful, itchy suits.

That had been one of the many reasons Kenny had stopped going to church, he had hated his formal wear with a passion. He had been forced to wear the same awfully tacky, polyester, baby-blue suit right though his childhood, forced to wear it even when it got too small, forced to wear it when it tore, forced to wear it until he was fourteen and it quite literally fell apart at the seams. However instead of being given a new, decent suit at this vital junction in his life, Kenny had been given his dads old, too big, bright white plastic wedding tuxedo. The second he put that Vegas monstrosity on he had actually missed his fraying, ugly, baby-blue two-piece.

Kyle had never had that problem. His mother had plied him with stunning new suits at every junction in his life. From the hardwearing smart black thing wore as a kid, to the soft velveteen, dark green thing he'd breezed though his Bah Mitzvah in, to the deep, deep purple two-piece he'd graduated middle school in, to the fully black, serous outfit he'd attended Pip's funeral in, to the stuffy brown worn tweed affair he sported on generic special occasions.

This suit Kenny hadn't seen before. This soft grey, three-piece affair, heavy fabric, herringbone waistcoat, jacket slung so casually over his shoulder, shirt sleeves pushed up his shapely arms. The way the fabric clung to his curves, following the soft line of his sides, kissing against his skin. Kyle had been born to wear suits, Kenny decided, Kyle had been born to wear suits, and this one was the best yet.

Hazily Kenny wondered what Kyle did with all the suits he didn't wear anymore, what he had done with the deep purple ensemble or the forest green velveteen thing, suits that he grew out of years ago. Did he horde them in his closet? Had he donated them to the Salvation Army? Was some lucky kid running about in clothes that Kyle had once worn? Had Ike inherited them? Probably not, Ike wasn't cast right to wear Kyle's old clothes.

Kenny was sure that Kyle would have offered them to him if they'd stood a chance of fitting. But Kyle had always been short, Kenny always tall. Kyle had always had that tendency to embonpoint, Kenny had always gone to bed hungry. They just weren't designed to share clothes.

Chances were he gave them to Stan so he had something to hump when Kyle was busy. Even the thought of Stan sleeping cuddled up to Kyle's old clothes, clothes that had hugged Kyle's frame, clothes that held Kyle's scent, even this was enough to make Kenny feel ill. He didn't want Stan cuddling anything to do with Kyle, not Kyle, not Kyle's pillows, not Kyle's gym shorts.

Kenny bit his lip and made a mental note to steal one of Kyle's t-shirts next time he was at his house.

"Is that a new suit?"

"What, this?" Kyle gestured at the fabric hugging his skin, caressing his form. Kenny just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "No no. My mom got me it for my collage interviews. She made me wear it on today, said it was too expensive to sit in my closet."

"It looks good on you. Very flattering." Kenny understated dramatically.

Kyle pulled his uncomfortable face, the face he makes when people compliment him. "Thanks. It's too hot though. I'm sweating like I bitch."

Kenny's cock twitched in appreciation.

"Did you drive the truck?"

"Nah, sorry dude. My dad took it to church. Hope you don't mind walking."

Kyle made a dismissive, darling throaty sound. "Of course not. I'm just glad to be out of there." He punctuated this comment with a particularly expressive face. Kenny couldn't help but grin at him, he was so cute. "Besides, I could probably use the exercise."

Kenny bit back a reply of 'Of course you couldn't, don't be silly, you're absolutely stunningly perfect, now let's fuck in that bush', and chose to clear his throat instead.

For a while they walked in a silence, trudging through the summer dusting of snow. Kyle seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the ground, thinking about something. Kenny was just basking in Kyle's presence, so happy to be near him, so happy he had him alone!

Then his expression darkened, because he realised that in a few hours time Kyle would be back with Stan, and he would be on his own. Because that's just the way it was. Ergo facto, or whatever.

"Is everything okay with you, Ken?"

Startled, Kenny glanced across at Kyle, surprised to see a frown creasing his face. "Yeah dude, of course. Why?"

"I dunno, you just seem a little unhappy with things lately."

"Dude, I'm fine!" He tried to hide the hollowness of the words with a wide grin, but he knew how brittle the gesture was.

"I'm sorry you have to be around all this" he hesitated "collage stuff I guess. I know it's like, the only thing anyone's talking about now.

"Ah, I don't mind, it's nice to know what's going on." He answered quite honestly. Kyle just frowned some more, and Kenny relented, he hated seeing him worried. "There's some stuff going on in my life. It's a bit hard right now." He answered vaguely, well aware that the ice this conversation was skating around was thin.

"Really dude, do… do you want to talk about it?"

Kenny shuddered. He hated those words. "No thanks, I'm okay. But don't worry, I know where you'll be when I need you."

Kyle smiled weakly, still not happy, so Kenny tried changing the subject. "You must be exited to be going to MIT." He grinned at him, warmly, honestly, and Kyle grinned back.

"Of course dude. It's frikkin' MIT! It's amazing."

Kenny felt his heart start to race. "It's a fuck of a way away though. Aren't you going to miss South Park?" That hid the real question Kenny wanted to ask, that hid 'Aren't you going to miss me'?

Kyle pulled another face. "It's a two sided sword, I guess. I mean, it'll suck being so far away from my mom and dad and Ike, and all the guys who are staying here, and you, of course" even though it was clearly a tacked on reassurance, Kenny still felt his heart swell "but equally, it's South Park. I'll be glad to leave all the shit that happens here behind. We need to get out."

"You must be sad that you've got to leave Stan though? How are you guys dealing with that?" It was a sly question. Once they were separated, Kenny knew things could happen once they were separated.

Kyle just looked at him like he was crazy. "Stan's coming with me. If he gets into Boston he'll only be across the river from me. Like, half an hour away or something. We'll still see each other every day."

Kenny nearly fell over. He hadn't paid attention when Stan had mentioned what university he was going to. They'd sensitively not discussed collage when he was around, they'd not wanted to rub his unfortunate financial, and to a lesser extent, academic inability in his face. He really wished they had now. He really, really wished they had.

"R-right, yeah. And when do you find out whether he got in or not?"

Kyle bit his lip, nerves darkening his ivory complexion. "Three weeks or so."

"Well, I'll certainly be wishing him luck." Kenny lied.