He just goddamn knew it.

Knew as soon as he got home he was going to be dealing with his mother, but he hadn't expected their altercation to take a staggering forty minutes worth of lecture. He could hear her on the phone from upstairs, lamenting her woes to her sister about the horror she'd just put him through. This was going to follow him throughout the rest of his lifetime. It was going to be the last thing his mother mentioned on her deathbed.

She would be staring at the ceiling, face pale and eyes glimmering with a fading misery, throwing her arms open and crying why oh why did Kyle have to get a B- in Comparative Politics? How could he have possibly so grievously mixed up South America and India's separate influences when she had given him every advantage? Then she'd pass, cursing him being a failure before goin' on to talk off God's ear about where she could have gone wrong in his upbringing.

He grunted, arms burning with the weight of his suitcases as he lugged them up the way. He passed by Ike's room, getting nothing more than an acknowledging nod before turning back to his laptop. Kyle rolled his eyes, knowing his dad was locked off in his study, having ran like a coward once his mother's lectures began. What a welcome wagon he had. Same as always, indifference and disappointment, soon to be followed by a seemingly endless contradictory coddling and sobbing that he eventually had to go back to school. He really should be used to it after three years, but he damn well wasn't gonna enjoy it.

Kyle hissed as he finally got to his room, dragging his bags behind him and cursing under his breath, eyes scanning about the immaculate state of his space and letting out a huff. No doubt his mother kept up her damn cleaning sprees, always claiming to do so for the sake of his allergies, but he knew well enough the innards of his damn nightstand drawers weren't accumulating any significant amount of skin cell debris. Whatever, he surmised, plopping down on his bed face-first and groaning into his pillow. Another year and he wouldn't have to come home more than he wanted to. Why his dorm wouldn't just let him stay there during the damn holidays was beyond him. As much as he was accumulating in loans and paying for his room, he should've been allowed to make fucking full-fledged renovations.

A sudden loud crash and a chorused scream of "HEY DICKHEAD" jerked him into panicked motion with a startled yell, immediately grabbing his pillow from under him and whipping it back behind him in direction of the sound.

He flipped over on his bed, chest rising and falling rapidly with green eyes blown wide before they blinked at Stan and Kenny standing outside his opened closet, Kenny holding his nose with a whine and Stan barely managing to stifle a laugh.

"What the fuck, you two!" he snapped, fear falling in lieu of annoyance.

"Hey, least we ain't throwin' weapons at people," Kenny drawled, hand dropping and a pout on his lip. "Try t' s'prise ya and ya act like the damn army busted through."

He rolled his eyes, moving to stand on the floor. "It was a pillow, McCormick. Be thankful it wasn't one of my textbooks."

Stan snorted, elbowing Kenny. "Most reading material he would've had all year."

"Rude. Ya gotta read the Ramen instructions, Stanny," he smirked, moving and dragging Stan over to Kyle and throwing his arms out, wrapping them both in while letting out an excited, long hum. "My dudes are hooooome," he sang, nuzzling into Kyle's hair. "It's the most wonderful time of the year."

Kyle's scowl finally broke for a smile, unable to comprehend how he'd forgotten the best part of coming back to Colorado. With Stan in Boulder, Kyle in Washington, Cartman off in Texas, and poor Kenny still stuck suffering in South Park, getting to see one another all at once was a treat, and Kenny would always be counting down the days until the gang was all back and spend every moment he could with them. It was the only thing that reminded Kyle why coming home was so damn important to do. He chuckled, returning the embrace with Stan and squeezing their waists. "I actually missed you fucks before you decided to camp out in my closet like a couple a' stalkers, ya know," he teased.

Stan grinned, offering him a shrug, "If it makes you feel any better, we suffered waiting for you to get away from your mom."

"Ugghhhh," he groaned, dropping out of their embrace and putting his face in his hands with the reminder. "One B- and she swears that I'm off snorting cocaine and spending all my time grinding at clubs, Dude."

Kenny smiled sympathetically, patting a tuft of curls atop his head. "To be fair, ain't it the first?"

"Yes, I just fucked up one paper and it tanked me," he whined. "Just… God forbid there's a minute chance I'm not gonna be summa or some shit, so obviously I'm dropping out and gonna be a prostitute."

Stan nodded, "I mean if that works for ya, go for it. Figure your boyfriend wouldn't find that to be a great move."

Kyle's face fell and theirs followed suit. Kenny moved his hand to his shoulder and winced, "What happened? What'd he do?"

"We broke up like, a month ago," he muttered, crossing his arms and scoffing.

He pouted, "Why didn't you tell me you tell me everything about datin' that's our damn pact. We pinky swore!"

Kyle glanced up at him and shrugged, "I wasn't too keen on telling anyone. He cheated on me."

Stan gave him the mandatory arm-touch of solidarity, nodding solemnly. "I'm sorry, Dude. That's rough."

He barked out a laugh, "No. Rough would be someone telling me about it or finding it on his phone. What I dealt with was walking in on him in his room fucking someone else."

"Dude."

"No, no, it gets better," he scoffed, hand flying up for emphasis. "Take a wild guess how many gay and out redheads are at my school. Go on, guess."

Kenny looked up in thought, "Uh, I'm gonna go ahead and assume two."

"Ding ding ding," he drawled. "Hooked up with the other guy because 'well he kinda looks like you, but he isn't as annoying'," he quoted. "Mind you he tells me this while he's balls-deep in this other guy."

Stan scowled, "What the actual fuck? I'm gonna kill him."

"Yeah, only we can call you annoying," Ken nodded. "'Sides, weren't you like, letting him slide with some really shitty stuff?"

"You mean the rampant alcoholism and the tendency to use dating me as both a bragging right or a point of charitable shame depending on the audience?" he gave an eye-twitching smile. "Yeah. Sure was. But hey, I was pretty awful myself during finals week. He was so damn sure that the best way to stop me from venting about how frustrated I was was to stick his dick in my mouth, but god forbid I wasn't in the mood so I was just… a step away from being Satan incarnate at that point; he had to save himself."

"Jesus," Stan said in disgust, "Dude, I'm sorry."

He waved him off, "Don't be. Like, I'm still pissy about the situation but, I honestly could not care less that he's gone…" He paused. "Though, if either of you tells that story to Fatass, you will actually be sorry," he warned, looking at them both for concurrent nods. "When's he getting back anyway?"

Kenny dug through his pocket, yanking out his phone and clicking his tongue. "Uh, 'bout four or five hours, he said he'll see us tomorrow."

Kyle relaxed into a smile, "Good. A whole night without him to recuperate. What are we doing where are we going please get me away from my mother," he clasped his hands in front of him, looking at them for ideas.

Stan and Kenny glanced at each other, giving a grin of consensus before looking back at their shorter companion. Kenny beamed, "All right, we're gonna do this high school style. Welcome to your break-up recovery weekend, Broflovski," he threw his arm around his shoulder, gesturing in front of them dramatically before holding up a hand to stop his impending response. "Yes, yes, you've had a month, but you didn't recover the proper way. Tonight, we shall convene at Lord Marsh's abode for pizza, chips, beer, and horror movies where the majority of dying people are those of your loser significant other's gender. We will spend our time telling each character that they got axed due to… what was his name?"

"Darryl."

"God, what a fag name. But yes, due to Darryl's flaws. And tomorrow, we shall venture to David's, where you will be thrust into a throng of our peers. You will be drunk. You will be stupid. I will send you home with someone who will take care of ya real nice. Then you will wake up with regret and feel rather sticky, but you will know that no matter how little you remember, it was far better than Darryl's baby penis."

Kyle couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Okay, how about no hook-up, but I still get drunk enough you have to drag me home?"

He winked, clicking his tongue, "You don't want me dragging you home, Babe. Who knows what I would do with you, you get so pawsy when you drink. Stanny, however, can be our designated Kyle lookout."

"Why me?" Stan whined.

"Because I think with my dick and Cartman would drag him off into the woods and tie him to a tree."

"…Okay. Fair," he conceded. "Next party, Kyle's the lookout."

"Agreed," Kyle nodded, leaning into Kenny's arm. "Why can't people in Washington solve problems like us? They only wanna drink craft beer and they just wanna talk about their feelings over coffee or some shit," he rolled his eyes.

Kenny grinned, shaking him. "Because ain't no party like a South Park party 'cause a South Park party is nothin' but rednecks and nothin' else to do."

Stan scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Isn't just our parties."

"Well not all of us can live in a hoppin' college town," Kyle drawled, gently kicking at his leg. "I'm still in a mountain town, just with hipsters who yell if you don't make compost."

Kenny snorted, awkwardly angling his hand to pat against his chest. "Better than here, though?"

"Well there doesn't have you, Ken so how can it possibly be better?" he smiled, elbowing his ribs.

"Damn straight. Why don't you love me that much, Stanny boy?" he threw on a quick pout.

Stan shook his head, huffing out a small laugh, "Sorry, I think Kyle covers the corny gay well enough for both of us."

Kyle kicked him again with a smirk, "Homophobe. C'mon, let's go to the store and the hell outta dodge…" he paused. "Ma knows you two are here, right?"

They let out a simultaneous "uhhhh", looking towards Kyle's unlocked window.

He rolled his eyes. "All right. Meet you two at my car."

"Wait, she wouldn't be that mad-" Stan stopped with a wry expression falling on Kyle's face. All right. Sheila would be that mad. An experience in tenth grade had made that quite clear, Kyle taking nearly a month to veer her away from her idea of sticking bars on all the windows after she'd caught the three of them and Cartman at ten o'clock playing video games. Because "if your friends can get in so easily, so can a predator, Bubbie".

"I can only assume you bribed Ike to unlock it in the first place?" Kyle asked, arms crossed. An impish shrug on Kenny's behalf told him enough, letting out a tiny snort. "Well, good luck. I know getting down that tree's a shit-ton harder than goin' up."

"You would be the expert on goin' down, Broflovski," Kenny called after him as he turned and walked towards his door, given no more than a laugh and a middle finger as he exited the room, shutting the barrier behind him.

Kyle paused, hearing Stan cussing up a storm trying to lift his window back up and laughing to himself. He made way across the hall, poking his head in Ike's room and shaking his head at him not breaking contact from his game. "How much they give you?"

"Twenty bucks and a college girl's number," Ike answered, not missing a beat. "Ken tried to give me more, but Stan stopped him. Your buttbuddy is a fuckin' cockblocker, ya know that?"

Kyle shook his head, "Ike, you don't wanna be with girls on Kenny's list. There's a reason they're on his list."

"Yeah. They're easy," he drawled.

"Hm, you're gonna make some girl so happy one day," he scoffed. "Gonna tell this story at your damn wedding."

"Who says you're invited?" Ike said, finally pausing his game and whirling around, arm catching the back of his chair to stare at his brother. "So, feel weird not prancing around throwing flowers and singin' Kumbaya?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, "What the hell do you think I'm in school for?"

"A masters in takin' it up the ass."

"That's my minor, thank you," he said, leaning against his doorframe. "So. How are things here?"

Ike sighed, turning his chair and flopping back against it dramatically. "Same ol'. Mom's crazy, Dad's crazy, I just want them to leave me alone. All I ever hear about is you and you're fuckin' fifteen hundred miles away."

He shrugged, "Eh, lil less than that. The hell do they rant about?"

Ike scoffed, "Well, Mom thinks you're out of your mind and Dad thinks she's overreacting but wants me to be a lawyer since you refused to like a putz."

Kyle gave him a sympathetic shrug, "Don't listen to 'im unless you wanna, Dude. Gotta do what's right for you… even if they only help pay for your general courses," he muttered bitterly. "Still don't get that one. Not like I'm majoring in basketweaving or some shit."

"I think Mom would've preferred that to politics," Ike input. "It's 'too divided'!" voice going up a few octaves to mock her, wagging his finger. "You're setting yourself up for assassination, young man!"

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Kyle nodded. "Yeah. Lawyers never get killed by spurned clients or what-have-you. I should go and tell her I'm a volunteer cop while I'm at it. Might mak 'er choke on her challah."

"Challah Choker. New guild name, thank you," Ike saluted, turning back to his game.

Kyle shook his head, "Doesn't work with the pronunciation, numb nuts."

"You think these people know that?" he gestured at his screen. "I'm playing a server with guys from school. The fact that they know how to pronounce more than Pabst is a miracle."

He smirked, "Call it Challah at Me, least it's closer."

Ike paused, head bobbing in consideration before waving him away. "Okay, you're done now you can leave."

Kyle scoffed, standing back up, "Good to see you, too, Bro," he said, getting nothing more than a grunt. He sighed, rolling back his shoulders and making his way down his staircase, still hearing his mother ranting away and feeling a tension rising along his spine.

He just couldn't figure any of it out, how his mother swung on such a pendulum depending on her audience. So audibly upset with his choice of major to him and his father and Ike, but was all but gloating her heart out to extended family members and friends around town. Kyle could never pinpoint where he was with her, always terrified that she was going to yell him into the ground for slipping up or bracing himself for her putting on that damn social face of a Jewish mother's beaming pride for her eldest son. He wondered if Stan had to deal with the same tightrope dance with Sharon, though he highly doubted it. His mom was just too damn happy that Stan was out there trying to make something of himself, no matter what it was. And Carol couldn't give two shits about where Kenny ended up, so long as it wasn't in the gutter beside his father.

Kyle pouted. Of all things, he was jealous of fucking Cartman, whose mother wouldn't stop prancing with pride over him and his C average. How Cartman got annoyed with her doting, Kyle couldn't fathom, would trade just about anything for a few weeks of his mom not questioning his life choices and telling him that he was doing so well.

He sighed, passing her in the kitchen fussing around still clutching her cell phone. Wasn't gonna happen.

"Ma, I'm meeting the guys, I'll be back tomorrow," he called.

She looked at him, Kyle nearly flinching at the ire that overtook her eyes. "Hold on one second," she murmured, placing the phone's speaker against her chest. "You're leaving? You just got home, Kyle!" she proclaimed, as though it were breaking news.

He frowned, "I know. But you're upset, I'm upset. I just wanna chill for a few hours with Ken and Stan, okay?"

"You just walked in the door!"

He closed his eyes, knowing exactly what he was going to have to do here. He hated doing it, but it secured his freedom, and he'd had to do it more than once in his lifetime. Gulping, he dug his canine tooth into his tongue, pressing and pressing until finally, it began to hurt. Further he pressed before finally breaking just enough into the muscle to feel a stinging over his eyes, letting out a dramatic sniffle and looking at Sheila with glossed sclera. She paused, straightening up at the hurt over his face. "My… my boyfriend cheated on me," he whined, giving himself a dramatic wipe of his sleeve under his nose. "It… it hurts."

Sheila's face was aghast in horror, putting her phone back to her ear, "I'll call you back," she said, hanging up and throwing it against the counter, quickly moving towards her son and throwing her arms around his waist, stroking his back. "What happened?" she cooed, toxicity melted away in her need to comfort her child.

"He… he said I was annoying and ugly and stupid," he said, sniffling loudly, bending to wrap his arms back around her and hiding his rolling eyes. "The guys… the guys just wanna help."

"Okay, okay," she hushed him, pulling him in tighter. "You know you're not any of those things?"

"I know but… b-but I trusted him," he said, permitting himself a louder sob and hiding his face in her shoulder. "Can I please just go with them? They're… they're just what I need right now, Ma."

She nodded in understanding, still stroking his back. "All right, all right. Are you staying at Stanley's?"

"Y-yeah?"

"You come straight home if you need more than them, all right?"

He smirked before getting it back under control, giving her a squeeze around her shoulders. "Thanks, Ma. I-I'll call you if it gets too bad."

"It's going to be all right, Bubbeleh," she promised, rage flashing in her eyes for the boy who did her son wrong. "He was no good, I told you from the very start. He better just pray he never even comes near this state."

Kyle cringed. Well. She wasn't wrong. She'd told him immediately after meeting Darryl on a Skype call that he wasn't good enough for him. Guess she wasn't wrong on all lecturing aspects of his life. He nodded, giving her another squeeze and standing up straight, grabbing his keys from the kitchen table. "Thanks, Ma," he said, letting his lip wobble and feeling her watching after him in heartbreak. Forcing himself to slump and slow his stride, he made his way to the door, throwing on the coup de grâce with his hand on the doorknob, turning and giving her a solemn wave as he exited out into the cooled air. Slowly shutting the door behind him, he turned to see Stan and Kenny leaning against his car in the driveway.

Kenny raised his brow at his appearance with a smirk. "Cried your way out, huh?"

He grinned, wiping his glistening eyes and shrugging, "Hey man. Gotta do whatcha gotta do. You two are just jealous you can't do it anymore."

Stan snorted, "Well no. Our moms don't think we're such pussies. Totally believable when you do it, though."

A swift punch landed on his arm, Kyle flipping him off with a smirk. "Ass."

"Aww, you're still crying," he teased. "Too hard a bite?"

"Ain't ever been a problem for me," he said smoothly, Kenny immediately cackling and Stan taking a moment to process before making a disgusted noise, hands waving in front of him erratically. Kyle shrugged, spitting out a small line of blood from his tongue into the grass. "So. We going or are you gonna go on one of your hypermasculinity rants?"

"Go, we're just gonna go!" Stan gestured towards his car, face red and annoyance with Kyle's blatant showing of Kenny's goddamn influence on him over the years at its height. Kyle and Kenny shared a smirk before heading towards their designated car doors. A small falling out with Stan in high school had made the two of them damn near inseparable for four months with Stan spending all his time with Wendy. When Kyle and Stan finally came back to their senses and made up, they'd all melded together right back to where they were, sans Kenny and Kyle's newfound love of making Stan queasy with far-too-easy perverted conversations. Kyle claimed it was just how they bonded, Stan claimed it was going to be what drove him to run his car off a mountainside.

Kyle sat behind his steering wheel, sighing at how he melded against the damn seat he'd been confined in for nearly twenty hours on his way home. But whatever, he reasoned, looking at Stan and Kenny shooting quips at each other from the passenger and back seats, smiling to himself as he turned over the ignition and letting out a long, comforted sigh.

Despite his mother's see-sawing, and despite arriving with a weight on his shoulders he'd been lugging around by himself for a month now that he'd yet to shed in the slightest, it was great to be home.