"One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood." - Lucius Annaeus Seneca
Kyle was putting away his clothing in his old bedroom when his mother called out from below, "Kyle, the food is ready!"
He paused for a moment, gauging how hungry he was before he finally settled on being peckish.
"Alright, Mum!"
Gone were his old posters and childhood toys, everything he associated this room with. His parents were quick to transform his room into just another guest bedroom, updated to the likeness of one of his mother's home decor magazine projects.
The dark blue paint from his youth was changed to a pistachio green, which only served to remind Kyle that his mother was nutty. And even the carpeting was ripped out, hardwood taking its place. It was startling how people don't stay the same and move on without you. Partially he wanted it to be the same, with his Terrance and Phillip memorabilia, and his old bed-frame that creaked if he slightly moved on it.
But his parents didn't care, and for all of their hassle in his current life, they adjusted fine to his absence. He hated this, being so forlorn and nostalgic. That same helpless drifting returned, like a scab that you couldn't help but pick at. And those blue eyes surfaced again, piercing his heart in a fatal swoop.
"Kyle, it's getting cold!"
He sighed as he glanced around his room.
"I'm coming, Mum!"
He saw no point in changing for a simple family dinner, despite it being the first one in years. The occasional holiday get-together not withstanding. So he wore jeans and a band shirt he had found in the back of his closet, which smelt of mothballs.
Bare feet stomped on their way down, announcing his arrival to the rest of his small family.
The plates were already set, leaving his father and Ike to patiently wait for him. His mother seemed to be getting something from the kitchen, most likely the finishing piece for the meal.
Kyle took his seat next to his younger brother, smiling as he met his gaze. The adopted Canadian looked superb, adjusting well to the stress of high school life.
Ike welcomed him with a contagious grin, "Hey, Kyle."
"Hey. How's school?"
"Great, I got 80% on my last test!"
Kyle politely smiled in response, shifting in his seat so he could pat his brother on the head. This quickly turned into a tousling of the hair.
Ike whined as he tried to get out of Kyle's grasp, "Stop, not the hair!"
Akin to his older brother, Ike was obsessed with how his hair appeared not only to himself, but to others. He even managed to convince their mother to purchase expensive hair products for him, and made sure his hair was constantly brushed back in a lazy, but elegant way.
Kyle eyed his brother's silky black locks, envious at how easy it was for Ike to tame it.
Sheila burst into the dining room, clutching a steaming pot of spaghetti. Whistling under her breath, she placed it on the table, mindful of the trivet underneath.
"Dinner is served!"
And with that, each member of the Broflovski family was eager to get their own plateful of pasta and eat away. The evening was chased away as everyone shared both new and old stories, while the majority of the conversation was focused on Kyle's new life. How the firm was going, if he made any new friends. The answer to the latter was a fleeting amount, and none of certain importance. And finally, if he found himself a partner yet.
Kyle took this for a male lover, but it was obvious that his mother meant a Jewish girl.
After an awkward bout of silence, Gerald took it upon himself to have the conversation going again.
"Well, just wait Kyle. You'll find yourself too busy with reminiscing with old friends, maybe the old gang will form again?"
"Yeah." Kyle mumbled with the thought, twirling his fork around his food. A lump arose in his throat, perhaps just as much from excitement as it was fear. Either way, Kyle had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be impressive, and would have a definite impact on his life.
"Look, man. I gotta go."
Kenny clicked his tongue in disapproval, his nose crinkling. "That's so lame, just stay for a couple more."
Stan passed his beer absently between his hands, liquid dangerously sloshing along the brim. He never meant to get a drink, but Kenny some how talked him into it. Maybe it was the nerves, he was getting seriously pumped up for this reunion. It wasn't the same when he was on the water, tracking the movement of a pod of whales, but it was similar.
"I'm not sure, I promised Wendy I wouldn't have anything."
"Wendy? You guys got back together, fucking finally." Kenny smirked, raising his bottle up, "Then cheers, to long overdue relationships!"
Stan hummed to that, face softening. "We're not serious or anything, well...we sort of are."
"Are you screwing?"
He cleared his throat, not quite wanting to make a comment on that. To his embarrassment he felt his ears heat up, much like his face.
"You are!" Kenny chortled, leaning back in his seat. "Shut up, Kenny." Stan hissed, rubbing at his face.
"Started without me?"
It was a plain rhetorical question, but it scared Stan witless. Flinching away from the smooth voice, Stan spilt beer down his shirt.
"Fuck!" Stan cursed, immediately rubbing at the wet spot. He was going to make himself look like an idiot in front of Wendy, a stupid drunkard.
"Money-bags!" Kenny called out, eyes glittering as he abruptly stood up.
He's more drunk than I thought, Stan mused. And as he still wiped at his shirt, he tossed a look over to what had Kenny so excited.
"Fuck."
"Is that all you can say, Marsh?" Eric Cartman chuckled.
Fuck...
This wasn't the same boy from his youth, the curves he expected were gone. And man did he look good.
Eric snorted, dismissing the gawking hippie and turned his attention to Kenny. "What the fuck, I thought you'd wait for me?"
"I never said I would, money-bags." Kenny sighed, placidly sitting back on his seat. The leather squealed with his return.
"Shows your lack of manners. Move over."
"Says you." Kenny sneered, but still moved. Eric was buying him a round after-all, and he could assuredly afford it.
"So how's...er, sorry. What do you do?" Stan pitifully asked. Wow, he couldn't believe this was the same Eric.
"Kenny didn't tell you? I figured that'd be the first thing out of his mouth."
"I did, but not in much detail."
Cartman sighed, waving over a waitress. "A cold beer, doesn't matter what. Just as long as it's good." He eyed Kenny, waiting until the blonde shook his head and gestured to his half-full beer.
"Stan?"
"Um, no thanks." This is so fucking weird, Eric Cartman being actually polite for once. Man, he couldn't wrap his head around it.
"To answer your question, I'm a CEO of a couple of businesses." Cartman said, but only when a nice and cold beer was in hand.
"Is the money good?" Being a marine biologist didn't pay that well, but he was fine with that. He was really in it for the passion, which satisfied him at the end of the day. And he'd rather be poor and with Wendy in his bed than to be rich and lonely.
"Oh sure, I'm loaded. But the real issue is boredom."
"Boredom?" Kenny finally questioned, brow furrowed.
"Yeah, the business side is easy and everything. The only sore aspect is everyone begging for a slice, it can pick at someone, you know?"
Kenny and Stan nodded solemnly. They may never be as rich as Eric, but they understood greed. "No girlfriend?"
"Or boyfriend." Kenny whispered into his glass, careful so only Cartman heard. He wasn't sure if his sexuality was a taboo or not, and he didn't want to risk it. Not with the sense of intensity wafting off of the brunette.
"Nope." Cartman said, popping the p in the word. "But that won't be the case for long, not with my ability at having sex. Plus, I'm too busy for a commitment."
"That sucks, man. No one has your eye?"
"I fucked this tanned guy a couple of days ago, but no. Nothing legit."
Stan had decided to take a large gulp of his beer at that moment, and immediately spit it out. Bubbles both dwelled inside his nose, and burned it.
So much for keeping it a secret, Kenny thought as he shook his head.
"You're gay?!" Stan choked out, alcohol dripping down the side of his face.
"Bisexual." Cartman corrected, taking a sip out of his own. "It's nothing important, Marsh. Why, interested?"
Forget earlier. Stan was now burning up like a fucking torch, surely enough to burn the bar to a smoldering crisp.
"Doesn't matter, you're not my type." Cartman said with a smirk, eyes roaming over Stan's body. Not caring that Stan was aware of this, he slowly rose his eyes to the pair of muddled blue.
He flashed him a toothy grin, the exact definition of a predator. Stan wasn't even gay, and yet he found himself frozen and...slightly aroused. Okay, maybe more than slightly.
"Didn't you have somewhere to go?"
Oh shit. Wendy.
"I gotta go!" Stan exclaimed, thoughts solely on the woman waiting for him. "I'll see you later at the reunion!" he called over his shoulder, darting towards the exit.
"Idiot." Cartman rumbled under his breath, taking a lengthy sip from his beer. Haley was probably worried, wondering where he disappeared off to. If he got kidnapped, and if she needed to phone the police. She'd probably message him an ungodly amount, which he'd never get. He threw his broken cell into the trash, never to be used again.
His hand tightened around the glass.
"Hey."
He looked up, "What?"
Kenny took a minute before responding, wary of Cartman's facial expression.
"Are you okay?"
Cartman covered his guilt and anger up with a smirk, "Peachy."
