An almighty crash woke Stan with a start, like a clap of thunder inside his ear only higher pitched and more...tinny. Before he could get himself oriented there was another crash, followed by the sound of someone laughing. Stan sat upright, his hands covering his ears, and once his eyes had adjusted to the light he saw a blond boy standing over him holding two saucepan lids and chuckling to himself.

"Fuck you Kenny." He grumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He wasn't badly hungover (by his standards anyway), but that racket made his head feel like it was going to burst open.

Kenny laughed, "Sorry man, but it was priceless. I needed to get you up and out of here, I got things to do..." he said, gesturing at an imaginary watch on his arm, before continuing, "besides, I forgot how much you loved sleep. If it was an Olympic sport..."

"You always bully me." Stan muttered, standing up and pulling his jeans on. "Why do you always bully me?"

"Sling your hook, Marsh. No one likes you, you stupid nerd!" Kenny laughed, pushing Stan lightly, who still had only one leg in his jeans and had to hop around furiously trying to stay upright.

Once Stan had left Kenny's and had some solitude on the short walk back to the Marsh residence he had time to think about the night before. He still couldn't quite believe he had gone through with it, but he was immensely glad he had. As he'd been lying there staring at the boy next to him he had thought about how this boy - or man he should say now probably - had been his favourite person in the entire world for as long as he could remember. He had been coming to terms with the fact that he might love this boy, and as he'd stared at the fiery red hair that so beautifully encapsulated Kyle's fierce character he had been powerless to resist getting just one taste of the lips he had been unable to forget all these years. His logic had been that if Kyle freaked out or pushed him away he could claim he was drunk and delirious, but if it worked - which he was pretty sure it had, he had felt Kyle move in response - then he had promised himself that he would reveal how he felt to Kyle. Properly, without holding back. He would do it once Token had given him their planned raise tomorrow and his money troubles were alleviated a little, so Kyle would hopefully be happier and more relaxed. Even the thought of doing this sober, and properly, was enough to make Stan's heart race and his vision blur. He got the feeling from somewhere deep within himself that he could live for eighty more years, but tomorrow would still be the most important day of his life.

X

Any other day Kyle would have spent the first few hours simply trying to unscramble his mind after what had happened, but today was no normal day. Actually even today he couldn't stop thinking about it, whether it had been just a drunken mistake or if there was maybe any genuine feeling behind it, but he couldn't afford to let it stop him. He had sent Kenny a quick text explaining that he had to rush off early (well, at around nine O'clock, hardly the crack of dawn but well before either of those two would wake) and now he was just drinking some water and waiting for his hangover to pass and his mind to feel a little less soggy and slow. He set himself a one hour deadline to make the call, worrying that otherwise he would drag it out again like he had yesterday. Once he felt slightly fresher Kyle reached for his phone, and was surprised to find that it was much easier this time; in the extra day his decision had become even more concrete, so the battle of will against fear he had struggled with last time was won decisively and Kyle swiftly dialled the number (which he now knew off by heart, in part because of his good memory, but mainly through sheer repetition).

Once again he was put through the turmoil of waiting for someone to pick up, which was the ultimate excruciating feeling. Compared with this even Russian roulette would feel like a game of Mario Cart. He kept taking deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. That was meant to help...

"Hello?" A voice suddenly said on the other end. It was instantly recognisable.

"...hi, Cartman?" Kyle said slowly, his mouth suddenly feeling incredibly dry, his tongue almost sticking to the roof of it as he spoke.

"Who is this?" Cartman asked, a slightly agitated tone already present in his voice. "Ey! I said who's calling me?" This was the bit Kyle was really dreading, having to reveal it was him on the other end of the line, and that he was asking - no begging - for help.

"Kahl? Is that you?" The voice said slowly, a mixture of suspicion and disbelief. That made things easier, at least.

"Uh, yeah. I-It's me. Hi Cartman." Kyle stuttered, trying to twirl a pen in his fingers to keep his mind slightly occupied so it couldn't devote itself entirely to feeling total shame.

There was a brief silence, but the laughter or ridicule or whatever that Kyle was expecting (he had just expected something) never materialised.

"Well, what do you want then? You called me remember..." That was a curve ball. He really hadn't expected Cartman to behave so...normally.

"How are you?" Kyle asked, not wanting to jump straight into asking for money without even the pretence of friendliness.

"You didn't call me for small talk, Kahl. Cut to the chase."

"Um...ok. Well, it's just..." Kyle tried desperately to think of the right way of putting this, "I'd heard that you could maybe help me. Like, with money..."

"Well, isn't that surprising." Cartman replied, but to Kyle he didn't actually sound that shocked. "Things must be worse for you than I thought..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyle didn't think Kenny still spoke to Cartman, let alone about him.

There was a breathless chuckle through the phone. "Nothing. Tell you what, Kahl, why don't you come up to Denver and we can talk about this in person. I don't handle business over the phone."

"Ok, can I come this afternoon?"

"Big rush eh? Meet me at three, I'll text you the address." Cartman said, before abruptly hanging up.

Kyle slowly sunk back into his chair, his brain rapidly catching up with the last few moments. To say he felt mixed emotions would be an understatement, but overall, he was happy. He had done something about his situation, and even though it meant bowing down to Cartman of all people, he actually felt like he had some small level of control over his own life again. Just then his phone buzzed, and Kyle held it up to read the address:

8 Tremont Place, Five Points - 720-632-7691

Eugh, Five Points was rough, Kyle was hardly surprised Cartman chose some seedy location there. The whole thing made him really suspicious, but mainly the way Cartman had acted; he had been blunt but not rude, and the lack of ridicule and humiliation didn't seem right. Maybe Cartman had just grown up, and since by the sounds of it he was a professional...um...money lender, he had bigger things to worry about than high school grudges. But maybe not. This was Eric Cartman, and a polite Cartman was the most unnerving thing of all.

X

Stan's dedicated session of cartoon watching was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, so he couldn't hold in the typically teenage sigh as he looked over.

"So Shelly is coming home next weekend." His mom made her way over and sat down next to him, which meant this wasn't going to be brief. Great.

"Oh, okay." It wasn't that Stan was annoyed she was coming home, he just wasn't exactly excited either. His and Shelly's relationship had really flourished with distance, and when they spoke they managed to be pretty civil, which was damn impressive considering how bad they'd been once. Maybe if Stan moved to Australia they'd actually have a functional brother-sister relationship.

"What are you watching?"

"Dexter's Lab." Stan didn't feel any shame saying that out loud; sometimes you just need cartoons.

"Oh I remember this one!" She said a little too excitedly. "Something about that kid always reminded me of Kyle..." Excellent, just the stomach churning topic he had been trying to hide from for the last four hours. Stan gave a half-hearted laugh anyway, though he couldn't see any similarity. They're both smart, he thought, but that's about it.

"Is everything okay sweety? You seem really quiet..."

"Yeah mom, I'm fine. Just tired is all." Stan was lying sprawled out on the couch under a blanket, watching kids TV. Thinking about it, this was exactly the position he always adopted if he was ill or upset, so that did sort of explain the questioning.

"So it's nothing to do with Kyle?" Sharon was giving him her full on 'there's something you're not telling me' look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stan asked, finding himself getting a little defensive. He put down the bag of Cheetos he'd been working through and muted the TV.

"Just that you haven't seen very much of him since you've been back." There was a pause while she seemed hesitant, before continuing, "You used to be inseperable, and I was expecting to barely see you because you'd be with Kyle all the time..." She was clearly choosing her words carefully, but Stan stayed quiet. "It's not that we don't like you being around the house, we really do, we're just worried."

Stan couldn't help but smirk a little at that. 'We're worried'. This didn't have any of Randy's fingerprints on it, this was a Sharon-only concern.

"I'm fine, really. There's no problem with me and Kyle." This was too much, he hated getting grilled from people who are worried or 'just care about you', especially when it came to him and Kyle. For as long as Stan could remember it had annoyed him when people asked anything about his relationship with Kyle; it was unique and the whole way through school he had never seen people who knew each other and cared for each other as much as they did. They could never even begin to understand, so why ask?

"I'm gonna go see Kenny." Stan said, moving to get his coat. He was finding the house increasingly claustrophobic, and he didn't have the will power to go around acting as if he wasn't in a state of mental and emotional chaos just to avoid questioning from his worried mother. Everything was fucked up now, and Stan had accepted it can never go back to the way it was as a kid, but that didn't mean his brain wasn't basically imploding at the thought of confronting Kyle tomorrow.

"Didn't you just come back from Kenny's this morning?"

"Yeah, but he's starting to get ready for the reunion thing he's planning, so I said I'd lend a hand." Stan replied, thinking that if Kenny was busy he could just go for a walk or something and try to clear his head.

"Oh I remember you mentioning that. Well, have fun. I'm surprised at Kenny organising all that, he never struck me as the type..." That elicited a chuckle from Stan. Kenny really wasn't the type, the whole thing was fucking bizarre.

Half an hour later Stan found himself standing in the spirits aisle of South Park's liquor store with one Kenny McCormick, who had surprisingly actually wanted to work on his ridiculous reunion plan.

"Are you gonna pay for all this Ken?" Stan was looking down at the cart chocked full of crates of beer as well as about six bottles of spirits.

"Yeah, but I figure I'll ask people for a contribution when they get here. I haven't really thought that far ahead. I guess since this is just an unofficial reunion that's just part of it. Fuck the school for refusing to help man." Stan laughed; it had only been five years since they left so he hardly blamed the school for not caring.

"How many people do you reckon will show?" There were only about six at most that Stan was at all interested in seeing.

"Not many, like fifteen maybe? People can bring dates so maybe more."

"That's a lot of booze then dude." Stan said, laughing. Fifteen people would be ruined if they finished all that.

"Yeah, we're gonna get fucked!" Kenny replied with a grin. Stan noticed for the first time that Kenny had a small cut above his eye. He had thought it was weird that Kenny had worn a hat today, a black beanie, but now he wondered if he'd been trying to hide it; he only noticed it when the hat was pulled up a little.

"What happened to your head dude?" Stan gestured at the mark as the pair filed into the line for the checkout, behind an old lady clutching a bottle of whiskey like her life depended on it.

"Oh this?" Kenny felt the small line with his finger. "I hit my head when I was looking for something under the bed. Hurt like a bitch but it's nothing big."

"Oh right." Stan replied, helping him haul crates out of the cart. Kenny actually had some muscle on him now; Stan had always been the only one with any real muscle mass in their group (from sport rather than being a gym enthusiast), so he was glad to see Kenny could probably give him a run in an arm wrestle now. It was probably down to heavy lifting at work, and the fact that for the first time Kenny actually had enough to eat.

"Ken," Stan started once they were back in the pickup, "Kyle is, y'know, gay, right?" He realised he didn't actually know this for sure, but he felt like he just knew the answer was yes.

"How the fuck should I know?" Kenny replied. "If he hasn't told you he won't have told me. I haven't seen him interested in a girl for the last three years, but I haven't seen him interested in any guys either..."

"Right, but you think he is?" Stan probed, hoping to get a confidence boost about this whole thing. He realised that since he had been living in denial and had been in a couple of short, awful relationships that Kyle probably thought he was straight...

"I'm not getting involved dude. Kyle's preference is his business, I'm not gonna go guessing at it for your curiosity." Kenny said, looking sort of serious all of a sudden.

"Sorry. I just wish I could understand him better. I should know, he should tell me or it should be obvious or something, I don't-"

"Dude, chill. Your still Stan and he's still Kyle. Whatever your gut tells you, that's probably right."

X

From the outside it didn't actually look too bad. The building was just a little run down, but it wasn't the gloomy abandoned warehouse Kyle was sort of expecting. It seemed to be an old shop or restaurant or something, because he could see a sign above the door but the lettering had faded. The windows were blocked by old dust curtains, and there was little sign of any human presence inside. Countdown from twenty, then go in; that was meant to help.

20...19...18...17...16...fuck this, 3, 2, 1. As he reached out to knock the door swung open though, and in front of him stood one Eric Cartman, wearing a full suit and tie. He looked squeezed into the white shirt, but to be fair Kyle could imagine many stores didn't even have sizes for someone that big.

"Hi." Kyle said. He had forgotten just how massive Cartman was, at least six foot three and wide as hell; most of it was just broad bones and muscle, but he wasn't skinny either. He blocked the doorway entirely, looking like a fucking human wardrobe or something.

"Come on in." He said, standing out of the way and holding the door open. Inside was very poorly lit, but he could see now that it was an old restaurant, with some tables and chairs scattered around still. It was empty, bar one bald guy covered in tattoos sitting quietly in a corner.

"Come through this way and we'll talk, there's someone you need to meet. Oh, and by the way, don't piss anyone off with smart ass comments, you might regret it." Cartman said, but it came off as a little bit gleeful rather than a friendly warning. Kyle had the overwhelming urge to just turn and run out the door, and just keep running until all of this was miles behind him.

Cartman led him up some stairs and knocked on a door on the first floor, and after hearing some reply too faint for Kyle to make out he opened the door and ushered him in.

"You must be Mr Broflovski, please come in, sit down." Said a man in his thirties, again in a suit and with slicked back brown hair, who was pointing to a seat on the other side of his desk. He had imagined Cartman as a sort of work-alone loan shark, not as part of some gang, or weird Denver mafia family or something like that. It was actually pretty funny, especially since Kyle could clearly tell this guy, with his mobster wannabe outfit, was Cartman's boss. Hopefully he ordered Cartman around like a dog.

"Hi, nice to meet you...?" Kyle replied, but his hopes of finding out this guy's name ended pretty soon as he ignored the question completely.

"So what can we help you with?"

"I was told by someone that you could maybe help me, with money problems." Kyle said, surprised at how confidently it came out. Maybe he was getting used to the whole 'humiliating yourself in front of people' thing.

"What sort of figure are we talking?" He asked, standing up and lighting a cigarette. Kyle got a proper look at him, and he looked fairly short, slim and physically unimposing, but there was something in his incredibly dark (almost black) brown eyes and his piercing stare that made him frightening.

"Um, well the exact figure I need is $28,750, if I could get that it would be massively appreciated." Kyle had worked out meticulously the amount he needed on top of his wages to tide him over for the next month or so. It was just enough time to let him figure something else out.

"Oh and you can absolutely trust me, I'm incredibly reliable." Kyle added, thinking he should probably make a case for himself. "You will definitely get the money back, with interest." The older man started laughing hysterically at that, coughing a little on the cigarette smoke.

"Kyle I know we'll get the money back. We always get the money back." He said, straightening his overly waxed hair with a little comb from his jacket pocket.

"I think we can help you out. We'll give you the money you asked for, all of it. You get a week off, then you start paying it back, $2,000 a week, for 20 weeks." He paused briefly to stub out the cigarette on a crystal ashtray on the desk, "you won't miss any repayments, you won't be late on repayments. Do you understand?" Kyle watched him as he paced slowly up and down the room, looking idly at the couple of paintings on the wall, like this was a conversation he'd had many times. Cartman had been quiet this entire time.

"Yes, of course, thank you." Kyle worked out quickly that this meant he was paying back forty big ones, and the interest rate was over a third - but then again if he could do better elsewhere he would have gone already. It was this or never get power back, start going properly hungry, lose his house...

"You don't come back here unless we tell you specifically. Write down your bank account details and we'll transfer it online to you, then repay by midnight on Sunday each week to this account." He slid a piece of paper over the desk to Kyle, sitting down again. Online banking was a pleasant surprise, he had imagined it would all be dodgy cash hand overs and making use of the money might be tricky, so this was ideal. He scribbled down his account number and sort code on a different sheet, and slid it back.

"Okay, so hand over your deposit and you can go." Grease-ball said. Kyle had decided to name him that in the absence of a real name (hardly clever, but the best he could do in the circumstances). Actually he had no idea about a deposit though...

"Err, I didn't know I needed one, what is it?" He desperately hoped this wouldn't ruin things at the last moment. He had put up with embarrassing himself in front of Eric Cartman, this gloomy office and the angry looking boss guy, so at least he deserved to get $28,750 out of it.

"We need something of personal or family value, to keep hold of until we get the money back. Just an extra safeguard. Did Eric not tell you?"

"I absolutely did sir, I remember it well. He must have forgotten or wasn't paying attention." Cartman interjected. That little shit, Kyle knew he hadn't told him.

"Well do you have anything on you, or something at home you can bring here by tomorrow? I hope you haven't wasted my time." Fuck, he had absolutely nothing. Not even at home, he just didn't own anything like that. The most precious belongings he had would all look way too stupid to give to them, even his most treasured possession of all which he kept in the box under his bed was totally worthless to people like them.

"I-I'm really sorry but I'm not sure I have anything like that. Unless you can take my watch, or my TV or something, but they're pretty cheap..." Kyle said, feeling his breathing getting quicker and a nervous, nauseous feeling grow inside of him. This had to happen, and judging by the look on Grease-ball's face it wasn't going to.

"I have an idea sir." Cartman said, before leaning in and muttering something into his boss's ear. Kyle had a feeling this wouldn't be good. Grease-ball whispered something back and Cartman left the room.

"It was good meeting you, Kyle." He said, standing up and walking towards the one window behind his desk. He just stared out and took no interest in Kyle's protests that he could be trusted even without a deposit.

Then out of nowhere Kyle felt two strong pairs of arms wrap round him and haul him down the stairs. He didn't put up a fight really, resigning himself to being thrown out onto the street. He felt his arm being twisted and his hand being pushed, palm-down, onto one of the old restaurant tables in the main room. Before he could figure out what was going on he felt a pulse of agonising pain, and saw the glint of a hammer that had just crushed the knuckle below his little finger. His resistance was pointless against what he could now tell was the bald man from earlier holding him down, and Cartman wielding the hammer. A second blow to the next knuckle followed, and Kyle actually heard the sound of bone cracking. The pain was so sharp and so intense it prevented any other thoughts from going through his mind. It was like - well it was like someone just broke two of his knuckles with a fucking hammer.

"Listen," Cartman said softly into his ear, leaning so close to Kyle's face he could feel the disgusting breath caress his skin, "instead of your deposit we've given you a taste of what will happen if you don't pay up in time." Kyle kept fighting back tears, he wouldn't stoop to that, but looking at the reddened, already swelling mess on his left hand was making him freak out.

"And Kahl," Cartman added with a wry smile, "I'll see you at the reunion." With that Kyle was bundled through the front door and hurled out onto the road, his hand still throbbing, a constant hot pain under the skin.

For a while Kyle just lay there. The air was clear and the stars were unusually visible, so he just drew lines between them, making the constellations he knew. The Plough, the Great Bear, Orion, the...Giraffe? There was a siren far off in the distance above the unending faint hum of traffic, and the cold concrete pressed against his back. Soon he would have to get up. Right now though, he just needed to lie here a little longer.

X

Aaaahhhh I'm so so sorry it's this late! I've been really busy, plus this chapter was a nightmare to write, and I didn't want to screw it up. Hopefully I haven't, and hopefully I haven't left it so long you've all forgotten this story!

I own nothing from South Park, and as always much love to all readers and especially reviewers.

I will be quicker with the next chapter!