Playlist: Lone Digger - Caravan Palace

Headslide First into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet - Fall Out Boy

Don't Hug Me I'm Scared 2 - Time

Labour Day Weekend, 2017

Every Labour Day Weekend, Token's parents went away on holiday. Up until Token was about sixteen, they'd taken him with them. Until this year. From what Kyle understood, talking to him over the loud music blaring through the speakers through the smart-home, Token had convinced them that he was well old enough to spend a weekend on his own. His friends would keep him company. And there would be absolutely no parties.

Obviously, Token had lied through his brilliant white teeth to them, considering everyone in their year and a couple above and below them were packed into Token's house, on the final Saturday before school started. Kyle had debated coming or not, but everyone he knew was going to be there. Not to mention, Stan seemed eager to see everyone. Kyle had wanted to keep him away from as many addictive substances as he possibly could, knowing his boyfriends penchant for things like that. But it was the end of the summer, the final hurrah, and it was rather nice to have a couple of drinks and hang out with some of his friends he hadn't seen much.

"Thanks for inviting us, man," Kyle yelled over the music, taking the blue cup of... whatever... Stan passed over as he sidled up beside him. Token held his cup up in response, before bidding adieu as the song changed into some Daft Punk mashed with DJ Quad City abomination. Kyle and Stan followed Token as he pushed through the crowd to see Craig sniggering with Token's iPhone in hand while Clyde pushed people out of the way to drop to the hardwood. "Anyone ever tell Clyde he can't break dance?" Stan whisper-yelled into Kyle's ear. Kyle laughed, shaking his head before yelling back. "Don't think so! But Token seems he's about too." Turning, Kyle held his cup away so as not to spill, pressing a kiss to Stan's lips. Kyle had meant it to be chaste, a simply, happy little display of love. But Stan seemed to have other ideas, snaking the hand holding his beer around Kyle's waist to deepen the kiss. Kyle didn't mind in the slightest, still on the glow of happiness at having Stan back with him after weeks of separation. But as Kyle was about to shut his eyes and enjoy himself, he caught something in his line of view. Not breaking the kiss, Kyle's eyes narrowed in focus.

He knew Cartman was here, they'd all come together. They'd all mostly separated when they got through the door, and Kyle knew now where Cartman had gone. He stood off to the side, hand on the wall while Heidi Turner leaned against it, two hands around her drink as she laughed at something Cartman said. As if he sensed eyes on him, he looked over and saw Kyle watching. The jealousy flared up inside him, watching as Cartman used his free hand to brush back some of Heidi's hair. Kyle couldn't help the little growl in his throat, biting at Stan's lower lip harder than he would really have meant too. Stan pulled back with a little yelp, his lip caught between Kyle's teeth for a short second before he had sense to relax and let his lip go. Kyle's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and mild anger and tried to focus on Stan. "Sorry," Kyle mumbled, not sure if Stan could hear him or not anyway. He must have, or at least guessed at what Kyle was saying because Stan fluffed up his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm gonna go find Wendy!" Stan called, gesturing at himself before waving at the people crowding the open concept floor plan.

Kyle gave him a thumbs up, bringing the solo cup to his mouth and chugging back most of the contents. He was in a good mood, when he first came. Now there was twisting in his gut that he'd like to forget about. It shouldn't bother him, Kyle knew that. But it did. He needed a distraction and to find someone else to talk to. The music was too loud inside, but at least Token managed to take control of it, some electo-swing thing playing through the speakers. Kyle stood awkwardly alone, watching as Bebe stood up on the coffee table before dragging Clyde up with her. They did some sort of two step, and Kyle wondered how long it would take for one or both of them to fall off. He watched, now invested in their little show. Especially when Clyde had picked Bebe up around the torso and began tossing her around him. He was going to throw her, or drop her, or fall off with her. Kyle wanted to watch and wait for the inevitable, but the heat of people inside and the music was quickly starting to irritate him. Not that it was bad. Just... too much going on. Kyle checked his phone, he noted he'd only really been here for half an hour. Kyle tossed back the remainder of his drink, face contorting at the taste of whatever alcohols and pop Stan mixed together in the kitchen. He knew Stan was a beer person, but his boyfriend couldn't mix cocktails to save his fucking life apparently.

He needed a new, better tasting drink, and to get somewhere a tad bit quieter. So Kyle made his way to the kitchen. It was mostly empty, people coming in and out to grab something from the double door fridge or ice from the dispenser. The only person who looked like they were hanging out in here was some kid Kyle'd never seen before. "Don't think you should be smoking inside, man," Kyle commented, looking at the guy. He reminded Kyle of Craig, in height and body type. Somehow skinnier than him, though. He looked almost skeletal, sunken eyes with bags and sharp cheek bones. He wasn't dressed for a party, either. He looked more like he was dressed for grave robbing or something. Camouflage pants, olive shirt and ratty black vest and fingerless gloves. He had mighty bushy brows though. The smoking kind of went with the look, Kyle supposed. But what was weird was his haughty stature and holding a delicate crystal wine glass by the stem. He stared Kyle down as he stubbed the thin smoke out in the sink, placing the glass down on the marble counter top. He grabbed another from the cupboard, and pulled the cork from the wine bottle and poured another before handing it out to Kyle.

Kyle took it, confused. He debated drinking it, but really, really didn't want to. This was how people got drugged and raped. By strange people at parties. "Eez French," the guy nodded his chin to the glass, picking up his own and swirling it. "A good year, about five 'undred euros a bottle." Great, the guy raided the Black's wine cabinet. "Drink." He commanded, and Kyle felt like it wasn't a good idea not to. So he took a small sip of the red wine, surprised to find it wasn't like the other red's he had in his short life. He'd never much liked wine, especially a red one. They tended to be bitter, dried his mouth out and caused his jaw to clench. This was smooth, thicker than he thought it would be. It was bitter, still, but Kyle could almost taste the fruits it was fermented from. The other guy watched him closely, gauging his reaction. "Eez good, no? Like liquid velveet." Sure. Kyle nodded to whatever he was saying, assuming this guy knew more about wine than Kyle ever did. "Who are you?" Kyle asked, swallowing a second mouthful.

"Christophe," Christophe said. "My muzzer and I just moved 'ere from Colmar. From une shite town to anuzzer." Kyle wanted to point out that he'd give his life to live anywhere but here, but he'd never been to Colmar. Maybe it was shittier than he imagined some town in France to be. But seriously, anywhere had to be better than here. "And with zat fuckin' Brit." Kyle quirked his eyebrow in confusion, and Christophe explained. "She married zis Engleesh idiot and 'is son, and now I live in a shite town with a shite family. Zere eez no God. But you're pretty to look at. Small miracles, no?"

"Oka-ay." Kyle said, and tilted his head back to drink the wine in the glass as quickly as possible. "I gotta go..." Kyle said, but leaned forward to snatch the bottle of wine off the counter beside Christophe. He came in for a refill, and this was the best thing he'd tasted in a while and be damned if he was leaving this weird scenario empty handed. He gave Christophe a friendly pat on the shoulder, and noticed the shovel strapped to his back. Kyle backed away, staring at the French guy before turning around with every intention of finding Stan.

But his path was blocked. He skidded to a halt, socked feet slipping a little on the kitchen's tile. The wine sloshed in the bottle, and Kyle cursed. Trapped between a fat ass and freaky Francophone. "Cartman," Kyle said, backing up a little to let him past. Now he really just wanted to get out of here. Cartman looked down at him. "Jew," he replied, making his way to the fridge. Kyle didn't stop to bite the bait, darting into the living room. It didn't take long to find Stan, spotting him through the patio door outside chatting with Wendy.

Going outside, Kyle noticed as he came up beside Stan that Wendy's arm was locked with that of an unfamiliar blonde. Hearing him speak, it clicked into place. "Hey, Wendy," Kyle greeted, refilling his glass now that he'd stopped moving. He handed the bottle over to Stan, who simply took a swig from it like some barbarian. "I'm Kyle, you must be the English idiot's son." Stan looked at him, confused, and Kyle gave him a look that he'd explain in a minute. The guy Wendy was with nodded with a small chuckle.

"I take it you met my new step brother? Charming, isn't he? He's been an absolute twat since our parents got married. Now he hates me. Gregory," the blonde explained. He shook Kyle's hand, and Kyle wondered how much of Wendy's attraction to him came from that accent he had. "Did he send you off with that?" Gregory asked, looking at the wine bottle Kyle took back from Stan. He didn't need to be double fisting a beer and a bottle of wine. "More I took it from him," Kyle said, sipping at his glass. "Good taste. Bit odd. Complained a little, told me I was pretty. Why does he have a shovel?"

"It's a long story," Gregory laughed.

The party was largely uneventful as the hours dragged on. By the time Kyle had finished his pilfered bottle of wine, he was fairly drunk and feeling infinitely better than when they'd first arrived. They danced around, ate pizza. Kyle didn't give a damn about keeping kosher. Like hell he'd be eating plain cheese or veggie pizza after ingesting most of a bottle of a wine and whatever concoction Stan made him earlier in the night. All in all, Kyle was thoroughly enjoying himself. The loud music no longer bothered him, neither did the amount of people. By one am, everyone was sufficiently drunk and happy.

The only bummer? Stan had passed out on the sofa, leaving Kyle to fend for himself. Well, he had Kenny for part of the night. He made a good dance partner, dragging Butters between them and making the tiny blonde incredibly uncomfortable in the process. But Kenny had disappeared up the stairs, dragging both Tweek and Craig behind him. Kyle wished him the best of luck, fairly certain that wasn't going to end up as well as he thought. Either way, it left Kyle mostly on his own. The house was still packed full of people, of course. But his boyfriend and best friend were now out of commission. Kyle looked around for anyone to talk to, but Bebe and Clyde had locked themselves in Token's bedroom. Gregory and Christophe were in a corner, looking like they were arguing but Kyle thought it was a bit odd for them to be as close as they were. Maybe personal space was less of a thing overseas...

In his quest for company, Kyle bumped into the one person he hadn't thought of for the last few hours. The contents of his wine glass- no longer wine, but Coke and some other liquor- splashed down the front of Cartman's shirt. "Oh, shit," Kyle grumbled, trying to focus on the dark spot to wipe it away with his bare hands. It didn't do anything. Fucking hands. Useless things. "Sor-ree."

"How drunk are you?" Cartman asked, holding Kyle steady by the shoulders. Kyle shrugged. "Twenty Seventeen," he said simply.

"That's the year, dumbass."

Kyle held up a finger accusingly at him. "How drunk are YOU?" Eric looked down at him, looking unhappy about something. Couldn't be about Kyle, because Kyle was adorable. "I'm not," Eric said, and Kyle figured he was lying. He'd been here all night. Kyle had seen him drinking! "Liiiiiaaaar." Kyle purred, and Eric just looked more pissy. "I don't drink. It makes people stupid. Like you." Kyle decided to kick him, but missed his calf and stumbled forward. "M'not stupid, you're stupid." He leaned against Cartman's chest for a moment to steady himself, poking at the wet, dark splotch. "You've been drinking. See," he gestured at the mark. He heard Cartman swear to no one in particular. "That's from you, holy shit."

Liar.

Kyle stood up properly, pushing his chest out and tried to appear taller and more sober than he actually was. Cartman just looked pissed off. "Are you mad at me?" Kyle asked. "You can't be mad at me. I'm pretty. The French guy said so, he has a shovel." Eric stared at him. Kyle thought he made a perfectly valid argument here. Cartman didn't respond immediately, so Kyle assumed he won that argument. Easy enough, but no where near as fun as he'd have liked it. Holding his hands up, he made two fists. The wine glass kinda made one look stupid, but it was cool. "Fight me," Kyle said, waving his arms around.

"I'm not fighting you," Eric replied, blinking. He kept his eyes on Kyle, and it kinda made Kyle uncomfortable. Like Eric was seeing right through him. Kyle put his fists down, and drank the last bit of the drink. He could feel himself swaying on his feet. Or maybe it was Eric, since it looked like he was the one moving. Suddenly, Kyle didn't feel well. Watching Eric move like that churned his stomach, and Kyle dropped the crystal glass to the ground and held his hand to his mouth to keep himself from throwing up. Cartman grumbled about the shattered glass on the floor. "Don't mo-" Cartman began to say, as Kyle took a stumble backwards.

"Ow," Kyle said into his palm, but didn't do anything about it. He must've stepped on a piece or something. Maybe he should look. Kyle lifted a leg, trying to grab onto it with his hands but he couldn't keep his balance. Eric must've figured, because he reached out to steady him by the shoulders again. They both stared down at his foot, a large shard of the broken crystal in his foot. Straight through the white sock. It wasn't white anymore though, quickly growing red from blood. "Huh," Kyle poked at it, tempted to pull it out. He should or he'd never walk again. Who could walk with a chunk of glass in their foot? Even he wasn't that great. "You're an idiot," Cartman said, reaching down to yank it from his foot. Seconds later, he scooped Kyle up and tossed him over his shoulder. The motion of it made Kyle gag, and he felt Eric pinch the back of his thigh. "If you throw up on me, I'm throwing you in the pool," he threatened.

Kyle saluted him, but maybe he couldn't see it. Kyle was getting a decent view of Eric's ass though. He wasn't sure where he was being taken, but Kyle occupied himself on the short trip by banging out a song on his cheeks like they were a set of bongos. He thought he heard Cartman tell him to cut it out, but over the music Kyle didn't really listen. He stopped when he caught on to the song though, singing along with Patricia Stump when his voice got deep, deeping his own to go along with it.

"Click back and forth like old headlights, sniffing model glue again."

Kyle dissolved into giggles at the sound of his own voice going as deep as it did. He could feel Eric sigh, probably still miserable that Kyle was having a good time or something. No one was stopping Eric from drinking like the rest of them. "Stop singing, there's no time for singing," he heard Eric say as they started to ascend the stairs.

Well then.

Rude.

"There's always time for a song!" Kyle argued, before singing again out of spite.

"It's time to go on a journey, a journey through time! A time that's changing all the time! It's time to go to time!"

"Stop saying time!" Eric yelled at him, and Kyle smacked him on the ass again for raising his voice. "Don't be stupid!" He sung out, before continuing his song.

"Time is old, like a Victorian times! With cobbles and plague and speaking in rhymes. With cobbles and chimneys, a simpler time! Hi Kenny!" Kyle waved, seeing him slip out of one of the guest rooms, looking incredibly pleased with himself. He held a hand out for Kenny to give a high five, congratulating him on his obvious success at the Tweex x Craig threesome.

"What happened to you," Kenny asked them, and Kyle was about to explain but Eric interrupted him.

"He stepped on glass because he's drunk."

Kyle ignored them, starting his singing again. "But look, a computer! Everything's cool, it's the future! Time is now, the future anew. And look at all the wonderful things you can do!"

"Shut up, Kyle, fuck!" Eric cried, pushing past Kenny into one of the other bedrooms on the second floor of Token's house. He slammed the door shut behind them, and unceremoniously tossed Kyle onto the bed. "You're so fucking annoying," he said, pulling off Kyle's sock. Kyle figured it hurt, but he really didn't know. There were benefits to being drunk, and this was one of them. Kyle watched lazily as Eric went into the attached bathroom, and he heard the faucet turn on.

He came back out shortly after, a wet and dry cloth in his hands. As Eric wiped at his foot, washing the blood around, Kyle wiggled on the bed in a bit of a dance.

"If we run out of time, then where does it go? Is time even real? Does anyone know?! Maybe time is just a construct of human perception, an illusion created by-" Kyle was cut off by Eric screaming at the top of his lungs, and Kyle crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at the ceiling and sulking. Fine then. He wasn't being appreciated.

He sat there in silence, feeling as Eric wrapped the dry cloth around his foot and pulled the other sock off, before using it to hold the cloth to his injured one in place. When he was done, Kyle rolled over on to his side to let Cartman know he was receiving the could shoulder. Teach him a lesson for being rude. Instead of acknowledging it, though, Eric just shoved a few pillows behind him before walking around to the other side of the bed. He crouched down, looking Kyle in the eyes. "You have the shittiest fucking singing voice I've ever heard," he smirked, before leaning forward to press a kiss to Kyle's forehead. Kyle stared at him, mouth agape as the brunet stood and left the room without another word.

By morning, Kyle remembered little. Stan was in the bed beside him, propped up by Kyle and the pillows that stopped him from rolling over. His head was pounding, mouth dry, and foot in searing pain. Kyle blinked, fighting to keep his eyes awake despite the headache and sun. On the bedside table sat a crystal wine glass of water, and a couple of little red Advil.

Kyle snatched them up, popping the Advil in husband mouth before downing the water and swearing not to drink again.