Friday, the 3rd of April

It'd been nearly three and a half weeks since he'd trudged through the hallway stretching before him. The dingy color of plaster stained a lemon curd yellow from decades worth of wafting tobacco lined his way towards a waiting oaken door. It's daunting, he thought, having received nothing more than a vague letter to come back to the office when the soonest opportunity arose.

Kenny's hands shook as he gripped the front of his jacket, fingers delving into the worn, flannel material and bitten nails catching uneasily on the fibers. The ambiguity has haunted him since opening said letter to the sloppy, hurried handwriting so indicative of his boss, trailing behind him as he walked the streets of Dellwyn like a storm cloud begging to give way.

He hadn't had an assignment in nearly a month, having run out of paperwork and their firm finding itself trailing behind that of the competition scattered about the city. A lack of work meant a lack of money, and that meant a lack of options barreling towards him at alarming speed. Rent was near-due, his kitchen running out of provisions, down to the last logs to toss into the stove to help stave through the nights still so cold with the final desperate grasps of winter. And now, he didn't know if he was walking straight into a lay-off, a half-assed apology on his boss' behalf for it "seeming unreasonable to keep him on the staff if they couldn't afford to use him".

He gulped, feeling the curious, twitching eye of the secretary he left behind him as he lingered in such uncertainty. Forcing himself to press forward, he found himself awash in the subdued amber glow of tarnished silver sconces lighting the path. He can't lose this job, he can't. And he can't lose his house, shoddy as it may be. Shoes far past the point of worn landed heavily on the creaking floorboards, a squeaking countdown towards the unknown that made his heart pound.

Blue eyes scrunched shut in a quick prayer, face twisting in anxiety as he came to a stop at the last door of the hall and forced himself through a rapid three knocks.

"Yeah?"

He gulped, "It's Ken!"

"Come in," he said, Kenny straining to hear echoes of some sort of sympathy in his tone but finding none. He wasn't certain if that was relieving in any sense or if his boss was just some kind of apathetic monster who delighted in ruining his workers' lives.

He pushed his way into the room, finding a stocky man with a billowing cigarette clenched in his teeth holding a bundle of papers between his hands, eyes flowing over the lines as he waved for Kenny to enter. He did so with caution, shoulders taut with apprehension and throat quivering in his nausea as he took a seat across the desk.

His boss had never seemed the type to want to destroy his livelihood, had hired Kenny despite him only holding a mere salesman apprenticeship under his belt. His job title was a mere formality as a solicitor, he'd found himself practicing the far-more appropriate role of a gussied-up witness to legal documentation with only the occasional need to make a hard-sell for real estate on behalf of his employer. It was an agitating lifestyle, constantly shuffling papers to try in vain to keep them in proper order, dealing with men who held more money at one time than he'd seen throughout the entirety of his life. But it paid the bills.

God, he hoped it still paid his bills.

His boss looked up at him, Kenny reading the signs of frustration in a crinkled bushy brow and the cigarette beginning to smolder from neglect. His stomach curled, trying to force a polite, if not a bit of a begging smile onto his lips.

The man sighed, dropping the papers from his hands and rubbing at his scalp through thinning brunette hair. Kenny could catch the glints of silver locks greedily harboring the glow of the candles surrounding them, trying to restore some smidgeon of youthful essence. He supposed it was fitting, every ounce of their identities boiled down to mere façade. Upselling, making outlandish promises about their merchandise and praying the buyers never caught on, pretending to hold enthusiasm for something so droll as apartment tours and lease agreements.

"Got an assignment for you," the man finally said, and all the weight dredging down Kenny's entire being melted, slipping off his weary shoulders and landing in sludgy, folded piles on the sides of his chair.

"Really?" he said, voice squeaking with regained energy and the wariness that always came with so high a promise.

The man nodded and pushed out of his chair, both wincing at the sound of the wooden legs scraping against the splintering oaken floor. "Yeah, had given it to Cartman a few weeks ago, but he never reported back," he grumbled.

The air of suspicion reached a new height, Kenny's brow slowly raising. "Didn't report back?" he repeated. He knew Eric Cartman better than most, knew that successfully completing a transaction and gaining his commission was something he thrived on, if not for the profit itself, but the ability to rub it in the faces of his more destitute coworkers.

"Yeah, no fucking idea where he is," his boss scoffed, digging his way through a stack of documents piled on a shelf on his far-side wall. "I know for damn sure he got on the train, but other than that, no clue."

"Train?"

He nodded, finally finding the documentation needed and pulling it from the resting stack. "It's in Caerleon."

Kenny narrowed his eyes, "What property do we have in Caerleon?"

"None, but we have a client in one of the towns," he explained, sitting back down in his chair and flopping the stack of parchment down in front of him. Kenny gathered the pile into his hands as he continued, "Wants to fill out the paperwork there before he moves."

Kenny scanned over the words before him, growing more confused by the moment. They never traveled more than perhaps a few hundred miles outside of the city for a client. Too costly and inefficient, he'd been told. So, going nearly 1500 miles seemed a bit out of their jurisdiction. "Any… particular reason why we need to make the trip?" Kenny ventured, unsure of whether he would be pressing on too heavy a nerve with any line of questioning.

He shrugged, not seeming affected by such a query, "I'm not entirely sure; he insisted. Seems just… eccentric and sheltered I suppose. Besides, he's buying two properties. Upfront. So we're giving him a… deluxe treatment we wouldn't give many others. He just needs someone there to sell him the right properties and fill out the paperwork."

"Two?" Kenny said, breathless at the mere notion. If that was the case, his commission would be immense. If this guy had enough to buy two properties, Ken doubted he was looking for a shabby flat, he was looking for an honest-to-God house. He bit his lip, looking back at the paperwork with the name Damien Thorn penned into the pre-scripted line of their routine contract. "What does this guy do that he can afford two places?"

His boss shrugged, grabbing his abandoned cigarette and striking a match to relight it back into a humming vibrant orange. "Don't know, don't particularly care so long as we get him to buy. I have ten of our houses listed and ready to be explained to him," he gestured to the papers. "If he can be convinced to buy two of the nicer ones, he can pull us into black." He leaned forward with his hands folded onto each other, Kenny feeling small under his intense stare. "I don't want another situation like Mr. Cartman left us in. So. Can I trust you to do what needs done, McCormick?"

Kenny nodded vigorously, "Yeah. Yeah, I can. When uh… w-when would I have to leave?"

"Three days," he sighed, cracking his neck and blowing out a stream of smoke. "I'll have Tweek draw you up a schedule. It'll take a bit over a week and a half to get there at all, he lives somewhere in the mountains where the train doesn't go."

His shoulders dropped, "So I'll be gone almost a month?"

A short nod, "Thereabouts. Worth the trip if he buys, McCormick. It's either that or not have a job when we go under," he cocked his brow. "Not like you have anything too exciting goin' on anyway, some time in the mountains away from this damn sea air is good for you."

Kenny forced a small, weak smile on his face and nodded along to his unsolicited advice, gaze dropping back down to the papers in his hands and heaving a somber sigh. A month was such a long time… His lips twisted. He needed the money. Desperately. He leaned back in his chair, raising a hand to scratch through oily blond hair. He didn't know how he felt, hating the idea of being pulled away from home for so long, but goddamn knowing well enough it was either this or homelessness. Kenny closed his eyes, his boss shouting for Tweek to scurry in from his front desk and begin making the arrangements necessary for Kenny's trip.

He just hoped somebody else would be okay with such an impromptu arrangement.

Shorthand was designed for a specific purpose: To hurriedly take notes as words were spoken in real-time so the transcriber could easily rewrite full scripts to be filed away for recording. The concept was devised with the full intention of making a multitude of lives easier, to optimize the efficiency of businesses and keep the steady roll of progression chugging along.

So why Kyle didn't make it easier on himself and have better handwriting when scrawling away in his thin lines, he couldn't be sure.

He'd taken the time to develop his own system, had his personalized phonetic alphabet down to a precise science of squiggles and hyphens. But all the years he'd spent developing such an intricate system always seemed to flee him when locked in a prolonged courtroom sitting, starting off legible and strong but the hours of progression evident from the way the lines began to wearily skew and loop in incoherent ways.

He grumbled, looking between his shorthand notes and what he'd already transcribed, trying to pick apart a sloppily-made symbol with the context of the words surrounding it. The tip of his fountain pen tapped impatiently against his notes, minute ink splatters splaying onto the paper. He should've known better, honestly. He damn well knew his transcriptions were on a backlog as it was, the firm pulling in more clients than they could keep up with and handing Kyle every goddamn meeting and recording that they had to keep things in check. Kyle sighed, breaking his gaze off the mystery symbol and onto the lantern resting atop his desk. Even if they stopped dead in their tracks, it'd probably still take him three months or more to work his way through every file.

But it was important, his boss had reminded him upon handing him another three from the past week to handle. And his pace was fine considering the workload, it was just going to be stressful. Kyle huffed out a short breath through his nose. That was a mighty understatement, his dreams filled with phonograph-quality sound and walls papered with unfinished translations. He was no fool, knew that he was far from the only worker in the firm to have to bring work home with him, but he also knew he was the most underpaid, and it made the stress all the weightier.

His gaze slipped up from the dancing candlelight to how it splayed across the heavy, drawn curtains of the living room. It rolled through vermillion moreen like the tide, a simple band of design against the otherwise plain fabric. He put his notes aside onto his desk and leaned his cheek into his palm, sighing. He'd love to open those damn curtains now and then, or at least invest in something more lively. Drab drapery just made the squalor all the more obvious, his meticulous cleaning sessions only doing so much to bring life into the poorly-lit abode. Drenched in musty air from poor ventilation and clustered within nothing but hues of plain reds and browns, it was enough to drive any man to the brink. But he couldn't exactly skip off to the draper and bring home armfuls of vibrant damask to combat the claustrophobic environment.

Kyle leaned back again, falling all but boneless in his chair. He knew he had resources to assist, knew that Bebe would probably throw him more décor than he could ever figure out what to do with. But no, he reminded himself, eyes closing. Decorum brought attention from outsiders, brought the notion that this shabby home was more than just a temporary living space.

The sound of a key jiggling its way into the front lock brought him from his dreary exhaustion, sitting up straight in his chair and head snapping back as sunlight spilled into the room across the carpeting. He stood as a tall figure stepped inside, hurriedly shutting and relocking the door behind them, encasing them in nothing more than candlelight all over again. Kyle shuddered at the loss; it was always far too soon to lose the sun, but it was more than necessary.

He stepped from around his chair, looking at the man before him with a degree of caution. "Ken?" he winced, unable to read the expression on his face. It was so unusual, Kenny's face usually plainer for him to read than his own damn handwriting, but this time he seemed almost lost, caught in a marred mess of… well, Kyle couldn't tell exactly what.

Kenny took a deep breath as Kyle approached, eyes flickering around the room and to the door, another final check of the covered windows and their assured privacy before long legs picked up the pace to close the distance between them. He cupped his hands under Kyle's chin, leaning down as Kyle's toes perched in their shoes and their lips met with a simultaneous, relieved sigh. The twitch of a smile broke through his stress as thin arms wound around his waist and a content hum rolled its way through Kyle's throat. He pulled back, separating with a small smack and pressed his forehead atop Kyle's, heaving another sigh. "Hi," he finally said.

"Hi. So? How'd it go?" Kyle pressed, the ambiguity of Kenny's tone sending him through a whirlwind of possibilities.

Kenny pressed his lips to his forehead, moving them together towards the couch and pulling him to sit beside him. Kyle unwillingly uncoiled from his waist and pulled his arms back, stopped as Kenny gripped his hands tightly in his own. Kyle's face knitted together in concern, seeing the echo of confliction so prevalent in crystalline eyes.

"They want me to travel for a deal," he finally said.

Kyle perked up, a small smile crossing his lips, "So… your job is safe?"

He shrugged sheepishly, "So long as I can seal this deal it is."

"That's fantastic, Ken!" he leaned forward and stole a kiss, pulling back at the minimal return of enthusiasm and the worry finding its way back to his face. "So why do you look so upset?" he ventured softly.

Kenny shied down guiltily, fingers stroking the hands he held and biting his lip. "It's a good ways away, Ky. I'd be gone a little under a month."

Kyle's posture found itself immediately mirroring Kenny's, even just the idea of such a lengthy separation slathering depression over him like honey, trying to weigh him down into a pathetic pile on the floor. A million queries ran through his head at once, questioning the logistics of such a trip and the financial weight, the practicality of foregoing written correspondence in lieu of sending someone, sending a low-ranking solicitor of all things.

Kyle was beyond proud of Kenny, of every part of his job, knew better than anyone that he could do it well, but that didn't mean anything to Kenny's firm as he found himself typically last on the list of those in his field for the chance of a contract. But for him to be offered a contract that would keep him from home for so long… It had to be important. "Why so long?" he finally spoke.

He sighed, releasing Kyle's hands and running his hands up through his hair, falling back into the worn cushions behind them. "It's in some small village in Caerleon."

"Caerleon?" he repeated, eyes narrowing. "Who the hell wants to move from Caerleon to Alston? Let alone to Dellwyn of all places?"

Kenny shrugged listlessly, "Someone who wants to live by the sea, I guess. It's some rich guy… Maybe he wants to start iunno… exporting or something."

Kyle watched the preemptive exhaustion racking through him and took a deep breath, putting his hand lovingly on his thigh. "Do you want some coffee, Ken? You look beat."

"Please," he gave him a meek smile and Kyle nodded, immediately getting to his feet and making way towards their cramped kitchen and the pot he already had set aside for a long night ahead of tearing through his meeting minutes. Kenny watched after him as he disappeared behind the wall, biting his cheek. "Apparently I was second choice, as always," he called out sadly.

"Whaddya mean?"

He rolled his eyes to himself. "Cartman apparently went a few weeks ago but didn't report back."

"Good. Maybe he died," Kyle scoffed, Kenny finally letting out a tiny bout of laughter. Kyle made no secret of his detestation of his coworker. One brief encounter when Kyle had dropped off paperwork Kenny had left behind at home had somehow escalated into a full-on screaming match between the two before Kenny could emerge from his shared office. It'd all but traumatized their secretary, Tweek scampering off to hide in the back hall and not reappearing until Kyle was long gone and supposedly out of auditory range. But, Kyle's hatred was not without its merit, Kenny wasn't particularly fond of Cartman's continued existence either. Just that one meeting was enough for Cartman to always bring up Kenny's "housemate" whenever the opportunity arose, usually amongst a sea of sneers and snubs for Kenny associating with such a "low-class ginger-haired Jewish piece of trash".

How Kenny hadn't knocked his teeth in, he hadn't the slightest idea. He figured it was only to keep his damn employment, but damn if it didn't take every ounce of his strength.

He glanced over as Kyle emerged with two steaming porcelain mugs, making his way to sit back down beside of him and hand him the billowing cup of coffee. Kyle took his own sip and sighed, looking at Kenny sympathetically. "That fatass always gets the jobs you should get."

"Tell me about it," he muttered. "That's what happens when your mom sleeps with the boss, though," he rolled his eyes through a scoff. He looked over at Kyle and shot him a small, teasing smile. "No chance you'd be willing to sleep with my boss, is there? I'd do it myself, but I don't think I'm his type."

Kyle snorted, "You'd have to be getting a hell of a raise and a contract that guarantees you'd inherit the company. Besides, I doubt I'm his type either."

"You should be everyone's type," he cooed, reaching up and putting his palm on Kyle's cheek, stroking his thumb along his ear and temple. "But then again, I'd have t' fight everyone for ya, and that wouldn't be fun for me."

He smirked, shaking his head lightly. "You'd win," he promised, rolling his eyes amusedly at Kenny giving him a pronounced wink. He turned his head, kissing the palm of his hand. "So, he just never got back to anyone?"

Kenny's smile dropped, and he shook his head. "No, not a word. Honestly? You might be right, he may just be fucking dead. I've never known that piece of shit to miss a chance for money."

"Hm," he nodded slowly, a small glimmer striking through meadow-green eyes. "Well… good," he repeated. "If he's gone, then you get all the good clients. Like it should've been from the very beginning."

He chuckled, "You're biased."

"Yes, but I'm also not stupid," he scoffed, bumping his head into the hand still playing along his face. "You work so much harder than that sack of horseshit. You deserve to have bigger and better opportunities."

Kenny looked at him, reading between the lines easily enough and gulping. "So… you're okay with me being gone for that long?" he asked timidly. "That's such a long time away from you. And there's not even any guarantee this guy will take a house…" He sank, not willing to deal with such intense isolation for a mere chance at something good happening for once.

Kyle sighed, reaching up and taking his fondling hand in his own, linking their fingers and dropping them down into his lap. "Am I happy you'll be gone so long? No. Sure, it'll be lonely… But you shouldn't let me get in the way of you having some success," he winced. Kenny's face still rang with guilt and he pouted. "Kenny, do you like your job?"

He glanced at him, awkwardly shrugging as he took a long sip of his bitter brew. "I like when I make money for us."

"That's not what I asked."

Kenny sighed, shifting back further into the cushions and staring into the darkness of his mug. "I don't hate it, I guess… I don't want to lose it or anything…"

"Then take this job for what it is: An opportunity," Kyle urged, scooting closer to sit pressed against him. "Besides, if whoever this guy is is calling for someone to see in person, I'm sure he already knows he's going to buy property. He just… wants a face to put the deed to," he shrugged.

Ken glanced at him and gave a small smile, "You think?"

"Mhm," he nodded, taking another sip of his coffee and putting it aside on the table in front of them. He leaned up, pressing his lips to Kenny's temple and feeling him melting against the gesture, smiling lightly against his skin. "This is a good thing," he promised with another kiss. "It'll open a lot of new doors for you, I'm sure of it."

He turned his head, meeting his lips softly. "So long as you're okay with it."

Kyle smirked, brushing Kenny's bangs out of his eyes. "Again, I'm not happy about it, but I'm not about to stand in the way of you pushing forward in your career."

Ken shook his head, putting his mug down beside of Kyle's and shifting to sit facing him on the couch, his hands immediately finding themselves on his waist and cheek. "You're never in my way," he swore, bringing him forward for a longer kiss.

Kyle sighed contentedly, arms moving to loop around his neck, lost in the warm magnetism that Kenny had held over him for so damn long. He could feel the waves of relief flooding Kenny's weary form, smirking as legs moved around him and strong arms guided him forward to plant their bodies flush against one another. He pulled back a mere smidgeon, grinning at Kenny craning his neck forward to snag a few more nips at his bottom lip, fingers tracing up through red curls to grip around and force him back into place. He resisted just enough, an impatient grunt rumbling through Kenny's chest.

"When would you be leaving?" he asked, his breath hot as it bounced between their faces.

"Three days," Kenny murmured, pushing for another kiss, blue eyes becoming swathed in a heady lust that had Kyle aching already.

He grinned, granting him his wish and pressing back forward, the hand on his waist tracing its way down to grab greedily at his ass and squeeze. He moaned, lashes fluttering as he was made to remain as Kenny wished, the fingers in his hair lightening only a bit to grant him a rewarding few pets against his scalp. His arms slid back to cup Kenny's face and pull them apart for just a moment, getting those eyes back on him and melting with the undivided attention. "Guess that's three days to work on tiding us over, huh?" he whispered.

A wild grin overtook Kenny's face, the grip on Kyle's body tightening as he was forced to fall backwards, his stomach like a chaotic swarm of locusts as Kenny came between his legs and hovered overtop of him. Kyle grinned lazily, giving no more than a simple, teasing bump of his eyebrows before Kenny came rushing back down to reclaim his lips.

The reds and browns surrounding them, the blocked-out sunlight, the utter isolation that they were forced into, it suddenly didn't seem so dull to Kyle. No, he realized as eager, deft fingers began to unbutton his shirt and loving lips plastered themselves to his collarbone. When they were so locked in one another, when the turmoil of life was shut out and the only things that mattered were one another, vibrancy seemed too subtle a term for the influx of light that emitted from every fiber of their being. After all, he thought with a lovestruck, half-drunken smile, watching as Kenny leaned back with his golden hair caught in a flickering amber halo, with Kenny, everything was glowing and alive.

And he wouldn't change it for the world.