Sorry this took so long, I didn't mean for that. Things will continue to be slow as I'm trying to move house and I'm working a lot. Still not 100% on this one but you've been waiting very patiently so I thought I'd upload it.

It was Kenny's fault that the mood was ruined, though the weather didn't help much. Funerals in movies were always grey and inclement; everyone stood with matching black umbrellas and tears merged with rain until one didn't know where weather ended and sorrow began. Rain hardly happened in South Park, and the untrodden snow glistened under the autumn sunlight; hardly setting the scene for emotional carnage.

They were all gathered outside waiting for the hearse to arrive. It was too much money and work to arrange a procession of cars, and Cartman wasn't sure if anyone would remove their hats or feel sad as his body made its way down the streets anyway. His mother shouldn't have to see that. He half-expected the flowers in the back to spell out 'Fatass' and 'Bastard', but he supposed 'Eric' and 'Son' was chosen as it was cheaper. He wished he'd had hindsight of his premature death. It would have been fun to choose all those little details. He'd have to fake another will so he could choose the words on his headstone. Something like, 'Dance on me, bitches, I dare you'.

Cartman watched everyone talking and reminiscing; some laughs, some tears. Heidi was doing a very accurate portrayal of a grieving widow even though they hadn't dated for years, and with their sleek black hair and funerary outfits Stan and Wendy would have a perfect career as professional mourners if whatever hippy venture they had planned ever failed. Butters' bright hair and Kenny's shining smile were juxtaposed against their muted clothes. That Kenny had a black parka for such occasions had always greatly amused him.

Then there was Kyle, currently talking to some of the girls and clutching a box against his chest – gift wrapped in red paper and silver bow – hadn't put it down since he got out of the car. Cartman found himself gravitating towards him no matter where he walked amongst his classmates, or perhaps Kyle was too, like they were binary stars in a bleak cosmos, the only two for light years.

His extended family stuck close together, wary of the small-town folk and he realised they didn't have a lot to say about him, mostly talked to his mother about herself and how she was doing. Was he really so much of a brat that his own blood had nothing to say about him?

Speaking of blood, Scott didn't turn up, which surprised no-one but Cartman as he thought he would be first in line to check the body was real. He was probably in a safe padded room still.

The funeral planner was approaching a few of the guys in his class with whispered urgency and Cartman slunk closer to catch the conversation. "Kyle, you doing it?" asked Stan wandering over.

"Doing what?" he replied moving away from Heidi and her friends, and noticed Kenny and Butters approaching.

"Pall bearing. Dude wants to know if we want to, as his friends. You me, Butters, Kenny. And two professionals for health and safety reasons."

Kyle glanced at Cartman who raised his shoulders in an apathetic shrug. "I'd be honoured," Kyle said with a small smile.

"Cool," Stan nodded. "The casket will be on a trolley, we don't have to carry it."

"Oh thank fuck!" Kenny blurted and Butters clasped his face in a mortified gasp. There was a tense pause before Kyle burst out laughing, Stan and Kenny following suit almost immediately.

"Ay!" Cartman whined. "You fucking assholes." The three held each other helplessly whilst Butters chewed his bottom lip to prevent his own giggles, onlookers shaking their heads at their lack of respect. With a headshake of his own, Cartman began to see the funny side as his casket was heaved out of the back of the hearse. He wouldn't want to carry that either, not from the outside anyway.

Cartman considered sticking his head in the casket, take a peek at his own corpse, but that was probably a bad idea. Trauma aside, it was difficult to make dead people look good, especially when they weren't an oil painting to begin with. Instead he hung at the side of the room wincing at the screeching sliding of metal chair legs as everyone configured themselves into position. Kyle had left the red box on his seat, taken his place opposite Stan next to his casket at the doors. His chest stuck out as it heaved once before the music started and Cartman held his face in his hands at the familiar harmony. God he hoped they played the whole song through or he was going to be in a world of pain in a few seconds. Actually, it was rather a dark song, he pondered, in this context. He looked out at the barely composed miserable faces; his mother's embedded into a handkerchief.

His friends unblinkingly led his body up through the aisle, Kyle's eyes finding him, settling on him for a moment on a certain part of the song.

I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had.

The congregation jumped at the slam of the doors as they flung open. "Just the wind," the funeral planner reassured, pulling them closed.

Only Kyle had seen Cartman flee.

"Cartman," Kyle murmured as he walked cautiously up to Cartman, stood with his eyes squeezed shut as he forced out the rest of the lyrics. Kyle let him finish before moving closer. "Cartman?"

Cartman spun around, startled by Kyle's stealth and his wing floored him. "Shit, Kahl! Don't sneak up on people like that."

Kyle pulled himself up, brushing the snow from his pants.

"You okay?" said Cartman, actually feeling bad that he hadn't offered a hand.

"Yeah." Kyle looked a little confused as he rubbed his face then butt. "I'm not hurt at all."

"Really? Come to think of it, Satan said I couldn't hurt anyone, even by accident."

Kyle reflected on the last time Cartman thwacked him with a wing, lying together in his bed. That hadn't hurt either. He felt it, knew it had hit his nose, but nothing came of it. "I guess it's a precaution. Pity though. I still kinda wish you'd just hit me already."

"What for?"

Kyle stared at him. "What f-? For everything."

Cartman chortled. "You don't get it, do you?" He disrespectfully sat on a headstone to Kyle's irritation. "The amount of times I've been staring Death in the face and you've hauled my ass out of the fire. Bitched at me about it, but still did it. Sure I'd have grown up with two kidneys. But they don't help you float when you've eaten treasure like a dumb fuck." Then Cartman said what had taken him all night to realise. "Kahl, without you I wouldn't have even made it to eighteen." He waited silently as his words sunk in.

"I guess." Kyle walked away abruptly and sat on a wall surrounding the graves. Cartman had pissed his day-walker off; he knew that by the wrinkled nose and fierce flash of gold in his eyes, though he didn't know how or why. He joined him on the wall, searched for something to say. Talking to Kyle was somehow harder these days. Kyle broke the silence as usual, always the bearer of olive branches. "Stan said if it was the other way round, you wouldn't mourn me. I'm starting to think that's true."

This branch has thorns. "I literally just said I'm glad you didn't die."

"Because of how it affected you. Not because you care. Are we…" Kyle's voice petered out as his question stung his throat. "Are we even friends?"

Cartman's wings began to jitter uncontrollably and he crossed his arms to hold them down against his side. "You really want an answer?"

"I want the truth."

"Truth huh?" Cartman wasn't a fan of it, even when it was beneficial. But he owed Kyle something as he sat beside him, moist-eyed and tremble-lipped. "Satan said you were the closest person to me, that's why you're my Helpy Helperton while I'm here."

"I can't believe you admitted that." The other boy's eyes grew larger and wetter. "Thank you."

"You tell fucking no-one, got it?" Cartman sulked.

"Of course," Kyle beamed hugging himself against the breeze that suddenly picked up. "Hey, how did you open the doors? You're not supposed to be able to touch anything when there's people around. In case it draws attention."

Good question. "Maybe it didn't count because everyone was distracted enough." His thumb caressed the skin of his wings, warm and smooth and tingling.

Kyle watched the movement, captivated briefly, before asking, "You going back in?"

"Dunno. That wasn't as fun as I thought it would be."

He laughed humourlessly. "Maybe funerals are better when you aren't actually dead."

"That too but… they actually, I mean they really…"

"Miss you?"

"Yeah."

"You're still hung up on that? How could you think we wouldn't?" He meant to say 'they'. Cartman saw that he looked away shyly, both realised they were shoulder to shoulder and swallowed. It was then that Cartman noticed how dark his eyelashes were, unusual for a ginger. And he only noticed because they were so close to his own. In fact Kyle's whole face was close to his. Oh, said Cartman's brain as it suddenly kicked into gear, he's kissing you. Kyle's lips left his before he could decide if he was going to kiss back, and he saw his pale face scrunched up in a pained regret. "Sorry," Kyle mumbled, subdued. "I shouldn't have…"

"It's…"

Okay? Was it? Kissing Kyle, in a graveyard or otherwise, was not a normal outcome from one of his tantrums it occurred to Cartman. Not something to just brush over. This was a new thing, a thing that had been slowly crawling over them – for Kyle, weeks; for Cartman, mere days.

Kyle finally opened his eyes but stared at the ground, creating a pile of snow with his shiny shoes. "I should get back inside. Wendy will kill me if I miss her eulogy. She worked so hard at it."

Cartman didn't miss a beat, considering how upside-down and inside-out he'd been made to feel over the last few seconds. "Doesn't surprise me. Must've taken a while to find anything nice to say. Or at least impartial."

"I'm sure she read up on obituaries for stock phrases."

"Huh?"

Kyle finally looked at him, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You think you're the first bastard to die? There's lots of flowery ways to remain objective in a eulogy."

"Like instead of saying I 'liked to annoy the Hell out of everyone' she might say I was a 'people-person'."

Kyle giggled. "Exactly." He looked back at the building, got up to go. "We're all going to Stark's Pond after your reception. Let off some fireworks Stan's uncle bought for us in tribute."

"Kick ass!" Cartman leapt to his feet. "I'm so there." Silently Kyle led the way back to the service, Cartman trailing behind and allowing his curious eyes to wander over the figure before him, truly seeing it for the first time.

Next Chapter:

Butters squealed as Kenny slumped to the floor in an unmanly faint. Cartman rubbed his hands together and hooted, "Epic!"

((Don't worry, Kenny is fine))