The Cartman place was one of those suburban lies which forever littered the sides of the South Park streets. Like a dark memory trapped beneath thick layers of stark denial, it was lost to shadows even in the daylight. Kyle stared up at it as it rose from the street with it's mockingly charming appeal. Fiery heat bathed him from the sun up above, but he felt much colder as his emeralds slipped over the tightly drawn curtains sealed much like the doors to reality. Like the McCormick place before it, this was one of those diseased pieces of humanity which stained all which looked upon it far too long. Standing there, Kyle knew not to approach, even as his boots tracked over the broken sidewalks taking him from his sickly empty house to this one masquerading as a home.

Chills shivered up his spine as one hand fell from his side. It dangled there, lifeless, as if waiting for someone nonexistent to clutch it in kindly motions. Instead of feeling tender flesh gripping his body, he was verbally assaulted by innocent words tailing after him from the brink of sanity. That child's voice was a measurement of the gravity of this situation; a weighing of whether right or wrong when both knew which it was. Still, that shy sound drifted through the troubled waters so deep down to the underworld, they were engulfed in that onyx shade.

" 'Kay. Ask if he wants to come over," Butters sweetly requested, his feet crunching on loose gravel as he decidedly didn't follow after the Jew. There was a vague response tossed back over Kyle's shoulder. It was something dual repeated, although it might as well not have been said at all. As it stood, it was a throw away from a victim captured wholeheartedly in the lull of some great seduction. Thus, Butters quickly abandoned him to his ill sought quest, for this innocent could sense more than the redhead could from that particular house, " Bye,"

The sounds of Butters leaving were muffled by the sounds of Kyle descending into the pitfall that was the Cartman house. Even as many times as he had stepped up onto those steps, he still felt foreign, alien, unwelcomed by the pulsating aura consuming this vile structure. His fingers slid up the paneling around the door, left unlocked in the facade of neighborly goodness. Every stroke was something bizarre, something unknown. The Jew felt the wood in a way that told him, quite certainly, that he could just push forward and shatter the fragile foundation. He knew why he felt that way. He knew it to the point that his fingers trembled in fear of his own strength. Jerking away from that past reflection, he eased open a door which screamed viciously in violation. Quivers danced along his prickling flesh, a hard swallow choking down the first burst of searing embers tasting so sweet, they gagged as they choked.

Gasping for breath, then, Kyle slipped inside the stale air of the two story hell near his own. There was no thought to this methodical process. One second, he had entered the torture chamber, the next he was creeping up the stairwell to the execution scaffold. Every creaking board brought him closer and closer to the vibrating music consisting of sexual innuendos. A bass line like a moan melded upon his suddenly roaring inferno, seeping into his blood to the point of stopping his heart in the explosion of sheer heat. Flames licked from his throat to his tongue, twisting into words he longed to spit out. Yet, with every lingering sense of dry frustration, he ignore the music hailing from Liane Cartman's bedroom of sin. He couldn't help the face which overtook his beautiful features. He could, however, help barging into that woman's personal demise to accuse a harlot when nothing good could come from such a waste of time. Forcing himself away from leering over her doorway, where her squeals echoed, he turned to gaze at the Nazi's door.

His fingers touched the lightly blood stained swastika etched there before he eased the door open a fraction of an inch. Like he had before, he peered through the sliver to see inside the bloodied room of his eternal oppressor.

Every poster had been ripped away from the walls. They laid in shreds over the broken pieces of a lamp which was in front of a glorious dent in the red painted world. Clothes of a different style coated the whole of the bedroom, from the desk scattered with makeup stains to the bed with sheets torn in half to the floor scattered with expensive, shattered pieces of jewelry. These clothes appeared to be objects of gold rather than just clothes, for they were stitched in fashionable memories of a distant era of indulgence. To that end, they were the colors of darkened corridors of an older movie bearing one Hepburn and others even older from the days when prostitutes were known as blowsies. Yet, for the reflective nature, there was no denying the richness stolen in the silken fabrics, the lace, the lingering stones attached to collars and hemlines. These sparkling things captured all attention in their queenly attraction until those emeralds caught sight of their matching heels dangling on the edge of the bed. Six inch heels gathered up the light, cascading it down over something not even Kyle had ever seen in true reality.

A luscious wig of chocolate colored fluff was resting on one of the end tables just next to the bed frame. In place of the CDs and comics of before, there was only this revealed selection of torrid night lights. It's locks were highly stylized, pairing well with the gorgeous garments discarded around the room. This famed thing was stained in glitter, throwing back and taking in the dulled lights of the place as though in a frantic dance. Illuminated in it's devious appeal of cigarette smoke, martini glasses, and white lines, this wig coyly replaced all of Kyle's fiery rage with a rush of freezing fear for reasons unknown.

Unable to take it, the Jew jerked his eyes away from the wig's puckering pleads. He looked towards the wicked creature to whom he had been possessed into searching for. The heat of the day mirrored the rising fire within his chest as his cheek pushed into the unmoving wood of that doorframe. Cartman was laying on the disaster of his bed, his glittering cell phone rested on the ample arch of his stomach. One hand, decorated in deep nail polish and gaudy rings, was pressed over his face in a likening to embarrassment. The Nazi muttered words of German to himself as he shook his head from side to side in a similar fashion. These words plucked at Kyle's heartstrings almost as much as the disappointment he felt spiraling over his burning core. For all the luxurious teasing outfits about the room, his preferred object of tantalizing desire was dressed in an old tee with a foreign saying on his chest and some ratty jeans weathered quite a lot. Thus, Kyle mutely frowned as he watched Cartman pick up his cell phone and flip it open to a new screen. Something was muttered, although so low under the breath that the redhead couldn't even make out the language.

" Fuckin' bitch," he sneered out in that wonderfully coy accent of his. The brunette pushed himself into a sitting position as he tossed the disliked phone to the floor. It made a small clatter as it connected with one of the bejeweled blouses making that frightening room so intoxicating.

A small smile, hot as the breaths escaping his mouth, snaked it's way over Kyle's face. His shoulder slid up the side of the doorframe in a slow, deliberate manner as he gave the door a wide push. It collided with the opposing wall as his darkly illuminated stones peered hungrily through the stunningly red of his curls. The shocked, wide, haunting honey orbs of the other stared at him as the doorknob echoed a soft clink throughout the inferno brewing between them.

" You should pay more attention to your surroundings, Cartman," Kyle whispered, his voice slinging into the air as his hips swayed slightly. The pressure of this fire nearly brought him to his knees, catching his breath and strangling him perfectly. His fingers trembled as he leaned all his weight into that doorframe to keep from collapsing.

" Screw you," was his curt answer. Two sugary eyes dropped down the length of Kyle's shivering body with mild interest, although not a word was cast to address it. Instead, Cartman leaned slightly back, giving the Jew the go ahead to steer this conversation in whatever direction he so wished. Unfortunately for the both of them, Kyle felt himself asking the more obvious question to what seemed like a long list of needed questions. He knew why he said it. Nothing he asked would get a straight answer, so he might as well not infuriate the churning, yearning fires anymore than just looking at that lovely face was. After all, he didn't know what would happen. Not today.

Any invitation today might just end in moonless waters.

He could feel it in the way he breathed in that clean scent of death.

" What're you doing?"

" That's really none of your business," he simply stated, as expected to. The red curls tilted forward as the Jew's head turned harder into the firm wood holding him up. One hand raised, pointing an accusing finger at the honey eyes observing his internal meltdown with a word. This front was crashing down to the rising sounds of a song not yet asked for, for the world around them was searching out into a blackened ballroom already.

" Who're you texting?"

" Your brother," a half smile accompanied this snippet. For all it's playfulness, though, Kyle's heart jolted when the unfamiliar flavor of regret pooled from the base of his mind to the tip of his quivering tongue. A foul taste, it stung viciously into his every core, creating a mimicking sensation of burning so false it racketed the Jew's body. Every inch of flesh crawled as his teeth gritted, his face flushing as ice cut through his eyes. The words leaving his mouth were colder than he meant, which was saying something, as he meant to spat them out like a mouthful of dead, thick blood.

" My brother doesn't have friends," he sneered through his teeth, the sound between hated agony and furious rage. Blood pounded in his ears, nearly blocking out the sarcastic dismal presented to his misplace emotions. A hand was waved in his direction to drive home the utter unimpressed nature Cartman held for this display of minute weakness and fierce fiery resolve not to leave.

" Whatevah," the Nazi mumbled as his phone exploded in a deafening sound of a pop single. The little thing screamed with another text message, probably of the same vein as before. He didn't even give it a quick glance. He didn't acknowledge anything other than the way Kyle was watching him through the tangled curls of his locks. The song died almost in cue as the shaking Jew wet his lips with one slow, seductive motion of his slick tongue.

" I came to make sure you weren't doing anything. . bad,"

Something about that word tasted wickedly wrong for the moment, even if it was the correct term. It smoothed from Kyle's tongue into the air like a spark taunting gasoline. Flickering embers ignited an inferno between the two of them, tilting the Jew's vision of the darkened chamber. His body swayed, he clung to the doorframe, and he saw the way Eric smiled through the smoke and sulfur. Such a vicious smile it was, it made his body shiver in fiery anticipation. All this just from one word; one tiny phrase amongst thousands.

Unfortunately, his other half wasn't keen to play along with this routine.

" Like what? Screwin' with Kinny?" the Nazi calmly suggested, without a single hint of indication for the implications he alluded to. Kyle jolted at the notion of those two together, alone, although he knew without a doubt that Cartman was merely messing with him. Still, the fires laced their fingers through the tangles of his bloodied hair, and he was at a lost of how to escape the bubbling flames of his core. Thus, he spoke in the same delirious timbre. Again, his words weaved their way through thick smoke to find the other's grin.

" More like killing people," he offered, one hand falling effortlessly from the stiff wood. Haunting music of a sexual den drifted through the sticky air as his fingertips struck the frozen realm of reality. His emeralds lazily glanced to see the red stained doorknob in his grasp, somehow caught out of the open air. Only as his fingers curled about the metal did Kyle realize he was no longer leaning against the doorframe; he had shifted so he was standing practically within that scorching room.

As he raised his eyes from their semi shock to the smile calling him closer to the edge, Kyle noticed that Cartman appeared to be enjoying the show. He didn't know where that thought came from, but that's the impression he was left with. Perhaps he knew that he was shifting from one foot to the other in a deluded attempt not to collapse to the wood below. In the back of his mind, the Jew knew he was. In that moment, however, all he heard was the invitation as it was written in curvy handwriting. Beckoned forward with teasing words, Kyle's hand slipped away from the stark cold metal of the outside world. He walked onto the dance floor as Eric gave a low chuckle.

" Isn't that the same thing?" he cooed, running a hand through his messy hair. Kyle felt his lips curling up into a coy smile he couldn't control. In a similar fashion, his unsteady feet took him a few steps into the torn apart room. Within his mind, he saw that hand being held out, that gorgeous man with his so familiar topaz eyes awaiting this elusive waltz.

" Kenny killed his family," Kyle snapped without reproach, pushing his hand back behind him. The door clattered shut in the same way he had opened it to begin with; only this time, it didn't make a sound either of them were aware of. All they heard was the silky voice echoing from the Jew's wet, pursed lips as he snatched up the invitation to tango with his favorite dance partner. Oh, and he did it with a lovely little insult dating way back, " You're just a sociopath,"

" Ouch. That fuckin' hurt," Cartman sneered as he gave Kyle that utterly perfected eye roll of his. He never denied the prelude to this opening dance as the fires overwhelmed the Jew's better judgment. He also said nothing as Kyle slipped silently onto the thrown about sheets. Kyle sat there, very so close to his sparring partner, folding his legs underneath him in the most surreal fashion he had ever known. Something about being there, on that bed, again, after all this time, made this whole scene seem like a well welcomed dream. Yet, the burning running through his bloodlines told him that this was all too real. He truly was there, staring up into sweetened honey eyes observing his every poised motion with hungry interest.

The way Eric's eyes moved over his lips drew the words forward.

" You've been avoiding me," he whispered, moving forth so that his eyes were peering through the blood to see the man before him. Eric wasn't playing games with him, though his answers were. Beyond them, however, Kyle felt his presence more than he saw him there. Something was teasing them, something was toying with them here, but they couldn't stop the conversation as it spiraled out of control. The music hit every note as their feet skidded over a floor painted slick and wet with the breath the redhead was panting inside. He heard a faint smile as he saw that laughter in that mocking comment.

" I wasn't aware I had to keep in touch," was the unfeeling response given as Eric turned his head to the side. The sugar of his orbs, of course, never left the face gazing up at him from another universe entirely. The look they gave each other was painful, just as the song was unmistakably difficult to dance to. Their waltz felt like it was falling into something new; perhaps something more than it was. For this, Kyle asked what he knew he should keep to himself.

" Where have you been all summer?"

" Shouldn't you know, you stalker?" the Nazi asked, once more pretending this wasn't some memory gone astray. He looked down directly at Kyle as two pools of emerald green sank into a color closer to onyx. Cold words were brewing fire inside the Jew, to which they both knew this dance was reaching a finale. Above all, seeing honey boiling into topaz without needing a push confirmed the fear Kyle had been avoiding ever since he saw all that enraged fire engorged upon the McCormick place.

Eric and Kyle were treading dangerously close to those words.

And that day.

And they weren't even trying to fake it anymore.

" I told you. I work," he stated as a matter of fact when he knew it wasn't. Eric let that one slide, shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly. His body language said he didn't know how serious this conversation really was. His eyes told a completely different story. This was why Kyle leaned ever closer to see their truthfulness amongst the lies they were saying for a cover they didn't even have.

" I've been here and there," he lied without even batting an eye. As if to show how fickle the answer was, he even waved his hand to the side, dismissing it as he said it. A smile was brought to Kyle's lips, embers overtaking his mouth as on this illusionary ballroom floor he stopped moving all together. This was no waltz and it certainly wasn't a tango. He didn't know what this was, but it was all a rage and all a flame, and everything was blinding in some untold measure of insanity. Yes, insanity, a white, cold sensation, not a feeling, that was sinking him into a pit of fires bursting with blue heat. His blood was seared off into a nothingness that felt weightless as his hand smoothed over the remaining bed sheets. His trembling fingers clenched, pushing his whitened knuckles into the soft, worn fabric of Eric's tight jeans. Certainly this dance was over, for the music was gone, and he was left staring so passionately up into topaz.

How his heart fluttered as he breathed out slowly.

" Well you haven't been here, so I guess you've just been there," the words curled from his mouth in a playfully sinful manner of speaking. The voice spoken was something possessed from his absolutely internal center; a clear division from the real world he was trapped within when not in that bedroom. Yet, even as he spoke in a voice that definitely didn't belong to him, he knew he meant every word said.

" Awww," Eric teased, finally moving to close the space between here and now and then and there. His gentle touch of warm fingers graced Kyle's cheek in a shockingly profound moment similar to when one wakes from a dream and realizes they're still alive. Then a sharp, loving pain jumped to the surface as his sweet Nazi pinched his cheek in that forever youthful way Eric was just made of. Alas, his words were of the same nature, even as they spoke to the lingering fire just engulfing their two bodies, " Did you miss me?"

Silence momentarily stole the scene from both the dreamlike world Kyle was captured by and the ballroom waiting on the next note which refused to come. Rather, everything ceased to exist as his emeralds moved to the side to see where Eric was stroking his cheek with his thumb. His touch was everything from mocking to loving to passionate to insane, yet managed to be unreal to the Jew. Slowly, moving through thickness pressing upon them in a slick heat, Kyle pressed his own hand to the smooth flesh of the other. He gave a gentle pull, moving those fingers away from his plump cheek, although not even he could say why. The moment afterwards, however, answered his unasked question, for Eric immediately slipped his fingers into the lacy curls of red. In an almost cautious way, he twirled one about his fingers, about his rings, about his genuine smile.

" How can I miss you if I don't even like you?" Kyle raised his eyes back up to the intoxicatingly tasty look he was being granted. He didn't notice the way he said the phrase, almost like a confession, for he was wholly ensnared by the gaze holding his green one. This question was discarded, as Eric wet his lips slowly in utter seduction.

" I missed you," he told his Jew, wrapping a finger about one of the soft curls colored in their fated shade. Music shattered silence into shards of glass crashing upon the floor. Kyle's hands were grabbed from his sides as he was spun into a dance made of fire, brimstone, and something feeling like sticky, wet blood. Tiles cracked about his heels as he was twirled from hither in a quick step stepping quickly over the lines of reality into delirium. He wasn't prepared, but then, he never quite was when Eric struck hard with his own form of promising pleasure.

" You're insane," Kyle spat out, for it was the first thought to come to mind through the jumbled fire. His body skirted through embers cascading from one side of hell to the realm of South Park's version as this waltz changed shape and this conversation morphed right along with it. This was not the coy sweetness he had been drawn into like a moth to fire. No, this was something dangerous, something he knew he had brought to the surface in this unreal surrealism playacting as their relationship.

The playfulness was over. This was Eric's version of seriousness.

Kyle couldn't have been more frightened if he had tried.

" That's hardly the point," he cooed in a velvet voice of such devious longing, it was quite literally overwhelming. A shudder of a breath escaped Kyle's lips. His body was falling prey to the victimization he was privy to. Unfortunately, when the words left his pointed tongue, he realized only too late that he wasn't fighting this personal execution.

" You didn't miss me. If you did, I'd know," he exclaimed, not needing to raise his voice above a fragile whisper. His response first came in a sly grin before his pet bopped him on the nose with one of his curls. Teasing, yes, but that smile sent quivers throughout the Jew just dying within to change topics. Even he knew that was impossible, of course, for Eric wasn't the type to allow it.

So why did Kyle smile when Eric teased him yet again?

" You'd like to think that,"

Those emeralds averted their attention in fear of what was being implied. They caught sight of a broken bedroom reflecting a mirror he didn't need to look through to see his own room. He saw the fractured pieces of a time spent alone in misery; the torn away posters, the thrown away clothing, the mess of the mind when it reaches reality. Finally, he saw his eyes drifting over sheets of a pleasing blood shade to find the tight jeans of his perfectly poised rival. There was a soft background song singing seduction when the piercing green found that wide grin awaiting him. Eric was enjoying a show meant only for him, tugging lightly on the same curl he always played with. When he twirled the red about his rings, when he pulled on it, Kyle felt his head tilting in that same direction. That was really all it took for this cascading waltz to cease in a trembling silence. Drawn as he always was, the Jew slipped forward on the sheets curling about his stained knuckles. He couldn't even say if they were dancing still, if that universal representation of their courting was real, surreal, unreal, for he was staring with wide eyes at the topaz he saw in his every midnight wondering. His tongue wet his lips in tasting the fire pooling around those sweet, sugary eyes pulling him from his seclusion.

Then he thought he saw the past screaming backwards through his mindset. The popping green of his eyes traced along the glitter smeared over Eric's full cheeks like a memory drowning in a moonless water grave. Glitter. Possessed by the ghosts trapped within the sparkly sins, he reached forth with one shaking hand. His thumb rubbed over the soft skin there as he wiped away a small trace of the world he couldn't name. In a similar fashion, he peered down at the sparkles lingering on his finger. They glinted in the faded lights, catching all innocence and flashing it around a merry go round fashion. Just the sight of it on his skin again caused the Jew to shiver in utter cold, his breath coming out shallow and hard.

" I remember glitter from middle school," Kyle faintly recalled, his eyes removing themselves from the glitter painted over his soul. Rather, he gazed up at his Eric as though confirming what he had just said. Frost was written in the smile he was granted as the Nazi rubbed away some of the remaining sins from his cheeks. Reaching through the past to the present, he smeared those tainted sparkles across Kyle's slightly plump cheeks.

" There you go," he breathed out in a voice too sweet for the Jew to handle. He wanted to break down in the tears of crystal cold returning from evenings lost in a glittery haze. Instead, he just tilted his head towards his darling as his cheek was pinched in that perfectly painful pleasure, " Glittery Jew,"

" Like a little jewel," Kyle said this as though he was speaking from another time; his voice removed from the present in an echoing quality. The words he meant weren't addressed. Quite the opposite, for the suggestion made next was one bordering on the edge of mindful clarity of what was really happening. Glitter stained or not, the redhead heard that offering in a lightning bolt colliding with a thunderclap sort of way. A tremendous storm was brewing in the honey of his honey's eyes, and it was all stated so cleanly in that one solitary word.

" Mine?"

Eric wasn't playing fair. Sadly, neither was Kyle.

" Perhaps,"

" I like those odds," the Nazi joyfully expressed, although even his voice showed that he recognized this new slow step dance they were engaged in. The invitations were received, rejected, accepted, and now delayed. A sort of game, they held hands and moved in a circle, without ever getting where they were going even as they never went quite backwards. In this mocking manner of sly shyness, Kyle pursed his lips, lowering his hands onto the sheets. His knuckles pushed into the weight of the other's thigh, being so close to him as he was.

" It's not odds," the Jew answered, avoiding the lasting offer entirely while addressing it all the same. Shifting his weight, he lowered the pulsating emerald of his glowing orbs to see the way Eric's fingers glistened with glitter, " There's only two answers,"

Fire consumed every thought throughout Kyle's white washed mind when Eric leaned close to where he was suddenly looking upwards. His chin was held in that glittery grasp, a gentle sort of hard, but all he could focus on was the churning embers gnawing at his sanity. His heart skipped beat after beat. He was wholly defenseless, staring so longingly at where his Nazi's mouth hovered just beyond the threshold of touching. One word said wrong and they would be embraced as they had been in a stark cold memory faded in sparkling lights. Throughout it all, he felt the warmth of sin pouring into his prickling flesh, taunting him as those tender lips did.

" You sure about that?" Eric asked cautiously with clear warning to his heated question. Even as tainted as his words were, they couldn't compare to what he did next. Those searing eyes of spilt sugar glanced, just glance for one fraction of a second, at Kyle's lips. The action was so quick, but, oh, how dangerously precise it was against the backdrop of burning flames; something like a needle thrust down to draw only one necessary blood drop to start to blood flow.

Certainly, it was more than enough to release the words held so tightly behind the Jew's lips.

" Yes and no. Which is it?" he choked out, stumbling over what he desired to say. He was so close, he could taste their festering scent in the back of his throat. Unfortunately, he found himself still refusing that admittance. Even as Eric, his Eric, peered down through the fires of heaven to see the desperation calling to him from two shattered emeralds.

Eric rubbed his thumb over Kyle's lips, smearing traces of biting glitter glass there. Slowly, carefully, the Jew wet his lips as that sweet gesture graced his quivering lips. Immediately, he tasted his Eric in a burst of emotions almost unknown as they jolted through his mind to his quaking body. The overwhelming flavor of chocolate made itself known over his tingling tongue, overshadowed quickly by something he didn't know. A bitter, cold, metallic something that faintly cried in it's familiarity. Yet, just as he thought he might know what it was, Eric smoothed his thumb over Kyle's bottom lip. Those quivering lips stained in glitter parted ever so slightly. A fiery, slick breath danced over his fingers, making Eric smile that one beautiful smile that had forever caused Kyle agony. Within, his heart ached against the taste of his pet, the sweet and the bitter and the mixture which seemed to create the meaning to their every meeting.

" Guess," Eric teased, as if the answer wasn't so clearly written in the bloodied air pressing down over their entangled souls. Looking up at those eyes, feeling that taste in his heart, Kyle literally heard something deep within him crack. The shattering echoed in his ears for hours to come, but it was heartbreakingly fresh in the moment he answered in his cast off way.

" No," he said it in a hollow voice meant to drive home the point he was painting. Regardless, he kissed Eric's thumb with his eyes closed. Then, swallowing the flavor so it disappeared into the reality of that summer day, he leaned back so the distance between them was real again. Cartman allowed his hand to fall away while he gave a wonderful roll of his honey eyes.

The ballroom faded away as the fires curled up inside the Jew.

" Stupid Jew,"

" Sociopathic Nazi,"

" Isn't that an oxymoron?" Cartman questioned, tilting his head in a somewhat disinterested way. His voice was back to being his usual playfully wicked thing, manifesting from his blackened core. Just hearing that accented timbre sent Kyle back into the day he was supposed to be at. The past disappeared into the dark night of quiet water, so that he was once more kneeling on Cartman's plush queenly bed in some hot day.

" Do you have any idea what an oxymoron is?" he snapped back, giving his rival a quizzical look. He was given a casual shrug of shoulder that was discarding this topic of choice, even as the Nazi did actually respond.

" I guess that means they both are," he sneered with a touch of heated intent to his sweet eyes. He might have been attempting to rile the Jew's hot blood into a another waltz; probably for the fun of the chase, if nothing else. Yet, Kyle, being brought back to the day, remembered just what he was doing there. He flicked his wrist in a mimicking way that made Cartman arch an eyebrow. The dismissal, though, was all the same.

" Nice try," Kyle admitted, lowering his hand to rest lightly on the other's knee. Shrugging both shoulders, he puckered his lips almost in a taunting fashion, " I came over to invite you over to Butters',"

" Yeah, right,"

" No, really. Do you wanna come over?" he said in a much more expressive voice. Although he couldn't say why, Kyle grasped one of Cartman's hands in both of his, squeezing tightly to show just how much he wanted him to come over. Whether or not the Nazi got the message, he didn't seem too keen on giving in when he was being denied in more than one way. Thus, he gave a fake, little smile, and pulled Kyle's fingers off his own.

" Uh. . . .Yeah, no," he said with a snippy undertone. Kyle frowned deeply at the rejection, but he didn't pressure the heavier boy into following him. Instead, he rubbed his forehead for the brewing headache leaking into his skull, before turning away from the lingering grin on his companion's face. In a way, he hoped his arm would be snatched up, and he would be asked to stay. Of course, he knew that wasn't about to happen. He could feel it in the chilled air about his head as his feet slipped onto the trashed floor.

" Your loss," Kyle cooed in a low timbre, getting to his feet with an idle sway of his curved hips. Flicking his red curls back, he patted the arch of his bottom, sending a coy glance back over his shoulder to where Cartman was smiling and eyeing his succulent body in a sweetly seductive way, " And I mean that,"

With that fiery denial, Kyle walked out of the safe haven of Cartman's bittersweet world. Every step was pierced by the sensational laughter of his pet, even after he pulled the door shut behind him. His body shook and shivered to the sound, stroking the embers inside to a boiling point. At the front door, hearing that desirable sound smoothing over his lips, the same as Eric's fingers, he nearly cried out, collapsed, and conceded to the will of the other. His feet almost turned around, although he managed to grip the doorknob and escape his personal prison with his sanity intact. Admittedly, it was just barely, but he stood on the front porch of that bleak hellhole, and he could breathe again.

Grasping his rushing heart, the Jew lightly stepped off the porch and drifted past the edge of the Cartman property. A lost feeling descended on him, pulsing mostly into a head splitting headache starting at his temples and working their way backwards. Holding his head, then, Kyle shivered in a freezing whisper of ice as his feet trudged past the darkened windows of his house, the pure white ones of the Marsh's, and up the block to the blocked out one's of the Stotch's. He couldn't say exactly what his thoughts were in that quick walk; if he had any worth recalling at all. Everything was jumbled together in one dreary haze tasting a lot like chocolate. Whether this chocolate was the same he tasted on Eric, he wasn't sure. It very well could have been the poisoned one from his past, coming up behind him for all the glitter stained memories he hadn't fully seen when in that red room. Rather than attempting to find a thought process, Kyle just banged his blanched knuckles on Butters' front door.

The noise sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Or Kenny's laughter that day.

Just as the water eased into his brain, Kyle heard the door creaking open. His wide emeralds stared at the innocent as Butters stared down at his cell phone. He was reading a text message, although the Jew wasn't sure how he knew that. Rubbing his forehead, he mouthed something he couldn't recall seconds later as those pale eyes jolted when they realized he had opened the door and was standing in front of the Jew. Butters gazed at him with a rather stunned look painted on his adorable, little child's face.

" Kyle?" Butters shyly asked, as though he had to verbally confirm who was standing in front of him. The touch of distance to his pale orbs seemed to peer through Kyle, into someone else who might also have been standing there. A smile of obscene proportions traced along Kyle's sparkly lips as he waved with one quivering hand.

" Hi, Butters,"

" Golly, I didn't think you'd come back," he announced without hesitation. Kyle continued to smile, feeling as though his head was ripping his eyes out the back of his mind. As his smile slightly widened disjointedly, the innocent eased to the side. His phone hung loosely in his fingertips, but his eyes gathered a certain look of fierce searching. He looked directly past the Jew, as if he could see someone else standing right there, smiling down at him in that bizarre fashion reflecting some splashing memory.

" Of course I would," Kyle airily stated, swaying from side to side. His legs threatened to give way, although it was his head he was most concerned with. He rubbed his forehead again, with got Butters eyes to snap back in his direction. There was a lingering sense of dread amongst those pale gems, " I don't break my promises,"

" . . .'Kay. Come on in," Butters muttered, holding the door open wide enough to let the other inside. He did so with some minute caution, biting his lower lip in reluctance. Kyle stepped inside, his body shaking violently from a cold that appeared to be trailing after him. The innocent shivered as he walked by, again casting a forlorn look outside and continuing to hold the door open.

" Do you have something to drink?" Kyle vaguely asked, holding his hand out and grasping the air as if to grab someone's wrist. He turned towards the child as he said it, jerking the past backwards into the home. Long tangles of blond hair slipped down in front of horrified eyes beginning to tear up. A shudder went up the slender legs of the sweet boy as he chewed on his lower lip, nodding his head like he wished he didn't have to, " Good, because my head's killing me,"

Kyle wiped the glitter from his lips as his tongue slipped up his fingers to taste it. Metal twisted itself around the linger texture of flesh burning inside a cathedral cast away from God's good graces. Up it went like the McCormick place, forever avoiding the light and thus forever avoiding the problem. This, Kyle swallowed hard as his eyes blanked into a hue somewhere closer to hell than emerald. As he did, as his words fell in glass shards about the freezing cold echoing from the pieces of glitter, Butters gave a silent, slow nod. His eyes cut away entirely from the present, hearing the words as if they were something more perverse than they were. Swallowing hard as Kyle swallowed the poison, he turned to where his fingers were gripping the wood of his door.

Butters heard those words from a distant memory before he pushed the door shut on the shadow standing on his doorstep, laughing hysterically at a day quickly coming to the surface that summer in South Park.