Within the confines of summer heat and isolation, time was something of a whispering retreat from reality. In South Park, this was particularly true. There was no real measure of time when one was merely killing it for the sake of doing so. For Kyle, he knew he was doing just that as he pulled on the leather boots he usually only wore on freezing cold days in mid winter. That day, sometime in June, he laced them up out of the desire for this summer to be completely over. He had been wilting away time for the past five or so days and the idea of doing so had always depressed him. Yet, he had found himself sitting on Butters bed every morning around eleven and staying there until eleven again day in and day out. The heat outside made it next to impossible for them to leave and do something. Walking was a favorite pastime of theirs, but that wasn't to be had. Thus, when Kyle rang the doorbell, they strode up to the pale green and blues of the innocent's bedroom to wait for the clock to strike eleven again. Then, Kyle would pull on his shoes and head out to the darkness of his own house.
There was no reason for this course of action. In all honesty, the same avoidance could be found within his own bedroom, locked away in his tower with his thick bound books. Instead, Kyle had abandoned Pride and Prejudice to lay on Butters bed. He really hadn't done much of anything else. Butters had attempted to hold conversation after conversation with the Jew, although his words weren't heard and therefore weren't answered. In due time, the innocent had simply gone about working on whatever he was working on when Kyle slept on his bed. Time would disappear, the clock hands would shift, and they would eat lunch down in a frigid kitchen. They ate soup, and nothing else, before going back upstairs to repeat the morning late into the evening. When evening finally came, Butters woke Kyle from his slumber, sent him on home, and the Jew quietly walked up the stairs to his bedroom where he resumed his dreamland adventures.
Time had vanished as such, leaving him getting dressed that morning in winter clothing while it was still mid summer. He tightened the boots about his ankles, then slipped out of his house without a sound. For the first time in five days, he didn't turn and head towards Butters' house. In the back of his mind, he knew he ought to actually see Stan, whom had called him the other day with a true accusation of avoidance. Still, Kyle gripped his shirt in agony of venturing up to the Marsh's house, seeing how he couldn't think about Kenny without getting a headache. No, he decidedly didn't go to see his closest friend. Rather, he started down the street towards the town just a little ways away.
The actual town of South Park was a tiny stain on the mountain side. There were neglected stores with cracked paint, weathered roofs, and unconcerned people inside. The roads with coated in a layer of grim, with bad sidewalks, and litter all around trashcans that badly needed to be changed. Cars bumped down forgotten roads, filling the scorching air with faint sounds of various kinds of music. There wasn't anything special about the collection of wishy-washy structures and apathetic citizens outside of the fact that everything was wishy-washy and everyone was apathetic. This was the little blemish on an otherwise nice looking mountain side that Kyle walked to, his arms folded behind his messy curls. He wasn't surprised to see the bustling town off to a nice start, seeing how it was already nearing ten in the morning. He was mutely surprised to see a couple of the insiders mulling around the coffee shop, though, as it was only ten. Yet, he only gave half a glance at the group of boys downing coffee and holding aching heads in their wrecked party clothes.
His walk ended in front of the candy store. Signs were plastered in the front windows announcing a big sale that Butters had told him all about three days earlier. Although a certain activist had sternly warned him about going, he stood outside the place anyways. He had intended to go since he had heard about it; even if the snugness of his jeans told him he really ought to reconsider his decision. Either way, he had set his alarm for nine, so he could shower and be out the door before his Nazi rival even woke up. The last thing he wanted was to run into Eric Cartman, whom he had been steadily avoiding as well. He knew better than most that Cartman didn't wake up before noon during summer days. Being ten in the morning, he gave a sly smile, knowing that he would definitely not run into that fat annoyance so long as it was early enough. And it certainly was.
Pushing open the glass door, Kyle swept inside the sugary smelling shop on the edge of South Park's main street. For one second, he vaguely recalled a day several years removed when he had won a shopping spree that ended in an ashen milkshake and a ladder up to heaven. Smiling at the drifting memory, he glanced to the side as if he might catch a glimpse of himself standing there in line with his younger friends, when they realized Kenny had died with their ticket. He couldn't help but laugh at the recollection as he walked past the few other people wandering around. Giving the people a quick couple of glances, he determined he didn't know anyone there, so he made a beeline through the chocolate works of delicious splendor to his absolute favorite piece. He plucked up one of those slabs of expensive, succulent selections just as a familiar voice slipped over his spine.
" Howdy, Kyle,"
The Jew couldn't help but cringe as Butters' sweet tone smoothed down his back in that wholly innocent way. Gritting his teeth, he turned toward the beaming boy and faked his own, very wide smile. In response, Butters waved, coming to a stop directly in front of Kyle, thus blocking his only exit from the candy store. Butters was dressed in a blood red shirt that could only belong to one person in all of South Park, considering it's size and the way it hung off the tiny frame of the blond boy. Catching sight of that shirt, Kyle entirely forgot to greet his friend. Rather, he jabbed a finger at the red thing with his eyes narrowing ever so slightly in their accusation.
" Is that. . .is that. . .Cartman's shirt?" he demanded, his tone quickly shifting gears from unsure to mildly angry. Butters appeared caught off guard by that abrupt statement, because he stuttered on his second greeting. His eyes gained this bewildered touch, as his head tilted to one side, all of which was ignored by the narrowing shards of green eyeing him.
" Huh?"
" That has to be Cartman's shirt," Kyle snapped, fighting the urge to grab up the corner and rip the thing right over the blonde's head. Finally catching the words hissed at him, two pale eyes jumped down to the shirt practically hanging off his slender limbs. A soft frown formed on his face as his rubbed his knuckles together in that classic sign of discomfort.
" Oh, yeah. I borrowed it," he mumbled, barely speaking over the level of a breath. He never addressed why he had needed to borrow a shirt scented with a clean, clear cut allure of death. Instead, he swallowed hard, dry, and wet his lips in dual motions, " I. . .uh. . .spent the night,"
" I thought he spent the night at your place," the Jew barked, taking a half step closer to the light eyes giving him a look begging for him to back off. This territory wasn't a topic up for discussion, even if neither was giving an inch. Butters gave a purposeful stare down at his dirty shoes, stained with glitter and mud. This was no innocent gaze of a mindful child. No, this was a hurt, teeth grinding glare of a misplaced misfit wishing to shove back, but unwilling to strike at a boy wearing blood on his knuckles. Butters didn't dare push back when Kyle Broflovski, of all people, pushed for answers, " Isn't that why I had to leave?"
" Well, shucks. . . we went out. . fer a bit," there was nothing in that voice to command authority. Still, when Butters uttered the words 'went out' there was a hint of vile intentions demanding a level of respect. Kyle retreated from the questioning nature, if only for a desire to remain naive of the actual going ons between Butters and Cartman. Threats would have drawn out the answer he was looking for, but at that moment, he wasn't sure if what he was looking for was what he wanted to see.
Or maybe it was because he knew he needed to see it that he didn't want to.
" Oh. Why didn't you call me? I would've gone back to your place," Kyle calmly asserted, waving his free hand to the side. He didn't sound as furious as the fires lurking in his blood felt. He licked his lips, tasting his urge to slam the chocolate slab into Butters' head to punish him for sins he hadn't committed yet. Of course, he denied himself the pleasure, forcing the flames down to just clenching his fingers into a fist as Butters raised up his faded eyes. The answer to his question was something like a curse word spoken for the first time in front of a parent; utterly loud and utterly unforgivable.
" It was late,"
" Oh. I see," Kyle spat out softly, allowing the words to sear his tongue before saying them. Butters ran a shaking hand through his hair. Doing so drew the redhead's attention to the usual low placed pony; something he hadn't noticed for the past few days. Seeing that pony coupled with the blood red of the shirt caused Kyle's teeth to grit painfully.
Before him, the innocent knocked his knuckles together, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. His sneakers had a new hole in the corner, wear faded pink socks could been seen, along with the tears in them. Watching those bare legs move revealed the edge of short shorts coated in mud and something sparkly; something fine grade and pitch white. Then, as those quivering fingers gripped the edge of the shirt hiding his fragile side, a deep bruise was uncovered. It was a piercing black mark on his inner thigh. The worse part about it, though were the touches of glitter from the fist that had created such a deviously placed mark defacing the innocent's appeal. Spying that static wound, Kyle tasted a cold chill like the rim of a glass dipped in salt and lime. He gagged as Butters decided enough was enough and shifted topics the way only he could.
" Come for the sale? Well, shucks, course ya did," he gave a tiny, casual laugh, motioning with his hands at the store materializing around them. His voice couldn't have been more real, more honest, if they had been talking like this from the very start. Kyle, however, was no where near as good at switching gears from the vast depths of the abyss to the startlingly unaware realm of South Park's main street. His eyes widened as he took in the bruise, the size of it, and everything the innocent child had said without saying. For all his descending fear, Butters continued to perform the tight rope walk he had become so gifted at, moving from fire to fun effortlessly, " Whatcha gettin'?"
" Chocolate. Is Cartman here?" he rushed to say, gripping his chocolate closer and tighter. His emeralds jumped away from that bruise to the people walking around them. What he saw, though, was anything but the store he was standing in. Burning flames were all he saw as he moved around, searching for the honey eyes he so desperately wanted to avoid.
" Heck yeah. He's over there," the blonde confirmed, pointing off at a different aisle as if he could see through the wood to where Cartman was. Kyle felt his heart skip a beat, embers tearing through his mind. A hot breath escaped his lips as Butters happily grinned up at him in what could be mistaken for a mocking coyness, " Want me ta get 'im?"
" No. I want you to pretend I was never here while I leave," the Jew snapped with tremendous command to his every word. Knowing that the Nazi was literally just around the corner left quite a bad taste in his mouth. He didn't need to hear that voice or see that man so long as he was content on avoiding him. All that frustration cemented itself into his furious look cast upon the confused child standing in his way.
" Why would I do that?"
" You value your legs," Kyle threatened in a voice possessed by the fires slipping themselves onto his flesh. Those pale eyes widened in unadulterated fright at the possibility of having brought to life the vicious version of the Jew's persona. Those tiny knees quaked as he twisted his fingers up in the shirt which had started everything in one long streak of blood. Just seeing those unworthy hands tangled in that shirt made the fire crawl into Kyle's mouth. Curses spiraled into his mind as the heat nearly drove him into a fit of screaming the likes of which Butters would surely not survive.
" Gosh, Kyle. . ." the innocent whispered slowly, taking in the way Kyle ground his teeth and his knuckles blanched. For everything he gave to him in the way of sheer hatred, Butters was one of the few people who couldn't be truly phased. He merely glanced away, chewing on his lower lip in a hesitant manner. Overcoming his reservations, he looked back and gave a heartfelt smile that proved just what being Cartman's friend made him capable of facing, " I was hopin' you'd come over,"
" Why?" he bluntly demanded, giving the blonde a sharp look. Butters didn't falter even once in the face of such demeaning phrases. Instead, he perked up at the question, pointing mindlessly in the vague direction of his homestead.
" I got these new horror movies-"
" Can't," the Jew cut in before another word could be happily said. This time, though, there was enough heat to the tone that it managed to scorch the previous undeterred boy. Butters appeared to catch the bite in his voice, for he simply nodded shyly and took a ginger step to the side. Without saying anything in the way of goodbye, Kyle jerked around that disheartened face with it's big, puppy pools of blue. He didn't see the broken desperation in his supposed friend. He only saw the exit coming up quickly, allowing him to duck out and run before being caught.
Just as he reached forth, his shirt was snatched out of the air and he was tugged backwards to the sound of a velvety voice coated in a fiery accent making it's toxic way down his spine.
" Not gettin' anything?" Cartman cooed, looking down at his prey. Immediately, Kyle felt his blood pool throughout his fingers, forming fists that even he knew were useless then. The punch he might have thrown would have been fierce enough to free him from those particular clutches, especially if his rival wasn't up for a knock out-drag out kind of fight in the early am. Unfortunately, Kyle was pulled backwards, nearly clear off his feet, so that his back was pressed deeply into the girth of the other's stomach. The sudden warmth and softness left the Jew gritting his teeth, fighting a cascade of lightning white thoughts making less sense then his desire to stay just where he was held.
Rather than struggle to get free, a hopeless venture in that isolated moment, Kyle slumped down so that his shoulders were rested on the arch to his foe's belly. His shirt was held at his side, pulled there by fingers glistening in glitter, gold, and diamonds. For a second, his emeralds took in the glory of ill gotten gains. A trickle of fire laced itself over his wet tongue, spiraling down into the depths of his permanently engulfed soul. He dared himself to spit out the lengthy swears directed to the rings, to the glitter, to the silky smooth flesh on his memories. Biting his lower lip, though, he found the only image truly coming to mind that of the innocent standing there, dressed in that red shirt. An emotion almost wholly digested in venom and bile consumed the Jew to the effect of making him wish to cover his mouth to avoid getting sick all over Cartman's beautiful leather boots.
" Godammit. I was hoping I wouldn't see you today," was all he could managed to choke out. Terrible shivers danced over his knees, begging to give way so as to be caught up even more so than he was. He fought the urge by turning his head to face the floor, where all he had to see was the edge of a boot coated in glitter and mud.
" Why?"
" I don't really like seeing you, really," Kyle muttered in quick tones, squeezing his eyes shut in order to say that. The echo of uncertainty pained him to tears, which welded up in burning bliss. He longed to burst out in those tears, after having spent days in sleeping isolation in the gleam of glitter again. Yet, he did no such thing. He gathered the bursts of electric fire inside and used it to brew a vicious timbre for his conviction, " That's really it. Really,"
" Really? Ya sure?" the Nazi teased playfully, twisting the edge of the shirt around his knuckles. An imprint of his thick ring was the first thing Kyle took sight of as his orbs slowly eased open. Instantly, embers smoldered into full out infernos just from that naive gesture from yesteryear. The liquid metal seared his veins as he ripped his head upwards to cast frozen, hard, fractured eyes up at the pleasant grin admiring the way the rage overflowed his every sensation. Honestly, Cartman was enjoying this, and he knew it.
" Let go of my shirt, Cartman," he hissed, sharpening that name into a pointed statement of real hatred. For all his cold fire, for every ounce of frustrated fury, he wasn't given an inch of room to spread his malicious fingertips. Cartman was quite immune to his charms, releasing his shirt only to grab hold of one curl of bloodied red. This prize, he twirled the same manner about his shimmering rings so that the jewels were hidden in red. Smiling coyly, he tugged on the curl with enough force to tilt the glowering Jew's head to one side.
There was no prelude today.
Just a lovely invitation wrapped with a topaz bow topped with glitter.
" Put on a few?"
The ground about their feet shattered into thousands of pieces bursting into shards of frozen flame. Shades of every known red blurred the Jew's emeralds before his silk enveloped hands were grasped by the white gloves of the man forever taunting him. Clicking echoed in a silence pulsating with music yet unsung, words yet undone, and the heat of all of it jolted through every wavering step of a waltz starting in heaven and ending somewhere in hell. White and black squares of a dancehall cracked amongst the heat and the pressure, sending enormous cries into the chorus of the music of their hearts. Having averted himself from this dance for so long, having swallowed it for too long, Kyle felt his feet slip along the melting marble. Before his eyes swam gems of a man with a wicked smile. For his every thought, he was battered by a tantalizing note which refused to play.
For this, he gritted his teeth in agonizing fury. His body twisted around, ripping away from the smothering warming comfort of Eric's body. There was a fraction of time where their eyes were locked together in sweeping graces, honey sugar meeting emerald gems, just as they were in their wonderful waltz. Pulling back one hand, his free hand, the Jew had but a breath to decide to smack that wholly impressed face or catch that glistening hand. In reality, though, they could do this dance in only one form, so he caught the punch half way. His palm and fingers sank into Eric's lovely belly with pressure enough to cause the other boy to take half a step back. Yet, there wasn't enough vicious attack to force him truly away nor any pain.
That was reserved for the bitter exclaim Kyle allowed to tear from his mouth at the exact volume he desire to scream.
" The hell I have!" he cried out, his voice smashing into the Nazi with unmistakable strength. The determination behind every cutting thrust would make most throw their hands up in surrender rather than face off with that Jew's well known rage. All his Eric did was give a hearty laugh, something immeasurably cold of him, before he pinched that plump cheek in his spiteful, little way. The pain lingered as the dance cut into more of a tango, pushing them closer together and ever closer to the building demise of sanity.
" You can't hide it from me," the Nazi assured him with a tiny nod of his head. The comment sent a quivering shudder throughout the Jew's curvy frame, curling his toes and igniting his passionate inside. The core of his molten soul unfurled even more, extending smoky hazes throughout all five senses. For a brief blink of time, the world was dulled behind a black out of emotion. Then, bursting like a supernova, Eric was bathed in white purity; a fire so hot, it burned out it's own color.
" There's nothing to hide," he whispered in a heated voice spinning sin into the air hanging lightly around their heads. Kyle felt his fingers smoothing up that gorgeous shirt, then sliding back to the stretched out hemline. He gripped this with light anguish for the thought of having to release it. This new fire, this white hot thing, was erasing his pattern of thought. He was left shivering on the dance floor, clutching hands continually tugging in one or another direction. All he wanted, though, was to look up and end this affair in the proper way. His voice spoke worlds to this effect as he trembled inside and out, " I haven't gained any weight,"
" I can tell," Eric smiled at the lie Kyle presented to him, easing his gentle touch over his Jew's full cheeks. He cupped his soft chin, moving his head so as to peer sugar down into the drowning orbs swimming throughout blood. The look he gave may have been considerate of the miserable situation of heat burning out, but his words were designed merely to relight the flame, " Your cheeks are fatter,"
" They are not. You're just being a bitch," Kyle snapped, removing his face from the other's grasp. His words fell hollow on the floor, breaking into glass bubbles that only made the dance a sweeping sensation as Eric somehow managed to jeer his way into the open fires.
" Ouch," he joked, making as though he had been stabbed in the heart by one shard. The sarcasm to his tone was a perfected dream; a thing to be envied later, in the quiet of one's bedroom. As for right in the moment, it did it's trick like a prick to the skin, pulling forth blood drop by drop until there was a steady stream. Likewise, Kyle first tore his body free, stepping nearly a full foot backwards. Yet, fighting with himself as the flames twisted up his arm without his control, he yanked his hand away from his side. He jabbed his finger deep and hard into Eric's middle, unable to stop himself from cracking under the burning pressure of that beautiful sarcasm. If only he knew how to avoid the second act, he could have curled up in himself, but instead, he was twirling around the ruined squares for another waltz; listening not to music, but laughter so coy, it was a sin all it's own.
" You wanna talk about weight gain, we should be talkin' about you, fat boy!" Kyle barked back, his eyes engorged with the fires within. The immense pleasure of hissing something so venomous was coupled when his pet gritted his teeth in a mimicking fashion. He'd struck a cord and it sounded so wonderful as he grabbed the lead of this whirlwind of a waltz moving from one level of death to another all together. His hand was shoved away from the Nazi's vast middle in a true victory that only made the blood rush as his heart skipped a beat in excitement.
" Oh, whatevah,"
" You always gain so much weight during the summer," he continued down this dangerous path, dancing all the way with his head thrown back in wild abandon. Nothing felt so rich as that moment when honey boiled into caramel darkness just a touch away from utter bleak removal. They were tiptoeing around the pits of flickering embers, enjoying the scorching heat, and each attempting to let go to see their partner fall to their death. Kyle couldn't help but smile at the idea, though, his smile was detached from the moment if it was anything.
" I'm not the only one," was the surprisingly calm answer he got for all his sneering ridicule. Kyle wasn't deterred in his devastating insulting assault. This feeling of smoking delusion was churning the coals into bubbling metal searching for a mold to weld into. Grinning like a madman then, he swayed from side to side, pointing up at that curiously concerned face weakly smiling back in bewilderment.
" Nobody gains quite as much as you,"
" You'd like to think that, Kahl," Eric playfully sighed out, looking like he wanted to say something else entirely. Kyle puckered his lips, hovering closer to the edge than ever before. Intoxication fell gracefully over his gentle curves as his body moved in disjointed mannerisms reflecting the spiraling haze of his mindset.
" I have to go," he sweetly announced, folding the arm holding the chocolate behind his back. The other hand, he used to teasingly pat his darling's belly with one purely enjoyable grin. He was rewarded by a genuine smile on Eric's part, while the Nazi idly played with one of the curls of ruby, " I have more important things to do than talk to you,"
" Riiight," the sweetheart said as he ran a finger down Kyle's arm. Every inch touched ignited into velvet flames, aching for more painful persuasions. The Jew quivered in that man's grip, letting him jerk his protective hand away from his backside. Clicking his tongue and shaking his head in disapproval, the Nazi tore open the packaging of the slab of luscious chocolate. Knowing only too well that this was his prey's absolute favorite, he cracked a piece off the corner. Licking his lips in wet seductive just dripping with delicious heat, he offered this piece to his Jew by putting it to the pursed lips of the redhead. Kyle bit it in half with a loud snap, which earned him a soft, enchanting laugh. Then, motioning with the slab, Eric ate the other half of the piece, stopping to run his tongue over the teeth marks having already pierced it, " Somethin' tells me I know what you're gonna be doin',"
" Very funny,"
" Here. Take it," the Nazi said with emphasis on his honesty in the offering. He handed over the stolen chocolate bar to his jewel of a Jew. Although normally he would have smacked it to the ground, Kyle felt his hands encircling the thing. Gazing up through his curls, he chewed on the broken apart corner. The heat of the moment was enthralling him into a slow dance of small circles that only made his head spin faster and faster still. Those glittering honey orbs softened like he was aware of this change as Eric petted Kyle's head a little, " Consider it a consolation prize,"
" Consolation for what?"
" What? You don't remember that?" there was real surprise to the question; enough that it even showed within his pretty eyes. Yet, lost in the spinning motion of a dance coming to a close, Kyle couldn't recall anything outside of the last few minutes. His head eased from side to side. A look of confusion pooled over his features.
" Remember what?" he mumbled under his breath, taking the time to flick his hair back slightly before he said anything at all. The gesture was meant to look like consideration, perhaps searching his mind for the missing memory, when he really didn't try too hard. He focused only on the melting flavor of chocolate on his tongue and the sweet smile on the mouth of his greatest rival.
Eric didn't answer. He knew Kyle too well for that. In fact, he merely patted the Jew's fluffy curls, lingering to stroke his thumb over the edge of the other's ear in an almost loving touch. Just that fragment of an emotion was enough to make Kyle's knees buckle, sending him mentally to his knees. Outside, he just swallowed in a suddenly tight, dry throat. Over his head, Cartman dismissed him with a casual wave of his hand, telling him without words that he could run along now. This Nazi monster was through with him and he knew this better than he knew just about anything. The refusal to look at him, to turn away in this rejection, was more than the little redhead could handle. Fire consumed his trembling blood, fighting amongst his dreary thoughts for words that could be used as a new attack. He couldn't handle being tossed aside so easily after such a dance had left him shaken and misplaced. Nothing about this desire made sense, but he really didn't care.
Before he could start to finish his own war, he was interrupted all over again. Butters drifted over, bringing the shop back into the forefront of the fickle realism Kyle was living in that summer. The innocent appeared to have been under the impression that the two of them had vanished, run off together to do something private. Having realized they were still there, though, he had returned to Cartman's side. He was talking endlessly about something that didn't mean anything to anyone; not even him. The noise coming from his mouth made Kyle grit his teeth in frustration. Nevertheless, his head nodded in greeting when Butters' bright eyes looked in his direction.
" What'd you want, Buttahs?" Cartman drawled out, casting a vicious glance down at the energetic creature forever standing in his shadow. This was a look which was promptly ignored.
" Nothin'. Jus' wanted to talk," the blond stated, shrugging his shoulders like he wasn't sure. Whether he wasn't sure on the answer or the idea, that remained to be seen. Whatever the reason, he shrugged and he gave the two of them a nervous smile, seeming to sense, for the first time, the tension brewing amongst them.
" Well, don't. You're no good at it," the Nazi said bluntly, causing the child to frown quite dramatically. Butters didn't get a chance to defend himself in the slightest. The next second, Cartman shoved a hand into the blond's face and pushed his head to the side with an impressive jerk. Butter's entire body shifted in reaction, a whimper jumping into the air as he tried to pull his friend's hand away in protest.
" Don't be mean to Butters," Kyle snapped, shooting the heavier boy a vile stare meant to curl flesh. The look was returned with a smirk, followed by Cartman smacking Butters in the back of the skull. Flames roared to life, spiking the Jew's words with a liquor touch igniting what he hoped was another screaming match, " He didn't do anything to do!"
" Stay outta this, Jew," was the calm, uninterested retort given. A nasty taste cascaded into Kyle's mouth from the pit of his breaking heart. The skin of his body ached in a trembling, quivering fire screeching within his head to be released. For all this, for all this withheld pressure, he tasted the sickness in repulsion to his enjoyment of it. Yet, he knew for every conflicting design inside, for every ember gracing his goodness, he knew nothing was coming from this. The dance was over and his sugary sweet was grinning at him from the gallows, refusing to extend his hand.
" Fuck you, Cartman," Kyle breathed out, addressing the refusal instead of the comment. His intention was wholly known, as shown through the way the other laughed in a good natured manner. That only made the Jew grind his teeth in a murderous submission into restraint.
" Golly, guys, don't fight," Butters interjected, attempting to move between them. The appeal to his shining eyes spoke volumes to what he could feel and taste from the teasing air spinning white and red throughout their universe. One step away from Eric, however, and his bloodied shirt was snatched up. He was quickly jerked back into line as his master gave a playful wink over at the shimmering Jew.
" Stay outta this, Butters," Kyle whispered, his grip tightening enough to snap the slab of chocolate in half. His knuckles blanched as he drew in a breath which tasted like metal blood. Before him, his Eric just gave a beautifully haughty laugh as he shoved Butters' head down with a fitful whine. The innocent child fought to get free, all in vain, just before the white string snapped and all the pieces fell into place.
The chocolate crashed into the ground as Kyle pulled one balled up fist back behind his head. Two pale blue eyes glistened in misplaced fear while two glittering honey ones gleamed in true delight. A burning, scorching, unimaginable inferno tore apart Kyle's sanity, screaming throughout his every pulsing inch. His arm clenched in his desperation not to give in. Teeth bared, muscles shaking in refusal, he let out a scream meaning nothing at all. Yet, he couldn't find the strength to slam his fist into that grinning face taunting him. Instead, he felt something cracking as the fire swallowed itself whole. Smoke filtered about his head, his hand dropping down to his side. The other hand, though, jumped up and grabbed up Eric's wrist. A second was preserved, where he held the smooth skin as his, before he ripped the Nazi's hand away from Butters' head. Nothing else, though, he could bring himself to do as he fought the grey haze numbing his freezing body to the desires swimming under the surface.
" Well," Eric cooed out in his tasty, fake, little voice. Kyle's emeralds widened at the sound of such a hurtful memory from their past. The brunette didn't acknowledge him other than to make a childish face as he caught Butters by the upper arm. Then, squeezing the child close to him, he gave the Jew a mocking wave of farewell, " Have fun stuffin' yourself,"
" Shut the fuck up! I am not gonna do that!" the Jew screamed out as loud as he could, snatching up part of the chocolate bar. He threw it at the two monsters before him, blood letting him blind himself to who he actually threw it at. Butters let out a shrill yelp before Kyle jerked away from them and their hollow words. He stormed out of the store in a brewing rage. The last thing he heard then was Butters gentle voice looking up at cold, blackened orbs and whispering ''aw. hamburgers, Eric, why'd ya go an' say that?'. A twisted response was contrived from words unbefitting a man born with sweet eyes, but it was lost to Kyle as he slammed the shop's door shut behind him.
The world around him flickered in photographic images from then and yesteryear. Words pounded into his skull, as his hands snatched up his curls. He wanted to rip them out, to cut them away, to get rid of everything from that day five years ago. Hearing those words again, hearing it all again, from Eric's mouth, was like poison in the sick. His mouth moved, forming the same words, and he almost vomited from the texture of them against his lips after all this time. How could he have said that? How could he have said that after everything that had happened? One month was spent waiting in the depths of a burning hell, thinking and scheming in ten layers of green frosting. The next weeks dotted along the veins in a mapping sensation, the touch frighteningly real against everything that wasn't. Then, one day in July, he was standing there, thinking the one thing he would never say, and instead, he had said THAT.
Have fun stuffing yourself.
Kyle's hands covered his mouth as he shoved open the door to a frozen fortress. Sick dripped over his fingers, but not because of those words. He saw Eric's perfectly shaped eyes, staring at him in bleak horror of what had come next. For that, for what his mind couldn't even begin to piece together, the Jew felt his knees connecting with the floor. He found one hand on the stairs, the other on his tight shirt, and the sickness just oozed from his coughing throat. He emptied his stomach on his mother's favorite throw rug in front of the stairs to his house. He didn't remember getting home. He didn't remember anything except how Eric had held his hair back and he had vomited in the Cartman's backyard the day Eric turned ten. They hadn't spoken for months, not since Kyle had ruined their lives with his ten tiered birthday cake, but that day, they spoke. They spoke and they talked about the words they shouldn't have said and the kiss that shouldn't of happened and the monster sleeping under Kyle's bedroom floor and then the sick had whelmed up. He had vomited in Liane's roses as Eric, his sweet, darling Eric, had held his hair back.
They had cried together after that, hiding in the shed where the monsters of the night couldn't get them.
Kneeling on the floor, Kyle coughed as the last of the sick splattered on the floor. His body shook in agony from something he couldn't even comprehend. For a fractured second, he saw only Eric's hand wiping away his tears back when they were children. The next, he couldn't believe he had said such a thing to the only boy who had ever been there for him when it actually mattered. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he sat back, listening to the still quiet of the house. Deep seeded regret punctured into his core, sinking into the festering wounds bubbling below the scorching heat of his center. His tenth birthday party had been the greatest mistake of his life, but he couldn't deny that Eric's tenth had been the second.
Just as he thought that, he heard a light thump above his head. Ice descended into his veins, breaking his fire into bloody, screaming pieces dying on the floor. The terror seeping into his body stretched to his emeralds as his head slowly raised. His eyes traveled up the stairs littered with broken glass and leather boots with purple laces. A striped shirt was hanging over the edge of the railing near the top. He tried his hardest to stare at it rather than looking up into the pitch black darkness of the second floor. Unfortunately, he saw that tiny foot slip down one more step and he found he could look nowhere else. Every muscle in his body tensed as two devoid onyx's turned up from two blood stained feet to where Kyle was kneeling in utter, unadulterated fear.
Ike sat on the uppermost step, his pale flesh tainted by bruises in the shape of handprints from his bare legs to his slender throat. Blood dripped from between his legs, from where he was sitting, to his feet. Peering down from the frozen darkness, he licked a steady line up the side of a popsicle stick. Wetting his lips, he flicked the wet thing down at his older brother, leaning back so the trail of the bruises could be seen at his bare inner thighs.
When he spoke, his voice was sickness brought to life.
" Wanna go out for ice cream?"
Kyle screamed as two hands wrapped around Ike's neck.
Kyle's footsteps sounded heavy as he took a weak step off the porch to his darkened house. His hand slid over the railing before falling limply at his side. Two wide emeralds focused only on one direction, to which he headed with hollow footprints making no sound outside of his own mind. Before his tearstained face, he saw the Cartman house cutting a jagged slice through the fading lights of the afternoon. Every light inside was off and the van was missing from the driveway. He barely noticed as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, stepping up the door. From his pocket, he pulled his wallet. The weight of it nearly made him drop it. Instead, swallowing a wet, dry noise, he pulled out the silver key tucked in the corner. He pushed it into the front door, unlocked his haven, and stepped inside the icy realm of salvation.
The wallet dropped from his hand as the key clinked on the floorboards. Kyle never looked back at them. He just walked up the steps, blinking as they swayed from side to side in rapid fashion. Every other thought was numbed down into nonexistence behind the thought of getting inside the red world that could burn up all his screeching pain. Blood pulsed in his pounding skull, but he ignored it as his hand pushed into the Nazi symbol carved in the wood. The door creaked open, causing Eric to jerk his head up from where he was reading a German novel. The Nazi said something, petting Mr. Kitty's head, as Kyle silently made his way to the plush bed. Body rocking in the terror creeping into his veins underneath the ice, he sat down so his back was facing the other.
Kyle gripped the sheets so the fabric twisted up in his palms. His emeralds stared only at the ground, where little crystals dropped and splashed on the blurred floorboards. He could feel Eric's eyes glancing him up and down, seeing all that was unsaid. Mr. Kitty was placed down, so that he mewed and stretched out his lanky body. Eric ignored him entirely, reaching through the ice to gently stroke a curl. The sudden touch caused Kyle to flinch, his hand lightly pushing his loving touch away. No jest was made, no ploy was attempted. Honey eyes took in the way the Jew clenched his teeth and groped at the sheets. Kyle's hands found not the sheets, but Mr. Kitty. This cat, he grabbed up, holding him in his arms so he might bury his face in the fur. The cat mewed and started to purr, the sound drowning out the choking noises strangling Kyle within from the darkest corner of his memory.
" Are you okay, Kahl?" Eric whispered, his voice sounding loud and disconnected. Kyle wanted him to keep talking, to stop talking, and everything in between as he choked on the words going nowhere. Before he could say anything, he felt sickness coursing through his body. To this, he caved, heat running down the sides of his face and taking all emotion from his voice.
" No."
" Do you wanna talk about it?"
" No."
A nod was given, for it was the only answer necessary. Kyle felt himself slipping away as he fell to the side on the mattress. Softness consumed him as he clutched Mr. Kitty to his chest. Every inch of his flesh ached and shook in his attempt not to vomit on the floor. Squeezing his eyes shut to ward off the demons manifesting in his mind, Kyle gripped at sanity and held on for everything he could by staying as close to Eric as possible. Behind him, feeling this desperation dripping into the air, the Nazi draped one of his shirts over him for warmth. This, Kyle clung to for the scent of sugar and metal as though it was the only hope he had to avoid the abyss threatening to destroy him. His sweet rubbed his tender touch over his back, resting his forehead against the Jew's throat.
" Stay as long as you want. . . .as long as you need,"
" Thanks, Eric,"
" Anythin' for you, Kahl," Eric whispered into his throat, his lips leaving fire over the Jew's very being. His Nazi stroked back his hair to lay a gentle kiss on his forehead. The sensation of metal twisting into shards of darkness blanketed the terror churning within his static memories. Kyle's eyes drifted shut as this darkness weaved it's way inside his heart to his soul to free him of sin.
Glittery tears stained the floor dressed in blood red.
Over the scars from before.