"That's the fun of going to a high school reunion: it's seeing the people who you were close to all of those years ago, and re-exploring the relationships of the past." - Jon Hurwitz

This is it...the big day.

Kyle eyed his reflection. He was ready. Today was important, but he didn't want to seem desperate. Especially if he did see...him.

Wearing a fern green dress shirt, the cuffs were rolled up to his elbows. His gaze rose to his hair, looking like a mess as ever. A particular curl stood out, stretching out in the air towards the sun. He should have had a haircut before he came here.

"You look nice."

The red haired lawyer turned around, smiling at the sight of his younger brother. Ike leaned against the door frame, still in his pajamas.

"The Ninja Turtles, really?"

Ike scratched at his head, having yet to have a shower, "What? They're kick ass!"

That got him a chuckle, sibling wearing a questionable grin as he faced the mirror again. "I was always partial to Donatello myself."

"That's no big surprise."

Kyle hesitated, hand caught in between hair preening. "What is that supposed to mean?"

They met each other's gaze through the mirror. Ike offered him a lazy smile, appearing like a sighing Casanova. "Forget about it, Mum wants you downstairs."

He groaned aloud, trying to pat down his hair. The russet curls just sprung back up, popping up with a vengeance. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Giving up, Kyle followed his brother's lead and made his way down the stairs with a grimace. All the while, he questioned whether his mother was going to talk his ear off about finding a nice girl at the reunion, and how long that would take. He figured half an hour, but only if his father was there to cut it short. Unfortunately that ship had already sailed, and the older lawyer was safely at his firm. Away from his wife's insistent nagging.

"Kyle!" his mother whined, outright cringing at the sight of her son. Typical. And much like when he was in high-school, Sheila Broflovski found it incredibly important to inspect her child's appearance for any flaws. At least the shirt got a nod, his pants however, were a mere sin to behold.

"Skinny jeans?" she hissed out, disgust marring her features.

He rolled his eyes, "Mum, relax. It's just a reunion, I'm not meeting anyone famous, like the president." Seriously, old age was making her be quite a handful.

"That's what you think. It starts out like that, and next thing you know, you're wearing sweatpants and living on the streets!"

Kyle sighed. "Mum, I know you care. But you need to relax, it's just clothing." he leaned down to give her a kiss to the forehead, "Now I have to leave before I'm late, I love you."

"I love you too, bubby." his mother mumbled, happy for now. Pacified with her child's affections, she shooed him out the door. Clicking her tongue in distaste at the thought of his tardiness, which had nothing to do with her ranting. Kyle climbed into his crappy car, stomach clenching as butterflies danced along its surface. This is it.

The first thing Kyle noticed when he entered his old high-school was the teen sitting by the front, bored and tapping away at her phone. Remembering his brother back home, he approached the improvised desk with a smile. It took her a minute before she actually unglued herself from the bit of technology, squinting at the shadow looming over her.

"Name?"

"Kyle. Kyle Broflovski."

Shaking blunt bangs away from her eyes, she pulled a stained book closer to her person. "How do you spell that?"

"Oh. B-r-o-f-l-o-v-s-k-i"

There was a pause as she read her way down the list until she eventually made it to the bottom, at that point she glanced back at him with a frown.

"You aren't on the list."

"...What?" This had to be some sick joke.

The young teenager huffed as she turned the book around for him to see, pointing at the surnames beginning with an 'o'.

"I don't know what to tell you, there isn't any 'ob' on here, sir."

It took Kyle a second to digest that, and slowly he managed to grit out a response.

"When I said 'o', I meant it as in 'Oh, okay. I will now begin to tell you my last name'. Not the letter, alright?"

"...Then why didn't you say that in the beginning? You're here."

He heavily exhaled through his nose, calming his seething temper with a tense smile. "Thank you."

"No problem, but before you go.." she snatched up his left hand, stamping it hard in blue ink. Ignoring the pain, he ripped it away before heading inside. Acutely aware of the sneer she sent him.

Only led by the crudely made arrows that were plastered on the walls with glittery glue, Kyle made his way to the gymnasium. The first thing that hit him was the intense perfume and the noise, which sounded like a frat house picked up a record to appear both aloof and quirky.

"Kyle!"

He looked off to the side and found himself grinning at Leopold Scotch, or better known as Butters.

"Hey, Butters!" he greeted back, and was caught off guard by the immediate hug. Patting him awkwardly on the back, he was a lot more comfortable when the blonde finally released him.

"It's been so long!"

"Don't I know it." Kyle admitted, grin inching onto his face. "So, how are you?"

"Great! I stayed in South Park, which became a lot better. And I started my own dancing school, which is good."

"That's awesome! You look like things are going terrific for you."

Nodding, Butters gave him a look over, "Gosh, I can't believe I'm talking to you. I guess you went off to do something big and important, you went to university right?"

"Yep. I ended up in law and everything, I work at a firm back in Denver."

His company whistled in astonishment, "Cool. H-have you spoken to anyone else?" Kyle shook his head, feeling slightly pathetic.

"Well you should join us, Kenny is over there!"

Kyle's breath was caught in his throat. "He is?"

Butters smiled in response, and after grabbing his elbow, steered him towards a small group by the far right wall. And sure enough, there he was. Dressed in a pair of cut up jeans and an orange hoodie. Alongside him was Clyde Donovan, Token Black, and some guy that Kyle never spoke to.

And much like before, Kyle was pulled into an eager hug.

"Kyle!" Kenny exclaimed into his ear, fingers digging into his sides as he tried to bring him as close as possible. "I've missed you so much!"

"I missed you too." Kyle laughed, pulling away. It sucked, he really meant to keep in contact with all of his old friends. But being a lawyer was tough, and his time was spent by either working or going to bars to find himself someone.

He nodded at the other three guys, and stared a bit longer at Clyde. Well, at Clyde's t-shirt which said, Sex Instructor: First Lesson Free.

"Lovely." he muttered, not believing the lack of etiquette. Maybe his mother was right.

"So, Kyle."

He turned back to his childhood friend. "How's life?"

"Good. How about yourself?"

"Wonderful, but single."

"A pity." Kyle automatically replied, smile returning.

"Oh it is. Are you the same?"

Reluctantly he nodded, and glanced around the room. No sign of Stan yet.

"That sucks, but seriously what's with everyone? People are screwing anythin'."

"Is that so?"

Kenny gestured to the drink table; Kyle squinted against the dimmed lighting at two figures, Craig and Tweek. "Those two bastards are dating, and then there's Butters and Bebe."

"Wait, what?"

"Not officially, but they work together or something. Just like Stan and Wendy."

Kyle perked up, he felt like he was just slapped. Making sure that the other boys wandered off, no doubt bored with their conversation. He moved closer towards the blonde, whispering "You've talked to him recently?"

"Who, Stan?" His arms tingled. "Yeah."

"Yesterday, we had a couple of drinks. Okay, Stan had one. I swear the guy gets whipped at home by Wendy, he was completely begging to have her-"

"They're dating?" he interrupted, breath coming out short and shallow.

"...Yeah? What, am I talking to a brick wall or something?"

"No I heard you, I just...Fuck."

"Are you okay, man?" Kenny's warm hand pressed into his shoulder, weighing him down. Or was that his heart? Either way he couldn't do this, he needed to be somewhere. Anywhere. Just...fuck...

"I'm, uh, fine." Shit, he was going to throw up. What was he going to say when he saw him?

"You don't look good..."

He was just about to reply, but struggled with the bitter taste that swelled in his throat. Before he could even manage to choke out a silly and useless excuse, a deep timbre cut him off.

"He can't help it, he's a Jew."

Feet moving on their own accord, they spun at the sound of Eric Cartman's voice. Any retort or witty comment he had was wiped away, as was any complaint he had of having to deal with Eric's shit.

True to his genetics, Eric towered over everyone in the room. That he expected, but not the fancy suit he was wearing. Dressed in a form fitted navy fabric, he looked like he had just gotten out of a business meeting and was ready to take over the world.

The bile in his throat was swallowed down, leaving his mouth to feel vacant and dry like a desert. Eric appeared to be saying something, but Kyle couldn't hear a word. Not with the blood that was rushing to his ears, throbbing like a drum.

How can he wear something so expensive, and act nonchalant? Fuck, he made the whole room seem like it was filled with hobos.

The hand at his side was raised to his face, and Kyle followed that hand. Watched as it brushed a couple of loose strands of chestnut hair, moving to join his slicked back hair.

He jolted in surprise, startled when Kenny slapped at his arm. "Wha...?"

"I said, Stan is coming over."

Completely forgetting about either of the two, Kyle peered upwards. And there he was, cute smile on his face as he made his way over. Only, he was dragging Wendy by his hand. Any happiness he had was gone with that revelation, and only a sense of dread resided.

"Hippies." Eric swore under his breath, "I need a smoke." And with that, he was walking towards the exit.

"Wait!" Kyle hollered, alarmed as his attractive friend/enemy began to leave. He hated to admit it, but Kyle was much too of a chicken shit to face Stan. And so he left Kenny to take his place with the apparent love-birds.

Kyle had to fight his way through the dancing bodies of former students that cramped up the room, dodging elbows that threatened to jab him in the face or ribs. He was taller than most, a fact he always thanked his father silently for, but even he couldn't seem to look beyond the mass of writhing adults. His only saving grace was following Cartman's form, which wasn't hard to do, not with how it stood out against the others.

They finally ended up outside in the restricted parking lot, cool weather there to welcome them. Flushed with having to jog to keep up with Eric's long stride, Kyle fought to get himself back under control.

Reaching into his pocket, Eric withdrew a packet of cigarettes and a silver lighter. "Want one?"

Kyle shook his head, more keen to watch Eric's lips clamp around the recently lite cigarette and take a deep suck. Warmth scratching at his cheeks and throat, Kyle stared at less...arousing things. Like the plastic grocery bag that blew across the lot, dancing in the wind. That's when he realized how absurd this situation was, staying in the comfort of someone who he hated for so long. And for the right reasons, unjust prejudice, and countless acts that set him on edge. Now he was thinking about that same man, forcing him against his desk at the office. He shivered again, unsure about himself.

"So..."

His heart quaked at such a small and insignificant word.

"How have you been?"

Okay. "Shitty." H-he didn't mean to say that, but there it was. A deep sound lolled beside him, and it took him a moment to realize it was Eric chuckling.

"I figured. You look like you haven't slept in weeks."

This was his chance to protest against these claims, to talk about his fantastic job and flat. But silence persisted, and Kyle was fine with that. It felt like he wasn't the only one to embrace that loneliness, and Eric was the same way. At least he wasn't married, Kyle had searched in vain for a gold band on his big fingers, but there was none.

He was glad. It wouldn't be fair if Eric had a partner, someone to share himself and his wealth with. Why should he, when Kyle didn't have that same right? He shivered again.

"Can you not afford a fucking coat?"

Kyle sucked in his breath, "Why?"

Eric snorted, "You're shaking like a leaf over there."

Kyle opened his mouth, but fabric covered the words. He whined as he pulled it away from his face, glaring at the younger man beside him.

Eric shrugged, "I don't want you to bitch."

Shifting his weight, Kyle put on the jacket. As soon as his coat was gone, Eric was left only in a white dress shirt. He was still big, but not like before. Fat was taken in exchange for muscle, but that didn't make him any less hefty. It was naturally his build, and it made Kyle feel even smaller when he put on the jacket. It was a couple of sizes too big for him, and his hands were lost in the fabric. But it was warm, and smelt of vanilla, smoke, and some musk that was both dark and irresistible.

Light headed, Kyle found himself sinking deeper into the jacket. He never wanted to take it off, he didn't care what anyone else said.

Clueless, Eric took another long drag. The smoke curled on his tongue and down his throat, before he exhaled. He watched as the grey tendrils disappeared into the sky, never to be seen again. "Why are you here?"

"Huh?"

Eric rolled his eyes, "Shouldn't you be socializing with the others, and not being with me? Last time I checked, you hated my guts."

The day-walker beside him clutched at his coat, looking both adorable and lost in it. Like a child playing dress up in his father's clothes. Not like he'd ever know. He took another drag from the cigarette, not stopping until his lungs begged for fresh oxygen. He released it all.

"I was, but it can get...depressing. What about you?"

"I don't want to be there when the shit hits the fan." Aware of the stare directed at him, Eric went on with a smirk, "Kenny and I put some LSD in the punch, things are going to get fucking amazing."

Kyle broke out into a laugh, ringing out in the empty space and it was completely genuine. Leave it to Eric to take such a mundane thing and make it a disaster, and he loved it. Not him necessarily, but something deep and hidden. Maybe it was the stress and hurt, but he wanted something strange to happen in his life.

After that he wasn't even taken aback when Eric pulled out a flask from the back of his pant's pocket. Surprisingly Eric offered it to him, perhaps because of the company he provided, and yet he accepted it. That's how they spent the next thirty minutes, each taking turns sipping until it was empty.

Which was a lot stronger than he expected, and he wasn't positive if it was that or the vanilla. Was he being drugged on the scent of vanilla? Was that possible?

But he kissed him. And he shoved his tongue down his throat, or was that Eric's? He didn't know, but that was fine because Eric was kissing him back with the same amount of desperation. And for once in his life, he didn't think about his job, family, or him.