"To truly laugh, you must be able to take your pain, and play with it!" - Charlie Chaplin

"You don't have to go!" Sheila cried out, clinging to her son's arm. She got only an affectionate eye roll and smile in response.

Kyle's time visiting South Park was over, meaning he had to return to his dull life once more. But currently his mother prevented him from walking out of his childhood home with his suitcase, that is, until his father wished him a farewell and pried him out of his mother's grasp.

"Come on, dear. We don't want to make Kyle late in beating this morning's traffic."

He gave his father a thankful nod, and after promising to call more, he began the long trek home. And his father couldn't have been more right, the traffic had been awful! Thankfully he missed the full impact of it, but just barely. Soon after Kyle dropped off his things and had a blistering hot shower, it was off to that marine. It surprised both Stan and Kyle to realize that they lived closer than they thought, a mere city or two away. Which was a blessing, meaning that Kyle could arrive there relatively soon.

While he waited in his car for the destined time to arrive, Kyle stared at the number in his phone's contact list.

It was the set of digits he had discovered on his back, Eric Cartman's.

After their dispute, if you were willing to call it that, Kyle had thought of no one else. Not even on the ride over to the marine did Kyle once think of Stan, but rather about that episode in the alley way. What Eric meant, and what his true intentions were. He's known Eric long enough to understand that things weren't always simple with him, and there was always something underneath what he said.

Loosening the hold of the flannel scarf around his neck, Kyle took a deep and steadying breath as he typed in a message, and hit send.

Eric, it's me. Kyle. Look, I don't want things to get weird between us. I can't think of a recent time where I had more fun, even when we fought. Can we still see each other? At least for coffee so we can talk about this...and us.

There, something that came from the heart. Kyle chewed anxiously on his thumb's nail, staring at the blankness of his screen until a reply popped up.

I'm sorry, Mr. Cartman isn't in at the moment. I'm Haley, his personal assistant. But I can speak on his behalf.

Haley? Oh. She had been that woman that wanted to scratch his eyes out at the hotel.

Do you always go over his cell's messages? Look, I don't want to sound rude. But it'd be a lot better if I could actually talk to him, instead of his staff.

Kyle glared at his screen as he waited for the assistant's response, brooding over the fact he had to go through all of this ridiculousness. Eventually she replied, but only after a minute of tense waiting.

We have that much in common, but you may not realize how truly busy Mr. Cartman is. So instead of getting in the way of everyone and wasting their time, let's terminate this useless contract and move on with our lives. If you feel hurt in any way, I'm sure we can come to an understanding if you are compensated for your effort. Thank you for your concern, but please don't message this number again.

He frowned, unable to believe his eyes. Fine, if that's how Cartman wanted to be. So much of a fucking tool that he couldn't say it to his face, only by his assistant. And to think he felt bad for him!

Excuse me?! I won't lower myself to your standards and let myself be bought out, you can tell MR. CARTMAN that I understand loud and clear. He won't hear of me again, oh, and Haley? You can go fuck yourself! Have a nice day.

He didn't even bat an eye before he blocked Eric's number and stuffed his cell into his glove compartment, closing it with far more force than necessary. His eyes became prickled, and with a jolt, he realized he was crying. Sniffing loudly, Kyle angrily wiped at the corners of his eyes.

It didn't matter, Kyle was better than this. He was better than Eric Theodore Cartman, and didn't need any of his satisfying kisses, borderline nice jokes, or his bullshit.

Kyle was fine, he was better off alone.

Haley chuckled to herself, deleting her conversation with the annoying day-walker. She tucked a lock of hair behind an ear, mightily pleased with herself and how she handled such a sticky situation.

Goodbye, Mr. Broflovski. And good riddance.

"Haley?"

She spun around, heart pounding and eyes wide with fear. Her employer stood in the door frame, yawning from his recent awaking from sleep. They had arrived back to his home late last night, as he was quite determined to put some distance between him and South Park. Haley blamed it on Kyle, but when she asked about it, Eric would get into a cranky fit that had her ducking for cover.

"Yes, sir?" she hummed, appreciating the sight of her boss still in his boxers. Aware of when her eyes wandered, Eric shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, uncomfortable.

"Have you seen my phone?"

She smiled brightly at him, shaking the glossy bit of technology in her hand, "Right here, sir."

Eric frowned, taking the couple of steps into the room to pluck it from his assistant's hands, "Why do you have it?"

Haley's smile froze in place, "I was charging it, as you always request."

Everything became still as her boss gave her a glance over, trying to sense if there was any sneaky motive a foot. His shoulders relaxed, and it was clear he accepted Haley's excuse. But it isn't clear if it was because Haley was a good actress, or because he placed blind trust in her.

As he thumbed through his contacts, he walked out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen. As he approached the counter which housed his cup of freshly brewed coffee, he sighed.

"Is everything alright, sir?" Haley asked, having followed him down the twisting hallways. From here in the opened space of the room, Haley could see the scratch marks on his shoulders and back, highlighted by the light streaming from the windows that overlooked their city. Eric had been hurt before, when he was starting out. He had to create ties with less than savory members of society to clear cut the competition, and the result left him with scars. Mostly from being slashed at, but there was the few burn marks here and there.

But these, they were from passion and nothing else. Kyle had given them to him, and the thought had Haley grinding her teeth.

Eric was the exact opposite, he didn't seem to mind.

"I don't know, I was expecting..." He groaned, deep and spiced with regret and longing. "I have no clue what I was thinking or what I wanted, but I fucked up."

Haley watched with rapt attention as he sat at the counter in the middle of the room, bringing his mug labelled 'the boss' closer to his person.

"It can't have been that bad?" she offered, breathless as the other's Adam apple bobbed with a sip of the dark liquid.

"Maybe I should just message him..." Eric mumbled, now talking more to himself than her.

The nicely dressed blonde was stiff with that sentence, but she praised whatever deity that listened to her, when Eric followed with, "But I don't wanna look weak...I'll wait for him to start us off. I don't want to mess this up."

Haley's heart swelled with love and pain at that, she knew that Eric needed something better than a redhead to fuck. He had been hurt so much that he needed someone to be by his side, to be gentle. And she could offer that, she would swear on every holy artifact ever created if she could get him to return those sentiments.

And as he was bent over the counter, looking stressed out and haggard. She knew it was for the best, or that's what she promised herself. He'd learn to move on and forget Kyle ever existed.

A tap from his window had him cranking his head to the side, meeting Stan's concerned face. Shit. He finished wiping the last of the betraying tears on his cheeks before he turned off his car and opened its door, a smile in place.

But Stan didn't put up with his bullshit, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Are you okay, dude?"

Kyle shook his head, choking those negative feeling back down. Stan understood perfectly well, and remained quiet when they walked past the building where he worked, and approached the boat tied off to the docks.

With a cheerful smile, Stan showed off Wendy and his supposed child. It was an old thing, yellow paint chipping away in patches. It stood out from the others by the additions that were freshly painted on the sides, flowers and lightning bolts. It was clear that the young couple couldn't settle on one idea, so they compromised.

It was so stupid, but it had Kyle laughing hard. Stan was humble enough to join in too, blushing the whole time.

But it was when they set off after preparing properly for caution, bodies vibrating with the purr of the boat's engine, Stan started the expected conversation.

The clouds were still darkened from yesterday's snow fall, and it cast its glow onto the choppy waters they skated across. It made Kyle a bit sick to look at the greyish blue waves for too long, feeling the cold distinctly with the wind biting his cheeks and the frigid froth of the water spraying onto their boat.

Stan eased it into a slow drift, and finally Kyle could hear him with the roar in his ears.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

It was hard for Kyle to turn around in his life preserver vest, but he managed.

"Can I?"

"Of course."

Kyle frowned, pulling himself further into his done up jacket. He should have brought something thicker, he wasn't taking this as well as Stan was.

"There's this...person, and they, well...I guess they decided that they wouldn't want to be around me anymore."

Stan nodded, turning off the boat so they drifted with the crashing waves.

"I wouldn't call it love...I don't think we know each other well enough for that, or at least spent time together. But there was definitely something there, an attraction that went deeper." Kyle frowned, wondering how to explain what Eric and he had.

"Lately I've been in a rut, but with that person I felt like I was finally breaking out of it. And exploring things that were new and exhilarating. But when they stopped...us, they did it without talking face to face. Instead someone else sent me the text, and I guess I was used or felt like I was considered worthless."

Stan's cold hand touched his shoulder, squeezing it with all of the comfort he could offer.

"If they made you feel like shit, Kyle. Trust me, you deserve better."

"Thanks." Kyle whispered, but their conversation didn't deal with the bitterness he felt. But at least it steeled his determination to heal and with time, forget Eric Cartman. And he would do just that.

Alone with his phone, as he sent Haley on another useless quest to cheer him up, Eric stared at the screen. He could have said a number of things to Kyle, write about how much he hated him, and how he loathed that he felt...things around him.

Angrily he took another shot of the whiskey he had poured himself, his shaking hand sloshed the liquid onto the cool tiles below. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, but one thing was for certain. Kyle knew what was going on, he could fix him.

Eric tried to blink back the on coming headache that carved itself into his mind, fingers sliding as he typed.

Can we talk? Things are backwards and falling apart, I can't fix this.

His hopes shouldn't have been so high, Kyle never replied. So he drank the entirety of his liquor cabinet to fall asleep that night.

The words, never trust a Jew echoed.