"Old friends die on you, and they're irreplaceable. You become dependent." - Lionel Blue
Neither can say who first pointed it out, or what made it different from the other dozen they've already seen. But regardless of Kyle's immediate disapproval, as he was used to well known cafes with a certain taste and quality, he found himself somehow seated at a corner table.
And of course, as Stan went off to purchase their orders, Kyle was left with a certain brunette. A man who was rather quiet when Kenny announced he was going to help Stan, and left them successfully and awkwardly alone. Which didn't help matters when Eric refused to look, much less speak to him.
For the moment they were content, or Kyle was forced to be, with the lack of conversation. Anything that may have been attempted was drowned out by the bustling sound of the store, coffee grinding, glass clinking against another, and the buzz of patrons gossiping.
Kyle simply couldn't handle it, it was driving him mad!
"H-how did you know about Stan and Kenny showing up? Stan mentioned that only Kenny knew, but he said he wouldn't say anything."
A span of a heartbeat passed by.
"You have to understand something," Eric was fully looking at him now "I'm rich. Because of that I face constant risk, and so I have to consider everything. Anyone or anything can hurt me, and that goes for both present and future friends. Or in this instance, past ones."
Kyle was having difficulty processing the sudden revelation, "So what? You monitor us or something?"
The lack of denial proved to be all of the answer Kyle needed, and he flushed with the implications.
"That's...oh my god..."
"It's not stalking." Eric was quick to say, "Just an update on everyone's life. In order to keep myself safe and above the game, I have to track the major movements of those that I hold dear or consider a risk."
"Kyle Broflovski, the little lawyer from Denver is a threat?!"
"Definitely when we were children, and time didn't dull your edge. The fact that you dug into one of my company's backgrounds tells as much. By the way, I'd stop doing that if I were you."
"Did..did you just threaten me?!"
"Listen, Kyle." Eric leaned back in his chair, "This thing you're pursuing is bigger than you. And you know it. For your own safety, I'd accept the money like everyone else has in your precious union. If not..." He gave a lazy shrug, pretending as if the dark undertone wasn't lurking in their chat.
"You're sick." Kyle whispered harshly.
Again Eric shrugged. "I'm just trying to be nice right now, and give you ample warning."
"For what? When some of your goons sneak into my house, chop me up into little pieces, and dump my rotten body into some river?"
Sighing, Eric stretched his considerable mass over their tiny table, seizing hold of Kyle's shaking arm and pulling him down. Avoiding the other hand that attempted to swing at him, Eric used this time to whisper into Kyle's ear, "Believe it or not, I'm a pawn in this too. Unlike you, I understand when somethings are much too big for my breeches."
As soon as Eric released Kyle, he received a slap upside the head. Thankfully no one saw the attack, and if they did, they quickly averted their eyes. Not wanting to be apart of a domestic dispute between two apparent lovers.
While one of Eric's ears rung from the resonating blow, and his face burned with a hand print, Kyle tried to get a hold of his breathing. It was taking ever ounce of his willpower to not leap across the table and bash the brunette's head against the floor.
"Do you honestly think I'd believe in some...some conspiracy theory!? I'm not an idiot, Cartman. I'm aware that this is just another attempt to trick m-those families..."
Eric didn't even bother rubbing at his wound, instead giving a smile like broken glass. "Oh, you got me. My plan to warn you of potential danger has failed, you were much too smart for my schemes. Congratulations, Kahl." He begun to slowly clap his hands together, still smiling.
"You fucking prick!" Without thinking Kyle grabbed a glass sugar container and threw it at Cartman's face, teeth grinding with such destructive anger. A split second later, the glass exploded as it smashed against flesh and bone, a cloud of shimmering light.
The breath after that got sucked into silence, as a blinded Eric fell down to the ground. Everyone was still, unsure what happened and what to do. Then the closest patron to Eric, who was previously conversing with a woman the same rough age, dropped to his knees by the brunette's side. He was pushing a napkin into the blood that began to first trickle down, then gush.
Kyle stood there, arm still in a throwing position. He just watched as everyone started to rush around, pushing and writhing as they made room, or rushing off to get some help. Kyle couldn't remember anything but Stan and Kenny brushing past him, dropping their drinks onto the table as they made their way over to see Eric. From where he stood he heard people shouting about something being broken, and that the police were on the way.
After that, Kyle fled. He ran as fast as he could out of the shop and down the street, uncaring if he jostled other people and if they yelled after him.
"Cartman! Fuck, are you okay?!"
Eric winced, head pounding at the loud sounds that yanked and pulled him in every direction. Sharp and intense pain made his face dance from feeling numb, to being on fire.
"Y-yeahh." he mumbled, and immediately frowned at the heavy taste of rust on his tongue. It made him gag, and the desire to vomit was presently suffocating.
He lifted a hand to his face, but it was caught.
"Don't. You'll make it worse."
He frowned, looking away from the woman wiping his face with something that smelt like a hospital.
"Where's the Jew?" There was no sign of the daywalker behind Stan's shoulders, not even after he threw glass at him.
"I don't know." Stan sighed, and furrowed his brow when Kenny squished his way closer.
"He ran off."
Eric chuckled, "F-fucking weak. He's not even going to fight me? Not gonna say I was surprised, that throw was fucking pathetic."
Kenny pressed a hand onto his shoulder, "I'm not sure if you'll be in any condition to fight, you look like shit."
"Thanks." Eric grunted, "But I bet I still look better than you. How about it, sweetheart?" He glanced at the stranger prodding his forehead for bits of glass, "I'm still a dreamboat, right?"
She shrugged, "Yeah, if you had a bag over your head."
Stan and Kenny howled with laughter, and even the other man by his side snickered. Eric flipped them each the bird, but he couldn't help smile at the reply.
"I like your snark. Do you need a job?"
Each inhale of oxygen was painful, and eventually Kyle slowed down to a stumble. An awful pain dug into the corner of his side, just along his ribs. His legs weren't any better, and Kyle found himself leaning against a wall, legs shaking as he periodically glanced towards the streets.
The commotion from the cafe was gone, and the street he had run onto had no idea about it. Here he was safe, away from Stan and Kenny's disapproval, and more importantly Eric.
He wondered what he would do, as he wouldn't let Kyle get away with that. Would he? He shook his head to clear the thoughts, and he pushed himself away from the wall and towards the curb, hailing a drifting taxi to attention.
He opened the door and climbed in, "Do you know where the nearest courthouse is?"
The driver nodded, flicking the blunt of a cigarette from his dark fingers.
"Good. I'll give you extra if you get there fast." He looked out the window, watching the streets dash away as the car sped along to its destination.
"Are you sure you don't want to press charges?"
"Yes." Cartman groaned, partly because he already answered this question before, and the fact the painkillers hadn't kicked in yet. It turned out that woman he offered a job was a doctor, currently in school to specialize in a certain field. She had done all she could for him, but still said he should go to a hospital.
Stan was jumping to his feet, saying they'd take him. But Eric could care less, he had people designed for this. Private doctors that waited on him at any given notice, seeing as his job circled strange and suspicious injuries. But no one was listening to him, just talking over him about who to go to.
And to make matters worse, that idiot of a police officer showed up. He was thin as a rail, with tan skin cracked like a riverbed in a drought. Officer Certs sniffed every other second, and his sandy mustache twitched in response. Cartman hated him beyond words, especially the man's sunglasses that he slid down to fix them with one mossy green eye.
"Maybe I should come later when your head is free of glass."
Eric climbed to his feet, with the help of Stan and Kenny, whom grunted at his weight. Ignoring them, Eric glared at the officer before him, "The answer will be the same."
"Look, sir. I know you may think you're in love, but it's just a phase. And I'll tell you what I told my boy, being a fag is evil. And that proof was that boy who hit you, I'm guessing he's the leader of the relationship? Well you look like a responsible and respectable man, so I'd stay away from his kind. Alright?"
Stan and Kenny choked beside him, bewildered by the police officer's rant. Only Eric was calm, and he flashed the man a smile, "Thanks for the advice, but I'd mind my own fucking business, you fat pig."
The arms holding him up tightened around him, "Stan? Kenny? Do you mind taking me home?"
They were eager to carry him out of there, to leave the red faced officer by his lonesome, and to make sure they didn't get blamed for Cartman's words. Even though they were thinking the same things, they'd much rather not be in a small jail cell because of it.
"That was close." Stan whispered as they stepped out.
"I was close to shoving my foot up his ass, but he'd probably like that." Eric snickered, but dropped the expression when it stretched the cuts.
"Sure you were." Kenny hummed, helping to place Eric in the backseat. Afterwards he climbed along side him, clicking his own seat-belt into place, "Should we look for Kyle?"
"Nah," Stan twisted his car to life with its key, first turning the heat on full blast to warm the chilled atmosphere and seats, "I think he'd just want to be alone."
"Well how is he supposed to get home?"
Stan met Kenny's eye in the mirror, "He's resourceful, he'll think of something. Plus we have to take this big guy to a doctor."
"No you don't! Just take me home!"
Stan shook his head, "Sorry Cartman, but I'm driving so we're going to the hospital, just like everyone else."
"Judas!" Cartman swore from the back, weakly swatting at the blonde that snickered by his side.
Finally Kyle stood in his kitchen, popping the tab off of a beer can, he held a phone to his ear.
"Look Mr. Michaels I need a break from this case. Do I ever ask for anything?"
"No, I suppose not..." came the hesitant reply.
"Then let me step away from it, and do another case or even have a few days off."
He sipped at his beer while he waited, until eventually a sigh echoed from the other side of the line.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks, sir." Kyle felt a weight lift from his shoulders, but the guilt and pain was still present.
"Just one thing..."
"Yes?"
"Kyle, for as long as you worked for this firm you haven't backed down once. What has changed?"
For a second he couldn't find his voice, "N-nothing, sir. Just a set back."
"Be careful then. Running away can't fix all of your problems."
Kyle hung up, chugging the rest of his can and reaching for another.