A/N: Back to Kahl we go

Enjoy~

Kyle made his way down his stairs, rubbing his eyes with the back of his free hand and trying to dull the throbbing of his head. He was hungover something fierce. He'd never drank like he had the night before, managing to swipe a bottle of his dad's vodka and one of his mom's wine and down them both in a matter of only a few hours. He could just feel the shame of his actions weighing him down, knowing that his parents would figure it out before long and he'd be held captive in his room the rest of his life. He groaned, continuing down into the living room, swiping his tennis shoes from beside the door and taking them over to the couch to pull them on. He sighed, his head and heart wanting to just anchor him down. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had to move.

"You doin' okay there, Fag?" a voice called from behind him.

He didn't even bother raising his head, simply muttering a, "Shut the fuck up, Ike."

His brother snorted lightly, coming over and plopping down in the chair adjacent to the couch, watching Kyle with sharp, analytical brown eyes. It was astounding how the two of them had that same expression, how despite the very obvious fact that they weren't blood related, anyone could tell that they were brothers just from that look alone. "Kyle, I'm serious."

The redhead finished tying his shoe, looking over at his brother while he remained slumped over. "I'm fine," he said quietly.

Ike placed his head in his hand and quirked a thick, dark brow. "No, you're not. I heard you watching those stupid comedy videos you always watch when you're depressed. And you're going for a run."

"So?" he demanded. "I'm not allowed to get some exercise without Thine Holiness' permission, now?"

The noirette gave him a knowing, crooked smile. "The only time you run is around track season and when you're hungover. I saw you swipin' Ma and Dad's stuff, Dude."

"Gonna narc?" he rolled his eyes.

Ike sputtered with laughter, "Get more cliche, Kyle, please. It suits you." Kyle groaned in response, leaning back against the couch and staring at the wall, his green eyes swamped in a thick toxin. It unnerved his brother a bit, knowing well enough that few things made Kyle actually upset anymore. He cleared his throat a bit, "No. No I won't tell them," he finally answered. "They'll figure it out on their own anyway..."

Kyle sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Thanks," he said blankly.

Ike's face screwed up into concern. "Stan really fucked you up, didn't he?" He watched in astonishment as Kyle flinched at his name, how his thin brows furrowed into absolute rage.

"No," he spat, not with malice at Ike, the younger could tell that much. It was all anger at his once super best friend. He got to his feet, grabbing his mp3 player out of his pocket and placing in one of his earbuds. He looked over to see Ike still staring at him with such sympathy it made the redhead just want to lock himself away. He hated people feeling bad for him. Even his parents hadn't bothered to ask him about anything school related once they'd figured out what had happened. He just wanted everything to go back to normal. Not that he knew what normal was anymore.

"Ky...are you gonna be okay?" Ike asked, his voice suddenly meek. He'd seen Kyle fly off the handle only a couple of times, but he knew well enough to stay far out of the boy's path should it go down that road.

He nodded subtly, "Yeah. Yeah I just need to...I-I gotta get out of here," he muttered, hurrying towards the door and rushing outside. He slammed the barrier behind him and let out a long, shaky breath. He couldn't take this. He couldn't take how everyone knew how it all made him feel. He had figured out earlier that he'd left his phone at Kenny's, and a part of him was grateful for it. He didn't want to deal with people right now. He didn't want people calling him, texting him, asking him what happened. He didn't want to know who blamed him and who blamed Stan. All he wanted was to find himself again, because as disgusting as it made him feel, he knew that Stan was such a huge part of who he was. Losing him, as either a friend or something more, was literally losing his other half.

He shuddered with anger, sticking his other ear bud in and letting the player blast into his eardrums. He stuck it deep in his pocket and gritted his teeth, letting his feet fly down the sidewalk, making damn sure he didn't go in the direction of Stan's house, opting to head towards town instead. His hangover certainly didn't appreciate the blaring music or the continuous thudding of his feet against the pavement, but he knew it'd be worth it. He'd figured out after his first hangover when he had to go to track the next morning that running made it all better. He would just sweat it out and go back to normal.

'If only I could do that with that fucking asshole,' he thought bitterly, dodging around a couple walking their dog. If only he could just take his relationship bullshit and run away from it, just leave it behind him in the dust. If only he could go home, take his shower, and feel the stress melting off of his body. But he knew better, he knew that he would go home and stand in that water, staring off into nothingness and feeling sorry for himself. He hated that. He always told Stan that self pity was nothing more than a ploy to yourself for attention. He told him that his constant desire to go Goth again whenever things didn't work out for the best was nothing more than him whining because he didn't get his way and to grow the fuck up. However, he also knew that he himself couldn't control the emotions from bubbling up, not this time. This all was weighing way too much on him.

His fists clenched as they rocked beside him in his rhythm, his eyes scanning for obstacles while his mind flittered around on its own accord. He couldn't help but wonder if it would have been better or worse had he and Stan ended it earlier or later down the road. If they'd figured out they weren't right for each other earlier, maybe it could have gone back to weekend game nights, just a little bit of awkward sexual tension lingering in the distance. Kyle knew he'd much rather prefer that than what he knew was going to happen now: Stan and he weren't going to talk. Not unless Kyle made the first move, Stan was never one to talk through things that were wrong. He liked to just walk away from it and hope it'd resolve itself on its on time. Stan was going to glare at him nonstop, or more specifically, him and Kenny.

He snarled at the thought, shaking his head a bit as he rounded a sidewalk corner and came to an intersection, keeping his feet bouncing as he waited for the 'walk' light to come on across the way. 'Jealous fucking asshole,' he frowned. 'He fucking knows I'd never fucking cheat. I'd never fucking betray him...' the thought trailed off as a very specific memory of a fourth grade egg project rang in his mind. The way that Stan became absolutely infatuated with jealousy over himself and Wendy working together to the point that they nearly had another falling out, where Stan had hit him low and tried like hell to hurt him back, even though Kyle hadn't even done anything. The light changed and he sighed, heading across the street and continuing down towards town. He should've known better. He should have known that Stan would get the way that he was. That was just in his personality. Kyle trusted him, often enough seeing Stan and Wendy near each other in the hallways and letting them have their space. He should've known that Stan never quite had that same level of trust to give in return.

Of course...Kyle knew well enough that there was a reason for him to be jealous. Hell, he'd admitted it himself to Kenny, he definitely had a thing for him, he had for a good while. It was never just quite as adamant as his feelings towards Stan, however, so he opted to go for broke. He definitely felt that telling pang of regret seated deep in his stomach. But Stan didn't know how Kyle felt. Besides, feelings or not, Kyle was still loyal to what he considered a fault. He sighed. Maybe he should've just let himself be the bad guy. Maybe he should've made Kenny a mistake, made it so much easier for both himself and Stan to just walk away from each other...but then he would've lost both of his best friends. Kyle bit his lip, feeling tears beading his eyes.

'Faster. Have to go fucking faster,' he demanded himself, picking up speed and letting the wind blow directly into his burning eyes. He had to get out of these feelings. Kyle Broflovski didn't fucking cry anymore. He punched someone in the face, learned his lesson, and went about his day. Being picked on for so long for being small, nerdy, gay, and Jewish had made him resilient, made it so he adapted as to not having even more ammo for the other guys to find on him. Butters and Clyde were the pussies, not Kyle. He dropped his vision to the sidewalk, letting his peripherals guide him about. There had to be some way to get out of this funk quicker. Kyle was smart, he was always able to find the way out of sticky situations as they presented themselves.

'Why is this situation so fucking hard then?' he thought miserably.

His moping was cut short as he ran into a warm figure, bouncing off and landing on his back on the sidewalk. His head fell back against the cement and he squinted in dazed pain. "Fucking Jew! Jesus fucking Christ watch where you're fucking going!" Cartman's voice sneered in his ringing head.

"Ugghhh," Kyle groaned, struggling to push himself into a sitting position. Just what he needed. Another reason for him to want to off himself.

"N-need some help there, Kyle?" Butters popped up, holding his hand out for Kyle to take.

Kyle hesitated before accepting the help, letting Butters assist him back onto his feet. "Sorry," he muttered at the heavyweight still glaring at him, pulling his earbuds out and turning off his music with slow, deliberate moves.

Cartman's brow quirked. "Did you just say sorry?"

"Yeah, I fucking did," he spat. "Jesus fucking Christ I ran into you and I said I'm sorry. You got a problem with that, Fatass?!" he nearly screeched.

Butters and Cartman backed up from him a bit, scanning over his face with nerves flittering in their eyes. They knew this side of Kyle. Even Cartman knew it was a bad idea to let it go further. He was usually the one who took the brunt of Kyle's assaults, after all. "Kyle...a-are ya okay?" Butters said very gently.

Kyle stared at the blonde for a few moments, noticing all at once that his hands were hurting something awful. He raised his arms, unclenching his fists and looking at his palms in a bit of fright. His nails had cut right into the tender flesh, a small trail of rubies trickling down from each indentation. "...I don't think I am," he said blankly. He vaguely felt Butters nervously put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but paid it no mind, staring at the mess he'd made instead.

Cartman peered at his handiwork and shook his head, "Jesus, Jew. You're a fucking disaster."

Kyle took a deep breath, feeling that damning shame starting to emanate off of himself. Butters muttered something under his breath before Kyle found a tissue shoved into his hand. "You may wanna...ya know..." he said timidly.

Kyle looked at him for a bit before doing as suggested, wiping the mars from his palms with an unreadable expression on his slender profile. "Thanks," he barely whispered at the boy.

"It's no problem, Kyle," he nodded. "Ya...ya wanna talk about it?"

"What's there to say?" he looked at him tiredly "Stan fucked up, I fucked up..." he dropped his shoulders again, tossing his tissue into a trash bin alongside a restaurant wall beside them. "Just...typical high school romance drama bullshit...right?" he forced an awkward smile on his face.

Cartman scoffed, "No, because you two were butt-buddies long before you were literal ones."

Kyle quirked his brow, "Huh?"

"Fuckin' attached at the hip and everything," he rolled his eyes. "I always knew you two would end up bein' faggy with each other down the way. Didn't know that Kinny was in on your little LGBT pride bullshit, too, but shit happens I guess," he said blandly.

Kyle's hair bristled a bit and he frowned, "No, Cartman, it's not different. It's going to be the same as every other failed relationship. It'll take time but-"

"But nothing!" Cartman scowled. "Jesus Christ are you that fucking dense, Kahl? You two are gonna have to make up because otherwise we're all going to suffer!"

"Well fucking excuse me, you fucking majesty," he drawled, placing his hands on his hips and glaring up at the glutton. "Didn't realize that I'm not allowed to go through the regular process of dealing with this kind of bullshit because it impedes on royal time."

"N-now c'mon, fellers," Butters bit his lip worriedly, standing off to the side between the two. "No need to get ups-"

"Fuckin' dumbass Jew," Cartman cut him short, the both of them locked in their all-too-familiar stare down. "I mean you aren't going to fucking have the 'regular' process. You're going to do nothing but be antsy and pissy, and Marsh won't be anything but fucking goth. You two are going to drag the rest of us down!"

"WELL THEN FUCKING STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Kyle screamed, waving his arms around. Cartman stumbled back, a part of him afraid that one of those appendages was going to come right for his nose as they had so many times in the past. "Jesus fucking Christ, Cartman! I'm going through enough fucking shit right now! I don't need your fucking superiority complex all up in my face, too!" He scowled, dropping his arms down to his sides, making sure not to clench his fists into his fresh wounds. "I don't particularly want to hang around with you anyway!" he ground his teeth down. "I've been telling you that for years. So if you have such a fucking problem with me being fucking upset, then just stay away from me! I don't want to deal with listening to you rag on me for fucking up anyway! I have enough people that think Stan's some perfect fucking being and I'm the only bad guy in this..." he trailed off, his eyes suddenly losing their poison and glistening like ice; pure, clean coldness.

Cartman watched in shock, not used to Kyle getting emotional around him like this, he hadn't since middle school. The anger was always still there, but Kyle made damn sure that the only people who ever saw his sadness were Stan and Kenny, because they were the only ones who wouldn't judge him for it. A small sniffle was quickly forced down by the small redhead and the familiar anger flared once again, melting away the unwelcome glacier.

"I don't think it's your fault, Dumbass," Cartman finally said, his cheeks tinging at the admittance. Something about Kyle looking upset made him so fucking uncomfortable though. Enough had been changed in their routine, he didn't need the Jew's PMS getting in his way as well.

Kyle stopped short, his mouth falling a bit in confusion. "You...you don't?"

He rolled his eyes, "No. Because I know you're the fucking girl of your relationship and-OW!" he screamed as that fury he feared finally connected to his face. He stumbled back, rubbing his cheek and looking at Kyle who was bright red and panting through his teeth.

"Don't you fucking call me a girl, Fatass!" he warned, his eyes screaming promises of pain should he not be heeded.

Cartman lips tweaked into a subtle smirk, unable to help himself, "Because that's Hippie's pet name for you, right?"

Kyle screeched from behind his clenched teeth and started to advance on him before Butters grabbed his arm, looking at him in fear and concern. "Kyle, now h-he's just teasin' ya! Ya know Eric just likes t' get under y-your skin!" he insisted. Kyle glanced at him before back up at the brunette, his stare still dangerously narrowed.

"Don't. Call. Me. That," he breathed. "Call me 'Jew' or 'Kahl' or what the fuck ever else your stupid ass mind wants. But not that. Next time, I won't just be aiming for your face. And you know Butters can't pull me off of you," he growled.

A brief flicker of panic crossed Cartman's face before it resumed its normal demeanor and he shrugged. "Fine, be a kike about it," he smirked. Kyle flinched at the term but let it pass, taking his arm back from Butters and crossing his arms firmly, his hip jutting to the side a bit. Eric couldn't help but snort, seeing Kyle's mom in the stance.

"Now, why don't you blame me?" Kyle asked, trying to keep a coolness to his tone. "You usually jump at any chance to say something's all my fault and make my life a living hell," he rolled his eyes.

"Because I know how much of a-" he paused as Kyle gave him that look of 'watch it'. "...pussy you are," he managed to save himself. "You're always the one who's givin' shit and never taking it or whatever because you think you're such a fucking martyr."

Kyle's face dropped into indignation. "I do not fucking think I'm a martyr, you fat sack of shit! I'm just a decent fucking person. Maybe you should try it for once," he twisted his face again.

Cartman waved away the notion, looking at him with dulled, bored eyes. "My fucking point is that I know you would've tiptoed around, making sure that stupid idiot was happy before you let yourself be happy like the fucking retard that you are. Him yelling at you for hanging out with Kinny just proves he was fighting for something to get angry about," he scoffed.

Kyle blinked, looking at the ground a bit in thought. "I...I didn't really think of it like that..."

"Besides, Marsh only knew about you and Kinny for a few days," he huffed.

His head shot back up, "What? How do you know?"

"Because he fucking told me, thinking for some reason that I gave a shit," he rolled his eyes. "Asked me for advice," he chuckled.

"Wow...if he only knew for a few days and wanted to break up with ya..." Butters said thoughtfully. "Aw jeez, Kyle..."

Kyle looked up at Cartman skeptically, trying to ignore the distraught bubbling up inside of him from Butters' words, "Who else knows about Kenny and I?"

"Uh, everyone?" he snorted. "Clyde told like two other people and it just fucking took off."

"Ugh," Kyle groaned, putting his head into his palms and shaking his head. "No wonder people think I'm the cause of everything!"

"W-whaddya mean?" Butters asked, cocking his head.

Kyle looked at him with a sad frown, "Because you know how that shit goes. People don't hear 'oh Kenny has a thing for Kyle'. No. They hear 'Kenny bent Kyle over in the middle of trigonometry and fucked him on the teacher's desk' or some shit! Everyone thinks I'm a fucking cheating whore!"

"Pft, you think Po'Boy could get into trig?" Cartman guffawed.

"You're missing the point," he seethed. "God...godfuckingdammit." he muttered, shaking his head. "This wasn't supposed to happen. This...I thought it'd be so..." he trailed off, his body nearly going limp. This was too much. He wasn't supposed to be caught in a fucking rumor train like this. He was supposed to just be the quiet nerd in the corner with his book, happening to be holding the hand of the quarterback. That was supposed to be how it worked. Something so goddamn simple...Kyle couldn't help but inwardly laugh at himself. He knew better. He knew that nothing was ever simple in South Park. Why should he be the exception?

"What're ya gonna do now, Kyle?" the blonde ask worriedly.

He looked over at him and shrugged. "What can I do? I can tell people the truth all I want...but Stan's the popular one between the two of us. People will believe him if he says the sky is fucking purple...I just have to hope it all dies out on its own."

"It won't," Cartman said simply. "What Stan said about you and him fucking in Token's house still hasn't."

"...What?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Stan...Stan said that..."

"He lied," he said thickly, a brow cocked a bit. "Kahl, people still think you're a fucking slut. Why the fuck do you think everyone is believing so easily that a tight-ass moralistic Jew like you would actually cheat on that hippie douche?"

Kyle's mouth dropped open and his eyes fell to the ground. "I...But I never..."

"Doesn't matter," he said matter-of-factly. "Stan said it, Stan is a quarterback, Stan is believed. You just have to sit back and let the rumor mill do whatever it wants to you."

Kyle crossed his arms, letting his hands rub up and down them self-consciously. He couldn't even begin to explain why, but it just made him feel so dirty. Like people had been staring at him in the halls, in class, wondering just who else he'd gone around and fucked. Like people saw him and Stan together and they looked at him with such disgust, thinking that Stan was an innocent victim in Kyle's whorish endeavors. He sighed, letting his head drop and his loose ember bangs fall into his eyes. "Guess there's nothing I can do about it now...I guess he just fucking won the break up. And I'm just gonna have to live with it until graduation."

Cartman shrugged, "Well, you only have until the end of this year then. Though I wouldn't get my yearbook signed if I were you," he smirked. Even Kyle couldn't help but feel a twinge of a smile on his lips at that, shaking his head still at the ground and just letting his emotions try to sort themselves out and run their course.

"Uh...oh h-hamburgers," Butters whispered suddenly. The two others looked at him confusedly, seeing him staring across the street. They followed his vision and their jaws dropped.

Kyle's heart sank into the toes of his running shoes, his analytical gaze quickly assessing the situation. Stan. Wendy. Laughing. Smiling. Hand holding. Brushing his hair back like he did when he flirted. A complete nonchalance about him. Like nothing in his world was wrong, like nothing even mattered.

"That...bastard..." he rasped, his chest heaving uncontrollably. He turned and jumped back a bit, hiding himself behind Cartman's weight. The brunette looked at him confusedly before just allowing it, angling himself so more of the redhead was skewed from Stan's possible vision. Not that it looked like he could see anything in the world besides the girl beside him.

Kyle's hand clasped over his mouth, his eyes slamming shut as he tried to get himself under control. His free arm went around his stomach, bending over slightly at the waist as his body tried to fail him and send him into a crumpled heap on the sidewalk. This wasn't happening. This wasn't fucking happening. It hadn't even been a day.

"They're gone," Butters said as Wendy and Stan rounded a corner. He looked at Kyle with empathetic hazel eyes. "Kyle..." he said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Kyle shook his head, violently jerking away from the touch. He could deal with it. He just couldn't.

"Cartman..." the redhead lowered his hand a bit and managed to work out.

"What?"

"I...I need to borrow your phone..." he swallowed. "I-I don't have mine..."

Cartman merely nodded, grabbing it from his pocket and handing it over. "Who're you calling?" Butters asked gently.

Kyle sniffled, keeping his eyes locked on the piece of plastic in his hand. His headache was spiraling back to him in full force, he could hear his heartbeat echoing painfully in his ears. His lip trembled, his entire body quivering with such powerful emotion that he didn't even know he had. It was like Stan not only reopened the wound, but stabbed him again, twisting his knife in it, shoving a lemon down in, and sewing it back up. All with that fucking long haired bitch standing by laughing as he did it. His answer came out in such a quiet whimper that they both struggled to hear him, "I need Kenny."

A/N: Originally I wasn't gonna have Butters here considering how much I hate his existence but...I try to be fair. Ish. Sometimes. Honestly I just need the practice writing characters that I usually don't. How'd I do?

This drama shit is never-ending I swear.

Thanks for R&Ring!