Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kyle’s life fucking sucks.

Why? It’s… complicated.

Sixteen years ago, an ordinary couple — well, for South Park, that is — gave birth to a not-so-ordinary boy.

But Sheila and Gerald Broflovski, as oblivious as they are, thought nothing supernatural of their son for far too many years.

Little Kyle Broflovski would know exactly where the car keys were, if Gerald lost them.

He’d babble and laugh in an attempt to cheer his mom up whenever she was stressed with work, even if she hadn’t shown any signs of distress.

Sometimes, when he was up for a doctor’s appointment, Kyle would hide in the closet or under the couch, even though neither his mommy or daddy had told him anything.

One time, a friend of the Broflovskis came over for dinner, and little baby Kyle threw his pap at him. He refused to give the man a hug, and in general did not like him.

A month later, said “friend” stole Sheila’s jewelry and was never to be seen again.

But the Broflovskis didn’t realize anything until the boy started talking coherently.

Which was rather early.

At twelve months, little baby Broflovski could already describe activities, use more complex sentences, and speak pretty fluently for a toddler.

But still, Sheila and Gerald had no idea that their little boy was even more special than they thought. They figured he was just an intelligent child, which, to be fair, would explain some of the supernatural incidents that occurred in the Broflovski household.

No, it wasn’t until their two-year-old son had a vocabulary nearly as broad as that of an average adult, when they finally figured out something was up.

And by then, it didn’t take long to understand what was up.

You see, when you think to yourself, “Oh, maybe it’s time to put little Kyle in preschool” and your son, out of nowhere, says “No! I don’t want to, mommy, I want to stay home and play all day!”, it becomes pretty clear that your son is not at all ordinary.

And so, Sheila and Gerald Broflovski finally figured out that their son was psychic.

Like, for real psychic. This boy had telepathic powers.

And soon, they also figured out his psychic abilities weren’t limited to mind-reading — little baby Broflovski could also do telekinesis.

Yeah, they put the pieces together when Kyle literally threw his toy truck across the living room without moving his little body, all because the truck couldn’t fit his favorite dinosaur plushie.

The Broflovski household was as normal as any other… in South Park.

Actually, no, scratch that. Even for South Park, having a five-year-old that could read minds and bend spoons with his brain is abnormal.

And like any normal family would do upon finding out that their child is superhuman, they told nobody. Obviously the Broflovskis didn’t want to risk their son being taken away to be studied. Or worse.

So, they homeschooled him until he was old enough to control his powers and comprehend why he couldn’t tell anybody about them.

Luckily Kyle Broflovski matured extremely fast, and at the ripe age of seven, he was finally allowed to go to South Park Elementary.

In the second grade, he made friends easily, since he could read their minds and figure out how to impress them.

And impressing kids was especially easy if you secretly used a little telekinesis to lift heavy rocks.

(Of course, any rock is a heavy rock to a second grader.)

As Kyle grew up, so did his friends. Some of them moved, or he and they just grew apart. Some of them stayed. But Kyle’s social circle at one point in his life was never exactly the same as in another point in his life.

Some of Kyle’s friends or classmates ‘stayed’, — meaning they still went to South Park High with Kyle, and sometimes even had classes with him.

But most of them drifted away.

Not that he didn’t like them anymore, they were still associates, just not friends.

Like with Tolkien Black; Kyle and he used to be closer, and now they still chatted occasionally or joked together, but they weren’t really tight.

Or Wendy Testaburger, with whom he’d always been competing over grades. They bickered, but Kyle figured it was in a friendly way.

The only friends that he truly stayed close with, were Stanley Marsh and Kenny McCormick. And Eric Cartman, though Kyle didn’t really count him as a friend.

Which is why Kyle Broflovski, aged sixteen, had now leapt over their cafeteria table at an attempt to strangle Eric Cartman, aged seventeen, with his gross cafeteria cheesestring snacks.

Well, the real reason why was that Cartman had thought, “Fuckin’ faggy ginger nerd retard”, after Kyle had shared his grade for their shared Ap Calc test.

But Kyle couldn’t tell his friends that.

However, Kyle Broflovski had other things on his mind at the moment rather than thinking of an excuse to hide his abilities.

Things like PC Principal suddenly standing by their table with his arms crossed and a stern look underneath his sunglasses.

Chapter Text

Kyle stared at the plant on Mr. Mackey’s desk.

There was a pen laying within his reach, too.

In the corner, PC Principal stood silently, arms neatly folded in front of him.

On the chair next to Kyle sat a fat boy, with an ugly face full of pimples and stubble, a face that wasn’t cared for at all. The boy’s eyebrows were furrowed.

Kyle knew Mr. Mackey’s office all too well — he’d been here plenty of times before, on account of his frequent outbursts of anger.

But Kyle knew it was different this time. Every time he sat in this chair, Mr. Mackey would ask him and whoever else he fought with why  they’d been fighting, and who started it, and what did they think would be an appropriate punishment, bla bla bla.

And Mr. Mackey would know something was up if Kyle didn’t give a reason for hitting Cartman in the face and rolling around on the floor, trying to stomp on his balls.

Kyle picked up the pen and started playing with it, fidgeting, spinning it.

The handle of the door turned, and then the door opened. Mr. Mackey quietly walked over to his desk, and sat down behind it.

The room was dead silent.

Kyle could hear the electricity buzzing through the cheap TL-lights.

Actually, to Kyle, it wasn’t quiet at all, it never was.

“I wonder what I’m gonna have for dinner tonight… I hope it’s KFC..”

“Kyle and Cartman again? Not surprising.”

“Is silence a micro-aggression? Are those boys trying to assert their white privilege?”

“Well, what do you boys have to say for yourselves?” Mr. Mackey spoke out loud suddenly, breaking the semi-quiet.

Kyle glanced up at Mackey’s abnormally large head.

Next to him, Cartman slightly shifted his heavy, heavy weight.

“I started it, Mr. Mackey. I’m sorry.” Kyle was hoping that good manners would help him avoid any questions.

But Cartman opened his gross mouth.

“He hit me for no reason! Just lunged over the table like a nutcase!”

“Eric! That is discriminatory towards people with mental health issues! Watch your words!” PC Principal commented. He’d become much less aggressive over the years, but he was still quite the activist.

“Mmkay, is that true, Kyle?” Mr. Mackey squinted his eyes.

“Well — yeah. I really am sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t think it through.”

Oh please, please let me off the hook…

“Mmkay, I see. And you, Eric, do you have anything to say, mmmkay?”

Cartman squinted his eyes.

“Fucking jew. I’ll make him pay. He should respect my authoritah and go back to scraping coins out of fountains.”

Kyle tried his hardest to not punch Cartman again. Little bitch. 

Eric finally opened his mouth. “We’re sorry for fighting, Mr. Mackey, mmmkay?” He said in a mocking tone, but Mackey didn’t notice.

Mr. Mackey looked them both in the eye.

Pleaseeee don’t ask why I punched him…

“Mmmmkay”, Mr. Mackey finally said, “You  will both get a week’s worth of detention and I’m calling your parents to pick you up.”

~

“Kyle! What were you thinking?!” His abilities picked up a familiar voice.

Kyle’s mother, Sheila, had rushed to South Park High after she’d gotten the call. The car window was rolled down, and Kyle’s mom was giving him a questioning and angry look.

He opened the car door and sat down in the passenger seat. “I wasn’t.”

His mother sighed. “What happened this time, bubby?” She asked out loud, as to not raise suspicion.

“Cartman was thinking all these slurs and curse words about me just because I got a good grade for Ap Calc! It just made me so angry and before I knew it, his face was on my fist.” Kyle aggressively gestured while he explained, and a few of his bright red curls sprung loose from his hat because of how worked up he was.

“You did something based on someone’s thoughts? Bubby, you know nothing good can come from that! Did anyone ask why you punched him?”

Kyle sighed and looked down at his lap.

“No.” He glanced over to his mom. “And you don’t have to think everything, you can speak normally.”

“I just don’t want to take any risks. Anyway, you were lucky”, his mom started the car, “if anyone did ask, I don’t think there’s a believable excuse for punching someone without a reason.”

Kyle snickered. “Well, it’s Cartman, so I’m sure people would’ve believed me.”

His mother gave him a stern look.

“Still, Kyle. You really need to be more careful. What you can do, it scares people. They will do horrible things to you if they find out. And you’ll lose your friends.”

The car drove away from the parking lot, wheels crunching in the gravel.

Kyle stared out the window, pushing away the thoughts of losing his friends if they ever found out about him.

Would it scare them off?

Chapter Text

“Yo, Broflovski!”

The hallways were deafening to Kyle, like always. Horny teenagers, teachers stressed about their marriages, substitutes practically getting jumped, lunch ladies with apathy… He felt like his ears were gonna bleed. And hearing everyone’s thoughts did not help.

“Hey, Kenny.” Kyle slammed his locker door shut and turned over to the blonde.

“What did you get sent to Mackey’s for?” Kenny spoke unintelligibly, but Kyle was one of the few people who could understand him. It was really just because he could read Kenny’s thoughts, but Kyle told people he simply had a knack for it.

“Just, punching fatass.” Kyle started walking, and Kenny tagged along beside him.

“What for?” Kenny asked. And in his mind, he added, “What not for is the real question.”

Pfsh. You’re actually right, Ken. Thanks for the excuse.

“For being Cartman.”

The boys erupted in laughter, eliciting a few weird looks from the people around them.

“Anyway, where you going? What class?”

As he mumbled, Kenny zipped his parka up a little higher.

“I’m-“

“Fuck that bitch…”

Kyle began speaking, but suddenly got interrupted by a particularly loud thought.

“…Think she can turn me down? Let’s see if she’ll still be laughing when I fucking jump her dyke ass. Where’s my phone? Gotta text the group chat…”

Kyle frowned, looking around to see who that came from.

“Dude, Kyle?” Kenny looked concerned.

Ignoring his friend, Kyle spotted a boy broadcasting violent thoughts. His mind worked at a rapid pace. Got it.

Not even a second later, the guy tripped over his own suddenly-tied-together-shoelaces and fell on the floor, hard . The hall got quiet for a second as everyone stopped dead in their tracks to see what just made that thump. Kyle used the opportunity to observe the boy’s face and remember him. For later.

Wait. That guy’s in my chemistry class…

“What the hell?” the boy quickly scrambled to his feet, keeping his head down. “Oh god, please make everyone forget that… Oh, I am so gonna kill someone!”

Oops. That wasn’t my intention.

“Kyle!” Kenny’s frustrated cry snapped Kyle’s attention back.

“What? Oh, sorry, I uhm.. I thought… thought I smelled, err, something, I dunno.” The redhead shook his head at an attempt to clear his mind, curls bouncing and slapping him in the face by accident.

“O-kayyy…” Kenny frowned, “So where’s your next class?”

“Right, um, I have biology in room 034. With a-Stanley Marshall.” He said Stan’s name with a fake posh accent.

Kenny gave him a look.

“Oh, what? You.. you nag!” Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Pfah!” Kenny snorted, “Great comeback, man!”

“Hm. Well, anyway, Ken, I really gotta go — the second bell is gonna ring in, like, less than a minute. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Kyle hardly waited for Kenny to actually react to that out loud and rushed off.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then-“ was the last he picked up.

~

As he walked into the classroom, Kyle’s eyes spotted a guy with dark hair and faded blonde dye on the tips sitting in their usual spot.

Stan!

Kyle plopped his backpack down on the table.

“Ugh, these things are way too heavy!” He let out a groan and rolled his shoulders back to fix his posture.

“Mmhmm…” Stan’s thoughts hummed in response.

Weird, Stan’s bag is light today, he’s got like three classes. Why’s he agreeing? Whatever.

“Did you do the homework?” Kyle asked as he pulled his out.

“We had homework?” Stan’s big eyes got even larger. “No… I didn’t… Can I copy yours?”

Kyle sighed softly. “Fine. But do your work! It helps you understand the material, which means you have to study less.”

“Nerd.” Stan remarked. “That’s kinda smart.”

Kyle smacked him with his workbook. “Do you want to copy or not?”

“Please.” Stan accepted his offer and began copying the work.

“Alright, welcome, everyone! In today’s class we’ll be going over food chains once more — I’m assuming you all have your notes from the previous class?”

“Shit.”

Kyle could feel Stan puppy-eyeing him.

“Ky!” The boy whispered.

Kyle dramatically rolled his eyes and shoved his notebook on Stan’s table.

“Here”, he pointed at some highlighted text, “you remember this, right?”

Kyle knew Stan didn’t remember, but… This is fun.

“Uhm.” Stan scratched the back of his head. “No…”

Kyle gave him a fake stern look. “Why not? You were there. I sat next to you.”

“Yeah, uhm…” Kyle could hear Stan’s thoughts panicking.

He knew exactly what Stan had been thinking about instead of paying attention.

“Fuck, uh, c’mon Stan, think of something…”

Kyle had to look away to keep himself from laughing.

All the while, they were missing half of the theory revision.

“I was distracted, because I was thinking about a math problem I have to solve before tomorrow.” Stan looked very proud of his own excuse.

Kyle nodded slightly, and squinted. “Okay.” He turned his head to their teacher. “Pay attention this time.”

“Yes, sir!” Stan clicked his pen and started writing.

Kyle secretly smiled to himself.

And for the record, Stan, if I were an animal, I’d obviously be a fox, not a squirrel.

Chapter Text

“Bubbala, mommy’s late for work! Can you empty out the dishwasher with your telekinesis, please?” Sheila was rummaging through the pile of papers on the coffee table. “Where is my file for the ‘Think of The Children’ campaign…”

“Here.” Kyle was finishing off an apple in the next room as he lifted the file off of the table and waved it in front of his mom’s face. “I’ll empty it for five bucks.”

“Oh, come on, Kyle! I’m already late, and it takes you two seconds! You don’t even have to lift a finger!”

“Yeah, but you should never rely on psychic abilities.” Kyle retorted while tying his snow boots without using his hands.

“Alright, I’ll give you the five bucks, but I really have to leave now!” His mom was almost out the door.

“Deal. Now go!” He walked into the kitchen and complied, quickly putting all the clean kitchenware back into their assigned cabinets with his mind.

Okay, did that… Whoops, it’s 8 already, I should be heading out too.

“Bye dad, bye Ike!” The kindergarten was closed for the day due to a lice outbreak, and Kyle’s father Gerald had used one of his sick days to stay home from work and watch his little brother.

“Bye Kyle!” his dad was usually too lazy to respond out loud.

“Bye-bye!” Ike wasn’t.

~

The town was slowly waking from its slumber. For now, the only sound was the crunching and thumping of Kyle’s green boots in the snow. It was winter, and freezing cold. He pulled his ushanka a little lower over his red ears.

Soon it’d be loud again.

Kyle arrived at the bus stop early. Nobody else was here yet. They’d built a little bench here when he went to eighth grade, and it couldn’t hold Cartman, but for Kyle it held up.

He’d been kicking some snow around with his feet and listening to the morning birds for a few minutes, when he heard the crunch-thump of another pair of snow boots getting closer. He recognized the voice of those approaching thoughts.

“Hey, dude.” He smiled. “Good morning.”

Stan sat down next to him. “Morning. You sleep well?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Uh-huh.”

It went quiet again. The boys stared at the snow by their feet, awkwardly smiling at each other every now and then.

Kyle listened to the song stuck in Stan’s head.

“Tear it down, break the barricades… I wanna see what sound it makes…”

“I’m cold.” Stan said, suddenly.

“I mean, so am I, but what are ya gonna do?”

Stan breathed out through his nose and looked at Kyle.

“Warm up.” He said as he scooted closer.

Kyle peered back at him through his orange eyelashes.

“How are his lashes so long and curly? What the fuck?”

They sat in silence again.

“I hate this flavor with a passion… and I fucking hate the aftertaste…”

Stan’s music taste is so emo.

Kyle suddenly sat up a little straighter. Did he just lay his arm on the backrest behind me?

“How does it feel, how does it feel? How does it feel? Well, it feels like I’m on fire… Wake up, I know you can heaaarr meeee…”

Loud thumping in the snow behind them shook them out of their sleepy trances.

Stan jumped up. “Ah, hey guys!”

Kyle could hear his thoughts panicking a little. What for? Why are his thoughts always panicky?

“Hey Ken.” The redhead waved at his friend. “Cartman, you sound like a fucking elephant. We could hear you from miles away.”

“Ey! That’s just because muscles are heavy!”

“Morning.” Kenny muffled. “What time does the bus get here?”

Stan nudged Kyle. “What’d he say?” Stan was the only one in their friend group that still had trouble understanding Kenny at times.

“He asked what time the bus gets here. And it gets here at 08:30, so in a few minutes.”

“Thanks.” Kenny shoved his gloved hands in his pockets.

“It’s fucking freezing!” Cartman grunted.

“You should freeze some of that fat off, tubby!” Kyle and Cartman fell into their usual banter.

A few minutes later, the sound of wheels crunching in the salt on the roads caught their attention. Kyle sniffed up the familiar smell of gasoline. In the short amount of time they’d all been waiting together, South Park had woken up. Cars had passed by a few times, and the streets were slowly filling with people. Well, South Park always had been pretty empty, if there wasn’t some kind of rally or mass emigration. When the streets were ‘filled with people’ here, it meant there were five people in sight.

The boys got on the crowded bus. Their stop was one of the last, and they had to sit all the way in the back if they wanted some spots together.

“The bus is fucking late, yellow-toothed bitch.” Cartman said to miss Crabtree as they got in the school bus.

“What did you say?!?” Miss Crabtree screeched.

“I said the bus just up and braked, fellow goofy kids!”

“Oh. Well yes, it did brake…”

The four boys sat down all the way in the back.

Kyle stared out the window as the bus started driving them. In fifteen minutes, they’d be rushing to their classes.

He chose one thought to focus on and listen to for the ride.

“Dreamless in early graves… I never want it to be this way… The chemicals will bring you home again…”

Chapter Text

Kyle plopped his tray down on the cafetaria table and awkwardly bended his long, lanky legs in a wonky but successful attempt to sit down.

“Hey guys.”

“Hey.” Kenny was the only one to respond. Stan’s mouth was full and Cartman just didn’t care.

“So what’s up? Anything new?” Kyle unwrapped his burrito and took the first bite. His mom had started a movement for healthier and better food in South Park High’s cafeteria back in their freshman year — and surprisingly succeeded.

Stan swallowed. “I probably flunked my science quiz.”

Kyle scoffed. “Why do you and Kenny take science, anyway? I’m glad I dropped it.”

“Dude, you literally take biology and chemistry. And history! How is science any different?”

“Because science is boring.”

“It’s nearly the same!” Kenny chimed in.

“I hate home economy. That’s for chicks.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cartman, your mom still makes all your food for you and cuts it up into little bits so you don’t choke on it when trying to gobble it all down like a pig.”

“Ey! Don’t you lecture me on food, diabetic jew!”

“Like you’re not going to get diabetes if you keep up that lifestyle!”

“Guys, shut up and eat your food!” Kenny muffled.

Stan looked confused. “What’d he say?”

The four silently munched on their food.

“What classes do you guys have after this?” Stan broke the quiet.

“Home economics.” Kenny mumbled.

“What? He said home ec, right?”

Kyle nodded in response. 

“Gay.” Cartman commented. “I have maths A.” He made a face. “Bitch fucking class!”

“Chemistry.” Kyle said. Hope he’ll be there. 

“Oh. I have maths A with Cartman.” Stan sulked. “Ugh.”

“Well, I’ll see you guys later then, right?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah, we all have English sixth period.” Kenny replied. 

The four boys continued eating their lunch and chatting.

~

Kyle was on edge when he walked into his chemistry class. His eyes (and mind) scanned the room in search of the possible threat boy.

Fortunately, the guy was present. He located him via telepathy — the boy had very … present thoughts.

Easily recognizable. Sweet!

Kyle picked the spot right behind him, and unpacked his bag while he waited for the teacher to start reading the absence list.

“…Bebe Stevens?”

“Present.”

“Butters Stotch?”

“Wuh- present!”

“Clyde Donovan?”

“Present.”

The list went on and on, until…

“Ivan Hughes?”

“Present.”

Gotcha. Wait, shit, that was corny. Thank god telepathy is my thing.  

Now that Kyle knew the boy’s name — Ivan Hughes — he could ask around about him.

Or, well, ‘Ivan’ was not thinking about chemistry. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to ask around.

“Just you wait until tonight, bitch… I’m going to break your fucking nose, my boys are gonna break your fucking mouth… I know where to find you…”

Yeah, that’s nice, dude, but can you think about when you’re gonna do all that? And where?

Kyle had gotten the habit of responding to people’s thoughts in his mind. And yes, it was a little weird, but the boy had known nothing but telepathy all his life. To him, it felt almost like a regular conversation, though one-sided.

“I know where you live, fucking whore. Just you wait until you go on your little nightly walk. You think you’re soooo deep and complicated just because you read in public? Well, I’m gonna fucking blind you and you can never read your precious books again. Dumb authors with their dumb weird names…”

You aren’t very bright, are you?

“Wait until tonight, faggot. I’ll beat…”

Kyle stopped listening to Ivan’s surface thoughts. Obviously, he was never just going to think the girl’s name in this… monologue.

Good lord, he’s horrible! Kyle dug deeper into the boy’s thoughts. A benefit of having telepathy since birth is that you’ve known it forever. Kyle had learned to dig into different levels of thoughts in his sixteen years of forcibly having to listen to them. That, and some other useful skills.

Okay, he’s a disgusting person… Wow, okay, a downright nazi… Hmm… Oh, recent memories!

He wasn’t very good at replaying people’s memories, because he almost never did so. He didn’t want to know what his friends had been thinking of during the previous night whilst jacking off. Or something. So he wasn’t very skilled at it.

But Kyle managed.

Oh, there!

••• ###~~~### •••

“So, you gonna let me hit?” Ivan smirked.

“Uhh…” In front of him was a pretty girl, with shoulder-length, mousey brown hair and big hazel eyes. She was wearing a knit sweater and a long, flowy, green skirt. Kyle noticed chipped but soft pink nail polish, and a lingering smell of lavender.

She doesn’t look very straight, is he blind?

“I don’t know what that means…” The girl chuckled awkwardly.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” Ivan rephrased.

“Oh!” The girl slowly took a step back. “I have a girlfriend… And that isn’t a nice way to ask someone out…”

Ivan’s expression immediately turned to anger. The memory got a sort of red tint, and it was clearly fogged by rage.

“Whatever, dyke! You’re ugly anyway! Just you wait!”

Well, he sure likes those four words a lot.

Ivan stormed away, and Kyle exited the memory.

••• ###~~~### •••

Even though he missed nearly an entire chemistry class, Kyle didn’t care. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted. Tonight, when she’s going for a walk, I’ll have to be there.

Luckily, Kyle remembered her. She had looked familiar right away.

I don’t know her address though… How am I going to get into the teacher’s lounge? His mind had already snapped a plan into place.

But when do I go? If I skip English the sixth, the guys will know, and I don’t usually skip… They’ll definitely ask difficult questions, Cartman especially…

He was going to have to miss seventh period.

Chapter Text

It had been a piece of cake, breaking into the teachers’ lounge. It was usually empty during classes anyway — and Kyle had gotten lucky, the door wasn’t even locked.

All he had to do was obscure the single security camera (which the school had installed after a break-in) by using psychokinesis to snip the wires inside of it, and then he simply had to pick a lock to get into the safe which kept the school’s most important files protected.

Didn’t even have to use telekinesis or anything, easiest lock ever…

Now, Kyle had access to the school’s most confidential information, including the address of the girl from Ivan’s memory.

Dragging his finger over the names, Kyle scanned the “addresses” page for hers.

Tanner… Testaburger… Thelma … Throttle… Thorne… Thompson… Triscotti… Tucker… Oh, there she is!

Kyle typed the address into his phone. He carefully placed the file back in the safe, making sure not to crinkle it.

Then, he quickly snuck out.

~

23:04.

After getting the address, Kyle had gone straight home and spent the rest of his time in his room, waiting for the evening. He figured it was about time for her evening walk, right about now. 

With everyone else in the house already asleep, he did what he had done plenty of times before — stuff pillows under his blankets to make a fake sleeping Kyle, then quickly open the window and climb onto the roof, as quietly as he could manage. He made sure to leave a book on his windowsill, to keep it open for when he came back.

Carefully, Kyle climbed to the edge of the roof and held onto the gutter as he slowly let his body drop.

Fuck, I’m basically doing a pull-up. This better give me some crazy abs.

It was a pull-down, and it required little to no skill. Gravity basically did the work for him.

His feet could feel the drainpipe and he hooked them around it. Then, Kyle slid down the pipe, fast and quiet, like a firefighter.

It’s a shame no one was around to see how cool that was…

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began walking towards the address, unsure of how to get there.

He was cold, because he didn’t have his snowboots. They made too loud of a sound to wear when sneaking out. Instead, he got the next best thing: fur boots. They looked very cunty, but Kyle didn’t feel that way.

These look silly.

Luckily, he had managed to get his hands on a warm hoodie, and sweatpants with thick fabric (obviously not the cuffed type, he liked them ‘baggy-but-not-too-baggy’).

So at least he wasn’t shivering.

After a while of walking, he arrived at the address. There was a bench nearby, just out of sight, and he waited there for any movement.

Finally, at midnight, the front door opened, and a girl walked out. The girl from the memory. Kyle immediately locked in, forcibly entering her mind and gathering all her thoughts about her nightly walk.

She has no idea what’s about to hit her.

The girl started walking down the street, not having noticed Kyle. He got up and followed behind, but kept enough distance for her to not hear or see him.

As they were walking, he scanned the area for anyone broadcasting suspicious thoughts. There were very little people out late at night, so he could easily focus on others’ minds.

It didn’t take too long before the girl reached a darker street, quiet and empty. Ominous.

“There she is.” Kyle picked up on a few internal voices who were very caught up in the same girl as he was. His eyes spotted them, too.

Four dudes. Not too bad.

The girl turned a corner and was suddenly surrounded by the four guys, who had been waiting for her.

Kyle hesitated to interfere so soon. He waited first, hiding around the corner. He didn’t want to give anything about himself away.

“Uh, excuse me, could I… pass through?”

“No, you can’t.” One of the guys grunted.

Kyle heard another one step forward.

“Tonight, you pay for rejecting me. And for being a dyke.” Ivan’s voice.

Kyle’s jaw clenched, pissed.

“What?” Her voice trembled, and he could hear her trying to stumble away.

“Get her!” Ivan yelled.

But before any of them could even lay a finger on her, they suddenly collapsed.

Four nearby stones, the size of a human head, had flown right into their faces at top speed.

Four consecutive thumps, and it went quiet.

“…What the fuck?” the girl uttered.

“I gotta get out of here, shit, what was that?!”

She turned around instantly and went to run away, but was stopped by Kyle’s face. And body.

She’d basically run into him at full speed, having acted so quickly that he couldn’t fully process her plans before she executed them. He hadn’t had the time to hide, or even move out of the way.

“Ow, shit…” Kyle groaned as he rubbed his forehead.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Kyle had fallen over, but she was still standing, just a little hazy. “Wait, who are you? What are you doing here?” She was a sharp girl, and instantly flamed him with questions.

Kyle scrambled up from the ground.

“Uhm, just going for a walk?”

She narrowed her eyes, peering at him through her eyelashes.

“No. Nobody’s ever here at this hour, and if you lived here, I would recognize you.”

Kyle didn’t know how to respond. He could tell from her thoughts that she’d figured him out.

“Did you have anything to do with those rocks?”

Kyle sighed. “What rocks?”

“Wait, Kyle? Kyle Broflovski?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, I almost didn’t recognize you in the dark! Do you remember me?”

“I do.” He smiled at her.

“Did you see those rocks fly by?”

“Rocks? …What?” Kyle played dumb.

“It doesn’t really matter, I guess. I haven’t spoken to you in forever, Kyle! How are you?” Her voice was slightly strained. Her thoughts were blank — distant. She appeared to be dissociating.

“I’m good, how are you?” At least her mind had strayed from her suspicions.

“I’m great too! I’m seeing someone.”

“I heard.” He chuckled. “Who is she?”

“How’d you know it’s a she?”

“Uh, Cartman.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“So who is she?”

“What? Oh, it’s Rebecca, you remember her? Well, everyone calls her Red…”

“Oh, Red, really? I’m happy for you guys!”

“Yeah! Hey, so, anyway, do you want to meet up later, so we can catch up and talk and stuff?” She beamed at him.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll give you my number, that’d be fun…” He typed it into her phone.

“Great! Oh, but, I should… I should go. I.. I don’t… Oh my god.”

“What’s wrong?” Kyle frowned.

“I.. I just realized, like, what happened just now. Oh my god, I was almost beaten up! But.. Then… Rocks? Wait, you…”

Shit. Her mind’s circling back.

“Wait, why were you here again?”

This time, there was no use fighting it. She knew. She didn’t know what it was that she knew, but she knew something. Still, Kyle wasn’t gonna give up that easy.

“I was going for a super long walk. Needed to clear my head. I live about twenty minutes walking away from here.”

“Oh.” He could tell she wasn’t fooled. “Well,  I should go home. Probably… stop walking here at night. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you.”

“Great, bye then!” She waved and started walking away.

“Bye, Heidi.”

Chapter Text

00:54. Kyle was exhausted.

After having said goodbye to Heidi, he’d gone back home. He’d been walking for fifteen minutes now, and all he could think about was his soft, warm bed.

And the quiet.

Kyle loved the quiet. He rarely got any.

Oh, but he just couldn’t wait to get home and sleep.

When he arrived at his house, he didn’t know what to do at first. Usually he just climbed back up the drainpipe, but he was so tired…

The neighbors are asleep, who cares if I cheat a little? Nobody will see.

And so, Kyle bent the drainpipe into a stairway. It got a little damaged, but he bent it back, so it was fine.

He climbed up the roof and softly walked over to his window. He opened it, when -

“Dude!”

“Stan?” Kyle was taken off guard and fell into his room, landing face first on his carpet.

“Dude, Kyle, what the hell are you doing out at one a.m.?!”

Kyle scrambled up for the second time that evening.

“Stan, what the fuck are you doing here?!” He whisper-yelled, so as to not wake anyone.

“I always sneak in your room, man, you knew that. I was worried and thought I’d come visit you.”

Fuck, why did I leave the window open? Stupid! You could’ve opened it with telekinesis! God!

“And then when I wasn’t home, you just fucking went on a stakeout to wait for me?!”

“Yeah! Where were you?”

Kyle scoffed. “Out.”

“I know that, asshole! I meant, what were you doing out?”

“I went for a walk. I needed to clear my head. Why did you come here, anyway?”

Kyle could smell Stan’s familiar scent.

“Cartman said you weren’t in detention.”

Detention? “Shit.”

“Yeah, he texted me about it a bunch.” Stan pulled out his phone and showed the screen to Kyle.

Fatboy

ur bf wasnt in detention today

where is he

is he wit u

sucking ur dick

stan the man

rizzler

u fag

homos

no but srsly stan tell him i hope mackey gives him 5yrs of detention for ts

“Oh, god.” Kyle frowned.

“Yeah, he’s not a good person.” Stan shoved his phone back in his pocket. “But he paints an intriguing picture…”

Kyle frowned again.

What does that mean?

“Okay, well, I forgot about detention. Honestly.” That isn’t even a lie, fuck, I hope Mackey lets it slip…

“Okay, I trust you. You really were going for an hour long walk?”

“Yeah, I swear — wait, you were here for an hour? What did you do?”

“Sit on your heavenly smelling bed…” Stan shrugged. “I just chilled.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“What? No way dude, I’m too tired to go home now. My parents don’t mind, they trust your parents.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Sleepover!” Stan said, beaming.

Kyle rolled his eyes. “I’ll get your pj’s.”

Five minutes later, they’d both brushed their teeth and changed into their pyjama’s. Kyle had washed his face, applied moisturizer, and tied his hair up in a ponytail. He didn’t feel like putting on chapstick or spot treatment. He skipped those too often.

Stan had splashed water on his face and called it a night.

“Ponytail… Looks nice. Really good…”

Kyle appreciated the compliment, although not verbalized.

“Here, I have this self inflating mattress for you. And a pillow, and blankets.” He’d set up a nice little nest for Stan.

“Thanks.” They crawled into bed.

“Night, Stan!” Kyle switched off the lamp by his bed.

“Good night, Ky.”