Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His shoulders hurt. That was the only thought running through Kyle’s head as he wound his arm back, readying himself to try again. Ignoring the biting soreness in his muscles, he tried to concentrate on channeling his energy, compressing it into air as he aimed a concentrated blast toward the ground. It hit the pavement with a barely audible crack, and his heart sank. He didn’t even have to look at the dent to know that was his worst attempt of the night.

Frustration bubbled up inside of him as he jogged over to his bag, only for him to stumble over a dent on the floor. He cursed under his breath. The ground of the parking lot had become a minefield of cracks and crevices, to the point where there wasn’t an inch of concrete that wasn’t uneven in some way. Kyle squinted at the pavement, trying to find the impact his latest attempt had made. No luck. Even if he had found the dent, it was probably just as unimpressive as the others, caving in the concrete by an inch or two, max. With a groan, he slumped to the ground, exhausted. Two months of nonstop practice, and all he had to show for it was a bumpy pavement in an abandoned lot.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he pulled out his phone and switched it on. 2:13 a.m.

He frowned. Was it already this late? Maybe it was time to quit for tonight and head back to the dorms. He glanced back at the pockmarked pavement, littered with underwhelming craters. Or maybe he should stay and practice a little longer. He would be half asleep in his 9am lecture tomorrow either way. Just when he had made up his mind, his screen turned off. He tried clicking the power button. No response. Great. Now he had no choice but to go back. Call it divine intervention.

The sky stretched above him, a blanket of pitch black, and the soft chirping of crickets permeated his otherwise silent surroundings. It made for a nice ambience as he blindly picked his way through the wooded area back toward campus. With no other viable source of light or communication, Kyle relied on his night vision and the subtle shifts in air resistance around him to navigate his way along the dirt path. As he walked, he became acutely aware of an irregular rustling in the trees nearby. He slowed, shoulders tensing as he strained to hear the sound.

The noises stopped abruptly. His ears were met with nothing but silence and the soft swishing of leaves. He waited another beat, before continuing to stumble his way back to campus. Probably just deer, he told himself.

The rustling started again the moment he started walking. He tried to ignore it, to just focus on not getting lost on the twisting path, but it was becoming harder and harder to convince himself that the noises were from cute woodland creatures. He didn’t know if it was his imagination, or if it sounded like the rustling was getting closer.

A twig snapped somewhere behind him. He whipped his head back but couldn’t make out anything but the vague silhouettes of the underbrush. As he turned around, he began to get the unsettling feeling that he wasn’t alone. That something, no, someone, was following him. He could feel invisible eyes boring into his back, and footsteps that didn’t quite coincide with his own echoed behind him. He sent a gentle pulse of air behind him, and his heart dropped when it reflected the presence of something bigger than himself there.

Crap. He must have attracted the attention of some creepy stranger. Panic rising, he picked up his pace. Sending bursts of air to map the terrain took too much time. Now he was relying purely on muscle memory and night vision to find his way back.

His gamble seemed to work. The footsteps slowly faded behind him and his muscles relaxed, just a little. He barely managed to stop and catch his breath when he heard the footsteps approaching again, the pace quicker and unsteadier than before. Kyle froze in disbelief. Was the creep still following him?

Feet stubbornly glued to the ground, he tried not to panic as his fight or flight instinct kicked in. He had two choices: stay and face the stalker, or make a run for it and maybe survive. It didn’t take a genius to pick the right answer.

Just as he was about to bolt, a shadowy figure broke away from the tree line; It stumbled towards him, its silhouette tall and ominous. Panic exploded inside him. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Kyle clenched his palm, compressing the air around him. With a forceful thrust of his arm, he unleashed a wave of air at the shadow.

The sonic boom tore through the silence with an ear splitting crack, throwing both him and his pursuer backwards in a burst of energy. The violence of the impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, engulfing everything in its vicinity in a cloud of dust and debris.

Kyle’s ears rang and he opened his eyes, the shapes around him blurring and swimming as he struggled to process what just happened. He let himself collapse fully on the ground, waiting for the high pitched ringing to stop. Gradually, his vision adjusted to the hazy environment, and he sat upright.

Dread pooled in his chest as he slowly recognized the figure sprawled just meters away.

Stan.

His best friend who had been missing for months stared at him with wide eyes. He froze. Before he could even open his mouth to explain, Stan promptly passed out.

Kyle paled. He really fucked up this time.

Chapter Text

It all started three months ago.

While most people were enjoying the beginning of summer break, a freak accident had devastated Kyle’s hometown. Mass amnesia, they told him. A town wide memory blackout. He hadn't been spared.

The last memory that Kyle could recall was when he was discovered by the first responders. He remembered the wailing sirens in the distance, the blurred flashes of red and blue lights, the searing pain that tore through his body as they hoisted him onto a stretcher. After that, things became hazy. Bright fluorescent lights overhead. Squeaky wheels on linoleum. The warm sensation of anesthesia as they finally put him under.

Then nothing.

His first few days in the hospital passed in a dreamlike fog. With the amount of injuries he’d sustained, he was grateful for the heavy sedatives and anesthesia the doctors administered to him. He spent most of the time slipping in and out of consciousness, asleep mostly and barely lucid at best. The only sensations he recalled were the stings of IV needles being replaced, or the bland mouthfuls of hospital food he forced himself to swallow.

Once he was coherent enough to stay awake for longer periods, he was informed of his diagnosis.

Retroactive amnesia.

“It’s an extremely rare subtype of retrograde amnesia,” The doctor had explained to him. “In cases of retrograde amnesia, any familiar object or place can trigger the recollection of memories, whereas in retroactive, only very specific stimuli can do that. And the memories that return, if they do, are usually fragmented and narrowly focused.”

”Think about it like this,” she said. “Let’s say there are two colorblind people and a variety of Enchroma glasses. One colorblind person has the possibility of viewing the entire spectrum of colors through any one of the glasses, while the other is only able to see color through a specific pair of glasses, and even then, they are only limited to seeing a specific color.”

-

"This is definitely the strangest case we’ve ever seen," a policeman stated during an interview with a local TV station. “The entire town was found in a near catatonic state when local farmers arrived in the morning to deliver their daily produce.” The footage cut to clips from the day of the incident, with unconscious citizens littering the streets and buildings, as if they had just suddenly collapsed in the middle of their daily routines. A farmer described it as a town wide narcoleptic episode, which would have been accurate, were it not for the mild burns that were found on their bodies and reports of an acrid odor of burning plastic that permeated the air.

By the time first responders arrived on scene, most citizens had regained consciousness, but they were all completely disoriented. No one knew where they were, what had happened or who anyone else was. All patients were later diagnosed with retroactive amnesia, even though none had suffered any blunt damage to the head. Kyle, however, wasn’t as lucky. He had been found unconscious with substantial physical damage, suffering from blunt trauma and severe lacerations on his back.

Due to the overwhelming number of patients that needed medical attention, including the Hell’s Pass Hospital staff, the afflicted had to be divided and relocated to medical facilities around the state. Kyle and a handful of others had been transferred to the North Park Sanitarium for treatment.

According to news reports, South Park’s power grid had also failed that day, blowing fuses all across town. A string of house fires broke out as a result, gutting the infrastructure and destroying anything remotely flammable inside. With all the evidence destroyed and no real leads, there wasn’t much the local police could do except quietly declare it a cold case. Leave it to the men in black and a GoFundMe page to help this town, they said. It was a small town anyway, with a population of less than a thousand.

The official narrative was simple: a freak lightning storm that caused the town to lose power, and the amnesia was just a result of the noxious gases released from the burnt power lines. It also conveniently explained the unnaturally high electromagnetic radiation detected in broken electronic devices around town.

It was a neat little excuse, a convenient conclusion for a strange case from a town no one cared about. Traumatized residents accepted the media’s explanation without much protest. It was comfortable. It gave them closure and high insurance payouts. Even Kyle received a scholarship and aid package for Denver University from what was presumably a government program. But he wasn’t going to be so easily satisfied. Things were wrapping up too cleanly. Too perfectly. Two days. That was all it took for everything, from their memories to their physical records to vanish. It didn’t matter what the news reports said, he was determined to find the truth.

-

Aside from the routine check ups, Kyle was left alone for most of the day. It was nice, at first, being given the space and quiet to recover peacefully. But once he was eased off the anaesthetics and pain medication, Kyle found himself becoming more and more restless. There was literally nothing to do except spiral in his own thoughts or watch daytime dramas through a caged television. He would be able to buy a new phone once he was out of the hospital with the government subsidized funding he was given, but for now, he made do by borrowing other patients’ screens whenever they were feeling generous.

He spent every precious moment online trying to find out more about the incident and his missing family, but it was a lot harder than he’d anticipated. He had gone in with high hopes, convinced that some media outlet out there must have a different opinion about what had happened. A quick Google search for “South Park amnesia” proved otherwise.

No results found.

Kyle stared at the screen in disbelief. An entire town had blacked out–there had to be some kind of record. He tried again. “South Park blackout.” “South Park mass memory loss.” “South Park accident.” Nothing. Even the televised interview with the local station and the local news articles he had seen were nowhere to be found.

Searching for just ‘South Park’ didn’t help much either. The Internet was a vast library of information, where typing in a single letter produced billions of results and you could find databases for even the most obscure of topics. Yet there was barely a single page worth of articles on an entire town.

Efforts to find any of his family online were even more hopeless, considering the only thing he remembered about them was their last name. He tried looking for social media accounts, public records, online usernames–nothing came up.

It was like the whole world was trying to forget about his existence.

He felt a lump form in his throat. In that cramped hospital room, the world suddenly felt a lot lonelier.

Chapter Text

It was hard for Kyle not to be bitter after that. The whole thing just felt so exact, so pointed—like every thread tying him to his previous life had been severed with surgical precision.

That was, until he rolled over one morning and nearly poked his eye out.

Cursing under his breath, he groggily sat up, fumbling around the sheets. His hand brushed against something stiff and worn, wedged under his pillow.

He stopped.

Peeking out from his pillow was the corner of a battered notebook.

He tensed. Tentatively picking it up, he examined the faded green cover. A title was neatly printed across the top in Sharpie.

“A Comprehensive Guide to Supers.”

Written in his own handwriting.

Kyle sat bolt upright, now wide awake. His heart pounded in his ears. Was this from before the accident?

Gingerly, he opened the cover and that’s when he saw it. A photo taped to the inside page. A younger version of himself grinned back at him, dressed in a grey hood and blue tunic, with a giant kite strapped to his back.

He dropped the notebook, jerking back as if it burned him. A sudden rush of numbing cold clarity ran through his veins. Lightheaded, he slumped back, clutching at his temples. It felt like a dam had burst inside his head, an overwhelming flood of images and sensations pouring in. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing.

It hit him in pieces.

It didn’t feel like a movie reel or a flashback—more like memory returning through muscle. The tingling in his hands, the tightness in his core, the weightless tension in his legs. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.

And then came the scattered glimpses of the past.

He was training. No, fighting. A projectile whizzed past his ear, narrowly missing him by a few inches. Someone yelled something at him but he couldn’t hear them with the ringing in his ear. He turned around and threw out his hands. A wall of wind exploded outward, the recoil making everyone stumble back.

His heart was racing. Slowly, cautiously, he lifted a hand up to the curtain hanging beside his bed, and flexed his fingers.

Nothing happened.

He let his hand drop. Did he do it wrong or was he just suffering from delusions?

No, it had felt too real. He thought back to the recoil, the tension he felt during the flashback, and focused. The coiling in his core and the way energy surged through his veins and out from his hand. He felt his palm connect with something invisible— The curtain stirred. Just barely. It was a little flutter, but the fabric moved just enough to let him know it wasn’t from a draft. It was all him.

His breath caught. So this was real.

He looked down at the notebook, and began flipping through it with a new urgency. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for but he knew he’d recognize it if he found it.

Stan.

The boy in the photo had dark hair and bright blue eyes. A visor was perched lopsidedly on his forehead as he held his hand up to the camera, laughing. The picture was a little blurry, less posed than the others, and he knew instinctively that this had been his best friend.

Something dull and aching tugged at him, as if it was punishing him for forgetting something important. Hazy memories of late night sleepovers and inside jokes he didn’t remember the punchlines to surfaced in his mind, disappearing before he could grasp onto any. He stared at the page, the uncomfortable stuffiness filling up his chest.

He kept turning pages, scanning for more familiar faces. Mosquito. Chaos. The Coon. Mysterion.

Friends? Enemies? It didn’t matter. Whoever they were, they had once been a part of his life, and now they were just strangers on a page.

A pang of guilt stirred in his chest as he read through their descriptions. They had clearly mattered to him. But reading about them now felt like flipping through someone else’s memories. They were just echoes, glimpses into a life that wasn’t his. Still, he studied every face, every note. Committed them to memory. He owed them at least that much if he ever found them.

His temples throbbed with each new entry, like his brain was going to spill over any second. But he couldn’t stop. This notebook was a lifeline. It was the only real proof he had that his past wasn’t just a dream, the only piece of his history that hadn’t been erased.

Then he reached the end.

A scrap of paper with two words haphazardly scrawled across it fluttered onto his lap.

“FIND US.”

Kyle froze.

That wasn’t his handwriting. The pen strokes were jagged and the ‘S’ trailed off the page, as if someone had written them in a hurry.

His heart leapt to his throat.

Someone from the notebook must have left this for him. Someone who remembered.

Maybe they had pieced it all back together already. Kyle frowned. But if they had, why wouldn’t they tell him more? He glanced back at the book. Maybe they expected him to piece everything together, and find the rest of them.

He pressed his palms into his eyes and exhaled slowly. His mind was spinning, brain overloading with information, but beneath all that, he had found a purpose.

He sat up.

Okay. Now he had a starting point. He had names, faces, descriptions. If a search online didn’t pan out, he had another idea.

It was a gamble, but if he correctly assumed that all the other eligible high schoolers in South Park received the same aid package he did, then he would just have to find them on campus.

Chapter Text

This was just his luck. Out of all the ways he could’ve imagined reuniting with his best friend, hunched over Stan’s unconscious body in the woods at two in the morning was not one of them.

His first thought was to dial 911, but with a dead phone and no signal out there, that wasn’t an option. Even if he could call them, there was no good way of explaining the destruction to the cops.

Trying not to panic, Kyle bent down and placed two fingers on his wrist. A pulse. A little erratic, but he was definitely alive. He sagged to the floor, his shoulders relaxing.

What next? Check for breathing? If he had taken a CPR course in grade school, he definitely didn’t remember that anymore. He awkwardly crouched over Stan’s face, holding a finger under his nose to check for breathing. The strong scent of peppermint and alcohol assaulted his senses as he shifted forward, nose wrinkling involuntarily. Peppermint Schnapps. He pursed his lips. It was almost like he could taste the artificial sweetness on his tongue.

A groan brought him back to his surroundings. He was met with a pair of unfocused blue eyes, peering up at him in confusion. “…whuh?”

“Oh fuck!” He jolted backwards, pulling his hand away. His foot caught on a root and he tripped over himself. “I was just trying to check your breathing, I swear!”

Stan stared at him for a long, tense moment, before he broke out into laughter. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.” Kyle grumbled, picking himself up.

“I’m a heavyweight, I’ll be-“

Suddenly his expression twisted. Staggering to his feet, he clumsily turned around and threw up in a bush.

Kyle grimaced. This guy was his best friend? He turned away to give him some privacy as he waited for him to finish puking.

“Hey, why do the trees look like that?”

Kyle froze. The shockwave he had created earlier had done a lot more damage than he intended. If Stan didn’t have the enhanced resilience of a super, he might’ve been injured a lot worse. A few tree trunks had actually splintered in half from the force, bent at an awkward angle. Cringing, he made a mental note to come back and replant some saplings.

He chuckled nervously, guiding him to sit facing away from the ragged trees. “You’re just drunk.” He knelt down and passed him a bottle of water from his bag. “Drink some water and let’s go.”

Obediently doing as he was told, Stan downed half the bottle and rinsed his mouth, before slumping down onto Kyle’s lap.

Kyle startled. He gingerly shook him. “Hey, did you hear what I said? We have to get back to campus.”

No response. But he could feel him burying his face in his sweatshirt and stubbornly clinging onto him. Was he always like this when he was drunk?

He shook him harder. “Hello? I know you can hear me.”

“Why are you helping me? You don’t even know me.” He asked, voice muffled by his sweatshirt.

I do know you. Kyle held his tongue. “Because I’m a nice person, okay?” He yanked him up by the hood of his jacket. “Now, get up.”

Stan sat up. “Not cause you feel bad for trying to kill me?”

Kyle paused. “…you remember that?”

“Yeah. Kinda hard to forget when someone throws a fireball at your face.”

“Okay, first of all, I did not throw a fireball. And second, I wasn’t trying to kill you. I thought you were trying to kill me, so it was really self defense.” He brushed himself off and stood up.

Stan stared at him. “Are you a wizard?”

“Yeah. And I’ll throw another fireball at you if you don’t start walking.”

—

With one person physically impaired from alcohol, the options for walking positions were limited. Stan couldn’t take more than a few steps without stumbling into a bush, which meant Kyle had to sling an arm under his shoulder to keep him steady. While navigating their way back through the dark. Luckily, Stan’s phone had enough battery for them to use as a flashlight.

“What’s your name?” Stan’s voice piped up.

“You asked me if I was a wizard before you asked for my name?”

Stan dropped his head on his shoulder. “Just answer meee.”

Kyle hid a grin. “It’s Stan,” he deadpanned.

Stan stopped dead in his tracks, jerking them both back. “Dude, are you for real.” He stared at him with wide eyes. “My name’s Stan too.”

“What? No way!” Kyle was about to burst a blood vessel from trying not to laugh.

“I swear, you can check my ID!”

“Wow, that is so weird. Now be quiet so I can focus on getting us home.”

They trekked in silence for a little while until Stan spoke up again.

“Hey, is your name really Stan?”

“Yeah. Why.”

“Because it says Kyle on your ID.”

Kyle stopped, surprised. The lanyard on his bag. He had forgotten he’d clipped it to the zipper. His lips quirked up in amusement. “You’re kind of smart for a drunk person, huh?”

No answer. Just a soft weight on his shoulder, followed by light snoring. He sighed. Of course.

By the time they reached the edge of campus, another problem was quickly becoming apparent to Kyle. He had no idea where the unconscious drunk on his shoulder lived. He tried shaking Stan awake. Nothing. He was out cold.

He rubbed his temples. Worst case scenario, Stan could just crash with him at his dorm, but ideally, neither of them would be stuck sleeping on the floor. He had to at least try to get him back to his own room first.

He started patting down his hoodie and jeans pockets with his free hand, trying to feel around for his keys. No luck.

“You know you can’t do that without consent, right?” A voice called from above.

Kyle jumped, nearly dropping Stan. “Shut up, I’m just looking for his keys!” he hissed up at the trees.

A shadow moved in the branches overhead. He squinted, making out the silhouette of someone perched on an overhead branch. “What the hell are you even doing up there?”

“Rescuing a stray cat. What does it look like?” The voice lowered. “Now shut up—they’re looking for me.”

Kyle wondered how long it would take for him to scale the tree and throat punch the guy. Swallowing the urge, he lowered his voice too. “Who’s they?”

“You see those guys down there?”

Kyle peered down at the street at the bottom of the slope. Campus police, flashlights sweeping the grass. He gaped in disbelief. “You mean the campus police?”

He glared up at the tree. “Why the fuck are they looking for you?”

“I didn’t do anything.” the stranger replied defensively. “Some asshole tipped them off that I had some molly and firecrackers in my bag.”

Kyle could not believe what he was hearing. “Do you?”

There was a beat of silence.

“Does it matter?”

He nearly lost it. “What the-stop talking to me then! I don’t wanna be associated with you if we get caught together!”

“Too late.”

A beam of light cut into his vision, blinding him. He could hear the sound of footsteps getting closer as he blinked. “Hey! Stop right there!”

Suddenly, the figure dropped down from his perch, landing next to him. Kyle barely had a second to register his face before he looped Stan’s other arm around his shoulders, and started dragging them forward. “Come on, I know a shortcut!”

Kyle shook his head before taking off with them. Was he seeing things? That couldn’t possibly be…

“Kenny?”

Chapter Text

Kenny whipped his head back. “Yeah?”

Kyle startled. Had he said that out loud? His mouth worked to come up with a plausible excuse as they turned the next corner. The pounding of footsteps behind them was growing louder—faster and closing in.

Kenny yanked them into a side alley. “In here.”

The alleyway swallowed them in shadow. It was narrow and damp, choking Kyle with the stench of wet garbage. He barely had time to adjust to the darkness, before he was being pushed behind a dumpster.

He adjusted his grip on Stan’s shoulder as the three of them squeezed into the tight space between the dumpster and a stack of wooden pallets. Kenny held a finger up to his lips as they crouched down.

Kyle tensed.

A flashlight’s edge cut dangerously close to the top of the dumpster as the police neared. He pressed himself against the grimy wall, heart hammering, his free hand braced to keep Stan from slumping over.

A second flashlight swept through the alley’s mouth, closer this time. A cursory beam skimmed the ground, pausing just shy of his sneakers. Kyle froze. The light wavered there for a second, before it retreated back around the corner.

They waited there, unmoving, even after the footsteps had disappeared and the alley was devoid of light again. Kenny poked his head out, slowly and cautiously, before he gave an all clear.

Kyle let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as they piled out of the space. “Shit, that was close.”

“We’ve gotta keep moving.” Kenny said, stumbling forward as he dusted his jacket off. “I know where Stan’s dorm is, I‘ll take you guys there.”

“Okay.” Kyle paused. “Wait—you and Stan know each other?”

Kenny hooked an arm over Stan’s shoulder, steering them around the corner. “Yeah, it’s kind of a long story.”

Kyle glanced between them. How long have they known each other? Did that mean Stan or Kenny might remember something? A dozen questions were buzzing in his mind, but he forced himself to play it cool. “Oh, okay.”

He must have been staring a little too curiously though, because Kenny grinned at him. “I can tell you, if you want.”

They turned another corner. “But first, you tell me how you knew my name.”

Kyle nearly stumbled over a dip in the pavement. “Huh?”

“Earlier, you said my name. I don’t think I told you.” Kenny was still smiling, but there was an edge to his tone—friendly, but measured.

Kyle had to think fast. “Oh, uh, I think Stan’s mentioned you before.”

“Really?” Kenny didn’t sound fully convinced.

Kyle scrambled for a better answer. The usual college icebreakers were name, major, and hometown. Since they were both from South Park and they were already friends, maybe that was his way out. “Yeah, since we’re both from South Park, he told me about the other students from there.”

Kenny’s eyes lit up. “You’re from South Park too? No shit.” Any trace of suspicion had disappeared from his voice. He shook his head. “I don’t know why Stan’s never mentioned you.”

“We met earlier tonight.” Kyle supplied quickly. He thought back to the alcohol on Stan’s breath. “At a party.”

“I was wondering where he disappeared off to. Must’ve been talking to you.”

Kyle let himself relax. The tension of the interrogation faded as they wove through dim streets, their path lit only by flickering streetlamps and the moonlight bouncing off the wet asphalt.

Then Kenny glanced over. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“I’m Kyle.”

“Kyle…” he repeated. “You know, I don’t think I remember seeing you at the hospital.”

Kyle blinked. “Hospital?”

Kenny tilted his head. “Yeah, the one Stan and I met at? It was right after that freak accident, and a bunch of us got put in the same ward.”

So they had known each other since they woke up. Kyle couldn’t help but feel a little pang of bitterness. “I was one of the ones who got transferred.”

Kenny nodded. “So Stan and I are what—the first people you’ve met from South Park?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Well, if you’re ever looking to meet more people, we’ve got our own little group. You’re free to join anytime.”

“Really? That would be-”

A sudden shout cut him off. “Hold it right there!”

They whipped around. Flashlights bobbed toward them from down the street. The footsteps were no longer distant. They were closing in, hard.

“I was gonna save this for a special occasion,” Kenny unzipped his bag, producing a string of firecrackers. “But I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

Pulling out a plastic lighter, he let go of Stan completely. "I’ll distract them. You and Stan get out of here.”

Kyle stumbled under the sudden weight. “What?”

Kenny pointed at a building across the street. “His room’s the one on the corner of the third floor.” Kyle followed his finger to an open window across the street.

“Wait, I don’t have his keys!”

Kenny lit the fuse. “Good luck!”

He turned the corner and hurled the first firecracker.

Sparks erupted, crackling like gunshots and filling the street with smoke. The cops shouted, some ducking while others ran toward the commotion.

Kyle didn’t hesitate. He tightened his grip on Stan and dragged them both toward the dorm building. His already tired muscles were burning, but adrenaline kept him moving.

There was a row of hedges lining the front of the building, and without slowing down, he hauled both of them into the nearest shrub.

Branches snapped under their weight as they crashed into the bushes. The rustling of the leaves and twigs crackling was drowned out by the echoes of firecrackers in the distance. The police ran past, chasing the noise without even glancing their way.

The shrubbery did little to cushion their landing. Twigs jabbed into Kyle’s ribs and wet leaves plastered his face. He slumped against the wall behind them, taking a moment to catch his breath.

He looked up. Without Stan’s key card or ID, they wouldn’t be able to get inside through the front door. There were no stairs or fire escapes they could climb up either. But Stan’s window was open.

Kyle squinted, evaluating the distance. It wasn’t too far. But if he used air to boost them up to the window, that would mean exposing his powers to Stan again. He had also never attempted flying with another person, much less a blackout drunk one.

He raked a hand through his hair. The only other option would be to drag him all the way across campus back to his dorm, and risk getting caught.

He glanced down at Stan, sleeping comfortably beside him. The chances of him remembering everything the next morning were slim. And as long as he held on tight, Kyle wouldn’t have to worry about dropping him.

“Stan, wake up.” He shook Stan’s shoulder.

"Mmph…" Stan groaned and turned, letting his head flop onto Kyle’s shoulder.

“Dude, I’m serious.” Kyle shook him harder, which only made Stan burrow in closer.

He sighed. Stan really needed to fix that drunk habit of his. “Okay, that’s it.”

He unscrewed his water bottle and splashed a handful straight into Stan’s face.

Stan jerked upright with a yelp. “Jesus! I’m up…I’m up.”

“Listen.” Kyle snapped his fingers in front of him. “I have a plan, but I’m gonna need you to focus so you don’t die. Got it?”

Stan blinked, water droplets rolling off his lashes. Then he squinted. “Your eyes are really green.”

Kyle closed his eyes for a brief, pained second. “Just. Do what I say.”

He grabbed Stan’s wrist and dragged him around the corner of the building. He turned to Stan, tone low and serious. “Don’t let go of me.”

Stan nodded.

Kyle took a deep breath and summoned a breeze. The air stirred around him, condensing and coiling under his feet. As the wind picked up, Kyle took a running start, and hoisted them skywards.

They launched upward, the weightlessness rushing to his head. He lurched as the added weight tugged hard to one side. His balance faltered mid air, and he strained his arm, trying to keep his grip on Stan.

Then he realized—they were rising fast. Too fast.

He had overshot it. He could feel them being carried higher and higher by the current, and at this rate, they’d miss the building entirely. “Shit!”

Suddenly, a hard jolt. He was being pulled back down.

Stan had managed to grab onto the edge of the window frame with his free hand. His grip held, barely. The momentum yanked them off course, reeling Kyle downwards. With a heave, Stan twisted his body and hauled him sideways.

They crashed through the open window, tumbling to the floor in a tangled heap. A lamp clattered off a nearby desk and hit the ground with a thud.

Kyle lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving. His mind was still racing with adrenaline, but one thought cut through it all: Thank God for Stan’s superhuman strength—they’d be a smear on the pavement otherwise.

He groaned as he sat up, rubbing a bruise already forming on his shoulder. If he started left now, he could still catch a few hours of sleep before his morning lecture.

Stan was already out cold beside him, snoring away. Kyle stared at him enviously, feeling a wave of exhaustion crash over him. A yawn crept up on him, and he propped his head against the edge of Stan’s bed.

He would just rest for a second, he told himself, eyes already falling shut. Then he’d go.

Chapter Text

Sunshine poured through the windows, painting the walls buttercream. The bell tower chimed in the distance, heralding the bustle of students streaming out of morning classes. Kyle stirred under the covers, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. For a moment, everything felt peaceful.

He rolled over and let his gaze drift lazily across the room, landing on a guitar propped up in the far corner. He squinted. Had that always been there?

Then it hit him like a brick.

This wasn’t his room.

He sat bolt upright, heart lurching as memories from last night came flooding back—the explosion, the firecrackers, the flying.

He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping on the blanket. Stan’s blanket.

Stan, who had witnessed him using his powers twice, and was now noticeably absent from the room.

Kyle groaned, burying his face in his hands. How could he have been careless enough to trust Stan so easily? Sure, they had been friends before the accident, but he didn’t really know him now. Not enough to trust that he wasn’t halfway across campus telling everyone about how some freak tried to blow him up last night.

Cursing under his breath, he looked around the room. His bag had been placed neatly under the desk. He hurriedly knelt down and snatched it up. He rummaged through the contents. His notebook was still inside, and it didn’t look like anything had been moved or taken. He let out a sharp breath but didn’t feel any calmer. Zipping it back up, he slung it over his shoulder.

Just because Stan hadn’t taken anything didn’t mean he hadn’t said something. And if he had, Kyle was going to find him even if it meant searching the entire campus. As he flung the door open, he nearly crashed into Stan.

Wide eyed, he held up a plastic takeout bag. “…I bought breakfast.”

—

Despite how out of it he had been last night, Stan didn’t seem to have forgotten much. He slumped into a desk chair and dropped his head into his hands. “I am so fucking sorry about last night.”

Kyle was in the middle of unwrapping his sandwich when he spoke. He eyed him warily. ”…so you remember everything.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “More than I'd like.”

“It’s fine.” Kyle waved a hand. “You’re taking this a lot better than I expected”

Stan lifted his head, brows drawn. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, most people would be a lot more freaked out if they almost died yesterday.”

Stan stared at him. “That wasn’t a dream?”

Kyle blinked. “What?”

Color drained from Stan’s face as he slowly pushed back from the desk, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor.

“Hey, wait-” Kyle quickly held up his hands. “I'm not going to hurt you. You think I would’ve dragged your ass all the way back to your room if I was?”

Stan hesitated, eyes darting between the door and Kyle. He slowly sank back down into his chair. “Okay. Then what the hell is going on?”

Kyle paused. He thought about what he should say next. He could lie. Downplay it. But Stan already knew too much, and it didn’t seem like he had broadcasted it to the world yet. Kyle bit the inside of his cheek. “Do you remember the accident in South Park a few months ago?

“Yeah.” Stan looked at him. “Wait, how do you-”

“I’m from there too. And…before everyone lost their memories, we used to be friends.”

Stan stared at him, not with doubt, but like he was trying to match his face to a memory that wouldn’t come.

“I have this notebook.” Kyle found himself continuing to say. “I found it a month ago, and it’s got photos of us—you, me and a bunch of other people. I thought it was just a scrapbook, but it’s more than that. Everyone in the book is in it because they had powers like me.”

“...superpowers?” Stan repeated dryly. “Like in comic books?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

Stan leaned back, running both hands down his face. For a moment, he sat in silence.

“This isn’t real.” He said finally.

“What?”

“This can’t be happening.” Stan stood up. “You’re telling me I’m a superhero.”

“You were.” Kyle corrected quietly.

“I think I’d remember something like that.”

Kyle threw up his hands. “Doesn’t the fact that I have powers tell you I’m not lying?”

“I mean, yeah?“ Stan paced around the room. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Kyle watched him pace across the carpet for a few seconds. He didn’t say anything. The room felt too small, too loud. Maybe this had been a mistake.

“Look,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I really didn’t want to dump all this on you or anything. If you can just promise not to say a word about this to anyone, I won’t get you involved in any of this ever again.”

Stan stopped pacing. He looked at him seriously. “I won’t say a word. I swear.”

“Okay.” Kyle nodded. It wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for, but it was probably the best he was going to get. He crumpled the sandwich wrapper in his hand and stood. “Thanks for breakfast.“

He was halfway to the door when Stan spoke up behind him. “Wait.”

Kyle turned.

“You said no one else knows about this?”

“Yeah. So if you tell anyone about this, I’ll know.”

Stan frowned. “What about the other people in the book? You said there were others.”

“That was before the accident.” Kyle said quietly. “I’m the only one who remembers now.”

Stan was quiet for a moment. “…just you?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I mean…I’m probably not much help, but if you need someone to hang around while you’re doing superhero stuff—just in case—I don’t mind.”

Kyle blinked, caught off guard. “…you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. But you said we used to be friends, right?” He gave a small shrug. “Feels like I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I left you to deal with this alone.”

It would be nice to have someone to talk to about this. Kyle shook his head. “You sure? You seemed pretty freaked out earlier.”

”Well yeah, who wouldn’t be at first? I just think it might be good to stick together since we’re going through the same thing.

Kyle hesitated, then gave a small nod. ”…Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” He smiled and sat back down. “Thanks.”

Just then, a series of knocks broke through the quiet. They both turned toward the door.

Kyle glanced at him. “Your roommate?”

Stan shook his head. “He’s at his girlfriend’s, and he has his own key.”

He cracked the door open and paused.

Kyle wasn’t sure what he expected, but somehow, seeing Kenny on the other side in the same wrinkled clothes from the night before felt on-brand.

“Good morning.” He greeted, slipping past Stan and immediately making himself at home on his bed. ”Glad to see you guys made it back in one piece.”

“Please, come in.” Stan remarked sarcastically, shutting the door behind him. “What are you even doing here so early? I’ve never seen you up before noon.”

Kenny flopped onto the comforter. “Rude. That is no way to talk to a guest.”

”Guests are usually invited.”

He sat up. “I’d think you’d be more grateful to someone who saved your life last night.”

Stan stared at him. “Saved my—what are you talking about?”

Kenny glanced at Kyle. “You didn’t tell him yet?”

Stan frowned. “Tell me what? And hold on, you guys know each other?”

“Yeah, we met while I was saving your asses from the cops last night.” Kenny answered.

Kyle crossed his arms. “After you got us into that mess in the first place.”

“Which I made up for by helping you drag Stan’s body back to the dorm.”

Stan raised his hands. “Okay, okay, I don’t need to hear the whole story. You can stay.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Though maybe with less details.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “So why are you here?”

“Looking for you, actually.” Kenny replied, sitting upright. “You still down to meet the other South Park kids?”

Stan made a face. “You’re making him go to that? Did you at least warn him about Cartman?”

Kyle blinked. “Cartman?”

He vaguely remembered him from the notebook, though he couldn’t recall a single positive thing written in his page.

Stan sighed. “This tool that started showing up to meetings a month ago, acting like he ran the place and treating us like his servants. We tried ghosting him, switching meeting times, but he just kept showing up no matter where we met.”

“Then we tried turning the group into an official club so we could legally kick him out.” Kenny added. “But then he claimed he had dyslexia and threatened to sue us for discrimination if we didn’t let him in. Even got a doctor’s note.”

“Total bullshit.” Stan snorted. “I stopped showing up after that. And I’m not the only one.”

“That’s kinda why we need you to come.” Kenny said, turning back to Kyle. “We’re about to lose our club status. Too many people bailed. And if that happens, we lose the room too.”

He pointed a finger at him. “And before you say anything, remember—you owe me one.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “I’ll go.”

“Really?” Stan and Kenny turned to him in unison.

He nodded. “Yeah, I want to see how bad he is for myself.”

If there was even a chance other people from the notebook might be there, he wasn’t about to miss it. And if Cartman really was as big of an asshole as they were saying, then he would just find a way to deal with it.

Kenny beamed. “I like the spirit.”

He turned back to Stan. “Any thoughts about rejoining?”

Stan hesitated, glancing at Kyle. “…fine.” He groaned. “But only to help him settle in.”

Kenny shrugged. “Good enough for me.”

Chapter Text

Kyle knew not to expect a huge turnout when he walked into the club room, but the reality still fell short of his expectations. The club room was bare, with a couple desks and mismatching chairs littering the floor, and a whiteboard with the words: “Welcome to the Unsolved Mysteries Club!” displayed onto it by an overhead projector.

“The club used to be popular,” Kenny had explained to him. But one member has single handedly driven off everyone else that tried to join. When the club leaders attempted to kick him out, he claimed to have dyslexia, stating that kicking him out would be going against the disability policy of the school. He had even managed to get a doctor to sign off on his self diagnosed condition. The whole story had a suspiciously familiar ring to it, but Kyle prayed that it wasn’t who he was thinking of.

With the club on the verge of shutting down, Kenny was assigned to recruit new members to meet the minimum quota. Everyone he had recruited out of their own free will never lasted more than two sessions. That’s why Stan and Kyle, who were indebted to him, were the perfect candidates. Kenny promised them that all they needed to do was show up to meetings every Wednesday and Friday night.

Kyle hadn’t understood the desperation for new members when Kenny was persuading him, but looking at the empty seats and unoccupied corners, it was starting to make sense.

Kenny and a blonde boy that Kyle almost didn’t recognize as Butters were chatting at one of the desks. The weird home haircut Butters had sported throughout his career in South Park had grown out, wisps of pale blonde hair now curling just under his ears. Even the scar Kenny had given him in fourth grade had faded into a barely noticeable line, a reminder of a past long forgotten.

A pretty girl in a pink beret sat nearby, completely engrossed in whatever she was typing on her laptop. Kyle’s eyes widened. Wendy was here too? Months of dead ends and failure to find his friends and family, and now familiar faces were popping up left and right. He wanted to jump for joy, but maintained his composure as he continued to look around the room.

In his excitement, he almost missed the kid sitting near the back. Scott Malkinson. Who apparently never grew out of his baby face or that habit of poking his tongue out. They were never particularly close, but Kyle still felt a pang of nostalgia as he watched Scott obliviously scrolling through his phone.

It was strangely bittersweet, observing the scene before him. Watching Kenny and Butters interact, sitting together and chatting like old friends. Seeing Wendy, laser focused on her work the way she had been since elementary school. Even Scott and his diabetes was a welcoming sight. For a second, Kyle pretended that he was back in high school, before the incident ever happened and things were still normal.

He was pulled out of his daze by Wendy, who waved him over. “Hi, you must be one of our new members! I’m Wendy Testaburger, the co-president of this club.”

“Kyle Broflovski,” he responded politely. “Nice to meet you.”

She tapped something into her laptop and nodded. “Okay great, just take a seat anywhere, Kyle. Our club meeting will begin in a few minutes.”

Managing a nod and a quiet thanks, Kyle slipped into the seat next to Kenny. “Hey, you made it!” Kenny exclaimed, and turned to Butters. “This is Kyle, one of the guys I was telling you about.”

Butters beamed. “Nice to meetcha Kyle! My name’s Leopold, but everyone calls me Butters.”

The genuine, carefree expression on his face surprised Kyle. He had never really considered it before, but for people like Butters who didn’t have the greatest childhood, the amnesia was a blessing in disguise. Without his trauma, it made sense that he felt no need to manifest an alter ego like Professor Chaos to vent his bitterness.

Looking at him now, Kyle’s guilt felt amplified. He always partly blamed himself for the way they treated Butters in school. While he had avoided participating in most pranks, even standing up for Butters on occasion, he still felt responsible for making his life harder than necessary. That unseeing, cloudy blue eye Butters has was proof of the damage he caused. Kyle wanted to apologize, but bit his tongue. Butters was happy now, and the worst thing he could do was remind him of that pain.

Instead, he swallowed down his apology and smiled back. “Nice to meet you too.”

“It’s real nice of ya to come,” Butters added happily. “We’re used to seein’ more people leave than join, so it’s a treat to get more members.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, happy to help,” Kyle answered, before glancing around the room. “Hey, this club seems fine so far. Which one’s the really annoying guy?"

"Oh, you won't meet him until later on," Kenny supplied. "Cartman never misses Taco Bell's Quesadilla Wednesdays promotion."

Kyle stifled a groan. Just his luck. Of course it was Cartman. At this point he wouldn’t be able to escape that douchebag even in death. He knew it was his duty to recover the identities of everyone in the notebook, but he would be lying if he said he never secretly hoped that he would never run into that fatass again.

Seconds later, the door burst open, and Stan stumbled in. “Sorry I’m late!” he exclaimed, slightly out of breath. “I had some stuff to do at administration and lost track of time.”

Wendy shot him a smile. “Welcome! You’re Stan, right? I’m Wendy, the co-president of the club. Feel free to sit anywhere, the meeting’s about to start.”

Stan stared at her for a second, dumbstruck, before replying. “Uh, yeah that’s me.”

He didn’t make a move to sit down after delivering that stilted answer.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed, and Wendy repeated herself, still smiling politely. “Um, right. You can just have a seat at any of the desks.”

That brought him back to his senses and Stan quickly slumped down into the seat next to Kyle, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Was that as humiliating as it felt?”

Some things never change.

Kyle bit back a grin. “Depends. Do you want me to lie or say yes?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Butters offered kindly. “Lots of guys have embarrassed themselves in front of her!”

That comment made Kenny snicker as Stan groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Yeah,” Kenny snorted. “And by lots of guys, he means you and Eric Cartman.”

Before he could tease Stan even more, Wendy switched off the light. The harsh glow of the projector’s screen flickered to life as she began her presentation on this week’s topic—the lost colony of Roanoke.

Even though he only came to the meeting as a favor to Kenny, he found himself listening intently to her words. It was hard not to, when the topic felt so relevant to his situation. Sudden disappearances, lack of evidence left behind, and it had even occurred on the scale of a whole town. It was all sounding incredibly familiar.

Glancing around the room, he gauged everyone else’s reactions to the presentation. Most were looking on with indifference, and he could see Scott secretly playing on his phone behind Butters. Still, it couldn’t be a coincidence that everyone present was from the same town. Was it worth bringing that up? He contemplated his options. It would be helpful if everyone was on the same page and they could figure it out together. But it wasn’t like they would have much knowledge either, considering they were all victims of the same strain of amnesia. Besides, Dr Lopez had warned him that bringing it up could forcefully trigger memory overloads and traumatize everyone permanently. He bit his lip. Best not to bring it up then.

Stan gently nudged him, his voice low. “Dude, you okay? You’ve been spacing out for like, the past ten minutes.”

Kyle shook his head, mustering up a weak smile. “Yeah, just a little tired.”

”Ay! Did you assholes start without me again?” The whiny pitch of an all too familiar voice voice made Kyle’s blood pressure skyrocket. The light switch was suddenly turned back on, and Kyle could clearly see the one sight he was grateful his amnesia had erased. Cartman. The overpowering smell of Baja Blast and quesadillas triggered a slough of unpleasant memories of Cartman and the Taco Bell Tuesdays their middle school soccer team used to host weekly.

Wendy glared daggers at Cartman as Butters mumbled out a “Hi Eric”.

“We always start at six,” she said irritatedly. “You’re the one who keeps showing up late.”

Cartman was about to argue back when he noticed Stan and Kyle. “Um, who the hell are they?” he complained, folding his flabby arms in what he probably thought was an intimidating gesture.

“They’re the new members: Stan and Kyle!” Butters introduced helpfully.

Cartman sneered. “I was not consulted about this, and I do not approve of a ginger being in my club.”

“Yeah, and I don’t approve of a fat asshole turning this room into a Taco Bell gas chamber!” Kyle spat back, a familiar fury sparking in him.

Shocked silence filled the room as everyone stared at him in disbelief, including Cartman. Whoops. Kyle winced. Old habits really do die hard.

“Wh-what the fuck did you just say to me, ginger?” Cartman sputtered back after a moment. “I run with like, ten gangs! They’re probably gonna kill you now for disrespecting me. You know what, I’m getting a call from one of them right now!”

Pulling out his phone, he held it up to his ear. “Oh hey dawg. What’s up? Yeah, some ginger kid totally just disrespected me.” he said loudly, peeking at Kyle to make sure he was still watching. “Oh what’s that? You’re gonna cut off his dick? Sweet.”

“Uh, I can see your lockscreen.” Scott piped in.

“Uh, I can thee your lockthreen,” Cartman mimicked. “I’m Thcott Malkinthon and I have diabeteth!”

“It’s a serious condition.” Scott grumbled.

“Shut up, I’m on a call!” Cartman dismissed him before returning to his ‘call’. “Yeah sorry brah, I gotta go. I’ll see you at the gang meeting later.”

“Can we please get back on topic now?” Wendy snapped, looking as if she wanted to strangle him.

”Whatever.” He shot Kyle another death glare before plopping down into a chair that creaked audibly.

The rest of the meeting was a complete disaster. Cartman booed every time Wendy tried to talk, and she eventually gave Butters the rest of her notes to present while she hauled Cartman into the hallway. It was an uncomfortable experience, watching Butters struggle to get through the PowerPoint while everyone pretended they couldn’t hear the arguing outside.

Kyle was starting to see why Kenny had resorted to blackmailing people to make them stay.

Chapter Text

“So you’re just out here every night? Alone?” Stan leaned back, surveying the barren surroundings. His voice echoed across the empty parking lot, breaking the soft rustling of leaves in the background.

Kyle set his kite down, panting hard. His breaths escaped in visible puffs of air as he exhaled. “Yeah, I guess.” He wiped his forehead. “This isn’t really something I can invite people to do.”

“You invited me, didn’t you?”

“You basically invited yourself.” Kyle corrected.

After the initial shock wore off, Stan’s interest in anything superhero related had been piqued. He had been badgering Kyle for days to let him come to training. Kyle had successfully brushed off his pleas until Stan brought up the time he’d saved them both from flying off the balcony. Against his better judgment, Kyle had finally agreed. With the condition that Stan watched from a distance and maintained a ten meter radius from the kite at all times. It really wasn’t that dangerous, but he couldn’t risk the possibility of another kite related accident.

At least he was keeping his promise, Kyle thought as he watched Stan pluck a weed out of the cracked asphalt on the edge of the lot. It was kind of nice having company.

“Hey, if you’re taking a break, can I come over?” Stan called out.

He picked up his kite. “No, I’m still training.”

”Come on, you’re really not gonna let me help with anything?”

“Yeah, you can sit there and not get yourself hurt.”

“What if I helped out with non physical stuff?”

Kyle sighed. “If I give you something to do, will you shut up?”

Stan threw him a thumbs up.

He chewed his lip, mulling over the possible tasks in his head. Stan had proven himself trustworthy so far. Why not trust him with a little more responsibility now? If he retained any of his muscle memory, he would be able to handle it. Kyle shook his head. But this Stan was different. He didn’t have any of his old memories, and Kyle wasn’t going to put him in danger again, even if it was by accident. It was safer to just give him busywork.

“Okay fine,” he relented. “You can help me check my form.”

Stan shot him a thumbs up.

That was harmless enough, right?

Kyle took two steps back and angled his kite away from Stan. Readying himself, he sucked in a breath of cold air, feeling the chill enter his lungs. He allowed the cold to seep into his bones and channeled the energy into his kite. As he propelled his arm upwards, he knew he messed up. He felt it the moment he released his kite. His wrist flick was stiff and he let go a beat too early, disrupting his flow. The kite slipped from his hand. Time seemed to slow as it sailed through the air and crashed awkwardly to the ground.

His face heated up. It was bad enough he still couldn’t figure out how to do the move properly, but to have someone else witness his failure was even worse.

Stan approached him slowly. “Okay, uh…a few notes.”

“Yeah I know.” Kyle muttered. “I just feel like I’m stuck.”

“Why don’t you just try to copy what you did last week?”

“You mean when I almost killed you? I don’t remember what I did, I just freaked out because I thought you were some psycho.”

“Okay, so let’s just try to bring up that feeling again,” Stan responded patiently. A mischievous grin crept onto his face. “What if we recreated it?”

“What, no! I’m not going to almost murder you again. Also, the element of surprise doesn’t work if you tell me your plan beforehand, dumbass.”

“Well, the offer still stands.” Stan shrugged. “I’ll keep it in mind.” Kyle pulled up a photo of the notebook’s diagrams on his phone, and handed it to Stan. “Can you look at this pose and tell me if I’m doing anything wrong.”

Stan glanced at the screen. “Your form needs work,” he said immediately. “It looks different from the pose in the photo.”

“It does?” Without a mirror to practice with at the parking lot, it was hard for Kyle to gauge how accurate his moves were.

“Yeah, you’re hurling it into the air like it’s a frisbee, but the diagrams look more like pitching a baseball.”

“So you want me to throw my kite like a baseball.”

“Uh no, not exactly like a baseball-I don’t know. I just think you should use some of the techniques you'd use to pitch a fastball. Just try it and we’ll see if anything changes.”

Kyle sighed. The only experiences he had with baseball was playing in South Park’s Little League baseball team when he was ten, and they had spent the majority of the season trying to get eliminated. But it wasn’t like he had any better ideas, so he channeled all his baseball wisdom into a clumsy wind up.

Lifting his left leg up, he tilted backwards, awkwardly cycling his arm as he released his kite. Too late. It barely had any airtime before it crumpled into the dirt a few yards away. No light pulse, no force field, not even a chip in the asphalt. He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

He heard Stan trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle his laughter, and he scowled. “Shut up, this was your genius idea.”

”Dude, what was that?” he laughed, handing the kite to Kyle. “Have you ever pitched a baseball before?”

Kyle snatched his kite back, ears reddening. ”I was just getting warmed up.”

”Uh huh, whatever you say.” He stretched, flexing his long limbs dramatically. “Step aside, let the pro handle this.”

Unlike Kyle, Stan had taken up baseball again in high school when it became cool to play. Kyle remembered how proudly he had worn his jersey after making the team. He also remembered how Stan had gotten more than his fair share of detentions for refusing to take off his baseball cap in class.

“I can figure it out myself.” Kyle mumbled as he allowed Stan to adjust his form.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan agreed. “I just didn’t feel like waiting another three hours.”

Kyle wanted to punch him.

He stepped behind Kyle, using a sneaker clad foot to nudge his feet further apart. “Widen your stance.”

Kyle shifted, trying to ignore the warm breath that ghosted against his neck. “Like this?”

Stepping back, Stan studied his corrections. “Yeah that’s good. Now twist your torso towards the right and lift your left leg up.”

“Arch your back a little more when winding up. And remember to follow through.” He instructed and lightly tapped the small of his back. A jolt of electricity shot through Kyle, making his spine tingle. He involuntarily released the kite, launching it skywards with an instinctive, sharp flick of his wrist.

It soared through the sky, and with each gust of wind, the kite climbed higher, graceful and free. As the kite reached its apex, it hovered for a second, suspended in mid-air, before it began its descent. It twisted and turned, its flight path now a chaotic whirlwind as it hurtled down. In a final burst of momentum, the kite made contact with the ground, surrounding them in an iridescent, transparent bubble.

Stunned, Kyle was rendered speechless as he took it in. Stan had a similar look of astonishment on his face, eyes wide with wonder. The world outside the bubble rippled with a hazy, dreamlike quality, turning everything a shade more vibrant. They stood there in silence, shielded within the force field, before it began to wavered and disappeared with a soft ‘pop’.

“This means I get promoted from desk work, right?”

“...shut up.”

Chapter Text

Kyle knew exactly three things about Tweek outside of his alter ego. He was constantly anxious, he liked baking lemon bars, and he was basically attached at the hip to Craig. And two of those things also applied to his alter ego, so Kyle really knew one thing about him outside of work. Sure, they had gone on enough missions and had enough exchanges to be considered acquaintances, but when they weren’t on active duty, Tweek mostly just vibrated in place and kept to himself. The most Kyle had ever heard him speak was when he was stressing about the possible hazards of a mission. But despite all that, Tweek was still easier to talk to than his boyfriend.

Craig was a man of even fewer words—to the point where Kyle was pretty sure he could count the number of words he had said to him on one hand. Unlike Tweek who seemed to have a fear of socializing with most people, Craig made it clear that he just wasn’t interested in talking to anyone outside their circle. The only time he’d speak up in meetings or on missions was when he was disagreeing with something someone, mostly Cartman, said. And part of the privilege of being unwillingly associated with Cartman meant that Kyle received Craig’s silent treatment, along with Stan, Kenny and Butters.

He had never been particularly close with either of them, but he was excited nonetheless when he spotted them through the window of the campus Harbucks. Craig was easy enough to identify, considering he had barely changed. Comparing his photo in the journal to his appearance now was like playing the world’s hardest game of spot the difference. Even the chullo hat he had on was the same one Kyle remembered from high school. He sat alone at a corner table, typing furiously on his laptop with his headphones on.

Tweek, on the other hand, seemed to have gone in the opposite direction. There were a few things about him that hadn't changed—like his shock of sunflower yellow hair and the cup of coffee cradled in his hands. But what caught Kyle’s attention the most was the all black wardrobe change, the dark eyeliner and his new circle of similarly dressed friends. He gaped. Was Tweek…goth now?

In a way, it made sense. The goths and Tweek both enjoyed black coffee and venting about everything that was wrong with the world, and that special flavor of group conformity was exactly the security blanket that someone like Tweek would look for.

Kyle bit his lip. Of course things weren’t going to be so simple. This was the perfect opportunity to introduce Tweek and Craig, and he needed to do it fast, while they were still in the same space. Kyle considered his options. If he had to choose between approaching a clique of judgmental goth kids or Craig, he would rather take his chances with the goths.

But what exactly would he say? He couldn’t just walk up to the table and tell Tweek that the stranger in the corner was his ex boyfriend and that they were a superhero duo who were tragically torn apart after a mysterious accident. The Tweek he remembered believed in a lot of conspiracies, but even he wouldn’t fall for such an outrageous claim right off the bat.

Kyle glanced at the counter. He could buy a cup of coffee for Tweek under Craig’s name. That would have worked, if Tweek wasn’t already nursing a mug in his hands. And then he noticed the lemon bars in the display window.

As he drew near the goth table with a wrapped lemon bar in hand, Kyle wondered if that was the best way to go about things. Well it definitely couldn’t make things worse, he told himself.

Five pairs of suspicious, heavily lined eyes bore into him as he handed the pastry to a confused Tweek. “Hey, my friend over there bought this for you.” Kyle smiled, pointing to where Craig sat.

Tweek followed his gaze, and his face immediately dropped. A hush fell over the table, as the other goths exchanged dark looks. Kyle’s smile faltered. He quickly reached out to take the lemon bar back, ready to make up a lame excuse about mistaking him for the wrong person, when Tweek suddenly stood up, pastry gripped tightly in hand.

He stormed over to where Craig was sitting and obliviously scribbling things into his notebook, and tapped him on the shoulder. Taking his headphones off, Craig turned around, only to come face to face with an upset Tweek. His expression froze for a second before his eyes slowly narrowed. “What.”

“I-I should be asking you that! What the hell’s your p-problem, man?” Tweek demanded.

A flicker of confusion crossed Craig’s face. “Dude, what?”

“The lemon bar you sent me! You t-trying to s-start something again?”

“Are you insane? I didn’t send you anything.”

“Bull!” Tweek spat and pointed at Kyle, who subtly ducked behind an onlooker. “You’re seriously t-telling me your friend just handed me a lemon bar out of the s-selection here?”

Craig didn’t spare a glance at the guilty party as he stared Tweek dead in the eye. “I. Didn’t. Send. You. Any. Goddamn. Lemon. Bars.”

“I-I know you’ve had it out for me since last time, man! Y-you called me a douchebag and st-stole my lemon bar!”

”I didn’t call you a douchebag, I called your entire group douchebags. And buying the last lemon bar is not the same as ‘stealing’ it.”

“I-it is when you knew I was gonna buy one and bought the last t-two out of spite!”

“Oh, like how you and your friends bought out the entire supply of black coffee? Why do you need ten gallons of coffee to sit around a table and do nothing.”

At this point, most customers had quieted down, curious eyes fixed on the pair fighting over lemon bars like drama hungry vultures. Tweek glared at Craig and slammed the crushed lemon bar on the table. “J-just stay away from me, asshole.”

There was a beat of silence as he stormed away, before Craig flipped off his back. “You’re the one who approached me, dick!”

—

“I just don’t get it!”

Kyle paced back and forth on the pavement, still trying to process how things went so wrong this morning. All he had tried to do was help, but he had somehow completely misread the situation and made things worse. Craig and Tweek had already met, but by some sick twist of fate, their reunion was…less than ideal.

He frowned. “They were basically attached at the hip in high school, and now they can’t even stand being in the same room as the other.”

Stan sipped on a soda as he watched Kyle pace a trench into the cement. “I mean, didn’t you say they hated each other as kids? Maybe they’ve just gone back to that stage.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Kyle argued, frustratedly threading a hand through his hair. “Retrograde amnesia shouldn’t be able to revert someone’s mental age. After everything they’ve gone through, how can there not be even a shred of feelings left over, even subconsciously? This stupid condition is erasing entire histories between people and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Stan looked away hesitantly. “I don’t think this is something you can fix. Memories and feelings aren’t some straightforward cause and effect situations.”

“I know, but-”

“It sucks, but you can’t force them to pick up where they left off. I mean, I remember more stuff than the rest of them now but I’m still having trouble piecing memories together too.” Stan rubbed his temple. “I think all you can do right now is try to match their pace and wait for them to catch up.”

Stan was right. Kyle dropped onto the ground next to him, an uncomfortable stuffiness filling his chest. He knew Stan was right. It wasn’t something he could force. But it killed him inside every time he had to introduce himself to a friend he had known since childhood. He hated having to smile politely and shake their hand when all he wanted to do was grab them by the shoulders and spill every memory he shared with them until they somehow remembered. But that wasn’t going to happen. Kyle buried his face in his arms. “I know. I’m just so tired of waiting.”

He hoped the muffling of his sleeves was enough to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Just then, he felt a warm hand clumsily pat his back, the way Stan used to when they were six and Cartman would anger him to the point of tears. Kyle cracked a smile, despite everything. Even if Stan didn’t remember that, his subconscious did. He let Stan awkwardly pat him a few more times before lifting his head up. “Okay, new game plan. If we can’t force Tweek and Craig together, let’s divide and conquer. We can start by befriending both of them separately before trying to introduce them again.

Stan shifted. “Yeah, I might need a little more info if I’m gonna be useful in this. The only thing I know about them is what they look like and that they hate each other.”

”Right.” Kyle pulled out his phone, scrolling through his camera roll until he found Tweek’s page from the journal. “This is Tweek, he can control the weather. Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“I mean, control is a strong word. His ability ties in with his emotions, and he was always on edge, so keeping him calm was the best way to stop him from creating blizzards in July.” he explained, swiping to the next photo. “And that’s where Craig comes in. Even having him nearby was enough to calm Tweek down. Something about his presence had that effect, I guess.”

Stan frowned. “But if seeing Craig makes him pissed now, how’s he staying calm?

That was a good question. Kyle paused. As if on cue, a stray raindrop landed on the back of his neck, sending a chill down his spine.

Chapter Text

Even through his thick layers of clothing, Kyle could feel the chill slowly seeping into his bones. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself as he hurried down the street. The patter of rain had long since lost its tranquil charm, now a dreary rhythm that beat down on his umbrella.

It had already been a week since the university had been transformed into this wet, gray wonderland, and it had started to take a toll on people. The formerly bustling campus cafes were slowly being run out of business as fewer and fewer patrons came in, and the tidal wave of students that normally surged out of classes had subsided to a languid trickle. Even Cartman had been affected by the weather, only showing up to meetings occasionally and usually with a pop tart butter sandwich, his favorite depression snack. But despite all the drastic changes, the only person who seemed aware of what they meant was Kyle.

And that was why he had decided to take an astronomy elective on top of his already overwhelming course load, just to force a connection with Craig, the source of Tweek’s frustrations. Kyle had even dragged himself through the torrent of rain today just to prepare for an ass kissing session.

He sighed. The media never portrayed the unglamorous side of superhero duties; but then again, pulling all nighters and doing coffee runs didn’t make for very inspiring stories. Pushing aside his bitter complaints, Kyle quickly plastered on a smile as he entered the library. He held out a cup of coffee to Craig. “They were doing a two for one deal at Harbucks today. Black coffee?”

Strategy number one: the best way to a man’s heart is through food. Or drink, in this case.

Craig looked up from his laptop. “No thanks. Not a fan of bitter stuff.”

Kyle held his tongue as he set the two cups down. Not a fan? He had clearly seen an iced black coffee sitting on Craig’s table that day in Harbucks.

Unaware of the curses being directed at him, Craig continued typing. “Did you bring the calculations for average distances?”

“Yeah, I brought them,” Kyle fumbled with the zipper of his bag. “And uh, I also went ahead and finished calculating the orbital speeds for next week.”

He grinned triumphantly as he dropped the papers on the desk. Strategy number two: gain respect through proving his value as a project partner.

“Oh.” Craig blinked, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “Okay, thanks.” Sliding his laptop back into his bag, he stood up to leave.

That’s it? Kyle was not about to let his efforts go to waste like this. “Wait!”

Craig turned around, raising an eyebrow.

Kyle stalled. “You already finished your half of the work for next week right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So…since we’re ahead of schedule, I thought we could just…hang out?” He cringed inwardly at how lame that sounded.

Craig stared at him blankly for a moment, before turning to leave again.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Has this guy ever interacted with a human before? Kyle did not spend his precious free time doing calculations just for Craig to blow him off like this.

He threaded his fingers through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. Strategy number three: bribery.

“The Leonids meteor shower.” he blurted out.

That caught Craig’s attention. “What?”

“The Leonids meteor shower. I know it’s coming up and only happens every thirty three years, so I bought a ticket for the observatory viewing. If you just do me a small favor, the ticket’s yours.”

“…what’s in it for you?”

“I need you to join a club. Two of my friends run it and it’s gonna get shut down if we don’t recruit more members. All you have to do is attend meetings once a week.”

Craig gave him a suspicious look. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Easy, right?”

“Weirdly easy. But if that’s all you wanted, then sure, I’ll go.” Craig replied, preparing to leave again. “Text me the details.”

Why is he in such a hurry to leave? Kyle frowned. “Hey, what are you in such a rush for anyway?”

Something akin to furtiveness flickered across Craig’s face. “Got stuff to do.”

The vague answer only confirmed Kyle’s suspicions. He was definitely hiding something. But without a solid reason to keep him there for questioning, Kyle reluctantly let him go. “Alright, see y-“

Craig had already disappeared through the door.

Dick.

—

“I’m telling you, it was weird.” Kyle muttered. “It was like he was trying to hide something.” He kept his voice low as he talked, making sure the other people in the club room couldn’t hear him.

Stan nodded seriously. “We can always question him more though, now that he’s joining this club. And who knows, maybe it’s completely unrelated. He could just be a huge nerd who can’t stay away from books. Or maybe he smokes pot in his room and doesn’t want the RA finding his setup.”

“Yeah, or maybe he’s got a stash of porn he keeps in a secret compartment in the sock drawer of his closet that he doesn’t want his roommate to find, because his roommate’ s got a history of ‘borrowing’ stuff.” Kenny interjected helpfully, plopping down beside Stan. “Sorry, I only caught the last bit of what you were saying.”

Kyle gave him a weird look. “That is…a really specific example.”

Kenny shrugged. “False bottom drawer. Feel free to use the tip.”

As the conversation derailed, Kyle’s focus drifted towards the door as he noticed his guest of honor walk in. He was about to walk over and say hi when Craig was stopped by Wendy, who excitedly greeted him with a sign in sheet in hand.

“Who’s that?” Kenny asked, eyes lit up with curiosity. “We don’t usually get a lot of people who willingly join. Except that one time when some guy joined ‘cause he heard Wendy and Cartman yelling at each other and thought we were the debate club.”

Kyle nodded. “Exactly! This club doesn’t get a lot of publicity, so I asked Craig to join to get our numbers up.”

Kenny grinned. “Look at you being so proactive. You know, it’s funny. I had the exact same idea and brought my own tribute here.”

“Really? Where are they?” Kyle looked around the room, searching for an unfamiliar face. “You should ask them to sit with us.”

“Oh, he’s not here yet, but I’ll definitely invite him over when I-“ Kenny stopped mid-sentence when a blond head peeked nervously through the doorway. “Tweek, over here!”

Relief washed over Tweek’s face as he hurried over to where they’re sitting, not paying any attention to the suddenly rigid back of the other newcomer. Dropping his bag on the floor beside Kenny, he gave them a shaky smile. “Ngh, s-sorry I’m late! I’m Tweek, nice to meet you guys.”

Kyle and Stan exchanged a panicked look. What is Tweek doing here? He definitely could not be here right now. Kyle had planned to keep the bickering pair apart for a few more days to let them cool off while he would work on befriending Craig and changing his perception of the new Tweek.

But now they were both here, in the same cramped classroom, at the same time. It was only a matter of time until Tweek would realize who he had brushed past and release a biblical storm, so they needed to act fast.

Kyle didn’t even get a chance to cover Tweek’s eyes when Wendy and her sharp eagle eyes caught sight of them. She smiled and waved Tweek over. “Hi, are you new? I’m sorry, but you need to sign in on the sheet over here where Craig is!”

Tweek looked up sharply. His expression immediately morphed into one of horror as his stare fell on the stiff figure up front. Craig reluctantly turned around, returning the look of dislike.

The room gradually fell into a deadly silence as tension filled the air. The low growl of thunder rumbled outside, as if warning people of impending danger. Wendy, who had realized too late what was happening, could only stand there awkwardly.

Before she could try to step in and mediate, Craig broke off the stare as he casually handed the sheet back to Wendy, ignoring Tweek completely. Pointedly adopting the same tactic, Tweek glared at Kenny. “Th-there’s no way I’m staying in the same room as certain people.”

“So leave then.” The aforementioned ‘certain person’ was still staring at the wall, as if he was talking to no one in particular. “No one’s forcing you to be here.”

“Well actually I-“ Kenny tried to chime in when Tweek made a noise of indignation.

“Rrgh, wh-why do I have to be the one to leave? Why don’t you leave instead?”

Craig’s gaze slid to him, eyes narrowing. “You’re the one who can’t stand being in the same room as ‘certain people’.”

Cue another intense stare down. Neither were relenting this time, and Kyle briefly considered pulling the fire alarm just to break the tension. But fortune must have finally smiled on him, because the biggest and most annoying distraction he could possibly think of burst in at that moment. “What’s up, gaywads?”

The sound of that irritating, nasally voice was like music to his ears, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief as Cartman strutted in, oblivious to what he had just interrupted.

In a huff, Tweek slung his bag across his shoulder and got up to leave. As he made his way to the front, the other strap of his backpack caught on the handle of someone’s umbrella and jerked him backwards. A few items fell out of the half open zipper, and Tweek quickly bent down to stuff them back into his bag, cheeks dusted pink. Oddly enough, the first thing he reached for wasn’t his phone or wallet, but a wrinkled yet carefully folded square of green paper. The color looked familiar to Kyle, but he didn’t get a chance to take another look before it was hastily shoved back into Tweek’s bag.

Craig, on the other hand, caught a better glimpse of the mysterious paper. Whatever was on that paper clearly struck a nerve in him—muscles in his jaw tensing as if he wanted to say something.

Tweek, on the other hand, pretended as if he didn’t feel Craig and everyone else staring at him as he got up and stormed out the classroom, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Shortly after Tweek stormed out, Craig silently picked up his bag and followed suit. No one made a move to stop him. Even Cartman said nothing, face scrunched up as he tried to piece together what he missed. Wendy, who had finally recovered from her shell shock, marched over to the two responsible for the disaster. “Thanks for bringing that soap opera to my club, guys.”

“Sorry Wendy, we were just trying to help.” Kyle apologized.

“Yeah, sorry Wends.” Kenny repeated.

“No, it’s okay,” she sighed, slumping into a chair nearby. “I know you guys meant well. And I’m sure that they’re not usually at each other’s throats like that.”

Kyle didn’t want to lie to her, but he also wasn’t keen on disclosing the full truth about how they were always fighting, so he settled on ambiguously nodding instead.

Suddenly, Wendy perked up. “You know, we’ll be having our first annual team building retreat soon, so they’ll have plenty of time to bond then!”

“Uh, I don’t think-“ Kenny tried to interject but Wendy cut him off.

“Okay great!” Wendy claps her hands together cheerfully with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I know you guys know how stressed I am with planning the event, and how you would never do anything to jeopardize the club’s numbers. I can leave you guys to fix the mess you made, right?”

That unnerving smile sent a chill down Kyle’s spine, and he was beginning to understand why even Cartman was secretly terrified of her. He and Kenny quickly nodded in unison.

Brightening, she stood up. “Awesome! Text me if you need anything!”

Kenny shuddered. “Her future husband better have balls of steel.”

“Yeah, good luck to him,” Stan chuckled. He cast a sideways glance at Kyle, who was spacing out. “What’s wrong?”

Kyle frowned. “It’s nothing, I just,” he lowered his voice. “Hey, did you happen to get a good look at that piece of paper that fell out of Tweek’s bag?”

“The green one? I’m pretty sure that’s a poster for the photography club. I saw one on the dorm bulletin the other day.”

Tweek, interested in photography? Kyle didn’t recall him ever expressing interest in photography in the past, but then again, a lot of things had changed this time around. Nevertheless, it still didn’t explain Craig’s reaction to the poster. The secrecy, his disappearing acts and the weird reactions were beginning to pile up.

—

Unfortunately, the man in question wasn’t much of a talker. Kyle knew this from his experiences with both the past and present versions of Craig, which meant that he was going to have to get his information from elsewhere. Tweek was obviously out of the question, and that left the goths by process of elimination. As the only other people he knew who had any history with the current versions of Tweek and Craig, the goth clique was his best shot at digging up dirt.

Tracking them down at a time when Tweek wasn't hanging around them was a lot less challenging than he had expected. Tweek was preoccupied with his part time job most nights, and the goths usually camped out at Bennigan’s. To keep up with their ‘children of the night’ image, they’d order an entire pot of black coffee every night to ensure that they wouldn’t pass out early and be known as ‘children of the time between midnight and 2am’ instead. And sure enough, they were sitting in their usual booth when Kyle and Stan showed up that night, soaking wet from the rain.

The goths took one look at the pair and went back to ignoring them. Uncomfortably damp and cold from the weather outside, Kyle was in no mood for niceties. He slammed the photography club flier down on the table. “What do you know about this club?”

Pete, the one with the bad dye job, snorted. “Why would we know anything about it, Nancy Drew? Go play detective somewhere else.”

Kyle was about to snap back when Stan stepped in. “Look guys, we’re not trying to start anything. We just wanna know if you guys have heard of this club before. Maybe even had someone join?”

“Listen, Boy Scout,” the tall one, Michael, sneered. “We’re not interested in buying your popcorn or talking to conformists. And that black shirt you’re wearing isn’t fooling anyone; I can still see the Adidas logo. Piss off back to your conformist Ken doll lives.”

Still unruffled, Stan lifted up a corner of his shirt, exposing a sliver of smooth tan skin and a small raven tattoo that had been inked onto it. Kyle quickly averted his eyes. Since when did Stan have that?

A hushed murmur of approval rippled around the table. “A child of the Raven,” Michael mused thoughtfully. Kyle tried his best not to roll his eyes. “Fine, what do you want to know.”

Kyle threw Stan a disbelieving look as they sat down. That was all it took?

Stan shrugged back. Just go with it!

“So how’d you hear about this club?”

“Some conformist handed us these posters a while ago. He came up to us when we were smoking outside. We set them on fire in the ashtray afterwards. It was totally poetic.”

Kyle jolted up in his seat. “What about the guy? Was he tall with dark hair and a blank face?”

“Yeah, and he had a really boring name too. Like Greg or Clark or something.”

The girl, Henrietta, took a long drag from her pipe. “It was Craig.”

“Yeah, Craig. He got so mad when he saw us burning those propaganda papers. Called us assholes for not conforming to capitalism. So lame.”

“Wait, so you guys never joined the club?” Stan frowned. “Not even Tweek?”

“Hell no. He was there when we were burning the posters. He’s not into that conformist bullshit. He’s one of us.”

Stan and Kyle exchanged a look. The crumpled poster in Tweek’s backpack said otherwise. But something still didn’t add up. Kyle could understand why Craig might have been pissed at Tweek for ‘burning’ his posters, but Tweek wasn’t the type to argue back without a cause. He was still trying to piece the story together when the last person he expected to see burst into the restaurant.

Craig stumbled into the doorway, clothes drenched and eyes glassy. Maybe it was the rain that had mixed with the fabric dye on his jacket, but Kyle could have sworn that the blue was a shade duller. There wasn’t time to dwell over small details though, as Craig suddenly straightened up, dull gaze turning sharp as he zeroed in on their table. Kyle slowly stood up, shoulders tense, as he watched him storm over. His instincts told him that he shouldn’t be sitting for what was about to happen, and they were right. The next few moments felt like they were moving in slow motion as Craig brushed past him, cocked back his arm, and before anyone could react, punched Michael square in the face. There was a sound of the blow connecting, and then a yell of pain as blood started leaking out of his nose.

“Holy shit dude!” Kyle frantically restrained Craig, locking his arms mid swing and stopping him from throwing another punch. “Stan, call 911!”

As Stan pulled out his phone, Kyle tried to keep his grip on Craig, arms straining with effort. “Let…go!” Craig hissed through clenched teeth.

“I just need you to calm down first!” Kyle’s pleas fell on deaf ears as Craig struggled harder.

“Uh dude, there’s something you need to see,” Stan said urgently.

Kyle grimaced as he shot Stan a pointed look. “Kinda busy right now!”

Taking advantage of his distraction, Craig wrenched an arm free, lunging for the nearest goth. Pete narrowly dodged him, and Kyle barely managed to grab Craig’s arm. As his hold loosened, Stan suddenly rushed into the fray, tossing his phone at Kyle. “You’re gonna wanna see this!”

Kyle instinctively fumbled to catch the phone, letting go of Craig completely. He wanted to yell at Stan to stay back and keep himself out of danger, but all that flew out of his brain the second Stan tackled Craig. His arms hooked around Craig’s legs with practiced ease, throwing him off balance as they hit the ground hard.

Kyle gaped at the pair grappling on the floor. The new Stan may be a civilian, but he was still a civilian with superhero instincts and six years of combat and football training. Stunned, he watched as Stan slowly gained the upper hand and pinned down Craig’s arms. “I’ve got this, just look at the photo!”

Kyle glanced down at the phone in his hand. It was a drunk selfie Kenny had taken at a house party. “Are you serious right now?!”

“Zoom in, on the left!” Stan yelled back as he wrestled to keep Craig still. Michael was still cradling his broken nose as the other goths circled around him. The short one who looked like a middle schooler, Firkle, unsheathed something that looked suspiciously like a pocket knife. Some patrons had seen enough and were getting out of their seats to help Stan restrain Craig.

Things were escalating quickly, and Kyle was about to dial the ambulance himself when he noticed a familiar face in the background of the photo. There, unmistakably passed out on the couch behind Kenny, was Craig. Timestamp: one minute ago.

He suddenly remembered Craig’s entry in his journal. Doppelgänger creation and manipulation.

Kyle looked up at the Craig attempting to squirm out of Stan’s grip, and then back down at the Craig dead asleep on the couch at a party. “Oh, god damn it.”

Chapter Text

“Come on, pick up, pick up!”

Kyle could feel the last threads of his sanity snapping with each ring of the dial tone as he desperately prayed for Kenny to pick up.

“…hello?”

“Kenny! Is Craig with you?”

“Kyle? Uh…no, not anymore. I think he’s still passed out on the couch.”

Kyle dragged a hand through his hair. “Okay, could you find him and put him on?”

“Now? I’m, uh, kind of in the middle of something. Can this wait?” Kyle could hear the sound of a muffled giggle in the background and realized what he had just interrupted. He squeezed his eyes shut. Task first, scrub mind clean later.

“Kenny, if you help me out this time, I swear I’ll owe you as many favors as you want. Please.”

There was a pause, before Kenny let out a reluctant exhale on the other end. “Okay, okay, I’ll go find him.”

The sound of booming music and chatter gradually grew louder as Kenny made his way downstairs. He heard Kenny’s voice, followed by a groan a few seconds later.

“Okay, he’s up. I’ll put him on.”

As if on cue, Kyle turned to see that the Craig in Stan’s grip had fallen limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Stan, who immediately came to the conclusion that he had killed him, panicked and grabbed Craig’s wrist to feel for a pulse.

Sandwiching the phone between his ear and his shoulder, Kyle hurried over to help pick up the body. “Craig, I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say. Stay awake as long as you can. Stay awake and do not fall asleep. You got that?”

“Mhm…”

Before Kyle could say another word, the line disconnected.

—

The timing couldn’t have been better. Had they hesitated even a second longer before dragging ‘Craig’ outside, patrons would have been treated to the sight of his body dissipating into smoke.

It was unnerving to watch, even for Kyle, who had done his best to prepare himself for moments like this. It was as if the copy’s body had been doused in inky liquid, black cobwebs enveloping it before it evaporated into a black fog that trickled into the shadows. They stood there silently, watching the last wisps of smoke melt into the darkness of the alley. Kyle cast a sideways glance at Stan, who was still staring blankly at the empty space where the copy had just been. They had basically just witnessed a person dissolve into shadows. Even if it was just a doppelgänger and not technically human, it still looked like Craig. Feeling queasy, Kyle tried to open his mouth to offer a comforting word, but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say to someone who just watched a person dissolve into shadows?

“Hey, you don’t have to stick around for this stuff,” he said awkwardly. “I can do this on my own.”

Stan stared at him. “I thought we were a team. Why are you trying to push me out?”

Kyle frowned. It wasn’t that he wasn’t affected by everything that just happened too, but the key difference between him and Stan was that Stan still had a chance to untangle himself from this mess and live an uncomplicated life. “I’m not trying to push you out, I just don’t want you getting hurt because of me. We agreed that you could help out, as long as you’re not in danger.”

“And I wasn’t.”

“Stan, you tackled an unstable and violent clone ten minutes ago! How was that not dangerous?”

“I pinned him didn’t I? I wouldn’t have stepped in if it didn’t look like he was about to break free. What was I supposed to do, stand by and watch as he attacked you?”

“Yes!” Kyle exclaimed. “That’s exactly what you should have done. You promised to stay out of trouble but then you jump in the moment things escalate! I can’t focus if I’m constantly checking if you’re okay! I can handle myself, I can take a hit, and I have abilities to use if things go wrong.”

Stan scoffed. “What, were you gonna summon your giant kite in the middle of a restaurant?”

“Obviously I wouldn’t have done that! But I could’ve healed myself afterwards, or-“

The chirp of a police siren interrupts him as a campus security car pulls up to the restaurant. Kyle cursed. One of the customers must have called the cops during the fight. He couldn’t afford to spend any more time arguing in circles, and smoothing things over with the cops definitely took priority. He glared at Stan. “We are not done with this conversation.”

“Great, then I’ll just keep tagging along until we are.” Stan replied sarcastically, following him back inside Bennigan’s.

—

“So, I’m begging you guys not to press charges. Craig was just drunk and mistook you for someone else. I can help pay for any medical bills you need.” Kyle apologized.

Michael rolled his eyes. “You can chill out, we’re not gonna press charges.”

“You’re not?”

“Yeah, the only thing we hate more than conformists are conformist pigs in uniform. Fuck cops.”

“Uh, yeah,” he agreed, surprised. “Hey, thanks for being so cool about this. And if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“Yeah, you can tell your dickbag friend Greg to watch his back.” Michael sneered. Then, upon consideration, added: “And he’s paying for the medical bill.”

Kyle sighed in relief. “Okay, I’ll let him know. Thanks again, guys.”

Once the campus police officer was informed that the victim would not be pressing charges and that there was only a single punch thrown, he made no effort to hide his irritation at having his Friday night disturbed by a bunch of teen drama. He didn’t even bother questioning where the perpetrator had disappeared off to, half assedly taking statements from Kyle that wouldn’t fill more than a few lines on the police report.

As the officer took other customers’ statements, Kyle seized his chance to slip out and celebrate the first thing that had gone right tonight. That was, until he saw Stan waiting outside for him.

He didn’t feel like arguing with Stan at that moment, and simply kept his mouth shut. They stood there in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the other to utter the first word. Suddenly, the radio from the police car crackled to life.

“Calling all available units. Got a call about a possible 415 at 2155 E. Wesley Ave. Suspect releasing guinea pigs from their cages in the lab and causing a disturbance.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes. Guinea pigs? Coupled with the coincidental timing of what had just happened, he had a bad premonition about the suspect. He hurried towards the direction of the lab. Even if it turns out not to be another copy, it was still better to be safe than sorry.

Stan easily caught up, jogging alongside him. “Hey, if I’m faster than you, does that mean I pass the superhero physical?”

Kyle gritted his teeth and sped up, hoping to lose Stan somewhere along the way.

To his dismay, Stan and his stupidly long legs quickly matched his pace. “Dude…you-stop running so fast!”

His out of breath plea only made Kyle push harder, breaking into a sprint as he forged ahead. Being on the track team in high school had its benefits. It was only after a few seconds of sprinting that he slowed down, suddenly aware of Stan’s absence.

As he turned to look back, he saw a figure lying flat on the pavement behind him, unmoving. His heart dropping, he quickly ran over to check on him. Stan was on his back, eyes closed and breaths shallow. Kyle mentally berated himself for doing something so petty and potentially putting Stan at risk when he had just made a fuss about doing the opposite. He should’ve just slowed down when Stan asked him to. After blowing up at Stan for disregarding his own safety, Kyle had just done the same thing.

He nervously reached down to feel for a pulse, and his heart nearly burst out of his chest when Stan suddenly grabbed his wrist. “Gotcha!”

Kyle instinctively yanked his arm back, toppling backwards. Heart still racing, he gave Stan a hard shove. “You asshole, I thought you were dead! Don’t pull something like that again!”

“We’ve been running for like fifteen seconds, nobody would die from that.” Stan grinned. “It was just the only way I could think of getting you to slow down and talk to me.”

Kyle stared at him. He didn’t know if Stan was pretending or if he really was that stupid. “Acting like you were about to die was the only way? Are you insane?”

“So you would have replied if I had just continued trying to talk to you normally?”

Struggling to think of a mature reply, Kyle’s face soured. He wordlessly stood up and delivered a swift kick to Stan’s shin, before jogging away.

As he heard the yelp of pain and the eventual footsteps that followed, he slowed his pace down. If Stan was still so insistent on tagging along, then a task involving a couple little guinea pigs was about the least amount of danger they could be in.

Chapter Text

The lab was in pandemonium when Stan and Kyle arrived. Dozens of guinea pigs were scurrying around the room, knocking over equipment and avoiding the poor lab tech that was desperately trying to scoop them up. Amidst the flurry of fur, Kyle could see another copy of Craig, slumped over a desk in the corner.

“Shut the door! Shut the door!”

Those were the first words that were screamed at them as they stepped inside, and Stan quickly moved to close the door. A tiny black blur of fur scrambled over his shoe, hungry for freedom. Unfortunately, its stubby little legs didn’t carry it more than a few paces before Kyle bent down and picked it up.

Never having owned a guinea pig before, he tried to handle it as carefully as he could—but it couldn’t comprehend the concept of human kindness and bit his finger mercilessly.

“Ow!” Kyle’s immediate instinct was to fling the little asshole far, far away, but he forced himself to gently drop it into a nearby beaker instead. “Are they usually this aggressive?”

“They’re never not aggressive,” the tech replied miserably, carrying his own squirming guinea pig to a row of cages in the back. “You can just drop them off here.”

As Kyle reached for the beaker, his hand was stopped by Stan’s.

“Wait, you’ve already been bitten once. Let me try.”

Stan extended a hand slowly, allowing the guinea pig to sniff him. Its agitated trembling slowed, and he carefully picked it up with both hands. It squirmed around for a few seconds, squeaking in indignation, before it gradually calmed down.

Kyle gaped in disbelief at the now docile guinea pig. “How…did you do that?”

“I dunno, I’m pretty good with most animals.” Stan shrugged casually, and adjusted his grip. “Open a cage for me?”

Still in shock, Kyle walked over and undid a latch, watching as it was gently set inside. He really shouldn’t be surprised. Stan had always had a natural affinity for animals—it was something Kyle both liked about and envied him for.

As they rounded up the guinea pigs, Kyle continued to struggle to catch one of the little nightmares, even when he tried copying Stan’s movements. The frenzied guinea pigs on the ground weren’t interested in pausing to sniff a stranger’s hand, and the ones he did manage to grab immediately nipped his fingers. Sighing, Kyle stood up. Right now, he was about as useful as the passed out doppelgänger beside him.

He needed a change of tactics. Instead of chasing the ones on the ground, he scanned the room, looking for guinea pigs that had chosen to hide instead of run. They were probably less aggressive and would be easier to trap in one place. Spotting a ball of orange cowering in an exposed air conditioning vent, he cautiously approached it, only to have it notice him and shrink back in terror.

Kyle frowned. If he got any closer, it might run deeper into the vent, making it impossible to reach. He couldn’t reach in and pull it out, so pushing it out from inside the vent somehow was the only other option. If he could use his abilities and manipulate the duct’s airflow, he could potentially push the guinea pig out of the vent and into his hands.

Quickly glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he focused on channeling all his energy through his palm. He imagined the air in the vent as a tangible cord that he could wrap his fingers around, and all he needed to do was pull gently to increase the airflow. His arm trembled with the strain of controlling the air pressure as he took a deep breath, drawing his palm back.

But the timing was all wrong, he yanked his hand back in the middle of an inhale, his arm shook too much when he pulled back and he used more force than he meant to. A gust of wind tore through the vent, dislodging the guinea pig and sending it flying through the air.

He dove forward to catch it, pushing his palm upwards to create a small cushion of air to slow its descent. He barely managed to catch the stunned ball of fur with his fingertips, and quickly took advantage of its confusion to stuff it into a cage. Heart still pounding, he shakily worked the latch shut and tried to catch his breath. He had overestimated his ability to manipulate airflow without his kite, and nearly paid the price for it. Had he not made one last impulsive attempt to cushion the guinea pig’s fall, it would have gotten injured, or worse. He shuddered.

With the rest of the runaway pigs herded back into their cages, mostly thanks to Stan and the lab tech, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Now that the lab wasn’t in complete chaos, Kyle was able to get a better look at the tech. He looked like your typical overworked, underpaid lab assistant, with dark circles under his eyes and messy, uncombed hair. His face was vaguely familiar but the name on his ID badge, Kevin Stoley, didn’t ring any particular bells.

Who really caught Kyle’s attention was the old man that suddenly entered the classroom, cup of coffee in hand. “Kevin, I’m back! Has the guinea pig situation been resolved yet?”

Still wearing the same yellow Hawaiian shirt, with the addition of a lab coat, Dr. Mephesto was instantly recognizable to Kyle. As the head of the only engineering lab in South Park, the doctor had worked closely with the heroes, developing weapon prototypes under the Black family’s funding. Prior to the epidemic, of course.

“Yeah, everything’s under control, Professor,” Kevin answered, and gestured at Stan and Kyle. “These two actually helped get the subjects back into their cages.”

As if finally noticing the other two people in the lab, Dr. Mephesto turned to stare suspiciously at the newcomers. “And who might you two be? I don’t remember putting out any requests for new lab techs. This lab is authorized personnel only, I’m afraid.”

How he ended up here, Kyle had no idea, but it was probably another part of South Park’s rehabilitation and employment initiatives. He wanted to ask the doctor if he had any recollection of the past, or if any part of his lab had survived, but the fact that he was working here and didn’t seem to recognize them was answer enough.

“We’re with, uh, campus security,” Kyle explained. “As part of the student training program.”

Stan quickly caught on. “Right, yeah, we got a call about a disturbance in the lab.

Mephesto shot a look at Kevin. “You called security? I specifically told you not to do that! We can handle it ourselves.”

“B-but you told me to handle it and then left to get a coffee,” Kevin exclaimed. “I didn’t know what else to do, there were so many of them!”

”Look, we don’t want to cause any trouble or anything.” Kyle stepped in. “Your assistant just looked like he needed help. We won’t do anything you don’t want us to do.”

“Oh,” Dr. Mephesto relaxed. “Then I suppose I should thank you boys for helping Kevin and I out. I want to assure you that my lab isn’t normally this chaotic. This is the first time something like this has ever happened.”

Kyle bit his tongue. “So what happened exactly?”

“Kevin and I were conducting our experiments as usual, when this stranger burst into the room and began releasing all the guinea pigs without a word of explanation.”

“I mean, he did accuse you of illegal animal testing.” Kevin added.

“Kevin, hush!”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Animal testing?”

“Well, we do run tests on them, yes. But they are purely behavioral and completely legal.” Dr. Mephesto hurriedly amended. “Anyways, he unlocked all the cages and collapsed right over there. I left Kevin in charge while I went to phone the police.”

“Alright, no further questions.” Kyle motioned for Stan to pick ‘Craig’ up. “This is a pretty minor misdemeanor, so we’ll just take him down to the station and get out of your, uh, hair.”

“What do you mean, a minor misdemeanor? School property was destroyed and this was clearly a targeted crime! I demand compensation for the broken glassware and a full investigation into the perpetrator.”

“Well, it’s a non violent, trivial case, so we consider it a minor misdemeanor. The lab equipment will be replaced, but the investigation isn’t necessary since the motive can be considered a form of animal rights activism.”

“That’s ridiculous, there’s no evidence of mishandling any animals here.”

Kyle turned around. “You know, I wouldn’t pull too hard at that thread. I counted twenty maintained cages and only sixteen guinea pigs. You said so yourself that this is the first time they’ve escaped their cages, so if the missing ones didn’t run away, where are they? If something did go wrong here, then an investigation would be the last thing you’d want.”

—

As soon as they stepped out of the lab, Kyle dropped his poker face. “Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked.”

“Uh yeah,” Stan peered out the window. “We might not wanna start celebrating too early.”

A police car was parked on the curb outside, its red and blue lights illuminating the two officers that were striding into the building. Kyle paled. Being let off easy once was a stroke of luck, but if they were caught impersonating police officers and abducting someone, no amount of justification would prove their innocence.

“Then let’s just make a run for it. They’re probably gonna take the lift so let’s use the stairwell on the other end of the hall.”

“We’re not gonna make it in time. It’s all the way over there, and we’ve got the world’s biggest handicap strapped to our backs.” Stan gestured at the unconscious copy they’re carrying. “I say we hide first and then leave after they enter the lab.”

“Where would we even hide? Most of the labs up here need key card access to get in!”

“What about that storage closet? You know, the one we’re literally right in front of.”

“Storage closets weren’t designed to hold three grown men. Unless you have any other ideas, we should just run.”

“Yeah, here’s an idea: how about we keep standing here and argue about it some more?” Stan shot back sarcastically.

Before Kyle could retort that the time their argument took would’ve been enough for them to sprint down the hall, the elevator doors dinged open and he was being shoved backwards into the storage closet.

His back collided with some brooms, and he let out a yelp of protest, which was quickly muffled by Stan’s hand. He dragged in the unconscious copy after him, letting it slump to the floor as he shut the door.

In the dark, everything felt a million times more cramped. Kyle could feel Stan’s breath ghost across his ear, and he suddenly became conscious of their current position. Sandwiched between Stan and a wall of cleaning supplies, he barely had any space to himself. What little distance they had separating them was thanks to Stan using his free hand to prop himself up.

Getting uncomfortably warm, Kyle tried desperately to focus on anything other than Stan’s chin brushing against his forehead or the heartbeat he could practically feel through his shirt. He shifted, trying to adjust his position, but Stan’s arm caged him in on one side, and a passed out Craig took up the other half of the floor. Locked in place, he couldn’t do anything but wait and listen.

He could hear the footsteps outside echoing in the hallway, hear his own heartbeat quickening as they got closer. He could feel Stan tense up in front of him, unconsciously pressing closer as if he was trying to melt into the wall itself.

The cops were right outside now, their shadows obscuring the narrow band of light at the bottom of the door frame. For a second, it seemed as if they were going to walk right past, but a sudden noise made everyone freeze in their tracks.

A guinea pig squeak, clear as a bell. And it was coming from Craig’s pocket.

Chapter Text

With twin expressions of horror, they watched as a guinea pig poked its head out of Craig’s pocket. It sniffed around cautiously before scuttling down his arm, disappearing into the dimness of the closet.

Kyle panicked. The guinea pig’s squeaking was getting louder and more agitated every time it collided with their shoes or a wall. It was only a matter of time before it attracted the attention of the cops outside.

Sliding down, Kyle dropped into a crouch, blindly groping around for the elusive guinea pig. Picking up a guinea pig in a well lit room was already hard enough, and now he had to scoop one up in a dark closet.

As he failed to grab the little ball of fur over and over again, he could hear the voices outside.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Sounded like squeaking or something. Here, listen.”

Stan hastily dropped down, following Kyle’s lead and feeling around for the guinea pig. But even with the guinea pig whisperer assistance, they had caught the guinea pig a total of zero times, and accidentally grabbed each other’s hand a total of five times. They were being outsmarted by a goddamn guinea pig.

“Okay, I definitely heard it that time.”

They froze mid-grab.

“It’s probably just one of those damn guinea pigs that escaped. Let’s grab it and return it to the lab.”

Slowly, Stan reached up and turned the lock on the door.

Click.

Despite his best efforts to turn it quietly, it still made a distinct noise as it locked.

The door handle jiggled twice. “What the hell? Door just locked on me.”

The handle rattled again, with more force this time. “Hello? Someone inside?”

There was silence in the closet. Nobody dared to take a breath; even the guinea pig had stopped squeaking.

Kyle frowned. That wasn’t right. It wouldn’t have suddenly gone quiet without a reason. He perked his ears up, taking advantage of the silence to listen for its footsteps.

He couldn’t hear anything at first, but the soft sound of paws scraping against something gradually drew his focus. He could make out a faint shape in the dark, a little shadow scratching desperately at the corner of a wall.

There! He dove forward to grab the guinea pig, and missed. It sensed its impending fate and hurriedly scrambled out of the way, leaving Kyle to face plant on the linoleum.

“Hey, we can hear you moving around in there! This is campus police, come out with your hands up!”

Kyle allowed himself to lay on the floor for a moment and reflect his past mistakes. This was it. The cops were going to break down the door and arrest them. He’d get expelled and have to pick up a job at Burger King to make ends meet. Then he’d be forced to withstand Cartman’s taunts while watching him scarf down a two for one combo every week, until Kyle would eventually snap and murder him.

While he lay there mapping out his depressing future, cool air drifted around his head, providing a pleasant relief for his headache. Kyle’s eyes shot open.

That can’t be right. There shouldn’t be a breeze coming from inside the closet. He was turned away from the door, yet there was still a definite source of AC leaking in from the wall he faced.

Tentatively, Kyle placed a hand on the wall, feeling around for some kind of vent. It didn’t take him long to realize that the cold air was drifting in from the bottom of the wall. His fingers hooked around a tiny gap between the floor and wall, its width barely enough to squeeze his pinky through. He ran his hand along the edge, feeling the gap run across the entire length of the wall.

His heart leapt. There was something behind the wall.

Meanwhile, the cops had begun pounding on the door, their demands growing louder. Stan leaned his weight against the door, body jolting with each of their attempts to ram the door.

Springing to his feet, Kyle pushed against the panel wall as hard as he could. It felt much flimsier than a concrete wall, but still held sturdy against his weight. There was a clicking sound and a slight give when he pushed inwards. There was some kind of mechanism keeping the wall in place.

Kyle felt around, searching for some kind of abnormality he could use as a grip to wrench the wall open. The tile pattern on the wall seemed like a terrible design choice, but he quickly realized it was to hide a thin horizontal groove that ran along behind one of the shelves.

Gripping onto the edge of the shelf, he yanked it along the groove with all his strength. The shelf creaked and shuddered, but dutifully slid along the groove. There was a mechanical ‘clunk’ as the panel swung open.

In one fluid motion, Kyle grabbed his arm and threw them into the hidden room.

—

The panel slid shut behind them as they collapsed on the floor. Kyle let himself lie on the cool linoleum floor as he listened to the splintering sounds of the doorframe outside. He exhaled in relief. Another second and they would’ve been caught hiding in a closet with an unconscious body.

Beside him, Stan groaned in pain. He had managed to grab ahold of Craig’s collar before he was yanked into yet another dimly lit room, and was now pinned under Craig’s dead weight.

Kyle sat up and helped push Craig off to one side. “Is the guinea pig okay?”

He heard a squeak in response as a ball of fur scrambled back into Craig’s pocket.

“It’s fine,” Stan pushed himself up into a sitting position. “I’m fine too, thanks for asking.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who keeps insisting on being put in danger. I think you’ll survive being pushed.”

“But Craig elbowed me in the face when you pushed me, and I think it’s gonna bruise.” Stan whined, a pitiful look on his face as he leaned forward to show Kyle the non existent bruise.

Immediately getting up, Kyle pointed his flashlight at the wall, searching for the light switch. His fingers brushed against a plastic switch, and the room was suddenly flooded with fluorescent light. As his vision blurred to the sudden brightness, he became acutely aware of the faint smell of burnt hair permeating the air. Suddenly feeling a bit dizzy, he leaned against the wall as rows of lab desks, scattered equipment, and guinea pig cages swam into view.

“What the hell is this place?” Stan muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Kyle was wondering the same thing himself. Aside from being hidden behind a secret panel in the storage closet, the room looked no different from any other lab in the building. Which only made it more suspicious. What was the point of going through so much trouble to hide nothing?

He walked to the nearest desk, bending down for a closer inspection of the equipment. A guinea pig cage sat on the table, next to a microscope and a rack of clean test tubes. Kyle squinted at the cage. The bedding looked used but there was no sign of any guinea pigs inside. Something definitely felt off.

Snapping a photo of the cage, he turned around to take more when he noticed something that made him freeze in his tracks. A security camera was tucked in a corner of the room. He relaxed when he noticed the lens pointed downwards and the absence of a blinking light. It was off.

“Hey, check it out,” Stan waved him over to a blank whiteboard attached to the wall. “I think there’s something behind this but the panels are stuck.”

It was ordinary looking, one of those whiteboards with sliding panels that could be pulled out to maximize board space. But the sliding track for the panels was jammed by something small, Kyle confirmed as he tugged one side.

“Okay, on the count of three, we yank as hard as we can on either side.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

The whiteboard burst open, panels sliding out violently and throwing both Stan and Kyle off balance. Landing unceremoniously on his ass, it took Kyle a moment to comprehend what he was looking at. And when he did, his stomach dropped.

A photograph had fluttered down from the whiteboard. A photograph of him. It was a standard school issued ID photo, but that somehow felt eerier than if it had been a candid shot. An ID photo meant that they knew who he was and had access to his files.

As he looked up at the whiteboard, he saw that his face wasn’t the only one on there. And the more he looked, the more familiar every face on the board became. ID photos of Kenny, Tweek and even Cartman were taped to the board, their blank gazes staring right back at Kyle. A chill ran down his spine.

This was no coincidence. Someone else knew about their alter egos and it seemed like they knew just as much, if not more, than Kyle did. Suddenly, he was reminded of the note that he had been slipped in the hospital.

FIND US.

The frantic scrawl of these two words may have meant more than bad handwriting. What if the sender had meant that he needed to find everyone before someone else did? Kyle felt like he had unwittingly stepped into a game of cat and mouse. He was so focused on rounding up his fellow mice that he didn’t even realize they were being chased by an invisible predator.

“This is so fucked up.”

Stan’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. He stood there in shock, clutching his own ID photo. The dopey grin Stan wore in the photo was nowhere to be found on his current face. “Why would anyone have these?”

Kyle’s head was still spinning, trying to process everything he was seeing. Craig, Clyde, Butters, it seemed like the stalker knew about everyone. “I-I don’t know.”

“A lot of these people have powers, right?” Stan mumbled. “But if that’s the pattern, then why am I there?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle repeated mindlessly, and froze. He still hadn’t told Stan that he had abilities too. He’d been too preoccupied with searching for everyone and keeping him out of trouble that he hadn’t had time to reveal everything to him.

At least that’s what he told himself. He had plenty of opportunities to tell Stan, but had chosen not to out of fear. Fear that it would shatter his psyche if he found out, fear that he would get hurt if he was suddenly thrust into his new hero persona. But all that worrying had been in vain, because Stan was now a target and he couldn’t defend himself against whatever was stalking them.

“Kyle.” Stan looked at him. “You’d…tell me if I had powers, right?”

They were past the point of no return now.

Kyle couldn’t think. Too much was happening and Dr Lopez’s warning was ringing in his mind clearer than any other voice, and he knew he should say no. “I, I don’t-“

A blinking pinprick of red light behind Stan caught his eye. The security camera. The lens was pointed right at them now, peering at him from its corner. He paled. Was someone was watching them right now? Or were they already on their way to the lab?

He gripped Stan’s arm, trying to remain calm. “Stan, we need to go right now.”

“What? You haven’t answered my-”

“Someone’s been watching us,” Kyle said through gritted teeth, as he slid the whiteboard panels back to their original position. “We need to leave now before they come back.”

Chapter Text

In the end, nobody came looking for them. The hallway was desolate by the time they stepped out. Even the cops had long since disappeared, probably eager to end their shift as soon as possible. The streets outside were devoid of people too, most having made the wise decision to stay indoors rather than brave the rain. It’s like walking through a ghost town, Kyle thought as they made the trek to Craig’s dorm.

As he fumbled for the key from the copy’s jacket, he suddenly felt something nip at his finger. Quickly pulling his hand back, he noticed movement from inside the pocket. His face paled. In their hurry to leave, he had forgotten to return the guinea pig that doppelgänger Craig stole.

He panicked. “Stan! The guinea pig! It’s still in Craig’s pocket, we forgot to give it back!”

“Shit, do you want me to grab it?”

“No, no I got it.” Kyle gingerly reached back in, attempting to grab the ball of fur, when an ice cold hand gripped his wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing.”

Kyle’s head shot up, as he made eye contact with a fully conscious and pissed off looking Craig. He froze, hand still stuck in the doppelgänger’s pocket like a kid who had been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“I-I’m not trying to rob you or anything, I was just reaching for your key,” Kyle stumbled over his words.

Craig stared at him for a second, and Kyle did his best not to look guilty under that scrutinizing gaze. Then, without another word, the copy relaxed its grip and pulled the key out of his other pocket. He paid the pair no more attention as he unlocked the door, not even bothering to shut it behind him as he stepped inside.

The original Craig lay passed out on the bed, jacket haphazardly thrown on top of him as a makeshift blanket. Kyle rolled his eyes. Kenny must have dropped him off earlier.

They watched as the copy walked straight past Craig, heading for an empty guinea pig cage that sat on the desk. Undoing the latch, he carefully set the guinea pig inside. And then it dissolved into shadows.

Kyle frowned. “That’s weird.”

“Yeah, it’s still hard to watch,” Stan agreed.

“No, not that. The other clone disappeared a lot faster than this one. I thought their disappearances were related to their host calling them back, but I don’t think Craig’s controlling them,” Kyle gently shut the door behind them. “Not fully, at least.”

“So, what, you think they’ve got their own minds or something?”

“Kinda, yeah,” he turned to Stan. ”Do you remember when you tackled that clone before? Did he ever like, actually try to hurt you?”

Stan tilted his head. “Huh. I’m not sure. He didn’t throw any punches at me if that’s what you mean. Even after I tackled him, it was more like he was just trying to throw me off than actually hit me.”

“Yeah, I don’t remember him attacking me either, even when I got in his way. It felt like he was only targeting the goth kids.”

“You know, I thought something felt off about that fight,” Stan mused. “Same with the other clone. He didn’t try to attack anyone, he just stole a guinea pig like it was the only thing that mattered. It’s like they only care about one thing and nothing else.”

Kyle thought back to how the copy had let him go without questioning him further. He had only looked upset when it looked like Kyle was trying to take his guinea pig. Kyle lit up. “That’s it! They do only care about one thing, and then they disappear after they get it. Think about it, he hates the goth kids and loves guinea pigs. The original version of him wouldn’t do something as crazy as what he did tonight, but his copies would if they thought that was what he wanted.”

It all made sense. The original Craig wasn’t reckless, and wouldn’t attack people or steal animals for no reason. But if his restraint was weakened while he was unconscious, his copies could be affected by his unconscious will and desires.

“Dude,” Stan said slowly. “I think you’re right.”

“We can start figuring out where to go from here tomorrow.”

As their voices disappeared down the hallway, the dorm room was filled with silence once again. Craig lay there in the dark, and slowly cracked an eye open.

—

All the energy drained out of Kyle’s body the moment they stepped out of the dorm. The adrenaline and euphoria from tonight’s events had evaporated, leaving only the heavy, dull ache of exhaustion.

Stan gave him a look. “You doing okay? That was kinda, a lot, what we saw back there.”

“Yeah I’m fine,” Kyle mustered up a smile. He was not fine. He was just now starting to realize how dangerous the situation was becoming, and even thinking about all those photos of him and his friends was enough to make his hands start shaking again. He stuffed them deep into his pockets. Kyle was the one with powers, he shouldn’t be scared of some faceless stalker. Stan should be the one who was being comforted. “What about you, are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Stan replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kinda had a lot of dumped on me tonight.”

He looked up. “We should go to the cops for this though, right? If we showed them the room, they’d have to believe us.”

“Right.” Kyle was getting a headache just imagining how he would even begin to explain everything to the police. He had forgotten to take pictures of the whiteboard in his shock, and without any evidence, would they even believe them? “I’m sure they’ll help us. Let’s go down to the station tomorrow.”

They were quiet for a while after that as they walked.

Stan was the first to break the silence. “So, um, about what I asked earlier,” he looked at Kyle. “You’d tell me, right?”

The worst thing you could do to someone suffering from retroactive amnesia is to directly confront them with the forced recount of a memory. That could cause permanent psychological damage from which they can never recover from.

The doctor’s words echoed in his head. Kyle knew what he needed to say, but the look on Stan’s face was making him falter. It was the same expression he saw at the lab, that earnest shine of trust and pleading in his eyes, and Kyle instinctively knew that Stan would wholeheartedly believe anything he told him at that moment. His mouth dried up.

He couldn’t do it.

After everything that had happened, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to Stan again the way he did when they first met, but he couldn’t risk the potential psychosis by telling him the truth either. He stood there mutely, scuffing the toe of his sneaker into the ground.

“…”

He stood there like that for a while, suffocating in painful silence.

He could feel Stan’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t look up to meet his expectant gaze. He dug his fingernails deeper into his palms

Eventually, Stan sighed. “…okay. Got it.” He turned to leave.

“Stan, wait,” Kyle couldn’t stop himself from calling out after him.

He swiveled around, eyebrows raised.

A part of him wanted to admit everything and hope that the old Stan would miraculously snap out of the amnesia; the words were on the tip of the tongue, and it would be so easy to just tell him. But he swallowed them back down. He knew how selfish it was—gambling with Stan’s already fragile mental state by dropping a bombshell truth. In the end, the words that came out were: “Um…sorry about everything.”

Stan smiled bitterly. “I’ll see you around.”

Kyle didn’t remember how he got home that night. He moved on autopilot, mechanically performing his nightly routine while he tried to process everything. There was a growing pit of dread in his stomach as he thought back to the photographs and his fight with Stan.

He didn’t even know if he could call it a fight. There had been no raised voices, no accusations hurled, and no insults screamed. He had even looked up the dictionary definition of a fight just in case. A heated, hostile exchange. By all meanings of the word, they did not have a fight. So why did he feel so awful?

His fingers hovered over the ‘send’ button as he read and reread his message. No need to overthink it, he told himself. It’s just a straightforward text about meeting up at the police station tomorrow to file a report. He considered sending an apology first, but what could he apologize for? They hadn’t had a fight, he hadn’t broken Stan’s mind by telling him the truth, and if he did apologize for not telling the truth, he’d have to explain why. Which he couldn’t do.

He hit send on the text about the police station and waited.

Stan usually responded within minutes of him texting, no matter what time of day. But as minutes rolled by and turned into hours and the text remained unread, Kyle forced himself to stop checking his phone and just go to sleep. It had been an exhausting night, Stan was probably already asleep.

Everything would be fine tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Everything wasn’t fine when he woke up.

In fact, everything seemed to have gotten worse. He groaned, dragging a hand over his face before he blindly groped around for his phone. One look at the screen let him know that he had overslept his alarm. How late did he stay up last night pretending not to wait for a text back? And he did get one—just not from Stan.

CRAIG: u free today
CRAIG: we need to talk

He stared at his phone, barely even registering the texts as he scrolled past Craig’s name and tapped on his conversation with Stan.

Delivered 11h ago.

Kyle stared at his phone screen, feeling his stomach twist into knots. Stan was avoiding him.

But they hadn’t fought, he reminded himself. So there was nothing to avoid. It was completely within the realm of possibilities that Stan had also overslept and still hadn’t seen the text. He usually slept in until noon on weekends anyway, and after the night they had, it was likely that he was just out cold. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Kyle took a deep breath. Everything was fine. Stan wasn’t ignoring him.

He kept repeating that even as he sat in the police station, listening to the cops tell him that his case wasn’t worth pursuing without evidence. When he tried to show them the picture of the guinea pig cage he had taken in the lab, they scoffed. How did they know that wasn’t taken in one of the existing labs? They were too busy dealing with real issues to care about imaginary labs and stalkers. Even if it was real, they’d need to get a warrant to search the place and who knows how long that would take?

All the excuses went in one ear and out the other as they confirmed what Kyle already knew: the cops weren’t going to do shit. He walked out of the police station with his head held high and his spirits at an all time low. As he pulled out his phone to tell Stan not to waste his time with the cops, he remembered he had forgotten to reply to Craig’s messages.

We need to talk.

Kyle reread the texts. He had assumed that Craig just wanted to ask about the homework or chew him out for making a mistake in his calculations, but the tone sounded off. Craig almost never texted first, so asking to meet up out of the blue was weird. He glanced at his chat with Stan. The text message was still on delivered, and it had been almost ten hours. Still normal, Kyle told himself. It is a Saturday.

But he wasn’t going to waste his anxiously pacing around his room waiting for Stan to text back, so he typed out a quick response to Craig.

KYLE: Sure, when and where?

His phone buzzed immediately.

CRAIG: harbucks
CRAIG: now

—

“What’s going on?” Kyle slid into the seat opposite Craig. He looked worse for wear, with dark rings circling his eyes and his skin sallow. Between his dark circles and Kyle’s puffy eyes, neither were winning beauty pageants any time soon. Craig didn’t respond for a moment, hands clasped around a mug as he watched the steam drift out. Even for him, the silence was unnerving. Kyle shifted uncomfortably. “Hey-”

“I heard everything you said last night.” Craig looked up, locking eyes with him.

Kyle froze. Had he been awake the entire time? How much did he know? He forced a chuckle. “Uh, what are you talking about?”

“When you and your friend were in my dorm room.” Craig plucked a sugar packet from the holder. “I heard you two talking.”

Just keep playing dumb. He was drunk. Plausible deniability. “Are you still hungover?” He joked weakly. “Man, you must’ve been really fucked up yesterday.”

Craig gave him a deadpan look. “I’m not stupid, I know you know.”

Kyle paused. “Fine. But if you want my help, start talking.”

“Seems like you already know enough about my situation. Which is weird, because I don’t think I’ve told anyone.” Craig stared pointedly at him. “Definitely not you or your friend.”

“Well, we didn’t know about your situation. At least not until last night’s shitshow. I didn’t even know this was happening to anyone besides me.”

Surprise flickered across his expression. “It’s happening to you too?”

“Uh, kind of. Not exactly the same thing but it’s similar.”

“Prove it.” Craig stared at him intently.

”Okay…um,” Kyle glanced around the cafe. There were a handful of customers around and a single camera in the corner. Better safe than sorry anyway. He positioned a hand near a salt shaker, and tilted his palm. It tipped over, seasoning the table with a few grains of salt. “Ta da.”

Craig nodded, unimpressed. ”Wow, that’s totally the same thing.”

Kyle thought about using a little more wind and knocking the hot cup of coffee into his lap. He sat back. “There, I’ve proven myself. Now it’s your turn. When did this start happening?”

“It started around a month ago. I just remember waking up tired, like I hadn’t slept at all.” Craig rubbed his temples. “And there were all these weird memories in my head. Things I don’t remember doing.”

He pulled out his phone. “I didn’t even know what was happening until I set up a camera. I thought I might’ve started sleepwalking so I recorded myself one night.”

He set the phone on the table and slid it towards Kyle. On screen, Craig was fast asleep, facing away from the camera. Faint moonlight shone through the window, projecting the shadow of his curled up form on the wall. Slowly, the shadow began contorting, at a different rhythm than the shallow rise and fall of his chest. It suddenly jerked forwards, toward the camera like it was trying to escape the two dimensional wall.

Kyle watched as inky blackness pooled at the foot of his bed and a figure staggered upright. Goosebumps prickled his skin. It stood there for a few seconds, staring at Craig as its features solidified. Then, it turned around and walked out the door.

So he’s not actively controlling them, at the very least. Kyle noted. “Do you remember what happened after that?”

“I can’t even remember what I did yesterday. They keep flooding my brain with new memories and I don’t know which memories are mine anymore.”

“I’m sorry this is happening-” he started to say.

Craig shook his head. “I don’t need your sympathy. That’s not why I called you here. I just need you to help me get rid of them.”

“Get rid of them?” Kyle recoiled. “You can’t do that. I-I don’t even know if that’s possible.”

“Why not. Isn’t there a cleansing ritual or something we can do?”

“These abilities are genetic, so burning sage probably isn’t enough to change our DNA structure. We need to think of a way to get you in control.”

“The only way I’ve been stopping them right now is by staying awake.” Craig buried his head in his hands. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“That can’t be sustainable. We just need to find another solution.” Kyle wracked his brains for some real advice he could give, advice that wouldn’t make it obvious that he barely knew more about the situation than Craig did.

“We could start working on a cure. Or some kind of medication to suppress it.” Craig suggested.

Kyle frowned. “It’s not a disease.”

“Well it’s literally killing me, so what would you call it?”

“It’s a gift. If we can get these powers under control, we can do a lot of good.”

“Some gift.” Craig chuckled humorlessly. “I didn’t ask for this-”

“Well, you’re just going to have to play the cards you’re dealt.” Kyle could feel his patience wearing thin. “Developing a cure isn’t something we’re gonna finish in a day, so let’s try to figure out how to control it first.”

“And how do we do that?”

How is he supposed to know? He’s had maybe two more months of experience than him. Kyle crossed his arms. “Okay, um, maybe we can start by understanding what triggers it.”

His suggestion was met with silence, but he continued nonetheless. “What about the day it started? Was there anything that might’ve triggered any intense emotions?”

Craig reached for another sugar packet and poured it into his mug, stirring it in wordlessly. Kyle bit his tongue. “Could be a place, an object, a person…”

The rhythmic stirring hitched for a brief moment. that was enough for Kyle to understand. “Do you know what’s causing it?”

Craig’s expression betrayed nothing and he remained silent. Kyle pressed on. “You already know what your trigger is. And you asked me to help you get rid of your ability because you don’t want to deal with whatever’s triggering it.”

“So what if I did.”

Kyle’s eye twitched. He couldn’t believe the shamelessness of this guy. Craig had been causing chaos and depriving himself of sleep because he was too scared to confront someone? Kyle had spent all night running around cleaning up his messes, only to find out that he already knew how to fix the situation, but just didn’t want to. “…you coward.”

Craig raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“You are such a child.” Kyle continued, his frustration bubbling over. Part of it wasn’t even about him “You’re so scared of facing Tweek that you would rather kill yourself from a lack of sleep than talk to him? If you don’t figure out how to stop suppressing everything, your doppelgängers are probably-no, definitely going to land you in prison.”

“I tried everything-“

“No, you clearly haven’t.” Kyle interrupted. “And I know you’re not stupid enough to think that bottling everything up inside and trying to stay awake is a long term solution. Instead of running away from your problems, you need to grow up and deal with your shit.” He emphasized as he stood up. Craig stared at him, dumbfounded. He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Text me when you decide to stop wasting my time.”

Chapter Text

The envelope was sitting on his desk by the time Kyle arrived home that night—a small, unassuming manila folder roughly the size of a sheet of paper. It stood out to him immediately, the square of white placed neatly atop the mess of textbooks and unfinished assignments. As he picked it up, he noticed that the window latch above his desk was broken, the edges of the window frame slightly scuffed.

A chill ran down his spine. Someone had broken into his room.

Clutching the envelope in his hand, he glanced around the room for any sign of a burglary. He knew that there had been an increase in muggings recently, but nobody to his knowledge had fallen victim to a breaking and entering case.

Nothing seemed out of place at first glance. His laptop was where he left it on the nightstand, and none of his valuables appeared to be missing. Unless…

Heart rate speeding up, he hurried over to his bed, urgently feeling around the space under it. His fingers brushed against the edge of his kite and he breathed a sigh of relief. His kite hadn’t been stolen and the notebook had been in his possession all day.

He stared suspiciously at the envelope in his hand. Did the intruder go through all the trouble of breaking in just to deliver a single letter?

He was suddenly reminded of the time in the hospital a few months ago, when his notebook and kite were delivered in a similar fashion. That’s right, he realized. Maybe this was another message from the anonymous sender. Had they finally resurfaced to send him another clue?

Unsealing the envelope, Kyle felt his stomach drop as a photo fell out. It was a screenshot of a security camera feed, zoomed in to focus on a familiar face. His own horrified expression stared back at him, captured in crystal clear definition. He didn’t need to read the timestamp at the bottom of the photo to know exactly when and where it was taken. Someone had been watching him in the lab, recording the exact moment he realized they were being monitored. And they knew where he lived.

His hands were trembling again, the same way they did when he first saw the whiteboard of photos, and he heard something crinkle inside the folder he clutched. Shakily reaching back into the envelope, his fingers grazed the edge of a smaller laminated photo, slicing a neat line of crimson across his index. He instinctively withdrew his hand, wincing. His chest heaved as he took a deep breath and pulled out the other photo. It was another screencap taken from a video feed, but it clearly wasn’t from the lab. Kyle squinted. He saw himself sitting in a chair, back facing the camera as he talked to a uniformed man at a desk.

With a jolt, he realized what he was looking at. It was footage from his visit to the police station, where he had tried to tell them about the lab and the unnerving discoveries he’d found inside. He felt his throat constrict as he struggled to process the information. The stalker had access to security cameras in the station, which meant they were either working with the police or had more power than them.

No words were written but the message was clear. Go to the cops again, and you’ll see what happens.

–

Kyle didn’t stay long after that. He couldn’t, not after a stalker had been inside his room without his knowledge. He felt sick just thinking about it, and he hated how much power the anonymous stalker held over him, robbing him of his privacy and his security. The disgust and anger blurred his vision as he packed, haphazardly throwing clothes into a backpack as he tried to swallow the hard knot constricting his throat.

Where could he even go this late at night? He scrolled through his phone, searching through his contacts for someone that could take him in for a night. Kyle wasn’t close enough with most of them to suddenly barge into their place and demand for a couch to crash on.

He could ask Kenny, but he lived with two other roommates in a triple dorm on the other side of campus. There was barely enough space for the three of them, much less an additional uninvited guest.

Craig was the only other person he could think of, but his dorm only came with one bed, and neither of them were jumping at the chance to share it. He could sleep on the floor, but it would be a tight squeeze and not feasible long term.

There was also Stan. But he had barely been replying recently, his response time stretching from hours into days. If he called, would he pick up? Kyle pulled out his phone. He stared at Stan’s number, thumb hovering over it as he worked through the pros and cons. All he had to do was close that minuscule gap between his finger and the screen. He bit the inside of his cheek.

He ended up at the library, lugging his giant bag behind him as he searched for a place to sleep. Despite the voice in his head telling him this was rock bottom, Kyle tried to stay positive. The library was a pretty good place to stay in, temporarily. It was open 24/7, and midterm season meant that he could blend in with the other students pulling all-nighters there. Nobody gave him a second glance as he set up camp in a study cubicle in the corner. It had a desk and a chair, and it was even semi private, with cloudy plastic screens that walled off three sides. He looked around halfheartedly. This would work. Temporarily.

“…Kyle?”

A familiar voice made him freeze. Kyle turned around to see a face he hadn’t seen in weeks. “Stan?”

Stan stared back at him, the surprise on his face mirroring Kyle’s. He was dressed in a worn Broncos hoodie, textbooks in hand.

Kyle had thought a lot about what he’d say the next time he saw him. Would he apologize first, or confront Stan for ghosting him? But at that moment, he didn’t feel guilty or angry–he just felt overwhelming relief. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe ask how he’d been doing or if he could stay at Stan’s for a night. Kyle wasn’t sure yet but he was ready to put the miscommunication behind them and finally talk again.

But then Stan shifted uncomfortably and the moment was over. His eyes darted somewhere to the left, and Kyle felt his stomach sink.

Obviously Stan wasn’t here to talk to him. He didn’t even know Kyle was here. There had been a little part of him that had clung onto the hope that maybe Stan wasn’t distancing himself, that he was just busy or cutting down his screen time. But seeing him standing here looking like he wanted to be anywhere else just confirmed Kyle’s worst anxieties. Stan really was avoiding him.

Kyle swallowed down the words he was going to say. Was he really about to ask to stay over when Stan couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him? Maybe he’d gone temporarily insane with everything that had happened. He didn’t know how to talk to this unfamiliar version of Stan, who kept him at arm’s length and acted awkwardly around him. “…what are you doing here?” he ended up asking.

Stan hesitated. “...I’m studying for midterms with some friends. You?”

“Oh, uh, me too,” Kyle’s ears reddened as he tried to subtly nudge his bulging backpack further behind him. “Pulling an all-nighter. I’ve…got a lot to memorize.”

Stan’s gaze flickered between Kyle and the bag for a moment. He gave him a tight lipped smile. “Well, good luck.”

He didn’t spare him another glance as he walked off, disappearing down the rows of bookshelves.

–

“You look shittier than usual,” Kenny observed as he took a sip of his drink. He held up a cookie that was more crumbs than cookie. “Want a bite to cheer you up?”

Kyle shot him a sarcastic look. “The cookie I bought you that you ate most of? I’m good, thanks.”

“Your loss.” Kenny shrugged and popped the rest into his mouth, satisfied.

Sighing, Kyle buried his head in his hands. The past few days had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically. It was uncomfortably cramped inside the cubicle, and he had forgotten to bring a pillow in his hurry to flee his room. As a result, his neck and back ached constantly from sleeping bent over a desk every night. The word ‘sleeping’ was an over exaggeration though, because the few broken REM cycles he got per night barely qualified as a nap.

At least he had been able to maintain a decent level of hygiene, ducking into the gym next door for five minute showers every morning. The hot water that stripped away his soreness was the only good part of his day, but even that couldn’t be savored for long. Leaving his bag unattended for more than ten minutes would only result in one of two situations.

Best case scenario, someone moves his belongings out of the cubicle and he has to fight for another spot in a packed library.

Worst case scenario, he gets robbed.

But things couldn’t keep going on like this. He was struggling to stay awake in class and his notes would blur together every time he tried to study. Even though he felt sick every time he thought about it, he knew he needed to suck it up and move back into his dorm. He had already made an appointment with a locksmith tomorrow afternoon to repair and reinforce his window latch, so he just needed to get through today.

Even now, he could feel his eyelids drooping as he fought to keep them up. His head felt like a brick, lolling forward as if it would drop into his lap if he relaxed his neck a little. Maybe if he just shut his eyes for a second…

“Hellooo? Did you even hear what I just said?” Kenny waved a hand in front of his face, bringing him back to reality. “Huh?”

Kenny furrowed his brows. “Dude, you’re seriously out of it. I know you’re on the midterms grind and all, but you need a nap.”

“I know.” Kyle nodded, each dip making it harder to raise his head back up. “And I’ll take one after today, I swear.”

“You better. I mean this with love, but you look like a dead body. And not one of those recently dead ones, you look like the corpse they drag out of the creek and it’s all like bloated and decaying and people are like ‘just throw it back in th-”

“Okay, I get it.” Kyle interrupted him. “Thanks a lot for the confidence booster.”

He gave him a thumbs up. “Anytime.”

Kyle grabbed his bag and got up to leave, but not before tipping the napkin of cookie crumbs into Kenny’s lap. He shot up, hastily dusting the crumbs off his legs. “Hey! These are like my last pair of clean pants, dick. Laundry’s not cheap, you know!”

“Consider it paying respects to the dead.” Kyle replied, ignoring the middle finger as he walked out.

Of course, fixing his sleeping dilemma was a lot easier said than done. But the end was in sight. He just needed to make it through one more night. Just one more night. And then it was back to the constant fear of being watched, because deep down he knew that a new window latch wasn’t going to stop an obsessive stalker.

He tried not to think about as he trudged to the cubicle he usually slept in. It was nearly two in the morning, so most students would be gone, right?

His heart sank as he drew closer, someone’s back clearly visible as they leaned against the cubicle screen. Just his luck. He was about to leave and look for another cubicle when the figure turned around. “Hey.”

He could barely make out the person in the dim lamplight, but Kyle recognized the voice instantly. What was Stan doing here? His exhaustion must’ve finally gotten to him. “...hi.”

Stan was quiet for a second before he spoke. “Want to stay at my place tonight?”

Chapter Text

Kyle wasn’t sure he heard Stan right the first time. Stay at his place? He wanted to ask him to repeat himself, but Stan was already walking, leading the way out of the library and back to his dorm. He turned around when he realized Kyle wasn’t following, tilting his head. “You coming?”

“…um, yeah.”

The walk to Stan’s dorm was brisk and quiet, neither of them in the mood to make conversation. Stan walked ahead, hands buried deep inside his hoodie pocket, while Kyle stayed a few steps behind, both shivering from the October night air. That was when he realized just how underdressed Stan was for the temperature, layered in a simple sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. He had always been less sensitive to the cold than the other kids in South Park, but even he had to be freezing in those clothes.

And then Kyle noticed something else. Stan wasn’t carrying a backpack either. Did he go to the library just to get Kyle?

“My roommate’s out so you can use his bed.”

Stan’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and Kyle looked up. He had been focusing so hard on Stan’s back that he hadn’t realized they had already arrived at the dorm. “Is…your roommate okay with that?”

Stan shrugged. “He doesn’t care. He got a girlfriend a few weeks back and he basically moved into her place.”

“Oh,” Kyle nodded awkwardly. “Cool.”

Then they were quiet again, the only noise coming from the jingling of Stan’s keychain as he unlocked the door.

This was the first time he had actually been inside Stan’s dorm. When they hung out before, they would usually lounge around in cafes or Kyle’s place, since he was lucky enough to have a single with more privacy. Kyle raised his eyebrows as he glanced around the room.

The room was a standard double, with one side being significantly less furnished than the other. Stan really wasn’t kidding when he said his roommate had basically moved out.

The closet was mostly empty, save for a couple gimmicky shirts that the roommate’s girlfriend had presumably made him leave behind. The desk and shelf were similarly bare, with layers of dust coating the surfaces. Even the mattress had been stripped of sheets, a single lonely pillow sitting on top. It was perfect. He had been living in a tiny library cubicle for the past few days, so anything was an upgrade for him. He swallowed thickly as he turned to Stan. “Thank you.”

He really meant it too. Stan didn’t have to do any of this but he did, and Kyle couldn’t help but cling onto the hope that it was because he still considered them friends deep down.

“It’s fine,” Stan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wasn’t just gonna leave you there homeless.”

His heart sank. Obviously, Stan didn’t do this because they were friends—he was still upset with him. He was just a good person, and letting Kyle stay here was a gesture of kindness, not forgiveness. Kyle tried to ignore the sting he felt, pretending like he didn’t notice the shift in atmosphere as he busied himself with unpacking his bag.

Stan did the same, swiveling around to rifle through his wardrobe for something. They shuffled around in tense silence for a while, until the suffocating air became unbearable and Kyle could no longer resist the itch to speak up. “You’re not going to ask me why I’m living at the library?”

Stan continued to dig through his closet. “Would you tell me if I did?”

Kyle winced.

Stan glanced at him. “You probably don’t have any clean clothes left, right?”

Kyle didn’t get a chance to reply before a shirt and a pair of sweatpants were tossed at him. “You can wear these after you shower.”

–

“Here.”

Kyle tried his best to look nonchalant as he handed the envelope over, pretending like he didn’t just spent the last twenty minutes in the shower debating whether he should show it to Stan or not.

Maybe he had been swayed by the hot water or the guarantee of an actual bed to sleep on, but Kyle felt himself untensing for the first time in days under the shower head. He could take his time and relax without worrying about whether his stuff would still be where he left it after the shower. The exhaustion was finally sinking in, and he had started to realize just how tired he was, both physically and mentally. Tired of living in fear from an anonymous threat and tired of hiding things from Stan. Nothing good had come out of keeping secrets and telling half truths. All it had done was make things worse and cause him to almost lose a friend.

Stan looked up in surprise as a manila folder was dropped into his lap. “What is this?”

“The reason I’m living at the library.” Kyle could barely swallow back the nausea as he thought back to the contents of the folder. Even the mere contact between his fingers and the coarse texture of the envelope was enough to make him feel sick. He had wanted to throw the photos away the minute he saw them, but something told him that worse things would happen to him if he did.

Confused, Stan tentatively opened the envelope and fished out the photos inside. His expression dropped. “What the fuck.” He looked up at Kyle, a mix of disgust and horror etched on his face. “Who took these?”

It was an awful thing to admit, but Kyle felt relieved when he saw Stan react the way he did. It felt validating in a way, as if he wasn’t crazy for freaking out and moving into the library. He shook his head. “I don’t know, but it’s probably the same person who had those photos of us in the lab. I found these on my desk a few days ago.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve come and helped you.”

“Would you have picked up if I did?” The words slipped out before he could stop himself.

“…” It was Stan’s turn to fall silent.

Kyle wanted to slap himself. They were finally talking again, and he just had to be petty and get the last word with that little remark. He could almost see Stan withdrawing from the situation.

Stan had never been one for confrontation, especially with Kyle, he would rather sweep things under the rug than cut himself picking up the pieces. He had always been that way, closing himself off every time they were on the precipice of an argument and then acting like nothing was wrong. It kept the peace most of the time, so Kyle would let it slide, even if he didn’t agree with the coping mechanism. But there were times where they needed to talk because the mess was too big to sweep away, and this was one of those times. “Stan, about before, what you saw at the lab-”

“I already knew.”

Kyle looked up in surprise. He knew? “What? Since when?”

“I started getting flashbacks after the night I met you, but they were pretty blurry and I couldn’t make out much. After that, I started wondering if they meant something and the lab pretty much confirmed it for me.” Stan chuckled humorlessly. “I mean, I’m not stupid, even without the flashbacks, I always thought it was weird how I was the only guy from South Park who didn’t have any powers. I think I knew it deep down too, but I was just waiting for you to confirm it.”

There was a pang of guilt in Kyle’s chest. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, I really did-“

“Then why didn’t you?” Stan demanded, hurt reflected in his eyes. “I gave you so many opportunities to say something and you never did.”

“I was worried,” Kyle tried to explain. “What if it was too much to handle and it left you so much worse off than if you had just never found out?”

He thought about Craig and how much he’s suffering now because he couldn’t control his unstable abilities. He thought about the pain he went through himself when he first triggered his powers, the confusion and black out agony he endured from the sudden memory influx. He thought about what the doctor said, how he could leave Stan permanently traumatized if he accidentally triggered the wrong memory. His voice cracked. “I just couldn’t take that risk.”

A complicated expression crossed Stan’s face as he looked at him. “Kyle, I know you were trying to do the right thing, but I have a right to know. You can’t make these decisions without me, especially since they’re about me. You keep acting like I’m some kid who needs to be protected all the time, but has it ever occurred to you to treat me like an equal?” He hesitated. “Am I the only one who considers us friends?”

Kyle stared at him in disbelief. Is that what he’d been thinking the past few weeks? That Kyle didn’t consider him a friend? “Of course we’re friends. It’s because we’re friends that I didn’t want to see you getting hurt.”

His answer only seemed to frustrate Stan more. “I get that you’re concerned for my safety, but I’m not a kid. I can make my own decisions. I know what I’m getting myself into, and I can take care of myself. If I do end up getting hurt by these decisions, then that’s my responsibility. You don’t need to blame yourself. All I’m asking is for you to trust me a little and trust that I’m making the best decisions for my own life.”

Kyle blinked. This was the first time Stan had ever expressed his grievances so candidly. It was unexpected, sure, but seeing him blow up for once was strangely relieving. Stan had always been the calm one, pacifying Kyle’s temper whenever he got riled up, and it was almost inhuman how restrained he was when it came to bottling his own frustrations up. He nodded. “...you’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you and just told you the truth.”

“And I want to trust you more now,” he added quickly. “I’ll keep you updated with the photos and the stalker and everything. You deserve to know since you’re involved too.”

Stan cracked a small smile at that, for the first time in what felt like ages. “Yeah. Thanks,” he paused. “And…I know you had your own reasons for not saying anything. It’s not like you were doing this to be a dick.”

“I really wasn’t.”

“I was kind of a dick too. Getting so butthurt and ghosting you like that. No wonder you thought I was fragile.”

Kyle agreed. “Yeah, it was a pretty dick move.”

“Sorry.” he looked at Kyle hesitantly. “So…we’re cool now?”

“We’re cool.”

“No more secrets?”

Kyle bit the inside of his cheek. “No more secrets.”

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered in through the windows as Kyle stretched lazily, enjoying the warmth on his skin. He sighed contentedly. It had been a while since he had slept so well, without the fear of the stalker or his fight with Stan weighing heavy on his mind. He didn’t even mind the fact that the bed didn’t come with blankets or sheets as he shifted comfortably, rolling over to avoid the bright sunshine.

The first thing he saw as he opened his eyes was a face peering down at him, its blurry features swimming into view. He startled upright, frantically blinking the sleep away. “What the fuck-”

The stranger looked just as shocked, quickly backing away and holding up their hands in a gesture of peace. “W-wait, wait-”

Kyle didn’t wait for an explanation as he tore the pillow out from under him and aimed it at the stranger’s head. It hit them square in the face, sending them reeling backwards.

“Oww!” The intruder whined, cradling their face in their hands. The voice sounded familiar, but Kyle wasn’t in the mood to figure out why. “Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell am I? I live here, who the hell are you?” The stranger squawked indignantly, lifting their head up for him to finally get a good look at their face. Brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and teary eyes—Kyle blinked in disbelief. Stan’s roommate was…

“Clyde?”

Stan’s voice caught them off guard as the door swung open. He stood in the doorway, an indescribable look on his face as he stared at them. Kyle, bristling as he aimed a pillow at Clyde, who was still holding up his arms in defense. “...what is happening.”

“This psycho’s sleeping in my bed and hit me with my pillow!” Clyde blurted out, pointing an accusing finger at Kyle.

“What?” Stan looked at Kyle, confused. “You hit him with a pillow?”

Kyle scowled. “He was watching me sleep!”

Stan turned to Clyde. “You did what?”

Clyde’s eyes widened. “N-no! That’s not what happened, I swear! I just came by to drop something off and I find some dude in my bed. I think anyone would’ve freaked out!”

“Then call the cops instead of watching me sleep.” Kyle shot back.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus guys, it’s way too early to be doing this shit. Both of you, stand down.”

“I only looked for like a second.” Clyde grumbled.

Shrugging his bag off, Stan dropped into his desk chair. “Okay. I wasn’t planning on introducing you guys like this but,” he gestured back and forth. “Kyle, this is my roommate Clyde. Clyde, this is Kyle, he’s crashing here for a bit.”

At this point, Kyle would be surprised if anyone from South Park wasn’t attending the same university. He extended a hand. “Hey man, sorry for hitting you with a pillow earlier.”

Clyde’s eyes lit up with interest. “You’re Kyle?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Nah it’s cool, we’ve just been wondering who Stan’s been spending all his time with lately. It’s always Kyle this, Kyle that. We’ve barely seen him in weeks.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow at Stan questioningly.

“He’s exaggerating,” Stan laughed awkwardly, turning to Clyde as he changed the subject. “What are you doing back? Did Bebe get sick of you already?

“Haha very funny, dick,” Clyde replied sarcastically. “We’re doing great, actually. I’m just here to drop off some of her summer clothes. Her closet doesn’t have enough space for both of our stuff.” He held up two bulging shopping bags as if to prove his point, and nudged the wardrobe door open.

Kyle observed the way Clyde carefully handled a tank top, neatly tucking in the corners as he folded it into a little square. So Clyde and Bebe were still dating even in this post amnesia reality? He chewed his lip thoughtfully. It was nice to know at least one couple had survived the incident.

“You’re so whipped,” Stan grinned, watching Clyde dutifully fold a miniskirt. “You’ve known her for what, a month and a half, and she’s already got you running around doing her errands?”

“Shut up, you’re just jealous I bagged a hot girlfriend and you’re still jerking off by yourself.” Clyde replied smugly, hanging up a strapless pink dress.

“Not everyone’s as horny as you,” Stan rolled his eyes. “Some of us can go more than two seconds without jerking off.”

“You’re talking but all I’m hearing is jealousy.”

Stan snorted. “So you staying here long? We could play a couple rounds of Smash or something.”

“Nah, I gotta head out after I finish putting Bebe’s stuff in the closet. I’ve got class in like five minutes.”

“Oh okay. And you’re, uh, cool with Kyle crashing here? Sorry, I would’ve given you a heads up earlier but I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“It’s cool, I don’t mind.” Clyde replied mildly. He looked at Kyle, grin on his face. “Stay for as long as you want. Stan’s probably been lonely since I moved out.”

Stan threw a pen at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Kyle smiled to himself. It would be nice to stay for a few more days, but the locks in his place would have been changed by now and…

His head shot up. Shit. The locksmith. Hurriedly fumbling for his phone on the nightstand, he switched it on. 4:56 PM. Five missed calls.

His face paled. He had overslept the appointment by nearly three hours. The locksmith was long gone by now and his locks were still broken. It still wasn’t safe to go back. His fingers tightened around his phone.

“What’s wrong?” He looked up to see Stan staring at him, concerned.

Kyle tried to swallow the anxious lump in his throat. “The locksmith. I was supposed to meet him earlier and get the locks changed, but I overslept and I’m gonna have to reschedule-“

“It’ll be okay,” Stan reassured him. “You can stay a couple more days here, no problem.”

Kyle felt his breathing even slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with it. So is Clyde, right?”

Clyde held up his hands. “Fine by me. I don’t even live here anymore.”

“Okay, okay,” Kyle took a deep breath. “Thanks guys.”

“Oh, before I forget, Wendy texted me earlier,” Stan suddenly added. He looked at Kyle. “She asked me to ask you about the tickets?”

Kyle’s face dropped. The tickets. “Fuck!”

He had only been awake for about fifteen minutes and he could already feel the stress headache coming back. So much for feeling rested. He buried his face in his hands, waiting for the sudden ache to dull.

“Wait, so what’s going on?” Clyde piped in.

“It’s just this thing our club is doing,” Stan explained. “The weather’s been shit lately so Kyle convinced them to do a bonding activity at the observatory instead of a retreat. They’re hosting a special event for the upcoming meteor shower so they were selling tickets for the viewing.”

Kyle had been so excited about the idea when he came up with it a few days ago. It was the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. The club would have its team bonding event, and Tweek and Craig could get to know each other outside of the cafe. With a ‘maybe’ from Tweek that was basically a ‘yes’ according to Kenny, things had been looking up.

That was, until the break in. He had been so preoccupied last week with the stalker and being homeless that the tickets had completely eluded his mind. Kyle groaned. “I was supposed to buy the tickets since it was my idea, but I spaced. They’re probably all sold out by now.”

“What about resellers and scalpers?” Stan suggested. “I’m sure people are selling some online.”

Clyde perked up. “Oh yeah! There’s this forum for DU students where people post stuff like that all the time. You usually have to register with your school ID but I’ve got an account you can use.”

“Really?” Kyle’s eyes widened. This was the second time in the past two days that he felt like crying out of gratitude and relief. It had been… a really rough month, to say the least. “That would really help, thanks.

“You want me to go to your place and pick up some extra clothes while you deal with the locksmith and the tickets?” Stan offered, pulling on his jacket.

He shook his head. “No that’s okay, I’ll go do that myself later.” He didn’t really want to–even the thought of going back to that room made him nauseous–but Stan had already done so much for him and he couldn’t ask him to do any more.

“You sure? I don’t mind, really. Don’t you have something, uh, important, that you left in there?” Stan asked, emphasizing the last part of the question.

Kyle stared at him blankly. “What?”

Stan shot him a meaningful glance and that’s when it hit him. His notebook. In his rush to get out, he had completely forgotten to grab it. “Oh! Right. That.”

Clyde looked between the pair in confusion, brows knitted as he tried to decipher their conversation.

“Okay, yeah, could you grab that for me?” Kyle asked sheepishly.

“Got it.” Stan nodded and held out his hand. “Keys?”

Rummaging through his bag, Kyle tossed them at him. “Here. Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Clyde whistled. “Who’s the whipped one now?”

“Still you.” Stan retorted, elbowing Clyde as he walked past.

The door shut behind him and Clyde eagerly turned to Kyle. “So was that code for like, drugs or something? Because I wouldn’t rat you guys out for that. As long as you’re down to share.”

Kyle stared at him. “What? No, it was for my…inhaler,” he lied, cringing inside. “...I have asthma.”

Clyde gave him a weird look. “You couldn’t have just said inhaler?”

—-

It had taken hours of combing through message boards and searching for sellers that had more than one or two tickets to sell, but Kyle had managed to track one down. The seller was selling them for twice what they cost originally and required pick up from their dorm, but he wasn’t in a position to be picky now.

That was until he knocked on the seller’s door and his worst nightmare greeted him. “Kahl? The hell are you doing here?”

Kyle’s face dropped. “Fatass? You’re the seller?”

A knowing smirk crept up on his face and he smugly leaned against the doorframe. “That’s right. I’m the seller. And if you want one of my fifty tickets, I suggest you stop calling me names, ginger.”

Kyle stared at him incredulously. “Why the fuck would you buy fifty tickets?”

“Because I knew desperate people like you would come begging to my door if there weren’t enough.”

“There would’ve been enough if you didn’t buy all of them!” Kyle snapped. “How are you even going to unload that many tickets?”

“I’m selling nine to you, aren’t I? It’s called a business tactic, I would’ve thought you would understand, Jew.” Cartman sneered.

Ever since Kyle had accidentally let slip his religious affiliation during a club meeting, Cartman had been spewing antisemitic remarks every chance he got. It felt like they were back in high school again, when Cartman would rile him up with nonstop stereotypes until Kyle would eventually snap and lunge at him. He still had scars from where the bastard’s claws had slashed at him, and he was sure Cartman had his fair share too, buried under layers of fat. Kyle usually ended up winning those bouts, but at least it was a fair fight since they both had powers. But now since Cartman was technically a civilian, he had to restrain himself from gut punching him.

Kyle inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down. “What about the other forty two tickets, dumbass? The event’s tomorrow. There’s no way you’re selling all of them by then.”

“Fine. That’ll be eight hundred dollars for the tickets then.”

“What? They cost five bucks on the website!”

“You said so yourself.” Cartman grinned. “The only way I’m breaking even on my investment is if I mark up the price a little.”

“You asshole! How is it my fault that you decided to blow all your money on a stupid idea?”

“Fuck you Kahl! It’s not a stupid idea, I’m gonna buy a jetski with the money I make from you and take it out every weekend. Eight hundred dollars. Take it or leave it.”

“I’m leaving it. Have fun trying to find anyone else to sell this many tickets to in the eighteen hours before the event.” Kyle spat as he turned to leave.

“Alright, fine, you’re really breaking my balls over here. I’ll sell them to you for ten dollars each,” Cartman relented, an evil glint in his eye. “but you don’t get one.”

Kyle scoffed and turned away. “I’m leaving.”

“It’s the best deal you’re gonna get Kahl. No one else has this many tickets. Take it or leave it.”

Kyle gritted his teeth. It’s fine, he told himself. He would still be allowed to enter the planetarium itself since the entry fee was free for students. It was just the actual viewing in the observatory that required tickets to attend. And he could always just buy one ticket for himself from another seller, since the majority had been taken care of now. “Fine.”

He could feel the smugness radiating off Cartman as he pulled out his wallet, and it took all his strength not to summon his kite and blow him up when he slapped seventy dollars into his hand.

“Awesome, see you tomorrow Kahl!” Cartman called after him sweetly, saccharine tone dripping with barely disguised mockery. “Or not, since you know, you don’t have a ticket.”

Chapter Text

“I’m going to kill him.” Kyle seethed, glaring at Cartman. The fat asshole had been parading his tickets around ever since they arrived at the planetarium, making a show of handing a ticket to everyone there but Kyle. The most infuriating part was that he had more than enough tickets left over—tickets from buying out all the other sellers to ensure Kyle couldn’t get one. They sat tantalizingly within reach in his back pocket, but Kyle would rather die than put his hand anywhere near Cartman’s ass. He gritted his teeth. “I’m actually going to blow him up with my kite.”

“He’s already blown up.” Stan joked, nudging him. “Come on, he’s not worth it. Spending money to be a dick is the only thing that gives his life any meaning.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay out there with you?” he offered. “We can look at the other exhibits until the shower’s over.”

Kyle sighed and shook his head. “No, go enjoy yourself. You already paid the ten bucks, you should get to see the shower.”

A familiar face behind Stan caught his eye. “Hey, isn’t that Kevin?” He was standing on the other side of the lot, hand in hand with a pretty redhead girl.

Stan turned around, craning his neck to see where Kyle was pointing. “Oh yeah. The guy from the lab, right? Should we go say hi?”

They paused, watching Kevin for a moment. He stared straight back at them, expression blank. Kyle awkwardly waved at him. “He’s looking right at us so I guess we should.”

They crossed the parking lot. Kevin didn’t move.

“Hey Kevin,” Kyle said as they approached. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

Kevin slowly nodded. “Oh. Yeah, um, I thought it would be fun.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“Cool,” Kyle nodded. “How are things going at the lab?”

He hesitated. “Good. Things are good.”

Another awkward silence settled between them.

Kyle studied him. Something felt off. The last time he’d seen Kevin, he had been a lot more talkative and expressive. But now looking at him, uncertain and quiet, it was like he had met two different people.

The girl next to him nudged him lightly. “Hey, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Kevin startled. “Right, sorry. This is my girlfriend, Red.”

He stared at Stan and Kyle nervously. “These are, um…” He trailed off.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. Did he not remember them?

Kyle smiled politely, stepping in to ease the tension. “I’m Kyle.”

“Stan.” Stan offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Red tilted her head. “So you guys work with Kevin? His boss is a total dick, right?”

“Oh no, we don’t work at the lab.” Kyle amended. “We just helped him this one time when some guinea pigs got loose.”

“The boss is a dick though.” Stan agreed.

She grinned. “Right? This one time, he made Kevin report to the lab in the middle of the night because their guinea pigs-”

Kevin cleared his throat loudly, eyes darting nervously between the pair. Red glanced at him and rolled her eyes. “Sorry babe, I forgot your work was top secret.”

“We, we’re just not really allowed to talk about our work in the lab.” Kevin explained to them sheepishly, tugging on Red’s hand. “Uh, but it was great seeing you two! Maybe we’ll catch you guys inside?”

Kyle exchanged a look with Stan. Kevin was definitely hiding something. “Sure, see you around.”

“They seem like a cute couple,” he heard Red remark just within earshot as they walked away. Kyle coughed awkwardly. Couple? Is that what people thought when they looked at them? He glanced down at their shoes. Maybe they were standing too close together. Would it be too obvious if he moved away now? He could only pray that Stan hadn’t heard what Red said. “Hey-“

“I think I see Kenny, I’m gonna go say hi.” Stan said suddenly, turning away. He didn’t wait for Kyle’s response before he disappeared into the crowd.

Pressing his lips together, Kyle shut his eyes. Great.

Wendy strolled up to him. “What’s with the sour face?”

He opened his eyes. “What face?”

“The look on your face right now. Is it because of Cartman?”

“Oh, um,” Kyle adjusted his expression. “Yeah.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I tried to buy a ticket off him for you but he’s really not letting this go.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I wanted it to be a group activity so if you’re not going, then we can just find something else to do.” Wendy insisted, pulling out her phone. “I have some great restaurants bookmarked-“

Kyle cut her off gently. “Thanks but it’s fine, really. You guys already paid for the tickets so you should go watch the shower. We can all just do something together afterwards.”

“Are you sure? I could sit out with you, and I know Stan volunteered to too.”

The sudden mention of Stan’s name made him stiffen up. “He told you?”

“Oh, I was just assuming since you guys are basically attached at the hip.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I guess I was right though.”

“He did, but it’s not,” he blanked. “…we’re not-“

Wendy’s lips quirked upwards knowingly. “I didn’t say anything.”

Kyle felt his ears flush.

”Don’t we look nice tonight?” Kenny materialized behind them, slinging an arm around both of them. Kyle had never been so glad for an interruption in his life. “Hey Kenny.”

“Okay, now your turn to compliment me.” He unzipped his parka to reveal a shirt with a tuxedo printed on it.

Wendy eyed his shirt distastefully. “I am not complimenting that.”

“It’s a tuxedo on a shirt. If that’s not smart casual, then I don’t know what is.”

“Clearly.” Wendy scanned the parking lot. “Is everyone here yet?”

“We’re still waiting on Tweek and Butters isn’t back from the bathroom yet.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Still? He’s been in there for like ten minutes.”

“I can go check on him if you want.” Kenny offered.

“Okay thanks,” she nodded. “And if Tweek isn’t here when Butters gets back, then we’ll just have to head inside. You said he only RSVPd maybe, right?”

“Yeah, I thought he’d show but I guess not. I’ll go get Butters.”

Kyle turned to look for Craig in the throng of people. He was easy enough to spot, being a few inches taller than most of the crowd.

Kyle followed Craig’s line of sight as he approached. “Looking for someone?”

“No.” Craig turned away.

Right. Kyle nodded. Working his way back through the crowd, he scanned for a familiar face. No sign of Tweek anywhere.

“What’s up with Craig?” Stan asked as he caught up with Kyle, seemingly over the awkwardness from earlier.

“I don’t think Tweek’s coming.” Kyle muttered. “I guess he’s still not over whatever beef they’ve got going on.”

“Tweek’s unpredictable. It was a 50/50 chance he’d show up.”

A mop of blonde hair weaved past him, and for a second, Kyle thought Tweek had shown up until they spoke.

“Sorry for makin’ you wait, fellas!” Butters chirped, face pale and slick with sweat.

Wendy frowned. “Butters, you look terrible, are you okay?”

“I-I know it sounds silly but meteors and comets and all that makes me feel all queasy,” he swallowed. “Maybe I shouldn’t go in.”

“Should we just do something else then?” Wendy suggested. “Since Kyle doesn’t have a ticket and Butters isn’t feeling great-“

“Oh hell no, I paid like two hundred bucks for this shit!” Cartman butted in, furiously waving his wad of tickets. He glared at Butters. “I don’t care if you’re scared of a goddamn rock, we’re going in!”

“Dude, shut the fuck up about the tickets, we’ll pay you back if we don’t go.” Kenny snapped. He turned to Butters. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Just remember that everyone will be super pissed at you if you say no.” Cartman added.

Kenny spun around. “I swear to God-“

“I-I’ll be alright. We can go in.” Butters said, eyeing Cartman nervously.

Kenny glanced at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah, Eric’s right. We can’t get our money back now.” He glanced at the observatory behind him. “Too late now to change my mind.”

Chapter Text

“These touch screens are totally broken, you guys.” Cartman yelled across the exhibition hall, crumbs spewing out of his mouth. His screech nearly deafened Kyle as several visitors passing by shot them looks of disapproval.

Kyle made a face, wiping a stray crumb off his cheek. “Or maybe the touch screens aren’t broken and your fat fingers are getting them all greasy.”

“If you want a Cheesy Poof you’re gonna have to buy it yourself, Kahl.” Cartman said smugly, reaching into the bag for another bite. “This place has already sucked out enough of my hard earned American money.”

“Uh, I thought that money was from your financial aid.” Scott piped in, suddenly appearing behind them.

Cartman whirled around. “Jesus, Scott, why don’t you mind your own goddamn business?” He narrowed his eyes. “And when’d you even get here? I don’t remember inviting you.”

“I’ve literally been here the whole time.”

Kyle took a step back before they started a full blown argument in public, making a beeline for the nearest exhibit. He tapped on the display. The screen remained unresponsive and he felt an oily layer of Cheeto dust imprint on his finger. Great.

As he looked around for something to wipe his hand with, something cold pressed against the back of his neck, making him jump. Stan stood behind him with two cans of soda. “Shit, that’s cold!”

He grinned. “Yeah, that’s the point.”

“Asshole.” Kyle grabbed a can. “I’m confiscating this.”

“Shoot, I was totally gonna down both of those myself.”

“I’ll buy you a bag of Cheesy Poofs to make up for it.”

Stan’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Cartman?”

Kyle shot him a wronged look. “He spat on me.”

Stan nodded sympathetically. “Gross.”

Dodging an elbow from Kyle, he quickly changed the subject. “Hey, I think the doors are opening.”

Kyle turned around. Sure enough, the crowd in the exhibit hall was beginning to thin out as people poured into the observatory, excitedly chattering amongst themselves. His good mood soured as he watched his friends make their way inside, offering him pitiful waves. He was definitely going to punch Cartman after this was over.

Kenny poked his head through the doorway. “Stan, you coming?”

Stan hesitated, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Uh I’m good, I’ll meet you guys after.”

Kenny’s gaze briefly slid to Kyle before he shrugged and ducked back inside.

The observatory doors slammed shut, echoing through the now deserted hall. There were still a few couples milling around the adjacent hallway, including Kevin and Red, hoping to catch a show in the planetarium first.

He turned to Stan, surprised. “You’re not going in?”

“Nah,” Stan cracked open the soda. “Wendy was worried you’d get lonely out here so I volunteered to babysit you.”

Kyle bristled. “I don’t need a babysit-”

He flicked his forehead. “Relax, I’m kidding. I saw Cartman chug a ton of Mountain Dew earlier and I didn’t wanna be trapped in a room with him.”

“Oh.” Kyle’s ears heated up. What was he getting so worked up about? Just because Wendy and Red had made a few lighthearted comments earlier? Get it together, Kyle. “...sorry.”

Stan grinned. “Say that again?” He leaned forward, cupping a hand around his ear. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he scowled, shoving his face away.

Stan took a sip from his can, and gestured toward the planetarium. The couples had already disappeared inside. “The show’s starting soon, you wanna head in?”

Thinking back to Red’s comments, he hesitated. He didn’t know how to face her after overhearing her earlier. “Actually, could we stay out here for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure.” Stan looked around. “You wanna sit for a while or go check out the exhibits?”

“I-”

He was cut off as the lights failed. The hallway was plunged into darkness as confused voices echoed from the observatory and the planetarium.

“Shit. This is like the third power outage this month.” Kyle pulled out his phone. “No service.”

“Me neither.”

There was a flash of light from the planetarium, bright enough to illuminate the hallway outside.

Kyle paused. “Wait.” He sniffed the air. “Can you smell that?”

It was an acrid, unpleasant smell, like burning wires. Something about it sent jolts of anxiety through his chest.

“Ugh, yeah, what is that?” Stan coughed, covering his face.

He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Something’s not right.”

There was a flash of light from the planetarium, bright enough to illuminate the hallway outside. It was accompanied by a chorus of shrieking, but it sounded different from the mild clamor in the observatory. There was fear in those voices, and the pair broke into a sprint.

As they got closer, the flashes grew more intense, casting sharp, stark bursts of otherworldly light on the walls. Their shadows twisted and contorted in response as they moved, stretching towards the doors of the planetarium. That sharp, acidic smell burned itself into his senses, making his head pound.

Suddenly, the light faded. Blinded by darkness, Kyle barely noticed the abrupt cut off screams as he pushed open the planetarium doors.

—

The lights were off, save for the faint glow of the exit sign. Kyle held up his phone, its light revealing aisles of seats and a group of people sitting inside, frozen. His heart skipped a beat. Had they just been sitting there in the dark?

Recognizing two familiar faces among the group, he turned his flashlight towards them. “Kevin? Red? Are you guys okay?”

There was no reply from either. His voice echoed, the hall eerily silent without the narration of the projection show. He hesitantly approached them. “What’s going on?”

There was still no response as everyone’s heads snapped towards him. They slowly rose from their seats. There was a click as someone shut the doors behind them.

He spun around, searching for the noise through watering eyes. It wasn’t a particularly large space, and without the airflow from the hallway, the odor of burning plastic was choking, making his lungs burn.

The light from his phone glinted in their glassy eyes, and his heart sank. He had seen that look before. Craig’s copy had given him that same empty stare in Bennigan’s and it sent chills down his spine.

He made eye contact with Stan, who shot him a look. ...doppelgängers?

Kyle nodded uncertainly. Could be.

He took a step back. How was this possible? As far as he knew, none of these people had abilities, much less one identical to Craig’s. They didn’t act like doppelgängers either. At least Craig’s copies could talk and show emotion—these people were completely blank.

Kevin took a step toward him. It was becoming clear to him that this would only end one of two ways. “Stan, stay back.”

Kyle took another unsteady step backwards, bumping into the seat behind him. He looked at Kevin, searching for any flicker of emotion in those dull eyes. “I don’t want to fight you,” he said. “Please.”

His words fell on deaf ears as Kevin lunged forward and tackled him. Pain exploded in his rib cage as they slammed into the linoleum. Kevin’s hands dug into his back as they rolled across the floor, vice-like grip preventing him from escaping.

He tried to twist free, but Kevin’s weight kept him pinned down. His phone flew out of his hands as they grappled, and the flashlight beam cut across their faces. Kevin froze, momentarily dazed.

Seizing the distraction, Kyle headbutted his jaw as hard as he could. Stars exploded behind his eyes and Kevin reeled back, loosening his hold. In an instant, Kyle bucked upwards and flipped them around, ready to land another blow when he noticed Kevin’s pupils. They were unnaturally dilated, black discs nearly the size of his irises.

It was like staring into the void.

He faltered.

He didn’t have time to think before an elbow smashed into his side, sending him toppling sideways. He rolled instinctively, narrowly avoiding another jab aimed at him. A pair of sharp manicured fingers slashed at him, catching him across the cheek. Red and a stranger loomed over him, blank gazes devoid of remorse.

Raising his arm, he conjured a ripple of air and flung it at them, making them stumble back. The nauseating fumes and the pain in his ribs were making it hard for him to stay focused. Nevertheless, he forced himself to think. If he wanted to survive, he would have to end this fight fast.

In an outnumbered fight, the quickest way would be to take them all out at once. But he needed to figure out how.

As Red leapt on him, clawing at him in a frenzy of rage, he weakly pushed her back with another wave of his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone lying nearby. He thought back to how Kevin reacted to the flashlight, and his heart sped up.

As he tried to shake off Red, he crawled towards his phone. If he could just reach it, he could stun her and the other copy. But the throbbing in his head was getting worse, and his bruised rib cage was making it hard to breathe, let alone move. He inched toward his phone desperately.

He was so close. So painfully close.

Just a few more inches…

He raised his hand again, trying to muster up enough energy for another push. But Red was ready and waiting this time, forcing his arm to the ground as soon as he lifted it. The other copy towered over him, muscles tensing as they aimed a vicious kick to his side.

Kyle braced himself for the finishing blow.

It never came.

Suddenly, Red’s hands were being ripped free from his arms and she was yanked backwards. Stan’s face swam into view and he felt himself being hoisted up. “You okay?”

Kyle nodded, slumping into him. Stan seemed to be in better condition, but not by much. He coughed, the action reverberating painfully in his chest. The taste of rust filled his mouth and he knew he wasn’t going to last long in his current condition.

His healing rate wasn’t fast enough to make up for the damage he was taking. He blinked hard. As his vision unblurred, he zoned in on something behind Stan. The planetarium had a tech booth, a tiny booth tucked in the back wall for controlling the projection show. His heart sped up. If they could get to it, they could use the projector to stun all of them at once.

He gripped Stan’s shoulder. “The tech booth,” he croaked out. “Projector.”

The confusion and exhaustion was evident on Stan’s face as he looked between the booth and Kyle, but he nodded anyway. Looping an arm around his shoulders, he dragged them towards the booth when he stopped abruptly.

A group of copies surrounded them. He couldn’t see any of them clearly but he could sense the tension in their bodies as they silently watched the pair, waiting for them to make a move. He felt something wet land on his cheek. A faint metallic smell flooded his nose and he looked up. Blood was dripping freely out of Stan’s nose.

In this state, neither of them were going to win in a six to two fight. Kyle tightened his jaw. Fuck this.

With a final burst of adrenaline, he flicked his hand, sending them all sprawling back like he was parting the Red Sea. They crashed into the aisles, bouncing off the seats and slumping onto the floor.

Stan stared at him. “Jesus Christ.”

“Just go!”

With the path clear, they hurried into the tech booth, locking the door behind them.

Kyle sagged to the floor, drained. “Turn on the projector. Lights, noise, anything bright and loud.” he directed.

Stan nodded, hurriedly pressing buttons and flicking switches. “It won’t turn on! I think the blackout’s fucked up the system!”

Their pounding grew louder as cracks began splintering the glass. Kyle turned to Stan. “Use your powers!”

Stan gaped at him. “What? How?”

The copies outside slammed their fists harder into the window, throwing all their weight onto the creaking door. The spiderweb fissures in the glass were spreading, cracking the only barrier between them and the copies. Kyle tried to recall anything useful from his notebook, but his mind was blanking. “I-I don’t know, just put your hands on the panel and do something!”

There was the sound of glass shattering behind him. Disembodied arms shot through the window frame, clawing at him. Kyle tried to duck but a hand caught him by his shoulder. His back made a dull thud as it collided with the door. Black spots crowded his vision as he tried to break their grip with barely functioning fingers.

Stan’s eyes widened. “Kyle!”

A burst of bright white energy crackled through him, turning his skin translucent. The electricity snaked down his veins, through his fingertips, and flooded into the control system. Sparks sizzled and flew off the panel. The projector stuttered to life, flooding the room with a blinding light.

Kyle screwed his eyes shut and braced himself.

Chapter Text

Even with his eyes closed, he could see the brightness of the projector, illuminating the blood vessels in his eyelids. There was an ear splitting shriek as the sound system went haywire, piercing through the white noise. With great difficulty, he clenched his fists together, creating an air pocket around their heads. The deafening screech immediately ceased, the whine of white noise filling his ears instead.

As the brightness faded, he slumped to the floor. Shapes and colors swam in and out of view as he struggled to stay conscious. The freezing burn of his healing factor repairing damage wasn’t enough to keep him from slipping into darkness.

When he came to, he was lying on a gurney. He blinked blearily. raindrops peppered his face as he was wheeled outside, the icy pinpricks making his muscles tense as the weight of his body settled into him like lead. With great effort, he turned his head to the side to avoid the rain.

EMTs swarmed around him, checking his vitals and assessing his condition. There was a sharp scent of ozone in the air; it filled his nose and made it impossible to focus on what the paramedics were saying behind the ringing in his ears.

Suddenly, one of them shone a light into his eye. He winced at the sudden brightness. “…I’m fine.”

His voice came out raspier than expected. He coughed. “I’m fine.”

He tried to prop himself up, and was immediately assisted by a paramedic. Biting back a protest, he looked around. “Where’s-”

A familiar face on a neighboring stretcher caught his attention. “Stan!”

Stan didn’t respond, his eyes closed and face bruised as he lay there.

“Stan-” He tried to get up, but the paramedic held him back. “Sir, please relax, your friend’s okay. He’s just passed out from exertion, but his vitals are stable.”

He tapped the monitor hooked up to Stan. “See? He’s in better shape than you.”

He felt his breathing even out.

“Everyone else is doing okay too, in case you were worried.” The paramedic continued. “No severe injuries, I think you and your friend were roughed up the most in the crowd crush.”

Kyle stared at him. “Everyone else?”

“Yeah, the other people we found in the planetarium with you.” The paramedic stepped aside, giving him a clear view of the other ambulances stationed in the parking lot and the people in them.

A sick feeling rose in his chest. The entire time he had been fighting the copies, something had felt off.

He suddenly thought back to Kevin’s dilated pupils, the temperature of Red’s hands as she clawed at him, and his breathing hitched.

He hadn’t been defending himself against evil doppelgangers. He had been fighting innocent people. ”They…they can’t be here.” He shook his head. “They’re not real.”

“You may be experiencing confusion,” the paramedic tried to soothe him, gently pushing him back down. “That’s completely normal.”

He watched Kevin pressing an ice pack against his bruising jaw, wincing as he talked to an officer. He seemed completely different from the Kevin who was swinging at him just a few minutes ago. “No, listen to me, something’s wrong. They’re dangerous-”

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath.” The paramedic passed him a paper cup. “Take a sip for me.”

Kyle forced himself to swallow a mouthful of water. He couldn’t afford to look even more unstable than he already did.

“A lot of these people are experiencing some mild confusion and memory loss as well.” The paramedic explained patiently. “Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”

“I really don’t remember much-”

His gaze caught onto a flicker of blond hair behind the paramedics. Tweek peeked out from behind the observatory, anxiously scanning the parking lot.

Their eyes met for a brief moment and he froze, before he ducked back behind the building. Kyle blinked. Was he seeing things?

”Oh my god, Kyle! Are you okay?” Wendy’s voice cut through the din of chatter and sirens.

Kenny appeared behind her. “Dude, what happened?”

”i-i don’t know, there was a blackout and the projector must have malfunctioned or something. Everyone was just trying to get out and I got knocked around in the rush. It was chaos.” Kyle lied.

“We didn’t even know there was a blackout until we heard the noise. It was so dark in there, we had no idea.”

“W-well, I sure am glad you’re alright Kyle.” Butters said, teary eyed. “You sure you don’t want us to get you anything?”

“I’m fine.” he glanced back at the observatory. Tweek wasn’t there. “Hey, did you guys happen to run into Tweek earlier?

“Tweek?” Wendy exchanged a glance with Kenny, who shook his head. “No, he never showed up. Why?”

Kyle paused. If Tweek wasn’t with them, then what was he doing here?

“Uh,” he shook his head. “Never mind, I think I'm still a little shaken up. Is everyone else okay?”

”yeah, everyone in the observatory was fine. Craig and Scott are talking to the cops right now.” she replied. “And Cartman’s over there.”

Kyle turned to see him in a tug of war with a paramedic. “-how am I not a fucking victim? I already have PTSD and you’re not even gonna give me a goddamn shock blanket to calm my nerves? My taxpayer dollars paid for this blanket!”

He closed his eyes. At least someone seemed unbothered by the whole situation. But something was off. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Tweek’s appearance was no coincidence.

“Any updates?” A policeman strode past him.

Another officer appeared from behind the observatory. “We’ve found the source of the outage. The transformer out back must’ve been struck by the lightning storm. Breaker’s completely fried.”

His ears perked up.

“We think the blackout may have caused the projector to malfunction and induce seizures within the crowd. We’re just lucky the crowd crush didn’t kill anyone.”

Kyle knitted his brows, eyes narrowing slightly.

The fried circuit breaker, the storm, Tweek’s sudden appearance. A flash of lightning suddenly jerked him out of his thoughts. He paused. The scent of ozone hung thick in the air—that distinct odor of something sharp and acrid, like burning plastic. He had been too distracted to register it earlier, but he’d smelled it before tonight. It wasn’t just a coincidence—it was part of a pattern he had missed until now.

–

The incident three months ago had never sat right with him. It always felt too meticulous to be an accident, and now he was finally getting somewhere. He was almost certain that whoever caused the blackout two days ago and incited the chaos was the same person who caused the mass memory wipe in South Park.

According to his journal, there were only three people with abilities to manipulate electricity. Butters, Stan and Tweek.

Butters would have been his first thought given his past as Professor Chaos, had it not been for Kenny vouching for his presence next to him through the entire blackout. Stan’s abilities only applied to machinery and not people as far as he remembered, and they were together when the power failed. Kyle tightened his lips. He didn’t want to believe it, but Tweek was the only one without an alibi.

It was still just a hunch though, and he wouldn’t call it anything more unless he found something substantial to back it up. A witness, someone who would have seen the culprit when the blackout occurred. And he knew exactly who to ask.

The lab was busier than the last time he was there. At night, the lab had been nearly empty, save for the barebones crew of dead eyed grad students. Now it was bustling with activity.

It had been a few weeks since he had visited, but what he saw last time was still fresh in his memory.

As he neared the storage closet, he felt his body tense up. Just thinking about what was hidden behind that room was enough to make his skin crawl. As he passed by, something new caught his eye.

A sleek card scanner, installed right above the door handle.

He stilled. That definitely wasn’t there before.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the campus security’s nonexistent student division.” Dr. Mephisto spoke up from over his shoulder, making him jump.

Kyle turned around awkwardly. “So you figured that out.”

Dr. Mephisto crossed his arms, unamused. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police right now.”

Kyle frowned. “I know I shouldn’t have lied, but I also did help get rid of the guy who broke into your lab. And I didn’t get you in trouble for…whatever you’re doing here.” The second part wasn’t technically a lie—he had gone to the police about the suspicious animal testing, and they had brushed him off. But Mephisto didn’t need to know that. “The way I see it, you owe me.”

Dr. Mephisto paused. “Call it even?”

”Sure, if you let me talk to Kevin.”

Mephisto’s expression shifted. “Him? He doesn’t work here anymore.”

Kyle blinked. That was news to him. “What? Did something happen?”

“No, not that I can recall. He came in, quit, and left. Said that he couldn’t handle it anymore. Whatever that means.”

“Do you have his address?”

Mephisto gave a dry chuckle. “I’m afraid that’s confidential information.”

“But-”

“You’ve asked your questions and I’ve answered them.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Move along now, unless you really want me to call the police this time.”

—

He found himself standing in line at Harbucks, after being kicked out of the research lab with more questions than answers. It wasn’t ideal, he had been hoping to at least talk to Kevin first before confronting anyone, but a casual talk with Tweek couldn’t hurt. Maybe they could even clear things up and Kyle could take his name off the suspect list. Innocent until proven guilty, as his dad always said.

“Next! What can I get you?” A cashier ushered him forward.

Kyle stepped up to the counter. “Tall Earl Gray, please.”

Movement behind the cashier caught his attention. Tweek’s head snapped towards him and Kyle gave an awkward wave. Tweek managed a tight smile back, just a little too strained to look real, and quickly turned back to the espresso machine.

Kyle frowned. Not exactly the reaction of someone with nothing to hide, but he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.

As he waited at the pick up counter, he inched a little closer. “Hey Tweek, did you stop by the planetarium the other night?” He tried to keep his tone as casual as possible.

Tweek’s head jerked up. His grip faltered, the metal cup slipping out of his hands and onto the counter with a clatter. He frantically grabbed a rag, wiping spilled foam. “N-no, I was busy.”

“I thought I saw someone who looked like you there.”

He twitched. “That wasn’t me. I was, rrgh, working.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “At ten p.m.? Doesn’t this place close at nine?”

“O-on homework.” He added quickly. “I was working on homework.”

“And you really didn’t stop by even for a-”

“Ngh-I have to get back to work.” Tweek blurted, wringing the rag between his hands.

Kyle nodded. “Oh yeah, sorry. I just wanted to see if you heard anything about that night. You have time to talk after you clock out?”

Tweek hesitated. His eyes darted toward the door. “S-sure. I get off in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll wait.”

Kyle took a seat in the corner and pulled out his laptop. If he was stuck waiting, he might as well catch up on assignments. He opened a blank doc, trying to drown out the sounds of the cafe around him as he focused. It wasn’t until he glanced at his phone again that he realized something was off.

It was close to seven. Tweek should’ve been out by now.

He glanced up at the counter. He wasn’t there anymore.

He bolted up and approached the cashier. “Hey, uh, is Tweek still here?”

The barista blinked. “Tweek? He left a few minutes ago, said he wasn’t feeling well.”

Kyle cursed under his breath and sprinted towards the door, abandoning his laptop and half finished drink. Outside, the street was packed with students out for the dinner rush, barring him from taking more than a few steps outside. Craning his head, he desperately tried to catch a glimpse of blond hair in the crowd.

No sign of Tweek anywhere.

He dragged a hand through his hair, head pounding. For someone claiming to be innocent, he sure didn’t act like it.