Chapter Text
He had pulled over just before the sign mockingly welcoming him home. Sitting in his car, blasting AC on full volume because the asphalt on the road was radiating scorching heat. The sun was setting in the distance, smudging the sky with lavender and peach colors, leaving the uncommonly snowless town looking even less noteworthy than usual.
His hand was hovering over the old contact that had gotten completely rusted in his phone list. No emojis, no photo, no special marks. Not even saved to favorites. Just a few short letters, unused for at least the last decade.
How was he supposed to do it? Just march right in, pretend nothing had ever happened, and shrug, scoff, and dismissively throw out something about it being ancient history?
He couldn’t do it; he wasn’t a heartless bastard. Or was he? All those years had made him question his morality.
A deep breath.
Closing his eyes, he grabbed the steering wheel and ran his fingers over the dark leather languidly.
‘’Deep breaths, Kyle, deep breaths.’’ He muttered under his breath. It was fine; he was fine. Let’s be honest, he always questioned his morality and felt everything to the extremes. The power and the curse of the Broflovskis he had inherited after his late mother. He chuckled humorlessly, imagining her in this situation.
What would she have told him? That he was doing a good thing? That he needed to rip the Band-Aid off? Probably both; though it was hard to say. However, she would have been as emotional and loud in her feelings certainly, just like he was right now.
The phone, lying almost forgotten in his lap, suddenly buzzed, an incoming call overshadowing the dusted contact. Kyle jumped a little, completely snapped out of his thoughts.
‘’Dad? What is it?’’ He answered, leaning back from the wheel.
‘’Well,’’ a voice resounded from the other side of the speaker, carrying that tinge of hoarseness usual for elderly people, brutally signaling the exertion of being past their prime. Kyle hated it and hated that he was still able to find some beauty in it. ‘’You’ve been driving for a long time and still left me no message. I guess I was getting worried, hah.’’
Kyle rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
‘’Still alive, dad.’’ He huffed out to the phone. ‘’I’m actually arriving really soon - just a couple minutes away.’’
‘’Mm, that’s good to hear.’’ Gerald hummed pensively. ‘’Okay; I won’t delay you. Go get that girl and come right back to us; we’ll be waiting with Ike. Just…’’
‘’Just?’’
‘’…Just don’t linger there unnecessarily long.’’
There were many thoughts that drifted through Kyle’s mind upon hearing that sentence. Many theories on why his father had uttered them, and even more ways to retort. Some pulled at his heartstrings, threatening to spill tears with words, while others simply added fuel to his already fiery temperament.
He took another deep breath, a proven method too many times to count, and settled on a safe answer, vague enough to keep his facade.
‘’If you didn’t want me to linger, why didn’t you sell the house?’’ Kyle threw the question half-serious, half-joking, steering the subject minutely.
It was met with a deafening silence.
‘’Dad?’’
‘’Oh, right, sorry,’’ the man blurted, almost losing his cool. ‘’Uh, it’s not like anyone wanted to buy it.’’
The laugh his dad, well, performed at the end was dripping with fakeness. Even though Kyle knew that was the truth—nobody was willing to live there. Sensing the uneasiness in his father’s voice, he decided to let the topic die a merciful death, in both sides’ favour.
‘’Yeah, I get it.’’ Kyle agreed quietly, his gaze drifting along the line of dying sunlight called a horizon. ‘’I’ll be going, and don’t worry, I’ll update you when I meet her. Bye, dad.’’
‘’Have a peaceful night, son.’’
Pulling into the driveway, Kyle didn't look right.
The path was narrow—it had always been too narrow—and parking meant being exposed to the space next door. So Kyle kept his eyes locked firmly ahead, focusing entirely on the chipped white enamel of his own front porch steps.
He unbuckled his seatbelt. The click was sharp, sending a chill down his already strained spine in the dead quiet of the evening. Out of the corner of his eye, the dark, unlit shape sat in the dusk like a sad memento on the neighborhood, heavy and unmoving.
Even though Kyle had escaped South Park long before the events, he knew perfectly well how to treat the rotten green walls. Perhaps it just coursed in his veins—to look at your own shoes, adjust your collar, and pick up the pace until the building leaves your peripheral vision.
But he couldn’t do that.
Spending the night in the Broflovskis residence meant he couldn’t escape the sullen presence, simmering and coercing him into simmering along.
Kyle jammed his key into the door lock, twisting it with more strength than necessary, pretending the extra effort was all it took to keep the rest of the world out.
‘Don’t think. Just don’t think.’ He repeated inwardly like a sacred mantra while pushing through the rooms of his family home. It was surprisingly well-kept, so a quick shower was actually possible, and as Kyle tried to believe, somewhat enjoyable.
He checked the kitchen, the basement, Ike’s old room—everything besides his own.
Kyle knew opening that door meant unloading a lot of deep-rooted emotions and memories he wasn’t ready for nor willing to unpack after the long drive. That’s what it was. Nothing more.
Definitely not the window facing a particular-
No.
Nothing more.
After squeezing his eyes shut and chanting his mantra a dozen times more, he fell asleep on the couch in the living room in complete silence.
The trick to being at least a half-decent school counselor wasn't a master’s degree—though Kenny had the framed paper tucked somewhere behind his desk to prove he’d put in the hours. The trick was the appearance.
Kids didn't trust anyone wearing shiny leather oxfords. Beat-up Converse, a faded hoodie under a thrifted blazer, and a pair of too-short khakis on the other hand? That got you a seat at the table.
Kenny spun his swivel chair and leaned back, resting his sneakers on the edge of the low coffee table, and tossed a small stress ball between his hands.
"Look, I'm just saying," Kenny said, catching the ball with one hand and shaking his head in faux incredulity. "If you're gonna hide out in the art room during second period, at least pick a corner that doesn't smell like wet clay. It's an amateur move, Gwen."
Across from him, the girl tried—and failed—to maintain her formidable scowl. Her shoulders relaxed, a quiet huff escaping her nose as she slumped into the armchair, tugging her oversized sweater sleeve over her knuckles.
"Mr. McCormick, it was the only unlocked door," she grumbled, though the sharp edge in her voice had completely melted into familiar teenage annoyance. "The usual didn’t even appear! Oh, and Ezra didn't want to go to the gym."
The boy sitting on the beanbag next to her raised his eyebrow and flipped her off while tapping a fast, restless rhythm with his knee against the floor.
Kenny grinned at the familiar gesture, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Unfortunately, your dad explicitly gave me permission to drag you to class by your backpack if you pulled the gym-boycott routine again. And you know Tuckers don't make empty threats."
Ezra groaned, pulling his beanie down over his eyes. Gwen actually cracked a tiny, genuine smile, shaking her head.
For a second, the room was warm, safe, and completely under control.
Then came the knock.
It wasn't a casual tap. It was a sharp, rigid, twice-rushed rattle against the frosted glass that practically screamed over-caffeinated adult under extreme stress.
Ezra gulped, as that description fit neither Craig nor Aunt Tricia. And no matter how tough they seemed outside, the actual terror hid behind a certain twitchy blond parent. Even though it was much harder to make Tweek furious, it was him who sowed the fear while enraged in their household. Everyone knew perfectly well it was him who pulled the strings and imposed the punishments—both on the guilty and those who dared to disobey (Craig included).
Gwen’s smile vanished instantly. In a fraction of a second, her spine went stiff, her arms locked over her chest, and that cold, impenetrable wall snapped right back into place. Kenny took mental note of the dramatic shift as he stood up, smoothing down his jacket, focusing on looking presentable.
"Hold that, guys," Kenny whispered easily, stepping over to the door and stopping dead in his tracks.
In the doorframe appeared someone else than Tweek, completely unexpectedly.
Standing under the harsh fluorescent lights of their school, wearing a suit that looked far too formal for South Park heat and holding a leather briefcase like a shield, was a man Kenny hadn't seen in years. He looked pale, sharp-edged, and utterly exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes that suggested he’d spent the night on a couch. Kenny knew that feeling too well.
Kyle Broflovski stood there, his hand still hovering in mid-air near the handle.
Neither of them moved. The name on the school transfer file Kenny had seen months ago hadn't matched—of course it hadn't; Gwen carried a different last name, a different paper trail—but the frantic, burning intensity in those green eyes was unmistakable.
Kenny’s brain took two full seconds to catch up before a slow, incredulous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Well, shit," Kenny murmured, resting a hand on the doorframe. "Look what the snow melted."
After a moment of catching and not letting go of each other’s gaze, Kenny finally decided on the course of action.
"Ezra, Gwen," he said, his eyes never leaving Kyle’s face as he gestured vaguely toward the side door. "Head to third period. We’ll wrap up the discussion later."
Ezra didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled out of the beanbag, grabbed his backpack by one strap, and darted past Kyle into the hall. Gwen took her time, slinging her bag over her shoulder and giving Kyle a look so icy it practically brought back winter to the town, intentionally brushing past his arm on her way out.
Kyle flinched subtly, his jaw locking into a tight, rigid line as he watched her disappear down the corridor. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy; the child had been tossed around from the hands of one relative to the other like a damn toy, but he had a bigger issue on his mind at the moment.
The door clicked shut, leaving the office in a sudden, suffocating silence.
Kyle remained rooted to the spot, his briefcase clutched tightly like a shield. He swallowed hard, his breathing fast and shallow, looking as though he’d stepped into a room with no oxygen. He opened his mouth, trying to find a sentence—any sentence—that didn't sound completely hollow after a decade of radio silence.
Kyle felt like a convict about to be hung for his crimes.
"Kenny," he finally rasped out, his voice tighter than he wanted it to be. "I-I didn't know you were working here. I mean, on the paperwork, it just said-"
"Yeah. I get it. Your name wasn’t written either.'' Kenny said softly, simply stepping back, opening the door wider, and inviting Kyle into his space. "Though I'm pretty sure if you probed, you’d get a gist of who the hell they’re talking about, hah.’’
Kenny's voice was low, warm, and entirely lacking the judging edge Kyle had been bracing for.
So he took two slow, cautious steps into the room, his knuckles white against the dark leather of his briefcase. His eyes darted around the space—the worn couch, the mismatched coffee mug on the desk—before settling back on Kenny. Up close, Kenny looked different from Kyle remembered, yet entirely, painfully recognizable. The sharp edges of boyhood had filled out into something steady, quiet, and solid.
"You look…" Kyle started, waving a hand vaguely, searching for the word while fighting a sudden, prickling sensation behind his eyelids. "You look… nice. Like an educator, a real thing.’’
"I try to fool 'em," Kenny smirked, but his gaze remained fixed on Kyle, piercing right through the formal suit and the sharp, protective posture. He closed the small distance between them, stepping just close enough for Kyle to catch the faint scent of petrichor, so grouding.
Kenny reached out, his fingers lightly brushing the top of Kyle’s tense forearm—just a brief, grounding touch, but enough to make Kyle's breath hitch.
"You, on the other hand, look like you haven't slept in three days.’’ Kenny murmured, his ocean eyes softening with a quiet, undeniable warmth that made Kyle's chest ache. "And like you're carrying the weight of the whole damn town on your shoulders. Nothing changed here, huh?"
Kyle let out a shaky, quiet laugh that sounded more like a sigh. The tension in his shoulders dropped just a bit, magnetically drawn to Kenny’s calm, unshakeable center. For a brief second, the choking air of South Park felt… manageable.
"I… I had a long drive," Kyle whispered, looking up into Kenny’s eyes, mesmerized by how naturally Kenny pulled him back down to earth. "But enough about that. Since when do you wear glasses?’’
He extended his hand involuntarily towards the pair of tiny lenses sitting low on Kenny’s nose. Kyle looked at them and then back at Kenny’s eyes, noting inwardly how glad he was the glasses didn’t hide them. Irises like that shouldn’t be covered by anything, just displayed openly so he could drown in their ocean hues once again-
Before the question could be answered, the office door was shoved open with zero warning, slamming violently against the rubber stopper on the wall.
"Which of the little shits was it this time?" Craig asked flatly, stepping into the room with his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, visibly irritated.
Then a sharp, violent smack echoed through the office as Tweek hit Craig on the back of the head.
"G-GAH! Craig, stop calling our kids little shits in public! What did I tell you about it!?" Tweek hissed, his hair sticking up in six different directions as he twitched violently, clutching a lukewarm cup of coffee like a lifeline. "Do you want the school to open a file on us?! Jesus Christ, man!"
"It's not public; it's just Kenny, honey." Craig deadpanned, not even flinching from the slap as he pointed a finger at Kenny. "He comes over every Saturday and drinks our beer. He's basically furniture. Besides, hitting me doesn’t help the case."
"That is not the point! It's the principle! We are in an educational institution, Craig, and—" Tweek cut himself off mid-sentence, his head snapping to the side as his bloodshot eyes finally landed on the man standing by the threshold.
Tweek froze. The twitch in his left eyelid stopped dead.
Craig slowly turned his head to follow Tweek's gaze, his usual bored expression slipping into a brief, genuine blink of confusion.
Tweek puffed out a quiet, trembling breath, nudged Craig hard in the ribs with his elbow, and gestured wildly with his coffee cup toward Kyle.
"See?!" Tweek whispered loudly, his voice cracking with triumphant panic. "I told you, ‘the public’! They’re going to take the kids away, surely!"
Kenny groaned and facepalmed. He plopped onto his chair with a muffled thud.
‘’Just take the damn seat.’’
Everyone did as they were told with full obedience, unsure of what to make of the situation and how to proceed. Kenny’s command seemed like a lifeline in that moment.
Yet, after moments of quietly sizing each other up, which Kenny didn’t break, Craig cleared his throat and asked more cautiously this time.
‘’So, which of the kids is it this time?’’
‘’You have more than one?’’ Kyle tried to make small talk, cursing himself inside for not thinking of anything better. However, the question seemed to land perfectly.
‘’Yup.’’ Tweek smiled sunnily, while Craig nodded a bit absent-mindedly. ‘’Five, to be exact, haha.’’
Kyle felt his eyes go dangerously wide.
‘’Five?! How the hell do you cope with them?!’’ He almost shouted, his voice thick with childlike admiration that made everyone in the room smile a bit. Even Craig smirked under his breath.
‘’Well, they don't; that’s why we’re here.’’ Kenny chimed in with fake solemnity and was sent a collective scowl.
‘’Yeah, we don't, so no need to visit us this weekend,’’ Craig answered smoothly. ‘’We’ll be busy disciplining our children.’’
Kenny whimpered, while Tweek and Kyle scoffed in unison. Then everybody shared a laugh, although still strained, a lot more genuine, letting the tension in the room ease.
‘’Okay, okay, but seriously,’’ Tweek said after they calmed down. ‘’What is it that we needed to close the shop today?’’
‘’The usual,’’ Kenny said matter-of-factly, then took a sip from his mismatched mug. ‘’Ezra playing hooky.’’
Tweek sighed tiredly, and Kyle noticed it did look like a common occurrence to him.
‘’Did they mention the classroom again?’’
Kenny leaned back in his seat, and his gaze dropped to his knees.
‘’Yeah.’’
The silence settled upon them, this time not the harmless, just a bit flabbergasted one. It was heavy, heavier than at any point that day. Kyle’s eyes darted around as he tried to catch some clues to understand the situation, but nothing allowed him to comprehend it.
‘’Um,’’ he stuttered, unsure of himself. ‘’…Classroom?’’
Kenny ultimately lifted his head and scanned Kyle’s expression before his own changed visibly as if a sudden realization hit him.
‘’Oh, right, sorry Kyle.’’ He uttered more hopefully with each word. ‘’Wait, maybe you could help us.’’
Tweek and Craig also looked up, their faces lighting up a little.
‘’Not a bad idea.’’ Craig hummed pensively, intertwining his hand with Tweek’s. ‘’Kyle, do you remember classroom 304?’’
He scratched his head, digging through his memories carefully. It had been many years, but Kyle was certain – ‘’No.’’
The rest deflated back in their seats.
‘’Is that a bad thing?’’ Kyle asked, still not sure what to make of the situation.
Kenny shook his head, though his expression betrayed the disappointment.
‘’No, it’s not a matter of good or bad…’’ He gestured figuratively with his hands, struggling to find the words, which didn’t help Kyle’s case. ‘’It’s, uhm…’’
‘’It’s that nobody does,’’ Tweek cut in, his demeanor far calmer than Kyle had ever seen it. ‘’It doesn’t exist, yet kids claim they’ve not only seen it-‘’
‘’-They’ve been inside.’’ Craig finished solemnly.