Chapter Text
Going back home was always nice. Kyle had returned to South Park for the holidays. He was in his final year of college, and that made him happy to come back to his hometown for the month and a half of vacation he had.
Even though he had been so eager to leave town after high school (since it always seemed to bring him trouble), returning had become one of the most comforting things.
Law school consumed most of his time, keeping him isolated from his lifelong friends. Though he had made a few friends in college, it just wasn’t the same. He missed home, the fresh mountain air, the feeling of snow beneath his boots. And of course, spending time with his favorite people, among them his younger brother, Ike—who was now casually standing at his bedroom door.
—Hey, Kyle…— Kyle put down what he was doing to pay attention to his brother, immediately giving him a smile before answering softly.
—What’s up, Ike?— Kyle and Ike had a bit of a barrier between them. Adolescence had driven Ike a little crazy (again) just before Kyle left. So, although in the past he couldn’t stand hanging out with him for more than ten minutes, it was nice that he was seeking him out now, for whatever reason.
—Your… your friends, are they back too?— Ike asked, without his usual rough and aggressive tone of voice. Kyle even noticed how timidly he played with his foot. Ike wasn’t the shy type. He was a little shit. In every sense of the word.
—Oh… yeah, Stan’s here, Cartman too, and Kenny promised to come hang out— The question had caught him a bit off guard, but it wasn’t hard to guess where the conversation was headed.
Both Stan and Cartman—to everyone’s surprise—had gone to college. Meanwhile, Kenny, though he never left town, had earned a degree from the community college and was doing pretty well at his new job. He had the luxury of seeing them whenever he had a break.
—I see… I… uh, I’d like to hang out with you guys or whatever—Ike tried to sound disinterested, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and avoiding his brother’s gaze.
Kyle, for his part, was a little surprised. He hadn’t expected that. Especially since, as he mentioned, they weren’t exactly close at this stage of their lives. His brother was rebellious, annoying, rude, a bit cocky—but he was his brother at the end of the day. And if the Ike he knew was asking him like that, how could he say no?
Kyle didn’t know he would regret it.
———————
Ike sighed, feeling nervous—so much that his legs trembled a bit. He was supposed to be a shameless guy, yet there he was, looking at himself in the mirror like any of his two best friends, giving himself a once-over. I’m fucking handsome, he thought. His mom never stopped telling him that, and he had decided to believe it.
Maybe he was even more handsome than his brother. Though, of course, there was no real comparison. He was adopted, while his brother had curly red hair, fair skin, and a sharp nose. And oh god, don't make Ike talk about Kyle's green eyes, while he had two black orbs for eyes. Meanwhile, he had olive skin and straight black hair. The only thing they shared was height. Kyle was still taller, sure. But Ike was a bit more muscular from playing hockey regularly, giving the illusion of being bigger. His features were also sharper, with a strong, symmetrical face that still held onto a youthful charm. The Canadian genes weren’t bad.
—IKE, we’re all here!— He heard his brother yell from downstairs. Finally, he sighed, fixing his hair one last time.
Kyle’s friends had arrived about 30 minutes ago, but he had been stalling. Rushing down and looking desperate wasn’t cool. At the end of the day, Ike was just a moody weirdo who happened to be hot.
Downstairs, they had already cracked open their first beers, each taking their respective seats. Stan was sitting on the loveseat, while Kenny shared the big couch with Cartman, both sprawled out. Kyle felt good. Returning to this familiar feeling of being surrounded by the people he practically grew up with was comforting in a way. Even though some (and by some, he meant Cartman) still got on his nerves.
—How’s that law degree going, Jew? You already know how to scam people?—Kyle wondered when Cartman was going to start insulting him. The brunette looked like he’d puke if he didn’t.
Over the years, Kyle had developed a twisted enjoyment for this routine. College was honestly kind of boring without being the target of insults, so this was almost music to his ears. He actually missed Cartman a little-so much that he had to suppress his own smile at the comment.
—None yet, fatass. I’m just waiting for you to make at least a dollar so I can steal it—he shot back just as sharply. Cartman clicked his tongue, shifting his posture to lean toward Kyle.
—Jew bastard, you’ll die before you ever take my money—he warned, frowning and extending his hands—Even in death, you won’t be able to pry it from my fingers.
—Oh god, here we go again—Stan rolled his eyes, choosing to take another sip of beer before the drama started. Kenny did the same.
—You’ll die before you even have money—Kyle taunted, watching as Cartman started grinding his teeth.
—Die—…—Cartman was about to launch into another “you’ll die” but his rant was cut short the moment he saw the younger Broflovski coming down the stairs—Holy shit, you little bitch- you’ve grown—He couldn’t hide his surprise. The little guy had turned into a damn giant. Though the shock didn’t last long before Kyle smacked his arm.
—Don’t call my brother a bitch, fatass—Kyle scolded instinctively. Cartman rubbed his arm, scrunching his nose.
—Jesus, Kyle, he’s a fucking lamppost—Stan was also surprised. Ike had hit a massive growth spurt in a short time. Kenny, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised at all. He still saw the kid regularly, since Ike was best friends with his sister.
—Hey guys— Ike greeted, much less timid than the day before, walking closer with his hands in his pockets.—Long time no see.
—Look at that, puberty actually kicked a number on the little Canadian bastard—Cartman whistled in recognition of Ike’s transformation. Kyle rolled his eyes.
—Nobody “kicked” anything, he just grew—Kyle said, mostly because he didn’t want Cartman to start teasing his brother. But Ike remained unfazed.
—Oh, but… Kahl, remember when he was just a tiny egg and you—Cartman pointed at Kyle, putting on that dumb little voice he used when pretending to be innocent—You used to kick him like a ball, didn’t you, Kahl?
—Kick the baby!—Kenny reminisced with laughter, and the others joined in at the memory. Everyone except Kyle, who turned red with embarrassment. Maybe he had kicked the baby more than he should have. Or maybe he shouldn’t have kicked him at all.
—Yeah, what a fucking asshole—confirmed Ike casually, while Stan and Kenny laughed even harder. Kyle looked stunned, and Cartman grinned from ear to ear. —Ike, Ike, Ike, come here, kiddo, seems like you and I understand each other now. Let’s get you a beer, little bitch—Cartman got up, and Ike immediately looked ready to follow him. Kyle swore he must’ve hallucinated, but he could see his brother actually smiling at that.
—Anyway, how's work, Kenny?— Kyle tried to divert the conversation, taking a sip of his beer, which tasted more bitter than usual.
—Boring as hell, but Karen’s thrilled to wear trendy clothes.
—That’s amazing, man— Stan admitted, proud of his friend.
Kenny continued talking about his job, and while they were maintaining a conversation, Kyle couldn’t concentrate because he was busy trying to eavesdrop on what his brother and Cartman were talking about, immersed in their own conversation. In his opinion, they were taking far too long to get a beer. Kyle tried to ignore it, focusing on the group’s discussion, but his attention kept drifting toward the low laughs that Ike and Cartman were sharing.
—Kyle, you okay? —Stan asked, noticing his distraction.
—What? Oh, yeah, sure— Kyle replied, forcing a smile. He hated himself for being like this. He couldn’t just let things go; there always had to be something bothering him, poking at him, and right now, it was the fact that neither Cartman nor his brother were present.
—Are you sure? You look... I don’t know, like you’re ready to rip someone’s head off,— Kenny joked, taking a sip of his beer. Not that it was unusual for Kyle to be agitated, but asking was a polite gesture.
Kyle shook his head and shrugged, trying to downplay it. But as he did, Cartman’s laughter rang louder, followed by Ike’s chuckle. Kyle narrowed his eyes. What the hell were they talking about?
Finally, unable to bear his curiosity any longer, he stood up.
—I’m getting another beer,— he announced, though his was practically full. He headed to the kitchen. Ike already had a beer in hand, sipping it casually as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Cartman stood in front of him, equally at ease. Neither of them even glanced at Kyle.
He opened the refrigerator door, hoping to be noticed. Still nothing, so he pretended to rummage while trying to eavesdrop discreetly.
—...So, how did you get Kyle to stop kicking you?— Ike was quite the conversationalist. Cartman wasn’t used to someone talking to him so enthusiastically, so Ike’s eagerness to keep up the conversation made him reciprocate.
—Well, for starters, I learned to hit back,— Cartman grinned at the thought of seeing Kyle get smacked by his little brother.— But sometimes, you just have to let him tire himself out from being so intense...— Ike paused and lowered his voice— Although with you, that seems like a useless tactic.
Cartman laughed heartily, unable to stop himself from biting his lip. Knowing he was the exception to Kyle’s calm was oddly satisfying. He loved driving him crazy.
—You know, as far as I can tell, you’re not any less intense yourself,— it wasn’t a secret to anyone that Ike had his own temper, though it was far from Kyle’s.
—I’d say I’m... dazzling,— Ike finally replied, giving Cartman a look that Kyle didn’t know how to interpret. Cartman’s deep laughter echoed throughout the kitchen, and Kyle, still spying, couldn’t help but tense up.
—Dazzling. I like that. Maybe even more than “intense,”— Cartman responded, taking a long sip of his beer, not breaking eye contact with Ike. Kyle decided he’d heard enough. He closed the refrigerator door a little harder than necessary, interrupting the conversation. Both turned to look at him, but while Ike appeared perfectly relaxed, Cartman just seemed... amused. Kyle couldn’t stand that damn smile.
—What were you guys talking about?— Kyle asked, trying to keep his tone light, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his irritation. Unfortunately for him, Cartman had learned to read him like a book.
—Nothing that concerns you, Kahl,— Cartman replied, shrugging, pushing just enough to see the reaction on Kyle’s face, which immediately showed his annoyance.
Ike smiled, taking a small sip of his beer.
—We were just talking. Cartman’s funny.— Kyle raised an eyebrow. Cartman? Funny?
—Don’t get too attached,— Kyle responded, a bit defensively—. Cartman is the worst.
Kyle didn’t honestly think that anymore. Time had made it hard for him to hate Cartman. At the end of the day, as much as he annoyed him, he was his friend—or so he tried to convince himself when he thought about Cartman more than he should. He was his friend; he cared about him, despite all the crap that came with that. If he could accept liking Cartman (though he planned never to say it aloud), he didn’t know why the idea of someone else, his own brother, liking him bothered him so much.
—Oh, I know— Ike said, still smiling—. But that’s what makes it fun.
Cartman let out a loud laugh, slapping the counter with his hand.
—I like your brother, Kahl! Maybe we should invite him more often. He’s not as boring as you are.
Kyle felt the blood rush to his face. He was about to respond when Stan appeared in the kitchen doorway.
—Everything okay here? Kenny says you’re taking too long, Kyle.
Kyle sighed, grabbed his beer, and returned to the living room, leaving Cartman and Ike behind him. As he walked away, he couldn’t help but notice how well Cartman and Ike were getting along. He didn’t like it.
—-------------------
The days passed uneventfully enough—some days hanging out with Stan, others spending time with his mom. But that day, they were going to Cartman’s to smoke weed, along with the others, of course.
If Kyle had to admit it, he was a little excited, though he wouldn’t tell anyone. The last time Ike had been around, he felt like he didn’t get enough time to talk with Cartman. Not that he expected it, but he still felt frustrated being the third wheel. And speaking of the devil.
—Cartman invited me to hang out at his house. Are you going?
Kyle raised an eyebrow, surprised. —Since when does Cartman invite you to things?
—I don’t know. I guess he likes me,— Ike replied, rolling his eyes, annoyed by the question, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Kyle stayed silent for a moment, trying to process the information. —And you… want to go?
Kyle hoped Ike wouldn’t want to, that he’d forget about hanging out with them and simply get high with his friends and play Minecraft with Ike—but separately.
—I want to get high too, and my bitches are off scissoring or some shit like that,— Ike said, referring to his friends watching a chick flick and shopping for clothes, though he preferred to simplify it.
—I didn’t know Tricia and Karen were…
—Ugh, obviously they’re not,— Kyle didn’t understand what his brother meant by “they’re not,” considering Ike had just insinuated they were lesbians.
—But you said…
—God, Kyle, don’t take it so seriously, or I’ll start thinking you’re a fag.— Ike was a fag, well, at least 50%, but he was a cool fag, though Kyle didn’t know that. His brother raised his eyebrows and didn’t seem willing to say anything more until Ike coughed. —So, are we going?
—I don’t know if it’s a good idea,— Kyle sighed, standing up. Taking his little brother to get high didn’t seem very responsible of him as the older sibling.
—Well, I think I’ll have fun,— Ike replied with a smile. Kyle couldn’t scold his brother, not when they’d even taken acid together as kids.
And he couldn’t say no when they both found themselves knocking on Cartman’s door. Kyle kept cursing in his head, still annoyed by the situation. He glanced at his brother, who seemed lost in his own world, scrolling through his phone. He should’ve left him at home.
—Kahl,— Cartman greeted, scanning Kyle a little too invasively with his gaze before turning to Ike, who was already smiling. —Mini-Kahl. I’m not high yet, and I’m already seeing double, Jesus.
—You’re not high, and you’re already talking shit, fatass,— Kyle grumbled, confidently walking through the door. Cartman couldn’t help but smile at Kyle’s words, rolling his eyes before focusing on Ike.
—First time?— Cartman was referring to whether this was Ike’s first time getting high. Kyle couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose.
—Is that what she said, Cartman?— Ike teased, and Cartman burst out laughing as if he hadn’t just been insulted. Kyle thought his brother was outrageously cheeky.
—That’s what the bitch of mom said yeah,— Normally, Kyle would’ve clapped back at that insult, but he was overshadowed by Ike’s reaction: grabbing Cartman’s head and rubbing his scalp as punishment. —Come on, Canadian trash, let me go.
Cartman and Ike wrestled a bit, exchanging minor insults while Kyle just stood there, feeling out of sorts. When those two finally let go, Kyle might not have been able to hide his grimace because Cartman looked at him with wide eyes.
As if reading his mind, Cartman stomped toward him with heavy steps and slung an arm over his shoulders, leaning his face in close so Kyle could hear him better.
—You know, I had a special joint just for you, Kahl, but these damn hippies couldn’t wait,— the irony being that Cartman had sworn he’d never do drugs because that was for hippies, but he’d ended up succumbing to the temptation.
—Just give me another one,— Kyle spoke more harshly than he intended, shifting his gaze away to avoid looking at the brunette. Eric snorted, sensing Kyle was in a bad mood and thinking it’d be fun to push his buttons a little.
—I left my papers upstairs. Go get them,— Cartman said. Kyle could’ve sworn he heard the air leave his nose in frustration.
—It’s your damn house. You go get them,— Cartman made puppy eyes, as if someone like him could be cute.
Cartman had changed. It wasn’t puberty that had done it. In fact, he was sure puberty had screwed him over a bit–the greasy face and awkward voice changes. Much more handsome than when he was a kid, sure, but God, college had turned him into someone attractive. He’d lost enough weight (the life of a student kicked hard) to define his face, making him look broad and strong. His wide chest and sturdy shoulders gave the impression he could fill up a space just by standing there, the kind of manly image that came to mind when thinking of someone masculine. Too masculine to convince him of anything with those eyes.
—Ike doesn’t mind going down to the basement alone,— Cartman declared, looking at Kyle’s brother, who didn’t seem very convinced. Kyle himself suppressed a smile.
—You got me, fatass. Let’s go together,— Kyle, under different circumstances, would’ve refused, but he thought he’d get some privacy with Cartman, which he wanted a bit, so without saying another word, he headed for the stairs. Glancing at Ike, he noticed he was looking at them as if he wanted to say something but kept quiet.
As Kyle climbed the stairs, he couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. The walls were covered with photos of Cartman throughout his life, making him feel old for a moment.
Cartman’s room was tidy and smelled of cologne, probably applied not long ago. Cartman headed straight to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out what he was looking for.
—Do you want to roll it here, or do you still have sand in your vagina?— Cartman asked, shaking the bag of weed in one hand while holding the papers in the other.
Kyle shrugged and moved closer to Cartman to stand beside him. He plopped down next to him on the bed, grabbing the bag and opening it. The smell of weed filled the room. Kyle raised an eyebrow.
—Seriously, Cartman? On the bed?— Kyle thought it was a bit gross to imagine his own blankets reeking of weed.
—Would you prefer I did it in the kitchen?— Of course, that was a double entendre. Cartman let out a sarcastic chuckle as he pulled a thin paper sheet and placed it in front of them.
Kyle scoffed but, instead of answering, carefully picked up the paper. His fingers brushed against Cartman’s, and both froze for an instant, the contact sending a jolt of nerves through Kyle, who quickly pulled his hand back and cleared his throat.
—Are you going to roll it or what? Because clearly, you have no idea what you’re doing.
Cartman narrowed his eyes, leaning slightly closer to Kyle, close enough that their knees touched. —Do you think I can’t roll a damn joint? You’re being a smug little Jew.
Kyle looked him directly in the eyes, then glanced down at Cartman’s hands, which he always thought were too rough for something as delicate as rolling a joint.—No, I just know you’re a mess. So yeah, you’d probably screw it up.
With the tension hanging in the air, Kyle decided to help roll the joint. Their hands worked together clumsily but somewhat in sync. Cartman tried not to think about how close Kyle was, how physical contact never bothered him before, but now he couldn’t ignore the scent of the redhead’s cologne tickling his nose. Was he still wearing the same one from high school?
—You’re a man now, Kahl,— Cartman commented suddenly, catching Kyle off guard. Kyle looked at him, confused. Cartman continued, —You can’t keep wearing the same cologne you bought at Target as a kid.
—First of all, it’s Jean Paul Gaultier— he said with an exaggeratedly dignified tone while continuing to handle the weed between his fingers.—And second, does my cologne really bother you now? When your whole room smells like chocolate Axe?
—You wouldn’t recognize a good scent even if your life depended on it,— both of them frowned.
They were both damn liars because Cartman loved the mint, coconut, and ginger notes of Kyle’s cologne, and Kyle adored the tobacco, vanilla, and cocoa notes of Cartman’s. Cartman bit his tongue before speaking again.
—It doesn’t bother me. I’m just saying it’s a bit... nostalgic.
—You know what?— Kyle muttered suddenly, his voice lower than usual.—It’s weird that we’re here now, doing this.
Cartman looked up, pausing. —Weird how?
Kyle held his gaze for a long moment, debating whether to say it. Finally, he shrugged and looked away. —I don’t know. I thought we’d tell each other to fuck off as soon as school ended. Honestly, I would’ve liked to.
Cartman let out a bitter laugh, his voice tinged with something akin to sadness. —Yeah, well, I guess we’ve been telling each other to fuck off our whole lives. But at least I’ve accepted that you can’t live without me. You should be grateful.
—I bet you cry every night because you don’t have anyone else to annoy,— they both began to feel strange, opening up more than they should while still completely sober. Their movements slowed, as if extending the moment was more important than the joint itself.—I bet you’re a pain in the ass to everyone else because I’m not around.
—Well, yeah,— Cartman admitted, looking at Kyle. For a moment, something in his façade cracked. His shoulders relaxed, and the mocking tone disappeared from his voice.—Because I got tired of not seeing you.
Kyle blinked, surprised by the honesty, but he said nothing. He simply leaned a little closer, their knees touching again, and picked up the already-rolled joint, handing it to Cartman.
—Well, now that we’ve seen each other, are you going to shut up and light it, or what?
Cartman took the joint without breaking eye contact with Kyle, lighting it with a lighter he pulled from his pocket. The first drag filled the room with smoke and a comfortable silence.
—You’re a desperate bitch. You made me stink up my room,— When Cartman passed the joint to Kyle, their fingers brushed again. He let it slide.
—You said it was my special joint,— Kyle took a puff and blew the smoke right in Cartman’s face.—I’ll smoke it wherever I want.— Cartman closed his eyes to avoid the sting, coughing a bit as he stood up and pretended to dust off his legs.
—Anyway, we should go downstairs before the hippie turns your brother into a vegan or something.— Damn it, Kyle had felt so comfortable with Cartman that, for a moment, he’d forgotten about his little brother.
—--------------------
Ike was in the basement, scrolling through his phone while Stan and Kenny played a round of Mario Kart on Eric’s console. He wasn’t paying much attention but was a little annoyed at how long they were taking. He decided to text the group chat he shared with Karen and Tricia, sending a quick selfie with a pout.
Ike
Bored as hell. 6:46 PM
It didn’t take long before both girls started typing back.
Tricia.
We told you to come to the movie. 6:47 PM
Dumbass 🖕. 6:47 PM
Karen.
That’s what you get for ditching us for a hottie. 6:48 PM
Ike rolled his eyes.
Ike
Go to hell. 6:48 PM
Tricia.
He’s in a bad mood because he didn’t get any dick. 6:49 PM
Ike
If you’d brought some badass babes with sweet stranges, I would’ve gone. 6:50 PM
Karen.
We ARE the badass babes. 6:51 PM
Ike
That’s why I’d rather cry over dick. 6:52 PM
Ike chuckled a little before putting his phone down. He loved those two since he’d developed a sense of awareness–they were funny, and he adored them. Both, being younger sisters themselves, could tolerate his terrible attitude and dish it back just as fiercely.
—Hope you’re not smiling at your phone like that while talking to my sister— Ike looked up, finding Kenny handing him the joint. He smiled back and took it. Obviously, Kenny was joking.
—Don’t worry. She’s kissing with Tricia,— again, Ike wasn’t serious, but they joked like that when one of them wasn’t around. If Karen were asked about Ike, she’d probably say the same thing—that he was kissing with Tricia.
—God, you guys are weirder than we were at your age,— Kenny laughed as Ike took a puff before handing the joint back.—Makes me scared you’ll end up in some kind of polyamory situation.
—Like you guys?—
—Who’s in a polyamory?— Cartman asked as he came down the stairs with Kyle following close behind. Ike blushed a little.
—This little bastard, my sister, and Tricia are always talking about kissing each other,— Kenny joked, but Ike looked mortified, not wanting Cartman or Kyle to hear that.
—We already know what Broflovski is a heartbreaker,— Cartman teased, nudging Kyle with his elbow.—You should get some tips from your mini-me.
—It’s just an inside joke,— Ike rushed to explain, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Kyle thought that wasn’t like his brother at all.—We don’t actually do that.
—So, no girlfriend to speak of?— Cartman asked, only out of routine. Besides, he was already a bit high, so he didn’t think about whether the question was awkward. Kyle had to force himself not to open his mouth.
His brother blushed, pressing his knees together and clenching his fists, blinking a little before answering in a much softer tone than usual. —I’m completely single, Cartman.
What the hell?
—Pfft, boring,— Cartman didn’t notice anything unusual, turning his head toward the console.—Anyway, I heard you’re great at video games. Want a match?
—I bet I can kick your ass,— his brother, who seemed bored a moment ago, now stood up happily to play. That strange sensation in Kyle’s chest invaded him again, forcing him to shake his head and take another puff of his own joint. He was probably just imagining things because he was high.
—---------------------------------------
Time passed quickly. The effects wore off just enough to head home and have dinner with their parents. Kyle had responsibly decided not to bring the car, opting to walk the short distance back. He enjoyed the silence, the winter cold biting at his cheeks, and his warm breath puffing out like smoke—though it wasn’t as much smoke as earlier. The post-weed calm he was eager to satisfy with a good meal was interrupted by his brother.
—So...does Cartman date anyone?
Kyle blinked, surprised by the question. He turned to look at his brother, frowning. —What?
—Like, does he have a girlfriend or something?— Ike repeated, looking at his brother with a completely serious expression.
—Why the hell do you care if Cartman has a girlfriend?— Kyle asked, incredulous.
Ike shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant as he stared at his phone. —I don’t know. I just find it weird that someone like him doesn’t have a girlfriend or something.
Kyle felt something inside him tense up. There was something strange about the way Ike was talking about Cartman. Like he was testing the waters, as if...
—Wait... do you like Cartman?— Kyle asked, narrowing his eyes, trying to read his brother’s expression.
Ike let out a short, sarcastic laugh. —Me? Like Cartman? Don’t be ridiculous, Kyle.
But Kyle wasn’t convinced. His brother could be an excellent liar when he wanted to be, but something about the way he avoided his gaze gave him away.
—Sure...— Kyle replied slowly, still suspicious.—Well, if you’re waiting for me to tell you he’s single so you can confess your love, forget it. I’m not making it easy for you.
Ike rolled his eyes. —Please, don’t be so dramatic. I was just asking.
Kyle sighed, trying to convince himself he was imagining things. But a nagging feeling of unease lingered as his brother went back to looking at his phone with a small smile he couldn’t quite hide.
—Besides...— Ike added after a brief silence, glancing at his brother.—If anyone here sounds like a total fag, it’s you.
Kyle immediately frowned, feeling his temperature rise. —What? Don’t talk shit, Ike! Go to hell!— Kyle snapped, turning abruptly to walk faster, his irritation bubbling up inside him.
Ike watched him walk away with amusement, returning to his phone with a satisfied smile as he typed a message to his group chat.
Ike
Now I definitely want to fuck Eric Cartman.