I know, it's been ages, and the chapter is so short it probably isn't worth reading. But it's something at least, I'm working to finish all my in progress stories. So here we go, I am really sorry about the delay ):
I don't Own South Park
There are moments in life, when the world seems to stop. The sun ceases it's movement in the sky, noise presses over your ears and it feels like waves crashing over and over, filling the brain with fuzzy white noise.
Kyle had experienced this feeling several times in his life.
The first was when he found the body of his father, collapsed on his desk, a burning hole through his head, red splattered over paperwork like confetti.
The second was when Kenny kissed him for the first time. The moment his lips had touched his own he felt like he was drowning in it, surrounded by it's perfection.
Then again when his grandmother had passed, that was grief.
When he thought he lost Kenny forever he was drowned in the sorrow of it.
And now, when he finally saw Kenny again.
Kyle crept as close as them as he could without being seen, listening intently to the conversation
"And how do you find our camp?" Kurtmann asked Kenny, his chest puffing with pride.
"Very well organized," Kenny observed. "I'm impressed, some of the other camps I've seen are very sloppy. And the prisoners always seem so rowdy, it's wonderful to see you have such control here."
Kurtmann smirked arrogantly. "We keep them very busy, keeps moral down."
"Very good," Kenny said, glancing around in apperciation. "I think that's all I needed."
"Wonderful," Kurtmann clapped. "Do you have time for something to eat? I can have something brought to my office."
"Let me see," Kenny said, pulling out a watch from his pocket. "Oh, blast. This thing has stopped working again, it's always giving me trouble. I just can't seem to find the time to take it somewhere to be fixed."
"I will find you a number for a good jeweler. We can have that taken care of."
Kyle leaned out of the shadows as they stepped close in his path. "Excuse me," he croaked, his head lowered in submission.
"Prisoner!" Kurtmann snarled. "How dare you address an officer."
"I used to work with watches," Kyle said, dipping his face even lower. "Perhaps I could be of service to you."
"Is that so?" Kenny asked, unhooking the silver chain. "Well then by all means. It's nice to see your kind is good for something."
Kyle shuddered at the coldness of the words, they sounded strange and alien coming from Kenny. Kenny who was always so loving and kind. He took the watch from Kenny, being careful not to touch him. The watch itself was a familiar one, as he had been the person to purchase and give it to Kenny. A gift from what felt like a hundred years ago.
"You have a bent gear," Kyle said, looking into the workings of the pocket watch. "It will need to be fixed with proper tools or it will continue to not work."
"Isn't that always the way," Kenny sighed, snatching up the watch. "Shall we Kurtmann?"
"Please," Kurtmann grunted, leading the way.
"Actually," Kenny blurted contemplatively, turning back around. "You know I have this grandfather clock in my new home, terribly old thing, used to belong to my great uncle, but I can't seem to get it wound right. And I've looking for someone to run things. What is this prisoner doing?"
"Can you spare him?" Kenny asked, a finger resting on his chin. "I could use the unpaid help, it will make things so much easier."
"Sir you can't trust these things," Kurtmann spouted. "Colonel Heist took one to work in his household and they put rat poison in his food, they'll kill you once they get the chance."
"You just have to break them in properly. I think I could manage."
"Very well, we can sort out the paper work and he's all your's. One less thing I'll have to deal with at least. But if you end up with a knife in your back while you're sleeping I hope you won't come complaining about it to me."
"I assure you I won't," Kenny promised, walking past Kyle as if he were nothing, "I hope you'll ensure he arrives at my estate undamaged. I'll need him in good form."
"I'll have it arranged," Kurtmann dismissed, following Kenny closely by his side, as if he were a loyal dog trailing after his master.
Kyle was taken to Kennys' resident two days following the incident. Kenny had quickly moved up in military ranks. He now owned a generously sized home. Large enough that it required a small staff for up keep. Once the prison guards has left him at the estate a small, mousy maid lead him to a pallor, instructing him that the Master would be in to see him momentarily.
Kyle stood uncertainly in the center of the room, staring at his rough and deeply calloused hands. He didn't raise them when he heard the door open and shut softly, Footsteps dragging tentatively across the floor.
The voice was near silent, the tone being one of pure question. The softness did nothing to reassure Kyle and he flinched as though he had been struck.
"Kyle?" Kenny asked again.
He looked up, his eyes locking with Kenny's stunning blue pair. His throat tightened painful, the bruise like swelling traveling down into his chest as he tried to snatch a breath. He fell to his knees, chocking on air.
"Kyle!" Kenny breathed, stumbling forwards and cradling him in his arms. Kenny stroked Kyle's head desperately, repeating his name over and over. "Kyle, it's okay Kyle, breath, you have to breathe."
Kyle did eventually regained normal breathing, though his body shuddered still on it's own accord. Kenny pulled back slightly, to get a better view of Kyle, running his hands softly over the bristly red fuzz of his scalp.
"Oh god Kyle, your hair...What have they done to you?"
And then Kyle was pushing him back forcefully, crawling to press himself against the wall, his eyes wide with panic. "Don't touch me!"
I'll see you guys soon, I promise the next chapter will come out much much sooner than this one. Drop me a review so I know people are still reading.