Chapter Text
Kyle huffed, kicking away a stone that was in his path as he stepped onto the sidewalk, falling into a tired gait towards his neighborhood.
The sky was already getting a few shades darker than its normal bright color and the air was cold, so cold that Kyle could see his breath taking shape before him, yet the boy's mind was somewhere else.
He would usually ride the bus to get home, especially on days when everything seemed to be doing the very best to deprive him of his free time. But, due to another one of his rival's pranks, Kyle didn't make it in time today. The only thing left for him to do was walk. At least, he wouldn't have to sit next to the other boy's chubby face like he's usually forced to do every day after school in the bus' cramped seats, which was enough relief for him to keep him moving. Reluctantly.
Kyle thought that it was unfair for him to give up his comfortableness to someone like Eric Cartman. He even thought he should've been the one walking home instead, wearing out his shoes and even losing a few pounds in the process. That would be good for him, but no.
It had to be Kyle, him and nobody else. He was different from the other teenagers. He was better, mature enough to sacrifice himself for a greater cause, to take a hit, and no one would even understand it. But that didn't matter to him, because Kyle knew that, some day, all of his efforts would pay off and things would finally work out in his favor - or that's what he liked to tell himself anyway.
The truth was that luck decided, randomly, and Kyle never seemed to be chosen.
The teen groaned in annoyance as his house finally came in sight, light coming through its windows. He stopped in his tracks, realizing that he got so caught up in his thoughts that he had completely forgotten about the fact that he had to face his family before he'd get a break. He stood there for a moment, in front of his house, illuminated only by a flickering street light and the few last rays of sunshine that were in the sky, clenching his fists around the straps of the schoolbag that's been weighing on him for too long now.
This day has been already bad as it was and the last thing Kyle needed at the moment was to be grounded for something he didn't do, or worse, engage in a never-ending argument with his over-controlling mother. Kyle never had a good relationship with his family overall. His father and younger brother often turning their backs on him, and his mother acting as if he couldn't manage on his own. He knew the drill by now, and was sure that she would pepper him with questions about where he'd been if he walked through that door now - the kind of questions he wouldn't be able to answer without getting in trouble.
The urge to turn on his heels and find somewhere else to pass the night was strong - maybe, Kyle could call a friend and use the excuse of a sleepover to hide, even though he didn't like that idea very much either. But, at this point, he had no choice. Kyle could only take a few deep breaths and put on a defensive stance as he walked up on his house's front porch.
Fishing a pair of keys from the pocket of his pants, Kyle noticed that the door was ajar, not closed, and the lock looked as if it had been forced open. And what was on the other side wasn't the kind of impact he had prepared for - in fact, instead of his annoying mother waiting to scold him, Kyle found himself in front of what looked like a crime scene.
The living room was a literal mess.
Nothing was in its place. The couch was tilted, family paintings were on the ground and the TV was smashed with pieces of glass resting both beneath it and all over the place, along with a lot of other stuff that were nothing but details at the moment. The boy couldn't even begin to describe what he was looking at. And yet, aside from his grandmother's favorite vase scattered all over the floor and the general commotion, Kyle's eyes immediately recognized a large figure of a man lying face down in the middle of the living room, groaning in pain.
"Ugghh..."
Kyle winced at the sound, his mind flooding with millions of thoughts, specifically unanswered questions, such as "who is this guy?" and "what should I do?" but couldn't seem to voice any of them aloud. Instead, a strangled gasp escaped his lips as he parted them. And, in a matter of seconds, the stranger had lifted his head, a trail of dry blood highlighting the space between his eyebrows. His attention shifted to Kyle, and, for a moment, they just stared at each other in silence.
Kyle wanted to run away, scared of what might happen if he didn't, but he found himself stuck in place, gripping the doorknob in a painfully tight fist, holding eye contact with a pair of familiar brown eyes. He didn't know the man, he was sure of that, but the way his gaze was scrutinizing his own felt somehow intimate, as if the two of them had met before this encounter - a déjà vu of something he couldn't pinpoint.
"Kyle?"
The stranger mumbled, sounding confused by the sight of the redhead, which was strange, since he was the stranger in the Broflovski's house and not the other way around. He groaned again as he slowly rose from the ground, one trembling hand pressed on the coffee table, the only thing that seemed to be still intact, struggling but managing to stand up straight.
Kyle could see him more clearly now - the man seemed to be in his mid twenties. He had on a long, black leather coat, collar raised, that hung loosely around his wide hips, showing the red shirt he was sporting underneath, where a pool of blood strained the material. His face was round, with a few bruises here and there. His messy brown hair was sticking around the wound on his forehead. His eyes dark and squeezed in concentration as they stared down at him.
"Oh, God, you look so young... am I dead or somethin'?"
The man murmured as he eyed the other, bringing a hand to his head and wincing in pain at his own touch immediately after, his eyes widening at the sight of red decorating his fingers and knuckles, as if he had just now noticed the state he was in.
"What the-"
"Who are you? Wha—H-How do you know my name?"
Kyle blurted out as soon as he regained trust in his voice, trying to sound firm, intimidating even, but the way his voice shook betrayed his real emotions. Yet the stranger seemed to be oblivious of his fear. He kept on staring at him, now wide eyed and frowning with his eyebrows, looking almost too lost in his own trail of thoughts to reply.
"What the hell?"
The man only scoffed in reply, looking around in shock, as if he himself didn't know how he ended up in this situation. Kyle's demeanor faltered for a second, taken aback by the other's confusion.
The poor guy seemed so lost, so tired, looking at the redhead as if he had the answer to all of this. But, for all Kyle knew, this guy may have had bad intentions, he could've been a lowlife who'd maybe had one of those nights where you get into a bender, fight until you get kicked out of the bar and end up blacking out while trying to steal something from the wrong place. It wouldn't be that hard to believe, quite the opposite, in fact.
"Get out or I'm calling the police!"
Kyle shouted.
"What? Kyle, it's me!"
The stranger shouted back almost immediately after, replying as if the boy should've recognized him from that sentence alone and looking surprised, if not downright puzzled, at Kyle's panicked reaction.
There was another moment of silence after that, both of them waiting for the other to say something, but neither talked. So, eventually, the man felt the need to clarify further.
"Goddamnit, Kyle, it's me—Eric! Eric Cartman?"
"Cartman?"
"Yeah—that ring a bell?"
The man, who now was passing himself off as Eric Cartman - Kyle's chubby rival, raised his eyebrows at the other as if he were stupid. But the revelation only made the situation more complicated and confusing for Kyle. What the stranger was saying didn't make any sense after all - he looked too old to be the Eric Cartman Kyle knew. It was impossible. Yet the sound of his enemy's name, the thought of him being behind all of this, the mere probability of this being just a cruel prank, a way to scare him, made Kyle's blood boil.
All of his fear left his body all at once, replaced by a new, raw feeling of anger.
"Oh, I get it now!"
Kyle huffed, throwing his schoolbag off his shoulders with a sharp movements of his arms and closing the front door behind him with way more force than necessary. A loud roar echoed throughout the room at that. But Kyle didn't even flinch, instead walked up to the other male, finally finding the strength to look at him dead in the eye, and began accusing him.
"Let me guess, now Cartman is going to come out from behind that couch, holding a camera and screaming, 'You should've seen your face!'"
"What?"
The man took a step back, startled by the sudden change in Kyle's attitude.
"You're probably some guy he found on the street- that's why he made me get home late!"
"Wait, Kyle-"
"Well, I totally fell for it, well done, asshole!"
"Kyle-"
"Don't you have anything better to do than to prank a fifteen years old-"
"Kyle!"
The man, 'Eric,' shouted in a loud and firm voice, taking hold of Kyle's shoulders in a way that immediately shut up the redhead.
Then he leaned in.
"Look at me."
He breathed out.
There was no alcohol in his words, the boy instantly noticed, as a pungent smell of blood filled his nose instead. The man wore a concerned expression on his face, as if now that they were closer to each other and his mind got clearer, he was realizing, or rather, remembering something. And, whatever it was, the sight of Kyle, just existing there, was visibly starting to make him uneasy.
After a moment, he roughly caught the redhead's chin between his thumb and index finger and took a good look at his face, as if he was searching for a thing he couldn't find.
"Hey!"
Kyle swatted his hand away, but 'Eric' already seemed to connect a few dots in his head. Wide-eyed, he started backpedaling until his calf hit the coffee table, which he ended up sitting on out of reflex. The sound of his heavy body falling on top of said furniture hit Kyle like a physical blow. His fear snapped back in place, overwriting any other possible emotion. But the man didn't even notice, as his gaze fell down and fixed onto his own hands instead, eyeing them as if they weren't his own.
"Oh, my God."
He muttered under his breath, panic rising through him as he looked around the room frantically, seemingly to have finally put the pieces together on where he was and what the future held for him.
"Oh, God, no!"
He exclaimed, his voice breaking a little near the end. Ignoring his head injury, 'Eric' put his hands in his hair, accidentally damaging himself further as he tried to soothe his pain, both physical and seemingly emotional.
"No, no, no..."
His breath quickly grew heavy, ragged, and his eyes shut close as the weight of his fate crushed upon him at full force.
And, in that moment, Kyle wanted nothing more than to turn his heels and start running the opposite direction, away from all of this, but there was something stopping him from doing so. Maybe it was the way the man seemed to know him, or maybe it was the way Kyle felt like he knew him too. Either way, seeing the man like this, on the verge of a breakdown, made Kyle's heart ache out of instinct, more than a few drops of blood ever could. The boy felt uncomfortable hearing his pain. His worry intensifying at the thought of things getting out of his control and, before he knew it, he was getting closer.
He knew that intervening could be a bad idea, that Cartman would never let him live it down if this happened to actually be one of his pranks, or worse - if the man actually turned out to be a danger, but the doubt was starting to eat at Kyle. Perhaps this man had something to do with his rival, perhaps he was a bad person, but his distress felt real. Too raw to ignore.
There was something in this man's cry that made Kyle feel unable to just stand there and watch as he broke down in the middle of his living room. And if he wouldn't do something, then who would?
So, Kyle tried a different approach, taking a few careful steps closer until he was seated on the side of the couch that was still in its original place, right on the man's side. His trembling legs finally giving out against the soft leather as he did so. Adrenaline still pumping in his veins.
"Alright, dude."
Kyle started, trying to sound friendly and much calmer than he was at the moment, even though his voice wavered.
"Let's pretend you actually are Eric Cartman for a moment, okay? You look… you look a little too old to be—"
"No, it's not me who's too old—It's not me who's out place! It's you!"
Eric cried, dragging his hands down his face and taking a deep breath as he lowered them, smearing his tears along his cheeks and down to his stubbled chin. His gaze met Kyle's once again - his lips curved downwards in a big frown, his eyes were glistening slightly, holding back, reflecting each beam of light that hit the shards of glass scattered around them in a way that was painful to watch.
All of this combined gave the man a pitiful look, one that felt much more sad and distressing than Kyle might've expected.
"It's you."
He sobbed. Then took another deep breath, with more conviction this time, the same way someone would to fill their lungs with fresh morning air.
Then, slowly, one of Eric's still trembling hands slid all the way down his own leg, passing from his knee and shin, until the palm was flat against the carpet. It looked like he would stop there, already bending down in an uncomfortable position to reach the ground, but he kept going, until his hand sneaked under the coffee table he was sitting on, as if he was looking for an object hidden down there. And, upon coming back up, Kyle realized that the man's fingers were now wrapped around a gun - a real, small, yet threatening gun.
Kyle froze on his spot, holding back a gasp as the man held the weapon in his hand, scrutinizing it with an unreadable expression on his face, something between grief and melancholy, as if the object had personally betrayed him.
"Fuck—"
The man almost sobbed out again, shifting on the surface of the coffee table to face Kyle directly. The redhead flinched as their knees suddenly brushed together, almost jumping out of his seat, but the man instantly put his free hand on his leg - heavy, dirty and surprisingly shaky, halting his actions in an instant.
"You're gonna be fine, ya hear me? Everything's gonna be okay."
A sparkle of hope shone his voice as reassured Kyle as if he were a child, even though he himself looked more agitated than the boy he was trying to comfort. He was the one who needed to hear those words - who needed a hand to ground him.
But Kyle still didn't understand a word this man was saying, or better, he still felt as confused and scared as ever, but he wasn't going to contradict a madman. He knew better that that. The relief of not smelling any trace of alcohol in his breath earlier was now morphing into a bad feeling in Kyle's guts, it could mean that this guy was simply crazy, or hallucinating, which is way worse than being drunk.
He didn't know what to say, everything that wanted to come out of his mouth seemed wrong. He didn't want to agitate the man further, but he had no idea how to please him either. What he was jabbering about made no sense and Kyle was having a hard time finding his words again. And, this time, the man noticed his hesitation.
With an annoyed groan, Eric stood up, the room spinning around him for a moment, forcing him to lean on Kyle for support. One of his hands flew on the boy's shoulder, in which he immediately reacted, standing up and helping the man stay upright. As much as he could without touching him directly anyway.
"Ah—where are you going?"
"You don't believe me."
"W-What? No, I do!"
Kyle tried to sound as convincing as possible, while his hands awkwardly hovered around the man's figure, wanting to both help him and avoid him like the plague.
"Goddamnit, Kyle, I'm not some stranger! I-I—"
Eric cut himself off mid-sentence, realizing that, from Kyle's point of view, some things were obviously not adding up and, even thought he wanted nothing more than to explain himself to him, he held back. There was no need for this Kyle to know what was going on, not really, as it would only make things harder for him afterwards. This time, things will turn out differently, he will not make the same mistake again, he will make sure of that.
He sighed, trying to calm down for a moment and then gave the boy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before letting go. Then, in a softer voice, almost a prayer, he spoke up once again.
"I just need you to trust me, okay? Please."
Kyle stared up at him for a moment, unsure, the quiet plea sounding weird coming out from the other's lips, but even among the skepticism, he couldn't find the strength to go against the man. Whether it was the fear making him act like this or not, he felt like he didn't had any choice.
And, maybe, he didn't.
He felt threatened by his intense gaze, by his stance, by his size and, most importantly, by the gun he was holding near his side, still hanging loosely from his fingers as if it were a mere piece of accessory.
Kyle felt trapped. But, nonetheless, he began to nod, almost unconsciously, even though both he and the man knew, deep down, that Kyle was just a putting on a show, to satisfy and nothing more. Which wasn't enough for the man.
"Say it."
"I—uh, I believe you, Cartman."
"Eric."
"Huh?"
"Call me Eric."
"Eric, right."
Kyle repeated the familiar name with a firmness that wasn't his own, taking the decision to play the other's game, whatever it was. And, luckily, that seemed to satisfy the man or, at least, ease some of his worries for the moment. But not Kyle's. His eyes were still fixated on the object held in Eric's palm, afraid to make a mistake that might cost him more than he could give.
"Oh—uh—I better put this thing away."
Eric spoke under his breath as he realized the effect the gun was having on the younger boy, quickly moving his shaky hand into the back of his coat to tuck the weapon between his jeans and shirt, belt holding it securely against his back - where it belonged. The action should've reassured Kyle, but something was telling him that, as long as the man had that gun within reach, he couldn't let his guard down.
Kyle's trail of thoughts was broken by Eric taking a few steps backwards, putting some space between them, and asking a question that should've been one of the other's concerns instead.
"Where are your parents? Shouldn't they be here by now?"
A tint of worry could be heard in the man's voice as he finally took in the mess that's been surrounding them this whole time, caused by none other than himself during whatever strange fight happened before Kyle found him on the ground, injured. Head aching again at the memory, reminding Eric that he has been bleeding. Two fingers reaching upwards towards his forehead, where a bump was starting to form just beneath his choppy bangs.
"I… I have no idea, actually."
Kyle replied, not noticing how the other man flinched at his own touch, cursing through his teeth, and focusing on his own misfortune instead. The newfound realization that he didn't know where his family was sent a shiver down Kyle's spine - a part of him was starting to get worried by the idea. He couldn't remember a single day where he would come back home and no one was there waiting for him, even when it was just his little brother rolling his eyes at the sight of him. He would always get a message in advantage.
But another, bigger part of him was relieved that no one was there to witness the chaos he himself was still struggling to process. Even if that meant that the front door could swing open at any moment, and he would've had no way to explain himself. Almost out of reflex, Kyle shoot the door a nervous glance.
"We'll be back after dinner, order yourself a pizza - mom."
Kyle's head snapped back towards the man as he seemed to read something out loud. Without the boy even noticing, Eric had walked all the way towards the kitchen and in front of the fridge, where he had found a colorful note attached to the white-painted material, where he was reading from.
"What? Let me see—"
The boy hurried to the man's side, snatching the piece of paper from his hand and taking a look himself. Eric didn't seem to mind too much, letting Kyle take the note out of his hold and reaching up to open the freezer instead, looking for something to put on the bump that was starting to form on his forehead. Eventually, he found an old, frozen bag of chicken nuggets and brought it towards his face, reluctantly holding it where it hurt the most, letting the coldness spread and do its thing.
His eyes darted back towards Kyle as he did so, observing as he stood in front of the calendar attached to the high cabinet, where a big, red circle marked a specific day in early February as a reminder of something. And, for some reason, Eric felt the need to remember that date.
"Oh, right… today we were supposed to have dinner at my aunt's! They went without me!"
Kyle said in what seemed like a mixture of annoyance and relief, with the latter apparently having the upper hand, seeing as the boy's shoulders slumped like a weight was lifted from him, which was then confirmed by Kyle's next words.
"Thank God!"
"Thank God?"
"Yeah! We've got time to clean this mess up!"
"Woah, hold your horses, Kyle."
Eric quickly dampened the other's enthusiasm.
"We're not gonna clean anythin' here."
Kyle, who was already reaching for a broom that was resting nearby, froze in his tracks, turning around to face the man with pure shock in his face - at this point, he didn't know what else to feel aside from that bitter feeling.
"What?"
"There's no time to worry about this stupid mess, we've got other priorities now!"
"Like what? You haven't told me anything yet!"
"Kenny."
Kyle's interest peaked when he heard the familiar nickname of one of his classmates and friends - Kenny, after 'Kenneth McCormick'.
He was a poor kid who didn't talk much, but he was always there to keep people company, or just to fill the numbers, more often than not. Kyle had to admit that there were times when he had forgotten about him as well. But from the way Eric firmly brought up his name, Kenny seemed to be an important piece of this puzzle. And, while this proved that 'Future Cartman' probably knew more about Kyle and his friends than he did, Kyle had no idea what Kenny had to do with all of this.
"Kenny?"
Eric nodded in reply, still pressing the freezer bag tightly to his forehead to ease the pain. His forearm shadowed part of his face, but both of his eyes remained glued to the boy's.
"Kenny is gonna help us with the time machine."
Eric stated firmly, seriously.
A river of questions rose up in Kyle's throat - that sentence alone being something he never thought he'd hear outside of a movie or a made-up story, but before he could let them out, Eric raised his palm in an halting motion.
"I know what you're thinkin', but you said you'd trust me, remember? Now—"
The man lowered the bag from his face and discarded it somewhere on the kitchen counter, freeing both of his hands, then he started abruptly pulling drawers open and began to rummage through them with a sense of urgency Kyle still couldn't understand.
"Imma make you a list of things you'll need to buy."
Without looking at the him in the eye, Eric reached for the note that was still in the boy's grasp. He pushed the piece of paper against the refrigerator and began scribbling on it with a worn-out ballpoint pen he found somewhere during his search.
"So... um."
But then he hesitated, eyes closing in attempt to make some of his memories stand out brighter in the darkness of his mind, but to no avail. All he could remember was a bunch of this and that, all crammed into a shopping cart. He could name out loud a few objects from that mental image with little to no struggle, but the others were just scribbles of colored plastic and familiar shapes. That wasn't nearly enough for Eric to write down a proper list, but it's not like he had much choice at the moment. He had to improvise.
"Listen—I'll draw you the list, okay? So you'll have no trouble findin' anything."
"There's no need—"
But the pen in Eric's hand was already moving across the paper, quick and light, until the space was filled with little doodles of everyday objects mixed with things Kyle had no idea what they could be needed for. The boy could've asked for more details, but he no longer felt like asking the man for anything, as every single one of his previous doubts had been dismissed without a second thought.
As soon as it was ready, Eric shoved the now-tattooed post-it back to Kyle, right against his chest, leaving the boy to catch it mid-flight just before it landed on the ground.
"See you at Kenny's in half an hour. Sharp."
Those where the last words Eric spoke before slipping out the back door with the urgency of a madman, disappearing from Kyle's sight as unexpectedly as he'd first appeared in his house.
Now alone, with a stupid list of things scribbled on a sticky piece of paper, a mess he's sure he won't be able to clean up before his parents get home and a future, crazy version of his rival on the loose, Kyle had no choice but to follow suit and leave the house as well. No more questions. He immediately started walking towards the nearest Walmart - the only place he's sure will have everything he needs all gathered up in a single shelf, and that's still open this late in the afternoon.
The walk there was relatively short, or at least to Kyle it felt like it was. An avalanche of thoughts went through his head as his feet moved on the pavement, but he didn't even indulge one of them, opting to sprint faster instead, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, moving in time with his breaths. As soon as he was close enough, Kyle made a bee-line for the automatic doors and didn't hesitate to throw himself towards the nearest empty cart, grabbing the handle with a firm grip and pushing his way into the first aisle with more force than necessary.
"Ugh, it had to be me, huh? Always me!"
Kyle scoffed as one of the trolley wheels got stuck for a brief moment, causing him stop abruptly in his tracks. He had to take a moment to calm down and take a deep breath, before uncurling his fingers from his palm to take a look at the drawn shopping list he's been given, trying to distract himself and focus on the task ahead, rather than overthink the whole situation he's been dragged in.
"Let's see…"
Kyle squinted at the paper, trying to make sense of the shapes that laid there. They were all objects for manual or technological work - stuff like jumper cables, batteries, scotch tape, screwdrivers - all things he could easily find in one or two departments. So, without wasting any more time, Kyle made a stop to the 'home' section, then ran to the 'auto care' one that was at the far back, and grabbed everything he needed, trying not to be too picky about his choices. After all, he had no idea why he was buying these things, so he had no way of knowing whether they were suitable for the job or not.
But, at this point, Kyle didn't care, he just wanted to get it over with as soon as he could. Cartman's misdeeds had already stolen his free time today, and Kyle wasn't going to let him take his sleep away from him too. Whether it was a future version of him doing it or not.
This has always been Kyle's and Cartman's dynamic - the fat boy was omnipresent in his life, always had been. Even when he wasn't physically present, he was in Kyle's thoughts, in his head, making him do everything he would never have done normally. Just like now. But it was Kyle's duty to stand up to him, to play along, because he was the only one who could bite the bullet - the only one suitable for the job.
It was as if it had already been decided for him, that he would act this way, that he would play his part in the great picture of things. And now, his part was to bring these stupid tools out of here and to the agreed-upon destination. And so he did, or at least he tried. Turning the corner towards the self-checkout lanes, shopping cart full of supplies, Kyle collided head-on with something that, if he hadn't held on to the handle tightly, would've sent him face-first inside the cart.
Unlike the person Kyle had hit, who unfortunately had nothing to hold on to and fell straight onto the ground, as well as scattering random objects around.
"Oof—!"
A groaned echoed through the aisle, making a few heads turn their direction. Worried, Kyle rushed to see the damage he had done, but he didn't even have time to feel guilty as a sea of disappointment and frustration hit him like a tsunami. He couldn't believe his luck.
"No fucking way."
Cartman, the right one, stood up as quickly as he fell, his fists clenched as if ready to fight whoever had made him look bad in front of everyone, as well as making him drop his collection of cheap, stupid DVDs he was planning to steal. He turns around, chest puffed out as to regain his pride, only to deflate completely as soon as he realizes who his executioner was.
"What the hell- Kahl?"
Immediately, his whole behavior changed, his eyes lit up with a new sparkle at the sight of an opportunity for entertainment. He had found something that was much more fun than shopping and never failed to cure his boredom - ruffle Kyle's feathers. For him, there was nothing better than seeing that fire burn in his rival's eyes in a way that only he could ignite. It warmed him like nothing else.
"Oh, didn't expect to find you here, Jew… finally admitting to yourself that Walmart is superior and nobody gives a shit about small businesses?"
"Fuck you."
Kyle replied blandly, wanting to close the matter before it began, already rushing to the side to avoid any type of contact with the other. He was in a hurry, after all. But Cartman wouldn't let him get away that easily - the disappointment he would feel if he didn't even get a glance from the redhead would be unbearable. So, without thinking once, he took hold of the end of the cart, anchoring it in place and preventing Kyle from leaving.
"Yeah- you wish!"
"Goddamnit, Cartman, I do not have time for this!"
Kyle snapped, trying to wiggle his way out, but that only made the fat boy more determined to get his attention. He leaned over, peeking at what the other was carrying around in his cart.
"What, you're still mad 'cause I locked you in the bathroom this mornin'? C'mon—where are you goin' anyway? What you gotta do with all this stuff, huh?"
"Save your fat ass, apparently!"
Kyle spat, tearing the cart away from Cartman's hands and rushing towards the closest self-check out lane without looking back, leaving the boy standing there in a confused state.
One Cartman was already too much, it was enough to make Kyle go crazy, but two? He couldn't stand two. Not now, not ever. And yet, as soon as he finished scanning all of the random stuff he's been forced to buy, Kyle realized he had no money on him, not even the few bills he would usually bring with him at school, which had strategically remained in his backpack, back at his house by the door. And that's when, as he was about to give up everything, a beep reached his ears, as loud and annoying as the person who activated it - Cartman, with his mother's credit card.
"You're welcome."
The fat boy said, in a way that made it sound like he was trying to prompt out a 'thank you' from Kyle's lips more than out of genuine benevolence. And Kyle, as soon as he realized what just happened, seized the opportunity - he took a bag, put everything in there with a sharp motion of his forearm and ran away without a word. But Cartman didn't even try to stop him, he hadn't paid for him out of courtesy, after all. Kyle clearly had something better to do, something big, and Cartman wanted to know what it was. This had simply made things easier for both of them.
After a jog and a lot of swearing, Kyle finally reached his destination - the McCormick's house. And, even though he had done everything as quickly as possible, he still ended up arriving a little bit late. Though, he was sure Eric wouldn't even notice that, given his panic over something that seemed far more important than get mad over a few minutes Kyle had lost arguing with a younger version of him that had nothing better to do than to try and rile him up.
"Were the fuck have you been?!"
Evidently, he had thought wrong.
"Doing what you told me to! Here!"
Kyle pushed the front door wide open with his back, throwing the shopping bag onto the coffee table in Kenny's living room with little caring, then launched himself on the peeling couch to rest his aching legs. Meanwhile, Kenny was seated cross-legged on the dirty carpet, looking interested in the whole situation. The redhead wondered if Eric had explained something to him, or if he had acted like a crazy man like he had with him. Not that he thought there was anything to explain, anyway.
Speaking of which, Eric was right next to Kenny, sitting next to the family's barely-working TV on the ground. It looked like he wanted to take it apart with his bare hands, or was about to, but gave up on the idea and attacked the bag Kyle had just brought instead, spilling all the stuff on the coffee table to inspect them.
"Okay, now—"
"What the fuck?"
Another voice suddenly broke through, making the other three whip their heads towards the open door, were Cartman was standing, wearing a puzzled frown.
"I thought you were doin' something embarrassing with all that shit in your cart, not dealing with a homeless guy at Kinny's house! What the fuck, Kyle!"
Cartman exclaimed, looking around with his hands on his hips, causing Eric to turn to Kyle with a look that seemed even more irritated than the one he'd given him a few minutes earlier. The man looked like he was about to go crazy, ready to start yelling at Kyle about the time travel paradoxes that can arise in this situation, but the redhead was already on his feet before he could say anything. In less than a second, his hands were on Cartman's shoulders and he was pushing him outside. And Cartman let himself be carried out, walking backwards, more worried about what he just saw than about stumbling.
"What are you doing here?!"
"I followed you, duh! What are you doing here?"
"I-I—we–I don't know!"
"What?"
The uncertainty in Kyle's answer made Cartman irritated, it took him off guard - he'd followed Kyle this far out of curiosity, studying the sentences he would say if he had caught him doing something outrageously bad, and now he just felt like a fish out of water. He had nothing with him, no camera in his hand, no teasing smirk, and this made Kyle realize that maybe, just maybe, Cartman had nothing to do with this situation. But of course, Kyle didn't have time to confirm his theory, because the sudden sound of breaking glass coming from inside the house made both of them jump in surprise.
"Kyle!"
Eric's voice boomed, just before he ran out the door with the television in his arms, cables plugged in everywhere and batteries in his backside pockets, followed by Kenny's father, drunk and mad, rightfully so.
"That's my television, yer fucking thief!"
The man screamed, throwing an empty beer bottle at Eric, but the latter was already out of launch range. And, as if it were his duty, Kyle, still tired, accepting that today's troubles weren't over, ran after him, and Cartman, still not having gotten his answers, could do nothing but follow. Just like that, the three of them started running towards the uninhabited part of the neighborhood, where the unpleasant smell was unavoidable and Cartman had to hold his nose shut to follow Kyle and the man behind an abandoned house without complaining about it.
"Where are we going?!"
He eventually shouted.
"To the lamppost-thing!"
Eric answered with a bit of arrogance, pointing to a utility pole that was a bit run down as it was obvious - he didn't sound too happy about having another Cartman on the team now. Nonetheless, as soon as they reached pole, Eric dropped to his knees, throwing the leather coat off of him, along the television onto the hard asphalt, then started to fiddle with the pole as if he didn't know what he was doing.
"Ugh—damn it!"
In a moment, Eric reached up and tugged on Cartman's collar, who had just stopped running, and forced him down beside him, where he could see his hands. The fat boy tried to protest, but quickly fell silent when the man began to open the pole's control panel with a screwdriver and attach jumper cables to it as if he had just remembered what to do.
"Can someone explain what the hell is going on?"
Cartman said, but Eric just ignored him completely and kept doing what he was doing with the most determined gaze someone could ever wear. Meanwhile, Kyle, whom was still catching his breath, finally snapped.
"Who knows?! This—this man showed up at my house, made a mess of it and then started saying it was you from the future!"
"Huh?!"
Baffled, the fat boy turned to stare up at Kyle, only for Eric to instantly force his head back to him instead by grabbing the top of his head and turning it as he would do if he were opening a jar.
"Eyes on me!"
"Oh my God, my parents will be home by now, they're going to think I've been kidnapped or something!"
Kyle began to freak out, remembering from his own explanation the state he had left his house in, and Cartman wasn't in a much different situation, torn between looking at the man's hands as he'd been told to do, or feeling uncomfortable as he noticed how much the guy actually seemed to resemble him in some way, now that he could see him from up-close. However, as his brain was having trouble processing the thought, he decided not to believe any of those words and, instead, take it out on Kyle like he always did.
"What the fuck, Kyle! Some random guy comes to rob your house and tells you some bullshit and you believe it!?"
"He had a gun, what was I supposed to do?!"
"A what?!"
The fat boy immediately jerked upright, away from the man as if the asphalt had burned his knees. The man looked frustrated at this, even lost for a moment, as Cartman stumbled backwards until he was standing right next to Kyle, just slightly behind him as if ready to use him as a shield if he had to.
"This crackhead has a gun too?!"
"Shut up!"
Eric retorted quickly, but without ever taking his eyes off his unsure hands - he was almost there, it was almost done. Just a little bit more and this stupid loop would break once and for all. The panicked arguing of the two boys behind him faded into the back of his mind, a muffled background to his knotted thoughts, as he untangled wires with trembling fingers.
"Please…"
He yanked the sleeve of shirt up to reveal a digital clock, one of those little ones that shows both the time and the day, secured firmly around his wrist. From the look of it it was clear that it has been modified, maybe for better or maybe for worse, Eric didn't seem to know yet.
"Please, work…"
He connected one cable to the accessory piece, the other end attached to the television, which in turn was connected by jumper cables to the pole's control panel. And yet, when everything seemed to be ready to be turned on, Eric hesitated. His body wouldn't listen to him, he was stuck in place out of fear. Fear that it wouldn't work, and he would lose everything once more - all of the memories, the things he had outgrown, the problems, the bad things and the good things, all over again. Eric had no idea if he would be able to bear that, but there was something else that made his heart beat even faster, his blood rush ticker. And that was the doubt that not even trying would've left him with.
It took him a moment to muster the courage to turn on the television to discharge as much electricity as possible where he needed it, but when he did, nothing happened. Not even a spark. His vision blurred in an instant, his eyelids heavy, whether from anger or tears, it didn't matter. Suddenly, he spun around, teeth clenched and fists on his thighs.
"Will you two shut the fuck up and stop fightin' for a fuckin' moment?!"
Eric snarled, making Cartman and Kyle, who had started blaming each other and fighting about the whole situation, fell silent in the blink of an eye.
"All you do is argue and argue, all day—every day! When the fuck are you goin' to realize that you're just wasting your freakin' time?! What will it take, huh?! If you two weren't such stubborn assholes—"
And then everything stopped. Eric's breath suddenly caught in his throat, his lungs emptied, his mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. An electric shock shot through his spine, hot and burning. All the lights around them went out, leaving the small, mountain town with only the starry sky to illuminate its streets and a surprisingly blinding light coming from the man's wrist. Through the thing layer of smoke that was now coming from the watch, Cartman and Kyle stood open-mouthed, their eyes bigger than the moon itself, their pupils reduced to small dots, showing the color of their irises. They watched as the man began fiddling with the glowing gadget even as his eyes began to sting.
"C'mon—c'mon—"
Eric's fingers pressed and pulled at the little buttons on the side of the watch. Then he entered the first date that came to his mind - he didn't pay much attention to it, as any day that he considered to be the 'present' would've been good enough.
As soon as the number registered on the watch, Eric began to fall. Now it wasn't the lights that were missing, but the reality itself around him. He couldn't see a thing, and yet his head filled with images he'd never seen before, drawings he'd never drawn, and memories he'd never get to experience. And, even though for him it seemed like hours and years of lives he had never lived, all this happened in a fraction of a second, and the next moment he was laying face down in the same, but somehow different asphalt.
His vision was still unclear, mind fuzzed, but he got up on all fours as soon as his limbs allowed him to, ignoring the pain that was trying to discourage him.
The sky was already dark, no trace of its normal bright color was left, and the air was cold, so cold that Eric could feel the heat of the adrenaline coursing through his veins, yet the man's mind was somewhere else.
He would usually not care for others, he wasn't the type to believe, to trust - he was the tough one, the best, so why? Why was he now running down the street, without a coat, without anything but hope and a watch squeezing his wrist so uncomfortably tight, that reminded him who was to blame for all this? But, at least, he wouldn't have to say goodbye. He could've looked at him and hugged him again, only to be punched in the face, and that thought alone was enough relief for him to keep him moving.
Eric audibly gasped as the Broflovski's house finally came in sight, light coming through its windows spurring him on. He could feel the strength to breathe starting to leave him, his chest burned like it did the first time he ever smoked a cigarette, but he pushed through, and almost crashed face-first into the front door, his hands shooting out just in time to catch his body before he could.
But still, the sound of his palms landing violently against the worked wood was enough to catch the attention of Kyle's mother, Mrs. Broflovski, who, in just a few seconds, opened the door with a concerned look plastered on her face. She had her pajamas on, a tired look, and was probably about to head to bed, but Eric didn't even notice that.
"Oh my God, Eric! Are you okay, dear? What happened?"
She'd undoubtedly seen him from the window, probably thinking he was in need of help and he had run towards the house closest to his, which was theirs, and he couldn't blame her entirely for believing that - he was hurt, agitated, not to mention that he still had blood on his shirt that, whether it was his or not, he couldn't remember. But when her hands offered to help him hold on, even though he felt the need to reach out, Eric stepped aside and glanced over her shoulder instead, searching for something, or better, for someone.
"Where's Kyle?"
"Kyle?"
"Your son!"
At that, the expression on Mrs. Broflovski's face became even more wrinkled with worry, refined now with a confused gaze that Eric just couldn't stand. He himself didn't know how he did it, but he managed to refrain from physically pushing her aside and looking inside himself, and chose to focus on calming his nerves and keeping his fists at his sides as an alternative, while she searched for the right words to answer him.
"Well—he's probably in his college dorm right now, resting. Why?"
"College?"
And that word alone was enough to break him. The hope that had driven him this far evaporated like water in fire, and his knees nearly gave out. This wasn't it. That was what took for Eric to realize that time was running thin. He had knew it, should've expected it, but the shock hit him nonetheless, just number and slower, crawling up his spine and destroying everything in its path.
"Oh, right, yeah, I…"
He mumbled something under his breath, then lowered his head, ignoring whatever the lady was saying behind him as he walked away, back the way he had come.
Kyle's dreams had always been dreams of others - everything he ever did was for someone else, as if his life were controlled by everyone, but him. Getting accepted into a nice collage was one of those dreams, the typical plan that someone would choose because that's what everyone else is doing, whether they like it or not. For some people, the question doesn't even cross their minds. And Kyle was one of those people, at least he was before that day - the one that changed everything in their lives and made them who they were today. The memory was now more vivid than ever - Kyle packing his bags, with a totally different idea of life than Eric had, and Eric not having the balls to tell him he'd miss him until the boy was already on the bus.
Yet Eric didn't remember that day as the end, but rather as the beginning of things for them. That was one of the happiest moments of his life, because Kyle chose to stay, to get off at the nearest stop and rewrite fate, saying that he wanted to help him and Kenny with their project to rebuild the 'time machine' that had left its mark on all three years prior.
Eric remembered him coming to visit them in the stupid caravan him and Kenny had rented borrowing a few of Butters' spare money to fuck around. He remembered how he'd always promised to help them, but then let him and Kenny do the dirty work, and how Kyle would complain and say he regretted staying, that he was just there to make sure they didn't open a black hole by accident or something, but would suppress a smile whenever they held each other's gaze for too long.
Kyle had never even set foot in college, he'd simply never been there. How could he, when he had been with him all these years? Unless, that day, he'd had no excuse to get off that bus. Because Eric would've been at home, feeling sorry for himself, instead of drawing blueprints for that damn watch with Kenny - because the latter hadn't asked him to. Why would he? It would've have been crazy, building a time machine without any instruction and the slightest idea of what they were doing.
But the thing was, they had a guide and even notes, because, that night, the man had showed up a second time, at Kenny's house, with a notebook and a pencil.
Now, Eric knew what to do. There was a choice that lay before him and he did not hesitate to make it, pressing the push button on the side of his watch and letting his eyelids drop as the void enveloped him once more.
It was a cloudy autumn day, one of those where it's calm one moment and a storm the next. As a precaution, Kyle had brought umbrella with him, and he had managed to walk to the caravan parked behind the McCormick's house without any issue, except maybe for a few puddles here and there that were left over from past rains that seemed had made it their personal mission to ruin his shoes.
Once he got there, Kyle knocked three times on the door, trying not to touch it more than enough to make noise, as he'd never liked the caravan. Kenny and Eric had bought it solely to use as an office, mostly because it was unusable for anything else. Yet, Kyle always visited them when they were there, as if he couldn't stay away despite the filth. Seconds later, a familiar mane of brown hair peeked out from the missing window on the side of the vehicle.
"Sorry, kid, we're out of ice cream for today, ya gotta come back tomorrow."
Eric said with a grin on his face that made his eyes narrow slightly, his folded arms resting on window's edge as he leaned outward. The man made this same teasing joke every time Kyle knocked, knowing full well that theirs was a caravan and not a van, presumably one where they could sell ice cream to kids. Kyle always liked to correct him on this, and that's one of the reasons Eric kept saying it - it always made Kyle's face twitch in annoyance, just how he liked it.
This time the redhead just his rolled his eyes, and Eric seemed in enough good spirits to let that go and went back inside so he could open the door for him to come in.
"How long have you been here today?"
Kyle asked, as he ducked his head to go inside, where Kenny was bent over his usual spot - a wooden chair, making use of all the space he could of that small desk that was attached to the wall. His fingers moved around a screwdriver as he worked on the watch, attaching pieces and wires just like in the notes they had stuck to the windows like post-its, where everything that needed to be done for the time machine was written in Eric's smooth calligraphy.
"Like around three or four hours? Who cares—look at this!"
Kyle barely had time to close his umbrella and fully go inside before Eric was slamming the door shut behind him. A second later, he was smearing some contraption all over his face, so close Kyle couldn't even tell what it was.
"We found that damn battery we needed and no one was fuckin' sellin' anywhere anymore!"
"Wait, really?"
Any anger Kyle could've felt from the man's reckless attack disappeared as his brain registered his words, and without being able to control it, his hand shot upwards to snatch the device from Eric's grip.
"Yeah, you were right, Jew! Ya can find everythin' on Ebay these days!"
Eric let him take a look at the thing - an ugly old thing, probably even too worn out to use for everyday items. Yet neither of them seemed to care about that part - that was exactly the one they were looking for and the last piece they needed to complete the time machine. They'd been searching for it for months, as ridiculous as it sound, but when something is no longer on the market, especially if it's something that could turn out to be toxic, like a battery or anything that could have environmentally harmful components, it's not that easy to find. But, luckily, a few weeks ago Kyle had the idea to look for it online - and what's not online?
Kyle stared at the object for a few more seconds, as if he couldn't believe his own eyes, until Kenny stood up from his chair and turned to face the other two, watch and screwdriver strategically wedged between the fingers of the same hand, while with the other reached for the battery in Kyle's. He took it, and fit it into the battery compartment they'd mounted on the side months earlier.
It was a perfect match. Now, the watch was just as the three remembered it, as the notes said, as in the scribbles that the other Eric had helped Kenny make that night he came back. It was complete, they had done it.
The realization hit Eric first, who slammed into Kyle, enveloping him in his big arms with enthusiasm, almost making the entire caravan shake from the mere force of it.
"We did it! Haha—we made it!"
He exclaimed happily, resting his temple on Kyle's shoulder so hard it looked like he was trying to leave a mark on his shirt. Kenny, on the other hand, was wearing the most idiotic smile ever plastered on his face, more at Eric's reaction than their success.
Yet, the redhead seemed to still be processing the whole situation - that it was over. They'd been working on this thing for years, having no idea what it was, what purpose it would serve, and no reason to do it, yet Kyle gave it all up for it. For the days he was on video calls with Stan, trying to catch up on life, since he rarely saw him now that he'd moved, and he had another tab open on his computer with theoretical textbooks on time travel. For all the part-time jobs he forced himself to take on to earn enough money to be able to go antique shopping with Kenny and buy whatever they thought might be useful for the project, while Eric was 'guarding' the watch back at his house, on the couch and a movie on the television.
Despite what Kyle might've said or done, not once did it occur to him that he'd made the wrong choice staying. He'd always believed that once school was over, ever since Stan left, he'd feel lost and alone. But he'd never felt as free as he did during these years with Eric, Kenny, and this stupid caravan.
How could Kyle only now have realized that the future this watch was promising them had already passed?
"What now?"
The words left him before he could think them. This made Eric take a step back, and not just metaphorically. He let go of Kyle with a bit of hesitation, and without yet letting go of his smile.
"What now? Now we have the time machine!"
Eric laughed nervously, not understanding why Kyle didn't seem happy about their achievement. He glanced at Kenny at his side, who looked equally confused, the watch still in his hand, and to try to save the moment, get the redhead to react, Eric snatched it from Kenny's palm and put it on his own wrist, tightening it as much as possible for fear that it might fall off as he showed it off.
"Alright, if you don't want it, I'll take it. It was my turn to keep it tonight anyway."
"Whatever, just don't use it."
Kyle warned him, half-jokingly, not wanting to ruin the moment completely, because deep down he was happy to have reached an end, but his head felt heavier than before he'd come here. The uncertainty of tomorrow was making him react differently than he'd imagined he would in this moment. The air in the closed space was filled with finality, and Kyle couldn't stand it.
"I'm not gonna."
Eric snorted, and with one last eye roll and a few waves, Kyle took off and walked out the caravan's door, stepping out onto the wet grass. He knew he'd only be staying a short time. He had just come to visit, after all, as it was already late. He had to be home for dinner, and he had a lot of walking to do, but he only managed to walk one or two blocks before he heard Eric call out to him. Kyle turned to see the man put on his leather coat with one arm, while staggering slightly as he brandished an umbrella with the other like a sword.
"Kyle!"
Eric jogged lightly towards Kyle with the umbrella he'd forgotten in hand. Once he got close enough, however, instead of giving it back, Eric kept it and began walking side by side with Kyle. And before Kyle could say anything about it, he spoke up, a bit breathless.
"What now?"
Eric repeated that same sentence Kyle had said earlier, but without arrogance in his voice - this time he was really asking, he was asking Kyle what he would choose to do now. But Kyle answered vaguely, unsure, because he himself didn't know what to say. There was nothing holding him back now, and having so many options had always seemed more stifling than having none at all to him. It seemed that, despite everything that had happened, he had come full circle.
"I don't know... maybe I'll take some classes, find a job and a roommate to buy an apartment with, somewhere."
"That sounds lame as fuck."
Eric scoffed and looked away until they reached their houses - the two facing each other, always forced to look at one another - and it was then that Kyle realized that this has been their first walk together, or at least, the first in total silence.
Once they got close enough to say their goodbyes, Eric finally handed the umbrella to Kyle by the handle, but when the redhead actually tried to take it back, Eric snatched it away. Kyle raised his head, looking at Eric in the eye, ready to fight for it if necessary, but it wasn't determination he saw in his eyes, but uncertainty.
There was a question in his gaze, a question Kyle already knew the answer to, something he'd decided long ago but had never said out loud. And Eric seemed to have done the same thing all this time. He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore, like he usually would, as he didn't even seem to be hoping to go any further than this, but, for the first time in his life, Kyle felt like he could decide something. And so he tried again, he reached for the umbrella in the other's grip once more, but then caught the back of Eric's hand instead.
"Eric, I—"
And at that name, Eric's heart exploded, pounding so hard in his chest that it felt like he'd heard it outside his body, like a gunshot. The smell of burnt fireworks suddenly hit his nose, sharp and strong, like the happiness he would've felt if Kyle hadn't fallen into his arms like a dead weight.
"Ky—!"
All at once, Eric's voice failed him and he no longer knew what was happening around him. Instinctively, he pulled Kyle closer to himself, feeling his own shirt soaking up with his blood and sticking to the skin underneath the layer of fabric. His body begged him to fall with him, and he just let it happen. He dropped to his knees on the sidewalk and held Kyle as if he could transmit his heartbeat to him. He had no idea what to do, but he didn't have the guts to look down at Kyle. Everything felt hot, so hot it burned him from the inside, but never as hot as the emotion Eric felt when he looked ahead of him and saw the reflection of what he had become.
There, he was, standing tall with a smoking gun in his hand, and a blank, resigned look on his face. With trembling hands, Eric set Kyle down, ever so gently, then, with all his strength, lunged at that shadow of himself, screaming in a voice he didn't recognize as his own.
"Motherfucker!"
He fell on him with inhuman strength, tears in his eyes and so much adrenaline that he could've smashed the other's skull with his bare hands without even feeling anything but satisfaction, but he didn't even get the chance to try, because as soon as they collided, Eric saw a blinding light, then black, but only for an instant, and that wasn't nearly enough to dissuade him from his target. Blinded and out of breath, Eric continued pushing anyway until his body smashed the door of the Broflovski's house open, taking the other man with him.
"What have you done?!"
He screamed, his throat choking, grabbing the man by what felt like the collar of his shirt under his hands, and slammed him against the wood of the door, which closed shut on impact. The force sent the gun the man was holding into the ground somewhere, forgotten for the moment.
"What I had to!"
He shouted back, before throwing a right hand to Eric's chin, sending him flying backwards and into the paintings hanging on the wall, which soon began to fall like dominoes.
"Don't you get it? He would've left you if I—if we hadn't done that!"
The man shouted desperately, wanting to make himself understood, but Eric didn't even try to listen for a second, getting up from where he had fallen and, like a bull, threw himself on the other until he slammed into the television, making it reverberate against the relative and sending other broken objects to the floor as well.
"You selfish piece of shit! I would never do that to him!"
Eric began to punch him mercilessly, and the other responded with punches of his own, but it was clear that one of the two wouldn't make it - the one who had already been here, already fought this fight and was covered now in blood whose name he no longer remembered. And, as soon as he had a chance to take a breath, immediately after a punch that sent Eric to the floor, on the carpet, the man began frantically pressing specific buttons on his watch.
"Fuck it, I don't care! I've done my part—I'm out of it!"
Eric, whose vision was finally clearing, saw him - fearful of what might happen and knowing he wouldn't be able to stop it in time, Eric looked around hopelessly. Tears were streaming down his bruised face, and in his head he was reciting prayers to a god he didn't even believe in. And, miraculously, from his view on the ground, he spotted the gun that had slipped under the coffee table earlier and did not hesitate to crawl towards it. He quickly placed an hand on the wood and reached under it with his other one, fingers stretched and breath ragged, just as the man had managed to enter the time and date of a day that didn't exist, and after that, the same blinding light as before stunned him.
The impact that came after that sent Eric straight with his forehead against the edge of the coffee table.
And then it was black again.