Eric had his hands tucked in his jacket pockets as he waited for Kyle, as tall and sturdy as jagged rock in the steady stream of people. The train station was busy in the late Friday afternoon, commuters were eager to get home for the weekend. Eric had not gone back to his apartment before picking Kyle up, reapplying some deodorant in the office bathroom and lazily chewing a mint on the drive. The train from Phoenix was on time. Eric had snickered to himself at the discovery, of course any train Kyle was on had to be punctual.

That amused snicker had floated on something a little giddier too. The pixelated 'on time' signified that Kyle was on his way, that he was getting to Denver – and Eric – as fast as he could. It was like a traffic signal flashing green, telling Eric to go have a great weekend that would leave him feeling like he had been speeding in a sports car along a deserted road.

"Hey!" Kyle's voice cut through the chattering crowd.

A smile spread across Eric's face and he waved, letting Kyle come to him.

"Hey…" Kyle said when he was close enough. There was a small dent in his brow. "You alright? You looked kind of dazed when you saw me, like you didn't recognise me."

"I was just thinking," Eric replied. "Besides, how can I miss that obnoxious mop of ginger hair?"

Kyle gave him a wry look.

"And how have I missed charming compliments like that?" He teased. "You wonder why I don't come here that often…"

Eric grinned.

"I always thought it was the rip-off rail companies."

Kyle rolled his eyes, and brushed past Eric to walk to the parking lot, pulling his suitcase behind him. Eric followed, gladly stepping back into their routine.

Kyle had Eric in his bed, and on his back, within ten minutes of them setting foot in Eric's apartment. The creaking mattress and their relentless panting alerted Eric to how silent his room had been in the last… month? Six weeks? Since Kyle had been here last. He couldn't remember anything that came before him and Kyle hurriedly unbuckling their seatbelts in the car and claiming each other's lips. He couldn't count either, his fingers were currently digging into Kyle's back, pressing his skin pink and struggling to keep his grip because Kyle was so slick with sweat. That didn't matter, he loved feeling Kyle's muscles writhe beneath his fingers, and the sultry salt scent of their perspiration, and Kyle's groans in his ear that punctuated damn-near every thrust, and fuck, he was close…

"Oh, oh God - Ky-Kyle - I-I'm gonna-"

Kyle nodded, his damp curls tickling Eric's cheek.

"Me too," he replied, voice husky and strained. "Fuck…"

Kyle then turned his head, his eyes were lidded and clouded with pleasure, but smouldering and intense enough to almost burn Eric's heart to a crisp. He smashed their lips together - Eric had come to learn it was a habit of Kyle's, to kiss during sex. It had taken him by surprise initially, but he had become more than used to it now. In fact, whenever Kyle's lips were on his, his climax was sure to come hurtling forward.

His kisses also had the power to wind Eric, and a stuttering gasp left his mouth when Kyle parted his lips with his tongue; hot, slow, and wet. Eric swiftly caught hold of Kyle's curls to deepen the kiss, but their mouths opened wide as Kyle thrusted harder and faster, exchanging terse, gasping breaths, their lips barely brushing together. Eric cried and threw his head back when he finally came, tightening around Kyle and his hips jerked. Kyle followed seconds later; his body stiffening against Eric's as he did so and riding out his orgasm with shallow, lazy thrusts. Hazy with lust as he was, Kyle still reached up and attempted to kiss Eric's lips, only managing to feebly peck the corner of his mouth. Kyle soon pulled out of Eric and rolled off him.

Sticking to the sheets and trying to catch his breath, Eric turned his head to look at Kyle and saw him smiling, drowsy and content. Eric's eyes followed the taut line of his arm, stretched and placed behind his head; he followed the alabaster underside that led to a copper tuft of hair, and then raked his gaze over the rise and fall of Kyle's sheening chest, his flat stomach, and he paused at Kyle's flagging cock. Sated as he thought he was, Eric wanted to see it hard again; to hear Kyle groan, and have his lips bruised by his rapturous kisses over and over. But they didn't have time, not if they wanted to make dinner.

As if Kyle had noticed him staring, he pulled the condom off and placed it on Eric's nightstand. Before Eric could complain, Kyle was grinning at him, placing a hand on his chest. He reconnected their lips. He liked to kiss after sex too.

"We're supposed to be going to dinner at eight," Eric reminded him, voice faint and eyes closed.

"Hmm… I'm pretty beat from travelling all day," Kyle replied, and Eric's eyes drifted open. He saw a smile had stretched across his face. "And everything else…"

Eric snickered, Kyle fingers at his chest tremored with the vibrations.

"So do you mind if we just have take-out?" Kyle asked.

Eric shook his head, and pressed his lips to Kyle's once more.

They spent another hour in bed, (Eric had delighted in seeing Kyle hard again, but couldn't resist popping his head up from under the covers and asking, "I thought I had worn you out earlier?" he didn't argue when Kyle snickered and replied, "just suck me off already…") before getting dressed and wandering to the living room to decide on a movie and dinner. They were in the mood for Chinese, and Kyle recommended an overly convoluted movie.

"Can you even follow this shitty movie?" Eric asked. "I can't."

"Me neither," Kyle replied, sat beside him on the couch. "I don't get it, it had excellent reviews."

"Well, what the fuck do movie critics know?"

"A lot, I'm guessing? It's their livelihood. Still, it's all subjective."

"And that's what I'm saying! The whole profession is bullshit."

"That's a bit rich coming from you, huh?" Kyle asked with a chuckle. "You're a journalist!"

"Woah, hold up, I'm not a journalist!" Eric replied, shaking his head. "I'm a photographer for a newspaper. And a local newspaper at that."

"Sorry." Kyle smiled, twirling some noodles around his fork. "For what it's worth, I think you would have made a good journalist, you have the ambition."

"You may want to retract that statement if I'm still at the South Park Gazette next year…"

Eric nearly dropped his cutlery into his meal when Kyle stretched his leg out and kicked him in the shin.

"What the hell was that for?" Eric asked.

"For being so hard on yourself," Kyle replied. "Come on, self-deprecation isn't good on you."

"It's not self-deprecation, it's pragmatism."

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed.

"No, it isn't. Do you know what that means?"

"Not exactly," Eric replied, before smirking. "That's why I'm not a journalist. Anyway, I think it's my turn to grill you about your job."

Kyle rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't grilling you-"

"Just tell me how work is going, Kyle," Eric cut in. He wondered if they would still be talking like this when they were old men, or if they would outgrow their bickering dynamic. There was a forlorn tug in his chest, mourning it already.

"Fine, great," Kyle replied. "The company is even branching out."

"Where?"

"Denver."

Eric was playing with his food and not looking at Kyle, but he could feel his appetite shrinking.

"Is that so?" he managed to ask.

"Yep," Kyle replied, sounding unfazed. "They're thinking of transferring me there."

Eric gulped. The TV seemed miles away, and it felt like he was stranded on the couch with Kyle who was waiting for his response. But Eric didn't know how to feel about the news. Yes, there were times saying goodbye at the train station, or kissing each other down from their post-climax highs, or when Kyle said or did something so adorable and quintessentially him, that Eric wished things weren't so fleeting, temporary, that there weren't so many miles between them. But this claustrophobic feeling gripped him just as much as all that affection did.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I offered."

"But why?" Eric asked, looking at Kyle now that genuine confusion was overriding his nerves. "I thought you didn't want to come back to Colorado… ever…"

Kyle blinked, studied Eric's face with parted lips, as if searching for an answer. He smiled.

"Then why am I here right now?" he replied. A smartass retort, not an answer or an explanation.

"Don't be like that, you know what I meant," Eric said, eyeing Kyle wryly. "On, like, a permanent basis."

"Well, things are different now," Kyle replied, shifting on the couch like the implication of hypocrisy had bristled him. "That was five years ago. And the more I come back, the more I start to miss it, and realise how much I like it here. There's no place like home."

"Okay, so what, Dorothy, are you gonna rent an apartment in Denver or something?"

"Maybe…" Kyle nodded. "Or maybe I'll rent one in South Park."

Eric almost choked on the chicken he had in his mouth, but he managed to swallow. His food slid down his throat uncomfortably however, and he felt like he could heave it back up.

"Why would you want to do that?" he asked.

Kyle huffed, setting down his cutlery with a loud clatter.

"I don't know! To be closer to my parents, to my friends! Jesus, what's with the third degree?"

"I'm not giving you the third degree I'm just confused! Why the hell would you want to come back here when you wanted to leave so badly the first time?"

"God, are you deaf!" Kyle exclaimed. "Because things are different now!" He took a deep breath, and Eric shivered when Kyle raked his gaze over him. "Aren't they?"

Again, Eric didn't know how to respond. He had resisted any kind of pondering on the matter, because things were great enough the way they were, at least to him. Of course, there was the possibility that things could be better, that one conversation could be like casting a spell to enhance what Eric was already seemingly so content with. They had been doing this for two years; hooking up whenever Kyle came to town, establishing a routine that kept things casual, and kept them independent and free. Eric couldn't think of anything better, hadn't noticed any changes that suggested they had outgrown what was comfortable. But what he felt and what he acknowledged were totally different things.

"Why are you asking me?" he finally replied. His voice was quiet, and he was looking at his food, not at Kyle.

It was fear, clutching at his stomach, that made Eric lift his gaze to Kyle – a fear that he had potentially ruined everything. Eric watched Kyle's patient expression drain away, and his shoulders slouch. Shaking his head, Kyle turned away from Eric and returned to his meal.

"Forget it, Cartman," he said, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. "It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean-"

"It means we don't need to talk about this now, alright?" Kyle cut in, briefly glancing at him. "Nothing's set in stone."

They didn't talk as they ate their meals. Eric tried to follow the movie but his mind was wandering, like his gaze, to Kyle.

Eric and Kyle were smart enough to not let the tense conversation on Friday night ruin the rest of the weekend. Rebounding from fights was something they had mastered before reaching high school, such a skill was a necessity. Even before their relationship had evolved into something more physical and romantic, Eric couldn't bear the thought of not speaking to Kyle for too long. No snide remarks or uncalled for comments made in the heat of the moment were as painful as Kyle's ignorance.

Too soon they were back at the train station, stretching out conversation until Kyle absolutely had to leave. Being back there, Eric remembered the delight he had felt at seeing the message that Kyle's train was on time, and how he had envisioned another heady, exhilarating weekend like he had been behind the wheel of a sports car. The weekend had had its fair share of amusing, ecstatic, memorable moments, but the ride hadn't been as smooth as Eric had hoped. During the lull, the quiet, Eric could feel himself stalling over their conversation and what it could lead to, despite how hard he tried to dismiss it.

"I'll text you when I arrive in Phoenix," Kyle said, tugging at the handle of his pull-along.

"Yeah, great." Eric nodded. The question he wanted to ask was hesitant to leave his mouth. "When do you think you'll be back here?"

Questions like these were usually flirtier, cheekier, and over text a couple days after Kyle had returned to Arizona, not at the train station before he was about to leave.

"I don't know. I'll have to take a look at my schedule."

"Cool, whatever, you know?" Eric replied. He knew he was babbling and tried to force the words down. "I get that you're busy."

"Yeah, I know." Kyle nodded. "You probably have a lot of stuff to do too-"

"Kyle, you flatter me," Eric teased, grateful for the opportunity.

"Somebody has to," Kyle responded with a grin, quick and reliable.

It almost made Eric want to sigh, but he laughed softly instead and it rung with appreciation. Kyle's smile had slipped at the corners, and Eric wanted to question it before he felt Kyle's arms around his neck, his curls brushing his cheek.

"Thanks, Cartman." Kyle's soft voice warmed his skin. "I had a great time."

Eric was stunned, but he wrapped his arms around Kyle's back nonetheless.

"Me too," he murmured.

He had held Kyle countless times before, in embraces both lax and urgent, but Eric had never noticed how neatly Kyle fit in his arms, how his muscle memory dictated to him just the right way to hold Kyle. His fingers splayed at Kyle's back, recalled how they had once clawed and dragged their way across bare, wet skin, and refrained. He could feel the heat of Kyle's skin beneath his shirt, as if he were warming to Eric's touch and remembering too.

Kyle's hands slid down Eric's arms, and he breached from their embrace.

"I should probably get going," Kyle said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah…" Eric nodded, letting Kyle go and coughing into his fist. "Yeah, sure."

Kyle smiled tightly at him.

"Bye, Cartman."

"Bye, Kyle."

The word had hardly left his mouth and Kyle had already turned to leave. Eric had always watched him go, a bittersweet experience. He always consoled himself with the promise of other weekends, of anticipatory conversations in between, of receiving Kyle's text that he had arrived safely. But he could still feel Kyle's body pressed to his, and not only was the scent of him lingering in his nostrils but seeped into his clothes.

Kyle turned around and waved, his smile contagious even from where Eric was standing. He lifted his hand and waved back, and when Kyle finally disappeared from sight, he released the sigh he had been holding in all this time.

For the first time in two years Eric was antsy in Kyle's absence. Their conversation Eric still felt was unresolved was circulating his mind on a daily basis, and being chased by the rushing stream of memories that had accumulated over a lifetime together. They were so weighty and sparkling, bloated with affection, that they had burst the dam of self-preservation that Eric had been building for years.

He didn't want to look deeper, or look inward to discover why exactly this was happening. His fondness and attraction to Kyle had already done enough damage, why would he want to dismantle the dam himself? Pull it apart so he could drown in knowledge? So he decided to be careful, and examined the surface. Naturally, resentfully, he found nothing. Apart from nearly going out of his stubborn mind, nothing differentiated this period of separation from the last. He and Kyle still talked regularly; they bickered, they flirted, they chatted, but not about Denver. It was like nothing had ever happened, and that was infuriating.

If only Kyle could see how Eric was behaving. If only Kyle could see how he jolted whenever he received a text from him, how he fell asleep to thoughts of him, how he was willing the seconds to fall away so they could be together again. If only Kyle could see how much their conversation had haunted him, though maybe they were sharing the ghost?

Eric tried to assure himself that none of it mattered now. Somehow he had fretted a month away and Kyle would be here soon. Eric had a date and a time, numbers that were concrete he could anchor himself to. Perhaps when they saw each other again they would pluck up the courage to face the ghost, pick up where they had left off, and maybe Eric would finally reveal his tangled, knotted thoughts, and he and Kyle would stay up all night, hunched over as they unravelled it all. Or maybe they would forget all about their last weekend together, lock it up and store it away and return to it when they felt brave enough. Eric didn't know what would happen, and it was an odd kind of exhilaration.

Kyle was due to visit in three days, and Eric cringed at his restlessness, his clamminess, and his whirring head. He stared up at the blackened ceiling, the oppressive sheets tangled around his ankles. He couldn't believe that his impatience and his nerves seemed to have manifested into physical symptoms. Withdrawal from Kyle. Could it get more pathetic? Eric grumbled and rolled over, hoping to sleep.

He awoke the next morning from thin, feverish slumber with a scratchy, raw throat and congested sinuses. Surely his emotions weren't the cause? So unruly and dominating. He buried his head in the pillows. His relief that he wasn't suffering from Kyle-withdrawal was short-lived. He would rather have that than the flu.

Eric was able to sleep for a few hours, but it didn't make him feel any better. He woke up at noon, shivering, with aching legs and his t-shirt damp and sticking to his clammy skin. He had a few missed calls from work, and he returned them mumbling his excuses that he was sick. He hung up halfway through his boss' saccharine platitude. But he had another call to make.

"Hello?"

Maybe it was the fever, but Kyle sounded like he was right next to him. It made Eric think of their last visit, when he had been sweating and light-headed in this bed for a whole different reason, and Kyle's lips were pressed to his.

"Hi… "

"Are you alright?" Kyle asked. "You sound like you have a cold."

"The flu. I can't even get out of bed."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Not while you're in Phoenix. I was just calling to say that maybe you should stay with your parents this weekend instead," Eric replied. His fingers curled around the sheets, hating each word. "I mean, you don't want to stay with me and get sick, right?"

Kyle sighed.

"I suppose not… damn, and I was really looking forward to seeing you."

Eric blinked, a smile spreading across his face.

"You were?" he asked.

"Don't make me say that I missed you," Kyle replied, his shy voice crackling as softly over the phone as a toasty fireplace.

"Come on, it might make me feel better."

Eric savoured the silence, of course their flirtation had to involve some goading.

"I've missed you, idiot," Kyle finally confessed.

Eric grinned. He could hear the smile in Kyle's quiet voice.

"Well?" Kyle asked, sudden and sharp but Eric knew it was bluff. "Cured?"

"No," Eric sighed. "I still feel like shit."

"Maybe I'll drop by on the weekend."

Eric furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?" he asked.

"To see how you're doing? To take care of you?" Kyle replied. "You sound rotten."

Eric flushed, his heart thudding in his chest. He couldn't bear for Kyle to see him like this; exhausted, and sick, and needy.

"That's not necessary, I'll be fine."

"But you said you couldn't get out of bed. What about food and medicine?"

"Damn, I was exaggerating!" Eric exclaimed, although it strained his throat. "I always exaggerate! When I get hungry I'll just have to drag my ass out of bed and make something. I'm a grown man I can take care of myself! Besides, if I need some help I can call my mom, or Kenny, or Butters-"

"But not me? Why are they different?"

Eric snickered. "Well, I'm not sleeping with them for a start…"

"Really?" Kyle snapped. "That's your excuse?"

"No! I just- look, if you came over to see me we wouldn't be able to fuck. You know that, right? It would be gross."

"Of course I know that! But this is more than just sex to me! Do you know that!"

Kyle's words were ringing in Eric's ears, so loud he could hardly think of a response. This was more than just sex to him too. It had stopped being only that a long time ago. In fact, it terrified him that he couldn't quite name what it had evolved into. The words were as explosive as fireworks, but Eric couldn't light the fuse and let them be written in the sky, let them be spoken and exist between he and Kyle forever. He couldn't bear for Kyle to see him like that; earnest, helpless, vulnerable.

Kyle huffed. "Whatever. If you don't want me to come over I won't, it's your choice. I hope you feel better. I'll text you later."

Eric opened his mouth but Kyle had already hung up. He stared at his phone, incredulous, before throwing it to the foot of the bed, unable to believe Kyle's behaviour, and how cowardly he was.

"Say, Eric, you don't mind if I order some food, do you?" Butters asked, sitting on the edge of the couch. Eric was sprawled across it, a blanket kicked away and resting on his ankles.

"Only if you let me have some," Eric replied.

He hadn't eaten anything all day. His appetite was just as sluggish as he was, but hunger still gnawed at his stomach regardless.

"You're not supposed to eat if you have a fever…"

"Come on, Butters, I'm starving!"

"I just don't want you to get sick."

"I'm already sick! What were you thinking of ordering?"

Butters shrugged, scrolling through his phone.

"Pizza," he replied.

Eric groaned. He could practically taste the mozzarella, the tang of the tomato.

"Fuck, you're killing me…" he muttered.

"I'm trying to take care of you."

Eric rolled his eyes, but this was all his fault. It turned out that his assertion to Kyle that he was capable of taking care of himself was way off the mark. Eric had managed to slide out of bed, stumbling and disorientated, but every step to the kitchen to make himself a late breakfast felt like arduous effort. It felt like the work of an invisible entity who was moving his legs but not supporting the rest of his body that felt like it could fall to the floor, a hollow ragdoll, any minute. He tried to make himself some coffee, but even reaching into the cupboard to pull out a mug was exhausting enough that he could've passed out any minute. Trudging to his bedroom, he called Butters, who informed him not to worry, and that he would be over as soon as he had finished work. So Eric had then stumbled to the living room and threw himself on the couch, his eyes drowsily fixed on daytime TV, waiting for Butters to arrive.

"God, could this week get any more depressing?" Eric asked, throwing his arm across his forehead. "First, this stupid flu stops me from seeing Kyle, and now you're acting like my god damn mother. At least my mom would've let me eat whatever I want."

"Then why didn't you call her?"

"I did," Eric replied. "She had a date. She said she would cancel, but I told her not to. Somebody needs to get laid around here…"

Butters sighed, and said, "Well, you'll be able to see plenty of Kyle soon."

Eric furrowed his eyebrows and sat up. "What are you talking about?"

"He's moving here, isn't he?" Butters asked, looking up from his phone. "He's got a job in Denver."

"No!" Eric snapped. "His company is setting up an office in Denver, but that doesn't mean Kyle is going to work there. He hasn't made up his mind yet."

"I just thought when you told me-"

"Yeah, well, clearly you weren't fucking listening, were you?" Eric cut Butters off, his voice taut. "Nothing is happening, nothing is changing…"

Butters shifted in his chair, eyeing Eric warily.

"Why are you getting so mad about it?" he asked.

"I'm not mad!"

"I thought you would've been happy if Kyle moved here…"

Eric huffed and rolled his eyes. "God damn it, why?"

"Because he'd be closer to you," Butters replied. "Isn't that what you've always wanted? I gotta tell ya, I was surprised that you even applied to different colleges, that you didn't say something to him at his going away party before he went to Phoenix."

Eric thought back to that party, how everybody seemed to be breathing in the melancholic excitement and anticipation like it was second-hand smoke. Kyle was practically intoxicated by it. He remembered Kyle in the embraces of so many people wishing him farewell, how he nodded, and smiled, and laughed fondly. And then when he was on his own he kept an anticipatory, thoughtful smile to himself before sipping his drink. Eric had wanted to tell Kyle what so many people were obviously too polite to say to him: Don't go. I'd miss you too much. And Eric had so many chances, when the loud music had forced him and Kyle so close that he could've said anything to him and the night would've drowned it out. They were so close that one tilt of the head could've had their lips brushing together. Eric could have really given something to make Kyle stay, or at least reconsider. But it would take him a few more years to build up the courage to do that.

Eric blinked. He was back in the present but the party was still ringing in his ears and he could still taste the alcohol on Kyle's breath. He shook his head.

"What would've been the point?" he asked. "He wouldn't have stayed."

"Well, how do you know?"

"I just…" Eric sighed. "I know, Butters, okay? I know. And I know Kyle. He wouldn't have done that just for me."

Butters shrugged, a smirk was playing at the corners of his mouth.

"He's thinking of coming back now?"

"Yeah… yeah, but-"

"All I'm saying is that you shouldn't assume," Butters jumped in. "You may think you know Kyle, but I'll bet there's plenty of things that haven't even occurred to you. And I'll bet that Kyle thinks he knows all there is to know about you, but you and I both know that's not entirely true, is it?"

"I – I don't… fuck, Butters, I'm on a lot of medication and you said 'know' a lot," Eric replied wearily. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing, it's just… I don't like seeing you all defeated," Butters said, any trace of that smirk was gone. "That's not you, not when it comes to Kyle, especially. You dragged me all the way to San Francisco and nearly killed us both just so you could see him again, and now you don't want him to come back home? It's a shame, that's all…"

His mind was reaching further into the past, but that stormy, electric night in San Francisco was more vivid than any drunken party. He had summoned adrenaline he never knew he possessed, and Kyle's loose, delirious body still warm in his arms was the only thing tethering him to a world that seemed to be coming apart, disintegrating. Soon monstrous, black clouds had been replaced by the sun rising, sizzling like an egg yolk on the desert horizon, illuminating the disaster. Eric was exhausted, and Butters was already sleeping on his shoulder. Eric knew he wouldn't sleep until he saw Kyle's face again.

Now Eric wondered what had happened to that fearless boy, who did anything to get what – or who – he wanted, who didn't let the important things pass him by, who always put up the good fight. What the hell was he doing? What the fuck was he fighting for? He frowned, bowed his head.

"I, I'm sorry, Eric," Butters said softly. Eric felt him shifting closer. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine."

"You can have some pizza?" Butters offered. "I'll order whatever you want."

Eric shook his head, glanced at his friend.

"Forget it, Butters," he replied. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Butters smiled tightly, apologetically, before returning to his phone. Eric lay back down, stared at the TV screen and inspected that childhood memory a little closer. Even then, he realised, he had been scared, buried his fear beneath his arrogance and naivety. He couldn't even tell Kyle that he had saved him, because he couldn't risk things changing. But they had, it may have taken two decades but they had, and it had felt so natural and right. Eric hadn't considered that perhaps he was still resisting.

Butters went home at eleven pm, after making sure Eric took his last dose of medication for the day and was tucked up bed. Despite Butters' efforts to ensure he was as cosy as possible, Eric still had a terrible night sleep. If it wasn't his blocked sinuses and scratchy throat making him unable to relax, then it was the restless thoughts of Kyle, and their lifetime spent together that was keeping him up. His brain was content to replay his and Kyle's evolution from rivals, to friends, to slightly-more-than-friends, until the whole process seemed cyclical. As soon as Eric recalled those hazy, visceral moments where Kyle's tongue was in his mouth and his hands were clutching at his shirt, they were back to square one; childish squabbles on the playground and frustration that masked so much.

Whenever Eric did feel his eyelids droop however, granting him a reprieve from his incessant reminiscing, he was greeted by fever dreams of San Francisco. Collapsing power lines, booming thunder, and Kyle's small body stirring in his arms, jolted him awake. He finally gave up trying to sleep at six am, stumbling out of bed and padding into the kitchen to face the arduous task of making some breakfast (with a side of cold & flu medicine). He ate his food in the living room whilst watching some forgotten sitcom on the TV.

It was lunchtime when he heard a knock on the door, and he was half-asleep. The sitcom had been replaced by a daytime talk show, and the sunlight was straining through the curtains. Grumbling, Eric hauled himself off the couch and went to answer the door. He looked through the peephole, expecting Butters, or his mom, a delivery man or some kind of salesperson… but not Kyle.

Eric furrowed his eyebrows. The infuriated, incredulous part of him wanted to ignore the guy who had come all the way from Arizona unannounced at his door, but the intrigued and… flattered part of him wanted desperately to open up. Figuring that he should at least make the idiot's trip worth his while, Eric sighed and opened the door.

"Hey!" Kyle smiled brightly.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, smile wilting slightly.

"I was hoping I could take care of you," he replied.

"What? Why?" Eric exclaimed, realising now that the midday sunlight was not only harsh but incredibly unflattering when he looked as crappy as he felt. "You can't just fucking turn up at my door unannounced when I look like this!"

Kyle's shoulders slouched and he laughed disbelievingly. "Seriously? Cartman, I don't care how you look. Now are you going to let me in?"

Eric scratched the nape of his clammy neck before stepping aside. Kyle shot him a grateful smile before entering the apartment, holding a pull-along.

"What's with the suitcase?"

"Well, I assumed I was going to be here for a while," Kyle replied, meeting Eric's gaze. It was his signature assertive move, Eric had come to realise. It had made an appearance in arguments and trysts alike.

That one single look was an indication to Eric that he wasn't going to dissuade Kyle from whatever he had planned, but he could still try.

"But what about work?" he asked.

Kyle shrugged. "I've got enough personal days, may as well put them to good use…"

"And taking care of me is putting them to good use?" Eric retorted, stepping closer to Kyle. "Aren't you worried you'll catch this shit off me? It isn't fun."

Kyle's mouth twitched, that steely determined stare lost a fraction of its nerve. But he quickly composed himself, straightening his shoulders and resuming eye contact.

"No," he answered. "I want to help."

"But-"

"No more questions!" Kyle cut in, pointing a stern finger at him. "You need to be resting. Now, you go lie down and I'll make us something to eat, okay?"

Eric blinked, his head whirring from how fast this had all happened. In fact, it was spinning so fast that he couldn't concentrate long enough to come up with a good excuse or argument. He didn't have the energy to turn down what Kyle was offering. So he just rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Fine… "

Kyle smiled in return, before heading to the kitchen. Eric stared after him before returning to the couch, still half-believing this was all just the product of a vivid dream.

Eric lifted his gaze from the TV when he heard Kyle entering the living room, and saw that he was holding a mug. The contents were indiscernible from where Eric was sitting, but he could see the steam unfurling from the rim.

"Here," Kyle said, placing the mug on the coffee table.

Eric shifted on the couch, his joints still stiff and aching.

"What is it?" he asked, peering into the mug. He wrinkled his nose.

The yellow liquid was pale and cloudy, and small, white pieces of chicken bobbed on the surface as well as limp strings of pasta.

"Cup-a-soup?" Kyle replied. "Chicken noodle. You had some in your cupboard."

"I did?" Eric asked.

Kyle nodded. "Don't worry, I checked the date. It's fine."

"I just don't remember buying it…"

Eric usually cooked his own meals, and hadn't relied on ready meals or the like since he moved out of his childhood home. Unless he had envisioned one day being sick enough that he couldn't face cooking a meal for himself, then he had no idea why he bought it.

Kyle sighed, rubbed his hands on his jeans.

"Yeah, well, I thought it would make you feel better," he replied.

"Butters says I'm not supposed to eat anything."

"Butters?" Kyle asked. He made the name sound strangely abrasive. "When was he over here?"

"Yesterday," Eric replied. He remembered his and Kyle's recent phone conversation and tried to steer them away from the subject (as if Kyle would storm back to Phoenix in a jealous huff anyway, Eric didn't believe he was that petty). "Turns out you were right, I can't do this on my own."

"What did I say you couldn't do?" Kyle asked, sitting on the armchair. "I was just trying to get across to you that being sick on your own isn't easy. You need help."

"Clearly…" Eric muttered.

"There's nothing wrong in admitting that."

The hardness had melted in Kyle's voice, now soft and earnest, though it still made Eric wince.

"Yeah, I know," Eric replied.

"Aren't you going to eat your soup?"

"'Drink' would be a better word, don't you think?" Eric smirked.

Kyle shot Eric an exasperated look, before he picked up the mug and raised it to his lips. He blew at it to cool it down, and felt the condensation settle above his lip. The scent crawled into his nostrils, warm and mild. The taste wasn't remarkable, merely agreeable, but the heat soothed his aching throat nonetheless.

"How is it?" Kyle asked, leaning forward in his chair, hands clasped at his lap almost eagerly.

"Delicious," Eric replied with a wry smile.

Kyle's shoulders slouched, his eyes lidded with exasperation once more.

"Thanks, Kyle," he added.

"No problem," Kyle smiled, pleased and adorable.

Eric hid his own smile behind the mug of soup, before taking another sip.

Eric had gone to bed an hour ago, but not even the mug of hot chocolate Kyle had made for him (now empty on his dresser) could soothe him into slumber. Eric was still coughing, and sniffling, tossing and turning, kicking the blanket away from him when he was too warm, and pulling it back over him when he was wracked with the shivers prompted by fever. He had no idea restlessness could make you so indecisive. He was hoping to exhaust himself soon.

He had his back to the door, and stiffened when it creaked open, although he knew it could only be one person. Confused, Eric fumbled in the dark to switch his bedside lamp on, although the light stung his already weary eyes. He sat up, and saw Kyle frozen by his bed.

"I, uh, thought you would be asleep by now…" Kyle said. When Eric squinted he could see that his face had pinked.

"What the hell are you doing?" Eric asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Going to bed."

The dent in Eric's brow grew deeper.

"What?" he asked. "With me?"

Kyle lifted the quilt carefully, and it looked like the folded over page of a book. He sat on the bed, and Eric remembered the feeling of the mattress dipping with Kyle's weight and the times where it hadn't felt so strange. Sure, Kyle would always be welcome in his bed, but Eric hadn't assumed Kyle would always want to be there. Especially now, with his nose running, and his limbs antsy.

"It's not as if we haven't shared a bed before, you know," Kyle pointed out, arching a knowing eyebrow.

"Yeah, but neither of us were contagious then," Eric replied. A smirk crept onto his face before he could stop it.

"Well, if I get sick you're just gonna have to come to Phoenix and take care of me, aren't you?"

Eric shook his head and chuckled. His reaction seemed to please Kyle, he noticed him smiling.

"Look, if you don't want me to sleep in here, I won't," Kyle said, raising his hands in preparation for defeat. "I'll go sleep on the couch or something-"

"No!" Eric cut in, and Kyle appeared to be just as surprised by his abrupt response as he was. "No, Kyle, don't do that. You can sleep here."

Kyle blinked, lowered his hands, and the corners of his mouth rose in a wide smile. "Really?"

Eric sighed, gentle and half-hearted.

"Yes," he replied. His genuine words carried more weight. "I want you to."

Kyle grinned before getting under the covers, as excited as if Eric had finally granted him entry into a secret fort. Kyle had slept in this bed countless times before, but just like a fort in the woods is a heap of sticks and sheets that you could walk past and encounter without giving it a second thought, without pondering what goes on inside, what it symbolised to anybody who created it, lying next to Eric now he could tell that this meant more to Kyle than just letting him crash here. It signified that after his small resistance, Eric wanted him here, and that Kyle was allowed in.

It signified they could sleep together without sleeping together. The passionate kisses, breathless embraces, and flirtatious banter were alluring enough to distract them from the niggling insecurity that this was all their relationship consisted of. Although all those things were great, and to be cherished, they could live without them. They could just lie next to each other, not touching, and exchange quiet, conspiring chuckles, not talking, not knowing what was so funny but trusting that their thoughts were running alongside each other. Lying beside each other, just like they were.

"It's warm in here." Kyle smiled.

"Must be the fucking fever radiating from me," Eric joked, trying to deflect from his shivers he was suddenly self-conscious about. "Get used to it because you may wake up tomorrow feeling just as terrible."

Kyle rolled his eyes and snickered.

"Then we can take care of each other," he replied. His voice was just above a whisper.

Eric grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

Kyle chuckled, and Eric responded readily as though it were kisses they were exchanging.

"Let's try and get some sleep, huh?" Kyle suggested.

Eric nodded, and his eyelids were beginning to droop already, finally drowsy.

"Good night, Cartman," Kyle whispered.

"Good night, Kyle," Eric murmured, before reaching for the lamp and switching it off.

The next day, Kyle was still feeling fine, but Eric felt worse. Gone were the playful smiles, and giddy chuckles of yesterday. Kyle had been regarding Eric with a furrowed brow and disconcerted eyes for most of the afternoon, and in his peripheral vision he noticed Kyle was watching him instead of whatever daytime show was on the TV. The scrutiny made Eric antsy. Kyle's concern a niggling itch he wished he could scratch. But that would mean his flu miraculously disappearing, and no amount of medicine could bring about that result instantaneously. So when Kyle mentioned taking a shower, Eric sensed an opportunity. He dismissed Kyle's reluctance and insisted he was fine, and finally Kyle left the living room with an acquiescent frown.

Eric contented himself with the sound of rushing water, like it was a much needed partition between him and Kyle. They were individuals again, capable and independent once more, friends and lovers still, but equal. Eric no longer felt self-conscious, that he was Kyle's burden, and he imagined the shower washing off all of Kyle's stress and concern for him.

He tugged at the blanket around his waist, pulling it up to his chest. Was it colder in here? But he was sweating. Eric could feel it prickle at his scalp, collect under his arms and could taste the salt on his clammy lips. With an irritable grunt he kicked the blanket away though he was still shivering in violent, restless jerks.

Eric thought he heard the sound of rushing water stop, but he also felt like his head had been submerged and his ears were clamouring for the noise from the surface. His blinks were growing heavier, and they stung with the sweat that had pooled at his lashes. He needed to move. His limp arms reached for the couch so he could hoist himself up. But he was unsteady on his feet when he did, and his mind was spinning, his head drained as though this was an altitude he wasn't meant to reach. Eric flopped back down on the couch, panting with the exertion.

"Kyle!"

No answer. Eric figured he must have still been in the shower. Perhaps the water hadn't stopped running? Maybe the hollow ringing in his ears was drowning it out? Eric would just have to go to Kyle. Sighing, Eric stood back up but stumbled once more. He collapsed onto the couch before he could actually pass out.

"Kyle!" he called out. "Are you nearly done in there?"

"Yeah? What's up?"

Eric had never been so relieved to hear Kyle's voice.

"Can you come in here?" Eric asked. Somewhere a part of him was cringing at the strain in his voice. "I…" it was difficult to talk now, his breaths were catching in his throat. "I don't feel so good!"

"What?" Kyle replied. "Okay, I'll be right in!"

Kyle was dressed when he came into the living room, but his hair was still wet and there was a towel wrapped around his shoulders. When he was close enough, Eric saw that the deep, thoughtful dent in his brow had returned, but that concern that once simmered in his eyes was alight now and burning brightly, wildly. It had been waiting for a moment just like this. Eric wanted to comment on it, but didn't have the energy. He was sure that if he opened his mouth he would vomit.

Eventually, he breathed out: "Kyle…"

Kyle sat next to him and placed a warm hand on his forehead.

"Shit," he muttered. "You're burning up…"

"What?"

"It's okay," Kyle replied, wrapping his arm around Eric and pulling him closer. "You'll be okay."

Eric buried his face in Kyle's shoulder, and hated himself for how much he was trembling, but that stony, sour feeling soon melted when his own lukewarm skin met Kyle's, soft and cool. He inhaled the fresh, sweet scent he recognised as his own shower gel, but it had mingled with an odour Eric knew was reassuringly, and distinctly Kyle's and together they created a smell soothing enough to slow his erratic heartbeat. The memory of him and Kyle hugging at the train station floated into his mind, and the image was loaded with the wispy memories of all the other embraces they had shared.

"It's alright," Kyle whispered into Eric's damp hair. "I'm here…"

Eric nodded, his eyes closing, and slumber began to cloud that recent, lovely memory.

He didn't know how long he had slept for, only that he felt considerably better upon waking. Kyle hadn't moved, although he must have repositioned Eric because his head was resting lower on Kyle's chest now, his cheek pressed against a ribcage rising and falling steadily. His face burned when he noticed some drool had gathered at the corner of his mouth, and in fact, had made its way onto Kyle's shirt.

He wondered if Kyle had noticed, if he knew he was even awake. But before Eric could ask, or even glance at him, he felt gentle fingers brush away the hair that had fallen onto his brow. The fingers didn't just neatly comb the hair back in place though; they ran through Eric's damp brown locks leisurely; as admiringly as one might finger a luxuriant swathe of silk; as adoringly as one may stroke a purring cat… or as affectionately as one would soothe their lover in times of distress, cherishing them even when things are at their dullest, their toughest. Eric didn't want to spoil that, didn't want to risk Kyle letting him go. So he remained silent, and closed his eyes again.

Eric had been sleeping well for three nights in a row, the ache in his throat dulling, his nose drying up, and his fever fading. He woke up from another deep sleep feeling the best he had felt all week, the gentle sunlight that flooded the room wasn't such a strain on his eyes. He took long, lazy blinks before rolling over and finding Kyle lying next to him. He had freed his one leg from the covers, and although his head was turned to the side Eric could see that his lips were parted. Eric ran his gaze over his jawline, before lowering his eyes to Kyle's chest, rising and falling as it produced the soft breaths falling from Kyle's lips.

Eric felt his smile growing wider. He loved the sight of Kyle sleeping next to him more than he thought he would. Sure, he had caught himself admiring Kyle before, even before their relationship became something more than platonic. He had laughed at Kyle's jokes, blushed at his compliments, and smiled at the things Kyle said that just cemented how great of a person he was. But Kyle was just lying there now, still and oblivious, not doing anything, and yet Eric's heart was stirring, like it was preparing to flutter away from his chest any second. Maybe it was because it was nice to see Kyle relaxed after all he had done for Eric these past few days? But clarity was piercing through his fogginess, sharp and bright. It struck the affection he had felt for years, the affection that had once been so deeply buried but was rising to the surface every day, and made it glow; visible, prepossessing, and impossible to ignore.

Eric's heart was pounding now, and he was frozen. Although his feelings had been unearthed, he was still unclear on what he should do, what it all meant. Perhaps the glow was so bright it was blinding? But its rays thrummed and echoed with messages, with thoughts, with desires Eric never thought he would be capable of feeling. He wanted to wake up to this sight, always. He dreaded the thought of an empty bed, without the warmth of Kyle's body whispering to him. He couldn't bear another trip to the train station, couldn't let himself watch Kyle walk away. It was a reoccurring fear, he realised; letting Kyle go, but also wanting to hold him at arm's length, for fear of what? Being vulnerable? Attached? Honest and weak? But now he realised there was no weakness in honesty anymore, and no shame in vulnerability. He was willing to admit that now, he was ready to hold Kyle close to him and admit this is where he wanted to be.

Eric shifted closer to Kyle, watching him like an animal he could easily startle. He rested his head on his chest and loosely placed his arm around him. It was still quite early, and Eric hoped that he would surprise Kyle when he woke up, just by being in his arms. But just as Eric was making himself comfortable, making a pillow out of his chest, he felt Kyle stir beneath him. Kyle grumbled, fidgeted, and as Eric watched him he wondered if Kyle could feel his racing heart pressed against him. When Kyle's bleary eyes met his, Eric smiled, and watched a half-grin tug at the corner of Kyle's mouth.

"Good morning," Eric murmured. His cheeks were growing warmer.

"Hey," Kyle replied, voice hoarse with sleep. He wrapped his arm around Eric, and Eric nuzzled the crook of his neck. "Sounds like you're feeling much better, huh?"

"Yep." Eric grinned.

"I'm glad…"

Eric thought Kyle would fall asleep again, but he furrowed his eyebrows when Kyle's arm slowly pulled away from him.

"I can make us some breakfast, if you want-"

"No," Eric replied, tugging at Kyle's shirt and pulling him back down to the mattress. He rested his head on his chest again. "Let's just stay here for a while. Is that okay?"

Eric was sure he felt Kyle's body stiffen in surprise, but was relieved to hear him chuckle.

"Sure it is," he said.

Kyle wrapped his arm around Eric once more, pressed his cheek to Eric's hair. Instead of letting his eyes drift shut, Eric's mind was instead rushing with all the things he had to say, that just couldn't wait until later.

"So… have you thought more about Denver?" he asked.

Clearly, Kyle's mind wasn't as busy as Eric's, for he replied, half-asleep already, "What about Denver?"

"You know, working there," Eric said, and agitation crept into his voice. He didn't want this conversation to be longer than it needed to be, his palms were damp with sweat already.

"Oh…" Kyle replied, awake now.

He sat up and Eric did too, so they were eye-to eye.

Kyle's smile was shy and playful when he added, "maybe…"

Eric smiled too, but ducked his head and fiddled with the sheets below him.

"And these thoughts are they… um… do you think you might take it?" he asked, wincing. He wondered where his articulacy went.

"Possibly." Kyle nodded, more seriously. "I still have plenty of time to mull it over."

Eric nodded in return, it wasn't a solid answer but that wasn't important. The important thing was letting Kyle know that he was done pushing him away, that he'd accept any decision Kyle made and what direction he chose as long as they were moving forward together.

"What do you think I should do?" Kyle asked.

Eric blinked, unprepared.

"What? This isn't about me," he replied, his words felt rushed. "I can't tell you what to do."

"Although you would love that, right?" Kyle grinned.

Eric rolled his eyes and nudged Kyle's shoulder.

"I just think you should do what makes you happy, what you think is right," he said, slower now, more earnest. "But personally…"

"Yeah?"

Kyle inched forward, and Eric was emboldened. He inched forward too.

"I think it would be pretty great," he replied with a grin.

Kyle's eyes widened, brightened, with surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah…" Eric nodded. "It would be nice to have you closer."

"I think so too," Kyle beamed.

Their eyes lowered to their mouths and their lips met, the first kiss they had shared since Kyle's arrival.

A/N: Thanks for reading, and any feedback is appreciated!