We Both Deserve Better, So Let's Be Together

One-shot

(A/n: Today is my birthday, and I am gifting myself and the readers the Twyle Kemonomimi AU I mentioned in a chapter of Stenny Short Stories, though it does not follow the plot of that of that specific short story. Trigger Warning: mention of child abuse. Thank you to those that wish me a happy birthday. Also, none of the South Park characters belong to me)

Kyle has a routine.

Every morning, he wakes up at exactly 7 o'clock, uses the toilet, takes either a warm or cold shower depending on the season (in this case, warm, since it's Autumn), then spends a meticulous amount of time drying himself off. His mother's hair dryer used to get the job done a lot quicker than a towel, but it stopped working years ago. He's been unable to get a new one. Afterwards, he puts a specialized cream on his tail to keep it from frizzing, gets dressed, ties his long, red hair into a ponytail with one of his mother's scrunchies, slips his feet into his bedroom slippers, then heads to the kitchen. His breakfasts always depend on his mood; today, he's feeling...incredibly tired. Not entirely physically though. He settles on making coffee, the caffeinated beverage gives him mixed results each time-it either provides him a small energy boost or none at all.

After the short brewing process, he pours the hot coffee into his father's favorite mug-a cherished item Kyle and his mother got him as a present for his birthday. The next thing Kyle always does is go outside with his breakfast, more specifically, on the veranda. Through the shadowed greenery, he looks ahead, observing the sky. It's clear compared to last night and unevenly divided into two colors, the vast top half is gradually brightening to a neutral shade of blue whereas the meager bottom portion is tinted a ghostly yellow, indicating the sun's leisure advancement over the horizon. The calming display complemented by the silence eases Kyle's soul, although he's not showing it. His lime-green eyes long since lost their vibrance. He goes over to a woven straw table that has two chairs made out of the same fabric on each side of it. He sits in the nearest chair, setting the mug on the table's bare surface. All three pieces of furniture were once decorated, however the flowers that used to adorn the tabletop withered and died years ago, and the handmade embroidered quilts had gotten dirty over time. Kyle didn't bother getting fresh new flowers because those, too, would've lost their lives eventually from just being watered and attaining insufficient sunlight. As for the quilts his mother crafted with her very own hands, he washed them, of course, but didn't put any of them back over the chairs and table. He never wants them to get soiled ever again.

He takes small sips of his coffee, in no rush to finish it. He relishes the tranquil quietude, though he would occasionally hear some rustling in the bushes. He ignores it. Animals tend to roam this far from the park, either having a home of their own they're returning to or to get away from the humans.

The next sip he takes is the last, his father's mug is now empty. Just like how he has been feeling for the past decade. He looks at the sky again, the vaguely dark blue hue has gotten noticeably brighter and the yellow color appears the opposite. It won't be long before the sun is viewed by everyone.

Grabbing the mug, Kyle gets up and ambles back into his house, pausing when one of his ears twitches at the sound of multiple footsteps. They appear to be absconding the vicinity with haste, Kyle understanding why a split second later. His nose picks up a faint scent of blood. It's unenticing, so it doesn't belong to an animal. He lours at the front door. How annoying. Those dumb humans just had to kill someone within his territory. He proceeds into his home, deciding to mind his own business. He is not going to let a murder ruin his routine.

After breakfast, he washes the dish or dishes he used, then goes back to his room to sleep.

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