The Funnel Of Love

Here I go, falling down, down, down.

Kyle Broflovski was notorious for his disastrous love life. It wasn’t just a bad streak—it was a joke everyone was in on except him. Each breakup left him with a dull ache, a reminder that Cupid seemed to have a personal vendetta. And here he was, stranded in the hall of South Park High, watching a sea of couples drift by, close and tangled, whispering, laughing. Leaning against the line of green lockers, Kyle’s envy felt like bile in his throat. He wasn’t some villain; he didn’t ask for this loneliness. And yet… alone he was. Scoffing, he slammed his locker shut, the sound sharp enough to sting.

A low chuckle beside him broke the spell. Of course—it was Kenny, perpetually disheveled and cheerful, the poorest guy in town, yet somehow always flanked by admirers. As much as jealousy itched under Kyle’s skin, he had to admit, Kenny deserved it. But why couldn’t it be him, even just once?

“Hey, Broflovski!~” Kenny’s voice, muffled through that scratchy hoodie, oozed his usual swagger. Leaning against the locker next to Kyle’s, he worked at unwrapping a lollipop, fingers fumbling against the tight wrapper.

Kyle sighed, popping a bubblegum lollipop of his own. “What’s new, Ken?”

A grin spread across Kenny’s face. “New kid.”

Kyle’s gaze followed Kenny’s outstretched finger, and then he saw him. Dark hair framing a face with soft, peach-toned skin. But what captured him most were the eyes—blue, bright as lightning, flickering with an easy kindness as they scanned the crowded hall, careful not to jostle anyone. The rest of the world fell away, blurred into meaningless static as Kyle stared, lips parting in awe. There was something painfully perfect about him: the way he moved, graceful and unassuming; the way he held himself, steady and strong. A sense of purpose in every step, as though he belonged, even though he was new. The ache inside Kyle morphed, sharp and hungry. This boy… he would be Kyle’s, no matter what it took.

The thought echoed, an obsessive whisper. Kyle felt something twist inside him, something possessive, fierce, as he drank in every detail. A flash of warmth surged through him, fierce enough to make his hands clench and unclench, mind racing. He would do anything for that boy—anything to be noticed, to be needed.

He was dimly aware of Kenny elbowing him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“So?” Kenny asked, smirking. “What do you think? Should we give him a welcome?”

Kyle swallowed, his eyes flickering back to Kenny, then back to the boy. He nodded, something dark and determined glinting in his gaze. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, let’s make him feel welcome.”

Kyle’s heart pounded, each beat synchronized with the faint, desperate thought lingering in his mind: He has to be mine. Only mine.

He didn’t just want to meet this new boy; he wanted to be the first name he’d remember, the first face he’d think of when he woke up, the first friend he’d call when he needed something. Kyle’s mind whirled, each step he took through the crowded hallway blurring into a tunnel of greens and grays. The colors faded, and all he could see, clear as daylight, was that boy.

“Hey, kid!” Kenny’s cheerful voice rang out as they closed in, and Kyle’s heart stammered in his chest. He clenched his fists, watching intently as the boy turned to them, his expression warm and open, like he was glad to be acknowledged. For a split second, everything felt suspended, almost delicate.

“Hey,” the boy said, his voice calm, steady. There was a gentle strength to it, one that pulled Kyle in, drowning out the noise around him.

Kyle stepped forward, fighting to keep his expression composed, neutral. His fingers tingled, and he dug his nails into his palms, using the sharp pain to steady himself. He had to play it cool, just like any other meeting. “I’m Kyle,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Welcome to South Park.”