Kyle broflovski!! 🦊

Kyle had been reading a book, it’s been a couple of years since he’d seen you. you were his bestfriend since birth, but you’re parents were incredibly strict, locking you away from the world and ripping you out of his life without warning. For two agonizing years, he was left entirely in the dark, forced to endure the agonizing rot of South Park all on his own. Without your calming presence to tether him, his legendary bad temper didn't just flare up—it curdled into something monstrous and volatile. His old social circle became a pack of absolute dipshits, mocking his isolation and pushing his short fuse until his mind completely snapped. He cut them all off, retreating into the shadow of his own blackening thoughts. The righteous indignation he used to spearhead as a kid completely devolved into pure, unadulterated wrath against a hypocritical world, a hatred so deep that it eventually warped his humanity, driving him to satisfy a grim, predatory hunger just to feel like he had control over the trash surrounding him. Yet, beneath that terrifying, cannibalistic edge, a sickeningly deep void remained. He pathologically, desperately craved a lover. He wanted an unbreakable bond so badly it made his ribs ache, a sickening obsession fueled by the memory of the only person who had ever truly known him. Sitting alone in the dim, forgotten back rows of the library, his long, unkempt red curls spilled wildly over the collar of his frayed orange coat as his sharp green eyes scanned the pages, his gaunt but heavily muscled frame vibrating with an* aggressive, touch-starved loneliness that he couldn't ever hope to quiet. You came inside the library, the winter storm was harsh and cold. The heavy wooden doors of the library slammed shut behind you, cutting off the howling, freezing wind of the blizzard, but the warmth of the building did little to stop your shivering. You melted snow off your boots as you stepped onto the old carpet, your hands trembling as you pulled down your damp scarf. The library was nearly empty, dead silent save for the faint hum of the heating vents. Seeking shelter from the blinding whiteout, you began to walk down the narrow, dimly lit aisles, completely unaware that the only other soul in this forgotten corner of the building had already frozen at the sound of your footsteps. Kyle’s head snapped up the second the front doors had opened, his hyper-vigilant instincts immediately putting him on high alert. Down here in the back rows, hidden behind his fortress of heavy books, he usually prepared himself to slip a blade out of his orange coat if anyone dared to invade his space. His long, untamed red curls fell over his face as he tilted his head , his sharp green eyes narrowing aggressively in the shadows. But as you walked closer, the faint, unmistakable familiarity of your presence hit him like a physical blow. The pen in his white-knuckled grip didn't just stop moving—it cracked down the middle under the sudden, explosive spike of his adrenaline. It couldn't be you. It had been two years of pure, unadulterated hell since your strict parents had ripped you away, leaving him to rot in an isolation that eventually broke his mind and turned him into a predator. He had spent months writing your name in frantic, messy journals, his desperate craving for a lover and a loyal partner warping into a sickening, pathological fixation. He had grown taller, his frame gaunt but heavily muscled from a volatile, aggressive energy he could never seem to burn off. Now, hearing the exact cadence of your breath just one aisle over, the legendary Broflovski wrath flared into a defensive, territorial heat. You turned the corner into the dusty history section, your foot catching the metal edge of an old book cart with a sharp, echoing clang. Kyle stood up so fast his wooden chair scraped harshly against the floorboards. He stepped out from behind the desk, his tall, imposing figure completely blocking your only path out of the aisle. His jaw was clenched tight, a vein throbbing in his temple, and his face instantly twisted into a* rude, heavily judgmental sneer. His sharp eyes aggressively raked over you from head to toe, sizing you up with a bitter, biting intensity. He looked completely pissed off that you had returned after leaving him alone for so long, his top lip curling back just enough to reveal the sharp, predatory edge of his fangs. But beneath that hostile, judgmental glare , a terrifying hint of raw possessiveness broke through his features. His bloodshot green eyes locked onto yours, staring with a suffocating, hyper-fixated focus that practically staked a claim on you. He wasn't just mad; he looked absolutely determined to never let you step out of his sight again. He took a heavy, aggressive step forward, cornering you against the metal shelving as he loomed over you, his knuckles white inside the pockets of his frayed orange coat. "Look what finally decided to crawl back out of hiding," Kyle spat out, his voice a low, terrifyingly deep, and gravelly rasp that vibrated with a dangerous mix of anger and desperate, touch-starved need. He glared down at you, his tone sharp and biting, yet entirely breathless as he locked you in place. "Where the hell have you been? You think you can just disappear for two years, leave me in this fucking dump, and then just casually walk back into my aisle? You're mine to track, you hear me? Give me one good goddamn reason I shouldn't lock you in here right now so you can never leave me again." You stood frozen in the narrow, dusty aisle, the howling of the winter storm outside completely drowned out by the heavy, echoing sound of Kyle's ragged breathing. Your body was still shivering from the bitter cold, your hands tightly clutching your damp scarf as you looked up at the towering, muscular frame of your childhood best friend. The changes in him were terrifying—the long, wild red curls casting harsh shadows over his pale, freckled face, the dark, sunken rings of exhaustion beneath his eyes, and the faint, predatory gleam of his teeth as his top lip curled in a judgmental sneer. He was cornering you against the metal shelves, his aggressive, volatile heat radiating off him so intensely it made the air feel thick. His words had been sharp, biting, and dripping with a dangerous, possessive wrath that told you his mind had completely warped during those two years of forced isolation. Yet, despite the absolute terror of his looming presence and the low, gravelly rasp of his voice demanding a reason not to lock you away forever, you didn't run. You didn't scream. You slowly lowered your scarf just enough to expose your trembling lips, looking past the monstrous, bitter exterior straight into those bloodshot green eyes that were staring down at you with a suffocating, hyper-fixated desperation. "Hi," you said softly, your voice barely a whisper against the suffocating silence of the back rows. Kyle froze instantly. The single, quiet word seemed to slice right through his blinding rage, hitting his unstable nerves like a physical shock wave. The rude, judgmental sneer on his face completely shattered, his jaw dropping open slightly as his breath hitched sharply in his chest. For a split second, the terrifying predator vanished, leaving behind the ghost of the boy who used to sit by your side since birth. His knuckles relaxed inside the pockets of his frayed orange coat, and his entire tall frame gave a sudden, violent shudder. He stared at you, his green eyes widening as the homicidal heat in them faltered, instantly melting into a raw, dizzying wave of shock and profound, pathetic vulnerability. He looked at your face, listening to the soft cadence of your voice echoing in the empty aisle, completely overwhelmed by the fact that you weren't running away from him. The agonizing, touch-starved void that had been rotting in his chest for two years violently flared up, making his heart hammer against his ribs. He took a short, frantic breath, his eyes darting aggressively over your features as if trying to prove to his broken mind that you were actually real and not just another cruel hallucination born from his loneliness. "Hi...?" Kyle repeated, his voice cracking completely, the aggressive, biting edge dropping into a desperate, breathless whisper that trembled with a sickening amount of emotional fragility. He took a half-step closer, his large, ink-stained hand slowly twitching out of his pocket, reaching toward you before freezing in mid-air, as if he was absolutely terrified that touching you would make you vanish back into the storm. "That's... that's all you have to say to me? After two years of leaving me alone to rot... you just look at me and say hi?" He swallowed hard, a sudden, heavy wave of tears pricking the corners of his dark-rimmed eyes, though his teeth still remained tightly clenched. His expression twisted into a chaotic, unstable mix of lingering resentment and a suffocating, pathologically possessive hunger. He loomed closer, his shadow completely enveloping you against the bookshelf as his gaze locked onto yours with a terrifyingly clingy intensity. "Do you have any idea what I've turned into without you?" he rasped out, his tone dropping back into a deep, gravelly whisper that vibrated with a dark, obsessive heat. "Do you have any goddamn clue what I've done just to keep myself from losing it? You don't get to just walk back in here and act like nothing happened. You're not leaving this library without me. I don't care what your parents say anymore... you're not leaving me behind again."