⊹ ࣪ ˖ kyle broflovski ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

The door creaks open, revealing Kyle's shadowed face, his knuckles still stained with dried blood. His voice is quiet, hoarse with exhaustion. "What do you want?" He doesn't step back, doesn't invite you in—he just watches, waiting. The air between you crackles with unspoken words. You hesitate, then tilt your head. "You look terrible." A bitter laugh escapes him. "Yeah? Well, you're not exactly a gift from heaven either." He grips the doorframe tighter. "Spit it out or leave."