Bittersweet Bundle of Misery
Chapter 1 – Just a State of Mind
By: StalkerDex
(Author's Note: This story is inspired by a work of fanart I saw on Deviantart. It's a photo of all of the boys with their sort of "issues" written on it. I'll post a link to it if I can get the artist's permission :) Yes, I'm aware that this is my third story…but I'm FILLED with ideas right now. I promise to give each story the time it deserves! Anyway…hope you enjoy the read!)
Don't Get Sick
Sheila sat quietly beside her son, exhaustion wearing her down. She was fighting off how terrible she felt fiercely, despite everyone's pleas for her to go home. There was no way in Hell she was going to leave his side; not when he could go at any given moment. He had fallen ill with cancer over three months ago and it was aggressive. He hardly even had the energy to speak anymore, and the doctor's had told her he would pass anywhere from three months to three days. It was gut wrenching and reeking havoc on her and the rest of her family.
Gerald was in the corner opposite his wife, standing with a cup of coffee, though he hadn't the stomach to sip it. He was suffering silently, allowing his wife to poor out her grief, as a good husband should. Still, it was killing him to watch his beautiful, 21 year old son on his deathbed. It had happened so quickly…he had been fine just a few months ago.
He put his hand to his head and closed his eyes as he remembered his last visit home. He had moved away after high school to go to law school in California, following in his proud father's footsteps. He had returned for Christmas vacation, however, and been completely fine. It was only March now and he was facing the end; it was mindboggling.
Sheila and Gerald both jumped as they heard Kyle coughing, waking from his sleep.
"Gerald…" Sheila said pleadingly as she stood up, quickly rubbing her son's back in his fit.
Mr. Broflovski ran over to his side and handed him a tissue. Kyle grasped it, hardly aware of what was happening in his ill state. He continued to cough hard for a few minutes before pulling the napkin away from his mouth, unaware that he'd completely soaked it with blood.
"Oh, Kyle…" Sheila said softly, taking the bloody tissue from his hand and clutching it as though it had some sort of power to change things as they were. She had to hold back tears as she looked up at her husband, eyes begging him to do something; anything. He felt his stomach lurch as he stared at her, unable to fix it. As a man, he wished for nothing more than to be able to snap his fingers and make it go away. However, there was simply no way to change things, no matter how desperately he and his wife needed it.
"Mom…I'm thirsty," Kyle said meekly, eyes half closed as he leaned back consumed with absolute fatigue. He felt like he could go right then and there. However, as he managed to look towards his mother's broken face he decided he'd better at least try to hang on.
"Okay, Kyle…you're father will bring you some," she cooed as she pulled her chair closer to the bed and ran her finger through his sweat drenched, fiery red hair. His green eyes were hazed over as he attempted to smile at her, though found himself unable. He was in so much pain.
Gerald set his coffee down on the small nightstand beside his son's bed and left the room to retrieve some water. It was, as much as he hated to admit it, a relief to leave the room. He loved his son more than anything in the world; even more than himself or his wife. Still, it was tiring to spend every waking moment at the hospital with Sheila. She insisted that they be there until the very end, however, and he knew he couldn't abandon either of them in their time of need, so he sucked it up and did what was asked of him.
He let out a deep sigh as he walked up to the small food cart in the middle of the hospital entrance, greeted by the familiar face of the night shift.
"Hey Gerald," his newfound friend greeted, a sympathetic look on his face. He was aware of the situation.
"Hey Mark, how are you?" Gerald replied, no enthusiasm whatsoever in his voice.
"I'm good. How is your boy?" he asked.
"Not so good. He just coughed up a pretty considerable amount of blood…he asked me to get him some water."
Mark nodded his head, eyes understanding as he grabbed an ice cold water bottle and handed it to Gerald. Gerald pulled out his wallet to pay him but was interrupted by Mark's hand waving in his face.
"Don't worry about it, man. Go take care of your son…this one is on the house."
Gerald smiled at him, though mostly all he could express was sadness and shame. He wasn't ready to go back in there and face him.
"Thank you," he said softly, taking the water bottle from his hands graciously.
"Of course. Now get outta here," Mark insisted, offering one more understanding glance before Gerald waved his hand goodbye towards him, not bothering to be enthusiastic, though showing his gratitude.
He trudged back, feeling as though he were being dragged into a prison cell as he peeped into the hospital room. Kyle was still awake, he noted, as he slowly entered. Sheila hadn't noticed him but his heart immediately warmed as he realized Kyle recognized him, offering him a weak smile.
Gerald smiled at his son genuinely, walking up beside his wife and handing the bottle of water to Kyle.
"Thank you," Kyle said, his voice cracking. It took so much energy just for him to speak; it was hard to see.
"Of course," Gerald replied, putting his hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing gently. It felt good to see him interacting, even though he knew the situation was hopeless.
Sheila had tears falling down her face, though she wasn't making a sound. She had stopped crying hysterically for the most part, and simply allowed salty tears to make their way down her face every so often, usually when Kyle was able to talk with her. It gave her false hope, which was part of what Gerald found to be so difficult about the situation.
"I love you," Kyle said softly as he looked up at his father, green eyes sparkling ever so slightly with life. It was the first time in weeks he'd seen the haze leave them, and for the briefest moment, he felt that glimmer of false hope he so detested witnessing in his wife. It was more than he could bear.
Don't Lose Hope
Stan sat in his room, guzzling down a bottle of whiskey. He'd received the news about Kyle back when it had all started, and he occasionally got calls from Sheila with updates about him. He didn't really want to hear about it, to be honest. He knew Kyle was going to die…he had accepted it. It was just irritating in all truthfulness when Sheila would call to tell him every little sign that Kyle might be improving. She needed to accept the reality of it.
This was life. People you love die. People you love leave. They treat you like shit, they take advantage of you, and the good ones always die young. Sure, he and Kyle had grown apart in their adolescence and damn near completely lost touch once he'd moved away. They were adults now…this is the way things were supposed to be. There was really no sense in holding onto those childhood friends. Everyone moved on from that and made new lives, even if it sucked.
Of course it sucked. Everything fucking sucked. He hadn't met one person worth a shit since he'd left high school. Fuck…the only thing he found any solace in was the delicious, comforting bottle of whiskey he had to himself every night. He had decided not to go to college in the wake of his exit from high school. It was a waste of time, especially because he'd come to the conclusion that there was no need to follow all of the rules of society. Go to college. Have a career. Get married. Pop out a hundred little copies of yourself and then die. It was all so droll and pointless. Nothing really meant anything.
Not even the fact that Kyle was going to die.
He smirked at the thought. It was strange; when he was a kid Kyle had been his entire life. They had always stuck together, through thick and thin, yet somehow as they grew up and Stan began to see things as they were, Kyle had abandoned him. At first he was very bothered by the fact that Kyle didn't want to follow in his footsteps, and even jealous of the friendship he forged with Eric in the aftermath of their intense friendship. Eventually, however, he'd realized that relationships were meaningless, just like everything else. There was no need to pursue a friendship with Kyle. There was no need to pursue a woman to marry. There was no need for anything really.
He was content to go to his second rate, VST job at the local ambulance company in Park County, Colorado. He would attend his twelve hour shifts anywhere between three to four days a week and he would spend all of the money he earned on rent and the immense load of alcohol he required to make it through the days. Honestly, nothing made him happier than the peace he felt when his mind was numbed with the copious amounts of alcohol he fed himself; even if it didn't mean a thing.
Don't Die
Kenny had moved to New Jersey to be with his adoring girlfriend of three years, Alley. They had met their senior year and immediately moved out of state upon graduation. He was going to school as an English major, enjoying the more artsy side of life. They lived in a studio apartment that overlooked a nice, woodsy area near a small lake. It truly was beautiful, and the two of them were very content together, enjoying a simple life.
Alley was a painter, and the scenery proved perfect for her to hone in her craft while Kenny studied and wrote feverishly day and night. In between their projects, however, they spent most of their time talking, enjoying nice quiet dates and making love in the warmth of their apartment.
Kenny truly was the happiest he'd been in his life; except, of course, the fact that his curse had been broken. He had made a deal a year earlier with a rather strange man he'd met at his small time paper job. He wrote local obituaries, of all things, and had gone to his coworker's apartment for a beer. Upon getting a small buzz, he'd decided to divulge the fact that he had been cursed with eternal life. He aged normally, but no matter what happened, he kept getting killed and coming back, no one ever remembering the fact that he'd died the day before.
It was rough on his body and mind, dying over and over again. He was tired of being drawn to the white light, only to be just out of reach and then violently jerked back to his healed, Earthly form. Of course, he didn't mind his life. He was quite happy seeing as he was pursuing his dreams and very, very much in love.
However, upon sharing his secret, his coworker had performed a small ritual and seemingly rid him of his curse. This of course led to an overwhelming stress he hadn't thought of before making his deal; now he could die.
The grim reaper didn't seem to be out to get him nearly as much as before, seeing as he was still alive, but he lived each and every day knowing very well that it was likely his last. Perhaps that was why he spent so much of his time forcing himself to enjoy life. He wanted nothing more than to spend every minute he had with his love and enjoying the beauty life had to offer.
"Hey, Honey…are you okay?" Alley asked as she walked up beside her boyfriend, hugging him close.
"Yeah…just thinking about Kyle," he admitted as she ran her fingers through his long blonde locks.
She sighed as she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the bed, sitting him down and settling on his lap. She looked at him sympathetically, knowing very well what it was like to lose a friend.
"Do you think we should go and visit him?" she asked.
Fuck. Get on a plane? You've got to be crazy.
"I don't know if I can," he said, not bothering to elaborate. He knew she wouldn't push him.
She sighed, brushing his bangs out of his blue eyes and leaning in to kiss him softly.
"Well…I will go with you if you decide you want, okay?" she assured.
He looked her over, smiling gently at her and noting that one of the straps of her tank top had slipped off of her shoulder. He slid his finger over the exposed area before kissing her gently.
"I want you," he whispered.
She smirked at him before enveloping him in her arms and gently pushing him onto his back.
"I want you, too…"
Don't Fall In Love
Eric tugged at her long black hair as he thrust himself forcefully inside of her. He didn't know her name…he didn't care to know her name. It was never something he wanted when he delved himself into his affairs. It was all meaningless, casual surface encounters; just the way he liked it.
She moaned and writhed with pleasure beneath him, occasionally shouting out his name. He pulled her hair some more, causing her to lift her chin and expose her neck to him. He leaned in and started to nibble and suck at it hungrily, eager to climax.
As he sped up his pace he felt the blonde behind him start to kiss the back of his neck. He had almost forgotten about the other one, seeing as he was focused on the dark haired woman at the moment. Apparently these two girls were close friends and, upon meeting him in college, they'd both decided they had to have him. He certainly wasn't going to complain.
"Me too, Baby," she urged as she tugged at him.
He moaned in protest, though removed himself from the darker haired girl and rolled over onto his back. He watched as the two girls made out and pleasured each other for him, which was definitely arousing. The blonde kept looking up at him from between her friend's legs as though searching for approval. Despite the fact that he found her to be entirely pathetic, he was turned on and he did want to fuck her, so he quickly snatched her off her friend and positioned her onto his lap.
She moaned, utterly satisfied as he thrust himself inside of her, letting her ride him at the pace she wanted. As she moved her hips rhythmically her friend put her hand on Eric's cheek and kissed him deeply. As she kissed him and her friend writhed around atop him, she grabbed his hand and forced it between her thighs. He obliged her for a few minutes before becoming overwhelmed with the situation.
He started to shake violently as he climaxed with his new blonde friend. She screamed out dramatically, which he knew was total showmanship, but couldn't bring himself to care. It didn't matter to him whether he made either of them cum or not, he just wanted to get his rocks off and if they were willing to tag team him he was going to let them.
"Oh…Fuck…Eric that was fantastic," the blonde one said, breathlessly allowing herself to fall beside him. He shook his head and smirked.
"Of course it was," he replied, quickly getting off of the bed and putting his pants back on. The two girls were snuggled up together, neither bothering to get dressed as they watched him.
He suddenly found himself very irritated with them and pulled his black T shirt over his head hastily. He was still a little pudgy, though not to the extent to which anyone would call him fat or see him as unattractive. In fact, he had a very handsome face and it seemed to catch the attention of many young women. He pretty much had someone to fuck whenever he wanted, so he couldn't complain.
"Alright, thanks for your hospitality ladies…I'm gonna go home now," he announced as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lit one. He didn't even care if they were okay with him smoking in their apartment.
"Aw…leaving already? I didn't even get to cum," the dark haired one whined, clearly disappointed.
"Sorry, Darlin'," he said arrogantly, "Why don't you get your friend here to take care of that? I gotta go," he insisted pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders and quickly exiting the room, not bothering to look back. He didn't plan on fucking either one of them again. That's how he was, hit it and quit it.
Throughout his adolescence he had come to the realization that there was no point to falling in love. He had once, with someone he couldn't have, and had no desire to go through that agonizing pain ever again. He had built a wall to protect himself and there was no way in Hell he was ever going to let it down.
He jumped a bit as he stepped outside into the cool evening air, listening to the ocean waves crashing down. His iPhone was vibrating in his pocket.
"Hello?" he asked curiously.
"Hi Eric. It's Sheila."
Eric abruptly gave his full attention to his friend's mother, concerned.
"Is Kyle okay?" he asked, worry very obvious in his voice.
"He's the same Eric. He's awake, though, and he was asking about you," she said honestly, knowing that Eric would come by and visit. He had followed Kyle to California and shared an apartment with him before he fell ill. He still lived in their place, though he was hardly ever home. Of course, Sheila wasn't aware that he was crashing at all different women's apartments every night of the week, attempting to shield himself from the sickening reality all around him.
"I'm on my way…he's awake?" Eric replied, urgency in his voice as he sat himself in the driver's seat of his Nissan Altima, turning it on and driving towards the hospital.
"Yes. I'm not sure how long he'll stay up, but I think if you're close by you can catch him."
"I'm close…I'll be there in five minutes, alright?" he said, speeding up a bit. It had been a while since he'd caught Kyle awake. He went to visit him every single night, usually after his sexual deviance. It calmed his nerves afterwards to do something that actually meant something; to be around someone who actually mattered to him.
He swallowed hard as he felt his heart start to race. He so urgently wanted to get there before Kyle fell asleep again, though found it very difficult to think of what to say to him. His stomach always ached when he was there, even though he knew it was a good thing. Kyle was the only person in the world who could actually make him feel and, as frightening as it was, he would sometimes allow himself to open up ever so slightly when in his presence; of course, he would be gone soon, and that was a reality he knew had had to deal with.
"Okay Eric…we'll see you soon," Sheila said before hanging up the phone. Their conversations were never long.
Eric took a long drag off of his cigarette as he sped down the streets, eager to get to his friend. He was the only one who had stuck by Kyle's side after high school, and he had to admit, he was pretty pissed off at Stan and Kenny for not bothering to come and visit. Especially now that the end was near. How could they just sit back, not even bothering to call, while their friend was dying? It made him sick.
The drive hadn't been long and he found himself running down the halls of the hospital to the familiar sight of Kyle's room, even passing Mark at the entrance with his little stand full of goodies. He would normally stop to get himself a treat, but seeing as Kyle was awake, he simply ran past and waved halfheartedly at him as he passed. Mark knew he was there to see Kyle and didn't take offense. The whole family was going through such a hard time.
Eric felt himself losing his breath as he finally set sights on Kyle's room, and stood outside for just a second to catch it, peering in through a crack in the door. He could see Sheila's fiery hair and, upon entering, was settled to see Kyle's tired face smiling up at him graciously. He was always so appreciative of his visits, which made it even more worthwhile. Eric would do anything to paint a smile on that pretty little face of his.
"Hey Jew," Eric greeted, a little embarrassed as he was still struggling to catch his breath.
"Hey, Fat Ass," Kyle retorted, though very soft. He didn't have much energy for conversation, which Eric was very aware of. Cartman smiled at him warmly, pulling up a seat on the free side of his bed.
"Come on, Sheila," Gerald said, quietly urging his wife to give the two young men a minute alone. They had a very close friendship and they felt it was healthy for Kyle to have a few minutes of his time without parental supervision. Of course, he wasn't a child; it didn't really matter whether or not they were there in the end.
Nonetheless, Sheila stood up and smiled affectionately at Eric before Gerald put his arm around her shoulder and led her out of the room.
Eric sighed as he grabbed Kyle's hand and squeezed it, a little absent minded.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, not bothering to make eye contact with Kyle. He didn't need to. He just had to hold his hand, as he always did when they were alone. For whatever reason, Kyle always let him.
"Like shit," Kyle said, chuckling a bit. He always tried to make light of the situation, and it really upset Eric. However, he choked back his pain and offered Kyle a light smile, finally making eye contact with him.
"So…did you get any tail tonight?" Kyle asked. They always discussed Eric's sex-capades when he visited. He felt like the Jew wanted to live vicariously through him or something, and didn't really mind sharing. If it made Kyle happy he would tell, even though he kept those matters entirely private from the rest of the world.
To be honest, he was utterly ashamed of the way he acted. He knew it wasn't right to use women as sex objects, but he didn't want to open himself up. It was just too risky.
"Yeah…banged two chicks at the same time tonight. It was pretty sweet."
That last part was a lie. It made him feel filthy, as casual as he tried to seem about the whole thing.
Kyle smiled at him, a gentle understanding behind those green eyes of his. He was, however, blissfully unaware of just how much Eric cared for him, which was exactly how Cartman wanted it to stay. As much as he'd always longed for Kyle, he'd never made a move out of fear and the general observation that Kyle was not into the whole guy on guy thing. It was just easier this way; at least it seemed to be.
Eric smirked as Kyle squeezed his hand a bit, even daring to lace his fingers between his friend's. Cartman was a little taken aback by the intimacy of their new form of handholding, though didn't mind. In fact, he craved these small moments he shared with Kyle. Perhaps before he had fallen ill he'd have been more optimistic and pursued something with it, but now there simply was no point. Even if Kyle was capable of loving him, was there any point in pursuing it? It would only hurt them both in the end. Eric would get a taste of the love he'd always craved and Kyle would find something really worth living for when there was simply no hope for him to live. It just wasn't fair to go there, so he didn't.
"I'm tired," Kyle admitted, loosening his grip, though still maintaining his embrace.
Eric sighed and smiled softly at his friend, "Okay. Get some rest Kyle. I'll come and see you tomorrow, alright?"
"Yeah, okay," He replied, letting out an uncontrollable yawn, "I'll see you tomorrow Fat Ass."
Eric squeezed his hand once more before letting go and standing up, adjusting his jacket.
"See you tomorrow, Jew."