Waiting on an Enemy – Fan Assumed Conclusion
Disclaimer: All characters referenced are the property of southparkstudios, Matt Stone, and Trey Parker. This is a work of fiction and no profit is being made.
Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't see on the show.
Pairings: primary: Kyle/Cartman ; minor: Stan/Wendy
Author's Notes: Like many of you, I got entranced by OnigiriReject's fanfiction, "Waiting on an Enemy." And, like many of you, the fanfiction's lack of updating in four years left me yearning to know the conclusion. Of my own accord (and peace of mind) I decided to finish it. I have attempted to contact the original author asking permission, of which I have had no response. Understand, if I ever hear from her and am requested to pull this fanfiction, I will do so.
In the interim, perhaps my rendition of an ending that could be for this story will help bring a little closure. I re-read the story multiple times, I have attempted to mimic the original author's writing style (while still keeping a little of my own style), characterizations, and assumed plot direction. I hope you enjoy it. I'm no OnigiriReject, but perhaps I'm a satisfying enough substitute.
The first portion of this fanfiction in italics is the last half of chapter 19 for OnigiriReject's story: Waiting on an Enemy. I can't get this site to let me hyperlink the story.
You will need to read these chapters (if you haven't already) for understanding and plot development. I literally wrote a fan-assumed conclusion.
So, here we go, fanfiction written about a fanfiction.
Chapter 19 End Half of "Waiting on an Enemy" by OnigiriReject
/\/\/\
Angel Morte. The front bell rings. Customer. Mercedes shakes me and tells me it's my boyfriend. My fucking boyfriend. Mr. Eric. Before I know what I am doing, I autopilot and walk to his usual table. I sit down and stare directly in my lap. I know he's sitting across from me. I know he's staring at me. I know that look—that expectant, self-satisfied grin, that large hand holding a wad of money to give me.
"Kylie, would you be so kind as to get me my coffee?" His voice says. His stupid fake politeness voice. I fucking hated it. I hate this. I hate being jerked around like this all for his fucking stupid little games.
I hate this because in all the time I've been working toward having a future, he's been fucking his own up. He's been sitting there listening to me talk about my mom and how I want to do something with my life, and he doesn't have any sorts of feelings like that. Doesn't he have anything better in his life? Why would he do this?
"Kahl…?" he asks. I know my face is red. I'm so confused. I can't look at him. I just can't. I feel awful… I feel like I'm going to throw up all my organs. I feel like punching a wall. I feel like screaming. Why the fuck would he do something this stupid? This irresponsible? Just to make fun of me?
I've been working so hard to get a future away from my parents, and in the process he's just going to throw his away.
I take a deep breath and say, "I don't want your money."
Pause. I still can't look at him. "What?"
I try again. "I can't take your money anymore…"
He laughs. He doesn't realize I'm being serious. "And why the fuck not?"
"I just can't take it anymore, Cartman," I say. It feels weird using that name while in this outfit.
He scoffs again and crosses his arms. "Come on, Jew, money is money! I thought you of all people would understand that. Just take it." My heart literally hurts. I can't much more of this. "I can't."
"Why not?"
I bite my lip, "Where are you getting this money, Cartman?"
He rolls his eyes, "That's none of your business, Jew-rat."
"It's your college money, isn't it?" I ask. He stops and looks at me, his eyes widening.
"How did you…" he begins to ask.
"Why are you using your college money to pay for me?" I ask, my fists shaking. "Is making fun of me that great that you'll waste the money for your future on it?"
"That's not it," he says bluntly, leaning toward me. I back away slightly and just look at him.
"I can't fucking believe you…" I shake my head. "Don't come here anymore. I don't want your money."
"You need it though," he points out smartly. My hands shake even harder.
"I do, but not yours. Even I'm not going to sink as low as to steal the money your mom put in place for you-
"I don't want that whore's money," he says blatantly. I stand up.
"Don't come back here…" I conclude, not looking at him. "Don't bother. I should have never accepted the money from you. I should have known you were up to something dirty."
I begin to walk away from him but he grasps my right wrist, "Wait, Kahl—
I spin around and before I think about it, I ball my other hand into a fist and make contact with the right side of his face. He let's go of my wrist and holds his face, cursing. I just look at him, my heart sinking further.
He finally looks up and I can see the look of confusion in his eyes. Tears prick at my own, and I turn around without another word and walk to the backroom, my heels echoing throughout the restaurant. I'm sure the other waitresses are looking at me, but I could give a rat's ass.
Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I open the door to the backroom. Why do I care about him so much?
/\/\/\
"Bubbala it's so great to see you!"
"Hi Mom," I say, trying to feign a smile. My grip tightens around the handle of my bag as I stand outside my home, in front of my mother. She reaches her large arms outward and grasps me in a tight hug, holding the middle of my torso.
The top of her large Marge Simpson-esque hair tower hits my right ear. She let's go and looks me up and down, "It feels like it's been so long!" Why is she being so friendly? Wasn't she really mad at me about a week ago?
My father appears over her shoulder from the living room and smiles at me. "Kyle, how have you been? We haven't heard from you. We were getting worried."
"I wasn't even gone for a week," I say plainly. "And you knew where I was—just over at Stan's house."
They say nothing, and my mother ushers me into the house. "Now let's go inside, I made some kanishas," she smiles.
"We need to talk about where you're heading in life, Kyle. Over dinner," my dad says, taking hold of my bag and placing it at the foot of the stairs.
Just like it was before. I inwardly sigh and sit down at the dining room table, ready to hear all about how bad my decisions have been and how I won't be able to see my friends outside of school. I'm used to it by now. I'm going to quit my job, too, otherwise my mom will definitely find out about it and make me quit anyway. It's better to keep her from grounding me until I'm thirty, at least.
It's time to give up the storybook fantasy of being able to escape. I mean… I'll be at college in two years, I won't even have to be home at all. I should just try and get along with my family the best I can… because they need me. I've been a selfish son.
After this weekend, I'll quit my job at Angel Morte. I'll quit this stupid charade. It isn't worth it if I just keep getting lied to and tugged around by Cartman… I pout slightly as I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I watch the grays and browns of the back of my eyelids.
No more work. I can do all my homework and actually have a somewhat normal sleeping schedule. I can start having family meals again. Ike might even be able to visit some… It wasn't so bad before. I was just being melodramatic. We can be a family.
Stan, Wendy and Kenny will just have to understand I can't see them as much anymore… my future is at stake. My mom has my best interests at heart.
I'll say goodbye to everyone at Angel Morte this weekend. And hopefully, Cartman will never mention anything that happened there. It will just be our little secret. This whole ordeal can be forgotten. The back of my throat feels dry and I try to swallow.
I'll see my friends at school. And I can properly ignore Cartman when he doesn't have some stupid deal hanging over my head. So… everything will turn out just how I wanted.
My life will be normal again.
That means… goodbye, Mr. Eric.
/\/\/\/\
It's been two days since I retreated back to my parents' house. Two days since I gave in to my own cowardice and retreated into the arms of familiarity. The arms that hug and then hit me. The arms of my mother. Not that she actually hits me, she just uses her words to hurt.
Despite her confusing kindness when I came home on Wednesday, she didn't change. I wasn't really surprised about that. She grounded me from all forms of social life, especially Eric. Fuck, when did I start calling him, 'Eric'? She grounded me from taking the driver's license exam. She deleted all of my contacts out of my phone and got the phone company to put this ridiculously extensive child lock on it, blocking all of my friends' numbers in the meantime. She grounded me from anything outside of the realm of studying and insists on weekly SAT prep with her. Thankfully, she didn't revoke my library privileges, so I can continue my shifts at Angel Morte through the weekend at least.
Kyle Broflovski may be many things; a perpetual liar, a coward, a fag, and a cross-dresser, but I refuse to be a job deserter. Mr. Yamamoto has been surprisingly understanding and, in his own way, helpful. The least he deserves is a little bit of notice that I won't be working there anymore.
I've somehow managed to avoid my friends at school. I sat away from them in all of our classes, and whenever one of them would try to corner me, I would make some excuse and run away, like the fucking coward I am. Wendy has been the most persistent, but it's easy to duck her, I just run into a boy's bathroom. The only one who wasn't trying to talk to me was Er-Cartman. Cartman, dammit.
I would sometimes find myself drifting off into a day dream while staring at Cartman. Imagining different scenarios in which our last encounter could have gone. The one that played the most was he and I falling into each other's arms, like some fucking gay ass chick flick. Fuck, finally realizing I'm gay and I have daydreams about my long-time enemy? There really is something wrong with me.
And that's what made me retreat. That's what I'm running away from. Not from the fact that I'm gay, who gives a fuck? It's the fact that out of every single male on this godforsaken planet, I develop feelings for Eric fucking Cartman. It couldn't be Thomas, right? Sweet, understanding, complimenting Thomas. Or Stan, my super best friend since forever, a guy who gets me on multiple levels? Or, hell, even Kenny. The guy was a walking stereotype, only caring about pussy and pot, but fuck, even he would be a better choice than Eric Cartman.
Every time Cartman would catch me staring, my face would heat up and I'd immediately divert my gaze, before I could see the flurry of different emotions cross his face. The primary emotion being confusion. How much of a mindfuck would it be if I just told him I have feelings other than that of utter and complete detest and hatred? He'd be confused long enough for me to run away before he could hit me, or worse.
Sometimes I would catch Kenny staring at me. He appeared worried and something else. Something I couldn't quite figure out.
Another school day ended and I was walking through the halls. I'd gotten my shit from my locker and just as I was about to leave to take the long bus ride to my job, I realize I forgot something. As I turn the corner I see Kenny pushed up against the lockers by a very angry Cartman. He's got his arm against Kenny's collar bones, while his other hand is held at his side, ready to punch. I duck behind the side of the lockers, not really trying to eavesdrop, but not really being able to help myself.
"I swear to fucking god, you poor piece of shit, if you bring it up again, I will find a way to fucking kill you and make sure you stay dead!"
Even though I couldn't see them, I could imagine Kenny smirking in that shit-eating and smug way of his. "Awww, did I strike a nerve, Mr. Eric?"
There is a loud bang against the lockers that reverberates all the way down to where I was quietly trying to hide. Cartman either punched a locker or threw Kenny against them. "Fuck you!" Cartman hissed.
Kenny's tone changes, it's somber and more serious than I had ever heard him, "What the fuck are you so scared of, Eric? Why can't you just admit to yourself…"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Seriously, denial isn't just a river in Egypt, man. Fuck, how can you keep trying to convince yourself that everything you do is just about some stupid and manipulative power trip? Does he even know what you did for him when the smug alert happened?"
That confuses the fuck out of me. What did he do? Other than throw me a shitty farewell party that I wasn't invited to?
"No, so fucking what?"
"If you really were on some power trip, wouldn't you have fucking bragged and held over him the fact that the reason he and his family are alive is because you fucking saved their asses?"
"Fuck you…" Is all I hear Cartman say, because I decided my math book be damned, I couldn't hang around and listen to the rest of it.
/\/\/\/\
I run the fuck out of there as fast as I can. Cartman saved me AND my family? Eric Cartman saved us from the smug storm? What the fuck is his deal? What is Kenny trying to get Eric to admit? Why the fuck do I keep calling him, 'Eric'? Millions of questions run through my mind as I get onto the bus heading towards the stop by Angel Morte. I was still in a trance and almost don't get off at the right stop. I duck into my usual alley and start to change, moving like an automaton. I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings.
And that's when I hear a timid, "Ky-Kylie?"
FUCK. That voice was NOT someone who was in on my fucking secret. I turn, my dress only pulled halfway up, hair still covered by my green trapper hat. "Uh, Thomas, I can explain…"
He looks absolutely fucking shocked and a little disturbed. He couldn't stop from twitching and muttering a couple of obscenities. I'm really fucking stressing him out. "Yo-You're not a girl."
"I wasn't trying to deceive you, Thomas. I really needed this job and, well, I…"
"You let me kiss you…"
I feel myself get angry at that. Let him? I fucking let him kiss me? Like I had any fucking choice when he jumped on my face! "I told you I wasn't your type, I wasn't trying to fuck with you!"
He shakes his head in disbelief. He didn't look angry, just hurt and seriously confused. "I really liked you."
I sigh, "I know you did, Thomas. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I just needed a job and this was the only place hiring."
I finish pulling my dress on, remove my hat, and start tying the ribbons in my hair. He stares at me, apparently dumbfounded at how easily I transform from a boy to a girl. "A-Are you going to tell Mr. Yamamoto?" I ask timidly. The ball is in his court. I was going to give our boss my notice today, but that might not be necessary if Thomas rats me out.
He shakes his head. "I know I probably should, but you obviously must need the money if you're willing to dress like a girl, un-unless you're into that?"
I smile sadly, Thomas, ever the nice guy and firmly advocating for people's preferences. Despite just fucking his mind, he still didn't want to offend me, just in case I was trans or a legit cross-dresser. "Thank you, Thomas. Thank you."
He nods, turns, and heads towards the back entrance of Angel Morte. So, Cartman finds out I'm Kylie and uses it as a way to blackmail me, as a way to enlist a slave. Thomas finds out and is sweet and understanding about it. Why the fuck is it that it's Cartman I'm thinking about? Why can't I just be a normal gay dude and crush on nice guys? Fuck, tonight is going to be a long shift.