Tiny droplets of rain hit against the window of Stan's living room, causing soft tapping noises which later became loud smacks and splashes. It had been raining throughout the day but got much worse towards the evening. Many were happy that the snow had melted away to just a small amount of slush lining the concrete pathways and roads, although the majority of the mountain town just wanted a damn heat wave for once.
Four sixteen-year-old boys were sprawled out around the living room, two on the couch and two on the floor. They had been playing video games all night, which was a common occurrence on their traditional Friday night sleepovers, along with binge watching old television programs that really weren't worth the undivided attention and shoving mounds of sugary treats and caffeinated beverages down their throats. They also usually attempted to pull all-nighters, but it never worked out for the most part. It was now two-thirty in the morning and only two of the four teens remained conscious.
Kyle was sitting upright on the couch with his best friend's dozing head in his lap. He pretended to be doing something productive on his phone, although in reality he was trying to drown out the awkward silence occurring between himself and Cartman by using the background music of the game he was playing uninterestedly. The chubby brunet watched him silently from his place on the carpeted floor, concentrating deeply on the stealthy movement of his fingers gliding to and fro across the screen and the slight twitch of frustration in his eyes along with the annoyed scrunch of his sharp nose whenever his character died. He chewed slowly on the cold slice of pepperoni pizza in his large hand, his head propped up lazily with the other one.
It had been hours since they last made any form of communication with one another. Although he was generally uncaring about the wellbeing and feelings of others, Cartman had a strong grasp on when he had and hadn't crossed the line. In this particular situation, he knew he had fucked up immensely. He reminisced the events that took place on their way home from a particularly tedious day of school and scowled at himself and his stupidity.
The group of four were walking to Stan's house together as per usual and were in the middle of a heated conversation about the opposite gender. Kenny and Stan were profoundly engrossed in the topic and were enthusiastically trading stories back and forth about the women in their lives, although the blond's tales were far more graphic and involved multiple individuals as opposed to Wendy exclusively in the quarterback's case.
Cartman glanced over at the unusually quiet redhead strolling alongside Stan and smirked, an evil glint in his chestnut orbs. "Care to add anything to the conversation, Kahl?" he inquired, feigning innocence. Kyle glanced over at him pointedly with a raised eyebrow. "I'm sure you'd kill for a chance to spill the tea, hmm?"
"What are you getting at, Cartman?" Kyle growled, his face reddening slightly as the varying shades of azure irises of the other two members landed on him.
"No need to snap, Kahl," he responded casually. "I just figured you wanted to tell us all about the different chicks you forced to sleep with y-"
"You know I've never done anything like that before so fucking drop it!" Kyle interrupted him, earning a devious grin from the larger boy.
"Oh right, forgot you were a pathetic little virgin," Cartman remarked nonchalantly. Kyle glared at him, his anger rising with each word the brunet uttered.
"Dude, knock it off," Stan groaned, hoping they'd just get over it and give him one damn day of peace. However, the noiret knew that there was a snowball's chance in Hell that Kyle would give Cartman the satisfaction of getting the last word.
"You're calling me out on being a virgin?" the redhead scoffed. "Last time I checked, my eleven-year-old brother gets more action than you, fatass."
"I've fucked plenty of chicks," Cartman growled back, glaring daggers at him. "You guys just never met 'em 'cause you're fucking embarrassing to be around."
"Then go introduce them to all your other friends, Cartman. Oh, wait," Kenny smirked.
Kyle grinned smugly at the brunet. "Also, it doesn't count if the only girl you got with was Paula Prissy Pants."
"It's Polly Prissy Pants, you stupid kike!" he retorted.
Kyle's face contorted in anger. "Watch your fucking mouth, fatass!" Kyle screamed as Stan jumped forward and held him back. "Call me that again and so help me God I'll rip your fucking dick off!"
The brunet's eyes narrowed at him as he watched him flailing around in the noiret's arms, attempting to attack him. "Try me," he growled. "Let's just see how far you get before I fucking snap you in half like the anorexic midget you are."
Suddenly, Kyle froze in place. Upon realizing his mistake, Cartman's eyes widened slightly. The three taller individuals looked over at the young Jew and examined his facial expression warily for any sign of emotion. Kyle's gaze snapped up to Cartman's somewhat nervous face with a vacant embodiment. The slightly younger of the two could clearly see the mortification and self-consciousness swimming through the Jewish teen's emerald-green irises that had become a considerably darker hue.
Kyle blinked rapidly and shook his head, seeming to have come out of his stupefaction as quickly as he had entered it. The redhead furrowed his copper brows and glared down at his feet, shoving his hands unceremoniously into his tangerine coat pockets before speed walking down the street towards their immediate destination, his three dumbfounded companions following wordlessly after him as they exchanged occasional apprehensive glances at one another.
Almost half a day later and the two still had nothing to say to each other. At this stage, it would be safe to assume that Cartman would get the hell off of his high horse, swallow his pride, and utter a half-assed apology to the fuming redhead seated in front of him. However, that simply wasn't how they worked. Regardless, the brunet came up with somewhat of a strategy at getting the other teen to talk.
"Want a slice?" Cartman asked monotonously as he kicked the half empty box of the grease-coated dough across the carpet.
Kyle's nose scrunched in disgust as the odour from the dish gradually made its way into his nostrils. He looked over at Cartman with narrow eyes. "No."
The poor brunet, bless his heart, had never before appeared so taken aback. "Why the hell not?" he snarled.
"Because eating cold pizza is revolting."
"Well excuse the fuck out of me for offering, Jew," he scoffed, tearing another large chunk of crust off of the aforementioned piece of filth and chewing it obnoxiously loud, ending their short-lived conversation with an audible crunch.
Well, that didn't quite go as planned. Cartman was officially stumped. He was sure that that would work. After all, it worked on him a few months back when Kyle's form of an apology was tossing a full-sized Snickers bar his way. The downtrodden behemoth's spirit soon rose at the realization that perhaps he was offering the wrong form of unhealthy treat to the other boy, but upon recalling the disappointing fact that there wasn't a Snickers bar to be found in the vicinity, he felt that it was about time to resort to plan B.
Talking things through in a mature, adult way.
Cartman shuddered. He had never done anything this risky before. Hell, he didn't think he ever would attempt such a dangerous feat. Yet here he was, giving himself a slow-paced countdown from ten, promising himself to get off of his ass and go sit with the silent Jew on the couch once he hit one.
Four, three, two... two and a half... two and a quarter...
"Fuck it," he muttered under his breath as he forcefully pushed himself off of the ground and onto his feet, his tired legs wobbling slightly from the sudden use of them after being seated for so long.
He strolled over to the couch with a stance as casual as he could possibly muster and plopped himself down on Kyle's left with an audible sigh. The seat cushions dipped ever so slightly, causing the redhead to slide unceremoniously into his side and yelp in surprise, followed by sending a stern glare the brunet's way. Stan's head had slipped off of the redhead's thighs at the sudden movement, causing him to groan in discomfort and turn around to face the back of the couch before continuing to snore obnoxiously loud once again.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Kyle seethed.
Cartman looked over at him with an unreadable expression. "My ass was sore."
"Do I look like I give a flying fuck about how comfortable you were?" he scoffed in response, crossing his arms over his chest and flinging one leg over the other; the ultimate position to further prove his point.
"Maybe not, but I sure as fuck do," he replied coolly with a shrug.
Kyle's eyes rolled. Not too bad, progress was being made.
"So... um," Cartman continued. "We don't have any Snickers bars but we could go to Walmart and get some if you want."
Kyle's gaze slowly crept up to the brunet's face, confusion evident on his dimly lit features. "What?"
"Y'know, Snickers bars?"
"Yes."
One word answers. Maybe this wasn't going as well as he had thought.
"We could go get some," he forced out, awkwardness seeping through his voice.
"Why?" the redhead inquired with a raised eyebrow.
Cartman groaned, covering his face with his large hands. He clearly had no idea what the fuck he was doing. "You gave me one last month so I figured you'd want one back, stupid fucking Jew, Jesus Christ," he explained, his speech muffled slightly by his palms.
Kyle looked up at the ceiling in thought. What the fuck was he talking about? Suddenly, realization struck and the redhead sighed. "Cartman?" he began monotonously. "Are you trying to apologize to me?"
"What?" the brunet barked out a laugh, luckily not succeeding in waking their two slumbering companions. "Pfft, no. That's rich! Heh... As if, Jew."
"Well, try harder," Kyle ordered while narrowing his eyes, obviously not believing the other teen.
Cartman looked over at him with a nervous gulp. He hated this. He hated this so fucking much. "What the fuck do you want me to say?"
Kyle shrugged his shoulders, continuing to watch him expectantly. "You don't have to say anything. Prove to me that you're actually sorry and that you're not just trying to make me forgive you so that I'll put your name on the history project that you didn't help us with."
Fuck, he had forgotten about that. He had to act fast.
On impulse, Cartman wrapped his arms around Kyle's slender waist, pulling him against his chest in a warm, comforting embrace. His hold on him was loose enough so as not to hurt the smaller boy, yet tight enough to show him how serious he was about making things right between them. Both Cartman and Kyle were frozen in place; Cartman's long fingers clutching onto the fabric on the small of Kyle's back as the latter's still hands hovered over the brunet's shoulder blades. Neither knew what to do in this situation, although Cartman felt as though they were doing all of the right things.
A blush crept up Kyle's cheeks and he closed his eyes, clamping them shut as a sudden wave of tears began to well in his ducts. He couldn't comprehend the reasoning for his newfound emotional state; perhaps it was because of the harsh words spat at him earlier in the day hitting him full-force at the sudden proximity he had just gained with the very person who had carelessly thrown these hurtful adjectives at him, or maybe it was simply because he was prone to preventing his tears from shedding more often than not and could no longer hold in the sobbing that was sure to come. Either way, the redhead decided that, for once in his life, he would just stop overthinking and let go of his emotions. And he did. He slowly pulled his thin arms back to his torso and placed them against Cartman's chest, squeezing the creased material of his shirt and burying his face into the crook of his neck as he coughed out a tearful sob.
Cartman's eyebrows furrowed in complete confusion as he listened to the heaving cries of the vulnerable Jew in his arms, his perplexed expression clearly indicating that he wasn't prepared for this in the slightest. He was expecting to be pushed away, perhaps even yelled at. He never would've guessed that the gesture would be accepted, although a strange part of him was glad that it had been. The brunet's palm stroked up and down Kyle's back before stopping just underneath his hairline, cupping the back of his neck protectively as he held him closer and cooed incomprehensible phrases into his ear.
It wasn't long until Kyle had dozed off, his deep, steady breaths and loosened grip a clear indicator of this. Cartman followed suit not long after, his head tipping over and cushioning itself upon the silky curls beneath it.
It'd be safe to assume that they'd never be able to work up the courage to utter an apology to each other, but that's okay; they had their own way of apologizing.