"Where are you going"
"Out"
"Why at this hour"
"Cause I feel like it, that's why"
"But..."
"What, you gonna give me the third degree again Kyle?"
"I..."
Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that's alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
"Don't give me that look; I can't stand it when you act like such a clingy bitch."
The final words brought an onslaught of tears from the cowering red head, but Eric felt nothing; he hadn't for a long time now.
"God, I fucking hate you when you're like this." He slammed the door on the way out, shattering the frame with the force of the blow.
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that's alright
Because I love
The way you lie
I love the way you lie
Kyle slowly rose from the couch where he had been sitting, hugging his knees to his chest for an hour since Eric's departure. The tears had long since dried but the tremors that racketed through his painfully thin frame, only increased. Now willing himself to move, he made his way to the kitchen. On the counter top stood a single empty glass and a bottle of prescription anxiety meds; Kyle filled the glass half way with water from the tap and placed it down next to the bottle of pills, gazing emptily at the two before routinely popping the bottle and shaking out 4 capsules, double the prescription doze. He simultaneously washed them down, and placed the glass in the sink, his tremors already beginning to subside. Kyle smiled: after all the glass was half full, and Eric would come back, he always did.
I can't tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now there's a steel knife
In my windpipe
I can't breathe
But I still fight
While I can fight
Eric sat in a bar, gingerly gulping down his eighth mug of beer for the night. A sad sounding band played mournfully out of tune in the background. The bartender had long since abandoned his side, since the last time Eric told him to go fuck himself. Now a friendly looking waiter, in tight leather chaps and a tank top, served him. The boy couldn't have been older then 20, with evidently good taste in men as he noticeably stood ogling him seemingly inconspicuously from the corners of his eyes, polishing mugs with a dish rag. Eric smirked and shot the blonde a hungry sideways look, which was favorably noticed. The younger man approached with a smile and leaned over the bench, his lips just brushing the brunette's ear.
"I get off at 2."
"Then I'll meet you behind the bar."
Once the waiter withdrew and left to attend to a nearby table, Eric suddenly felt that familiar sharp pang of guilt. Over the many years, it never left completely and tonight it stung surprisingly in his heart. Rubbing his chest thoughtfully, he put aside the pain for the forthcoming pleasure, just like he did every night. In the end it was always worth it.
As long as the wrong feels right
It's like I'm in flight
High of a love
Drunk from the hate
It's like I'm huffing paint
And I love it the more that I suffer
I suffocate
The waiter proved to be incredibly gifted. After a blowjob worthy of a grade 'A' porn star, the boy expressed a softer side and cleaned his softening manhood with gentle kitten licks. It was indescribable and even to Eric's hazy alcohol-clouded consciousness it was a gift worthy of appreciation. So he expressed his gratitude in the only way he knew how, he pounded the boy against the wall until his pleasure-ridden screams rang down the dark alley and into Main Street. After he was finished he accepted the other's number fully aware that he would discard it the next morning. He never did anyone more then once, no one but Kyle. Suddenly finding the rank alley air that stank of sex to be overwhelming, Eric stumbled drunkenly out onto Main Street and in the direction of home, the cries of the young waiter lost on him.
And right before
I'm about to drown
She resuscitates me
She fucking hates me
And I love it
Kyle could hear Eric's drunken stumbling from the ground floor and rushed to open the apartment door. There he stood leaning heavily on the railing of the staircase, dumbly staring at Kyle's petite form shadowed in the doorway.
"You gonna let me in, Princess, or do I have to sweep you off your feet?" he slurred with a leer.
Kyle numbly stepped aside and watched Cartman stumble to the couch, dropping his dead weight on it.
"Bring me a glass of water, babe, with ice. I really need to get this shit out my system. You get what I mean?"
Kyle nodded and left, returning shortly with a glass half full of water.
Eric reached for it, but Kyle pulled his hand away.
"What does this look like to you, Eric?"
"What kinda fucked up question is that, Jew, it's a glass, and it's half empty, couldn't even pour me a full glass of water you stupid bitc..."
His rant was interrupted a sudden rush of water hitting him square in the face; it took a moment to register in the brunette's hazy mind what the other had done. Instead of feeling angry however, all Eric felt was relief. He could breathe again, but he'd be damned if he let the Jew know that.
"What the hell you stupid Jew fucker?"
"I'm leaving you, Eric."
Wait! Where're you going?
I'm leaving you
No you ain't
Come back
We're running right back
Here we go again
"No you ain't."
Kyle just nods, and makes his way to the bedroom, fully aware that Eric was drunkenly stumbling after him. On the bed lay a duffle bag full of clothes and other personal belongings, too dear to leave behind. Leaning down to zip the bag shut, Kyle suddenly felt himself falling forward. He landed face first on the bed, the duffle bag pressing hard against his stomach. Turning over he saw Eric standing above him, smirking with both hands outstretched in a pushing motion.
"Oops."
Kyle made a move to rise but his boyfriend was already falling forward, and just as he was about to crush the smaller man, he landed on his outstretched arms, face so close to the other that the red head could smell alcohol on his breath and the Lynx from his shirt. Eric didn't wear Lynx.
"Get off me, Cartman."
"No."
"You make me sick."
The brunette's gaze hardened but he didn't move, instead using his right arm for support he moved to place the palm of his left hand on the semi-erect bulge in the Jews jeans.
"And you love it."
It's so insane
Cause when it's going good
It's going great
I'm Superman
With the wind in his bag
She's Lois Lane
Kyle moaned, the hand on his manhood now rubbing forcefully against the fabric. Eric smirked and placed a hard kiss on the swollen lips. Pressing hard against the gums until the other gasped and allowed access. The brunette dominated the kiss, just like he dominated everything in their relationship. The touches were just as harsh and heavy as the kisses, but the red head moaned in ecstasy. This was wrong, but the pleasure took over; a carnal desire, it knew no boundaries and held no moral values. When Carman lifted his legs, and placed himself at his entrance, lubed up and swollen, Kyle didn't even blink. Silent tears of disgust fought through the pain and with every thrust he took one step closer to the edge of his sanity.
"Come for me, baby."
Kyle shivered and bit back a moan, when the other wrapped a hand around his exposed sex and started to jerk in feverish rhythm. Eric licking his lips and watching the glazed eyes of his lover move to the ceiling. Leaning down to bluntly graze one ear he whispered.
"I love you."
Kyle shut his eyes and came.
But when it's bad
It's awful
I feel so ashamed
I snap
Who's that dude
I don't even know his name
I laid hands on her
I'll never stoop so low again
I guess I don't know my own strength
When Eric woke from his drunken, post- coital sleep, the first thing he noticed was the lack of warmth under the sheets.
"I made you breakfast, it's in the pan on the stove."
The reason for the cold stood fully dressed in the doorway, the smart lawyer-suit shining authority on to the man wearing it. In one hand he held a laptop case, in the other the duffle bag from last night. Eric stared at the bag, before lifting his eyes to the flushing face of the other. He had noticed.
"Ah..."
"Are you leaving me?"
"I'm going to work, Eric."
"And then, are you coming back?"
"No."
"You can't ..."
"I'm sick of you and your lies, Eric. I deserve better then a cheating alcoholic for a boyfriend."
"You take that back," Cartman growled, rising from the bed and moving towards Kyle.
"No, it's true and you know it..."
Kyle never got a chance to finish his sentence as he stumbled backwards, the force of the blow sending him reeling. Eric pulled his fist back, preparing to deliver another blow, one hand holding Kyle pressed against the wall.
"You don't deserve me bitch. You think just because you earn more, you're better than me? It doesn't change the fact that you're a mental Jew fag, who gets hipped up on happy pills every night in a vain hope of forgetting his meager pointless existence."
Kyle spat blood on the floor, before facing the other, a defensive look in his eyes.
"You're right, it is a meager existence with you, but once I break free..."
"Break free? Like hell you will bitch. No one leaves me."
The next blow broke his nose. Kyle heard the crunch before he felt the pain. It was as if in slow motion that Eric's fist retreated and he felt his legs give way. Sliding to the floor in a broken heap. Cartman gazed down on him, eyes still burning with rage, but something else was fighting through it, could it be regret? Kyle didn't get a chance to decipher the hidden emotion even if he wanted to, as his lover turned sharply for the shower and walked away.
Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that's alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
They sat at opposite ends of the kitchen table; Eric eating, and reading the morning paper, Kyle just sitting, nursing a strong cup of black coffee in both hands. The recently abandoned ice pack lay between them.
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that's alright
Because I love
The way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
"I'm sorry."
Kyle looked up from the murky black liquid and met the emotionless eyes of his partner. He smiled and lowered his gaze.
You ever love somebody so much
You can barely breathe
When you're with them
You meet
And neither one of you
Even know what hit 'em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling
Kyle looked at his wristwatch; it was quarter past 10. He was very late to work but having used none of his sick days for the year, it was safe to call the boss. Returning back to the table he observed Eric leaning over the sink, washing dishes. It was the only chore he took upon himself to do, and stuck to it religiously. Kyle leaned on the frame in the doorway and watched the slight rolling of muscular shoulders as Cartman washed the dishes in circular motion. His mind drifted.
"What do you mean, fatass?"
"Well, haven't you ever wondered Kyle, why even when we have no reason to fight we get under each other's skin, just for the hell of it really? Why do you think it's so important for us to constantly outdo each other?"
"I don't know, maybe because you're a stupid fuck and I have to educate your fat ass."
"No, that's not it. Think, Jew, where does the passion come from?"
"Stop asking stupid questions, Cartman, and say what you came here to say, and it better be important or I swear. I'm gonna send you back down that rope ladder and set it on fire when you're half way to the ground."
Eric winced, imagining the three-storey fall.
"I'm in love with you."
It took all of two seconds for Kyle to burst into uncontrollable laughter, cut short by the sudden press of chapped lips against his own. Just as he lifted his hand to clop Eric on the head, a warm feeling suddenly filled his stomach making it tickle pleasantly and forcing him to part his lips and allow the other better access. It felt so right, and all his doubt made its way quietly down the rope ladder.
Yeah them chills
Used to get 'em
Now you're getting fucking sick
Of looking at 'em
Kyle returned his thoughts to the present as the pain from his broken nose intensified. He slowly touched the abused appendage with one finger, tracing it lightly but wincing at the contact all the same. The resentment returned and his emerald eyes hardened, narrowing in anger.
"I'm going to the hospital." He growled out, spinning on his heels and marching away.
"You do that babe, don't forget to tell 'em it was an accident. You fell down the stairs again or something. I don't want that stupid whore Testeburger sending the cops down here again."
His only reply was the loud slam of the front door.
You swore you've never hit 'em
Never do nothing to hurt 'em
Now you're in each other's face
Spewing venom
And these words
When you spit 'em
Eric finished the dishes, and started to methodically dry them with a terrycloth towelette. As he fell into a calming trance-like state, he allowed his mind to wander. Kyle should know better by now but he just doesn't get it. He can't leave him. Why on earth would he want to anyways? Couldn't the stupid Jew whore see how much he loved him? It was all part of loving him, the discipline he sometimes had to enforce, 'cruel to be kind' or something like that. He was very proud of the progress he'd made so far. Kyle's resistance against him has weakened. He already took the discipline without retaliation, soon he won't dare to walk out on him again, or even threaten to do so. It was for his own good. The stupid Jew should know by now that there is no world for him outside this relationship. They belonged together.
You push
Pull each other's hair
Scratch, claw, bit 'em
Throw 'em down
Pin 'em
So lost in the moments
When you're in 'em
Kyle sat in the hospital, letting the friendly nurse examine his swollen eye and broken nose. She was gentle, her hands barely brushing the skin as she took note of the damage, her brow furrowing now and again in confusion, followed closely by fleeting glances at Kyle. He knew she wouldn't be able to hold back for long.
"What happened to your face, sir?"
Ah there we go, right on track. He couldn't help but smirk at her, images flashing through his mind.
'Pull.'
'Scratch.'
'Throw.'
'Pin.'
"Why, I for the life of me can't remember. Must have been one of those nights, you know?"
The nurse gave him a stern look, she clearly didn't know.
It's the rage that took over
It controls you both
So they say it's best
To go your separate ways
Guess that they don't know ya
Cause today
That was yesterday
Yesterday is over
It's a different day
"He went at it again huh?"
"I told you to drop it, Wendy!"
"Oh I'm sorry for showing concern for the district DA, when all that is bothering him is nightly beatings from his wasted boyfriend."
"You don't know what you're saying, it was an..."
"An accident? Save it! I know abuse when I see it, I'm not chief of the SVU Unit for nothing Broflovsky."
Kyle sighed in exasperation and looked up from his mountain of paper work to meet the narrow eyed glare of his friend. He knew she only wanted what was best for him, but he wished she would leave it alone. She didn't understand, he had to handle this on his own, or else he'd never break free.
"Just let me get this done, and we can go grab some lunch, huh?"
He knew it was an empty promise, this paper work would take at least 4 hours to complete and Kyle didn't break the youngest ever DA record by leaving his work half finished. From Wendy's thinning lips he knew she though no different, but left with a firm slam of the door.
Sound like broken records
Playin' over
But you promised her
Next time you'll show restraint
You don't get another chance
Life is no Nintendo game
But you lied again
Now you get to watch her leave
Out the window
Guess that's why they call it window pane
Eric clocked out at the construction site at 6pm on the dot and made his way laboriously towards the seedy bar across the street; the other guys had invited him for a game of poker but he turned down the offer for some alone time with a mug and a running tab. He just needed to fill up before he went home, the duffel bag still stood waiting patiently for its owner and the thought of Kyle leaving made him yearn fervently for a beer. Making his way through a crowd of drunken morons and cheap, scarcely dressed whores Eric dropped into a bar stool and tapped the deck for attention. A man approached, took his order and rolled his eyes at the soft mumble of, "keep 'em coming". Sipping on his beer, Eric thought back to the time when he didn't have to hit Kyle to keep him from leaving. Back then Kyle would always greet him with a smile and a kiss. He would initiate their passionate nights after a dinner that he would prepare for them. He never struggled then, never cried into the pillow or screamed in pain. It felt like so long ago but Eric desperately needed those days back. He knew he was losing himself. Everyday he came closer to killing Kyle in order to keep him by his side forever. The discipline was getting out of control and he felt unable to stop himself. Helpless, he was like a bystander, watching the inevitable train wreck. Holding his ears to block out the screams.
Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that's alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that's alright
Because I love The way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
Kyle opened the door silently; making sure it didn't creak as he pushed it open. The apartment was dark; that's a good thing, he lived for darkness, it signified safety. Walking in he noticed the duffle bag was still lying next to the coat hanger, reminding him of what he came here to do. Picking it up by the shoulder strap he headed back towards the front door.
Now I know we said things
Did things
That we didn't mean
And we fall back
Into the same patterns
Same routine
But your temper's just as bad
As mine is
Eric was sitting on the coach watching as Kyle walked into the hallway, grabbed his bag and made to leave.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Eric let's not do this again..."
"No, bitch, we're gonna do this until you get it right. Put your bag down and come sit with me."
"No."
"No? Why the fuck not?"
"You reek of alcohol and sweat. Someone else's sweat, I bet"
"Oh Kyle, jealous are you? Well I'm just a hot piece of ass aren't I, everybody wants a piece and I can't refuse them."
"Eric. Stop."
"No you stop bitch, stop pretending you don't like this. Stop pretending you're better than me. You were always mine and you will always be mine and 5 thousand kilometers between us won't make a shit load of difference."
Kyle dropped the bag and walked purposefully over to the couch.
"You don't own me fatass."
Eric cringed; Kyle hasn't called him that since high school. It was a nickname he always detested. Even though it wasn't true anymore it still bought painful memories back.
You're the same as me
But when it comes to love
You're just as blinded
Baby please come back
It wasn't you
Baby it was me
Maybe our relationship
Isn't as crazy as it seems
Kyle saw the pain in Cartman's eyes before the other could even speak. Feeling guilt rise at the thought of having caused it, he dropped to sit next to his boyfriend.
"I'm sorry Eric I didn't mean that. I love you, but you hurt me and I can't deal with that. Maybe it's better if we live apart for a little while. We can always get back together, once we've had time to think everything through. But I need time to heal and you need to think about what you've done. I know you're sorry for hitting me and I'm sure in time I will forgive you but for now I just need to be alone for a little while. I know you understand."
Eric's eyes hardened; the beast inside him had awoken and all compassion raced in fear from the room. He looked at Kyle who got up and took a noticeable step back.
"I understand, I understand you need to be disciplined again, Kyle."
A sneer made its way on to his handsome face and both hands clenched and unclenched into fists. Suddenly he launched himself off the couch and grabbed Kyle, picking him up with ease and throwing the struggling red head over his shoulder.
"You just don't get it Kyle." He growled making his way to the bedroom.
Maybe that's what happens
When a tornado meets a volcano
All I know is
I love you too much
To walk away though
Come inside
Pick up your bags off the sidewalk
Don't you hear sincerity
In my voice when I talk
Told you this is my fault
Look me in the eyeball
Next time I'm pissed
I'll aim my fist
At the dry wall
Eric threw Kyle on the bed, pulling back to hastily undo his belt buckle and fly. Kyle made to get off the bed but was struck down with one, flat handed blow to the face, he whimpered in pain. Eric didn't register the sound, instead pulling his jeans down he fell on top of the smaller man, tearing his Prada shirt in one go and sending it flying across the room. The other hand had busied itself with getting the stubborn buttons on the suit pants to give under his fingers. Finally running out of patience he tore the zip and pulled the pants off.
"Please don't do this Eric, I don't want this."
"Shut up, I know better."
Kyle groaned in protest as the other man started to palm his flaccid cock.
"Why aren't you getting hard for me bitch?"
"I don't want this Eric, please."
The brunette growled and grabbed the other mans thighs with both hands pressing his fingers harshly into the pale skin. Without warning or preparation he thrust himself forward, settling himself balls deep in the tight heat.
Kyle screamed at the harsh penetration. He had never been taken dry and unprepared before, and the pain alone almost knocked him out. He managed to retain consciousness and continued to scream with every thrust, feeling blood pooling on the bed sheets and mercifully lubricating Cartman's abuse.
"You want this, say you want this."
"Eric, please STOP!"
"SHUT UP, just shut up you Jew piece of shit and take it like a man."
And Eric came hard inside him, the semen mixing with the torn muscle set his insides burning in pain. Tears travelled quickly down his face, leaving wet trails and staining the sheets. At that moment something inside Kyle broke and he lost touch with all his senses.
"Let shame say what it will, when these are gone the woman will be out."
Eric pulled out and moved to lie down facing the red head.
"What was that Kyle?" he said with a Cheshire grin, broken loosely by a trace of confusion.
Kyle turned his head and smiled, eyes glassy and dead, but unperceivable to the other in the grey light of the evening.
"Nothing love. Go to sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."
He leaned in and kissed the other softly on the brow then turned to lie on his side, not feeling the heavy hands wrap firmly against his midriff.
Next time
There will be no next time
I apologize
Even though I know it's lies
I'm tired of the games
I just want her back
I know I'm a liar
If she ever tries to fucking leave again
I'mma tie her to the bed
And set the house on fire
When Eric woke up, it was to the smoky smell of cooking. He turned his head but found the place next to him empty. It was also awfully dark, maybe Kyle forgot to draw the curtains open. He tried to sit up but was unable to move; his hands were bound to the headrest and his legs where spread eagle, tied to opposite ends of the bed. He swore and pulled at the restraints, but in vain. Suddenly the appearance of light in the hallway distracted him. Kyle walked in to the room, switching the lights on as he went. In one hand he held a frying pan; from what Eric could see and smell, it was filled with eggs and bacon. Kyle walked slowly, not looking at him and let the handle loosen in his hand, the pan tilting downwards; a trickle of oil hitting the floor. The Jew as if failing to notice his mistake continued to walk around the room towards Eric's side of the bed, the oil incessantly leaving a trail.
"What the fuck are you doing Jew?"
Kyle, as if finally drawn to notice the other man, looked down on him. Disconcerting, empty eyes sending shivers down the other man's back. Kyle smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed closest to Eric.
"Why, bringing you breakfast, of course, my love."
He placed the frying pan in between his lovers bound legs and moved to pull the blankets up from his shoulders to cover up to the neck.
"Its chilly Eric you really should stay in bed, and enjoy it here."
"Fuck you Jew, untie me right now. If this is some sick kink you can forget about it right n..."
"Shhh" Kyle pressed his index finger to Eric's lips and giggled softly as he watched Eric attempt to bite it.
"I need to be getting to work now, but you enjoy your day off. After our activities last night I took the liberty to call your boss and ask him to give you a day."
Kyle leaned in and kissed the other softly on the brow, like he had done last night, tracing one glove clad hand down Eric's cheek. Since when did he wear gloves? The thought, however, didn't have enough time to register as Kyle pulled away and stood up, pulling a lighter from his pocket he flicked it on before dropping it on to the pan, Instantly the oil caught on fire setting the whole room ablaze from where the trail lead around the bed.
Kyle calmly walked behind the knee high blaze, his smile never wavering as the flames caught on the bed spread and travelled up the sheets between his partners legs, towards that undeniable part of his anatomy that always came first in this relationship. Eric shrieked and struggled helplessly against the restraints, his eyes wide, consumed with fear as they darted around the room.
"Please, Kyle..."
Kyle walked, one hand trailing against the wall, around the burning flame. He glanced one last time at his partner of 10 years and stepped over the threshold, stopping only to say as he grabbed his laptop case.
"It's ok love, I'm going to be home by seven just like always too cook you dinner. Try and get some rest."
And with that he vanished from the room.
Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that's alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that's alright
Because I love
The way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
"Your guys are in there right now, scouting for evidence. Not much left though but bones and walls. Apparently the fire was started using cooking oil and a lighter. The victim might have been a smoker. Also the guys checked high and low but so far have been unable to lift a workable print. No surprise with the temperature in there high enough to melt walls. We heard the guy was around and about most nights, hardly ever sober enough to count his A B C's, so we figured he tried to cook himself some breakfast and had a little accident. Neighbors who called it in said he moved in with a man, but guys came and went almost every day when his partner was out."
"So why exactly did you call the SVU Unit on this."
"The victim was found in the bedroom with what might have been tight leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles. We thought it might have been a fetish gone wrong or something. Wanted to be sure." The patrol officer scratched his head. Wendy blew out the smoke from her cigarette and popped the transmitter off her belt.
"Smith, you there?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Tell the boys to let the coroner up."
"But we haven't finished with the crime sc..."
"I said send him up, and take an early night for yourself. We can start on this first thing Monday morning."
"Um... sure ma'am."
Wendy clipped her transmitter back in place and walked towards her car. A trace of a smirk marring her lips, she mumbled inaudibly under her breath.
"Kyle, you sneaky son of a bitch."