Author's Notes: It was bound to happen. My roommate and I got turned onto this show (which I surprisingly hadn't ever seen in the 18 years of my existence) by the kid down the hall, and now we're both hooked. We're caught up on all the seasons now, but I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who was inspired to write slash. I don't know exactly what that says about me, but I kind of like it. Anyway, this takes place during Kenny Dies. Go figure that my first foray into this fandom is overflowing with angst. Ho boy.
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"Cartman?"
It has to be him, doesn't it? Millions of people in the world, and it has to be that fucking little Jewbag who catches him crying. Lame.
He turns his back as fast as he can, makes up some half-assed excuse, but he's not surprised when Kyle doesn't buy it. The kid's smart, too smart for Cartman's usual bullshit. And that's okay. It just makes the times he does manage to get him so much sweeter.
His schemes are all on the back burner now, though, completely forgotten. Stupid Kenny and his stupid parka and his stupid disease in that stupid hospital bed. Screw him. He's died tons of times, but everyone (even that idiot, Stan) knows that this is different. Cartman's seen his BFF eaten by rats, spontaneously combust, even get a face-full of rusty nails; he's never had to watch the blue eyes under that hood dim, or the thin shoulders shake with coughs. Death's funny (or at least grossly cool) until it happens for real. Like, for real real.
Kyle's saying something, and Cartman can tell he's trying not to cry. Pussy.
He shouldn't have to do this. He shouldn't have to stand here with his face pressed into Kyle's shoulder. He shouldn't have to feel his sometimes-friend shaking in his arms as he tries to stifle sobs. He shouldn't have to try and ignore the butterflies as Kyle's awkward hands rub his back.
Shouldn't. But does.
Goddammit.
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