Disclaimer: I do not own South Park and that is why I cut myself at night! JK.

Wow…this is getting freaky. Every story I've written for SP all has one common factor…Eric Theodore Cartman. I hate to admit it, but I guess I really love the little Nazi. I mean, he's just so CUTE! So here we are. Once again, an angst fic for Eric. Pay close attention to Kyle's words...I was careful to weigh everything he says so it sounds fine until you read the story through, then rethink it. Oh, be sure to read the author's note at the bottom…it's important!

Requiem For My Heart

I should have seen it coming. But I didn't. That's what led me to be where I am today. Inability to be cautious. I mean, I've always been so over-confident. But I guess that won't happen anymore. I can't think of many things that would make me confident after an event like the one I just faced. Not that I didn't have it coming. It's just…hard to believe it's really over. I'm still standing. I'm OK.

It didn't take place very long ago, the life-altering event. If you could call it that. Maybe it's just one of those high school experiences. Maybe after I graduate in a year and a half I'll forget it for good. At least…I guess it's a possibility. But I'm probably just confusing you. Let's take it from the top.

My name is Eric Cartman. I'm 16-years-old and a junior in South Park High, Colorado. I'm six feet tall, two hundred thirty pounds, blood type AB negative. My hair and eyes are both brown. Overall, your average teen. Oh yeah, I'm also a fervid racist…the whole 'Christianity is superior' thing. But most people are used to that. I guess I was a school bully, but that started to change when I started to fall in love. Hormones started it and friendship finished it. Ha, friendship.

Kyle Broflovski is also a 16-year-old junior at my school. He's five foot ten, one hundred and forty pounds, blood type AB negative. His curly red hair, freckled face, and emerald-green eyes have caused quite a few turned heads since middle school, when people started to have crushes on the best-looking kids in the grade. Kyle's always been beautiful. So is it any wonder I fell in love with him? I didn't show it though. I'm racist against Jews, so its pretty typical that Kyle's Jewish. I always called him out for it, bullied him because of it. Until junior year when I realized I was in love with the guy. Then I was nicer.

Here comes the fun part of the story. I knew Kyle'd never dated anyone. Neither had I. Me, Stan, Kenny and him, we'd always preferred hair-brained schemes to romance. Well, Stan dated Wendy, but whatever. I didn't particularly think much of it one night when Kyle ended up alone in my room with me. We were supposed to be doing a project for school, but Kenny was home sick and Stan skipped out on us to go on a date with Wendy (and hopefully get a sweet lay out of it).

"Okay…so where's your textbook?" he asked.

"Here," I said, handing it to him and turning away to boot up my computer. Behind me, I could hear the brainiac flipping through the pages behind me.

"Hey, Cartman?" his voice was steady, nonchalant. I grunted in reply, opening a clean document to type on and not bothering to look his way. "Is it true that you're in love with me?"

My head snapped back so fast it was painful. "W-wh-who told you that?!"

"Just answer me. Is it true?" he asked, sitting there and looking at me. Once he caught my gaze, he refused to let go; his eyes bored into mine. He was so calm, so annoyingly calm! Indifferent, even.

"Why do you need to know?"

"Your eyes say yes." he ignored my question.

"Kyle…it doesn't matter, does it? I mean…dude, heh, we—"

He stood up. "Yeah. It does matter. Because if you like me, I might as well give you what you want, right?"

"You don't even know what I want!" I snapped, but my heart was racing. Why was he so composed?! What was he saying? If this was a romantic confession, it was a crappy one. He didn't seem very lovey-dovey at all. It was when he stood up and looked me straight in the eyes that my heartbeat really began to pound. I could feel my face darkening.

"Cartman," he muttered, and kissed me. It scared me how right it felt. And also how wrong. It felt like someone had grabbed my heart and was gripping it tight. It hurt. His lips were warm and perfect, and I stepped back in shock. He stepped forward, refusing to lose any space between us. I stepped back again. He stepped forward. I stepped back. The back of my legs hit my bed. I forced myself away from his lips, which were hovering over mine once again.

"Kyle…you like me?" I whispered fearfully. Emotions and hormones were coursing through my blood and I didn't know how else to respond.

"No," he responded sounding sarcastic, "I just made out with you because I hate you. Surely kissing the person you've always wanted is part of my revenge against you."

I smiled, a little relieved. But then he pushed me. I landed sideways across my bed and he jumped me, kissing me again fiercely. Catching on quickly, I kissed back. His hands ghosted under my shirt and I whimpered at the contact; he smiled at this. It was almost funny how easily he talked me right out of my clothes. I mean, we'd only just started what I hoped would be the longest, most fantastic relationship in the school. But it felt right as long as it was his hands on my skin, his lips on my neck, him inside of me, moaning for me to say his name over and over. "Kyle, Kyle, Kyle!"

As long as it was Kyle, I was happy.

In retrospect, I question whether or not that the only reason that I was alright with losing everything I had to him. It's okay, he can have sex with me, he can kiss me, he can look at me like that...he's Kyle. I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment with everything I had, hoping it would last.

I was lucky; it did.

"Be mine and only mine, Eric." he spoke as we lay side by side on my bed when he was through. I turned to look at him in shock.

"E-excuse me?"

"What I'm saying is go out with me. That way you can only be mine."

"I never knew you were so possessive," I teased. But I was smiling. He was being possessive over me.

"Only to things that truly mean a lot to me," he answered, also smiling. He was gorgeous when he smiled.

"Alright then. I want to go out with you, too."

This made him happy. And to my pleasant surprise, he didn't hold back, even in public. We never over-played the PDA, but he was fine with holding hands, hugging and kissing between classes. Kenny didn't take it well, but Stan took it unexpectedly calmly. They seemed to figure we had all been friends most of our lives, so something like this was bound to happen eventually. I'm not going to lie, it was the happiest time of my life. I realized how even when we were children, everything I did was for his attention. Every little moment that had been easy to forget as kids had been something deep-rooted. And I could finally express it freely.

I was finally free.

Too bad I was twirled around Kyle's finger. I'm sorry. Is this coming as too much of a shock to you at this point in my story? My documentation? My requiem? Because you can read that line over if you don't believe me, but it's true. I began to notice it slowly, but it trickled more and more each day.

Kyle only smiled a certain way around me. It wasn't the 'oh-I'm-with-Stan-and-he's-my-best-friend-and-I'm-happy smile. It was almost...sardonic. Sarcastic. Like a double entendre. It was a smile, but it wasn't happy. Not that I picked up on that at first. It took months to make the comparison. Months to come down off the high and start to notice just who I was once again. He also never wasted time with sex. If he wanted it, he'd make the call, usually just by pushing me back onto whatever couch or bed (or in one case, Bebe's porch at a party...but we were both kind of drunk)we happened to be together on and usually leaving as soon as he was done.

No, not as soon as we were done. As soon as he was done. Sometimes I was left in Kyle's dust.
He never did things just to be sweet. We were dating and that was enough. It bothered Kenny and made Stan uncomfortable but that was OK. People stared and said it wouldn't last but they were stupid. Finally, I decided to ask Kyle myself.

"What...do I mean to you?" I asked casually. We were walking home from school. My coat was draped around his shoulders because he had forgotten his in his locker and the rain coming down was cold.

"What does that mean?" he asked, eyes on the sidewalk before us.

"Like, do you love me or do you like to be with me or do I make you smile or what?"

For quite a while, he was silent; staring straight ahead. Finally, that eerie smile came onto his face, spreading across his lips. I shuddered. He wasn't about to say something nice.

"Okay, who tipped you off; Kenny finally got worried for you or Stan is so scared of me he warned you?"

"I'm sorry? Kyle, I didn't talk to Stan or Kenny. Answer the question."

He smirked at me. "You mean...satisfaction, Eric."

"What does that mean?"

"Do you really want me to tell you now? Right now?"

"Yes, dammit!" I snapped. I didn't usually yell at him like that.

"I mean...you satisfy something that I've pent up for most of my life. Since we were kids, you were always so mean to me. Then, I learned that you really loved me. You had a crush on me. It was perfect. I could finally get it, finally."

"Get what?"

He looked me straight in the eyes. "Well, revenge of course."

The world stopped spinning. Lightning flashed overhead. "Revenge?" I realized we had both stopped walking and were standing face-to-face in the icy rain. Kyle took a deep breath and began to explain himself to me fully, no editing, no fluff, no emotion. He was matter-o-fact.

"I hated you, Eric. You were always cruel to me, always! 'Jew', 'Ginger', 'Nerd', it builds up after a while. You've tried to kill me and sexually harass me. When I learned that you had a crush on me, as I said, I was thrilled at the chance to get revenge. Oh, and before you get angry, I put two and two together...no one tipped me off on the whole 'crush' thing. So, I asked you to go out with me. You said yes, you stupid, fat bastard. Because all you wanted was to hold me in your arms, to claim possession of me, to be fucked by me, right? I didn't decline your silent requests. I dated you, mocking you the whole time. There was never love, never compassion, I could really care less if you got hit by a train. The only thing I cared about was using you.

"The best part is how long it took you to catch on. I thought Stan had tipped you off because when he learned I was serious about dating you for revenge, it kind of creeped him out. Then Kenny...heh, for whatever reason, he likes you. He's a little angry at me for doing this now. But hey, I'm gonna miss having a lap dog myself, so I guess everyone's a little upset. I took everything you had and now I get to watch it blow up in your face. You have no idea how happy you've made me.

"I guess it's the only time you ever will too, since I usually detest you. So, it's earlier than I would have liked, but there you have it, Fatass. The truth. I hate you. I have always hated you. I will die hating you. But it's all okay because I get to see the look on your fucking face right now. I told you what you wanted to know, you mean revenge and nothing more to me. Good-bye, I'll see you again. The new and improved, broken Eric Cartman. That's what you get." he ended with a sneer. And turning on his heel, spun away from me. "Oh," he glanced back, shrugging out of my jacket, "take this back. Thanks."

And he walked away.

I fell to my knees, eyes on the ground as the freezing rain bit at my hair and skin. I stared down blankly at my trademark red jacket that he had thrown onto the ground before me. I didn't have the strength to reach down and pick it up. I didn't have the strength to do anything.

Kyle didn't love me? He had only been using me? I don't know how long it was before the rain pouring down my face was joined by tears, which burned like a liquid fire in contrast to the downpour. But they fell just as heavily. Cried silently, shocked.

I had served as a tool. Nothing more?

What had I done? All those years as a stupid child, picking on his favorite friend and now that 'friend' had turned around and stabbed me in the back. I don't know how many hours I spent in the rain on the sidewalk, but it was a long time because I was soaked to the bone by the time I was dragged to my feet by a surprisingly strong pair of hands.

Completely by chance, Kenny had been out picking up cigarettes from the gas station. He had seen me, figured out what must have happened, and without saying a word, led me home and to bed. I lost all sense of time, so I don't remember if I woke up on a Saturday or if we just skipped school, but Kenny continued to look after me silently, forcing me to eat and staring into space with a blank expression while stroking my arm like I was a cat. I guess I was used to being treated as a pet. It was like that for a while, and I stared as blankly as he did, empty. There was absolutely nothing within me. No fire, no passion, no feel. I guess it was like the cold ashes of a bonfire. Cold and miserable, missing the warmth of the dancing flame and wishing it would return although there's nothing to return to.

That kind of concludes my story, if you want to call it that. Looking back, I just wonder what would have happened if I hadn't asked Kyle what I meant to him. How much longer would he have kept me around? Maybe in time, he would have learned to actually love me, but that's probably just crazy talk. The only clear moral is simple: never, ever mess with Kyle Broflovski, or you will get burned.

Wow. That was depressing. Jeez, what is wrong with me? OK, important, look at the next to last line of the story. I know this is probably the best ending because even though it's sad, it's the original and what I had in mind when I started. But I hate sad endings and don't want Kyle to hurt Cartman. So, if you want, I could post an alternative ending that has a happy KyCart groove. I know it seems hard, but I can end this happily with a bonus ending if you want! Please tell me what you think because if you don't want to read it, I won't post it. REVIEW!