A/N: 'Ello poppet! :D Eh…I don't really like this idea, but my friend liked it, so I'll go with it. Sorry if this is complete and utter crap. :[ Whatever, read it if you dare.
The huff of breath hung lazily in the crisp winter air, gently taking different shapes, twisting and turning, morphing and shaping. That wasn't the only unsettled thing in the area, however. An emerald gaze cast itself over the delicate water of the pond; the stare belonged to Kyle Broflovski. His eyes were glazed over, and he sat completely stiff and unmoving, it was hard to tell if he was even breathing. While his physical stature was frozen, his mind was zooming each and every direction, in a fruitless attempt to sort itself out. Why does he do this to me, torture me like this? He thought to himself, it took the effort of lifting a mountain to finally close his eyes, in fact, they shut themselves so tight that little swirls of color swam around in his vision. But that wasn't what he was so intent on.
Feet made heavy contact with the snow behind him, causing a crunching sound as someone approached him. He didn't know quite how, or why, but he knew who it was without a second thought. The mere thought of that person made his blood boil, just the thought of that idiot.
"Go away." He said, the last bit of his dignity deflating, hearing his voice come out as more of a pleading whimper than a demand.
"I think I'll stay thanks." Came the curt reply, the infamous voice that had always been the bane of Kyle's existence.
"Oh, you've learned to think. Congratulations." He retorted, relieved beyond belief that his voice came out scornful and strong, the parallel to what he really felt.
"Shut up Jew." There was the typical response of Eric Cartman. No matter how racist and crude the comment was meant to be, it gave Kyle a sense of familiarity, this was normal.
"Can it fat ass." He was glad Cartman couldn't see his face, because a smile was set along it. He played along, letting the bicker smooth out his insecurities. Well, at least for the moment.
"You loved her, didn't you?" He stated it more of a fact than a question; his voice was a bored drawl, a mockery of his previous heated response. Kyle felt his heart skip a beat, and heard his heart pump enthusiastically in his ears, like a hammer on cloth. He slumped against the back of the bench, letting out a soft sigh.
"Out." He replied, all life gone from his voice, he sounded just as he felt and looked. Defeated.
"Once again, I say no to your little request." The larger of the two boys replied arrogantly, sticking his nose in the air, much resembling a rich spoiled American teenager. Wait, scratch that last part. Eric Theodore Cartman IS a rich spoiled American teenager.
"I mean it Cartman! I'm not in the mood to be patronized by you and your retarded antics." Kyle said scornfully; glad to hear the piercing venom eminent in his comeback. Of course, Kyle's victory was short lived. It was sliced in half by a sudden, unanticipated outburst.
"How does it feel Kyle? To love someone? I'd imagine it feels good, like something waking you up, giving you a reason for breathing. Imagine this Jew. All your life, you've been questioning yourself. You've felt abandoned, and you have good reason to. You know that no one gives a damn about you; you know that no one ever will. People step on you because you're weak, they tell you things. They say that you're useless, and worthless! Eventually, you begin to believe this. Those words of pure hatred are carved into your mind. The world is dark and bleak; you fall to the ground defeated. Well, you manage to pick yourself up again, building a wall, carving it, molding it, so that it conceals you. That wall shapes into a mask, a sarcastic and cruel mask, hiding how hurt, weak, and foolish you really are. It works. No one sees it, so they don't fuck with you, they don't see you as a victim anymore, and they see you as the hunter. Then, in one foul swoop, once you begin mending yourself, someone comes in and crashes it all down. They call you fat, racist, manipulative, cruel, and of course, after being called that, that's what I became. In the meantime, this person is hurting you, saying that YOU'RE the hateful one when they unknowingly broke everything you were making for yourself! The worst part is, that one person you hate the most, is the one person you depend on for that sense of reality…how does it feel Kyle? To love someone, and have that person you love not give a fuck about you? How does it feel Kyle? To love someone who hates you with every fiber of their being!" His words stabbed with utmost poison, they were filling the crisp November air with their vindictive, indifferent sneering.
"…E-Eric I-" Hatred was something Kyle thought to be familiar, he thought he was used to it, until that exact moment. It was so powerful, vigorous, it sent a sudden chill down his spine and he felt himself quiver. He never knew something to be so dark.
"Well Kyle, you've said it before. You've been through a lot. Apparently you're the only one of us who has a skeleton in the closet. Well Kyle? A little piece of news for you. You're not the only one who's invisible to the one you love." And with that, parting statement, Eric Cartman stormed off, embracing the icy Colorado air, which was about as brutal as the war of emotions swelling inside him, alone with the fact that he had fallen in love with Kyle Broflovski.
Oh my god…I want to claw my own eyes out and feed them to George Lucas. O_O I hate how this turned out. I'm losing my touch at writing. DX This will probably be redone someday.