Stan and I broke up, again. It was a mutual feeling of sadness as he left my house into the rain, but at the same time, slight relief. It just wasn't working out, and I didn't really doubt that we would come back to each other in the end. But for now, I spend my time sitting on the couch with food and a movie, thumbing through all the sympathy texts running in.
Most were from my friends, some from random acquaintances in the school, even one from Mr. Mackey. They were the usual after-break-up-texts, so nothing interesting. I let my messages refresh after scrolling through all of them, only to find a text from someone I didn't expect.
Eric C: stan broke up with u?
You: why are you texting me
Eric C: i want to see if that hippie actually broke up with u asshole
You: we're over, it was mutual
Eric C: ok
You: why are you asking
Eric C: i'm omw 2 ur place, make a space for me on the couch, i have wine and cake
You: what? why? No
Eric C: nobody else wanted to share with me so im coming over, pick out a movie, and not a dumb documentary
You: wtf, cartman, stay home
Eric C: no
I don't bother replying. I know how stubborn Cartman can be, so I just wait for him to get here. In a few minutes after the conversation, there's a knock at the door, followed by an appropriate crack of lightning.
'The devil has arrived,' I think quietly to myself while standing up and opening the door. As promised, Cartman is standing there with a grocery bag on his arm and an umbrella over his head, a dumbass grin on his face.
"Wow, Wendy, you look great." he says sarcastically. I look down at myself; hair exposed from the absence of a hat, wearing pink pajama pants with bats on them, and a grey tank top. Okay, so I didn't look like a queen, but my boyfriend just broke up with me.
"Don't make me lock you out in the rain."
"I'm sorry." he says sweetly, stepping quickly past me and walking to the couch. He sets the bag down on the coffee table after sitting, taking out a big chocolate cake and two bottles of wine.
"Why the hell did you have this in the first place? And why are you here with it?" I ask, closing and locking the door. He takes the top off the cake and leans back on the couch, turning to face me while patting the seat next to him.
"Well, I wanted cake and wine, and I wanted to make someone jealous that I had wine and cake. Nobody wanted to hang out with me, so, I came over here."
"Are you saying I don't get any wine and cake?"
"Sure you do. If you go get the cups and plates."
I fold my arms and inspect his stupid, smug grin again, feeling my face heat up in frustration. "Look, Cartman, I appreciate the offer, but I really think you should get out of my house. I don't like you, remember?"
"Alright, hoe, I'll go get the stuff. Get comfortable!" Cartman says, standing up and walking into my kitchen without another word. I open my mouth to scream at him before I feel my shoulders deflate some, and my folded arms end up hugging my sides.
Wine and cake. That doesn't sound so bad after a break-up. Besides, it's chocolate cake. And is that...red wine? I think so. That's like, a feast for a break-up.
Cautiously, I walk to the couch and sit down with my tail in between my legs. Cartman comes back with two wine glasses, plates, and forks with one knife. He sets them down neatly on the table and takes a seat next to me.
"So, what did that hippie do now that made you leave his ass on the curb, hm?" Cartman asks while cutting a slice from the cake and setting it on my plate. I raise my eyebrow in suspicion at his hospitality, but quickly take the plate and fork before he can tamper with it any further.
"I just...needed some time for my studies, that's all," I reply. Cartman chuckles and pours wine into the glasses, picking up his and taking a drink.
"Right, I'm sure. Isn't that your shitty excuse every time?" Cartman replies after cutting himself some cake and taking a bite, whereas I just poke at mine with the fork. "What really happened? Did he cheat on you with a cheerleader? Maybe you finally realized he was a shitty boyfriend,"
"Would you cut that out? You know I'm only letting you stay here for the cake and wine, right?" I snap, taking a large piece from my plate and shoveling it into my mouth with a furrowed brow.
"Yes, of course,"
"Where did you buy this crap anyways?"
"I made the cake," Cartman says proudly, "and I just took the wine from the kitchen at home."
"You...made this?" I ask with genuine surprise, looking down to the piece I have my fork stuck into. "You didn't put any rat poison in it, did you?"
"Wendy, Wendy, Wendy," Cartman shakes his head with a smile. "I'm eating from the same cake as you, aren't I? Besides, I think you know the taste of rat poison."
I let a shiver run down my spine before slowly putting another piece in my mouth, reaching for the wine. "Right, sure..." I wouldn't be that shocked if Cartman did poison the cake, or put razor blades in it, or possibly poison one of our cups when he went to get them from the kitchen, but I'm not Tweek, so I won't make any wild assumptions.
"You know, Wendy, this doesn't have to be so bad," he offers. "we could have fun."
"Fun? With you and me? Finally, something to make me laugh." I say with a smile that I can't push back. He smiles in return and takes a sip from the wine, prompting me to follow his movements.
"No, no, hear me out," Cartman hushes. "I'm really curious about you and Stan, and I promise not to make any 'rude' remarks. At least until you're finished."
I stop, looking down into the red liquid in the cup, swirling to watch the ripples. "Alright, fuck it." I reply. Cartman smiles.
"So, yesterday, Stan said he was gonna take me out on a date. I expected something like, going out to watch the stars, or a candlelit dinner with home cooked food and wine. Something corny, something fancy. I thought I would get that, but he then took me to his place, and we watched TV together. I know Stan is capable of romance and dates like that, but he's just too...shy? Awkward? I don't know, but he hasn't done it, and I got tired of it! I want someone who will sweep me off my feet, carry me back into my house so my feet don't get tired and take me on a wild adventure, or hell, give me a candlelit dinner."
Cartman's face was one of confusion. He doesn't understand this, I know, but it felt nice to get off my chest to someone other than Bebe or Red.
"So...uh, fuck, let me get this straight," he says after finishing off his glass of wine, "you want someone to do something romantic with you?"
"Yes! Exactly!" I exclaim, also polishing off the cup. Cartman cautiously pours me another.
"Well, I mean..." he mumbles, looking down into the wine bottle. "isn't this...kinda what you described?"
I tilt my head in confusion, looking him dead in the eyes. He seems...smaller than usual, a little put-off and confused. "What do you mean?"
"Uh...never mind, hoe."
"I guess this is kinda romantic," I reassure, "I mean, you came over here, surprised me with wine and cake, and then let me talk about my feelings. It would be romantic if either of us had feelings for each other," I smile. He smiles in return, eyebrows creased a little. "But, we don't, so it's a...frenemy thing."
"Yeah! Totally. I hate you."
"I hate you too, fatass."
"Hey, I'm not fat, you fucking hippie!"
Neither of us say anything, just drink our wine and laugh. We actually continue like this for maybe two hours, the storm outside fading away as we eat the entire cake and drink one of the wine bottles dry.
I never realize that I drank almost all of the wine.
Cartman finally stops laughing at a dumb joke we made and takes out his phone, checking the time with his smile fading fast. "Shit, it's like 3 in the morning," he curses.
"Oh, who cares?"
"W-What?"
"Who cares what time it is? I'm having fun!" I giggle. Cartman looks shocked before relaxing and smiling, picking up the wine bottle and shaking it in disappointment.
"Dude, we should like, go get some more cake," he gasps and stands up, grabbing my hand and picking me up too.
"What? I don't have a car and I don't wanna walk," I whine as he starts walking outside to my garage.
"Your dad has a car!" he exclaims while the garage door slides open. My face pales as he shakes a familiar set of keys in his hands. He must have snagged those while I wasn't looking...
"We're not going to steal my dad's car, Cartman!" I shriek, looking around the silent neighborhood to make sure nobody heard me. Cartman laughs and just wraps his warm hand around mine, walking me to my dad's car.
"Please Wendy?" he asks, having already unlocked the doors, holding open the passenger side door for me. My heart pounds in my chest, sweat dripping down my forehead...
"Fine, fine! Let's go!" I laugh, louder than appropriately, sliding into the seat and putting on my seat belt. Cartman slides over the hood of the car, somehow, and slithers up into the drivers seat, putting the keys in the ignition. "Do you even know how to drive?"
"Who doesn't know how to drive? I've got my learners permit," Cartman replies, taking the car out of park and driving out into the street. I take a few deep breaths, letting them out in bubbles of laughter. "Hey, how about this, we go get some Wendy's, some candles, and we go hang out at Stark's Pond and look at the stars while eating greasy drive-thru food with cheap electric candles."
My cheeks flush red as he starts driving back into the busier part of town, sitting up in the seat. "That sounds killer."
"You sound like a fag when you say that," Cartman laughs, quickly navigating his way to a Wendy's. After pulling up in the parking lot, he stops the car and comes around to my side, opening the door for me. "I'll go get the candles, you get the food, alright? You got cash on you?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, get outta here fatass!" I laugh again. Cartman only smiles and ruffles my already tangled hair.
"Don't get kicked out for being tipsy!" he calls back before jogging across the street to the gas station. I make a 'pchht' sound towards him, walking into the Wendy's with a big smile.
Ordering at Wendy's, buying the candles and getting back in the car is all a blur. But, a good blur. A blur that only comes along when you're so happy now, and you know it's only going to get better, so much better it's the only thing you can think about. So, as soon as I get back into the car with Cartman, my head clears up.
It clears up and helps me to realize that I'm about to fulfill a romantic fantasy with...Cartman, I guess. Sure, I can pretend it's someone else, but it...was his idea. He finally pulls up the car at Stark's Pond, the electric candles already lit and in his arms. I step out of the car with the food and we walk across the ice and to the little log that everyone sits on. Cartman sets the candles around the log in a lazy circle, embedding them in the snow before sitting next to me.
I decide to just...forget my prejudice against him for the time being. Forget he's a stupid, racist, fat little fuck. What he does tonight will define him for tonight, and nothing he's done prior to this moment matters anymore.
We start eating while staring at the ice. Cartman eventually elbows me and points up towards the sky, asking me to point out all the constellations that we learned in school. I laugh with food in my mouth at the request, but find myself getting lost in the search, just blabbering absentmindedly about the different shapes and names.
I finally look back to Cartman to see if he was paying attention, but he was just staring at me, smiling. I lower my hand and find it falling on top of his between us, making us both jump a little in surprise. But we don't move our hands.
"Those...those are all I can think of right now," I say without breaking eye contact with him.
"You looked really hot doing that."
"What?"
"Well, I mean, your face got all soft. Like, you didn't look stressed or anything. The stars were in your eyes, you were smiling, you looked peaceful, I guess." Cartman replied uneasily, my cheeks turning red.
"Oh." is all I manage to say. We both go quiet again, just staring at each other, before everything gets blurry again.
There's a soft pressure on my lips. We both have wide eyes, lips against each other, as if neither of us expected it to happen. I uneasily return some of the pressure, not knowing what else to do. He seems to relax, prompting me to do the same, until his hand finds my shoulder and holds it.
Finally, we let our eyes close and our muscles relax. We both take a deep breath through our noses, closing the gap between us, the kiss deepening until it's a battle for power.
The battle rages on for a while until I find myself on his lap, hands curled in fists around his shirt, making it so that no air can get between us. We finally stop and examine ourselves, faces red and shoulders heaving.
"This is not what I had in mind when I came over to your place," he says quietly while reaching up and thumbing some hair behind my ear, hand cupping my cheek.
"I kinda...kinda like how it ended up," I smile softly, tightening my fists on his shirt. I'm going to regret this tomorrow, for the rest of my life. But, right now, I'm a little drunk, my boyfriend left me, and I finally got the adventure I wanted. "You stole my dad's car, bought me food, took me took a candlelit dinner, and watched the stars with me."
"Isn't that what you wanted? Adventure and a candlelit dinner?"
"It's...it's exactly what I wanted."