Disclaimer: I do not own "South Park" or "1984". I leave complete respect to the creators of these amazing fictional pieces.
"Are you even paying attention to what I'm saying, fatass?"
I guess you could say that hearing Kyle's voice was supposed to make me vomit in disgust, to turn away and flip off the middle finger like I used to. Back in elementary school, that's probably what I would have done, and it would all seem like routine. Day after day, he and I would bicker like the angry children we were, never realizing that it was like our hatred was this kind of fuel that ran us along.
Now, since the both of us are in high school, things have been different. You could say that making Kyle pissed off was the happiest form of pleasure for me – after all, there were so many hidden emotions trapped in those green eyes of his.
Emotions that I personally cannot wait to take advantage of.
"Cartman!" The voice rang out again, and I turned to find an angry Jew glaring at me, his green hat only barely containing those orange curls. How precious.
"What, Jew? I'm paying attention...just go on with what you were talking about before. You mentioned something about war being peace or something?"
Ah, bullseye. I get to witness a rolling of the eyes and a deep sigh, the casual reaction I would receive from Kyle, which made my insides flutter. Damn these teenage hormones, and damn him of all people to inflict them on me,
"You know, sometimes I wonder why I am even here. I have to tutor you, but what's the point of helping you if you're just going to ignore everything I say?" Kyle took up his paperback copy of 1984 and raised it to where I could see it. "I was talking about the slogans they use in the novel – War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery..."
"Yeah, yeah, and Knowledge is Ignorance, right?" I raised myself onto an elbow, since the both of us were lying on the floor of my living room. Considering it was just the both of us, my mom didn't really have to worry about anything – not that she would care, though. She had to work at a different schedule today, since one of her patients wasn't too keen on waiting. It was sick, but my mom had to work some way or another, and money doesn't come easy.
Kyle looked genuinely surprised that I came across the last slogan, but honestly, why wouldn't I? This novel kicked ass, but then again, any kind of novel that regarded totalitarian rule as a main government was bound to catch my interests. However, even though I knew a lot about this book already, it still didn't mean I couldn't fake it. There had to be one way I could get the Jew to stay over and 'tutor' me – even if it meant putting up a charade.
"Yeah, you're right...I guess you're finally starting to get it, fatass?" I could've sworn I saw a smirk spread itself across the ginger's freckled-ass face. Oh, he knew he was teasing me – and he was loving every fucking second of it.
"I don't get why you still call me that. I'm not even that fat anymore," I replied, taking the English paper we were supposed to be writing notes on and scribbling doodles on it. It was true that I lost a good amount of weight, due to football and powerlifting, but Kyle and the others still felt like it was a good idea to continue calling me by the signature nickname.
Kyle sat up on his knees and briefly stretched, reaching upwards and sighing in relief at the cracking of his back. He chuckled before lying back down, his heavy gaze continuing to go right through me. "Well, that's 'cause you'll always be a fatass, even if you lost a little bit of baby fat."
"Baby fat?" I retorted as I dropped my pen, watching as the little Jew got a kick out of that. He started laughing even harder, bringing his knees up to his chest and trying to control himself. Little did he knew that Eric Cartman doesn't take kindly to hurtful words.
I reached over and quickly grabbed that annoying ushanka that was on his head, unveiling a wild head of red hair. Oh yes, his look of happiness instantly broke down, and now a look of rage was now in its place. He looked pissed.
"Give that back, dumbass!" Kyle yelled. I shot up from where I sat on the floor, challenging him to respond. That's right, come and get it you little Jew.
Kyle didn't hesitate, running after me as we scurried all over my house, into the kitchen, up the stairs, and eventually back to the living room. His face was red from running around, and sooner or later I was going to lose my share of oxygen. However, it was all worth it to watch Kyle get this fucking worked up. His green eyes shared a tense shade of hatred and amusement, and I seriously wondered if anyone could get this mad about a hat of all things.
Before too long, Kyle actually jumped and caused the both of us to fall onto the ground, where the books and the pens shook from across the room. He somehow managed to pin me down, his body towering over mine, before giving me another one of his characteristic smirks.
"Gotcha." He whispered, his breath smelling of mints and diet soda. It was an odd mixture, one of which I am sure I have never had the chance of witnessing, but when it came to Kyle, everything was odd. Now, as he grabbed the hat, he placed it back on his head with a victorious snug, yet he continued to pin me down as though he was afraid I would escape and try to reach out for his hat again. It was fun, but to be perfectly honest, Kyle being on top of me was even funner.
We remained in that position for far longer than I anticipated, and there was definitely something in those eyes that led me to question what he was thinking. Hell, who was I kidding? I was always wondering what the Jew was thinking about – he could be thinking about Stan, or Kenny. He could be thinking about his bitch of a mother, or how South Park was the shittiest town on the Earth. Either way, he could be thinking of anything...
But, in reality, it scared and excited me immensely just wondering...if he ever thought about me.
"Cartman...we should probably get back to work." Kyle whispered, now in a voice that seemed vulnerable. He started to get off of me, but I wasn't going to let him go that far. I grabbed one of his arms and flipped our positions, with him on the bottom and me on the top, and I analyzed the boy beneath me. He had the tiniest frame of anyone, really, and the way his legs pressed against each other was so fucking appetizing. God, now I realized that all I wanted was his body, and the way those pale lips temped me.
Kyle looked shocked as I leaned in and fisted my hands into his ginger hair, my lips pressing against his in a hungry sort of way, as though we were two animals in dire need for some source of release. His body was frozen beneath mine, but before too long he relaxed, pressing his fingertips into my shoulders, silently begging for more. I didn't refuse to comply to his needs, as I pressed my tongue against his bottom lip, asking for entrance. He didn't hesitate, letting our bodies fight for dominance, just as strong physically as it would've been verbally.
Damn the lack of oxygen, the both of us tore apart, our breathing completely out of wack, and our bodies pressed very, very close to each other. It was as though we were trying to get all the warmth we could get.
"What...was that?" Kyle asked eventually, his green eyes dazed. I snickered and shrugged in response.
"Hormonal tension?" I took a wild guess before the both of us started laughing before returning to relieving us of the so-called 'tension'.
I suppose gingers are really good for something after all.