ah ok im a meme and a lot of this was really hard to write bc it relates to personal expereinces :L thank u everyone who has read please feel free to write me reviews my energy is replenished by reviews but pls be nice also im looking for an editor

The warm water pounds against my skin one drop at a time. The rhythm of the drops are somehow comforting. The bathroom door is locked and my parents aren't home. I'm here and I'm real, I think, as I touch my pale, freckled skin. This is who I am and I exist. I exist here and in this moment and that is undeniable, I tell myself. But the fear hasn't left my heart. It still beats as though an enemy is after me. And perhaps it's not wrong.

I kneel down in the bathtub and wrap my arms around myself, feeling my skin and water clashing. I feel the skin that pulls out at my sides and feel vaguely disgusted. A feeling that in the last few weeks hasn't been all too unfamiliar. I feel my hand snaking its way up my side and to my mouth; it pauses in front of my lips and then reaches into my mouth. My fingers find their way to the back of my throat and I push hard. I gag hard before the contents of my stomach comes up my esophagus and out my mouth. The green slime washes slowly down the drain with the water from the shower… It curls itself down the tile of the bath. I am empty. My throat burns and tears fall from my eyes involuntarily.

I am dirty. I am dirty, I think as I run the washcloth across my bare chest. I will never be clean again. I can feel all the dirt sticking to my skin, refusing to come off. I begin to rub my skin raw, over and over, but the feeling doesn't leave. I stay there for what seems to be hours, sitting alone at the bottom of my bathtub, not quite sure what I am doing but feeling like this is the only place that I need to be in this world.

When I get back to my room I find several texts from Stan on my phone.

Stan Marsh; hey kyle

Stan Marsh; r u ok?

Stan Marsh; what happened today? did i scare u or smthn?

I sigh heavily. What lie should I make up to my best friend this time? I've been hiding in the closet from him for a good year and now the throwing up and assaults would have to be kept behind closed doors as well. Stan couldn't see what a mess I was. He would probably leave me. Stan was too normal. He was the kind of guy who dated the head cheerleader and got into a good (albeit, not great) school and played the right amount of videogames to not be a loser.

Stan was the kind of guy everyone was after. And I was scared. Scared that if I became a walking disaster, I wouldn't have my best friend anymore. So this is what I had to do.

Kyle Broflovski; sorry man

Kyle Broflovski; honestly ive been feelin sick since friday

Stan Marsh; :/

Kyle Broflovski; ill see a doctor as soon as i can

Stan Marsh; dude you seemed more upset than sick

Kyle Broflovski; idk tbh

Kyle Broflovski; i gotta go

I sigh and toss my phone away. I don't feel right lying to Stan, but it's best for both of us. I know this in my heart. I'll have to call him later. Have to hang out with him tomorrow. Make it up to him somehow. I know he'll want answers but I can't think of anything to say right now. My head is aching and I only yearn to sleep. So I relinquish my loose grip on consciousness and let sleep take hold. I'm asleep in minutes.

xxxxxxx

I wake up as the morning light filters in through my blinds. It's Monday, but fortunately I have no school, nor any prior obligations. I let the few seconds of relief set on my skin before all of the memories of the previous few days come slamming back into my head. I wish I could sleep more. Wish I could play dead for a few more hours, avoid the pain of simply being awake. Instead I roll out of my bed and walk into the bathroom. Downstairs I hear the faint noise of a vacuum cleaner running in the living room.

As I stumble down the stairs my mom's high-pitched voice calls to me, "Bubbaloo, are you hungry? Have some breakfast."

"Yeah mom, I'll just have some cereal," I reply and go into the kitchen. Ike's sitting down, reading a book. His head pops up when he hears me come into the kitchen, "Hey Ike," I mutter.

"Hi, Kyle," he greets me. Ike's two years behind me thanks to his intelligence he skipped several years of school but really should be in 8th grade. Ike's strangely semi-popular at school, I think people find him to be a novelty. He's quirky and different and people think themselves cool to be his friend. Damn, he's more popular than me.

I pour out my cereal and eat a small portion. I'm not hungry. I don't want to eat these plain cheerios anyways. Why waste the calories on something so… not worth it? I spit the remainder of the food in my mouth back into the bowl, earning a weird sideways glance from Ike, and pour the cereal down the drain. I'm about to head back up the stairs when there's a call from my mom through the hallway, "Baby, your friend's here," for a second I'm surprised Stan came without calling. For a second.

Then fatass walked through the door and smiles that wry smile at me, letting me know I am in trouble and I can't get out. I want to scream and run but I'm planted in one spot. I'm ready to start crying but if I did, Ike would know and Ike is smart enough to figure it out from my small motions, let alone huge mental breakdowns. So I hurry up the stairs, Cartman's large figure pounding after me and we reach my bedroom. My safe place. It's not safe anymore.

"Hey Kaahl," Cartman cooes, plopping himself down on the edge of my bed. I shiver, "I think we need to talk," he says in a consoling manner, as though he has some tiny prick of empathy in his enormous body. But I know better.

I'm shaking with fear and anger. I want to kill him but I'm also terrified.

"Kyle, the thing is," he pauses to look into my eyes, "I'm in love with you."

I pause. I don't know what to say or think. Could Cartman really think he's in love? Could what he have done been some sort of twisted, backwards notion of love? I don't know, frankly. Anything Cartman does is far out of my frame of reasoning. Suddenly, he's standing up. His lips are pressed against mine. I try to pull away but he won't let me. I feel a tear rush down my cheek. I want to escape. I want to disappear. I've always thought my first kiss would be someone meaningful. Someone I loved. A boy who wanted to love and keep me safe. But it was Cartman. It was taken from me as was my virginity.

"Cart-Cartman," I cried, pulling away from him.

"Yes, my Jew," he replied, almost gently. Was he trying to be kind? I wonder. It's all too much for me to understand.

"Shut the fuck up," the words are old, I've said them hundreds of times before to the same exact person, but they feel new. This time when I say them… I'm scared. Scared what he will do in return. But there is nothing, nothing biting in return. Simply a heavy sigh echoing from Cartman's lips.

"Kyle, what happened," he began. I want to scream at him to not go on, I don't want to think about it ever again. I most certainly don't want to talk about it out loud, "what happened was an accident."

I- I'm speechless. Is he… Is he serious? It was an accident? He couldn't possibly. What was I to think? I'm at a complete loss.

"I've loved you for a long time Kyle, and well, I just kind of… lost it."

Suddenly all the anger that's ever been inside of me fills me once more, I can barely see I'm so furious. I push him as hard as I can. I want to beat him and hurt him I want him to feel the hurt he made me feel. I start hitting him in the chest as hard as my frail arms can but I'm obviously not hurting him. I fall down to my knees and cover my face with my arms. I'm so tired. Every part of me is tired. The anger has filtered out of my body and pooled around me leaving nothing but exhaustion. I feel tears stinging my eyes and a hand on my shoulder. I peer up through my arms and see his face… his dampened face. He's crying.

"I'm sorry, Kyle."

And suddenly I'm in his arms, I wrap myself in him, his warmth protecting me. I've been alone for so long and he's the only other person in this world who is here for me. Who can see the pain I'm in, knowing he's caused a portion of it.

"It's okay," I murmur. It's okay now. It's okay. I'm not alone anymore, "I love you too."

I can't help it. I let myself say the words. I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't know if they're a lie or true or even real. I'm not one hundred percent sure I said it out loud. All I know is that I exist in the same moment as Cartman and that's what matters.

xxxxxxxx

Kyle Broflovski; hey stan sorry for freaking out dont know what that was about. wanna hang out today?

Stan Marsh; sure ur house?

Kyle Broflovski; yeh my parents just left for a few days

Stan Marsh; oh sweet

Kyle Broflovski; ikr

Stan Marsh; ill be there in like 2 hours

Kyle Broflovski; ok

"He'll be here in two hours," I tell him anxiously. Cartman smiles slyly at me and edges his way closer. My face turns red and I stare harder at my phone scrolling aimlessly and acting immersed. He is not fooled. Cartman's rough hands touch my hips and he pushes me back on the bed. I want to say something, this isn't the time, but his lips rush in to touch my own and I'm captured in his kiss. His mouth finds its way down my body, slowly removing my sweater and revealing my bare chest. His tongue runs across it, reaching my nipples. He sucks on me and I moan. I can't help it… Can't help how good his warm breath feels against me. I twitch. My body is begging for more, more, more. Another small moan escapes my throat as his mouth trails down towards my pants. I'm getting hard, I blush, but he can't see my face anymore. He yanks down my pants and my erection is released. I'm honestly completely embarrassed but Cartman doesn't even pause. His mouth is around me, warming my cock.

"Ahhh, Cartman," it feels so good I can't help the noises coming out of my mouth. He stops sucking and begins licking the base. My hips involuntarily push forward. My whole body is full of an incredible warmth. Cartman's hand is there too now and I'm not entirely sure everything that is going on all I know is that I feel so incredibly good and my whole body is lurching and moans continually escape my mouth.

"I'm going to- Cartman-" I stutter in an attempt to warn him but it's too late and I come inside his mouth. I can barely move my whole body feels so wonderful and I'm coming off a high. Cartman raises himself up and grabs my jaw, planting a firm, open kiss on my mouth. Then my own semen fills my mouth. I gag and attempt to pull away but he pushes his tongue further inside my mouth and lets the rest of the mess ooze its way into my throat. He pulls away and I swallow my own jizz. Disgusting, I cough repeatedly, and consider making myself vomit. He grins wolfishly at me.

"What the fuck?" I spit, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, "was that completely necessary?" I growl.

He laughs casually and helps me up. We head downstairs and cuddle watching reruns of comedies we've seen many times before, but something about being swaddled in his warmth makes the moment perfect. I curl in and smell his neck. He smells wonderful, I think to myself.

What seems like a very short period of time later, there's a knock on the front door, "That's probably Stan," I inform Cartman, stretching my arms and reluctantly standing up from the nest of a couch. I twist the doorknob and in marches a sopping wet Stan.

"Hey Kyle, I brought McDonalds and stuff," he begins, making his way to the kitchen, and stops mid-sentence when he spots the large boy on the couch.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, sounding almost insulted.

"A lot more than you-" Cartman retorts, so I quickly butt in.

"I thought we were all hanging out," I reply nervously.

Stan casts a glare at me, "It was supposed to just be you and me," he says coldly. I'm not quite sure why he's acting so strange but I blush remembering what Cartman I were doing just hours before he came over.

"Ah, I'm sorry I didn't realize," I stutter, "I mean he was already here-" Cartman interrups.

"I don't wanna hang around with you two fags anyways," he said gruffly, pushing his large figure off the couch.

I'm taken aback by the cruel comment. Could he really just turn off his feelings that quickly? Just minutes ago we were cuddled up to one another on the couch and now he was calling me a fag with Stan? How could he- Why would he say these things? I look down and before I can even stop myself a tear slips down my cheek. I turn around and move swiftly to the kitchen before anyone has a chance to see. The front door slams and I know Cartman has left. I wipe the tear off my cheek and open the fridge to hide my face. Stan has followed me into the kitchen.

He places the bags of food on the counter, "Kyle," he murmurs gently.

"Yeah, sorry for having Cartman over, I didn't realize-" I begin as cheerfully as I can.

"Kyle," he repeats, this time more firmly. I know he wants to talk from the tone of his voice. Does he already know about Cartman? Oh God, did he figure it out that fast? What could he want to talk about? My heart drops down to my stomach and I feel sickened.

"Yeah," I say sheepishly.

"We need to talk."

Fu-ck-ing shit.

I sigh and shut the refrigerator door, "About what?"

"Kyle I-" he pauses, "let's go to your room."

I nod, but want to scream not to. I hurry in front of him and when I reach my room I scamper through the door and let it shut behind me, in a desperate attempt to fix my sheets and make it less suspicious somehow. Maybe what I just did was far more suspicious than my sheets being a mess though. Am I blushing again? Holy shit.

I sit down on the bed and Stan emerges through the door and pushes the swiveling chair at my desk around and plops himself down on it.

"Kyle I-" he pauses, he's playing with the string on the cuff of his sweater. He spins it aimlessesly and anxiously attempts to distract himself all the while building my nervousness. I feel like I'm going to hurl.

"Kyle," he says again, his head moving upward suddenly, "I'm gay!"