A/N: I'm lazy and writing's way harder than I thought it would be. Those were the reasons why I posted this chapter so late. By the way,this story will switch Kyle and Cartman's POV for every chapter. With that being said, I hope you guys enjoy!
"Here's your drink, sir!"
The train of thought in Cartman's mind was interrupted by the waiter's voice. He blinked a few times after staring at the polished, wooden table, before turning towards his fourth glass of raspberry lemonade, the last three empty ones already at the other side. He didn't interact with the waiter, and snatched the cold glass, his warm fingerprints pressing the thin sheet of frost. He unwrapped a brand new straw before dipping it at the bottom of the glass and wrapped the other end with his lips.
"Would you also like another batch of our bread?" asked the waiter.
"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever," the brunette answered, waving his hand at the waiter, signalling him to go away. He used his other hand to grab the last piece of the golden, buttery biscuits. He looked to his right, near the window, to make sure his small black camera bag was safely secured.
Cartman didn't know how he ended up in this place. As soon as he recognized Kyle he ran as far as his chubby legs could take him. When his metabolism finally got the best of him, Cartman managed to end up in a restaurant that would eventually close at 1 AM. Speaking of which, this place was so different compared to the ones he begged his Mom to take him when he was in elementary school. Cartman was sitting near the very end, away from the typical late-night crowd - not the biggest number of people in the restaurant, maybe like, less than half the place are filled with empty seats - but the vibrant, upbeat,unfamiliar vibes was giving the brunette even more anxiety than he already has. Everything is so Goddamn hipster; from the bright purple lights scattering on the ceiling (almost like the glow in the dark stars he had in his own bedroom a long time ago, but brighter) to the paintings that were displayed against the wall.
Even the small, taupe candle that was revealing his face (the way his eyebrows knit together while his cheeks are painted pink from embarrassment, and how he was biting on the top of his straw as soon as he went back to his drink) is making him feel like an exposed juvenile delinquent.
Cartman looked at the menu laying next to his right before facing it down on the table. The fact that he was too stressed out to order any real food says something.
'Oh, Goddamnit! I don't believe it! Fuck. First, moving to this hippie town, then I had my mom on my ass 24/7, only to have her kick me out, get a couple of shitty jobs to afford my shitty home, and now this?! Haven't I suffered enough?! How the fuck did he recognize me?! Shit, I should've kept waking! And Jesus, now I need more raspberry lemonade.'
Cartman took the bitten straw off his mouth before looking up, desperately trying to find the same waiter with wandering eyes, until he finally spotted his God-awful man-bun. "Excuse me! Hey, you!" No response.
'That bastard's ignoring me!' the brunette thought, and continued to yell, "Hello?!"
The waiter turned to his left, finally getting Cartman's attention. "Sir, I'm in a middle of helping another customer. I'll be with you in a moment". And with that he casually returned to his conversation like nothing happened.
Cartman groaned before turning back, and his eyes settled on a couple. They were clearly disgusted. 'What the hell are they looking at me for?'
"What? That guys being a dick! Stop fucking staring at me!" He then got up a bit and leaned closer to the couple with a hard face, hoping that would be enough to scare them off.
He could've sworn that the boyfriend called him a "retard" as he and his girlfriend turned back around, but he didn't care. With every public humiliation he faced for the past nineteen years, Cartman doesn't want anymore unwanted attention. The brunette wished that for once in his life, the universe could stop being a pain in the ass and give him a break. He was always getting the short end of the stick, despite being the most confident, passionate person he knew. It was bad enough he ended up on the bottom of the food chain for becoming rather anti-social and outlandish (probably because of his damn weight). He doesn't need to be presented as some damn monkey locked in a cage, surrounded by a heated audience, only to be thrown at with cracked peanuts and accepted as some kind of "respect".
'Okay, okay. Calm down, dude. It's only been, what? Two hours since you saw your childhood enemy? Maybe he's changed? It's been what… eight, nine years since you last saw him? Maybe he's not an annoying-ass Jew - shit - Uh, I mean person anymore.'
"Alright sir, now I am ready to be of your assistance!"
Cartman jumped at the waiter's voice. "Jesus Christ, don't scare me like that! Rude much?"
"Oh! Sorry about that," the waiter giggled a bit, and it took Cartman all of his strength not to scream at his face. Your biscuits are on their way. In the meantime, do you want another refill?"
'He's really testing me, huh?' thought Cartman. Jesus, did he hate this douchebag. Just look at him. Besides that stupid blonde man-bun, he has those thick, arching eyebrows, like he just got out of an expensive celebrity spa. His face was free of acne, and the light sweat on his forehead showed how shiny he was. His royal blue polo shirt was short-sleeved and it has no wrinkles, and it was nicely tucked under his gray dress pants. And let's not forget that damn smile, so friendly, too friendly. He didn't even get his fucking name.
"Yes. And make it quick," Cartman said while getting a closer look at the name tag. "Georgie."
The blonde man raised his eyebrow at Cartman be before noticing the menu at the end of the table. "I'll be taking this," he said, before leaving the other man's sight. He had about enough of the brunette's hostility.
'Finally, I could think again. Alright Cartman, you haven't seen Kahl for almost a decade. He can't be that headstrong. Yeah, he's probably just as humble as I am. Shit, everyone back at home must've hate him more since I left. I mean, let's be fair here, Kahl has done some pretty fucked up stuff back when we were kids. And he was always giving out his pointless speeches, like anyone cared. Yeah. Everyone hated him. There's no doubt about it. He was probably depressed because he can no longer use me to make him look like a superior asshole. I would even do the same thing to him. I hated him, and I still do, but...I couldn't imagine a life without him when he first moved to San Francisco. So...he might feel the same way...Maybe he misses me? Oh my God, that sounded so gay.'
A familiar scent flare up Cartman's nostrils, signaling the fresh batch of biscuits. While the brunette really wasn't that hungry, eating any snack had helped calm his nerves. He had never cared for starters this much, but the biscuits these people served here was probably the best ones the brunette had in a long time. They were always warm and never too soft, so everytime Cartman tore them in half, small streams would escape the golden yeast.
"Here you go, sir. Would you like anything else?"
Cartman snatched the small basket off of Georgie's hands and to out a biscuit. "No."
"Your bill will be here shortly," Georgie stated bluntly as he headed towards the kitchen once more.
'I can't really say I miss him, too. No. I don't miss him. I just pity him, he has to live a lameass adult life like I do. Come to think of it, I kinda wish we had a proper reunion. Then I would know. I would offer him some tea, we talk all night, get to know each other again. Just like the old days. Does he have new friends here? Of course he does. This place is full of progressive cucks who think harassing people on the street with flyers about being vegan could help stop animal cruelty. Of course they're going to need him as some fucking mouthpiece. He thinks he knows everything. He probably has an underpaid minimum wage job to support himself. Hell, he's my age, so I know for a fact he started college, and he's only a step closer to getting his Law degree. His parents gotta be proud of him. So maybe he's not as much as a failure after all. How do I know if he even wants to talk to me again? He managed to hold a grudge against Stan, as far as I remember. It's just isn't worth, is it? He still hates me. So much he probably repressed any memory of me before I invaded his life again. The way he looked at me...Good God. What was I thinking?'
Cartman stared at his umpteenth biscuit he had just bit off of, before dropping it back in the basket. He lethargically rested his elbows on the table and covered his face. He wasn't really hungry anymore.
The only easy thing Cartman could ever do nowadays was to find a spot to pee privately. He should've used the public restroom before he left the restaurant, but when he saw the time on his phone he was about to miss the bus stop. He thanked God that he found out which street he was on before heading inside the restaurant, and before settling down he used his bus app to navigate from this location to the closest bus stop. Because of his constant refills earlier, (and the fact that he hadn't bought anything thing else, not even an appetizer) he was forced to pay over $17.86. And because he only brought about $22 tonight, he only has enough bus fair to get back home. Of course, he didn't bother to leave a tip because poor little Georgie was already getting paid $11 an hour. As much as Cartman liked the biscuits, he was certain he would never go back to that damn place again.
It took him two more minutes before the bus finally came, and he went to the very back and sat near the window. Due to his now tight budget, Cartman had no choice but to wait weeks and weeks before he could again afford a meal that he didn't have to prepare.
Come to think of it, it had been years since Cartman went to a restaurant by himself, or any public outing at all. And no it wasn't because the food was awful (the halal burger he had at Good Burger was fucking amazing), but because he was always under Liane's surveillance, since the first time they moved to the Midwest. Back in his late childhood, Liane all of a sudden decided to turn her life around completely and wanted to change herself for the better. And for some reason that meant leaving South Park forever.
Over the last few years, (while Cartman was rotting his brain with Saturday morning cartoons) Liane had been taking some community college courses from God knows where - while keeping a full-time job - and managed to earn her associates degree in Psychology. Apparently, that was enough for her to find a decent apartment near Detroit and start off from there. Cartman couldn't really remember how he reacted to that, other than the fact that he doesn't have to see any his lame ass classmates ever again. As a matter of fact, Cartman had repressed his feelings throughout the entire trip. Liane applied for a position as a youth counselor and she wanted her son to be with her at all costs when she gets the job. In fact, when the two settled down, she didn't bother enrolling him back to middle school. Of course, Cartman was rather relieved; he hated getting homework every night, failing important quizzes (even though he would copy off of anyone every chance he gets), and those hypersensitive principals. But instead of sleeping in or posting pictures on Instagram, he has to the same core course he had in public school, accompanied with yoga, household activities, personal interests, and occasional traveling.
And to make things more frustrating, he had to come to a mental health clinic where Liane works, four days a week. Of course Cartman severed as her patient (although they both had to talk about their personal thoughts between coursework) but there were times when he spoke to other counselors. He hated it. Absolutely hated everything about her fucking job. Because everyone around him expected him to behave and act like a fucking poster child, even if they try to manipulate his mentality. And he hated how they would say "it's okay. We all have problems", because it's not okay. One slip up could have him institutionalized, so he would end up another experiment for psychiatrists to test on as if the other troubled kids were nothing but lab rats. What made it worse was the fact he couldn't get out of this like he did when he was a kid, he would have any fucker who got in his way out of his life. But he couldn't because his mom would be at the very next room, and he couldn't afford the risk. So he played along anyway, and would at times bend the truth; those people could only speculate his words and what was going on outside his room, and he wanted to keep it that way.
Cartman didn't know how or why he managed to adjust to this routine for eight and a half years, but it didn't matter because he finally "graduated" from unschooling at the beginning of this year. He remembered the morning after when Liane was nice enough to bake him a small cake. It was round, completely chocolate, including the icing, and was covered with rainbow sprinkles. At the center was a small text, and it read, "Congrats, My Only Angel". She held it to her son proudly, as if she came straight out of a cooking commercial. And it was pretty obvious she had got up like four hours earlier because her utensils were lying on the counter next to the sink, and the smoke from the stove had lingered around the kitchen. Not to mention her eyes were a bit red and glassy, but Cartman brushed it off and assumed it was from the lack of sleep she had the other night.
Cartman supposed that this was the first time in years he accomplished something. During his unschooling days, he was required to make his own meals from time to time (Liane was nice enough to help him). Plus, he would rarely eat dessert, and was forced to consume a variety of food groups that would change every week. Ironically, he only shed a few pounds; enough to avoid obesity, but not enough to be buff (or thinner for that matter).
Alas, things were a bit rocky, and his relationship with Liane seemed to turned for the worst. Cartman assumed he was free of this "unschooling" bullshit and decided to sneak in alcoholic beer and cigarettes. He also became distant in front of Liane again, deciding that he was done talking about the same feelings he had ever since they left South Park. He was lazy, bitter, and just plain tired, so much that he nearly regressed back to his ten-year-old self. One night, Liane came home early, only to find cigarette butts on the stained coffee table. Cartman assumed she would be home late like she said, and got drunk too. This lead to a screaming match, and he finally told her that he couldn't stand her, and he hated her for turning him into a weak jackass who could no longer stand up to himself. Liane decided she had enough of her son's nonsense and ordered that he lived by himself from that point forward.
Like the most considerate person she was, Liane managed to pick an apartment for her son. It was near the town mall, so it was a great opportunity for Cartman to get any job. He was offered only one job so far - at the Dairy Queen - and the labour he went through made him wish he were a customer again. The apartment itself wasn't so bad, but it was fairly overpriced; and he had no other choice but to cancel his recent subscriptions to Netflix and People Magazine, just to pay off the water bill alone.
Two months ago, Cartman was lucky enough to score a photography position at JCPenny. They were willing to hire beginners, and Cartman took nice photos when he was unschooled, so he decided to give it a shot. With the remaining money Liane gave him before kicking him out, he decided to take the bus to Best Buy one day to buy a decent camera. It only costed him over $150 (nearly half the money given to him), but every photo he took was in great quality, so it was worth it. A few weeks after he overheard about the art exhibition near the closest University, and he decided to give it a shot. One of his personal favorite shots was a group of kids playing in the snow on a snowy February evening. He decided to take the pseudonym 'Zack Wilson', to feel like a rather different person.
And then fast forward to tonight, the reception. It went by fast for Cartman; the crowded room,the snacks on the table, and only a few people acknowledged his work. When he headed outside to catch the bus, he bumped into...him.
The bus was near his last stop, and he would still had to walk a half a mile until Cartman finally gets home. The brunette pulled the yellow wire above his head, alarming the driver he was ready to step off the vehicle. He grabbed his camera bag firmly before stepping in front of the door. It wasn't until that very moment Cartman remember he has work in the morning. This was going to be a very long week.