"When did Kenny become so… overprotective?" I questioned, trying not to sound horribly intrusive as I slipped into the passenger's seat of Butters' car. I had sobered up considerably, but was still feeling slightly dizzy.
The small blond fiddled nervously with the radio dial, settling on radio Disney. I rolled my eyes and suddenly wished I had a pair of earplugs as a childishly upbeat song began pouring out of the speakers.
"Gee, um," Butters looked uncomfortable as he took hold of the steering wheel, hands in perfect three, nine position. "Well since he left his folks house and we moved in together, I suppose."
"How long ago was that?"
"About four years ago, now."
"Why did he move out? Before I… left," I forced myself to say the word, wincing a little as it reminded me of the consequences. "He was all set to attend community college."
"Uh-," Butters stuttered, seeming to struggle with himself for a moment. "Well his pops got real upset one night. He called me and asked if him and his little sister could stay the night. I said sure, but he looked real torn up when he got there. He told me he couldn't go back…" he paused again, obviously looking for the right words. "So he stayed with my folks for a while and got a job and then we all moved in together."
Butters somber attitude concerned me. There was usually nothing that dampened his bright mood, but the memories I was making him retell were doing a good job of it.
"So Karen lives you guys, too?"
"Yeah… Kenny, uh. He kinda takes care of us."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he gets little Karen ready for school in the morning. I guess she's not so little anymore though, she's sixteen now. He pays most the bills, it's not a lot but Kenny don't make much managing the gas station, neither."
"He's the manager?"
"Oh yeah," Butters brightened up. "He got real close to the guy who owned it before and when he died he left it to Kenny."
"So, how come you don't have a job?" I hoped I didn't sound accusatory because Butters blushed at my question.
"Well-uh," He stuttered, looking embarrassed. "Kenny says he don't want me to work. Says he can take care of us by himself."
I smiled to myself. Kenny really had it bad. It seemed kind of quick though. I mean, they moved in together only a year after Stand and I left. I couldn't imagine Kenny developing feelings for someone so quickly, but I figured it was one of those things that I wouldn't understand. Because I wasn't there.
Skeeters bar was considerable less busy than Cartman's and I vaguely wondered how much money he was bringing in there. He couldn't have been doing too badly for himself, considering the number of alcohols occupying the small town.
"I'll go get us some drinks." Kenny announced as he all met up in the entrance and before I could reach out to stop him, he was already up at the bar.
Butters, Cartman, and I found a high table near the back of the bar. We had all just settled in when Kenny returned with our drinks.
"Margarita for Butters," He announced, setting the drink in front of the blond. Butters frowned down at the salted rim and gave him a disapproving look.
"Kenny, ya know I don't like to drink."
"One drink won't kill you, princess." Kenny responded with a wink. "I go you a Jack and Coke, Kyle. It's still your favorite, right?"
"Hell yeah." I gave him a nostalgic smile and took a small sip, relishing in the long forgotten flavor. I watched, intrigued, as Kenny surrupticiously placed a water in front of Cartman. I guess I could understand, seeing as how he was acting the first night I was back. Kenny had said that Cartman became enraged, with little provocation, when he was drinking. It looked like the sight of the water, and the implications behind it, enraged him just as much though.
Cartman simply stared at the glass for a moment before glancing up at Kenny, a fire set deep in his green eyes. They appeared to share a brief psychic conversation before Cartman shot him a withering glance and jumped angrily from his seat.
"Fuck that, asshole. I'd had to listen to that little bitch complain about his boyfriend all day," He pointed a finger towards me and I stiffened a little, feeling slightly ashamed and annoyed. "I'm getting a fucking drink."
"Cartman." Kenny warned, looking concerned.
The brunette simply flicked him off and stormed over to the bar. I caught Kenny's eye and he sighed.
"Sorry, I just thought we could all have a pleasant night out together. Guess I was wrong."
"He's not as bad as that one night, like, every time he drinks, right?"
Kenny shrugged, his face dark. "It's kind of touch and go. Depends what sets him off. I guess Token had heard you were back in town from Craig and tried asking Cartman something about it. It just set him off. It happens, and we won't really know when or why."
My eyes widened at Kenny's statement as I thought it over. It seemed pretty out of line for Cartman to get so upset at Token for asking a simple question. I vaguely wondered if there was more to the story, but my opportunity to ask was cut short as Cartman reappeared. He was juggling three shots in one hand and a beer in the other. The whole situation was frustrating me beyond belief and I came to the conclusion that I needed some fucking answers. If I was going to set Cartman off into a delusional rage, it might as well have been when Kenny was there to save my ass again, right? And seeing as how Kenny was fucking adamant about Cartman telling me on his own, I really didn't have another choice.
I sucked down the last of my drink and disappeared to the bar to get another. If I was planning on confronting Cartman, I was going to need to be a little tipsier. It might not have been the smartest idea, but my nerves were getting the best of me. God, what happened to the days when I wouldn't give a second thought about telling Cartman exactly what was on my mind? I felt my stomach twist painfully, never thinking that I would miss those days.
Cartman had already downed his shots and was halfway through his beer by the time I got back, and Kenny was fixing him with an angry stare. Butters appeared completely oblivious to the tension as he was rambling on about a kitten he had seen earlier that day.
"And then I walked up to the little kitty, cause I wanted to pet it, ya know? Her fur looked so soft and warm, but when I stuck my hand out she bit me! See, look Kenny." Butters held out his finger, trying to show the other blond his nonexistent injury.
"Yeah, that's nice Butters." Kenny commented off-handedly, still staring Cartman down.
"Well… no it's not." Butters frowned, looking at his finger confusedly before returning to sipping at his margarita.
I almost laughed at Kenny's obliviousness as I sucked down my second drink. Cartman was pointedly ignoring both blonds as he held his beer almost defensively to his body.
I took a deep breath, trying to suck in some courage for the conversation I was about to initiate.
"When did you even start drinking, Cartman?" Innocent enough, right? Not super demanding, just a question. Wrong.
Cartman's brown hair was hanging over his face as he stared solemnly into the amber liquid occupying his beer glass. He was quiet for so long, I thought he hadn't heard me.
"What's it to you?" He finally snarled, brining his eyes up to meet mine. Surprisingly they didn't look that angry, they looked… broken, and somewhat empty.
"Um," I gulped, wishing I had gotten my self two drinks instead of one. "You just never did in high school, you and Stan always did your own shit whenever we went to parties. It's just not like you."
I notice him flinch slightly at the mention of Stan. "You have no idea what I'm like." He replied, voice low and dangerous but his eyes still holding a dead kind of emptiness.
"Look, Cartman," I started, picking up my resolve as I felt my patience ebbing away. I understood he was upset, but how was I supposed to even begin to fix things if I didn't know what I was supposed to be fixing? I needed some help, some clues as to what had happened in my absence and no one was fucking willing to help me out. "I know I fucked up, leaving you guys here and shit and never calling and fuck, I'm a horrible piece of shit, okay? But I want to try and fix some of it and I can't do that unless you start to trust me a little more."
"Trust you? Trust you?" Cartman spat, nearly leaping out of his chair, sending it toppling backwards. "You mean like how you trusted telling me about the fact that you and Stan are fuck buddies? Oh, no, wait, you accidentally let that one slip, did you?" He was breathing heavy as he stared dead into my eyes. "You are such a fucking hypocrite, coming here and demanding to be let back into our lives like nothing ever happened, when you haven't told us one god damned thing about yourself since you ditched us!"
"Cartman," Kenny started, standing up and getting right in his face, but speaking quietly in contract to his demeanor. "I don't think Stan and Kyle being together was much of a secret, honestly."
Cartman's face flashed through a mantra of emotions, finally settling on anger as he shoved Kenny away form himself. "What are you talking about?"
I fidgeted uncomfortably as Kenny regained his balance, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. I appreciated Kenny sticking up for me, but Cartman was kind of right. Stan and I were supposed to be a secret; it wasn't something that I had openly shared with any of them. I was a fucking hypocrite.
"I mean everyone knew, retard!" Kenny responded. "They've been in love with each other since they could talk, you were always just too wrapped up in your own feelings," Kenny gave the word a special emphasis, though I couldn't place a finger on why. "To realize what was going on right in front of you."
Cartman appeared to be getting angrier the more Kenny spoke, and I couldn't decide if it was from the alcohol, or what Kenny was saying. Probably both.
"Gee, Eric, I didn't know they were together that way either. But I guess that's pretty swell for them though, isn't it? We should be happy for our- four our friends." Butters spoke up quite suddenly, almost making me jump. He was smiling sweetly, obviously a little tipsy already and, in his own way, trying to diffuse the situation.
Cartman leaned across the small, round table in a flash and gripped Butters by the collar of his shirt. No one had time to react before he pulled him close to his face and spoke dangerously low.
"Fuck. Off. Butters."
And then shoved him forcefully away from his body, causing him to slam into his chair and topple to the floor on top of it.
"God dammit, Cartman!" Kenny shouted, running to gather Butters up from the ground.
I was frozen to my seat, watching everything happen with wide, shocked eyes. How had things escalated this quickly? It had obviously been a bad idea to try and talk to Cartman.
"Are you okay, Butters?" Kenny spoke quietly, searching the blond for any injuries.
"I-I'm fine, Kenny. It's my fault, really. Don't be mad at Eric."
Kenny left his side for a moment to storm over to Cartman, poking him violently in the chest.
"Listen to me, Cartman." He cast me a sideways glance and seemed to struggle wit his words for a moment. "Don't push away the people who were here for you through- through all this stupid shit. Kyle is only trying to fix things. Try to give him a chance."
And then he turned on his heel, grabbed Butters by his upper arm, and stormed out of the bar. I started incredulously after him, my stomach sinking. What? What the hell? I felt way over my head, and was slowly coming to the conclusion that I would never fully understand my old friends again.
"Fuck." Cartman whispered, bringing me out of my slight trance. I glanced at him, noticing that he looked almost… guilty. This was all too fucking weird.
"Are you always an angry drunk?" I nearly blurted, feeling sick immediately after the words came out, but unable to stop myself. It didn't seem like anything I could say would put me in a worse light to him now, anyways.
His eyes snapped to mine and he looked surprised, almost like he had forgotten I was still there. He clenched his fists tightly a few times and took a deep breath, like he was trying to calm himself.
"I'm not drunk." He replied with barely concealed irritation, and then swayed on the spot, being forced to steady himself with the table. "I might be a little tipsy, though."
He seemed so much calmer now, to my utter surprise. I was half expecting him to round on me after they left and finished what he'd started the day I came back to town. What Kenny said must have really gotten to him.
"I'm going to get another beer." He spoke, more to himself.
I followed after him, feeling almost in a daze. How could someone's emotions do a complete 360 like that in such a short time? I hoped he didn't expect me to leave, I was too intrigued and hoping I could finally get some answers, now that he seemed more subdued.
I got another drink as well and we sat back at our table together, a horribly awkward and suffocating silence stretching over us like plastic wrap. I gulped down my drink far too quickly, for a lack of anything else to do, and was starting to feel drunk again already. I stared openly at Cartman, watching his movements as he gulped down his beer almost mechanically. He looked far away, staring blankly at the wall, a deep frown etched into all corners of his face. It looked as though gravity was actually weighing him down, pushing him forcefully towards the ground.
"What are you thinking about?" I questioned softly. I knew I probably should have sat quietly until he was ready to talk, but I couldn't help myself. He looked so worn down, and I couldn't let him stay inside his own mind any longer, because whatever he was thinking was obviously disturbing him.
Cartman looked at me and I actually flinched; his expression was so open and raw. He struggled with himself for a moment before finally speaking.
"Why did you guys leave?"
I was taken aback for a moment as I thought about our earlier conversation. He had been right, of course. I had been expecting him to spill everything that had happened in my absence without any amount of reciprocation. And if there was one thing I knew about Cartman, it was that he didn't give out anything for free.
I suppose Kenny and Cartman seemed to have changed so drastically, and my life had barely changed at all. A change of setting, I guessed, but I was still bored out of my mind and, essentially, trapped. Trapped in my stupid job with no prospect of going to a college any time soon. Trapped in my crappy apartment because all I had was Stan, and Stan never wanted to go do anything…. Trapped with Stan, because he was all I had ever known.
These thoughts crashed over me all at once, like the sky had opened and dropped a million golf-ball sized pieces of hail over my head. And all it took was one simple question from Cartman. This whole time I had been feeling so high and mighty, above this town because, essentially, it hadn't changed. When the reality was that leaving didn't change a god damned thing for me, either.
"We left because we were stuck." I began, my eyes wide from my sudden revelation. "I guess I'm still stuck, though. Maybe even more than I was before." I admitted, more to myself.
"Kenny thinks we can all be friend again." Cartman started slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. "But when you leave, everything will be just the same as it was before."
I stared at him for a long time, thinking about what he said. Would things change after this? Could they? It's not like I could come visit more often. Between my job and Stan's classes, we didn't have much time in the way of vacations. Would I call more, just to check up on everyone? Honestly, probably not. What would we talk about? Our close circle of friends was never much in the way of conversation. We were more about action, about being physically near each other. What good would it do for me to call and tell Kenny about my day? And what the fuck would I have a phone conversation with Cartman about? And I couldn't move back… that was a ludicrous idea. Stan and I had an apartment, we had rent… I had a job… and I didn't want to come back. Right?
"Yeah." I conceded solemnly, guilt washing over me.
"Then what's the fucking point?" Cartman snapped, gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were turning white.
I sighed heavily, feeling desolate. "I don't know."
I wanted things to be different. I had gone for so long believing that this change was good for me that it was for the best that we cut ties from our old town. Being back here, now, and seeing everyone again… I was wrong. I was slowly realizing that it might not have been best for me, and it definitely wasn't best for Kenny and Cartman. We had offset the fragile balance of the town without even realizing. We were selfish, and karma saw fit to kick me in the ass now, making me realize that leaving didn't change a god dammed things for me, but it did for everyone else. And definitely not in a good way.
"I need another drink. Or six." I stood up shakily, wanting all this self-reflection to come to an abrupt end. What better way to rib myself of my guilt that getting shit-faced?
Cartman gave me an empty smile. "Just keep running."
I couldn't find it in myself conjure and angry retort, so I merely mumbled. "Yeah, right," and bought myself three more drinks.
Three more drinks later, I was starting to lose touch with reality, and it felt good. Cartman seemed in a much better mood as well, as he continued drinking with me. Thankfully I hadn't done anything to set him off again, and I was actually finding him much easier to get along with when he had some alcohol in his system.
For the first time since I came back- no, fuck that- for the first time in five years, things were feeling normal. In a twisted, pretend-nothing-is-really-wrong kind of way. I had to admit though; Cartman and I were doing a damn good job at it.
"So, asshole." I noticed vaguely that I was slurring my s's, put pushed the thought to rest with all the others that belonged in the back of my mind at the moment. "Do ya have a-a, ya know?" I shook my head to rid the sudden dizziness taking me over and momentarily forgetting what I was saying.
"A what?" Cartman prompted, his voice much steadier than mine, but his glassy eyes giving him away.
"Um, ya know. A girl?" I suddenly remembered what I was asking, banging my fist on the table and shaking our drinks when the words finally came out. "Yeah, a girl. Ya got one?"
"Stupid Jew." Cartman rolled his eyes, his body rolling slightly with them as he fought for balance. "I don' have just one. They practically-hiccup-fall at my feet."
"Pffft." I laughed, spitting all over the place. "Whatever, you look like shit, man."
"At least I'm not a scrawny, fucking-hiccup-ginger."
We were falling back into a familiar pattern, without the usual underlying contempt. Sure, they were all the same insults but they were more for our comfort. I supposed we could thank the alcohol for the modicum of civility. Though, it was the only way we knew how to really communicate, otherwise it seemed inauthentic. Was that messed up?
"Dude, ya look like ya haven' slept in years." I pointed out, squinting drunkenly at him. "And the fuck is up with your hair?" I bend forward, reaching out to tug at a strand of his long, brown hair. "Cut that shit, man."
"The ladies love it."
"Do they love that ya never wash it, too?"
"Do you?" Cartman motioned absently towards my hand, which was still settled in his hair, fingers raking through the surprisingly soft locks.
I snapped my hand back as if it had been burnt. My eyes were wide as I felt some obscure memory, tugging at the recesses of my mind. The alcohol severed the connection however, pushing it down, down with everything else I couldn't deal with at the moment.
"So what is it with Kenny an' Butters?"
Cartman shrugged. "The fuck should I know?"
"Well, you guys seem to hang around a lot."
"They're fucking gay for each other, if that wasn' clear, asswipe."
"No I got that, douche. I just mean why isn't Kenny goin' for it?"
"I don' pretend to know what goes on in that faggots mind." Cartman sighed, giving me a long look. "But I think he's afraid to hurt him. You know Butters. He's so fucking naïve an' Kenny doesn' wanna take that away or some shit. It's fuckin' gay."
I shrugged. "Kinda sweet."
"Kenny should just take what he fuckin' wants." Cartman countered, a dark look overtaking his features. "Before his chance if gone."
"Still, he cares about him."
Cartman fixed me with a hard stare, his eyes turning black like that had earlier. "So Kenny should pretend he doesn' feel anything in case he might hurt him. Even though they could be happy? You don' think it's worth the risk?"
I could feel the conversation taking a weird turn, but I couldn't quite place it. It suddenly seemed like we weren't just talking about Kenny and Butters anymore.
"No," I responded, blinking several times to clear the dizziness in my head. "But I can see where Kenny's comin' from. He's always been like that."
Cartman thought about his for a long time, and just as he was about to respond, the bartender interrupted.
"Closing time, guys. You don't have to go home, but you sure as hell can't stay here."
I reached for my phone to check the time and realized it wasn't in my pockets.
"Shit."
"What?" Cartman responded as we stood, both stumbling a bit, to leave.
"I don' have my fuckin' phone."
"Oh." Cartman reached into his jacket pocket, fishing my phone out and handing it to me silently.
"The fuck, dude?"
"What?" Cartman responded, pulling an innocent expression as I followed him to his car.
"Why did ya have my fuckin' phone?" I turned it on quickly and saw that I had seven missed calls and voicemails from Stan. I felt my stomach sink as I remembered that I hadn't spoken to him all day, since I had run into Wendy that morning.
"I didn' think you'd wanna deal with it. Not right now anyway."
I felt my face flare up with anger. "That's not really your decision to make, asshole."
Cartman's eyes narrowed. "Well I made it for ya anyways. So what are ya gonna do about it?"
I took a deep breath, trying to remind myself that Cartman was right; I really didn't want to deal with it. But that still didn't give him the right to steal my phone from me.
"I'm a big boy, Cartman. I can take care of myself." I turned on my heel and meant to walk to my car until realizing it was still in the parking lot of Cartman's bar.
"Do ya want a ride, big boy? Or can ya take care of it yourself?" Cartman mocked, leaning against his car and smirking at my irritation.
"I'll just… walk." I stated, crossing my arms defiantly.
"Don' be stupid," Cartman insisted. "Besides, I wouldn' want ya to get arrested for public intoxication."
"I'm not that drunk." I defended as I stumbled and had to catch myself on his car. Cartman chuckled deeply. "Besides, ya probably shouldn' even be drivin'."
The brunette rolled his eyes. "I can obviously hold my liquor a little better than you."
I seethed as I did notice he did seem to have sobered up a little more than me.
"Fine, but just take me to my car. I can drive back to my motel."
Cartman nodded and motioned for me to get in.
Really, the drive back to Cartman's bar couldn't have taken more than ten minutes, maybe. So there was absolutely no excuse for me to fall asleep. Or maybe I passed out? Either way the prospect was just too tempting when I crawled into the passenger seat of Cartman's car, laying my head back and letting my eyes fall shut. I couldn't have stopped myself if I'd wanted to.
My last thought as I drifted off was optimistic. I was finally getting somewhere with Cartman. I hadn't realized how much the wall between us had been bothering me until it started crumbling down and reforming to at least a semblance of what we had before. I felt my lips curve into a smile as I let sleep claim me.
