Author's Note: Alright, so this is a tad late, yeah like a month late and I'm soo soooo sorry guys! For those of you who hadn't given up on this story, I want you to know that I'm still working on it and still plan to see this fic all the way through. I may just lag in motivation at times, but I swear, this is the longest I will ever wait again. And if I do happen to wait longer than a month to update, feel free to totally bug me until I do becuase that will certainly get my lazy ass moving. Also, I will being going back to every other week because I'm already back to juggling two fics :D
Yep, so review, please, or don't, but then I'll be really sad and feel unapriciated :'(
Chapter 9: Everything Means Nothing
Cartman's POV (gasp!)
I couldn't believe it, and maybe I wouldn't have if she wasn't sitting in front of me currently, nuzzling his fucking neck like a poodle. Within the first three minutes of meeting her, I hated Nikki Corzona. And it was most certainly because she was all over my Jew – I'm at least man enough to admit that much.
"…and then he looks at me and says, 'was this your dress?'" Nikki finishes telling some mundane story that makes Kenny and Stan burst into laughter. Kyle had kept his eyes glued to her the whole time but I knew it was only because he was just trying not to look at me. There was no way he liked her, no way in hell, she was just his beard, covering up those pesky gay feelings for me. Which of course only made me hate her even more.
"Hey, babe, I'm gonna go to the restroom real quick," Kyle gently nudges the tanned girl off of his lap before standing up. He glances at me briefly, those green eyes holding back his true emotions, before leaning down to give his "beard" a quick peck on the cheek and swiftly walking off to the other side of the cafeteria.
"You know, Nikki, I'm really glad that you and Kyle have hit it off so well," Stan says from beside me.
"Yeah," Kenny cuts in, "because we were all starting to think that Kyle was a total butt pirate, if you know what I mean."
It takes every fiber of my being not to spit out my chocolate milk all across the table. Stan frowns at me, hitting me on the back as I cough a few ragged times. Nikki just laughs, saying something about Kyle being shy – I pretty much tune her out anytime she opens that mouth of hers.
"…he is my little Jew," she finishes.
"You know, you kind of sound like Cartman," Stan nudges me with a taunting smirk, to which I only scowl. Kyle joins us again, and almost immediately Nikki is back on his lap. I'm actually starting to feel sick to my stomach from watching them.
It's a good thing that the bell rang, or else I might've just puked all over the 'happy couple' right then and there – and trust me, it was really tempting.
Over the past few days, my mind had been on a constant repeat of Kyle, over and over again, like a song that you just can't get out of your head as much as you try. Every second, I was thinking about Kyle, and every sleepless night, Kyle. With the dreams that I have managed, they were all about Kyle. It's Kyle 24/7 and I was beginning to lose my mind.
When he came to Barbwire that night, I was at a loss. I mean, before he asked me to kiss him and, instead of wanting to punch him or ridicule him, I actually wanted to. And then the kiss itself – hotter than any Centerfold magazine Clyde had let me borrow in Jr. High. So when he was standing there, in front of the stage, looking sexier than any playboy bunny ever could, I could've died of shock. At first, I refused believe that me and the Jew could have anything going on between us – I hated his guts and the idea of being with him was flat-out repulsive. But then that kiss.
It was all so maddening. Especially when I fucked everything up at Barbwire. I didn't know what he even wanted from me; I didn't even know what I wanted. When he walked out, I felt, for possibly the very first time in my life, true regret.
"I have no idea where this is going but…I'd like to find out." Kyle's words played in my head over and over again like a broken record and his face, so full of earnest want, was stained upon my mind, burned on the inside of my eyelids.
But then when I saw him in the hallway and he just tried to brush me off, even when I was trying to set everything straight. And I knew that I should be glad about being released from this so-called contract … but I wasn't. However, right afterwards, Kyle runs off to go get a girlfriend. One with giant boobs and who makes twigs look fat.
I knew what this meant though – Kyle wasn't about to chase after me, which meant that I would have to. I would have to make the Jew fall in love me, this time for good.
. . . . .
A Friday spent alone, certainly something that I wasn't used to anymore.
I arrive back at my house at nearly three in the morning, the smell of smoke and booze clinging to my stage outfit and trench coat. As soon as the front door clicks shut behind me, the wig comes off.
"I'm home," I call out to no one. The rest of my clothes slowly come off, first tugging my stilettos off, followed by unlacing my corset, generally a hard thing to do by myself. When at last I'm free from the leather death-trap, I peel off the shinny, ruffled skirt that matched my deep violet boa. At last unrestricted by anything, I head upstairs to take a much needed shower to wash away the stench of the bar.
It's not that I don't like my job – sure it's a little risqué but I find it enjoyable – but there are times when I wish I didn't have a need for it, but then again, I need this job to help pay the bills. It was the highest paying job for the least amount of work hours, giving me well over minimum wage and allowing me at least to do something that was fun.
I step into the spray of warm water, letting the droplets run down my hair and drip off of my nose, one hand pressed against the cool tile.
My mother had left me almost four months ago to go be with some rich guy from Texas, just one of her many lovers, who she was going to marry this time. Initially she asked me to come along, and I almost agreed, but I didn't. At first, right after she left, she paid for everything – the electricity, the insurance, the car – but that became less frequent until finally she just started sending me checks which have also have become increasingly scarce. Every now and again, I get one from her for maybe five-hundred dollars, nothing more than that. Which I was forced to save for the remainder of my college fund.
Getting a job was the only option I had left, so I figured that pretending to be a woman once a week was worth it in exchange for being able to live outside of foster care and on my own. I just never planned on the Jew messing things up as he usually does.
I turn the water off with a flick of my wrist.
Maybe because I simply want everything Kyle doesn't, therefore I want to be with him. But it was more than just being with him, as gay as that already sounds, but it was rather that the passion I had felt over hating him had suddenly turned sexual, in an odd sort of way. It almost scared me…almost.
I step out of the shower, wrapping one towel around myself tightly and another in a turban over my hair. It was odd, not having Kyle around anymore, as weird as that already seems. You know what he's trying to get at, I think to myself as I wander down my dark hallway. He just doesn't want to say it directly, and maybe it's better that way, so maybe you ought to just let this one slide.
Carelessly, I snatch a t-shirt out of my drawer and slip on a clean pair of boxers. Yeah, I probably should let this whole Kyle-thing go…yeah probably.
. . . . .
I could ignore the stares, and hell I could even ignore the whispers but when I walk up Monday morning to my locker and Kenny has the stupidest grin on his face, I feel like kicking his ass and also feel a tad foolish. Stan at least has the decency to put a hand over his mouth to hide his smile, asshole.
"Cartman…you know you what your shirt says right…?" Kenny half chuckles, biting his lip. I give him the coldest glare I possibly can but as per usual, he shrugs it off, hardly even fazed. "And dude, when Kyle sees that, he's probably going to die from joy. Did he put you up to this?"
I'm hoping he doesn't try to kill me, I think firstly but instead give some half-hearted confirmation. Kenny doesn't have to know my reasons and I figure if I tell him that I'm secretly lusting after a certain Jew then that would be going too far. And besides that, it was…thrilling to play this secret little back-and-forth between him and I.
"Hey guys."
My heart does this funny wrench – something that Kyle had unwittingly become a master at creating recently – as I turn to face the Jew. Thankfully the harppie isn't anywhere in sight because that would've made this situation a whole hell of a lot worse.
"How's it going, Jew?" I try to stay as nonchalant as I possibly can but those green eyes land upon the words boldly displayed upon my chest and anger begins to boil within those depths.
"Kyle's…Bitch…?" he reads the shirt's text aloud, his gaze flickering between me and my hot-pink tee with that oh-so simple phrase blazing in large white front across the front. For a moment he just stares at me, that exasperated one that he used to give me when we were young and I'd made some ridiculous (although not entirely untrue) comment about Jews.
Kenny and Stan begin to laugh somewhere in the background, but I barely hear, being too focused on the Jew's facial expression for anything right now. He looks mad – I can tell because the corner of his mouth minutely tugs downward.
"Cartman, can I talk to you?" he asks icily with jaw clenched tightly. "Alone."
He doesn't give me the chance to respond when he latches himself onto my wrist, nearly dragging me down the hallways and around a couple of corners until we're in one of the more deserted wings of the school building.
"If I had known that just this would have gotten you so hot and flustered, I would've worn this shirt awhile ago," I try and fail to joke.
Kyle whirls to face me as he says, "This isn't it, you know. The way you make someone fall for you. It's not just wearing some shirt that says you belong to them; it's about actually fucking caring, asshole. God, I can't even believe that I ever even considered having anything with you!"
I feel as if my body is reacting of its own accord as I snatch his upper-arm in a bruising grip – Kyle doesn't even flinch. My voice drops down to a dangerous whisper as the torrent of wild emotions that had bubbling up from within me began to at surface, "But you did consider it, and now I'm telling you, I won't let this go, Jew."
Roughly, Kyle forces his arms up between our chests and shoves. Hard. I slam back into the unforgiving metal lockers but that pain doesn't even register, not while I'm staring at that stupid fucking idiot who I would give my life for.
"Fuck you, Cartman," he snarls just before storming off. I watch him turn the corner and then he's gone, leaving me to just listen to his footsteps as they echo down the empty halls. Sighing, I let my eyes shut as I slide down to the floor.
Somehow, I'm going to make this work, I know I can, I think to myself determinedly. I just need the right opportunity to make Kyle mine – I will win.
Overhead, the first period bell chimes.
. . . . .
As it turns out, this opportunity didn't come for at least a week or so which meant a lot of time just sitting idly around the Jew bastard and that stupid ho that clung to him every second, also a lot of that time was spent dealing with the gaping hole Kyle had left. Everyday, it was Kyle all over her, all the while using her like a shield to hide from me, so when I finally had my moment, I sprang.
"Do you guys know anywhere fun in town?" Nikki asks absently as she runs her hands through Kyle's Jew-fro during lunch, still slung across him like she was glued him or something.
Kenny and Stan both take a moment to think, but an idea hits me.
"Barbwire," I say casually, bluntly ignoring the Jew's distressed glance at me. "Yeah, it's this great little bar almost the next town over – it's kind of a drive, but worth it."
Nikki arches an eyebrow, looking definitely interested as she leans forward, resting her forearms across the cafeteria suddenly all business. She purses her lips, "Sounds really seedy."
"And you'd be right," I confirm.
"Booze?"
"Given freely."
"Music?"
I spare a quick look up at Kyle, smirking as I reply, "Best on Friday night."
Nikki grins widely back at her boyfriend, "Then it's a date."
. . . . .
"Oh my Jesus Christ," I breathe for the billionth time that night. Ruben places a cautious hand on my shoulder – he and I were hesitantly friends after the whole Kyle-pretended-to-be-my-jealous-lover fiasco.
"You're going to be fine," he assures me. I pace back and forth across backstage, careful not to trip on any electrical cords. I don't know why I'm freaking out – but in my panic I accidentally launched into the whole story about me and Kyle. I had to improvise a bit and may have let Ruben get the wrong idea, but he understood that the Jew I was crazy about was out there with some tramp. And I would have to lay it all out there tonight.
"I mean, for a guy not to fall for you – in that? – well he'd be insane," Ruben gestures to my outfit, a personal favorite, which is a tight corset that has a lacy top, yet most is concealed by a silky transparent shawl draped across my shoulders and neck. Below that, there's a shimmery miniskirt of sorts that cuts off in delicate ruffles about mid thigh. Everything else, fishnets and stiletto combat boots. I'm even donning my favorite wig – a deep reddish brown like my natural hair color that comes nearly down to the center of my back and has one bleach blonde highlight on a strand right over my temple.
"Well, yeah alright, I look pretty freakin' sweet," I conceded, "but what if my voice cracks, like seriously?"
Ruben clasps my upper arms, forcing me to fully face his dark eyes, "You're beautiful, you sound beautiful, and if that guy doesn't realize that, then he's not worth your time. Now, go sing that ass of yours off and I'll be playing back up the whole time."
With that final encouraging speech, Ruben spins me back around shoves me lightly toward the curtain. The house is oddly full tonight, but I try not to look for Kyle because I know that once I do, it'll be hard to look away. Tremulous step after step, finally reaching the microphone that I clutch onto like a drowning man to a life preserver.
One breath in.
One breath out.
I open my mouth and start to sing.
"Some people live for the fortune – some people live just for the fame. Some people live for the power – some people live just to play the game," I feel the surge in my chest as the piano music rises behind me, daring me to sing out. "Some people think that the physical things define what's within – and I've been there before, but that life's a bore. So full of the superficial."
And then I see him, just as I belt out, "Some people want it all, but I don't want nothing at all if it ain't you babe, if I ain't got you, baby. Some people want diamond rings – some just want everything, but everything means nothing if I ain't got you."
Suddenly, I meant every word of that song. I didn't want anything else if I didn't have Kyle – and no amount of iPads or world domination could ever compensate for him. Tears prickle at the edged of my eyes and it feels like someone just ripped a hole though my chest at this realization.
"Hand me the world on a silver platter and what good would it be with no one to share, with no one who truly cares for me? Some people want it all – but I don't want nothing at all, if it ain't you baby, I ain't got you baby. Some want diamond rings – some just want everything, but everything means nothing," I lock eyes with him from across the room as I sing the last words, "if I ain't got you."
A tear found its way streaking down my cheek as I press my hand firmly against my mouth to suppress a sob from escaping. The audience erupts into applause as I let the mic slip from my fingers, dashing off the stage.
What the hell is wrong with me? I scream silently in my head. Ruben rushes over to say something or try and console me, but I don't let him get close enough. Instead, I opt for making my break out the back exit and barrel out into the wintry night waiting.
Author's After Note: Alright, so Cartman seems OOC but it's just him growing up and maturing and dealing with the very traumatic idea that he may want just want Kyle, but not in the way he initially feels at the start of the chapter. At first, it's about winning the game of love, but now I think Cartman's realizing that all he wants, all he really needs, is the Jew and that love isn't really a game with winners or losers. ;) Or maybe he's just on his man-period. Who knows.
