A/N: Sorry I haven't updated as quick as I promised – I'm real sorry, honestly, I lied to you, forgive me? :'( I've had a shit week, quite frankly, dealing with this personal family issue and a friendship issue too. A lot to deal with, basically. But hey ho, this keeps me happy. Ugh, I'm so emo . Enough about my problems, let's go back to Clyde and his story. I've forgotten what happens in this story. Woops.

Chapter Ten – Fall For You

Finger-paints.

They're fun. Like, really fun.

I'm in the middle of drawing God knows what – a masterpiece being the appropriate name for it – when my cell phone starts to buzz, eventually making its way off the table, hitting the floor with a thud.

I pick it up, even though right now, I'm not sure if I want to talk to anyone.

It's been a few days since coming out – not literally coming out, because that'd be a lie and lying makes you sterile according to Mr. Garrison – to Craig, who just happens to be the one calling me. How fortunate.

Not how I want to spend my Saturday afternoons – I'd much rather be finger-painting, which I was totally in the middle of before being rudely interrupted.

I didn't go to Cartman's this morning – he said he 'couldn't be fucked to care for me'. Instead, I spent an additional hour and a half at his house on Friday. Strangely, none of it ended up in hot make out seshes, not even little pecks, and it certainly didn't eventually turn into a big, gay rough buttsex session.

"Craig, what's up?" I say as casually as I possibly can.

"Cut the crap," he literally yells down the phone, making me jump, and I don't like his tone. Yee-owch. Oh my God, that sounds like a cat. I want a cat. I want a big cat though that I can ride, because mom said ponies are too expensive, and unicorns aren't real. Pfft. Unicorns are so real. Why else would they appear in my dreams every night? Yeah, answer that, bitch. "Is something up with you?"

I'm a little taken aback, whatever the hell that means. "Craig? What are you saying?"

He lets out an easily audible sigh. "I'm saying that you've been ignoring me the past few days."

Have I? Oh God...I seriously didn't know...I've been so preoccupied...with everything...adding dot dot dot for emphasis...to keep this going...I'll shut up now.

"I have?" I ask, and I'm so freaking confused right now.

"Yes, Clyde, you have," he responds matter-of-factly. Craig hardly ever uses that tone. With anyone. "Ignoring everyone, actually, if you didn't know."

...Is he seriously? Oh shit, I've been hanging with Cartman for too damn long. Probably the reason I've been ignoring him, mostly Craig, and he's starting to take offence. Probably. Maybe.

"I am?" I ask, and I must sound like an idiot. Which I am.

"Yes, Clyde, you are," he sighs again. "I know you don't know that but you haven't been speaking for the past few days. Is it me?"

I shake my head, even though it's obvious he's not able to see it, so it's about as pointless as the white crayon (which, I think, deserves a better purpose). "Um...no, it's not, Craig. Don't worry, honestly..."

I know Craig doesn't believe me, but I'm not sure if Craig is the actual problem. It's probably Cartman. Gah! I don't know right now!

"Is it Cartman, then?"

God fucking dammit.

I sigh. And he reads my mind – which is so uber cool that I think I might explode.

"So it is?"

I furrow my eyebrows in both shock and pissy-offed-ness. "Shut up, Craig."

I can practically picture the smirk on his face right now. However, there's silence, and silence worries me. It's very loud. Silence is loud in my world. Very loud. Hmm.

After the silence, he stifles a laugh. "So, how you gonna handle this man crush then?"

I twist the phone cord – totally gay. "Um...I dunno. I'll think of something."

"Right," he remarks sarcastically. "You'll think of something. Sure you will, Clyde."

Haha, he's so funny. "Yeah. I will – you'll see, Craig. Now shh, I'm finger-painting. I hang up before he can reply, and I sigh.

Hi, I'm Clyde Donovan, and my life is kinda messed up right now, and I want to focus on finger-painting.

X (o) X –

Mondays – the day of the devil, I swear of it.

Ask Damien. He told me that his dad – Satan - really loves Mondays so he punishes us and makes them hell for us. I don't know how this links, but Damien said it, and Damien scares the living shit out of me.

So, I decide to either not show up at school, or skip some classes. I choose to skip the classes.

Here I am; hiding in a bush in the car park, scared someone will probably find me. They will find me. I feel like I'm hiding from the police, or something. I just really hate Mondays, is all.

Because I'm doing nothing, I've zoned out, and everything's a blur. That nice looking car over there? It's a blur. That tree with no leaves on it? It's a blur.

That kid standing in front of me? He's a bl-wait, someone found me?

No, that's impossible, now I'm confused, and I'm so confused that I might die. Which is no good.

But my death will probably be a blur because everything is just a blur right now, if this makes sense, which it probably doesn't.

So yeah, basically, some kid is standing in front of me, and upon looking up to see his face, I instantly recognize him and it's Kenny.

"You skipping?" he bluntly asks and I just nod in response.

He takes a seat next to me and pulls out a packet of cigarettes.

"You smoke, right?" Kenny asks, pushing the cigarettes in my direction. He said the words like he was certain they were an undeniable fact.

I shake my head. "No, I don't."

Kenny nods and lights up his own cigarette. He inhales it before exhaling, inhaling then exhaling, so on and so forth.

"So, why you skipping?" Kenny asks me, and I just look at him. I don't know the exact reason why – I just know I'm skipping, but there's no excuse for it.

Which gets me into deeper shit.

"You know," I begin, laughing nervously. "Mondays. They suck ass."

Kenny nods in agreement. "Yeah, they do. I'm skipping because, quite frankly, school is shit and I can't be assed with it all. It's so...gay."

I laugh, but I'm not really listening. The smoke is sending me into some sort of daydream. "Yep."

We sit in awkward silence as he threw the cigarette on the floor, watching it carefully as it gradually went out.

Kenny coughs to break the silence, or at least make it less awkward. He's not helping.

Without thinking, I pull out a textbook, and he eyes me weirdly.

"Dude, why are you reading that?" he points to the book.

"Because I need to get some education," I mutter absent-mindedly.

Kenny giggles and nods. "Guess that's right. You're dumb as fuck."

I raise an eyebrow at him and refuse to reply. I liked it when we were nine, he wore a parka, and no one understood a fucking word that came out of the pervert's mouth.

Oh, how I miss those days.

"The fuck is this? A gay party?"

I recognise that voice – anyone could, it's not hard. I look up, as does Kenny, and we're facing Cartman, who doesn't make me as scared anymore.

Instead, he makes me want to punch someone. But I don't want to punch Kenny, he might get hurt, and he might die, and I will cry so hard that I'll die too. The end.

"Yes, Cartman, it is a gay party," Kenny answers sarcastically yet matter-of-factly. "Care to join us?"

Without speaking, Cartman sits down to join us, an eyebrow raised, as if he was joining a gay party. To be honest, it is pretty gay, but it's silent so it's hardly a party. I am so smart.

Besides, there's no punch, and there's definitely no pie, which is pissing me off right now.

When I go to parties, I expect punch and I expect pie. And tacos. And lightsabers. Why? Because they're cool. Kevin got me into them. Kevin's pretty cool, but he doesn't like me. Ever since I pretty much invaded his basement and built my own swimming pool there that only I can use, he's been pretty pissed with me. Well it's not my fault he doesn't have a pool that I can dive into when we throw secret parties at his house.

Let's face it – Kevin Stoley's house is the shit.

Cartman's sitting unbelievably close to me. So close that I can pretty much feel his warm breath on my neck. He has a nice breathing pattern. It's like, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, and repeat. I'd do it like that, but sometimes I forget how to breathe, and I usually find myself choking in class. Because I forgot how to breathe.

It's possible; trust me.

"You skipping?" I ask him, doing anything to break the uncomfortableness. It's really annoying me now, and the silence hurts, boo hoo.

"What's it look like, dumbass?" Cartman practically yells at me. "Kenny, got any cigarettes?" He turns his attention to Kenny, who passes him one without a word.

Cartman doesn't thank him, and, using Kenny's lighter, lights it up and starts smoking it, which is its purpose. Unlike the white crayon I feel ever so sorry for; a cigarette has a purpose, which is...death. Ah well, Kenny'll come back again in the morning. Apparently. He said he was immortal, whatever the hell that is.

I don't believe him.

"...Why are you skipping?" I ask him, but I know I'm not going to get a remotely good answer. This is Cartman I'm dealing with, after all.

"Because school is for weirdos who have nothing else better to do with their lives," he answers me. "I just hate it. Blurgh. It's totally lame."

I nod, not really bothered about talking right now.

I totally forget Kenny is there with us until I watch as he stands up. He takes his bag and puts it on his back.

"Later dudes," he says. "I'm bored now. See ya."

Cartman and I just watch blankly as he disappears back into the building. He left me with...him. Ugh.

Even though now there's a lot of room behind this...bush...in the parking lot...which is a blur...he's still close to me, and I must admit, he's warm. Fucking warm.

So warm that I might get hot and I'll spontaneously combust, which isn't good.

"Hey, do you know what's for lunch today?" I ask out of total curiosity. I think its tacos. I hope its tacos. It should be tacos. If it's not, I will stroll into the cafeteria with a rifle, and be all like, OI BITCH, THERE'S NO TACOS. DIE! And I shoot and then everyone dies, because there's no tacos.

"Why you asking me?" he replies.

"Because, knowing you, you would have checked the lunch menu about two hours before the school opens, and decide if you came to school or not because of it," I'm pretty sure it's a winning comment, but I wouldn't know. I don't know nothing, basically.

Cartman just stares at me for a few moments before replying. "Fuck you."

"Oh, I know you want to," I flirtatiously wink and lick my lips. I look so gay. They should rename this bush the gay bush. Or the Bush Where Clyde Donovan Gets Gay With Eric Cartman. Yeah, I might just do that. I'll make a sign, and it'll be a pink sign, because pink kicks a lot of ass. Pink even beats ninjas, and this is highly impossible.

Even Kevin agreed with me on that one.

"Not really," he smiles – or at least, I think he's smiling. Like my dog. I think he smiles at me because I feed him really nice food. Trust me. Sometimes I eat my dog's food because it smells really good. It's alright. The bacon and liver one is pretty good, take my word for it.

I rest my head on his...his mantit. Yes, his man titty. He has sweet man titties, let me tell ya that. It's so damn comfortable. I'm so warm right now.

Man, this bush is really living up to its new name, as given by me.

"Clyde...the fuck?" he questions and I'm laughing a little. "Dude, get off my killer muscles."

I look at him in disbelief. "Muscles? You've got to be kidding me. That's man boobs right there, dude. Trust me."

He doesn't respond.

"What? You gonna kiss me now?" I ask...half-seriously.

"Why, Clyde?" he asks, pronouncing my name in that gay way again. "Do you want me to, you notorious little fag?"

I smile, and yeah, he leans in, and we kiss.

And that is why there is now a sign on the bush claiming this is our gay bush.

X (o) X –

"How do I do this one?"

"You add that...thing...together, with that thing, and then you divide that thing by something..."

"Oh wow, thanks, Cartman. You are a terrific tutor."

He furrows his eyebrows at me, making a V shape, w00t. "Shut up and do some work."

I blink, showing an obvious 'I'm confused' expression. "But, you're my tutor...help me, at least."

Cartman rubs his chin in thought. He reminds me of Santa. I don't know why, he just does. Just a very selfish, uncaring Santa that hates everyone.

He opens a drawer and pulls out a calculator, slamming it on the desk.

"Here, use this...thingy."

I look at it as if I've never seen a calculator before. "It says that I'm not allowed to use one."

"To hell what it says!" he yells, and I think I'm gonna fall off my chair. "It's just a damn book! Do you seriously let books tell you what to do, huh, Clyde? Just use the fucking thing; no one's gonna know, are they? God, Clyde, stop being such a French pussy."

A French pussy? Can't he, like, not tell the difference between a French person and a British person? To be fair, neither can I, but that's because I'm the stupidest kid in class.

Silence.

The only noise is the ticking of the alarm clock on the bedside table, which isn't even near the desk, which is confusing me, and I'm finding it hard to think.

After about fifteen minutes, I've actually learned something. I don't know what, but something's in my head and it's fairly new. Maybe. Not sure.

Hmm...

"I'm done," I announce. He looks up from his phone and barely glances at me.

"Hmm? Oh, you're done?" he mutters. "Go home."

I don't do as he says. Instead, I just sit there, and I feel like a fucking rebel.

I feel badass; so hardcore.

"Hey, Cartman, have you ever liked someone? Like, like like?" I suddenly ask, and I grab his attention.

That's a lot of likes in one sentence, I can't help but think.

"Meh," he simply replies. "I dunno, dude. Don't care for that shit. Just wanna rule the world, maybe have Stan and Kyle as my slaves...you know, the usual."

I'm not sure if that's usual, but alrighty then, I'll take his word for it.

"So you've never had pussy in your life?" I suddenly state.

It's funny watching Cartman's face flush. "What? No! I never said that!"

I smirk, laughing a little to myself. "So you haven't?"

"Psh, course I have. I've had, like, loads," he modestly and arrogantly lies. "Chicks dig me, ya know? Always comin' up to me, like, hey Cartman, come fuck me, please? And I'm like, ah no dude, ya know, fucked too many girls last night..."

I don't believe him, and I'm very gullible.

"You're not fooling me," I bluntly retort. "And if you can't fool me, then you're hopeless, arentcha?"

He sighs. "K fine, I've had...like two girls. But shh. Girls are stupid anyways."

"I guess," I agree, sighing a little. "I know it sounds...somewhat weird coming from me, but hey, they are pretty useless. Unless you need to fuck 'em, huh?"

Cartman nods, smiling scarcely. "They just talk and talk and talk and moan and bitch and whine. Mine did, anyway."

I know who he's talking 'bout, just by his description. It makes me feel uber smart. I think he dated, like, the biggest bitch in school. Something happened, they broke up, then something else happened, my pet spider died, and then I ate breakfast one morning. It's a very interesting life, basically.

"You fucked her though, right?"

He looks away from me.

"Shut up. You're a virgin?"

No response; the silence answers it all for me.

Kinda expecting it. No one would wanna fuck him.

"Shh, Clyde," he simply whispers, his fingers pressed against his lips. "I just...I tried, ya know, but she wouldn't let me. And the other one wouldn't either. Can't remember her name now, but...ugh. Basically, I get no pussy."

I snicker. "Figures."

He flips me off, resembling Craig and I just laugh some more. It's so funny laughing at his misery. It makes you feel beast, believe me.

"Bet you get more cock than you do pussy," I tease.

And he doesn't reply.

And that fucking loud, deafening silence is the answer.

A/N: Is that a cliff-hanger? I dunno. It's late, I'm tired. Has anyone noticed how we fangirls are all insomniacs? I'm an insomniac, sadly :'( Sorry, I rushed the ending. I just wanna get to bed. At this rate, the last chapter is the next one. Ah, my first fanfic I ever finished :') I'mma miss writing it. Thanks to all the reviews, by the way. They make me soooo happy. Sorry if it was OOC, sorry if I made typos, sorry if I spelled things wrong, sorry if the grammar is like blurgh, sorry if it's too confusing. The mind of Clyde Donovan will be confusing albeit mind blowing, ya know. And, if you didn't know, by 'the biggest bitch in school', I do mean Wendy. I'm so in love with Candy right now. I need to mention in it practically every story. Gurgh, I need some sleep. The unhealthy obsession I have with Candy right now is really taking its toll on me.

See you next time. Sorry for the long A/Ns, you probably don't read them anyway.