Author's Notes : This is probably the second last chapter. (Then again, this was also supposed to be a one shot, so who knows?) It was going to be Cartman's point of view all of the way though, but it decided that Kyle's voice would be the best way to tell the end of the chapter. I just do what the fic tells me to do man… (In honest truth I was having a hell of a time writing Cartman, but you don't need to know that.)
Author's Notes pt 2 : I have a story to tell you, since this is the closest I've ever come to finishing a novel length fanfic. Once upon a time a girl in the DragonBall Z fandom posted a chapter of her epic fanfic and mentioned that it was the second last part. Then she got killed in a very unfortunate car accident. After that us people in the fandom had to explain to her Christian parents that her daughter was famous online for writing gay fanfiction and drawing gay fanart and the meaning of the word "slash". (Can you say awkward?) And THEN there was a huge debate about whether fans had the right to finish her fic. On that note if I DIE before the next part comes out, and I'm confirmed DEAD (no, not answering your emails doesn't count) someone can finish this. In fact, make it a contest or something. Best sex scene wins. Oh yes, and feel free to tell my Mormon parents that I write gay fiction, I'll be dead so it's okay for them to be pissed off at me. In fact, it'd be kinda amusing. (Tell them I love them anyway, okay? And no, I do NOT intend to die anytime soon, I love my life and my life is also not a South Park fanfic.)
Author's Notes pt 3 : A special note to thank my boyfriend Isaac for betaing this. Even if I force him to do so.
A Note to my Reviewers : I was absolutely astounded by the fact that three of you said you didn't like the pairing. I am touched that you are willing to read 79,000 words of a fic about a pairing you don't like. That's just… wow. Oo; And to the rest of you, thank you so much for your patience and support. Yes, this part took a while to get done. For that I am sorry.
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Chapter 10
Confusion
Cartman's point of View, Kyle's point of View -
It had been a one night stand. I should have expected as much. It was Wendy after all. Still, it sucked to have her in my bed one night all glowing and sated and happy and then the next day have her basically ignore me at school.
Then again, Wendy's a bitch. I also had no doubt that I'd end up having sex with her again sometime. I had quickly learnt that night that she had serious issues and she was far too much of a freak to allow that to be the end. She was going to either sleep with me, or she'd sleep with some other random psycho who might actually kill her. At least I wouldn't kill her. Maybe.
Either way it was a no wonder Stan was never able to satisfy her, if she found the threat of serious bodily harm from people she hates a turn on. Stupid Nazi loving liberal. Fuck.
What I didn't expect was to have to defend my actions with her to Kyle. Stan maybe. Probably actually. But Kyle? Never saw it coming. I should have I suppose, but you don't really expect someone you've barely talked to in three months to show up in your room with a GUN. I knew he wasn't doing so good in the happiness department… him and Stan seemed to have broken up, but to lead him to break into my room and try to kill me? What the fuck?
-
My brain kicked into instantaneous problem solving mode the moment I saw him standing there with that gun pointed right at me. The first thing I had to do was to keep him from shooting me. This was to either talk him out of it, or find out why he was here and then talk him out of it.
I almost lost the battle. I saw cold insanity in his eyes as I talked to him and felt fear. I knew if there was any chance in hell of me getting out of this alive I had to beg for my life. Which I did, since begging is something I've done on occasion. Hell, it gets me things. In this case it would get me my life, so I figured the trade was fair.
Interestingly enough it wasn't the begging that got him to relent. It was being nice to him. Go figure. I'm glad I found the right thing to say, though with Kyle it isn't hard, I've known since forever that Kyle relents if you either are nice to him or admit you are wrong. Kinda sad though that all he wanted was for me to admit wrongdoing. Though I didn't really see what I did as wrong, self serving maybe, society as a whole viewed it as wrong and Kyle certainly did too. Either way, it sure helped a whole lot.
I had started to slide forwards on the bed, manipulating him with words, like he was a puppet on strings. I made him hesitate. Good. Tears filled his eyes… not so good, but I could work with that. His arms came down, lowering the gun from being pointed right at the middle of my forehead to somewhere along my legs.
I had almost reached him when he surprised me. He had come in with a plan, one that I shoulda seen coming. He didn't just want to kill me, and I wonder now if he ever did want to kill me in the first place. He wanted to die.
There was a time, a long long time ago, when I would have been happy to oblige the fucker. But when he turned the gun towards his own head all I could think about was stopping him.
I physically attacked him and he missed, thank god. He nearly shot me two seconds later. A couple of seconds after that I succeeded at getting the weapon out of his hand. I pointed it at him because it was natural instinct to do so, he was trying to fucking kill me for Christ's sake. Then he told me to finish what I had started by shooting him.
What the fuck.
It was obvious I was going to have to get rid of the weapon. Which is exactly what I did… I walked over to the window and threw it out into the night, then turned back to him. He sat on the floor with his shoulders hunched. He looked desolate and alone.
I got him on the bed and bullied him into agreeing not to try to blow his brains out… but I knew it wasn't going to stick. I wasn't going to be any more successful than anyone else in his life at convincing him not to kill himself.
But when he broke down and started sobbing I realized I there was some hope. He could feel.
Well of course he could feel… which was really fucking awesome, I wish I could… but he wasn't really doing much to show that he wanted to die. He was showing that he was miserable yes, but suicidal, no.
I was torn as I watched him cry his eyes out. My instinct was to kill him with my bare hands if I had to. He had JUST held a gun to my head and nearly shot me. Anything that threatened my wellbeing needed to be eliminated. Right? The rational side of my brain was forced to admit that this was at least partly my fault… and, well, I still thought he was cute despite the pansy assed crying.
I decided then that I didn't want him to die; I wanted to fix him instead. Somehow. If I even could. This meant I needed to do something I hadn't done much of before. Like listening to him.
I reached out and touched the side of his face. The tears were annoying. "Come on Kyle…" I said, exasperated.
He shook his head and rolled away from me. I sighed and hugged him from behind, which caused him to struggle against me briefly. "Tell me what I have to do to fix you," I said. "Because I'm not letting you die."
I discovered the problem then and there. "Why do you care?" He returned, sounding very bitter. "You never cared before."
That shocked me. I had been doing my utmost NOT to go near him, partly because I'd end up molesting him or forcing him to do something against his will. Not only that, the one time he came near me he tried to beat the hell out of me and now he was telling me I didn't care? The hell?
Then he got mad at me and accused me of ruining his and Stan's relationship, which was utter bullshit. It's not my fault that Stan's retarded.
Then he tried to leave.
I was pissed. Firstly for being yelled at, secondly because I didn't want him to leave. If he left I had no doubt he'd go and try to off himself elsewhere. So I ran after him and grabbed him from behind.
Things went badly from there. He doesn't weigh a whole lot at the best of times and I throw my own weight around pretty good. He ended up crashing into the bed and made a wounded sound like Stan's dog used to do when you kicked him. I didn't realize until I saw him grab at his chest with his face screwed up in a horrible grimace that I had hurt him pretty bad. Shit. The gut knotting feeling of regret flooded back to me just like it had the night I had accidentally shot him.
I forced the guilty feeling back with anger. Growling under my breath, I crossed the room and hauled him up by his shirt. He struggled and flinched and I saw the knowing look of fear. He expected me to hurt him. And the problem with that was I wanted to.
I dropped him. I couldn't do it. He stared up at me with wide eyes, the fear on his face bleeding into an expression of complete and utter exhausted despair. He was so fucking broken and he just expected me to continue tormenting him until there was nothing left.
I was horrified… I could feel blood pound to my cock at the mere thought of beating the shit out of him. FUCK. I couldn't hurt him again. I COULDN'T…
He needed to get the fuck out of my room right then and there. I wasn't going to be able to stop my self very long. I didn't hit him, hell I didn't even go near him, but I found other things to tear apart. Like my entire fucking room. I figured that would be enough to get rid of him and I'd be able to blow off some "I almost got shot tonight and I am not going to be able to kill the lovely piece of ass who did it" steam in the mean time. I felt horrible about trying to scare him away… part of my mind was screaming at me that if I didn't stop he'd go commit suicide elsewhere, but I reminded myself that it was better than me killing him. One of those two options didn't land my ass in jail for the rest of my teenaged life.
I stopped when I over turned my dresser and Kenny's card came fluttering to the floor. I nearly tore it to shreds. Nearly. I stopped then and stood, holding it, still breathing heavily.
Ha. Fuck me, now all I could think about was Kenny crying in the hospital. How the poor bastard was always nice to me anyway, no matter what I did to him was beyond me. That was the only reason why I was nice to him in the hospital anyway… I don't like to see the only person I care about in pain. Well, second only person I cared about. The other person was…
He was still here. I could hear his footsteps as he slowly approached me from behind. I was more than a bit surprised. I thought he would have been long gone by now.
He still had some guts left. Imagine that.
He asked what I was holding. I felt protective for half a second, he didn't need to see Kenny's card, then I handed it to him.
He read it over and handed it back to me, a bit of a confused look on his face. At least he wasn't looking at me with pity in his eyes.
I took the card, and walked back over to my dresser. I righted it and replaced the card. At the same time I considered. I wasn't angry anymore, my rage having ebbed away almost as quickly as it had come.
I shut my eyes briefly as I considered that. I had calmed down… my blood lust was back in check, and I didn't feel like killing anything at the moment. If I didn't want Kyle to die and I wasn't going to kill him, I needed get to work.
First thing to do was to ask questions. Why was he still here? That was an easy question to answer. He was here because he liked me. No I wasn't flattering myself, he had to have some sort of demented connection to me if he was willing to come blow my brains out because I was ignoring him and fucking Wendy. Both issues which had come up when he had that gun pointed to my forehead.
I determined further that he liked me just by approaching him. His eyes widened slightly. His breath quickened. I didn't even need to fucking touch him and he was reacting visibly. Ha, pretty hilarious that I had managed to mold him this well in one month alone. I grasped his chin so that I could look into his eyes and I think I saw a bit of lust there. But that might have been my imagination.
I contemplated kissing him briefly than decided I'd experiment with that later. For two reasons really, the first being my reaction… I didn't quite trust myself yet and second for his reaction. He was too strung out… too fragile for me to try to do anything to him without having him take off like a shot.
Now that I had him I wanted to keep him here as long as I could. Luckily a window opened it's self when he confessed he didn't want to go home.
The poor fucking bastard.
So I convinced him to stay. He took the offer, a bit reluctantly, then escaped into the bathroom.
Still had the good sense not to jump directly into bed with the enemy. I took that as a good sign.
I crawled into the bed on the side I decided I wanted to sleep on and stared at the ceiling for a bit, frowning as I turned the entire night in my head over and over again. It was only when 10 minutes passed, and then 15 that I began to wonder where he was. Swearing softly under my breath I got back out of bed.
I didn't even bother knocking on the bathroom door. Instead I pushed it open and looked inside.
My breath caught in my throat. For a millisecond I thought he was dead, with the angle his head was at laying back against the tub and how deathly pale he looked. Then I saw that he was breathing through his slightly open mouth.
Oh god, he looked like shit. I felt sorry for him again as I trekked over to where he slept.
"Get up." I ordered.
He didn't react.
"Get up." I ordered again, reaching down and taking his arm roughly.
He woke up then, blinking up at me blurrily. "What?" He asked, looking utterly confused.
I gave him my best glare. "Get up, you can't sleep in my bathroom Kyle."
He must have been really tired because he didn't even offer up a protest and came back with me to my room. I pulled back the blankets from his side of the bed and he crawled in.
I got in on the other side and schooled myself to turn away from him.
Then he told me about the suicide note.
For some reason a mental image of Kyle meticulously writing out a suicide note came to mind, and that image was extraordinarily funny to me. All of my tension melted away as I laughed at him.
It did wonders. He groaned and spoke like normal, like nothing was wrong. When he told me that he had been tempted to write an itemized list of who to give his things to, I couldn't help it. I called him a Jew - affectionately of course. I could rip on him seriously again when he wasn't so fucking fragile.
He didn't seem to mind so much because a tired smile caressed his lips at that. I looked down at him as I sat beside him on the bed. On a whim I reached out, pushing his hair back from his forehead. His eyes fluttered at the contact, lashes dark against his pale cheeks.
I schooled my expression as I felt my body react to the mere fact that I was touching him. It was frustrating, but also telling. I needed to figure out how to save him and get him to… tolerate me I guess… that was the only was I was going to be able to get to fuck him again.
But how? It was going to be insanely hard. I frowned slightly as I continued to stroke his hair. I had already burned nearly every bridge I had when it came to him. The fact that he was even here in the same bed as me was a miracle… a miracle I had caused myself by preventing Kyle from killing himself. And exactly how long was that going to last anyway? Until tomorrow morning, that was how long. Someone retarded, like his mom or maybe Stan was going to come right here and demand to know where their precious Kyle was…
I got lost in thought for a moment and barely noticed that he was falling asleep, his eyes sliding closed and his brow wrinkling as he struggled valiantly to stay awake. I realized then that he was trying not to fall asleep because I was still looking at him. I stopped touching him and flopped back onto my side of the bed and told him that we'd deal with his life tomorrow. Because we would. We had to.
I laid there and listened as his breathing evened out. It was only after I was absolutely sure he was asleep that I sat up and looked down at him again.
He looked considerably older now I realized. I hadn't truly looked at him since November, and there was a marked difference in his appearance beyond the new gauntness to his cheeks. His face had lengthened, the jaw looked firmer. His nose was large and characteristically bent, though that was about the same as before…
He looked more like an adult, I realized. He was also looking more like just any old ugly Jew. He was my ugly Jew though, and I thought he looked hot. I smiled at that, then blinked.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. Couldn't I go thirty seconds without thinking about him that way? Stupid hormones.
And the thoughts had made me hard. AGAIN. Fuck it, and I couldn't even jerk off here…
I considered for a brief moment, grinning to myself. Well, I could…
But no. Best not to.
I sighed and slid off the bed, padding from the room.
Once in the bathroom I proceeded to delve into my pants with quick fingers, releasing my throbbing erection. I wrapped a hand around myself and groaned through gritted teeth as I jerked myself off. It took very little time before I came, gasping for breath. I quickly cleaned up and tucked myself back into my pants.
I had perfect timing. I heard my mom come in the door just as I stepped out of the bathroom.
I went downstairs. She looked startled to see me. "Eric, sweetie, what are you doing up still?" She asked.
I shook my head. "Kyle broke into the house." I said, folding my arms across my chest. "I told you we need better security in here."
"Kyle?" She looked almost frightened. "Eric, poopiekins…" She began.
"Don't call me that." I snapped. God, there was a couple things I HATED being called and that was one of them.
"Eric, you know you're not supposed to go near the Broflovski boy," She said, a nervous lit to her voice.
"Well maybe you should have told him that," I retorted sarcastically. "I didn't tell him to come over and break into my room."
Her hands fluttered nervously as she put her jacket away. "Where is he, honey?" She asked.
"In my bedroom." I returned, raising an eyebrow.
"May I see him, sweetheart?"
"No." I said impudently. She looked distressed, so I sighed and relented. "FINE."
She followed me up the stairs and pushed open my bedroom door. Sure enough Kyle was just where I left him, fast asleep with the blankets pulled up around his shoulders. His face was still turned towards the door and he still looked like shit, something my mom probably noticed. "The poor dear," she said, looking all sad and worried. She didn't breathe a word about the state of my room.
"See," I said, pushing her out of my room again. "Fine. And he'll still be fine tomorrow. But you need to put up an electric fence."
"Of course dear," She said as she went down the hall towards her own room.
I shut my bedroom door again and leaned against it, groaning softly.
God, I wasn't getting much sleep tonight, was I? I considered Kyle for a while longer before trudging back over to the bed and frowning down at him.
He didn't move. He must have been really tired.
Hm. A plan had begun to form in my mind of how exactly I was going to save him since I went on my little rampage and wrecked my room. As I stood there looking down at him, that plan cemented.
But to implement it, I needed help. I trekked back out of my room to find a phone that I could talk on without waking him up.
-
The voice on the other end of the line sounded more than a little bit sleepy when it answered. "'Ello?" It asked.
"Heya Kenny." I replied.
Kenny sounded instantly awake and annoyed. "Eric, it's two in the morning!" He said. "What the hell are you doing calling at this time of night?"
"No reason," I said cheerfully. "I just wanted to know if you knew where Kyle is right now." I smiled to myself as I spoke with my sugary sweet "I'm up to something" voice, knowing that Kenny's reaction would be priceless.
It was. A couple seconds of silence crawled by before Kenny replied in a curt voice. "Where is he Cartman?" His voice shifted up ever so slightly, sounding alarmed. "What did you do?"
"Do?" I laughed. "Kenny, Kyle just broke into my house. With a gun." I paused significantly. "He tried to kill me." I paused a last time. "I couldn't let him do that you understand."
There was another bought terse silence. I could hear Kenny's breathing. "Where is he now Cartman?" The concern in his voice was palpable. I felt a small flash of jelousy at that… if it were me instead of Kyle Kenny would never be this worried…
"Who, Kyle?" I replied, knowing very well that was who Kenny meant. "He's fine. Besides being a little suicidal I suppose." I laughed again. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "But I took his gun away so I guess he won't be trying to blow his brains out again any time soon."
Kenny swore under his breath at that. "Damn it! Then what did you do to him Eric?" He demanded to know.
I grew serious. "He's fine Kenny, chill," I replied, dropping my teasing voice for a serious one. "Seriously. He's asleep in my bed right now if you must know…."
"In your bed?!" Kenny's voice reached a new high. "I'm coming over." There was a click and suddenly the line was dead.
I smiled slightly and replaced the phone on the hook.
-
Sure enough about 5 minutes later a shivering Kenny arrived at my house. I silently opened the door before he could knock and wake up my mom.
"A-alright. What happened?" He asked as he stepped in from the cold, rubbing his arms for warmth and stomping the snow off of his boots. He reached down to undo them.
I shrugged, still completely serious. "Just what I told you on the phone." I said. "He broke in here, tried to kill me, then tried to kill himself. I stopped him."
"Fuck," He replied. He straightened and gave me a level look. "I want to see him Cartman." He said.
I threw my hands in the air. "What the fuck is with you guys wanting to see him?" I asked. "He's FINE Kenny. He's asleep."
Kenny shook his head stubbornly, stepping past me and heading for the stairs. "I want to see him anyway."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Douchebag." I grabbed his arm and pulled him behind me as I went up the stairs first. Sure enough Kyle was asleep in the exact same place I left him last time.
Kenny ducked around me and went into the room. "Did you do this?" He asked in a whisper, making a hand motion to the mess in my room. "Or did he?"
"I did." I replied, folding my arms across my chest and glaring at him.
Kenny made it all the way over to the side of the bed where Kyle slept. He leant over him and shook his shoulder gently.
"Ay! Don't do that!" I protested. "He's asleep, retard."
Kenny ignored me. Instead he leaned over so he was speaking really close to Kyle's ear. "Hey hon. Wake up." He said gently as he rocked his shoulder.
"Fag." I grumbled as I leaned up against my wall. He heard me too but didn't look up.
Kyle woke up in degrees. He mumbled something, then when Kenny didn't let up on the shoulder, he grunted and rolled towards him. His eyes opened and he stared up at Kenny with an expression of utter confusion on his face.
"Kenny?" He questioned sitting up in the bed.
Kenny grinned at him and let go of his shoulder. "Hey Kyle, how's it going?"
The Jew blinked. He still looked utterly confused. "Are you dead?" He asked finally.
Kenny laughed at that and sat down on the bed next to him. "No Kyle, I'm still alive."
Kyle looked around the room. Realization hit when he caught sight of me leaning up against the wall. Then his face actually fell, a fact that concerned me greatly. I frowned. "Oh." Kyle said. He looked towards his lap.
Kenny slid onto the bed easily, putting an arm around Kyle's shoulder. "Kyle…" He said, sounding like he was in pain. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Kyle looked up again quickly. "Cartman musta told you." He said, a rueful look crossing his face. The expression on his face softened as he inspected the other boy. "Kenny it's okay. Really."
"I didn't know what to do," Kenny continued. "Kyle we knew you were upset, but I thought you wanted to be left alone. If I knew…" His voice cracked and he hugged Kyle, burying his head into the other boy's shoulder.
I was kind of sickened this was going on in my bedroom, but I felt for Kenny then. He cared way too much for his friends. My eyes strayed to the card on my dresser. My only belonging that wasn't on the floor. Or in my bed, since I had started to think of Kyle as mine as well. Heh.
"I wasn't upset at you Kenny." Kyle spoke now in a tired voice. "I just wanted Stan to leave me alone." I glanced over at them again. Kyle had his chin resting on Kenny's shoulder with his eyes closed, but there was a pained look on his face. Something shitty happened between the two of them that probably caused the break up. I assumed it had something to do with Stan being extremely over protective…
"I'm sorry." Kenny said again. I rolled my eyes. That was like the third fucking time he had apologized for nothing.
I couldn't take much more of this. Actually, that was enough frankly. "I'll be downstairs," I announced. Before I could get a reply from either of them I left my room and shut the door deliberately behind me.
-
Kenny finally made his way down the stairs about 10 minutes later. I sat at the kitchen table, drumming the fingers of one hand against the table and sipping out of a cup of cocoa out of the other. At the same time I was darkly contemplating how I was probably going to loose Kyle. I imagined Kenny was going to convince him that he needed to go over to his house for the rest of the night instead.
Which was why I was so surprised when Kenny came downstairs alone. "Where's Kyle?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Kenny stood at the door way. "Asleep." He looked really tired too, but that may have been because it was nearly 3 in the morning.
"And?" I replied. "What else did he say?" For some reason I sounded worried, a fact I cursed myself mentally about. I pretended to be nonchalant by leaning back in my chair casually.
Kenny gave me a long hard look. "He says he wants to stay here with you." He frowned. "Which I don't like." He added.
"Oh fuck you Kenny, no one asked you if you liked it or not." I said leaning forwards again. Inside I was secretly smiling. Kyle chose to stay with me over Kenny, which was awesome.
Kenny merely raised an eyebrow at me, than walked past the table. I watched as he went over to the counter busied himself making himself a cup of cocoa as well from the stuff I left out. "Cartman, seriously." He said as he worked. He afforded a glance back at me. "You don't really have a brilliant track record when it comes to him. You've shot him, his mom thinks you're the devil reincarnate and a neo-Nazi, and you really haven't done much to prove her otherwise." When I was quiet he continued. "Stan hates you for shooting Kyle, stabbing him, AND sleeping with his ex…" He turned around suddenly. "How the hell did you pull that one off anyway?"
I snorted into my cup. "Wendy's a slut." I said, shrugging.
Kenny looked pensive as he turned back to his cup, filling it with hot water. "She never slept with me… anyway." He sighed. "You're not going to be able to go anywhere near him, let alone convince him that life is actually worth living…"
"That's where you come in Kenny." I said smoothly, standing from the table.
Kenny turned back around quickly. "ME?" He returned. "Oh nononono, Eric, whatever you got planned, I'm not involved…"
I sighed. Loudly. "It's not anything complicated Kenny!" I said, deliberately whining. "Look all you have to do is tell his mom he's at your house when he's really at mine and stupid shit like that."
Kenny glared at me.
"And tell Stan to back off." I added.
"Oh for fucks sake, Eric," Kenny looked angry now.
"What?" I returned. "I can't go anywhere near him if Stan's still being a retarded asshole!"
Kenny actually visibly grit his teeth. Finally he took a sip from his cup and actually seemed to consider for a while. "Are you going to have sex with him?" He asked finally.
It was my turn to be taken aback. I didn't expect him to ask something like that. At least not seriously. "I -- what?" I returned. "I don't know! Why?"
Kenny's eye's narrowed. "You do know what happened between Stan and him right?" He said.
I actually didn't. "No I don't Kenny, why don't you enlighten me."
He gave me a sour look. "Stan tried to have sex with him." He said. "It didn't go over very well."
I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. Laughing would piss Kenny off. "He did?" I said after a moment or so. "That… explains a lot." I smirked.
Kenny heaved a sigh and came over to the table. "Look, Eric…" He sat. "I know this doesn't mean anything to you but that boy up there…" He pointed to the ceiling. "Was gang raped last September."
I shrugged. "So?"
Kenny glared. "So, it means that he's pretty fucked up up here." He tapped his forehead. "Outside of the damage YOU did, which I'm sure is considerable."
I shrugged again. "So?"
Kenny looked irritated. "So, it means if you want me to help you there will be no more mind games or forcing anyone to have sex with anyone else. Got it?"
A slight smile quirked at the side of my mouth. "What if he wants to have sex with me?"
Kenny made a face at that, then shook his head slowly. "Than you really are the luckiest asshole alive." He sighed and gave me a considering look. "Eric… look, he's suicidal and depressed. That means you can't do the things you used to be able to do. Alright?" He thought for a moment more. "Just… don't make Stan's mistake."
I raised an eyebrow. "That would include sleeping with him, Kenny." I said. "I can't promise that you understand."
Kenny shook his head again. "Not… no. That's not it. You've gotta let him be in charge Eric. Let him call the shots. Stan tried to force him… I think. It wasn't pretty."
"That's because Stan's not nearly as good at this stuff then I am," I bragged.
Kenny groaned loudly and got up from the table. He put his cup in the sink. "You never change do you?" He asked. It was a rhetorical question, and he continued. "Just be careful with him okay? I don't want him to die and I don't think you do either." He turned around and headed for the door.
I followed him and watched him pull on his shoes. He looked back up at me as he did so. "And if you do anything to hurt him I swear to god Cartman, you'll have both me and Stan to worry about."
"You're saying this about the boy who just tried to blow his own brains out?" I returned. I snapped my fingers suddenly. "On your way out can you pick up the gun? It's somewhere in the side yard."
Kenny looked surprised for half a second, then narrowed his eyes at me. "You're not going to kill him and try to frame me are you?"
I laughed at him. "How could I?" I chuckled. "The cops took my gun, remember?"
Kenny rolled his eyes. "Like I'm sure that you don't have a storehouse of them somewhere."
I actually didn't, but I didn't tell him that. "Go home Kenny," I said amicably.
"Alright." He turned away. "See you in school on Monday?" He said. He paused then turned back again. "With Kyle?" He added.
"You do realize I'll have to hand him over to his mom tomorrow," I replied dryly. When he raised an eyebrow at me, I shrugged. "I can't keep him here all weekend."
Kenny rolled his eyes. "I don't know which is worse, you or his mom." He muttered.
"I'm like one thousand times better than that bitch," I replied indignantly.
Kenny smiled at that. "I'll call him tomorrow." He said, changing the subject. He glanced back at me one last time. "Good luck."
"Yeah yeah. Get out of my house asshole." I gently shoved him out the door back into the cold night.
-
"You are far too much trouble than you are worth," I muttered at the sleeping boy once I got back to my room. I crawled into bed and settled next to him, glaring at him as he continued to sleep peacefully. "Fuck." I finally pronounced, rolling over on my side away from him. I yawned and reached out, turning off my bedside lamp. I expected to be kept up half the night with horrible mental images of him pointing a gun at his head and pulling the trigger but instead I think I fell asleep pretty much right away.
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Kyle's point of View…
When I woke up it was still dark. I expected to be dead, which was why I was so confused to see Kenny standing over me. Then I thought maybe he was dead and I was in heaven with him or something.
Turned out Kenny was still very much alive. That's when it hit me… I had failed. I was still alive… I could feel the dull ache in my shoulder… I could remember Cartman putting me to bed. I looked up and saw his room in the shadows. Then I saw him. He was standing against the wall by the door. My keeper. Great. I looked away again, slightly uncomfortable that he was there, watching. But knowing he was there meant that Kenny… that Kenny must know everything.
He did. He broke down, crying on me. I hugged him. God, if anything I didn't want Kenny to have to deal with my shit. I felt guilty yet again. Sure my intent may have been noble, but I had just made another one of my friends cry at the mere thought of me not being around any more. Damn it.
I guess Cartman had enough of Kenny and I hugging or something because he announced he was going to be downstairs and left the room, shutting the door behind himself as he went.
Kenny soon got a hold of himself and drew away. "Come on." He said, pulling back and grasping my arm. "Lets go Kyle… you can stay at my house."
I blinked at him, then pulled my arm back gently. "I appreciate the offer Kenny," I said. "But I can't."
He stared at me like I had two heads. Then he got angry. "Did he threaten you?" He demanded to know in a low whisper.
I actually smiled at that. "No." I said. "I want to stay here though." I said. I snuggled back down into the blankets again.
"Why?" Kenny demanded to know, leaning over me. His wide blue eyes were full of suspicion and concern. "Kyle, he nearly killed you."
I flinched slightly and shrugged. "It's…" I hesitated, searching for the words. God it was hard to think when I was too tired to even focus anymore. "Kenny, he makes me feel alive." I confessed finally, yawning. It was true. Aaand, I was falling asleep.
He put a hand on my shoulder and nodded slowly. "Alright Kyle. I'm going to go have a talk to him." His jaw set stubbornly. "If he touches you…"
"I don't think he'll hurt me," I told him as he stepped away from the bed. Kenny turned back slightly, his head tilted to show that he was listening.
"He wrecked his room instead of me." I said, my words slurring slightly. "I think he likes me still." I blushed faintly, but I knew it was true. Else I wouldn't be here…
A look of realization crossed Kenny's face as he turned back around and stared at me. Finally he leaned down and grasped my shoulder. "I'll see you at school on Monday?" He said. "You will be there, right Kyle?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice.
I managed a nod. "I will be at school Kenny." I said softly, smiling. I hoped.
I don't remember him leaving my side, though I assume he must have some time after I felt back to sleep.
When I woke up again reality set in with considerable difficulty. Yet again I was horribly confused for a while at where the hell I was. When it finally processed, all of it, sneaking into his room with the gun, falling asleep in his bed, Kenny waking me up, it seemed almost impossible. I couldn't possibly still be, alive for one and in his bed for another… could I?
I could. Because I could see him, over by his desk, which was now right side up and he seemed to be working on putting his computer back together.
I sat up, blinking in the early morning light streaming in from his window. "Cartman?" I questioned groggily.
He barely looked at me, intent he was on his computer. "Mom made you breakfast." He grunted. "It's on the table there." He made a vague hand motion at something off to my side.
Sure enough there was a tray on the bedside table. I could see an empty tray beside it. He had obviously already ate.
I was starving… and I felt guilty as I reached out and took the tray. I couldn't help but to remember how close I came to hurting Ms. Cartman the night before by killing her son.
I wondered if the gun was still outside.
My mind drifted as I ate. A thousand questions flooded through my mind. I raised my head a bit and watched as he worked at reconnecting the cords to the back of his computer, brow furrowed in concentration. He actually could be considered handsome I supposed, except for his stubbornly upturned nose, which reflected his stubborn personality. I smiled slightly to myself as I returned my attention to the food. God, Cartman's mom cooked amazingly well.
My smile faded as quickly as it came as I chewed. What was I doing anyway? Hanging out at the house of my enemy? Didn't he just sleep with Wendy a week ago? Even if it was a one night stand… the thought still hurt…
Then again I had agreed to date Stan. It wasn't like we were in a relationship… like we were ever in a relationship.
Wendy could take care of herself I realized. She is one of the most stubborn people I know. If Stan had any reason to think that Cartman had raped her, he would have said so. But his words from two days ago came back to me. "Cartman had sex with Wendy." I had instantly seen her as a victim. But she wasn't was she? Cartman said she wanted it and I had no reason to not believe him. Especially since he said it when I had a gun pointed to his forehead… pretty good motivation to not bullshit.
God damn I had totally let my plans get hijacked didn't I? He should be dead right now. I should be dead. I would be dead, if it weren't for him…
I looked up across the room at him again. He was sitting at his computer desk now, a look of concentration on his face as he peered at his computer screen. I owed him at least a thanks. For what… there were a couple things. He had shared a bed with me last night without molesting me for one… but the fact that he cared enough to give me a place to stay… I really wasn't looking forwards to going home and facing my mother…
"Cartman?" I asked cautiously as I put the food tray aside.
He sounded slightly irritated at being interrupted. "What?" He snapped.
"I…" I was going to say how grateful I was that he took me in and all that after I tried to kill him, but my bravo died when I saw that he was annoyed. "Cartman… thanks." I said as sincerely as I could.
He just looked at me. At least the expression on his face softened somewhat.
I moved to get off the bed. "Anyway. I need to go home and take my pills." I said, flushing somewhat. "I didn't take them yesterday and…"
He made a disgusted noise. "What, the pills that make you want to kill yourself?" He said flippantly.
I stared at him for a moment or so. "They're for depression," I said finally, wondering if he really was that dumb.
No, he wasn't dumb, he was choosing to be an ass. "They seem to be working well," He said sarcastically, folding his arms across his chest.
I heaved a sigh and shut my eyes. "I know… I know." I replied, slightly frustrated. "They're supposed to work eventually though."
"If you managed to kill yourself last night eventually would have never happened." He said in that annoying I know better than you voice of his. He wasn't going to let up, was he?
And to make it even worse was he was right. God damn it. "I don't want to talk about this." I said through gritted teeth, beginning to get defensive.
"No Kyle." He snapped. "How about we do talk about this. Because you know, I enjoy having a fucking gun pointed at my head."
I stared at him, a little scared now at the venom he put behind those words.
He stalked towards the bed, his eyes narrowed. He got really close to me, enough that I had to lean back away from him. "Cartman!" I started, alarmed.
He snorted slightly and leaned back again, his hands on his hips. "So you gonna tell me why you decided to stay here numbnuts?" He said. "Kenny said you didn't want to leave."
My tongue darted out to lick at dry lips. "I don't know…" I fumbled out. I did know, I just felt too fucking intimidated to tell him anything. I wanted him to get back on the other side of the room NOW.
He raised an eyebrow. Slowly but surely a smirk crawled across his face. "You don't know." He repeated.
I stared at him… or rather at his smirk. That couldn't be good….
He leaned down again and pushed back on my shoulder, face inches away from mine. "I think you do know Ky-al," He spoke softly but deadly and drawled my name out. His mouth was literally an inch away from mine as he spoke and I gasped, my breath quickening. "I think you know and you're not telling me…" His hand left my shoulder to trail down my arm. Slowly. And he leaned in even closer… if I leaned further back I was going to fall back on the bed…
"S-stop…" I whispered, slightly horrified at my own reactions to how close he was. Fuck, my heart was pounding… and it wasn't the only thing that was reacting…
He leaned past me, so that his mouth was now inches away from my ear… neck. "Stop what Kyle?" He whispered.
I fell back on the bed with a tiny little squeak of surprise.
He took that as an open invitation and crawled on the bed as well. Soon I had him kneeling above me with his hands planted on either side of my head, smirk still firmly in place as he inspected me out of narrowed eyes that looked like they belonged to a catlike predator, not a human being.
I drew my arms up to my chest protectively.
"C-cartman?" I began cautiously.
He leaned down again. "You never told me what I was supposed to stop Kyle." He said, still smirking. I swallowed as that mouth got really close to my own. "Well, what was it?" He asked in a deep silky whisper.
I couldn't handle this. It was too much like when Stan was doing this… or he was back when… when everything was empty and hollow and oh god I couldn't believe he was trying to seduce me, except I could, and I also knew it would just be another bought of pointless empty sex…
"I hate you!" I whispered, my voice cracking. I shut my eyes so I didn't have to see him and curled away from him. He lifted his arm and let me go. I merely buried my head in my arms and shut my eyes tightly, drawing my knees up into my chest. I knew I was shaking and I was trying as hard as I could to not do so.
A large warm hand touched my shoulder. "Kyle," He said with concern in his voice. I squeezed my eyes tighter shut still. Now all I could think about how his voice was deeper than Stan's, and rumbly, thanks to his body weight I suppose. A shudder went though me, shaking my entire body.
"I'm sorry." I heard him say finally when enough time had passed. "Kyle." His voice took on a tiny bit of a whiny edge. "I didn't mean to scare you Kyle." Now both hands were on my shoulder as he shook me slightly. "I won't hurt you, I told you that yesterday."
My fear bled into anger at his words. I uncurled by degrees, and glared up at him. "You ignored me for 3 months and then you think I'd just let you do whatever to me?" I demanded to know.
He looked guilty for half a second before his eyes narrowed. He let go of my shoulder. "I could just do whatever to you if I wanted," He snapped back. "Keep in mind that I didn't." He turned his back to me, now obviously sulking.
I stared at the ceiling for a moment. Fuck. This was so fucking messed up…
He heaved a sigh suddenly, which called my attention to his backside. "I can't do this." He said finally.
"What do you mean?" I asked tiredly, sitting up.
He was silent for a couple seconds before he spoke again. "I can't control myself around you anymore," He ground out.
I just looked at his back. "But you did control yourself." I pointed out.
He turned around again, glaring at me angrily. "Do you have ANY IDEA AT ALL," He began, his voice low and dangerous. He leaned closer to me. "How close I came right to just flipping you over and fucking you in that cute little Semitic ass of yours?"
I flinched and leaned away from him as he was way to close. He stared at me for a couple more seconds, eyes searching my face then swore again and turned back around. He got off the bed.
I stared at him as he went back to his computer. "Get out of my room Kyle." He ordered, his voice brisk and cold.
I frowned as I moved to the corner of the bed. "Cartman…" I began.
He gripped his keyboard and suddenly wrenched it up and out of the computer. "GET OUT!" He screamed, throwing it at me.
I ducked and covered my head in my arms as the keyboard clattered against the wall behind me.
When I looked back up again he sat at his computer desk, staring at nothing, his hands balled into fists.
He was trying to protect me. It came to me as a stunned realization. He was trying to protect me from himself in the only way he knew how. Which included flipping out and throwing things at me.
I also realized as I sat there then slowly stood, that this was one of those proverbial moments in ones life. Or in my case extended life, since I wasn't supposed to be alive right now. I could leave. Go home and face the music and get grounded and put on 25 hour a day supervision for trying to commit suicide. That actually would happen anyway BUT if I went home right now, Cartman would go back to ignoring me and nothing would change...
… Or I dealt with this right now. Accept the consequences of my actions. I may get fucked, bruised, bloody and beaten, but then at least I'd know…
I silently walked across the room towards him. He sat at his desk chair and did nothing as I approached. I put an arm around his shoulders, then drew the other arm around his front. He was shaking very slightly, I could feel the tremors against my arm.
"Eric…" I whispered. I knelt down and placed my forehead against his chest, rethreading my arms around his midsection. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, expecting to be hit or at least violently pushed away.
For a long moment he did nothing. Then suddenly he pulled me closer, hands clenched in the fabric of my shirt and jammed his head into my shoulder. He shook a little bit harder as he hugged me to himself, his breathing heavy and strained. He may have been crying, though knowing him probably not. Either way I drew one of my hands up higher and patted him on the back soothingly. "It's okay." I whispered. "It's okay."
He grunted, but didn't say anything.
We remained that way for only a couple seconds more when there was a loud knock at the bedroom door.
"Eric dearest," It was Cartman's mom and she sounded worried, which merely meant that she sounded a little less dotting and motherly than usual. "Kyle's mom just drove up to the house, honey, I think it's time for Kyle to go home now…"
She was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell and loud rapping on the front door that we could hear all the way up the stairs.
I pulled away from him. "Shit." I swore.
He raised his head and looked at me. It was strange. He actually looked a little lost as his eyes searched mine.
I managed a small smile. "Sorry," I apologized. "I've got to go." I stood and quickly looked the room over for my jacket.
He stood as well, watching me as I found it and dug it out from beneath a wayward pile of crap.
"Kyle?" He asked.
"Yeah?" I replied as I tugged on my jacket.
He hesitated for half a second before stepping forwards and grabbing me by the sides of the face and pulling me in for a bruising kiss. For a moment I was startled then I relaxed, opening my mouth with a small 'ah'. He deepened the kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, suddenly not caring about the pounding on the door, the yelling voices… the pounding of feet up the stairs… any of it… only the feel of him against me as one of his hands threaded into my hair, his mouth against mine, warm, wet, the way he tasted and how I just wanted this one tiny moment to last forever…
The sound of the bedroom door crashing open and my mother's screech interrupted it all.
"ERIC THEODORE CARTMAN JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO MY SON?"
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