Hey guys, sorry this is late. I went on holiday and some crazy stuff happened (ie. getting felt up by an elderly man in a swimming pool and returning to find a huge swarm of thousands of bees outside my fucking house) but I managed to get this up. Ugh, I have so much going on at the moment but I make sure to keep NTL as a priority for all you lovely people out there (but I'm halfway through another AMV, a big stupid piece of art and another oneshot that should be posted this week, so alongside personal stuff I'm super busy).
I love you guys, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's another longer one, and I kept on giving myself major feels writing this. Finally some more Creek! Huzzah!
Hopefully this will make your day a little brighter, especially for all of you that are struggling with exams. Good luck to you all x
"Are you going to fuck me then?"
I raise my brows questioningly as he stumbles into my room, the strong stench of alcohol tainting the air between us and causing my stomach to turn. Surprise, surprise.
"What? N-no. I'm too tired" He slurs, massaging his temples. "You can just take care of yourself, can't you?
I grit my teeth, silently seething.
"That's not the point; it's the principle of the matter. After everything we've been through, you'd think you could give me at least a little bit of contact. I can live without romance, but I need real interaction! You don't seem to give two shits about me anymore, and now you won't even have sex with me! Am I worth that much to you?" I spit, frustrated at our predicament. This is not how this was supposed to happen. He made so many promises, and I feel helpless as he destroys them, leaving my hopes lying desecrated at my feet. After everything I'd done for him, every sacrifice I made, I can feel everything we once were slipping from my fingers like sand. It scares me.
"I do, Kyle! You know I love you sooo much dude. I'd do anything to make you happy, no matter what. I'll make it right, I swear."
"Bullshit. Do you have any idea how many times you've told me that? It's all lies. You promised me you wouldn't drink. You swore to me you wouldn't, just like you did last week and the week before it. It's like talking to a brick wall. You can lie to me all you like Stan, it's not exactly hard to see where your priorities lie."
"Oh fuck off Kyle, don't get all 'high and mighty' with me. You have no idea what you're talking about; I didn't even drink, honest. I just had a quick sip of Bebe's beer, it's no big deal. No wonder I don't want to spend time with you if you're gonna fuckin' interrogate me constantly."
"That's not fair and you know it. I only do it because I care about you. I don't want to see you end up like your father. What could possibly be so bad that you have to drink yourself sick every night? What do you think this is going to achieve!?"
"You don't understand Kyle. You never did."
"You know what, you're right. I don't understand it... But at least I care enough to try and help."
"Care? Fuck you. I wish you wouldn't. I don't need you, I don't need anyone. It's not going to get you anywhere; you should just give up on me while you still can."
"Don't you see?" I sob, a sound of pure aggravation mixed with poignant despair tearing from my chest, raw emotions burning in my throat. "I can't"
"Do you think many other people will go?"
"Huh?"
"Kenny's do. You think many people will turn up?" I ask, staring absently at the book in front of me, thumb creasing the corner of the page.
Cartman looks up from his work again, watching me intently for a moment before casting his eyes downward, pencil curiously dancing across his paper. His brows crease in concentration as he scribbles, only half concentrating on the conversation.
"It's not much of an event or anything. It's just a few of the guys, not many people know about them. It's not even a regular thing; He just randomly organizes them when he has some spare time and alcohol. We usually sneak one of the consoles into their room and play some games too if we can get away with it."
"I see. So I shouldn't bother getting changed for it?" I ask half-heartedly, shifting on my duvet as I turn the page, failing to absorb any of the text at all.
"You don't have to, but if you want to slip into those faggy jeans again I won't be complaining." He smirks, eyes watching me once more, running over my reclined form.
"Pervert." I chuckle, launching a blue highlighter in his direction. It hits his arm and he swears irately, grumbling about his work as he begins to frantically rub at his paper in an attempt to erase the errant mark he'd mistakenly drawn. The pencil snaps under the pressure, causing him to throw it to the ground in aggravation.
"God fucking damn it." He mutters, retrieving another HB from his box and clutching it firmly, inspecting it thoroughly before continuing his drawing. "Thanks a ton, asshole."
"You don't think I'm an asshole really~" I taunt childishly, enjoying his grimace. Distracted, I give up on my book – dropping it onto my bed before turning to face him, intrigued by his drawing. He groans as I move, glaring at me before sighing, his graphite coated fingertips find their way to his forehead, leaving a triad of grey smudges on his skin. "What are you drawing?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm finished now anyway, I can't complete it anymore."
"Yes it does matter," I reply, raising a brow in comically falsified exasperation. "It has to be something good, you were really into it. Not letting me see just makes me more curious."
"Well tough shit, because it's not even completed. I didn't finish the shading and- God, now I'm whining about art like a stupid chick! Ugh." He rolls his eyes at himself, balling up the paper and throwing it into the waste basket on the other end of the room.
"See? Now that's manly. Hole in one, I'm the basketball champion of the dorms!" He proudly proclaims, brandishing his arms theatrically in the air.
"Champion? As if! A hole in one is in golf, moron." I chuckle, smiling at his lovable idiocy. At least when he's like this he isn't being a dick or hurting anyone.
"Whatever Jew, I am the king of this establishment so I have the final decree on all matters." He declares, trying and failing to sound authoritative. "If I say it counts, it bloody well counts. Got it?"
"Yes Sire." I can't help but grin fondly, confused but amused by his ridiculous argument. "If I may dare to say so, oh noble one, Sir Kenny should be awaiting our presence at this hour. Should we not attend to him?"
He looks pleased I played along with his preposterous game, presenting his hand to me in a flamboyantly regal fashion.
"You are quite right, my Queen. Let us make haste to his chambers!" He cries dramatically, grasping my outstretched hand and pulling me from the bed into his arms.
"Queen…? HEY WAIT!" I yelp, launching a futile punch at his arm. "Fuck you man. I'm not a woman."
"You're not?" He muses, pretending to be perplexed by my gender. "Oh really? You must be, considering how much sand you must have in your vagina. Don't deny the truth Kyle."
"I do NOT have sand in my vagina!"
"So you do admit you have one, then?"
"Ugh, I hate you." I say, resting my forehead on his shoulder. "I hate you so damn much."
"I hate you too, Kyle. I swear." He hums; voice far from hostile as his fingers find their way to my hair, entwining themselves gently in my vivid scarlet curls. "By the moon and the stars and the sky."
"You like that song?" I tease; surprised he could enjoy something so tacky. "I wouldn't have ever thought you'd approve of such a thing."
"I'm full of surprises, you'll see." He promises, pressing his lips to my scalp. I just sigh at the action, half in appreciation but half out of frustration. I just wish things were simple, but there's a nagging thought in the back of my skull that I just can't seem to dismiss.
"You seem to be awfully comfortable with… whatever this is. I've not even known you that long. It seems almost surreal, but I'm not going to lie. I like this, hell; I like you – at least when you're not being an asshole. It just scares me though, in some stupid way. It feels like I've known you forever somehow, but I don't want history to repeat itself. I let someone in that I shouldn't have, and it caused a lot of problems." I sigh, hating the words but knowing there won't be a chance of anything between us if I lie to myself. I at least owe him honesty, right? I'm beginning to realize lack of communication had been a big issue with Stan. "I just worry something's going to go wrong, and I won't be strong enough to pick up the pieces."
He watches me with a combination of intrigue and trepidation, surprisingly accommodating of my feelings. He's not exactly the emotional type (neither am I, to be honest), but the fact he's making an effort is very encouraging.
"Don't be stupid Kyle, seriously. I'm hardly a model citizen but when it comes to things important to me I won't fuck around. I know he hurt you and I'm sorry for it, but what one stupid douche did shouldn't ruin what we can have. Relationships aren't always easy territory, but I'd have to be mad to fuck it up. I'm not like him, and it's not healthy to worry yourself over it. If something doesn't go to plan, what's really the worst thing that could happen? I'll be there to help you pick everything up; I'll try to put it back together with you. You need to stop being such an uptight Jew and unbunch your panties, it's not a good look on you. Relax."
I smile into the warm skin of his clavicle, reassured by his kindred words despite my concerns. He tightens his hold on me and I snake my arm around his waist in response, pressing our torsos firmly together and combining our body heat into one.
"Relationship? Is that what this is?" I muse, liking the sound of the word on my tongue, "I guess you're right. Does this mean you'll be taking me on a date?"
"You tease," He chuckles, fiddling with a stray lock of hair on my head. "If we do ever manage to sneak out anywhere you'll be the one that's paying, that's for sure. I wouldn't have thought you'd be overly concerned with the romantic stuff."
"I'm not really. I'm not overly difficult, I just need some contact and I'm satisfied. As long as you don't feed me my parents or try and start another holocaust we'll probably be okay."
"Contact? Are we talking social interaction or orgasms?"
"No, you bastard!" I know he's just trying to wind me up, but I punch him for good measure anyway. "I'm not a virgin or anything but I'm hardly the type to go around spreading my legs at the drop of a hat."
He smirks at my wording, but he looks somewhat disappointed at my assertion. I won't judge him for it though, he's only human and we all have needs.
"So am I to understand there will be no orgasms?" He whines, looking at me with a melodramatic puppy-dog expression. "That's not exactly a favourable situation."
"I didn't say that." I reply, vocal tone dropping slightly to convey my intentions. "I just said I'm not fully comfortable going all the way so soon, but it's not as if there is only one way to get off, is there?"
He grins at my unspoken proposal, humming in agreement as his other hand squeezes gently at my hip.
"Are you propositioning me, Kyle Broflovski?" He questions, raising a brow as he pulls my head back slightly to look questioningly into my eyes.
"Are you complaining?" I inquire, enjoying the light-hearted exchange.
"Hardly, I just want to know if I can hold you to it. What exactly do you propose?"
"You'll see…" I reply ambiguously, flicking playfully at his nose. "If it wasn't for Kenny's plans I'd be rather inclined to give you a little preview, but I think you'll have to wait until tomorrow. That is - of course - as long as you are not opposed to returning the favour. Give and take, Cartman."
"Ugh, really? We don't have to go-"
"Hey!" I scold him, placing my finger on his downturned lips. "We promised. If you be a douche to him you'll be lucky to get anything at all."
"Fine," He whines, batting my hand away from his mouth playfully. "But on one condition."
"I hardly think you're in the position to be making bargains, but go on then, let me hear it. Might as well humour you."
"What is my name, Kyle?" He asks, causing me to blink incredulously at his straightforward question.
"Really? Cartman, I'm not that stupid. I know your name."
"Well say it, then."
"I just did."
"No you didn't. My real name, Kyle. Say it."
"Eric?" I respond, tone more quizzical than anything. He seems pleased with my response however, patting me on the head like a dog and earning a half-hearted glare.
"Don't you think that's better? If you honestly want to date me then it's hardly appropriate for you to call me by my surname."
"Oh yeah. I guess I never really thought about it... Everyone else says calls you that so I assumed it was what I should do." I reply, partially upset that I'd not thought about his preferences but also incredibly pleased that he wants me to address him in a more intimate way. He actually sees me as a partner, as an equal, which in Cartman's eyes is a tremendous complement. He wants to date me. Holy shit, he wants to be my boyfriend. The prospect has my stomach doing flips. "Okay, I think I can handle that, Eric. Anyway, what do I have to lose?"
He smiles fondly, watching me for a moment before leaning in, kissing me firmly on the lips. The kiss is chaste, but it holds a lot of emotional significance, an unspoken exchange. I enjoy the feel of it all immensely, heart convulsing in my chest and body buzzing, but I can't disappoint the others – even if I would be quite contented staying here forever.
"Come on, fatboy. We have somewhere to be."
I'm awfully pleased to say that once we'd entered it became apparent that they must have cleaned up the place quite a bit. I'd been slightly worried for my health and I hadn't been looking forward to using a pile of dirty laundry as a seat, so the change is quite relieving. I wonder what it would be like if they'd left it like that for a long time… The concept makes me feel rather ill and I briefly consider going out and obtaining a hazmat suit.
"Hey! Here they come, unfashionably late as always." Kenny announces, beckoning us into the room. "Told you they'd turn up Craig."
"Cool, whatever." Craig responds in his standard indifferent tone.
"I hope you don't mind, but he dragged along his butt buddy. Clyde was going to come but according to the latest Intel he's in detention again so he's probably a no-show." He gestures toward the others, introducing them to me. "I'm sure you know Token, he's in some of your classes right? Then there's Butters, of course, and Alex, who does drama with me. You guys haven't met yet but you might recognise him, he's got the lead for Bugsy Malone in March, so he's on all the posters."
"Oh yeah, I've seen them. That's pretty cool." I say, wondering whether Kenny is in it. Surely he would have mentioned it if he was?
"Fags," Cartman mutters, and I roll my eyes at his blatant hypocrisy.
"I'm surprised you're not in it, Eric." I quip, voice teasing. "Sounds like your kind of thing."
"No! Stop spouting bullshit. I'm way to cool for that." He spits defensively, shooting me a threatening look. I'd probably be terrified by the look in his eyes if I didn't know any better, but considering the way he had held me not too long ago I hardly feel there's much need for concern on my part. His heart isn't in it.
"Whatever Cartman, Dandy Dan is manly as fuck. You're playing the piano. My role is better than being in the orchestra any day."
"Oh give it up Kenny; you're just jealous because you suck. You're a disposable secondary character but the whole thing would be in shambles without me. Nothing is more important to a musical than the music, and no one on the grind got skills like me."
"Oh give it a rest you two. Your petty arguments are stressing out Tweek." Craig complains, allowing the twitching blonde in his arm bury his head in his chest as he rests his fingers in the boys disorderly hair, soothing him with a gentle caress of his scalp. "No one gives two shits about how faggy your hobbies are but there are better things to focus on. How about you crack out the goods Ken? If you douchebags are going to kick off the least you could do is offer me a drink."
Cartman sighs but sits obediently anyway, sitting beside me on an ugly orange beanbag. I smile at him in an attempt to be reassuring and he seems to cheer up a little, if not just out of gratitude that I'd made an effort to improve his mood. Kenny fishes under his bed, pulling out a box and pushing it in our direction.
"I couldn't score any glasses from the dining hall this time so we're going to have to just drink it straight from the bottle." Kenny states, causing the others to groan disappointedly.
"Weak." Eric grunts, reaching out for the half-finished bottle of bourbon. He looks pointedly at Craig, raising his bottle in a sarcastic tribute. "Now sharing a drink? That is much gayer than playing the damn piano. I'm so lucky you're all such pussies that you rely on mixers and alcopops to get by; I get a bottle all to myself."
"Lucky you," Craig retorts, voice disinterested as he brandishes his middle finger in a disgruntled salute.
I don't really want to drink, but it feels rude to turn it down. I contemplate getting something just for the sake of it, but I stop the idea dead in its tracks once I realize how Stan-like the whole thought process is. Fucking asshole, ruining everything for me even after he'd left. I know it's not a good idea though, really. I don't want to make a fool of myself and end up drooling all over Eric.
Not in front of anyone else, anyway.
But as I see him bring the bottle to his lips, eagerly chugging down the golden liquid, my stomach churns. I know it's stupid to worry, but I can't shake the fear of reliving the past -Paranoia is never a good foundation for a budding relationship – and the thought of him going down a similar path honestly scares me. I don't like to recall the nights I spent at his side, helpless as he drowned himself in liquor.
"Eric?" I mutter, leaning in slightly to catch his attention. "Do you mind cutting it down a bit? I don't exactly want to be the only sober guy here."
"Seriously?" He asks, confused by my discomfort. "Why don't you just have some too? You can share mine if you like."
"No, I… Just look, I don't really feel like it right now. I'd just rather not have to drag you across the hall later, that's all."
His expression clears, and then an expression of concern slowly forms. He knows something's up and I worry he's going to push for details, but there seems to be an unspoken understanding that I have my reasons. I expect him to brush me off, but I can't help but smile as he rescrews the cap, passing the bottle over to Kenny.
"You alright fatass? Not like you to turn down free booze." Kenny smirks, eyes darting between the two of us suspiciously
"Yeah, I'm good. I'm just not really feeling it right now. You can have it."
"Who's the pussy now?" Craig snickers, surprised at the action but not willing to miss out on an opportunity to rip on him.
"Whatever asshole, I can do what I want." He dismisses, lounging back on the beanbag until our shoulders meet, arms touching between us in an innocent but enjoyable way. It's all just so reassuring I can't help but grin at him.
"You didn't need to do that, you know." I whisper, grateful for the unnecessary - albeit unexpected - reaction. "Don't let me ruin your fun."
"Its fine," he responds, a genuine smile subtly tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm cool without. Anyway, how else will I beat Kenny's ass at Street Fighter?"
"Yeah right Cartman, I'd like to see you try. You don't have to drink if you don't want to, but no-one else can stand that nasty shit so just take it back with you. The longer I hide it the sooner Scrooge will find my stashes and beat my ass again."
"Ha ha, very funny. You and me for the first round? Like to see you try and beat me, poor boy."
They grab a pair of controllers and insert a disk from a nearby box, setting up the TV eagerly. I love it when Cartman gets so excitable like this. He reminds me of an oversized, adorable child, which is much more preferable to his common 'fuck everything' approach to things.
"Urgh. H-Have you played it b-before Kyle?" Tweek inquires, voice unnecessarily frantic as he fiddles with his coffee cup with tremoring fingers. "I don't play with these guys all the time so I-I'm not so –argh, what's the word? - …good. Craig plays with me sometimes though in the mornings, right Craig!?"
"Yep," Craig nods, wrapping his hands around Tweek's waist and shifting his slightly, so the thin boy's pelvis wouldn't dig uncomfortably into his lap. "Don't worry about it Tweekers, you play better than I did when I started. Probably not to long 'til you're better than me even."
"R-really?" He asks, looking proud of himself. Craig reflects his happiness, and I can't help but realize that the only time I've ever really smile is when his blonde is involved.
It's rather sweet, I've decided. I almost feel jealous because of what they have, but hearing Eric's triumphant cheers immediately brings a smile to my face. I look over at the stupid oaf, hands raised in celebration.
"Take that asshole! My Ryu can wipe the floor with your Ken any day!" He cries, pleased to have won the wager.
"Oh please Cartman, you were probably just button mashing. It must have been luck, your big fingers are probably too big to even hit the right buttons."
"Whatever, you're just being a sore loser. Let captain Doucheface and his sidekick the caffeine kid have a go, we can see if their sneaky training will do anything to help them on the battleground."
"You weirdo," I chuckle affectionately, leaning in as he sits beside me. He snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me in toward him, and I rest my head on his shoulder as we watch them play. It's obvious that Craig is letting Tweek win, but Tweek looks so genuinely delighted with his performance that even Eric doesn't point out how biased the whole match is.
Eventually I lose my own personal battle, and I find myself gazing into those familiar eyes. I swear, they're so fucking gorgeous that their existence alone is probably a sin. The usual hardness to them is lost once our eyes meet, as if he wants to drive me insane. He succeeds in one sense, the iridescent globes of hazelnuts and chocolate causing my insides to melt. They shine like stars and they're sweeter than honey in the summertime, and all that poetic shit. I don't know what else to say, the way his eyes meet mine leave me speechless and I just want to tell him how fucking beautiful he is but the words don't seem to form in my mouth and all these stupid thoughts fill my head and there's just so much to say and I can't help but long for him to be closer, to fill my vision with those indelible eyes and stain the backs of my eyelids with those enchanting hues of rich expresso, those flecks of amber and gold. I crave for more of his body heat, his proximity filling me with a comfort and uneasiness I can't quite understand. The thoughts just pile up in my head one by one until they overwhelm me, flooding my conscious with dreams of his scent, his skin, his light caresses. Fuck, what do I do?
I can't lie, he's starting to get under my skin. The prospect is daunting but oh-so-enticing, and I can't help but wonder where this rabbit hole leads. His eyes seem to echo the same questions, a mirror of my thoughts, reaching the same conclusion I do.
No matter where we go, we can surely figure things out together.
Naïvely, I press my lips against his, relishing in the sweet familiar tastes that I seem to be growing a craving for. Our lips meld together, the combination of our breath fuses into a wonderful flavour; chocolate cake and summer evenings, the silence after a storm. His mouth falls into synchronization with my own, sending bolts of electricity to the tips of my toes and filling my being with a pleasant hum of contentment. I'm so absorbed in the all-consuming feel of his lips and the gentle brush of his eyelashes on my cheek that I didn't notice the newfound silence until it was broken, pulling us both from our own private world.
"I KNEW IT! I totally knew it! Token, you owe me £20 motherfucker. This is why you never doubt Kenny McCormick."
Oh Token, you should have known better.Thank you so much for reading, and please review. I hate people that pander and the like but it makes my day to hear peoples views so I'd love it if you do. Also, if you have any requests or anything you'd like to see later on (cameos, interactions etc.) than please let me know, I love to make people happy.
I wonder if Kyle will fulfil his promises next chapter? *coughcough*yes*coughcough*
As always, best wishes, and enjoy your week. Maybe go out for top notch bants and a cheeky nandos with the lads?
- NocturnalLament