I have no idea what time it is right now.
The two of us have just been in this cabin, splayed out on a huge bear pelt in front of a crackling fireplace and we have no idea how much time has passed. We're completely naked, holding each other and probably more sweat developing between our bodies. My body itself is still very warm and buzzing from the sex.
Sex with Cartman.
Jesus Christ.
I wish I could honestly say to myself that I wouldn't have even been able to fathom the idea a few months ago. But that would be a lie straight through my teeth, wouldn't it?
This has been at the back of my mind since puberty…
"Your legs were shaking so much."
I turn my attention to Cartman's expression, his satiated smile.
"And? I'd like to see how well you take it up the ass." I shoot back. I can't help but feel like I could be more articulate with that sentence, but it's good enough. I don't have the mental energy for all that right now.
Cartman chuckles, his honeyed, bassy voice reverberating in his chest against my ear. "Still kickin' even after getting your ass destroyed."
"You didn't destroy my ass." I say. Or he shouldn't have, for how slow and gentle he was being. If anything I destroyed my own ass by pushing back.
"Ahh, if only you could see how bad you shook." Cartman sighs, stroking his fingers down the nape of my neck. "Poor thing. Almost thought I was gonna break you."
"Fuck off." I say through a grunt. "You'd be whining like a bitch if I fucked you."
Cartman pulls back from me with widened eyes, mouth agape in surprise before forming a smile. "Ohh, would I be, little virgin jewboy?"
This fucking asshole. I bite my lip, locking eyes with him. "Yeah. I'd make sure of it."
Cartman tilts his head, looking me over as he hums in thought. His smile is physically gone but I can still see the suggestion of a grin in his eyes. "I'd like to see you try."
Even with the haze in my body I'm still able to feel sparks in the pit of my stomach when he says that.
His pupils are so blown. God, I can't get over how he looks right now. I just end up staring at him. I allow the silence to sit there, let it sink into the both of us as we're locked in this stare. I watch his eyelids lower as his gaze searches mine. It's like we don't need words right now. Like we've somehow become completely in sync. I don't know how else to explain it, but that feeling passes through again.
A feeling I've felt before, small and quiet, but something I shared with him through a look. Something that I might've been able to shrug off before, but now that feeling is so present.
So in my face. So impossible to ignore.
The cracked in the door lets in a sliver of a breeze that tickles my skin, and I tremble and move in closer to Cartman. His warmth covers my skin all over and I sigh softly against him. His strong heartbeat is really soothing. Large hands stroke down the small of my naked back in a way that makes me melt.
This is the same guy I've known all my life. The same guy that I grew up with who's made my life hell so many times, and whose life I made hell so many times. The guy who carries a gun everywhere with him. The guy who's responsible for immeasurable counts of misery throughout our whole town. The guy who's caused me to renounce my religion on several occasions.
That same guy.
He's the same guy holding me in his arms right now, treating me like I'm the most important thing to him. And I'm hooked on that.
Hell, I know from any other perspective this looks like the most terrible, irrational sequence of decisions anyone could've made in my position. But there's multiple, intricate facets to how our relationship works. And… now I'm starting to think that's how it's always worked.
… But how to put it into words…
...If I can't articulate it, do I really understand?
"Oh damn, it's almost four." Cartman says, and I'm taken out of my thoughts.
"What?"
"I thought it was only like an hour we been here." Cartman says, not looking up from his phone.
I pull out my phone as well.
"Shit, my Mom's been spamming me."
Cartman grins wide and starts laughing.
"That's not fucking funny, asshole! They're gonna find out!" I say.
"So come up with a lie, Jew." Cartman says. "You're a pro at it, aren't you?"
"Oh, this coming from you of all people," I say, turning away and scrolling through the texts. Jesus, she gave me so fucking many…
"With parents like ours, we gotta be." I hear Cartman say.
I take a deep breath and try to think of something, then start typing.
'Hey, sorry for being out so long. Cartman and I have been going around town asking if anyone can let Cartman house hop after Christmas. We tried to get into contact with his parents again but we couldn't. I'm just having a talk with Cartman right now about what he wants to do.'
Cartman nudges me pointedly. "Look at that. A complete pro."
"Shut up." I grunt. I text back and forth with my mom for a brief moment before trying to sit up. "We have to-" I cut myself off with a gasp as a heavy soreness pulses through my fucking asshole.
"You alright?" Cartman asks, but he asks it in such a mocking way that I can't help but glower at him.
"No." I carefully move forward and wince. "But we have to go home."
"Oh yeah. With the way you are?" He asks.
"Yes. No excuses. We can't just stay here, they'll kill me."
Cartman tilts his head and gives me a playful smirk. "Baby, it's cold outside~" He sings smoothly.
I turn to him with the most bewildered look on my face. "...Quit fucking around, dude-"
"But baby it's cold outside~" Cartman continues, sliding his hands over my shoulders.
I raise my eyebrow and let a laugh slip out of me but quickly catch myself. "We do have to get home, like now."
"Now?" Cartman says, pulling my back against his chest. I wince at the sting that goes through my body. He looks down at me and smiles wider. "Hah. They won't suspect a thing, right?"
"Fff-fuck off, it's fine. I can hide it." I say. "I have high pain tolerance."
"Uh huh. I'm sure that face you made just now was for shits n' giggles."
"Well I didn't expect you to just jerk me around like that, asshole."
As we continue our back and forth the smile on Cartman's expression seems almost ever present. He doesn't hold that smile the whole time of course, that'd be kind of creepy, but the brightness in those blue eyes of his is constant. So constant, it makes me realize how absent it was from him before.
Eventually we do head back to the house. We of course left guests over there, and Kenny texted Cartman that they hadn't left yet. And really, with their home life, who could blame them?
Once they're gone my Dad gives me more hell for my recent ungrateful actions. It is a bit unprecedented, sure, but I'd rather give my friends a safe roof to stay under, even momentarily, than just stay under my Father's thumb for the sake of his own ego.
My Mom seems to stay in my corner though, cutting in when she believes Dad's being too harsh. The idea that Cartman and I went out looking for a house for him to stay in on Christmas, of all days, really pours the guilt on for her. But Dad doesn't really let up too much.
He even directly tells Cartman that he intends to kick him out. That he has two days. He dresses it up with 'You're a man, you can do it,' and other pseudo-encouraging phrases along the same lines.
Cartman doesn't say anything to him. He just silently acknowledges that my dad is talking. Dad quickly dismisses us after that, and I do my best to walk up the stairs normally. I feel intense pain and soreness because of it. Man, I hope whatever made me bleed isn't too bad. But it's better than what would've happened if Mom and Dad found out that I just had sex.
Shit, they still don't even know I'm gay. There's so many fucking ways that this can all go wrong…
Thankfully, Mom shouting at Dad for dropping that bomb on Cartman is enough to at least keep them both distracted from my posture.
"Fuck," I sigh the moment we're out of hearing shot and sight of my parents. Cartman strides over and sits back on the guest bed.
"Not surprised." Cartman deadpans. "Even if Sheila talks him out of it, it's just for a little bit. I'm not welcome here and they both know it."
I can feel my stomach churning. "No, we're not doing that. You're staying here." I say, and I start to pace, despite the protests of my aching ass. Cartman just watches as I do. "I don't care, okay? I don't fucking care what he says. I'm not letting you out of my sight. Not ever again."
Shit, that sounds weird, doesn't it? The fuck is with me, that's sounds so controlling and clingy, I can't say shit like that…
Cartman laughs lightly. "What do you wanna do?"
He didn't even flinch at that.
It might've been a nervous laugh.
"I don't know. But you can't be out there. I'm not going to just pass you off to someone else. That's not happening."
Cartman drums his fingers against his thigh and lets a light hum linger on his lips.
"Jews love a bargain, don't they?" He says. At first I don't understand his implication, thinking that he's trying to tease me or something, but then I get what he's saying. He rubs his chin. "So what assets do we have? What's on the table for haggling?"
Into the night Cartman and I formulate a plan to keep him in the house. At least for a more comfortable amount of time. We plan to make a proposal to my Dad in the morning before he goes to work. Throughout the conversation, and even afterward, Cartman asks me multiple questions about my Dad. Some seem to be completely irrelevant, but I know there's a purpose to everything he's asking. At least, I figure there is because of how manipulative he is.
How manipulative he's always been.
...The bad manipulative.
...I'm in a relationship with a manipulator. I gave my trust, and my virginity… to a seasoned manipulator…
...But, he's not like he was back then. Sure he has a past and he's still kind of a nutjob sometimes, but he's so much more open now. He's so much more relaxed and even reasonable. And there's finally brightness in his eyes.
I shouldn't be so anxious about this. I've given him no reason to try to manipulate me in a negative way. Even if he wanted to. Which he doesn't. I mean I've gone through this line of thinking before… things are different now. Right?
At the end of the night I head back into my own bedroom, lie awake in bed and contemplate things.
...He hasn't been manipulating me, has he?
Everything I've done for him was my idea entirely. I went out of my way to make sure I know he's not getting into trouble, just like I always have. I even dragged him into my own house against his will. There's no way this is all just a ploy by him to get into my head, to make me fall in love with him for his own personal gain-
Holy fuck-
Holy fuck. Holy fuck… I'm…
…
I'm in love with him… aren't I…?
My heart is going a mile a minute.
No, it's fine. This is okay.
Cartman's made so many strides. Cartman has proven to me, time and time again, that he is capable of improving, and capable of caring, even if it's in his own fucked up ways. I can trust him.
I can… I can trust him.
I glance over at the jacket hanging on a hook on my closet. Where that handgun, and the pills are sitting. I swallow hard.
I've already made the decision, haven't I?
I've questioned it over and over and over before, but I always came to the same conclusion. At this point, I can't say that I'm not committed. And at this point if I want to be able to maintain trust with him, I have to trust him with everything I have.
There's so much at stake now; this is no longer something I can flip flop on. That option is gone.
I'm in deep. That's just... something I have to accept.
A little more time passes by. Maybe an hour or two. I'm still awake.
This bed is so empty...
After being that close to Cartman, it feels like there's so much space. It feels like I have way too much breathing room. I can't stand all of this empty, lonely space.
Slowly and quietly, I sneak out of my bedroom so that no one hears me. The long stretch of hallway is a bit unnerving to go down, constantly thinking I'll get caught. But once I reach the door it's fine. I enter the darkened room, only illuminated with those dim christmas colors from the lights. As soon as I close the door behind me, I can see a figure sitting up.
"Hey," I hear Cartman's voice say through the darkness.
"Hey." I'm getting intense flutters again. "Did I wake you up?"
"No." He answers. He sounds wide awake.
I climb onto the mattress, slipping under the blankets next to him. It's too dark to really make out much, but I do feel his arm slip under my neck and wrap around my shoulders. The warmth is so familiar… so nice and inviting. I rest my head against his chest and sigh.
"Miss me?" Cartman says in a gentle, soothing voice I'm not too familiar with. I instinctively clutch onto the fabric of his shirt in sheer reaction.
"...I'd never." I say quietly.
The chuckle that reverberates through his chest sounds so nice.
...This really is all too good to give up. ...Despite how the end of that night went, I hope I really did give Cartman the best Christmas.
The next morning is a stark contrast to the atmosphere before.
I suppose Ike must have caught wind of Dad's intention to kick Cartman out, because he's surprisingly silent at breakfast.
Speaking of breakfast, Cartman made food for my entire family this morning. Throughout the meal, Mom praises him excessively while looking pointedly at my Dad. I know that's exactly the reaction Cartman wanted, but there's a good chance that might just make Dad dig in his heels even more. He's stubborn. One of the most stubborn people I've ever met. A little bit of covert guilt isn't going to make him back down from his decision.
During the afternoon, Cartman and I decide it's time to try and negotiate with my Dad. Cartman starts off by offering to do what Dad generally does around the house. Wash his car, clean his study, all that. It gets my Dad to consider the idea, but not enough for him to not want Cartman out of the house all together. He mentions again that he's not a permanent guest and that he needs to settle things with his folks.
After a little bit of my Dad's 'what's best for you' monologues, he finally gets to the point and says,
"No matter what you do here and how many chores you take on, the fact is you still cost more money in the end."
I pipe up, then. "Well, what if he got a job and contributed to the house?"
I see Cartman hold back a grimace.
Dad says and looks Cartman over as if it's a ridiculous notion. "You think an entry level job would be enough to pay for his own food and rent?"
"Rent?" I repeat.
"Yes, Kyle, if someone bunks in your house for more than a month, they have to pay rent. That's how it works."
I bite my tongue. I can't push too much or he's gonna push too far in the other direction. "I'm sure if he picked up extra hours-"
"That's okay." Cartman starts. My heart sinks as he continues. "I can find somewhere else to stay-"
"Dude, what? Why don't you at least try to get a job first?" I say.
Cartman purses his lips and looks away. "I made some enemies when I was homeless. If they see me working night hours in town they'll definitely jump me."
...God dammit. Of course that happened.
"Welp, guess that's off the table." Dad says.
"Seriously? He can't go get a job so just fuck him?" I say.
Dad rolls his eyes. "If he's not my kid and he's not my wife, I don't owe him anything."
"He's your son's friend." I say. I wanna tack on 'asshole' to that sentence, but I just grit my teeth.
"So why doesn't my son pay for his friend?"
"Fine, I will!"
Cartman turns his head and gives me a kind of unreadable expression.
Dad laughs. "You, Kyle? You're gonna get a job? My laziest son?"
Fuck you, you fucking piece of… ugh…
"Yes. I'll get a job if it'll keep my friend from getting jumped on the street." I say.
"God, you're dramatic." Dad scoffs. "And what, just let your already suffering studies suffer even more?"
"Yeah. That's the position you're putting me in." I say.
"You're going to let your future suffer even more than it already does, because one of your friends doesn't want to go home?" Dad says. "You're even more emotional than I thought."
My fists clench slightly. "Well, it would save you money. Isn't that a good compromise?"
Releasing a heavy sigh, my Dad shakes his head. "For what? I don't get it. What's he even giving back to you?"
The frustrated look vanishes off my dad's face, leaving a completely blank expression. His eyes then lock with mine.
...
...Oh, shit. Oh fucking hell…
His eyes narrow on me and I see his jaw shift. My heart starts pounding.
"Well, then. That makes sense." Dad says. He looks me up and down and shakes his head slowly, looking away. It feels like there's glass shards in my chest all over again.
No. Don't let him get to you. So what if he doesn't approve? He's an asshole. He's a fucking piece of shit. I don't need his goddamn approval. Keep your composure, god dammit.
"It's my choice. So that's what I'm gonna do." I say.
His eyes have completely dulled. There's a crease in his brow. He's not even trying to feign a neutral expression. Just as I think he's about to say something, he just turns and walks back into his study, slamming the door behind him.
Nausea starts pumping through me in waves.
Without another thought I dart for the front door.
"Kahl-"
"Bubbe, are you okay-?"
The sounds of voices pass by quickly enough that I barely even pick them up as I slam the door behind me.
He hates me. He thinks I'm a failure. He thinks I'll never amount to anything, and he'll blame it on me being gay.
Not my lack of discipline.
Not a rebellious teen phase.
It's because I'm gay.
It's because of the way I am; the way that I'll always be. A weak, emotional excuse for a man who can't think with his logical brain.
That's what he thinks.
Well fuck him. I don't need him.
So what if he's my Dad? So what if I've been trying to make him proud of me my entire life? So what if he raised me and taught me how to be and I'll inherently have his values, and the person I adopted my values from fucking hates me?
No, he doesn't even hate me. He just plain doesn't care now. He didn't even care enough to try and yell at me. He just… gave up.
...Fuck... he gave up on me...
I'm so much of a failure that he fucking gave up on me. After all these years he dropped me like I was total garbage.
Why? I didn't even fucking do anything except exist!
How the fuck could he do that to me, how could he just fucking drop me? How could he look at me like I was disgusting - no, not even disgusting - he looked at me like I was nothing. Nothing.
Not even worth his time.
Not worth another fucking word.
I feel a hand grab my arm and stop me.
"Kahl, what the fuck," Cartman says. "You're gonna freeze to death out here."
"He knows, Cartman." I growl. My voice is a little shaky. "He knows I'm gay. He figured it out!"
"You're loud." He says.
"Who gives a fuck?!" I say. "He was the one person I didn't want to find out because I knew he'd do this! Because he's so…so…!"
I let out a shout and kick our trash can over. It falls into the snow.
What an unsatisfying fucking sound. I kick the downed trash can, but nothing more than a muffled 'thunk' comes out. I let out a growl of sheer frustration.
"God dammit!"
I'm about to kick it again when Cartman suddenly grabs my arm and drags me away. He pulls me behind an alley between two fences.
"Fight me." He says.
I stare at him, trying to catch my breath. His eyes narrow on me.
"You need it. You give way too much of a fuck of what that pussy thinks of you." Cartman says.
"He's my dad, you retard!" I shout. "Like you don't care about what your Mom thinks of you, who are you fucking kidding?!"
"Yeah you're right," Cartman says, letting out a slight laugh. "So fight me."
Both my hands claw into the fabric of my hat as I clutch my head. "That's not gonna solve anything, god dammit, why do you think I can just punch my problems away?"
He grabs me by the collar and shoves me against the fence. "I'm not giving you a choice. Do it."
"Let go of me!"
I try to pry him off of me, actually getting a good hold and twisting his arm. He loses his grip on me and I try to walk away but he grabs me in a headlock and pulls me back. It takes everything in me to not be dragged to the ground. Somehow I'm able to elbow him and get free again.
Then, just like that, we're fighting.
It's not like the usual sparring. It's a lot more sporadic. I get him in the jaw, knowing it's a foul, but I'm in such intense tunnel vision that it doesn't really come to me in that moment.
I barrel into him with everything I've got. I'm pretty sure we each hit the ground multiple times. Way more than three. But we keep going.
We keep fighting until we're completely worn out.
My head is pounding. My lip is busted. I feel sore, throbbing bruises throughout multiple parts of my body. I'm sitting in the snow now and I really should be freezing, but I'm not. Or maybe I am. I don't fucking know. I feel really hot.
Cartman, sitting beside me, throws my jacket over my shoulder. "You forgot it." He says through ragged breath. He's just as beat up as I am.
It's all damp now from the snow it was sitting in while we fought it out, but I put it around me anyway. The inside is still good. I feel the gun and pills press against my chest as I put the thing on.
"...This didn't help. I'm not gonna suddenly not give a fuck just because you beat me up." I say, wrapping the jacket tightly around me. "You can't just beat the need for his approval out of me."
Cartman sighs. "Y'never know until you try."
"Ugh, so stupid." I say, running my hands through my sweaty hair. Shit, my hat fell off. No wonder my head hurts so much. "It doesn't matter to him, alright? He won't think I'm tough for being able to fight. I'm gay. He could be packing my stuff and getting ready to kick me out as we speak."
"So?" He says.
"So?!" I repeat, staring wide eyed at him. "So-"
"So you'd be homeless." He says. "I would be too."
I'm speechless for a few moments. I stare at him for a few moments then I turn away.
"I'm not okay with being homeless."
"Doesn't matter what you're okay with." Cartman says. "If he really doesn't care about you, that'll happen. But you're a man. So you'll be ready for it. And you'll be able to handle it, because you know how to fend for yourself."
"Why? Because I know how to fistfight?" I say with a scoff.
Cartman slaps the back of his palm against my jacket pocket, making the gun and the pills in it rattle. "Because you have ways of defending yourself. And because you'll have me."
I stare at him.
"...This might not even…" I take a breath. "You know, this might not even end up with us having to run away. My Mom's too overprotective to just let me go like that. She'll fight tooth and nail for me."
"You don't know that." Cartman says. "You don't know what life's gonna throw at you. At any moment. Ever."
I look at him, swallowing lightly. ...I know that to some extent, he's projecting pretty hard. Because of everything that happened just recently.
But at the same time, he's trying to protect me. He's telling me that he'll always be there.
I scoot closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder.
"Ow." He deadpans.
I let out a light laugh. My laughter turns progressively harder, and I wrap my arm around him and squeeze, holding him tighter.
"Aaagh, Kahl!" He hisses.
"Deal with it. This was your idea." I laugh.
"Fucking hell Jew," He grunts.
We stagger to our feet and start walking back towards our block. I take an extra thirty minutes to breathe and just let myself think everything over. My Mom is of course texting me being incredibly worried. I feel bad worrying her so much. But in order to explain my bruises, when we finally get home I tell Mom that we had to fight off people that Cartman made enemies with. Cartman gets some flack for that, but I insist that I'm the one that involved myself.
And it's better than telling Mom that Cartman and I do this weird thing where we fist fight each other to get stress out.
Mom insists on taking me to the doctor. Cartman and I were just going to patch ourselves up, but she insists on taking me. I still have stitches in and I know there's no way I can change her mind.
"You're lucky, young man." The doctor says. "If you'd gotten jumped while your stitches were still healing you'd be a lot worse for wear."
"Oh… they're done?" I don't have to have a mirror to know my eyes brightened up pretty prominently just now.
"You should probably try to change your behavior a bit." The Doctor says. "You were stabbed and assaulted in the same month? That's not good. How are you getting into so much trouble?"
I look away and shrug.
"Maybe you should figure it out so it stops happening."
"Sometimes trouble just finds you." I say.
It isn't the case for me. I know I could've completely avoided both incidents, but he doesn't need to know that. And thankfully he doesn't pry too hard. I can't stand when basically strangers try to judge me at face value.
After Mom small talks me the entire drive home, I'm not sure whether Dad is trying to kick me out or not. Or if he's even talked to Mom about it. But when I get home, the way my Dad completely ignores me lets me know that in his eyes, I fucked up.
The anxiety that he's planning to get rid of me eats at me throughout the day. I spend the rest of the day studying. I'm not sure what Cartman does for the rest of the day, but at the end of it, I climb into his bed again and press my head tight against his chest.
"The tension in the air is killing me."
Cartman snickers. "Then you should be dying every day in this goddamn house."
I sigh softly and close my eyes. I always thought that in order to relax you need someone to tell you everything's going to be okay. Today, Cartman kind of turned that on its head. He told me everything could go wrong at any moment. And yet somehow that didn't make things worse.
I mean, it didn't make things better, either.
Except for maybe a little. In some small, strange way.
Over the weekend I start to put out applications. It doesn't matter where I work, honestly. At this point it serves two purposes. To keep a roof over Cartman's head, and to get me out of the house so I don't have to deal with my father's passive aggressive bullshit.
Lately if he's not completely ignoring me, he's making passive aggressive comments about how emotional and incompetent I am. And I'm not gonna lie, it hurts. To hear that from someone that raised me, and invested so much into me… it fucking hurts. But I have to brush it off. I have to prove him wrong. I can't just let him get to me because I know what he's doing is wrong. And even if what he's saying is true, which it isn't, his intentions are rotten to the core.
Between that and Mom continuously trying to contact Liane and getting no response, the tension in the house runs pretty high. Mom gets very stressed out about it. Her and Liane have never had a great relationship and Mom never approved of her and her profession. Every time me and Cartman are in the same room, she looks like she wants to say something. But she never does. I don't know whether or not I want to know what she wants to say.
Thankfully it's still winter break, so Cartman and I find it pretty easy to get out of the house. Once Cartman finishes the chores that he did end up picking up, we go out to that cabin a lot.
I'm… admittedly pretty sore, so I can't really do anything too intense. Cartman bitches about this a lot, calls me a pussy for not being able to take the pain, but eventually I do get him to go easy on me.
After I'm all irritated and aching. Fucking brat.
But we manage. And Cartman being gentle with me feels… surprisingly amazing. His hands on my body, slow and steady like that, it's like he's savoring every touch. Really indulging in it. It gets my heart to flutter non-stop. And somehow the frustrated look in his eyes, that perfectly embodied expression of wanting to ravage me, but not wanting to hurt me, is such a uniquely intense thing…
It also makes me look forward to how intense he'll be once we can be that rough. The stitches are off. Now all we have to do is wait for my soreness to wear off. Shouldn't take more than another day.
And even if it doesn't, there's always blowjobs, which Cartman is still merciless with. I'm still not used to how fucking good it feels.
It's relieving, really, to have this kind of pleasure to counteract all the stress of what's going on. To have something more meaningful than math to drown out my frustrations. Man… it's so weird that I found that in Cartman.
Cartman, the guy who always proclaimed he would kill me one day. On practically a day to day basis.
"I'm not really that big into fishing, honestly."
"Really," Cartman says, perking up from his can of soda. "I never woulda guessed. I thought you never fishing meant you loved it."
I fake a laugh at his sarcasm. Despite me not really liking fishing, here I am, fishing pole in my hand and lure out in the water with him and Kenny, out on this little cramped canoe. Because after what he said about those enemies he made, I don't really want him alone out here.
"If you're not into fishing why'd you come?" Kenny asks.
I pause for a second, then shrug. "It's a good reason to get out of the house. My dad's been a pain in the ass lately."
"He finally realized Kyle was gay." Cartman adds in. I glare.
"Dude."
"What, am I outing you about being outed?"
"You're airing out my dirty laundry." I say.
"It's cool, I think Kenny's used to the smell."
Kenny rolls his eyes slightly at that. "It did take him a pretty fuckin long time to figure it out."
I feel my shoulders slump a bit at that. "What, was it that obvious?"
Exchanging glances, both Cartman and Kenny start to snicker. My face tints pink.
"Remember Coach Phillips?" Kenny asks.
Ahh, shit.
"Cartman caught you staring at him for waaay too long. That's when we knew."
"Fuck off, you believe him?" I say.
Cartman bursts into laughter. "Don't try to lie now, Kahl. Your face says it all."
"Once he told me that I started watching you too," Kenny says. "We played a little game where we'd time on his phone how long you'd stare at him."
"With those dick sucking eyes of yours," Cartman smirks.
"Fuck off, I did not make dick sucking eyes in middle school you freaks." I say.
"Bet your ears are so red under that hat." Cartman says.
I scoff. "You shouldn't be talking, Mr. Crossdresser. You were probably the most obvious of who was gay in town."
"I dunno." Kenny shrugs, "I didn't think he was gay. It's one of those things where I wouldn't be surprised if he was, but at the same time I didn't suspect it. Cartman's just weird."
Cartman smiles proudly at this. "That's what you call hiding in plain sight."
"Oh, don't say that like you did it on purpose." I say. "The only reason no one suspected it is because you did such awkward shit all the time and no one could tell if you were being gay or cringey."
"Ooh, you calling gay people cringey, Kahl?"
"I'm calling you making me put my finger in your ass because you think it's funny cringey."
Cartman recoils slightly with a subtle grimace before laughing.
"Oh yeah, that shit," He says, looking away with an anxious smile. "It was funny how mad you got."
"It was funny how gay it was." Kenny smirks, looking between us. "And even funnier now."
I cover my face with my hand. "God, don't. Just don't, dude."
Everyone's silent after I say that, so I assume they're dropping the subject. When I drop my hand from my face though, I see they're fixated on something past the canoe.
Standing on the bank of Stark's Pond is Stan, looking directly at our canoe with a drink in his hand.
"Hey, you're late!" Kenny shouts, leaning over the canoe.
"Uh… you invited him?" I ask. Kenny knows about the whole argument I had with him, so… this is a bit unexpected.
"Yeah. I let him know we were going to Stark's Pond to fish." Kenny said. "He's been talking to me about wanting to reconnect so y'know, perfect opportunity."
"Ugh." Cartman says simply.
"...I guess it's worth a shot." I say.
As we head across the water in the canoe and drift closer to Stan, my heart sinks. It's been over a week since we talked. I have no idea how he's going to act towards me now. We step out of the canoe and I glance over at Cartman, whose eyes are very clearly unwelcoming.
"Hey man, what's up?" Kenny says, giving Stan a hug. There's a slight smile on Stan's face as he receives the hug.
"Not much. Just been hanging out with the guys." He says, then looking over to Cartman and I.
"Don't tell me this is gonna turn into a welcome wagon." Cartman says. "I ain't giving you a hug."
"I don't want one from you." Stan's tone is a bit of a bite to it, not that I'm the least bit surprised.
"Uh, Stan… I know we left off on... a bit of a sour note, but…" I look down. "It's good to see you again."
Stan's brow is noticeably creased.
"C'mon, let's get back on the pond." Kenny says, urging Stan forward. "The fish are about to really start biting."
"Yeah, just a sec," Stan says, holding a hand up. "I need to talk to Kyle first."
"...Uh… sure dude, what's up?" I say, looking away and scuffing my heel against the dirt.
After a slight pause, he frowns. "Alone."
"Jesus Christ, Marsh, you fucking drama queen," Cartman scoffs. "Just say it in front of us and get it over with."
I purse my lips. "If he wants to talk to me one on one, that's fine."
Cartman narrows his eyes on Stan. "No it's not."
"Oh I'm sorry I thought Kyle was the one who decided whether or not he could do things." Stan says, crossing his arms.
"Dude, lay off, it's fine." I say, glancing back at Cartman for a moment. He looks pretty pissed, but I turn back to Stan. "We can talk over by the water fountains."
Cartman doesn't say anything when we walk away from him and Kenny. As I glance back at them, Cartman has completely looked away from me. I don't get what the big deal is with talking to Stan. It's not like he's gonna steal me, for fuck's sake. I'm not that type of person. Even if Stan is trying to apologize and 'get back together.'
Jesus, I hope he's not trying to do that.
We head up to the park bathrooms, Stan immediately bumping his back against the wall with a sigh.
"Listen, I want to keep being your best friend. I just wanna say that first." His eyes are downcast. "Like… forget all that shit between us. I'll get over it."
"Oh… that's great, dude. I'm glad." I say with a smile. He glances up with frustrated, but apologetic eyes. His body doesn't relax. I let out a nervous laugh. "I… I'm sorry again. I didn't mean to come off like I was leading you on or anything."
Stan bites the inside of his lip, his eyes sticking to the ground and nodding. "Yeah, that's… that's, you know. Whatever. I'm more concerned about other things. Y'know. It's whatever."
I tilt my head slightly. "...Are you drunk?"
"What?" Stan blurts. He pushes himself of of the wall, staring at his feet for a second. "Nah. Just buzzed. I'm good."
"Okay, well… I'm glad we're cool." I say.
Stan pinches his nose. "Agh… Yeah. We're cool, but I gotta talk to you about something. Like… about him."
"Cartman?" I say. My heart picks up.
"Yeah. Him." Stan says. "The monster you're dating."
Oh, god. "Stan-"
"No listen, listen." Stan grabs my shoulders and pulls me close, looking past him to make sure people aren't here to misinterpret this. I'm incredibly tense now. I look back at him, meeting concerned eyes. "You have to get away from him, man."
I sigh. "Because he's Cartman?" I can't imagine Stan will have more luck than me trying to convince myself out of liking him. I've tried so many times before.
"No, dude. He like… attacked his Mom." Stan says.
… "Who told you that?"
"Sam. His Dad is friends with Buck. His Dad saw Cartman pin his Mom against the stove and slap her and yell at her." His grip intensifies on me, and his expression starts to become slightly more frantic. "He's fucking crazy, dude. You have to get away from him."
Another person saying Cartman hit his Mom… And more specific, this time…
Still, I have to try to keep my cool. I swallow. "Dude, Sam's a douche. He could just be saying that-"
"No, no, listen Kyle," Stan looks me over and sighs, looking away. "I know what you did to him and Luke. You and Cartman. They told me all about it."
Shit.
"He's making you such a bad person."
"Did they tell you they pinned me against a wall and threatened to break my nose?" I say.
"Kyle," Stan says, "It's because you were violent to begin with. Because of him. And you know what else? Sam and Luke aren't gonna press charges. Buck told them not to."
My eyes widen.
"Something fucked up's going on here. I don't know what it is, but Buck's like, working for Cartman." Stan says. He keeps glancing back at our two friends in the distance.
"What are you talking about?" I say. "That's not even remotely possible, dude…"
"Kyle, please," Stan grips onto both sides of my face. "Please stop being with him. He's got you wrapped around his finger, dude. If Buck's scared of him, you should definitely be."
"Buck isn't the one who's scared," I say, gritting my teeth.
Stan ducks his head and growls. "Come on, dude. You can't be this far gone."
Why is my heart pounding so fast? This has to all be lies. This can't possibly be true. "Why are you getting so worked over nothing but heresay? For all you know, Buck is just trying to confuse everyone. Or Sam could be lying through his teeth."
Stan lets me go and grunts in exasperation, pacing and running his fingers through his hair. "Come on, Kyle! You know better! You know better! He's Cartman! Out everyone I talk to, he's the one who lies the most, and he doesn't give a shit who he hurts!"
"He gives a shit about me, Stan," I say sharply. "You can't convince me that he doesn't."
Stan grabs me again, his voice a frustrated whisper. "Because you're turning into him! He gives a shit because he knows he can turn you into a monster too, and he is! How can you not see that?!"
His eyes are so big and dilated. Why is he like this? Is it just because he's drunk, or-
Cartman and Kenny are coming up behind Stan.
"Kyle, please. Please just wake up, come on,"
Cartman grabs Stan's shoulder, spinning him around. "What the fuck are you pulling, Marsh?"
Stan's breath slows, and he goes silent, staring into Cartman's eyes. "I was just talking to my best friend."
Cartman sizes Stan up. "Yeah, just fucking with his head again. Seems like every time he talks to you he has to take breather to recover."
Stan's jaw slacks, and he looks away, laughing bitterly. "This coming from you of all people…"
Kenny seems to be very concerned by the sight of me. God, I must be white as a sheet. "What… what were you guys talking about?"
Stan looks at Kenny, glancing between me and him. "...I'll tell you later, dude."
"Telling everyone except me, huh?" Cartman says loudly. "Huhhh, that's pretty interesting."
Stan tries to sidestep Cartman, but Cartman grabs Stan by the shoulder and steps in front of him, staring him down with their faces close enough for their noses to brush on accident. "Why don't you just say it, Marsh?" He says in a low, intimidating tone. "Just tell me what your fucking problem is."
Stan doesn't look away now. His adam's apple bobs in his throat. "I think you know what my problem is with you."
Cartman lets out a laugh. "Yeah? Tell me anyway, boozer."
Stan's eyes narrow on Cartman. He takes a few moments. He's completely zoned in on Cartman, with the most hate filled expression I've ever seen on someone as relaxed as Stan.
"You ruin everything you touch." He says evenly.
The tension in the air is so heavy. It feels like it's dead silent. Cartman says nothing, and it really sinks in then. Cartman, the person who was so confident and confrontational less than a second ago…
"Everything." He repeats.
Cartman keeps his stance, but his knuckles go white. Stan breaks the eye contact with Cartman, turning to me and the hate disappating from his expression.
"If you're gonna stay with him, I can't be friends with you anymore." Stan says to me. Cartman's still glaring holes into him.
"What kind of shit is that, Stan…?" I say.
"I can't see you turn into this, Kyle." He steps away and looks at back at Cartman. "This fucking monster… I can't watch you keep tearing yourself up over him, and keep apologizing for him…"
"We're leaving, Kyle." Cartman says, ripping his gaze away from Stan and dropping his fishing pole.
I instinctively move to Cartman. I don't want this situation to blow up, so it's better to remove ourselves-
"Seriously?" Stan says, "He barks an order and you go? Jesus Christ Kyle. You're literally his henchman now." It seems like something you'd hear someone say condescendingly, but he says it in a tone that implies nothing but shock.
"It's not like that."
"Yes it is! You're just so caught up in his lies that you don't even see it!" Stan says. "He's gotten you to care about him, to fight like him, and now it's only a matter of time before you start thinking like him, and that's exactly what he fucking wants!"
Cartman looks down, putting his hand over his face. I can't see his expression, just the stress of his pinched brow.
"Is that what you want? To be like him?" Stan's voice is becoming frantic again as he jabs a finger at Cartman. "To be this uncaring fucking monster who does whatever the fuck he wants? To just use everyone around you until there's nothing good left in them? Until you turn everyone who cares about you bitter and angry?"
"Dude-"
"For fuck's sake, Kyle! He's gonna take away everything-"
Just like that, Stan's cut off. Cartman plows his fist straight into Stan's jaw, and Stan collapses onto the ground.
I turn wide eyed to Cartman, whose chest is heaving, staring down at Stan. His pupils are practically pinpoints.
"Oh, shit, dude." Kenny says, stepping forward. I get down on my knees to check Stan's vitals. Thankfully everything seems to be okay. Kenny kneels down in front of Stan too and tilts his chin up, fanning him. "We should get him air, right?"
"Yeah," My attention turns to Cartman, and I slowly get to my feet. "You got it, right Kenny?" I ask.
Kenny holds Stan up and I go over to Cartman, who's staggered a little bit off to the side. "Hey… you okay?" I ask.
Cartman laughs softly. "Why? I didn't get punched."
I look his expression over. "...There's more pain on your face than what someone could do with a punch."
Cartman's smile disappears and his lips match the rest of his expression. He looks away. "What'd he say to you?"
I'm about to open my mouth to speak, when suddenly, Cartman's tackled to the ground. Taking a few paces back in alarm, I catch sight of Stan latched onto Cartman's back, holding him on the ground.
Jesus Christ.
Stan hammers a punch or two into Cartman's head, before he's thrown off by Cartman and lands on his back in the snow. Cartman tries to grab him while they're both on the ground, but Stan quickly jumps his feet.
"Okay, you wanna go?! Let's fucking go, fatass!" Stan shouts.
Kenny runs up to me. "Sorry I tried to grab him before he-" I put a hand out to stop Kenny from getting any closer.
"Hang on. I think they might need this."
Maybe this will help Stan in the same way it helps me.
Kenny gives me a confused look, but stays back and watches.
As soon as Cartman gets to his feet Stan rushes at him again. He barrels into Cartman, like I did before. Cartman's impossible to take down this way. Stan gets a blunt forearm slammed into his face and almost gets knocked down, but barely stands.
He takes a few seconds to get some breath. There's blood on his lips and hate in his eyes.
He jumps back into it, but this time avoids Cartman's swing and lands a punch in Cartman's face. He almost gets grabbed by the hem of his coat, backing away and shucking it off his shoulders, then going back in.
There's a sort of finesse to the way Stan fights. Even though his punches don't really seem to faze Cartman. He's not really hitting good spots, and is getting blocked a lot. But he's caught on to the fact that he needs to keep his distance. Every time Cartman tries to grab for him, he's just out of arm's reach.
Most fights don't last much longer than a few seconds… but I'm now noticing the length of this fight. They've both been trading wild blows, pretty hard at first, but Cartman's punches are starting to slow down. Stan's punches are still hard and fast. Cartman keeps closing the distance between them, and Stan keeps backing away. Beads of sweat are starting to flow down Cartman's forehead.
That's right… Stan's an athlete. He's like Luke and Sam, except… he's been in real fights before.
Cartman eventually backs Stan up against a bench so he can't run anymore. He takes a swing, and Stan tries to dodge, bumping his ankle into the bench. He loses balance. Cartman throws his arms around Stan, trying to grab on tight, but Stan twists his body with the momentum and flings them both against the bench. Cartman's hips dig into the corner of the bench. His eyes widen and he gasps shakily.
Shit, should I intervene…? It almost seems too late now…
Just then, I see Cartman forcefully pull himself up from that awkward angle, swinging Stan back around onto the bench. Stan lets out a pained cry that I can barely hear over Cartman's labored breath. He's holding Stan down now, but there's no way he can keep this up…
Then, he reaches into his pocket. My eyes widen, my heart jumping in my throat.
Cartman reached for his gun.
Cartman pulled his gun out on Stan.
I tear through the distance between Cartman and I, throwing my arms around Cartman's shoulder so his entire arm is stiff. I use all the strength in my body to yank Cartman as far away from Stan as possible. He grunts in pain and staggers back.
"Kenny," I snap, "Get Stan out of here!"
Kenny is quick to respond. Stan's so disoriented that he's not hard to get off the bench. I wait until Stan is completely turned away before I twist Cartman's arm.
He lets out a shout of alarm and I get the gun out of his hand. I jump back a few paces away from him and he nearly stumbles to the ground in the process.
His silver pistol is now in my hands, marked with blood that was on Cartman's hands. My eyes meet his, searching his expression for some kind of explanation.
He looks like he's still in a fight. Even while he's just standing there.
My grip tightens on the gun, even as my hands tremble.
"What the fuck was that?!"