Attempt #2

The next day, most were leaving the second they woke up. I'm not sure why they had to go so early, but it probably had something to do with catching a plane, or a long drive. My mom insisted we stay until at least 5:00 PM, because it's Yom Kippur, and we came all the way here. The day was pretty fun, with all the food and games. I wanted to talk to Asher today, but he left along with some of my other relatives. Maybe I can get his number from our grandparents or something. I'm really desperate to know what him and Cartman were talking about last night. I'm so curious, I can barely enjoy myself. I've been sitting at the kitchen counter thinking for an abnormally long time, and I think my family is too creeped out by my thinking face to come up to me.

Cartman caught me sitting alone and took the liberty of taking the open spot next to me. I suppose he's either gonna try and figure out what I'm thinking about or wants me to get up and have fun. It's not likely I'll be doing either. Without Asher here, there's not much to do. To my surprise, he didn't say anything. He just sat down and stared at me, head leaning on his hand. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was weird behaviour for him. I don't think Cartman has ever sat for so long doing nothing. Before this point, I was convinced that the only way Cartman would ever sit still is if he was dead or zombified.

"The hell are you doing Cartman?"

He shrugged, "Trying to figure out what your thinking. Is it 'Cartman is the most handsome person at this party'?"

"Not even close." I smirked as he snapped his fingers and went 'Rats!' like some sort of cartoon character. He used to do that when were younger. Not the 'Rats!' thing, he'd say other things. Things like 'Screw you guys, I'm goin home' and 'Sweeet'. I don't know what he was thinking, but it must've been something egotistical.

"So, what are you thinking then Kahl?"

I internally debated on whether or not I should lie to him for a little over a second, then I answered, "It's nothing. Let's get back to the party." As I stood, Cartman put a hand on my shoulder, and firmly sat me back down. I could still feel his hand there even after he'd removed it.

"It's obviously not 'nothing' because you've been sitting here for an hour and a half thinking about it. What is it?"

He scooted closer to me in his seat, and glared at me in a way I haven't seen in a long time. I've forgotten how mad Cartman can look. Sometimes, his face will go red with anger. Not this time though, he just stared at me. I could feel the venom in his glare, and almost considered looking away, but that'd give him the upper hand, wouldn't it? I know he's trying to assert dominance over me. He's trying to squeeze it out of me like an apple during cider season. I'm not that easily broken though. I've dealt with this asshole and all his glares for years. Sure I'm a bit rusty, but I know my way around better than anyone. It's very easy to lie to him.

Except it isn't anymore.

Back then, I could lie to him like it was nothing. It didn't matter as much back then. We were kids, and he was a dick. It was easy to fib to him because he was an asshole that'd done worse things than lie.

But he's different now. It's not as easy to lie to his face anymore because he's a better person. He's more tolerable, less manipulative.

Is he?

What if he's manipulating me into thinking he's a better person. I mean, I went from hating his guts to desperately wanting to hear his voice in 24 hours. Is it possible he's playing with my head? He could be. No sane person could, somewhat, like Cartman. No matter his attitude. Did I make a mistake inviting him here? What if he bombs the house?

"You gonna answer me Jew?"

.

.

.

"Do you wanna go home?"

Cartman dropped his mean face and scooted back.

"Do you want to go home?"

"A little."

"Then we can go, but I don't think your mom will be very happy."

I nodded and trudged over to my mom along with Cartman. I made sure to keep a bit of distance between us. I don't know if I can trust him anymore. Could I trust him in the first place? This is why I should've just left when he told me I could at the hospital. Associating myself like Cartman only ever leads to trouble, and I should know this better than anyone. Yet I always somehow get myself into these messes. Cartman's so good at manipulating and twisting my mind that I convinced myself he was a better person. I didn't even realise it.

But all the moments we've shared over the weekend couldn't have possibly been planned, right? I guess he could've made up the whole 'not eating' thing, he's done worse, but he couldn't have known I was awake back at the cliff. He couldn't have...

Why does he have to make this whole mess so difficult?!

My mom agreed to take us home, but made sure to guilt us a bit before doing so, and we piled into the car. The car ride back was quiet, only the quiet sounds of the radio filling the air. The whole ride back, I kept staring off out the window, thinking about Cartman and if I made a mistake trusting him. What if he never attempted in the first place? Or maybe he planned to live after attempting. He knew that Stan, Kenny and I would come back and he'd have his old friends to toy with again. He's always loved messing with people, me especially, so it's believable he'd go to great lengths just to have us crawling back to him.

But what about his mom? Where is she? Would he really get rid of her just to have his friends back? I don't think so, but Cartman is unpredictable. I can never truly know anything about him unless he tells me, and sometimes not even then. It didn't seem like anybody was taking care of him when we were at his house last. I don't know what to do about him. Do I trust him?

Here I thought I knew him better than anyone.

Once we were back, Ike would not shut up about how fun the party was. I could tell Cartman's ego was inflating with every word, and I just wanted to go to sleep. After Cartman thanked my family for letting him tag along, he went back to his house, and I felt sort of bad for him. I know how his house is, big empty and broken, so why wouldn't I feel bad? That doesn't exclude the possibility of him tricking me though. He definitely put himself through hell just to get a laugh in the end, like with the Jennifer Lopez situation.

I aimlessly walked to my room and threw my suitcase in the closet, leaving it to be unpacked later. When I flopped on my bed, I felt something crinkle under me, and reached to grab it, finding that it was Cartman's suicide note. I should probably analyze it again, to find any trace of insincerity in the words. Maybe it'll explain something, despite it doing barely anything all the other times I've read it.

It states the same words it always has. Though I can piece some things together now, like he must've been abused in some way over the years, from what he said to Asher. Could he really have been abused, or was he exaggerating things like he normally would? Asher seemed pretty convinced, so maybe there's a small chance he wasn't lying. Why did he tell Asher and not me?

Or Stan or Kenny?

And where does his working out, anger issues, and moms boyfriend fit into this whole mess? I wish he'd just talk to me instead of forcing me through all this. I groaned loudly and lied back down on my bed, hoping to just fall asleep. My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket, so I grabbed it and saw a new text from Butters.

BS: I JUST REMEMBERED. IN SIXTH AND SEVENTH GRADE CARTMAN DID A LOT OF DRUGS AND STUFF

No way.

KB: REALLY?!

BS: YEA. HE'D STEAL IT FROM HIS MOM AND COME TO SCHOOL ALL SORTS OF MESSED UP

So, Cartman did drugs too now? What next?

BS: DOES THAT HELP?

KB: A LITTLE BIT. THANK YOU

BS: NO PROB KYLE. GOOD LUCK WITH HELPING HIM :)

I wonder what kind of drugs he did. Of course Cartman would do drugs. Now I need to figure out where that fits in too. I'm seriously thinking of just giving up because this is all so overly complex and there's just too much to unpack with this guy. The worst part is that he doesn't talk about it with anybody. Well, except people he'd barely met I guess. I'm still pissed off that he'd rather tell everything to someones he just met than someone who actually deserves to know. I wouldn't call it jealousy necessarily, I would call it more of a confused angry feeling. Even if I was jealous, it's not because I want him to only talk about it with me, I just would rather he talk with someone he knows better, ya know?

Why am I trying so hard to prove this point? It's not that big of a deal.

I have a big feeling I'm not gonna get a lot of sleep tonight.

What do you know, I was right. I lied in my bed for hours just staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. My whole body churned and I waited for something to happen that would ease the feeling. Nothing happened. So, I continued to think about Cartman. He just lives rent free in my mind now. What's he doing right now? Is he asleep? Plotting? Thinking? I got this strong urge to see him. Would he be mad if I went to his house in the middle of the night? He's done it before to me, so I guess this can just be me returning the favor right? Doesn't matter the reason, I should be able to see a friend whenever. Maybe I'll catch him doing something that explains everything. Or at least the finer details.

I slipped into my shoes and threw my orange coat over my shoulders to leave. I was still in my pajama clothes, but I see no point in changing. I quietly snuck past my parents room and down the stairs to Cartman's house. When I was out the door, the cold night air hit my skin and made me wish I, at least, changed pants. I guess it's too late now. Besides, he's only a house away. While going to Cartman's house, I spotted something on Stan's roof. It was Randy, in his underwear. He was spouting nonsense, and I entertained the thought of waking up his family and telling them, but I assume he does shit like this all the time and I let it be. Finally, I arrived at Cartman's house. When I looked up at his bedroom window, I saw his silhouette moving around. He's still awake? I knocked on the door, and waited for him to answer. The uneasy feeling increased by 4 dozen when I heard his heavy footsteps come nearer. He answered with a painfully fake smile on his face, and I knew something was wrong. I can't even explain how I knew, I just did.

"Hello Kahl. What are you doing here?" His tone was laced with his usual manipulative charm and he folded his hands. You'd think he'd know that shit doesn't work on me by now.

"Don't fuck with me asshole. What were you doing?" My expression was serious, but he kept his false smile and calmly replied,

"I was doing homework."

"We have the same classes. I did the homework with you in Study hall."

He had the face of a deer caught in headlights for 1/5s of a second, then it turned neutral. He was trying to keep me out, and I needed to find out why. I pushed past him with all the force I could muster and quickly climbed up his steps. He followed after me, trying to stop me in my tracks, but I moved too fast for him and made it to his bedroom door before he even got to the top stair step. When I entered his room I swiftly scanned everything, then I saw it.

A black handgun on his nightstand.

I moved over and grabbed it. The metal on the barrel was ice cold, but the handle was warm. I traced the ridges on the grip and could feel the sweat from his palms on it. He'd been holding the gun for a while, probably contemplating whether or not to use it. This would've definitely killed him, no way around it. It looked like a Glock 21, though I can't be sure. I'm not a big gun fanatic. There's also an open box of bullets that I overlooked. It's pretty much full, only a few bullets taken out. Most likely in this very gun.

Cartman finally came into the room, breathing heavily from the hike up. His breath came to a pause though when he saw I had the gun in my hand. I think he felt he needed to say something, but it's obvious what he was intending to do with this.

"Look Kahl, it's not what you think. I heard a noise and-"

"Why are you trying so hard?!"

I looked up at him, awaiting my response. He attempted to hold a glare, but he failed and I caught tears trailing down his face before hurriedly covering up and leaving the room. I hadn't realised how loud I yelled until after the fact, and felt the shame hit me like a brick wall. The loud slam of the bathroom door brought me back to reality and I dropped the gun to follow Cartman.

"Cartman wait! I'm sorry." I jiggled the bathroom handle. Locked. The door didn't feel heavy, so he must've been sitting on the toilet or something. I heard his quiet cries, and jiggled the door handle more.

"Cartman, please open the door.". He didn't respond. A loud thump, probably from dropping to the floor, followed by more silence. I also dropped to the floor, leaning against the bathroom door, praying that Cartman opens it so we can talk.

Then, he screamed. Loud and piercing. It was a bit muffled, but I heard it and sprung up. He continued to scream. I didn't hesitate and busted the door open, breaking the frame in the process. Cartman was balled up on the floor. He wasn't hurt physically, but from the way he screamed, he's probably in a lot of emotional pain. I'm not sure what to do here, so I come closer, hoping to comfort him the best I can. When I was about a foot away, he suddenly turned and his fist collided with the wall, making a hole and cutting his knuckle open. He choked out another sob and firmly grabbed his bleeding fist. I froze. I don't know what to do here. There's a chance that he might hit me if I try hugging him. Nonetheless, I came closer to him, reaching out to grab his injury. He allowed it and I wiped the blood from the wound with my thumb.

"It's...it's gonna be okay Cartman."

I tugged Cartman's hand a little more towards me, and pretty soon, he was in my arms. His heart was beating really fast. Almost like the wings of a hummingbird. And he was shaking. I felt a wet spot form on my shoulder, but I didn't care. He can silently cry all he wants. I'm here now.

"Can you please talk to me?"

A small sniffle, then Cartman started. His voice shook as he spoke, and he sounded so wounded I barely recognised it was his voice talking.

"You felt bad for me, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you invited me to the party. You only did it because you felt bad for me."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because...because the whole time you, and your family, kept talking to me as if you were walking on eggshells. As if I were a ticking time bomb, and one wrong move and I'll blow. Leaving the blood on your hands. I made everyone uncomfortable. I never should've came."

He couldn't be more wrong.

"Actually, the reason I invited you was because I knew you'd make my weekend more fun. Don't tell my mom, but I fucking hate family parties like that. They're all really long, boring and overall uninteresting. I'd rather bathe in a tub of hot dog slobber than hang out in a room full of 5-13 year olds every holiday. This Yom Kippur was the best one I've been to in years, and I have you to thank for that. I never once felt bad for you Cartman."

I felt his cheeks rise against mine, and couldn't help but follow suit.

"I know, I'm awesome."

I laughed. I'm glad Cartman's still got his charm, even during times like this.

"I'll stay the night, and we can talk tomorrow. That sound okay?"

He nodded, and we parted. The dry tear stains on his cheeks made my heart ache, but I maintained a smile for him, and we went to his room. I made sure to place the handgun in my jacket pocket before getting into bed. Since we're already used to sleeping in a bed together, thanks to having shared a room all weekend, we decided to just sleep in his bed together like normal. The room was cold, but next to Cartman I was warm. He's literally a portable heater. Everytime I'm this close to him, I feel so warm. Both deep inside and on the outside. His face was also incredibly close to mine. Inches apart. Just like last time.

Why do I feel so weird when I'm so close to him? Something about his gentle features like his thin eyebrows and soft jawline make my insides writhe and I can't explain why. Unless...

.

.

.

Holy fucking shit! Do I have a crush on Cartman?

I totally do! I fucking like Cartman! Holy shit! Holy fuck!

All this time. Feeling uncontrollably happy whenever he's around. Thinking about him nonstop. Trying to convince myself that my happy feelings are all a scheme done by him. It's all been because I have a massive fucking crush on him. All this time, I was trying to excuse all these feelings, but god,

It's so fucking bad.

I'm literally head over heels for him.

Jesus christ on a fucking pogo stick! Fuck my life sideways with a paddle! God dammit, how could I have been so fucking blind? Why'd I have to realise this now? When I'm right fucking next to him, and I have to be all fucking night. There's no way I'm gonna get a good night's rest tonight. Or for the rest of my life for that matter. How did I fall for him?

I looked back at Cartman, and my eyes focused on the dry tear trails. I quietly sighed.

I can't dwell on this now. Cartman needs me. He needs me to help him get better, and I can't do that if I have all this shit going on. For now, I should just push my feelings for him aside and focus on what's in front of me.

Cartman. Eric Cartman.

He's too important right now.

Hello Children!

Ah yes, finally! The realisation! Kyle finally got it! Sorry that the wait was longer than usual. My impulsive ass got myself into trouble again and I got my computer and phone taken for the weekend. I know, I'm such a rebel. Well, that no longer matters to me since I have my shit back. All I learned from the situation is how much I fucking hate kids. I may technically be a kid myself, but I grew up fast. When did you start making your own dinners hm? I started at age 8.

By the way, I'm turning 14 on November 24! I just learned this, and since I haven't celebrated my birthday in 8 years, I figured I should. I'm gonna watch Tangled (Tangled came out on Nov. 24 2010), eat a bunch of junk and maybe even call some friends. Yay!

As always, comments, criticism, reviews, or anything else, leave them below!

~Craigory