A/N~ Wow, I hope you didn't think I just left you hanging, guys, I'm just...I'm sorry. And I really wish I had a better excuse, but- I started school. School. It freaking SUCKS! I have so much homework, it's just been interfering with my writing time. That's a horrible excuse. But now, I have one less thing off my goddamn back. Hey, this lasted longer than I thought it would- thats good, right? Right. And now, I present, the final chapter. It probably isn't as epic as I would've liked it...but...oh well.
Hey, a HUGE thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, shared, or even taken a GLANCE at this story. I'm just..SO HAPPY I can take a sigh of relief that this is over. And if you've completely forgot about this story, because again, I can't update for shit, then I still appreciate your reviews and time you've spent reading this, when you could've been WATCHING South Park! Please review, and feedback is greatly appreciated! I LOVE YOU ALL, MON AMOURS! ENJOY! ~M:D
My stomach seemed as though it had sunken to the tips of my toes, and somehow disappeared altogether. It felt like my breath had been sucked from my throat with a straw, still lodged inside my mouth, refusing to let me speak. I sat in silent awe staring breathlessly at the awoken boy, peeking tiredly through slipping lids. It was only until he parted his lips, probably about to curse me out of his sight, did I fall aimlessly to the floor.
I brought a trembling hand to my mouth, still ajar in shock, and snapped my teeth against the salty skin to somewhat hide the sobs. The tears blurred my view of the bed, where Eric was laying ever so quietly, not speaking. Slowly, not wanting to scream, I unclamped my teeth from my digits, allowing a joyous yelp to commence. As the tears slid down my cheeks, once more coating them in a salty wash, Eric pulled himself far enough over the bar of the bed so he could glare down at me. "What the fuck?" He hissed, almost in question. "Where the hell am I?" I grinned at the familiar stern voice, laughing happily. Eric on the other hand just eyed the room, making his way to his own form.
"Eric," I mumbled through tears. "Y…your awake-"
"Damn straight I'm awake, Jew, now tell me where the fuck I am!" He snapped, leaning further over the bar.
"You're…you're in a hospital," I said slowly, making my way from the floor. "H-Hells Pass, actually." He brought his gaze back to mine, burrowing his brow.
"Why?" He almost whispered, obviously confused. I opened my mouth once more to speak, to try and answer his more than obvious question, when the door quietly squeaked open.
"Hey dude, I brought you some breakfa-" Stan's smile dropped instantly, and was replaced with a look of concern when he saw the awake Eric, leaning towards my figure. "C...Cartman-"
"Don't call me that, asswipe." Eric said darkly, lightly tugging on one of the wires connected to his arm. "Now seriously, who the fuck put you douche bags up to this-"
"Oh poopsie!" Liane squealed, pushing her way past Stan. "My sweetie pie is awake! Oh doctor! Doctor, he's awake!" She burst into tears, running to the bedside, tackling her son into an inescapable hug.
"What the fuck is this?" Eric shouts, tearing from his mother's grasp. Stan looks at me hopelessly, shooting me a questioning look. I shake my head sadly, bringing my attention back to the entangled pair. "Mom, get off me!"
"Poopsie, I-I never thought I'd see you again, oh my sweet baby boy-"
"Mom!" Eric practically screams, shoving her away from his body. Looking at the entering doctors with a look of horror glued to his unmoving face, he bursts into tears. "Mom…why…why are you crying?" His shaky words are cut off by a nurse who hushes him, pressing a finger to his lips.
"Now, lets try and stay calm, okay? We don't want you to further hurt yourself." The man in light green scrubs soothes, gripping his Eric's shoulder.
"Further hurt myself…" Eric strains, watching in terror as the thin blanket is pulled from his body, causing him to scream. "Get the fuck away from me! Get away! I swear I'll fucking strangle you if you don't get off me-"
"Sweetie, the nice man is just doing his job." Liane says soothingly, kissing Eric's sweaty forehead. "Just lay back and rest, okay?" Eric breaks into more tears, not even slightly trying to hide it.
"Why am I in a hospital, mom?" He whimpers, snatching his mother back into his arms, entangling his fingers in her violet fleece. "Please you guys, j-just stop whatever the fuck you're doing, its not funny-"
"Sweetie," Liane says through hiccups. "You're going to be okay, alright? Just lay back-"
"I will not fucking lay back! Tell me why the fuck I'm in a butt fucking hospital before I kill you all!" Eric howls, leaping forward, causing him to slide to the floor.
"I'm going to need to sedate you for your own safety if you can't calm down-" The nurse kneels by the weeping brunette, nodding. "So if I can have you just get back into the bed-"No! Fuck you!" Eric kicks the nurse in the jaw, so instinctively I lunge towards him, followed by Stan, who dropped the egg salad sandwich long ago.
"That's it, I'm going to sedate you-"
"Eric, stop!" I press my palms against his shoulders keeping him glued to the floor, causing him to yelp in pain. "Please, stop, just…you have to calm down." Our eyes connect, and instead of the angry, hate filled eyes I always assume to expect, their filled with nothing but fear.
"Kyle," He whimpers, trying to pull me against his chest. I straighten my arms, knowing that his ribs might still be broken.
"Stop, Eric." I instruct sadly, allowing Stan to kneel beside us.
"Kyle, maybe we should go." Stan suggests, tugging on my sleeve.
"No! You assholes can't just leave me here!" Eric squeaks. "You have to take me with you! I don't want to fucking be here!" Stan stares at him mortified.
"Dude, you have to stay here-"
"No, I fucking don't! Why the hell am I here anyway?" He retorts, slamming his palm into Stan's face. "Is this supposed to be some sick prank? Some really, stupid prank that you thought might be funny? Did you think it would be funny to watch me cry, because I'm so fucking scared? Explain to me exactly what the fuck this is-"
"Don't you remember?" I ask quietly, allowing him to claw at my jacket, attempting to find something to do with his shaking hands. "Don't you remember why you're here?" He lets another sob escape his throat.
"I don't know, Jew, or else I would've probably kicked whoever's ass is responsible a long time ago." Eric murmurs against my neck, sniffing.
"Than I guess when your better, you can kick mine." I try to chuckle, but it only causes tears to fall. He stares at me, confused.
"Kyle…you fucking did this?" I nod, allowing Stan to lead me from the room by my sleeve like a lost puppy. "Get back here Jew! Tell me what the fuck you did-"
"Eric," I start, stopping just before the door. "I put you in a coma for almost three months." There's nothing but silence, aside from Liane's weeping. "How could you not remember that?" Stan bites his lip, letting a tear make its way between his lips.
Slowly, he grabs my hand and leads me from the room. Slowly, we walk down the hallway, listening to the screams following our trail. And slowly, I realize that he might never remember. The thing is, even after I had dreaded the moment when he would despise me for all of eternity after he awoke and never had, or even thought to hate me for even a second, I almost wanted him to. Just to know I shouldn't feel this happy. Just to know it was really him.
We sat in silence as my dad drove us back to the apartment, where we has been housing Stan since he had decided he needed to spend every living second by my side to make sure I didn't do anything stupid. He and Stan made idle conversation, talking about what seemed like the least important things. It was stupid. They acted like everything was alright, even though there were still probably police camped out in my room. They would leave, as soon as we told them, but they would come running back. Back as soon as Eric sues me for everything I have- which is nothing, and I'm sent to prison. I rummage through the dashboard compartment and pull out a pair of earphones, sticking each one harshly into my ear. The rising beat rushed through my mind, as I quickly snapped my eyes shut, trying to lose myself in the music. I'm about to lose my mind~ I hear Stan laugh casually past the overly loud music, which I'm trying desperately to focus on. You've been gone for so long, I''m running out of time~ I peek one eye open, and see my dad jab his thumb against the radio tuner, flooding the car with an obnoxious tune. I need a doctor, call me a doctor~ I shoot upright, spinning the volume dile on the radio down.
"Kyle, what the heck?"
I need a doctor, doctor~ It hurts. I claw at my eyes, feeling the tears flood past my closed lids. To bring me back to life~
"Stop! Stop the car!" I screech, slamming my fist against the window, taking the music with it. My dad eyes me, now panting.
"Kyle, whats the matter?" He rests a hand on my knee, which I quickly swat away seeing the car is only speeding up.
"I swear to fucking god dad stop the damn car!" I fly forward, hitting my cheek against the dashboard. Horns explode around our mini van, causing my dad to instinctively honk back. As soon as I sink back into my seat, expecting a rainstorm of curses and yelling, I only hear one thing. And it's me. Crying. Stan rustles around in the back before wrapping his bare arms past the seat, and around my neck. I lean back, and rest my head against his arms.
"Can you please take us back to the hospital?" Stan asks quietly, keeping his arms in place. There's no response, but soon enough the car roars to life, and we swerve back into traffic.
In the time it takes us to make it back into the now nearly empty parking lot, Stan's arms never left my neck. When we get out of the car, my dad stays put. "Will it take long?" He questions. Stan shakes his head.
"I don't think so." He smiles lightheartedly, taking my hand in his, locking our fingers together. I don't smile, and it's only until I fall into pathetic sobs does Stan fall to the concrete walkway holding me in his arms. "Kyle, everything's okay now. It really is, dude." I press my face tighter into the warmth of his chest, sniffing. A hand entangles itself into my frizzy locks, bringing me tighter to his chest.
"Stan?" I wipe my eyes against the soft red wool scarf Stan had wrapped around his neck before leaving the car, and peek past his shoulder. In the middle of the parking lot, hidden in a white blanket of snow, stood Wendy heavily bundled in purple, with her rosy burette held tightly in her hands. "K-Kyle..."
"Wendy? What are you doing here?" Stan questions, picking our bodies off the ground. "It's early." Looking down at me, knees held tightly to my chest, something of a grin tugged at her lips.
"He's awake, isn't he." Wendy said assumingly. I nod, and just as quickly, she falls to my height and wraps her arms around me, getting a somewhat irritated look of disapproval shed from Stan. I sniff once more, and realize she just started crying herself. "Thank god."
"Oh Jesus Christ," Stan whines, tapping his foot irritably. "Save it for fatass, guys. I'm sure he'll love the attention." Wendy laughs quietly into my jacket, and picks herself up only to stand by Stan, who quickly pecks her on the cheek.
"Your right, he will." Wendy giggles, as Stan swipes his sleeve against her flawless cheek, removing the tears. "Would you guys come with me to see him? I don't think he would like it if I came and bugged him without you."
"We were actually just-" Stan looses himself mid sentence, his gaze drifting past me to the doors of the hospital. Wendy follows his stare, and when she is met with whatever he's so content on watching, she clamps her dainty hands over her mouth quietly crying to herself. I dare not turn around, as I hear the glass doors open, pushing aside the pile of snow that had accumulated there. The sound of a wheelchair sliding through the snow grows louder, inching closer to me at a painstakingly slow pace. When it comes to a hault, I sigh in relief, and make my way from the snow. When I turn to see what had captured their gaze, I almost faint when its sitting right next to me.
Eric looks at me sleepily, then to Stan and Wendy. Clearly sedated, I take a step back. Liane pushes the chair a few more inches, until looking over her shoulder. "I checked Eric out just a little while ago, so there's no need to come here anymore," She states sternly, not daring to blink. "Which is a good thing, because I could see how down this place was getting you kids."
"I didn't mind coming." I answer, mainly to myself. Liane drops her hands from the handles on the chair, only to clasp them together.
"Kyle, dear, please don't lie to me." I eye her, somewhat ashamed. "Sweetie, do you think you could help me get my little Eric into the car?" Liane asks Wendy, who quickly nods.
"Oh yes, of course!" She replies happily, following Liane, now wearing a heavy black coat with jeans and black heels to match. As I watch them walk into the distance, the car probably across the road, Stan tugs on my hair.
"Dude, get up." I do as told, and quickly fall into his arms, burrying my face and my shame against his chest once more. "Kyle, stop." Quickly bringing my face up to see his expression, I was somewhat relieved to see his worried face. "You need to go and make this right, because I swear to fucking Christ, Kyle, I will kill you if you don't stop crying all the damn time." Stan says somewhat seriously, cracking a smile.
"I will, dude." I assure, turning to follow the lines in the white sheet. "But don't leave me alone." Chuckling, he takes my arm.
"Never." As we walk towards the car, Wendy is leaning into the car, bent over Eric's limp body. Shuddering at his state, I close my eyes.
"Dear, could you put the wheelchair in the trunk, please?" Stan digs his elbow into my side, making me realize the question was directed at me.
"Oh, uh...yeah, sorry." I stutter hopelssly, tredging forward. Liane's soft smile is met with my scared shitless frown, which she quickly notices. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention-" She sets a hand on my shoulder, motioning towards the backseat.
"I'm going to go and pick up some K.F.C for when my poopsie-kins wakes up, you're welcome to join us if you like." I stare at her, baffled, and quickly raise my hands.
"No, I couldn't, I-"
"Liane?" Wendy asks, finally clicking the seatbelt into place. "Would you mind if Stan came also? We can walk home after dinner,"
"Oh certainly dear, that's fine. But I'll drive you two, it's much too cold to be outside." Wendy smiles lightly.
"Well, thank you, I hope we're not being a burdan."
"Of course not! Dinner can be my way of thanking you all for visiting while he was here, how does that sound?" Liane questions, turning to me and Stan.
"That sounds...great." I mutter, hiding my gaze into her shadow. "T-thank you."
Liane nods, and I climb over the sleeping brunette with extreme cation. Wendy follows, and than Stan. When the door slides shut, so do my eyes. As I slip once more into the unconsciousness I slowly began to fear, I can just barley make out the soft honey eyes staring back at me.
The bliss of floating on nothingness surrounds my figure, utterly weightless. I open my eyes, and am met with a shower of warmth. It wraps itself around my body, encasing me in a sweet serenity. Slowly but surely, I move along the imaginary clouds, a soft pink, and take in the smell of fresh tulips. The patches of navy blue flowers painted among the skies are all in full bloom, swaying in the breeze that seems to carry me along. As I close my eyes once again, taking in the bliss that was much too rare, I can't help but feel worried. Peeling my lids back with ease, already lost in sleep, my gaze wanders through the meadows of color trying to find the subtle discomfort. It appears, out of nowhere, and draws me to it like a magnet. At first, there's nothing. It was just the feeling, the knowledge that something isn't right. Then, out of nowhere, I was met with the same sleepy honey colored eyes I fell asleep to. Stumbling back, I was caught in a pillow of pink fluff. I just stare at the other boy, not knowing what to do. His imperfections had vanished, and were replaced with nothing less sheer of absolute perfection. I reach toward him, letting my fingers dance along his body. There was no heart monitor to interrupt my thoughts, just the calming voice of the wind. When my hand reached for his face, he captured my hand in his own. Saying nothing, he pulled me from my cloud cushion and wrapped his arms around me. Instead of the boney, weak arms I remembered, they were strong, and held me against his chest without much effort. "Why do you do this?" I ask, my voice echoing in the nothingness. "Why do you do this to me?" He breaks his grasp, pulling my shoulders so he can melt me with his stare.
"Do what, Jew?" He almost sings, easing his hold.
"Why do you torment me? This is the one place I can escape from my guilt, but than you always bring it back, even if I hate you for it." I spit, sounding more like a demon than a harmonious angel.
"But you don't hate me for it." Eric points out, bringing me back into a hug. "And you never will." With those words, every sense of discomfort seems to float away, flying with the scent of tulips in the breeze.
"You make me want to hate you, even if I can't." He blinks, casting our gaze apart.
"You've hated me for other things though, Jew." He points out, gripping me tighter.
"I have. I seriously fucking hate your guts most of the time, actually."
"But have you ever wondered if I hate you back?" Eric asks, floating from my hold. Only when his warmth is gone, does something seem to hit me. Looking up at his floating form resting sleepily on a light pink cloud, I sigh.
"You should." His chocolatly brown eyes cast down on me once more, as he tilts his head so it falls slightly beneath the cloud. "You can't even remember how you got like this." I say sadly, dropping my head.
"I do." I snap my head back up to the floating figure. "We were fighting, right? I mean, that's how we always do things. We fight, even if it's about something stupid. And you put me into a coma. I might not remember, but I believe you. You might hate me, but you would never lie to me." He says, allowing the cloud to carry him back down to me.
"So when you said you only did those things that pissed me off, they were only to get...my attention?" I ask wearily, the brunette quickly closing the gap between us.
"Even if you don't believe it, I would never lie to you, Jew." Eric assures, reaching out a meaty hand. When I reach out to meet his hand, his presence fades, turning into dust and floating away with the wind. Once again, I'm left alone, floating in my clouds of bliss.
I moan, stretching my aching body across the seat. When my eyes peel open, I realize I'm the only one in the car. Looking out the window, I see we're parked just outside of the Cartman residence, the anti- hippy posters covering most of the door making that more than clear. Slowly sinking back into the seat, letting my lids fall once again, I decide that I'll be woken back up if I'm needed. Instead of falling back into bliss, I'm met with the sound of munching in the front seat. Shooting up, the leather seat squeaks, causing the noises to come to a halt. A pair of hazel eyes peers back to where I'm sitting, rolling sarcastically when they make sense of the horrified look plastered to my face. He grunts, and with an effort, climbs to my seat, where I now realize a pillow and multiple blankets had been piled on top of me. "Chicken?" He offers, holding up the near empty tub of skinless chicken breasts.
"N-no, thanks." I make a face, which he chuckles at.
"I saved you one with the skin, retard." He drawls, shoving a napkin against my chest. "The skins the best part, didn't you know that?" I nod.
"You would never lie to me."
I guess fate has its own way of doing things, even if you get fucked over in the process. It doesn't matter what you think, though, because somehow, things will get better. Even if your overwhelmed with the guilt that consumes you, fate might just be in the process of screwing you over. Time will pass. Things will get better, even if it hurts to have them work themselves out. The pain is part of fates fucked up plan, though. Even if all your problems seem to be working themselves out, and your guilt is slowly transforming into a rekindling friendship, there's always someone who comes along to eat your chicken skin. But at least you have a napkin.