Disclaimer: Wanting to own something and actually owning it are two different things.
Author's Note: No reviews last time…I feel so unloved! Is it really that bad?
Cartman's POV
You only live once. That's what Kyle told me, this afternoon…er, yesterday afternoon? I hate early morning hours, times confuse me. But back to what he said…I don't get it. I mean, I get the saying, I just don't get how it fits into that. So, what, I'm gonna regret not watching an episode of Terrance and Philip for the rest of my life? I don't think so. Or, maybe he just said it to confuse me. That would make a lot of sense! I don't think I have a right to say that at the moment, though. It's past midnight and I am laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Lame. Nothing is supposed to make sense at midnight except for falling asleep. Maybe that's what I should do now. Fall asleep, and then everything will be clear in the morning.
Kyle's POV
I had a nice day today…or yesterday, I guess it is now. I love being able to hang out with everyone, just like in the old days. It was kind of creepy to catch Cartman looking at me like that, though. Not that I would ever give him the satisfaction of knowing he's successfully freaked me out. I'm at Stan's house right now; I didn't feel like going home so I just decided to stay here. I doubt my parents will even notice. He's got this way of looking at me lately, it reeks of I know something you don't know. Whether or not that's true, I'm not sure. But I'll find out eventually, I always do. And now it's nine in the morning and I have officially been up for 24 hours. There's something about still being awake at five in the morning that makes it impossible to sleep at all…I think it's the light. If it's light outside, I just can't sleep, and especially not if it shines through the window even one little bit.
I think Stan's waking up, at any rate he sounds like he's getting out of bed soon. "Good morning," I say to him, smiling as I see a frown cross his face. "What's so good about it?" "We're not dead." Stan looks at me, glaring. "Goddamnit, Kyle, you jinxed it! One of us will be dead within the hour…it had better be you." I laugh softly, but say nothing. According to his own rules, now he'll be the one that dies. I'm not sure if he realizes that, though, and I'm not about to tell him. I'll hold it in reserve for later. I know I have to go home soon, and I'm a little annoyed about that. I just want to stay here and hang out with Stan all day. But I promised Ike I would stay with him while our parents were out at some rally thing. He really hates being alone, I'm not really sure why. Just for today, I want him to deal with being alone. But he's my little brother, and I know that no matter how much I want him to "just deal with it" I'm going to help him because I care about him. I sigh. Might as well go play one more video game with Stan before I have to leave.
Cartman's POV
Man, just my luck. When I finally fall asleep, I do it with my neck twisted at a weird angle. Weak. Now I'm gonna have a sore neck all day. "All day, do you hear me!?" That door was in my way, I had every right to yell at it. I just need to vent my frustration at someone. It's not actually that my neck is bothering me that much. It's more that I'm still kind of pissed about yesterday, and now I just have an excuse to act mad about it. Ugh. Even thinking about thinking about it makes me cringe. I am almost positive that Kyle saw me do the ritual thing yesterday. See, I thought everything would become clear in the morning, but it didn't. It became clear maybe an hour before I woke up, when I was dreaming. Actually, I hope it was just a dream. But it was so…vivid. I pause, lost in a flashback of my dream:
A boy stands on a hill holding a burning sheet of paper. He glances down at his other hand, and shudders…even the sight of it must pain him. He grabs hold of something with that hand, it doesn't look like it's hurting him as much anymore. He lifts his eyes to study the house that's in front of him, and his determined expression changes to one of terror as he spies something. The boy looking out the window draws back. He wasn't supposed to be caught…
I hate dreams. I hate that I never see it out my own eyes, I hate feeling like a disembodied spirit. I could feel all the emotions my dream self felt, I could feel myself hold that paper and I could feel the sear of pain as I became aware of my hand. But I wasn't myself, I was watching myself watch…him. Kyle. The boy who, in my dream, saw it all. But something tells me that wasn't just a dream. Part of me feels as if it was real…part of me wants to know if it was.
A few minutes later, I find myself standing on Kyle's doorstep. For once, I haven't planned out everything I'm going to say. I really should have, because I think I'm going to regret it…my instinct is usually right. "Cartman?" Kyle just asked me as he opened the door, this disbelieving look appearing on his face. "Who else? Let me in," I say, pushing past him. I think he just realized he never closed his mouth, because he's shutting it now and looking pretty sheepish. "Um…uh…do you want something to drink?" he finally asks. He's just remembered his manners, or he just doesn't want to be a lousy host. Either way, I decline. I'm not staying too long. "Hi, Ike!" If I was going to have a brother, I would want one like Ike. He's pretty loyal. Not that I would ever say that to him or Kyle, but they can't read my mind. Ike looks surprised. I guess because I'm normally telling him he pollutes the air with Canada. "Hey, um, I need to talk to Kyle alone so um…scram?" Yeah, that last word doesn't fit the sentence. But he gives me a look, half of which I know to be him understanding why I was being nice to him, and half saying he's afraid Kyle is going to get raped, or something. That's a very tempting idea, but I don't fancy testing it out with witnesses.
"What do you want, fat-ass?" Inwardly I wince, noticing that the good-natured brat has gone upstairs. On the outside, I show nothing. "Now, now, Kyle," I chide him. "That's no way to treat a guest. I didn't have to come over here, you know." "Yeah, and you did anyway when you weren't welcome, so either tell me what you want or get out." Ouch. Someone has sand in his vagina today. "Yes, well, Kyle, would you care to tell me how you noticed…this?" I whip out my hand and shove it in his face. Oh, what a gruesome sight. I didn't wash the blood off it this morning on purpose. "I told you, oh tub of lard, that I just happened to catch sight of it and wondered what happened." "Your concern is touching, Kyle. When did you happen to catch sight of it? Could it be…when I was standing behind your house?" His face just blanched, I think my guess was right. "You were…you were…behind my house?" His voice is all wheezy, obviously he's faking. He knew I was there. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I just say that? How careless of me." But it's not careless, and it's all I can do to keep from laughing. "…what were you doing?" he asks finally. He must have decided to forfeit round one. "Nothing, Kyle. It was my routine procedure for remembering homework. You see, if I have no notes lying around I'm forced to have everything memorized, so I watch as my notes go up in flames as I commit them to memory." I like that excuse, and I just made it up too. This stroke of genius, however, angers him. "Get out, you fat fuck!" he screams in my face. Now really, I'm surprised at him. If he was that curious, he would keep questioning me. Guess he doesn't care. I think he's come to the conclusion that whatever I was doing, it won't affect his life. How wrong he is. I didn't realize I've just been sitting here the whole time while I was thinking that. "Well?" he glares impatiently at me. "I'm leaving, Jew," I announce, proving to him that I am still capable of insulting those who annoy me. "Goodbye, Eric," he says as he slams the door in my face.
Kyle's POV
I slam the door in his face, and slump against the wall. Did I just call him "Eric" again? I've been doing that a lot lately, and I bet he's still there, staring at the door thinking "what the fuck?" But I'm not going to look, even if I want to. Ike has appeared at the top of the stairs, and he's smiling. "He was lying about studying, you know." "I know, Ike. I know." Now he's got the same expression on his face as Stan. This is seriously annoying. "Ike, do you want to tell me what you know that I don't? I bet that would save a lot of time." He's laughing now, and rattling off some stuff that he's been reading in a history book lately. According to him, the book is "funny". According to me, there is no such thing. I take school seriously because I want to have a good life, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it a lot or anything crazy like that. "Never mind, Ike. Let's just watch TV." He smiles at me, like he's just won some great victory. For all I know, he has. I just roll my eyes though, and head back to the couch. "So, what's up with you and…Eric?" he asks me slyly. I glare at him in response. "Cartman is just being a retarded asshole. He came here demanding an answer that he already had and then he fed me that shit about schoolwork." "Well I knew that already. I was here, after all. Why did he ask how you noticed his hand? And actually, what's up with his hand? I didn't see it, obviously." "He cut his hand – himself, I think, judging by the way he was acting. I noticed it yesterday and somehow he figured out I had been spying on him…completely unintentional of course, don't look at me like that Ike!" Ike is just grinning now, he looks like he's trying to hold in laughter. "Fine…I give up." And now we're watching TV yet again, although I still get the feeling I've completely missed something.
Cartman's POV
I like when he calls me "Eric". It makes me feel as if he knows the real me, instead of just the person I show to the world. But I know he doesn't, really. Butters is the only one who even has an idea of who I am. I know that it was just a slip of the tongue, although one I wish would happen more often. I wish I could learn to show more emotion when talking to Kyle. I used to, when I was younger, only it was anger, all anger. Then it mellowed out into annoyance, which I suppose he was okay with. And then, I gave up all my emotions. Maybe I just haven't learned how to show emotions, again. I feel as if I can speak so freely when I'm around him, yet I can't bring myself to do it. I'm crying out with my mind, Kyle, can't you hear me? Can't you set me free? Of course he can, he just won't. I'm still standing in front of his house, leaning against the side of it. I can hear him arguing with his brother, but I can't make out what they're saying. I bet Ike knows all my secrets, just by seeing me for those few seconds. He's incredibly smart, sometimes annoyingly so. I really hope he doesn't tell Kyle. On second thought, maybe it would be better if he did. That way I would know for sure whether it was any good to hope or not. Butters says that hope keeps you alive. He says that if you don't have a single hope in the world, then you're as good as dead. He wouldn't let me lose my hope, and I don't want to let him down so I won't now either. But I honestly see no point to hoping. It could break your heart and bring you lower than anyone thought possible, but at times it can make you feel amazing, like nothing will ever go wrong again. Both feelings are so misleading.
Speaking of Butters, here he comes. He's running pretty fast, hm. It's not too unusual for him, actually. "Butters." I finally pull myself away from the side of the house. "What's wrong?" If it was anyone else, I probably wouldn't bother asking, but Butters would have cared if it was me. "Well, I don't know actually." Okay, that deserves an odd look. "You…don't know?" "That's right…just got scared by something, I guess." I sigh. This is so classic Butters. "Hey, isn't this Kyle's house?" Butters finally looks up and notices that he didn't reach my part of the neighborhood yet. Butters knows about my slight – okay, not so slight – obsession with Kyle. "What happened?" he directs to me. I sigh. "Oh, nothing. I just messed everything up again, like always, and I think his brother knows." Butters frowns a bit, and reaches out to give me a hug. I hug him back, smiling because no matter what happens at least I have a friend. "It's okay, Eric, it doesn't matter who finds out. Just, whatever happens, don't give up hope." There's the Butters I know. "I won't Butters…I won't."
Author's Note: This was pretty much a space filler chapter, so sorry. It'll get better, I promise. My thoughts have just been kind of scattered with the realization I need to volunteer for 60 hours total in the next two weeks…maybe updates will be slower because of that. Not really sure yet. Review this time, please?