Kyle's POV
The following day, Cartman bums around with me as I call the mental health center to make my appointment. The soonest available time is a month away, which is shitty and okay at the same time. At least it gives me time to emotionally prepare myself. I make another appointment for my family clinician, which is next week and a hell of a lot sooner.
"You better not chicken out," Cartman says when I hang up.
"I won't," I promise him.
"Want me to drive you there?" he offers. "I'll pick you up, too."
"Hah, sure..." I say, forcing a weary smile. "Thanks."
"Don't stress out about it," he says. "These appointments are hardly as scary as they seem."
I wrinkly my nose and shrug, relenting. "I'll try not to think about it until it's actually happening."
"How's the house-selling-situation going?" I ask, not really knowing how to word it.
He shrugs. "It's going. Basically, it's in the realtor's hands now. She calls me whenever someone shows interest. In the meantime, I have moved all of my mom's shit into a storage unit. I don't know what I'm going to do with. Probably donate it."
"That's good," I say. "As long as you save room on the passenger's side, I'll help you pack up and unload everything."
The brunet shoots me a skeptical look. "Kahl, I don't think you realize just how much shit there is. My myum really loved to shop."
"It doesn't matter," I say. "Maybe I don't work out like you do, but I want to help. And besides, when I really want to, I can keep up." I giggle and nudge my counterpart with my elbow. He rolls his eyes, getting my dirty joke.
"All right, then," he relents. "Deal."
I give him a satisfied grin. "So, what's on the plate for today?"
"Well, whatever you want," he says.
I wrinkle my nose. "I'm bad at deciding stuff..."
"Then this'll be good practise," he insists.
I scoff at that and bite my lip, thinking to myself. I don't know what I want to do, though. I kind of just want to get drunk and screw around, but I don't think Cartman would like the sound of that.
I sit there on the couch, arms crossed, thinking of ideas for things we can do today.
"Maybe we ca-"
Before I know it, my sentence is muffled when Cartman's lips are pressed on mine. While I'm pleasantly surprised, I respond quickly and open my mouth so that our tongues can dance. I feel his arms wrap around me strongly, as he pulls me closer to him. He lies down on his back while I lay on top of him.
"I mean," I start. "We can do this, too."
He smiles briefly and then we reconnect. I want to just go all the way already, but I know he wants to take his sweet damn time so I know that he's not going to run off after I let him stick it to me.
"Cartman?" I say his name when we part.
"Say my first name."
"Eric?"
"Yeah," he says. "I like the way it sounds when you say it."
"What now?" I ask.
"What do you want to happen?" he answers my question with another question.
"Um…" I pause, feeling self-conscious because I've never really had to say it like this before. It makes me feel a bit shy and young, though I'm neither. "What do I WANT to happen?" I ask the question again, making sure that he really wants to ask me that. He nods his head. "I want us to make love."
He looks at me, slightly embarrassed, but I can tell he's not surprised. He leans over, kisses my forehead lightly, and says, "Contain yourself, Kahl." He gets up and walks to the kitchen.
"What the literal fuck, dude?!" I lament. "You wanted me to honest, right?"
"Which you are being, which I appreciate," he says as he pours himself a glass of water.
I sigh, feeling sorry for myself. "Look Cartman. I don't mean to be pushy and to pressure you, but when's it going to happen?!"
The brunet shrugs, carrying his glass of water when he sits back down on the couch next to me. "Why, it'll happen when you least expect it, Kahl."
I cross my arms. "I hate you."
"No you don't," he smiles as he pokes my side.
"You're such a tease, and you know it!"
He chuckles at that, not bothering to disagree. I half expect him to call me a slut or something, but he doesn't. I guess I should expect more from him by now.
He said he wouldn't hurt me, right? He's been trying hard to convince me of it. I guess I still don't completely believe it and he probably senses that which is why we haven't made the next move yet.
It makes me begin to feel kind of sad and rejected.
"It'll happen," Cartman says in a more serious tone. "It'll happen when it's meant to. I don't want you to force or rush it. I'm not going to be going anywhere –"
"But you are!" I cut in. "How long are you going to be here, Cartman? You can't stay forever. You have work…"
He shrugs his shoulders, not giving it much thought. "I can commute. I can visit. We can work around that, Kahl."
"I don't want to," I mumble moodily.
"What DO you want?" he retorts. "You think by sleeping with me that you'll get to keep me?"
I open my mouth to protest, but then I stop… because honestly I have no idea what I'm thinking. "I don't know if by us closing the deal would make me feel like I'd get to keep you or not, but..." I struggle, feeling emotional. "I would like to keep you, if I could." I stare at my feet.
Cartman's expression softens and he tilts his head. "Awww, Kahl!" he muses and he steps forward, enveloping me in his arms.
"I'm being serious, Eric!" I use his first name, letting him know I mean business.
"I'm being serious, too," he says, pulling apart for a minute. "You DO have me," he squeezes my shoulders for emphasis.
"Not if you're leaving here soon," I say, concerned.
"Denver's not that far from here," he retorts.
"It's far enough," I say.
"Kyle," he starts, saying my name correctly. "Why don't we do something different today? Maybe go on a cheesy-ass date, like going to the mall?"
I like the idea of that, but I still want answers. "Don't try to change the conversation,"
"I'm not trying to change the conversation, Jew, but what's the point in worrying?"
"What if I'm just some fling or something?" I ask. "What if you're just using me so you don't feel so alone, here in South Park?"
I IMMEDIATELY regret saying that. Of course I am thinking about his mother's death, but I don't want him to get offended.
He lets out a sigh and stares at me. When I think he's going to yell or say something cruel back, he doesn't. He just says, "That's the fear talking."
I stare down, ashamed and embarrassed and guilty and angry all at the same time. "Yes…" I feel myself starting to get unpleasantly emotional. "I just… I've never felt this way about anyone before…" As I say it I can feel tears welling up. God, why the fuck am I crying? I'm such a damn child.
Cartman is staring at me with this piteous look. "Christ, Kyle… I'm not going anywhere. I promise. If you didn't mean anything to me, I would have fucked you and chucked you by now."
"I know," I mumble, pressing the palms of my hands to my eyes and trying to will myself to calm down.
He rubs my shoulder and says, "Come on, let's do something fun. You look like you fucking need it."
He's probably right about that.
We drive to the South Park mall and luckily find a parking spot not too terribly far out.
"Sooo, what are we shopping for again, exactly?" I ask, curious.
The brunet shrugs as he unfastens his seat belt. "I don't know. Clothes. Gay shit I guess."
I chuckle. "I mean, I have to admit that this does seem kinda gay,"
"Kinda gay?" he asks. We both step out of his car and close our doors, almost at the exact same time. "This is more like EXTREMELY gay, Kahl." He smiles.
I walk over to his side, shoving my hands in my orange parka. It's really fucking cold. "That doesn't bother you?"
"I really don't care what people think anymore, Jew," he retorts, shoving his hands deep in his pockets too. I notice how quickly he is walking. He's just as cold as I am, too.
We hurry into the building and I glance around. "It looks the same," I murmur. "I haven't been here in years."
"Why not?" Cartman asks.
I shrug. "Just… never really found reason to."
"You need to get out more, Kahl," he insists firmly. "It's not healthy to stay behind closed doors all the time."
"It's easier that way," I argue weakly.
Cartman looks thoughtful. "Well, hopefully that will change soon. You'll be getting your evaluation in a month."
I frown at that. "Yeah…"
"Are you nervous?" he asks.
I shrug yet again. "I don't know. Not really. Not yet. I probably will be soon, though… when the date is closer."
"Don't be nervous," he says softly. "They're just going to ask you some shit."
"Still," I mumble, "I don't really like to talk about a lot of stuff. It's hard to talk about things that I do to myself…"
He throws an arm around me as we walk through the mall. "I know, Kahl…"
I blush, feeling awkward walking with his left arm around me. I immediately look at the faces of other mall goers, and they are looking. A younger girl looks and smiles, amused. A group of younger high school guys look and look the other way, not really showing any opinion. An elderly woman scrunches her face, looking disgusted.
Maybe we ARE disgusting. At least, I am.
"Eric..." I say quietly, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "People are looking at us..."
"So?" he asks, turning his face to look at me. "Does that bother you?"
"Nah, not really." I take a deep breath, relaxing. Why do I feel a bit nervous and overwhelmed? Because I'm being "out" about my sexuality? Or is because Cartman is actually acting proud to be with me?
Maybe I'm not used to having someone actually want to be seen with me out in public.
"Why don't we go in here, Kahl?" Cartman pulls me from my thoughts as we stop at The Buckle.
"Ughh, the sales people can be so pushy..." I moan.
"Yeah they can be, but it's not hard to make them back off. Besides, I like their stuff."
I crack a smile. "Okay."
We head into the store and take a look around. Cartman removes his arm from my shoulder and instead takes my hand, dragging me around the store. I let him, glancing around.
Cartman continues to take me from store to store. We mostly window shop, but he picks up a few things for himself and he even buys me a sweater.
"You didn't have to do that," I insist.
He waves a dismissive hand. "Whatever, Kahl. Let someone to something nice for you for a change."
He takes my hand again as we leave yet another store.
"Want to grab a bite?" he asks.
"Sure," I say and we head to the food court.
We decide to eat at KFC. Typical. I don't complain, though. I grab a smoothie and while Cartman orders and then we meet at a table.
The brunet looks around returns with his tray from KFC. He takes a thigh out of the bucket and takes a huge bite. While he's chewing, he locks eyes with me and smiles.
"What?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Nothing. I just like to look at you. You already know this, Kahl." He drinks his coke.
I chuckle. "Yeah, I know," I admit. "You know, it's been nice."
"What's been nice?" he asks.
"Going to the mall. With you." I can't help but smile. Now I'm being cheesy! "Thank you," I say, truly feeling appreciative.
"The pleasure's all mine, Kahl." He takes another bite. "Is that all you're having?" he asks, nodding to my smoothie.
"Yeah." I answer. He gives me a concerned look. "I'm just not that hungry,"
.
.
After eating and a little bit more shopping, we head to the supermarket to pick up groceries. It's a pretty random way to end the day, but I like it. It feels domestic and casual and… right. It feels like this is the way my life should be.
We walk past the alcohol aisle and my eyes linger and I feel really tempted. I can't help but recall the last time Cartman saw me here. Alcohol was all I was buying. I probably looked so fucking stupid.
This time is different.
Cartman buys protein powder, vitamins, spinach, mixed vegetables and berries. I buy some yoghurt and orange juice.
It's funny seeing Cartman shop for such healthy things.
So much has changed since we were kids; I am continuously being surprised.
Once we get back in his car, I stretch my arms after I fasten my seat-belt. I forgot how tiring shopping can be!
"So," Cartman says as he revs up the engine, "we've been really productive today, doncha think Kahl?"
"Too productive," I yawn. "I am really tired,"
He turns his head quickly, "Going to call it a day already, Jew?"
I scoff. "Please! It's only 4:30."
"Well, the way you're acting over here makes me feel like I'm driving Miss Daisy," he chuckles.
I sit up briefly to punch his right shoulder, hard.
"Gahdammit, that HURTS, Kahl!"
I laugh, feeling avenged.
"You want me to have a fucking accident?!"
"I want you to stop giving me shit," I reply honestly.
"But it's too easy," he says as he slows down to a red light at an intersection. Once he comes to a complete stop, his right hand reaches over and he pinches my cheek. "You're just so gahdamn cute!" He exclaims in a childish voice, like he's talking to Mr. Kitty.
I roll my eyes at the somewhat backhanded compliment. "You're dumb," I say lightly.
He chortles at that. "You love it."
Yeah, maybe I do.
I have fun with him. Maybe that's something important – something I've been missing out on with all my past relationships. Fun. Sure, there was sex… but there wasn't much else and whatever there was, it definitely wasn't fun. It was often me being a total leech.
I'm trying not to leech off of Cartman. I think he'd call me on it if I did. I don't want to be such a parasite when it comes to the people in my life, but it's hard and I get clingy. Why? I don't even know. It's something I know I need to work on.
I don't think I'll scare him away, but I still can't be sure. I can get crazy at times.
"So, where to next?" he asks.
"Wherever," I say carelessly.
He rolls his eyes at the expected answer. "Pick, Jew."
I notice the sun is starting to set and I can't help but let the very first idea that comes to my mind to run out of my mouth before filtering.
"Stark's Pond!" I say, excited. "...I mean, maybe?" I add, trying to sound more nonchalant. I feel my face turn a deep red color.
Cartman's eyes don't move from the road while he's driving, but a smile slowly crosses his lips. To my surprise, he doesn't say anything.
"I mean, it's just a thought." I add. "We can go back to our apartments if you want."
He glances over at me, still smiling. "No, no, Jew; Stark's Pond it is."
I feel as though I'm turning an ever deeper shade of red with just him glancing at me, grinning from ear-to-ear like that.
I don't really know what to say. I guess I'm waiting for some teasing, homophobic and/or racist remark from him. But to my surprise, he doesn't say anything. I notice that he's following through, taking all the familiar turns to head over to Stark's Pond.
Why is my heart beating so fast?
The nostalgia is enough for me to OD and I can't stifle the smile that spreads across my face.
"I haven't been here in a while," I say. "I love this place."
"Yeah, it's a nice spot," Cartman agrees.
I can't help but recall the amount of high school flings I've had here. It makes me roll my eyes. I remember Stan telling me about his first kiss with Wendy happening here. Kenny got to second base with Bebe Stevens here.
I guess we all have some stories like that. It was a well-known place for hook-ups when we were all younger. Plus, lots of parties and celebrations were held here and in the summer we'd all camp out.
I guess part of me misses those days.
They're long gone now.
Soon enough, we park and Cartman glances at me. "Wanna get out and walk around a bit?"
I smile again. "Sure."
I get out and close the down behind myself as I mosey on up to Cartman, who got out of the car faster than me. Once I'm standing in front of him, he turns and we commence to stroll by the pond. He's closer to the pond than I am.
It's getting chillier, but everything looks amazing. With the sun setting, the sky is a beautiful orange and pink mixture. The sun is lightly reflected on the pond as well. Almost for a moment, I forget how cold it is, but then I am reminded with a brisk breeze of cold air. I zip up my orange parka and shove my hands in my pockets. I feel Cartman nudge me, and I quickly look at him.
"Say something Jew," he says. "You're quiet, for once."
"What do you mean 'for once'?" I ask, still walking by his side.
He chuckles. "I'm just fucking with you Jew, relax."
"Oh." I say, feeling slightly embarrassed for jumping to conclusions.
"Lemme ask you something, Kahl," the brunet asks, his eyes on the ground, watching each step.
"O...Okay,"
"Did you have fun today?"
I'm somewhat surprised. Honestly, I was expecting him to ask a very deep and personal question, much like the majority of the questions he has asked me since he's been back in town.
"Well, yeah," I answer.
"Yeah?" he chimes. "Did you enjoy the mall?"
I shrug. "I mean, I guess. Ever since I've been working from home, I just stopped shopping for clothes. I don't really need new clothes like I used to when I worked in an office, you know?"
He nods. "I get it. Sometimes I get tired of spending so much money on clothes. But it's embarrassing when you wear the same shirt and tie twice a month. My myum taught me how to dress better than that," he smiles, locking eyes with me for a moment.
Oh my god.
I'll be damned if his smile isn't perfection personified. His messy light-brown hair moves a little through the cold wind. His cheeks and nose are a little pink from the cold. His eyes are soft and brown, full of life, compassion, and wisdom. The pond's sunlight reflected makes the perfect background for this gorgeous man, especially while we are walking. Wow, listen to me. I'm saying Cartman's eyes are full of life, compassion, and wisdom?! Maybe I really am losing my mind.
"You miss her?" I ask after gaining back my composure.
"All the damn time," he admits. "Honestly, I'm pretty sad over it. I mean, I know I probably hide it well, but it sucks."
"Yeah," I murmur. "I understand… Well, a little bit."
"Yeah," he echoes me. "It sucks even worse because she was finally piecing her life back together. She was on the right track. She was doing everything right. She was… I was proud of her. I was happy for her because she actually seemed like she was genuinely happy, at peace with where she was in her life. Then it all got ripped away from her because of some drunk piece of shit."
I feel myself frown. "Yeah…"
"That's life, though, I guess," he adds with finality. "It is what it is."
"True," I murmur.
He lets out a sigh and then turns to me again. "Anyway, enough with the dreary stuff."
I force a smile, though I feel a little bittersweet. It makes me feel sorry for being a damn alcoholic.
"You're doing well," Cartman says out of the blue, almost like he's reading my mind.
I let out a sharp laugh. "Really…" I whisper. "Sometimes I'm not so sure."
"You took the first step in seeking help," he says. "Also, you haven't been drinking much lately. Not that I've seen."
"Yeah..." I trail off, my mind full of thoughts.
"You miss it, don't you?" he asks.
I'm caught off guard. The very first thing I want to say is no, but I know that that would be a lie.
"Yeah, sometimes," I admit. "I'm just glad that I get to talk to a professional about it soon."
"And if this counsellor is kinda lame, you know that you don't have to keep seeing them, right?" he asks.
I nod my head.
I hear him take a deep breath while we continue to stroll alongside the pond. "I had to do that for a while until I found the right shrink for me."
I turn my head. "You- you see a counsellor?" I ask him, surprised. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because it was a long time ago. And I never told anyone. It was several years ago, about a year after I moved to Denver," he explains. "My job was getting kinda shitty and people were getting fired left and right. A year went by and no raise, no promotion, nada. So I just assumed I was next. It was really stressful,"
"I see," I respond. Suddenly things are starting to come together. Is that part of the equation as to why Eric Cartman is such a decent human being now? Because he sought help?
"I was struggling with the whole 'sexuality' thing. I knew I liked women AND men, and I so I needed to talk to someone who would keep it confidential. Also... I felt guilty about leaving South Park," he explains. His voice softens at the end of the sentence. I knew why he felt bad about leaving his home town.
"You can't beat yourself up about that Eric," I say softly. "People graduate. They get degrees. Most of the time, they have to move closer to the city in order to use their degree." While I know what I'm explaining is true, it makes me realize how fortunate I have been with my career in that I never had to move far to work. "And besides," I add. "Your mother understood. She wanted you to follow your dream, Eric. Even if that meant moving further away from her."
He smiles faintly and then shrugs his shoulders lightly. "Yeah. Deep down, I know that. Still, it's kind of rough to deal with it. I wish I could have spoken to her about some of this shit, y'know? I feel like there is so much I never got to tell her. I feel like there are parts of me she never got to know… the better parts. I was such a piece of shit to her as a kid…"
"All kids are like that," I try to reason, though it's weak. Eric Cartman was a vile kid. He wasn't just mean, he was scary and it bordered on total insanity at times.
He snorts back a laugh.
"Do you like who you are now?" I ask him out of the blue.
"Yeah," he admits. "Yeah, I do. I feel like I'm a better person. I feel like I'm easier for others to be around, but I also feel more content with myself. Being a little asshole took a toll on my health." He pauses and chuckles.
I laugh along with him and say, "Well, that's what matters, right? You need to like yourself and be happy with who you are."
He nods his head and then asks, "Think you'll ever be happy in your own skin?"
"I don't know," I confess. It's a foreign possibility.
"I think you will be," he says confidently.
"You do?" I ask.
"I do. That is, of course, if you want to be."
I nod, just looking at my feet as we continue to move alongside the pond.
"Learning how to be a better person was no walk in the park," he continues. "It took work. But I think it was in college when I realized I was tired of not having many friends."
"Why do you think it was college that made you realize that?" I ask.
"Well you know how petty and shitty high school is," he responds. "But college- college was the first time I witnessed people our age actually having fun and feeling free."
"And you didn't feel that way?" I ask, a little surprised.
"Not really," he answers. "On the campus, in the classroom, I was around surrounded by people. But I felt just as alone as I did when I was in 3rd grade
I nod my head. "You feel less alone now?" I pry, hoping he does.
"Yeah," he says with a faint smile.
"I don't," I admit. "I mean, I look at my life as a whole and I feel so fucking miserable. I don't know what to do with myself half the time."
"You're on the right track," Cartman offers. "Especially as of late. You're doing well. You're making good choices."
"I hope so," I respond with a little laugh.
I always feel so unsure. Cartman makes me feel better, truly, but I don't want to depend on him. I don't want to become a burdensome parasite. I want to be content on my own and then I don't have to leech off of him. I want him to know I can take care of myself… but right now I can't and that's an undeniable fact. However, someday I hope that fact will change. I hope I won't be so damn wary every time I step outside by myself. I don't want to keep self-sabotaging myself. I don't want to keep doing things to hurt myself. I want that feeling of freedom Cartman mentioned. I can't really fathom it, but it sounds pretty nice.
Funny thing is, I used to think I was free. Maybe that's why I slept around. Maybe that's why I drank too much. I thought that my personal autonomy allowed me to completely screw myself over and do whatever I pleased. Looking back on it now, I doubt I even knew what the fuck the word "freedom" even meant. Maybe I still don't, but it sounds nice. Maybe with it comes a sense of happiness.
I don't even notice myself as I stop walking, I suppose I'm deep in thought.
Cartman keeps walking forward for a few steps before he realizes that I'm no longer by his side. He turns around, and while I can feel his big brown eyes staring at me, I can't seem to lift my eyes up from the ground.
"Cartman..." I trail off. I hear him and see him get closer. "I know this has been a really stressful time for you," I state. "But it means a lot that you took so much time out for me," I suddenly feel ridden with guilt.
"It was nothing," he says nonchalantly.
"I guess I didn't realize how selfish I was being," I breathe. "Sorry."
I feel his strong arms wrap around me, and my cold face is met with the warmth of his chest.
"You don't need to keep thanking me and apologizing," he says. "I know you were going through a rough time, too. Still are. And that's fine."
"Yeah," I whisper.
I begin to think about Ike again. I start feeling like I should call him, talk to him, tell him stupid shit like how my day is going. Maybe I'll do it later. I'll tell him I'm getting help. I'll ask him how he's doing. I'll ask him how he feels… because I truly want to know. I want him to be okay. I don't want him to keep suffering. He deserves so much better than all the shit life handed him. It makes me feel so fucking angry when I think about all the shit he had to go through at such a young age.
It isn't fair. It isn't right or just. I know that no one said life would be that way, but it shouldn't be this way, either. Little children shouldn't have to suffer.
I feel myself start to get a little emotional, so I decide to cut the thoughts short before they can pervade to a point that makes me crazy.
When we pull apart, Cartman offers me a small smile and puts an arm around me as we continue to walk.
He's warm. It feels nice.
I breathe with my nose buried in his neck and I smell his sweet scent. He smells like a mixture of body wash, cologne, and his own unique and indescribable scent. He always smells amazing.
After a few more steps, he stops walking and he stands in front of me, hands on my shoulders. I close my eyes as he got closer.
Despite the cold, his lips are sweet and soft just like they have been every time before we kissed. Cartman pulls away and tilts my face up towards his with his hand under my chin. He looks at me, as if analyzing me but also conveying what he himself is filling, and he looks happy. I'm not sure why, but he really does. His eyes are full of sheer bliss.
Our lips quickly meet again, but this time more fervently and quicker. It only feels natural when both of our mouths open and our tongues dance, with his arms wrapping around me tighter. I return the favor, already feeling somewhat breathless. I know I'm not breathless from the kissing, but from something else. I guess it's whatever emotion that I am feeling, whatever it is that I feel almost overwhelmed with. I think what it is is that my heart is full of gratitude... For once.
Part of me realizes how hard I'm falling for him, but the other part of me fears it.
I don't wanna mess this up because I actually feel like I've got something good going for me. For now, he keeps me grounded. I hope someday soon that I'll be able to keep him grounded, too.