Author's Note: Here's where things start to get interesting. ;D
Because I Love You
Chapter Three: Angel of Music
Wendy let out a long, exasperated sigh. She was still holding the tube of luscious red lipstick to her lips, and she went ahead and started applying it, deciding that she would simply ignore the other person in the room, as she was in no mood whatsoever to talk to him right now.
There was a shuffling noise coming from the ceiling. She could hear his pounding footsteps drawing closer. 'Fucking son of a bitch!' she thought as she re-capped the lipstick and carelessly chucked it at the vanity in an act of frustration. It hit against the mirror and immediately rolled right off the vanity, landing near her feet. She placed her hands on top of the smooth, marble surface of the vanity, a dark look forming on her face as she mentally told herself to stay calm.
Suddenly, there was a huge crash, one that practically shook the ground beneath her. She didn't bother turning around, though. She didn't move at all. She wasn't startled in the slightest bit by the thunderous sound. In these past several months, she had grown used to him making ridiculous entrances like that. Apparently he had never truly gotten over his stupid 'Coon' phase. She stood perfectly still as she continued gazing at herself in the mirror. She started angrily curling her fingers, wishing so badly that she had the strength to claw the surface of this goddamn marble vanity.
She could see his dark, looming figure from the reflection in the mirror as he slowly stood up, muttering swear words to himself and rubbing his shoulder. He was wearing a long, black coat, one that he always wore, but as to why he did, she had no idea. Or even cared, for that matter. She maintained her stance, her eyes narrowing when he finally turned around and locked eyes with her through the mirror.
He narrowed his eyes as well, and the fire in both his eyes and hers seemed to send an invisible spark through the air.
"I asked you a question, ho," he said, his voice extremely low yet dangerously powerful, causing Wendy to cringe noticeably. Her curled fingers tightened into fists.
"I heard you," she said through clenched teeth.
He smirked, the blazing twinkle in his eyes lighting up even more. He started walking leisurely toward her then, the tension between them building up with each step he took. He stopped once he reached her, standing so closely behind her now that she could feel him breathing down her neck. He slowly reached up and placed one of his large, strong hands on top of her thin shoulder. The second he did, she felt her entire body go completely limp, her shoulders sinking slightly and her fingers unclenching on their own accord. He noticed it and smirked even wider, for he was fully aware of his power over her. They both knew he was the one in control here, and more importantly, they both knew that Wendy absolutely couldn't stand it.
She closed her eyes, releasing a faint whimper as she felt his other hand stealthily move up her back, past her shoulder, past her neck, until it reached her ear. His thick fingers slipped into her silky black hair, running slowly through her smooth locks as he leaned in as close as he possibly could. His breath, hot and heavy, sent a shiver down her spine as he put his lips near her ear and whispered to her in his deep voice, "You know that wasn't part of our deal, Wendy."
She shuddered violently as he said her name, a shaky breath of air escaping her lips at the same time. She hated him so much. Hated him for finding her. Hated him for bringing her here. Hated him for saying her name in that dark, threatening... sexy voice of his.
But, mostly, she hated him for having such a powerful effect over her. It drove her crazy.
He drove her crazy.
"I hate you so much, Cartman," she whispered back weakly.
He scoffed. "Like I care," he said as he roughly grabbed her jaw and turned her head sharply to face him, his dark brown eyes meeting her lighter ones. Before she could say anything else, he kissed her. She felt a wave of nausea hit her stomach – and a little bit of something else, too, though she tried to ignore that tingly, fluttering feeling – as his lips moved rhythmically up and down against hers in a rough, heated kiss.
And she gave in. Just like always. She gave in because she didn't have a fucking choice.
So she broke the kiss for only a moment, her lips tearing apart from his with a loud smack of suction as she spun around on her heels, only to smash her lips against his all over again. He kissed her back fiercely as she reached up to cup his face in her hands. His stubbly facial hair scratched against her chin and the palms of her hands as he pressed his lips deeper into hers. She nearly fell backwards when he did, but his arm tightly wrapping around her waist held her securely in place. She didn't even attempt to stop him when his large hand started running up her body and hungrily cupping one of her breasts. She also didn't try to stop him when his warm, wet tongue started pushing its way into her mouth, trying to pry open her lips and gain entrance. She reluctantly opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to slide inside. His tongue rolled around inside her mouth, and she couldn't fight the long moan that traveled up her throat and escaped her lips.
He suddenly pulled away from her, panting heavily. She removed her hands from his face, panting as well, trying to regain her breath. She felt a strong urge to step away from him then, but his arm linked around her waist made it impossible for her to move. She looked right at him, immediately noticing her red lipstick smudged all over his lips. He reached up and sloppily wiped it off with the back of his hand. He slowly smirked at her in that evil, seductive way of his.
"I thought I told you to call me 'Eric,' bitch," he said, still breathing hard, though it was gradually returning to a normal, steady pace.
Wendy gave him a sly look, her breathing calming down as well as she reached up to wipe his saliva off the corner of her mouth. "I'm not going to call you that, Cartman," she said, purposely emphasizing his name just to piss him off.
"And why not?" he asked in an almost mocking tone.
She seriously wanted to slap that goddamn arrogant smirk off his face. "Because," she replied, "I'd only call you by your first name if I had respect for you, which I don't, because you're a heartless prick." Before he had the chance to retaliate, she quickly added, "And stop calling me 'bitch.' I'm not your bitch, asshole."
Cartman tossed his head back and chuckled in the most vindictive way possible. He finally let go of Wendy's waist, his wild, messy brown hair falling across his eyes as he shook his head.
"Ah, but you are my bitch," he said, brushing his untamed hair out of his face – he desperately needed a fucking haircut, not that he would actually get one, but still. "Unless..." he started, the tone in his voice changing into his so-called contemplative one that she knew all too well, "you don't... want this awesome part in the ballet? 'Cause I can easily take it away from you, no problem. All I'd have to do is make one little call..."
Wendy leaned her back against the vanity. She started absentmindedly twisting a strand of her hair around her index finger, a nervous habit of hers that she had developed over the years. She briefly glanced up at the clock hanging above the door. It was already a quarter after eleven. She was supposed to be meeting up with Stan now...
She sighed, untwisting the strand of hair from her finger and letting it fall back into place. This was hopeless.
"Okay," she said in defeat. "You're right."
He grinned in that disgustingly conceited, yet undeniably sexy way again, and the second he did, Wendy felt her heartbeat suddenly speed up inside her chest. 'Fuck.'
"That's what I thought," he said suggestively, leaning in to give her one last powerful kiss on the lips. She didn't resist the kiss – she couldn't resist it, even if she wanted to. She didn't know what it was exactly that compelled her to close her eyes and kiss him back every single fucking time he kissed her like this, yet she somehow always found herself doing it. She wished more than anything that she could just figure out why the fuck she was – as much as she hated to admit it – so fucking attracted to this evil son of a bitch.
She could smell the sharp, rugged scent of his cologne as he kissed her. It was clouding her mind and making her feel dizzy, and she felt that familiar sickly warm feeling arise in her stomach again.
He pulled back sooner than she expected, but she was instantly struck with an overwhelming sensation of relief when he did. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't help but notice the look on Cartman's face. His eyes were half-lidded, and the smug grin on his face had softened a great deal. He almost looked... sheepish now...
'That's new.'
Her suspicions would've risen if the smile hadn't disappeared from his face so fucking quickly. It barely lasted more than a second before it was once again replaced with his usual slap-worthy, egotistical grin.
"All right," he said as he turned around and started heading towards a table near the door, "I have some stuff to take care of." He stopped and turned back around to face her. "I expect you to be here when I get back," he said as though it were a threat – which it was, but Wendy tried her best not to seem intimidated by it.
She folded her arms tightly over her chest, deciding to test him. "Or else what?" she asked mischievously, arching an eyebrow at him.
He was climbing on top of the small table now – he always used it in order to reach the vent in the ceiling. He stretched his arms upward, his fingers clutching securely onto the metal edge of the vent. He was just about to pull himself up when he stopped and looked at her, finally deciding to give her an answer.
"Oh," he said, his lips curving into a devious smirk. "I think you know."
And with that, he hoisted himself up into the vent as smoothly as he possibly could. It didn't work out too well, though, since his legs started dangling from the opening as he struggled to pull the rest of his body up.
Wendy put a hand over her mouth, trying her absolute hardest to stifle the giggle that was threatening to explode out of her.
"Ay, stop laughing, Wihndy!" Cartman shouted in his angry southern accent, his powerful voice echoing through the vent. This only caused Wendy to smile even wider, but she still somehow managed to hold herself back from laughing hysterically. It was just funny, because right now, he wasn't Eric Cartman, the manipulative asshole who blackmailed her into this whole fucked up situation. No, right now, he was just Cartman, some huge guy who was failing miserably at trying to squeeze himself into a vent.
She could hear him making grunting noises as he kicked his legs back and forth, slowly but surely wiggling the rest of his body into the vent. She waited silently, listening as he mumbled obscenities and shuffled around in the vent. The loud clank of his footsteps against the metal grew softer and softer until she didn't hear anything at all.
She let out a long sigh of relief. He was gone.
'Finally.'
She was free again. Temporarily, but still, she was free, and it felt fucking great. She turned and hastily reached for her small purple handbag on the vanity. She opened it up and looked inside to make sure she had everything she needed. 'Let's see...' she thought, mentally checking off each item as she found it in her purse, 'keys, wallet, cell phone, mirror, gum...'
She paused and looked up at herself in the mirror, immediately frowning when she saw that her lipstick was smudged all over her lips. 'Shit, where'd I put that lipstick?' Her eyes dropped to scan the vanity. Various cosmetics were messily sprawled out all over it, but the lipstick was nowhere to be found. She started moving some of the makeup items around, not even caring when things like her eye shadow or lip gloss fell to the floor. After spending a few seconds rearranging everything on the vanity, she was only successful in making everything even messier.
'Oh well,' she thought, deciding to give up. There was no point in trying to find it now anyway. She was already late as it was, and this was just wasting more time. She closed her bag and threw it over her shoulder, rushing out of her dressing room and grabbing her coat as she left.
"Shit, man, where the fuck is Stan?! I'm freezing my nuts off out here!"
Kenny and Kyle were standing outside the theater, waiting impatiently for Stan to come out. They hadn't seen him since the ballet had ended, and that was well over forty minutes ago. Kyle had tried calling Stan multiple times, but of course he wasn't answering his phone. The redhead brought his arms up now, crossing them over his body for warmth as he turned to face Kenny.
"Dude, I don't fucking know!" he shouted, his breath coming out in white puffs as it hit the cold air. "I called him like eight times!"
The blonde hugged himself as well, rubbing his hands briskly up and down his arms. "Well call him again, bitch!" he demanded.
Kyle raised his eyebrows. "Did you just call me a bitch?" he asked in disbelief.
"Would you just fucking call him, please?!" Kenny shouted. "My balls are seriously starting to freeze here, Kyle! It's only a matter of time before my dick freezes off, too! That can't happen to me, man! Unlike you, I actually use mine!"
The last comment earned him a solid punch in the shoulder from Kyle.
"What?!" Kenny asked. "It's true!"
Kyle opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped himself when he heard the muffled sound of his cell phone ringing in his coat pocket.
"Oh, finally!" Kenny cried in relief, assuming that it was Stan who was calling him. He watched in eagerness as Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
However, when Kyle looked at the screen, his face dropped. 'SHIT!' he screamed in his head.
It wasn't Stan.
Kenny instantly frowned, confused by the look on Kyle's face.
"What?" he asked. "Who is it?"
Kyle glanced back up at Kenny, his mouth half open and his eyes wide. He was frozen like that, not saying a word as his phone continued ringing in its annoyingly high-pitched ring tone.
"Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Kenny asked in genuine concern.
"I, uh..." Kyle said, his eyes dropping to look down at his phone again. "I have to take this, dude."
Kenny blinked. "But who is it?"
"I'll be right back," Kyle said, purposely avoiding the question.
"But-"
Kyle didn't wait to hear what Kenny was going to say as he started walking away from him as quickly as he could. He walked straight ahead and rounded the corner of the theater building, turning his head briefly just to make sure that Kenny wasn't following him. He wasn't. Thank God, because even though he knew that he was clearly going to have to come up with a believable explanation for all of this later, he was just glad that he didn't have to worry about Kenny spying on him right now.
Once he felt that he was far enough from Kenny, he stopped walking and opened his phone.
"Why the hell are you calling me, Cartman?" Kyle immediately asked, his voice hushed but stern.
There was silence on the other end at first, but Kyle listened intently, waiting for him to answer. A few seconds passed before he finally decided to speak up.
"I think you know why I'm calling you, Kahl," Cartman said calmly. A little too calmly.
Kyle froze, taken aback by the tone of his voice. "Dude, stop talking to me like that! It's fucking weird!"
"Pssh, well, fine!" Cartman said, sounding offended. "Just answer the goddamn question!"
"You didn't ask me a question, idiot!" Kyle snapped at him.
"Goddammit, Kahl, stop fucking calling me!"
"You called me!"
There was dead silence on the other line again as Cartman paused, backtracking their entire conversation. Kyle merely smiled to himself, imagining the look on Cartman's face. He wished he could see it. Cartman could be so fucking stupid at times, and Kyle loved calling him out on it. Sure, the two of them were friends now, but that didn't mean much had changed between them. They still argued and insulted each other all the time, because with their clashing personalities, that was just inevitable. They just did it in a much more civilized manner now.
Kyle suddenly heard a deep sigh on the other end.
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me Stan was coming, Kaaaahl? Hmm?" Cartman asked, dragging out Kyle's name for no reason at all, other than to piss him off. It worked, too, because he heard a low growl from Kyle.
"I don't have to tell you everything, fatass," he said, fully aware what Cartman was trying to do. He was trying to make him feel guilty, because they had a deal, and this was, technically, part of that deal, since it did involve Wendy... But fuck that. It was still true, technically. He didn't have to tell Cartman everything.
"Ay, stop calling me that, Jew!" Cartman screamed defensively, completely changing the subject all of a sudden. "I'm not fat anymore, remember?"
Kyle snorted. "Wow, dude, really? You think you're skinny?" he asked, seriously wanting to know.
"I didn't say that," Cartman clarified.
"So..." Kyle began, pausing to try and figure out what he meant by that. "You do know you're a fatass?"
Cartman let out his own growl of frustration. "No, Kahl!" he yelled. He paused and took a deep breath, exhaling it in a short huff. His next words came out so softly that Kyle was just barely able to hear him. "I've, uh..." he hesitated. "I've sorta been, you know... working out lately..."
Kyle blinked in surprise, falling silent for a moment. What the fuck? Did he just hear that correctly? Cartman actually wanting to work out and get in shape? Now that was extremely hard to believe. Cartman had always been, above everything else, a lazy son of a bitch, and despite the fact that he hated whenever other people called him fat, he never seemed to care about it enough to actually make an effort to lose the weight. Until now, apparently.
"Really?" Kyle asked incredulously.
Cartman rolled his eyes. "Yes, really, Kahl."
"You?" Kyle asked, still unconvinced.
"Goddammit, shut up, Jew!" Cartman shouted, now regretting that he even told him in the first place.
Kyle paused again.
"Damn, dude, you really got it bad for Wendy, don't you?" he asked. He didn't exactly need to ask it, though, since he already knew the answer.
Cartman's eyes widened, and it was at that moment, as his cheeks were quickly starting to heat up, that he suddenly felt so fucking glad that this was a phone conversation and that Kyle couldn't see him right now. Because if he could, he knew Kyle would just be ripping on him even more.
"Fuck you, Kahl," Cartman hissed, knowing that it didn't even make a difference what he said. He could practically hear Kyle smirking on the other end.
"Whatever, dude," Kyle said in an amused tone. "That's pretty fucking pathetic."
Cartman froze, just about to defend himself, but then an evil smirk slowly made its way to his lips as he thought of something even better. "Says the guy who's been in love with Bebe Stevens since, what, ninth grade?" he asked condescendingly.
Kyle was the one who froze now. "No, not since the ninth grade!" he spat, his cheeks immediately flushing in embarrassment.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Cartman said with mock innocence and sincerity. "Eighth grade?"
Kyle gritted his teeth together. He felt like he was about to explode any second now, but he held it all in. He didn't feel like fighting with Cartman about this. It was none of his business, anyway.
"All right, dude," he sighed, reaching up and putting a hand to his forehead. He was feeling really exhausted all of a sudden. He just wanted Cartman to shut up and leave him alone already. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to keep Stan away from Wendy," Cartman said simply.
'Oh, as if that's fucking possible...' Kyle thought.
"Fine," he agreed.
"Good."
Kyle heard a click on the other end, followed by the sweet, soothing sound of absolutely nothing. He exhaled a long breath as he started heading back towards the entrance of the theater.
'Fuck my life,' he thought bitterly, kicking at some snow on the sidewalk.
"So, um, how long are you in town?"
Wendy had met up with Stan in the theater lobby. They had run into Kenny on their way out of the theater, and at that point, Kenny was ready to scream at Stan for making him wait so fucking long in the freezing ass cold. He was going to tell Stan that if his dick had frozen and fallen off, it'd be all Stan's fault, but he stopped himself when he noticed Wendy standing there, and suddenly it all became clear to him. Instead of going off on Stan like he'd originally planned, Kenny had just nodded in understanding and playfully whispered to him, "Don't forget to use protection!" just as they were leaving.
The two of them were currently walking side by side, heading nowhere in particular. Their arms were at their sides, their hands slightly swinging back and forth as they walked. Their hands were practically swaying in unison, inching closer and closer together without either one of them realizing it. It was no wonder, then, that their hands eventually managed to bump into each other for a brief moment, their fingers brushing together in that split second. Stan looked down when it happened, his fingertips suddenly tickling with anticipation.
"Uh..." he said, trying not to sound distracted. "Three weeks."
Wendy glanced down as well, curious to see what Stan was staring so intently at. She smiled when she realized what it was, and, without stopping to think about it, she boldly reached for his hand, lacing her fingers into his. They looked up at each other, both smiling warmly. They continued walking like that, holding hands without saying anything for a while, but somehow, the silence between them didn't feel awkward. It just felt... nice.
"So," Wendy said after a while, "what's it like living in New York?"
"Oh, God, it's amazing," Stan said with new found excitement in his voice. "It's just filled with so much energy, and... oh my God, I can't even begin to describe it. But you'd love it, Wendy, seriously."
"I'm sure I would," she said. 'Anything would be better than living in this place and being fucking trapped like this.'
"Yeah, you should come visit sometime," Stan suggested, though it was really more of wishful thinking than an open invitation. He knew Wendy had her own life here. She was probably even busier than him, what with her starring role in the ballet and everything. He knew there was no way in hell that she'd be able to take time out of her hectic schedule to fly all the way out to New York to visit him. Still, it was worth a shot to at least mention it.
"Yeah, definitely. I would love that," Wendy said.
"Really?" Stan asked, in somewhat of a state of shock to hear her say that.
Wendy suddenly stopped walking then, right in the middle of the sidewalk. The action was so abrupt that Stan's arm was jerked backwards to where she'd just stopped. He quietly turned to face her, a confused look on his face.
"What?"
Her eyes were fixed to the ground. She had so much on her mind. She didn't even know where to start. She started absentmindedly biting her lower lip, getting lost in her thoughts.
"What?" Stan repeated. "What's wrong?"
Wendy finally looked up at him, her brown eyes locking onto his blazing blue ones. 'Oh, nothing,' she wanted to say, 'I just gave up my fucking freedom to a man whom I can't fucking stand in exchange for the lead role in a ballet, that's all.'
She diverted her gaze again, feeling absolutely disgusted with herself.
"Nothing, it's just..." she started, but her voice trailed off from there. She didn't even know what she was trying to say. Or what she even wanted to say, for that matter. She simply stood there, not saying anything at all and just staring down at the ground.
"Hey," Stan said softly, reaching out with his free hand and carefully placing his thumb and index finger underneath her jaw.
His warm hand tickled Wendy's skin and immediately sent a rush of adrenaline throughout her body. The touch was soft and gentle, nothing at all like Cartman's touch. Whenever he touched her, it was always so rough, so forced, like he was trying to prove his dominance over her through his manhandling. It was filled with aggression and hatred and passion all at the same time. She felt weak underneath his touch, her body always submitting to him without her having any control over it. This, though... this was entirely different. It was tender and comforting, and it almost made her feel secure, like she never wanted him to stop touching her like this. She felt a warm feeling inside her stomach as Stan slowly tilted her head up so that her eyes met his. She stared into his crystal clear blue eyes. They looked even brighter and icier against the black nighttime sky, but they were filled with nothing but warmth.
"Whatever's bothering you, you can tell me," Stan said, his finger stroking her chin lightly. "After all, we're friends, aren't we?"
Wendy felt her heart flutter in her chest, and in that moment, she seemed to completely forget about everything that was bothering her. She forgot about the rest of the world around her, focusing only on Stan and how kind he was treating her right now. She reached up and took his free hand into hers, entwining those fingers together as well.
"Why'd I ever break up with you, Stan?" she asked.
It was mostly a question for herself, though she never really did have a good enough answer for it. She had broken up with Stan after they had graduated high school, right around the time when they were just about to start college. She'd claimed that they'd both be better off, that they were going to meet lots of new people at their separate colleges, that they'd both be too busy with their own lives to see each other anymore and that, even if they did keep dating, things wouldn't really be the same between them, and overall, that it just wouldn't work out for them in the end.
They seemed to be good enough reasons at the time, because all of that stuff was true – for the most part, anyway. But right now... none of those reasons seemed good enough to her.
"I... I don't know," Stan said, completely caught off guard by the question.
Wendy looked him straight in the eyes, a suggestive smirk making its way across her face and a fiery twinkle sparking in her eyes. Stan blushed, his eyes widening and his breath shortening. He knew that look, all too well, and it was making him feel really fucking nervous.
Sure enough, without another word, Wendy reached up and kissed him.