Author's Note: Crazy shit goes down in this chapter! XD

Because I Love You

Chapter Seven: Masquerade

"You're ENGAGED?"

The proof was right there. On her left ring finger. A beautiful diamond ring with a sterling silver band. It sparkled brightly underneath the fluorescent lights of Wendy's dressing room. Wendy herself smiled sheepishly as she carefully tore her hand away from her best friend's grasp.

"Yes, I am," Wendy said, briefly glancing down at her ring before looking up at Bebe again. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

Bebe gave her one of those "are you KIDDING me?" looks, her blue eyes widening as she simply gaped at Wendy for a moment.

"Because this is huge, Wendy!" she said at last, her tone suggesting that Wendy should've already known that. "I mean, it's you and Stan! You two were the it couple back in high school!"

Wendy slowly folded her arms over her chest, finding herself growing slightly annoyed.

"And what's your point, exactly?" she asked in a somewhat suspicious tone.

Bebe blinked, the smile on her face instantly disappearing.

"Well, it's just," she started, absentmindedly clasping her hands together in a nervous manner. "I didn't actually think you guys would ever get back together...and so quickly, too."

Wendy's skepticism heightened even more with that comment.

"Sure, but...what's your point, Bebe?" she repeated in a stern voice.

The serious look on Bebe's face lasted for probably a split-second longer before she smiled again in that usual cheerful way of hers.

"My point is that I just can't believe you two are back together and getting married!" she said excitedly. "I'm just...I'm so happy for you, Wendy!"

Bebe quickly unclasped her hands and held them up, wrapping her arms loosely around Wendy's neck in a congratulatory hug. Wendy hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around her blonde friend as well.

"Thanks, Bebe," she said, although she didn't really mean it. For some reason, she just couldn't shake off the feeling that something didn't seem right about the way Bebe reacted just now. She sounded a little too surprised, as if she wasn't expecting it at all...almost as if she knew about...

"Hey, Bebe?" Wendy began, just as the two of them were slowly pulling away from one another. Bebe stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. She was just about to, when all of a sudden–

"WHERE ARE MY BALLERINAS?"

The damn frazzled director started screaming from backstage.

"FIVE MINUTES, PEOPLE! FIVE!"

Bebe let out a disappointed sigh.

"Damn, that director is so annoying," she commented with a frown. "I'd better go, Wendy. I'll talk to you after the show." She rushed out the door before Wendy had the chance to say anything else. Letting out a sigh of her own, Wendy walked over to the door and slowly closed it. She wasn't in the opening scene of the ballet, so she still had about fifteen minutes or so before she had to be on stage. She quietly made her way back to her vanity and plopped down on the seat in front of it, her back turned to the mirror. There was complete silence in her dressing room for all of thirty seconds as she simply sat there, unsure what to do with herself, until her eyes wandered down to gaze at her new engagement ring once again. She smiled, admiring the diamond. It really was a pretty ring...it must've cost Stan a fortune...

Suddenly, her peaceful solitude was rudely disrupted by a loud crashing sound. Wendy felt her heart jump as her head snapped up to look at her one and only intruder.

"Fucking balls," he cursed to himself as he stood up.

Wendy rolled her eyes and spun around in her seat to face the mirror now, although she didn't look at it, instead choosing to fix her eyes on her ring and nothing else. But before she even realized what was happening, two large hands forcefully grabbed her by the shoulders. Her body jumped from the sudden touch, but she kept her head bent down, refusing to lift it or make any sort of acknowledgment towards him.

"You little whore," she heard Cartman snarl in his usual dark, heartless tone. His hands tightened against her shoulders, but he didn't bother turning her around in her chair. He merely peered over her shoulder to catch a brief glance at what she was staring at so intently. "So...you're engaged now? Is that right?"

Wendy's stomach churned uncomfortably, but she made sure not to make her strong discomfort known to him by making any other abrupt movements. She continued sitting perfectly still, as well as staying perfectly silent. The dead silence lasted for only a few short seconds before Cartman finally lost his patience. In one sharp motion, he let go of Wendy's shoulders, giving her only a moment of relief before he latched onto both arms of her chair and spun it around so that she faced him. Wendy instinctively clamped her eyes shut, as though she were expecting to get punched in the face. But when nothing happened, she slowly opened her eyes, at last allowing herself to look at Cartman. He had the darkest, most sinister look on his face, his brown eyes blazing like fire.

"You think you can do this to me?" he asked in that same ominous tone, his eyes narrowing as he leaned his face closer to hers. "After everything I've done for you?"

But Wendy said absolutely nothing, instead narrowing her eyes as well.

"And what exactly did you do for me, Cartman?" she asked, trying her best to sound intimidating herself, when in reality, she was feeling downright terrified, not to mention sick to her stomach. She went on anyway. "Get me the lead role in this ballet? And for what? Just so you could sleep with me, right? Well, you got what you wanted, didn't you?"

The harsh look on Cartman's face slowly started to change then. His narrowed eyes began to widen, his pupils rapidly shaking back and forth, as though he were on the verge of tears.

"I..." he started, drawing back from her a bit. Whatever he was about to say, though, he didn't bother to finish. He simply let out a growl, his expression once again hardening into that same vicious look he had just moments ago. "Shut up, bitch! You don't know what the hell you're talking about! That wasn't the reason I got you the part in this fucking faggy ballet!"

Wendy raised an eyebrow, suddenly finding herself intrigued.

"Oh, really?" she asked skeptically. "So what was the reason then, huh?"

Cartman blinked, the angry look on his face disappearing yet again. He absentmindedly swallowed as he looked away from Wendy.

"Well, it's..." he started, his hands slipping off the arms of her chair and falling back down to his sides. He was silent for a little while after that, looking as though he were deep in thought. But then, he lowered his eyebrows, glaring right at Wendy again. "No, it's none of your fucking business, you nosy little bitch!" And just like that, he slapped his hands onto the arms of her chair yet again and leaned in dangerously close to her. "Now...take that fucking ring off."

This time, Wendy didn't flinch, or cower back in fear, or make any indication at all that she was scared, the way she normally would. Because, somehow, in that moment, Cartman didn't seem so intimidating anymore.

"No," she said simply.

Cartman continued staring at her darkly for a few more seconds, when finally, he let go of her chair and stood up straight.

"All right. Fine," he said in a surprisingly calm tone. He turned his back to her and started walking towards the vent. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped, turned around, and said in the most threatening tone he could muster: "You asked for it, whore."

And then he left.

And Wendy just sat there.

The ballet was in full swing, the ballerinas twirling and leaping and dancing on stage, all in perfect unison. Wendy's big scene was quickly approaching, and she could feel that familiar nervous yet exciting energy building up inside her stomach as she heard the music from inside her dressing room, anxiously awaiting her cue.

Meanwhile, somewhere above her, Cartman was busy crawling through the vents, his hands and knees pounding against the metal loudly as he made his way through the rather narrow tunnel.

"That little fucking skank," he muttered to himself angrily, his own voice echoing through the vent and sending an ugly chill down his spine. He ignored it and continued moving. "She thinks she can betray me like that and get away with it? Well, she's in for a real goddamn surprise..."

He clenched his hands tightly, his blunt fingertips digging fiercely into the cold metal of the vent. God, he'd literally never felt so fucking angry before in his entire life. No. It wasn't even anger. Because what he was feeling right now...this hot, blood-boiling, seething, deep and utter resentment...this feeling was something much more intense than your average, everyday anger. No, he was definitely beyond pissed. It wasn't just some petty jealousy, either, like the kind he used to feel when he was in high school and he saw Stan and Wendy holding hands in the hallway, or exchange a quick kiss hello or goodbye, or any other disgusting form of public display of affection they used to share. No, this feeling was definitely much, much worse. It wasn't based on jealousy at all. It was based on...

He suddenly froze, realizing out of nowhere that his eyes were starting to water. Hastily, he reached up with one hand and rubbed his eyes, smearing the tears on his skin before they had the chance to escape his eyes and roll down his cheeks. Fuck. Was he really fucking crying right now? Shit, what was he, a pussy?

No, Stan was the pussy. Not him. Stan was always the pussy of their group, always so nice and calm and laid back and wanting to save those stupid goddamn fucking whales and always trying to keep the peace amongst everyone. God, he was such a fucking pussy faggot...

...

...and yet, he was the one who was with Wendy again. He was the one who put that fucking diamond ring on her finger. He was always the one she...

...loved.

Cartman remained immobile for what felt like an eternity, staring absently at the silver floor of the vent, his heart sinking to the bottom of his chest as he realized the obvious truth: Wendy was engaged. She was fucking engaged. It wasn't just some stupid thing that he could just pretend wasn't happening. He knew that, in however many weeks or months or years, she was going to marry Stan, and they were going to eventually start a family together, and she was going to have a whole new happy, perfect life as Wendy Marsh.

He exhaled a long breath that he didn't even realize he was holding in, the sound carrying throughout the vent, making it sound a lot louder than it would normally sound. He immediately shuddered, realizing just how fucking creepy that was. And then, he let out a snarl, his hand falling back down and smacking onto the vent with a loud metallic slam as he continued crawling towards the center.

Hurt.

That was what he was feeling right now. He was feeling hurt. Like he'd just been stabbed in the heart by Wendy.

Fucking little bitch. She'd definitely be sorry that she ever made him feel this way. Everyone would be sorry...

He smirked when he finally reached what he'd been looking for: an opening in the vent. He stopped crawling and looked down at it, peering through the thin metal bars. He was right above the stage, just as he was expecting.

'Perfect,' he thought, his malicious grin widening.

The crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, just above the stage. It sparkled proudly in contrast with the rest of the dark theater, aside from the spotlights that lit up the dancers onstage. A single ballerina twirled gracefully center stage, her arms stretching above her head, and her hands clasping together. She slowly curtsied, her long torso curving downward in perfect timing with the slow, romantic music.

Sitting close to the stage in the orchestra seats were Stan, Kyle, and Kenny. The latter was looking bored and restless, shifting his body weight every once in a while on the armrests. He nudged Stan with his elbow.

"Dude, why the fuck are we watching this shit again?" he whispered in a not-so-quiet voice.

Stan shot him a warning glare, although he didn't say anything. Kenny rolled his eyes and let out a purposely loud sigh.

"This blooooooows-"

Stan cut him off by violently elbowing him right in the stomach. Kenny immediately clutched his stomach in pain, his body hunching forward in his seat.

"You'll...pay for that...asshole," he managed to choke out in a sort-of whisper.

Stan ignored him, though, instead keeping his attention on the ballet. More ballerinas were filing onto the stage, and just as the music came to a dramatic pause, that was when... it happened.

Out of nowhere, there was a loud sound, like the snapping of a wire. A bright spark went off in the air, causing a few people to jump in their seats in alarm. And then, before anyone knew what was happening, the large chandelier flew down into the crowd. People shrieked at the top of their lungs, leaping up from their seats as they started running away in all different directions. The ballerinas on stage ducked, some fleeing right away, the rest just standing there, frozen in shock. The chandelier came crashing down with an extremely loud shattering noise, shards of glass exploding everywhere and scattering across the floor and on the seats.

The glass pieces coated the ground in thin, sparkling layers of crystals, and the sudden impact of the chandelier falling and breaking caught up with the lights on stage, sending more crackling sparks into the air. The maroon curtain suddenly sparked as well, immediately catching on fire. The deafening sounds of screams and glass crunching beneath feet echoed throughout the entire room as people ran around in chaos. There was blood splattered on a few seats, particularly the ones closest to the stage, and people watched in horror as the roaring, rapidly growing fire spread further across the theater, onto the walls and the carpet. Everyone ran for their lives, although a few of them unfortunately didn't make it so lucky.

"Oh my God!" Stan shrieked in horror. "THEY KILLED KENNY!"

Kyle, who was running alongside him, raised his fist in the air.

"YOU BASTARDS!" he screamed as the two of them kept running like hell, rushing to push their way out of the massive crowd of people.

It was utter pandemonium.

And, still up in the vent, watching the terror and destruction unfold right before his very eyes, was Eric Cartman. He chuckled to himself.

"Nice," he said darkly, the evil smirk never leaving his lips.

Wendy was still in her dressing room finishing up getting ready when she heard the unexpected loud crash and panicked screams. She immediately leapt to her feet and was about to rush out the door, when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Someone was standing right there in the doorway, blocking her exit.

"C-Cartman?" she stammered, her eyes widening as she absentmindedly took a few steps backwards. "What's going on? Why are people screaming?"

But Cartman didn't answer any of her questions. He simply stepped inside her dressing room, closing the door behind himself before he started advancing towards her.

"Don't worry about it," he said in an all-too casual tone, making it sound almost eerie.

Wendy took a few more steps backwards, being careful not to bump into anything.

"What did you do?" she asked fearfully.

Cartman grinned, a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

"Nothing," he said as innocently as he could.

Wendy continued backing away from him even farther, her pace quickening, until she suddenly hit a wall. She froze there, mentally cursing herself for being so stupid. Before she could even attempt to move away, Cartman had already cornered her. He slapped his hands onto the wall, similar to the way he'd done when they were alone in his apartment together, and he leaned in towards her, their faces at an uncomfortable distance from one another.

"I warned you, Wendy," he said, spitting out Wendy's name in a false, sickeningly sweet way, causing her to shudder. "I fucking warned you."

Wendy gulped, feeling her heartbeat speed up inside her chest.

"What did you do?" she repeated, a frightened yet still slightly demanding tone in her voice.

Cartman leaned in even closer to her, his nose practically brushing against her own. She felt like she was about to pass out at that point, but she managed to stay standing. She squeezed her eyes shut, though, since she couldn't stand to look at him anymore. The way he was staring at her, with that sinister glint in his eyes, made him look so... evil, and she knew he'd just done something horribly, horribly wrong and extremely fucked up.

She could feel his hot breath near her lips, and just when she thought that he was going to kiss her, she felt him move away. Confused, she opened her eyes again. He had already turned away from her and started walking over to his usual opening in the vent. Without either one of them saying another word, Wendy watched as Cartman hoisted himself up and disappeared into the vent.

She was left alone, once again, although the relieved feeling she usually got whenever Cartman left didn't come this time. Instead, she felt...

"Fuck," she said out loud, slowly reaching up and placing a hand over her rapidly beating heart.

Five days had gone by since the horrific incident. Everyone was slowly recovering from it, although many people were still scarred and traumatized by the sight of the enormous chandelier falling and shattering right in front of them, injuring and killing a few dozen people. The ballet was now canceled for the next few weeks so that the mess could be cleaned up. The theater itself had pretty much turned into a crime scene now, with bright yellow tape wrapped around the entire building, and police officers and paramedics inspecting the broken chandelier pieces, as well as the dead bodies.

Surprisingly, though, Kenny's body wasn't one of them.

"I mean, holy fucking shit," the blonde himself said, perfectly alive and healthy, yet again. He was sitting on a stool near the counter in Kyle's kitchen, a can of beer in his hand. "I still can't get over the fact that I managed to get outta there alive!"

Stan and Kyle exchanged glances.

"Um, dude, you died. Remember?" Stan said. "The chandelier fucking crushed you."

Kenny took another swig of his beer before slamming it down onto Kyle's counter.

"Well, yeah, true...I guess that thing did slice me pretty deep..." he said, thoughtfully stroking the can with his thumb. He finally let go of it, sitting up straighter in his seat. "I still have the scar, actually. You guys wanna see?"

"NO!" his two friends screamed in unison, just as Kenny was about to lift his shirt.

"Jesus, you guys are no fun," Kenny pouted as he promptly let go of his shirt and reached for his beer again.

"Anyway," Kyle said, deciding to change the subject, "I've been thinking..."

"About Bebe's sweet rack?" Kenny asked.

Kyle shot him a dirty look, but he quickly got over it and shook his head.

"No," he said. "I've been thinking that, since Stan's leaving in two days, we should have like, a farewell party for him, or something."

"A farewell party?" Stan echoed, sounding a bit wary. "I don't know, dude, that sounds nice and all, but you don't have to go through all that trouble for me. Really, it's not a big deal that I'm leaving. I'll probably be back again to visit in a few months or something, anyway."

"Dude, shut up," Kyle said. "I'm throwing you a party, whether you like it or not."

"Damn," Kenny spoke up, a huge, teasing grin stretching across his lips. "Someone's a little party animal, isn't he? I didn't know you had it in you, Kyle."

"Fuck you," Kyle said, although his tone didn't have much anger in it. He turned his attention back to Stan. "Dude, if you don't want a farewell party, then we can just make it a party to celebrate your engagement instead."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Kenny said. "You and Wendy got engaged...how the hell is that gonna work, exactly? I mean, is she gonna move to New York with you? Or are you gonna move back here? Or are you guys gonna be one of those married couples who fuck each other, but are also allowed to fuck other people? Like...partner swapping, or some shit? I should look into that..."

"...You just don't know when to stop talking, do you?" Kyle asked flatly.

Kenny smiled in that so-called innocent way of his.

"Nope," he said simply.

Stan rolled his eyes, laughing a little despite everything.

"Well, for now, we agreed that I would go back to New York, and she'd stay here, and we'd figure it out from there," he said.

"So...the whole 'being allowed to fuck other people' thing is out of the question for you guys, then?" Kenny asked. "Because, I'm not gonna lie, I've kinda always wanted to fuck-"

"DUDE!" Stan shrieked in utter horror.

"What?" Kenny asked. He suddenly flashed a suggestive smirk. "I was gonna say you."

Stan stared at him for a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth agape.

"You're a sick bastard," he said at last.

"Pssh," Kenny said, flicking his wrist dismissively. "You know you want me, Stanley."

He was then elbowed in the ribs again, followed by being completely ignored by Stan and Kyle, who casually started talking about the party.