As Trent prepared to face the audience, he couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. He was good with spotlights and even better with fans, but he was helpless with interviewers. They were his only weakness. This interviewer specifically, would either completely screw him over or handhold him the entire time. There was no telling with Cartman.
Somehow, he always knew Cartman would become a talk-show host one day. It seemed like such a given. One day, a year after high school, he had gotten drunk enough to go on stage at one of those fancy cafés and then started babbling. People didn't even like his jokes; they liked the awkward delivery and the way he seemed like he had no idea what was going on. A video of the whole thing made it to YouTube.
Leave it to Cartman to go from Random Guy on YouTube to talk-show host in just 9 years. But here he was, only 28, and a pretty damn famous comedian with his own show. Lucky him. Even if, he still did that awkward delivery thing. Trent would've almost been jealous if Cartman hadn't personally invited him on the show.
He shook his hands a bit. They were all sweaty and nasty. Before long, they got wiped in his suit. They were still doing better than his feet. At least, he could feel his hands! Oh, and now his tie had come undone!
"Nervous?" He heard Kenny ask.
"Never. I don't even know what that feels like!" Trent smiled, fumbling desperately with the stupid cloth he called a tie. What if he didn't tie it in time, and he had to go out there with an untied tie? "But I will, I will cry if he starts making fun of me?"
Why on this earth did he even accept Cartman's invitation? He had already made other plans! He had planned the most romantic date ever for himself and Kenny, but that asshole had to go and ruin it. They were supposed to go to this fancy restaurant with soft lighting and dark wooden tables, you know, real fancy shit. They would drink some wine have some nice food, look at the stars together, all the works. And of course, the crème de la crème was in a little black box Trent currently had in his pocket.
They were going to do all those things later tonight, so it wasn't all wasted. But now he had to push it back.
He wouldn't even have accepted that invitation, but then he learned that both he and Kenny were invited, and Kenny and Cartman rarely had time to hang out anymore.
"He's not gonna make fun of you, honey," Kenny said, taking Trent's tie into his hands and pulling him in for a quick kiss. "I mean, who would have the nerve to make fun of…" He paused dramatically. "The one and only Trent Boyett, triple-time worldwide kickboxing champion."
"You make a good point, but…" Trent snickered, "You forget I'm only here as arm candy to the famous scientist Dr. McCormick."
"I'm not famous."
"Not yet." Trent smiled when Kenny finished tying his tie. "But don't forget me when you cure cancer."
Kenny smacked his arm lightly. Trent had paid for his degree with his kickboxing money, which wasn't very expensive since he went to community college. He paid for his master's degree too, and the doctoral he was currently working on. He supposed he couldn't call him Dr. McCormick just yet. But one day!
"You know I couldn't forget you if I tried," Kenny teased.
"Oh, I've traumatized you?"
"And I'll never recover," He was smiling, theatrically placing the back of his hand on his forehead. A red lamp began shining. "Come on. That's our cue."
Kenny took Trent's hand and gently pulled him to the stage. But he let go just as they were about to be in view, not wanting people to think he was being dragged on stage. The spotlight sliced through the darkness, revealing Cartman perched behind his desk like a giant gleeful gremlin. His signature smirk was stretched wide across his face, accentuated by the harsh stage lights. Trent felt a jolt of nervous energy shoot through him, but then his gaze met Kenny's: a completely unbothered, confident smile on his lips and eyes that shone brighter than the stage lights. Pretty.
No need to be nervous. Cartman was known for self-deprecating humor, not anything else.
"Trent! Kenny!" Cartman boomed into the microphone. They were now officially on live TV. "Nice of you to finally show up!"
They both took their seats. Trent couldn't see himself, but he was sure he looked like he was being held hostage. Maybe Cartman wasn't the problem, maybe it was the audience.
No, the problem was definitely Cartman, or at least, the problem was Cartman's stupid setups. A canon, a fucking canon, went off right behind Trent, and he damn near jumped out of his skin. A bunch of confetti landed on him. Cartman and Kenny seemed confused, too. They exchanged a glance. What on earth was this? A technical error?
"Oh, uh…" Cartman began, the words hanging awkwardly in the air. He went very close to the mic. "Bless you."
"Thanks…?" Trent murmured. The audience roared with laughter. Trent would never understand it. Cartman's attempt at non-offensive humor was simply not Trent's cup of tea.
As Cartman geared up to do his usual interview thing, he started fumbling with his speech cards. Once again, Trent wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, Cartman was a lot like a circus clown without makeup. "Trent!" He began, his voice shaking (intentionally?). "You're a kickboxer?"
"Uh… yeah?" Trent looked around a bit, this had to be some sort of trap. "Very astute observation."
"So, uh…" Cartman smiled wider. Okay, Trent was not the one who looked like he was being held hostage. "W-why?"
"Why?" Trent repeated. Was this some dumb joke? "I guess I always knew punching people was my great calling in life."
The audience roared again, this time with a mix of amusement and confusion. Trent, still covered in confetti, tried to make sense of the situation. Was this a bit, or was Cartman genuinely this unprepared? No, there was no way Cartman was unprepared. That guy could improvise better than anyone. Something must've thrown him off his game.
"Hah, yeah, very attractive." The crowd laughed. Not the toughest crowd. "Was that how you scored Kenny?"
"Kinda." Trent smiled, "But I was on the receiving end. Who knew getting beat up was such an attractive quality?"
Again, for the umpteenth time, the audience laughed along. Everyone knew the story. Trent had told it on TV many times before: that time he got beat up by the same guy three times in one week then stole the guy's boyfriend. But out of basic decency, he kept Rick's identity private.
He couldn't help but notice how excessively Cartman was looking over at Kenny, almost begging him for help. "The receiving end?" His voice dropped to a very exaggerated whisper. "Blink twice if you need help!" And then it was back to normal. "Anyway, anyway, seriously, how is it going? I hear you got beat up by Vasily Petrov in your last competition. What happened there?"
"Oh, I dunno." Trent did know. He and Kenny had had their 50th marriage talk, and it distracted him for a week. He really wanted to get married, but everything kept getting in the way. "Sometimes the best way to win is to get punched so hard that it breaks your nose, and your opponent gets disqed. I learned that from you, you know?"
Somehow, that seemed to animate Cartman a bit. "Of course, you did. I spread wisdom like a preacher." He seemed to catch himself and said, "Anyway I was told he acted like a real asshole backstage. Tell me about it."
"Eh, what is there to tell? He talked shit, I talked shit, and then we both went home and cried." The audience laughed. He was doing pretty well. Maybe this interview wouldn't be so bad after all. He glanced over at Kenny, who offered him a reassuring smile, a silent encouragement that calmed the last of his jitters.
Cartman, however, seemed flustered. Trent's playful jab about learning from him had broken whatever persona he'd been trying to maintain. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by yet another confetti canon, this one hitting him instead of Trent.
"Kyle!" He yelled to someone off-stage. Wait… Kyle was here? But he didn't work for Cartman. "Wil you stop pressing random buttons?!"
Well, at least these confetti canon mishaps had the charm of looking intentional.
"My bad." Stan's voice replied. Stan was here, too?
Trent's confusion must've shown on his face because Cartman immediately whipped back to look at him and yelled, showing Trent exactly what had caught him so off guard with this specific interview. "So, I heard you guys are engaged now!" It wasn't a question, just a whole statement.
"Uhm, unfortunately not ye-" Trent was cut off when he noticed Kenny move next to him, getting on his knee and pulling a navy blue box out of his pocket. "Shut up…"
Kenny smiled and his eyes shone as he asked, "Trent Boyett, will you marry me?"
Trent wasn't one for big displays of excitement or nervousness, in fact, right now his face was just going red. Then, he started laughing. He couldn't help it. He laughed and laughed and probably looked like a total asshole. He only stopped once he noticed Kenny's confused, rejected look and Cartman's glare.
"Wait, wait," He wheezed. It was such a cliché at this point. But with fingers, trembling from excitement, he pulled his own little black box out of his pocket, ceasing the rejected look on Kenny's face.
The crowd awed but Trent tuned them out. This seemed like a sufficient yes.
Life can only be good from here.
Two damaged people, helping each other out. Trent would never stop having his nightmares, and Kenny continued to flinch every time someone raised a hand at him. But those were the things they learned to live with.
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