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- ‘Yes, I saw her, her spiraled hair,
and I could see it, our life in a movie.’
Kyle scans the bustling function room of Cartman’s Denver synagogue and to his dismay, sees there is no one familiar to him yet in attendance at Menorah first birthday party; just Cartman’s in-laws, little kids screeching with glee as they tear through the crowd, weaving in an out of people’s legs, and assorted members of the congregation chatting away and eating babka from paper plates.
Of course, there is one familiar face, but Kyle was hoping he’d have a shield of other familiar, safer faces around him to protect him from the emotional crush of seeing… Cartman.
Kyle spots him immediately, lips parting, feet rooted to the ground, paralysed by awe, as he takes in the sight of Cartman holding his little girl triumphantly. His female relatives - Mrs Cartman included - are all cooing at the beautiful little girl wearing a midnight blue dress, all crushed velvet, tulle and sequins. Kyle starts to melt when it hits him just how hard Cartman is beaming at his daughter, like he could lift her over his head and proclaim: ‘this is my little girl!’ at any moment.
Cartman’s gaze meets Kyle’s, just when his guard is lowered. His beaming smile blossoms into a grin, and Kyle gives him a limp wave. He watches Cartman make his excuses to the crowd that has gathered around him, and to calm his nerves, Kyle rips his gaze away and places Menorah’s birthday present on the nearby long table.
He’s wiping his palms on his pants when he hears:
“Hey!”
Cartman is a few feet away from him, and Kyle cautiously closes the gap between them.
“I’m glad you could make it.”
Kyle shakes his head, hoping to shake off his remaining nerves too.
“Oh, no problem.” He looks around, still hopeful. “Are the guys not here yet?”
Cartman blinks, probably not expecting the question.
“No, not yet, but they should be here soon.”
The beat drags out, and if there was any time Kyle wished for a baby to cry and break the silence it’s now. Cartman glances between Kyle and his content daughter too, and finds a conversation starter.
“This is your first time meeting Menorah, right?”
It takes a second for Kyle to register this fact. He’s seen photos of her on Cartman and Yentl’s Instagram accounts of course, but this is his first time meeting her in person.
“Oh my god, yes!” Kyle exclaims, before remembering where he is and remembering what kind of response such blasphemy in temple would've gotten him as a kid. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Shit, I shouldn’t say that here.” His eyes fly open, mortified. His face is on fire as he snickers weakly, tucking his hands behind his back. “Probably shouldn’t say the s-word either around your baby…”
Cartman chuckles too, soft and fond.
“Kyle, it’s cool.” He raises his eyebrows. “Look who you’re talking to.”
Once it seemed impossible to reconcile Cartman’s past self with his current one, now it’s easy to forget his past self completely. Kyle sighs, relieved.
“Right.”
Cartman grins, before bouncing Menorah on his hip and addressing her:
“Menorah, this is your Uncle Kyle.”
“I’ve got ‘uncle’ status already?”
Cartman blinks, eyebrows knitting together in surprise.
“Of course! You wanna hold her?”
“Um, sure…” Kyle replies, still in a daze.
“There you go, sweetie…” Cartman murmurs encouragingly to Menorah as he passes her to her ‘Uncle Kyle.’
As a proud big brother, Kyle has always been good with kids. He has no problem with holding Menorah so she’s comfortable, but when she looks up at him with curious eyes it humbles him. Her tight ebony curls are all her mom’s, but her chubby cheeks and amber eyes are all Cartman, and unlike his forlorn, wistful daydreams of what-could’ve-been, looking at her makes Kyle quickly spiral.
Would Cartman have chosen this life of devout religion and family if it had worked out with him and Kyle? Or would he have just converted to Judaism for Kyle’s sake and thrown himself into all the traditions, and Kyle would find his enthusiasm exhausting at times but adorable nonetheless? Would they have had kids? Would they adopt? Or would they go down the surrogate route? Or would they decide they were content enough without children? Kyle knows that he wouldn’t be, his yearning for a family has grown with age, and from what he can tell Cartman relishes his role as a father. The room tilts discomfitingly when Kyle thinks that he could be throwing this party alongside Cartman right now, not making awkward small talk with him, not having to catch-up on each other’s lives because their lives would be woven together.
“Wow…” Kyle whispers, because he needs to say something. His eyes and nose are stinging. He looks up and beams at Cartman, who was apparently waiting with bated breath for something from Kyle. His approval, maybe? Confirmation that he’s okay? Kyle decides to not leave him in suspense any longer. “She’s beautiful, Cartman.”
Cartman’s shoulders fall and he smiles. It pushes his glasses up his cheeks a little, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.
“Oh, Kyle!” A less familiar voice floats into his ears. It’s Yentl, joining Cartman’s side with a delighted smile. “So glad you could make it!”
Kyle nods, trying to be sanguine although the stinging in his eyes and nose is bordering on unbearable.
“It was my pleasure, Yentl,” he replies, and he wishes he didn’t sound so hoarse.
“Aww, look at you with baby Menorah!” She gushes. “You’re a natural!” She squeezes Cartman’s arm. “Isn’t he, honey?”
“He really is.” Cartman nods, before meeting Kyle’s gaze. “You’d make a great dad.”
That does it for Kyle. His throat is so tight he can’t even say anything in response, can’t even meet Cartman’s gaze because the floodgates will open.
“Are you seeing anyone at the moment, Kyle?” Yentl asks. “Anyone special?”
He needs to speak. Crap.
Kyle blinks, clearing his throat.
“I, uh…” He looks between Yentl and Cartman, looking so damn relaxed and happy, and Kyle hates that he hates it. “S-s-sorry, I just need to step out for a minute.”
He hands an oblivious Menorah to her bewildered mother. He hears Cartman say:
“Kyle-”
But he’s already disappeared into the crowd before Cartman can finish. He does hear Yentl ask ‘is it something I said?’
Kyle finds the emergency exit and practically falls through it. He takes a few, deep breaths that are heavy with regret and embarrassment before he buries his head in his hands, hoping that if his vision goes dark his mind will too.
“Hey!”
Kyle lifts his head, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth at the sound of Cartman’s voice.
“You alright, man?” he follows up breathlessly.
Kyle turns to him, breaths slipping through his gritted teeth.
“What does it fucking look like, Cartman?”
Cartman blinks, stung, but he quickly brushes it off with a roll of his eyes.
“Damn, Kyle, you don’t need to be such an asshole.”
Kyle deflates. This can’t get any better, but he should at least try not to make it worse.
“I know.”
“So would you care to give an explanation as to why you’re being one?” Cartman asks, folding his arms.
A scoff slips past Kyle’s lips.
“Come on, Cartman.”
“What?” Cartman presses, voice harder now.
Kyle sighs, eyes slipping shut for a moment before he opens them and fixes them on Cartman.
“You know why this is so hard for me.”
“Wh-that was twenty years ago, Kyle!” Cartman exclaims, voice cracking a little. He throws his hands up.
“So!” Kyle retorts, and before he knows it he’s stepping closer to Cartman, searching his face. “You’re in me, remember? And I’m in you…” his anxiety spikes. Maybe he’s got this wrong? Cartman may have moved on, but still… there’s got to be something left. He raises his eyebrows. “Right?”
Cartman’s face is stone but it softens the longer he stares into Kyle’s eyes.
“Of course you are, asshole,” he says, resigned. “But…”
“What?”
“I’m not going to apologise for moving on.”
Kyle scoffs again, incredulous.
“God, I don’t want you to apologise!”
“Then what do you want from me?!” Cartman snaps, and because Kyle is a little out of practice with their sparring, he jolts back. “You had your chance, Kyle, multiple times! But it’s too late! I’m happy, and I’m not going to let you fucking ruin that!”
Kyle staggers back, head whirring. Cartman may as well have punched him. It would hurt just as much.
“What the fuck?” he asks, voice breaking.
Panic flashes in Cartman’s eyes like lightning and he sighs, shaking his head.
“Th-that came out wrong but… you know what I mean, Kyle! You… you don’t…” he buries his head in his hands now, but whereas Kyle was looking for darkness to hide in, it seems like Cartman is looking there for clarity, for the right words. He lifts his head. “You don’t ‘ruin’ anything, alright? But when I’m around you, this perfect life I’ve built starts…” he swallows, like the thought makes him nauseous. “Peeling at the edges. I can’t risk that.”
“So why even invite me in the first place?” Kyle asks stonily.
“Yentl wanted you to come. It would be weird if I didn’t invite you, and I’d have to explain-”
“Oh…” Kyle whispers, his keening heart prickling all over again. “Okay…”
“And…”
Kyle meets Cartman’s gaze, and Cartman’s shoulders droop.
“I miss you.” He steps closer, a hopeful crease in his brow. “Can we just forget about this? You can go inside, and hang out with the guys, and while I’m mingling I can stop by and talk to you and we can just be like… normal, old friends?”
“I…” Kyle wants that too. That’s why he showed up, after all. But he underestimated just how hard this would be, how fucking raw it still was for him. He sighs, shattered. “I can’t, Cartman. Not now at least. It hurts too much.”
Cartman nods too, pressing his lips together and his gaze wanders away from Kyle.
“But maybe for the next kid?” Kyle smiles, half-joking.
Cartman looks up at him with a grin.
“Or maybe Menorah’s second birthday?”
Kyle nods slowly.
“Yeah, let’s be ambitious.”
They laugh, and it’s sad and it’s short, but it’s genuine.
“Can I give you a hug?” Cartman asks, wincing.
Kyle nods and they wrap each other up in a consoling, lukewarm embrace. The raw, seething part of Kyle wants to hold Cartman just long enough for them to get ideas, like crashing their lips together helplessly, planting a new, dangerous, invasive yearning that strangles them, destroys everything, and leaves just the two of them in the ashes… but Kyle won’t act on it. This is about more than him and Cartman, and he needs to try to move forward with him, rather than be in a constant attack-and-retreat battle with the past.
“You’d better go back in there,” he whispers thickly.
“Alright,” Cartman murmurs, and when he pulls back he doesn’t look at Kyle. When he finally does meet his eyes, he adds: “thanks for Menorah’s gift.”
“You’re welcome.” Kyle’s brow creases. “Give my apologies to Yentl, will you?”
“Sure.” Cartman nods, his eyes are gleaming and he’s blinking rapidly.
“Bye, Cartman,” Kyle whispers, before turning to leave.
“Bye, Kyle…” the words elicit goosebumps on the nape of Kyle’s neck.
- ‘Tell me what was the moment you decided to give up?
You could've told me what you wanted,
I would've done anything.’
Eric never thought he would get cold feet. He’s read so much scripture, had so many thoughtful conversations with the shul contingent of his groomsmen on the subject of marriage, the importance of family, and devotion that he thought he had inoculated himself to the common pre-wedding condition. Not to mention, his fiance is wonderful. What is there to worry about? Of course Eric knows the answer.
Kyle.
It’s always Kyle.
Some might say that inviting your first love to your wedding is weird, let alone asking them to be one of your groomsmen. But Eric couldn’t imagine Kyle not being there. His absence would be just as keenly felt as his presence and besides… Eric needs Kyle to see him. He needs to see that he’s changed, that he’s better, in spite of the irony that Eric’s new life wouldn’t change anything between them. Eric is pragmatic about that, because his change of faith, his new pious path is enriching for him. It doesn’t have to be about Kyle, but he still thinks Kyle should bear witness.
Here’s what you could’ve won.
He shakes his head in an attempt to make that spiteful thought vanish. He still gets those sometimes, but he’s working on cutting back.
So yes, Kyle being here is weird, but neither of them have acknowledged it in the two days since they’ve been obligated to spend time with each other, and ignorance is bliss. Trouble is, Eric can’t ignore that Kyle being in his orbit again is having an unsettling effect on his world, making him crave, and ache, and doubt. That last one is the scariest, because casting Yentl aside is unfathomable. The greedy little kid he’s always been demands to have it all. Yentl and traditional rabbinic life, and… Kyle, the moon and the stars that control his tides and are right now threatening to engulf his world.
He sent up a flare, asked his best man, Ezra, if he could fetch Kyle for a word in the rabbi’s study.
He’s supposed to be getting married in an hour, and he’s sitting at an old man’s desk, chewing his nails down to the quick while he waits for the love of his life to arrive and decide his fate. He smiles sadly when he thinks of what Yentl would say if she were here and saw him biting his nails. She would scold him fondly and then bring his fingers to her lips, loving him in spite of his flaws.
The creak of the old door opening is waterlogged noise to Eric, but then he hears:
“Cartman?”
Kyle.
And it’s like breaking out of the waves, finally being able to breathe.
Eric jumps to his feet, but is almost knocked to the ground by the sight of Kyle in his suit. The turquoise boutonniere in his pocket brings out the blue in his eyes. The handsome beard is a welcome addition, and his cheekbones are still to die for.
“You wanted to talk to me?” He raises his eyebrows as he steps closer.
“Yeah…” Eric croaks, before coughing into his fist to clear his throat. “Yeah, I, uh…” he smirks when he catches the yarmulke perched on his head. “You look great, by the way.”
Kyle smiles, looks down at his suit.
“Thanks.” He nods, beaming softly at Eric. “You clean up well too.”
“Bet you never thought you’d see this day, huh?” Eric chuckles, and he hates how his voice rings in the small study.
“No…” Kyle laughs weakly but good-naturedly, shaking his head. He surveys the room. “No, I never imagined any of…” his gaze snags on the weathered, gilt Hebrew on the wall. “This.” His expression hardens when he looks at Eric, and he takes another step closer. “Are you okay?”
Eric snorts loudly and rolls his eyes, the same way he used to when he was younger and he was trying to brush off a stinging comment that reverberated through to his core.
“Yeah, are you kidding me? I’m getting married today! I’m great, I’m great…” he rubs the nape of his neck, swallowing the fake laughter. His eyes meet Kyle, and he doesn’t look convinced, just… puzzled. “I just wanted to get your advice on something, one Jewish man to another.”
Kyle blinks, panic flashing in his eyes.
“Dude, I think you have way more qualified people than me out there to talk to-”
Eric interrupts him with a sigh.
“Maybe, but they don’t know me like you do,” he admits, returning to his chair.
Kyle sighs too, nodding with his eyes shut.
“Fair enough.”
Eric smirks while Kyle spies an orange ottoman in the corner and pulls it closer, so he’s two feet or so away from him.
“You’re never this agreeable,” he remarks.
“It’s your wedding day, Cartman,” Kyle says when he sits down, sounding kind of offended by the insinuation that he would be antagonistic today. “I don’t wanna fight.”
Eric smiles.
“I appreciate that.” He wets his lips and his smile fades. “What do you think of Yentl?”
Kyle blinks again, but he doesn’t look so scared this time.
“Oh, she’s great.” He nods. “Sweet, smart, attractive…”
“You think she’s the right woman for me?”
Kyle scoffs softly, raising his eyebrows at him.
“I think any woman who is willing to put up with you is a keeper.”
Eric makes a quiet snicker of agreement, but his racing heart is reminding him that now is not the time for their usual sparring. He has to choose his words carefully.
“Things have changed for me so much in these last few years, Kyle.”
“I know.”
Eric looks down at his empty hands in his lap.
“Sometimes I barely recognise myself.” He looks up at Kyle, who he is glad to see is listening intently. “In a good way, and Yentl is a big part of that.”
Kyle smiles, wide and relieved.
“I’m glad, dude. There’s nothing wrong with growing.”
“But I still…” Eric takes a deep breath and his chest tightens, his heart clutching his words tight one last time before they’re out in the open and irretrievable. “Want the same things.”
He looks in Kyle’s eyes, but Kyle blinks rapidly and shifts his gaze to a corner of the room. Eric can see his adam’s apple rising and falling in his throat.
“Oh?” he asks, voice thick.
Eric sighs, long and heavy.
“Yeah, it hurts sometimes how much I want these things.”
“Why can’t you have them?” Kyle asks, still struggling to meet his eyes.
“I can’t have this and also have…” it’s then their eyes meet, storm clouds crashing together but… there’s no rumble, no fork of lightning, no downpour, just a silent anticlimax. The air is still thick, humid, crackling with electricity. “What I want. It wouldn’t work at all. They’re…”
“Incompatible?” Kyle offers.
“Yeah…” Eric nods slowly. “Incompatible.” He smacks his hands on his legs and looks up at the low, beamed ceiling. “So I’m hoping that this life I’m choosing today, this amazing life with this incredible woman is going to make me want less and less, until that ache goes away completely.”
“Sounds like a decent plan,” Kyle replies, and although Eric thinks it’s meant to be supportive, there is still an edge to it that Kyle can’t sand down.
“Yeah.” Eric snickers ruefully. “But…”
“What?” Kyle asks, eager and impatient but… tired too.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Eric asks, brow creasing. He sits forward. “What if I marry Yentl and I wake up tomorrow, and I’m still wanting? And the next day?” He grabs the sides of his head and tugs at his hair. “And the next day, and the next day, until I wake up and I’m fucking seventy and I’m miserable, and bitter, and I hate my wife for no damn good reason?” When he finally looks up at Kyle, he’s grimacing and his eyes are gleaming. “What if this feeling never goes away?”
Kyle takes a deep, shaky breath.
“Well… what if it does?”
“Huh?”
Kyle swallows, before shifting in his seat.
“The way I see it is that you’ve got fifty-fifty odds. You either stop feeling this way or you don’t, and what you want…” Kyle presses his lips together, like he’s testing out the words. Say it. Maybe if Kyle says it, then Eric will be brave enough to say it too, and the pain of rejection won’t feel so unbearable. “It seems like it’s this intangible thing, but Yentl is here. She’s here, and she loves you, and you love her.” Kyle smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s a sure thing. How sure are you that the thing you want is?”
“I don’t know,” Eric murmurs. “I’m too scared to find out.”
Their eyes meet, and Eric swears they’re in that Denny’s parking lot again, when that fear of the perceived pain of rejection was so potent that it fucked things up for them irrevocably, and this is it. One last-ditch attempt to make it work, to act on impulse and sneak out of here, drive off into the sunset and start their new life together, just like in the movies. But Eric is still so fucking terrified of rejection that he’s cowering behind Kyle instead of being a fucking man and saying it. Some things never change.
Kyle takes a deep breath, and Eric knows Kyle is realising the same thing he is.
“Go with the sure thing, Cartman.”
Eric blinks, his mouth twitches. The only outward sign of the pain radiating from his unhealed heart.
“You really think I should?”
Kyle smiles, although a flush is crawling up his neck and his nostrils have flared.
“Absolutely.”
Eric closes his eyes and bows his head. When he thinks Kyle can’t see he squeezes his eyes shut to ward off his tears.
“Okay,” he murmurs. He soon lifts his head, rubbing his hand over his face. “I, uh, need a moment.”
“Oh yeah, of course,” Kyle replies, getting to his feet. “I’ll see you out there.”
“Thanks…” Eric smiles weakly, watching Kyle head to the door. Before he can leave, he adds: “And thanks for the talk.”
Kyle looks over his shoulder and gives him a rueful smile.
“No problem.” He nods his head at him. “I hope it could help.”
The door clicks shut and Eric stares at it until his eyes start to burn. He shuts them, imagining being washed up on calmer shores, and Yentl waiting for him with her hand outstretched.
'1. I thought you were gonna catch me
I never stopped falling for you.’
Their giggling, shrieking, oblivious classmates are only a few feet away and Kyle doesn’t care. Why should he care about what a bunch of drunk, stoned people he’ll probably never see again after next year think of his choices? Why should he care about joining in with their stupid shit when Cartman’s lips are so soft, and warm, and captivating? Kyle has had many great experiences in Stark’s - camping under the stars, skating on the ice when the pond had frozen over, swimming in it when the air was warm and the water was cool, but this may be the best thing to have ever happened to him here.
He thinks of all the moments that led to this one, and how they could be considered ‘bests’ too. The English project he and Cartman worked on that they spent long evenings in the school library and each other’s bedrooms to crush, that was the best assignment he’s ever had. The punch he threw at the asshole in the school corridor who made some lame comment about Cartman being fat, and that resulted in him getting a detention, a sore fucking hand, and Cartman paying him a visit in the nurse’s office, was the best fight he ever got into (although it wasn’t much of a fight. Kyle fucking decked that guy). The evening they spent in Cartman’s room, lying on his bed and not touching, not looking at each other, as they got high and let everything they had been keeping inside all these years rise out of their mouths like smoke, was the best night of Kyle’s life… until now.
Now is the best night, the night they slipped away from the crowd, the bonfire, the coolers and into the woods they know so well to kiss, finally, because after sharing their feelings what else was there to do?
“Oh my god…” Cartman murmurs, giddy in the small, dark space between their lips. Still, the glint of his joyous grin is still visible. “Kyle…”
Kyle chuckles, squeezing Cartman’s shoulders to keep his grip on something, so he doesn’t float away. He feels so light that it seems possible.
“I know…”
They kiss again, feverish, and Kyle clings harder to Cartman when the rarefied air, and the secondhand pot smoke, and Cartman’s velvet kiss makes him dizzy.
Cartman snorts softly against Kyle’s cheek, slipping away from him to chuckle deliriously. With their foreheads pressed together, it’s like they’re caught up in a conspiracy, and Kyle supposes they are. For now, this is their secret, and for now, they are the only ones who understand.
“I can’t believe this is happening…”
Kyle chuckles too.
“I know…” kiss. “Me neither…” kiss. “You…” Kyle cups Cartman’s face and pulls away so he’s not distracted. He finds his gaze in the dark. “You said you’ve always felt this way?”
Cartman swallows thickly, grin wilting at the corners.
“I think so. I…” he shakes his head. “I can’t remember feeling any other way about you. I look at you and I get hit by this wave of feelings that could knock me the fuck out, and it’s painful but…” he keeps his gaze on Kyle the entire time he’s talking, the crease in his brow deepening with each word. “I can’t stop looking, you know?”
“Yeah.” Kyle croaks, it’s all he can manage with the lump in his throat. He smiles, and brushes Cartman’s cheek with his thumb. “Yeah, I get that.” His smile fades too. “You drive me crazy, Cartman.”
That sparks mischief in Cartman, ignites a grin that Kyle now realises he loves.
“I do, huh?” he teases, delving into Kyle’s neck and leaving balmy kisses there.
Kyle’s eyes slip shut and his jaw loosens. Forget floating away, he feels like he could melt right now.
“Unnh-huh…” he moans, eyebrows knitting together. “And what drives me crazier is the fact that I can’t…”
“What?”
Kyle blinks his eyes open as the epiphany dawns on him.
“I can’t get it out of me.”
Cartman pulls back now too, staring at Kyle with a kind of timid wonder, in awe of what Kyle is realising.
“I can’t get you out of my head, my heart.” Kyle doesn’t know whether he should continue. His heart is racing. Maybe there is still a line to what they can say to each other and he’s breached it? Still, he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop. “It’s like you’re stuck in me.”
The timidness fades in Cartman’s face so he’s left with just pure wonder.
“You’re in me too,” he whispers. “You’ll always be in me.”
Kyle’s heart is slowing now, basking in the glow of Cartman’s beaming face.
“You think so?”
“Yeah.” Cartman nods, tugging him closer. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Me neither…” Kyle whispers.
They fall into an embrace and Cartman starts kissing and nipping Kyle’s neck again. He breathes, ragged and warm against Kyle’s ear. It makes him shiver.
“You could be in me tonight, if you want.”
The invitation, which should fill Kyle with hot urgency, instead freezes him to the spot, before his brain even has time to process why.
Cartman pulls back, studying Kyle’s face to determine the lack of response.
“You know I meant you could put your dick-”
“Yeah, I got that, Cartman,” Kyle whispers, his voice doesn’t just sound threadbare but its connection to his mind is threadbare too. He needs air, he needs more room to breathe. “I, um…” he gently pushes Cartman away, then winces with guilt. “I need a minute.”
“Alright…” Cartman murmurs, but Kyle is already brushing past him, walking away from the gathering, away from the glow of the bonfire, into the dark. He hears Cartman following him. “You okay?”
Kyle squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.
“N-n-no, no, I think I need to go home.”
“Okay,” Cartman replies, unsure. He jogs to catch up with Kyle. “I’ll walk you.”
“No!” Kyle snaps, turning around. He sighs, embarrassed. “No, don’t, people will get the wrong idea.”
Cartman frowns.
“What wrong idea?”
“They’ll think there’s something going on with us,” Kyle replies, and his arms suddenly draw in. He finds himself cupping his elbows.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t!” he snaps again, before huffing and throwing his head back to the starry sky, as if that has answers. “I don’t… I just… I just don’t think we should…” he lowers his head, and feels like he’s crashed back down to Earth with it, bereft of the certain carefreeness he felt in Cartman’s arms. “This is a lot to process, Cartman. Stay, have fun.” He’s already backing away, as if he can outrun this exhilarating change hurtling towards him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, I promise.”
Cartman throws his hands up, huffing softly now too.
“Okay…”
Kyle nods, gives him a tight, awkward smile and turns away. He grimaces when Cartman can’t see him, when he starts to walk home.
What the fuck am I doing?
“Kyle!”
He turns around at the sound of Cartman’s voice.
Cartman takes two steps forward, but then thinks better of coming closer. The distance is depressing when they were pressed flush together only moments ago.
“I’m sorry-”
Kyle cuts him off with a vigorous shake of his head.
“Don’t be, it’s not about…” he cuts himself off, because he doesn’t know what this is about. That’s what he needs to figure out on his own. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”
Kyle has walked home from Stark’s more times than he count, so it’s easy to put that part of his brain on autopilot as he stumbles to his house, and focuses all his attention and energy on what the fuck he should do about this whole Cartman thing. That, after all, is a totally different question to what he wants to do.
What he wants to do is say ‘fuck it;’ to his fears, his doubts, his so-called rationalities. But something is stopping him, and that’s the competing data he has from years spent fighting, and caring for, and hating, and loving Cartman (in a naive, confused way). He’s kicking himself for taking a leap before properly analysing all that data, and then having to put the brakes on so abruptly before he takes another step into potential disaster.
His reckless heart cries that he should have stayed at Stark’s, kept kissing Cartman until their jaws ached and their lips were numb, and walked home hand-in-hand. His reckless heart cries that if anyone asks what the deal is with him and Cartman, he should just say ‘yeah, we’re dating,’ with as much nonchalance as he can manage. But his brain sobers him, warns him to be careful and advises him to stop, think, really think, if he wants to do this.
Cartman may be stuck in him, but is he an instinct or a poison that will kill Kyle softly and slowly over time? Just because he’s a part of him, does that mean Kyle should give up all of himself to him? Let himself be devoured? As he lies awake, thinking about Cartman until a migraine splinters his skull, he comes to realise that the boy he loves is like a wild animal, one with lethal teeth, razor claws. He’s strangely innocent, and sublime in a way that makes you want to own him, protect him, tame him. But he’s dangerous, and therefore loving him is dangerous, and the sensible thing to do would be to keep him at arms length.
Still, would it be cruel to abandon Cartman? And himself too? When they clearly need each other, and have starved themselves for so long? Yes, they may not last forever, and yes they could get hurt, but what’s the alternative? Waste away with bitterness? And Kyle likes to think that he would be resilient enough to sustain an emotional injury and get back up again, to suck the venom out and move on, rather than abandon his heart, keep starving himself, and let his blood congeal in his veins.
So at 5am, he decides he’s going to be brave. He reaches for his phone and texts Cartman to meet him at Denny’s that afternoon so they can talk about his little freak-out. Cartman texts back immediately that he’ll see him there, and that reassurance allows Kyle to easily drift off into much-needed sleep.
He’s still exhausted by the time his Denny’s date rolls around though, and he’s taking a long sip of a black coffee when Cartman arrives.
“Hey…” Kyle smiles, voice brittle.
Cartman sighs, smiling too. It makes the corner of his eyes crinkle.
“Hi.” He wipes his palms on his pants and surveys the quiet diner. Kyle elected to come here to get over his hang-up about being with Cartman in public and people making assumptions. He takes a seat, raising his eyebrows at Kyle. “You know, considering you went home earlier than everyone else, you look like shit.”
Kyle snorts, rolling his eyes.
“Thanks.” He presses his lips together and softly taps the side of his cup. “I was thinking a lot last night.”
Cartman chuckles, uneven and weak.
“See, that’s your problem.”
Kyle smiles appreciatively. Cartman’s making this so comfortable, and easy, but it still doesn’t quell the nerves rising inside him. His smile fades as he sighs heavily.
“Listen, Cartman, I-”
Cartman cuts him off with a cackle loud enough to make Kyle jump.
“What the fuck, Cartman?!” Kyle snaps, his sleep-deprived, caffeinated heart pounding. “Are you still wasted or something?”
“No…” Cartman’s laugh is unnerving, softly maniacal as he shakes his head. He can’t even look at Kyle. “No, I just…” he finally looks up at Kyle with glittering eyes. He swipes away a tear before throwing his hands down. “I can’t believe you fell for it!”
Kyle blinks, his heartrate picking up speed but his brain slowing down and he feels like he’s… fracturing. Coming apart. It’s all coming apart.
“What?” he whispers.
“You should see your face!” Cartman says with his fucking evil laugh.
That evil laugh has only ever triggered one thing in Kyle: Anger. It’s his best weapon right now.
“What the fuck are you talking about?!” he shouts, and his clenched fists smack against the table, shaking the unused cutlery and stopping the conversations around him momentarily.
“It was all a joke!” Cartman replies, voice cracking. “You didn’t think I meant any of it, did you?”
Kyle blinks, head whirring from the shock. Not even his anger can protect him against that.
“Wh-no! That can’t be true, Cartman! What about all the things you said?” he raises his eyebrows, pleading with him. “What about last night?”
Cartman is clutching his belly he’s laughing so hard, like he’s going to puke from the sheer glee of it all. Kyle feels like he could puke too.
“I fucking lied, Kyle, it isn’t hard!”
Kyle slumps, defeated, his back hitting the seat with a soft ‘thump!’
“Oh my god, you…” he whispers. He feels something rising in him, but it’s not vomit, or tears, it’s his anger, hot and rallying. “You fucking asshole!” he yells, jumping to his feet. Cartman jolts, looks up at him with wide, shining eyes. “I’m so…” Kyle shakes his head and bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m so fucking stupid for believing this could work!”
He watches as Cartman’s pinked face drains of colour.
“What?” he yelps, getting to his feet and bumping his hip against the table as he does, rattling the cutlery again.
“Fuck off, Cartman!” Kyle cries, and he doesn’t care who hears. “I can’t fucking look at you right now!”
He storms off, tears burning his eyes. It’s a good thing he doesn’t want to look back at that fucking monster anyway.
“Kyle, wait!” Cartman calls as he follows him. “Kyle!”
They’ve made it to the small parking lot before Cartman finally catches up to Kyle, close enough to seize his shoulders and turn him around. Kyle wants to tell him once more to fuck off, but is struck by the wild, broken panic on Cartman’s face.
“You weren’t gonna call it all off?” he asks, breathless, his eyes frantic.
Kyle blinks, searching Cartman’s face as his brain tries to compute what the hell is happening.
“What does it matter what I was going to do?” he asks, before wriggling out of Cartman’s grip.
But before he can take even two more steps, Cartman is manhandling him again, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave bruises.
“Because that was bullshit!” he shouts in Kyle’s face.
“What?” Kyle asks, exhausted.
“All of what I said back there!” Cartman exclaims, eyes widening. “It was bullshit! I didn’t mean it, I was just scared you were going to reject me!”
The confession steals Kyle’s breath, pulls the ground out from under him like a riptide, but it does nothing to dissolve his anger, only strengthen it.
“What the hell?!”
Cartman sighs irritably, hanging his head. There is a pleading crease in his brow when he meets Kyle’s eyes again.
“It was stupid, I know, but now that I know you want to give this a shot-”
“What?!” Kyle yells, jumping back from Cartman like he’s just been electrocuted. “I can’t do that now! How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Y-y-you can’t, but last night, these last few weeks, that’s been real!” Cartman hits his chest hard, like if he pummels it hard enough he’ll be able to reach into his ribcage and pull out his heart for Kyle. But it wouldn’t be enough. “I promise you, it’s been real!”
Kyle shakes his head, mouth agape like he’s been sucker-punched in the jaw. But he should’ve expected this, right? Cartman hurting him with this kind of careless, deceitful shit is one of the things he was terrified of.
“This is so fucked up,” he whispers, dragging his hands through his hair. “Maybe…” he covers his face, hoping the dark can give him some clarity. It certainly seemed to last night, but maybe he had just been drunk on kisses. He lifts his head from his hands. “God, maybe, this was a mistake.”
Cartman’s body deflates, and Kyle worries he’s about to faceplant the tarmac.
Why do I even fucking care?
“What?”
Kyle wraps his arms around himself, sucking in his lower lip as tears sting his eyes. He shakes his head.
“Maybe we’re not ready yet.” He meets Cartman’s devastated gaze. “Maybe we’ll never be ready…”
He staggers forward.
“Kyle, please don’t fucking do this.”
Kyle steps back. It’s not good for them to be so close.
“I’m sorry, Cartman. I know you want this.” He sighs, eyes slipping shut and when they do, a tear slides down his cheek. “I want it too.” He opens his eyes, to see Cartman’s are brimming with tears as well. “But I can’t deal with this shit. I shouldn’t have to deal with this shit. See you around…”
He turns away, leaving Cartman and all they could have been behind.