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At first Kyle blamed Cartman, because it was the most obvious thing to do.
How did they end up like this? It wasn’t Cartman's fault.
“For fuck’s sake, we are fully grown adults! You can’t still pull this kind of shit. I can’t be here, not now…”
Cartman was tired, genuinely so. He was trying to start his new life, single, without a house, without his family. He was all alone now. Soberer than a nun because he didn’t trust himself intoxicated around his favorite Jew.
Initially he wasn’t planning on coming back to South Park, but Kenny was getting married and insisted on everyone attending, even Cartman. Likely because he pitied the other boy, and Cartman helped him by investing good money in Kenny’s startup—which helped Kenny be the successful entrepreneur he was now.
At the time it was obvious that Eric was going through a depression; he had lost a considerable amount of weight, had big dark circles around his sunken eyes, and spent most of his days at his single studio apartment in the city. Kenny tried to convince him to stay at his house, at least for a while, so he wouldn’t have to spend his savings, but Cartman was okay, financially at least; his mental health was still weak, but he was going to the gym frequently, just to pass the time and clear his mind.
Times like these made Cartman remember how much he relied on his mother in the past.
And now, at Kenny’s wedding, he had to endure Kyle’s abuse again. Adult Kyle was his worst nightmare: composed, extremely clever, a quick thinker, compassionate, and insanely hot—all at the same time.
His nightmare started at the sweet age of thirteen; ever since Cartman’s puberty hit, he became miserable, miserable because all the hatred he had for the ginger mutated into an embarrassing desire that consumed him. He hated himself; he hated his body, his own soul. He knew he would never be allowed to court Kyle—he didn’t even come out during those years.
Eric finished high school and instantly left South Park for good. He went to some low-end college with his mother’s inheritance.
Life’s a bitch, and that time breast cancer did win the battle.
For years Cartman convinced himself it was his fault, some karma shit. Kyle tried to stay with him that day to support him and convince him that it wasn't his fault. Cartman couldn't stand it and ran away again.
He hooked up with random people, trying to convince himself it was just a phase; it didn't work.
Then Steven came into the picture.
Sweet Steven, a skinny redhead guy he met at a bar who tried his best to make things work. Cartman didn’t deserve him and probably didn’t want to.
Unlike Kyle, Steven thought Cartman was cute and smart. He believed the brunette was a good person, a loving person, unlike Kyle. Steven wanted to be with Cartman; he wasn’t disgusted by him, unlike Kyle…
And everything was good; after six years of dating, they moved in together. Everything was fine until fucking Kyle got into a relationship with a guy—some smart college graduate who absolutely hated Cartman for some reason.
They met at Stan’s wedding, and it was a disaster.
Cartman went with Steven, trying really hard to ignore Kenny’s teasing.
“So you have a type then.”
Cartman punched him playfully, but Kyle, who hadn’t heard a word, scolded Cartman. Apparently he was the same asshole who didn’t know how to behave at his best friend's wedding.
Luckily for him, Steven was around, and they ended up having sex in the bathroom.
Unfortunately for him, Kyle caught them, and they stopped talking after that fight, again.
Why does he care? Why does he have to be such a prude?
Then the fucking boyfriend appeared again just a few months later, at a business meeting where Cartman was supposed to be successful. It was a big project; they all expected him to nail it because he was the top salesman. But the fucking boyfriend had to be on the buyer's side and totally screwed Cartman over.
It got worse after that.
He lost the project and couldn’t stop being mad at Kyle for some reason. Steven was a patient man, but Cartman became unbearable at home and at work. Snapping at everyone and hiding behind a workload he put over his own head. Until one day it all went to hell.
His relationship was already dead anyway; they didn’t have sex anymore and never talked.
Sweet poor redhead Steven. Cartman packed his things and left when he saw Steven kissing another guy in some random coffee shop out of town. Neither of them knew the other was there; it was a coincidence—what wasn’t a coincidence was Steven never finding out why Cartman just broke up with him.
Eric didn’t blame Steven; he would’ve done the same, probably.
Kyle would not have.
Angry, hotheaded Kyle.
A week after Cartman left his home, they met by accident at a bar in Denver. Cartman saw him from far away and tried to avoid Kyle; he wasn’t ready to face him—Kyle was not having it. Stubborn as always.
“I saw Steven with some dude the other day. I had to tell you.”
Not a ‘hello.’ Just a hurtful confrontation with reality.
There goes my night…
“I know.”
“Oh…”
They were standing outside the bar. Cartman tried to escape through the back door; of course, Kyle thought it was perfectly fine to follow him.
Cartman pulled out a cigarette and couldn’t hide his astonishment when Kyle took it and threw it to the ground, stepping on it softly just to kill the fire.
“Did you talk to him already?”
“Kyle, what the fuck?”
“Did you talk to him?”
“We are through. I don’t need to; I saw them. They looked happy; I don't want to intrude.”
And maybe Cartman wasn’t talking only about Steve.
“So he started dating another guy immediately after you two broke up?”
Kyle sounded really pissed off, his breath smelled like alcohol, and he stood awfully close to Cartman. How was it possible he still made the brunette blush after all these years?
“Not really his fault; I wasn’t around anymore. You can’t expect someone to stay if you neglect them for so long. He probably felt bad about leaving me at my lowest. I just told him it wasn't working for me."
“That’s not right! He should’ve told you he wanted—that he was not—it’s just not cool, man! That asshole, he should’ve talked to you before cheating on you.”
“Let it go, Kahl. I'm not paying you for a session. It’s cool.”
After getting his degree in psychology, Kyle returned to South Park to have his own therapy counseling business—Cartman was happy for him, in secret.
It was really a thing Kyle would do: coming back and helping those fuckers. Living with his fucking boyfriend in a nice apartment, fucking his fucking boyfriend in his fucking apartment.
Fucking Kyle.
Cartman thought they were a lost cause, but he was now on medical leave for depression, so there wasn’t room to talk much. He still worked from home, because everyone relied on him, and he would go crazy doing nothing. He didn’t want to lose the job, but he really wasn’t ready to go and sell lies.
Kyle, drunk as he was, noticed Cartman wasn’t really too thrilled with the conversation. He changed his tone for a softer, more gentle one.
“Are you… still living with him?”
“Hell no, I'm renting a room for now.”
“… I know you hate the town and me… but I—we have a spare room—“
“Kyle,” Cartman knew Kyle was drunk and talking nonsense; he faced the other man, “you don’t need to feel guilty. I feel like hell because I lost control over my life. Yes, your stupid boyfriend hates me, but if I were really good, I would’ve made the deal anyways. I hate him because he called me a former fat racist loser, and I hate you for giving him that information, even if it's the truth. But it’s not your fault I'm not capable of being functional and professional while in a pit of self-hate.”
“… That's not how feelings work.”
“You’re a good guy, Kyle; don’t beat yourself up over it. I’ll be fine.”
Cartman crouched down to pick up the crushed cigarette and put it in his mouth.
“Dude!”
“I can’t afford more.”
And Cartman just walked away. Sober and more depressed than before after listening to Kyle yell after him,
“I still have my old number!”
The next morning Cartman wondered why Kyle was alone at that particular bar that night. He wouldn’t have asked anyways.
Weeks passed by, and Cartman’s work shifted to something more like a consulting service. He was fine with that, and it was way easier to do.
He didn’t contact Kyle or take Kenny’s offer. He had and would get it together.
Soon he was able to save money and buy the goddamn pills that prevented him from killing everyone and himself.
He changed to a studio apartment, and soon a year passed by.
Then the new wedding. Everyone was really into marriage apparently and into inviting Cartman—even if he never was a truly good friend or a decent person to have around.
It was probably Kyle’s doing. That condescending, beautiful dumbass.
This time Cartman went alone because he wasn’t giving any casual grinder date his friend's free food.
Everything was good at first—the ceremony, the food, the music. People were actually nice to him, and he probably was nicer when he had low energy. The pills worked, but he wasn’t in the mood to get drunk and maybe start crying and breaking up things yet.
“Dude, you should totally do that. Everyone is acting so lame. I wish I could get drunk already, but we still have a lot to plan, and Ellie will kill me.”
Perhaps it was the fucking groom telling him to destroy his wedding, or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t have to pretend to be happy; sometimes low expectations made things easier.
In the end Cartman drank a bottle of champagne by himself, he behaved, and he actually made people laugh. Even Stan joked with him, and Wendy didn’t tell him to fuck off; she just shook her head when they made a gross comment and left to look for her friends.
It was a nice night; perhaps Cartman was in a good mood because Mr. Perfect Abs Douche was nowhere to be seen. If Cartman paid attention, he would’ve known Kyle has been single for a while now.
Kenny just dropped that fact later when the four of them were drinking in the massive kitchen.
“Maybe you can hook up with someone tonight! That’ll be my honor.”
Kyle blushed, smiling and elbowing Kenny.
“Nah, Kyle’s really against wedding sex, for some reason.”
Cartman took the chance to joke around because if they started talking about Kyle’s sex life too seriously, he would die right there. It was the wrong move because Kenny gave him a funny smile.
“How do you know? Did you ask him already?”
“Oh, go fuck yourself, McCormick.”
Cartman actually punched Kenny because an elbow wasn’t enough.
“I don’t care about wedding sex.” Kyle looked a bit red in the face, probably drunk. He was bracing himself with both arms and avoiding eye contact.
So freaking cute.
“EVERYONE! Wedding sex is ALLOWED AND ENCOURAGED! Let’s keep the party going!”
Kenny’s house was big, and he took the chance to invite all the people he liked, even the ones he didn’t talk much with.
Stan actually took Kyle away to talk to him about something, and Cartman just wandered around, chitchatting with anyone who recognized him and dancing around. Most people didn’t remember or care much for his past, which he was thankful for.
On his way to the bar, he bumped into Tolkien.
Fucking fantastic.
If there was something Cartman didn’t want to talk about, besides Kyle's sex life, it was that particular incident with Tolkien's friend. They didn’t have the chance to talk at Stan’s wedding, and it was for the best.
Turns out Cartman met a guy at a bar who was Tolkien's buddy, an acquaintance. He was cute, a nice skinny black guy who liked Cartman's fat cock, and Cartman kind of liked the other boy's mouth on his dick so they messed around. That was in his first year at college.
It didn’t end well because the guy eventually knew who Cartman was and dumped him.
“Hey, Eric. How are you?”
Tolkien had that smile on his face that just meant he was going to rip Cartman off.
“Hey Tolkien, fancy seeing you here. Where’s your date?”
“Somewhere else, totally getting wasted on the dance floor, I wanted a break.”
Tolkien asked the bartender, because Kenny hired one, to serve them both whisky. Like old dudes.
“So… Are you here with Kyle?”
“Fuck off.”
“Sorry! It’s just that none of you came with a plus one… I thought maybe it was because you wanted discretion.”
“Because you’re pretty discreet.”
“You can’t possibly be mad about something that happened many years ago! It was just fair; they had to know who you were. I'm sorry it didn’t work out. It was actually a surprise knowing you didn’t care much about race as long as you got your dick wet.”
“Don’t be so crude. That’s distasteful.”
“True… Anyways, I'm glad it turned out good for you and Kyle. The guy is a mess; ever since his ex-boyfriend sabotaged you, Kyle has been a bit depressed. I told him to not worry. Adam is an asshole, even at work.”
“Adam?”
“The ex-boyfriend? Mr. Perfect Teeth? You seriously don’t know his name?”
“I don’t fucking care, man. The less I know, the better.”
Tolkien gave him a weird look, then stepped closer to him, really close.
“It was kind of my fault; I told him about you at work. He really tried to convince Kyle you were the worst guy on earth. It backfired because that guy is really obsessed with you. He is actually looking this way. I wonder what he is thinking about.”
Cartman scanned the room and spotted Kyle; he was now with Tweek, far away from the bar. His blushed face was adorned with a scowl—Kyle was obviously stealing glances in Cartman's direction.
“He probably thinks we are going to fight or something.”
“Nah, he probably is thinking, ‘Why are they so close? They don’t talk much? Why is Tolkien’s arm around him?”
Cartman, speechless, felt Tolkien's arm around his shoulders—he was wearing a nice cologne. Tolkien was an attractive guy, but Cartman couldn’t humor him much longer. He wanted a cigarette so badly.
“I bet he is thinking about my pal. Kyle was mad at me for getting involved that time, but I'm sure he was happy you broke up. That dude can be really possessive; it’s scary.”
“Tolkien, please tell me what the fuck you are on or how much the bet is.”
“Five hundred.”
“Jesus! Who the hell is giving away money?! damn rich fuckers…”
“Clyde and his girl, they really think you would never do it. I think she just likes to watch."
Cartman grabbed Tolkien from the collar of his shirt and kissed him. His lips were chapped and tasted like weed and whisky. The kiss wasn’t a brief one; they even exchanged some tongue.
Tolkien looked quite pleased with it.
“I thought I would be disgusted, but you’re quite a good kisser. I guess I don’t give any fucks when I'm high and drunk.”
The motherfucker was checking his phone with a big smile. Eric knew people were watching; Clyde was probably already aware of his loss.
“Yeah, yeah. Can we call it even now? I have had these huge blue balls since August, and I don’t think I can endure more bets, in case you all were planning on kissing the fat asshole tonight.”
“I'm good, we’re good, Eric. Please tell Kyle I'm sorry; it’s just business.”
Cartman gave him a tight, humorless smile and turned around. His glass was empty already, and now he just wanted to unwind, alone.
Most people were drunk, and the light of the main hall was set on a dim, sexy purple light.
Dorks.
Cartman knew Kenny’s house had this crazy rooftop pool, and he headed that way.
He actually had some joints the host gave to everyone as souvenirs; it was better than a cig, and he was trying to quit anyways.
He knew it was Kyle’s influence, but he was at peace with it. He felt closer to the Jew in some way.
Pathetic.
It was a chill night, a bit too cold for his light suit; he had the suspicion that the cold hit him harder since he lost weight. Probably it was the fact that he was sitting against the cold concrete wall near the pool.
Not an hour passed, and Cartman heard the door of the staircase click, then light footsteps, shy footsteps of someone who was drunk, judging by the stumbling.
“Fuck my life, fucking fatass, fuck everyone…”
Goddammit.
“Jeez, you came all the way here just to curse me?”
“Fuck! Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?!”
Kyle was angry; his face was red and his eyes were glazed. He looked really cute with his plain shirt open to the third button, revealing red curls. Cartman wanted to bury his face on it.
“Sorry for being at the same house, but we were both invited.”
"¡No! I—" Kyle burped.
Cartman couldn’t help it, but he laughed, loud. That’s what weed does to an empty stomach and too much alcohol. It wasn’t funny to Kyle.
“Don't laugh! I drank a bit too much. Just… move over.”
Despite his aggressiveness, Kyle leaned on the wall by Cartman's side, shoulders touching. He took Cartman's joint from his mouth, brushing Eric’s lips with his fingers.
“Dude, you can’t just insult me and then steal my weed.”
“Fuck off. I'm not in the mood.”
They stood there in silence for a while; the music from the party was still blasting from somewhere.
Then, to Cartman's absolute horror—because his heart wasn’t able to take more—Kyle returned the joint, putting it against his lips. Cartman took it like it didn't make his heart jump; what else was he supposed to do?
Kyle didn’t leave it on his mouth; he held on to it tightly, and when Eric finished inhaling, Kyle took it back to his mouth.
The nerve.
“You don’t mind my saliva on that? I have another; you don’t need to pretend it doesn’t disgust you.”
“What? You can share saliva with Tolkien, but I'm off limits? Just say you hate me already. I don’t care anymore; spit on my face for all I care!”
Kyle took a big one on the cig. Now Cartman was confused, so instead of asking, he stole the joint from the other boy's hand. Took a drag and ended it.
“Well, I'm kind of into that, so you should totally care at least a bit.”
“Oh, really? Should I really care about you? Then tell me, why does it seem like the only person you are still avoiding is me?!”
Now Kyle was in front of him; the loud whispers were now becoming screams. If Kyle killed him there, then nobody would hear a thing. Not like he would put up a fight or anything.
"I'm avoiding everybody, Kahl."
“That’s bullshit! You kissed Tolkien, you danced with our old classmates, and you came to everyone’s wedding without sparing a chat with me, and even when we happened to run into each other, you just ran away! And I know it cannot be that you just hate Jews and gingers because you’ve dated both! Kenny told me.”
Kyle looked just too cute for Cartman to get mad at him for screaming in his face. He was surprised and too high to understand where all this animosity came from.
“You… are mad at me for dating Jews and gingers?”
“No! I—fuck you! I won’t play this game any longer!”
And Kyle turned around fuming, stumbling and mumbling profanities.
Cartman didn’t run after him; he didn’t allow himself that. If Kyle wanted out, he was in all his right. It was painful, being tossed around, not understanding, wanting and pining after nothing: why was Kyle being so cruel? Cartman wasn’t even trying to approach him, and yet he managed to still annoy the other boy.
“For fuck’s sake, we are fully grown adults! You can’t still pull this kind of shit. I can’t be here, not now…”
Kyle looked at him, demanding answers and with the face of someone who was about to cry from frustration.
“For fuck’s sake, I’m all the way over here! How am I possibly able to pull anything off?! You know what, Kyle? I’m too fucking tired for this.”
Cartman tried to open the door, pushing Kyle aside. It was stuck.
“What?”
“It won’t open!”
“Maybe it only opens from the inside?”
“Why would the fucking door to the pool open only from inside, dumbass?! Fuck… I don’t even have my phone on me…”
While Kyle was now having some kind of crisis, sitting on the floor against the wall, Cartman grabbed his phone to call anyone who would pick up. It was dead.
“Fuck. My phone is dead.”
“Fucking great. So I have to climb down four floors now?”
“I’m pretty sure I told Kenny I was going to come here just to smoke and not drown myself.”
“So he can look for us in three days like fucking Hangover?!”
“Sorry…”
Cartman was unable to move or do anything. He felt sluggish and tired with a mix of anxiety. Not thrilled to spend so much time with Kyle alone like this.
“… I guess it’s not your fault. I'm sorry for screaming.”
“Whatever.”
Cartman sat down next to him. Stealing glances. He didn’t dare to keep smoking, and now his mouth felt dry. Then Kyle broke the silence.
“… you really hate me so much? I mean… you must know—I—I’m sorry if it’s a burden, but you can at least tell me to fuck off if it’s so horrible being near me.”
“Why do you want me to tell you to fuck off?”
Kyle didn’t look at him; he was hiding behind his own hands, resting his head on his folded knees.
“Because it would be much easier to cope with! Just tell me you hate me so I can—"
“Please shut the fuck up for a fucking second! I don’t hate you, Kyle. Can you look at me?”
Kyle did not look at him.
“Kyle,” no answer. “Kyle, I'm throwing myself from the roof if you don’t look at me.”
“… you wouldn’t dare.” Still not looking.
Cartman wanted to laugh. The childish banter felt like good old times, when he really thought he hated the ginger.
“I’ve done it before, and I would do it again. Wanna bet?”
“I fucking hate you and your stupid bets.”
Kyle looked up at him, trying to dry his eyes; he was crying.
“Are you really upset because I don’t hate you?”
“You’re just making fun of me now.”
“I’m trying to fucking understand your weird-as-fuck reasoning.”
“…just tell me you don’t want to be friends.”
“Kyle—“
“I know it’s weird, but I was really hoping you wouldn’t give a fuck about it. Just—don't make fun of me. I'm already angry about it, but I hate being pushed away. Tell me you don’t want me around, tell me I disgust you so I can quit! I deserve that at least.”
What the fuck?
“Kyle. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me!”
“I genuinely have no idea what the fuck!”
Kyle looked at him with pleading eyes. Fucking Kyle and his fucking green, beautiful eyes.
“You can’t be this cruel to me.”
“I'm not cruel to you, Kyle! I'm really hurting here. And I'm too drunk and high to make any sense of what you’re telling me…”
Cartman noticed Kyle was shivering. He only had his button-up shirt and skinny jeans; it wasn’t enough for the cold night. Cartman did the right thing and took off his own jacket to cover the ginger with it.
For some reason that only made Kyle cry again.
“I'm sorry! You looked cold.”
“Why do you care?!”
“Because!”
“That’s what I'm talking about! Just like when we were in high school, you came to my house to play games or do nothing," he laughed bitterly. "We were actually becoming close friends, and then you pushed me away! Just because! You don’t tell me anything. Same when your mom… I was with you through the whole thing, and then you ran somewhere far from here to study and didn’t tell me shit! I used to think you hated me for my religion or the color of my hair, but that wasn’t the problem, was it?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you; I was an idiot. I just don’t know… I'm sorry, Kyle. I can’t—“
“No! It’s about time you tell me what the hell is wrong with us! You say you don’t know shit, that you’re not joking or making fun of me. And then you go around kissing Tolkien in front of me! Fucking at Stan’s wedding right in the next room, dating people that looked just like me, Eric! Steven was like my fucking twin!”
“Shut the fuck up, you dumbass! What the hell are you talking about now?!”
Cartman was out of breath, and Kyle was still crying; he struggled to get the words out. His throat must be closing just like Cartman’s.
What the hell is he talking about?
“… you really don’t know?”
“I have no idea why you are so sad and angry; I hate it. I hate seeing you like this. Do you really want to be friends with me? After all of this? It looks to me that you are always upset when I’m in the same room… I figured it was because I was being too obvious and you were trying to be nice. But now I have no idea what’s going on.”
“…”
“Are you really okay with being friends with me? Despite knowing how I feel about you?”
They were looking into each other's eyes. Kyle was holding onto the borrowed jacket, knuckles white, tears drying on his cheeks.
“I don’t know what else I can do. I just… I don't want to watch you walk away again and again. I’d rather be friends with you and cope with this than be apart. I hate it. I want to fight you, laugh together, and make fun of each other. It may be painful… but it would kill me to stay like this; it’s killing me.”
“I'm sorry… to cause you pain. I can try. I just—I guess we are both hurting. I didn’t know you wanted me around anyways.”
Cartman didn’t really understand how they ended up talking about being friends again. He was going to regret it in the morning, but now it felt like everything was right. That their friendship still had hope.
“Why wouldn’t I? We were friends in the end; I trusted you.”
“Well, for years I had these feelings and never told you; it felt wrong. I didn’t want to watch you date people, being happy. I had this jealousy burning inside, and it felt like I was lying to you.”
“What?”
Kyle's face shifted into something cautious; his eyebrows went from neutral to confused. Cartman gulped; maybe nothing was right after all.
“I mean… It's been a long time. It’s still a bit painful, but… I can cope. If you don’t hate the idea.” Eric’s voice wavered; he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or his heart shattering. This was it. Maybe Kyle was in denial because he hadn’t had the chance to reject Cartman directly.
“What is it to hate?” Kyle's voice was barely a whisper.
“… that I’ve been in love with you?” Kyle's expression was blank now, and Cartman was so over with all of it. “I’m sorry. I knew I couldn’t do this. Forget it, I can’t be friends; please don’t look at me like that.”
Cartman stood up with the intention to throw himself over the roof edge. The humiliation was too much. The rejection was too much. He really wasn’t ready for it. After all these years he still felt awful.
Just like when he was about to confess to Kyle that night at his 16th birthday.
At some point, Kyle had to get mad at him and tell him he was a fatass loser who no one would ever love.
Cartman didn’t remember why he was told that; it didn’t matter. He used to make fun of Kyle to hide his feelings—he should’ve taken that night as the most upfront rejection possible. Foreshadowing.
It would’ve been easier.
Why did I think we could go back to being friends? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
A cold hand grabbed his wrist.
“Is this a messed-up way of rejecting me?”
“Kyle, I'm leaving. I can’t do this.”
“No! Come back here!”
Cartman didn’t go anywhere; he was being held in place with a death grip. He assumed Kyle meant “back here” on the ground. So he kneeled. Because Cartman didn’t really want to leave.
He wanted forgiveness; maybe a smile; fuck, a hug would’ve been fantastic—he didn’t remember the last time he hugged anybody, let alone Kyle.
“Kyle, you’re really making me say it?”
“Say it, please. I need to hear it.”
Cartman sighed; he might as well…
“I love you. I’ve been in love with you for over fifteen years. I hate myself, and I hate you for making me feel like this. It’s like a curse, and you’re only making me feel worse. I don’t understand why you are so adamant about making me say it out loud. I already know the answer.”
His wrist was free, but before Cartman could run and jump, Kyle grabbed his hair with both hands, really tight.
“Ouch!”
“Eric, you can’t be joking right now, please. Tell me you're being honest with me."
Was that relief in Kyle's face? Cartman really needed to get the fuck out of there before he went fully delusional.
"Kyle, you’re hurting me.”
“I’ve been hurting for over fifteen years! Don't you dare tell me anything about pain! Fuck… are you for real? Oh my god, I'm an idiot. Stan was right…”
Kyle closed his eyes; he was crying again. Cartman wished he had water to give him; his head was going to hurt like a bitch later.
Kyle was making no sense, and Cartman was worried about his mental state. He was probably still drunk.
“Kyle, I'm sorry; I was sure you already knew. Don't be mad; we don’t need to be friends if you—“
“Of course we can’t be friends! I can’t fucking believe us! Oh god.” Kyle’s fits traveled down to Cartman's shoulders, and he hid his face on the other's neck. “This must be another stupid dream."
“Kyle?” Cartman was really worried now. His confession made Kyle spiral into some crisis, and his heart really wasn’t able to focus on anything but the other boy's shampoo smell and body warmth. He grabbed Kyle by the arms and tried to put some distance between them.
“No! Don't you dare.”
And Cartman didn’t dare; he stayed still, holding Kyle by the arms, letting him catch his breath. Cartman felt his dick twitch with every exhale against his skin; he wanted to cry too.
Then Kyle looked up, their noses touching, breaths merging together.
Cartman didn’t have words; he was lost in some kind of fever dream. He realized he was probably making bruises on Kyle’s skinny arms.
“You want to be friends?”
Kyle’s tone was soft, like he didn’t want to break the spell. And Cartman owed him honestly—this couldn’t drag on any longer.
“… no. Not really.”
“And you are being one hundred percent honest about being in love with me? Because I swear if this is a joke—“
“Kyle, I would fuck you right here. Like, I would marry you and fuck you right now, every day for the rest of my stupid life.”
And that was exactly what Kyle needed to hear. In a heartbeat they were kissing, hungrily, tongues claiming every inch of each other's mouths.
It was the most incredible feeling in the world. Cartman took it as permission and quickly grabbed everything he could: hair, arms, waist, face, everything.
He kissed the other boy's cheeks and sucked every patch of skin available.
Cartman thought his childhood crush couldn't get worse until now, when he saw the redheaded, bearded grown man looking all ravished, almost innocent, with his fierce, strong gaze glazed by relief and lust.
Cartman was the first one to break the moment because he realized they were freezing cold on Kenny’s rooftop, making out without a proper explanation.
“Kyle… Kyle, wait—“
“I’ve waited too long.”
“Dude, stop.”
Cartman wasn’t really putting up much of a fight to stop Kyle's aggressive affection either; he kept kissing back, short sweet kisses.
“Kyle, I love all that’s happening right now, but I have no idea why it's happening, and I'm worried we will freeze up here before we get to talk about it. And we’re both high and drunk.”
“I love you. I’ve been in love for over fifteen years.”
Cartman thought at first that Kyle was repeating his confession, mocking him, but quickly he understood. Finally.
“Oh shit.”
“I can’t tell who is the dumbest of us. It doesn’t matter. I'm still angry at you for kissing and dating everyone but me.”
“Shit... fuck. I love you. I love you too. KYLE! I love you! To hell with friendship! Should we go on a date? Fuck, I haven’t dated in so long. I’m sorry; I should’ve charged my phone before coming here. I—"
Cartman was cut off with a more gentle kiss.
“You’re being a dork now. I don't need dates; I know you. You’re an idiot, as I am. I would like to skip to the sex stage already.”
“Holy fuck.”
And Kyle practically threw himself at him. Biting his neck and grabbing flesh under his shirt, one bold hand dared to grab his half-hard dick.
“You’ve been hiding this little guy from me.”
“Kahl! So mean."
“You’re the mean one; I can’t believe we could've been fucking all these years! It's your fault.”
“Then I should totally make up for the lost time.”
Bang, bang, bang.
“Hello, guys! I have a perfectly nice room for you two lovebirds; please don’t fucking freeze out naked on my roof!"
Kenny’s voice made both men come back to reality.
“IT WAS YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! I can’t believe you...”
After years of teasing, Cartman didn’t have trouble recognizing Kenny’s scheme. Of course he would do this cliche ‘stuck until you make out’ move.
“Kenny, did you really do this?”
Kyle wasn't as angry as Cartman; he sounded more impressed.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Eric that the ginger was now casually holding his hand.
Please, Lord, don’t let me wake up.
“Kyle.”
Kyle looked up at him. Smiling.
“I love you.”
Kyle’s smile widened.
“Thanks for telling me. Wanna be my boyfriend?”
“Fuck yeah. Wanna fuck in Kenny’s bedroom?”
And Kyle kissed him. Ignoring all the catcalls from outside the door. Later they were told that the whole drama was being watched by their friends on the security cameras.
Cartman didn’t give a fuck.
How could he when Kyle was now parading in their living room wearing only Cartman shirts, ass naked, and totally tempting the brunette for some morning sex?
After many years, Cartman felt that his life was good.
He was happy now.
They were happy.