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“Are you okay?”
Eric looks up from where he’s watching the ground as they walk together, hand in hand. Kyle swings their hands, not particularly enjoying the way that Eric’s hands are sweating. Still, he doesn’t let go. “Me?” Eric asks. “Are you fuckin’ okay?”
Kyle’s pretty sure he’s fine; he has a busted lip and he’s on the bench for the next three basketball games, and Eric’s hand is really, really sweaty, but he’s fine. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Oh, uh, I don’t know Kyle. Maybe because you punched that guy from the other team after he just kind of, brushed against you?”
Kyle grits his teeth. “He pushed me. So I hit him. That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong,” Kyle says.
“Right, my mistake.”
Eric turns his eyes back to the ground as they walk, and Kyle watches Eric’s brows furrow, and he knows Eric’s mind is running a million miles a minute because he’s Eric fucking Cartman and he has to think and rethink and overthink every single fucking thing. Kyle loves it and he fucking hates it all at the same time. It’s so very reminiscent of how he actually feels for the stupid lug walking beside him and holding his hand with his own sweaty one.
Kyle doesn’t like when Eric is quiet. Eric should always be making obnoxious noises, even if those obnoxious noises are what he claims to be words. Sometimes it all runs right through Kyle’s head, and he can’t even focus on the words because he’s so wrapped up in the person saying them. Love is fuckin’ stupid, dude. He should have listened to Stan back in elementary school.
But Stan was the one who was constantly egging Kyle on to be with girls. Hm. That worked out well.
“Okay, do you want the truth?” Kyle asks, and Eric looks over, eyes wide and beautiful. Kyle’s gotten lost in those big brown eyes more times than he can count and he hates it.
“No, Kyle, I fuckin’ love it when you lie to me,” he deadpans.
Kyle shivers involuntarily. He’s so fucked, he’s so utterly fucked. Just hearing his name and the word ‘love’ in the same sentence from Eric is enough to make his head spin.
“Are you cold or something?” Eric asks, lifting a brow.
“Or something,” Kyle mumbles, looking away. He tries to keep walking, but Eric’s sweaty hand stops him. Kyle pauses and turns, and Eric lets go of his hand to take his huge red hoodie off, revealing a fucking Rammstein shirt underneath. “What are you doing, Cartman.” it’s not even a question, really, because he can see what Eric is doing, and in a second, Eric has slipped the hoodie over Kyle’s body, and it swamps him like a fuckin’ smock or a dress or something.
“Jesus,” Kyle says, looking down at himself, taking in the way the hoodie practically drips off of his thin body. “Now you’re gonna get cold, you fuckin’ idiot.”
“I’m not made of toothpicks, Kyle. My natural manly body will keep me warm for the two blocks we have until we reach our houses,” Eric snorts, reaching out to take Kyle’s hand again.
Kyle takes it, albeit reluctantly. He wouldn’t admit it, because he has somewhat of a reputation to hold, but he does like holding hands with Eric. And, he does love wearing his clothes, too. Just not in public, you know?
His hoodie smells like vanilla and cigarettes and his dumb perfume of the week. This week he thinks it’s something by Gwen Stefani. Kyle wonders what it says about Eric that he wears that shit.
Kyle wonders what it says about himself that he knows about it, keeps tabs on what perfume Eric is deeming acceptable of that week.
They start walking again, in silence, and Kyle knows he’s supposed to be telling Eric the truth, but it’s so easy to just not say anything and to let Eric and everyone else think he hit that guy because he pushed him. Which, okay, it’s not like that would be the first time Kyle has hauled off and attacked someone. It’s probably the Jersey on his mom’s side, he thinks.
Still. It’s not the complete truth. Dude absolutely had it coming for pushing him too, though. Dick.
“So are you gonna tell me anytime soon? Because I see my house up ahead, so, yeah.”
Kyle stops, and the hoodie swings and taps against the back of his own knees (his knees for Moses’s sake. Eric needs to lose some goddamn weight.) as he lets go of Eric’s sweaty hand again and turns to face him.
“Okay. You can’t tell anyone. I don’t care if you think it’s… I don’t know. Whatever. But Cartman, I swear to God if you tell anyone about this-”
Eric raises his hands, palms out, signifying his cooperation. “Jesus Christ, Kyle, just fuckin’ spit it out already.”
Yeah, alright. Kyle takes a breath and looks away from Eric’s intrigued expression. “I attacked that guy because he was talking shit. About… about you.”
When Kyle looks back, Eric is grinning like an idiot. “See, this is why I didn’t want to fuckin’ tell you.”
“What, is it so fuckin’ bad that you defended your boyfriend?”
No, no, it isn’t. It is. Kyle isn’t sure.
Kyle’s heard every insult under the sun directed at Eric and himself for as long as he can remember, and most of them were actually well deserved, but it was just different this time. Somehow.
He knows how, but he can’t put it into words. How do you tell someone that you’re in love with them? Well, how do you tell Eric Cartman you’re in love with him? Eric Cartman who gave him AIDS. Eric Cartman who gave him his hoodie because he might be cold. Eric Cartman who has sweaty hands and bad taste in music and wears Gwen Stefani perfume.
Eric Cartman who broke into his room countless times over the years, previously just to piss Kyle off, but now to spoon him when he gets stress induced headaches. Eric Cartman who asked if Kyle was okay after beating a kid’s ass and getting benched for nearly the rest of the season.
“It’s not bad, it’s just, ugh, I don’t know,” Kyle shakes his head. He grabs Eric’s hand and makes him start walking again. ‘Embarrassing’ comes to mind, but he knows better than to say that anything having to do with Eric is embarrassing. That would only hurt his feelings, and it was actually pretty easy to do that.
Maybe he should. Sometimes Kyle gets these spikes of anxiety that make him want to ruin everything. Especially with Eric. It would be so easy to use his secrets against him and make him hate Kyle again like when they were kids. Kyle thinks it would be easier sometimes. Love makes him stupid, but he can use hate to his advantage.
“It’s just when that kid started saying shit, I tried to ignore it but I couldn’t,” Kyle manages to get out.
“What did he say?” Eric asks, because of course, he wants to know. He has to know everything, all the time, always. Just like Kyle. Whoever said opposites attract is a goddamn liar, because Kyle thinks that he and Eric are two halves of the same coin. Or, like, whatever corny expression old people would use.
Soulmates maybe? Ugh. Gross. That’s more Stan’s bullshit anyway.
Kyle shakes his head. No, he’s not going to tell Eric what the guy said. It was hateful and untrue and mostly baseless accusations made to try to rile Kyle up.
And, it worked. Kyle’s more annoyed that he bought the bullshit the kid was selling than anything else, because Kyle is the South Park Cow’s star player, and now he’s benched. Good fuckin’ job, Broflovski. Your parents must be so proud.
As if.
“Just bullshit, dude. None of it was true anyway, I don’t know why it got to me.”
They come to a stop in front of Eric’s house, and Kyle reluctantly takes the hoodie off and hands it back to Eric. Eric swings it over one broad shoulder and then he pulls Kyle in for a kiss, lips pressing too hard against Kyle’s split bottom lip. It stings a lot, and he hisses at the pressure, so Eric backs off immediately.
“Sorry, I didn’t think about it,” Eric says, not sounding at all apologetic as he smiles at him, eyes scanning over Kyle’s face. It used to make him self conscious when they first started seeing each other because Kyle is a lot of things, but confident in his appearance is not fuckin’ one of them. At least, he doesn’t hold the same level of confidence that Eric has.
Kyle wants to reply, “Neither did I,” because he really didn’t think before he just started swinging.
He settles for, “thanks for going to my game.”
Eric tilts his head slightly. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t cheer you on from the stands?”
“A good one,” Kyle jokes, and Eric snorts and pushes his shoulder.
“Oh, oops, I shoved you. You gonna beat me up, Kyle?”
Oh, what a fuckin’ dick. “Do you want me to?” Kyle asks, stepping forward so their chests are pressed together, head tilted up in challenge. Eric breathes out unsteadily, and Kyle counts it as a win on his part.
“Alright, that is so not fair. You aren’t allowed to use your fuckin’ hypnosis on me,” Eric says, lifting a hand so he can wag a finger at Kyle. Kyle slaps the hand away, grinning despite himself.
-
His parents are less understanding of the whole situation, but Kyle’s utterly unsurprised by that.
At any rate, they don’t punish him, so he doesn’t really care that he’s managed to disappoint them once again. He lies to them and says that he hit the kid for making fun of his faith. Right, because if Kyle hit every single kid that made fun of Judaism, he’d be getting homeschooled.
God, Kyle can’t even imagine what it would be like to have to spend all day every day at home. With his mom. He shudders just thinking about it.
Then again, he preferred his mom over his dad, so what does that say about him?
Maybe Kyle shouldn’t worry so much about what other people think of him, but it had been drilled into his mind at a young age that appearances matter.
Kyle looks in his bathroom mirror at his split lip. Considering that’s his only injury, he’s not too upset. And he’s gone to school looking a hell of a lot worse before anyway. No one really cares, after all. Kyle’s the weirdo who has a morality complex despite dating what could be the antichrist. That is if Kyle didn’t already personally know the son of Satan. Well, actually, Kyle can’t remember the last time he saw Damien.
Whatever. That kid was a dick anyway.
Kyle gives up on treating his lip after a few moments. He’s had worse, and it’s not like he won’t get hurt again in the future. Also, maybe a small part of him looks at the split as a warning sign. ‘Don’t fuck with Kyle Broflovski’ in neon letters.
The thought reminds him of the start of every school year when new students swarm into their shitty high school and are immediately warned off of hanging out with Kyle and his friends. ‘Don’t talk to those guys,’ he can remember overhearing. ‘They get involved in some fucked up shit. I heard that the fat one made a dude eat his parents.’
They don’t even fucking know the half of it.
Kyle’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and when he checks it, it’s Stan. Of course, he answers, because he’s a good best friend, and a good person, and blah blah blah. “Yeah?”
“Dude, Token told me what happened. Are you okay? What happened?” Stan asks, voice tinny through his phone. Kyle sighs.
“I got mad during the game and beat up some kid. No big deal.”
“Uh, no big deal?” Stan asks. “That kind of sounds like a big deal.”
“Nah, don’t worry, my parents didn’t even punish me.”
There’s a silence, and Kyle wonders if Stan hung up for just a second before Stan speaks again. “Sheila and Gerald Broflovski didn’t punish their son for beating a dude’s ass on the basketball court? Okay, you have to be lying to me right now.”
Kyle laughs at that. He’s not wrong to be suspicious. “No, seriously. I told them it was because the guy belittled my faith.”
“Wow, Kyle. Wow. You really pulled the Jew card on your own parents?”
Kyle shrugs, even though he knows Stan can’t see it. “I did what I had to do.”
Stan laughs. “Okay, so, what the fuck was the real reason? Token said the guy pushed you, but that seems like overkill, don’t you think?”
Fuck, okay. Kyle didn’t even think about coming up with a lie to tell Stan. “Uh, well,” he begins.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“I mean, I don’t think you’ll dislike it? It’s really dumb.”
“Oh, shit. Well, let’s hear it.”
Kyle takes a breath. “He made fun of Cartman.”
There’s laughter. A lot of it. Very loud, booming, Stan laughter that has Kyle tilting the phone away from his ear. Kyle thinks vaguely in the back of his mind that he hasn’t heard Stan laugh like that in a long time. Perhaps since before Stan started taking that new antidepressant.
Kyle notes a little sadly that he hasn’t been spending much time with Stan lately. He needs to work on that.
“He,” and Stan sucks in a breath of air and starts laughing again. Kyle waits him out, examining his face in the bathroom mirror, hissing as he pokes at his bottom lip.
“Anytime, Stan,” Kyle says into the phone.
Stan clears his throat. “No, I’m good now. Okay,” and he snickers again. “Okay. I’m good now. So. You beat that guy up because, what, because he called Cartman fat or something?”
If ‘fat’ was the worst of it, maybe Kyle wouldn’t have beat the guy up.
“Yeah. I don’t know. I guess I just lost it.”
“Who would have thought Kyle would be an overprotective boyfriend?”
Kyle sputters. “What? I’m not overprotective. We were in the middle of a game, and my adrenaline was pumping, and-”
“Dude, do you think I’ve ever punched someone for calling Wendy a bitch?”
Kyle’s silent as he turns over Stan’s words. “But you’re a pacifist,” he mumbles.
“So is Wendy.”
“So,” Kyle says a little petulantly.
“‘So’,” Stan mocks. “So, I’m just saying that you’re kind of… I don’t know how to word it. You’re kind of Cartman’s bitch.”
“Excuse me?” Kyle seethes. He’s sure that Stan tries to explain himself, but he hangs up, and he can see his face getting red in the mirror before he even feels the heat bloom on his cheeks.
Stan calls back immediately, but Kyle ignores it.
He’s so not Cartman’s bitch. That’s such a shitty thing to say. Maybe Kyle would do dumb things that Eric asked him to, but that’s because he’s a good boyfriend god damn it.
Kyle’s phone buzzes, and when he checks the message, it’s a meme that Kenny shared in their group chat. He’s only a little disappointed that it’s not a message from Eric.
-
Eric sends him a message later, right before Kyle is about to go to sleep. It’s just a simple goodnight text, but it was sent to him specifically after Eric already said goodnight in the group chat. It’s so gay. Kyle re-reads it twelve times before he finally plugs his phone in to go to sleep.
-
Kyle’s making his way through a bowl of cereal the next morning, thankfully a Saturday, and he’s had some time to think things over. He’s pretty sure he’s in love with Eric Cartman. It’s troubling. He doesn’t know what to do about it.
In the group chat, Eric is asking if anyone wants to hang out.
Stan the Man: cant im going out w/ wendy
KennyMcWHOREmic: ha gay
Stan the Man: eat my whole ass ken
KennyMcWHOREmic: when and where bb
While Stan and Kenny go back and forth, Kyle’s phone buzzes in his hand, and it’s a text from Eric.
[in: Fatass] you wanna come over?
Kyle considers his options for a second. He doesn’t have anything planned for the day, and since Stan is busy anyway, he figures he might as well. And it’s not as if he thinks hanging out with his boyfriend is a chore, but now that he’s really come to terms with his feelings, he’s a little worried he’s going to slip up and say something stupid.
[Out: Fatass] sure
-
Eric’s house smells like cigarette smoke, cats, and food, but Kyle’s so used to it after all these years he barely notices. He lets himself in, not bothering to knock. Eric is sitting at his kitchen table with Liane when Kyle enters, and Liane gives him a soft smile, eyes crinkling as she taps her cigarette against the ashtray just to her left. “Good morning, Kyle.”
“Good morning Mrs. Cartman,” Kyle says back politely, taking a seat next to Eric. Eric smiles at him as he takes another bite of pancakes, syrup oozing down his chin.
“Would you like some pancakes, hon?” she offers, and Kyle has to actually make an effort to tear his eyes away from the syrup dripping down Eric’s face. God, he’s in deep.
“No thanks, I already ate,” he says. Liane nods and taps her cigarette against the ashtray again.
“What do you two have planned for the day?” she asks, taking a drag off of her cigarette. Kyle and Eric shrug in unison.
“Well, I have to do some grocery shopping today, so I’ll get out of your hair. Enjoy your breakfast, baby,” Liane says as she rises from the table and kisses Eric on the forehead. He groans, but with his mouth full of food he can’t really object. “Kyle, if you change your mind, there’s leftover pancakes in the microwave.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cartman.”
When she’s finally left, and Eric has finished eating, he turns to Kyle. “She fuckin’ loves you, you know? More than me, probably.”
Kyle knows that Eric means that Liane likes Kyle better than her own son, and he definitely disagrees with that, but the way it’s worded makes his heart skip stupidly at the implication that Eric loves him. “She does not.”
Eric nods. “Does so, she’s always asking when you’re gonna come over again. Why does she like all my friends better than me?”
“Because we’re all so much cooler than you,” Kyle retorts. “Wipe your fuckin’ face off, you slob. You have syrup all over you.”
“Wow, babe. Harsh.” Eric blinks and licks his lips, tongue reaching everywhere it possibly can to try and get all the syrup. “Did I get it?”
Nope. “Yep,” Kyle replies. “Also, I told you not to call me that.”
“What, babe?”
“Yes,” Kyle says. “It’s gross.”
Eric shrugs. “But you’re a babe. I mean, look at you,” and his eyes rove over Kyle, making his face heat up. “Total babe,” he finishes.
“I’ll kill you, you know,” Kyle replies, averting his eyes. “Anyway, what the fuck did you want to do today?”
Eric shrugs again, standing up and stretching his arms. His hoodie rises up a bit, and Kyle can see his happy trail leading down his stomach. Kyle swallows, eyes flicking up before Eric notices him.
“We could just watch tv?” Eric suggests. “There’s a Terrance and Phillip marathon going on today and tomorrow.”
Kyle stands too, glancing at the living room couch. “How long is your mom going to be gone?” Kyle asks. Eric grins and waggles his eyebrows.
“Why? What do you have in mind?”
-
It’s not exactly what Kyle had in mind, but he supposes he isn’t complaining. He clutches at Eric’s hair as he goes down on him, and Kyle swears. “Shit,” he breathes out, and Eric bobs his head a little faster, hand working Kyle’s dick quickly as he sucks the tip. “God, fuck, Cartman,” he moans. He’s a little embarrassed by the noises he keeps making, but Eric has heard them all before.
Eric places a kiss on the head of Kyle’s dick and smirks at him before batting his big brown eyes and swallowing Kyle down again. “Shit, I love you,” he says, not even thinking. How could he, given the situation.
Eric pops up, brows furrowed. “Y-you what?”
Kyle blinks, looking down at Eric as he lets go of Kyle’s dick and uses that hand to wipe his mouth. Kyle can’t even remember what he said.
“What? What did I say?” he asks, nerves twisting and spoiling all the pleasant warmth in his lower body.
Eric sits back, wrapping his arms around himself, seemingly suddenly self-conscious about the fact that he’s naked. “You, uh, you don’t know?”
Kyle considers his options for a second as he feels out the correct answer. “Nnnnooo?”
Eric blinks once and nods, looking away.
Well, the mood is kind of ruined now, Kyle guesses, so he tucks himself back into his pants and sits up all the way, sliding over so he’s sitting right next to Eric. “What did I say?”
Eric laughs a bit wryly, not looking at Kyle as he answers. “You fuckin’, you said you love me.”
Kyle feels his heart seize. There are so many ways this conversation could go down, and he’s terrified of saying the wrong thing. Because he does, he does love Eric, and it’s horrifying and scary and nerve-wracking and so completely right at the same time. But he wasn’t supposed to fucking tell Eric that while they were, well, doing that.
“I do,” Kyle admits, because fuck, shit, why not. He’s already said it. He may as well own up to it. “I meant it. I, fuck,” and he runs a hand through his hair, dislodging his hat. It falls off the side of Eric’s bed. “I love you, Cartman,” he confesses.
Eric turns to him, face red as he gapes at Kyle. “You’re fucking with me,” Eric retorts, not at all convinced.
Kyle wasn’t exactly expecting Eric to reject his confession like that, but to be fair, Kyle had made the confession in the middle of getting blown. Truly one of his best moments. Kyle wants to die. “I’m not fucking with you, Cartman,” he says, rolling his eyes. Then, he corrects himself. “Eric. I really, ah, I do. I love you.”
Eric’s eyes scan over Kyle’s face, searching for any sign of betrayal. “Yeah? Since when?”
Since always, Kyle imagines. Of course, where before it was more of a familial love brought on from years of knowing each other, now it was a steady burn in his chest when he looks at him and talks to him. Now it was enough for someone to poke fun at Eric to set Kyle off. Hell, Kyle has a fuckin’ split bottom lip because of trying to defend his boyfriend’s non-existent honor.
“I don’t know. A while, I guess? I just, I only really realized it recently,” Kyle says, words stilted. He starts to say something else about why or how or something, but then Eric is tackling him on to the bed.
“Mmf!” Kyle says against Eric’s lips. His lip stings, but he ignores it as Eric deepens the kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are watery and he’s smiling so widely, Kyle’s breath catches. The only word that even pops into his mind is, ‘beautiful’ which is something he absolutely will not be saying out loud.
“You’re seriously?”
Kyle nods. “I’m seriously,” he replies, tone kind of flat, but Eric just grins impossibly wider and kisses him again. Well, Kyle isn’t going to complain.
“Kyle loves me, Kyle Broflovski loves me! M-E, Eric Theodore Cartman. Oh my God,” Eric shakes his head, bewildered.
“Yeah, well, does Eric Theodore Cartman love M-E?” Kyle mocks, not expecting to get a real answer. But then, Eric takes Kyle’s hand, expression suddenly deathly serious.
“Kyle, I’ve been in love with you since, like, seventh grade.”
Kyle doesn’t even know what to say to that. So, he doesn’t say anything. He feels the tips of his ears heat up, and his eyes flick between Eric’s face, their intertwined hands, and back up to his face, and then, Kyle leans in and kisses Eric, pain in his stupid fuckin’ lip be damned.
Also, Eric’s hand isn’t sweaty anymore.