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Ting
Ting Ting
Ting
Kyle rolls over in bed, pulling his pillow over his head in a desperate attempt to ignore the noise coming from his window. There’s only one person who could be causing the ruckus, and it’s the last person he wants to see at this time of night.
Ting Ting
Ting
Ting
Crack
The sudden change in sound makes him cringe. His window is definitely broken now, hopefully in a way that’s small enough he can hide it before his mother notices. The rocks stop, and Kyle thinks maybe the breaking window caused the perpetrator to have a change of heart and leave him alone. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and tries to get some sleep. Whatever it is that’s so important can obviously wait until morning. Just as he feels himself drifting off…
Ting Ting
“Oh, God dammit,” Kyle groans, throwing off his covers and stomping over to the window. He slams it open and glares down at the boy below with as much venom as he can muster. “What the hell are you doing here, fatass?”
“Fucking finally,” Cartman exclaims, “What took you so long? I was running out of rocks.”
Of course. Kyle mentally slaps himself. If only he’d stuck it out a bit longer, he could have avoided this situation all together. Just his luck. “Answer my fucking question,” he growls.
“Jesus Christ, okay.” Cartman takes a deep breath before continuing, as if throwing rocks at a second story window managed to wind him. Wouldn’t be surprising if it did, Kyle thought. “So I was up doing a lot of thinking and I really, really need your help with something but I can’t explain unless you let me in.”
“What makes you think I’ll let you in?”
“The fact that, if you don’t, you’ll never know why I showed up in the first place, and I know that will eat you alive.”
Kyle inhales, now thoroughly annoyed. Both by being bothered at one in the morning, and the fact that Cartman’s right. “...And this couldn’t wait until tomorrow… Why?”
“Because, Kahl, I’m in crisis and need immediate resolution.” Cartman huffs, like he’s the one who’s fed up with Kyle’s shit and not the other way around, “Now, are you gonna let me in or what?”
“Whatever. You can come in, I guess, but I’m not helping you up.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve done this tons of times. No problem.”
Before Kyle can even begin to think about what that implied, Cartman’s leaning a ladder against the side of his house and climbing up. Where the hell was he keeping that thing?
In no time the fatass is up the ladder and not-so-gracefully clambering through the open window. He beams for a second, seemingly proud of the mundane accomplishment that is getting through an opening without falling, before his expression changes to one that’s more serious. He strolls into the center of the room like he owns the place, turning around to face Kyle once he reaches the rug in the center of the room. “Before I even start,” Cartman begins, “you have got to promise you’re not gonna unleash your Jew rage on me.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Just promise not to get totally pissed off for what I ask you to do.”
“You know damn well I can’t promise that,” Kyle snaps, arms crossed.
Cartman rolls his eyes. “Then can you at least promise to let me finish before you go all ballistic?”
“I guess, but you’re not really making this sound appealing.”
“Just hear me out, okay.” Cartman takes a deep breath once again before he continues. “Alright, so, I’ve been thinking a lot about Craig and Tweek recently. Like, how they’re gay and stuff. And it got me thinking about how they used to act before they were total homos for each other.”
“What do you mean?” Kyle implores, completely lost on where this is going.
“Do you remember back in third grade when we made them fight each other?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, they never really got over that. They had some sort of rivalry thing going on up until they started dating. I even think Tweek kept up with the kickboxing lessons just in case they had to fight again.”
“And this matters because..?”
Cartman huffs, incredulous, “Because, if they really hated each other, how the hell could they magically be gay for each other?”
If Kyle was lost before, he’s been sent adrift by now. “Did you really come to my house at 1:00 am, wake me up, and break my fucking window, just to ask me how Tweek and Craig’s relationship works?” As if on cue, he yawns into his hand. “I cannot believe you.”
“No, let me finish. So, then I started thinking, what if hating someone is just one step away from being a complete fag for them? How do you know if you’re fighting because you’re angry or because you have some sort of fucked up sexual tension you’re trying to get out?”
The realization of where this conversation is heading hits Kyle like a truck and he suddenly feels sick. “No. No no no no, do not say what I think you’re going to say. Stop right there, leave my room, go home, and forget about it.”
“Kahl, you promised.”
“Nope, I take it back. Get out.”
“God dammit, Kyle, just fucking listen to me!”
The taller boy freezes at the sound of his name, his actual name, being used by Cartman of all people. His brain shuts down, unable to form an actual response. Cartman takes his silence as a sign to keep going. “I need you to kiss me.”
That kick starts Kyle’s brain again. “You aren’t serious,” he blurts.
“I so am.” The look Cartman’s giving him makes his skin crawl. “Think about it: If we kiss, and we don’t feel anything, then we know we just hate each other.”
“Well, I know I hate your guts,” Kyle argues, “I don’t need anything to prove that. You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“And I can’t think of anything worse than having your Jew lips anywhere near me, but how do we know that’s not exactly how Tweek and Craig felt, huh? Now they can’t keep their hands off of each other.”
“We’re not like Tweek and Craig!” Kyle shouts before remembering what time it is and lowering his voice back to a whisper, “I am not fucking kissing you, end of story.”
Cartman looks crazed now, striding forward to grab Kyle’s shoulders. “For Christ’s sake, Kyle, I’m not asking you to make out with me. One little peck, that’s all. We never have to talk about it again-”
“Let go of me, fatass-”
“- I swear to God I’ll leave right after, I just… I have to know, okay!? It’s been driving me insane!”
Kyle stares at the other, absolutely taken aback. This is a side of his rival he’s only seen a handful of times. Hearing him so desperate, so pathetically worked up, tugs at his heartstrings in the worst way. Fuck, he can’t believe he’s about to agree to this. The universe owes him some sort of compensation for dealing with this shit for this long.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” Cartman questions, eyes wide, “What do you mean ‘fine’?”
“‘Fine’ as in I’ll do it. Just stop screaming, you’re gonna wake my parents up.”
“Oh.” It’s Cartman’s turn to shut down, all the ferocity from moments ago zapped away. “Oh, alright. Cool. Sweet.”
“Let’s just get this over with. The sooner I can go back to sleep, the better.”
Cartman doesn’t respond, just stands there awkwardly, hands still firmly planted on Kyle’s shoulders. Kyle takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he exhales. Never in a million years did he picture himself in this situation. He is really about to kiss Eric fucking Cartman. What the fuck?
Before he can think about it any further, he decides to get it over with and surges forward, smashing their faces together in a way-too-rough peck that may very well leave them with matching bruises. But just as fast as Kyle pulled them together, Cartman pushes them apart.
“What the hell was that!?” he hisses.
“Exactly what you asked for,” Kyle deadpans.
“I asked for a kiss not a fucking headbutt, Jesus Christ. Haven’t you had girlfriends before? Seriously, Kahl.”
“Oh, shut up, it wasn’t that bad.”
“It was awful! I guess if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” Without another word, Cartman’s pulling Kyle back in.
It’s nothing remarkable, just a light, chaste kiss. Something that wouldn’t even make a nun blush. Something Kyle himself has experienced more than once. But for some reason, he suddenly can’t breathe. It feels like someone hit him in the stomach with a baseball bat, simultaneously winding him and making him nauseous. He’s quick to write it off as disgust, a visceral reaction to being lip-to-lip with his worst enemy, but that doesn’t explain how disturbingly relaxed he feels right now. He should be cringing, gagging, waiting impatiently for the chance to run to the bathroom and wash his mouth off. That’s what he should be feeling right now. Why doesn’t he feel like that?
Completely ignorant to Kyle’s internal struggles, Cartman pulls away once more. His eyes are wide as he backs away, face somehow pale and flushed at the same time, as if he had a fever. He shakes his head before quickly walking past Kyle, making a break for the window. “Look at that, time for me to get going. Goodbye, Kahl.”
“Wha- huh?” Cartman’s already on his way out the window when Kyle whips around to question him.
“I said I’d leave right after, didn’t I? I’m a man of my word, so… See ya!”
“Wait, but-” Kyle doesn’t get to finish his sentence, cut off by the sound of the ladder nearly falling onto the pudgy boy as he hurries to jump off and high-tail it out of there. He stares dumbly at the ground below for a few minutes, hand unconsciously covering his mouth, before a particularly harsh gust of wind blows in through the open window, chilling him to the bone and snapping him out of his daze. He slams the glass shut, wincing at the sound, and practically dives back into his bed, eager to go to sleep and forget that the events of the night even happened.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t get any sleep that night.