Chapter Text
(plz listen to this in the intro gang https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUKN_ySpqU4&list=RDBUKN_ySpqU4&start_radio=1)
"BUTTERS!"
A small rock struck the window of Butter's room. Then a second one. Finnaly, the boy opened his window, looking down to see who decided to disrupt his sleep at 1 am sharp.
"Eric?"
He whisper-yelled. (yall know what i mean)
"BUTTERS YOU ASSHOLE!"
Cartman frantically waved his arms, signaling for his friend to come down. He looked beyond pissed.
"Ah, crap..."
Butters hissed and rushed towards his closet. Him and Eric were supposed to sneak into Kyle's house today but, of course, he forgot. He quickly threw on his fleece jacket, not even changing from his pj's and grabbed his backpack. He carefully stepped out the window and then climbed down one of the trellis running down his house's wall. He then jumped over the fence, standing before his best friend.
"Hey, Eric!"
Butters smiled widely, showing his tooth gap.
"I told you to be fucking ready! It's 1:30 already stupid!"
"O-oh jeez Eric, im sorry, i seriously forgot, you see i-"
"I don't give a shit! C'mon, i have things to do tonight."
And so, the two followed towards Kyle's house.
Butters cleared his throat, zipping up his jacket.
"So, why are we goin' to Kyle's today?"
Cartman groaned.
"That douchebag borrowed my game and didn't give it back, so im just gonna get it myself."
"Awh, shucks, what game?"
"Fnaf world."
"You have a game disc of Fnaf world...?"
"How about we focus on the road ahead?"
Cartman hissed, giving Butters an annoyed look. They kept walking, moving closer to their destination. Butters has noticed that they've been sneaking into Kyle's house a lot lately. Last week, they were at his house 5 times. Eric brought in Butters everytime, since it was "easier" with him. As much as he wanted to address this quickly forming issue, Butters couldn't bring himself to do it. Eric already seemed mad.
They jumped over the fence (Atleast Butters did, Cartman did more of a falling over it). Eric grabbed the rope from his backpack and handed it to the other boy. They did their usual thing - got the rope to the third rafter above Kyle's window, made sure Cartman was attatched and that Butters was holding the rope and after all that was done, Eric started climbing. It was impressive how someone with such a terrible physical condition could climb a completly straight wall.
Cartman was able to pull anything off, only if he wanted to. He just needed a bit of determination and spite to pull some of the most heinous schemes their little town has known. To be honest, Butters knew that the only reason why Eric Cartman worked was because he was a little...cuckoo. Cuckoo bananas. He's never met a more delusional and unpredictable person in his life - "Cartman didn't take his meds" was the synonyme for trouble in their school. Hell, Butters knew that better than anyone. Even though it wasn't always like this, everyone at school had "adapted" to his friend's condition by now.
He silently watched him open the window to Kyle's room.
Eric stepped onto the soft, familiar carpet. He looked around - everything was the same as it always was.
Kyle's room was clean and neat, problably one of the cleanest rooms he's ever seen. Everything had it's place. There was no toys scattering around, no papers sprawled over the desk, no clothes hanging on the desk chair. Mrs. Broflovski has always been very particular on her house being clean, so it was no suprise her son had an organized bedroom. Cartman imagined the look on her face if she saw his or Stan's room and smirked.
He walked up to the bed - there he was. Almost like a princess, awaiting for her prince charming to wake her up with a passionate kiss. Of course, Kyle was no princess, he was a dipshit ugly ginger who didn't know when to shut his fucking mouth and stop being a smartass. He laid sprawled on the bed, his Terrance & Phillip pj's slightly unbuttoned, revealing his collarbone. It was weird to see him without his hat, but by now, Eric was used to it. He brushed his fingertips over the lush, red curls.
Wait, why was he here?
Oh, right.
Fnaf world.
Cartman sighed and walked up to his desk, opening the first drawer. Kyle usually kept his or his friend's stuff in his room, so it should be right there...
He rummaged through the drawer, digging for the familiar plastic packaging. Pencils, trinkets, paper, folders with homework, until his hand was right on the bottom of the drawer and then -
oh.
what's that?
He pulled out a green notebook with a big stop sign sticker.
Oh.
”Score”
Eric smirked and opened the notebook. How come he didn’t find this gem earlier? Kyle must have hid this pretty good. Sneaky butthole.
was this a diary? Vent book? Some gay little fanfic he was writing? Drawings?
He skipped through the pages. The notebook wasn’t in the best condition. It looked like someone crumpled and stepped on it multiple times.
Finnaly, he found some juice. This was a…poem?
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Isuc8kwVh64&list=PLvBpq6ur-vO5za0B9WdnELyhWQ5e5zd6B&index=8)
„The kettle boils”
They turn on the kettle
The water boils
Yet it doesn’t settle
The water boils
They turn up the heat
The water boils
And then they repeat
The water boils
The kettle whistles
The water boils
It hisses and hisses
The water boils
The kettle explodes
The water spoils
And they blame it.
Eric reread the poem a few times. Since when was Kyle interested in poetry? Sure, he liked reading and shit, but he was also…writing now?
what the hell was this?
Cartman didn’t put much thought into what he just read and kept swiping the pages.
He swiped a few pages forward. The notebook seemed...kinda messy? It had doodles and scribbles all over them. Weird.
"Eggshell"
I live in an eggshell
It keeps me safe
it says it'll see me suffer
over it's own grave
I can't move around
or my eggshell will crack
each time i do
i get a smack
The eggshell pierces my skin
each time that it breaks
the more it protects me
the more pain it makes
I love my eggshell
it loves me too
yet i wish
i could see what's outside it soon
Cartman stared blankly at the page. He swiped the pages forward, reaing a few more poems before finishing closing the notebook.
He never thought of Kyle as an artistic soul. He assumed he was more of s science kid - he had great grades in math, science and all that crap.
He hid the notebook inside his sweater. This will get the jew mad. He turned around to look at his friend.
Kyle has turned in his sleep, now laying on his back. His mouth was open.
Cartman held his breath in.
Fnaf world, fnaf world.
Eric snapped out of it, quickly turning around on his bulky legs and rummaging through the drawers once again.
Fnaf world, fnaf world, fnaf world.
Where is it?
Is it on the desk? On the char? Hidden in the drawer?
Where is it?
Is it laying on the bed, oblivious to his presence? Breathing softly, in and out, it's hand twiching from time to time?
He had no bussines being this distracting.
Cartman gritted his teeth, practically throwing things out his shelf. He checked under the neat stack of clothes for tomorrow, in his backpack, under his desk-
"GODDAMMIT!"
The boy slammed his fists on the desk and froze.
"Shit..."
He thought. 1 second, 5 seconds, 10 seconds, 15 seconds - no sound. Just a soft mumble and continued breathing.
He didn't wake up?
"These gummies must be damn strong..."
Eric whispered, his gaze moving to the drawer where always had his sleeping medicine.
He looked down on the desk and...there it is.
The fucking Fnaf world disc case was right here. In front of him.
Was he going blind? Or was it...
Nevermind.
The rope by the window dangled, Butters pulling it as a sign that it may be time to get going. Yea, it was time to go. He had the game, he had something to piss Kyle off, that was enough.
He followed towards the window, not letting his gaze wander to the boy sleeping.
Still, he gave in. He glanced at Kyle, his sharp features looking so soft when asleep. He couldn't call him a fatass now, he couldn't slap him now.
And so, Eric sat down on the bed. Just for a moment.
Just for a minute.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x75mgSuXhJM&list=RDx75mgSuXhJM&start_radio=1)
Cartman watched Kyle's chest move up and down with each breath. He looked so serene, so peaceful. So defenseless.
He had this...thought. Creeping on the back of his mind, growing stronger with each day. It was like a little whisper in his head, only speaking when he saw Kyle.
Kyle.
They knew eachother for so long. Everyday, they would insult eachother, have fights and wish the worst upon themselves. But they also cared for eachother. Well, atleast Kyle did, despite his best efforts not to show it. Everytime Cartman got hurt, or was in trouble, he would come in like his personal savior and get him out of it. Why did he care?
Cartman couldn't comprehend the number of times Kyle has told him he hates him. He would give him shit for everything, but at the same time, he was so incredibly caring and helpful when he needed it. What was his fucking problem?
Why was he doing this to him?
He brushed his hand over Kyle's. Chubby, dirty fingers over rough, boney ones.
He knew how tomorrow's gonna be - he will pull up to the bus stop, stand between Kyle and Kenny and give crap to whoever he felt like it (usually the jew). But now, it was just the two of them.
Just them. He savored this moment. He wanted closer. He wanted to have this moment all to himself, like everything else.
Cartman crawled on top of Kyle, being careful not to lay on him too hard. He then pressed his ear against the boy's chest, listening to the rhytmic beating of his heart.
badum badum badum
Eric's breathing started to get heavy, his heart speeding up at its rate, a stark contrast to Kyle's rhytmic beats. Why was he playing with him like that? Was he using some form of his jewish witchcraft?
"Do you hate me, Kahl?"
He whispered.
"I think i do. Is hate supposed to feel this good?"
He felt the warmth radiating off his chest.
This was weird. He always assumed he hated that jew's guts - he would dedicate his life to screwing him over. But...
It felt so good. Just being around him. Watching his reactions. He loved that, always testing the waters, seeing what would piss him off. He felt like a scientist when he did that.
No one's reactions satisfied him as much as Kyle's did. He didn't apologize like Butters, he didn't ignore him like Stan - he was a challenge. He was special.
Perfect.
Cartman took a loooooooooooooooooong breath, his hands shaking slightly. This. This made him feel alive.
Oh, how much he loved getting his attention. He thrived off of it. His day would be incomplete without it. He would do everything, EVERYTHING just to get a rise out of Kyle.
It wasn't his fault it was so interesting.
He heard the rope dangling, but Eric couldn't care less. He moved closer, now his face directly in fornt of Kyle's. He felt his warm breath on his skin, tickling it. His own was hot and heavy as he stared at the boy under him.
Even in sleep, his face looked ready to argue. It was like it was stuck in this permanent, resting bitch face. He observed, silently. The freckles scattered all over his face, the hooked slope of his nose, the chapped lips. That one persistent curl that Kyle hated and tried to cut many times because it would always stick out and make him look stupid.
Ugly ginger asshole.
"Kahl."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"You're making this harder for the both of us."
"Why do you let me on?"
"Why do you care?"
"Is that this whole thing...? What did you call it...epiphany? Ephony?"
"I don't care."
Cartman mumbled, partly to himself, partly to the sleeping boy. It was like he was on some sort of high from this proximity, this feeling of absolute control. He could choke Kyle right now. He could smother him, right here, with his own pillow.
But that wouldn't be much fun, would it?
What would he do without Kyle's "fatass"? What would he do without his inecessant yelling disrupting his completly civil conversations? What would he do without his angry frown each time he said something stupid? What would he do without this ugly loser?
He might as well kill himself.
"You piss me off."
"You're so annoying. More than mehm."
"Why do i like it?"
He brushed his hand over Kyle's cheek.
"I can't satisfy myself anymore. I need you."
He said it. He really did.
For Cartman, the whole world could dissappear right now. It could be just the two of them forever. He just needed Kyle.
"You're so stupid. Your gay little poems, your clean room, your douchy little plan for everything...you piss me off."
"I think i like it."
"Write a poem for me. I'll make you so mad tomorrow you'll write 10. Do it."
"Do, it, Kahl."
"For me."
"Do it"
Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it
It rang in Eric's mind like a school bell, non stop, begging him for something he's been craving for a long time. His hands shook, his breathing heavied, his heart felt like ripping out of his chest, his eyes wandered over every inch of the other's face.
For a moment, he wanted to stop. Get off. Go back. Stop himself.
"Ah, fuck it."
Cartman leaned in, his lips meeting Kyle's as he kissed him, giving into his craving the hardest he ever did.
The world turned bright. Saturated, colorful, everything Eric couldn't see before. It was like someone zapped him.
The happiness was the most overwhelming thing he ever felt.
He wanted more.
He kissed him softly at first, just touching their lips while gently moving his own. But he then realized this might be his only chance.
Eric licked Kyle's bottom lip, then pushed his tongue inside. He was met with the bitter taste of medicine.
If he would die right now, he would die a happy man.
And then, he moved.
Kyle swatted him with his hand, gently, in his sleep.
Cartman snapped out of his high in a second.
He jumped back, his back pressed against the bed.
What the fuck.
What did he just do.
He jumped off the bed, almost tripping as he ran to the window. He could see Kyle waking up. He grabbed the rope, and without much thinking jumped down, the adrenaline in his body pretty much silencing all logical thinking in him. He fell along with the rope onto the terrace, scaring the shit out of Butters, who, bored by Cartman's prolonged absence, stopped holing the rope to pick some flowers from Mrs. Broflovski's backyard.
"AAAGHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Eric yelled, clutching his elbow. Butters also screamed in terror, crouching by his firend's side, trying to see if he was okay.
"HOLY SHIT! ERIC!"
He said, trying to get a look at Cartman's hurt elbow. The other boy grit his teeth and slapped Butters with his good hand.
"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE I TOLD YOU TO HOLD THE FUCKING ROPE!"
He tried to yank the other boy by his hair, but rolled over instead.
The light turned on in Kyle's parents room. Cartman, noticing this, quickly instructed Butters to help him get up. They never ran this fast in their lives, barely making it before Mr. Broflovski opened the backyard door, holding a shovel.
"WHO'S THERE!?"
They could hear his yelling as they ran to Butter's house.
"What were you doin' in there for so long!?"
The boy shouted, grabbing Cartman's arm so that ke can atleast remotely keep up.
"NOT YOUR FUCKING BUSSINESS! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HOLD THE ROPE, GODDAMMIT BUTTERS!"
"IF YOU WEREN'T IN THERE FOR HALF AN HOUR I WOULD!"
Butters responded with an unusual sharpness.
Cartman grit his teeth. The adrenaline from the kiss, the fall and almost getting caught made him feel like collapsing right here and there. What the hell was that? What's wrong with him? Did Kyle do something? He put acid in his diner? He could swear he started seing spots before his eyes.
Shit.
_______________________________________
"Dude, that's kinda serious. You called the cops?"
Stan leaned against the locker, listening to Kyle's overemotional recap of what happend last night.
"Of course we did! My dad ran with a shovel through our whole backyard, and even the street!"
"He saw someone?"
Kyle sighed.
"No... we just heard someone yelling. My mom is asking people if they saw someone running the streets at 2 am."
"Well, i didn't see shit."
"Yea, me too."
Kenny shook his head.
"Ugh...you know the worst part? When i woke up, my duvet was all scrambled, like someone else was on my bed! And my face was wet, like someone was breathing on me! Gross!"
Stan's face turned from the usual stoic expression into the embodiment of shock.
"Someone snuck into your house and...touched you?"
"I hope not..."
"That's sick, dude."
Kenny made a puking gesture.
"Atleast we're getting cameras now. Wait till we catch that sick fuck..."
Kyle's speech was interrupted by the familiar, annoying voice.
"Hey gay wads, what's going on?"
Cartman walked up to them as if nothing ever happend. Butters followed by, standing beside Eric like a dog.
"Hey, fellas."
He mumbled.
Kyle waved his hand at them.
"Nevermind."
"Dude, what happend to your hand?"
Kenny moved closer to his fat friend, eyeing the sling over his arm.
"Oh, this? Yea, i fell off my carpet. My mom had to rush me to the ER. Worst night of my life yew guys."
He shook his head, letting Kenny get a better look at his hurt elbow. Kyle rolled his eyes and was about to comment on Cartman's dumbass story, but the bell rang.
For a moment, they maintained eye contact.
The boys followed to class.