A/N:
OK, I'm sorry I haven't updated this thing in such a long while; my mind has been focusing on other fanfics and problems in life that I, unnoticeably, left this story neglected. So I apologize that you had to wait a long time to read this thing.
But good thing is I've written this chapter while I was away at my grandparents house, away from my computer and the city; thank god my sister brought her laptop! lol
Anyway, just wanted to say a big thank you for all of the wonderful reviews and encouragement!
This is the last part of the story (Part III!) so I hope you enjoy reading and hope you review for a last time.
Sorry about spelling and grammar errors!
Hope you enjoy! :)
Warning: Some strong MalexMale kissing and making out, filled with Kyman's epicness.
Disclaimer: I am obliged to write this statement, for if I don't, I would probably be sued for god knows how much. In short, I don't own South Park; Matt Stone and Trey Parker do.
It Was Him
Written by Mark Pedro
Part III
At last, it was him.
After all this time, all this waiting, wondering thinking, imagining...I finally see him for real with my own eyes.
It was real? Yes, he was real, he was there, standing, right there in front of him! He was here, it was real! But...what about everything else? Was that real? Was Cartman "real" yesterday night when I hugged him and comforted him, unknownest to myself that I was hugging my worst enemy, that my worst enemy was crying, sad, upset, that he was Cartman! Was all that real? My heart ached, surprising myself of the emotion I felt, when I thought that the answer was no.
I truly didn't know what the answer was, to be honest. Was Cartman Eric? And was Eric Cartman? Who was Eric Cartman, anyway? Who was he? But no matter what happened, I am determined to find out. I would discover who the boy named Eric Cartman truly is and by the end of the day, my question would be answered,
His standing right in front of me, standing between his mother's legs, the snow falling to the ground; the only barrier between the two of us. His brown soft brunette hair is glistening and sparkling and not what it usually looks like. Maybe it was because of the lighting or because I had never seen Cartman's hair a lot of the time, so I did (and do not) not notice the true beauty and quality of my enemy's hair. But, no; that couldn't be it. I had only seen Cartman's hair the night before when he disguised himself up to enter Bebe's party, when I first laid eyes on him at that awful party, how I noticed that his hair was different then to what it looked like now, how I remembered the smell of that hair, the feel of it between my fingers, how I love that smell, how, even though it appeared to look different, I could still smell that same smell now; oh how it transported myself back to that night...shit. Concentrate, Broflovski. Stop dreaming about his fucking hair and think about why it looks different to last night!
And as quickly as my brain screamed the question, the answer followed just as quickly; he had a shower. Yes, he did have a shower; I see, now that I look ever so closer, that the boy's hair was wet with water, droplets splashing to the ground. If you saw his hair in the street, you would never say it was Eric Cartman! He looks so freaking different!
But that wasn't the only thing...
I looked down at the rest of his body and was excepting to see him wearing the same old red coat and brown pants, accompanying with the yellow gloves. But I was surprised and, somewhat, shocked, to see him wearing completely different clothes. He was wearing a brown t-shirt that made him look a lot less fatter than what he appeared to be and a pair of dark blue jeans replaced his brown pants. The boy in front of me looked nothing like Eric Cartman; he looked nothing like the Eric Cartman that hated the world, hated humanity and everything nice and loving. He looked nothing like the manipulative and conniving little monster that I had grown up to loath and hate. He looked an entirely new and different person...
The only true evidence that Cartman was still alive under the new boy that stood in front of me was the fat that bulged around him. He was still a fat-ass and always will be, I concluded. Some things will, fortunately, never change...
But, there was also another piece of evidence that the "real" Eric Cartman (Is he fucking real!) was still there, still here, still alive. And the "real" Eric Cartman was staring into his eyes with his eyes. Those eyes.
His eyes; that was the evidence, that was the clue...
His brown, wide eyes were everything I needed to see to know that the boy in front of me was truly him, that it was Eric Cartman. His eyes were sad, shocked...confused. An image of those same eyes flash in my brain, the same expressions transpired in those eyes were the same eyes I saw now. How sad, miserable...lonely they looked. How desperate, how fragile, sad...is this Eric Cartman? Those same gorgeous eyes, his eyes, they're staring at me right now. Fuck.
This is Eric Cartman, but is this the "real" Eric Cartman? It didn't look that way. He didn't look like Eric Cratman...but those eyes! And this is Eric Cartman's house! So...fuck. Somehow my little question has turned into something a lot complicated and complex. Fuck this.
And I realize how quiet it is between us. How awkward it feels. How the atmosphere was tense around us, both afraid to make the first move, I guess. The only sound that could truly be heard was the TV blaring an episode of Terrance & Phillip coming from Eric Cartman's living room television. Oh this was awkward...
Snow continued to fall from the grey clouds in a tense and unsettled way, as if the snow was reflecting how I was feeling at the moment; awkwardness, nervousness...fear.
The mother of Eric Cartman seemed to have notice the awkward silence between myself and the boy who stood in front of me. She coughed and tilted her down towards the boy.
"Honey," she started in her happy-mother voice. "Don't you think you should welcome your little friend?"
The boy did not answer in no way what so ever.
"Or..." she started again, seeing how her last question failed to get any response out of the boy. "I could tell your little friend to come back another day...?"
And then, quite suddenly, the boy spoke, but it didn't sound like "his" voice. It didn't sound authoritive and demanding and uncaring. It sounded the complete opposite to all of that, and it shocked me to hear a caring, respectful, calm voice come out of the boy's mouth. Cartman?
"Please wait out here, mom," the boy spoke. "I and my friend Kyle need to have a little chat, inside," Cartman speaking in Standard English? What the fuck is this! Cartman doesn't speak like that! And he never calls me "Kyle". He always calls me "Kahl!" Fuck this. Who the fuck is this kid! I wand fucking Eric Cartman! Whoa, where the hell did that come from? Why would I want him for? I would never want...I do want him.
"Coming in, Kyle?" the boys asked in polite voice, gesturing to the open door and the room inside.
I nodded my head, for it was all I could do. I couldn't speak, not yet. Maybe this was all a tick (Fuck, I hope to God this is a trick,), maybe the boy was Eric Cartman but just pulling a trick on me. I wanted to enter anyway, for I still had an unanswered question to answer and I wasn't going to leave without an answer.
So, with that and many thoughts running in my buzzing head, I entered Eric Cartman's house, the boy closing the door behind him, leaving both of us alone in the house...
"Have a seat, Kyle,"
"I prefer to stand," I surprisingly hear my voice bounce back off the living room walls. When did I get my voice back? I thought I lost it from shock at seeing that a new boy had replaced Eric Cartman, to hear a stranger's voice come out from that mouth; I guess I was wrong...
"Suit yourself," The boy sits down on the brown couch in an odd type of way, in a way that was very un-Cartmanish. It was like all traces of the boys had disappeared. Well, except his eyes. I stole a glance at his eyes, Eric's eyes. The boy glanced towards me and quickly looked away feeling my cheeks redden with embarrassment.
Instead of looking at the boy I look around the room we both are standing in; it's Eric Cartman's living room. I had only been in Cartmn's living about two weeks ago where Stan, Kenny and Cartman and I spent a weekend working our asses off (Well, except Cartman) to get a science project completed for Mr. Garrison. But, in just a two week time gap, the room had changed. The wallpaper was no longer yellow; it was white. Many ornaments, plants and cabinets were gone. The room was almost empty. It seemed naked. What was going on?
And as to answer my question, I spot a suitcase by the bottom of the stairs.
"Is your mom going somewhere?" I ask, my voice not sounding very confident in the statement.
The boy looks to me and cocks an eyebrow. I gesture to the suitcase by the stairs and he looks away, his face deflating almost instantly.
"Not just my mom," I hear him whisper to himself, whether he intended for me to hear or not is left unanswered.
I let what he said sink into my mind. And as it does sink, something clicks into place, very quickly and very panicky. No, no...he couldn't! He wasn't! He can't! What was he doing! The fucking fat-ass! Why was he going to do something so stupid!
The boy (Was he Eric Cartman? Or was he a stranger?) was leaving South Park.
But maybe it was only a vacation. Maybe he and his mom were just going away for away. Hmm...Leanne Cartman hardly had enough money to go on vacation by herself, let alone with her son.
"Are you leaving South Park?" Better ask it straight out, I figured. I was going to add "Cartman" but I realized that this boy may not even be Eric Cartman.
The room went eerily silent. Maybe because the boy turned off the drowning noise from the television or maybe because my heart started to race and my ear-drums started to "thud" very loudly; I didn't have a clue.
And then, he answered in one word:
"Yes,"
My heart ached.
"Forever."
My heart broke.
But I should have seen all the signs, really. I should have saw it all but I just ignored it all. It explained why Eric Cartman's living room looked like half the possessions were removed from the room, explained the suitcase at the end of the stairs. It explained a lot.
But I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit. I didn't like the fact that the boy was leaving, that he was going "Forever." And quite suddenly, I hear Eric Cartman's voice in my head; I hear his gruffy, miserable voice as he says to me "You won't ever see me again, Kahl," And now, it all makes sense. What he said then now makes total sense. Eric Cartman was leaving South Park for ever and was leaving very soon, whether he knew it before he said what he said to me or if he had come home and demanded his mother that they moved; it didn't matter he was leaving.
And in that one second of realization, it hit me like a ton of bricks, it hit me like a tone of snow buried me to the ground, like the snow outside that fell faster and heavy in speed and volume. This boy, this stranger, this...Eric? My enemy, Eric Cartman, he was leaving and I would never see him again. Why wouldn't he look at me, god damn it! I just wanna look at him one last time!
But did it matter anymore? It seemed like Eric Cartman was already gone from me. It felt like that this boy had already replaced my enemy. It seemed like Eric Cartman was dead.
Fuck.
Fuck him.
Fuck everything!
FUCK YOU, ERIC CARTMAN!
The boy who sat on the couch did nothing, heard nothing.
"Are you planning to return for a visit?" I asked, tentatively, hoping that the answer would be yes.
But the answer was "No," The boy said it in a eerily, calm and unemotional voice. His eyes were blank and stared forward at the wall.
Yes, it was like he was dead, a zombie. Eric Cartman, where have you gone?
"Where are you moving to?" Cause I really wanted to know...
"Nowhere," The same unemotional voice, the same blank stare...
"Can...I come and...visit?"
Silence for a few moments.
Then a small "No," came out of the boy's mouth. Same stare, same voice, no Eric Cartman.
This is killing me, just purely fucking pulling me from the inside out. I always believed Eric Cartman to be the most uncaring and most inhumane little monster that had ever walked the earth. But that was not what I saw in front my eyes. I did not see Eric Cartman; I saw a stranger, a boy that was empty, sad, miserable. I saw no-one...
But...maybe, just maybe, this was the "real" Eric Cartman? Maybe this is my answer. Maybe Eric Cartman wasn't as evil as he tried to appear to be; maybe he was exactly like I had seen the night before. Maybe he was a sad, lonely, miserable little boy who only hid away from the world, who only covered his true self by cowering behind a "mask". Maybe his "mask" was the real fake and what I see in front of me is the person beneath the mask. Perhaps, maybe this is the "real" Eric Cartman...
And as I realize all this and look down at the pathetic person in question, my eyes start to burn with tears. Fuck sake.
"C-Cartman?" I started in a shaky voice, afraid to use the name to refer the boy, afraid that if using it, the boy would hit me or something. This is Cartman? Is it? It has to be...answer me god damn it!
I take a tentative step forward and as I do so, the boy slowly raises his head and looks at me. I finally see some emotion, some real emotion on his fat face...
"Don't call me that, Ky-le," the boy said in a strained calm voice, but his face betrayed anger. He even almost said my name the way he always says it... Kahl... "My name is Eric, now,"
"Your name has always been Eric," I say calmly as I slowly take a seat next to him. I look at him. "People, including myself, just call you Cartman-"
"I thought I told you not..." There was stress in the word "not". He was looking at me now, even angrier than before...is that the same old Cartman glare that he always use to give me? Oh please say that is... "...to call me that. I'm Eric,"
Well, if anger was the way to get the old Cartman back, I am willing to make him angrier...
"No," I say stubbornly as I cross my arms. "I like the name Cartman. I think it suits you,"
"Shut up," the boy says under his breath, trying hard not to let me hear him.
"What did you say, Cartman?" I ask in a mocking 'I can't hear you' tone. "I didn't quite catch that,"
"I said shut the fuck up you Jew rat!" Cartman shouted in pure anger, his eyes staring daggers at my own. Perfect; there's Cartman. He isn't dead, after all...
And in a split second, Cartman's face crashes to shock and is replaced with a blank stare as if nothing had ever happened.
"What did you just call me?" I ask, wanting Cartman to admit that he wasn't gone, that he was still hear, that he didn't have to go anywhere, that he could stay in South Park...with me.
"Don't, Kyle," Cartman said in a warning voice, staring back at the wall, his breathing deep and calm.
"Don't what?" I exclaim as I rise to my feet and walk to standing in front of the boy. "Don't tell you to say your name? To remind you who you really are? To tell you not to leave me!"
"Just don't, Kahl!" He said my name! He said it how he always used to say it, how he does say it. That's Cartman! That fucking Eric Theodore fucking Cartman right there, right in front of me! He was still here, right here in this room, with me. He hadn't left, not yet anyway.
Triumphant glistened across my face, but it soon disappeared as I saw Cartman's eyes; they were wet. Was he crying? Yes, he was crying. Those eyes, I could never forget those eyes. The same eyes I saw yesterday night when he cried on my shirt at my house. He's upset.
"Please, don't," Cartman whispered, and he too had risen from his seat. He started to walk away from me, putting his hands on his head as if he was trying to block my voice and all the stuff that was going on around him; he was suffering...
"Cartman," I am shocked to hear my voice is but a whisper. "What happened to you? Why weren't you at school today? Why are you so different? Why are you leaving South Park? Why are you leaving..." Everything was coming out of my mouth to quickly for me to stop. Fortunately I stopped the last question from being asked in full; I would have finished with; "...me?"
Silence, yet again, filled the room. I said nothing. Cartman said nothing. I looked to the window; snow was still falling from the grey clouds (Would it ever stop snowing!). The silence, in the end, only lasted a few seconds, but to me, it felt more like half an hour.
Cartman slowly turned around. His eyes, his brown gorgeous eyes stared back at me and I saw sadness, hurt...loneliness...
"You want me to answer those questions for you, Kahl?" It wasn't a questioning tone; it was more of a sneer mocking tone. "Kahl" was spoken as if it was a dirty contagious disease, the way Cartman always pronounces my name.
I nodded.
"Fine, but listen really carefully, Jew," He walked closer to me, stared into my eyes. "This..." He gestured to his appearance. "...is all because of you,"
I was about to retort but he held up a hand which silenced me.
"You want me to talk, so let me talk and then I'll let you say whatever crap you have to say, OK, Jew?"
I nodded my head; I fumed up and my heart sorrowed when he referred to me as "Jew,"
"It was you, you fucking Jew-rat. You did this to me. You always cause everything, don't you?" It was a rhetorical question so I didn't bother answering him. "It's always your fault, isn't it? Even if you don't know it, it always is," And I can see that there are fresh tears coming from his eyes; he is actually, genuinely, upset. He turns around so I can't see his face. He continues.
"I promised myself I would never bring this up but, it seems, I have no choice. Last night, when you fucking held me and I was crying like a pussy, you told me that you liked me. You said that you liked me a lot, that you liked me how I was. The thing was, that wasn't who I am. I'm not like that; I'm a fucking dick to everyone. I'm not nice. But..."
Silence filled the room, once again. Outside, however, I could hear a van pulling up to Cartman's house.
Cartman turned and faced me, tears evident at the corner of his eyes.
"But," He continued. "You liked me. But it wasn't because of me; it was because of the way I was dressed, the disguise I wore to Bebe's party; that's all you fucking like and I knew that...I know that. At first I was shocked to see that you followed me outside and hadn't realized who I was. I mean, come on, Kahl! I thought you were smarter than that!"
Cartman scoffed a little. I wanted to shout something back at him, but his warning glare was all I needed to keep my mouth shut.
"I thought you were tricking me, having a joke with me. But then I realized you weren't; you weren't joking at all..." And he turned his back to me, again. But he continued on... "And when I realized that you didn't have a clue who I was...what I was...a monster that was never loved by any one on this god-forsaken-fucked up world..." Cartman stopped talking for a brief moment when, I was sure, I heard a small audioable sob from him. "I decided, there and then on that cold, snow-filled street that I wanted to be...loved. I guess you could say, I was testing you, to see if anyone could like...love someone like me...even if I was in a disguise,"
Cartman slowly turned to face me, a mixture of sadness and...anger? Yes, anger was on his face. He was sad and angry. Why? Why was he angry? Was he angry at me? Did I upset him so? Was it me? Well...I should be the one who's angry, not him! He fucking tested my emotions! Did he mean a word he even said to me? Did he mean a fucking word or was that all part of his "test"? How could he stand there and be angry at me when he is the one in the wrong! He is such an asshole!
As I felt my face turn into an expression of anger which, easily, challenged Cartman's, he carried on speaking:
"And, you know what the answer was, Kahl?" he asked with sadness and anger dripping at every word he spat at me, his jaw almost clenched shut as if it was hard for him to carry on speaking. "You know what the results from my test were? To see if I could be loved by anyone. You know what my answer, my result, was!"
This was a question directed at me and wasn't rhetorical, either, so I answered, with a angry expression still placed on my face.
"No," answer in a flat voice, sounding much angry than I intended to sound like. "But I'm dying to no..." I added, sarcastically.
But the sarcasm was not appreciated but Cartman for the moment he heard my sarcastic reply, his angry expression seemed to soften for awhile and his sadness seemed to overwhelm his facial features. He...was sad?
"The answer was "Yes", Kahl," he spoke in a drained voice, looking, slowly, to the floor. "I could be loved...could I?" And, for the first time in my life and, properly, the only time I would ever encounter, I saw Eric Theodore Cartman look up at me with curiosity and hopefulness in his eyes, like he was confirming from me that the answer, the result from his "test" was "Yes,". He was looking at me with such desperation that even I didn't believe what I was seeing was true. His voice was full with hope and sadness. For the first time in his life, Eric Cartman genuinely looked like an innocent, little kid.
As the shook disappeared and my brain screamed to me to answer the hopeful boy in front of me, I answered first with a hesitant nod (Why was I hesitant? Was it because I didn't really like him?) and then answered verbally:
"Yes, you...are loved," I answer, I am shocked to hear myself say it, and don't quite believe that those words escaped through my lips and my voice is calmer, opposite from the angry voice I heard a few seconds ago. My face is portraying an expression of reassurance.
And the boy...Cartman sees this and he smiles for a few seconds but when the noise of a beeping van from outside the Cartman's house is heard, the smile vanishes in a second and is replaced with a miserable frown. I only realize that the room that he and I are standing in is becoming darker and darker. I look to the window and I see that the snow is still falling, still blowing against the wind, like a child crying but trying to stop the tears falling with their nose by inhaling through their nostrils; it was all pointless...
"But it was all pointless," I hear Cartman say. My eyes snap back to his figure, his voice bring my attention back onto him; did he hear what I was thinking or what? "Even after I shared my thoughts with you, even after I cried myself on you, even after we..." And, suddenly, he stopped. But it didn't matter anymore cause I wasn't listening to him, anyway; I was still thinking, trying to work what he had said.
He shared his thoughts with me?
When he was crying on me?
And then, I understand...
"Nobody ever plays with me..." I, Stan and Kenny hang out with the boy...but we never really played with him...we didn't even want him around to begin with...
"...Nobody says nice things about me..." "Fucking fat-ass!" "Dipshit!" "Lardass!" I've called him so many things, but never a nice thing...
"Nobody ever invites me to their party!" The boy wasn't allowed to enter Bebe's slut party...
"The person I really like, hates me!" Who was he talking about? Was he talking about me? Did he...did he actually like me all this time? Even when we were enemies? And even after all the shit I call him, he still likes me?
Guilt pulls in from the inside of my body.
Cartman's is still quiet, not looking at me, but staring at the floor (Is he thinking of...that night? When he and I actually...did it? Images and smells and sounds still linger in my brain as the memory returns to me...)
I sigh deeply. "Who do you really like?" I say, barely audioable for the boy to hear.
"What?" He asks this because he is confused with what I asked, I assume.
I sigh again. "The night when you told me your thoughts," I elaborate, as my eyes look to the floor as I find hard to look at the boy. "You said 'The person I really like, hates me!'. Who do you really like?" And I look onto his face and I see a startled expression covering his whole face.
"I...I...n-no-one," he answer's lamely, in a starting, unconvincing voice. I actually roll my eyes at his answer.
"Oh, come on, Cartman," I say in voice that doesn't belief in what he is saying. "That's bullshit and you know it is," I walk a little further and my eyes, surprisingly, stare into his as I continue: "Tell me the truth; who do you really like?"
My determined eyes are staring into his freighted ones as I await a truthful answer.
The fear in his eyes vanishes in an instant as his hands push hard against my chest, causing me to almost stumble over my feet (When did he get so strong? Or...was he always strong?). His eyes are angry and mine are now dazzling in surprise, not expecting the reaction I received.
"Why do you care?" He asks in a sneering voice, as he walks away from me and over to the suitcase that is at the bottom of the stairs. "It's none of your fucking business, Jew," I hear the zip to the suitcase open and then hear it close. Cartman is crouched on the floor, his back to me. He suddenly stands to his full height and turns to face me as he answers:
"Besides, I'm supposed to be answering the questions you already asked me," He says in an authoritive voice. "You can't ask me new questions; it doesn't work like that, you fucking Jew! So, why don't you shut up and let me talk!"
But despite him saying this, I talk in a small voice...
"It's me, isn't it?"
And I know that he understands me for I see the expression on his face; an expression of fear and shock and I know, even before he opens his mouth to answer that the answer is "Yes,".
"What are you talking about, Jew?"
"You like me, don't you?"
And even though I know the answer is "Yes," and he knows the answer is "Yes,", he, obviously, denies it...
"I like you?" He bursts out laughing, and I would have too if he told me the same thing a few days ago. But I know that this is no joke; this is not a dream or another dimension where everything is the opposite and he and I would get along; it was all real, it is real...his real...
"Don't make me laugh, Jew," he snorts out when he finishes laughing, loudly. "Where the fuck did you come up with that? Another one of your Jewish-"
I lose it. I completely lose it. But how can he stand there and deny it when I've been thinking of that kiss...his lips...him...everything for the whole day and then he just stands there and says that he doesn't like me. Who the hell does he thinks his kidding! He fucking told me he loves me when he left me on that night!
I scream as I clench to his brown t-shirt and push him against a wall, which cracks from the weight that is pushed into it. I am surprised by my strength and so is the boy under my weight, the shock evident in his eyes.
"Don't fucking deny it, you fat fuck!" I scream in his face. "I've been thinking of you fr the whole fucking day and then you come along and say that you don't like me!" He looks shocked and surprised as he stares into my face, trying to figure out if what I'm saying has any truth. And I don't care that I feel tears leaving my eyes; I didn't care anymore. He was leaving so what did it matter?
"Still the same old Cartman, aren't you?" I look down him at his clothes, a sneer creeping across my face and my face is twisted in disgust. "Still arrogant, manipulative and denies everything, even though it is true. Still afraid to love...afraid to be rejected..." The boy closes his eyes, tightly. "...Afraid to be loved. Still lonely as ever..."
The boy's eyes open and I see the devil himself in them and I jump back as I hear the snow outside becoming stronger, hearing the wind howl. The next thing I know, I hear thunder, lightning fills the room with lightness for a second and disappears and with this lightning, Cartman uses the devil inside him to push me. I fall to the floor and he jumps on me, keeping me down on the ground. He holds onto my wrists with his hands and his fat body is sitting on my stomach, making it hard for me to breathe. I couldn't get out the hold even if I tried; he was much bigger and much stronger than I; I was stuck...
"You don't know shit about me, Kyle Broflovski!" He screams at my fearful face. "You don't know anything, even though everyone thinks you're the smartest guy in class! Even though you're gonna end up with a successful career and I'm gonna be trapped in this hell hole of a town," His eyes, momentarily, scans the room. "Well that's not gonna happen! I'm leaving this fucked up town and I'm gonna make a new name for myself; find someone who loves me for me. I found out the type of person people will like because of you. So, I stayed at home for the whole day, changed my whole appearance, became a new person, so someone will love me, even though it wasn't me...me," His eyes tear up and he looks like his trying to stop himself from crying. He tries to stop the tears from falling, but they fall onto my wide eyed expression.
"I changed everything to be loved," His voice is a little shaky. "And that is why I'm leaving; to be loved," And finally, he gets off me and stands. I feel my lungs re-fill with air.
"So, congratulations, Kahl," I slowly stand to face him, but it has gotten so dark in the room I can hardly see him. "Your enemy is leaving you; I hope you're fucking happy now," I hear something being lifted and, I assume, it is Cartman's suitcase.
"Your questions are answered," Cartman says in a flat voice. "I have nothing else to say to you, except this..."
I hear shuffling and I can just about see Cartman walk towards me. I feel him close to me, his breathe against my ear.
"Goodbye, Kahl," he whispers. The heat from his breathe is gone, and as it disappears, I desperately want it back. "This is the last time you'll see me,"
I hear the door open. Lightning strikes across the sky outside, the snow falling, rapidly as ever. Momentarily, I see Cartman's silhouette against the floor. I hear the door shut; it's gone.
He's gone.
But why don't I stop him?
I should.
I will!
I shake my head and I run towards the door, opening it as fast as I can. The snow is falling heavily, dark clouds loom over South Park. The van is still parked outside and I realize what it is; it's a moving van and Cartman is getting in...
"Cartman!" I shout. "Stop!"
The boy turns around and looks at me, shock on his face.
"Don't do this..." I puff out as I calm down my breathing as I stop in front of him and catch my breath. "Please..." I look into his gorgeous brown eyes. "...don't leave South Park,"
"I have to," he calmly states.
"No you don't!" I retort back.
An angry expression crosses his face.
"Yeah, and why not, Jew?"
"Because...because I..." Say it for fuck sake! He's standing right in front of you! Don't blow this chance! But I don't say it...
"That's what I thought," he scoffs as he turns around.
"Because you're loved...here," It escapes my mouth before I can stop myself.
Cartman turns around.
"What?" he asks, not knowing what to say.
"Because you're loved...here in South Park,"
"No, I'm not,"
"You are,"
"Then who? Who loves me?"
I'm quiet. Why am I quiet? Say something!
"No one, that's who! No one fucking loves me, isn't that right, Kahl? Isn't that right, no-one loves me! You don't and no-one don't so just get the fuck away from me and go back to a concentration camp you little, Jew rat face!"
I punch him. He bleeds; his nose, to be persist. He punches me back, my nose, also, bleeding now, but his punch was twice as strong as mine. I think my nose is broken, I don't care.
"I fucking hate you, fat-ass!" I scream.
"I hope you fucking die with AID's, you little Jew rat!"
I run into Carman and I push my lips against his in a passionate and anger-filled kiss, both love and hate combined into one; it was amazing. This was a Cartman kiss; both loving and hateful. Part of me knew it was wrong, but I ignored that part as I deepened the kiss and he didn't even resist.
The snow had stopped falling. The storm had stopped all together as if it hadn't started at all. Cartman's mom gasped when she saw her son's lips on mine; I smiled inwardly.
My question had an answer; Eric Cartman, who is he? His both the monster and the boy. He's the "mask" he created and he's the man behind the "mask". He's both hateful and loving, lonely and sad. He's arrogant, intolerant...a monster. But also sad, lonely and miserable, desperate to be loved.
I know who Eric Cartman is and the answer was under my nose the whole time; he's my other half, my other self...
It had always been him.
It was him.
THEN END
A/N:
Sorry it's taken me longer than expected to releases this final part of the story; life in general had been a bitch, but it's all cool now.
At last; it's the end!
I really wanted to continue this with a cliff-hanger, but I resisted the urge.
So, what did you think? Like the end or hate it? Was it what you were expecting? I gotta say, it was nowhere near to what I was expecting but I like how it turned out.
I think I balanced the drama OK and I like how I got into Kyle's emotions and feelings. I hope Cartman is characterized OK.
Oh, by the way, the snow and storm is supposed to represent Kyle's and Cartman's confrontation. That's why there's a storm when Cartman leave his house because the confrontation between the two characters has reached a climax.
I do have a another ending to this story which involves Stan and Kenny which is suppose to lead onto another story. If I get reviews requesting to read it, I will post it! :)
Please, please, please review! They mean a lot to me if you couldn't guess. :)
Reviews will be treated as confidence boosters to my esteem!
To people who are wondering, I am working on the next chapter to my CartmanxKyle fic "I'll Try To Fix You" and will be up soon.
Until next time my peeps! :)