Five Seconds in Your Heart: Chapter 5

"So then he's all like, 'oh, boo-hoo, Eric, I'm like, sooooo sorry I hurt you, could you ever find it in your gracious, kind heart to forgive me?' and I'm like, 'hell no, gaywad, stop sneaking up on me and trying to make me teach your brother piano and shit'. And then I kicked him out of my car." Cartman took a long drag off his spliff and passed it to Kenny, then relaxed into the old couch and smiled lazily.

Kenny took the spliff and puffed twice, then flicked the ash into the ashtray, which was actually just a cracked mug. It was Tuesday night, around eight. Cartman, Kenny, and Butters were seated in Cartman's basement, Cartman and Kenny on the couch while Butters took the armchair. In front of them was a long, scratched wooden coffee table with more than a few watermarks. The couch sagged heavily with Cartman and Kenny's weight, but neither seemed to mind. Butters was curled up in his armchair, his eyes bright and oblivious like they always were when he'd been smoking.

"Wow, Eric," Butters giggled, "you sure showed him." Cartman gave Butters a tired glare while Kenny passed the spliff along.

"So let me get this straight, now you're, what? Never speaking to him again?" Kenny said. He yawned.

"Maybe," Cartman said. Truthfully he hadn't thought that far. His convo with Kyle had gotten a little too intense too fast. Cartman wasn't used to heart-to-hearts, and he was shit at them to begin with. He stared Kenny down, eyes narrow. "Why've you been yawning like that all day? You didn't even show to drama yesterday. You've been skippin'."

Kenny snorted.

"I've been working," he announced, taking the spliff back from Butters. "My brother got me a job at his friend's auto repair place. Under the table money, baby. No taxes for this bitch." He jerked a thumb at himself, puffing up with pride.

"Are you telling me that you care more about making money than putting on the best play in the history of Park County High?" Cartman asked. Sarcasm dripped off every word. Butters, probably too high to have any real idea of what was going on, nodded gravely, and Cartman threw a lighter at his head.

"Let me think: uh, yeah. Ha." Kenny and Cartman did a lame fist bump and laughed, Butters joining in belatedly.

"But seriously," Kenny continued, and gave him a look, "Back to the whole, y'know. Kyle thing." Kenny passed the spliff back to Cartman, who rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I didn't know it was a whole thing now. Thanks for cluing me in."

"Come on. You don't even want to talk to him? You could actually be friends this time. Instead of," Kenny waved his hands haphazardly, "whatever you were."

Cartman considered interrupting to assert that he and Kyle had, technically, been friends. For at least a few days here and there. From his perspective.

"Oh, yeah," he says, disgust in his voice, "I'll give good ol' Kyle a ring and tell him how much I miss him, and then me 'n Kyle'll just be all buddy-buddy, and we'll go grab Burger King after school and kiss each other's asses and everything'll be dandy."

"That sounds real nice, Eric," Butters said dreamily.

"I'm going to shove this lit spliff down your throat," Cartman said.

"I'm going to invite Kyle over," Kenny said, taking out his phone.

"Uh, what? Hell fucking no," Cartman said. He made a grab for Kenny's phone, just barely dragging himself out of his divot on the couch. Kenny easily kept it away.

"Hell fucking yes. Let's get him to share those joints of his."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Cartman groaned, weakly batting at Kenny. "I am a goddamn saint and don't deserve this."

"I could start by making a list of all the ways you've ever screwed me over, you asshole," Kenny said, "but I already pressed send."

"Oh, fuck you."

Kenny's phone blipped after only a few seconds, and Cartman read the message over his shoulder: 'is cartman cool with it?'

"No," Cartman said, reaching for the phone again. Kenny elbowed him in the neck and typed out a simple reply: 'ya'

He stuck his phone back in his pocket, giving Cartman a shit-eating grin. Cartman raised an eyebrow in return.

"How often do you text Kyle?" Cartman asked. He was suddenly suspicious. He hadn't even had Kyle's number until a few days ago. "Did you give him my number?" He lowered his voice. "You're planning something, McCormick."

"You caught me. It's my evil plan to get you two speaking to each other again."

"Seriously," Cartman growled.

"Ok. So I have been talking to Kyle about you lately," Kenny said, yawning again. Why was everyone always so goddamn tired these days? "Day before Ike's first piano practice. He was worried about the whole situation and I said he should try to, y'know. Talk to you."

"Why," Cartman said, teeth clenched, as Kenny typed another quick text to Kyle: 'bring joints'

"Honestly," Kenny ignored the question, "I can't even believe Kyle is bothering to apologize to you after so long."

"Excuse me?" Cartman said. Now Kenny was actually getting under his skin. "Are you saying I don't deserve an apology?"

"Of course you don't deserve one," Kenny scoffed. "Don't be such a dumbass. Just 'cause Kyle's been chill to you lately, doesn't mean you get off scot-free. There were weeks leading up to Kyle knocking you on your ass where you just wouldn't back off. You were pushing him past his limit and you knew it. Double the insults, double the racism. You started every argument and every fight. And you never let up. No one was surprised when he snapped."

Cartman blinked.

"Then why'd he apologize to me at all," Cartman said, only slightly confused, "if it's all my fault?"

"I know you don't understand emotions or whatever, but Kyle's a total martyr and actually feels really bad about it. Duh." Kenny paused, scanning Cartman's face. "And 'cause if both of you say you're sorry, you can finally wipe the slate clean."

"There's no way," Cartman said. He shook his head. "We can't be chill. Kyle hates me."

"Why do you act like you want him to?" Kenny said. "You know, before your big fight, for a while there we all thought you and Kyle would really get along. You two even spent time by yourselves. But it was like you couldn't handle that, so you made him hate you enough to almost kill you. And now he's trying to be cool and make things right and you can't handle that either!"

"No," Cartman said, "he's not making things cool. He won't look at me. You even said it yourself. He won't look me in the eyes."

"Jesus, dude," Kenny said. He ran a hand through his thick dark blonde hair. "What, you can't even talk to him unless he looks like he wants to snap your neck?"

"You don't get it. It's not like that with me and Kyle. It's either we hate each other, or nothing. That's why it's all fucked up that he's not acting like himself. He won't yell at me or anything, so we can't be around each other."

"He's still acting like himself. The only difference is he's trying to be nice to you." Kenny rolled his eyes, and muttered, "What is it about Kyle being nice to you that scares you so much?"

Just then Kenny's phone screen lit up with a response from Kyle: 'omw'

"I'm going to slit my wrists before he gets here," Cartman said. "Butters, go get me a knife. Butters?"

He and Kenny turned to look at the armchair, where Butters had his eyes closed and his thumb in his mouth.

"What a piece of shit," Kenny said fondly. In his stoned haze, Cartman wasn't sure who exactly he was talking about.

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A/N: Cartman is pretty ignorant of how everyone feels, himself included. I tried to nail his state of mind as I see it in this situation, but I'm not sure I got it quite right. In any case, I hope it makes sense to you. This chapter was a bit shorter, but I decided to end it here for now. Thanks for reading!

A/N: On another note, I'm going to see Ant-Man tonight. I've been hearing about it for years, it feels like. The pay-off better be worth it!