The Getaway

A South Park Songfic

Mostly Kyle's POV, KylexCartman

Song: The Getaway by Hilary Duff

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the story. All characters belong to Matt and Trey and the song belongs to Hil

This is the longest friggin' songfic I've ever written. It's like... 16 pages on Microsoft Word. It's the longest one I've written for sure. wasn't working yesterday, so I had no way to publish this. But here you go. Please R&R, even if it kinda sucks.

"Kyle, where are you going?"

I wipe at my eyes, trying to get rid of the tears I know I'll never shed. He's not worth it.

"Kyle, you answer me when I talk to you!"

Her voice is loud and rings through the apartment, making me wince. Our neighbors always complain of her loud mouth. That's the reason we're really better off in a secluded house in the middle of nowhere; so no one can hear her screams. But since Dad died, we can't even afford a house, let alone one in a forest or something.

"I'm leaving!" I shout, slamming the door behind me. She won't try to follow me; she'll just assume I'm going to Stan's.

The stairs are slightly wet from the melting snow, but I'm not cautious as I bound down them. Who cares if I fall and hit my head? Being dead or having amnesia would make this way easier.

I slide into my crappy Saturn and turn the key in the ignition. It splutters, but thankfully, it starts. Even Kenny's car is better than this. The tires skid against the uneven road as I pull out of the space and speed down the highway. It's irritating living right next to a highway; you can always hear horns and cars and loud trucks, but in this case, it's convenient. And it made the apartment cheaper.

My teeth are clenched together almost painfully as my hands steer the wheel with a death grip. I don't usually get this upset, I really don't. I don't even think I've ever been this upset in my life.

"He's not worth it," I remind myself, "He's not worth any of this."

If he's not worth it, then why am I running? Why don't I just stay and put up with it? That was a stupid question; I know why. There is a specific way one 'puts up with things', and it's different for every situation. You 'put up with' the situation in your own way for long enough until it's no longer a problem. But he's a bundle of numerous 'situations' stuffed into one huge package. It's like trying to kill a three-headed-dog with one bullet.

"Fuck this, fuck him, fuck it all," I mutter, "That's why you're here, remember? You're here to get away."

Here I am again
Talkin' to myself
Sittin' at a red light
Both hands on the wheel
How am I supposed to feel
So much running through my mind

Why am I upset at all? I should be 100% happy. I'm getting away from that hellhole! Sure, I'll miss my friends, but they won't miss me. I've been so confused and depressed these last few months, they're probably sick of me. But I think I have the right to be confused.

He came to me two years ago with this stupid grin on his face, and I still remember it like it was last week.

"Hey Kahl."

That whiny voice. God how I hate that whiny voice. "What do you want, fat ass?"

"Just to talk to you," he says with a casual look that I know is forced.

I'm not gonna let him play around with me. "Just fuck off, I'm busy."

"C'mon, Kahl, this is important!"

I can't help but wonder that if it's so important, why he can't even pronounce my fucking name right. I sigh and give in; it'll be over faster if I don't argue. "What?" I say rudely.

He comes up behind me and spins my chair around so that he's looking me in the eyes. "I need help, Jew."

"And I would help you because…?"

"Because you're a fucking Jew and it would look bad if you didn't!"

Please, he really thinks that I care what people think of me? I already know that everyone hates me because I'm a smart-ass Jew faggot who is even poorer than Kenny. But unfortunately, I have a good heart. A damn good heart that's too charitable for my own good. "What is it, fat boy?"

"Well, I have a secret."

I roll my eyes. He probably has loads of secrets in the forms of dead bodies and tortured souls. "And what is this secret?"

"I can't tell you…" It's obvious that even he sees that this is retarded.

"Then how the hell am I supposed to fucking…?"

He interrupts. "So, I really like someone."

"Like?" I mock, "You're capable of showing human emotions?"

"Fuck you," he snaps, "Anyway, this someone kind of hates my guts."

I raise an eyebrow. "That narrows it down to everyone."

"Goddamnit are you just gonna sit here and insult me?" I shake my head, and he continues. "Anyway, so this person I like hates me, and there's absolutely no chance that this someone can like me back."

I roll my eyes again. Is he going anywhere with this?

"And… I want to be with this person, or it feels like my… I don't know, like my life will end, I guess."

I lean back and cross my arms. "Then tell them."

"I can't, dumb ass!" he snaps, "Didn't you hear me? They fucking hate my guts!"

"Well, then you've got nothing to lose!"

He actually pauses with this thought, his eyes slightly scrunched up. "I guess not… but what if they don't like me back?"

"You already said that you know that they don't," I remind him.

He nods and shrugs. "But I kinda… I guess I wish…"

"There's a part of you that thinks they like you back, but you think it's just wishful thinking?"

"Y-yeah," he says, and he looks slightly astonished that I pulled those words right out of his mouth. I spend enough time with Stan to know all this romantic shit.

I stand up and lean against the wall of my small room, stalling for a reply to come to mind. "Whether the answer is yes or no, the person will know that you like them. And if they don't like you back, well, I've always believed that if they don't like you back, they're not the person for you."

"How do I know if they like me back?" he asks.

I scoff. "Well, it depends on if they kiss you or bitch-slap you."

"No, I mean, what if they…" he trails off, searching for the right words… "What if they like, lie about their feelings because it'll like, crush their pride or something?"

"Dude, you're not that hideous," I admit, "It's not that embarrassing to be with you, I'm su…"

He interrupts again. "No, I mean morally. Like, it's morally wrong for them to be with me."

"Well, if they really love you, than they'll ignore that. I've always been a hopeless romantic, and I believe that when you put it out there, all other problems go away for just a second, and that ev…" I stop abruptly, my eyes widening. I just shared an embarrassing tidbit of information with the one worst person in the world to share embarrassing information to.

But strangely, he doesn't seem to care; he's scratching his chin and mouthing things to himself. "So, you want me to tell them?"

"Is that all you picked up on?"

He grins sheepishly and meets my eyes. His eyes are narrow and dark-colored while mine are the complete opposite: large, round, and bright green. I've never been close enough to notice these facts as he inches up to almost my nose. I can feel his breath on my cheeks, which are heating up and turning pink. He's not incredibly fat anymore, so his multiple necks are gone and his face is a bit less flabby. Now it's not necessarily fat; it's just full. But he's still a fat ass, and even if he becomes skinnier than those bikini chicks from Us Weekly, he'll still be a fat ass to me.

I don't care if his face is fat or thin right now, all I know is that it's way to close for my comfort.

"Uh… fat ass?" I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper from fright.

He responds by pressing his face into mine and capturing my lips with his own. My first instinct is to push him away, but his kiss sends tingles throughout my entire body, and I just want to wrap my arms around him and stay like this forever.

His arms snake around my waist, and I respond by hooking mine around his neck. I'm embarrassingly shorter than him, so I'm actually kind of pulling myself up with my arms. He deepens the kiss, and I can taste all of his candy and snack foods mixed together. I love it. I wonder what I taste like. Probably like shoving an encyclopedia down his throat.

The sound of a car crash shatters through my tiny room and we break apart in surprise.

He looks down at me with his brownie-colored eyes and whispers, "I should go tell Wendy that I like her."

Yes. He liked Wendy Testaburger. I went to the bus stop the following day, and he was acting as though nothing had happened. Apparently he'd called Wendy and they'd gotten together, and were now supposedly in love.

That was the first time I felt that strange sinking feeling in my stomach. It made me want to throw up or break down crying, and I didn't know why. Sure, he'd kissed me. He was probably just practicing. And it sure didn't look like it had been bothering him as much as it had been bothering me.

But that wasn't the last time we'd done anything of that sort. Since then, loads of strange things have happened between us. He kissed me a few more times completely unexpectedly and out of the blue. He grabbed my ass in the hallway once and Mr. Mackey had to call in Sexual Harassment Panda. He got me drunk and tried to have sex with me before his mom came in and saved me. He gave me a handjob under our desks in math and I had to hide an erection until I could get to the bathroom. And every time it ended, he acted as though nothing had happened. He stuck with Wendy, and they were the couple that was public to the school.

He was using me. I couldn't even look at another guy or girl without getting the death glare from him. It was like he owned me, like there was something going on between us. But he loved Wendy. And unfortunately, through all the adventures that fate had brought us recently, I fell in love with him. I knew from Stan's experience that Wendy was all work and no play when it came to sex. But why did he have to go and live his sexual desires on me? He knew I was unstable. I was lonely and depressed, and desperate for some kind of love. And he took advantage of me. I hated him for it, but I loved that he did it.

It became almost a routine until he said something. Something I thought I'd never hear come from his mouth. Something I never thought would be directed at me by anybody.

"I love you."

My eyes widened and I felt my face heat up again. "Wh-wh-wha-what?"

"Are you retarded?" he snaps, "I love you."

"Bu-but W-Wen…"

"Wendy, yeah, I know," he says irritably, "Can you talk fluently?"

I say the first thing that comes to mind. "Iss kinda hard ta say anythin' when ya got yer hand there…" It sounded retarded, but it was all I could manage at that moment.

He looks down and pulls his hand out of my jeans. "Sorry."

"What about Wendy?"

He sits down in his desk chair and pulls me off of the desk and into his lap. I feel like a child, but the way he's holding me close melts me out of any protest. "She's cool, I guess. But I don't feel the same with her. I could replace her with anybody, and it wouldn't feel any different."

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but I can't believe what he's saying. "Why do we do this?"

"Do what?"

"Kissing and other… stuff. You're with Wendy."

He smiles. "She's kind of a bitch, if you know what I mean. No fun at all."

So I was right. He is using me. "So you just take out your sexual fantasies on me?"

"No!" he says defensively, "Really, I really love you, Kyle." He pronounced my name right. "I do this because… I don't know. I've wanted to do this since like sixth grade. But I was scared. Then, a couple months ago, I just couldn't resist anymore. I kissed you, and you didn't resist either. I… thought that if we just did it, and there was no lovey-dovey shit, it'd be okay."

"But it wasn't?"

He shakes his head. "No. Our relationship was purely sex. And… I wanted something more. I wanted someone who would depend on me like I depend on them. Complete me, I guess."

"That doesn't sound like you at all," I tell him, my lips turned up in what could possibly be a smile. But I knew better. I hadn't smiled in years.

He grins. "I don't feel like me at all. I feel different when I'm with you." He pauses and looks away, fiddling with a little string on the leg of my jeans. "Do… do you love me?"

I pause. I do love him, but I'm afraid. What if this is just his way of making me stay? What if he is still using me? But what if he's not? What if he does care? Well, I don't care if he cares or not. I don't care what happens in the future now, it all gets too confusing. "Yeah."

He returns his hand to where it was before and resumes kissing me. It was the best day of my life.

Normally, this story would end right now. He would dump Wendy and be with me. Everyone would be happy for us and we would hold hands and go on dates and kiss without feeling a single pang of guilt.

But nothing in South Park is normal.

I didn't speak to him for the rest of that weekend, and I didn't take the bus to school Monday. I just met up with him at lunch. Sitting next to Wendy.

"Hi…" I'd said nervously, dropping my cheese sandwich onto the table. Lots of people made (and still make) fun of me because I work in the kitchen for free food, but screw them. If it weren't for me, they wouldn't even get their food.

"Hey Kyle," Stan had greeted cheerfully while Kenny gave me a short wave.

The boy who'd said he loved me the day before had his arm around slim shoulders. And they weren't mine. He met my eyes and acted as though nothing had happened between us. Again. What happened to yesterday? Was "I love you" just a phrase he threw around like spare change? It couldn't be. He said he felt different with me. That I completed him. My heart sunk again, but it was a feeling I was getting used to.

"Gotta forget," I mutter to myself as I snap back to the present, "Leave it all behind."

First you say you need me
Then you wanna be free
Givin' mixed signals and signs
It's so hard to let you in
Thinking you might slam the brakes again

I used to be comforted by the fact that I could find solitude inside my own mind. But now I no longer controlled it. It had its own thoughts, and reminded me of things I wanted to forget.

And that's why I'm getting away. I need to get as far from South Park, Colorado as it's possible to get. Where that is, I don't know. No plans have been made. I don't even have any money because I left it for my mom so she can buy groceries. My life's savings.

Sure, she'll freak out when she realizes that I'm not at Stan's. She'll probably call the cops and go completely ballistic. That's why I left a note in front of the door. Telling her that I'm going somewhere else to start a new life. I conveniently left out the details of where. I'm trying to leave my life behind and I don't want her popping in and bothering me.

I remember something that could help me. I could call my cousin and ask if I can stay with him in Connecticut. It's for sure far away enough, but maybe too far for me to drive. And then it hits me: gas. I don't have any money for gas.

"SHIT!" I shout to myself, banging my fist on the horn. A car driving by flips me the bird, but I ignore them.

"How the fuck am I supposed to get anywhere without gas?" I ask myself, as though somehow I can answer it too. "Stupid, Kyle, you are so fucking stupid."

Just as I say that, my phone chimes annoyingly. I wait until I pull up to a stoplight to look at it. 'INCOMING CALL: CARTMAN'

Why the hell is he calling me? Well, I don't think I ever told him that I was pissed. The 'I love you' incident was not our last encounter. But I don't want to think about our later encounters. "Forget it, Kyle! God fucking damn it!"

The light turns green and I speed through the intersection.

Put the pedal down
Headin' out of town
Gotta make a getaway
The traffic in my brain's
Driving me insane
This is more than I can take
You tell me that you love me first
Then throw your heart into reverse
I gotta get away

The phone rings again, and this time it's Kenny. That turd obviously called Kenny and told him to call me. But I'm not answering for anybody. Not fat ass or Kenny. Kenny's call goes to voicemail, and I decide that I'll have to ditch the cell when I get to Connecticut. I can't forget a life if it keeps ringing in my ears with irritating calls.

I sigh and relax my grip on the wheel. The mountain is behind me, and I already feel a bit relieved. But my hands clench again when the phone rings. Now it's Stan. If I didn't answer for fat ass or Kenny, why would I answer for him? God, fat ass could be such an idiot. It would be easy to grab the phone and throw it out the window, but I need it for emergencies.

The phone rings over and over with more calls from Cartman, Stan, Kenny, Butters, Tweek, Craig, Clyde, Bebe, Ike, and my mom. He got the whole parade going. But I don't understand why he's even trying. He knows that I'm too damn stubborn.

Well, he probably doesn't know that. I didn't do such a great job of showing him.

I stand up and storm from the cafeteria after watching ten minutes of Wendy and Cartman's coddling. I can't take it anymore; it hurts. People are whispering around me as I make my dramatic exit, topped off by slamming the heavy doors behind me.

My feet take me to the back of the school, where almost everyone goes for alone time. One of the pipes is broken, and water is leaking onto the gray sidewalk as I sit behind the dumpster. Sure, it smells like shit back here, but it's quiet and alone. It's everything I need to calm down.

There's writing on the back of the dumpster, and I can't help but read it. "MR. MACKEY IS GAY" was written in black Sharpie and in huge letters. "GO SPH COWS!" was also in large letters, but it was scratched into the green paint of the metal. But one thing caught my eye and made me feel worse. "POOR BOY KYLE BROFLOVSKI SUCKS DICK." Poor Boy sounds like an insult of Cartman's, but this isn't his writing. I'm not shocked, and I know there are worse things written in the bathroom stalls, but it still stings to read it at this moment.

I hear sloshing and hold my breath, hoping that whoever it is won't notice me. The footsteps are heavy and splash little bits of water onto me with each step.

"Kahl?"

Fucking shit. Fucking shit. What's he doing here? "Fuck off."

"Kahl, come out of there," he says. His voice sounds like he's trying to coax a puppy.

I glare at the insult about me on the dumpster. "No. I said fuck off!" It sounded childish, but I didn't care. There was this strange tightening feeling in my chest, and it was foreign enough to worry me.

"Please?" he begs, "I wanna talk to you."

"What? So you can tell me something and then forget about it tomorrow?" I say loudly, "Just fuck. Off. Seriously."

He pauses, and I hear the sound of him walking again. "Fahne. If you won't come out, I'ma getting in." He scoots behind the dumpster, pushing me over until his entire body mass fits. "Cozy," he comments.

I ignore him, still staring at the green in front of me. After some silence, he speaks again. "It wasn't what it looked like."

"Wasn't what it…?" I repeated, but stopped myself, "Go away."

Now he ignores me. "I just have to keep going out with her. We never agreed that I was breaking up with her last night."

"Uh, I kinda thought it was unspoken when we said we loved each other." The words made me bite my tongue in irritation.

"I do love you. It's just…" he sighs, "I can't just dump her. It would look so weird if I dumped the prettiest girl in the school."

I feel anger bubbling up inside me. "I'm sorry I'm an embarrassment to your ego."

"Kyle, no!" he says, "You're taking it the wrong way. If we want to stay alive in high school, then we just need to keep this on the DL."

"On the DL?" I repeat, "Does this even mean anything? Are we like… together?"

He nods without hesitation. "Yep."

"And are you and Wendy together?"

His eyes shift, but he nods again. "Yeah…"

"I'm not cool with that," I say, knowing I sound like a needy teenager, but I want his love all to myself. Is that too much to ask? "It's not fair that you can make out with her and me. It's just…"

He grins. "You want me all to yourself?"

"Fuck you! I just…"

"It's okay," he says, turning serious, "I understand. But this is the only way we can be together and not be socially retarded."

I sigh. "But you love me more than Wendy, right?"

"Duh."

He pushes me onto the ground and we kiss again, ignoring the shit smell hovering in the air.

I can't believe I went through with that. He just expects me to watch him make out with Wendy and then come back to me all cheerfully? Well, I did allow it. I let him use me as his sexual outlet and now his boyfriend.

It hurts inside that I'll never have anyone who will give me 100% of their love. I just know it can't happen.

My phone indicates that I have a text, and I open it. "KY I 3 U PLZ COME HOME IM SRY."

I can't keep coming back to you
Every time you're in the mood
To whisper something sweet in my ear
It's so hard to move on
Cause every time I think you're gone
You show up in my rear view mirror

I'm not going to respond. I'm never going to respond. It hurts too badly to ever talk to him again. The sun is setting behind the mountains and it would be beautiful if I wasn't so depressed. I've always been a sucker for sunsets.

My Saturn starts making a strange sound and sputtering. "Oh no…" I mutter as I desperately pull off the road and it officially runs out of gas. "No. God, no."

I let my head fall onto the steering wheel and take deep breaths. They're not helping me calm down at all. I get out of my car and scream as loudly as I can, but nobody hears me. Not that I thought they would, it just would have been nice.

"FUCK!" I shout in defeat, kicking the door of the car. It dents in and leaves a little black mark where my shoe hit. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUUCK!" I scream over and over, kicking the car with every single repeat.

I pull on the car door handle, ready to swallow my pride and call someone for help. The door is locked. I try every single handle, and I can't get in. "FUCK!" I shout again, as I look in the window and see that my cell phone is dead anyway.

I kick the car again, and it dents satisfyingly. "FUCK – YOU – STUPID – PIECE – OF – FUCK – ING – SHIT!" I shout at it, kicking it once again with every word. My energy is drained and I sink to my knees beside the car.

I can't get away. I can't leave all of my pain behind, but I can't get any of the good back either. I'm stuck in between the good and the bad. I have nothing. I have nothing left. Nothing is left of me.

I lost all my friends and the love of my life, and I thought I'd get so much further than this. At least to the Denver Airport. At least to Connecticut. But I'm stuck in the middle of a retarded empty wasteland, all alone with no money, no cell phone, no car, and no businesses nearby.

The clenching feeling comes back in my throat, and I don't know what it is. But I let it take over, and a sob escapes. No way. Another one comes, and I try to stop it. Kyle Broflovski does not cry. Eric Cartman cries when he doesn't get what he wants. Stan Marsh cries when he's left by his girlfriends. Kenny McCormick cries when his parents fight. I do not cry. I've always been a rock. I never show any emotion except anger, irritation, and rarely love.

The strange feeling of tears runs down my face as I completely break down, no longer caring if this is not me. If this is pathetic or lame or wimpy. The sobs are followed by sniffles and hiccups and shaking, but I can't make it stop. Even when a hand rests on my back, I can't summon the energy to see who it is. When it began rubbing small circles, I was finally able to slowly turn my wrenching sobs into gentle sniffles and tears.

I look up and see who is next to me.

"SHIT!" I jump up and trip over my own shoes, falling back onto the car and hitting my head. Cartman quickly reaches down and feels where I hit it.

"Does it hurt?" he asks.

"Get off of me!" I shout, trying to back away from him.

He obeys and backs off, giving me an understanding but sad look. My head is throbbing like a bitch, and I feel like I'm going to throw up, but the only thing that matters is how Cartman got here.

"I left about an hour after your mom said you did," he told me, "Where were you going to go?"

I glare. "It's none of your fucking business!"

"Yeah it is, you're my boyfri…"

"Don't say it!" I interrupt, "You are not my boyfriend! I hate you! I fucking wish I'd never have to see you again!"

"I love you…"

Is this just a detour
Cause I gotta be sure
That you really mean what you say
It's so hard to let you in
Thinking you might slam the brakes again

The words just make me angrier. "If you really loved me, you'd be with me no matter what! You wouldn't care about other's opinions and you would care about me!"

"I do care about you!" he snaps, "What is going on in that Jew brain of yours?"

I break down again, and curl up into the smallest ball that I can, hoping that maybe I'll disappear. I feel him try to touch me again and scoot away. "F-fuck, f-fuc-fuckin' pu-pus-pussy," I mutter angrily to myself, trying to make the tears stop.

"It's okay to cry, Kyle," he says.

I tense at his calm and quiet voice. I want so much to run into his arms again, but I can't. Stupid tears are making me a fucking pussy. "It's not fucking okay! It's weak! I. Will. Not. Cry!" I shout, really just to myself, but I know Cartman can hear.

He crawls over to me and wraps his arms around me, ignoring my protests. The warmth of his arms makes me want to take everything back and just stay forever in this same position. Never let this moment pass.

As the minutes turn into hours, I feel myself begin to relax against him and my tears finally come to another stop. His hand weaves through my hair and he mutters comforting words into my ear. Eventually, exhaustion takes over and I fall asleep against him.

At least he knows he can't blow it this time.

God damn it, he's been crying for about six hours. I want to wake him up, but I know that if I do, he'll probably start bawling again. Of course, I shouldn't be complaining. It's not his damn fault.

I pick him up and carry him to my car, noticing that his looks like it's beyond repair with hundreds of dents in the doors. I wonder if he did that. If he did, that would be pretty cool. I grin to myself and put him in the passenger's seat of my Toyota Supra, a kick ass present from my mom.

I start it up and it makes a satisfying revving sound, but he doesn't wake up. Guy's probably dead. My stomach clenches a bit as that thought flicks through my brain. So what if he's dead? I can always get Kenny to replace him. My brain produces an image of me kissing Kenny, touching Kenny, cheating with Kenny. It's not right in any way at all.

I remember when I told Kyle that it felt like I could replace Wendy with anybody. It had been meant to make him feel all special and quit fighting me, but it was true. Wendy could just as easily be replaced with any other girl in our entire school. There was no connection, no passion.

But now I actually thought of replacing Kyle, and it seemed so wrong. Me and Kenny, no. Me and Stan, no. Me and Butters, no. Me and Kyle, yes. Why? When I first kissed Kyle, it had been something I just wanted to try. I think I was the only one that noticed that he was actually charming; he always hid his face.

I liked that he hid it. I liked that he was secluded, quiet, and shy. Sure, it was because he was depressed, but I didn't care about his emotions. I just liked that he was there, but not involved. It's selfish, but I'm selfish, so who the hell cares?

And what's strange is the fact that it's easy to use him, but at the same time, it's so damn hard! I know that when he's pissed, all I have to do is make myself look all caring, and then he's like putty in my hands. Like just a few hours ago, for example. But when we kiss… and he looks at me… I see his face. It just makes me want to either drop everything else and be with him forever, or run away so I never have to hurt him again. It's so gay.

It's wrong of me to have used him in the first place. His dad just died, his brother was gone with his biological parents, and his mother was a nutcase that he was never good enough for. But he seemed so stable, and so strong. Probably because of that "no crying" policy I learned about earlier, but still.

Now he didn't seem strong at all. He seemed weak and vulnerable. He'd run away to get out of South Park. To get away from his bitch mom. To get away from the bullying assholes at school. To get away from the failing grades and the pushy teachers. To get away from false relationships and unwanted feelings. For me.

He loved me. He said he loved me. I just said it to get inside him, and I'd forgotten that I was the only one pretending. He thought it was real, and he admitted that he really loved me.

"Oh god, Eric, what did you do?" I say to myself, pulling into a gas station about an hour and a half later. I got too close to him. I got too emotional. I cared too much. "Shit…" I mutter as the last thought echoes in my mind. I cared too much. I wasn't supposed to care at all! I just needed sex! All I needed from him was sex!

"I wanted something more. I wanted someone who would depend on me like I depend on them. Complete me, I guess."

Had I really said that? Sure, I'd rehearsed the words all night, but that wasn't the script. That had come from my heart. My cold, uncaring heart. What was happening to me?

I got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind me, but he still didn't wake up. Whatever. I stuck the gas thing in my car and dialed Wendy's number. Once I brought Kyle back, everything could go back to normal, except Kyle, of course. I'd have to forget about him.

"Hello?"

"Wendy," I say. Her voice doesn't calm me down like I expected it to. It just makes me want to… I don't even know.

"Oh, Eri! Hey baby!"

I sigh. I didn't actually plan on talking to her. "Hi. Um… how's the search going?"

"Suckish. Everyone quit except for Stan and Kenny," she replied, "Even his mom said he was probably out partying so he could become a lazy failure like his father."

Everyone quit? His own mother quit? "Well, tell them to stop. I found him."

"You… you found him?"

"Yeah, he was down in Middle Park in the middle of nowhere."

She pauses. "Well, that's good," she mutters, and I can't help but hear something strange.

"Wendy?"

She ignores me. "So you're coming home now, right?"

"Yeah."

"We can like, hang out then. I was worried that we might miss the last showing of The Proposal if you didn't come home soon."

I feel anger bubble up in my chest. A movie? Kyle could have been dead, for all she knew, and she was worried about our movie date? "I think I should stay with him. Me, Stan, and Kenny should talk to him, you know, about whatever made him leave."

"But Eriiiic, you said we could go tonight!" she whines, and I can see her pouting face in my mind.

It pisses me off. "Wendy. My friend is more important than a retarded chick flick right now."

"Well, he's not dead!" she snaps.

"He's obviously upset!" I return angrily, ignoring the fact that the gas pump is finished.

"He's not even your friend," she argues, "You said yourself that you hate him."

I bang my fist on the trunk of my car in rage. "I don't hate him! I fucking love him, okay? I FUCKING LOVE HIM!" My eyes open in shock. What?

"What?"

As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I know that it isn't just a ploy to get him back, or something to keep him with me. He's not even listening. I actually… love him. I love Kyle. Jesus Christ.

"You hate him, Eric!" she's babbling, "You said yourself that he's a greedy Jew rat with no friends and no family except for a Jew-bitch mother who thinks he's Einstein or something! He's unpopular and…"

"Shut. Up." My voice is colder than I've ever heard it before. I know I said those things. But they weren't true. I was a greedy rat who only had friends because they were afraid I'd kill them if they hated me. At least he was honest. And I need to defend him right now. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up. A. Bout. Him."

I can hear her pause in shock. "I'll have you know that Stan and Kenny are listening right now, and they're pissed."

"Pissed at who?"

"Pissed at you," she snaps, "What's your problem? You act like his mother or his boyfriend or something."

My mouth is running ahead of my mind. "I am his boyfriend."

"WHAT?" I can hear the echoes of 'what?' from Stan and Kenny in the background. "I'M your girlfriend! You're MY boyfriend!"

"Not anymore," I tell her, "I love him."

Stan grabs the phone. "But you're not fucking gay!"

"I don't know what I am, Stan," I tell him, "But I do know that I love him. And I don't think I'll ever feel the same about anyone else. When Wendy wouldn't have sex with me, I went to him to get what I wanted. All he wanted was love, so he gave in and let me do whatever I wanted. But after a while, he was getting mad at me. He didn't want to play anymore. So I told him I loved him. I didn't mean it then, but things started growing distant between Wendy and me. I wanted him. I'm sorry, I just wanted him."

"That's not a good explanation at all!" Wendy screams.

I shrug. "It's all I got, and it's all you need."

"I'm telling Kyle's mom. She hates gays, and she'll make you split up," Wendy says, her voice growing clearer as she grabs the phone from Stan.

"You better fucking not!" I yell, "You'll kill him!"

She scoffs. "Who fucking cares? When you get home, say goodbye to your sneaky little relationship, Eric Cartman. When you get home, you'll be all alone. And so will he, but he's always been."

"Then we won't come home," I tell her, confused at where my head is getting these crazy ideas, "I'll never be alone as long as I'm with Kyle. And Kyle will never be alone again. We're going the opposite direction."

"How do you expect to live, dumb ass?" Stan asks, "Kyle left his money for his mother, and…"

"I have loads of money that I jacked from my mom," I finish, "You know, I thought you of all people would be okay with this, Stan."

He pauses. "I'm fine with him being gay. I'm not fine with him being with you. You'll hurt him."

"No I won't," I snap, "I'll never hurt him again."

"At least I'm smart enough to see through your stupid façade," Stan yells, "You're using Kyle's stupidity to your own damn will!"

I laugh. "Since when is Kyle stupid?"

"Since he got with you!"

"Well, fine. If that throws away the friendship you've had for… what is it… eighteen years now, so be it. We don't need your negativity, hippie."

"Cartman, I swear!"

"Screw you guys, we're leaving home."

I hang up and stuff the phone back in my pocket. That was completely insane. The most insane thing I'd ever done in my life. So great. Now me and Kyle are running away to god-knows-where to do god-knows-what. I unhook my car from the gas thing and sit down in the driver's seat.

"What happened?" he asks.

Dumb Jew finally woke up. "We're out of here."

"Out of where?" he asks curiously.

I smile at him and take his hand, which is shaking beneath mine, "Out of our old lives. Out of South Park, out of Colorado, out until we never remember our old lives. We're gonna get away."

Put the pedal down
Headin' out of town
Gotta make a getaway

FIN!!!

See? I told you, insanely long for me. I know they're OOC, so don't tell me that, please. I suck at getting them IC. Is that what they call it? In character? I hope so. Whatever.

I seem to have a strange KylexCartman thing this weekend. I also wrote a multichap songfic that I'm posting after this.

So to get you to review, I'm going to do what I do on my chapters in Fight Fear With Fire, my other story. I'm going to write a review song.

Here I am again
Typing really fast
Sitting in a beanbag
Both hands on the keys
How am I supposed to please
Everyone who chose this to tag

You can say you love me
You can say you hate me
You can say you don't really care
It's so hard to write stuff here
When I don't know if you want to hear

Put the waffle down
Get your opinions down
Gotta get a review
The thoughts in your brain
Don't let them float in vain
Give them for me to retain

You read through this story first
Now don't let me give you this curse
Please review today

I can't keep writing stuff
If you don't think it's enough
To make you click the button down there
It's fun to write things
But when you don't exchange
I get super emo

Is this story suckish
Or is it a granted wish
For something you wanted to hear
It's so hard to write stuff here
When I don't know if you want to hear

Put the burger down
Get your opinions down
Gotta get a review
The thoughts in your brain
Don't let them float in vain
Give them for me to retain

You read through this story first
Now don't let me give you this curse
Please review today

Was that convincing? No? Damn. Well, review anyway or have your ass kicked.. oh, er... I mean... I LOVE YOU.

~Lori