Hey there! So yeah, I just recently got into South Park a few months ago and immediately saw Kyle/Cartman as a plausible pairing. I'm kinda into that whole love/hate thing. Anyway, I've read pretty much all of the fics out there about these two (and they're all awesome; sorry I haven't reviewed any yet since I just got an account a few days ago), but it wasn't enough so I decided I could write my own. Contribute to the community, you know? Because in my opinion there's not enough Kyle/Cartman out there. So here's my share!
Just note that I started this from complete scratch, no plot in my mind whatsoever, so if the content seems a little dry or unstable it's because I just jumped right into it. I've probably changed this whole chapter at least ten times(couldn't decide on Kyle's problem or the tense) and I still don't know if I really like it. Heck, it may not even make sense. That's what I get for diving in head first.
Title inspired by episode 1201. I swear.
Hope you guys enjoy!
Warnings: An extremely sarcastic Kyle. But can you blame him? His life sucks.
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or and of its characters. I'm just borrowing them for the entertainment of others. And myself.
My life is screwed up to say the least. You'd think that living in a simple mountain town in Colorado would provide you with a life devoid of the dangerous shenanigans that a city could snare you into.
My name is Kyle Broflovski. I'm seventeen years old and a junior at South Park High. My life has been anything but normal and I'm afraid it's going to stay that way.
Every night I face the same problem. Lack of sleep.
Why you ask? Anxiety.
You see, I've recently discovered something about me that's been keeping me up every night for the past three months either with concern for my future or complete confusion. And because I can't fall asleep that means I do a little bit worse in school everyday -since I can't keep my eyes open for more than five minutes- which results in my mother's constant nagging and extreme punishment.
By extreme punishment I mean shoveling snow for the next month.
It really sucks sometimes.
But such is my life. Another problem added to the stack. At least I don't have AIDS or something.
Of course, I've had AIDS before... but that's beside the point.
So here I am again, the same as every night. Wide awake in my bed with thoughts racing through my mind at a million miles an hour.
I chance a look at the clock and wince. A quarter past midnight and I have yet to fall asleep. I sigh irritably, flipping over again so that my back is to it.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
Let's see... tomorrow's Thursday which means another day of school; my stomach churns painfully at the thought.
I tug lightly at my hair in annoyance. Each day I dread going to school a little bit more, and I'll be damned if I make it through this year in one piece. Not to mention I have one more year to go before graduating. Graduating and getting the hell out of this mountain town, away from my demanding parents, nosy brother, and the anti-Semitic bastard that hasn't grown up since the fourth grade...
Sounds like a dream. Especially that last part. A far away dream, but a dream nonetheless.
I shift positions again to my stomach, dread growing inside me as I face the clock once more. 12:23.
What?! Oh, of course! This is hopeless.
I glare angrily at my clock, hoping that it might rewind itself about two hours.
Stupid clock. You and your fluorescent red numbers; laughing at me; taunting me. "Haha, poor Kyle! You have school tomorrow and you can't sleep, nya nya nya nya nya nyah!" Just like him. With his crude jabs at my religion, demeaning cracks, humiliating tricks and pranks-
A notebook on my nightstand catches my eye, halting my rant abruptly. Now that I think about it my dad mentioned once that when you can't get to sleep it sometimes helps to write your foremost thoughts down. More like when something is troubling you, but it might work anyway.
It couldn't hurt to try.
I reach over to turn the lamp on and place the notebook on my lap, pen in hand. I open it up to a blank page and start writing.
I'm just your normal seventeen year old boy. Well, almost normal. Earlier this year, I came to terms with myself on something.
I pause here, second guessing myself on what I'm about to write. Something in the back of my mind is telling me this isn't such a good idea.
I shake my head and continue writing.
I'm gay. Homosexual. I like guys. Not girls. Guys. Well, more like one guy in particular.
I stop immediately. Where in the hell did that come from? If that's not a Freudian slip of the mind then I don't know what is.
A sharp, nauseating pain forms in my stomach. Perhaps I have a strange urge to make myself sick? It's working, that's for sure.
Just relax, it'll go away soon, it'll leave; just think of how terrible that is; how much more miserable you would be if that ever happens...
Oh good, it's gone now. Much better.
I breathe a sigh of relief, staring stupidly at what I just wrote down. Scratch it out? Yeah, that sounds good.
Okay. Going on.
I haven't told anyone that I'm gay yet. That's just crazy. Like asking your mom to show your baby pictures to all your friends or something.
Plus I'm not completely sure how this kind of thing is treated amongst my peers, and I'd rather not find out. So really no one should know, right? Right. At least, not until high school is over and we're all ready to move on in our lives likely to never see each other again unless we keep in touch.
Sure, my parents will probably find out someday, but not until I'm officially moved out and have a place of my own. Far away. Very far away. God knows my mom would blow a gasket if she knew I was gay.
I subconsciously nod to myself. So true.
Damn, time goes by fast. The clock says 12:58 now, but I honestly don't care. I'm actually getting into this.
I might tell my friend Stan, too. He's my best friend after all. I'm sure he would be pretty cool with it no matter what. He'd be too concerned with his girlfriend to really care anyway.
He's a good shoulder to lean on and it probably wouldn't matter who knew as long as he was still my friend after the fact...
Except for one person in particular. The one that's made my life a living hell since day one.
I don't waste any effort in writing the name down. If anyone reads this(not that I'm going to ever let this notebook out of my sight, considering I've just spilled my innermost secret in it) they would know exactly who I'm referring to. The name doesn't deserve my effort in writing anyway whether it was in this stream of conscious writing or an ongoing rant of what a manipulative, anti-Semitic bastard he is.
I take that subject off my mind as quickly as I can. I don't really feel like spoiling the good mood I've put myself into by doing this. Who knew I could calm myself by writing my woes in a... journal? Sure, I'll call it that. There's no way in hell I'm calling it a diary. I may be gay, but I'm not a girl.
But really, I do feel better somehow though I'm not sure why. I still don't have any ideas on how to approach my problem.
Perhaps I'm taking comfort in the fact that, considering I do come out, nobody will touch me as long as Stan's there to back me up. No one was going to mess with the star quarterback's best friend even if he wasn't straight.
But I don't take comfort in the thought of Stan as something to hide behind. He's a human being, not a shield. Besides, he won't be here forever. Although we're super best friends, graduating and going to college to start the rest of our lives is eventually going to end in us breaking our friendship off somewhere. That's just a fact of life.
Oh well. I feel better and that's all that matters to me right now. I'll worry about that later.
I yawn... wait, what? Yawn? Am I actually feeling tired for the first time in months? Looks like it.
I'm feeling ecstatic now, so I toss the notebook absently on the floor and hop up to shut the window that I had opened earlier in hopes of calming my nerves. It didn't work, and now my room feels like a freezer. Bad idea that was.
It's snowing lightly outside. Aaaand there's the driveway completely covered in the stupid stuff.
Of course. I feel so reassured knowing I can look forward to shoveling snow in the morning before school after about five hours of sleep.
Oh, wait. What am I saying? It's that way everyday. Yes, winter in Colorado is a bitch.
I notice my car is covered, too. Wonderful.
I sigh and rest my arms on the windowsill. Why do I live in this quiet, redneck mountain town again? Oh, right. Because cities 'taint our fragile minds' or something like that. That's what mom says and what she says goes. Really, I love her and all because she's my mom, but sometimes she gets a little out of hand.
I close the window with a firm thump, but before I can return to my bed for some much needed rest, something catches my eye.
There's something rustling in the bushes below my window. A cat? Most likely.
My curiosity is sparked for some reason.
A few seconds later, something comes out and... it's not a cat.
It's a... person? Are they nuts, what time... 1:17. In the morning. Who in the hell would be out at this time, let alone at my hou...se...
No. Nonono. It can't be. Why? What have I done this time to... what could he possibly want from...? What?
Oh my God.... No. Is that a video camera?
I nearly faint rushing to the bathroom to duke it out with my stomach.
Looks like I'm not getting much sleep tonight.
I hate that bastard so much.
Right, so I'll have the next chapter up ASAP. I'm leaving Wednesday(great time to start a fic right before you leave on a trip; nice going, Soul!), so I don't know when that'll be. Sorry about that.
I have a few ideas for next chapter, so hopefully it'll produce itself faster and I can have it out to you guys soon.
I'll leave you guys with that for now. See you next time!
Drop a review by if you liked it and think it has any potential at all!