You Don't Even Know

Kyle had thought about Cartman way too much recently. It couldn't possibly be healthy. Then again, how else do you react to someone who practically randomly gave you an unwanted handjob in a dark alleyway and you were only able to cum after they threatened you with death and then they left without another word? He had to be insane, obviously, because any other person wouldn't have been relieved at being threatened. Because any other person would have told Cartman to go fuck off and meant it, even if they were gay.

Any other person wouldn't care enough to be paranoid about not hearing from Cartman in this long, to think that the boy was avoiding him. And he, if he was in his right mind, wouldn't be upset about this whole 'Cartman's avoiding me' idea. No, he'd rejoice if Eric would just leave him alone.

So why did he feel like crap?

Kenny spent most of the nights over since Cartman, Stan had spent a couple. It looked like Stan and Wendy were going to break up again but nothing was for sure until it was for sure. Butters even spent the night once. There was no sign of Cartman returning, however, and he got quickly frustated that no one else seemed to notice his changes in emotions, first from normal to depressed and confused and guilty, then to anxious and unsure and pawning for... Well, he didn't want to think about that. But these were his best friends, in which he had known for practically forever, why weren't they noticing? Why didn't they figure that something was up, when the ever self-centered Cartman did?

It was enough to make him scream.

He wasn't sure if Cartman had actually helped or not. His focus wasn't on his own guilt anymore, which was good, and technically he had found a way to get off without any of that guilt. Not a reliable source, of course, but it was a loophole that comforted him all the same. But then he was just anxious and concerned about the whole Cartman thing.

This blew, this blew pretty hard.

Eventually his parents and Ike returned, and while Ike seemed to notice something, he didn't say anything. His parents were as wrapped into their own lives as ever. And two days after the return of his family, he returned back to school. Things should have been normal from there. They should have, and he had expected them to be, but they weren't.

He had shown up early to first period English like usual. Stan sat on one side of him, Kenny behind Stan. Cartman was late, also like usual. He sat on the other side of Kyle, which he had taken a habit of for easier undertone insults and stabbing with a pencil.

Today, he came through the door and Kyle watched him. He tried to avert his eyes but ended up looking away, deciding he had looked away for too long, and looked back before Cartman even reached the first row of desks. He cursed himself and looked away again, about to attempt to start something with Stan but he was talking to a football player. He turned to look at Kenny but he was already making out with some chick before the teacher got there.

Growling, he looked at Cartman again before burrowing his head into his arms. This was going to be a long day.

That's exactly what Cartman thought, fifteen minutes later, after having realized that Kyle had been staring at him off and on within that time. The fat boy attempted to ignore it and forced himself to look back. And even as he couldn't dare look at the ginger boy, he was forced to not know with exactly what look Kyle was giving him. Was it his glare with fire behind it? Was it a passive I hate you? Pure confusion, perhaps?

It was towards the end of the class period that he finally ventured to, with as calm a face as he could manage, gaze towards Kyle, who he could feel looking at him.

What was that?

Kyle was nibbling at his bottom lip, his lips slightly furrowed and green eyes staring at Cartman. Just staring, not glaring. It was a distant look, so much so that it took him a whole minute before he realized Cartman was looking at him back. When he did, he immediately looked away.

Oh great. This was not happening. This. Was. Not. Happening. Cartman forced himself also to look away. What in God's name was going on here? All he did was force the boy to cum and not feel guilty because of his stupid Jewish fate. Had only pressed him against a wall and jacked him off. Kyle should be looking at him with intent to kill, with pure hatred, with those looks he could deal with. Or at the very least, give him something like an expression that showed his inability to understand exactly what was going on. Instead, he was given some pussy ass look which was a little confused, a little upset, and mostly delicious.

Fuck.

And he knew very well that it was all extremely unintentional, that Kyle probably wasn't even aware he was looking at him half the time. That look of pure daydreaming. He wasn't daydreaming of him, was he? Oh hell no. He looked back at Kyle, who was looking at him again, and glared. No fucking Faggot Ginger Jew Hippie was going to imagine him. He was doing it again, looking all off in the distance like a moron. If Kyle was anything, it wasn't a moron. He rolled his eyes. This was ridiculous.

"Hey." He whispered, snapping his fingers in front of Kyle's face. The Jewish boy seemed to wake up. "I would appreciate it, Jewfag, if you would stop staring at my hot bod." Kyle blushed. He actually blushed. And it angered Eric because he couldn't decide if it was embarassing for himself or absolutely wonderful to watch. Then the Jew looked away and his own large head swivelled away after a moment's delay.

The class ended and both of them took their bags and barged out of the room first. What neither of them noticed, quite uncharacteristically of each of their very intuitive and observant minds, was that everyone else in the class watched them. The other kids didn't know what they knew, but they knew something had happened. Cartman lead, making his way down the hallway in which was quickly filling up with kids. Kyle followed.

"Listen, Cartman, we should talk."

"I do not want to talk, Kyle."

"I need answers!"

Cartman spun around to face Kyle, who ran into him and bounced back embarrassed. "What do you want me to answer for you, Kyle?" He now looked up to see people looking, so he pulled the redhead by his shirt sleeve out to a desolate corridor that leads to the principal's office. "Listen, I can't tell you how to feel about your gay Jewish stupidity. I can't even tell you what to think about the one thing I did to try to get you past that. I. Can't. Help. You. So go away, hippie. So stop looking at me so pathetically because it pisses me off!" Well, that was louder than expected.

"I'm sorry, Cartman."

That was it. Cartman slapped Kyle angrily. Kyle glared at him, so he did it again, so hard so that the hat actually came off a bit. "Yes, that's it Kyle. Look at me. Hate me. Be that goddamn Jew that hates me, let me hate you, and let everything be normal again."

"Let you hate me?" It was quiet, and lithe fingers touched where he had been slapped twice.

"What?"

Eyebrows were mocking the fat boy. "You said 'Be the goddamn Jew that hates me, let me hate you, and let everything be normal again.' Are you saying that you don't hate me?"

"OF COURSE I HATE YOU!"

Kyle didn't believe him. "Holy shit, dude."

"Noooo Kyyyaaalll." He whined. "I hate yoooou." Kyle just stared at him. "Stop that." Still staring. "I said stop it, Kyle!"

"Cartman, why did you help me?"

"I didn't help you, I exploited you."

"No, if you had exploited me, fatass, you would have mocked me afterwards instead of leaving. You would have taken pictures. I know you, Cartman, you've been acting strange."

It was on the tip of his tongue. 'I saw you masturbate.' or 'I keep thinking about you.' or 'If you moan one more time around me I will bend you over and...' Cartman's mind copied Mr. Slave. Oh, Jesus Christ! He was not thinking this. He was not thinking this. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! No. He went from anger to panic quickly.

He hated it when the Jewrat was right. Doesn't mean he'd admit it.

"Listen to me, Kyle, and listen well. You're the gay one here. Don't read so much into this because you're a horny faggot who can't laid because you can't come out. You think because I gave you a hand job that I like you back? False! I just want my fucking Jew to be worth making fun of again. Remember that I've done more sexual things than you've even dreamed of without so much as one erotic thought. That goes for what I did to you, and that is the reason I left without another word instead of cuddling up to you and telling you everything would be okay like some god damned queer." Cartman found himself out of breath at this long string of words spurting from his mouth uncontrollably.

"I will always hate you, Kyle Brofloski. I hate you more than any other person I have ever met. I want to see you die." Cartman walked away then, leaving the boy alone in the corridor.

Kyle had been abused by Cartman for many, many years. Verbal abuse, manipulation, even phyiscal abuse and attempts at his life. Why was this different? Why did the boy who had always been the queer daywalker Jew hippie feel like shit because of something he already knew? He felt himself collapse, almost exactly like when Cartman had felt him up in the alleyway. It was so similar, but the feeling in his stomach wasn't butterflies and waves and lovely little feelings of orgasm, no, the pit of his stomach seemed hard and heavy and though there were no tears, his eyes stung anyways. Had he really expected anything else? And if so, why did he even want anything else?

He hung his head and cried openly in the empty hall.

He couldn't possibly know that, for whatever reason, Cartman had that same heavy feeling as if rocks had taken over his innerds. Cartman, however, was used to hiding his emotions and even more used to carrying a bit of extra weight.

Neither knew what they wanted, exactly, but they knew they had just taken ten steps back from achieving it.