Chapter Text
Kyle hated pair projects at school. He felt he worked better on his own with no one to hold him back or let him down. Unfortunately, their eighth-grade teacher had assigned their final History essay as a two-person task, and the frickin' alphabet had forced Broflovski and Cartman together. So there he was, that very night, sat cross-legged on Cartman's bed, trying and failing to get him to contribute.
Cartman may have matured in a lot of ways – grown into his weight, started sprouting stubble, kept his temper in check better, learned that sometimes he had to be nice to get his way – but he sure hadn't gotten any less lazy. The infuriating thing of it all was that he was actually smart when he tried, damn it all. He had so much potential, and it infuriated Kyle to see him throw it away. Especially when he was the one left to pick up after him.
"Are you just gonna play on your Switch the whole time?" Kyle asked morosely as he tapped the stub of his pencil impatiently against the top of his open notebook.
"One more minute," Cartman answered without looking up from the screen, "I've almost beat this level."
"You said that five minutes ago!" And five minutes before that as well, but who was counting?
…Kyle. Kyle was.
"It's a hard level," Cartman shrugged. "I'm, like, super far into the game now."
Kyle growled, clenching his pencil in his fist. "If you don't do some work soon, then my fist is gonna be super far up your ass."
"That's gay," Cartman said plainly, not showing any sign of intimidation.
Kyle sighed and resigned himself to doing the project all on his own. Well, whatever, it was probably better that way. He could just put Cartman's name on it for show and not have to actually work with him.
Cartman seemed to finish his level at last, as he put down the Switch on the bedside table and stretched his back out, arms wide. "Ahh, I'm so awesome," he said to himself as he did, and Kyle rolled his eyes. He stood up from the bed, then, and headed for the door. "Anyway, I'm gonna get some cocoa."
Kyle's ears perked up at that, and he chanced some courteousness from Cartman. "Can I have some?"
Cartman stopped in the doorway to glare at him over his shoulder. "Oh, what am I, your servant now?"
Kyle shrugged. "I mean, you're going anyway."
"Yeah, yeah," Cartman brushed him off with a flick of his hand. Kyle wasn't sure that Cartman would bring him back any, as he watched him leave the room and heard him go downstairs, but he decided to remain hopeful. Why he always did that when Cartman was concerned, he'd never know…
Perhaps it was because, on occasion, bouts of good showed in Cartman, like finding a shiny nickel on a sidewalk in amongst the broken glass and dog turds. It had been happening more often in recent years as well. They were small, simple things but they made a big impact. He didn't hog the ball when the guys played basketball together. He'd let Kenny stay over at his house when he needed a break from his own. He'd actually thank Butters when he let him copy his homework. He'd lend Kyle his sweater when he got cold on frigid days. Sometimes they could even spend five minutes alone in a room together without Kyle wanting to strangle Cartman. It was to the point that when Kyle introduced Cartman as his friend now, he no longer felt the need to precede it with "sort of" or follow it with "ish".
Yes, things were better between them. Kyle even caught himself smiling softly at Cartman whenever the good shone through. And he'd be embarrassed about it, except for the fact that he often caught Cartman smiling back at him just as warmly. Not that they never got on each other's nerves or fought anymore, they still did that plenty. Kyle didn't know that he'd want it any other way though; it was certainly never boring when he was with Cartman. But he was still grateful he'd grown up a bit. They both had. That was probably only to be expected at that point though, what with high school around the corner… so long as they could finish all their work and graduate middle school, that is.
Keen to do just that, Kyle put his head down and kept working while Cartman was gone. He was in the middle of drafting their essay about the pre-industrial era… when he made a mistake. He wasn't concentrating enough, and he'd accidentally written 'Cartman' instead of 'carthorse'. He sighed as he laid his pencil down to rest on the paper and reached for the eraser sat next to him. When he moved, though, the pencil rolled off the paper and fell to the floor.
"Aw, shit," Kyle grumbled as he leaned over the edge of Cartman's bed just in time to watch his pencil roll underneath it. Sighing again, heavier that time, he put the work aside and got off the bed to get down on his hands and knees and duck under to look for it. "There you are," he muttered when he saw it sat next to a box. He went to reach for it… when the writing on the side of the box got his attention.
JEW BOX
He stopped in his retrieval and just blinked in bewilderment. As far as he was aware, there was only one Jew that Cartman knew and could have a box dedicated to. Curious, Kyle forgot about the pencil and dragged the box from under the bed instead. It was quite hefty, resisting when he pulled it. He managed to shimmy it out against its will and, crouched over it on his knees, he could see on the top, written across the lid in the same thick black marker as the writing on the side, was a warning.
DO NOT OPEN, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A JEW, OR I WILL KICK YOUR ASS
Kyle checked over his shoulder. Cartman wasn't back yet, and Kyle couldn't hear his returning footsteps either. It was probably okay to take a quick peek inside then, just a little one…
Kyle opened the box.
Due to the written warning, he had been expecting to see a hidden stash of anti-Semitic material. Nazi propaganda posters, black-and-white photographs of Adolf Hitler with little pink heart stickers dotted around the border, or pages upon pages of plans to stage another holocaust. Perhaps pictures of Kyle with his eyes cut out and 'DIE' written over his face in blood-red marker. Therefore, he was surprised to see nothing like that at all. No, what he saw when he opened the box was… pages upon pages of… poetry.
Not quite sure what to expect, what the poems in a "JEW BOX" could be about, Kyle lifted one out from the top of the pile and read it. His brow knitted while he took in what he was seeing. It was Cartman's familiar blocky hand-writing, alright, but the content was anything but typical of the usual bigotry and hatred that spewed out of his mouth.
Roses are red.
So is your hair.
You may think I hate you,
But really I care.
Okaaayyy… Kyle wrinkled his nose and put the poem back. He picked up another one to compare it, and found it to be of a similar calibre.
Your eyes are green
Like forest dew.
You think I'm mean,
But I love you.
That last sentence threw him for a loop. He'd assumed that the box was about him at first, but… maybe there was another Jewish person with red hair and green eyes in Cartman's life that Kyle just didn't know about? He looked past the poetry, since it all seemed the same, and found more papers underneath which seemed to be letters. Figuring they would reveal more details, and just generally curious anyway, Kyle pulled one of those out next.
There was a big, red X drawn in marker at the top of the margin, and written beside that was FAILED LOVE LETTER #35. Intrigued, Kyle began to read it… and his heart spasmed to an abrupt stop for a second after the first line.
Kyle,
You're probably not going to believe me, but I just want to tell you that I'm in love with you, and have been for a long time now. Maybe forever.
I can't get you out of my head. I think about you every hour of every day. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up every morning, and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep at night.
I love you so much, I really want to go out with you. I know we've had our differences, but if you give me a chance then I'll treat you right, I promise.
Yours,
Eric
Kyle stared out into the middle distance as he slowly lowered that bomb of a letter back into the box. He didn't know if he had the stomach to read the other apparently thirty-fucking-four letters. He also didn't know if, realistically, there would be another Jewish person with red hair and green eyes who was also called Kyle in Cartman's life. He still kind of hoped though, because he didn't know how to deal with the alternative.
Kyle shook his head out of his shocked stupor and rustled around for the next thing. This wasn't just curiosity, now; it was a need to know. He was surprised to find something solid in amongst the papers, clattering as his fingers bumped against them. He pushed the pages aside and found a few cassette tapes - five, as far as he could see. He picked one up at random and read the writing on the label.
KYLE'S MIX-TAPE #3
Swallowing down the dread he was filled with, after all he'd seen so far, he flipped the tape over and read the back.
- Accidentally In Love (Counting Crows)
- Can You Feel The Love Tonight? (Elton John)
- Can't Help Falling In Love (Elvis Presley)
- I'll Make Love To You (Boyz II Men)
- I Want To Know What Love Is (Foreigner)
- I Will Always Love You (Whitney Houston)
- Love Is In The Air (John Paul Young)
- Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You (George Benson)
"Just what is all this?" Kyle asked aloud, although the sinking sensation in his stomach told him that he already knew. There was still more to see and confirm his suspicions, though.
Right at the bottom of the box, buried beneath the notebook paper and cassette tapes, there was a big, black book. Kyle almost didn't want to open it, but he cursed his own sick curiosity as he found himself picking the heavy thing up anyway and turning the thick, leathery front cover over…
It was a photo album…
…which only had pictures of him in it.
Some of them were stolen from his own family photo albums (his mom had been wondering where those photos had gone for a while). Baby photos of him sucking a pacifier in his high-chair or laying on his play-mat. Pre-K photos of him eating macaroni with his hands and finger-painting at the kitchen table. Photos of him as a toddler curled up for a nap in his cot or playing on the swings in the park. There were his yearly school photos too, even the one where he's missing a tooth in his grin as it had fallen out the weekend before and the one where he's wearing an ugly sweater at his mom's request. Most of the photos, though, were more recent and had been taken candid without him knowing. They had obviously also been snapped in a hurry as many of them were blurry or shaky.
The back of his head on the school bus.
His studious side profile in the classroom.
Sorting books at his locker.
Eating lunch in the cafeteria.
Playing basketball in the park.
Fast asleep at a slumber party.
Playing Farmville on his computer…
That last one had been taken from outside, through the window into his bedroom.
Kyle snapped the book shut and just tried to breathe for a moment. Because, the fuck?
He inhaled. Closed his eyes. Exhaled. Relaxed his brow. Inhaled. Exhaled. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. It was usually helpful for when he was angry - he had learned it in management therapy - but it was just as calming when he was overwhelmed. It allowed him to slow down and collect his thoughts…
"Okay, Kyle," he told himself on his final exhale, opening his eyes again. "Get a grip." In hindsight, it was obviously the materials for some sort of prank that Cartman was prepping for. Nothing to get worked up about. It was clear what he intended to do with all this. He was going to present everything to Kyle at some point, to trick him, for… for something, to make him… to make him feel… or to make him do… what? Kyle didn't know yet, he would have to figure it out later, but it was the only logical explanation… except… except for…
Except for the photographs.
They hadn't been just recent ones, put together for a current scheme, some middle-school mischief. They went back years. Not just the stolen ones, either, but the ones which Cartman must have taken himself too.
The slumber party was from when they were eleven.
The basketball game, they were ten.
The window shot… nine…
If it was a con, it was a long con. And Cartman didn't usually do long cons, too much of a fan of immediate gratification, the instant dopamine hit of a gotcha moment. The likelihood of it being all part of some master plan was shrinking in Kyle's mind, the greater likelihood taking over. The likelihood that Cartman… that he actually…
Kyle didn't realise that his hands were shaking until the book slipped out of the weakening things. It slid off his lap, and when it hit the floor, some loose papers dislodged at the back, their tantalising, terrifying corners peeking out from the top of the book. He noticed them when he picked the book back up, and he gulped fearfully as his trembling, traitorous fingers opened it from the last page, the one they were tucked behind. The stiff leather gave way, revealing a pile of drawings…
Graphic drawings.
Drawings featuring a boy with red hair and a green hat.
Licking a pair of balls.
Sucking on a fat chode.
Stroking his own dick.
Sloppily kissing a boy with brown hair and a bobble hat.
There were more pictures beside, but Kyle couldn't bear any more. He slapped the book shut again, heart racing, face flushing, nostrils flaring. He hadn't seen so much scandalous art since Tweak and Craig had become a thing with the Asian girls, and he didn't know how to process what his eyeballs had just been subjected to.
He was so stunned that he didn't hear Cartman coming back up the stairs, didn't have time to put it all back away, far away, and pretend that none of it had ever happened, that it had all just been a bad dream. The door was opened unannounced, and suddenly there was Cartman, a cup of cocoa in each hand.
"Hey, I didn't know how much sugar to put in yours, so if it's not enough then suck it, get your own next time."
He stopped short when he noticed Kyle on the floor, staring wide-eyed at him from over his shoulder, and he turned ghostly white when he saw the open box in front of him, the book in his hands…
"Cartman…" Kyle began, trying to keep his voice steady even while he was freaking out inside, "…What is all this?"
Cartman didn't say anything, but he dropped the cups of cocoa he had been carrying. The hot, brown liquid seeped out into the carpet, staining it dark, but even then he didn't react. His eyes were full with fear and his jaw was slack, and he kept making a weird squeaking noise at the back of his throat, like he was trying not to scream.
"I don't get it," Kyle continued shakily, prompting him to respond. "Poems, love letters, mix-tapes, photos of me… and those drawings… I mean, just what is-"
"What the fuck, Kyle?!" Cartman shouted finally, snapping out of it, and stormed over to Kyle like a raging bull. He snatched the album up from his hands and hugged it to his chest. "You can't just go through other people's stuff, you sneaky, greedy Jew-rat! This is none of your business!"
"None of my business?!" Kyle got up on his feet to round on Cartman and square up to him. "Everything in that box is about me!"
"You shouldn't have looked through it!" Cartman's cheeks were turning redder with every word. "Couldn't you read the warning on the box?!"
Kyle gripped two tufts of his own hair in lieu of the flaps of his old hat and yanked, somehow mortified for both himself and Cartman at the same time. "Couldn't you have hidden it better?!"
"It was under my fucking bed, what the fuck were you doing down there?!"
"I just dropped my pencil!" Kyle let go of his hair to point under the bed at the offending object, laying there oblivious to the nightmare it had caused. "I was going to pick it up!"
"Well pick it up already and go!" Cartman turned his back on Kyle rigidly, still clutching the book to his chest, protectively, like it was precious.
Kyle shook his head, gritted his teeth. "No! Tell me what's going on. If this is a prank or something, I need to know!"
"Sure, fine, it's a prank!" Cartman said too quickly, not meeting Kyle's eyes. "Ha ha, you got me! Now fuck off!"
"Fine!" Kyle huffed. He left the pencil (he didn't want the cursed thing anymore anyway), gathered his books from the bed into his backpack, and swung it over his shoulder as he marched towards the door, fully intent on doing as Cartman had suggested… but he never knew how to leave things alone.
He did know Cartman though. He knew how he was when he was panicked because a plan had been ruined. And he knew how he was when he was panicked because a secret had slipped out. His reaction was, unfortunately, the latter case.
Kyle stopped short in the doorway, wheeled back around, and threw his arms out at his sides in disbelief.
"What the fuck, Cartman!"
Cartman had taken Kyle's place by then, kneeling on the floor in front of the box, but he still had the book cradled to his chest. "What?"
"When were you going to tell me you have some, some sick crush on me!"
"I don't!" Cartman cried desperately, shrill and unconvincing, head shrinking in-between his shoulders.
"Then what is that?!" Kyle cried, pointing to the offending box, and then all but wailed in despair, "God, what is that, Cartman?"
"I already said, it's a prank!"
"I said it's a prank!" Kyle corrected, jerking a thumb at his chest, and then jabbed a finger at Cartman's back, "You tried to lie!"
"Oh, what does it matter anyway!" Cartman bellowed raggedly. "It's not like it makes any difference, does it?"
"I-…" Kyle started to respond; but then he realised that, for the first time ever, he didn't know the answer. Did it make a difference? Did it change anything? He was still pretty sure he hated Cartman, but… he knew, now, the feeling wasn't mutual.
"Just get out of here, Kyle," Cartman muttered, and the sympathetic urchin in Kyle's heart throbbed at the crack in his voice. "Please."
Because he didn't know what else to do, had never expected to be in that situation, and was pretty sure he didn't want to stick around to see Cartman cry and have to be subjected to the surreal situation of comforting him about his feelings… for him… Kyle left. He went home like he was in a trance, quiet and not quite sure how or when he had gotten down the stairs, out the door, or across the grass to his house two doors down.
His stomach was swirling so much that he skipped dinner, even though it was waiting for him when he got back and his mom had cooked his favourite, her special beef stew. He just went up to his room and attempted to distract himself playing his newest farming simulator on the PC… but he couldn't stop looking over his shoulder at the window. In the end, he decided to get an early night.
As he laid awake in bed, he tried to come to terms with the knowledge that Cartman… Well, there was no easy way to put it. Cartman was quite obviously... obsessed with him. Romantically. And sexually...
At the same time, Kyle tried to get over the knowledge that he was… actually feeling… kind of flattered.
"What the fuck?" he whispered to himself in the dark and clutched the sheets tight in his fists as he pulled them up over his hot, flushed face. Yeah, he probably wasn't going to be able to get any sleep that night…