cartman x reader

Chapter Five: Fucking Kyle

Content Warning: anti-Semitism (read the title)

Key:

(Y/N) Your Name

(L/N) Last Name

[Note: I've had this release date planned since October and South Park has to go and release new content the day before. I have opinions, my irl friends are sick of it so if anyone wants to talk about it with me I'd really appreciate it.]

Word Count: 2600

"This mission is dangerous. Khal, for some reason, thinks you're a hot girl." He laughs, "So when you do this, he will probably kiss you and infect you with whatever Jewish diseases he has."

Fuck... kiss? Somehow I hadn't realised dating Kyle would entail... dating Kyle. "Oh shit... Kyle's gonna be my first kiss..."

"Not if you kiss me."

I laugh, "What?" He said he was seriously, "Yeah... Fuck it, why not?"

So... we kissed. Me and Eric Cartman, kissed.

It lasted like a second, and there was no passion or... what do people say? Fireworks? Nothing like that.

It happened, and it then it was over. We both wiped our mouths with our sleeves, immaturely, and that was it.

"Huh... You taste like Cheesy Poofs."

I thought when I kissed someone for the first time it would be because I loved them. I've never loved anyone, I don't even think I love my parents, but I thought I would grow out of it before I got to kissing age. Before 16, the age where all the characters in movies fall in love. Before... now.

But that's not worth thinking about.

It was time for my second kiss, this one was really different.

I had set up a picnic spot with all his favorite foods, I sat down with him, told him how he made me feel, how, when I think of being with him, I feel safe and how he always amazes me with his patience and compassion. We looked into each other's eyes, and I knew it was so when he kissed me so, so softly, with so much care.

Is that what people like to hear?

Well, obviously, I didn't mean a word. My joy was real, I'm sure he could tell, but it was caused by anything but care for another person. In fact, the only way I managed to supress the need to vomit from his tender loving care, was the incredible satisfaction I get from lying so brazenly.

I can look him in the eyes, really look at them, and tell him I love him. I can even list reasons why and he believes me but I don't mean a goddamn word. So I guess, as I walk with Kyle, my boyfriend, to his house, I come to the realisation that should have been obvious to me by this point: I, (Y/N) (L/N), am incapable of love.