Kyle in chains / eric cartman x kyle broflovski

18

Chapter 18 - Progress
T

he mystery of how Stan managed to coerce my mother into suddenly being so biddable towards us didn't last long. As we walked from the clearing, he sheepishly explained to us that it was actually my dad who had initially agreed to the meeting. Stan had called my house early that morning and started off by speaking to my mom, but the second that she found out what he had in mind, she hung up on him. Not letting this deter him, Stan tried calling again - a very brave move, considering my mom's infamous temper. As luck would have it, my dad answered the phone and immediately agreed to having me over to talk. Stan heard my mom protesting in the background, but Dad put his foot down and she grudgingly gave in. I don't hold any ill will against Stan for bending the truth a little – I'm just glad to have him back on side. Moreover, I'm shocked that anything managed to make my mom deviate, however slightly, from her usual resolute unflinching manner. I guess miracles do happen every day.
W

hen we got to Cartman's house, Stan wished us luck and went on his way. In the half hour that we took to freshen up, Cartman and I decided to just play it cool tonight, and to speak only when spoken to – usually the best course of action in matters concerning my mother. Liane got home just as we were preparing to leave, which gave Cartman the idea to bring her along just in case my mom tried anything funny. I didn't have to think twice about agreeing – I don't trust my mom anymore than he does. Of course, Liane is coming with us directly from a day of job hunting, so she looks more presentable than I've ever seen her – wearing a smart grey pinstripe pants suit with her hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail. Hopefully, this new more sophisticated look will discourage my mom from making any further derogatory remarks about Liane's lifestyle.
I feel like I'm part of a funeral procession as the three of us march over to my parents' house. Even Cartman is unnaturally quiet. The mood is so sombre that part of me doesn't care less about the outcome of this meeting, just so long as it's over and done with as soon as possible and normalcy can resume once more. Then again, a larger part of me really does care about the outcome. I really wish I could predict what's going to happen, but I just can't. I also don't know if I should be feeling nervous or not - knowing that my dad is gonna be there makes me feel less inclined to be, yet at the same time knowing that my mom is gonna be there too gives me every reason to be.
I take a deep breath and ring the doorbell. It feels like such a strange thing to do – this is supposed to be my home, after all. My dad answers.
'Hello, everyone,' he greets us, smiling warmly. 'Come on in.'
The three of us enter the house, following my dad into the living room. It eerily quiet - the television is off and Ike is nowhere to be seen. It doesn't feel like home. My mom sits in her usual armchair silently, staring blankly at the space on the wall above the television where our family portrait used to hang. All four of us stand there watching her cautiously, as if she were a rattlesnake poised to strike at any moment. Dad gestures for us to take a seat, and we hesitantly comply. Liane and I sit either end of the couch, and Cartman settles in between us. For some reason I decide to throw caution to the wind and choose the end of the couch closest to my mom's armchair. Once I'm as comfortable as I can be, I clear my throat and open my mouth to speak. At that precise second, my heart starts to speed up as a familiar feeling of fear grips my chest. This is exactly how my mom used to make me feel when I was a kid. Uneasy. Intimidated. Afraid to be me.
'Hi Mom,' I say quietly.
She slowly looks up but doesn't meet my eyes. Instead, she seems to stare fixatedly at the healing wound on my lip. There's a slight trace of guilt in her face, but it's overshadowed by the look of hatred that she regards Cartman with when her eyes wander in his direction. Dad clears his throat, trying to break the tension and failing miserably.
'So how are you, Kyle?' he asks.
I look up eagerly, glad of an excuse to look away from my mom.
'I'm fine,' I reply as brightly as possible. 'Cartman's mom has been really supportive.'
I wonder if that sounded too much like I was implying that Cartman's mom is so much nicer than mine. I hope so – that's how it was intended. If my comment stung at all, Mom doesn't show it and continues to stare vacantly at nothing in particular. Dad nods and smiles affectionately at me, as if he's genuinely interested and pleased to hear that I'm okay. He wanders over to Mom's chair and sits on the arm closest to me so that he can face me. Mom noticeably bristles – she really hates people sitting on the arms of chairs. One of the many things that she hates.
'Kyle, your mother and I wanted to meet with you like this so that we could listen to your views, and so that you in turn could listen to ours. Hopefully, we'll all be able to reach some sort of happy medium together.'
I know my dad is trying to sound impartial, but listening to clinical lawyer talk isn't what I need right now. I'm not a member of a jury that he's trying to convince of his arguments – I'm his son. He notices my unimpressed expression and changes tactics.
'What I mean is, we'd really like to know more about how you're feeling so that we can develop a better understanding of what's going on in your head. And in your heart.'
That's more like it. Mom seems to disagree and rolls her eyes, still refusing to look at me properly. I take it her active role in this meeting is still strictly being carried out under duress. Why is she even here in that case? She doesn't look remotely interested in me, my feelings or what I have to say. Regardless, I can't let this distract me. I'm here to give my views, so that's what I'll do.
'How I'm feeling...' I trail off as my heart skips yet another beat. Old habits die hard. I just need to keep reminding myself that I don't care what she thinks anymore. I've spoke up for myself before – I can do it again. I swallow hard and start over. 'How I'm feeling is that I've finally discovered a very important part of my life and I really wish that the people I care about could bring themselves to be happy for-'
My voice cracks, rendering me mute. Fuck! I refuse to allow myself to cry in front of my mom! I'm not giving her the satisfaction of knowing how much she's affecting me! I feel Cartman's hand on mine, despite the glare that my mom shoots him for this action. I look over at him and he smiles at me gently. Would it be totally corny if I said just seeing that smile makes me feel so much better? God, I wanna kiss him so much right now. I wonder if that would get a reaction out of my mom. I sigh deeply as I look back at her. Her eyes are still locked on my and Cartman's entwined hands.
'Mom, I'm sorry that I've disappointed you,' I say with all the sincerity I can muster. 'I'm sorry that you're never going to see me become a lawyer, get married to a nice Jewish girl and have children. But the fact is I can't change who I am. Nor do I want to. I like guys, and I'm happy that way. Please accept me for who I am.'
As if my semi-apologetic words were some kind of magic spell, they make my mom finally look me in the eye. Her expression has softened slightly, and her eyes don't seem to be overflowing with hate like they were before. It's still so hard to tell how she could be feeling. She doesn't look sad or angry, but she doesn't look happy either. There's just...nothing.
'Kyle, you're my son,' she begins steadily. 'And although I amdisappointed in your choice of lifestyle, I can accept you as a homosexual.'
Well, I guess that's my theory about her being a closet homophobic out of the window. Ignoring the fact that she referred to my being gay as a 'choice', this is a pretty great starting point! I smile gratefully and I'm about to say something when she holds up a hand to silence me.
'I can accept that you'll never be with a woman and that you'll only ever be with men. I can even accept you being with one of your friends, like Stanley or even that odd boy Kenny...'
Mom's eyes briefly flicker across to Liane before she continues.
'But what I can never accept is you being with Eric Cartman.'
My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach. So, that's it? It's nothing to do with me generally liking guys - she just doesn't approve of the specific guy that I'm with? In a way, that makes things so much worse. Next to me, Cartman sighs and abruptly releases my hand. As if it were a reflex action, I make a grab for his retreating hand, lacing my fingers in between his. I tug our joined hands onto my knee in full view of my mom, in outright and deliberate defiance of her previous statement. Cartman shifts uncomfortably, but I'm afraid he's just gonna have to deal with the awkwardness for now. I'm not going to allow my mother's callous comments to reawaken all of the doubts that he had about us earlier. I'm not going to let her fuck things up for us.
'What about the fact that I love him?' I say evenly. 'Doesn't that count for anything?'
Mom sighs impatiently, but Dad cuts her off before she can speak again.
'We're just concerned that you're too young to fully appreciate that sort of love, Kyle,' he says.
'That's not what Mom just said,' I say, probably a little too defensively. 'And what do you mean, 'that sort of love'? Do you mean gay love? Are you saying if Cartman was a girl, we wouldn't be having this conversation?'
Neither of my parents seems to have an answer, so I continue.
'I've known Cartman since I was in preschool. I know him better than I know myself. I can't even put into words how he makes me feel, and I truly believe that we're destined to be together.'
Regardless of how heartfelt my words are, I can tell that my mom is starting to lose her temper. I can practically hear her teeth grinding together. She tries to speak calmly, but her impatience is blatant.
'Kyle, you may well care deeply for your friend, but his reputation is just so-'
'He's not my friend, Mom,' I interrupt, seconds from losing it myself. 'And his reputation isn't what I love about him. If you just gave him a chance, you'd-'
'He's had plenty of chances, Kyle!' Mom snaps. 'I simply can't ignore all of the outrageous and awful things he's done over the years!'
'I can!' I say, just as harshly. 'Why can't you?'
'He's anti-Semitic and a racist! He tried to eradicate your people! He gave you HIV, for goodness sake!'
'He was nine years old!'
'He's a troublemaker, and always has been! You're an intelligent young man with a shining future, Kyle! Do you honestly believe that he's good enough for you?'
'Will anyone ever be good enough for me in your eyes, Mom?' I yell, exasperated. 'He makes me happy! Doesn't that mean anything to you?'
Cartman suddenly releases my hand and raises his, turning all eyes in the room in his direction.
'Can I say something?' he asks.
So much for speaking only when you're spoken to. A chill runs down my spine - I really hope whatever Cartman has in mind isn't going to be a repeat of his self-doubting speech to me earlier. Receiving no answer from anyone, Cartman takes the silence as an affirmative. He lowers his hand and leans forward to lock eyes with my mother, his brown eyes wide and pleading. She scowls back at him, and he does an outstanding job of not letting it faze him.
'Mrs Broflovski, I appreciate your concern and I totally understand where you're coming from. You're right. I'm not good enough for Kyle.'
Oh no...I try to cut in to voice an argument, but Cartman seems to anticipate this. He glances at me briefly, and I notice that the look in his eyes isn't sad or fearful but calm and determined, so much so that I don't feel the need to deny him his right to speak anymore. Satisfied that I'm not going to interrupt his speech, he continues.
'I realise that he could do so much better than me. He could have anyone his heart desired. Yet for some reason, he's chosen me. And I feel so lucky that he's made that choice. I may be rough around the edges. I may have made mistakes, more than I can count. But I love your son. I'd give my life for him. And if I truly believed that he was going to be happier without me, you wouldn't see me for dust...'
He pauses dramatically, taking the time to look over at me and smile that uplifting, kissable smile from before. My heart soars - I wonder if he knows what he's doing to me. My guess is that he does. His attention returns to my mother, who still doesn't look moved by any of this. I don't know how anyone couldn't be moved by those eyes, those lips, that voice...I guess that's just me though.
'I know that given the chance, I can make Kyle the happiest person on the face of the earth,' Cartman continues. 'He's chosen to give me that chance, but that choice shouldn't cost him his family. He needs his mother in his life. Please accept your son's choice to be happy.'
My dad looks impressed – I wonder how long he's been smiling for. My mom, on the other hand, isn't impressed or smiling. She studies Cartman's handsome, sincere face for a moment longer, and then snaps her attention back to me.
'Kyle, I will always love you,' she states robotically, her emotionless voice not matching up with the words she's saying. 'And maybe one day, I'll come to accept the choices you've made. But if you choose to continue this...relationship with Eric, you're no longer welcome in this house.'
I think I look the least surprised of anyone in this room. I had a feeling it would come down to an ultimatum. My dad looks appalled, unable to find his words, his mouth moving silently as if he were a gasping fish out of water. 'Sheila, you can't just-'
Mom interrupts him. 'I wouldn't be asking you to make this decision if I didn't feel so strongly about this, Kyle.'
In many ways this is such a hard choice, yet such an easy one at the same time. I take one look at Cartman's slightly panicked expression and I know what my answer is. I look back to my mom and shrug.
'In that case, I'd better be going.'
I make a move to stand, but my mom moves first. I don't even get to see the look on her face as she strides across the room and stomps up the stairs without pausing for a second to look back. Everyone is silent and motionless until we hear my parents' bedroom door slams shut. I don't know how to feel about what just happened here. But I guess technically, I'm homeless. Cartman is gazing at me, looking both concerned and strangely delighted at the same time. My dad still looks pretty upset, and is about to say something but Liane beats him to it.
'Kyle is welcome to continue living with me as long as necessary, Gerald.'
Dad smiles at her. 'Thanks, Liane. I think it's probably for the best, at least for now. If there's anything you need for him, financially or otherwise, just let me know.'
'Does that include his college fees?' Cartman cuts in.
I cringe slightly as Dad frowns at what probably seems like a really random question. 'Of course, don't worry about that. I'd never allow anything or anyone to deny my son his future.'
Cartman noticeably relaxes. He doesn't look concerned anymore now that he's been relieved of the pressure of potentially fucking up my life. My dad gestures towards the stairs.
'I guess you'd better...go gather together some of your things,' he says softly. 'Ike and I will pack up the rest of your stuff for you over the weekend.'
I nod, rising from my seat. Cartman moves with me.
'I'll help,' he murmurs.
He follows me up the stairs as Dad and Liane continue to discuss my new living arrangements. When we reach the top of the stairs, we both absently glance over at my parents' closed bedroom door before silently entering what I guess is no longer my bedroom. I'm a reasonably tidy person so it doesn't take me long to find everything I need. I throw my stuff into a pile on my bed as Cartman starts stuffing it into a sports bag. When I'm finished hurling objects from my closet, I sit on the bed next to Cartman and help him gather together the rest of my stuff. We reach for the same t-shirt at the same time and glance up at each other when our hands touch. I'm almost positive that we both blush.
'So...I guess I'm living with you now?' I say quietly.
Cartman nods. 'Yep.'
'You okay with that?'
He frowns. 'Why wouldn't I be?'
I shrug. 'It's just kind of a big step. It's not too soon for you?'
'Well, I don't have a lot of choice, Jew. I'm not dating a homeless person.'
I roll my eyes at his lame attempt at humour. 'I'm being serious, dude.'
Cartman melodramatically imitates my eye rolling and pulls me into a rough hug. I automatically nuzzle into his chest and inhale. He's wearing his favourite jacket today, and the smell of leather blends beautifully with his usual scent.
'Look, its fine,' he mutters. 'We've always had a high-gear kind of relationship anyway. That's just how we roll. It's cool.' My arms tighten around him as I feel his lips against my forehead. He pulls back to look at me. 'Besides, I can't think of anything better than having you around me, twenty-four seven.'
I feel my face flush again at his words. 'Really?'
He grins. 'Hell yeah! Now I get to tap that sweet kosher ass whenever I feel like it.'
I smile wryly. 'Pig.'
His amused laughter is muffled when my lips briefly press to his. As we turn to continue packing up my things, I notice a large shadow lingering in the doorway out of the corner of my eye. A few seconds later, it disappears and I hear my parents' bedroom door quietly closing.
Two bulging sports bags later, I'm ready to go. When we walk back downstairs, my dad and Liane are hugging by the front door. I glance at Cartman, who has one eyebrow arched and looks a little uncomfortable with seeing my dad touching his mom. Actually, it probably has very little to do with the fact that it's my dad – it's probably just men in general touching his mom that he objects to. Dad mumbles what sounds like 'thank you so much' before releasing Liane from his arms. He turns to see me and smiles sadly, pulling me into a tight embrace.
'Kyle, you're my boy and I love you no matter what you do or who you're with. If Eric makes you happy, then so be it. I'm just so sorry that it has come to this - your mother is being completely unreasonable, as usual.'
It's not obvious to Cartman or Liane, but I know my dad's tone of voice well enough to be able to read in between the lines. He's absolutely furious with my mom. I have the feeling there's going to be one hell of an argument when I'm gone. To be honest, I'm glad. It's nothing that my mom doesn't deserve and it'll make my dad feel better. It's not like the argument will upset Ike either – he'll probably just secretly video-tape it and forward it to 'America's Stupidest Home Videos' like he usually does.
'Don't be too upset, Dad,' I say gently. 'It's not like I'm far away. And like you said before - it's for the best this way.'
I feel my dad nodding and he slowly backs away from me. He then turns his attention to Cartman, pulling him into a hug before the poor guy even has the chance to realise my dad's intentions. He lets out a squeak of surprise, dropping the sports bag he offered to carry for me. It's so fucking hard not to laugh at how freaked out and awkward he looks.
'Please look after my son,' Dad says.
Jesus Christ, I'm only moving around the block! You'd think Cartman and I were eloping to New Zealand or something.
'Err...sure, Mr Broflovski,' Cartman replies.
'And try to forget about what Sheila said before. Because sometimes it's okay for things to be rough around the edges, just as long as what's on the inside is good enough. And I truly believe that there must be something very special inside you to have made my son love you so much.'
I guess that's one good thing about coming from a family of lawyers. Sometimes, my dad knows exactly the right thing to say. The tension seems to slowly leave Cartman's body, and he hesitantly returns the impromptu hug.
'Thank you,' he whispers.
When Dad finally releases him, I notice that Cartman looks...touched? And a little tearful. I guess that's the closest he's ever come to having a father-son moment. Hopefully, there'll be more moments like this for him seeing as my dad has been so accepting of us. If Cartman's willing to share his home with me, I certainly don't mind sharing my dad with him.
Not another a word is uttered as Cartman, Liane and I leave the house – what more is there to say? As my dad closes the door behind us, I glance back at what used to be my home and notice the curtains twitching in my parents' bedroom window. I smile, because at the back of my mind I still see a glimmer of hope. The way I see it - in just one conversation, my mom's potential acceptance of my relationship with Cartman changed from a never to a maybe.
Who knows? If we keep working at it, there may be a chance for a happy medium to be reached after all.
When we got home, I moved my stuff into the spare bedroom. I know I'll probably always end up sleeping in Cartman's room, but we agreed that it's better that I have my own space too - somewhere to store all my shit, and somewhere to retreat to when Cartman's pissing me off, which is bound to happen from time to time. I was nearly finished unpacking when Stan stopped by to find out the outcome of our meeting. He looked horrified when I told him that I'm now living with Cartman permanently, having officially been thrown out of my family home. I don't think I've ever seen him pinch the bridge of his nose so tightly!
'Jesus Christ, dude! Aw, man! It's my fault, isn't it? I knew I shouldn't have interfered again! Wendy told me not to make that call! I should have listened to her!'
'Dude, chill! You sound like Tweek!' I laugh, clutching Stan's shoulders. 'It's fine, really. I'm glad you did it. Cartman and I are both cool with the idea.'
Stan chews his bottom lip anxiously. He doesn't look convinced. 'You sure?'
I nod confidently. 'Totally.'
He studies my face for a second before cracking a smile. 'Well...I guess as long as you're happy, it's cool. If you need any more help from me, you know where I am.'
I'm about to thank him, but he hugs me without warning. What's with all this fucking hugging anyway? I appreciate the sentiment, but I feel like I've been stuck in an episode of 'Friends' today.
'And remember,' Stan says. 'If you ever get sick of fatass, you're welcome to stay with me instead.'
'Hey!' Cartman yells from the kitchen. 'I heard that, you fucking hippy!'
We both laugh and separate as Stan bids a hasty retreat. 'See you tomorrow, Kyle.'
I wave him off as he finds his own way out, and then I run back up the stairs to add the finishing touches to my new room. Once I'm done, I clamber onto the bed and lay back. This day has been so emotionally draining, but I really do believe that the outcome has been for the best. Living with Cartman is going to be a learning experience if anything – I have a feeling that there's so much more for me to discover about him, good and bad. Either way, I can't wait. This whole situation will definitely be a test for our relationship. I mean that positively – I truly believe that we're ready to rise to the challenge.
I shuffle around on the mattress a little. I don't think I like this bed as much as Cartman's – probably because his ample form hasn't crushed this mattress into being all soft and pliable like his. Just as I start getting comfortable, there's a knock on the door and Cartman enters, smirking.
'Hey, Jew.'
I grin back. 'Hey, fatass.'
He slides onto the bed and lies back next to me. We both stare at the ceiling in silence for a few moments. I wonder if he's as exhausted as I am after the day we've had. Cartman sighs and glances over to the closet door where I've pinned up my Albert Einstein poster. He sniggers. 'Dude, you've still got that shitty poster from when you were a kid?'
I raise an eyebrow. 'This coming from the guy who still has a Terrance & Philip Show poster over his bed?'
Cartman snorts. 'Well, duh! Terrance and Philip were legends, bringing joy and laughter into the hearts of many. What's this Een-steen guy ever done for mankind?'
I roll my eyes. 'Plenty. And it's Einstein, retard.'
The ignorant goof merely shrugs. 'Whatever. Jews have stupid names.'
'You're a fucking idiot, you know that?'
'At least I'm not ginger.'
'I thought you liked my hair.'
'I do. You're still fucking ginger, though.'
I yawn. 'Whatever, dumbass. I'm too tired to argue with you.'
'That's fine. We can argue whenever you feel like it now,' I can practically hear the smile in his voice as he says this. 'I'm so fucking stoked you picked me over your mom.'
When he puts it like that, I guess I kinda did...Ah well. 'It was her own damn fault for putting me in that position.'
'Hey, don't knock it. It's like, the coolest thing she's ever done.'
I nod tiredly. 'It's the only cool thing she's ever done.'
'It's kinda fucked up though,' Cartman remarks thoughtfully. 'If she doesn't want us to be together, why would she put you in a position where you have no choice but to live with me?'
I shrug. 'She probably thinks that we're too young to handle living together and that I'll come crying home to her eventually.'
Cartman snorts dismissively, a sound that I'm delighted to hear. I suppose he thinks we're up to the challenge too. But just to clarify...
'Don't you?' I ask.
He glances over at me. 'Don't I what?'
I meet his eyes. 'Don't you think we're too young to be living together?'
Cartman looks thoughtful for a second, then chuckles and rolls over to straddle my hips. His hands pin my shoulders to the bed as he brings his face close to mine, eyes sparkling playfully.
'I think we're too young to have done a lot of things that we've done together,' he purrs, kissing my neck lightly. 'I also think that your lovely mother underestimates us, my dear Kyle.'
'I agree,' I chuckle, shuddering as his tongue traces my jugular. 'On both points.'
Cartman growls in the back of his throat as his teeth gently graze the skin of my shoulder blade. My hands slide up his arms and caress his shoulders, and I turn my face to kiss his cheek. He responds by biting down on my neck, hard. I gasp sharply, letting out a low hiss as the air rushes through my gritted teeth. He suckles at my raw skin vehemently, and my hips naturally buck upwards to meet his. He grinds against me in response, and I can feel that our levels of arousal are equal. He releases my skin from in between his teeth and easily manipulates my lips into parting for him with his tongue. He's met with my usual level of hospitality as my warm lips caress his tongue and my fingers knit themselves into his hair, spurring him on to kiss me harder.
Then abruptly, Cartman breaks away from me and stands up. What the hell? He smirks down at my frustrated expression, straightening out his clothes before offering his hand to me.
'Come on. Dinner's nearly ready and now that you're living under my roof, I fully intended on feeding your scrawny ass up.'
I roll my eyes as he pulls me to my feet and drags me towards the bedroom door. I cringe in discomfort, finding it hard to walk due to the sudden tightness of my jeans. Goddamn him! How can he think that I'd be interested in food when he's just turned me on like this? I don't want to eat or drink, or even sleep despite how tired I am. All I want right now is him.
But isn't that just the sentiment that got us to where we are today? All I ever want is him. He has me totally addicted.
I'm entirely bound by his chains, and I never want him to release me.