ONE YEAR LATER

I'm leaning against this beaten up second hand dresser I got at a flea market. It's a hideous orange color, but it does the job. I'm in my small studio apartment that I've lived in for the past ten months. I only ended up living with the Marsh family for a month and a half before I finally found the perfect (and affordable) place. It's just above a little bar on the edge of town. I'm a four minute walk from Angel Morte.

Yes, I still work at Angel Morte as a 'waitress'. About a week after I left my parent's house for good, I decided to come clean with Mr. Yamamoto. I was terrified that I'd eventually be caught and get fired, which would not help with my emancipation case. I figured I could either get him to put me somewhere else in the restaurant, if he wasn't too pissed over the fact I was not a girl. Or, I would get fired and could start the hunt for a new job.

~Almost 12 months earlier~

I poke my head into Mr. Yamamoto's office. "Sir?" I ask timidly.

He smiles at me and waves me to come in; he is on a phone call. I take a seat and wait for a very short time as he ends his call. "What can I do for you, Kylie?"

I decide to talk in my normal voice, "Mr. Yamamoto. You've been so good to me since I first started working here. I'm in the process of getting emancipated from my parents, so I needed to get something off my chest."

He eyes me curiously.

I sigh, "I'm not a girl."

He looks confused, trying to figure out exactly what my meaning is. "I'm not following…"

"I'm a boy. I've been dressing like a girl so you would hire me and keep me, I guess."

He looks at me with a calculating gaze. He stands up and approaches me. As I start to fidget in my nervousness, he gently tugs on my hair. I'm thinking it's to see if my hair is real or not.

He sits back down, nodding with an almost impressed smile. "Huh. You're pretty damn convincing."

I let out a nervous chuckle. "You don't seem very upset…"

He fully smiles at me, "Hey, honestly, you're a pretty good waitress, and what the customers don't know won't hurt them. Thank you for being honest with me, Kylie. Or… Err, what should I call you?"

I let out a sigh of relief. "Kylie is fine, if that's what you prefer, but my real name is Kyle."

He starts looking through the drawers in his desk and pulls out some papers. He hands them to me, "These are blank applications and new hire paperwork. Go ahead and fill them out with your accurate information so you can get the credit for all of your hard work. If you're really going to get emancipated, you'll need proof of employment."

I bobble my head, completely dumbfounded. I take the paperwork from him, "So, I'm not fired?"

He laughs, "Of course not! I don't discriminate!"

I smile. I never felt more grateful to this man than at this moment. "Thank you, so much. You're the best boss."

He waves me off and I start to leave the office when he calls out, "Kylie?"

I turn back, "Yes?"

He smiles, "If you need anything, please let me know."

I return his smile, "Thank you, Mr. Yamamoto."

~Present~

So, that's why, a year later I'm still applying mascara and lipstick while dressed in my dark angel dress. There was a small mirror I had hung precariously over my dresser, I was leaning awkwardly forward trying to apply the mascara in the poor lighting.

"Where'd you put your ashtray?" Eric bellows out from my little kitchen area.

Yes, Eric Cartman. My boyfriend. He and I have been dating for, well, about as long as I've been living here. Despite where we were a year ago, it took us almost two months to work out all of our bullshit issues and finally admit that we should just date. It was this stupid roller coaster of emotions, fights, and sneaky make out sessions.

"Goddamnit, asshole, you told me you quit!" I sigh. He would go a pretty long time without smoking and then randomly, he'll buy a pack and I have to think of creative ways to convince him to stop.

Eric ducks his head out past the little wall divider to grin at me. His eyes grew larger as he looked me up and down. I roll my eyes. He liked seeing me in my Angel Morte outfit. It was yet another facet of the weird relationship we have. Despite the fact that he loves me, he has a weird kinky thing for 'Kylie'.

Eric shakes his head, "No fair starting fights with me when you're dressed like that."

I smirk, "Shut the fuck up. Seriously, what happened to quitting?"

Eric smiles. He disappears for a moment and comes back out. As he walks toward me, I notice he is holding a large envelope. He hands it to me.

"What is this?" I ask, not even bothering to look at it.

"It's the letter from that hippie fag school in Oregon."

I roll my eyes. "And that means you can smoke because?"

Eric's face changes. He appears very serious as he says, "Because it means whether or not this," he waves his hand pointing to himself and then me, "Us. If we, you know, end."

My heart hurts a little. This issue has been a source of contention between us. I asked him to go with me. Even if he had no intention of going to college, which he doesn't, that doesn't mean he can't find a job somewhere so we could continue to start a life together. He thinks it's too fast for the two of us. I could care less. I spent most of my life up to this point terrified of taking leaps and walking through life like a robot. I wanted to take the risk.

I grasp his hand and hold it. I take the envelope and place it on top of the dresser. "I don't understand why you won't just come with me?"

Eric sighs. "Same reason I wouldn't move in with you when you got emancipated a few months ago. We're too young with too much of a fucked up history to make living together while dating even seem like it's remotely a good idea."

I smile and quirk my brow, "Not even if that meant we got to fuck as often as we want if we live together?"

"Don't even try to bribe me with sex!" The heat in his face darkens his complexion; it's a delightful red shade.

I pout playfully and gently shove him onto the bed. I straddle Eric's waist and lean over him. "Really? The prospect of regular sex with me isn't even slightly enticing?" I press myself against my boyfriend's chest and gently grind my hips against his. I breathe over his lips, "Not even a tiny bit?" I ask in my 'Kylie' voice.

Eric growls and flips us over, reversing our positions. He chuckles, "I'll have to think about it…"

I smile, "You should."

I weave my right hand into Eric's hair. He groans in pleasure before leaning in to kiss me.

/\/\/\/\

What Kyle didn't know was that Eric had already been packed for a couple of weeks. Ready to follow his boyfriend down whatever path college was going to take him. He just wasn't about to tell Kyle that.

And they lived happily, gay-ass chick flicky ever after.

The End.

Author's Notes: Again, this was my proposed conclusion to how, "Waiting on an Enemy" could end. This is in no-way the original author's intended ending, as far as I know. This was my own way of helping me cope with not knowing an ending and I decided, what the hell? Why not share it?

This is my first fanfiction for Southpark, this is not my first fanfiction though.

The original characters and the renditions of the characters belong to OnigiriReject as well as the plot. The only part that's mine is my writing style (although I did try to mimic the original author's) and my inability to drag out stories or write angst. I needed the happy ending already. Thank you for reading.