Chapter 15

Always and Forever

Dedicated to the song "Photograph", by Nickelback. Anyone who hasn't heard it definitely should. It's the best song in the world and the one that inspired this chapter.

This is THE LAST CHAPTER, people! It's been fun, and I'll definitely be writing more so keep your eyes open.

If you have any recommendations/plots/pairings for me then leave 'em in a review! I'm looking for a challenge ;o)

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One month later

Stan and Kyle's relationship happened slowly. In fact, I don't think anyone noticed it, except those closest to them…and a certain fatboy watching them with murder in his eyes.

It was always the little things that hurt me most

The occasional glance

The snapshot of a smile

Just the tiniest brush of their arms, the smallest curl as their pinkie fingers interlocked beneath the desk….

Tiny barbs in my soul

Barbs I swore that I'd repay in blood. Drop by vengeful drop.

All I needed now, was a way to go about it.

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The chance practically fell into my lap just before summer break, when I overheard the three dickwipes that used to be my best friends talking about some trip they were planning the day the holidays started.

Apparently Kenny'd whored himself out again (and don't you fags dare give him any sympathy; I'll bet he enjoyed every moment) during the term to fix that battered piece of shit he calls a car, and wanted to take them all (plus Bebe, his current mating partner) driving up in the mountains for a couple of days, just to kid themselves they were free adults before things like holiday homework caught up with them. It was all an unofficial 'couple thing'.

Basically it was retarded excuse to make out with each other with nobody else around but the trees.

…well, that's what they think.

I smile to myself from a few desks away, my mind already sketching a plan.

People compare this talent with evilness to Hitler's, but trust me, the asshole's got nothing compared with me.

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Sawdust, check.

Dirt, check

Tacks, check

Screwdriver, check.

Hammer, check

Black Paint, check.

I smile as I close my front door and the damn stars are lighting up the whole sky, but nothing can dampen my mood now. If it's too bright in the open then I'll stick to the shadows, no big deal. There's no one around to see me anyway.

Smiling, I turn to the scummier side of town, looking for the home of the poorest of my three 'best enemies'.

Kenny's car is parked right outside his shithole of a house, already poised for the journey beginning early in the morning. They're taking all the winding roads up in the mountains, or so I heard; all those twizzling little tracks with nobody to bother them…

…And nobody around to help if anything goes wrong

Ah sweet, sweet triumph.

I wrench open the bonnet and set to work. The fuel is my main target; I wrench the top of the container off with a screwdriver, then pour the sawdust, the dirt and the tacks in as fast as I can. After that, a hammer puts the lid back into place, and a lick of paint to hide the crack seals the deal.

I feel like laughing as I push the bonnet back shut, my steps light as I head for home, without a shred of guilt to weigh me down.

You arseholes didn't think I'd be ashamed, did you? No, I'm glorying in this, fucking glorying, and none of you are gonna take that away from me, got that?

Still, I can't ignore the strange hollow feeling in my chest as I trog home, the deed done and black paint speckling my favourite jeans. I curse as I let myself back into my house, the silence of the hallway making my heart twinge tighter.

Fuck that. I'm probably just hungry. Maybe a donut or three before I go to bed will fix this right up…

I grin again as I open the fridge, its sharp white light sculpting my face into a demented leer. But I don't feel it. I don't feel any of it. Not even when sticky chocolate goodness dribbles between my fingers and my mouth fills with their sweet, fluffy taste. Nothing. Because my mind's not on the food. It's still out there, in the street, beneath the moon…

Hey, I told you before didn't I? I don't give a shit! Not one damn bit. So shut your faces.

The fridge slams shut a bit harder than I intended, and I hear Mom stir upstairs. She's not going to do anything though; she's used to me being in the kitchen at night.

Nobody knows I've done anything out of the ordinary.

Nobody can blame me.

And nothing can stop me now.

And with that, Eric Cartman, the most spoiled, sadistic fatass in South Park, lumbers back up the stairs to his bedroom and crashes into slumber.

But not before setting his alarm. Oh no. I've put all the work into this plan, so like hell am I going to sleep in tomorrow and miss it.

I'll be there, all right. Watching every single painful second.

You can be sure of that.

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The alarm rings bang on time. Its 7.45, earlier even than a school morning, but for once I'm not complaining. Nope, I'm like a fucking kid at Christmas time as I shrug off the covers, pull on my clothes and sling a backpack over my shoulders.

In forty minutes time, Jew-boy and the others will be piling into Kenny's car, determined to start early and beat the morning traffic.

And I'm going to be there to see them off…from afar, of course.

Breakfast takes longer, of course (all this evil plotting requires at least six rashers of bacon, if not seven), but I'm out of the door with ten minutes to spare.

Kenny's house is quiet as I pull up to the curb, (close enough to see but not enough to draw attention to myself) but there are already signs of movement in the driveway outside.

Stan is the first to arrive, with Kyle hanging happily on his arm. Both of them are carrying heavy backpacks and leaning blearily on each other, joking about the early morning with a familiarity that makes me feel sick.

A few weeks ago, and that could have been me with Kyle on my arm.

Talk about time changing people.

They reach the door and Kenny answers, half dressed, shirt-unbuttoned and his hair spiked by sleep (and by Bebe's fingers, no doubt). Sure enough, she appears beside him moments later, in a slightly better state but with POST-SEX practically written across her stupid forehead. Good, the whores deserve each other.

I think Jew and his fucktoy have a go at the two of them then, because all of them disappear inside pretty sharpish, the door closing with a decisive snap. Quarter of an hour passes, just long enough to me to wonder, before the door suddenly opens again. They all come spilling out, laden with bags and baggage (though Bebe's idea of 'laden' appears to be rucksack the size of a handbag, and a bottle of lager). Bags rustle, someone curses, the doors open, and all four of them clamber inside, their limbs barely fitting between a maze of luggage.

Another minute and they're pulling away, looking forward to a peaceful, uninterrupted make-out holiday like the retards they are.

My grip tightens on the wheel.

If they only knew what was really in store…

I chuckle to myself and start the engine, eyes trained on the retreating car as my own leaps into life.

Vengeance will be sweet, Jew-boy.

And neither of us have long to wait.

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Unfortunately 'not long' turns out to be more than just a couple of hours. Its late afternoon by the time Kyle's crew spy a roadside diner and stop for dinner. It's the last one for miles, and all of them are hungry after such an early start, not to mention the fact that the car's been playing up for almost the whole of the journey.

I smirk as I watch them turn off, guessing the mood in the car by the sounds that have been filtering back to me during the journey so far.

The moment they left South Park, the little shit-mobile's been juddering and groaning like some geriatric grandma, the spluttering getting deeper and louder with every passing mile. Everyone's been trying to ignore it, but even I (who's been tailing at least half a mile behind them) can hear the noise its making.

Every time I do, it makes me laugh; my plan's working perfectly.

Nerves must be frying in there.

I imagine the scene as I look on from the road outside.

The diner bell will be ringing as they enter. The boys probably order burgers (Kyle's a chicken burger, of course), and Bebe's sure to be picking at a salad.

All four of them are far too occupied to feel an extra pair of eyes watching them, or to look up and see an all-too-familiar car gliding past.

My focus turns back to the road, but the smile doesn't fade from my jowly face.

Their car's barely got three miles left in it, if those grating roars are anything to go by, so all I have to do now is predict where it's going to go down, and lie in wait.

I've barely been driving five minutes when I find the perfect spot.

There's a bend up ahead where the path curves uphill. It's not too sharp and most vehicles would go by easily…but it does add that little bit of pressure to the engine, that little bit of strain…just enough to stop a certain car altogether.

The pussies won't know what's hit them.

I spin round the corner and deliberately nudge my car into the trees on one side, refusing to brake until it's at least five metres away from the roadside.

Can't have them seeing me now, can I?

The moment the engine dies, I waddle out and survey my work. Not bad, but it could do with some extra covering; the rear lights might catch someone's eye.

Quickly, I pull some branches over the roof and the back bumper; the disguise is shitty, but the car's a dark colour anyway, and they won't exactly be expecting anyone to be around. Once that's done, my eyes turn to my surroundings, scuttling left and right for somewhere to hide.

I find it in seconds.

There. A small evergreen bush, tucked in deep shade a little way back from where the plants meets the road. It's about half my height, so I'll have to squat, but it gives a flawless view over the bend and the road beyond, with nothing but a couple of grassy clumps in the way.

Ringside seats.

Perfect.

Grabbing my own dinner from the back seat (as if I'd forget food!) I settle myself down and get comfortable. It'll take about half an hour before they get here, but that rattling engine should give me more than enough warning, and sitting here means I'll be ready in moments.

With time on my hands, I turn my attention to the landscape for the first time, suddenly realising that it's later than I thought, and night is beginning to fall.

The sun sets early in the mountains anyway, and I watch it sink towards the horizon as I wait for the others to get back on the road. It's a beautiful sunset; all shimmering gold and trails of scarlet and black. Kyle would probably have used some pretty metaphor, but to me they're the colour of bruises and blood, a brilliant, sky-wide tribute to the violence stirring in my heart.

Kyle Broflovski is going to pay.

Mustard runs down my chin as I take a savage bite of my fourth sandwich. Anticipation fizzes deliciously on my tongue.

I can't wait to see their stupid little faces….

Minutes pass and, all too soon, I hear a familiar spluttering bang on the horizon.

My grin widens.

Here they come.

I timed it perfectly, of course. The moment the car passes my hiding place it gives one final gasp and dies beneath them, its bonnet flying open and engulfing the clearing in jets of acrid steam

The four of them spill out, and for a moment I forget about the plan and just watch them, revelling in their reactions. Each completely different, and each completely retarded.

Kenny's throwing a strop, his hands buried in his thatch of hair and his legs whirling him around in circles, like some spasticated wind-up toy. He's yelling something about a waste of fucking wages, but I'm not really paying attention.

Bebe's on a mobile to a friend (no doubt that bitch Testaburger), yakking away in this shrill little squeal, as though her whole life's on the line or something.

Wrong, you little whore. You're not the one who should be worrying right now.

Stan and Kyle, I guess, are the only ones doing anything of real use. Stan's got the bonnet open and is rummaging around inside, and Kyle's got some kind of manual poised beneath his nose, and is pointing to things out to him.

I'm not worried though. Even with a brain as big as Kyle's on the job, it'll take them ages to figure out what's wrong

More than enough time for me to strike.

I grin to myself as I extract my final tool from the bag on my back, feeling the long, slim contours of the baseball bat slide easily into my palm.

Why a baseball bat? A knife would be too messy, a gun too easy, and I wanted him to see my face before he went down. Oh yes, I desperately wanted that.

I can picture it now: He and his little boyfriend, squirming on the ground as I stand over them, weapon held high. I could make him beg, make him plead, make him grovel on the ground and swear that he'll take me back, that he'll do anything, as long as I don't hurt him.

He'll beg because he'll think I'm stupid.

No doubt he'll think I'll fall for something as lame as that, that I won't be able to see the bond between him and Stan. It glows like a fucking beacon, for God's sake; I'd have to be blind to have missed it.

The moment I lay the weapon down, and he's done what I asked of him, then he would go crawling back to his little dark-haired lover, and leave me in the dust.

Again.

Bitterness curls like bile in my throat, and I grip the weapon with renewed determination. No, I won't even give him a chance to beg. I'll smash his pretty little Jew-face in before he can even try and charm me. Him and his little jock buddy too.

Besides, I've already stalled long enough. Time to act.

My grip tightens and I move to stand, bat sliding perfectly into position…

Then it happens.

To this day, I don't know why; I guess I dislodged some leaves or something when I moved…but suddenly Kyle looks up from his book and glances over at the roadside, his beautiful brows knotted in suspicion.

Brows that fly up, moments later, when they alight on my hiding place, his expression blurring into one of surprise and recognition.

My blood turns to ice.

Oh god.

He's seen me.

I watch in agony as he touches Stan lightly on the shoulder, murmuring something that sends his best friend back to the innards of the car, and gives him an excuse to wander away into the bracken…

….right up to where I'm sitting.

I cringe as the toes of his battered trainers nudge up against the bush that hides me, and I feel his gaze boring into the back of my neck. It occurs to me that I'm really not all that inconspicuous, owing to certain spindly branches and my excessive amounts of blubber.

Finally giving up the ruse, I struggle to me feet, sweaty and flushed like a whale wrenched out onto the beach from a cool green sea. We're swathed in shade here, invisible to everybody save a few skittering squirrels in the canopy above…and yet standing before him I feel more exposed than ever, as though he is the sun on this beach that I've been thrown onto, his beautiful brilliance scalding every inch of my skin.

The bat drops from my hand and rolls away into the leaves, forgotten.

"Cartman." He says. That's all. But that's enough.

I see the look in those angel eyes and feel my iron heart turn to mush. All that hate, all those plans, all that brutal, steely resolve…gone in one evergreen starburst. I see a tiny smile of welcome playing on his lips, but it comes with a warning to keep my distance, that the past was the past.

All those expressions and signals seem clear now, as I look back on them, but back then all I could think of was two words. Two words beaming out of those emerald irises and right into my soul. The two words I know I should have heard days ago but was just too damned scared to heed…

Its Over

"K-Kyle…" I stutter, suddenly remembering to breathe. The name feels forbidden on my lips, as though just by saying it, I'm claiming something that is no longer mine. He smiles again, so soft, so gentle, and slowly leans forward…

His last kiss, like a whisper on my cheekbone, is as tender as the first, yet tinged with the bittersweet flavor of farewell that swells my heart even as the tears course down my cheeks.

Kyle is the first to break away, his hand still lingering against my jaw, thumb brushing away the last shining tears. I hadn't even noticed I was crying. He looks at me with those beautiful eyes and I know what he's going to say. I know how much it will hurt me and yet I realise that, without it, I can't move on in life. Without these words I'll remain in this moment forever, caught between having and wanting, owning and losing.

But that doesn't stop it hurting.

"I don't love you Cartman." There's no cruelty in the words, only a kind, soft compassion that I know he'll forever hold for me, the remains of something that was never meant to last.

I reach out my arms and hold him again, cradling him against me like I did on the first night. Only this time our heartbeats are slow, beating out our goodbyes with every passing breath.

Finally, I release him, giving him a light push on the shoulder so he half turns, eyes already drifting to the near horizon where Stan and the others wait, framed by the glowing halo of the sinking sun. The blood and bruises are gone from the sky now, their hues just a bright border fading slowly into night.

One last squeeze on his shoulder and I whisper in his ear.

"I know, Jew. I think I've always known."

A smile at that; a small glimmer of glowing relief as he is released from me, yet a profound understanding for the value of what was lost.

Then he's gone

Running away into the distance, with only a single wave to remember me by. I watch as he reaches Stan, grabbing his best friend in a fierce hug. Then he's climbing into the passenger seat of the car and closing the door with a finite snap. The arseholes have repaired the damage already. I guess I didn't maim it as badly as I thought.

The thought echoes hollowly within me as they drive away, their silhouettes lost in a wash of liquid gold sunlight.

I'm alone at last.

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Slowly, Eric Cartman, fatass, Hitler-lover and brat, turns back into the trees, car forgotten, and follows the path that will lead him home as though he hasn't a care in the world.

But for those who know him best, there is a glimmer of sadness in his sky blue eyes; the relics of words recently spoken that will never be forgotten.

I don't love you Cartman. Kyle had said.

But I know you will always love me

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FIN

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