[Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of its characters...unfortunately :) This story is purely for entertainment purposes.]

A/N: This is the FINAL chapter—for real this time! I want to thank you all so much for reading and sharing your feedback over the years. Special shoutout to those of you who have stuck around since the beginning of this story, wayyy back in 2011. Your continued readership has meant so much to me.

If you like this story, please let me know in the comments if you would be interested in a sequel. Also, if you're looking for something a little darker, with even more antics and scandalous behavior, stay tuned for the first chapter of my new story, "The Bachelor Party," to be posted next week (featuring Creek, Kyman, and more!).

But for now, please enjoy the finale of "The Letter" :)

I sink down to ground, replaying the text of the letter in my head. I know Marsh is your valentine. Stan was always going to be Kyle's valentine, not mine. Even Cartman knew that. He knew about Stan and Kyle's affair all along.

"That's why you're so angry at Stan," I murmur. "He has something you want but can't have. Kyle."

Cartman's eyes are tightly shut. "I don't want Kahl."

"Yes, you do," I say sadly. "You love Kyle. How could I have missed it? The constant fighting, the jokes about him and Stan—"

"Enough!" he growls, his eyes snapping open. He looks like he's about to start yelling at me again, but instead he exhales and sits down next to me. "You can't tell anyone," he chokes out.

"Don't worry, I won't." I bury my head between my knees. "I don't need anyone to know about how I embarrassed myself by kissing Eric Cartman."

We sit in silence for a few moments. I can hear his breathing start to slow down.

"Why did you do it?" he asks quietly. "Do you like me or something?"

I'm about to say yes, but I stop myself. Sharing that information would make everything ten times more embarrassing than it already is. Instead, I tell a bald-faced lie. "No," I say slowly, looking at him. "I kissed you to see what it would feel like, to see whether I like you. But…it turns out I don't."

He nods and looks off into the distance. While I'm sitting here pitying myself, I can hear him making soft noises under his breath. "Yes… Mmm… That could work…" He rests one hand on my shoulder. "Windy, I know what to do."

My shoulder twitches. "What now?"

Cartman jumps up and starts walking in circles, his hands clasped behind his back. "Windy, you're mad at Stan. Is that true?"

"I guess."

"Me too. So there's a similarity."

"Where are you going with this?" I ask, exasperated.

"Hold on, Windy. We're both mad at Stan, and we both don't want Stan and Kahl to be happy together, right?"

"Sure," I say hesitantly.

"So, if we figured out a way to break them up, that would be great for both of us. But you know what would be even better? What if when they break up, Stan goes back to you, and Kahl comes running to me?"

"What are you even talking about?"

"Don't you get it, Windy? We can have our cake and eat it too! My sweet, delicious Jew cake…" He gazes out the window pensively. "You see, all we need to do is pretend we're in a relationship with each other."

I nearly choke on my own spit. "Huh?"

"If we pretend that we like each other and start dating, that will be such a giant fuck-you to Stan. Seeing you with me will make him furious. But then, that anger will turn into jealousy, as he realizes he should have never let you go." He whips around. "Meanwhile, I've been such a caring, romantic boyfriend in our relationship, and Kahl notices. He's already a fag, so half the work is done for us. All we'll have to do is show Kahl how amazing it is to date me. That, and Stan still being in love with you, will drive them apart from each other, leaving you and me to pick up the pieces." He crosses his arms, a smug smile spreading across his face. "If that isn't the goddamn best plan I've ever created…"

This asshole thinks I want to get back together with Stan, even after Stan admitted to cheating on me. There's no way I'm doing that. Not a chance.

But I don't have to tell Cartman that. It quickly dawns on me that his plan could prove extremely useful.

"It's the perfect plan," I say, smiling back.

Unbeknownst to Cartman, I'll be executing my own secret plan within his plan. While he thinks I'm trying to make Stan jealous, I'll actually be trying to make Cartman fall in love with me, one double-stuffed Oreo and ego-stroking compliment at a time.

And it just might work.

Maybe.

Cartman walks over to me and offers me a hand up. I take it. "Thanks," I say, my eyes sparkling devilishly.

He starts heading for the door and notices I'm not following him. "Come on, Windy."

"Where are we going?"

"Downstairs. We're going to locate Kahl and Stan and show off our newfound love." He gestures to my outfit. "We need to take advantage of the way you look, before you go back to your, uh, normal state."

His comment makes me grit my teeth, but I flash my pearly whites and swallow my pride. "Let's do it. Or should I say, let's do it, sweetie."

He blanches and holds up his palm. "Save it for our performance downstairs."

I follow him down the hallway. As we descend the stairs, we look out at the sea of faces filling the living room. Smack dab in the middle of the room, drinks in hand and heads bobbing to the music, are Stan and Kyle. At the bottom of the steps, Cartman whispers "Wait here" and marches over to the DJ, a pimply freshman standing in the corner with a laptop and a turntable that isn't even turned plugged in. Cartman passes him some cash, and the upbeat pop music changes to a slow R&B song. Groans come from all across the room as the dancing area starts filling with couples.

Cartman returns and takes my hand. He nods in Stan's direction and leads me to the center of the room, right by Stan and Kyle. Silently, he places his meaty hands around my waist and pulls me into him. I instinctively sling my arms around his neck, and we begin swaying gently to the music. I don't dare look at Cartman's face; I don't need to know whether he's watching me or Kyle. Instead, I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder. The moment feels nice. I try to bask in the feeling and pretend that what we're doing actually means something.

One of his hands starts migrating downward, breaking my reverie. His hand stops at my ass. He gives it a squeeze. I flinch. He must have noticed Stan looking at us.

His hand stays there until the song is over.

The music immediately returns to something more dance-friendly. Cartman releases me, and the first thing I see is Stan's face. I didn't think it could look angrier than it did yesterday, but somehow, his expression right now takes the cake.

Kyle's gaze darts back and forth between Stan and Cartman. "Stan, don't do anything you'll—"

But Stan doesn't listen. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Cartman!" he says through clenched teeth.

Cartman feigns shock. "Oh, you didn't get the memo? Windy and I are dating now."

"Dating?" Stan repeats, his cheeks growing redder by the second.

"Yeah," Cartman says casually. "Like you and Kahl."

"You can't be dating!" Stan explodes. "What gives you the right to be with Wendy?"

Cartman sticks his finger in Stan's face. "What gives you the right to decide who gets to be with Wendy?" Stan's face falls. "Face it, Stan. Wendy doesn't belong to you anymore. She can do whatever, or whoever, she wants."

Kyle grabs Stan's arm. "Let it go, dude."

"No," Stan seethes, shrugging him off. "Cartman, there's no way Wendy would ever, ever want to 'do' you."

Cartman looks at me expectedly. I try to channel his overbearing confidence. "Listen to Cartman, you prick. Like he said, you can't tell me what to do."

Stan looks stunned at my response. His composure wavers, as he looks at me, then back at Cartman. "This can't be real. This… You're doing something to her. You're forcing her to do this, I just know it."

"Oh, I'm forcing her?" Cartman scoffs.

"Yes. That's the only way any of this could possibly be happening."

"So I'm forcing her to dance with me?"

"Probably!"

"Am I forcing her to do this?"

Without warning, Cartman yanks me towards him and presses his lips to mine. I wait for him to remove them a few seconds later, but he doesn't. He just keeps kissing me…and kissing me…and kissing me. I know why he's doing this, but I don't care. In my mind, this is a real kiss, from my real boyfriend. And I'm going to enjoy every last second of it.

Finally, he parts my lips with his tongue. I half-expect him to give me the kiss of a lifetime, kissing me with hot-blooded passion, artfully moving his tongue around mine.

Of course, that doesn't happen.

As soon as his tongue enters my mouth, it collides with my tongue in seemingly random ways. I try to steer his tongue with mine, to no avail. It's patently clear that Cartman has never made out with anyone in his life. He is, to put it mildly, a bad kisser.

But that doesn't faze me one fucking bit. As he's kissing me, I feel something I haven't felt in a long time, something I forgot I had lost with Stan—that tingly feeling, the same one I felt on my skin when Cartman picked me up off the couch in my living room. Only this time, I feel it coursing through my entire body, as if I were electrified. Impulsively, I grab Cartman's face and pull him close to me, stroking his jaw with my fingers. This maneuver seems to give him more confidence. He leans me back further and holds the back of my head, deepening the kiss. The kiss gets sloppier, more aggressive. My body is buzzing with electricity. I run my fingers through his hair. He presses his pelvis against mine. I moan softly into his mouth. At this point, I don't even care who's watching; I've surrendered myself completely to this kiss.

"Son of a biscuit! Cartman's kissing Wendy!"

Dammit, Butters. It isn't until Cartman hastily pulls away from me that I realize how dizzy I am. It takes me a moment to compose myself before my vision becomes steady, and I can see Cartman standing a few feet away, breathing heavily. I also see Stan, Kyle, Butters, Red, Bebe, and Kenny, all staring at us. I expected the whole room to be staring and gasping in shock, but this isn't a cheesy teen romance movie; the music is loud and the lighting is dim, so the majority of the people at this party are completely oblivious to what's going on in the middle of the crowd. Fortunately, the kiss did have the desired effect on Stan. If this were a cartoon, Stan's jaw would be down at his feet.

Cartman wipes his mouth with an exaggerated swoop of his hand. "So, Stanley, did that look like I was forcing Windy to kiss me?" Stan doesn't make a sound. "I didn't think so. Hey Windy, did Stan ever kiss you like that?"

"No," I say weakly. I'm trying to remain calm despite what just happened, and despite the wide eyes of our audience of six people. I can feel my face getting flushed.

"No?" Cartman sports a shit-eating grin. "Alright then. Guess I'm just a better kisser than you, Stan."

Kyle just keeps staring. Stan manages to break out of his stupor, but just barely. "Wendy, I…you…with Cartman…"

"Does that mean Cartman wrote the love letter?" Kyle blurts out.

I can see Cartman out of the corner of my eye, eyebrows raised in anticipation of my response. I clear my throat and tap into my newfound confidence. "Yes, as a matter of fact, it was Cartman. Not Clyde. That means you actually lost our contest. Sorry about that. But hey, at least you got what you wanted all along: a happy ending for Mr. Love Letter-Writer, passionate embrace and all."

"Hey, did someone say my name?" a voice calls out from behind me.

"Shut up, Clahd!" Cartman yells. "This isn't about you!"

"This party sucks ass," Clyde mumbles.

Stan ignores him and turns to Kyle, narrowing his eyes. "Dude, you guys had a contest to find the letter guy? And you wanted Wendy to passionately embrace him?"

Kyle opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me about that, Kyle? Look what you did! You helped her get with fucking Cartman."

Cartman places a protective arm around me. "Excuse me, but Windy and I don't need to be around such ignorant and intolerant people who don't understand our true love. In other words…screw you guys, we're going home!" He takes my hand and pulls me away from Stan. I don't look back. When we pass Bebe, she gives me a quick smile and a wink. I can't help but smile back.

"Good job," Cartman whispers in my ear. "They definitely bought it."

As we're on our way out, I spy Craig and Tweek chatting by the main entrance. My nails unconsciously dig into Cartman's palm. "Ow!" He lets go of my hand. "What the fuck?"

"Craig," I mutter under my breath, my eyes shooting daggers across the room. "I have a bone to pick with him."

"I could beat him up," Cartman offers.

"Why, what did he do to you?"

"Nothing. But Craig always deserves to get his ass kicked." Cartman's lips form into that irritating smirk of his, which, for once, isn't so irritating.

I feel my chest grow warm. Is this what it's like to have a guy who's willing to defend your honor? Before my mind gets taken over by the warm-and-fuzzies, I shake my head. "Thanks, but this is something I have to do on my own." I glance up at him before I leave, and I swear he looks proud of me.

My legs move briskly and powerfully as I walk over to Craig. You can do this, Wendy. He's a wimp. By the time he notices me, it's too late—my knee is lifted up in the air, and I hear a swift smack sound as it collides with his crotch, coupled by an ear-piercing scream from Tweek. Within a second, Craig is crumpled on the ground, clutching his balls. Tears bubble at the corners of his eyes as he looks up at me. "You…bitch…" he manages to say between groans. Luckily, I'm pretty fucking immune to that word by now.

I bend over to get closer to his face. "Oh, look, you can show a range of emotions! You should totally try out for the school play." I'm tempted to kick him in the leg while he's in a fetal position on the floor, but honestly, it's not worth the trouble. Plus, my ears don't need to be subjected to Tweek's screeching.

Instead, I turn on my heels and walk back to Cartman, who's standing next to the door with our coats, clutching his stomach and laughing so hard that I can't tell whether or not he's choking. I'm about to give him the Heimlich when he straightens up, hands me my coat, and reaches over to hold open the door for me. "Wow, I love this new gentlemanly Cartman," I remark, stepping outside.

He follows me out. "Hey, if you're gonna go around kicking assholes in the balls, I'll open all the goddamn doors you want."

As we start heading out of the Black family estate, I realize it's snowing. "Jeez, it's cold," I say, sticking my hands in my coat pockets.

Cartman unexpectedly yanks my hand out. "Ay! We're supposed to be dating, remember? People can still see us."

I look around the front yard. Only a couple of stragglers just arriving to the party are within our field of vision. But I don't say that. I just hold his hand a little tighter.

Once we exit the gate and start walking down the street, Cartman stops and pulls me back against the wall. He grips my arms and stares into my eyes. "Windy," he says sternly, "I need to make sure you're not gonna pussy out on me. This whole fake relationship thing will only work if we both commit to it one hundred percent. Trust me, I know. I'm a great actor."

"I'm all in," I whisper. "I can act, too." He smiles and nods, satisfied with my response. I'm a terrific actor, in fact. He doesn't need to know that hiding the extent of my feelings for him will be an acting feat all its own.

"Good," he replies as we continue walking. "'Cause we're probably gonna have to kiss in public again soon, especially if Stan and Kahl are doing it." He grimaces. "And knowing them, they'll probably be kissing each other at skew' every fucking day, and doing other romantic shit. Fucking fairies, am I right?"

I know he's trying to joke around, but I hear the sadness in his voice. It's barely noticeable behind the malice, but it's there. For a brief moment, I squeeze Cartman's hand, and he squeezes back. He turns his head slightly to face me, his chocolate-brown eyes sparkling with what can only be described as…adoration?

No, Wendy. That's not it at all.

I need to be honest with myself. That's nothing more than a look of gratitude. He's smiling at me and squeezing my hand because at this point, I'm the only person at this stupid school who has his back. He doesn't fucking love me. He loves Kyle.

Just like Stan does.

I swallow the lump in my throat. The more I think about my plan to win over Cartman, the more I realize how unrealistic it is. His feelings for Kyle won't just go away because of some silly scheme. And what kind of person would I be to stop him from being with the person he loves?

I stare straight ahead and keep walking through the snow with Cartman, trying to focus on the warmth of his hand against mine. That's all I can do at this point: keep going, and hope that one day, this weird platonic relationship I have with Cartman will be enough for me.

It has to be enough.

But I already know, it will never be enough.

Congrats, you've made it to the end of "The Letter"! I'm sorry to all you Stendy or Candy fans out there, but you know me; I just had to end this on a dramatic note. What did you think of the ending? Should there be a sequel? Do you think Cartman will ever have feelings for Wendy, and will Stan realize that he's made a huge mistake? Please don't hesitate to leave me a comment or drop me a line with your thoughts—I read and appreciate all of them!

xoxo,
FonicsMonkey