Chapter Text
Universe #5429-F
‘Put a chick in it! Make her gay! Put a chick in it! Make her gay!’
Kathleen groans at the sound of her alarm. Bleary-eyed, she shuffles over to her nightstand and blindly reaches for the lever to make the incessant squawking stop.
‘Put a chick in it! Make her gay! Put a chick in it! Make her ga-AAAWWK!’
With one tug of the lever, the tiny phoenix is dropped into the vial of acid it is perched on. Kathleen blinks her eyes open, a sleepy, satisfied smile stretching across her face as she watches the irritating bird disintegrate in the corrosive, orange liquid, set to regenerate over the next few hours, ready for the following morning.
She sits up, stretching a little, before noticing that her beloved Krispy Kyle plushie is dangerously close to falling out of bed. She snatches his little round hand before he can slide from the sheets, pressing him close with his green head tucked under her chin. After rocking him back and forth, she holds him at arms length to study his adorable face, his big eyes and cheeky grin.
Kyle’s cuteness in plushie form pales in comparison to his buoyant charm from the Krispy Kyle commercials or 5-minute cartoons. Whether he’s thwarting the Bran Bandits’ dastardly deeds to steal his cereal with a gleam in his eye and a triumphant little chuckle, or sharing what he’s learned with the viewers at the end of an episode (the lesson invariably involving enjoying a bowl of Krispy Kyles), Kathleen could watch him, moonstruck for hours.
Krispy Kyle has been a part of her life for as long as she can remember. She doesn’t remember a time before Krispy Kyles were not her favourite breakfast, or a time when her Krispy Kyle plushie wasn’t within arms reach. She grew out of playing with Krispy Kyle a long time ago, but she is yet to graduate from sleeping with him every night, dreaming that one day she will wake up, and he’ll be life-size, warm to touch, and he’ll love her just as much as she loves him. She would show him the world hand-in-hand, and at the end of the day he would tell her all that he had learned, recap all that she had taught him, and before they fall asleep in each other’s arms they’ll share good-night kisses.
Not only is Krispy Kyle adorable with his trusty green hat and his signature wink to the camera at the end of every episode, but the fact that he is also a human like her makes her feel a little less alone. Kathleen is proud to say that she has never been bullied for being different… simply because she would always beat potential bullies to the punch. Her tongue was as quick as her temper, so her peers knew better than to antagonise her. Still, she is tired of being on the defensive. She wants people to respect her, even if that means still fearing her. She just wants to seize a secure position of power and feel safe in the knowledge that she isn’t going to fall from grace anytime soon. With any luck, she is going to achieve that today.
“Mrs Kennedy?” Her mother’s voice drifts into her bedroom.
“Yes, mother?”
Her bedroom doors slide open and her mother slithers in, holding her breakfast tray.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, mother,” Kathleen replies, sitting up and adjusting her pillows.
“No nightmares?”
Kathleen sighs.
“No, mother.”
She only had that horribly vivid dream about her favourite people being replaced by imposters once, but her mother is still fretting about it like it’s a regular occurrence.
“Oh, good.” She smiles as she hands Kathleen her tray. “Make sure you eat all your breakfast, you have a big day today!”
Kathleen shoots her mother an appreciative smile, but rolls her eyes to herself when she’s alone in her room again.
“ What’s happening today?” A familiar, squeaky chorus asks.
Kathleen grins down at the bowl of delicious Krispy Kyles staring up at her, and dredges her spoon through the milk.
“Andromeda Paraselene’s birthday party,” she replies. “She’s having a space pony at her house, and then the girls she likes the most get to sleep over.”
“ How exciting!”
“Yeah, it’s a huge deal.” An anxious pit yawns in Kathleen’s stomach. “So many girls didn’t make the cut. Do you know how many rumours I had to spread about Stephie Glorborson to get invited to this thing? She’s still not allowed in the cafeteria because I told everyone that she contracted Gelgamekian ringworm.” Kathleen shakes her head. “If I can befriend somebody like Andromeda, I’ll be at the top of the school food chain for the rest of my life.”
“ Top of the food chain? That’s a pretty good place to be!”
Kathleen chuckles.
“Too right it is.” She straightens her shoulders, trying to get in the zone. “I just have to keep my guard up, be cool, and not do anything embarrassing until the next sun rotation…”
“ That shouldn’t be too hard. I’m sure you’ll do great!”
Kathleen blushes, her nerves easing and reminding her how hungry she is.
“Thanks, Kyle. But mother was right, I really need to eat up.”
With that, Kathleen brings the spoon to her lips, clamping her mouth around it. Gods, the screams of the little Kyles fizzing on her tastebuds really enhance their flavour.
“Sorry…” she says with a mouthful of mangled Kyles. The others in the bowl are still shrieking with horror. “You’re just too yummy!”
Kathleen watches a Krispy Kyle cartoon as she gets ready for Andromeda’s party, and that pit in her stomach opens wide enough to devour her when her mother pulls up outside Andromeda’s mansion. It’s all gold-plated walls, floating balconies and tumbling water features suspended in mid-air, paid for by the fracking company owned by Andromeda’s father that drills oil on one of the planet’s lesser moons.
“My, what a beautiful home!” Kathleen’s mom gasps. “And which one is Andromeda?”
Kathleen sees Andromeda and her two best friends standing atop the tall front steps. Some of Kathleen’s classmates are climbing the steps with their heads bowed, bearing gifts as if they are worshippers bringing offerings to a sacred temple. Astrophila and Zorina stand either side of her, the humble priestesses serving Andromeda’s goddess incarnate.
“The prettiest one,” Kathleen replies.
With her dewy, lilac skin and wavy, fuschia hair that flows down to her waist, Andromeda is radiant.
Kathleen’s mother shakes her head.
“Oh, she’s not as pretty as you, sweetheart.”
“You’ve got my overnight bag ready, haven’t you?” Kathleen asks, dismissing the patronising remark. She raises her eyebrows. “You’ll be able to bring it over if Andromeda asks me to stay?”
“Of course.” Her mother beams. “I’m here whenever you need me.”
Kathleen nods with a small smile.
“Thank you, mother.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Zorina - the girl who secured her an invitation to the party - murmuring something to Andromeda while she peers into the hovercar.
“Can I give you a kiss?” her mother asks.
Kathleen huffs, heat rushing to her face.
“No, mother! Andromeda is looking right at me!” She tucks some hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you later.”
“Right, right.” Her mother nods with her eyes squeezed shut, remembering where she is. “Bye, sweetie!”
With a quick wave, Kathleen slides out of the hovercar, clutching Andromeda’s present. She hurries up the steps, trying to find the balance between not wanting to seem too eager, and not wanting to keep Andromeda waiting. Andromeda gives nothing away, lips pursed and eyes steely as she watches Kathleen climb the steps.
“Hey, Andromeda!” Kathleen smiles, slightly breathless. “Happy birthday!”
“Thanks…” Andromeda eyes her up and down. “Kathleen, right?”
Kathleen nods, shoulders drawing up a tad.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“She’s the girl who told you about Stephie Globorson…” Astrophila says.
Andromeda blinks, eyes shining with recognition.
“Oh, right! As if I would ever invite somebody with Gelgamekian ringworm to my party.” Her nose wrinkles. “Ew. You got me a present?”
“I did.” Kathleen nods, extending the present (that her mother wrapped beautifully) to Andromeda.
Andromeda’s slender hands snatch the present from Kathleen, and she tears into the wrapping paper with her talons. Kathleen’s gaze flits from the shredded wrapping paper to Zorina, trying to gauge her approval. It’s difficult for Zorina to convey subtle reassurance to her, though, being a cyclops and all.
“A Technifluff!” Astrophila gasps when the small pod Andromeda is holding reveals a lemon-yellow canid, yapping up at its new owner and wagging its tail.
“It’s so cute!” Zorina squeals, openly grinning at Kathleen now.
Kathleen takes a discreet, relieved breath through her nose.
Andromeda looks up at her.
“You know, I have a few of these-”
“I do know, but I’ve never seen you with a yellow one,” Kathleen interjects, wondering if that was the right thing to do. But she wants Andromeda to know that she’s been paying attention.
Andromeda eyes Kathleen up and down, a half-smile on her face that reveals some of her sharp, silver teeth.
“Very good, I don’t have a yellow one. Thank you.” She closes the pod, muffling the excitable Technifluff. “Come in, Kathleen. The space pony will be here any minute.”
Andromeda turns on her heel, and Astrophila and Zorina follow. Kathleen, meanwhile, takes a second to gather her thoughts, tucking some hair behind her ear as she lets it sink in that she’s made it this far.
The rest of the day goes by swimmingly. The pony is adorable, and Kathleen says all the right things and manages to stay by Andromeda’s side all day as she picks off the girls one by one.
The sun is halfway through rotation, drawing massive shadows of the tall, finely appointed evergreens on Andromeda’s lawn and Astrophila, Zorina, and Kathleen are the only guests left. Kathleen could barely contain her excitement when she called her mother to request that she drop off the overnight bag, and she almost falls down the steps as she runs to the hovercar to retrieve it.
“Thanks, mother!” Kathleen smiles breathlessly.
“My pleasure, darling. Are you having a good time?”
“The best time!”
“I’m so happy to hear that, Mrs Kennedy!” her mother beams. “I’ll come get you in the morning, okay?”
“Okay.” Kathleen nods, before racing back to the steps. “Good night, mother!”
“Good night!”
When the front doors whoosh shut behind Kathleen, her three new friends turn to look at her.
“You got your pjs, Kathleen?” Zorina asks. She and Astrophila are already in their nightwear, their places at the sleepover secured ahead of time.
Kathleen puffs out her chest.
“Yep!”
“Get changed into your pyjamas in my room, then meet us in the kitchen,” Andromeda instructs.
Kathleen nods.
“You got it.”
She jogs up the stairs to Andromeda’s bedroom that is so much bigger and more grown up than her own. Placing her overnight bag on Andromeda’s four-storey bed with its canopy of constellations, she’s greeted by her Krispy Kyle plushie’s smiling face as soon as she unzips the bag. She blinks, a smile spreading across her face at her mother’s touching thought, at the mere sight of one of her favourite faces in the whole galaxy grinning up at her.
She meant what she told her mom, she is having a great time with her new friends and excited about what this means for the future, but the fact remains that she is still the odd girl out for the time being. Even if she’ll have to keep him safe in her bag tonight, even if she will have to forgo the feeling of his soft head tucked under his chin this evening, it’s still a comfort just to know he’s there.
Figuring that the coast is clear and that a quick cuddle won’t do any harm, Kathleen squeezes Krispy Kyle to her chest, eyes drifting shut as she inhales his familiar smell.
“Kathleen?” Astrophila’s voice freezes her to the spot. “What is that?”
Kathleen spins around, eyes wide. Everything feels like it’s happening too fast, at breakneck speed, and she’s similarly quick to tuck Krispy Kyle behind her back.
“N-n-nothing!”
Astrophila slithers over to her, and her scrutinising stare is searing enough to burn a hole through Kathleen’s chest.
“Is that a Krsipy Kyle doll?” She cackles at a blood-chilling octave. “Oh my gods!”
“No!” Kathleen cries, face creasing. Everything she has worked for is crumbling right in front of her. “No, it’s not a Krispy Kyle doll! It’s nothing - hey!” she shouts when one of Astrophila’s magenta tentacles extends and reaches behind her back, plucking Krsipy Kyle out of her hands.
“Give that back, Astrophila!” she yells, fists clenched. She’s never felt so powerless, but she prays to the gods that it doesn’t show.
Astrophila chuckles lowly, meanly.
“Nuh-uh, Andromeda has to see this!”
Astrophila crawls away hurriedly, and Kathleen almost catches up to her until she hoists herself onto the bannister of the stairs and glides down it, while Kathleen is left to jog pathetically down the stairs after her. Being bipedal can be a real fucking bitch sometimes.
“Andromeda!” Astrophila exclaims with glee.
Andromeda and Zorina are hanging out in the kitchen, with Andromeda perched on the chrome worktop.
“What?” Andromeda replies, hopping down off the worktop and padding across the kitchen to Astrophila and a panting, trembling Kathleen.
“Look what Kathleen was just cuddling!” Astrophila dangles Krispy Kyle above her head, and corrosive anger burns in Kathleen’s chest just seeing her poor Kyle wrapped in her disgusting tentacle.
“What is that?” Zorina asks, looking between Astrophila and Kathleen warily.
Astrophila laughs.
“A Krispy Kyle!”
“The cereal mascot?” Andromeda raises her eyebrows. “Kathleen, why do you have that?” She wrinkles her nose. “It’s so weird.”
“My mother just packed it in my bag!” Kathleen cries, throwing her arms down. “I don’t know why, I didn’t ask her to-”
“Look, Kathleen, we’re a little too old for that kind of stuff, okay?” Andromeda interjects, hands on her hips. “We set an example. Toys like that are just baby shit, and we can’t be seen with a girl who still carries around a cereal mascot plushie and sucks her thumbs-”
“But Andromeda, I don’t carry this doll around with me-”
“Then why do you still have it?”
“Shut up, Astrophila!” Kathleen snaps. Control is slipping away from her so rapidly, she fears she might start hyperventilating. “I’ve had it since I was a baby, but I don’t need it! I’m cool, you guys, I swear! I’m one of you! Right, Zorina?”
Zorina opens and closes her mouth, shrinking into her veil of silver ringlets.
“Don’t drag Zorina down with you,” Andromeda bites back. “You really don’t need it?” She turns to her other friend. “Astrophila?”
Astrophila sneers at Kathleen before tossing Kyle to Andromeda.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Kathleen asks, voice scratchy. Her stomach is wringing itself into knots at the sight of her Krispy Kyle being thrown about so carelessly. Fuck being their friends, she just wants him back.
Before she can plead, Andromeda gives her the darkest look Kathleen has ever received and rips his head off.
“ KYLE!!” Kathleen cries, as stuffing snows from his gaping neck.
“ Aww, don’t hurt her widdle Kyle!” Astrophila cackles. “You’d think he was her boyfriend-”
“Shut the fuck up, you fucking bitch!” Kathleen screams, tackling Astrophila to the ground.
Astrophila screams like a needy baby, thrashing her head around and her flailing tentacles slap Kathleen in the face, but she’s not deterred. She’ll kill her for ruining her life, and then she’ll rip Andromeda’s head off, just like she did to poor Kyle-
“Get off me, psycho!” Astrophila yells.
“Kathleen, please stop!” Zorina cries. Kathleen feels her pale blue arms wrap around her middle in an attempt to pull her off, but she quickly shoves her away.
Astrophila’s scream bounces off the kitchen walls when Kathleen claws at her face, leaving four perfect red gashes across it. Kathleen sits back then, shaking, her clawed fingers slowly unfurling. Astrophila makes no attempt to push her off, she just stares up at her with glassy eyes, whimpering and holding a tentacle to her cheek.
“Alright, you’re done,” Andromeda says stiffly.
Kathleen turns to look at her and sees her scowling, arms folded across her chest.
“What?” she whispers.
“I said, you’re done,” Andromeda replies, voice getting icier by the second. She approaches Kathleen slowly. “You’d better ask your mom to pick you up, and don’t think you’re waiting inside my house.”
Kathleen narrows her eyes at her, scowling. She climbs off Astrophila, fists clenched.
“As if I want to fucking hang out with you bitches.”
Andromeda snorts derisively, rolling her eyes.
“Well, we’ll see about that at school on Maklarpday, hmm?” She asks, tilting her head to the side. “Come on, Astrophila…”
Andromeda helps Astrophila up, leading her sniffling friend away from the kitchen. Zorina meets Kathleen’s gaze, shoulders hunched and rubbing her lips together. She picks up the remains of her Krispy Kyle, holding him out feebly to Kathleen.
“S-s-sorry…” She whispers. But it’s too late.
Kathleen snatches Kyle from her, scowling, before storming outside to call her mother to pick her up.
As she waits for the hovercar to pull up, perched on the cold, stone steps of Andromeda’s palatial house, she tries to stuff Krispy Kyle’s head back onto his body, but to no avail. She prays her mother can fix him, because settling for a new one makes her fractured heart splinter. Her vision shimmers with tears, and some run silently down her cheeks.
She hears cackling above her, like the boom of thunder before a storm. But instead of rain, her belongings fall around her: her pyjamas, her underwear, her slippers, her toothbrush. She forgot to get her bag from Andromeda’s room. Shit.
Kathleen refuses to give them the satisfaction of looking up. Instead, she curls herself up into a defensive ball, holding Kyle tight. He’s all she’s got right now, all she ever had.
Finally, her bag lands with a thud beside her, and the cackling fades away. Andromeda and her friends have grown bored with their cruelty, it seems. Kathleen sighs, reaching for her bag, and she starts to pack everything up, sniffling and fighting the lump in her throat.
But then something sparkles in her vision, a shooting star soaring through the night. With time of the essence, she squeezes her eyes shut and makes the first wish that comes to her mind:
I wish Kyle would come to life. I wish we could be together.
Universe #216-B
When people ask Eric what her favourite holiday is, she has a tough time choosing between Halloween and Christmas. After all, Halloween has candy, and costumes, and pumpkin patches, and gives you the license to terrorise people in the name of spooky holiday thrills. When it comes down to it, Christmas only has the edge because it’s not just candy on Christmas… it’s ham, and turkey, and pies, and Swiss Colony Beef Log. Eric’s mouth waters just thinking about it. Not to mention the presents.
But today is Halloween, and she has forgone trick-or-treating, forgone the pumpkin patch and has begrudgingly slipped into a costume for the school Halloween party simply because she didn’t want to be the odd one out. The fun has been sucked out of her second most favourite holiday because she just had to be transported to a parallel universe. She just had to have her life mirrored back to her (in a mirror, incidentally, that transforms everybody you know into little white boys), confronted by the notion that she’s just one tiny speck in the multiverse, that there are other versions of her, that she’s not special or valuable or unique. No, she’s replaceable, expendable, a copy of a copy of a copy. Or is she? Which universe contains her authentic self? Is it this one? Is there a hierarchy of universes? Does it matter? Does anything matter?
Existential crises are a real killjoy. When everything feels meaningless and trivial, it’s hard to hold onto the value of anything. Baldur’s Gate 3 , trick-or-treating, pumpkin patches, they all just evaporate in your hands. There is only thing, rather, one person who has clung onto their value, clawed their tacky acrylic nails in and - fucking stubborn prick - refused to let go, and by some sick, twisted paradox actually means more to Eric now than before her little trip to the other universe.
Kyle. Fuck, how Eric missed her. The Kyle she met was a pale imitation of her Kyle (literally), and whenever she looked at him, she only saw a glitch, a Kyle-shaped hole where her Kyle should have been. Taunting him was a cheap high, and his stubborn refusal to help her got pretty fucking annoying after a while. Call it not knowing what you’ve got until it's gone, absence making the heart grow fonder, or whatever you want, but being apart from Kyle, being separated from her by time, and space, and quantum fucking physics brought into sharp relief just how much of her day is spent thinking about Kyle, observing her, craning for her attention like a flower starving for sun. It forced her to realise how much everything and everybody blurs into the background when Kyle walks into a room… just how much worse a day is when Eric doesn’t talk to her.
So now is she not only contending with an existential crisis, but an emotional crisis too. Somewhere down the line she caught feelings for Kyle, but now the incubation period is over, and the sickness has kicked in with a vengeance. Sleeping is tough, eating is even harder, and Eric is both devastated and delighted by the depths of her capacity for denial.
Like any lovesick girl, she’s nursing her tender heart with cigarettes and pretty views. Namely, the view of the town from the school roof, bathed in the orange blush of an October evening. If Eric wasn’t also dressed like a taco right now, she would be the image of quintessential teenage angst. Instead, she’s giving more depressed fast food mascot who has lost their job and is wondering what they have to live for.
“Cartman!” The voice Eric both longs and dreads to hear echoes from across the roof.
“Shit…” Eric mutters. All defences are down, she’s not supposed to be seen like this. Especially not by Kyle.
She wishes she could shrink into her costume as she hears Kyle’s footsteps approaching. While she looks ridiculous, Kyle looks drop-dead gorgeous in her vampire costume, even if her plastic fangs give her a rather silly lisp. Her silky, ebony hair normally styled in a loose braid is now down and sleek and framing her face perfectly. Her lips are painted crimson, her smoky, cut crease eyeshadow illuminates her tiger’s-eye pupils, and her slinky black gown hugs her body enviously.
“What are you doing up here?” Kyle asks, hand on her hip. “Don’t you know how much candy they’ve got down there? I thought you’d be all over it - oh.” Her face falls when she sees the cigarette poised between Eric’s fingers. She sighs and raises her eyebrows. “Bitch, are you really smoking to suppress your appetite?”
“No!” she snaps. “Fuck you, Kyle!” She smirks and eyes Kyle up and down. “Or should I say, Scott Malkinson?”
Kyle’s eyebrows knit together.
“Huh?”
“Your lisp? I’m Scott Malkinson and I have diabetes!”
Kyle huffs and rolls her eyes, averting her gaze like she always does when Eric has owned her.
“It’s the fangs! It’s not that bad.”
Eric grins softly to herself when Kyle spits her fangs out regardless.
“So if you’re not smoking to suppress your appetite, then why are you doing it?”
Eric shrugs, taking a drag as she surveys the town spread out before her.
“Because it’s cool.”
Kyle shakes her head.
“Hacking up phlegm and rotting your teeth isn’t cool. Alright, well, if I can’t tempt you with candy, then how about a prank on Tammy Mullins?”
God, not even her persuasive smile can brighten Eric’s mood.
“Kenny’s just gonna rat to the chaperones, so pass.”
“Alright, what’s up with you?” Kyle snaps, folding her arms across her chest. “You’ve been acting so weird since you got back from the other universe!”
Eric’s nostrils flare and a ragged exhale escapes her nose. Seriously, no one can fucking talk to her about weird after the shit she’s seen. She throws her cigarette off the roof and narrows her eyes at Kyle, who is waiting patiently for her answer.
“Do you know what’s weird, Kyle? The fact that we don’t age! That we’ve been in fourth grade for what feels like thirty years!” Eric throws her hands up, exasperated. “Like, we’re grown ass women in elementary school, what the fuck?!”
Kyle’s shoulders fall, her smug, know-it-all mask slips.
“W-w-well… I…”
“See!” Eric sneers, genuinely grinning for the first time in days. “You know it’s weird too! Got you, bitch!”
Kyle balks, scoffing incredulously.
“You didn’t ‘get’ me!” She sighs before sitting down next to Eric with a swish of her scarlet-lined cape. “Look, I can’t get into all that philosophical, metaphysical shit at a Halloween party, okay? All I know is that ever since you got back from the other universe you’ve been boring, and lame, and you don’t want to do any of the things you normally do-”
“Because literally, Kyle, what is the fucking point?”
That’s the first time she’s asked that question out loud to another human being since she got back. It actually chills her to the bone, crystallising on her lips before falling from her mouth and shattering on the ground below. She really wants to light up another cigarette right now, especially as she and Kyle are just sitting in a pregnant silence.
Finally, Kyle sighs heavily, with a dramatic rise and fall of her shoulders.
“Fuck if I know…”
It may not warm Eric up like a cigarette would, but it does a sufficient job. A smile dares to creep across her lips.
“And you’re supposed to be the smart one. That’s, like, a universal truth.”
Kyle turns to Eric, a smile tugging at her mouth too. She tilts her head a little to better meet Eric’s eyes, and her hair tumbles over her shoulder in a way that makes Eric a little dizzy.
“Oh, it is, huh? The other Kyle you met was smart?”
Eric snorts, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, and that little white motherfucker was a dick. So, you know, that’s another universal truth right there. He didn’t want to help me at all, and he didn’t want to believe that I was, well, me .”
Kyle presses her lips together before casting her gaze out over their quiet, mountain town.
“Maybe he missed his Cartman?”
Eric blinks, Kyle’s question has triggered a severe vertigo attack that could very well see her falling off the roof to her death. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is Kyle being serious right now?
Jesus Christ, just play it cool.
“Oh yeah?” Eric asks, voice brittle, before she clears her throat. “Is that another universal truth?”
Nice.
“N-n-no!” Kyle yelps, jumping like a startled alley cat. “No, don’t flatter yourself, I didn’t miss you! I mean…” She rolls her eyes. “Was I confused when this little tub of white lard appeared from nowhere and was running around saying he was you? Yes. Was I worried about you? Well, yeah, I guess so because I had no idea-”
Kyle is cut off by Eric resting her hand on top of hers.
“I missed you too,” Eric whispers. Turns out that when Kyle is flustered, Eric is a lot bolder.
Besides, she’s done with all the noise, with the warring, frightened voices in her head. She’s done with mental gymnastics, done with pretending. Already she feels so much lighter, or maybe it’s just her heart hammering in her chest at the fact that her hand is on top of Kyle’s and Kyle is yet to move it.
Their eyes meet, and it’s one of the few times that Eric has seen Kyle look bewildered and small. Eric simply smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and her heart fit to bursting, especially when Kyle mirrors her expression.
The beat passes, but they don’t move. That is, until Kyle’s smile fades and her eyes roam Eric’s face contemplatively. She slides her hand away, and Eric chokes on a small lump in her throat.
Kyle’s eyebrows draw together, and she looks down at her lap, chewing her bottom lip.
“What’s it called when you put one end of a cigarette in your mouth and then take a drag into someone else’s mouth?”
“Huh?” Eric blinks, eyebrows furrowing too. “Shotgunning?”
“Yeah, have you done it before?” Kyle asks, so fucking casually that Eric could short-circuit.
“No.” She shakes her head, and her voice feels tiny in her throat. “Never had anyone to do it with.”
Kyle nods to herself, actually twirling her hair around her finger.
“You could do it with me?”
Eric gulps, before spluttering out a disbelieving laugh.
“ Do it with you? ” She shakes her head, eyes wide. “Girl, not you propositioning me right now-”
“I am not propositioning you!” Kyle cries, before grumbling under her breath and tucking some hair behind her ear. “I just… I’ve never done it before, and if you haven’t either…” she shrugs, looking up at Eric coyly, fucking irresistibly. “Maybe we could do it together.”
Eric’s mouth drops open, suddenly a lot heavier.
“Uhh… okay.” She nods. “We’re going to need to get a little closer though.”
Kyle nods rapidly, not even looking at Eric as she twists around to face her, sitting cross-legged. Eric manages to fold her legs in a similar fashion (no easy feat in her bulky costume), concentrating on lighting the cigarette and trying to not give much thought as to what she’s about to do.
She takes the cigarette out of her mouth and hands it to Kyle.
“Put this in your mouth.”
Kyle almost goes cross-eyed as she studies the cigarette warily, but she plucks it from Eric’s fingers and places it between her lips. Kyle’s red lips have tightened around the cigarette, and although she looks far from confident, she’s still intimidatingly gorgeous.
Eric swallows the boulder in her throat as she shuffles forward, her hands rigid as they cup Kyle’s face. But their warmth and Kyle’s steady breathing allows her to relax, to soften her phantom hold. Her confidence may blossom in the face of Kyle’s timidity, but being this close to each other, doing something so strangely intimate, is putting her bravery to the test.
She leans in to place the lit end of the cigarette between her lips, and her eyelids droop like there are anvils tied to them. No, she needs to watch that, so Kyle doesn’t get weirded out. It’s not like they’re kissing… although their lips are inches away from each other and Eric is cupping her face. Still, it’s hard for her eyes not to drift shut a little bit when she has to focus on getting the cigarette in her mouth without burning her tongue.
Eric looks up at Kyle, and sees that her eyes are wide and gleaming, unsure, waiting for her cue. But Eric can’t exactly talk right now, so she just raises her eyebrows instead. Keeping their gazes locked, Kyle takes a big drag - bigger than Eric was expecting - and Eric almost snorts at how wide Kyle’s eyes grow, how much she sucks her cheeks in.
Eric splutters the moment the smoke hits her mouth, and she pulls back quickly to avoid burning her tongue on the hot tip of the cigarette. Her coughing fit has her doubling over, and she smirks behind her hand, eyes watery, when she sees that Kyle is in a similar state, the cigarette hastily thrown away. She’s paled a little bit, and Eric thinks she might throw up.
“Fuck!” Kyle spits, frowning as she dabs the corners of her watering eyes, no doubt concerned about her make-up. “Fuck, that was gross…”
“Amateur!” Eric laughs, well, wheezes . “Can’t even take one drag.”
Kyle growls softly under her breath, before eyeing Eric up and down.
“You…”
“Yeah?” Eric asks, wiping her mouth.
“You…” She takes a deep breath in, and a longer exhale. “Have really pretty eyes, Cartman.”
Eric blinks, her palms prickling with sweat, and her body temperature soars in this dumb fucking costume that is getting more claustrophobic by the second and that she just wants to rip off. While Eric burns up in her taco costume - her vocal cords apparently incinerated too - Kyle crawls over to her with a look of quiet determination, squeezing the nape of her neck and bringing her to her lips for a long, firm kiss. The way they exhale hotly through their noses indicates to Eric that this has been a long time coming, and fireworks explode behind her eyelids when she considers that maybe Kyle has felt the same way for longer than she even realised.
Time melts and pools around them as they kiss. Eric doesn’t know how long it’s been. Seconds, minutes, hours, does it really matter? Kyle only pulls back to cough into her fist, her poor, inexperienced lungs crackling.
“God damn it…” she croaks.
Eric snickers, before raking her gaze over her.
“You’re so attractive right now,” she teases, and she’s only half-joking.
Kyle narrows her eyes at her, smirking mischievously.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch…” She mutters before she crashes their lips together again.
When so many things have been drained of meaning for Eric lately, this means absolutely everything .
Universe #215-SF
Eric knew this day would come, but he wishes he could tell that to his racing heart, his sweaty palms, his twisted, knotted stomach. He knows that this is what everyone does eventually, to become a man, to become a woman, to become, well, a grown-up . Is it normal to be this nervous? This terrified? Why is he even asking… he’s never, ever been normal, so why start now? But maybe this will finally make him normal.
His first kill.
At 15, Eric is the last of his friends to kill something, and he was honestly pretty happy with that fact. That is, until Kenny and Leo accosted him in the hallway, threw a bag over his head in between third and fourth period, and bundled him out of the school, reminding him that this was a long time coming, and that he couldn’t stall any longer. Eric had cried for help, but this type of thing was not uncommon for his fellow students to witness, so they ignored him.
So now he’s standing in the woodland behind the school, with a helpless racoon entrapped in a net at his feet, his friends crowding around him, and a baseball bat in his shaking hand.
“I-I-I don’t know if I can do this, guys,” he says, managing to get the words out despite his clammy tongue sticking to the roof of his dry mouth.
“What?” Kenny snaps.
Eric shakes his head vigorously.
“It’s just too hard.”
“What the fuck is hard about it?” Stan demands. “We caught the damn thing! We did all the work for you!”
Eric nods vigorously now, enough to make him dizzy. The last thing he needs is to pass out… although maybe that would make the guys give up on this venture, at least for today.
“I know, and I appreciate it. I just…” He frowns at the racoon struggling in the net, his beady eyes gleaming with terror. Eric knows animals - domesticated or not - to be pretty vicious and having an insatiable bloodlust, but when they are this helpless, all they have left is vulnerability. A massive lump rises in his throat. “Geez, they won’t stop looking at me. Their eyes are so sad.”
“Want me to cut them out?” Leo asks, with a maniacal half-grin.
“No!” Eric exclaims, grimacing when he’s reminded of Leo’ own injured eye, the result of a brawl with Kenny and a ninja star when they were nine years old.
Leo lost his vision in that eye completely, the wound sealed over with a fleshy scar. Eric likes to think Leo would have more empathy, but maybe he sees cutting out a poor creature’s eyes as a form of payback? Literally an eye for an eye.
“Yeah, if anyone should cut them out, it’s Cartman,” Kenny argues.
“That’s not what I meant-”
“Look, Cartman, this is something all of us had to do,” Kyle interjects, and if anyone is going to convince Eric, it’s him. “You’ve got to kill something at least once, even if it’s just an animal.”
“You want to be a man, don’t you, Cartman?” Stan asks, raising his eyebrows at him.
Leo snorts.
“Seems like kind of a tall order for him.”
“Ha!” Kenny laughs. “Good one!”
Kyle scowls at them, eyes narrowed.
“Hey, cocksuckers, shut the fuck up! Why don’t you go fool around in the bushes?”
Eric flushes, but raises his shoulders in an attempt to hide it. Just like Eric knew this day was coming, he also knows better than to read too much into Kyle’s confusing behaviour, how he can (kind of) stick up for him one minute and berate him the next. But again, Eric has trouble sending the message to the butterflies in his stomach and the warmth in his cheeks.
“I’m good,” Kenny replies, still chuckling. “I was in there last night with your mom, and I was deep in her fucking bush-”
Kenny is interrupted by a soft, menacing sound Eric is all too familiar with. The click of Kyle’s switch-blade knife.
“One more word about my mom, and it’ll be your dick, Kenny,” Kyle warns.
“Guys, wake the fuck up!” Stan shouts. “All you’re doing is giving cuntface here a chance to stall! Just do it, Cartman!”
Stan shoves Eric, and while Eric is considerably heavier than Stan, the surprise still knocks him off his feet. He stumbles into Kyle’s firm, rigid body, but Kyle gives him a quick shove to get him back to his feet.
“Yeah, bash this overgrown rat’s brains in already!” Leo demands.
“But…” Eric whimpers, holding the baseball bat close to his chest. “I-I-I-”
“Fuck, man, who are you, Valmer?” Kenny snaps. “Sack up and beat the shit out of this thing!”
“Come on, Cartman, do it!” Stan adds, and Kenny and Leo join him in pulling their shoulders back, mimicking common intimidation tactics in animals.
Eric is sympathising more and more with the distressed racoon. His face creases in despair.
“Guys, please-”
“Do it!” Kenny snaps, baring his teeth.
Suddenly, Kyle is stepping in front of Eric like a human shield. Eric bites back a smile, but his shoulders still soften with relief.
“Chill the fuck out, assholes!” he snaps. “Don’t fucking jizz your pants! And you!” Now Kyle is rounding on him, seething, his blue-green eyes are burning like searing, noxious flames. Eric cowers. “If you waste one more second of my time, it won’t just be Kenny’s dick nailed to my fucking wall!” He gives Eric a shove, and this time no one is there to break his fall. Luckily, Eric manages to keep his balance. “And if you give me one more fucking excuse as to why you can’t do it, I’ll kill the racoon and then kill you!” Kyle jabs his finger in Eric’s chest, and lowers his voice to a low, gritty octave that raises the hairs on the nape of Eric’s neck. “You may be a fucking pathetic, weirdo creep, but you’re not special! You’re not above a single kill, and if you don’t end this thing now, then you’re fucking done! Out of the group! Got it?”
Eric’s eyes widen, and his heart is beating a terrified tattoo on his ribcage. They may not be the greatest friends, but without them, Eric will have nothing and no one.
“But…” he whispers. He finds the courage to look in Kyle’s eyes. “But I’ve been friends with you guys forever-”
“If you can’t kill one mangy racoon for us, then what does that say about your loyalty?”
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t fair! I’ve always been there for you guys!” Eric’s voice cracks, and those cracks soon fill with tears. “Isn’t that enough?”
Eric swears he sees a spark of something ignite on Kyle’s face. Perhaps pity, but it was too quick to tell. He snarls, growls softly under his breath, and Eric yelps when Kyle grabs him by the scruff and pulls him so close that the tips of their noses bump together.
“ Don’t make me ask you again, you little prick!” Kyle yells, and Eric flinches, his ears ringing. “ Kill the fucking racoon!”
Eric squeezes his eyes shut and lets out what can only be described as a primal scream, something that has been lying dormant in his body for years and is now finally escaping, and he feels emptier, hollower, for it. In fact, he feels like he’s watching from high up in a tree as he wrenches himself out of Kyle’s grip and brings the baseball bat down on the raccoon.
He squeezes his eyes shut again when he makes impact, although he feels the crack of the raccoon’s ribcage reverberate up his arm, and there’s no getting around that shrill, hoarse screech of pain. But Eric can’t stop now, in fact, the only thing he can really do is put the critter out of the misery he brought it. So he keeps hitting and hitting and hitting, until the racoon’s wailing and screeching peters out. Warm, coppery blood splatters on his face, his clothes, gets in his hair, and the crack of bones that reverberated up his arms is gone now, replaced instead by the soft resistance of its mushy, mangled innards. He can’t say for sure in this rather dissociative state, but his friends are silent. He hears no cheering, no encouragement from them. Maybe they’re stunned into silence, maybe they’re humbled by reverence and actual respect for Eric.
He raises his aching, trembling arms again, radiating adrenaline, before he feels a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.
“Alright, Cartman,” Kyle says. “It’s dead.”
Kyle keeps his hand on Eric’s shoulder as he lowers his arms stiffly. He drops the bat on the floor, and his lungs burn with the weight of his panting breaths. He finally blinks open his eyes to see the dead racoon, its fur blood-soaked and its eyes frozen in horror. Something lurches in his throat, and he thinks it’s vomit, but it’s not. It’s a sob.
“Hell yeah, you did it!” Stan exclaims.
“Congratulations on becoming a man!” Kenny adds.
Eric can’t respond when he feels half in his body and half out of it. Is this what being a man is supposed to feel like? Ashamed, and empty, and disgusted with yourself? The only firm thing right now is Kyle’s hand still clutching his shoulder.
Kyle sighs.
“Cartman-”
“Fuck off, Kyle,” Eric mumbles, voice soaked in tears, not even caring about the consequences of what he’s just said.
He shrugs himself out of Kyle’s grip and storms off, heading back towards the school with his fists clenched, and his shoulders raised, not looking back at his friends, at the scene of destruction. Scowling, eyes burning with tears as he marches across the football field, he only makes it to the nearest goal post before he crumbles, sobbing to himself and resting his arms on one of the posts, burying his head there as he cries and cries.
Over the sound of his hot, shivering breath, he hears footsteps jogging towards him.
“Cartman!”
Eric stiffens at the sound of Kyle’s voice, blinks his wet eyes open. He’s either about to get royally cursed out or beaten up.
“Cartman!” Kyle calls again, and he’s close enough now that Eric can hear his harsh breathing. “Look at me!”
Eric lifts his head up and rolls his eyes, face creasing.
“What, Kyle?” he asks, turning around with hackles raised. He sniffles. “What the fuck do you want?”
Kyle blinks, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he eyes Eric up and down.
“I’ve never heard you swear this much…”
“Oh!” Eric exclaims, throwing his hands up. His voice scratches against his throat, wild and uneven. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted me to be crass, and uncaring, and twisted like you, right? But noooo !” Eric waves his hands, relishing in Kyle’s bewilderment, his usual stoic mask cracking. “Apparently not even that is good enough! You know, I stay friends with you guys because I like you!” Eric falters then, tears pooling at his lashes and his voice wobbly. “I don’t rat on you to your parents! I keep guard while you do…” He shakes his head and grimaces. “Horrible, horrible things to people! I let you make fun of me and I pretend to laugh and now…” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “Now I’ve killed a poor, innocent creature for you and taken a life, and it’s still not enough! So you can see why I’m a little upset, right?!” He cries. “Aren’t I entitled to feel a bit pissed off and cheated and-”
Eric cries out when Kyle smacks him across the face, limply cupping his cheek and preparing for the next blow. But then Kyle grabs him and… pulls him close, wrapping his arms around Eric. His warm breath through his nose permeates right through to Eric’s bones.
“Just shut up.” Kyle murmurs. They’re both rigid in this embrace. “Shut up, alright?”
Eric doesn’t respond, and his arms are trapped so he can’t even return the hug.
“Breathe,” Kyle instructs. “In and out.”
Eric obeys, and the quiet football field, Kyle’s warm body pressed up against him is the perfect setting for him to decompress, get some air back into his lungs, release his adrenaline… although he loses count of how many seconds he’s inhaling and exhaling for when Kyle starts stroking his back. Is Kyle having an out-of-body experience too?
Kyle soon extracts Eric from his arms, studying his face like one of their well-crafted schemes is drafted there. Heat blossoms on Eric’s face helplessly.
“You’ve got blood all over you,” Kyle finally comments. “Come on, we’ll go to my place, and we’ll clean you up.”
Before Eric can reply, Kyle grabs his hand and yanks him off his feet, leaving him to stumble after Kyle as he marches up the football field. Kyle could crush his fingers, and Eric is pretty sure his circulation is being cut off, but he doesn’t complain.
He expects Kyle to let go of him at some point, maybe when they’ve reached the other end of the football field, or when they’re out of school grounds, but Kyle holds his hand during the whole walk to his house. In fact, he doesn’t let go of Eric’s hand until they’re in his bathroom. Kyle drops his hand, and Eric flexes his creaky fingers to get his circulation going again.
“Sit there,” Kyle instructs firmly, not making eye contact with Eric. He points to the rim of the bath.
Eric obeys, feeling a little bit like a dog as he sits there with his legs pressed tightly together. He watches in silence as Kyle runs the faucet, reaches under the sink for a flannel and soaks it in water. Kyle must feel Eric’s eyes on him, as he gives him stony, narrow-eyed glances every few seconds, like he’s embarrassed by - or resentful of - the fact that he’s doing this. Eric always tears his gaze away too late.
Once Kyle has wrung the flannel enough so that it’s not dripping all over the floor, he makes his way over to Eric, and Eric smothers a snicker at the realisation that even now, Kyle can’t help but look intimidating. Kyle crouches down so he’s eye-level with Eric, studying his face in that analytical way again, and it feels a lot more intense this time. After all, they’re closed in by four walls, and they’re in Kyle’s house .
Kyle lifts the flannel to Eric’s face, and Eric instinctively flinches. His cheek is still stinging from that smack. Kyle sighs, eyes drifting shut momentarily.
“Cartman, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Eric nods, tucking his hands between his legs. Seeing a tender side of Kyle’s has been one of Eric’s wildest, most secret dreams. He should enjoy it while it lasts.
“Okay…”
Kyle brings the flannel to Eric’s face again, and this time he doesn’t flinch, just lets Kyle scrub away the crusty streaks of racoon blood. It takes him back to being a little kid, when his mom would scrub chocolate off his face, or dirt if some kids pushed him in it on his way home from school. She would scold him for not fighting back, tell him that he should be the one pushing kids in the dirt.
“You feel any better?” Kyle asks, when he seems to have cleaned up the last of the dried blood.
Eric sighs, head lowered.
“Not really…” He looks up then, eyes wide. Kyle openly shows him affection, and he throws it back in his face? “N-n-not that I don’t appreciate you doing this! I do, it was very kind-”
“Don’t mention it.” Kyle raises his eyebrows. “Seriously. And um…” he rubs his lips together as if that can coax the rest of his sentence out of his mouth. “Try to be a little stoked on yourself, okay? It took guts to kill that thing. I know doing that kind of shit is hard for you for some reason.” He rolls his eyes as he gets up to place the flannel in the sink.
Warmth glows in Eric’s chest for the first time since the incident, spreading through his body, and he beams softly while Kyle isn’t looking.
“Thank you.” He sighs again. “I wish I knew why it was so difficult. If this type of thing came easier to me, life would be so much…”
“Easier?” Kyle turns to him with a small smile.
“Yeah.” Eric snorts softly. “Right.”
There’s a beat, and Eric notices Kyle rubbing his lips together.
“It’s not the worst thing,” Kyle says as he sits beside Eric. “To be like you.”
Eric blinks, the words eliciting goosebumps from his scalp to his toes.
“It’s not? It sure does feel like it.” He frowns to himself, eyes on the floor tiles. “The smallest things get to me, I’m disappointed all the time, everyone hates me-”
“They only hate you because you’re kind, and generous, and compassionate,” Kyle cuts in, and Eric’s heart stops for a second. He looks up at Kyle, blinking, enraptured. Kyle’s lips are pressed tightly together and there’s a small crease in his brow, but he continues. “They hate you because you’re proof that the world doesn’t have to be so cruel, and that scares them.” He puts his hand on Eric’s shoulder again, and holds Eric’s gaze. “In some weird way, this is your greatest power, Cartman. It’s what makes you stronger than anybody in this shitty town.” He shakes his head. “Don’t let them take that away from you. I’m…” It’s Kyle’s turn to look down now, and when he looks up, that crease in his brow has grown. “I’m sorry. For pushing you like that earlier.”
“Oh…” Eric whispers, managing to swallow the lump in his throat. He worries too many tears will test Kyle’s patience. “Oh, thank you, Kyle.” He beams at him. “For everything. You don’t know what it means to me.”
Kyle rolls his eyes and snickers softly.
“Yeah, I think I do. You’re not exactly a closed book.” His smile fades and he glances at the hand on Eric’s shoulder before he meets his gaze again. “I just thought that things would be better if you could be more normal, but I was wrong. I was just looking out for you. Not…” His gaze wanders to Eric’s lips, stealing his breath with a single glance. Their eyes meet once more. “Not everyone hates you, you know.”
Eric’s lips part, to gasp or to try to form words, he’s not quite sure. But then Kyle frowns, determined, moving his hand from Eric’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, crashing their lips together. His eyes almost pop out of his skull, his body flaring with the shock of it all, but he soon returns the kiss, eyes slipping shut and tilting his head to clasp Kyle’s lips.
Their kiss soon softens as they relax into it, with Kyle cupping Eric’s face with both hands while Eric rests his hand on Kyle’s knee for support. Another one of his wildest dreams is coming true, getting to feel Kyle’s lips pressed against his own and gosh, they’re just as soft as they look.
When they pull back, Kyle does so with the tiniest nip to Eric’s bottom lip. He slides his hands from Eric’s face to his chest, while Eric keeps his hand on Kyle’s knee. They share hot, laboured breaths.
Eric gulps softly, before whispering: “You…”
“Yeah?” Kyle asks, voice gritty, eyes lidded, and cheeks flushed, and the sight is more thrilling to Eric than the more, uh, ‘dirtier’ daydreams he’s had about Kyle.
“You’re not as mean as you think you are.” He smiles.
Kyle snickers, ducking his head and chewing his lip.
“You must have rubbed off on me.” He grins lazily, leaning in for another kiss. “Asshole…”