Bound By A Book (KYMAN FIC)

If your quiet you cant be annoying

The next morning, Cartman walked into school feeling more off-balance than ever. His mind buzzed with thoughts of Kyle and of the sketches that had revealed more about his feelings than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He'd tried to act normal, but every time he saw Kyle, it was as if his brain short-circuited, as they sat in their morning math class.

It didn't take long for Kyle to notice. During English, Kyle shot him a curious glance, raising an eyebrow.

"What's up with you, Cartman? You've been... weirdly quiet." Kyle asks, seemingly genuinely puzzled.

Cartman huffed, crossing his arms. "Why do you care, Kyle?"

"Because, as much as I hate to admit it, when you're not running your mouth, it's... weird," Kyle replied, a smirk hinting at the corners of his mouth.

Cartman scowled, doing his best to play it cool. "Maybe I just don't feel like talking to a bunch of idiots today."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Cartman. Maybe keep it up, though—it's actually kind of nice not hearing you constantly jabbering away." He turned back to his notebook, a faint grin on his face.

Cartman even got an annoyed, yet puzzled look from Stan, who was sitting next to Kenny behind them. He was obviously noticing Cartmans strangely quiet behavior towards everyone.

The exchange left Cartman's stomach churning with a mix of nerves and frustration. He clenched his fists under his desk, glancing sidelong at Kyle when he thought no one was watching.

The way Kyle's face looked focused, his eyes intense as he took notes, made Cartman's mind wander again to the sketch he'd made yesterday. He was almost tempted to sketch him right there in class—just to see if he could catch that same concentration, that same feeling of being... captivated. But the idea of Kyle seeing him draw would be way too humiliating.

The day dragged on in a strange, silent tension. Every time Kyle spoke, Cartman's brain went fuzzy, and he found himself blushing at even the smallest of comments.

By the time the last bell rang, he was desperate for somewhere to be alone, to clear his head.

He slipped out of the classroom as fast as he could, heading straight for the art room.

Once inside, Cartman sighed with relief and quickly pulled out his sketchbook. He flipped past yesterday's drawing of Kyle and onto a fresh page, his mind still buzzing with an image of Kyle.

He began to sketch him again, this time a drawing of Kyle laughing while blushing. He drew him more slowly this time, focusing on every little detail—the curve of his nose, the intensity in his eyes. This time, he even added a slight blush to Kyle's cheeks, making the drawing look more... alive, somehow.

As his pencil moved across the page, Cartman muttered to himself, half in awe. "God, why does he have to look so... perfect? I mean, he's annoying, but still..."

The sound of footsteps outside the door made him freeze. He slammed his sketchbook shut, just as the door creaked open and Stan poked his head in.

"Cartman? What are you doing here?"

Cartman's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. "Stan! W-what the hell are you doing here?!" He nearly hides behind the table, after being found for the second time.

"I could ask you the same thing," Stan replied, stepping further into the room. "You've been acting weird all day. Seriously, I've never seen you this quiet, and you kept staring at Kyle. So... I figured I'd check up on you. And so I found you. In...here." He looks around the art room a little surprised he's here of all places.

Cartman felt his face heat up. He tried to keep his tone nonchalant, waving Stan off. "Staring? Please, I just... maybe looked in his direction once or twice."

Stan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, okay, sure. But, seriously, why are you hiding out in the art room? Since when do you even like drawing? I mean DO you draw? You always rip on people who like art." He says asking many questions.

Cartman scowled, clutching his sketchbook protectively. "Since... now, I guess. I'm just practicing, alright? Practicing... drawing people." He lies as to why he had several drawings just of Kyle, mostly smiling.

Stan folded his arms, giving Cartman a knowing look. "Right. So you're practicing drawing... Kyle? Seriously dude?" he guessed, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

Cartman's face went beet red. "Maybe. He just... he's got, like, good features or whatever, okay? So I figured he'd be a good... subject, or whatever." He says trying to have to 'tough and cool' demeanor on around Stan.

Stan's expression softened a little, and he held up his hands. "Look, man, I get it. Art's cool, and Kyle's definitely got a... unique look, I guess. But you've been spending a lot of time on this, huh? I mean...it's not like anyone can just wake up one day and draw something so detailed."

Cartman hesitated, almost letting slip his own feelings. For a second, he felt like saying it all—about the crush he couldn't shake, about the weird way his stomach twisted every time he looked at Kyle. But instead, he shrugged and forced a grin.

"It's just for practice, dude. Just... drawing people. Kyle's just the easiest to pick on, that's all."

Stan studied him for a long moment, as if he didn't completely buy it. But finally, he just nodded. "Ok, dude. But... you know, if there's anything else going on, you can talk to me. You really seemed off today."

Cartman looked away, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. He wanted to tell Stan, but something held him back.

"Whatever, dude. I don't need to 'talk' about anything. Just keep this between us. I really don't need Kyle of all people knowing about this...lame ass hobby." Cartman shudders at the thought of Kyle finding out about his drawings and laughing at him for it.

Stan chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Your
'secrets' safe with me, Cartman. But maybe you should think about, you know, actually talking to Kyle like a real friend for once. You might find out he's not as bad as you think." He says with an approving smile.

Cartman huffed, shoving his sketchbook back into his bag. "Whatever. I'll do what I want."

As Stan walked out of the room, Cartman found himself staring down at the closed sketchbook, wondering what he was supposed to do next. But a small, secret smile tugged at his lips. For the first time, maybe, he didn't feel completely alone with these strange, new feelings. At least Stan somewhat understood him.