Bound By A Book (KYMAN FIC)

Kenny loves possums

Saturday felt endless, every hour stretching into the next as Cartman lay on his bed, arms crossed over his chest, staring up at the ceiling. The world outside his window seemed like it was moving on without him—leaves rustling in the early fall breeze, kids laughing in the street, families out and about. But he felt trapped in his room, mind circling the events of the past few days, each thought making him feel more restless and annoyed.

He kept thinking about the sketch he'd made of Kyle the other day, the quiet he'd felt while drawing it. In that moment, it had been just him, the paper, and Kyle's face coming together under his hand.

He remembered how he'd gotten lost in those details—Kyle's sharp eyes, the subtle line of his mouth, the way his hair framed his face. And then the memory of Kyle looking at him in concern the day before came flooding back, that warmth in his voice asking if he was okay.

A small, strangled feeling twisted in Cartman's chest, a mix of irritation and something softer he didn't want to look at too closely.

All day, he kept glancing at his backpack where he'd normally keep his sketchbook, heart twisting with the urge to pick it up, to try and capture that look on Kyle's face. But he'd left it at school in his haste to get away, and the absence gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.

By the time evening rolled around, Cartman had made up his mind. He wasn't going to spend another minute stuck in his room, spiraling with these ridiculous thoughts. Tomorrow, he'd go back to the school and get his sketchbook.

When Sunday morning arrived, Cartman didn't waste any time. He waited until his mom went out, then slipped on his hoodie, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and made his way to the school.

The cold winter Colorado air was crisp, biting at his cheeks as he walked down the quiet streets, glancing around to make sure no one was watching him.

He felt like he was on some sort of covert mission, sneaking into the school on a weekend, but there was something almost thrilling about it.

He easily unlocked a window to the art room with a spare key he found while snooping in Mr Garrison's desk while he was making copies.

When he reached the familiar art room, a wave of relief washed over him. The room was exactly as he'd left it, the faint smell of paint and charcoal filling the air, sketchbooks and papers scattered on the tables.

There, on one of the tables, lay his sketchbook. He picked it up, feeling a strange comfort in its weight as he clutched it to his chest. His heartbeat steadied, that restless feeling from the day before easing as he flipped it open, letting his fingers graze over the pages. Each sketch, each line he'd carefully drawn felt like a part of him, something real and tangible he could hold onto.

Satisfied, he turned to leave, jumping back out the open window and locking it back up like he had never been there. As he was walking away from the school and nearing his neighborhood, he rounded the corner and nearly ran straight into someone, them bumping heads and falling down.

"OW-! What the hell-" Cartman nearly drops his notebook, and gets ready to beat up whoever just bumped into him when he suddenly notices it's Kenny- his bff.

Cartman's heart jumped, and he took a step back, eyes widening as he looked up. Kenny was standing there, grinning at him, while also rubbing his head somehow making his dirty blonde hair messyer, with an expression that was both curious and mischievous. Cartman barely registered the fact that Kenny was holding... six possums. Each one squirmed in his arms, beady eyes darting around as they clung to him with their little claws.

"Kenny? What the hell are you doing here? And why do you have so many...rats?" Cartman's voice came out sharper than he intended, and he clutched his sketchbook tighter to his chest, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights.