Bound By A Book (KYMAN FIC)

Caught red faced

The school day had been like any other—except for one glaring issue that Cartman couldn't seem to shake off: the constant, all-consuming blushing.

Every time Kyle came within a few feet of him, Cartman could feel the heat rising in his face, his stomach tightening, and his heart rate picking up as if something was about to happen, even though he had no idea what exactly that something was.

He'd try to focus on anything else, but Kyle's presence had this effect on him, and no matter how many times Cartman tried to ignore it, it always lingered like an unwelcome guest in his mind.

Kyle, of course, noticed the change. It wasn't exactly hard to spot—Cartman was never one to hide his feelings very well, especially when it came to something that was so embarrassingly obvious.

Kyle had been asking Cartman more often about art lately, like he was trying to figure something out. It wasn't anything overt, just small, offhand comments like, "So, you still into art, Cartman?" But Kyle's eyes always seemed to linger a little too long when he asked, and Cartman was pretty sure Kyle knew more than he let on.

Cartman wasn't about to admit anything though. Hell no. He wasn't ready to confess how much of his mind had been consumed by his feelings for Kyle.

That would mean facing something he wasn't ready to face—his own vulnerability. The thought of Kyle knowing how deeply he had been affected, how every time their paths crossed, Cartman could hardly breathe, was terrifying.

So, Cartman kept up his tough-guy routine, pretending like everything was normal, even when he felt like he was unraveling inside.

By the end of the day, Cartman was sick of it. Sick of pretending, sick of feeling like he was on the edge of some emotional breakdown. He hadn't been to the art room for over a week—too afraid of what might happen if he let himself draw Kyle again, too afraid of what those feelings might do to him if he didn't have a way to process them.

But today, he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to go to the art room. He needed to draw.

As he made his way down the hallway, the sketchbook tucked under his arm, Cartman tried to steady himself. This wasn't about Kyle. It wasn't.

He just needed a place to escape, a space where he could be alone and do what he loved without his stupid, embarrassing feelings getting in the way. He didn't think he could go another minute without getting this all out of his system.

But just as he was about to reach the door to the art room, he heard footsteps behind him. He froze.
Cartman's stomach flipped, his palms suddenly damp, and he instinctively clutched the sketchbook tighter, like it was the only thing keeping him from losing it completely.

He turned, and there was Kyle, walking toward him with that usual, slightly annoyed expression on his face.

"Hey, Cartman," Kyle called out, his voice casual but inquisitive. "Where're you going?"

Cartman tensed up. He wasn't prepared for this, not at all. He wasn't ready to explain where he was headed. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was being so secretive.

It wasn't like Kyle would really care, right? But the way his heart was pounding, the way his skin prickled with anxiety, told him otherwise.

"Oh, uh..." Cartman stuttered, trying to come up with a believable excuse. "I was just... picking up some homework I left in the art room, yeah. I forgot it this morning." He let out a small laugh, hoping it didn't sound too forced.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Homework, huh? In the art room?" he asked, glancing at the sketchbook Cartman was holding so tightly in his hands. Cartman winced, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks as he tried to hide the sketchbook behind his body.

"Yeah, whatever, don't worry about it," Cartman said quickly, waving him off. He started to walk past Kyle, but something about the way Kyle was looking at him made his entire body freeze.

His gaze, sharp and focused, seemed to see through him, as though he could sense something was off. That feeling of being caught in the act, of being exposed, made Cartman feel even more uncomfortable.

And then, Kyle's voice broke the silence again. "Cartman," he said, his tone a little more insistent this time. "You've been acting really weird lately. What's going on?"

The question hung in the air like a threat. Cartman didn't know how to respond. His mind was racing, trying to think of something, anything to say that wouldn't make him sound like a complete idiot.

But as he looked at Kyle, his thoughts went blank. Kyle's face was so... familiar, but so captivating at the same time. His eyes were sharp, yet there was something softer about them today, like a vulnerability Cartman hadn't noticed before. And then there was his mouth, that little smirk that he got whenever he was annoyed but also kind of... amused?

Cartman's gaze shifted from Kyle's eyes to his nose, and then to his lips. His heart skipped a beat. He felt an overwhelming urge to study him, to memorize every detail of his face, as if he were an artist capturing the most important subject of his life.

The sharp angles of Kyle's jawline, the way his hair framed his face so perfectly, the small scar just below his lip that Cartman had never really paid attention to before.

His breath caught in his throat as he realized what he was doing. His mind was already calculating how to draw every inch of Kyle's face, imagining how each curve of his features would look on paper.

The way Kyle's eyes narrowed when he was skeptical, the way his brow furrowed when he was confused—it was like Cartman's brain had already begun sketching it all out without him even realizing it.

He couldn't stop himself from staring, even as his face turned bright red. He wanted to look away, to stop this madness before it got any worse, but it was like his eyes were glued to Kyle's face.

He was lost in the details—the curve of his cheekbones, the way his lips slightly parted as he spoke. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and over his cheeks, but he didn't care anymore. The warmth of his emotions, the heat in his face, was all consuming.

Then, just as he realized he had been staring for far too long, Kyle snapped him out of it with an impatient sigh. "Cartman?" he asked again, louder this time, causing Cartman to jump slightly. He quickly looked away, cursing under his breath.

"I—I wasn't... checking you out or anything," Cartman blurted out defensively, his voice cracking with embarrassment. "I wasn't! I was just... thinking! About... uh, stuff."

Kyle stared at him with a skeptical look before shrugging. "Whatever, Cartman," he muttered, clearly not buying it. "You're acting weird, like, really weird." He gave Cartman one last glance before walking off, leaving Cartman standing there, his face still burning with embarrassment.

Cartman let out a shaky breath, his heart still pounding in his chest. That had been way too close. He needed to get out of there before he embarrassed himself even more.

But even as Kyle walked away, Cartman couldn't shake the image of Kyle's face from his mind. He could still feel the flutter of his heart, the way his body had reacted to just being near him.

Once he was sure Kyle was out of earshot, Cartman quickly made his way to the art room. He needed to draw, to get all of this out of his system. He couldn't let his feelings consume him like this, not when they were so new, so confusing.

Inside the art room, Cartman found a quiet corner and pulled out his sketchbook. He opened it to the last drawing he had done of Kyle, that perfect portrait of him, full of sharp edges and soft features, a mix of emotions that Cartman had tried to capture.

But now, he had a new image in his mind—the way Kyle had looked at him today, confused and annoyed, but with a slight vulnerability behind his eyes that Cartman couldn't ignore.

He began to draw, his hand moving quickly across the page as his mind filled with more details, more moments he wanted to remember.

With every stroke, Cartman lost himself in the process, pouring all of his confusion, his frustration, and his strange, growing feelings into the sketch in front of him.