You Can't Always Get What You Want {Kyman} || (SLOW UPDATES)

Sympathy For The Devil

Jane Says
I'm done with Sergio
He treats me like a rag doll.
She hides
The television...
Jane Says was the first thing that came on when we went in the car. For once, it was silent. For once, I wasn't sitting next to Stan. I requested for one of them to sit next to Stan and Kenny volunteered. He thought it was good for some 'make up time' which was fucking corny. But anything not to sit next to Stan.
I'd rather not explain what happened after I punched Cartman. In short, though, we left soon after I was lectured, which meant I never ate. I could've ate anything at this point. But not pork. That's seldom.
I didn't talk to Cartman the whole ride home. I just leaned my head and looked out the window, seeing the bright lights everywhere around the town.
And then it hit me: I had to sleep next to Cartman tonight.
My safest bet was to sleep on the floor, at this point. I looked at him. Ice over his eye. Me, Kyle Broflovski, the weak, ginger, Jersey, Jew, punched the fattest kid ever known to man.
Good.
It made me happy that I did it, quite honestly. Now when he tries to bust my chops about being a weak turd I have evidence.
I crashed on the bed once we got back to the hotel, and it was at this point in the trip that Randy and Sharon thought to themselves "Why in the hell did we bring these ungrateful bastards and not even our own daughter?" From what I can tell, Shelly was too 'old' to be with the family which was bullshit. Especially going somewhere cool, like Colorado Springs? So far, it's pretty nice. Ruby Tuesday was a plus, y'know, if I got to eat anything.
There was something Cartman told me when we were younger–"Keep your big Jew nose out of other people's business." At that time I took it as an offensive comment and told him "fuck off" or something. I agree with him now. Right now. If I didn't go pecking around without Stan's permission, this would've been fine. But as his Super Best Friend, it was my duty to protect him. He's already fucked himself up too much–first he drank, (and I'm not even sure if he quit) now he smoked, and I'm pretty sure he's had sex with Wendy once or twice before.
That was when I looked at myself in the mirror and said aloud to myself the following words: "Kyle Broflovski, why are you such a fucking idiot?"
The door opened after I said that.
"Yeah, right?" The kid with the Terrance and Phillip shirt walked in with an ice pack on his nose.
"Cartman, I am so sorry–"
"Save your damn sympathy. It doesn't even hurt." He threw the ice pack to the side. "I just made a big fuss about it so you could get in trouble." He smirked,
"You're such a piece of shit! I'm starving because of your antics!"
"I got something you can eat," he smirked. "Just kidding. That's faggy."
"You said it!"
"I just said it's faggy!"
"Fatass!"
"Jew!"
"And, not to mention, MY antics? Who punched who here? I don't ever remember touching you."
"I–"
Kenny knocked on the door and peaked his head in. "Stan wants to talk to you." Cartman walked towards the door.
"Not you, dumbass," I groaned and shoved his body out of the way. I greatly thanked Kenny in my head, because Cartman's final claim/comeback was true.
I walked through what you'd call a 'living room' for. hotel and made my way over to Stan and Kenny's room.
"Stan–"
"I know what you're gonna say. It's okay. I'm sorry too. I acted like such an asshole even though you were trying to protect me. You mean well, but once you try this stuff, you kinda can't stop. I appreciate it all, truly. But please, if you really are my super best friend, please don't tell my parents."
"Of course not."
"Well, thank you."
"Thank you. Sorry for being a giant douche."
"Sorry for being a turd sandwich." I walked out the door, and then realized exactly what we had said, and smirked to myself. Kenny was waiting outside the door.
"All well?" He asked, peeling off his run down rubber boots.
"All good," I grinned, and walked back to my room.
It was only 7:30, but I was exhausted as fuuuuuuck. Plus, it'd be good to sleep on an empty stomach.
And Cartman was stoked on staying up late, so at least the bed was for me for at least four hours. Nice, no sweat or B.O. for four hours!
                               ***
I was awoken by a noise. Being a light sleeper, something as small as someone moving would wake me up. My future wife is gonna have a great time with me.
Cartman wasn't next to me. I checked the alarm clock on the side table of the bed. 10:00. Where in the hell was Cartman?
I rubbed my eyes and fell out of the bed and walked over to Stan and Kenny's room. Maybe they were doing shit in there and chuckling like little girls.
I opened the door.
I must've shit my boxers (yes, I don't wear my pants to bed) at this time, because they weren't there. What. The. Fuck.
Randy and Sharon were the room directly across from us. They'd probably be still awake, but I didn't wanna tell them until tomorrow. If they left, I would've heard the door open. But what if I slept through it?
I was going insane. Sure, today wasn't the best day to be worried about them. But even though the whole blowout did happen, Stan and Cartman both apologized, and Kenny was pissed because Cartman was. I was about to rip my hair out of my head, but mom told me how precious it was to be a...'strawberry blonde...'
I tried to fall asleep. But I couldn't. I just laid there in the bed. If I got cold and covered myself, I'd get hot again and just lay in a pool of sweat. Even taking off my shirt at one point didn't help. Colorado weather is weird as fuck–80% of the year you freeze to death and the other 20% has the same temperature as Hell. Ask Kenny. He'll tell you how hot it was down there. My growling stomach didn't help the fact of all this. I was starving, deadbeat, and going fucking ballistic all at the same time. Maybe if I just try to pull myself together and fall asleep...
                                ***
I was awoken at maybe, 9:30. I woke up I a pool of sweat. Cartman was laying right next to me.
I don't think I've ever been happier to see a fat, sweaty person in my bed.
"Holy shit, you're okay."
He turned over to look at me. His face was full of grogginess, and let out a sound that sounded between a cross of a groan and dinosaur sex. "Of course I'm okay, you gay little shit, worrying about me." Don't wake the beast, I suppose. I ignored his comment.
I hopped out of bed. "Hey Cartman, Metallica or Guns 'n Roses shirt for today?" I called to him, rummaging through my suitcase.
"I don't care." Asshole. I pulled on Guns 'n Roses for today. I left my pants off until we left for somewhere. It's boxers, calm down. Plus, I've known them since preschool. We've seen each other's dicks before. Don't get any ideas.
Kenny was laying upside down eating cereal on the crappy couch in front of the crappy TV. It looked as if it was from the eighties, and even that as a stretch. Cartoons were in black and white, and the news had that effect on the grocery store commercials that made it look like it was from the nineties. It was also one of the small times where I've seen Kenny's full face. Asking where Stan was was my second priority. Eating was my first. I haven't eaten in exactly fourteen hours and I was ready to eat anything, even pork. Rules don't apply when your mom isn't home.
I poured myself a bowl of Lucky Charms, and shoved a spoonful in my mouth. "Wherth Chtan?"
"What?" Kenny asked me.
"Wherth Chtan?" I asked again.
"Finish your food first. That's fucking gross, dude. That's like that shitty 'see-food' joke."
I swallowed. "Where's Stan?"
"That's good. He's across the hall in his parents room." I joined Kenny on the couch, watching what I think was an episode of The Simpsons, but I couldn't tell because of the shitty TV quality.
"Goddamned Jew woke me up," I heard mumbling coming from the other room. Cartman's 90% naked body came out of our room and made his way into the living room.
"I didn't have good sleep last night. We went to bed late. Unlike you, you goodie-two-shoes that went to bed at 7."
"I was hungry as fuck, you think I wanted to go to bed? That was the last thing I wanted to. I wanted to hang out late with you guys." I stopped. "Oh yeah, where were you last night?"
"Huh?" Kenny asked.
"Last night, I heard a noise, it was about ten o'clock, and Cartman wasn't sleeping, so I thought you were all in Stan's room. I checked in there but neither of you were anywhere to be found..."
"We're you on something? We were all asleep," Cartman stated.
"No, you weren't. I turned on the light. Neither of you were there. And I'm sure I would've felt your fat ass clogging most of the bed."
"Thanks." He rolled his eyes.
"Kenny?" I asked. "What happened?"
"You might've been dreaming. I agree with Cartman on this," He said. "We're you dreaming, maybe?"
"No, no, I wasn't, were you fucking with me?"
"I'd never wanna fuck with you. Maybe Stan would, but not me." You-know-who chuckled. "Dumbass, Stan gave you a cigarette and ya got tripped out on it."
"Cigarettes don't get you high, dummy!"
"Cat pee sure as hell gets you fucked up," Kenny said. We ignored him.
"They don't?"
"No! Not by themselves, retard!"
"Don't call me retard, retard!"
"Can you two please cut it out already? I have a splitting fucking headache because of you two! I'll go all the way home right fucking now." We both sighed. Since when did Kenny become such a visionary? I glared at him. He glared at me. We didn't apologize. All I saw was his chocolate brown eyes, staring at me like I was some kind of monster. So I gave him the same look with my nice emerald green eyes, and started at him right back.
"Sorry."
What the fuck?
Did he just make the first move and apologize to me? Did Kenny send him a message through his brain that said "Apologize to him?" What made that come over him?