Part 9

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As Cartman entered the highway on the way to Craig's cabin in the mountains, the sun simmered over the horizon and painted the sky with the creamy orange and pink colors of a sunset. Kyle and he had been talking about various events in school or other random subjects, but Kyle had something on his mind that he knew he would bring up during the drive.

"Out of all people," Cartman continued with their conversation as he cruised through the highway. "Wouldn't you have thought that Token was the one to throw a party in a fancy mountain mansion?"

"It's a log cabin, not a mansion."

"You know what I mean. I just never knew Craig had that type of money. Shit, we need to hang with him more often."

At times, Cartman's shallow thoughts annoyed Kyle.

And apparently it showed on his face as Cartman switched his tone and confronted, "What, Kahl?"

"Nothing," Kyle said, resting his head against his hand and gazing out at the setting sun.

"Just tell me. You're obviously always annoyed at something I say," Cartman retorted, avoiding looking at Kyle.

"I don't wanna fight. Just drop it."

"I was joking."

"I know."

"Then what is it?"

Kyle supposed this was as good of a time as any to tell Cartman what's been bothering him this afternoon.

He sighed, lifted his head from his hand, and turned towards Cartman who was still concentrating on the road to avoid eye contact. "Were you telling the truth?" he blurted.

Cartman paused looking utterly lost. "What?"

"You said 'I love you,' but I don't know if I believe you."

"Kahl, why would I lie about something like that?"

"Hm, I don't know," Kyle responded mockingly. "Maybe because the only times you actually get along with me is when we're having sex."

Silence for a few seconds, and then, "Yeah, I know, it was bad timing. But I meant it."

"I bet you said that to Kat, too..." Kyle mumbled.

Cartman immediately whipped his head around towards Kyle staring furiously into Kyle's eyes, red with anger. He snapped, "Aye! Now you shut the fuck up about that. You know damn well what happened in that situation so just keep your goddamn mouth shut!"

Suddenly, both Cartman and Kyle were violently propelled forward through the windshield of the car. Tires screeched and glass shattered all around. The arguing ceased. The driving stopped. Deadly silence invaded the air. Cartman's car was now split by a wide tree in just under a few seconds, the front end of the car in shattered pieces. Cars on the highway continued zipping by.

Awaking from slight unconsciousness, Cartman lifted his heavy head from the driver's wheel, noticing blood where his head had lied. Spots of white were thwarting his vision, and a piercing sound pained his ear drums as if the white spots were screaming at him. He could barely open his eyes. Everything felt so surreal.

He finally began to realize where he was again. The white spots began to recede, and be squinted into the colors of the sunset in the sky. Finally, he absently glanced to his right. What he saw snapped him into full awareness.

In the passenger seat, Kyle lay face down in an air bag that grew red and moist from the obscene amount of blood that was pouring from Kyle's pale forehead. Multiple jagged slices in Kyle's face and arms trickled with crimson liquid. Cartman was somehow unable to process what he was witnessing. His bruised face grew hot with anger, self-hate. He clenched his fists and fiercely pounded them against the steering wheel of the car as he let out a cry of despair.

Breathing hard, he quickly turned to Kyle, took him by the shoulders, and flipped him over, trying to set him in a more natural position. He panicked and his mind jumbled itself into a confused mess of reactions. Trembling, he checked for a pulse. He rested his two fingers under Kyle's jaw and waited.

Nothing...

But after a few eager seconds, a faint flicker ran against his fingers. Cartman sighed in relief, but still had to get Kyle to a hospital. He hastily scrambled into his pocket, snatched his phone, and dialed 911 all in two seconds.

While the line rang for what seemed like a grueling eternity, Cartman mumbled to Kyle, as if he were awake, "It's gonna be alright, Kyle." He sniffed. "I love you."

Immediately as the dispatcher responded, Cartman forcefully blurted, "There's been an accident. My boyfr- my friend is dying! Please come help!"

As Cartman spat their location to the dispatcher, heavy tears streamed down his cheeks as he tenderly held a hand behind Kyle's head, stroking his red hair.

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It was Saturday afternoon, 2 pm. Weakened from unconsciousness, Kyle forced his eyes open as he drowsily fought between sleep and consciousness. Finally his vision cleared; the double-vision images of a hospital cart and IV needles soon became one clear image. He weakly inhaled and couldn't help but smell the sanitary chemicals associated with a doctor's office. His head throbbing and feeling heavy, he glanced around him. He suddenly became aware of the rock-hard mattress of the hospital bed underneath him. Then, a slight movement startled his frail mind. He still resided in a somewhat dreamy state.

He forced his head upward to witness Cartman standing eagerly by Kyle's bed with wet heavy eyes, and a slanted frown.

"Kahl," he blurted, whispering. "I'm... I'm so sorry." This moment was the closest Kyle had seen to Cartman crying.

Confused, Kyle squinted and asked, "What do you mean? What's happening?"

Grabbing his hand softly, Cartman said, "We... I hit a tree by accident when we were driving and-I'm just sorry. This is all my fault."

At that moment, as Cartman expressed remorse, it touched Kyle in an an indescribable way.

"Your parents were here," Cartman continued. "But you were still unconscious."

After eyeballing the closed door across from them to check every few minutes in case someone walked in, Kyle stroked Cartman's fingers delicately, sighed and said, "Cartman, it's not your fault. I'm trying to remember...

He squinted and jogged his memory hazily to the moment just before the crash.

"We were arguing?"

"Yeah," Cartman responded disappointingly.

"It's not your fault," he repeated. "It's just-thank you for being here for me now."

Cartman said nothing. Kyle noticed Cartman's face was slightly injured as well. His nose trickled with a thin stream of red, and the corner of his forehead bore a jagged cut that was coated in blood.

"You don't look so good either," Kyle remarked.

"Doc said I'm fine-only minor cuts and bruises." He paused, looked at Kyle, and smiled. "You should see your face. Looks like Freddy Kruger on acid."

Both of them couldn't help but giggle. Maybe things will turn out alright this time, Cartman thought. Kyle smirked and glared admiringly into Cartman's watery eyes.

"Come here, you," Kyle said playfully, pulling in Cartman by the back of the neck even though it sent sparks of pain throughout his aching body.

As they kissed slowly and romantically, Kyle knew now that they had been arguing over something that did not to be debated. Cartman did love him. Their physical relationship did not make up their love, but their need for each other did.

"Kyle?"

As soon as they heard Stan's voice, they both frantically separated, attempting to act natural. It was too late. Stan and Kenny were standing wide-eyed and gaping at the confusing scene they had witnessed from the doorway across from them.

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