Chapter Text
Sitting in Mr Mackey’s office, sandwiched between his equally nervous parents, Kyle feels like this moment is the culmination of his high school career thus far. He’s about to find out if all the hours spent studying, all the good behaviour, and all the clubs and teams he’s signed up for have set him on the right path to some of the best colleges in the country. Because if he gets into a prestigious college then he’ll be able to compete for jobs that are both impressive, make a difference in the world, and pay enough to afford a house for his equally successful partner and 2.5 kids that is, most importantly, far away from South Park.
Mr Mackey looks up from his computer screen with a smile and a small sigh.
“Mmkay, Kyle, well as far as grades go you definitely have the results that Princeton, Stanford, and Cornell are looking for.”
Kyle grins, shoulders slouching, and he finally releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding in.
“Oh, that’s wonderful news!” his mom exclaims, clapping her hands together.
His dad beams, nodding at him.
“Well done, son.”
His dad may have embarrassed him and disappointed him over the years, but when he gives Kyle that tight-lipped smile, shrewd eyes narrowed and glinting with pride, Kyle always feels stoked on himself.
“Thanks, guys.” Kyle smiles, cheeks heating up when he remembers his parents are so earnestly complimenting him in front of a faculty member.
“You won’t be surprised to learn that you’re one of our top students,” Mr Mackey adds. He must love it when parent-student meetings go this well.
Kyle’s dad straightens his shoulders, and Kyle swears he puffs out his chest a little.
“That’s excellent.”
His mom squeals softly, leaning in closer to Kyle and giving his shoulder a squeeze.
“I’m so proud of you, bubbe.”
“Mom…” Kyle chuckles, raising his eyebrows at her in a way hopes communicates that a kiss on the cheek wouldn’t be appreciated right now.
Mr Mackey scans the delighted family, smile slowly wilting. He sighs.
“However…”
The word is like a sobering, unwelcome rock splashing into the happiness Kyle is basking in. His face falls.
“What?”
He notices his dad reclining in his chair, eyebrows knitted, and his mom’s grip grows lax on his shoulder.
“Well, Kyle, extracurriculars are also important, mmkay, and prestigious schools like these expect students to be participating in a variety of clubs and activities… and, well, that’s where you’re falling flat.”
Okay, fucking ouch.
“Oh…” Kyle whispers, nodding to himself as it all sinks in and trying not to deflate in his seat like a cheap balloon.
His mom, however, chooses a different tack.
“Falling flat?” she asks, eyebrows almost reaching her hairline.
His dad sits up, eyes ping-ponging between his wife and Mr Mackey. He lifts his hand to her in a pacifying manner. It reminds Kyle of Chris Pratt in those Jurassic World movies, raising his hand to calm potentially volatile velociraptors.
“Now, Sheila…”
“No, Gerald!” She snaps. Clearly, his dad doesn’t have the same touch as Chris Pratt… okay, that came out kind of weird. “He’s already on the basketball team, the debate team, and student council!” she turns her ire on Mr Mackey. “We barely see him enough as it is with all the meetings and the practices he has to attend, not to mention the homework from his AP classes! You said it yourself, he’s one of your top students! And yet apparently he’s ‘falling flat?’”
Kyle sinks lower into his seat, face scorching hot now, but honestly, he’s kind of glad his mom has the fucking guts to say what he’s thinking. Plus, it’s pretty funny to see Mr Mackey squirm, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, pinched by the too-tight collar of his shirt as he gulps. He raises his hands too, as if he can somehow calm Kyle’s mom down better than her husband.
“Mmkay, maybe ‘falling flat’ was the wrong, uh, phrase, but the point is, mmkay, that Kyle still needs to do more. I know it’s very demanding, but these schools expect a lot.” He leans forward then, hands clasped in front of him and placed on the desk. He smiles. “So, Kyle, are there any other extracurricular activities you would be interested in?”
“Uhh…” Kyle fidgets in his seat as all eyes in the room turn on him. “No, none that I can think of.” It’s true, any club or committee or team he thinks he would be interested in he has already signed up for. “Like my mom said, I feel like I’m doing as much as I can do-”
“But if you need to do more you will, won’t you, Kyle?” his dad cuts in, raising his eyebrows in a way that suggests there’s only one answer to that question.
Kyle bristles, because if there’s one thing he finds extremely irritating it’s words being put in his mouth. But he has to pick his battles, and getting into a good school isn’t just Kyle’s dream anymore, it’s become his parents’ dream too. He can’t let them down. Instead he nods, shooting his dad a tight, weak smile.
“Yeah, dad, of course.”
“Mmkay, Kyle, well, you don’t need to decide right now. Have a think about it and if you need any help, you know where I am.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Kyle replies flatly, getting to his feet with his parents.
“Yes, thank you, Mr Mackey,” his dad adds, giving Mr Mackey a firm handshake.
“It was a pleasure to see you.” His mom smiles, also exchanging a handshake.
They don’t talk for a minute or two after leaving the office, still processing the events of the meeting, but Kyle’s dad breaks the silence by sighing pointedly and rubbing his hands together.
“Well, that went about as well as it could go, I would say.” He claps Kyle’s back and beams at him. “You’re doing a great job, buddy.”
Kyle’s shoulders fall in relief, glad that the last couple of minutes of the meeting didn’t tarnish the good start.
“Thanks, dad-”
“I just can’t believe they expect you to do more,” his mom interjects, shaking her head. “Do they not expect you to sleep? Eat?” Her voice is becoming increasingly arch. “Spend time with your family?”
“Now, honey, you heard what Mr Mackey said,” his dad replies, smiling knowingly. “These schools are demanding, and Kyle will have a lot more on his plate when he actually gets into one of them. It’s good to start preparing for that now, right?”
His mom nods, her gaze distant as she sucks in her lower lip a tad and fiddles with one of the rings she’s wearing.
“Right…” her eyes slip shut, and she sighs. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She beams at Kyle. “Well, we’d better let you get back to it, bubbe.” She swoops in to plant a lipstick kiss on Kyle’s cheek before he can send her any warning signals not to. She pulls back but puts her hand on his shoulder and looks deep into his eyes. “Never forget how proud of you we are, okay?”
Kyle chuckles sheepishly.
“I won’t, mom. See you guys later.”
While Kyle’s parents make their way to the front doors of the building, weaving through the sparsely crowded hallway, Kyle sets off in the direction of his locker, feeling like he’s dragging the weight of Mr Mackey’s comments behind him.
Although he has another year until graduation, and although he knows that his hard work has paid off in many respects, he can’t help but feel demoralised when he’s just been told that everything he’s doing is good, but not quite good enough. And his mom has a point, not only does nothing jump out at him as an activity he wants to dedicate his minimal free time to, but where would he fit it all in? Would Dr Mephesto have perfected human cloning by now?
But before he can further entertain paying a visit to the creepy genetic engineering lab and creating a couple duplicates of himself, something sparkly catches his eye. Across the hall a large poster with a scarlet tinsel border has been pinned to the wall, emblazoned with the legend: South Park High’s Dramatic Society Presents: Romeo & Juliet. Audition Sign Up Below! Above the construction paper words are a silhouette of the titular young lovers reaching out to each other, below sits the sign-up sheets, and pens on strings.
While Kyle wouldn’t call himself a theatrical person, he has performed in front of people before in service of his and the guys’ numerous childhood schemes, and his AP English experience will surely put him in good stead to star in a Shakespeare play, right? Plus, signing up to audition isn’t a huge commitment. If anything, it’s just an iron in the fire while he contemplates other extracurriculars that are more his thing.
Curious, he makes his way over to the poster, scanning it for more information. Auditions are next week, performances will start in six weeks, and rehearsals will be after school on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Kyle mentally flicks through his calendar. Luckily, basketball season is over so his after school practices are suspended, he has debate meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, and school council meetings every Wednesday at lunch. So the schedule works out fine.
He then turns his attention to the character sheets. Who would he want to play? Given his limited theatre experience he doesn’t want to aim too high and audition for Romeo. Besides, being the leading man would probably drain more of his time and energy beyond rehearsals, so instead he signs up to audition for Tybalt. A notable character, but a little more non-committal.
He begins to write his name on the sign-up sheet, and the pen almost veers off the page when a familiar voice shouts in his ear.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Kyle jumps a mile, but Cartman is too pissed off to gloat. In fact, he looks incensed. Eyes wide, fists clenched, lip curled.
“Jesus, Cartman, what the fuck is your problem?!”
Cartman’s mouth drops open incredulously, and his eyebrows rocket up his forehead.
“ My problem? You’re signing up for the school play all of a sudden, what the fuck is that about?”
Kyle huffs and rolls his eyes.
“I need it for extra credit, okay?”
Cartman balks, eyes flashing and brows knitting together.
“But you already do practically everything, nerd!”
Kyle winces at Cartman rubbing salt into an already vicious wound.
“Well, apparently not enough…” he sighs, rolling his eyes again. He frowns. “And since when does it matter to you that I join drama club for one little play?”
Cartman scoffs softly.
“Because that’s my thing!”
Unlike Kyle, the only school club Cartman belongs to is the pretentiously named Dramatic Society, and it’s easy to see why. Cartman craves attention and is a born drama queen, after all.
“Please, you don’t own drama club-”
“Ugh, not for a lack of trying,” Cartman retorts, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. “Drama is brutal, Kyle, you don’t understand. I already have to compete against fucking Bridon Gueermo and Tweek-”
“Oh, so you see me as competition?” Kyle teases, smirking and tilting his chin up at him.
Cartman scowls, peeling himself away from the wall and glaring at Kyle.
“Like hell I do!” His broad, taut shoulders soften. “Just that, well, Miss Gomez is already fatphobic as fuck, so she never casts me in the leading roles-”
Kyle wrinkles his nose.
“If that’s true, that’s kind of fucked up.”
Although Kyle was taught by Herbert Garrison for the majority of his elementary school education, he still holds the somewhat naïve belief that teachers are ultimately respectable, rational people who know better than to act on biases… he also knows better than to believe Eric Cartman, and to also keep in mind that he’s very fucking entitled.
“It is true!” Cartman protests. “Not even lacing their brownies with laxatives during auditions for Cat On A Hot Tin Roof last year worked! Bridon still got the role of fucking Brick, and I was Big Daddy-”
“That’s still a huge role, dude,” Kyle interjects, raising his eyebrows.
”But it’s not the lead, is it? No matter how many times I audition, and no matter how many times I kick ass in the minor roles I get given, I still don’t get the leading parts.” Cartman rolls his shoulders back and lifts his chin so as not to appear whiny. Well, too late. “So my point is, I already have to deal with drama club crap, and I don’t need our crap to deal with on top of that!”
Kyle rolls his eyes, shoulders sagging. God, this is already shaping up to be more trouble than it’s worth.
“Cartman, it’s just an audition. Who says I even get the part? I just need to try something to get that extra credit. Besides, I’m not going to steal your thunder, okay, DiCaprio?” he teases, before his smile fades and he raises his eyebrows at Cartman. “I assume you’re auditioning for Romeo…”
Cartman doesn’t rise to Kyle’s teasing, which shows just how seriously he’s taking this. He frowns, lower lip pooching a little.
“Yeah…” he folds his arms as if to brace himself from whatever smartass put-down Kyle may come up with. He jerks his head dismissively at the poster. “Who are you auditioning for?”
“Tybalt.”
“Oh…” Cartman murmurs, and Kyle can practically see the defensiveness melting away and rolling off his body. Still, he puffs out his chest, reinflating his bravado. He narrows his eyes at Kyle. “Oh, well, you’re off the hook this time, asshole, but you better remember your place.”
Kyle can’t help but snort.
“Are you trying to be tough right now?”
Cartman’s scowl deepens, and he shakes his head.
“Fuck you, Kyle,” he mutters before storming off, flipping Kyle the bird over his shoulder for good measure.
The nervous knot in Kyle’s stomach is getting tighter and tighter as he makes his way to the auditorium for his audition. The resounding squeak of his sneakers against the floor of the eerie, deserted hallway doesn’t help matters. Nor does the fact that Kyle hasn’t felt this nervous in a long time, so has no effective coping mechanisms to reach for. He was probably nervous during basketball try-outs, or during his first debate meet when he had to get up on stage and address an audience filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, but at least during those moments, he knew what he was doing, and he knew he was good at it.
After all, he's always loved basketball and was considered the star player of his elementary school team, and has given speeches to far bigger and more hostile crowds than the attendees at his debate meets, and that fortified him against corrosive nerves. As for the monstrous butterflies most teenagers tend to experience around people they like, well, Kyle has had little experience of that. His last kiss was when he was nine years old, and so was his last date, for that matter. After all, when does he have time to date between his studies, his extracurriculars, and trying to maintain his friendships? Those are a lot more important to him than romantic pursuits.
So this audition is totally out of the norm. Kyle doesn’t have experience to fall back on to bolster his confidence, and as much as he tells himself that not getting cast in this play is no big deal, that he’ll just continue searching for more extracurricular opportunities, that’s not what’s making his heart pound against his ribcage right now. It’s the look of pity on the drama teacher’s face when it becomes obvious to her that Kyle is no actor, and he shouldn’t have even tried. For a proud overachiever like Kyle, not being good at something is a hard concept to wrestle with emotionally.
The only thing that could make him feel less at ease is running into Cartman at the audition which, of course, he does. Kyle stops and sighs, body deflating. Cartman hasn’t noticed him yet, too engrossed in the script.
Kyle drags his feet over to the chairs set up outside the auditorium and plops himself in a seat next to Cartman.
“Hey…” he says listlessly, reaching for his own script out of his backpack.
Cartman jumps, before eyeing Kyle up and down like they’re sparring animals competing over a female.
“Oh no, no, no, no, what the fuck are you doing here, Kyle?” he snaps, causing Tweek – who is sitting across from them, clutching his own script – to jump a mile. “Today is the Romeo auditions!”
Kyle rolls his eyes, face flushing enough with embarrassment at his outburst for both himself and Cartman.
“Yeah, I know, Cartman, calm down.” He sighs, raising his eyebrows at him. “I have debate on the day of the Tybalt auditions so Miss Gomez said I could audition this afternoon.”
He needs to nip a Cartman conspiracy theory in the bud before it blooms into a poisonous flower, especially one where he’s at the centre. Cartman just rolls his eyes, although Kyle does notice him relaxing just a little bit.
“Ugh, so it begins…” he mutters, slouching in his seat and returning to his script with a frown.
Kyle rolls his eyes too and tries to focus on his own script but Cartman’s stern, serious expression is too distracting… or maybe a distraction is secretly what he’s looking for.
Kyle clears his throat, before asking: “So, uh, how are you feeling?”
“Awesome,” Cartman replies, determined, not looking up from the page. “I’ve got this, Kyle.”
Before Kyle can follow up the double doors to the auditorium open with a flourish to reveal Miss Gomez. Her black corkscrew curls are piled up in a messy bun, and she’s wearing one of her signature boho-inspired muumuus.
“Kyle, we’ll see you now,” she says with a smile.
Kyle nods, getting to his feet and retrieving his backpack.
“Thanks…”
He feels his shoulders draw up under his ears as he makes his way to the doors, especially when Cartman’s calculating gaze follows him. He doesn’t wish him luck.
Despite being empty (save for two figures sitting with his back to him) the auditorium feels bigger than ever, and Kyle winces when the double doors bang shut behind him. The sound causes the two figures to turn their heads and reveal the faces of Bridon Gueermo and Wendy. With his good looks and natural affinity for drama, Bridon could be intimidating to a newbie like Kyle, but a familiarity fostered by basketball prevents him from feeling too anxious. As for Wendy, well, how can be afraid to audition in front of his best friend’s girlfriend? They immediately give him reassuring smiles, and Kyle gives them a sheepish but grateful nod right back.
“Hey, guys.”
“Hey, Kyle,” Wendy replies, grinning, and she and Bridon twist around as Kyle climbs the steps to the stage. “I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we were surprised to see your name on the audition sheet.”
“Yes, what’s got you interested in our production, Mr Broflovski?” Miss Gomez asks, taking a seat beside Bridon.
Kyle resists the urge to slip his arms behind his back shyly when he’s alone on stage, but still rubs the nape of his neck.
“Oh, well, you know, I just thought I’d try something different. Maybe starring in a school production is a rite of passage for a high school student?” he replies with a faint snicker, and he realises how dry his mouth is.
Still, Miss Gomez smiles at him, pleased with his answer.
“Quite. So, Bridon will be reading the part of Mercutio, Wendy will be reading Benvolio, and Romeo…”
“What about Eric Cartman?” Bridon suggests. “He’s going to be our next audition anyway. Plus, you guys are friends, right, Kyle?” he smiles at Kyle like he’s doing him a favour. “Reading with him might put you at ease.”
So much for familiarity, it seems like Bridon doesn’t know much about Kyle at all. Kyle’s throat tightens and his palms prickle with sweat. If he totally freezes up and botches this audition then he’ll have to deal with Cartman’s goading as well as pitying looks from Miss Gomez, Wendy, and Bridon.
“Well, uh, I wouldn’t-”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Bridon!” Miss Gomez declares, leaping out of her seat. “I’ll call him in.”
“B-b-but…” Kyle croaks, but it’s futile. Miss Gomez is already bustling to the doors.
Bridon is studying his script, totally oblivious, and Kyle tries to glare at him as discreetly as possible. Meanwhile, Wendy looks up at Kyle, lips pressed together and eyes gleaming, and Kyle is sure her brow is creased beneath her bangs. She mouths ‘sorry’ at him. Kyle exhales through his nose, shaking his head and giving her a tight-lipped, appreciative smile that he hopes conveys the message ‘it’s okay.’ But honestly, this isn’t okay so he’s unsure how successfully he got that message across.
The double doors slam shut and Kyle winces once again, body remaining tense when Miss Gomez returns with Cartman. Kyle tries to read his script but it’s just fucking word salad on the page. He’s determined not to look up at Cartman until he absolutely needs to. Evidently, that time is drawing closer as he hears him trot up the steps to the stage, his footsteps approaching him.
“Fancy seeing you here…” Cartman tries to joke, but it falls flat.
Kyle looks up at Cartman, and is perplexed by his unsure expression. He expected spiteful glee or simmering anger, not this fumbling awkwardness he’s being greeted with now. Pity tugs at Kyle’s heart. He feels like he’s undermined Cartman’s audition and he hates how little he fought back, his nerves and unfamiliarity with the process getting the better of him.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle murmurs.
Cartman blinks.
“For what?”
Before Kyle can answer, Miss Gomez jumps in.
“Alright, so I’ll read the stage directions.”
Kyle settles for gritting his teeth rather than rolling his eyes at her interruption. Less noticeable.
“Kyle, whenever you’re ready,” she adds.
Kyle nods at her, before he looks at the script again, clearing his throat.
“Follow me close, for I will speak to them,” he says, as clearly and fluently as possible. The last thing he wants is to sound like a robot. “Gentleman, good evening. A word with one of you.”
“And but one word with one of us?” Bridon replies, stunning Kyle with how effortlessly the words roll off his tongue. It’s like they’re completely his own and not those of an English dude who died 400 years ago. “Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow!”
“Uh, you shall find me apt enough to that, sir, and you will give me occasion!” Kyle replies, trying to sound as earnest as Bridon.
The rest of the scene carries on, a dialogue between Tybalt and Mercutio with some interjections from Benvolio, and Kyle feels Cartman’s eyes on him the entire time. In fact, his stare is so probing that Kyle is more concerned with Cartman’s opinion of his performance than he is with Miss Gomez’s thoughts.
“Romeo enters,” Miss Gomez announces.
“Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my man,” Kyle says, staring at Cartman over the page.
Bridon gives Mercutio’s retort but it rolls off of Kyle, he’s too busy looking at Cartman.
“Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this: Thou art a villain!”
Cartman sighs, and begins closing the gap between him and Kyle. Kyle ignores his instincts telling him to step back.
“Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting,” Cartman says, in a calm, measured tone Kyle rarely hears from him, and again it seems like the words are entirely his own. “Villain am I none. Therefore, farewell. I see thou know’st me not.”
Kyle blinks when Cartman walks away, convinced for a second that he’s about to climb down off the stage and leave the auditorium. Kyle considers his own physicality while reading his lines, and realises he has none. His feet have just been rooted to the floor the entire time.
“Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me,” Kyle replies, following Cartman. “Therefore turn and draw!”
Cartman spins around, looking pained, conflicted.
“I do protest that I never injured thee, but love thee better than thou canst devise till thou shalt know the reason of my love,” he replies, approaching Kyle while he reluctantly steps back. They seem to have found a nice little rhythm that has no place for nerves. “And so, good Capulet, which name I tender as dearly as mine own, be satisfied.”
The scene continues until it reaches its most dramatic moment, the slaying of Tybalt and Mercutio.
“I am hurt!” Bridon cries. “A plague o’both your houses!”
“Excellent, thank you, everyone!” Miss Gomez beams, with a clap of her hands. She gives Kyle a nod. “Well done, Kyle.”
Kyle’s cheeks grow hotter, and he doesn’t stop himself from slipping his hands behind his back this time.
“Thank you.”
Wendy nods, beaming proudly at him too.
“Good job.”
“Yeah, you actually didn’t suck,” Cartman murmurs, and when Kyle looks at him, his chin is lowered but he’s side-eying Kyle, sharing a secret smile with him.
Kyle’s eyebrows knit together, unsure how to respond.
“Thanks?”
Another clap of her bejewelled fingers draws Kyle’s attention to Miss Gomez.
“So, Kyle, would you be at all interested in playing the part of Romeo?”
Kyle blinks, and dread wraps around his throat like a noose. His gaze snaps over to Cartman. His jaw has tightened, and his eyes are dark and menacing enough to send a shiver down Kyle’s spine.
“I haven’t really thought about it,” he replies, turning back to Miss Gomez. “To be honest, I don’t know if I could commit to a main part, a-a-and I don’t know if I’d be good enough.”
“Well, why don’t we conduct a little experiment, hmm? Eric, since you’ve already read the part of Romeo today – and done such a good job – maybe you could read the part of Juliet and Kyle could read Romeo?”
Shit shit shit.
The noose is getting tighter, but this time Kyle isn’t going to let his nerves get the best of him, he’s going to speak up before this gets out of hand. He shakes his head vigorously.
“But I don’t want to take Cartman’s spot-”
“Of course, Miss Gomez,” Cartman cuts in sweetly.
Kyle’s eyebrows furrow and he whips his head towards Cartman, but Cartman shoots him a warning glare. What the hell is he doing?
Still, defeated and annoyed, Kyle just rolls with it, sighing to himself and swallowing his protestations.
“Great,” Miss Gomez replies. “Well, we’ll take it from act two, scene two, line one-hundred-and twelve.”
There’s a rustling of pages as he and Cartman find the scene. Kyle steals tiny glances of Cartman, and while he looks pissed, Kyle doesn’t feel too guilty. Cartman can’t say he didn’t try, right? Right now, he’s more concerned with how he’s going to get through a romantic scene with Cartman. They found their groove in the previous scene as rivals – arguing with each other is nothing new even if none of their arguments have ended with a sword duel – but this? Kyle takes a deep, quiet breath.
“Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-”
“O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon that monthly changes in her circular orb,” Cartman interjects passionately, either with no qualms about reading such a scene with Kyle or concealing them as best he can. “Lest thy love prove likewise variable.”
Kyle blinks, clearing his throat.
“What shall I swear by?” he asks, and his voice sounds so much smaller than Cartman’s.
“Do not swear at all,” Cartman replies, stepping closer while Kyle freezes. Out of his depth and maybe a little captivated. “Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee.”
“If my heart’s dear love-”
“Well, do not swear,” Cartman cuts in, pressing his hand to Kyle’s lips. Kyle suffocates the shocked squeak that rises in his throat, but he can’t stop the heat rushing to his cheeks. But it seems Cartman is too in the zone to care. “Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight. It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden, too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say ‘it lightens.’” The script feels limp in Kyle’s hands. Mesmerised, he can’t tear his gaze away from Cartman. “Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest, come to thy heart as that within my breast!”
With that, Cartman slips his hand away from Kyle’s mouth, but he can still feel the warm press of his fingers on his lips. Kyle instinctively presses his lips together, but soon snaps out of it, shaking his head.
“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” he asks with an involuntary strain to his voice, stepping closer to Cartman without even thinking about it.
Cartman smiles, and it seems like he’s impressed.
“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?”
“The exchange of thy’s faithful vow for mine,” Kyle replies, with his own reluctant smile. His eyebrows twitch.
“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”
“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose…” Kyle exhales softly through his nose as he gears up to direct a term of endearment at Cartman. “Love?”
Cartman’s smile broadens, showing off his sharp, gleaming canine.
“But to be frank and give it thee again,” he replies, almost breathlessly. Kyle feels himself slipping back into hypnosis. “And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep.” Kyle shrinks a little when Cartman looks at him with more longing than anyone ever has before, and he wonders what (maybe who ) Cartman is thinking about as he stares into his eyes. “The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”
When Kyle catches himself in the reflection of Cartman’s eyes – lips parted, eyes lidded – he wrenches himself out of such a haze. He returns his attention to the script, trying to find his line, but Miss Gomez saves him.
“Fabulous!” she exclaims. “Thank you, both. We’re hoping to announce casting by the end of the week.”
Cartman turns away from Kyle, nodding at her.
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Kyle adds. “And thank you for being so accommodating of my schedule too.”
“ Kiss ass!” Cartman coughs into his fist.
Kyle glares at him. With a jarring thud they’ve fallen from Verona and landed back in South Park. They don’t say a word to each other until they’re out of the auditorium.
Cartman huffs, rolling his eyes and running a hand over his face.
“See what I mean? She’s already gunning to cast you as Romeo!”
“I mean…” Kyle rolls his eyes, in an attempt to shift the uncomfortable, guilty feeling in his chest. Plus, it’s never fucking easy to admit when Cartman may be right. “Not necessarily…”
“God, she’s not even being subtle about it anymore,” Cartman mutters, shaking his head and not listening to Kyle. But he soon gives him a mean smile, eyes narrowed. “Thanks for ruining another chance I had to be cast in the leading role, Kyle.”
“What?!” Kyle exclaims, eyes widening. His mouth drops open in an indignant huff when Cartman storms off, but Kyle isn’t letting him go that easily. “I didn’t ruin anything for you, Cartman!” he adds when he catches up with him. “In fact, I tried to get out of reading for Romeo, but you butted in! If you don’t get the role then it’s because you sabotaged yourself!”
Cartman narrows his eyes at him, chuckling coldly.
“Oh, you sneaky, gaslighting little prick!”
Kyle huffs as they continue to march down the corridor together, an equally indignant pair. But Kyle smiles to himself when he considers something.
“Besides, you seemed pretty into playing Juliet,” he remarks, raising his eyebrows at Cartman.
Cartman blinks, and Kyle can see the muscle in his jaw throbbing.
“How do you figure that, asshole?” he retorts, his face growing pinker.
“The whole ‘putting your fingers to my lips’ thing, for starters-”
“That’s called acting, Kyle!” Cartman snaps, turning on him with clenched fists and a snarl. He shakes his head and growls under his breath. “You know what? Fuck this, I’m done being gaslit by you!”
Kyle blinks, utterly perplexed.
“What?”
Instead of giving him an answer, Cartman shakes his head and storms off.
“Do you even know what gaslighting means?!” he calls after him, voice straining with the effort. “Cartman?!” He sighs, throwing his head back. “God damn it…”
Kyle opens his locker on Friday morning and takes the opportunity to take a big, lion yawn, concealed by the small locker door. While his weekends are often busy, they’re far less busy than his usual Monday to Friday, and right now he can’t wait for a two-day reset and a blissful Saturday morning sleep-in. However, retrieving his books and shutting his locker, he’s greeted to a sight that’s becoming unfortunately familiar to him lately: Cartman storming over to him. Kyle sighs heavily.
“Here we go…” he murmurs, bracing himself for a Cartman tantrum.
Their audition was two days ago, and yet they’ve successfully shaken off any potential discomfort they could feel around each other. It really is a credit to Cartman’s acting ability, and it has given Kyle an opportunity to hone his acting skills too. But when he’s about to drift into sleep at night, his brain jumpscares him with the memory of Cartman pressing his fingers to his lips and breathlessly quoting Shakespeare, and he tingles all over.
But that’s normal, right? Of course the audition is going to be on his mind when Kyle is yet to hear if he’s been cast, and it was an unusual situation for him and Cartman to be in. Plus, that was the most contact anyone has had with his lips for quite some time. Maybe he needs a date more than he thought he did? Maybe he’s more of a hormonal, touch-starved 16-year-old than he’d like to admit. Right now though, all he feels for Cartman as he storms towards him is a worn-out, frayed sense of dread.
“Alright, what is it, Cartman?” he asks with a sigh, raising his eyebrows.
That knocked the wind out of Cartman’s sails. His lips had parted, his chest had inflated in preparation to rant but he deflates now, frowning. Kyle bites the inside of his mouth to prevent himself from smirking.
“God, you can’t let me have one little thing, can you?” Cartman retorts, narrowing his eyes. “First the audition, and then totally robbing me of a chance to curse you out.”
Kyle blinks, frowning. He’s still mad about that? Why is he exploding now, all of a sudden? Has something happened that has slipped Kyle’s notice?
“Cartman, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Cartman’s eyebrows twitch, and he lowers his chin to meet Kyle’s eyes.
“So you haven’t seen the cast sheet then?”
Kyle’s stomach starts to twist in that nervous knot again. His eyes widen.
“No, it’s up?”
Cartman huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically.
“Duh!” he exclaims, before grabbing Kyle’s bicep. “Come on…”
Kyle makes a startled noise of protest, almost faceplanting the floor as Cartman tugs his arm and begins dragging him away. He hunches his shoulders but looks around to make sure nobody is looking at them. After all, one of them has to have some sense of dignity.
Cartman soon comes to an abrupt stop, causing Kyle to almost smack into his shoulder. He really hopes this play doesn’t have any dancing in it, because he is far from graceful.
“Look!” Cartman barks, pointing at the sheet pinned to the wall in front of him.
His grip loosens on Kyle’s arm enough for Kyle to shrug himself away. He grumbles under his breath and hugs his books to his chest as he scans the casting sheet in front of him. His heart is pounding, and he can feel the muscles in his neck tightening as he scans the sheet for his name. He didn’t realise how badly he wanted to see it.
Tweek is playing Mercutio, Tolkien is playing Tybalt (reading that needles at his heart a little, but he continues to scan the sheet), Bridon is Friar Laurence, Heidi is Paris (odd, isn’t Paris a dude?), Bebe is Juliet’s Nurse, Butters is Benvolio, Wendy is reading the Prologues, some seniors are playing Romeo and Juliet’s parents… where’s his name? Where’s Cartman’s, for that matter? Then he sees it.
ROMEO – Kyle Broflovski
Kyle blinks, half-convinced he’s misread it. But when his eyes open, the words are still there. Delight bubbles up in his chest before he can stop it.
“Shit…” he whispers, a smile creeping across his lips. “I got Romeo?”
“Yeah, way to fucking go, Kyle!” Cartman snaps, folding his arms.
Kyle’s delight curdles into guilt, his smile fading. He sighs, eyes slipping shut before turning to Cartman, face creased apologetically.
“Look, Cartman, I’m sorry you didn’t get the leading role but-”
Cartman cuts him off with a sardonic chuckle. He shakes his head.
“Oh, I got a leading role.”
Kyle blinks, eyebrows knitting together.
“Huh?”
Cartman’s eyes widen and he jabs his finger at the sheet. Kyle looks to where he’s pointing and sees three words that turn his already curdled delight rancid:
JULIET – Eric Cartman
“Oh…” Kyle whispers, before his eyes slip shut and he throws his head back despairingly. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…”