Chapter Text
A large cloud of dust emerged from the trash bag, covering Kyle in particles of old, dried up plaster and paint along with whatever else the old house had in store for him. He should really put that mask to use, especially when it was almost certain houses this age hid more nastier and detrimental particles than, well, plaster. Surely, the realtors in a town as small as South Park wouldn't lie about asbestos, but there was definitely some water damage. The two-story house he bought for what seemed like pennies after the NYC real estate market had seen better days and it would take years to get it to Kyle's standards, given that he decided to do everything by himself. He wasn't in a hurry.
Kyle took off his working gloves and shoved them into his back pocket so he could wipe most of the white dust off his face. It clung to his sweat covered skin like fucking glue. When Kyle decided to move to a small mountain town, he wasn't banking on having to renovate in a historically long and unkind heatwave.
Despite everything, he wasn't the kind of man to give up so easily. He was stoked about starting fresh, living far away from expectations and duties that came with his family and especially from the stress and loud buzz of East Coast city life. And he could bet a lot of money that his job as a school counselor would be a lot easier thanks to the kids being a lot more mellow here than what they were back home. Surely, he would stand out like a sore thumb and it might not be an easy fix to his quarter life-crisis (if you could call it that), but at least now he can breathe. Save for the plaster in his lungs.
Kyle brushed his fingers through his red hair, noting how stiff and greasy the curls felt after a day of physical labor. A long shower would do the trick. Maybe even a bath to ease his straining muscles, he thought and he glanced in the general direction of the en-suite of his bedroom. Kyle leaned down to tie up the trash bag when he heard something fall over above him.
Above? Kyle straightened his back and turned to look up at the ceiling. He was on the second floor and to his knowledge... No, never mind. There was indeed a hatch. It blended into the yellowed popcorn ceiling, with no visible handle to pull it down. But there was definitely a way into the attic. Kyle sighed and walked directly under it. Maybe the realtor missed it as well and there were no more surprises like this in store, Kyle convinced himself.
Kyle moved the stepping ladder he had used while removing the wallpaper in the guest room under the hatch. His height made it easy to reach the ceiling and with the help of a screwdriver and utility knife, the hatch cracked open just enough for a pull cord to fall and hit Kyle square in the face.
The attic was small. No way Kyle could fully stand up in that space. And it had been decades since anyone had been there judging by the amount of grime layered on the floorboards. There were no light fixtures, not that he could see at least. The only light source flooded through the single window decorating the far end wall. It was open and Kyle cringed at the thought of the space being open to the elements for god knows how long.
How on earth did he miss an open window? He should've seen it from the outside for fuck's sake.
After a few deep breaths, Kyle noticed a pile of stuff in the corner. Once he got closer, he could tell it wasn't garbage, but important memories left behind by the previous owner. The realtor hadn't spoken much of the old woman who had passed away some time ago, but this was definitely hers. Kyle kneeled down and peeked into one of the boxes. Old clothes, like... really old. Photo albums and other memorabilia.
Great. This means Kyle has to contact the realtor again in case there were relatives who wished to collect the items. If not, it'd mean more work for him.
Kyle was shaken back to reality by a loud rustle-like noise coming from behind the stack of boxes. Oh shit, he had completely forgotten why he was there in the first place. When peeking around the pile, Kyle saw a moving shadow and after his eyes adjusted to the dark, Kyle flinched back.
A raccoon. There was the fattest raccoon Kyle had ever seen, standing with its legs wide and fur raised, hiding behind the boxes. Kyle could hardly blink before the raccoon was already on the move, dashing for him. The redhead stumbled back and fell on his ass with a curse, but the animal managed to scratch him on his forearm before booking it to the nearest exit. The open window.
"Mother fucker!" Kyle screamed after it and watched it struggle to fit through the opening. That's what you get for being so fat, Kyle thought and leaped up to get him going faster. The raccoon managed without further provocation and disappeared to the roof with a squeak. Kyle slammed the window shut and latched it. Try getting in now, bitch.
Kyle took a deep breath and raised his arm to look at the damage. Droplets of blood rose to the surface of three thin claw marks on his arm. Minimal damage, and barely visible among his dark, reddish arm hair. Despite that, his skin was broken by a trash eating and potentially disease ridden wild animal.
For the next week or so (and after a quick shot at the doctor), Kyle kept working on his house. He finished the guest room walls, changed the suspiciously noisy toilet bowl in the downstairs bathroom and scraped the popcorn ceilings upstairs. He'd eventually get to contacting the realtor, he told himself as he worked on the hatch.
Eventually, he moved to work in the backyard. When it wasn't scorching hot outside that is. He kept an eye on the attic window, making sure it stayed closed. Who knows? Raccoons were smart creatures so opening a flimsy window like that was totally possible. In return, Kyle felt someone keeping an eye on him.
The raccoon didn't leave his property after all. Kyle saw flashes of its fat ass while it scurried into the bushes after throwing Kyle's trash around. Behind the bushes, there was a fence. Behind the fence, there was what Kyle would describe as a community junk yard. Old bikes, rotten mattresses... you name it. A paradise for little trash critters like the raccoon vandalizing Kyle's home. No wonder it had the courage to get into a house after living so close to humans from the start.
Kyle also found out that South Park wasn't too keen to change, not even if it was for the better. No one cared about the junkyard and no one cared about the raccoons. What kind of pest control company advises the client to get a gun? South Park Pest control, apparently.
So he put locks on his bins (which didn't end up working too well). He made sure to not leave anything even remotely resembling food out. He looked up traps and DIY tricks and tips to keep raccoons out. But he had other shit to deal with as well, so trapping was off the table for now. As long as there is a pest heaven mere feet away from his backyard, there was nothing he could do about it. Kyle was almost certain the pest control would either kill the raccoon, or just release it back into the junk yard. So, for the time being, Kyle relied on scaring the living shit out of the fatso anytime he could even sense the animal near his property.
One late Friday night after a long day, Kyle was lounging on one of his garden chairs on his back porch. Just staring into the dark and poking around the fries on his plate. Kyle was feeling the sudden loneliness. Back in the East, he couldn't shake people off his back and get a minute of peace. Now that he was thousands of miles away, he realized how complicated it was to make acquaintances or better yet friends at the glorious age of 28. No hobbies, no connections, no nothing. It's not like he could walk into Target and befriend a cashier. And it was expected that when the school started, most of his colleagues would be much older than him. And if they happened to be around his age, they were guaranteed to have kids. No, thank you. He didn't hate kids. He wouldn't work as a counselor if he did. But that's also precisely why he didn't want any of his own. Kyle already spent his days with them. And you bet, most of his relationships had ended for the very same reason and Kyle's inability to commit long term. Whatever, Kyle sighed and took a gulp of his lukewarm beer. He'd rather be single than be forced to father kids.
He enjoyed the slight breeze that the night brought. It was so quiet too, something he had rarely experienced back in the city. He watched the distant stars blink at him and the air felt pure in his lungs. He was exhausted, sure. But he was feeling the workings of the sleepy little town doing wonders for his tense nerves.
Two gleaming eyes appeared in the dark, watching him intensely. The raccoon was back. For whatever reason, be it fatigue or curiosity, Kyle didn't jump up to scare his nemesis away immediately. The critter took a step forward, trying to act small, but didn't break their eye contact once.
"Can't you find anyone else to bother?" Kyle asked quietly and took another mouthful of his stale beer.
The raccoon froze, but took another sneaky step closer, creeping to the edge of the porch light. Kyle noticed its eyes fleeting over to the plate of fries sitting at the table.
"Are you hungry?" Kyle chuckled softly and slumped on his seat, still watching its every move. It glanced at the fries again, not moving an inch. It was clearly wary of Kyle. Which only meant that it was desperate. The red head felt a clench in his chest. The logical side of him, the one that was in control for the majority of time, was wondering why he was feeling sorry for an actual pest. All the while the soft and rare side of him was already throwing the fries as gently as he could towards the raccoon. There's no way he was getting rid of it now.
The raccoon jumped to paw at the fries and stuff them into its face, now completely lit up by the light on Kyle's porch. It must be the biggest, fattest raccoon around. Its tail was stubby, resembling a striped ball. Its black ears bounced with every loud smack of its mouth.
"You are too fat to be that hungry, damn..." Kyle laughed and sat back again, watching the raccoon eat his leftovers. Wait. Kyle stared at its round mid-section. Is it pregnant? That's why it's so big and hungry! Guilty conscience took over Kyle's body. He was suddenly thankful that the pest control never showed up.
"Sorry, you gotta find another place to stay. This is my home now." Kyle muttered apologetically (as if the raccoon understood emotions in the first place) and leaned a bit further. It was so cute munching on the fries and now Kyle felt even worse looking into its dark round eyes. Ugh.
Before too long, the raccoon finished its meal and dashed for the bushes. Kyle is surprised how on earth a raccoon so fat or pregnant can be so fast.
The redhead was alone again, listening to the fading rustle and watching the darkness for another sign of the animal. It was gone. Maybe for good too. Kyle sighed for what must've been the 50th time that day and gathered his stuff, calling it a night.
Despite his logical side still wishing that the raccoon had mysteriously understood Kyle's words and found another place to stay, Kyle occasionally "forgot" his leftovers outside. The plates left on the table stayed untouched, indicating that maybe the raccoon had moved somewhere else. One day, just as a final test, Kyle set what remained of his fried rice on the edge of the porch and went inside. He washed his dishes, conveniently so that he had a clear view of the plate through one of the windows.
Few minutes passed with no sign of it.
Maybe it really gave up. Kyle felt a small twinge in his heart and wished the animal farewell with a silent nod and turned to set a glass back into the cabinet. Once finished, out of the corner of his eye, Kyle saw movement on the porch. The raccoon was running away full speed back into the darkness and the plate Kyle had left for it was cleaned! A smile forced its way to Kyle's lips and he chuckled at the fat body bounce and disappear once again into the bushes.
Fuck it.
Maybe if he took care of the pregnant raccoon instead of shooting it like he was advised, he'd be blessed with some good karma for the rest of the year.
And he did just that. Every day since, Kyle made a habit of eating outside and the raccoon showed up. Every. Single. Time. Like clockwork, the raccoon would appear. At first it stayed further away, only getting closer when Kyle was ready to give up his leftovers. But eventually it grew confidence and got used to Kyle enough to get on the porch to wait. It also grew. A lot. If Kyle wasn't convinced it was pregnant before, he sure was now. There was no way a wild raccoon could get that big without expecting a whole litter of kits.
Kyle found himself googling what raccoons like and actually decided to use less seasoning himself so that it would be safer for the raccoon to consume. The raccoon didn't touch vegetables (of course), some fruit he ate just fine, but what it loved the most besides junk food was eggs. It freaking inhaled them, be it scrambled, boiled or fried.
It was so embarrassing, but it was a nice change to his rhythm. To take care of something. Kyle had never been too into pets. Cats had always disliked him and dogs were too intense. Every other pet was either pointless to have in that they didn't connect to their owner in a notable way (at least in Kyle's experience) or they were too bothersome or expensive to take care of. This raccoon was easy, cute and interesting. And it didn't seem to dig into Kyle's trash after learning that it could get its food another, less messier way. And no other critters seemed to invade his backyard either.
Kyle started talking to it. As if it was his therapist or something. Kyle felt like one of those crazy cat ladies, but it was nice to have company, even if it was in the shape of a raccoon.
Once out of curiosity, instead of throwing the grapes on the ground, Kyle extended his arm and palm towards the animal to see if it would take them directly out of Kyle's hand. And sure enough it did. It scooted closer and sat back on its hind legs and started shoveling them into its mouth one by one. Kyle's heart nearly exploded at how gently and softly it reached up and took them. Giddy, Kyle watched the raccoon and its stupid little thumbs. He had never found anything so endearing.
When the last grape was in the raccoon's small hands, Kyle gently pet its head. The raccoon didn't even flinch. It just kept chewing loudly and staring at the human. Kyle let his head hang, embarrassed of his own childishness. Okay, that's enough of sappiness, he thought and sat back on his seat. There must be something in the Colorado water to make him this insanely out of character.
A considerable weight landed on his lap as he stared at the night sky. The raccoon sat like some weird cat on his thighs, now pawing at Kyle's hand that rested on the arm rest.
What the fuck?
Kyle was left speechless at the sight, automatically resumed the stroking like the raccoon clearly wanted. It keened, leaning into Kyle's palm and held it with its hands.
"Oh my god..." Kyle breathed out and rubbed his face with his free hand. This was actually both the weirdest and cutest thing he had ever witnessed and Kyle's logical side had no power over his brain to push the animal away.
It probably has fleas.
You are giving it false hope.
None of that mattered when the raccoon curled up on his lap and chirped.
It was the fucking cutest thing and now Kyle got why people had social media accounts for their pets.
Though, Kyle wasn't that deep gone to make one for the raccoon. He was sure his mother would call some kind of authorities on him or worse, come witness his son's fall into insanity herself if she ever was to find out about any of this. It would climb on his lap, eat off his hand and demand pets from Kyle every day since with no resistance from Kyle and no exceptions.
Until one day it just didn't show up.
Kyle got sort of excited by the possibility that its finally giving birth and Kyle even might see the little kits. Though, there was always a chance that something worse happened.
After an anxious night of sleep, Kyle was relieved to see the raccoon curled up on the chair Kyle usually sat on. It was weird to see it when the sun was up, but Kyle still fried an extra egg for it.
"Hey buddy. Missed you last night. You want some breakfast?" Kyle asked it gently, so as to not startle it. It didn't move or acknowledge Kyle in any way, just laid there stuttering.
A dread washed over Kyle and he laid his hand on the raccoon's back. Something was definitely wrong with it.
Shit.
Quickly, Kyle set the plate down and fished his phone from his pocket. He had to do something! Maybe it was having problems delivering? He can't let it just die. Kyle found a number for the local humane society and called them immediately. It didn't take them long to answer and after a brief explanation the animal handler told Kyle to wrap the animal gently into a towel and bring it in.
Kyle did just so, hardly able to keep his eyes on the road while driving. The raccoon looked so sad and in pain, cocooned in the towel. Kyle reassured it multiple times during the drive that everything was going to be okay.
So it's no wonder Kyle feels kind of silly when the veterinary nurse also did the same to him. Apparently, being almost thirty and worrying so much about a wild raccoon not eating for a day wasn't considered normal. She, the nurse, wasn't laughing per se, more taken aback than anything. She smiled and told Kyle they were going to help the raccoon out as well as they could and take it to the Wildlife sanctuary to make sure it was healthy, before releasing it back into the wild. She also thanked Kyle for caring for the little one.
For some reason Kyle wasn't entirely sold, but what else could he do? It's not like Kyle can treat a sick raccoon by himself. If nothing, he probably made things worse by intervening. You aren't supposed to feed raccoons for fuck's sake.
Kyle looked at the raccoon on the table for a minute. What a fucking bummer. This was going to be the last time they see each other, right? He would've loved to see the small baby raccoons.
Logical Kyle stepped in to retort that at least they would be in better care now.
Kyle sighed and pet the animal for the last time. It stirred, breath shaky, but constant. It was going to be alright.
He was too embarrassed to say his Goodbyes out loud in front of the nurse, so instead he just thanked her, told her to bill him if needed and left.
No matter how much he tried convincing himself that he got too attached too quickly and the raccoon was better off in the sanctuary, Kyle couldn't stop worrying about it. He actually missed his furry friend and their late night talks to the point that Kyle started considering adopting a dog. It had been such a nice ritual to end long, exhausting days that despite the raccoon not being there to eat with him, Kyle still ate outside the next day. And the next. Without the critter, it felt sad and pathetic.
It wouldn't hurt to ask if it's at least alright?
The very next morning Kyle found the number for the South Park Wildlife Sanctuary and called them.
"South Park Wildlife Sanctuary, Stan Marsh. How can I help you?" The man at the other end sounded gentle and up beat.
"Hey, this is Kyle Broflovski. Listen. I know this might be a bit weird, but there was this giant raccoon living in my backyard and I took him to the humane society a few days ago." Kyle started and paced around his kitchen. "I just wanted to know if it's alright. Did it give birth or…?"
"Hi! Yes, I took that raccoon in yesterday myself." The man sounded almost excited that Kyle called them and laughed a bit. "As for giving birth… that'd require a miracle since it's a he. But I can see why you'd be mistaken."
Oh. Kyle stopped twirling the coffee mug against the kitchen counter.
"So he's just fat?"
"Pretty much, yeah. He must've been eating something bad, like way too much junk food. He was just constipated."
Of course. That tracks. There's no way he had been surviving just by what Kyle was giving him.
"Right. So he's up and around like normal?"
"Well…" The man paused. "Do you think you could come visit him?"
Kyle, too, paused and glanced at the clock on his microwave.
"I can get there by 11."
He was there earlier than that. He couldn't help but speed on the dirt road leading to the sanctuary. There were multiple buildings, one that was clearly the front desk and others behind it for animals. Kyle could see and hear the bird cages to the left and make out a barn of sorts further to the right of the grounds. Kyle was surprised that such a place existed in such a tiny town. Everything looked rather expensive and new.
Stan came to greet him at the door, holding it open for Kyle. He was an average looking dude, around the same age as Kyle, with straight black hair and bright eyes. He was bulkier and shorter than Kyle. All in all he looked like a decent guy.
They talked a bit as Stan led Kyle further into the building. Apparently the raccoon was refusing food and showing signs of anxiety. They managed to bathe him and do the necessary tests and he was fine, if you didn't consider his weight.
"It's not exactly unusual, but this is not something wild animals do. Pet dogs and cats, sure. But not raccoons." Stan sighs and steps into a space with cages next to one another. It wasn't nearly as depressing as Kyle thought it would be. There were toys and decorations to make it look nice and even tunnels that disappeared into the back wall and led outside.
"Damn… is that my fault?" Kyle cursed and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he had picked up as a kid to do when he was embarrassed.
"It would take years for a wild raccoon to bond with a human to this extent. Not a few weeks of feeding it outside." Stan said and stopped in front of one of the cages.
There he was. Laying on the ground with his legs splayed like he was putting on a show and ignoring everything around him. There was a bowl of kibble next to him, fresh water and fruit. All of it was untouched.
"Hey, buddy." Kyle greeted the raccoon, feeling sorry for him. He'd be depressed as hell if he had to live in a cage like this. No offense, Stan.
To both of their surprise, as soon as the raccoon heard Kyle speaking it shot up and ran to the door chirping like he was demanding something. It jumped a few feet and clung to the net, making weird noises all the way climbing up to around Kyle's chest height where it reached as far as he could through the net. Which wasn't far thanks to his big and chunky legs.
Woah. Kyle stared at the animal trying to reach him with his tiny black hands, his cold heart expanding like in a Dr. Seuss book.
"You want to go in?" Stan laughed next to him and was ready to open the door, guessing Kyle's answer correctly. Kyle coughed up a cool and collected 'sure'.
Once inside, the raccoon bounced up and down Kyle's leg before climbing him up like a tree all the way to his shoulder. He was mad, but not mad enough to attack Kyle. Instead the trash panda complained like a little brat and pawed at Kyle's hair and face.
"D-dude, calm down! Jesus…" Kyle ordered weakly and took the raccoon in his hands and pulled him away so he couldn't reach Kyle's face anymore.
"What is up with you? You need to eat and do…raccoon things." Kyle asked him, holding it from under his pits and stared straight at him. The raccoon went quiet, watching Kyle intensely, but his tail began to wag.
What? Is he a dog now?
Stan was watching them interact with each other before sitting down on the floor. Kyle followed suit, still keeping the raccoon at an arm's length.
"Can you try to feed him?" Stan asked and took the plate with a cut up banana on it.
Kyle set the raccoon down and it immediately climbed back into Kyle's lap and pawed at his chest, demanding more attention. Groaning Kyle let him, but offered the coon a piece of banana. He seemed indifferent at first, but with Kyle's coaxing he took it and sat down to stuff his face. Rather happily at that.
Both Stan and Kyle sighed in relief.
He was just dramatic after all.
For a while they watched the raccoon eat his fruit in silence, Kyle scratching his little head the whole time.
"You're the one who moved into the green house on 3rd street, right?" Stan suddenly asked. He must've been holding it back for a while now. Kyle was caught off guard by it.
"Sorry, small town. Everyone knows everyone's business." Stan chuckled awkwardly. "I promise I'm not a weirdo. I'm asking, because I think I know what's going on with the raccoon."
"I grew up in the same neighborhood. An old lady lived there alone for decades and all kinds of rumors were attached to her. One second she was a child killer who made soup of her victims and next she was an actual witch that hexed everyone that dared to come close. I'm pretty sure they also said that the house itself was haunted and that the lady had been dead for ages."
"She was just an old woman who lost her child long before I was born. She turned to alcohol and… uh… sex. Everyone called her pretty awful names, but to me she was just a sweet old lady. She had the best Halloween candy." Stan laughed at the fond memory. "You know, once you got the courage to knock on her door."
"Anyway! I was wondering last night and I remembered that when she was still alive, she called us and I happened to be on phone duty. She was asking what raccoon kits eat. I got the impression that she had found one and I offered to come get it. But she assured me that she was just curious. Of course, she was lying. But how can you say no to an old woman like her, you know?" Stan sighed and brushed his hair with his fingers.
"...you think he is that same raccoon?" Kyle asked and stared at the raccoon on his lap, destroying the banana piece by piece.
"I mean, that would make sense. He doesn't have any diseases, fleas and he's used to human contact. Not to mention how big he is. He's been eating well from the start."
Shit. That was sad. She should've given him to Stan ages ago. But she must've been so lonely in that house. And Kyle couldn't blame her. He had been doing the same himself for weeks now. Filling the void with the furry friend.
"I'm not sure if he can be released into the wild anymore." Stan said, disappointment thick in his voice.
Kyle turned to look at the man sitting across from him. This place might've been the coziest shelter Kyle had ever seen, but it was still a shelter. In captivity, a raccoon could live up to 20 years. That would be rough for what was basically a pet at this point.
"And you want me to take him?" Kyle asked, having caught up to what Stan had been implying this whole time. Stan went a bit red in the face.
"I know it's a lot to ask, but we will help you! And if you change your mind, I will personally come and get him back! It's just… he seems to be bonded to you. And when you called in to check on him… you enjoyed having him around too, right?" Stan babbled with a nervous smile tugging at his lips.
Kyle stared at the little brat on his lap. Stan wasn't wrong. He wouldn't have called if he didn't care for the raccoon. But he can't take a pet raccoon! That'd be so fucking crazy and Kyle wasn't old enough to get labeled as the village idiot just yet.
But he also refused to eat without Kyle around like some drama queen.
…he was just a weird cat, right?
What's the harm in trying?
Kyle groaned and let his head fall in defeat.
"Fine. I'll do it."
Stan was so stoked that he gifted Kyle all kinds of necessities, ranging from litter boxes (that he knew how to use already to everyone's surprise) to carriers, food and toys.
What kind of donations was this sanctuary getting?
He also gave Kyle his personal contact info just in case Kyle needed something urgently. Stan seemed like a great guy. Little intense at times, maybe, but all in all a decent dude.
Eventually they made it back home together even if the raccoon wasn't too fond of the carrier he had to be shoved into. At first, he seemed wary of being inside. It must've been a long while since he was allowed inside the house. But not even 30 minutes later it was back to being vocal and demanding, climbing up and down Kyle's legs. He eventually sat down on Kyle's shoulder and just watched Kyle do his tasks. That night they ate together, inside the house.
The raccoon didn't seem to get enough of Kyle. It followed Kyle's every step and slept next to him despite every attempt at kicking him off the bed. Still, every night the raccoon found a way back into the room and cuddled close to his owner.
Kyle soon found out that raccoons were much smarter than he could've ever imagined. He could open doors, child proof locks, he found every single snack hideout and nothing could keep him from taking off his collar that Kyle had gotten him. The raccoon was very, very easy to read emotionally. Whenever he was pissed at Kyle about not getting enough attention or snacks, he would shit on the carpet. And in return when he was apologetic he would act so fucking cute, roll on his back and show his gargantuan soft belly, thusly aiming straight at Kyle's weakspot. Manipulation at its finest.
Kyle hadn't named him yet. Every name he tried didn't seem fit for the raccoon. Either it wasn't bastard-y enough, or it was too pet-like. Kyle felt like the raccoon was more of an annoying roommate, and needed a fitting name for one. It would come up eventually, is what Stan said as well.
It was time to re-insulate the attic. Kyle figured it might help with the heat and potentially with the cold during the long winters of Colorado. He opened the hatch and pulled the ladder down gently, before setting his furry parrot on the floor.
"Stay. You shouldn't be around this stuff." Kyle commanded and started throwing the glass wool rolls through the opening to the attic, following soon after. If he remembered correctly, there wasn't much of the old insulation left, and it of course made Kyle's workload much lighter.
Once up there Kyle saw the pile of stuff in the corner. Shit. He had totally forgotten about it. Groaning, the red head took out his phone and texted his realtor if the previous owner had relatives interested in memorabilia. He wasn't in the mood to call anyone. Now, he needed to move all of this downstairs as well as insulate the attic. Kyle looked into the trash bags, deeming them to contain clothes, nothing precious and threw them down the hatch as gently as he could. Since Kyle couldn't stand up straight, he sat down to save his back from further strain. He pulled one of the boxes closer to him and took out a few picture frames. They were old and nasty, and most of the people in the pictures were unrecognizable due to the moisture seeping into the photo paper slowly over the years. Kyle set them down, only to find his hand touching something soft. The raccoon had followed him up after all.
"Is this your mom's stuff?" Kyle asked him with a pet and reached back into the box. A thick photo album with dark brown leather covers had been hiding under the frames. Kyle weighed if he should go through a dead lady's stuff like this. But fuck, if he wasn't curious.
What was Kyle worried about? She's long dead after all and no relatives in sight.
Kyle flipped the album open. Big, embossed letters read "the Cartman family album" on the very first page. The photos weren't dated, but judging by the photos themselves, the earliest photo's must've been from the 1960's. The photos on the first pages were of a pretty attractive young woman with long brown hair. Prom photos, graduation, photos of the woman's family gatherings in... Lincoln, Nebraska? That's what Kyle thought he could make out of one faded scribble on the corner of a Christmas dinner snapshot. This could be the woman Stan was talking about. She was really sweet looking.
Kyle turned the page. There was the same brunette, holding a screaming baby
with the fondest smile Kyle had ever seen. Kyle felt his stomach churn. He knows how the story ends already, making the soft, exhausted and happy smile on the woman's face heartbreaking. With a deep inhale, Kyle flipped the pages. From that point on, every photo was of the kid. He was a stout fat boy, who always smiled at the camera. He had the same brown hair and eyes as his mother. Be it sledding, opening gifts or swimming in a lake, the boy always had a million dollar smile on his face. Between the pages, there were drawings and doodles in what Kyle could assume was a chronological order. The absence of a father figure was glooming all over the pages, but the kid didn't show it. Not in the pictures at least.
One photo had text written on it. It was of the kid opening presents, eyes wide with excitement. The text read: "Momma's poopsiekins opening presents in our new home!" It indeed was that same house. The wallpapers were more vibrant even in the faded picture than what they had been when Kyle saw them for the first time. But that definitely was the same kitchen.
While turning another page, a card slid onto Kyle's lap. It was a birthday card with balloons and kittens on it. Without much thought, Kyle flipped the photo around and saw more cursive text.
"Happy 8th Birthday to Nan's little Eric!"
He turned his gaze back to the album spread and there indeed was a photo of the kid blowing out candles of a large sheet cake. Next few pages and spreads were the same as before. Very happy life of a mother and son. Until the photos ended abruptly, leaving at least half of the album empty. The void slots meant so much more in this context and Kyle had shut the album quickly as if to avoid getting sucked into the depressive past this house had witnessed. Kyle stared at the dusty leather of the album and ran his hand over it.
"I'm glad you kept her company." Kyle said and smiled at the raccoon curled up next to him. He reached to set the album back in its place in the box.
"I don't think there are any baby pictures of you here. It's been decades since anyone's been up here." Kyle continued and leaned back into his hands. He didn't feel like working anymore.
"No doubt you are a Cartman, tho'. She fed and spoiled you as well as she did her kid." The red head snorted and patted the raccoon, who decided to then stand up and move to Kyle's lap with a purr like chirp.
"...I should just name you Cartman, huh?" Kyle grinned at the idea and hooked his hands under Cartman's pits and hoisted him up. His fat body dangled in the air, stretching unbelievable amounts, and despite the sour look on his face, Cartman's tail was swaying from side to side.
Perfect name for a bratty asshole of a roommate.
The phone in his pocket buzzed. It was the realtor, informing Kyle that there was no one to collect the items.
"-and long story short, I got on one knee and asked her to marry me." Stan finished his story about him and his fiancée Wendy, smiling and fiddled the silver ring on his ring finger.
The two were sitting in Kyle's backyard, hanging out and sipping on beer for the second time that week. Stan started to come around often to check on Cartman, but Kyle had the feeling Stan was trying to befriend him. Not that Kyle minded at all. He was cool, both of his feet on the ground and they had a lot in common. It was easy to talk to Stan and to be fair, Cartman wasn't necessarily the most talkative roommate. Being that he was a fucking raccoon after all.
Stan's dad was a local weed farmer and apparently a huge donator to the SPWS Stan was volunteering at, purely out of his son's pressure. Stan is supposed to take over after his dad retires, which played a huge role in his dad's "charitability". Kyle shuttered at the memory of his father trying to get him into law and potentially partner up with him. Kyle had noped out of that option pretty fast, leaving their already lukewarm father-son relationship even more... lukewarm.
Kyle mentally wished his brother the best, but Ike had always been the brighter of the two and could manage whatever law school threw at him.
"Dude, congrats. It takes some balls to propose in front of a huge crowd at a new years party." Kyle genuinely smiled and popped open another beer, handing it to Stan and then opening one for himself.
"Have you ever been engaged?" Stan inquired.
"Nah. It was close once. The girl I was dating in college was talking about it after... what? Three months of dating. If I had been a bit more desperate I would probably still be in that relationship." Kyle groaned after a deep exhale. "Things have been dry in that front afterwards. Freaked me the fuck out." He continued with a chuckle.
"Wendy's got a nice girlfriend. Heidi. I think you'd like her." Stan quipped, oh so nonchalantly. My ass. Kyle was being set up.
"Ugh, I don't know. I've got a lot of stuff going on right now."
"Heidi is really smart! She's funny and nice, really down to earth."
"Yeah, but-"
"She's a brunette and super sweet! Come on. You just said that it's been dry for you." Stan stared at Kyle with determined blue eyes shining. This was definitely Wendy's idea. Not that Kyle had met her in the first place, but something about all of this felt like a masterminds set up. Stan certainly wasn't one and judging by what Stan had told about his fiancée, she seemed like a beautiful, independent woman with a genius level calculative mind.
Kyle scratched the scruff at the back of his neck
"Fine. Whatever." He let out after a minute of silence. He couldn't find a good reason to not go on one date. At worst they don't work out. At best they do. Stan sighs in relief and raises his bottle in the air.
"Great! I will give her your info."
Suddenly Kyle was a bit afraid of Stan's fiancée.
The very next day Heidi followed him on Instagram. Kyle wasn't that active on social media and it was a bit weird that Heidi wouldn't just text him. In the end, Kyle figured that maybe it was normal in this day and age not to give out your number to people you haven't met. For all she knew, Kyle could be a total freak. Kyle followed her back and almost immediately as he was browsing through her pictures (Stan wasn't lying, she was pretty cute), Heidi messaged him.
Stan wasn't lying about her being funny either. She might not seem like the brightest crayon in the box, but Kyle thought they hit it off well straight away. Looking at her pictures, you could assume she was meek and shy, but Kyle found out soon enough that she was surprisingly forward. Open about what she liked and what she didn't, in that weird nice way girls sometimes use to hide their true intentions. Not necessarily rude, but rude enough for a self-conscious person to pick up on.
Kyle must've been charming enough since Heidi asked him out the very same day. She picked up a spot and time, again, in that sort of creepy girl way where they want you to think you have the power of choice when you in fact don't. Kyle didn't mind. He hated picking date spots and faking being romantic when there wasn't a romantic cell in his body. He preferred efficiency and realistic expectations. Heidi wanted to try out a new vegan restaurant for Friday night. Kyle wasn't vegan, vegetarian at most. Heidi wasn't vegan, or at least didn't say that she was. But somehow that made Heidi feel endearing and open to everything. ...Or she tried to impress someone coming from the big city.
Kyle shook his head at the bathroom mirror before focusing back on the job at hand. Shaving off his scruff. He shouldn't be so judgemental. If nothing, this shows how important socializing is. Without outside connection you turn into a misogynist 4chan user that thinks every woman is out to get you.
Cartman was looking at him through the mirror. The raccoon sat on his bed, eyeing at Kyle's movements suspiciously.
Kyle never goes anywhere.
Surprisingly, Kyle didn't nick his skin while shaving. That must've been a first. He rinsed his face, proud as fuck and applied some old aftershave he found in his toiletry bag. Next up was his hair. Kyle hadn't gotten it cut since he left NYC and it showed. It was shooting up in every god damn dimension.
"Is this too much? Should I comb it down?" Kyle asked Cartman, twisting and pulling one of the rogue hair strands and as he let go of it, it coiled back into his mop of tight red curls. He glanced at his pet, giving him a second look after noticing his weird mood, but decided to ignore it.
"I haven't been on a date in years. I'm pretty sure I've forgotten how to talk to girls." He continues fiddling his hair, trying to get it to look decent.
"Do people still bring flowers on dates? Or gifts? That does seem like a lot now that I think about it. Right, Cartman?" Kyle turned to look at Cartman. Or rather the dent in the bedding where he just had been. "Cartman?" Kyle peeked around the corner and into the hallway. Gone. No raccoon in sight.
Huh.
Kyle figures he must be either eating or shitting and resumed his task. He took down the freshly ironed black dress shirt from the hanger and buttoned it all the way up. Paired with dark jeans it was nice enough. Smart casual or some shit like that.
Kyle finished with making sure his breath didn't stink and spritzed some body spray that must've been a birthday gift from his mom, since he never bought stuff like that for himself. Kyle was cleanly, but sprays and lotions always seemed too extra. He recognized that he probably would've survived with fewer scars from his teenage years if he took better care of his skin back then.
He stopped himself from picking at his skin. Kyle was ready. He had to be, or he would spiral endlessly. Last glance at the mirror, and he was off.
"Fatass! Come eat your dinner." The redhead called out halfway into the fridge and took out a serving of the prepped food he had made for Cartman the day before. He didn't hear the usual pitter-patter. Was he sick? This was very out of character for the fatso. Kyle called him again before the microwave dinged. Still nothing.
Was Cartman mad at him? Kyle knows some dogs can sense when their owner is about to leave, so maybe Cartman did too. Sighing, Kyle took the plate of food and set it on the counter where he preferred to dine.
"If you want to be a dick about this, fine. I'll be back in a few hours." Kyle said, voice loud enough for Cartman to hear him for sure. Maybe a bit of drama and playing the victim would do the trick. But, nothing. Kyle stomped to the front door and opened it.
"I'm going now, Cartman!" He tried one last time and again he was greeted by complete silence.
"Fucking dick." Kyle huffed and closed the door. Whatever. Cartman was just being the drama queen he was. He'd be just fine. He had food, water, toys... everything he'd need to make it for two hours.
Kyle was sweating profusely through the date. Heidi was much prettier than in pictures. Some of her nuance didn't translate through text and Kyle was feeling pretty bad how judgemental he had been before. Heidi was sharp after all. The food was great as well. Everything went smoothly, save for Kyle's swampy armpits.
What Kyle didn't expect was for Heidi to bring up Cartman towards the end of their date. Apparently Stan told Wendy, who told Heidi. Kyle reached for his neck again and laughed awkwardly, but before he could make some joke to minimize the threat of his weird pet ruining his chances any further, Heidi smiled coyly behind her wine glass.
"I think that's so cute. I've never seen one up close, but I can imagine how soft and sweet raccoons are." She hummed and batted her lashes.
Kyle stared at her for a good minute, taking in the obvious hint Heidi was throwing at him.
"U-Uh... You want to come over and see him?"
Of course she did. Kyle drove her to his place, thankful that his place was relatively tidy. This couldn't be a booty call. Heidi didn't seem like that kind of a girl. But this was a great sign, right? She trusted Kyle enough to come over after just hours of knowing him. Alright, maybe having a pet raccoon wasn't too bad after all.
"Cartman? We have a visitor." Kyle called into the house and let his date in first. Heidi herself called out to him with her gentle and calm voice. But still nothing.
"I think he's still mad at me. He can be dramatic like that." Kyle coughed and led Heidi further into the house who giggled and followed behind Kyle as if he was playfully stalking a wild animal. Which wasn't necessarily a bad description of the situation.
"Cartman? I have snacks for you!" Heidi lied, knowing fully well that Cartman was extremely food motivated and walked into the living room. Kyle glances at the plate on the counter as he follows his date. At least he ate his food.
"There you are! Oh my god he's too cute!"
Kyle saw him then as well. Cartman had emerged from behind the couch (he couldn't fit under it) and had that same wide stance Kyle had seen him in the very first time they saw each other in the attic. Shit. He was agitated. His tail was almost bristly, pointing up at the ceiling to look larger than he was and his ears were flat against his head.
"Can I pet him?" Heidi didn't wait for Kyle to answer before she crouched down and extended her arm in a very peaceful manner.
"Uh he seems a bit..." Kyle couldn't finish his sentence before Cartman stared him down instead, then back at Heidi and shook his ass and bounced. Cartman ran past her, jaws snapping at her hand as he did, chirped and climbed up struggling Kyle's legs and body all the way to his chest, forcing Kyle to hold him up.
Cartman pawed at Kyle's face like he usually did when he craved for Kyle's undying attention, keeping his weird raccoon noises at the maximum.
"Oh shit! Cartman, Stop it! Did he bite you?" Kyle shrieked and pushed Cartman's stupid little hands away from his face and stared at Heidi. She was clearly a bit shaken and she inspected her hand, worrying her lip at the same time. Kyle's cheeks went up in flames out of pure embarrassment.
"He has never done that, fuck. I'm so, so, so sorry!" Kyle moaned and kept swatting away Cartman's hands.
"It's alright. I might've been a bit too bold." She chuckled nervously and continued. "He's.. vaccinated, right?"
"Oh god, yes! Yes, of course." Kyle breathed and finally caught the little hands in his. "I'm going to skin you." He grit between his teeth at the raccoon who was speaking in tongues Kyle couldn't understand, nuzzling into Kyle's hands.
"I said it's alright! It was my fault. Besides, he didn't even pierce the skin." Heidi laughed, relieved that Cartman most likely hadn't given her anything and took a few steps closer to the two. "I think he's just jealous." Heidi coo's again, but doesn't try to touch him.
"Yeah, we don't have many visitors after all. That and he's a little shit." Kyle manages to breathe. Maybe not all was lost.
"I'm not here to take your daddy away, I just wanted to see you!" Her sweet talk was so much sweeter now than it was before. Or Kyle started to think with his dick at the almost absurd name he got called. Daddy? Really, Kyle?
Cartman refused to look at the intruder in his house even if his attack to get rid of her had failed.
"H-hahah, he's more like a smelly and fat roommate." Kyle laughed a bit too loud and watched Cartman seethe at Heidi calling him cute and chubby.
"Do you want to stay for coffee? I understand if you want to leave." Kyle finally gathered enough courage to ask Heidi.
“I’d love that, actually.” Heidi smiled up at him, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Kyle threw Cartman into the downstairs bathroom and into the tub before Cartman could run away. This was his timeout room whenever he was being bad. 9 out of 10 times it was due to Cartman shitting somewhere he shouldn't.
Rest of the night went great. Heidi and Kyle talked more about their families and relationships with them. They bonded over a lot of stuff. Kyle totally remembered what those things were. He wasn't totally thinking with his dick the entire night. But like he had anticipated, Heidi wasn't one of those girls and they eventually said their goodbyes. She assured Kyle that she was fine taking the uber home. Despite the small disappointment in his gut (which was entirely his own fault), Kyle was glad he met up with Heidi that day.
Back in the house, he shook away the smirk on his face. It was time to be stern. He pushed open the bathroom door. Cartman had barely moved, sulking in the tub and refusing to look at Kyle.
"You are lucky she didn't get hurt." Kyle said, with his tone as cold as he could muster. "You almost managed to ruin the first chance of a hook up I've gotten since college." He ceremoniously shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. Cartman still didn't move, but his tail began to wag.
"Oh you think that's funny?" Kyle scoffed, smiling. Cartman's tail wagged even more.
"Don't pull that crap on me again, you hear me?" Kyle sighed and relaxed his demeanor. "I won't go so easy on you next time, fatass. Come on. Let's go to bed." With that threat Kyle walked upstairs, leaving the bathroom door open for Cartman to follow him. Only when Kyle's in the bed, stripped and tucked in, Cartman jumps on the bed quietly. The redhead smiles again when Cartman struggles to get under the blanket and curls up between Kyle's arm and chest.
It was nice to sleep with Cartman. He was like a small furnace, soft and constantly letting out small sighs and snorts he learned to love after the first few weeks. Before, annoying as fuck. Now, soothing like white noise in an agonizingly quiet town.
"She was cute, huh?" Kyle said and stroked Cartman's back all the way to his tail. "We are going out again in a few days. So, who knows, you might have to get used to her." Kyle added, proud of his successful date.
"Good night, fatso." Kyle yawned and fell asleep soon after.
He woke up to the early rays of sun and he felt like he hadn't slept at all. Few minutes at most. Kyle was covered in sweat and his body was like lead, pulling him towards the center of the Earth. He groaned loudly, stretching his long and heavy limbs, only his left arm was trapped under Cartman.
Cartman, too, felt much heavier than last night. Usually Kyle could just simply push him off and get up, since Cartman tended to sleep in. This time it proved to be harder. Kyle cursed his fatigue and rubbed at his face long and hard to get himself going.
"Jesus Christ, Cartman. You’ve got to start a diet." Kyle groaned and tried to free his arm again. Something was off. A large, limb-like weight extended across Kyle's chest and it shook Kyle to look down at what was happening.
It was indeed an arm. Not his and certainly not Cartman's tiny furry one. Kyle blinked again. Next to him on the bed, under his trapped arm was a large mound of blanket which began to move softly, leaving only the arm cradling him exposed.
There was a person.
In his fucking bed.