Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cartman was being more annoying than usual today, though Kyle couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. He was going on about how Jews are the root of all evil, and he just wouldn’t let up. At the bus stop, he would make a couple passing comments, saying things like, “So Kyle, what’re you gonna make the price of gold today?” At lunch, he would say, “Damn, I sure am glad we get to eat real, good christian food here at South Park High!” At gym, in between laborious puffs of breath and unable to come up with a clever quip, “I fucking hate jews.”

Kyle was seriously about to snap. Even Stan and Kenny noticed him on the edge.

“Dude, what’s up with Cartman today?” Stan asked Kyle. “He’s being a douche. Well, more so than usual.”

“I don’t know, man. It’s not like he hasn’t been like this before, it’s just…” Kyle trailed off, unable to put it into words.

“He’s not letting up when you call him a fatass,” Kenny mused. “I guess he’s feeling extra determined.”

“He’s not respecting your safe word,” Stan said, trying to lighten the mood. He’s been Kyle’s best friend since diapers, so he could read him like a book. He could tell that Cartman was really getting to him today, and that it was crossing the line of the semi-playful banter they usually have.

Kyle gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about what was different with Cartman today. Did he piss him off yesterday? Is he pissed that he promised to buy him a $5 meal deal from KFC in exchange for doing his stats homework? It’s not even that expensive, for fucks sake.

“Oh, sup gahs! Hey, it’s my least favorite jew!”

Damnit, of course the fatass is here right now. Where else would he be? He’s never one to miss an opportunity to torment Kyle. Especially not today, for some reason.

“Gee, Kyle, you’re looking extra ugly today. Let me guess, gingervitis flare up?” Cartman was holding back a snicker, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

“Shut the hell up, dude,” Stan shot Cartman a dirty look. “This isn’t funny anymore. You’re making Kyle upset.”

“Oh no, Kyle has to hide behind his big strong boyfriend to feel protected! A jew, a ginger, and a fag? You’re like the triforce of unloveable!”

“It’s trifecta, retard. Triforce is Zelda.”

“Shut up, Kenny! Not like you can play Zelda anyway, your family is poor!”

“Woah. Touched a nerve there.”

As the final bell rang, Cartman intentionally shoulder-checked Kyle and knocked off his hat. Kyle snapped, and grabbed Cartman by the back of his sweater collar. “You fucking dick! What’s your problem?”

“Problem, Kyle? Who said there was a problem?” Cartman knew just how to push his buttons. They’d been frenemies since pre-K, after all. But today, Kyle had had enough.

“Shut the fuck up, fatass! I fucking hate you!” Kyle decided to really let him have it, because if Cartman was gonna dish it out hard today, he was gonna good and goddamn get it fed right back to him. “You know what, Cartman? You have no idea how much better the world would be without you here. Kill yourself, fatass!”

Cartman, who was now breathing heavily from anger and rage, snapped wrathfully at his friend, though that title is debatable. “Y-You fucking kike!” he spat. “Fuck you! I fucking hate your ugly jew-y ginger fucking face! I wish we were in fucking 1940’s Germany so I could fucking gas you in a fucking concentration camp!”

Silence.

A cold indifference came over Kyle at that moment. Cartman’s face fell, and the vacuum sucked out all the air from his chest. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach, as if something terrible was about to happen. “You listen to me, Eric Cartman,” Kyle began coldly. “If you killed yourself today, I would celebrate. Thank god you killed your own father, because if I was related to you in any way, I would claw my own eyes out. I hate you, Eric Cartman. I want you fucking dead.”

Cartman shivered and scurried off, and Kyle scoffed in disgust. Stan and Kenny looked at their friend with shock in their eyes, and maybe a bit of respect.

“Jesus, dude,” Stan managed. “That was cold as hell.” Kenny agreed with a muffled grunt. But Kyle didn’t care. He truly meant every word he said. He hated Eric Cartman, and he didn’t care if he lived or died. Not after all these years of torture. He hated Eric Cartman. He hated him.

One week of nothing had passed. The first day, Kyle was annoyed. Of course he’s missing school, the drama queen. He’s trying to make them feel guilty, even though they didn’t do anything. By the third day, the boys agreed he was going overboard. His point was already made, no need to keep dragging it out. But what was odd about it was that he wasn’t posting about it on social media. They expected some bullshit like “School is really tough right now, it’s so hard being victimized every day </3” or some victim card shit like that. But no, there was just… nothing.

On the seventh day of radio silence, the boys were starting to get worried. Especially Kyle. Had he really upset Cartman that much? He didn’t seem that upset at what Kyle said, but he had never been out of school this long without saying anything. Kyle didn’t feel too bad, of course, he had every right to yell at Cartman after what he said. At least, that’s what his friends told him.

Kyle stared at Cartman’s house from his bedroom window. Then a thought crossed his mind. Why doesn’t he go check on Cartman himself? Duh, he lives right across from him! Why didn’t he think about that sooner? Maybe his mind was too clouded with anger and resentment for him to even think to check on him.

After three nervous knocks, then three more assertive ones when no one answered the first time, the door slowly opened. Cartman’s mother was standing there, eyes slightly puffy as if she’d been crying. She looked almost shocked to see Kyle awkwardly standing there on her front porch.

“Oh… hello, Kyle,” Mrs. Cartman said, her voice soft and slightly unsteady.

“Hey Mrs. Cartman, um…” Kyle shifted on his feet, unsure what to say now that he’s seen her red-rimmed eyes and dried tear streaks on her cheeks. “Cartman’s been missing from school for a while, and… I was just, you know, wondering if he was... okay?”

Mrs. Cartman’s lip trembled slightly and her eyes filled with fresh tears. “Ah… I figured one of you would be wondering that…”

Kyle felt a pit start to settle in his stomach at her reaction. Goddamnit, Cartman hadn’t actually tried anything stupid, had he? What if he’d done something he couldn’t take back, and Kyle was the reason? No, Cartman wasn’t that stupid. But he had been acting weird lately, now that Kyle thought about it…

His mind stopped when the woman across from him spoke again. “Come inside, let me explain everything.”

Kyle walked in nervously and sat on the couch. Everything here was so familiar, it almost felt like a second home. He could easily navigate the household blindfolded if he had to. But everything felt so quiet, so empty, almost as if all of the life was drained out of it.

“You’re probably wondering where my Eric has been…” Mrs. Cartman began as she set down some store bought cookies, a little stronger than before. Kyle took one and ate a bite before putting it back down. He wasn’t hungry right now. His appetite was being replaced by the anxiety that settled nicely in his gut.

“Well, something happened last week… I came home and I saw Eric…” She trailed off, seemingly unable to finish. “I don’t want you to be burdened with all the details.”

Shit, Kyle was terrible at this kind of thing. Comforting people, that is. He always seemed to make people feel worse. But dammit, he needs to know what happened. He hesitantly put his hand over hers.

Seemingly regaining some strength from the contact, Mrs. Cartman continued. “Well… Eric had tried to end his own life. I found him just in time, the doctors said.”

No. Goddamnit, that asshole actually tried to kill himself? Of course he did. Kyle was fucking furious at him. That fucking bastard! Fuck him! He couldn’t believe he was actually selfish enough to do that.

Kyle felt a soft hand on his back, and another gently wiping at tears he didn’t even realize were there. He looked up at Mrs. Cartman, and he saw her misty eyes.

“I know… it’s hard. But he’s safe now,”

“So what, is he in, like, a mental hospital or something?” Kyle asked, his voice now surprisingly shaky and tearful.

“Sort of,” She began almost hesitantly. “Eric is in a residential facility in Massachusetts.”

Massachusetts? Fucking Massachusetts? That’s like four and a half hours away by plane! Massachusetts? Kyle couldn’t believe it.

“Massachusetts? He... he couldn’t’ve gone somewhere in Colorado?”

“I’m afraid not. You see, in Massachusetts, they have the best care for my Eric. He needs something that can help him long term,”

“So… where is he? Where in Massachusetts is he?” Kyle didn’t know why he wanted to know so bad. It’s not like he was going to visit him or anything.

“He’s in a residential program at a place called McLean Hospital. They have incredible reviews from people all over the world. He’ll be taken good care of.”

It made him think of that one Russell Crowe movie with the schizophrenic guy. He imagined Cartman thrashing around in a straight jacket while evil nurses hold him down and inject him with mysterious liquids. God, now Kyle felt like he was gonna throw up. Mrs. Cartman reassured him again.

“He’ll be fine, Kyle. He’ll be home in four months, and he’ll be all better.”

Kyle thanked her for explaining and left home in a daze. His mind was reeling. It was his fault that Cartman was locked away in some institution for months. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut and not pushed it. It was all his fault.

Kyle rolled around the matzoh balls with his spoon that night at dinner, staring at them with disinterest.

“Kyle, you have to eat your dinner. You’re too thin,” And there goes his mom again, making him feel worse.

“I’m not hungry. Can I please be excused?”

“This is about that Eric boy. He’s giving you trouble at school again, isn’t he?”

“Mom, please, don’t,” She was gonna make him feel so much worse, he knew it. He already felt anxious and guilty, he didn’t need his mom piling onto that.

“Why shouldn’t I? That boy is a terror! If I didn’t like his mother so much, I would ban him from ever seeing you again! I think he needs to be evaluated by a psychiatrist or something.”

There’s that sinking feeling again. His mind started racing. Could everyone see it except him? Was Cartman's alarming behavior that obvious? Kyle should’ve known. He should’ve fucking known.

Before he could think, he was running upstairs to lock himself in his room. He couldn’t let his family see him cry like this. Especially not over Cartman of all people. Just as he locked the door, he broke down in sobs. He couldn’t keep it in anymore.

Eventually, his mother’s demands for his return quieted and Kyle’s tears stopped. He was okay. He wiped at his tears and sniffled, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. Thank God his dad was so level headed, he was probably the reason his mother isn't breaking down his door right now and force-feeding him dinner while berating him.

Kyle stared at his ceiling before closing his eyes and taking another deep breath. He decided to do something he hasn’t done in a very long time.

“Dear God…”

Chapter Text

Bored. 

Cartman was so bored here. He wasn’t allowed to have his phone, even though everyone else at the facility was. They said it was a “trigger” and a “distraction”, whatever the hell that meant. At least the building was nice. But Cartman could barely focus on anything because of how packed his day was. Which is funny, because even though his days were so packed with lessons on coping mechanisms or whatever, anything said to Cartman was just going in one ear and out the other. 

But the worst part was his therapist. That guy was so fucking boring. And Cartman had to meet with him every goddamn day? Talking with him was worse than being at the lessons, because at least the lessons were in a big group.

At first, it was just seeing how long he could go without saying anything. The first few sessions were just Cartman staring at the ground while the man across from him gave him this placating, almost condescending smile. For a whole half an hour.

Cartman cracked first.

“Yeah, I tried to fuckin’ kill myself. So what?” He suddenly said on the fourth day, about 12 minutes into his therapy session. “I bet you’re thinking I’m an attention whore or something.”

“I don’t think that, Eric.” Dr. John Bloom, aka Johnny, had a disarming air about him. Cartman didn’t feel threatened or intimidated by him, but he also knew that if he did something to him, his stay at the residential would definitely be extended.

“Fine. You want me to talk, yeah? There’s nothing to fucking talk about. Can’t I just go be in my room or get a snack or something?”

“We don’t have to talk, Eric.” Johnny said in that calm voice of his. “But if you wanted to talk, you could start by telling me about why you think you’re here.”

Cartman hesitated, then mumbled his response. “I took a bunch of my mom’s pills. It’s her fucking fault for making them so easy to steal.”

“You wanna tell me a bit more about your mother? How’s your relation to her?”

“She’s a fucking bitch!” Cartman exclaimed, then reminded himself that lashing out probably wasn’t the best idea here. “I mean… it’s not like I have anyone better. She’s all I have.”

“And your father?”

“He’s, uh… he’s not in the picture. He never was.”

“And how has that affected you?”

Cartman had never really thought about that before. He didn’t think it affected him, anyway. But he didn’t know what life was like with a dad either, so he guessed he didn’t really have any idea what he was missing. It took him a minute to come up with an answer.

“I guess… I didn’t have a father figure in my life? I didn’t have a strong guy to really look up to.”

“Did you feel lonely with it just being you and your mom?”

Actually, now that Cartman thought about it…

“No. Not really.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because I had really good friends. They were kinda like my family. I didn’t need a dad when I had them.”

God, it sounded so corny when he said it out loud. But it was true. Cartman had never felt sad at the absence of his father because he had his friends. They were all the family he really needed.

“Why don’t you tell me about your friends? They seem like big comforts to you.” Johnny was now writing down notes.

“There’s kinda only three that’ve always been super close. Kenny, Stan, and… and Kyle.”

“You hesitated at that last one. Wanna tell me more?”

“We… we don’t get along.”

“But he’s one of your closest friends?”

Damn, when he put it that way, it doesn’t make sense. Why were he and Kyle even friends? He could never imagine himself being friends with any jew, especially not a ginger one, but Kyle was… different. Special. Of course Cartman would make fun of him, but he still couldn’t imagine a world where he and Kyle weren’t friends.

“We’ve been friends for so long, I guess… I don’t know. Whatever, maybe we shouldn’t even be friends.”

For some reason, saying this made Cartman’s chest ache. Why did he hate the idea of not being friends with Kyle anymore so much?

“Why don’t you and Kyle get along?” Johnny asked thoughtfully. “Maybe we can start from there.”

“I hate him because he’s a ginger jew.” Cartman said without thinking. If this guy can help him with his dumb feelings, it’s probably best that he be completely honest with him.

Johnny’s expression changed ever so subtly, but he clearly tried to keep it neutral. “I see. Can you tell me why you hate gingers and jews?”

That made Cartman pause. Why did he hate gingers and jews? His first thought was because Kyle was a ginger and a jew, but then why did he hate Kyle? It was a catch-22. Cartman was confused, Damnit, fuck this guy for making him think so much!

“Eric, unfortunately our time for today is coming to an end, but I’m gonna give you some homework,” Johnny reached into his desk and pulled out a blank notebook. “Tonight before lights out, I want you to write in this journal.”

Was he serious? Oh my god, that was the dumbest thing Cartman had ever heard in his life. He’s not some fag, why the hell would he write in a diary? But honestly, if it was gonna get him out sooner, Cartman would agree to anything.

At 9:00PM, Cartman sat on his bed staring at the notebook. Was he really gonna do this? He figured he had no choice if he wanted to get out of here any time soon. He took a deep breath and put pencil to paper.

Dear diary,

Johnny if you’re reading this right now, DON’T. Journals are PRIVATE, and I won’t write in this anymore if I know you’re peeping. Be warned!

Anyway, this is such bullshit. But I gotta play along if I wanna get outta here, so I guess I’ll just write about what’s going on in my head. That’s what you’re supposed to do with diaries, right? I wouldn’t know, because I’m not a fag or a chick.

Let’s start with Kyle. What do I even say about Kyle? First, he’s a ginger. How gross is that? His dumb ginger curly hair sometimes pokes out of his trapper hat, and it’s so gross that I just can’t stop looking at it! I stare at it for like, the entirety of class, and I can’t even focus on what the teacher is saying.

And don’t even get me started on his face! Oh my god, his dumb nose is so big and it covers half of his face! His eyes are green, but he calls them hazel. Of course, a typical jew being a gaslighter at heart. I stare at his eyes just trying to figure out why he fucking thinks he’s special enough to have the rarest goddamn eye color. I swear to god, he has some kind of jew spell sorcery thing, because sometimes I stare into his eyes for so long that I forget what I was doing before.

Cartman’s heart was slightly racing, and he started feeling… Well, he couldn’t exactly name it. It wasn’t rage, he’d definitely know what that would feel like. It wasn’t anxiety, he didn’t think. He’d had sudden panic attacks before, not that he would ever admit that out loud. This was decidedly… not that feeling. He was trying to pinpoint what it was, and then it hit him like a sack of wet mice.

Nope! Absolutely not! No way, not ever in a million years would he ever get horny for Kyle Broflovski! Cartman was repressing that feeling for sure. Damn this place, it was doing something to him. It was making him change. It was definitely time to call it a night.

Okay, I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll try to comply, but my strong mind won’t fall to these damn bostonian fags trying to change me. Mark my words, I’ll come out exactly the same as I went in.

Chapter Text

“Kyle, honey? I have Mrs. Cartman on the phone for you. Why don’t you come down and talk to her?” Mrs. Broflovski said in her thick New Jersey accent.

Kyle’s heart skipped a beat. She was obviously calling to tell him something about Cartman, but what? Kyle raced down the stairs, almost knocking over Ike, who, though now in his early teens, was still much scrawnier than his beloved older brother. Kyle practically snatched the phone away from his mother as if it were the ring from that J.R.R. Tolkien book, earning him a stern look from his Mother and a promise that he would receive discipline later.

“M-Mrs. Cartman? Is something wrong?” Kyle stuttered, barely able to control his nerves. Was Cartman okay? What if he got really sick or something? What if they laced his KFC with something to sedate him? What if they just threw him out because they decided he was a lost cause?

“No, Kyle, it’s actually quite the opposite,” Mrs. Cartman said, cutting through his racing worried thoughts. “Eric is coming home today.”

What? Already? It hadn’t even been that long since he was gone! It had only been… What?! Four months?! Kyle stared at the calendar on the wall in shock. How did he not realize it’d been this long? He was gonna see Cartman today. Oh my god, he was gonna see Cartman today. How the hell could he face him after what he said? Cartman would never forgive him, he knew it. He probably realized how terrible they are as friends and was gonna cut Kyle out of his life forever.

“Hello? Kyle, are you there? I was asking if you would like to come with me to pick him up at the airport. The other boys already said yes. I know my little Eric would love to see everyone in his little friend group greet him when he gets off the plane.”

Oh. That wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought. “You said… Stan and Kenny are going, too? Then… Okay. I’ll go. What time are we picking him up?”

Kyle’s heart raced as he got ready. Two o’clock. Two o’clock. He put on his best puffer and favorite hat, the one Cartman never liked the color of. He always said it looked like if a baby ate a bunch of green glow-sticks and threw up all over a russian. Then Kyle would shoot back a quip about how his jacket could be seen from space, and it would look like the Earth had a massive zit. God, Kyle would never admit this out loud, but he missed that back-and-forth so damn much. He missed Cartman. But in twenty minutes, Kyle was going to see him again. And everything was gonna go back to exactly how it was before. 

“Come on, hurry up! They’re gonna send him back if we don’t get him in time!” Stan shouted from the car parked outside his house. Fuck, he was taking too long. Get a grip, Kyle! He quickly shouted goodbye to whoever in the house was listening and dashed out to Mrs. Cartman’s awaiting car.

“Jesus, finally. My ass is getting sore, and I’m overheating.” Kenny said annoyedly under his parka. He scooted over to give Kyle some room to climb in.

“It’s your fault for always wearing that giant ass parka every day.” Kyle shot back, buckling his seatbelt. He stared out the window, watching the houses zip by as the car drove, moving steadily toward their destination. Was this really happening? It didn’t feel real. Cartman was gonna be home.

Cartman. What was he even going to say to him? “Hey, welcome back! Sorry I made you try to kill yourself, whopsie! Anyway, let’s play Guitar Hero!” Why did he even agree to do this? He could never see Cartman again. They could never be friends. Nothing can come back from this. What kind of a person makes their friend kill themself?

“Kyle, you in there? Hello? I just said we’re here,” Stan was snapping in his ear. “Come on, dude, they’re already halfway to the doors.” Shit. Kyle’s gotta stop spacing out like that. He took a breath and jumped out of the car, racing his best friend to catch up to Kenny and Mrs. Cartman.

The baggage claim area felt suffocating and massive all at once. Kyle was shaking slightly, but he felt the hands of his friends on his back, each providing a sense of stability that he desperately needed. He looked up, and his world stopped.

There was Cartman in his favorite red coat, looking small and a little lost. He gripped his luggage tightly and looked around the area like a lost puppy. Kyle would laugh at him if he still felt in control of his body.

Kyle felt himself take a step. And then another. Then another. Before he knew what was happening, he was sprinting towards a startled-looking Cartman and tackling him in the tightest hug he could manage. He squeezed so hard that he would be scared that he was seriously hurting him if it weren’t for the convenient plushness of his friend. He soon felt two other similar-sized bodies running over and joining the pile. Stan and Kenny followed Kyle’s lead, encasing Cartman in a massive hug.

“Cartman, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry, it’s my fault that you-!” Kyle was cut off by a much larger pair of arms hugging him back, and a head landing softly on his forehead.

“Shut the hell up, Kyle,” Cartman said, but his voice lacked any form of bite or malice. It sounded dulcet, vulnerable, and a little broken. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you got it? I’m… I’m sorry…” Kyle felt soft tears plip onto his coat, and the subtle shaking of the shoulders of the man bear-hugging him. Kyle felt his vision blur and felt a rather large knot forming in his throat. He let out a muffled sob and buried his face in Cartman’s shoulder.

“I hope you know this doesn’t mean you’re immune from our jokes.” Stan laughed through tears.

“What, I’m not a delicate little flower now? Come on, where’s your empathy? My mistake, I thought you were good people.” Cartman joked back as if he wasn’t suffocating Stan in his hug as well.

Everyone was saying words now, but he could barely hear. He was holding Cartman tightly, clinging to him like a lifeline. For once, his racing thoughts stopped. He had no idea what time would bring. All he knew is that this time, he was never gonna let go again.

Cartman laid down on his bed, head in his hands. “My brain hurts, Kyle…” He whined. “Can’t we just play Mario Kart? Or World of Warcraft? Or literally anything other than doing algebra?”

Kyle, somehow, had the highest math grade in their whole friend group, so he was relegated to catching Cartman up on what he missed. Since it was technically a medical absence, thankfully he didn’t have to repeat junior year as long as he understood the basics of what he missed. “Come on, Cartman, just this packet. Look, it’s easy. In the function F of X, X equals zero. Just plug in zero every time you see X, then solve.”

Cartman honestly tried to focus on the work, but he couldn’t help but get distracted by Kyle’s hair. It was doing that thing again where it was poking out of his hat slightly, the fiery red curls sharply contrasting the lush green headwear. Had Kyle’s hair always looked this… cute? Cartman wanted to reach out and play with it, watch the coil wrap around his finger. He wanted to flick it and watch it bounce like a spring. He wanted to feel the whole head of hair in his fingers. He wondered if Kyle’s hair was squishy, like a sponge. Maybe it was soft and easy to play with. Cartman wanted to take off Kyle’s hat and pull him in, to run his hand through the ruby locks and see if they smell as good as Kyle’s neck did when they hugged at the airport.

Wait, what? Hold on, what was he thinking? Cartman isn’t gay! He likes girls! Cartman took a breath and rubbed his face hard. These are just intrusive thoughts, Cartman told himself. Intrusive thoughts, that’s all they were. That’s what Johnny said. Intrusive thoughts are normal. It was normal to have those thoughts about Kyle, right?

Kyle looked up and saw Cartman laying on his back, hiding his face in his hands. He sighed softly and sat on the bed next to him. “You’re right, dude, let’s take a break. Tell you what, why don’t we order some McDonalds and watch Terrence and Philip?” He gave Cartman a soft smile. “We can keep going with the math later.

Cartman snuggled up on his couch while Kyle ordered the food. He didn’t need to tell him what he wanted; Kyle already knew it by heart. “My wallet’s on the kitchen counter,” he called out to Kyle. “Just take however much it was.”

Kyle walked back into the living room and took his seat next to Cartman, who was currently occupied trying to only queue up the best episodes. He couldn’t help but smile at him, knowing that he hadn’t lost his personality. He didn’t know what he would do with himself if Cartman came back a totally different guy.

Cartman pressed play and sat back, settling into the couch cozily. Kyle realized how peaceful Cartman looked as he started to doze. He’d had a long enough day, and he deserved some rest. Man, Kyle was feeling tired as well. He just wanted to lay down and use Cartman’s head as a pillow. He felt his eyes close, his head moving on its own towards Cartman’s chest, when he was suddenly jolted awake by the sound of the doorbell. Right, the McDonalds order.

Kyle slid off the couch, careful not to disturb Cartman, and he opened the door. He looked up at the delivery driver, only to be shocked to see a familiar blond head of hair and cheery smile.

“Oh, hey Kyle! Here’s your order!” Butters said happily, handing him the food.

“Butters, I didn’t know you worked at McDonalds. Or had a car.”

“Oh, I just got it not too long ago. My foster parents co-signed, but I’m paying for it all on my own!” Butters looked proud, and he put his hands on his hips. “What’re you doing at Eric’s place, anyway?”

Kyle looked back at the sleeping Cartman covered by blankets. Did he really wanna tell Butters that Cartman was back? No, Butters needed more time to heal, he decided. Cartman was probably the worst to Butters out of anyone. “Oh, I’m just, you know… studying.” What a stupid lie. That made absolutely no sense. Why would he be studying all by himself at a house that’s not even his?

“Oh, I see. I’ll leave you to it, then!” No way he actually believed that. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Butters happily skipped back to his car and jumped in the driver’s seat, speeding away down the street.

Kyle brought in the food and looked over at Cartman’s sleeping form. Kyle couldn’t wake him, not when he looks so peaceful like that. He set the food down in the kitchen and ate, putting Cartman’s food in the fridge. He’ll be wanting it when he wakes up

Chapter Text

The boys crammed into the school bleachers like sardines, sat on the uncomfortable plastic, and waited for PC Principal to start his speech. He was busy chatting it up with Vice Principal Woman, completely in his own world. He turned around and was almost shocked to see the gym filled with students, as if he didn’t literally make the announcement five minutes ago. 

He scrambled to the podium and grabbed the mic. “Uh, good morning South Park High School juniors,” He coughed awkwardly at the silence, but forged on. “Since you’re all studying World War Two history this year, the school’s administration decided to organize a class trip to central Europe to learn about this important and sensitive topic at the place where it happened.”

The gym erupted into excited murmurs. A trip to Europe? Half the kids there had never been outside Colorado, much less been to another continent. A hand shot up, twitching slightly. “Agh, h-how long are we gonna be there for?” Tweek asked, making the gym quiet down slightly, as it seemed most people had the same question.

“That’s a great question, Tweek. We would be there for four days; two in Germany, two in Poland.”

The gym once again got loud with overlapping conversations. That answer had stoked the fire of another burning question on all the students’ minds. Another hand shot up, this time from Cartman. “How much is it going to cost?”

Ms. Woman took the microphone this time. “Our current plan will cost each student around 2,500 dollars.” The students’ excited murmurs turned into groans of despair. Who can afford that? They’d have to empty their whole bank accounts just to go on a trip to some dumb country for a few days.

“I’m gonna start scamming old people again. I need money.” Cartman joked, earning him a small laugh from Stan. “And don’t even get me started on poor Kenny.” Kenny groaned and leaned slightly on Cartman.

“Fuck, don’t remind me.” Kenny grumbled. “Maybe I should just sell my organs on the black market.”

“There’ll be fundraisers,” Stan assured. “I’ll talk to Wendy. She’s the student body president, she always has a plan. And you know she can’t say no to me.”

A trip to Germany and Poland to learn about World War Two? Kyle had a feeling he knew exactly where they planned to visit. He wasn’t opposed per se, but he wasn’t looking forward to having to get right up close and personal with the ethnic cleansing facility specifically designed to wipe out his entire race and religion. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re coming, right, dude?” Stan looked at Kyle with a mixture of concern and determination. “If you’re not going, then none of us are.” Kenny and Cartman both nodded in agreement. He wanted to go, and in all honesty, he knew his mom and dad would basically force him to go. A trip with his best friends, no matter where or what, was sure to be fun.

“Yeah. I’m going. It’ll be fun.” Kyle offered a smile to his friends. He was more telling himself that it’d be fun than he was telling the boys. No, he was determined to manifest the fun into existence. He’d be out of the country, away from the watchful eyes of his mom. That would be fun, right? Yeah, they were gonna have fun.

At home, Kyle didn’t even have to bring it up to his parents. His mother was waiting for him at the front door. “Kyle, I got an email from the school today.”

“Oh yeah, about the field trip? I was gonna ask you if I could go. I know it’s a lot of money, but-”

His mother cut him off. “Your father and I have already talked, and we’ve decided that it’s in your best interest to go. But! Money doesn’t grow on trees.”

“I know.” Kyle said as he took off his backpack and put it at the base of the stairs. His father entered the room and sat down on the couch.

“$2,500 is a lot of money.” Kyle’s father began. He eyed his son. “You really wanna go on this trip?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re gonna learn all about our people’s plight?”

He nodded firmly. “Yeah, Dad. I’ll learn all about the Holocaust.”

“And you’ll call every day?” His mother jumped in.

“Yes, Mom, I’ll call every day. I’ll send you lots of pictures, too.”

“Then it’s decided. You’ll go on this trip.” Kyle felt like he was gonna burst from excitement. He’d better download Duolingo again or something. God knows he’s the only one in the group who’s gonna put any effort into learning anything for this trip.

Meanwhile, just across the street, is Cartman, begging his mother to go on the trip.

“Please, Mom, please?”

“Eric, we can’t afford a trip to Europe.” Mrs. Cartman’s voice sounded a little strained, like it physically pained her to tell her son that he couldn’t go on this field trip.

“Mom, please,” Cartman took a small breath and tried to recall some communication techniques he learned at 3East. “I understand that $2,500 is a lot of money, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“I want you to go, Eric, I really do. But the fact is that $2,500 is too much money for me to pay.”

“Then let me pay for it! Or, y’know, some of it…” Cartman trailed off. Pay with what money? He didn’t have a job. He didn’t have the mental fortitude to hold one, anyway. He didn’t have that much money from gifts either. He always spent it on whatever junk food he was craving until he had no money left.

“Are there going to be fundraisers, at least?” His mother asked hopefully.

“Stan said that Wendy would have something planned, but that’s not definite. And it wouldn’t cover the whole thing, anyway. Please, Mom? I wanna go on this trip.”

Mrs. Cartman considered her options for a moment. She could dip into her own savings, but that would mean having to pick up another job to keep the bills paid. She’s getting too old to whore herself out again, so that option is out the window. She could dip into her son’s college fund, but is that really worth it just for one long-weekend trip? She didn’t think so. But her options were limited, so she figured she might as well ask.

“Dear, the only way I can think to get the money is… well, with your college money.” Mrs. Cartman sighed, again as if she were in pain. “If it’s worth it to you, then we can use some of that money.”

Cartman felt a mix of hope and sadness. He didn’t want to take out student loans or anything, but if that’s his only shot at going on this trip, he felt like he could bear having $2,500 less. “Okay. Let’s use that money.”

Mrs. Cartman looked surprised. “Really? You really think this trip is worth it?”

Cartman nodded firmly. “Mom, I really think this trip will be good for my mental health.” With that, his mother was fully convinced. He would know better than anyone what would be good for his mental health. That was her weak spot for him.

If this were maybe 7 months ago, Cartman would’ve exploded the hell out of that weak spot. He would’ve really exaggerated his illness, guilting his mother into giving him absolutely anything he wanted. But now, after everything, Cartman didn’t want to do that to her. He’d had to remind himself every time he felt like going back to his old exploitative ways that his mother works impossibly hard to provide for them. He doesn’t even wanna think about what she had to do to pay for his residential program. Damn, he really was indebted to her. He made a mental note to make the next Mother’s Day extra special for her.

For the next two months, anticipation builded within the student body. There were several fundraisers, as Wendy had promised, but it’s not like anyone showed up. The first one they tried was a simple donation box, but after three weeks, not a cent was in there. Then they tried an ice cream social, but that was a terrible idea considering they were in the middle of January. After that they tried a car wash, but agan, middle of January. Stan suggested a snow plow business, but not a single person wanted to shovel snow all day. 

Eventually, Wendy gave up. She apologized to Kenny specifically many times, because she felt somewhat responsible for the fundraisers’ failures, and therefore responsible for Kenny probably not being able to go on the trip. Kenny had to assure her several times that it would be okay, that he has a job, that it’s not the end of the world. She let it go eventually, but not without heavy assurance from Kenny and Stan.

In the meantime, everyone else’s excitement only grew. The kids who couldn’t comfortably afford the trip worked minimum wage jobs or used their savings to pay what they could. The day they departed for Europe was fast approaching, and it was almost impossible to think about anything else.

“I heard that Belgian waffles are fucking mind-meltingly incredible,” Cartman said, mouth slightly watering at the thought. “They’re already so good at the ski lodge, imagine how they are at the place where they came from.”

“Cartman, we’re not even going to Belgium. Do you ever think about anything other than how to get more food into your body?” Kyle snickered at the offended face his friend made.

“Why don’t you think of some ways to take your head out of your own ass, Kyle? Can you hear me all the way up there?”

“You’re one to talk, fatboy. You keep your head so far up your ass that you lick your prostate every time you talk. That’s probably why you can’t ever shut up, huh?” Kyle laughed hysterically while Cartman let out a few snickers. God, he loved Kyle’s laugh.

“Damn, you didn’t need to call me out like that. I feel so attacked.” He feigned an exasperated sigh of sadness, then smiled at his friend.

“You better not be talking the whole flight,” Kyle said. “I can’t stand to hear your voice for eleven hours straight.”

“You know, I think that’s a wonderful idea. I’ll be sure to do lots of vocal warm ups at the gate next week.” Cartman stuck his tongue out at Kyle.

“Yeah yeah, bring it on, asshole. I’ll pack my noise cancelling headphones.” They both laughed. Cartman gazed at the ginger with a fond smile. A fondness that seemed to spread throughout his face, then migrated down to his chest and settled just below his navel. The warmth infected his face, making it bright red, then touched his heart, making it race. 

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. There was that feeling again. It certainly wasn’t unpleasant, but it was… strange. It had been happening more frequently around Kyle nowadays for some reason. Cartman would catch himself staring one second, then he would get all flushed and breathless. He brought it up with his therapist, thinking maybe it was just more unresolved guilt from months ago that he needed to work out. But when he described what was happening, his therapist just smiled and said that it was normal. Seriously, his mom was paying $200 an hour for that? Cartman shook off the thought. He’d have to reschedule next week’s meeting with her, anyway. He made a mental note to remind his mom about that.

Cartman’s eyes shifted to Kyle’s head. There was another fiery coil sticking out of his hat again. His mind went blank for a moment, and he felt his hand move towards the strand of hair.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Kyle’s voice broke the haze and Cartman snapped back to reality. Was he… tucking back Kyle’s stray hair?! Cartman scrambled backwards and his face went bright red, oddly matching Kyle’s.

“D-dude, I have no fucking idea! I-I, uh, you had a stray curl, and it looked weird and…” Cartman buried his face in his hands. “I don’t fucking know, dude. I’m just being weird.”

Kyle rubbed his face and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. “Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal, dude. Just caught me off guard.”

They both laughed awkwardly. Jesus. They’ll both be filing this away deep in their mind palace for the rest of eternity.

The gate was buzzing with excitement. It was almost time to board the plane. The boys sat at the gate, each waiting for group D to be called. Kyle was resting his eyes on Stan’s shoulder, having fallen asleep watching him play Block Blast. 

The boys were all tired, having to wake up supremely early to make the flight. Cartman genuinely almost backed out when he saw the flight would leave at six in the morning.

“Did they really have to book this flight before the goddamn sun came up…?” Cartman groggily mumbled to Kenny, who was the only one awake enough to hold a conversation.

Kenny shrugged. “This was probably the cheapest flight. Who wants to fly out at this early other than desperate people?”

Kenny miraculously had managed to pay for this trip through begging his McDonald’s manager for more shifts. His foster parents wanted absolutely nothing to do with this trip financially, so he was on his own.

Cartman rubbed his eyes and yawned loudly. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a muffled voice over the intercom.

“Now boarding Group D, Denver to Berlin.”

Cartman turned to the redhead next to him and gently shook him awake. “Hey, wake up, jew. We’re boarding.”

Kyle grumbled softly and turned over, groaning as he stretched. Cartman looked away swiftly as his face heated up. “Mmgh, help me up, fatass…”

Cartman swallowed hard as he helped up his friend. They all walked to the gate and scanned their passes, dragging their luggage to their seats. Cartman decided to be chivalrous and stow away everyone’s bags for them. He bit his lip to conceal the pathetic grunts of overexertion he was letting out. He collapsed in his seat after almost passing out, but was a little surprised to see Kyle holding up to his face what looked like another seatbelt.

“You forgot to ask for an extender, dumbass.” Kyle sleepily grumbled, dropping it in Cartman’s lap.

Cartman took it, embarrassed, and opted to look around the cabin instead of at Kyle.

In Cartman’s row was him in the aisle, then Kyle in the middle, and finally Stan in at the window. Across from them was Kenny, Butters, and Tolkien, in that order. Damn, this was getting boring. Cartman yawned, then jolted when he felt a curly head of hair falling on his shoulder.

He bit his lip and stiffened, determined not to move for the entire thirteen hour flight. Thankfully, he didn’t have to stay statuesque for long. His body started to relax, and he dozed off, his head falling on top of Kyle’s. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and before he knew it, they were already almost done with their journey. Damn, he was more tired than he thought.

Kyle was awoken by Cartman stretching. He yawned and rubbed the remaining sleepiness out of his eyes. “Are we almost there yet? What time is it?”

Stan pulled out his phone. “About 6:50,” he said casually. “You just missed the announcement, we’re gonna land in 20. Damn, did you guys take a shit ton of melatonin or what?”

Cartman stretched again, then cracked his neck. “Fucking airplane seats, my neck and my ass and my back all hurt.”

Kyle snorted. “Poor baby.”

When they finally landed, Kyle’s phone blew up with notifications, majority from his mother asking every five minutes how he was. He scrolled through them as he followed the crowd of South Park High students, noticing how her texts got increasingly angry and demanding. Stan looked over his shoulder.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Kyle said, rubbing his temples. “Just my mom, I guess she was texting me for the whole flight and she’s pissed that I didn’t respond.”

“That’s not your fault,” Cartman chimed in, sounding far more upset than Kyle. “She should’ve known we had no service up there. I didn’t think she was that dumb.”

“Lay off, fatass, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not trying to be annoying, I’m just saying, she should’ve known.” He nudged Kyle slightly with his shoulder. “Now do you agree when I say your mom’s a bitch?”

“Can we just change the subject please?”

Cartman piped down and nodded, mentally telling himself to be respectful. As they walked to the shuttle, he couldn’t help but think about how happy he feels around his friends nowadays. He felt airy and giddy whenever he hung out with them. Cartman realized that with his friends, he doesn’t have to put on an act. Even before McLean, he never really had to manipulate Stan, Kyle, and Kenny. He has always been his true self when he was around them.

That revelation made him even happier, and by this point, he was grinning like an idiot, sitting squished between his friends on the way to the hotel. Kyle gave him a weird look.

“What’re you so giddy about? We’re still on a shuttle bus. My organs feel like they’re gonna fail from the lameness of this thing.”

Cartman hid his face while still grinning. “You’re gonna laugh at me. I’m not gonna embarrass myself.”

“Too late for that, fatass,” Kyle nudged him. “You’ve said some pretty embarrassing stuff before. I’ll think you’re weirder for keeping it from me.”

“Okay, okay, fine…” Cartman slowly put his hands in his lap. “I’m just… so glad to be your friend.”

Stan and Kenny looked at Cartman with the same confused face as Kyle. “Where is this coming from?” Stan asked confusedly.

“I was just thinking, that’s all. I’ve never had to… pretend, when I’m around you guys. Even when I was an asshole, I didn’t feel like I needed to force myself to be nice.” Cartman looked at his friends with a smile, feeling choked up with sudden emotion. “Thanks for… sticking with me, you know? Even when you really shouldn’t have.”

“Come on, dude, why do you have to say shit like that?” Kyle asked, hugging Cartman tightly. Stan and Kenny happily joined in. Cartman eventually composed himself and wiped his eyes, pulling out his phone to watch YouTube videos with his friends.

Before they knew it, they were freed from the treacherous jaws of the terrifyingly lame shuttle bus. They all stepped into the lobby and got keys to their rooms. The boys ran to the elevators as fast as they could, feeling extremely jet lagged and ready to decompress.

Kenny was the first to lay down on the beds. He hadn’t gotten any sleep on the flight because he was talking to Butters the whole time. He let out a sigh of bliss at the plushness of the hotel mattress. All the other boys followed, Stan and Kyle claiming the adjacent bed for themselves and Cartman busy tearing open his luggage to get his pajamas. And since he was over there, he also nabbed the remote to switch on some Terrence and Phillip.

He rolled onto the bed and turned to the guide on the nightstand, switching to the Comedy Central channel. His face contorted in annoyance and confusion when he couldn’t understand what the characters were saying. “The fuck? It’s in German! How do I change the language?”

While he fumbled, Stan checked his phone. “Hey guys, do you wanna meet up with Clyde and Token? Jimmy just texted me saying they have really good snacks.”

“Snacks?” Kenny perked up immediately, sliding on his shoes and waiting for Stan at the door. “Come on, let’s go. I’m so hungry.” Stan looked over at the other two boys in the room expectantly.

“I’m busy.” Cartman grumbled as he re-read the tv settings guide for the fifth time.

“I have a long nighttime routine, I gotta start early.” Kyle said, walking to the bathroom. “You guys have fun. I’ll be out in an hour. Cartman, if you have to piss, bathroom’s off-limits.”

“Alright, see you guys in a few.” Kenny and Stan ducked out of the room, leaving Cartman and Kyle alone. Both were busy with their own issues, so neither thought to check up on the other. Cartman was really struggling. He couldn’t find the language settings, then when he did, the damn language just wouldn’t change. Finally, after a grueling ten minutes, he settled on English captions. It wasn’t perfect, but he was satisfied.

He stretched and started walking to the door, figuring he would join Stan and Kenny in Clyde and Tolkien’s room. Or, he was, until he stopped dead in his tracks at a noise coming from the bathroom. A very particular noise.

Cartman pressed his ear against the door and heard Kyle’s small grunts and whines. Holy shit, he was jacking off.

Cartman felt a stirring in his pants. God, he should hate himself for being such a dirty voyeur, but how could he not get hard at those noises? Christ sake, Kyle sounded like a chick about to bust. Maybe he was about to bust. He had been in there for a while, after all.

Cartman closed his eyes and imagined what Kyle could look like right now. Eyes closed, brow knit and sweaty, biting his lip as he strokes himself faster. He listened attentively to Kyle’s noises, letting his imagination run wild.

His fantasy was cut short when he heard a distinct whimper of pain, and a small “Fucking ow…” from behind the door. God, his dick was throbbing. What was wrong with Cartman? He took several deep breaths, trying to control his raging hard-on, but to no avail. Fuck, he had to think of the one most unattractive person he can imagine.

He immediately pulled up Instagram to look up pictures of Wendy Testaburger. Ah, that was better. He stared at the images until he was at least down to semi-hardness. He scrolled to another photo, then jumped back as his phone suddenly blasted the new Taylor Swift song that Wendy had tagged on her newest post. All noise from the bathroom ceased suddenly. Cartman scrambled to grab his phone, then the door suddenly opened a crack.

“Cartman…?” Kyle’s voice was small and a little rough.

“K-K-Kyle! H-hey! Uh… you, uh… you done in there, or what…?”

“No, I’m… actually, just…” Kyle opened the door for Cartman, who stepped inside. He looked at Kyle, who had wet eyes and extremely messy hair. “I forgot to pack my haircare stuff… I only brought this stupid hair pick. My stupid fucking hair is so dense and tangled and it hurts like hell.”

God, Cartman felt like a fucking idiot. How could he have such a dirty mind? He felt ashamed. He needed to do something to make it up to Kyle, even if he had no idea what Cartman was just doing. “Let me buy you new curly hair stuff, then.”

Kyle laughed softly. “We have a curfew. You couldn’t get me stuff right now even if you wanted to. Thanks, though.” He smiled at him, making Cartman’s heart flutter. No, he had to do something.

“Curfew my ass.” Cartman grabbed Kyle’s hand and walked out of their hotel room door, dragging him down to the lobby where they were met with PC Principal, acting as a bouncer to the outside world.

“Boys. Would you like to tell me why you both aren’t asleep right now?” He crossed his arms assertively. Kyle looked at Cartman almost desperately.

“Come on dude, let’s just go back. It’s not that big of a deal, really.”

“No, Kyle, I want to do this for you. PC Principal, we have a Jew fro emergency. My dear friend is in terrible pain, and I just wanted to go out with him and buy him the products he needs in order to not suffer. Isn’t this whole trip about jewish suffering, anyway? You don’t want this innocent minority to suffer, do you, PC Principal?”

PC Principal faltered, torn between needing to enforce the curfew and not wanting to cause more harm to a minority. He looked around as if searching for an acceptable answer, then his eyes landed on Kyle. His red hair was frizzy and huge, and his eyes showed signs of distress. He then looked to Cartman, who was standing in an almost protective stance in front of Kyle. A sudden realization dawned on him. Ah, he supposed that he should inform Tweek and Craig they weren’t alone now. 

PC Principal just couldn’t bring himself to hurt these boys. Naturally, if he had his wallet on him, he would’ve given them money. But since that wasn’t an option, he decided to let the boys go. “The convenience store is just down the street. I expect you both to be back in fifteen minutes. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” Cartman grinned triumphantly and dragged Kyle down the street. As his mind wandered, he started thinking about how he was holding Kyle’s hand. 

It wasn’t small or anything, it was just that Cartman had huge hands, so they were thin in comparison. He still felt guilty about being a voyeur. If it wasn’t for Kyle’s noises of pain, Cartman probably would’ve at least palmed himself before snapping out of it and reminding himself Kyle was a guy. Cartman felt his hands clam up and he promptly let go of Kyle as they entered the store.

Kyle immediately went to the haircare section and picked out a handful of oils and washes. He walked over to the self-checkout and scanned all the items, then looked to Cartman. He strutted over, phone in hand, and paid for the items, not wanting to look at the price in fear that he’d back out like a coward.

Cartman grabbed Kyle’s hand again and walked him all the way back to their hotel room. He told himself it was because he wanted them to rush, but deep down he knew it was because he wanted to hold Kyle’s hand some more. Cartman sat Kyle down and put his head under the tap of the bath.

“I’m gonna wash your hair like normal,” Cartman said, switching on the water. “If I’m doing something wrong, just tell me how to fix it.”

“You’re washing my hair?”

“So what? I’m trying to do a nice thing for you, Kyle. God forbid I do something nice for you.”

Cartman pushed Kyle’s head underneath the faucet and squirted some shampoo in. He massaged it all throughout, making sure every strand was covered. At least now he knows how Kyle’s curls feel, Cartman thought. He was happy that Kyle didn’t stop him from washing his hair. That residential program really did wonders, because now Kyle trusts him enough to do these intimate tasks for him. Cartman felt honored.

“Why are you so good at this, dude?” Kyle asked, his volume louder than normal to be sure Cartman heard him over the rushing water. “And you can start conditioning my hair now, you’ve been rinsing it for a while.” Kyle kept his phrasing gentle because he didn’t want to sound like he was complaining. In fact, the scalp massage that Cartman was unconsciously giving him was damn near euphoric.

“Oh, right. I spaced out. But I’m doing good, right?”

“Fuck yes you’re doing good, dude. I’m super impressed.”

Cartman finished up washing Kyle’s hair and started combing through the wet crimson curls. Kyle leaned back against his friend and felt his eyes grow heavy. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, and Cartman couldn’t help but do the same.

Around a half hour later, Kenny and Stan snuck back into the hotel room with a higher blood alcohol content than when they left. Stan stopped dead in his tracks and toppled over when Kenny crashed into him from behind.

“What the fuck, Stan?” Kenny angrily slurred.

Stan simply pointed to the open bathroom, where Kyle and Cartman lay together on the floor, sleeping peacefully.

“Since when are they cuddle buddies?” Stan stood up and stumbled over to his bed, collapsing on the mattress and closing his eyes. “Fucking bullshit… Wendy never wants to cuddle with me like that.”

Kenny laid down on the other bed and promptly passed out, Stan following close behind. Neither boy had the energy nor the sobriety to change into their pajamas.

And Kyle and Cartman slept just as soundly, both men feeling closer than ever.