Author's Note: Alright, so I'm starting a new story about South Park this time. The summary pretty much says it all. So, I'm probably going to be changing POV's to make the story a little more indepth, because this doesn't just center around Kyle and Cartman, but there's many other stories going on within and under the surface, so please be patient as I lay the foundation of this story. Please enjoy and review.

Chapter 1: Crossing the Line

My name is Kyle Broflovski and I hate Eric Cartman.

It's funny how one person can define you so much but in such a negative way. He's been everything that I'm against and there are days when I wonder if he only has certain opinions because I hold the opposite of them. Cartman has tormented me over the years and it always started with "…goddamn Jew!" to which I'd always respond with, "Bring it on fatass!". It was ritual, because if I didn't call him a fatass and he didn't call me a Jew, then things just didn't seem to make sense.

But that was before he crossed the line.

Sure, Cartman has done pretty fucked up shit in his elementary days and that even seemed to carry over into junior high and later when we all reached South Park High, but he'd never gone this far, never fucked so much shit up before. You'd think that somehow someone would mature at sixteen, but as I stormed down the empty halls of school, I felt suddenly like I was nine again.

My thick snow boots collided heavily with the swinging doors of the cafeteria, effectively silencing everyone. Eyes turned upon me in fear, in confusion, but as I glimpsed Kenny's reaction, he seemed delighted. Cartman had frozen mid-stride with his tray of lunch clenched in his hands. Did I say he hadn't matured? He was taller than me, only be a few inches because over the years, I'd strangely grown to be taller as well, but he was wider, more muscular than I could ever hope to be; Cartman had grown into his baby fat leaving behind muscle in its place, but that didn't scare me – I was angry, frustrated, and out for blood.

I crossed the space between us in a few quick leaps and I felt my face darken as I drew closer. Cartman's brown eyes looked caught in the middle of dread and bewilderment as I drew closer, obviously having no intent to stop.

With the momentum I had, I made a quick lunge, striking out my fist and feeling a rush of satisfaction as I smashed it against the side of his face. The taller teen went sprawling across the floor, his tray clattering beside his fallen form.

Pause.

So I punched the fat Nazi prick in the face, but he deserved it. However, I guess it would look just like an act of violence from the average dorky kid at school to any passing student or teacher, but it ran much deeper than that.

It all started a week ago.

"No, Kenny, that's why they call it photosynthesis," I chuckled, walking home from school between my two best friends, right where I always was. None of our family's could afford a car, and frankly, very few kids our age had one anyway, so we were happy with walking back and forth, seeing as our high school had decided that they didn't want buses anymore.

Kenny just nudged my sides, as well beginning to laugh, "Well, excuse me, Professor Broflovski."

Ever since Junior high school, Kenny had decided to ditch wearing his hood up all the time, finally showing everyone the handsome blonde he truly was, however the orange parka stayed, as it probably always would. However this earned him quite the attention from girls, some almost seeming just to use him like a whore, but Kenny insisted that he liked it, even preferred it because it never meant getting involved, to which he'd always poke fun at Stan and Wendy, who after all this time, still seemed to love my super best friend more than ever.

"So, guys," Stan suddenly interrupted, lacing his fingers behind his head in a leisurely manner, "I was thinking we ought to have a little get-together tonight seeing as my parents are taking a small vacation out of town, leaving the liquor cabinet unguarded."

Kenny pretended to swoon, placing his gloved hand over his heart and he cried, "Oh Alcohol, my one true love! She's always the one I just can't get enough of, only it's too bad that I'm having an affair with her cousin, Weed." The blonde waggled his eye brows suggestively as the two of us, forcing me back into a fit of laughter.

"Heh, yeah well I was thinking of inviting Cartman too," he replied almost nervously, casting a look in my direction. At this point, I was trying to be an adult about Cartman, letting it seem like I didn't really care about him either way, but god he pissed me off so much.

However, my body seemed to have a mind of its own as I shrugged my shoulders, plastering on my indifferent face as I released a sound from my lips that sounded like a "meh" meaning that I didn't really mind. Stan nodded and smiled his big goofy smile and started blabbering on and on about how he kind of felt bad for the fatass because we used to be his friends and that we almost never see him. Truth was, as Stan put it, Cartman probably would turn us down and say something about he didn't want to hang out with "a Jew, a hippie, and a poor sack of shit" so imagine my surprise when Cartman said that he'd be right over.

Initially, he and I started out bickering like old times, him openly trying to offend me, and me trying to brush it off like it was nothing, but one his idiotic and ignorant statements always pulled me back in. When the whiskey was introduced, however, it seemed to put our fighting to rest, and Kenny praised 'her' yet again, calling her the 'sultan of getting along togetherness'.

Kenny passed me the open bottle, to which I gladly took a hearty swig. I was not a big drinker, and honestly I was a bit of a light weight when it came down to it, but we had just completed mid terms and I was dying for a release, even if it may have been an illegal one. The golden drink cascaded down the back of my throat like liquid fire, leaving behind scorches all the way down. Forcing myself to hold in my cough, I handed the whiskey by it's neck to Cartman, who as well took a large drink.

Once the whiskey bottle was empty, we sat in silence for a minute, all oddly somber even in our buzzed state. I glanced over at Cartman and frowned, wondering when he'd gotten not only so tall but so fit, especially when it seemed like just yesterday I was nine and calling him a total fatass.

"Alright, well you guys hold tight," Stan said, getting to his feet without so much as a wobble, "I'll bust out the rum."

And bust out he did. With a pop, the raven haired teen was passing around the burgundy drink which seemed to suddenly do the trick; I began giggling like a school girl on my second sip, Cartman as well dissolving into laughter while Kenny tried and failed continuously to make a coherent sentence and Stan trying see his own lips as he repeated the word 'rum' over and over again.

"Guys…so, fuck…," Ken began but seeming to lose his train of thought. I snorted wildly, clutching my sides as I tried to regain control, but everything just suddenly was so damn funny. "We…like, should play uh…what's it called? Oh, yeah, Truth or like…fucking Dare or some shit."

We were getting wasted, and the rum was already half gone.

"Rum, ruuuuuummmmmm," Stan trailed out goofily, his hazel eyes going slightly crossed as he tried in vain the catch a glimpse of his own mouth.

"Kenny," Cartman began, interrupting himself with a hiccup, "your poor ass mind had the greatest idea. I dare you to take another drink."

I giggled, Stan said rum, and Kenny drained practically the whole bottle without batting an eye. Cartman chuckled, falling onto his back for a second before rolling over next to me and began to say something to me, but I was lost in my own fits of delirious drunken joy. It was like being on a cloud where everything was a hilarious and your head seemed weightless.

"Psst!" Kenny smirked at me, "I dare you to kiss Stan."

On any other day, any other time, or maybe if I wasn't totally drunk off my ass, I would've plain said no but I felt like someone else was driving my body as I glanced over at my super best friend who'd obviously heard the dare and was grinning widely back at me. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion, now that I look back on it – me scooting closer and Stan puckering up mockingly kind of like a girl would in a cheesy romance movie and yet it never once crossed my mind of what kind of trouble this would bring, this one little kiss.

I locked lips with him hotly, my fingers diving through his soft ebony locks roughly as I grazed my teeth on his lower lip. His hands gripped the collar of my shirt, balling it up tightly as he responded to my touch. Somewhere in the back of my foggy mind, I could hear Cartman informing Kenny that he was correct and that we were both fags, but I was too caught up in what I was doing with Stan to notice.

When I broke for air, the room seemed to be spinning and Stan had this look on his face that seemed all too familiar though I couldn't place it. Kenny saying something but it seemed farther away, as if I had cotton wads stuffed in my ears. And then Stan was on his feet as he drunkenly fled out his backdoor where the distinctive sound of vomiting was heard. Kenny said something else about going to go hold Stan's hair back but it barely reached me as blackness closed in on all sides of my vision. As I fainted, the last thing I saw before unconsciousness took over was Cartman's malevolent grin.

It goes without saying that the next morning hang over was enough to slay a beast, so crippling that I was actually sure that Cartman wasn't being sarcastic when he'd said that while I slept he'd taken a hammer to my temples (that also being a poor excuse for a Jew pun).

When I awoke, I'd had that moment of bliss where I didn't remember making out with my super best friend, but then one look at Stan's stricken face and I knew that I'd done something wrong. Early that morning, as Kenny was nursing his hangover with a bottle of wine and Cartman still sleeping, the both of us decided simply that we were drunk, it meant nothing and should never be mentioned again. It was that simple.

However, as soon as I actually believed that we could just brush this off as nothing, the universe – namely Cartman – showed me otherwise.

It began on a Tuesday.

I walked into school in my usual stupor as I'd stayed up late yet again studying as my mother had commanded. Eyelids falling shut and feet dragging uselessly, it was a wonder I'd even noticed it; pictures were posted everywhere, one on virtually every locker, and a horrible feeling of regret and guilt pooled in my stomach as I reached my locker, where one of flyers had been placed but in big sharpie it read across the front "From me, To you".

It was a photograph of Stan and I. Kissing. The worst part was that it neither looked forced nor tampered with and I realized with a sinking feeling what this would do, to not only me, but to Stan. I could live with being tormented by the whole school for being gay or totally horny for my friend, whatever, but Stan? He had Wendy, he was the popular quarterback who already was in question because he openly hung out with Kenny and I. Stan had something to lose.

As the day progressed, it only seemed to get worse. Kenny tried to console me in the dickish way of his but it didn't help. Craig made a few jokes any time he saw me and Butters openly told me that gosh he was sorry but he couldn't be friend no more. I was at the end of my leash by the time the end of the day rolled around and I still hadn't even glimpsed Cartman's fatass.

By Wednesday, my boiling rage had diminished substantially. I saw Cartman and pretty much cussed him out repeatedly throughout the day as opposed to killing him as I'd originally planned. I was surprised at first by how resolute Stan was, sticking by my side even when people called us fags and homos and butt pirates and fanny bandits.

And then came Thursday. I didn't see Stan when I came into school, and he wasn't in my first period class. I didn't know how exactly, but I could feel it before it even happened – shit was about to hit the fan. So I walked home, carrying that feeling with me the whole way.

At about four in the afternoon, someone rang the door bell. I prayed and hoped that somehow everything was still fine, but God has a strange different sense of humor which only seemed more obvious as I opened my front door to reveal an upset Stan Marsh, who had tear tracks across his face and his eyes were red and puffy like he'd been crying for sometime. Wordlessly, I brought him up to my room, crossing my fingers that somehow this wasn't what I already thought it would be. We sat on my bed side-by-side, and in a broken voice Stan told me what happened.

"…and then Wendy said that it was over, and this time she wasn't forgiving me. She thinks I cheated on her with you, dude!" he cried in dismay, breaths ragged as if he were about to launch into another sobbing spree. I gingerly slung my arm across his broad shoulders, bringing his head to rest on me, which he did without protest.

I wanted to comfort him, but I was so mad that I couldn't even speak.

So essentially, that's how I found myself straddling the fatass and repeatedly beating the absolute shit out of him in the cafeteria.

Play.

"Kyle! Mr. Broflovski!"

I could hear the teachers screaming at me to stop but I couldn't. Cartman had finally done it – he'd snapped that very thin amount of patience I had for him.

"You crossed the fucking line, you fat sack of shit! Goddamn it!" I screamed right in his face, which only had this angry smirk on it, even with a busted lip and a nasty bruise forming on his left cheek he still looked triumphant.

Suddenly, I felt arms around my mid section as I was hoisted off of the Nazi bastard, and for a brief moment I thought that one of the teachers had finally gotten the balls to try and stop me from murdering Cartman. When I glanced down at those arms, I felt relieved to see the waterproof and familiar material of an orange parka.

Kenny McCormick lifted me up off of Cartman without even glancing at me, still holding me tightly as he escorted me out of the cafeteria. I couldn't even struggle against him but just allowed him to lead me away. We walked outside of the school gates and I realized that we were headed back to my house, basically just skipping the rest of the day, which I was totally fine with.

When we reached my front porch, Kenny paused for a minute, his hold on me tightening as he pulled me into a strange hug from behind, pressing his chin into the space between my shoulder blades. I shivered as I felt the heat from his deep sigh reach through my own jacket and tickle my spine.

"I know you're mad, Kyle," he whispered softly. "But please, don't get yourself kicked out of school just because of man tits, okay?"

I sighed and pulled away from Kenny as I opened to door to my house. The last thing I needed was advice from him of all people, the guy who will up and disappear in the blink of an eye because he "died" or so Stan and I called it and just come back like nothing had ever happened. I slammed the door shut behind me.

My weekend passes like any other normally would with me being cooped up in my room studying or stuck cleaning the house. Thankfully, my family seemed to understand my unhappiness and simply left me to myself so I could have time to think, but little good it did me once Monday came again.

I slumped against my locker that morning, lazily putting in my combination before it screeched open on rusted hinges. Sighing, I stared blankly at my text books, feeling suddenly drained. Last week seemed to happen so fast, like a car wreck, and now I was having to assess the damage.

"Ahem."

I glanced over to see my super best friend watching me with an ominous expression on his face. His hazel eyes seemed troubled but what stood out to me even more was the dead look behind it all. Aw fuck.

"W-what's up, dude?" I asked shakily, casting a look about the halls instead of having to face his blank gaze.

"We need to talk. Meet me in the parking lot after school, okay?"

Stan didn't even wait for my reply as he turned on his heel and walked away, fists clenched tightly. I released a breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding.

Over head, the sky was gathering in dark storm clouds.

Author's afterthought: Alright, so please tell me what you thought. Was it moving too fast? Any OOC's? Thanks for reading :)