A/N: Inspired by the latest, devastating episode. This is set two weeks after the incident with the boys and Eric in the cabin. I very rarely write the boys where they're their canonical ages, so this was interesting for me! Also, poetry isn't my strong suit but my inability really lends itself to this story, because I doubt Kyle writes a lot of poetry either. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts too!
The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, casting its grand shadow over the darkening blue sky when the boys left the cabin, and they walked through the woods in silence. Except for one. They had left Cartman behind. They could barely look at him afterwards, let alone ask him if he wanted to walk home. Maybe he needed some time alone anyway, in an old, empty cabin surrounded by his broken possessions… yeah, maybe that didn't make much sense after all.
Distance creatures called to one another, the birds sang good night and dead leaves crunched under the boys' footsteps, but they didn't speak. Kyle wondered if it was because their own relentless thoughts had gagged them, torturing them with the fresh, raw memories of what they had done. The confusion on Cartman's face was now seared into Kyle's brain, and the fear and the betrayal that gleamed in his eyes now pierced Kyle's heart poisoned by remorse. Cartman had stopped begging an hour or so ago, but his pleads and desperate insistences that he was innocent had crawled into Kyle's mind, pounded against his skull like ceremonial drums to condemn him-
No, he couldn't think that way. He couldn't let his emotions and his loyalties (tangled and rooted deeper than he ever imagined) cloud his perspective, the rationalities that they had all consoled each other with. They had no choice! Were they just supposed to let the trolling go on until the girls retaliated and more people got hurt? Yes, they had no concrete evidence that Eric was skankhunt42 but he was their prime suspect! And that meant something, didn't it? Their accusations must've been founded in some kind of truth. But how sure were they deep down? Cartman had implied to Kyle that he wasn't the troll before but how was Kyle supposed to believe in his duplicitous friend? Was it too late to believe? Was the damage irreversible? What if they had all been terribly wrong and had made a horrible mistake?
The downpour of sudden questions made Kyle freeze, as if he could just halt time and reconsider everything. If only…
He had trailed behind the rest of the group, but apparently his sudden stop was noticeable enough that the other guys turned around, exchanging confused, worried glances.
"Dude, are you alright?" Stan asked.
"Yeah…" Kyle suddenly found himself replying. He raised his voice, "Yeah, I just, uh, think I dropped something back there. I should go get it."
Stan glanced at the guys, before he turned his gaze to Kyle imploringly as if trying to figure out what was going on his best friends head.
"I'll come back with you, if you want?" Stan asked. His eyes shone with concern. "It's getting dark…"
"No, it's fine, I'll go back on my own," Kyle replied, shaking his head. "I'll be okay, I promise. Maybe I'll catch up to you?" He added with a weak, reassuring smile.
Stan nodded, though he didn't seem confident. "Sure, okay, we'll wait for you."
"Thanks, dude," Kyle smiled.
Stan returned the smile sheepishly before Kyle retraced his steps. This part of the woods wasn't exactly familiar to him but the closer he got to the cabin the more he recalled and he picked up his pace until he was nearly running. When he reached the cabin the door was still open and he gulped as he approached it, slowly on his now aching feet. He peered inside and saw that Cartman was still there, sat on the floor. He was still crying, shaking with fragile, sputtering tears. Curled up on the floor, arms tightly bracing his legs and his head tucked away he looked like a frightened woodland creature, bristly and defensive, ready to lash out even when distressed.
Kyle just watched helplessly, forgetting why he came back here in the first place when he had no plan or solution. Cartman must've caught sight of him, for he lifted his head and flinched, afraid. Cartman always responded to Kyle's presence in a variety of ways, the majority of which were confusing and irritating, but rarely did they invoke such sympathy. Although Kyle felt wretched that he even had the gall to feel sorry for Cartman when this was his doing, this was what he had reduced Cartman to.
"Wh-what are you doing here, Kyle?" He asked, voice still thick with tears.
"I…" Kyle pursed his lips and looked away, before he murmured, "I don't know…"
That was a lie. He came back because he wanted to see if Cartman was okay, and in his most optimistic daydream he and Cartman were walking home together, in an even more excruciating silence than the rest of the guys were in. But Kyle couldn't very well ask if Cartman was okay when he already knew the answer, when he already knew he was the cause of his misery. He could've apologised, but he couldn't right now. It was too soon, so many things were still unclear.
"If you've c-co-come to break more of my stuff there's no point," Cartman tried to say meanly, but he was still shaking. "Th-there's nothing so you might as well leave me alone… "
Kyle opened his mouth, feeling like he should say something and wanting to reply but there were no words. There was no way to console or comfort Cartman, nothing that would soothe Kyle's shaken conscience. But there was anger, Kyle's default emotion when things were confusing and crumbling and burning around him. This was indeed one of those times. It was just that on this occasion he had struck a match of his own.
Gritting his teeth and balling his gloved fists he turned away, wanting to leave the cabin behind forever (though not necessarily the boy not in it) and go home. But turning his back on Cartman he realised he did have something to say, the only excuse he could cling to.
"We didn't have a choice…"
"Huh?"
Kyle looked at Cartman and sighed.
"I said we didn't have a choice, Cartman."
Silence. Kyle realised that was his invitation to leave.
Two weeks later
The desk next to Kyle had been empty for three days, but it felt like longer. These past two weeks, full of division and devastation had felt like years, and it was difficult to remember a time clear of this mess though everyone was clearly yearning for it. Kyle was no exception.
When Cartman had been in school he had avoided his friends; sitting alone during lunch, nowhere to be seen in the playground during recess. Despite their actions that had suggested otherwise, the boys still wanted to talk to Cartman especially since the revelation that the troll wasn't Cartman and that skankhunt42 still out there had left them all reeling with remorse. But Cartman wasn't forgiving them so easily, feigning deafness when they attempted conversation. But there was more to Cartman's reclusion than a mere grudge, more had been lost than material possessions.
No longer a boisterous presence in the hallway, the classroom or the bus-stop, the boys knew that destroying Cartman's stuff would have an impact on that (a positive one, they had previously hoped), but they didn't realise just how much they would drain away of Cartman's personality, how severe the outcome would be. Especially now it was all for nothing. They had appeared to have left his voice and his spirit in the woods, buried it with the mangled electronic remains and broken glass. Cartman now kept his head down, facing the world warily rather than with that dangerous, arrogant confidence he once challenged it with. To Kyle he was visible, but not accessible anymore. He wasn't there to challenge Kyle, to invoke those fiery emotions he once did, or make him laugh with his crude jokes despite himself.
And so to add to his worsening, debilitating guilt, was the simple truth that Kyle missed Cartman. More than he ever imagined he would. Cartman's absence from his life was a gnawing severance that he never expected, never thought he would have to take into account when the boys had formed their failed plan. And although for two weeks Cartman hadn't spoken one word to him, he was still with Kyle, consuming his thoughts more than ever. His voice was just a faded echo for Kyle to replay, and despite the distance between them Kyle would stare and wish he had the courage to go over and say something, if he wasn't so proud and he was sure Cartman would listen.
Those voyeuristic, lamenting moments were all Kyle had until three days ago, when Cartman hadn't been stood at the bus-stop. Anxiety had lurched in Kyle's throat and he spent the entire day fretting about what could've happened to him. He worried himself as well as beat himself up, told himself he was pathetic because he couldn't exactly play the victim. He had inflicted all this upon himself and Cartman too.
"… And since we've been studying poetry these past couple of weeks, your assignment this weekend is to write an original poem!" The sound of their teacher's voice pulled Kyle out of his sinking thoughts. "And it can be about anything you want, as long as it's something personal to you. You could write about your friends, your family, your pets, your favourite movies, vacations, your favourite memory. Anything you can think of! Poetry is about tapping into your thoughts and emotions and expressing them either aloud or on paper. They're due on Monday and I expect everyone to be prepared to read theirs in front of the class."
The shrill bell rang, ending another day.
"Alright, see you all on Monday," their teacher smiled. "Have a great weekend, guys!"
Murmured, hostile chatting erupted in the classroom as everybody packed their things away and prepared for home.
"Oh, Kyle?" Their teacher suddenly asked. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"
Kyle blinked and glanced at Stan, he had felt his best friend fix him a worried look. Kyle tried to give him a reassuring smile in response as he sheepishly made his way over to the teacher's desk.
"You're not in trouble, Kyle," she assured, sensing his hesitancy. "It's just that since Eric hasn't been here these past couple of days, he's missed some work and I know you two are friends. Would you mind taking it to his house?"
Kyle's heart leapt at the opportunity.
"No, ma'am," he replied.
"Great," she beamed, before reaching for the pile of paper and textbooks on her desk and handing them to him. "Thank you, Kyle."
Kyle smiled beneath the stack of homework in his arms, and he left the classroom heady at the prospect of being able to talk to Cartman again, to tell him all he needed to hear. But he was terrified too.
Walking to Cartman's house, clutching his homework tightly to his chest was a more nerve-wracking experience for Kyle than when he and the guys had led Cartman into the woods, when Kyle's conscience had caught up to him and sent him rushing back to the cabin aimlessly.
Stan and Kenny had offered to tag along, but Kyle knew they were apprehensive about the prospect although they wanted to be supportive friends. Kyle declined, assured them he would be fine and – although it felt selfish to admit to himself – he wanted to at least try to clear the between him and Cartman alone. Besides, more than one of his friends at his door may have proven overwhelming for him.
Balancing the pile of homework in one arm, Kyle reached for the doorbell with a trembling finger. The echo of the innocuous tone reverberated and made his heart shudder. It only just occurred to Kyle that if Cartman answered the door he may well slam it in his face. Kyle wouldn't have just gone home and counted his losses though, he would have persevered because that's all he knew when dealing with him. Luckily, Miss Cartman answered the door and dashed that dreaded scenario.
"Oh, hi, Miss Cartman…"
"Hello, Kyle!" She grinned. "Come in, dear!"
Miss Cartman stood aside and Kyle smiled shyly up at her as he let himself in.
"Have you come to see Eric?" She asked.
Kyle's gaze had been roaming the room, as if he couldn't quite believe he was there.
"Uh, yeah, I just wanted to drop off some homework for him," Kyle replied, gesturing to the stack of papers in his arms.
"Right… thank you. He's been…" Miss Cartman's gaze trailed over to the stairs and she sighed, returning to Kyle with a crease in her brow and a frown tugging at her lips. "I'm very worried about him, Kyle, and I don't know what to do," she sucked in a shaking breath then and dabbed at her now sparkling eyes. "He just seems so depressed, and I wish I could talk to him and get him to open up. He doesn't come out of his room anymore, and every time I try to talk to him about how he's feeling he loses his temper. It all started when he came home from the woods, all his things were missing – his phone, his laptop, his tablet – everything," the words elicited icy fear in Kyle, he hunched his shoulders. Miss Cartman, continued, "And he looked so upset! I thought he had been mugged! I took Eric to the police station but he wouldn't say anything. He wouldn't tell them any details about the people who had done it, what they looked like, if he recognised them…"
Kyle blinked, his fear melting to reveal the realisation that Cartman had refused to rat on them when he could have done, when he had every right to. Kyle had no idea he could be so loyal… their world, their personalities seemed so skewed and distorted right now, where Kyle was playing with deception and Cartman appeared to be protecting his friends who had wronged him.
"Do you know anything, Kyle?" Miss Cartman asked. "Did you see something?"
"No…" Kyle murmured, he shook his head. "No, I didn't…"
The blatant lie tasted of horrid regret, of vile shame.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, hanging his head to disguise the conflicted – possibly giveaway – emotions creasing his face.
"No, no, don't be dear! It's not your fault!" Liane rushed to assure him. "I'm sorry for putting all this on you. It's just nice to be able to talk to somebody about these things."
Kyle looked up at her and managed to smile awkwardly, although he was hardly the one Miss Cartman should be finding solace in.
"And I'm glad you're here," she added softly, smiling too. "Hopefully it'll cheer Eric up. He always talks about you, Kyle."
"Oh…" Kyle whispered; blinking, brow creased, unable to believe it. "Really?"
Miss Cartman chuckled under her breath and nodded.
"Well, I'll let you go on up," she said, standing beside the stairs.
"Right," Kyle replied. "Thanks, Miss Cartman."
"You're welcome, dear!" Liane called out when Kyle was halfway up. "You're always welcome!"
When he reached the top of the stairs, Kyle zeroed in on Cartman's bedroom door immediately. He took a trembling, bracing breath and made his way over, careful. All he wanted to say that he had modified and repeated relentlessly now burst in a panicked cacophony in his head.
Reaching the door, he knocked it twice.
"Go away, mom!" Cartman's voice drifted through the wood.
"It's not your mom, it's me," Kyle said, his own voice balancing precariously on a thin tightrope. "I have homework for you."
Silence, and when Kyle realised that would be Cartman's only response he sighed.
"Cartman, dude, please let me in," he said. "Please let me in so I can talk to you?"
Clearly, Cartman wasn't moved; untrusting, sceptical, hurt. As Kyle welled up, his throat clenched. But he wouldn't break down, his trusty inclination towards anger, irritation, kept him barely afloat.
"Come on!" He begged. "Cartman, come on, open up! Please!"
He huffed, before balancing the pile of homework on one arm so he could open the door. Waiting was clearly getting him nowhere, after all. But the door was locked and Kyle sighed, voice strained with desperation. He tugged at the doorknob, believing that if he pulled hard enough he could break the lock and put this right but after a few futile tugs he realised it was impossible. He shouted mindlessly through gritted teeth and punched the door.
"Damn, it, Cartman! I'm sorry, alright! I've never been sorrier of anything in my whole life!" Kyle exclaimed, eyes burning and tears pooling at his lashes. "I fucked up! I fucked everything up! I should've believed you, I shouldn't have judged you, and , and jumped to conclusions like that! I shouldn't have been…" Kyle swallowed, his dry mouth tasting of amylase and bittersweet regret. "I shouldn't have been such a fucking hypocrite, okay?! Because I'm always giving those stupid speeches about being open-minded but I wasn't this time. I judged you and it wasn't fair, and I'm so sorry!"
"I should never have hurt my friend like that!" Kyle continued, his breathing frenetic and he could hardly believe that these confessions were pouring so readily out of him. "Because you are, Cartman! You are my friend, I know we give each other a ton of shit, but you're one of my best friends and I'll do anything for you to forgive me! I'll buy you all new stuff! I'll figure out a way to get it all back, I promise! I just want… I just want you to come back to school. I just want to be able to hang out with you again, I, I just… I just want to be able to talk to you again. Like old times. So… please, please is there any way you'd be able to forgive me?"
Kyle's vision was blurry, and he willed himself to see Cartman through his tears. But he wasn't there, he knew it, he couldn't paint the watercolour mirage in his eyes. His voice was scratchy now and he was panting in glistening, stinging bursts. Although he waited, feet planted on the carpet, he wasn't patient and that became evident with every passing moment that Cartman hadn't emerged from his room. Anger roiled inside him like a storm gaining devastating momentum. Here he was, crying with his mistakes laid bare, unearthing confessions from the deepest part of his soul and still that wasn't enough.
"You know what, Cartman?!" Kyle snapped, seething now. "Just because your stuff is gone doesn't mean you're dead! Or, or invisible! So stop acting like such a baby and snap the fuck out of it!"
Over his harsh breaths he heard movement from the other side of the door and his eyes widened, heart pounding with anticipation. Kyle flinched when the door opened, overwhelmed and frozen now Cartman was in front of him again. It was all he had wanted, and he would've smiled if Cartman's forlorn, miserable expression hadn't made his gut clench with guilt.
"My stuff?" Cartman asked, voice hoarse. "Is that really all you think I care about?"
Kyle opened his mouth to speak, to retract his vitriol made in haste, but no words would come. Helpless, Kyle watched Cartman grit his teeth, his jaw locking as if he was shielding himself from further hurt. Suddenly, Cartman was snatching the homework from Kyle's arms, brutally swift, and before Kyle could say anything the door was slammed in his face, locked once more.
Lips parted, Kyle stared at the door disbelievingly, reeling and heartbroken.
"Cartman?" The first word that came to his mind. "Cartman, please, I'm sorry! Can I just talk to you?!"
Further silence that splintered Kyle's bruised heart.
"Cartman?!" He cried, before pounding on the door frantically. "Open up! Please, open up! Cartman!" His voice cracked then, tearing apart.
Defeated tears slid down his face and Kyle closed his eyes, letting them run. He pressed his forehead against the door, a soft thud in the quiet hallway.
"Eric…" he whispered, and a tear splashed onto the carpet.
Kyle let himself cry for a few minutes, his body wracked with the tears he had been bottling up, before he realised he couldn't wait forever, crying at Cartman's bedroom door. With his head hung, he walked to the stairs slowly.
Cartman hadn't shown up for school on Monday. Kyle had been disappointed, but not surprised. He supposed his little visit only exacerbated the already undesirable situation. However, his heart did deflate when he saw that Cartman's designated place at the bus stop was still empty, swallowed by the snow. It would not only have been a massive relief for Cartman to be in school today, an indicator that perhaps that they were on the slow path to progress, but it was also crucial that he be present in class, the day where some would nominate themselves to read their poems out loud.
Kyle had not been one of those people, the subject of his poem too personal to share, and without his… muse present (for lack of a better term); Kyle saw no point or significance in volunteering. All he would be rewarded with was lukewarm praise from his teacher, half-hearted applause from his classmates and strange looks from his friends. But his weekend of frustration, scribbling and ripping out pages from his notebook wouldn't be in vein.
Even if it meant climbing up the drainpipe to Cartman's house. The plan seemed straightforward if not slightly demented, and with the poem neatly folded in his jacket pocket, clutching at his heart with anxious, lined fingers, Kyle gripped the drainpipe with both hands and straddled it so his feet were placed on the wall as if he were about to embark on some reverse abseiling. He then began to move up the drainpipe like a sloth in the rainforest, just as slow as the sluggish animal too, but the further he ascended the more timid he became. He knew we would succumb to vertigo if he looked anywhere but straight ahead.
His legs ached, muscles pulled tauter in his limbs than they ever had before, and his fingers were sore, white and choking from the pressure of gripping the drainpipe so tightly. But all that rope climbing in gym must've paid off because he made it to Cartman's window, shaking from the cold, the adrenaline, the nerves, and he was surprised the drainpipe didn't rattle beneath him.
But his trails were not over yet, as he still had to secure himself on Cartman's window ledge. It appeared close enough, but not enough to eradicate Kyle's fears of slipping and falling, breaking his leg in the process. Although he had fared well climbing up the drainpipe, he questioned whether whatever strength he had mustered to perform such a feat would allow him to step onto the window ledge without a scratch.
His gaze was steely and focused on the ledge, before he lifted his arm, straining to reach the gutter that was inches above his head. With a laboured sigh he curled his fingers around the gutter and he squeezed his eyes shut as his digits buried themselves in wet, numbing snow. Kyle tried to regulate his erratic breathing, wanting to be as measured as possible when he slowly pulled away from the drainpipe. Slowly, his trembling, aching leg uncoiled from the pipe, his foot successfully meeting the edge of the windowsill. Closing his eyes he exhaled in frosty relief, biting back a quivering smile.
He bit his lip in concentration when he carefully lifted his other hand to secure himself on the gutter, his fingers boring into the slush that had accumulated there. His leg was now loosely wrapped around the drainpipe, and with his face scrunched in desperate hope that this next move wouldn't be a catastrophic one, Kyle eventually let go of the drainpipe, although he was now dangling from the gutter with one foot on the ledge.
Timidly, he began to shuffle along the gutter, half praying that Cartman would notice the commotion going on outside his window and help him… or maybe he had noticed and he was just sitting back and watching the show? Kyle almost felt indignant until he realised that maybe he deserved it.
Kyle's legs were still far apart, but when he had enough room on the ledge he quickly closed that gap. Now all he had to do was let go of the gutter and crouch on the windowsill.
Fuck.
He gulped, shivering, before he turned on his heel only slightly and arduously lowered his trembling body, trying to keep his eyes away from the dizzying white below. He flinched, skittish, when his fingers met the sill and he smiled with triumphant relief. He crawled across the ledge like an overgrown cat, but with hardly any of the agility felines normally possessed. His moves were clumsy and petrified.
Kyle peered into Cartman's room and saw him sat cross legged on his bed, Mr Kitty on his lap.
Of course, Kyle thought, he would only let the cat in.
But Cartman's head was hung and his movements were listless despite his cat's best attempts at entertaining him. Rolling back his shoulders, bracing himself for a task more nerve-wracking than climbing up a drainpipe, Kyle tapped on the window.
Mr Kitty's reflexes appeared to be as sharp as ever, the first to respond to the noise. Kyle saw Cartman furrow his eyebrows, before he lifted his head and balked at the sight outside his window, mouth pulling angrily and tightly together in an unimpressed frown.
"Cartman!" Kyle called, ensuring he could be heard through the glass. "Cartman, can you please open the window?! I need to tell you something!"
Cartman studied the scene with hardened, confused eyes before he dismissed it all together, hunching his shoulders and turning his back on the window, on Kyle.
"Please, it's important!" Kyle begged, fist pounding against the glass now. "You can tell me to fuck off later but please will you just hear me out?! Come on, please?!"
Kyle waited, panting with pleading eyes that were trained on his broken friend. He saw Cartman shake his head and place Mr Kitty on the floor, before he stomped over to the window (the heavy sound of his footsteps audible through the glass), and almost pulled it off its hinges when he opened it, startling Kyle and the speedy, abrupt events rushed towards him and made him dizzy.
"What the hell do you want?!" Cartman demanded.
Kyle didn't flinch, he just blinked, held the opportunity Cartman was giving him close for a while, before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the piece of paper. His jittery fingers unfolded it, and his one hand returned to the window frame to ensure he didn't fall. Kyle swallowed the hard, stifling lump in his throat and read:
You could never tell me I was wrong
Although many times you tried
You make everyone believe that you are strong
Even when you were scared and cried
But now I'm the one who's shedding tears
After what I did to you.
In trying to destroy our biggest fears
We made them all come true.
Before I was blinded by the past, I can see now you want to be new
And I hope that it will last, now I realise your heart is true.
I acted unfair and harsh and rash, I'm so sorry that I hurt you.
Kyle's voice wavered towards the end, the tremoring result of that lump pushing back into his throat. His trembles were even more vigorous, and his heart too was pounding to an impatient, thunderous beat. Cartman hadn't interrupted Kyle's poem, and when Kyle had looked up he was both surprised and delighted to find Cartman still standing there.
Cartman's lips were parted, his gaze wandering everywhere and occasionally eluding Kyle, but whenever he caught him like an iridescent fleck of light he always lingered. If the lump in Kyle's throat hadn't crushed and dissolved his voice, Kyle would've pleaded for Cartman to speak. After all, he wasn't patient, just shaken. They both were, and these past two weeks had now snowballed into perfect, helpless silence.
But that silence, that still, suspended moment was broken by a strong gust of howling wind to frighten Kyle and to raise the hairs on the nape of his neck like a ghost, and he clung to the window frame for support.
"Jesus, get down from there before you kill yourself, you fucking dumbass!" Cartman snapped, finally speaking, before grabbing Kyle's arm and tugging him into his bedroom.
Kyle stumbled, head whirring as he tried to find his balance and follow the swift course of events that had unfolded. Cartman just chuckled under his breath and it calmed Kyle.
"What the hell was that?"
"A poem," Kyle replied, finding his voice. Heat scorched his previously cold cheeks. "We had to write one in class. I, uh, wrote mine about you…"
"Oh…" Cartman whispered, not expecting the answer. He shook his head. "I wasn't just talking about the girly poem though. What about the whole climbing up the front of my house thing?"
"Oh, that, well, I didn't think I'd be able to get your attention any other way," Kyle explained, unable to stop the smile on his face. He tucked the poem back in his pocket. "You wouldn't have opened the door for me, right?"
The answer only puzzled Cartman further, but he chuckled again and rolled his eyes, completely incredulous.
"You're crazy!"
"It got you talking to me though," Kyle pointed out
And for the first time in what felt like forever, they were smiling at each other, awkward and unsure, but a smile had never left Kyle so elated.
"I really miss you, Cartman," he said softly, seriously. He shook his head and cringed when he felt fat, stinging tears prick his eyes. "I'm so sorry…"
"Wait, you're crying?" Cartman asked, concern needling his voice. "Seriously? Stop it, Kyle!"
But Kyle couldn't, all he could do was bury his head in his hands to disguise and muffle his tears.
"God damn it, stop!" Cartman pleaded, irritable. "Here…"
Kyle suddenly found himself in Cartman's tentative embrace and he choked on a wet, deep gasp. He sank into the hug immediately, as if it were the comforting finishing line to his pursuit of forgiveness. And Cartman's warm soft body pressed against his, his thick arms bracing him, was so lovely and soothing and familiar and missed that Kyle gladly reciprocated the hug, burying his face in Cartman's shoulder and wrapping his arms around him, squeezing him as if he knew he could lose his friends again.
Then Cartman murmured, "what hurt the most was that you didn't believe me…"
Kyle furrowed his eyebrows and slipped out of the hug, sniffling.
"Huh?"
Cartman sighed and scratched the back of his neck, searching for an explanation.
"I'm not an idiot, Kyle," he replied. "I know I don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to being nice. I'm always fucking shit up, pissing people off… causing problems for everyone."
Kyle frowned, pitying and guilty.
"And yeah, trolling the girls does seem like something I would do," Cartman admitted with a sigh. "But not anymore. I don't know who the hell this skankhunt douchebag is but I meant it when I told you I was scared there was a war coming."
Kyle remembered Cartman telling him that, if only he had known then how right he would be.
"The reason I told you that in the first place is because…" Cartman looked away, obviously embarrassed for what he was about to admit and he rolled his eyes. "Is because I thought you could help me. Whenever I do something bad, you're always the one who notices and actually goes out of your way to stop it. Everybody else just ignores me, thinks it's typical, but you don't. You go after me, try so damn hard to get me on the right path, you… y-you believe in me. Yeah, it's pretty annoying sometimes – most of the time, actually – but -"
Kyle cut in, laughing. He flushed and shook his head.
"But it also feels pretty nice deep down, to know that you thought I could change and be better… stop doing fucked up shit that I didn't have to do," Cartman admitted gently, before his tone became sombre. "I guess it just hurt when you didn't believe me when I needed you to, when I really needed you more than anything…"
Cartman's tender admission, this new understanding, weighed down on Kyle's heart and threatened to release more tears. But he was also exhilarated by this new, clear perspective. He hoped it could be an opportunity to wipe the slate clean, make things right, not just for him and Cartman but for everyone.
"I believe in you now," Kyle smiled.
Cartman had been studying the carpet sheepishly, but now looked up at Kyle with wide eyes. "Really?"
"Yeah… I always have," Kyle nodded, smile growing wider before he sighed, "But everything has been so intense and messed up lately and I guess I just wanted to make it stop."
"I don't think stopping it will be so easy though," Cartman murmured.
"Probably not," Kyle agreed. "But…"
"What?"
"We could still do it?" Kyle replied, voice brightening, albeit hesitantly. "We could still find out who skankhunt is, no matter how long it takes!"
Cartman raised his eyebrows, still sceptical, still bruised.
"I… I don't know, Kyle…" he said, rubbing his arm as he looked away.
Kyle rolled his eyes and suffocated his disappointed sigh, figuring it was time to instil some of that faith he had in Cartman into him. "Come on, Cartman! I could really use your help."
"You're seriously?" Cartman asked, eyes wide.
"Yeah, I am. I believe in you, alright?" Kyle grinned, his gaze was imploring, shining. "I believe we can do this together."
Eyes glinting, Cartman was clearly exhilarated as he considered Kyle's proposal.
"So what do you say?" Kyle asked with a wicked smirk.
Cartman shook his head before he grinned, "fuck it, I'm in."