Cartman had made up his mind — it was over. He was going to end it all, and that was that.
He was sick of everything in South Park. He was running out of things to do, and didn't even have the zeal to try to brainstorm more. He hadn't had a relationship since maybe the sixth grade, he was just as fat as he'd always been, and he was hanging on by a thread. He couldn't even figure out what he was doing, so he decided to end it while he was standing at the bus stop on a Friday morning, trying to list reasons to stay in his mind and coming up at least one too short.
He went through the school day trying to do his favorite things: eating and annoying people. Granted, everything kind of tasted shitty, and even people's reactions to his torments were kind of shitty, but watching Kyle turn red as shot every insult in the book at him was still amusing. There was still something there when he got a rise out of people.
It was the middle of South Park's seemingly endless winter, but Cartman felt so empty that the cold had almost no effect on him. When he got inside, he barely acknowledged his mother, and he felt no need for more than that. He didn't feel like he had to say goodbye. He hadn't said goodbye to anyone, for that matter. His note was very short and he left a lot of shit out. Point was, he wouldn't be around to bother anyone anymore. It didn't matter why — they fucking hated him alive, they'd fucking hate him dead. He didn't care anymore, and any final words were on that page.
Cartman then locked himself in his room with a box of cheesy poofs and just played video games for hours. Even through the shit, he felt...calm. At ease.
Then, as he wrapped up his game and was trying to decide how to spend his last few hours, his gaze fell on something: a copy of The Diary of Anne Frank, and he laughed a harsh, empty laugh. He'd borrowed that book from Kyle years ago so that he could half-ass a book report. That was 6th grade, and now they were in the 10th. Cartman had had it for that long, so what point would there be to returning it?
It's the least you could do, some hidden part of him said.
He asked himself since when he'd ever given a shit about common courtesy. He realized he never had, and still didn't. He just wanted an excuse to stop off at the Jew's house, just to piss him off one last time. Cartman figured he could at least fulfill his own wish, since he knew damn well no one else would do it for him.
"Are you going to a friend's house, sweetie?" Liane asked as she saw him suiting up for the cold.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever mom."
How much would she miss him when he was gone? Would she care? Would she be too busy sleeping around? Cartman cussed under his breath and chose to ignore his thoughts.
He got to Kyle's house too quickly for his own liking. Maybe that's why he ended up stalling outside, feeling foolish for ever showing up at all. They hated each other. He'd be lucky if Kyle didn't slam the door in his face. Or maybe the old bitch would answer the door — ew.
Regardless, Cartman rapped on the door a few times and waited as Kyle's voice yelled out, "Just a second!"
Cartman thought to himself that there was still time to chicken out of this, still time to just run back home and get out of the situation he was putting himself in, but Kyle opened the door just as Cartman was going to walk away.
Kyle was in lounge pants and a t-shirt, a small towel draped around his shoulders to dry his damp hair. Clearly, he'd just gotten out of the shower.
"Oh, it's you. What the hell do you want?" Kyle spat.
Cartman smiled wryly and passed Kyle the book. Kyle glared in return.
"This is yours, jew."
Kyle warily took the book from Cartman in confusion.
"I borrowed it in 6th grade."
Unimpressed, Kyle replied, "One, I'd never lend you anything ever, and two, it's been like 4 fucking years."
Cartman smirked. "Well don't leave your shit lying around if you don't want kids to take it, Kahl. Just wait until communism rolls around and this won't be a problem."
Kyle rolled his eyes. "Why give it back at all, fatty?"
Cartman smirked to himself, noting that 'fatty' was just about the tamest insult Kyle could throw at him. "Tying up loose ends. I figured better late than never."
Kyle shivered from the cold winter breeze and just shook his head.
"Whatever Cartman. Get your fatass off my porch."
"Tch. You're welcome, Kahl. You'll catch a cold standing out here anyway."
Kyle paused for a moment. That didn't sound like something that Cartman would say.
"What do you care? It'll keep me out of your greasy hair for a few days."
Cartman laughed. "I wouldn't be around to see it. G'night, jew."
Kyle was almost going to close the door and ignore Cartman's strange behavior, but then he caught something in his words.
"Wait, wait, what do you mean you wouldn't be around?"
Cartman turned back around, a look of surprise on his face. He remarked, "Geez, I know jews can be dense, but—"
"Cartman, I'm serious. What are you talking about?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," he returned.
Kyle found himself at a crossroads, caught between closing the door and letting Cartman leave, or talking to him.
...Kyle wished he wasn't so empathetic.
"Do you want to come inside, asshole?"
Cartman looked Kyle up and down, not believing his ears. "Seriously?"
Kyle sighed like he was deflating. "Yeah, dude. You coming in or what?"
Cartman just blinked. "Uh, yeah. Sure, I guess."
Cartman hadn't been inside Kyle's house in years. He wasn't sure what he was allowed to do, and he wasn't sure why he cared.
"Where's your bitch of a mom?"
"Call my mom a bitch again and you're outta here," Kyle warned, putting the book on a table and turning the TV down. "She's out to dinner with my dad."
Cartman was somewhat taken aback. Why would Kyle invite him in if he was alone?
"Where's the little jew?"
Kyle groaned as he got some soda from the fridge. "You're too damn nosy, you know that?" Kyle sighed yet again, acknowledging that having Cartman in his house put him on high alert. "Ike's at a sleepover."
He passed Cartman the soda and flopped down next to him on the couch. Then, Kyle started, "So, why are you here?"
Cartman popped the tab on the soda. "Uh, Kahl, you feeling okay? I'm here because you just invited me in."
Kyle squeezed his can in his hand, which made a small clunk. Still, he figured it'd be good to see how far he could get just by keeping his cool before he blew his stacks. "Why are you really here, huh?"
Cartman smirked. "Why do you care, anyway?"
"Because, believe it or not, you're a person and I care about people, so I can't let you walk away without telling me anything because that shit will stay on my conscious. Now tell me what's going on."
"Gingers don't have souls, so why should I believe you actually have a conscious?" Cartman chugged some soda and belched indiscriminately. "But thanks for upgrading me to a person."
"Cartman, I don't want your fatass leaving imprints on my sofa if you're going to bullshit me, so fess up for fuck's sake!" Kyle reddened in frustration, and if Cartman was less smug, didn't know Kyle as well, or was smaller, he might've been a bit scared.
"Woah, woah, you asked me to come in, remember? But fine, I'll tell you before you hurt yourself," he conceded, words laced with condescension. "I'm leaving, jew. I'll be gone by tomorrow."
Kyle thought it over for a second before asking, "Where are you going?"
"Heaven, hell, whatever's out there. It's all better than being here."
It was at this moment that Kyle realized that Cartman was talking about death.
"Wait, what?" He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "Are you sick or something? What's going on?"
Cartman smiled bitterly. "I just know now that there's nothing down here for me so I'm outta here."
Kyle just stared at him for a moment, dazed. The TV droned on quietly.
"...Cartman, are you going to kill yourself?"
Cartman polished off his soda and said, "Soon as I get back home."
It wasn't the first time Cartman had spoken so flippantly about suicide, but this time, it looked to Kyle like he was being serious. Instead of using it to gaslight someone, Cartman hadn't made a scene, spoken about it before, given an ultimatum or done anything like that. It sounded like he really was going to do it and he wasn't going to say anything if Kyle hadn't pried. There wasn't the fanfare Cartman used when he was being an attention whore.
Kyle's blood turned to ice. Sure, Cartman was a manipulative, ignorant, sociopathic, egotistical asshole, but he didn't want him to die. He grew up with that asshole, after all. They'd known each other since about as far back as Kyle could remember.
"No."
"No?" Cartman echoed.
"No. Cartman, you might be a shitty person, but I always try to see the best in people, and there's still time for you to change. I don't want you to die."
Cartman laughed emptily. "I haven't changed since I hit puberty. I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."
"I honestly can't believe I'm having this conversation with you but please, don't kill yourself. Think of what you're leaving behind and all the shit you didn't get to do yet."
"And what exactly am I leaving behind? Listen Kahl," Cartman shoved the lanky teen with a fat finger, "you're a stuck-up smart-ass who thinks he knows everything, but somehow, your life is still fine! You get good grades and enough people like you and you have Stan to suck your dick! Sure, you're ginger and you're Jewish, but there's hair dye and time left to convert! What do I have, huh? What the fuck do I have going for me when everything is shitty?"
Kyle knitted his eyebrows together, straightened his t-shirt and blew some air out of his cheeks. "You know what? Since I'm the bigger—" Kyle paused to assess Cartman's girth, "the more mature person, I'll let what you just said go. Now, how do you know that there's not more for you in the future? How do you know you can't do bigger things?"
Like what, Kyle? he asked himself, Genocide?
He felt like he was a few seconds from throwing up.
"What's the point?"
Kyle took a deep breath.
"Kahl, I swear, if you're about to give me one of your gay speeches I'm walking the hell out of here."
"Well at least let me talk, asshole! I haven't even said anything yet!"
Cartman rolled his eyes dramatically. However, he didn't follow through on his threat.
"South Park is a shitty sinkhole of a place that saps the joy out of everyone, alright? Think long and hard about it — stop smirking fatboy, I fucking saw that — and you'll realize that everyone's messed up here. You're not the only one."
"Is this s'posed to make me feel better? 'Cause you kinda suck at this, dude."
"Shut up for a moment, will ya? What I'm saying is that when you have a bunch of pissed-off, shitty people all in the same place, they've got nothing better to do than go at each other's throats. And that makes everything even more shitty for everyone. So if you think you're alone in being sick of this place, you're not."
"What does this have to do with anything?"
"I'm going to tell you, so just zip it! You said there's nothing here for you, and you're wrong, but not as wrong as you usually are." Kyle sighed and massaged his temples. He felt the beginning of a headache coming on. "Look, my goal is to get the fuck outta South Park as soon as I finish high school, and that should be your goal too, but right now, we're stuck in this sinkhole. All of us, together."
"I don't give a shit about the sinkhole!"
"Just let me finish, dammit!"
Kyle paused for a moment to try to lower is volume and keep calm. Cartman folded his arms and seethed, sourly giving Kyle and chance to speak more.
"While we're stuck here, your mom is in the sinkhole, your friends are in the sinkhole, your cats are in the sinkhole! And it already sucks in here as it stands!"
Cartman tensed up a bit after been reminded that Mr. Kitty's litter — three needy but adorable cats that had known Cartman their whole lives — would definitely notice if he left, but his original plan had been to not think about it too much. His mom would take care of them...right? She wouldn't give them away or put them on the street, would she?
Cartman snapped himself out of his worrying.
"So what?" he hissed almost defensively.
"So it'd probably suck even more if you weren't here! We'd miss you!" Kyle ran a hand through his still damp hair anxiously, hoping he wasn't saying too much. "You know what? Fine, I fucking admit it, I would miss you. And your mom would miss you, and Stan and Kenny and Butters would miss you, and your cats would miss you. And maybe they don't know it right now, because you're an asshole and no one ever really knows what they have until it's gone, but you give us something to be mad at everyday!"
Cartman stared, somewhat taken aback. Kyle looked a different kind of flustered than usual.
"In a life that's full of shit, at least you're shit worth getting mad about. And you know what? We all need that here, whether we'll admit or not."
Kyle face was slicked with sweat, despite it not being nearly warm enough for it. He dried it with his towel, and patted at his hair while he was at it. Cartman avoided Kyle's gaze as they remained silent, the only sounds being that of the TV.
"And Clyde would miss you, too," Kyle added wryly after some time passed. Cartman looked up again, and he seemed more puzzled than anything else.
"He's the second fattest kid, so we rip on him whenever you're not around, and Clyde's a little bitch who can't take that."
Cartman snorted, and Kyle smirked a little. He was finally starting to feel like he was doing something right here, and the knot in his stomach he hadn't realized was there loosened a bit.
"Alright, yeah, Clyde's a bitch. But I'm not fat — I'm big-boned."
Kyle scoffed, "Right, and I'm not Jewish."
"Got some sense knocked into you, Kahl?"
Kyle just shoved Cartman somewhat weakly, half-joking. Then, the redhead's eye caught something.
"Dude, are you crying?"
Cartman wiped his face with his arm, sniffling. "N-no, you're crying! I'm not crying."
Kyle couldn't help but feel some pity. He sat back down and carefully put his hand on Cartman's shoulder. Cartman had been pretty reserved thus far, shedding only a few fairly quiet tears, but Kyle knew that Cartman could be one ugly crier.
Kyle just sat there awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure out if he should actually console Cartman or try to keep talking.
"Um, are you...are you okay?"
Stupid, Kyle. That's an incredibly stupid thing to ask, he mentally berated.
"I don't know what I'm doing. I just don't know anymore, Kahl, and I fucking hate it." Cartman punched his lap in frustration, tears running down his chubby cheeks.
There was a few seconds of just sniffling before Cartman started up the whole, noisy waterworks, and Kyle couldn't say that he wasn't expecting it.
"I hate it!" he whined, then again with less passion, "I hate it so much..."
Kyle tried to figure out if hugging Cartman would help or not. It worked on Stan, but Stan was a totally different person from Cartman, and Kyle's best friend. As Kyle was thinking it over, Cartman put his head on Kyle's shoulder. Despite the smaller teen noticeably shying away from the contact, it seemed like Cartman hadn't noticed, either because he was ignoring it or because he was sobbing so hard. Kyle decided that it wasn't the time to be annoyed — it was the time to offer support. Warily, he put his arm around Cartman, and they remained like that for what felt like a long time. Cartman said things through his tears sometimes, so Kyle just listened and gave appropriate reactions, like "Yeah, you're right," or the cautious and commendably reserved, "Well, I dunno about that but..." However, he was still disoriented and trying to figure out how he'd ended up with Cartman crying on his shoulder.
"It's not fair..." Cartman choked out.
"What isn't?"
Finally, Cartman started to get up. He looked like hell: face all red and puffy, eyes bloodshot, snot dripping from his nose. Kyle got up to get him some tissues as Cartman elaborated.
"Even when I hate you, I can't even hate you that much! You and your...your stupid high-pitched voice and your dumb hair and your big, crooked, jew nose!"
Deep breaths, Kyle. You've made it this far. Kyle passed Cartman the tissues, biting his tongue hard enough that it could've drawn blood.
"You've got the righteous stick stuck up your ass but dammit, for a jew you say some really smart shit and you're so soft for someone who's so fucking bony and you're being nice to me even though we hate each other and I just don't get it! How can someone so annoying be so goddamn likable?"
Cartman stopped to blow his nose loudly, and as he did so, Kyle got enough time to sort through Cartman's words and try to figure out what to focus on.
"Wait, what about me being soft—?"
"You know what, Kahl? I'm gonna stick around." Cartman turned to Kyle sharply, pointing emphatically. "I'm gonna stick around just to keep pissing you off! Your life would be too perfect without me!"
"Wow." Kyle took a few seconds to wrap his head around what was happening. Then, he said, "I didn't have to do this, y'know! I don't have to take this from you, and this is the thanks I get?" Kyle rested his hands on his hips, to which Cartman smirked, repressing the urge to compare Kyle to his mom.
"No, this is the thanks you get."
Cartman got up, and Kyle was about to back away. It wouldn't have been too surprising if Cartman was going to lash out for no reason — he was pretty volatile, after all. Instead of doing that, though, he pulled Kyle into a hug, and Kyle was so shocked that his brain couldn't process whether to cuss him out or hug back. He ended up doing neither, opting to stand there and do nothing as Cartman enveloped him.
When Cartman pulled away, Kyle's face was beet red, but neither of them could figure out if it was because Kyle was mad at Cartman or just frustrated because he had no clue what was happening.
"W-what?" Kyle sputtered.
"There's your thanks, now fuck you, Kahl."
"I don't...what in the..." Kyle mumbled, even more cross and confused than before.
"I had to balance that out that niceness somehow. Now I can go home," Cartman replied, walking to the door, but he turned back to add, "and for a jew, you're pretty smart."
Kyle held the bridge of his nose, mentally exhausted and still completely lost. "You already said that."
Cartman adjusted his hat and put his gloves back on. "It bears repeating. I'm not gonna say it again, so be thankful."
Kyle followed Cartman to the door as he opened it. "Well, for a total asshole, that's kind of nice of you to say."
Cartman sniffled a bit, still trying to recover from his bout of crying. Despite himself, he bowed a little, and his smirk came back. Kyle couldn't believe that he actually missed it.
"Why, thank you, Kahl. I, uh, I'll see you in skewl?"
"Um, yeah...yeah." Kyle averted Cartman's gaze as the bigger boy started walking away.
"But you can also come over tomorrow!"
Cartman turned back, an eyebrow raised.
Afraid of being misunderstood, Kyle clarified, "I'll invite Stan and Kenny and we can just play video games and talk shit."
Cartman smiled a bit, but there was actually no malice there. It was just a genuine smile.
"Yeah, sure."
Kyle returned the warm expression, but realized that wouldn't be enough to stop him from catching hypothermia. He needed to either put on a coat or close the door soon.
"Good." Kyle hesitated for a moment for tagging on, "A-and no rain-checks, okay? It's better when there's four players."
Cartman inhaled sharply. Would it be worth it? Was staying alive in this shitty town worth it?
He watched Kyle shivering in the doorway, and wouldn't deny that his eyes lingered a little longer than he thought they would. That ginger...that ginger gave Cartman something to look forward to. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to keep living if he could keep doing what he does best — pissing the world off. Pissing Kyle off.
Cartman shot back a shit-eating grin.
"No problem, jew. Just don't go bitching to Stan when I kick your ass in whatever we play."
"You're on, fatboy. Bring ten bucks for when I win."
Cartman shot a finger gun Kyle's way as he walked off into the snow. "In your dreams, Kahl. I know jews are cheap so you better have ten bucks yourself, 'cause I don't take I.O.U's."
As Cartman headed back home, he had one extra thing to add to his list of reasons to stay: Kyle Broflovski, right below Cheesy Poofs. Now the list was just long enough.
A/N: So, this is sort of a mess, but I mess that I liked writing. Granted, my phone didn't autosave and I rewrote most of it like three times but I still like it. I like to think that everyone in South Park goes through some type of 'everything's shit' phase, but maybe not as young as Stan did, or as intense as his. This is how I imagined it getting to Cartman.