Chapter Two

The library was littered with only a handful of the usual people when Kyle entered. He spotted Kenny's distinctive orange hood sitting at one of the large study tables near a window. Stan sat across from Kenny, bouncing an eraser off his pencil repeatedly. He looked up and waved to Kyle happily. Kyle smiled and walked over quickly, pulling an empty seat to the narrower end of the table.

"Kenny and I tried reading a little before you came, but then he started talking about how that blonde over there," Stan gestured to a curvy light haired girl at the computers, "and said that she was making eyes at him."

"She so was! And it's not like you've been studying either Stan. All you've been doing the past twenty minutes was play with that eraser and pencil! I thought most people outgrew that in middle school." Kenny chortled to himself as Stan rolled his eyes.

Kyle half listened and opened a book on modern architecture absentmindedly. He felt strangely empty as he replayed his exchange with Cartman out in the hall. There was something wrong with the way Cartman reacted to the whole thing. When was the last time that Eric Cartman ran away from Kyle? Cartman actually seemed to be lost for a moment there, a flicker of vulnerability perhaps. Of course, even if there was a remote sort of change in the fatass, Kyle knew that his opinion of Cartman wouldn't ever change. There was once a time in their lives long ago when Kyle had believed that there was an inner good somewhere in Cartman despite it all. That theory had proved to fall through one too many times. Why should he continue to waste time and energy on someone who's pretty much incurable? Cartman was like a spawn of evil mixed with stupidity and that is what he always will be.

Kyle glanced up. Kenny was looking at him curiously while Stan's expression was filled with concern. Realizing that he had cut himself on one of the pages while reminiscing, Kyle quickly stopped flipping pages to avoid tracking more specks of blood on the edges.

"Kyle, you feeling alright? Do you want me to go get you a band aide or something?"

Kyle sighed. Sometimes he could sort of understand why people like Cartman kept calling him and Stan gay.

"I'm fine dude. I was just thinking about this paper that I haven't started on, that's all. These little cuts heal fast anyway."

"Umm…ok. Are you sure there isn't anything else the matter? We've got plenty of time to spare." Stan pushed a couple of books farther away, including the one that Kyle just shut.

Kenny glanced at his friends tiredly.

"I have a feeling that we're not going to get much studying done at this rate. Wake me up you two are ready to work."

With that, Kenny tightened the drawstring of his hood and buried half of his head in his arms. He knew better than to pry into Kyle's problems when Stan was there to bombard him with questions. Sometimes he wondered how things would be like if Stan and Kyle weren't super best friends. Maybe if the three of them were equally close, Cartman would still be hanging out with them. It seemed apparent to Kenny that Cartman drifted off by himself due to Stan and Kyle's overwhelmingly strong relationship. In the end, the highest point of tension just kind of got snuffed out, as opposed to an explosion of chaos that Kenny had predicted. Cartman just gave up little by little on those petty fights, and Kyle seemed to accept the outcome rather apathetically. Cartman also seemed to become angrier, and Kenny wondered if that was the reason he had avoided maintaining contact with the fat asshole. He slowly dozed off to the sound of Stan's doting pleas and Kyle's terse replies.

Oh just give it up Stan.

Kyle tried to shake his head but only managed to yawn in response to Stan's offer to walk him home and "catch up" on the way. Kyle's head pounded painfully from thinking about Cartman's sudden brief reappearance in his life, along with Stan's ceaseless concern. Normally Kyle would be outwardly grateful to Stan for being so caring, but today it was acting as an adverse affect on his efforts to keep his thoughts clearly arranged.

Catch up? He says it like we don't talk. We tell each other practically everything everyday... I am in no mood to point this out though. I need to just get home and sleep it all off. What's wrong with me today anyways?

"----me tonight okay?"

"What Stan?

"I said since we haven't done any work, call me tonight okay?"

"Oh yeah, sure. One of us should call Kenny too."

Kyle looked uncertainly at Kenny who was snoring a little too loudly even with his face muffled in his arms. Kyle stretched and got up, and said goodbye to Stan. He felt a bit guilty that he had dodged all of Stan's earlier questions, but felt that for some reason, that immature encounter with Cartman shouldn't be brought up. Ever. Kyle suddenly felt an urge to erase the complete existence of Eric Cartman off the face of the planet. He was done with that bigoted neo-Nazi a year ago. Whatever they had back then, whether it being some kind of twisted friendship, was dead, and should stay buried. Kyle sped up his steps and hurried down the stairs onto the freshly fallen snow covered ground.

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Cartman sat on the front steps of his porch, his backpack had been flung a few feet away, half coated with snow and forgotten. He didn't want to go inside. Cartman felt dazed, and the thought of the stifling heating system in his house made his stomach flip with nausea. He buried his face in his hands furiously and his thoughts flickered back to his first bout of verbal constipation. What the fuck? Not only was the whole ordeal humiliating, but the impossibility of running out of insults to Kyle was unthinkable. Cartman hugged himself roughly to stop convulsing from the thought. He felt like he was on the verge of throwing up, almost hoping he could reject the contents of the day like vomit.

Cartman slowly breathed in the cold air in hopes of settling down the mini circus in his stomach. He stared down the right side of the street, and suddenly realizing who it was that he hoped would appear, Cartman angrily spun his face in the opposite direction and resisted the urge to punch himself.

Fuck! I don't need that self righteous asshole anymore than he needs me. I just need to calm the fuck down and forget everything that's happened today. No. Better still, it never happened.