I believe I've found the problem with the complaint that all my chapters are short. I've found out that while my chapters are longer than most, people often put a space between each line of the story. I do that only with dialogue. So, here's hoping this new format works and If anyone has any idea how to better situate this intro so it looks separated from the rest of the story…please PM me. It would help out a lot. Thanks!

Note: A yurt is a sort of hut, often round in shape with a domed top. Yay for copyright dodging.

Rig

All characters belong to Matt and Trey, I'm just borrowing them.

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Kyle sighed and put his head in his hands, looking out across the frozen mirror of Stark's Pond.

"Kyle, don't worry about it. Cartman's always been an asshole to you. It's not surprising he worked so hard to get us to read that stupid book. I couldn't even get through a chapter." Stan said, looking over at him. "I don't think he understands it either, I think he just wants to rip on Jews again."

Kyle shrugged noncommittally. He knew after last night that Cartman had thumbed through that book more than any of them. Hell, he understood Social Democracy, a word that half his class couldn't even pronounce. Cartman, Wendy and himself were the only people who seemed to pay attention to that sort of thing. Well…Cartman never paid attention in class.

"Least you got it done right? So you don't have to go over there again." Stan said, breathing into his red mittens to warm his hands.

"No…I just told my mom that. I still have to go over there. We got a little bit done but he was acting so…weird." Kyle said, looking over at Stan. His super best friend mimicked his shrug.

"It's Cartman. He's always weird."

"No, he wasn't Cartman weird. He carried me up the stairs when I said I couldn't get up to his room." Kyle felt his face heating up as he said it. The temperature rose when Stan turned his head and gave him an odd look.

"He carried you, dude?"

"Yeah I know." Kyle said.

"Our fatass carried you up his stairs? He can barely lug a full backpack around." Stan said in disbelief.

"Yeah, I was surprised too. Maybe after so much teasing about being fat he started working out or something." Kyle muttered, adjusting his crutches on the snow bank next to him. Stan looked around at the pond.

"I guess." Stan said, reaching up and pulling off the red poofball hat he'd worn for such a long time. He ruffled up his short black hair, making it stick up at odd angles.

Kyle smirked over at him. "Dude, we don't need two people with crazy hair in the group. Smooth it down." He said playfully. Stan stared at him until Kyle reached over and clawed down the mess on the top of Stan's head.

"You looked like Butters there for a minute." Kyle laughed.

"Oh yeah?" Stan reached over and yanked Kyle's trapper hat off, laughing at the small explosion of red, bouncy curls that fluffed out. Kyle blushed and scrambled for it. "Give that back!" Kyle growled, pawing for the hat.

"Cartman's right, you do have a Jew fro!" Stan shook with mirth, soon laughing too hard to hold the silly green hat aloft. Kyle snatched it and stuffed his hair under it, pulling it down by the flaps back onto his head.

Stan soon recovered from his laughing fit and smiled. "It's good to hang out with you again, Kyle. You've been really quiet at school…I mean, you forgot to meet me after." he said, putting his arm around his best friend and jostling him a bit. Kyle smirked and punched his shoulder.

"Never take my hat again dude." He said.

He had brought Stan out here to tell him about the way Cartman had acted. It was more than just carrying him up the stairs. It was lying about the rats, laying his hand on top of his like that. The way it had made Kyle feel…like he was hot, his blood racing in his veins. His stomach had churned and he hadn't thought to push the other boy away.

"Hey Stan?" he asked finally, looking down at his cast.

Stan smiled over at him, hair still sticking up a bit, that familiar warm smile on his face.

"How do you feel around Wendy? Like, I know the way you feel emotionally. You love her. But what does that feel like?" Kyle asked awkwardly, playing with his hands.

Stan's face lit up. Kyle knew that look. It was the look Stan got every time Wendy so much as shot a smile at him.

"She makes me feel so warm dude. Like someone just turned up a thermostat. My hands get all clammy and…yeah you know about the queasiness. It's like a good feeling, but horrible at the same time because I can't bear to be around her, yet I want to all the time. It's like some form of torture where all you feel is warmth and affection." Stan said, sighing and looking up at the gray sky. "Best feeling in the world, Kyle."

Stan grinned wolfishly and looked at Kyle. "What, you got a girl?" he asked, elbowing his friend. But Kyle had gone silent. It was like Stan had just told him the symptoms to cancer or something…and they perfectly fit the way he felt around Cartman.

Cartman made him feel like his blood was boiling over, and he wanted to hit something or someone constantly whenever the fatass made a comment. His stomach felt sick around him, like he was on the verge of the flu. The hands...dear Moses.

All those years of fighting, tricks, bloody noses and Sig Heils…it couldn't just run down to being attracted to one another? Kyle wasn't gay! Cartman sure as hell wasn't gay.

"Dude?"

Stan's voice brought him back to earth. His best friend was looking at him in concern, his brows furrowed slightly. Kyle grabbed his crutches and slid them under his arms, making sure the rubber ends were firmly planted on the ground before he eased himself up off the snow. "I gotta go Stan. I mean, the project's due Monday and it's Sunday today." He said guiltily.

Stan nodded. "Okay dude. Hey, don't let Cartman get to you, ok?" he smiled. "Ask that girl out. You deserve it. Kenny says chicks love injured men."

Kyle chuckled and readied his crutches. "Thanks Stan. See you." He said, unsteadily walking toward the last house in the world he wanted to be in. His own.

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Where the hell was that Jew? They had one more day to work on the project! They had only one page of the analysis done and they still needed to figure out how they were going to present it. Cartman glared at the phone on the wall, and then picked it up. No dial tone. He'd forgotten to pay the phone bill this week!

Weak. He slammed it back onto the cradle and paced around his disturbingly empty kitchen. It had slowly been cluttering up with old pizza boxes, hot pocket sleeves and all other manner of cheap food wrappers. The countertops were stained and his sink leaked constantly.

Sure, he had enough money now to fix it but every time he hired one of those filthy Mexicans to come in and make it work again they just screwed it up further. Hiring a real plumber was out of the question. They'd want to know where his mother was, and if he had a client with him at the time…God help them both.

No, he'd need to fix up his house on his own time, with his own two hands.

Cartman glared at the sink and kicked a Pizza Yurt box aside, heading into his grimy living room and sitting on his couch. He was startled to see a few puffs of dust rise up when he plunked his bulk down on it. God dammit.

He needed the Jew up and working on the project. He got up from the couch after a few seconds of staring at his TV, and then yanked his red sweater on. "Fucking kike, making me going to his bitch mom's house and drag his crippled ass into the snow….this is bullcrap." He growled under his breath, snatching his keys out from his pocket.

Cartman locked his house and jammed his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders and walking down the street.

"H-hey Eric!"

He tilted his head up, a sneer crossing his features when he saw the innocent little blond head peeking out from an upstairs window. Leopold Stotch, better known as Butters by his classmates, meekly waved a hand.

"N-now don't you go nowhere! I'm hurryin' right down!" Butters called, and the window was shut before Cartman could protest.

The truth was, Cartman hated seeing Butters now. He couldn't stomach the little fag after seeing his father naked and looming over him every weekend. Course…Mr. Stotch paid well, but that wasn't the point. He didn't feel right around Butters anymore.

He saw the door open and Butters run out. Before Cartman could stop him, Butters had enfolded him in a hug. He was shorter than all the rest of the guys in his class, and his mess of blond hair had grown into a little skater helmet around his head. He looked up with his big blue eyes at Cartman. Eric stared down at him in horror. "Get off me fag!" he pushed Butters off. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded.

Butters chewed his lip and ground his knuckles together. "I-I'm sorry Eric. I just wanted to say hello. I ain't seen you around school much and we don't hang out or nothin'. I just wanted to know if we were…uh…still friends?" he asked.

Cartman folded his arms. He knew he shouldn't be cruel to Butters. The boy was just as messed up as he was. Hell, his father often demanded he cry or even hit him while they were in bed. If the pay wasn't so good he wouldn't be putting up with it. Cartman was probably the only person who knew how dark Butters' home life really was.

"Yeah, whatever Butters. We'll hang out or something." Cartman said impatiently.

"Hooray!" Butters said, smiling hugely.

"BUTTERS!"

The boy cringed at the sound from inside the house. Mr. Stotch slid out the open door and slammed it shut. "What the hell did I tell you about keeping this door-" he choked to a stop when he saw Cartman. "Butters. In the house." Mr. Stotch growled, pointing inside the house.

"See ya Eric. I gotta go." Butters said and ran back to his home. Mr. Stotch slammed the door behind him and marched up to Cartman, grabbing him by the front of his sweater. "What the fuck did I tell you about staying away from my son?" he demanded, his eyes blazing angrily.

Cartman shoved Mr. Stotch away. "He came out of the fucking house, it's not my fault! Keep a leash on him." He growled, narrowing his brown eyes. He saw Mr. Stotch turn and look toward the door of the house, and felt a small twinge of guilt. He had a feeling Butters would be the one suffering under Mr. Stotch's belt tonight.

"Fine. Stay away from this house. What you and I do in your house is never, EVER to come to light here." Mr. Stotch said. "Is that clear?"

Cartman nodded, adjusting his sweater. "Whatever." He snapped at Mr. Stotch's retreating back.

He continued his walk down the street, though he thought he heard a yelp of pain coming from the Stotch residence as he left. Must have been his imagination.

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Mr. Stotch is an abusive bastard isn't he? And Kyle's finally figuring out why he bickers so much with Cartman. Also, looks like Ms. Cartman's bad teachings are getting passed to the next generation. Will Kyle get a clue? Find out next chapter!

Also, thanks for all the reviews! Couldn't do it without you guys! I honestly didn't expect this thing to have over 300 views in its first week! Go KyCart!