Oh my dear sweet Jesus, I'm so sorry for how long it's been! College has been hectic and I'm just learning how to juggle the whole education-work-social life-internet thing. So many apologies, but here's the long-awaited next chapter, and it's long!
Should probably point out: I don't suggest following any of the paths the boys are on. Eating disorders, alcohol, drugs, and too much sex will mess you up physically and mentally, so yeah. Take care, be nice to yourself, all that. Without further ado,
Enjoy!
-Amy xx

It's a pussy thing to say, but I hate being alone at night. Maybe it's something to do with my mom being away with 'clients' most at night since I was twelve, but I've never been able to stand it. Yeah, Kenny ripped the shit out of me when he found out, but I swear to God if you try it I'll burn your fucking houses down. It's not like it's as easy for me to find someone willing to share my bed. Who wants to sleep with an ex-obese fucking drug addict who's in love with the one person he can't have? Yeah, you read that right. Yeah, Eric Cartman is capable of emotions. That a big enough kick in the crotch for you?
00
For Eric, it started with marijuana.
August, three years ago
'Dude, what's that smell?' Eric's nose crinkled as a strangely sweet smell wafted in his direction as Kenny shifted on the couch.
'It's not mine, it's Kevin's. Barbrady sent him a search warrant, he's coming today. Got him down on a suspected dealing charge.' Kenny paused, before laughing 'Dude, what's with the face? It's just weed'
'Screw you Kenny'
The pair were silent for a few long moments, both aimlessly watching the Terrence and Phillip rerun playing. It wasn't long before Eric was beginning to fidget; pulling at his sleeves, picking at a hangnail, scratching at his hairline in obvious agitation
'Kenny? Can we try some?'
A blond eyebrow quirked as he faced his larger friend, a deliberating look gracing his face
'Sure, why not?'
Half an hour later, though it felt so much longer, and the pair had been reduced to a giggling mess, or Kenny had at least. Eric was lounging on the couch watching the setting summer sun sweep a wave of fiery orange down the wall, wearing a contentedly dazed smile.
'Go get me some food?' Cartman's mouth had formed the words before he even registered he'd started speaking
'Get it yourself' Kenny's voice was unexpectedly loud, and he sent himself into another fit of giggles as he heard himself
'Can't, the kitchen's so far away'
'Dude, you're closer'
'It's my house'
'Can't, I'm rushing'
'I can't get up either, the world's moving'
'The world's always moving, retard'
'Shut up Kenny'
They fell silent again. Cigarettes were smoked, the falling ash looking strangely beautiful in Eric's eyes. Kenny left, singing to himself, stumbling slightly. The clocked ticked time away. Cartman found the baggie Kenny must have dropped during one of his laugh attacks, and it wasn't long before it was empty. The clock continued to tick before chiming midnight, the chimes loud in the silent house – his mother wasn't back yet, she was 'working' tonight. He sighed and headed up to his room, all but falling into bed. The gentle nausea had done the impossible and killed his appetite, and the aftermath had left him feeling so exhausted that he slept more soundly than he had in months.
00
September, one year ago
Cartman stared at his reflection; his reflection stared back. He had changed so much in the last few years, it almost took his breath away when he took the time to notice it. His face had thinned, his jawline becoming more defined, but his eyes had stayed the same. Narrow and a strange blue-brown mix, they could warm to melted chocolate or freeze to rusted iron in a heartbeat. Looking at the bigger picture in the framed glass, he could see the figure curled pathetically into itself, hunched up on his bed, taking up next to no space.
'So Kahl' Eric drawled 'what do you want? You haven't been to my house in almost two years, why the sudden change of heart? Stan not man enough for you because, as I've said before, I don't swing that way'
The barest hint of a smile lifted the pale corners of Kyle's lips as he wound his arms around his knees even tighter – it looked almost painful now.
'Please, you already know...'
There was no trace of pity on Eric's face.
'I'm not gonna give it you. I've had too many bricks through my window for it already. Remind me to thank your boyfriend'
Kyle's dull eyes creased at the corners as he finally released his legs, letting them splay out in front of him. To Eric, he reminded him of a doll. Not even a male doll, but a Barbie. Except bonier.
'I can help you' Kyle's mouth barely moved 'With her. I know you like her. I can help you... I can distract him, let you have your chance'
The eyes were back to rust.
'You've got no idea what you're talking abou-'
'I see how you look at her. It's how I look at... y'know. Give me the stuff, I swear I can help. They've been rocky for ages, one push and they'll be over again. Just please'
Eric pushed back from the mirror with a sigh, crossing his floor until he reached the drawer that held his most precious possessions. After careful consideration, he pulled out two small pills, one blush pink and the other sky blue.
'Don't take these within 3 hours of each other, I mean it. I'm not hauling your skinny ass to the hospital just because you're borderline retarded'
The relief on Kyle's face was disgustingly familiar as he snatched up the tablets, suddenly filled with energy.
'Thank you, so much. I'll talk to Stan, badmouth Wendy a little. Give it a week and she'll be yours, fatass'
'EY! I'M NOT FAT!'
Kyle's smile took the sting out of the long-standing joke though, and he waved over his shoulder as he left the room.
00
So I like Wendy. What straight guy in this shitty little town doesn't? She's got a smoking body, she's feisty, head cheerleader, and I guess she's smart and okay to talk to and stuff. The thing that gets me most about her though? When I was like 12 or something, my mom was at her house for Valentine's day "just visiting", and so she stayed the night. She's a strong girl and shit, but at two in the morning I found her crying in the guest room because she knew why she was there. She asked me to sleep with her, in the most innocent sense of the word, and I did. I slept so fucking soundly, with my arm awkward around her waist and her lavender-scented hair tickling my hair. We fit together then, and we still do now. Whatever though, she's still a slut. And I still sleep alone nearly every night.