- 'Did you ever find out why you were feeling that way last night?'

A text from Stan during the middle of breakfast. Cartman is sitting right next to me, but, that fact alone shouldn't make texting Stan feel uncomfortable. Then again.. It is about him.

-'Yeah. It was guilt. I couldn't help but feel bad that while Cartman's trying to grapple with the idea that his parents abandoned him, I was abandoning him too by going off and experimenting.'

This is only part of what my theory is. I do think that I feel guilty about doing that kinda stuff while Cartman's in such a shitty situation. Definitely. But on top of that, he's in the same house as me, and has a crush on me. He doesn't need the idea of me being with Stan on his plate with everything else.

Cartman puts up the facade of just being irritated that we might be together, but it's not just irritation. He did bring up the possibility of me bringing Stan over to do stuff with him so clearly it's on his mind often if he's thinking that in depth. It's not like I would ever do that to Cartman even if I was with Stan, but…

It just feels so awful to think about. I mean… I'm clearly not ready to jump into a relationship. I couldn't even kiss Stan back properly. To force myself through one just for the sake of it when I know there's a pretty high chance that Cartman has a crush on me is incredibly insensitive.

- 'That's ridiculous Kyle. Just because he's miserable doesn't mean you have to be.'

- 'I'm just explaining what that feeling was.'

- 'Yeah but that feeling isn't normal at all. You really need to stop hanging around him so much. It's really not good for you.'

- 'I wish you'd stop saying that.'

- 'I wish you'd stop putting Cartman first. You really need to take care of yourself.'

Ugh. This is something I will never agree with Stan on. He's so afraid of putting other people before himself. He treats it like it's a crime. He treats it like people who put other people before them even momentarily will always put that person before themselves. And he treats those people like they won't be able to recognize when they start getting taken advantage of.

What, because I'm being stressed out that means I'm being taken advantage of? I chose this. And I'm only stressed out because of how invested I am in Cartman. And his situation. It's not like he's directly or intentionally stressing me out.

I mean, he could be a little more cooperative, but Cartman is right in the sense that he didn't ask for any of this.

I don't get why he doesn't want to cooperate though. I could help him.

- 'The amount of care that you put into Cartman isn't something he's ever gonna give back to you, dude. He doesn't deserve it.'

…

- 'I disagree.'

I don't elaborate on this. Stan asks me why I disagree, but I just say that I disagree.

I think back on when Cartman grabbed my wrist, when we were getting out of Buck's car. That look in his eyes… He gave me that same look when he was talking me down as he aimed the gun at me.

That reserved, frustrated, but pleading expression.

There's something there.

And I'm not just gonna give up on it.

Later in the day, during speech class, I finally am able to perform my piece on an interesting assignment. It's more of a debate type of thing rather than a boring essay or biography piece. We were given a list of statements that we can choose to either prove or disprove. I've chosen the statement, 'Astronomy is no longer useful to us in the modern world.'

This would be an easy statement to agree with. I can hear tons of students agreeing with this in my head. People are so obsessed with social issues that we no longer care about astronomical discoveries.

So I argue against this. In my speech I go over accomplishments of the past and how they've impacted our everyday life, like how internet wouldn't be possible without the satellites in our orbit, or how elliptical movement was used to be able to predict anomalies and prevent nationwide panic. The study of it is so efficient that we don't even notice the work that it does for us, but if we didn't study it we would definitely notice.

"And for those who say that we've studied all we need to study, the universe is full of many mysteries. Mysteries that can help us once we crack the code." I say, glancing over at Cartman. I've been doing my best to inject emotion into my speeches whenever possible. I hope I'm not coming off as too analytical. It's a pretty promising sign that his eyes are locked on mine. I smile slightly. "And the things we know? How do we know we know them? How do we know unless we test our knowledge again and again, and learn that it is foolproof? Studies, facts, habits, traditions, social norms… all subject to change. We never know the validity of our truths unless we are brave enough to try and break them."

Cartman's eyes have still not left me. If anything, his stare has become more concentrated. But it's bad speech practice to only look at one person, so I've only been looking at him from time to time. The rest of the class seems just as attentive as well except for a few.

"Alright Kyle, great job. You came on a little ominous at the end there, but a pretty strong speech overall." Ms. Wurt says. I nod and take my seat, feeling satisfied with my work.

This emotion stuff really does wonders for me. I mean, I've always enjoyed explaining proof and facts during speech, and I'm a natural speaker, but there's just something about saying things that appeal emotionally to people. Using words with certain connotation, like Cartman says. Hah. I'm surprised he even knows the word connotation.

"Who's presenting next?"

Cartman immediately raises his hand. He wasn't allowed to go first this time around because he skipped class without telling anyone on Friday when we were supposed to present. But now that I've gone Ms. Wurt allows him to do his speech.

"You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain." Cartman starts. I was surprised that such modern quotes were in this project but Ms. Wurt likes to give us projects we can relate to. Still, a quote from a batman movie, seems kind of weird to put in there. "That's what two-face said in the critically acclaimed 'The Dark Knight' and people have been spouting it in memes ever sense. But does it have any basis in reality?"

I never thought I'd hear the word memes in a speech. But the quote, to me, is bullshit. It's a claim with no proof. People don't just turn into pieces of shit just because they're allowed to grow old.

Cartman however, seems to disagree. But for a more abstract reason. "But what we should really be asking is, what's the difference between a hero and a villain?" He looks over the class, and I watch their eyes as they search for the answer. Jesus, is it really that hard?

"Villains have no morals." I answer for him. Cartman turns to me. I can tell he knew I was gonna say something, but he tries to hide his amusement.

"Morals?" He repeats. "But what are morals, Kahl?"

Oh fuck off with this bullshit. "Morals are the ability to discern between what's right and what's wrong."

Cartman taps his chin in fake thought. "Mmm, but aren't morals subjective? Doesn't everyone have their own set of morals?"

I purse my lips.

Cartman turns away from the class and steps back to the front to signal that he's done with his interaction. "Morality is a personal set of values every individual has. No one person can say that they have the correct morals. That'd be… immoral."

He goes on to cite Plato in his work The Ring of Gyges. Plato's idea was that when given the opportunity to be an asshole without consequence, people will, without fail, be complete assholes. The claim being that morality is just a set of social values we follow for approval of others. I groan inwardly at the idea, but the rest of the class is left perplexed. They're not used to how well Cartman sells an argument.

"Heroes and Villains share one main thing in common. Power." Cartman goes on to say. "And the one and only thing that separates a hero from a villain is who wins in the end. A villain fails, therefore he's wrong. A Hero wins, therefore he's right. And his trophy? The morality society wraps around his finger. Happy and willing to be twisted into whatever that winner desires."

The class is left silent at this as Cartman sits back in his desk.

After a brief pause Ms. Wurt clears her throat. "I'm sure if this was debate class you'd get quite a bit of pushback."

Of course, nobody would want to agree with Cartman openly. Questioning the mere existence of right and wrong is pretty heavy stuff. It's not something people especially want to do in a place with such strict rules, like a school.

But their silence is kind of proving Cartman's point, in a way. Not that I agree with him.

When school is over and we're all meeting up for the bus, I happen to catch Cartman before anyone else is here to meet up with us. I hadn't had a chance to really challenge his speech during speech class, despite Ms. Wurt's subtle hint. Arguing in the middle of class would just get us both written up.

I walk straight up to Cartman. He's staring into space, but I'm sure I'll catch his attention. "So, you think morals are bullshit?"

Cartman blinks rapidly and looks at me, as if breaking out of a haze. "..What?"

"Your speech. You basically said morals aren't real."

Cartman glances off for a moment, before turning fully to me. "Morals are real, Kahl. They're just easy to twist to people's liking. That's why manipulation is such a good tactic."

"Manipulation is just lying. Lying to someone about what they want doesn't make morality itself fake." I argue.

Cartman laughs. "You're really heated about this huh?"

What'd you expect?

"Implying morality is irrelevant is just a way to excuse yourself from guilt when you do terrible things." I say.

He just shakes his head. "Morality is so fucking vague, Kahl."

"How about, don't hurt anyone? Pretty simple. What's vague about that, exactly?"

"Okay. What if you accidentally hurt someone? What if you hurt someone to protect yourself? What if you hurt someone to teach them a lesson? What if you hurt someone because they hurt you first?"

I frown. "Don't do that, dude. You know those are exceptions."

Cartman rolls his eyes. "The point is it's really situational. It's really fucking situational. It's so easy to justify anything you want to justify as long as you know how to word it."

"No, it's not." I feel anger bubbling up again. "Anyone with an actual conscience and a humble amount of integrity would be able to tell the difference between a good person and a bad person."

I hear him scoff and that pisses me off even more.

"Kahl, do you think it's morally right for men to be psychologically broken down and rebuilt into killing machines for the sake of our country?"

"...No. I don't."

"But if you had the power to, you wouldn't disband the military, would you?"

...

I don't know how to answer this. I'm not stupid enough to believe we don't need a military, but…

"That's a greater good situation." I answer.

Cartman shakes his head and chuckles. "Right. Because if you didn't have the military protecting you, you'd have to get your hands dirty sooner or later. And then your precious morality would really be skewed. It's easier if everyone just blames the military who they don't have to associate with."

There's something bitter in his tone. It serves to make me even more tense.

"That doesn't contradict the idea of it being moral for the greater good," I say. My jaw is clenched.

"All 'the greater good' means is people matching up their self-interests." Cartman says. "That's all morality is. People keep up an image, and they follow morals that please them best."

I feel something sink in my stomach. "Is that really what you think?"

"That's what everyone thinks." Cartman says. "Just think about it, Kahl. Even when people do nice things, it's just for brownie points."

…

"Do you think I'm doing all this for you for fucking brownie points?"

Cartman goes silent. I see his eyes go blank.

...I want to punch him. I want to punch him so badly. I've been trying so hard to help him and he thinks I'm doing it because I want to fucking look good?

"Uh…" I feel a hand touch my shoulder. "Sorry, we… didn't want to interrupt…"

I look over my shoulder to find Kenny and Stan, giving me looks of concern.

Fucking hell. Why'd they have to watch this…

"Hey." I deadpan.

Stan smiles nervously. "Hey… rough debate class?"

"Speech." Cartman says.

I glance at him only for a moment. I want to read his body language but I really can't stand to look at him right now.

Stan shrugs. "Uhh, the guys are coming over to my house to play pool. You wanna tag along?"

I grit my teeth behind my lips as I fight the knee-jerking habit to look at Cartman. "Sure."

Stan laughs nervously, catching onto my anger. "Sounds like you need it…"

Kenny silently passes by me and I can hear him mumbling something to Cartman. I want to turn around, but at the same time I really don't want to.

"Yeah. I'm ready. Let's go." I say.

This ends up being one of those days where Stan brings the car to school. He does this sometimes when he plans to go somewhere. Every now and then we'll end up carpooling with him as a friend group and he'll drop us all off individually. But most days it's used to hang out with his football friends. As we approach the car I see them talking nearby; three of them.

Sunny, a slender guy with more orange than red hair, who I'm surprised even got on the football team, but he's 6'6'' so I guess his height compensates for his lack of bulk. Sam, a muscular dark haired guy who's on the shorter side, and Luke, the dirty blond. He's not as tall as Sunny, but he's up there. Probably about six foot three. He's eternally getting jerked off by the entire school for being the star of the show, the team's quarterback.

As sarcastic as I sound, I am jealous of Stan for being able to play in a sport. I'd love to have a team of my own to hang out with. Nerds are all withdrawn, and since I gain no friends from that circle, I also seem like a withdrawn nerd.

"Hey it's Stan's boyfriend!" Sunny says while pointing to me.

Oh god dammit.

"Uh, don't call us that." Stan says with a sigh. I can tell he's still frustrated about the fact that I don't want us to be official. The guys seem to do little protesting and instead talk about the professional games as we all gather up into the car. Well, at least they're not interested in mocking me. That was honestly what I was most nervous about when Stan invited me to join the guys.

"Kyle, right? You know how to play pool?" Sunny asks as we head into Stan's house.

"I've played it with Stan a couple of times, but-" I cut myself off. I was about to say 'I prefer videogames,' but I feel like that'd be a misstep with these guys.

Sunny smiles at me. "S'okay. I can give you a little help if you're nervous."

Nervous? Oh god am I coming off as nervous? I shake my head immediately. "My pool skills are fine."

Stan turns on some pop playlist, to play in the background. Then he goes in the corner talking with each Luke. I end up gravitating to Sunny, who's taken to explaining and showing me trick shots at pool. I'm surprised this guy just stuck to me like glue. I don't even know him. But he has that kind of social butterfly vibe to him.

Sam on the other hand, has just been staring at me. Every time I look at him, he's either looking at me or looking off at a wall pretending not to look at me. Either way, his arms are crossed.

"You okay, dude?" I finally ask Sam.

"Just wondering how people like you end up getting into our circle." He says with a shrug.

I frown. "...People like me?" He better not be implying what I think he's implying. For fuck's sake, it's 2015. But we do live in a hick town, so…

"The losers. The really unlikable ones. You hang out with that dirt poor kid and that huge fat guy, dontcha?" Sam goes on.

Somehow, that's even worse. I give him a very annoyed look. I'm not about to fight this guy. He may be as short as I am, but he's ripped. Still, that pisses me off. "That's a really shallow way to look at people."

"Go easy on him, Sam. He's not used to how us guys talk." Sunny waves him off.

"Really?" I scoff. "I talk to Eric Cartman on a daily basis. What makes you think I'm sensitive to words?"

And I've known Cartman long enough to be able to tell when someone's just using poor wording and when they're intending to say something malicious. Like this Sam guy, for example…

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Sunny says with a nervous smile.

I frowned. "Yeah. I know you didn't." It's like he completely missed the point of what I literally just said.

"You gotta be fucking nuts to talk to that piece of shit on a daily basis." Sam says in disgust.

"...It takes a lot of patience."

I don't know what this guy's deal is with Cartman, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was another Billy Turner case where Cartman kinda fucked up his life. That's a few kids in this town. Not usually as extreme as Billy Turner, but, he's messed with a few people. So I understand if he's taking his frustration out on me, but nevertheless, I'm not gonna take it and pretend it's not a big deal. That's not me.

"Did we come here to talk about my friends or play pool?" I ask.

"I'm actually here for the drinks." Sam says.

Sunny laughs. "Oh yeah, Stan's dad apparently has some crazy high quality alcohol." He looks over at Stan and Luke, who seem to be in the middle of a conversation. "Stanny boooyy~! Stop suckin' Luke's dick and get us that good shit!"

This isn't very amusing to Luke, apparently, but Stan laughs. He pushes himself off the wall from where him and Luke were talking. "You guys wanna get right to the action, huh?"

The guys pause at this and then all burst out into laughter.

"Ooh, you think Kyle will be ok with you sharing?" Sunny asks.

"God, you can't say things like that anymore, Marsh." Sam says.

Stan's laughing too, along with the other guys. I guess it's funny because he's gay…? Well.. it's better than what I could hope for. I don't think it's funny at all but I smile. These guys are really easy to amuse.

Sunny wraps an arm around me and leans in close. "Hey, you can share that action with Sam and Luke as long as I get Kyle, Stan~" He laughs.

"Sorry, you're not my type," I joke and nudge Sunny with my elbow.

The laughter gets noticeably weaker at this, and eventually it dies down while I watch Sunny's gaze dodge mine.

...Dammit.

"I'm gonna get the drinks," Stan announces while forcing a little bit of a laugh, before he walks out of the room.

God dammit. I must be really out of touch with these types of people. I didn't even really think any of their jokes were funny, but… still. This is the crowd I always dreamed of hanging out with. And I'm fucking it up.

"...So… drinking Randy's beer, huh?" I ask, trying to recover from that utter atrocity.

Luke and Sam start a game of pool and don't bother answering.

"I don't think it's beer." Sunny says, "Stan said it was the really hard stuff. Like whiskey and vodka. Oh, and liquor."

I recoil. "Jesus christ, seriously? You guys are only teenagers. Why are you doing that to your bodies?"

Sam laughs. "How is Stan friends with pussies like you?"

"Seriously. You only live once, man." Luke adds.

"Aw lay off, guys. He probably doesn't even know how fun real drinking is." Sunny says. "How about it, Kyle? Wanna go hard?"

"No thanks." I say immediately.

Sunny leans into me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Come onnn. Live a little."

"Again, no thanks. I've seen Stan shitfaced enough times to know better."

"It's a lot more fun living it than watching it." Luke says.

"It's not my thing." I say.

I eventually get them to stop asking me and they return to their game of pool. I don't even drink light alcohol. I know better than to break into drinking with whiskey. If I ever wanna take up drinking I'll do it on my own time.

Soon enough Stan comes back in with the drinks he promised; a plentiful array of large bottles on a tray. Does Randy have to be so ostentatious about his drinking? At this point Stan's gonna pick that up.

"Have at it, guys. My stomach's been feeling weak ever since Mark elbowed me." Stan says, pouring them shots as they gather around the table.

"I'm sitting this one out too." Luke says, "It's my Dad's day off. He's gonna kill me if he smells alcohol on me."

"Pussies," Sam laughs. Sunny just cheers and starts downing shots.

I walk over and sit next to Stan as Luke and Sam are totally immersed in Sunny's chugging. Between drinks Sunny is trying to sing along with Uptown Funk on the stereo. Sam's catching up to his shot count and being overly competitive.

"I hope your parents are both gone." I say under my breath.

Stan laughs. "Even if they weren't they couldn't say much. This is exactly what Dad does on the weekends."

Sunny and Sam set up a game, arranging shot glasses to see who can drink more of them. Stan and Luke both egg them on. I focus on my current conversation with Stan.

"So now you're just doing what your dad does."

He rolls his eyes and speaks under his breath. "We're teenage guys. We drink. What's the big deal?"

"I just don't see the point-"

Both Stan and Luke abruptly start cheering as Sunny pukes all over the floor. Sam is now sufficiently drunk off his ass, laughing and pointing at Sunny as he staggers towards him to get a good view. Stan and Luke snicker and mock both of them.

Stan nudges me. "That's the best part. Seeing other people get fuckin' smashed."

I make myself smile at Stan. I can see how this could be potentially funny - in a very basic way. But this isn't my crowd. These aren't my friends.

Ugh. I need to stop being so closed off.

These guys seem cool, aside from Sam. He's kind of a dick so I don't know if we're gonna get along.

Wait, what am I saying? Cartman's the biggest dick in the entire school. I should be able to get along fine with Sam, especially since he's only being a dick to me because he associates me with Cartman.

The guys settle down and Sunny challenges me to a game of pool.

"Just remember to think about the reaction the balls are gonna have to the other balls." He tells me as I'm lining up my shot.

I raise my eyebrow at him and laugh. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Stop being dirty just cuz I said balls," Sunny slurs and giggles to himself.

I shake my head and laugh again. I'm actually laughing at the fact that he basically said what pool is, instead of giving me advice like he was trying to do. But I don't bother saying this. I don't think he'd get it anyway. Especially not in his state. Sunny's calmed down with the drinks after throwing up but he's still pretty damn drunk. I'm surprised he's even playing pool right now, but I guess he's got something to prove to the guys. Sam has decided to sit it out and spectate with Stan and Luke, and he's actually pretty chill now that he's drunk. Very talkative and friendly.

A douchey kind of friendly but still.

I guess part of the reason I've always distanced myself from these guys is because they took quality time with Stan away from me and the guys. Stan still makes time for us occasionally but his team definitely takes the spotlight. I've met them all in a group, and they're overbearing especially then, but I supposed when it's just three of them I can see why Stan's always with them. It's easy to get used to.

...Still, I hope he's not trying to get me to come into this group so he can abandon Cartman and Kenny.

...Ugh. I hate when I think about things like that. Stan is not that kind of person. He's just getting a little carried away with popularity. He still cares about us.

He just prefers to hang out with this group… because it's more convenient.

"I don't get it though. Why not just say you're boyfriends?" Sunny says.

Oh. Shit. He's talking to me.

"...Because we're not." I tell him.

"But you guys kiss and hold hands."

"We're not official, dude. We're just trying it out. No strings attached." I say.

...Saying no strings attached makes it sound very…

"Ohhh you're friends with benefits." Sunny says.

"No!"

Are we..?

But that implies nothing emotional and just sex.

"Waht..? So whadareyou?" Sunny looks very confused.

"N… uh… talking..? So far..."

That's what they call it, right?

Sunny turns to Stan with a frown. "Stanny boy, are you holding out on this poor boy?"

"What?" Stan laughs.

Sunny gestures over to me, leaning his chest and arms on the pool table. "Lookat'im, he's so pent up. Poor dude."

My shoulders stiffen at this. "Pent up…?"

"Pfft, no, if anything he's holding out on me." Stan answers.

They don't need to know this.

"Oh my god Stan, take some fuckin charge of your sex life for once!" Sam laughs, shoving Stan. "Just go in bro!"

"Can we change the subject?" I say, probably a little too quietly for someone yelling as loud as Sam.

"Dude every time you get drunk it's like you start telling me to rape someone." Stan laughs nervously.

"It's not rape, you're just being a pussy, pussy." Sam grunts. "This is why Lesley started fucking Luke. You waited too fucking long because she d-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, what?" I cut Sam off.

My eyes go over to Luke, who has gotten noticeably paler. Stan's noticed too. He looks mortified.

"...Oh shit." Sam mutters.

"Luke…" Stan says, "...You didn't…"

Luke glares at Sam and then gives a hardened look to Stan. "He's drunk, dude. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Oh, bullshit. We all saw the blood drain from Luke's face.

The room is silent for a few moments, everyone passing glances around to everyone else in it.

Stan gets on his feet and nudges Sam. "Haha.. yeah. You're a real joker, Sam…"

Sam stares at him awkwardly, his lips parted, trying to find words, but Stan turns away from them and starts to head out of the room.

"Dude-" I rush over to Stan stepping in front of him. "Dude what are you doing?"

Stan's gives me a sullen look with glistening eyes. "I don't want to be here right now." He mumbles.

"Wha- Luke fucked Lesley and you're gonna just walk away? You're just gonna let him-" I gesture to Luke, "You're gonna let him just sit there like it's nothing?"

"Knock it off dude, I just, I need a moment okay?" Stan says this with a frown as tears start leaking out of his strained eyes.

"Fuck that, Stan!" I grip Stan's shoulders. "You can't let that piece of shit get away with this!"

"Hey," Luke barks, "What'd you just say?"

I tear my gaze off of Stan and find Luke, still lounging on that seat. "You heard me."

"Oooh…" Sunny says retreating from the pool table to go to the edge of the room.

Luke stares me down. "Like I said, I didn't do anything. Sam's drunk off his ass-"

"Don't give me that, shithead, how stupid do you think I am? You were white as a sheet when he blurted that out."

Luke stands up from his seat. "You wanna tone it down with the insults?"

"How about you just admit it already?" I can hear my voice echoing through the room. "If you're so ashamed of it then why'd you fucking do it? She was his girlfriend and you knew that!"

"Oh come on," Luke shakes his head. "Her eyes were always on me. She wasn't ever Stan's."

I glance over at Stan who's just hanging his head, holding back tears. My fists clench together and I turn back to Luke. "You knew it would hurt him, but you did it anyway."

Luke rolls his eyes. "Yeah. I didn't tell him for a reason, genius."

"Oh- Oh! You're only a piece of shit in private. Ha, that makes it okay, right? That means when no one's looking you can just hump whatever moves with your tongue hanging out like the brainless fucking jock you are!"

Luke saunters over to me with clenched fists, looming over. "I think you better remember who you're talking to, nerd."

I've already straightened my back, trying to match his height. He's got about 8 inches on me either way. My heart's pounding in my chest.

"You're no one to her." I say. "You're just another trophy to add to her collection."

That does it. I see the flicker in his eyes.

I hit a nerve.

I see his arm start to move, and before I can even think I swing my fist into his jaw. His head whips back and he staggers a few paces backwards.

The silence is palpable. Even with the upbeat music playing in the background, it's as if no one's making a sound aside from shallow, baited breaths.

I just punched a quarterback in the face.

Oh fuck.

He looks at me with wild eyes and I can suddenly feel my heart in my throat.

With a gravelly shout he swings one of those huge fists at me. My heart leaps again, I tunnel vision on the motion, and I rip myself out of the way. The wind of the punch buffets my face. My eyes fly open as I see another fist coming right for me.

Shit, shit shit!

He lunges at me with wide but quick swings and I pull my fists up to me, ready to block as I desperately try to swerve out of his path.

Are people yelling?

Yeah they're yelling. I don't know what the fuck they're yelling but it's probably something like 'Kyle you fucking idiot, why did you punch a quarterback?' But I can't hear them. I'm in a tunnel vision and at the end of the tunnel is the built, towering fucking quarterback that I just punched.

His arm whips by my face, nearly grazing my cheek. I look back at him to see his face inches away from mine. I see his eyes.

No guilt at all.

My fist plunges into his face and as it does I feel the cartilage of his nose collapse against my knuckles.

Holy shit.

He recoils for a second, covering his nose as blood starts to flood from it. But this pause only lasts a second.

He screams and barrels towards me all over again, and I'm back on my toes.

He hasn't hit me once.

He still isn't hitting me at all.

...Holy shit. He doesn't know what he's fucking doing.

A high of excitement hits my body and I start laughing. It's weird, and I don't know why it happens. But holy shit, he doesn't know how to fight!

Then he lands a punch on my forearm, just grazing it. It hurts but I can take it. I take the opportunity to punch him in the stomach and send him recoiling from me. He might have a lot of stamina, being a football player, but if I land a good hit right now I could knock him on his ass. I lunge towards him, watching his movements and looking for a good place to swing-

Then suddenly Stan yanks me into a full nelson.

"Stan, what are you-"

"Stop you fucking idiot!" Stan says and pulls me down, forcing me on my knees while he tightens his hold.

Yeah, I can't move like this… I take the opportunity to catch my breath. Luke grips his stomach and his nose which is still bleeding pretty badly. I might've broke it. Ha.. I only got three hits on him myself, but they were damn good hits.

"I hope your play-by-plays are better than that shit," I say.

"Kyle!" Stan growls.

Sunny and Sam have gone to Luke's side, supporting him as he staggers and asking if he needs anything.

I feel Stan grip harder on me as he watches his friends. "I-I'm so sorry guys… I.. I didn't think Kyle would be…"

Luke shoots Stan a hard glare and Stan falters even further. He stands back up and straightens himself out, still holding his nose of course."No one hears about this, Marsh."

Stan nods.

The three of them talk under their breath as they leave. Stan's arms are trembling, even though I'm not struggling anymore. As soon as he knows they're gone he lets me go and starts pacing.

"You didn't think I'd be what?" I ask, standing back up. Shit, my forearm has a pretty deep bruise on it. Jocks hit damn hard.

But Stan doesn't answer me. He stops pacing, running his hands through his hair.

"...Stan?"

"What's wrong with you?" Stan's voice cracks when he speaks. "Why are you like this?"

I let this sentence sink in, taking in his distressed but angry expression. "...I was standing up for you."

"Oh yeah, good job," Stan laughs, "I can't wait to be ostracized on Monday because my best friend just attacks people like a lunatic,"

"A lunatic?"

"Do you know how hard it was to get in good with them? I mean, do you know how long it took me to win them over- to- to impress them just enough to be in their circle at school?"

"...Was it longer or shorter than how long it took you to get Lesley?"

Stan turns away and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Kyle…"

"No really, I'm curious."

"Fuck off, okay? I just found out that Luke was…"

"Yeah, you did, and you know what? That right there? That's how you should've reacted to finding out. At least. Not rolling over on your back like a dog and avoiding confrontation."

Stan turns to me fully now, staring at me in disbelief. I shrug with my arms outward, letting them drop down to my side soon after. This is the simplest shit.

"You're asking what's wrong with me? What's wrong with you, Stan? Do they really have you so far under their thumb that you can't even talk back to them or what?"

"How are you gonna stand here, Kyle, and tell me that my reaction of feeling pain was wrong?" Stan asks. "Just wanting to leave the room so I can sort my shit out? I was in tears, cause that hurt, and you're telling me there's something wrong with me because I didn't want to start a fight right then and there?" He shakes his head and laughs painfully. "I mean you're supposed to be my best friend and you kept me in this room- You... You were the least helpful person in this room."

Hell, that hurts.

"I was standing up for you." I say. "...I fought for you."

"That doesn't help, Kyle."

"Well then what would've helped?"

"Letting me leave." Stan says through gritted teeth, then he sighs exasperatedly. "I don't know, just comforting me like a normal person, not some fucking maniac who laughs while he watches another man bleed- I mean, what are you, Cartman?"

…

"You're gonna sit here and tell me that those guys don't get into fights? Really?" I say.

"They don't, Kyle," Stan shakes his head, "And that's not even the point. You shouldn't enjoy being in fights."

I glance away, "It was more of an anxious-"

"Oh yeah? Is that why you taunted him too?" Stan shakes his head at me. "I always thought you were the more empathetic one."

I grit my teeth. "I am empathetic. The entire reason I was pissed was because of what Luke did to you. How the hell are you taking his side on this when you just found out he fucked your girlfriend?"

Stan winces when I say that and looks away. "That's not the point, you-"

"That's not the point? What the fuck do you mean that's not the point?"

"Your reaction was-"

"That's what you should be most concerned about but here you're getting mad because I gave Luke what he deserved. What, did I embarrass you? Is that what you care about? Where the fuck are your priorities?"

"SHUT UP!"

I go silent. Stan glares holes into me, fists clenched and breathing hard. His hands clench harder and he grits his teeth a little more before he turns away. "...You should go."

"Stan that's so unwarranted," I say as he starts to walk away. "Dude, I don't care if you get a little mad but we have to-"

"Go away." He says. He's already gone up the stairs at this point, and it's not long before I hear his door slam.

I tear my hat off and crush it between my fingers. My free hand wipes the sweat from my hair and I sigh.

I definitely should've been more sensitive to his feelings.

I walk out of his place and start towards mine. I mean sure I can come off as blunt sometimes, but I'm honest. I don't get it… I don't get why he just focused on what I did instead of everything else… …Was my reaction really that bad…?

...He said… I was the least helpful.

Fuck.

I can't even comfort Stan properly. My best friend, who I'm supposed to know better than anyone…I feel like such a bad friend. ...Maybe all this time it was me. Maybe all this time… I'm the reason he doesn't hang out with our group that much. I kept blaming him, but… if that's really how he feels about the way I act… if he thinks I'm a lunatic…

As soon as I enter my house I hear a group of guys laughing. Sounds like Dad has his friends over again. Hah. Even an asshole like my Dad can maintain a group of friends better than I can. I silently start up the stairs.

"No really, it's the truest shit you've ever heard."

My head turns immediately at the sound of Cartman's voice. ...Is he talking to my dad's friend group?

"Every time, every damn time there was a sale at best buy Gerald's ass was there." He laughs, "Back when I was tryin'a get a Wii U on sale he was there every single fucking time just lookin at the sales. And half the time he doesn't even buy anything, that's the best part,"

The guys laugh annoyingly loud at this. It grates my ears. I peek over and see that they're all playing Poker. Cartman's at the center seat.

"The boy's right, Gerald. How are you gonna say you're not addicted to Best Buy?" Jimbo nudges my Dad. "You really need to get out more."

Dad doesn't say anything to this, just deals his cards. I see Cartman's eye catch mine. He was smiling before, but somehow his eyes brighten even more when he sees me.

"Heeyy, Kahl!" He calls, bringing the other guys attention to me. I shrink against the wall. "Dude, I'm winning so hard right now. I'm kicking these old men's asses."

"How are you playing poker without money?" I ask.

"Your Dad spotted me. Technically. I'm just another hand for him."

"Oh."

Seems like something my Dad would do. ...It's a little surprising that Cartman gets along with these guys, but not too surprising. His charisma is admirable. But it kind of rubs salt in my wound that he can adapt to other groups so quickly while I'm sitting here being an awkward as fuck dork and possibly ruining my best friend's other friendships.

Mom lets us know that dinner will be ready soon, so I decide to go into my room and do my homework while I wait. The mindless busywork helps me detach a bit, but not entirely… I can't get over what Stan said, but at the same time, I'm concerned about myself.

That fight was so exhilarating. Even when I just remember it, I feel giddy. It's so weird.

I really shouldn't like getting into fights. Sparring with Cartman is one thing, but that was a real fight. And I started laughing at him - something just came over me. I don't know what that was.

And I kind of want to do it again.

Fuck. What's wrong with me?

Soon enough Mom calls us back down for dinner. I finish up my homework and go down there a little late. It's still really weird to see Cartman eating at my kitchen table.

"You're awfully quiet tonight, bubbe." Mom says.

I look up from my plate, which I've been idly eating while spacing out. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"You got back early from Stan's, huh?" Dad asks. "Something happen?"

I look at Cartman, who's just watching blankly. I fidget slightly and look away. "We just had an argument."

Mom sighs and shakes her head. "What a shame. Was he drinking again?"

"No. He's just been emotional about stuff. He broke up with his girlfriend and everything."

"Stan's always emotional." Cartman says with his mouthful of food.

I chew on the inside of my lip, glancing towards the stairs again. I shouldn't be zoning out in front of my family. They'll think something's wrong, and I definitely don't want them finding out about me and Stan. I haven't gotten any notifications on my phone… he's probably still upset. ...Should I text him sorry?

"Hey Kahl," Cartman says, "Come play Fallout with me n' Kenny after this. You're missing out on some quality gameplay."

I shake my head. "I don't feel that great right now. My stomach is off."

"Pssh. Fuck off with that, all you have to do to play a game is sit on your ass."

"Language, Eric!"

"Sorry Mrs. Broflovski," Cartman coos, taking another bite of her dish. He makes a show of swooning at the taste. "God, this is heaven. You oughta write down the recipe for me."

I roll my eyes as they start to make conversation about recipes and gourmet food they've seen on the food channel. I can't believe Mom didn't see through that transparent fucking schmoozing. The timing was so obvious. Hopefully she didn't and just wanted to talk about cooking anyway. I finish up my dinner and stand back up, letting my thoughts start to carry me out of the room.

"Kyle, go with Eric to Kenny's house." Dad says. "It's the weekend. It's high time to socialize."

I tense up and sigh. I really don't want to talk to anyone right now. I just want to sort my thoughts out. I have so much to rethink.

Cartman is suddenly next to me, clapping his hand on my shoulder. "Yeah. And it's vidyagames. That's your life, nerd."

Ugh. He looks so excited about this. I roll my eyes and grumble. "I guess."

I don't need to say anymore; Cartman bolts to the doorway and snatches his coat and mine. It kind of takes me off guard.

"Slow down, you're gonna run out of breath," I say when I follow him around the corner.

"Fallout 4, Kahl. There's no time to lose." He tosses me my coat and opens the door.

Then like that we're out in the cold. I hastily zip up my jacket. It's a good thing I forgot to take off my boots earlier or rushing would have been really frustrating. Cartman's walking at a pretty fast pace. Not that I have a problem keeping up. It's just fast for a big guy like him.

"Must be a damn good game," I say with a light laugh.

"Keep up Jew," Cartman says simply.

It's not too late out. Through the fog I see that the sun is setting, painting the sky a soft mix of lavender and orange. It'd be more relaxing if the cold wasn't stinging my face though… wish I brought a scarf. I've always been sensitive to cold. It seems no amount of living in it is gonna change that.

"Is Jenny gonna be there?" I call from behind him. I am actually lagging behind a little bit.

Cartman laughs. "Nah. What, you wanna see her?"

"No." I say. "That's why I asked."

"She's not gonna be there."

I keep trying to make small talk with him, but his answers are short and to the point. It's odd for him… it's kinda making me tense. ...I now suddenly remember we had a little bit of an argument afterschool, right before I decided to leave him to go home alone while I went with Stan.

...God. That's so spiteful in retrospect… I'm just.. A really shit person today.

Soon enough we reach Kenny's door - especially with the pace we're going. Cartman insistently knocks on the door.

It's not as if the speedwalking didn't take his toll on him either. Even beneath his winter hat, his hair is mussed. His chest is heaving noticeably. And I can see the warm puffs of breath leaving his lips.

He meets my eyes as he pants. I purse my lips. Ah.. I should say something.

"Don't wear yourself out."

To this he grins. Uh. It's like his grin is saying 'I know something you don't know.'

Kenny breaks the silence, opening the door.

"Heeeyy, Kenny!" Cartman says. Kenny smiles at us, not fully opening the door, but instead pulling his arm out.

I raise my eyebrow. "...Why are you holding a shovel, Kenny?"

Kenny glances around, then looks over at Cartman. "You didn't tell him?"

Cartman rolls his eyes. "Where am I gonna tell him?"

I tense up again. "Tell me what, exactly?"

I see Cartman's jaw tense. He takes the shovel from Kenny and nods at him, before turning and wrapping an arm around me. "We're not playing Fallout 4 tonight." He whispers, a surprisingly playful tone in his voice.

I blink rapidly at him. "...Excuse me?" Suddenly he's leading me off of Kenny's porch and towards the woods. "Whoa, whoa whoa whoa, hang on dude. What?" It takes a few instances of me grounding my feet into the snow for Cartman to actually stop. I almost slip a few times. "Cartman, what's going on?"

Cartman laughs. "You're so loud." He leans in closer to me. "Relax Kahl, I'm not gonna murder you and bury your body in the woods."

I reel backwards, though it's counterproductive since I'm against his arm. "You're not making a great case so far."

He laughs again. His arm relaxes on me. "No but, I wanna show you something."

"In the woods? With a shovel?"

Cartman strokes my hat. "Shhh~ It's gonna be okay. It's a surprise."

I glance back over to Kenny's porch. He's gone back inside at this point. Logically I should be getting a bad feeling about this. Worse of a feeling than I actually have. Well- they both worded it so casually… even though still there was this tension in the air… Kenny's not the type of person to go along with sinister plans - at least, that's what I get from him. So despite the shoddiness of the situation I do go with Cartman into the woods.

The sun continues to set over us. Cartman seems confident, holding the shovel across his shoulders as he walks ahead of me. I know these woods. It's very easy to get turned around. There's no trails except for a few patches of dirt that peeks through the grass. Even then, they're not showing right now because there's about 5 inches of snow veiled over everything.

"You sure we're not gonna get lost?" I ask.

"I know these woods like the back of my hand." Cartman says.

"What, do you just go running around in the untamed backwoods of South Park?"

Cartman glances around the trees before continuing to walk. "Yeah? Do you know how many good photos are out here just waiting to be taken?"

"I didn't know you still did that."

"I don't."

I raise an eyebrow at him, but he's in front leading the way so the point is moot. We continue down what seems to be an aimless path. Cartman slows his pace a few times, looking around and second guessing himself before he chooses a path. It seems very erratic.

I press him about getting lost again. I don't like the idea of not knowing where I am where there's no people around. If it gets dark I might just go back. But we're starting to get pretty deep…

"What was Stan pissed about?" Cartman asks. We've been making small talk for a little while, but this really wouldn't be considered that...

"...Uh… well… I was hanging out with him and some of his friends, and…" I scratch the back of my head. "I kinda… I beat up his quarterback."

Cartman whirls around, stunned. "You?"

I purse my lips. "What's that supposed to mean?" I know exactly what he means, but I'm still insulted.

"Shit, dude. Tell me everything."

We walk at a more steady pace as I recount the story to him. I'm a little worried that he'll get lost because he's distracted, but he seems to be checking his surroundings every now and then anyway. His eyes are locked on me with fascination as I tell him how it all started, and how the fight went.

Cartman smiles wide and sighs to himself. "Holy shit, Kahl,"

I look away. "It's not a good thing. Stan might stop hanging out with me just to get back on their good side."

"Who gives a shit about Stan? You, a scrawny little nerd, broke a quarterback's nose and got off scot free! That's like - that changes the game!"

"Ugh, what game? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Those guys haven't been around that long. They're new. They took over the school because of their status." Cartman says. "But us? We grew up here. We're part of this crazy town. We're scrappy. We know how to fight because we've been doing it all our fucking lives."

"So?"

"So, they go around acting like hot shit because everyone assumes they can fight. But they're just buff. Fuckin pedigrees compared to people like us. You, me, Kenny - even Stan - we can all fight." Cartman's excitement is a bit concerning. "If we ripped the throne out from under them… turned the whole pyramid upside down - hahaha - you know how much chaos that would create?"

"Cartman," I say, "Come on, dude, what would be the point of that?"

Cartman doesn't talk for a moment. He scratches his chin and turns away. "There's a point... It's just not straight forward. It's like a cutlass."

"It sounds like you'd just be creating chaos for the sake of chaos." I say with a frown.

Cartman shakes his head. "Such a downer, Jew. Be happy! You fucking downed a jock- a quarterback."

"And I'll pay for it one way or the other…"

He stops and turns to me, gripping my shoulders. "Kahl, listen to me. Fuck what everyone else thinks. You did something amazing today. And you know you did. You felt it, and it felt amazing."

"What'd I do, punch a guy?

Cartman grips tighter on me, eyes completely focused. "You proved that you're a man. You're a short, slender nerd but you're more of a man than that fucking quarterback. Take pride in that."

Fluttering hits my chest hard and I look down. "Hah. You're such a schmoozer."

Cartman lets me go and looks me over. "I'm serious, Kahl. Like, completely. I've never been more proud of you."

I stare at him blankly, feeling my heartbeat skyrocket. Wh…

"T-That's..." Fuck! Why did I stammer? I look away and shake my head, "That's such a weird thing to say."

What the hell was that.

Am I… am I really that in need of approval from someone?... Well.. I mean I guess it'd make sense with the whole.. I mean I've been shitting on myself for a while now so it makes sense, right?

And it's weird to hear from Cartman.

Shit.

Snap out of it. Stop being weird. Stop being weird.

I flinch at the vibration of my phone going off in my pocket. "Oh, what the hell- Oh- that's my phone," I try to say this in a steady pace but it still comes out so fucking weird. God. He's not saying anything. Did I just make this awkward?

"Heh. Rich boy gets reception even out here."

"That is weird," I agree, desperately trying to not fumble my phone in my fingers. This is a normal thing that people do, Kyle. You're unlocking a phone, not diffusing a bomb. I finally get a hold of myself and open my phone to see a text.

'I'm sorry for yelling. Can we talk?'

I furrow my brow. "It's Stan." Should I talk to him right now..? ...That'd be rude to Cartman, even if it would momentarily break the awkwardness I created. "He's apologizing to me."

To this Cartman just hums in acknowledgement and turns back towards the seemingly never ending woods. "We're almost there."

What he approaches is a dense thicket of trees, both intact and broken ones. I watch as he dips his fingers through the leaves, looking for a certain opening. When he finds it, he grabs onto my wrist, instructing me to cover my face as he pulls me through. It's incredibly uncomfortable and scratchy, going through this kind of thicket, but Cartman pushes through with vigor.

When we reach the other side we're met with a small clearing in the middle of the pine trees, and, surprisingly, a small log cabin.

"What… where did this come from?" I ask.

Cartman walks past me and shrugs. "No idea, but was abandoned for years." He takes his shovel in hand and kicks some snow around. "So I figured… why not take it?"

When I take a closer look, though it's a little difficult because of the dusk shadows, I see that the door has two padlocks on it. There's a noticeable crack in the door. If I had to guess Cartman kicked the door open and now keeps it closed with those two padlocks.

"Only someone like you would steal an entire goddamn cabin," I huff.

Cartman laughs. "Yeah probably." He pokes around the ground with his shovel. It's not long before I hear a muffled clink in the ground. As I approach him he starts to dig into the dirt, stopping to toss aside a large water pipe - not connected to anything, just sitting there - before continuing to dig even deeper into the ground.

"You're so extra," I say with a sigh. "What's this, some hidden treasure?"

"Fuck yeah it is," Cartman says, dropping his shovel in the snow and pulling out a little safe from the ground. He quickly undoes the lock and smiles wide as he takes out the contents.

I step back as he stands back up, brandishing an intimidating silver pistol. He grins, polishing this thing and admiring it.

"Dude."

"No treasure like a Desert Eagle."

"Dude, you already have a gun." I say.

Cartman meets my eyes.

"This one's my favorite, Kahl." He purrs.

I'm on edge all over again.

Swiveling away from me, he points the gun at a pine tree hanging high in the air, and fires. The echo of the gunshot is nearly like a roar. The branch the bullet hits flies off of its limb, its parts being flung in multiple directions from the impact.

"God," Cartman breathes, "I missed this baby."

"I can't tell if you came here to show me the log cabin or that thing." I scoff.

Cartman walks up to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "You're so scared of guns, Kahl. We're gonna change that tonight."

He goes back into the safe and fishes out two keys. Each of them opens a padlock on this rundown log cabin. When we step inside the cabin I take it in; it's not very warm, and it's pretty much empty.

There's some empty beer bottles lying around, a rusty dresser drawer, and four suitcases stacked up against the wall. Cartman picks up the bottles, and as he does I catch something in the corner behind him that I didn't see before…

Christmas decorations… Christmas lights, candle sticks, a boom box.. Even a little miniature tree.

"...Were you gonna spend christmas here?"

Cartman glances over at the corner, briefly looking it over, then shrugging.

I frown. "...Why would you do that all by yourself?"

"I collected those way before I knew anyone wanted to help me." Cartman says. "I knew I was bound to get kicked out sooner or later."

How casually he says that makes my chest hurt.

He takes the empty beer bottles and we head back outside with them.

"I've fired a gun before, Cartman." I remind him as I follow him back outside.

He takes one bottle and places it on a piece of firewood, burying the base in the snow. "Yeah. For half a second and all in negative contexts."

"All contexts with guns are negative contexts." I say.

Cartman rolls his eyes and leads me a considerable distance away from the beer bottle. "Kahl, have you ever chopped an onion?"

I raise an eyebrow. Is he trying to say something symbolic here? "Yeah. What about it?"

Cartman pulls the silver pistol from his pocket again. "So, you used a knife. A deadly weapon."

I frown. "Kitchen knives are for cutting meat."

"We all have meat on us," Cartman says. I stare at him, but he continues. "Hit someone in the right place with a knife; it'll kill them. It's the same thing with guns. But even worse, if you drop a knife, or just aren't careful, you can end up cutting into your own skin. They're a lot more dangerous than guns."

He clicks on the safety on his pistol, and to my alarm, starts spinning the fucking thing around his finger. My heart jumps in my throat and I step towards him. "D-Dude..!"

He just grins at me while the pistol whirls around his hand. "You're not afraid of knives because you use them. You're familiar with them and know how they work." He catches the gun by the handle and it points towards me. Christ, he's trying to give me a heart attack… He quirks an eyebrow at me and grins wider. "A gun can never hurt you if you use it right."

"Don't point it at me." I say.

Cartman gives me a look, then places the barrel under his chin. "Still so scared~"

"Stop it, Cartman, that really freaks me out." I'm clenching my jaw now from the stress of seeing him just wave that thing around. "Your finger was right against the trigger when you were spinning it…"

Cartman laughs and lets his hand with the gun drop to his side. "To be fair, if you tried that, you'd probably be tense, squeeze the trigger in a panic and end up shooting yourself. I just relax cuz know how and where to spin it."

"Great. I bet you're so proud of yourself."

Cartman's eyelids lower slightly, and he reaches into his pocket, retrieving his second gun. This is the one he's been carrying with him for a while. "Shoot the bottle." He says simply, placing the black gun in my hands.

I clench my teeth together again, squeezing on the heavy cold metal I'm holding. Why does he feel the need to get me familiar with guns…? To justify him having two of them? That silver one definitely has higher power than this one… that's so excessive… he proved a gun like this is enough to kill someone when he killed that man in the alley…

I jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder. "It's just a bottle, Kahl."

I respond with a distressed grunt. I don't like guns, yeah. But that's for a very good reason. A reason that everyone ought to have in common. I aim down the sights of my gun, gripping hard. Guns have kickback, I remember that much.

I take in another breath and fire the gun, the crack of the shot echoing through the forest. The bottle is knocked off its perch, but the log tumbles as well, both landing in the soft snow. The bottle stays in tact.

"Hm. I think you hit the log." Cartman says. I grumble and lower the gun. Cartman laughs softly. "Don't sweat it, Jew. That's a cop gun. It's got a twelve pound trigger - harder to fire. Especially accurately."

"So why not give me the more accurate gun? Isn't this target practice?" I say.

"If you shot with the desert eagle it'd just clock you in the nose." Cartman says. "Plus it's my baby. Only I can shoot it."

He goes back over to the log and balances it with the bottle again. I give a few more tries, shooting lower and then shooting higher, trying to hit the mark. But it's tough. I can't seem to hit it.

Cartman steps towards me. "Hang on," He says, taking both of his hands and sliding them up my arms.

What...

His large hands cup over my hands, fingers loose against the front of them. "Okay. Shoot again, like normal." He says calmly.

Y...You want me to shoot like everything's normal right now? God, this is so… ...his chest is pressed against my back and everything- does he realize how weird this is?

I try to slow my breath again. Fuck. I can feel him looking at me. He can definitely feel my pulse right now. I take in a deep breath again and fire the gun. It misses.

"Shit," I breathe.

Cartman laugh softly beneath his lips. "You're holding it wrong."

"Fuck off," I say.

His fingers wrap around my hands and he re-angles my wrists. "There, keep it just like that, and…" It seems like his voice is just getting lower.. And smoother…

"...Oh-" I gasp, realizing he's waiting for me to shoot. I press my finger into the trigger and I feel him squeeze my hands as I do. The gun fires again, and this time the bottle pops off the log, shattering into pieces.

Cartman steps back from me and I fight the urge to release my breath. I release it as quietly as I can as he puts another bottle on the log.

"Just grip it like that and you'll hit it every time," Cartman says.

"...I don't know if I can replicate that perfectly." I laugh nervously.

Cartman smirks. "What, you want me to do it for you again?"

I feel my stomach flip. "No, that's not what I was saying-" I clench my jaw. "I'll do it again myself,"

What the hell… what the hell is going on with me… this is making me so…

Okay, okay, snap out of it. Just grip the gun like he did. I do my best to remember the angle he put me at… every little detail. The angle of my arms, my wrist, my fingers, the grip…

I fire again. When I look at the bottle I see it's knocked off the log again, not fully shattering, but being left chipped on the ground.

"You trying to show off?" Cartman asks.

"What?"

"Shooting with your eyes closed," He says.

Shit. I was closing my eyes. "...I was just focusing on… remembering the pose."

Cartman chuckles. "Pretty good, Jew."

We continue with the target practice, and I start to become pretty consistent with my aim. I'm finally hitting the target now, though not dead on every time.

What happened there…? When he was guiding my hand, showing me how to hold the gun… my heart just flipped out, and… I could barely breathe. I could barely relax, just because he was...

...Am I..?

…

...Oh... shit… Shit...

"Alright Jew, last bottle. We're gonna try something a little different."

I take in a shaky breath. I like him. I fucking like him. I fucking like Eric Cartman. What the fuck...

"I'm gonna toss this up in the air. When it peaks, I want you to try and shoot it." Cartman says.

Act normal. Just act normal. "Dude I just started,"

"So what, mister I can hit a bottle with my eyes closed? Try it."

I can feel my heart pounding in my head. God… I was trying to make so many excuses as to why I've been overreacting to him, but - jesus christ, it's so bad…

"Ready?" Cartman says.

"Yeah," I respond immediately.

He tosses the bottle into the air and I raise my gun. Just ignore it. Don't act weird. Shoot this fucking bottle.

My gun fires, but I get a bit thrown off by the kickback this time. The bottle starts falling.

"Fuck," I grunt.

Then I hear that loud crack of a gunshot from before and the bottle shatters.

"Guess that is too advanced." Cartman says, giving his silver pistol a little twirl.

I scoff. "Gimme credit where credits due, asshole. I have pretty good aim for a beginner."

Cartman walks back up to me, putting his gun away. "That's true. It's been years since you shot anything, but I can tell it's still in you."

"Yeah well," I mumble, avoiding his eyes. God help me, I hope he didn't notice. Especially not before me even realizing I fucking… God, I'm attracted to Cartman, of all people..? Jesus Christ… I shake my head and hand his gun back to him.

He doesn't take it from me, just looks at it. "What's up?"

I look back up at him for a second, then immediately look away. "I'm just giving it back."

"Ah, I already have one. And it's way better than that one." Cartman says, "You can keep it."

My eyes widen and I look up at him. What… he's giving me his…? Oh god. Why the fuck is he doing this? Why is it making me feel all warm inside? I feel heat threatening to fill my face and try breathing steadily, but quietly, turning my face away from him.

"Cartman I don't want a gun."

"You don't even have to use it that much." Cartman says. "Just when you need to."

"But I don't need to. I can take care of myself without one." I say. I try to hand the gun back to him again. "Here, take it."

"Didn't think you'd get such a big head," Cartman laughed. "You can fight sure, but you need a gun more than I do."

This smug asshole. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Immediately I square up to him. The red on my face will just be interpreted as nothing but anger, so I can get away with this…

"What, just because you beat me in fake fights?" I say, locking eyes with him. "If we were in a real fight I'd do better than you. I proved that today when I beat the shit out of that quarterback. You might need guns. But I don't."

Cartman tilts head towards me a bit, a grin stretching across his face. My heart beats faster when I notice how close our faces are, and I feel the urge to back up.

Instead I feel blunt pain hit the back of my legs and before I know it my back hits the snow.

"Augh! Hey-!"

"A real fight," Cartman laughs, looming over me. "In a real fight, Kahl, there's no countdown. Your attacker won't give you a warning."

Adrenaline hits my body. I start to feel the rush again. If he's really asking for a fight right now, then, fine. I grip my hands on the snow and scramble to get up, but my wrists suddenly hit the snow-veiled ground again. I look up and Cartman's hovering over me, pinning my wrists to the ground.

"You let someone get close, someone who's bigger and stronger than you, and knows how to fight?" Cartman says through a smile. "They won't give you a chance."

My heart pounds in my wrists, and I go silent. His grip is tight on me and he's... He's right on top of me.

I clench my hands into fists. Cartman gives a low, single laugh. "So what'll you do in this situation, Jew? You really think you could get outta this?"

I can't help but growl as I hear his taunting voice. I try to pull my wrists away with all the force in my arms. Over and over again I try, but Cartman barely budges at all. I stop for a moment to give myself a chance to breathe.

Cartman's eyelids lower, and he raises an eyebrow. "That really all you're gonna give it? Kahl, you're completely at my mercy right now," He pauses and looks me over. "I could do anything to you."

I freeze.

Did he really just… ...God, what is he thinking..? Fuck, I didn't think my face could get any hotter, but it does. It's so hot I barely feel the snow against my hands even as Cartman presses my wrists into the ground. I feel my breath quickening, but I try to use that to my advantage by using the rush I'm in to shake free from his grasp. The snow is melting between us- it should make his grip on my wrists slippery enough to pull free.

I try moving my lower body which isn't being pinned at all and trying to move downward. But as I bend my knees, my hips arch up in the small space between me and Cartman, and I press into him.

Oh, fuck-

I drop my hips like dead weight against the snow, my lips parted in horror.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Why did I do that. Why didn't I fucking think ahead..? I hate the sound of my light, quick breath, the mist puffing frantically from my lips. Through it I can see Cartman's icy blue eyes looking right through me.

"You're pretty hard."

I turn my face away, cheeks burning. "It's the adrenaline,"

"Mmm, right."

Goosebumps hit my skin. God, my body is fucking betraying me right now...

Then without warning Cartman lowers his hips against me, and I feel it, hard and pressing against my thigh. I gasp shakily.

Jesus, he's hard too, he's so hard…

"Some hardcore adrenaline," He says.

Fuck..

I make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Those fully blown pupils. That smile, the way he bites his lower lip while he looks into my eyes. Jesus Christ… that look.. That way he looked at me on the bed, but thousands of times more intense, and this time it's not morning just wood… it's because he wants me.

Holy shit.

His hands are suddenly off of my wrists, and he squeezes on my hips. I don't make a sound, pursing my lips, but then he lifts my hips and drags me closer. I feel myself shiver as I look up at him, his lips parted and eyes half lidded and glued to me.

Then I feel his erection pressing into mine. It's like sparks through my body. I pull my hand over my mouth and gasp into it, and, fuck, I know I'm on the verge of full on moaning. Cartman lets out a heavy exhale, one full of arousal. I never thought something as simple as a breath could sound so fucking turned on, but there's no mistaking that sound.

He drags himself against me again, drawing out the motion and this time I do moan into my hand. My hips press into it as much as possible. Without me even telling them to. I feel a large hand grip the one over my mouth and my eyes fly open.

"Let me hear it," He breathes, pulling my hand away.

I look up at him speechlessly and fuck I don't know if I can blush anymore than I'm already blushing. The look on my face must really be something, because his eyebrows furrow and he bites his lip again.

He rolls his hips in such a fluid motion that my entire body tenses and my head falls back into the snow.

"H-h-ahh…!"

The moan that comes out is nearly a whimper, and I immediately feel embarrassed that I made it. But it makes Cartman's breath quicken, makes him squeeze my hand and my hip and press into me hard. He presses his body flush against me, torso and all and captures my lips.

I feel crazy. I feel like my body is on fire. The feel of his lips against mine is insanely hot - nothing like I've ever felt in a kiss. I can't get enough of it. His kiss is so hungry and I can't help but answer it. I can't help but grab onto the expanse of his back and hold him as closely as possible. I feel his tongue slide over mine and I moan into his mouth. My fingers dig into his back and he kisses me harder, swooning with delight.

Then he rocks his hips again and I arch my back. I pull out of the kiss and gasp for much needed air, but it's tough - he's thrusting against me and it feels so fucking good - fuck, I can barely breathe.

His hands come down on mine to pin me again. I can feel how badly my fingers tremble against his.

"God, you're so horny," Cartman says, through a gravelly quality of voice that I've never heard before. It gets to me. I shiver even more.

He quickens his pace on me, his hands pressing mine into the ground as he gets just the right angle. I moan unabashedly as our erections press needfully together. That moan of his - that heady, gravelly moan that almost sounds like a growl as he squeezes my hands fills my ears. I can barely handle it…

"Aa-ahh-!" I clench my hands over Cartman's and my lips part open, eyes rolling back. I breathe through my climax, unable to stop shivering as it pulses through me.

Jesus Christ. I can't believe this.

And Cartman's still on me, too, I still feel so ridiculously turned on… I don't want to stop even though I already came…

He keeps grinding against me, slow now, but it's way too much.

"Cartman…" I gasp, "I can't,"

Cartman's still giving me that hungry look of his. "Not gonna leave me hanging, are you?"

I stare up at him, and it hits me all over again that this is actually happening. Heat floods my face. "...W-Well, just not against my dick, you know..?"

Cartman breaks into a grin and sits up, putting his hands on my legs. I can't help but stare at it. It's straining against his pants so hard…

"Turn around."

My eyes widen. "Wh-what..?"

He takes me by the hips and flips me - almost effortlessly - onto my hands and knees. I clutch the cold snow under my fingers. Wait- is he really gonna…

His heavy torso presses up against my back, and feel him, prodding at my inner thigh. I feel myself start to shiver all over.

"Cartman…" I breathe, "What are you doing..?"

Cartman lets out a chuckle, stroking his hands over my thighs. "What, you scared I'm gonna fuck you right here?"

I hate the way I instantly respond with a shivery gasp. It makes him go silent.

"Mmn… wow, Kahl…" Cartman breathes, digging his fingers into my thighs.

"That's…" I shudder. "No really, dude.. Don't…"

He laughs softly, and I feel him throbbing against me. Fuck, I really tempted him… Jesus Christ...

He moves his hips up suddenly, pressing himself right against my ass. I jump at the feeling and try to look back, but with the way he's holding me down there's no point in that. He leans forward and captures my earlobe between his teeth, tugging it.

"Can you imagine, though..?" He says in a gravelly whisper. He takes me by the hips and pulls me flush against him and I can feel his erection against the crease of my ass, through the thickness of our pants, rock hard and pulsing.

"Sh-shit…" I gasp. In a swift motion he pulls my pants down to my thighs, exposing my boxers. I tense up. "Cartman-"

He presses against me again, and his cock is suddenly way way easier to feel through the fabric. Holy fuck… his pants are down too. He draws out a moan and takes my hips again, pulling me into him, close enough that his shaft parts my ass, even though the fabric.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

I bite my lip and try to steady my breath.

It feels so big… God I feel how hot and how thick it is… holy shit..

He moves his hips again, grunting as he does. He's close now, definitely… He's throbbing like crazy and he's so wet... Holy fucking shit…

His heart is pounding so hard right now. And he's moving his hips so hard… I push back into him almost by instinct. Fuck I'm so turned on all over again, and he's not even touching me…

A hitch in his breath and a movement in his hips, and he hits his climax. His cock throbs against me and I press into it further, and he rolls his hips into me, grinding the pulses out with a breathy moan. "FFFuck…"

His hands slide over my legs and he slowly settles into me, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. I can tell the haze is hitting him.

That tension of arousal is still in my body. But once he stops I have a moment to think.

And I…

I have no idea what to think.