Some more emotions, but mostly Cartman being Cartman

"Get out, Cartman." Kyle tapped his foot with waning patience at Cartman's large bulk crowding half his bed.

"What? Where am I going to sleep?"

Kyle gestured to the futon he'd left on the floor.

"Kahl," Cartman shook his head sombrely, "Your sanity will really come into question when your mom comes in and sees that on your floor. Especially looking slept in."

"I'll clear it up in the morning."

"I want a lie-in."

Kyle looked upwards, counting to ten through gritted teeth before explaining that they had school to get to.

"Boo, school sucks," Cartman said, shaking out the blankets with a flourish.

"Seriously, dude, get out."

Cartman shut his eyes tightly. "Sorry. Already asleep. Snoooorrrrrre, hnnn, snooorrrrre, hnnn." His phony slumber was disturbed by the mattress dipping beside him as Kyle balled up under the covers. He opened his eyes again. "Stop staring at me and turn around, gaybow."

"I'm not, and this is the side I like to lie on." Kyle grinned. "Why – were you hoping to spoon me?"

"Not funny," Cartman snarled, but Kyle obediently faced the other way, too far across for Cartman to spoon even if he wanted to, which he totally didn't. He had to lie on the edge to keep his wings out of the way. Rolling onto them in his sleep last night had been agony because they were ridiculously sensitive.

Cartman searched for something to say, unable to sleep so early in the evening, but Kyle broke the silence first. "How are you feeling? About tomorrow."

"Should be fun. I might cause a little ruckus – steal some hats, move some chairs." He chewed at his thumbnail. "Day after will be weirder."

"Yeah," Kyle breathed softly. "That's going to be hard. But the whole year is going. It'll be a good turnout."

"Pfft, those assholes just want a day off school. They don't even like me."

"Hmm," Kyle murmured suddenly sitting up to give him a sharp look, "I'd be empathetic, Cartman, but seeing as how you are literally having to earn a place in Heaven, can you really blame them? Some of the stuff you've done to our classmates has been practically psychotic."

"I'm not psychotic; I'm adorably eccentric." But Kyle's words resonated profoundly. If you throw enough shit, some of it will stick, and possibly to oneself. Kyle settled back down in front of him and Cartman gazed at the soft strands of curls on his nape that had escaped their ushanka prison until his eyelids gave in to fatigue. As he began to drift away, he could swear Kyle turned and moved closer.

Translucent clouds of nervous breaths floated from Kyle's lips faster than his leisurely pace required as he walked unhurriedly to the bus stop. Cartman meandered behind, amused by the neighbourhood cats hissing fiercely at him with spiked fur and raised tails. Kenny hollered a greeting when they got near, though of course he meant Kyle as the sole recipient. Stan inclined his head in acknowledgment, too nauseous for anything more active.

Cartman shuddered at a sudden static feeling inside him and realised Kenny had walked through him to stand beside Kyle, sandwiching him between himself and Stan. Cartman's shoulders slumped. He always stood next to Kyle. He took his usual place at the end of the line and Kyle looked over at him subtly with a comforting smile. Kenny rubbed his arms warily. "I got a weird feeling just now."

"Really?" asked Kyle and Cartman in unison with a shared questioning look at one another.

"Probably nothing," he shrugged. "How have you been, Kyle?"

"Pretty good actually," he answered, shocking the two living boys.

"Man, what's your secret? Can I use it on Butters?"

"There's no trick or anything." Kyle smiled, closing his eyes. "I just imagine Cartman stood in my room saying, 'Ugh, don't cry you pussy' and it works." Down the line Cartman sniggered.

"I've tried similar tactics with Butters, but it's a no-go. But he's promised to go to the funeral tomorrow."

"Did you seal it with a kiss?" Kyle teased.

Kenny lifted his head with a lofty pout. "A gentleman doesn't tell."

"Please," Stan mumbled groggily. "When don't you tell us about your latest conquest?"

"Butters isn't a conquest," he replied firmly. "And you better not infer otherwise."

"Imply," Kyle corrected, though he wasn't actually sure of the proper usage. His breath hitched as he heard the bus down the street and he grasped blindly for Cartman's arm, finding Kenny's instead. His gloved fingers were reassuringly warm as they clasped back and they led each other onto the step. Stan threw up one last time into a snow drift before joining them.

Cartman stood in the aisle looking up and down at the other students, chatting eagerly about this and that. The latest show they'd caught, or game they'd played, teacher they hated. Kids just getting on with their lives. It pissed him off a little. Not even a week without him, and they cared more about who was getting booted off whatever shitty reality programme was broadcasting on prime time.

Kyle was sat with Stan, of course. Cartman was irked but he managed to get a spot next to Kenny. He supposed from this day forward it would belong to Butters. He was 'the fourth friend' again.

Kyle experienced another moment of panic getting off the bus and Cartman was similarly distressed from being at the place where he had officially begun to die. This time when Kyle reached out, Cartman was there reaching back.

"Kyle, you okay?"

"Sure Stan. I'm good."

"It's just you're holding your arm kind of weird."

Cartman scowled. Trust him to notice and ruin everything. But Kyle stepped closer to him so he could lower their hands more naturally to his side. "Oh yeah it just felt a little strained. I think I slept on it funny."

"Actually you were sleeping on your other side, staring at me," Cartman cooed cheerily. "Don't think I didn't notice you turn over."

"Shut up," Kyle hissed from the corner of his mouth. Stan narrowed his eyes, but walked past them and into the school. They followed, their hands still clinging.

"Something wrong, Kyle?" Wendy called over to him and her boyfriend by the lockers.

"No, no-nothing Wendy," he stuttered.

"Then stop glaring at us like that!"

Kyle fumed from embarrassment. He was actually glaring at the loud-mouthed fatass that was roaming around commenting on every person he met. "Hey Clyde, looks like you're the new me again! Lay off the cheesy poofs, lardo! Heidi, baby, we had a good thing and you threw it away. You'll never do better than me, bitch." He'd then stopped beside Bebe and Wendy drinking at a water fountain. He stood over them, taking advantage of his height and invisibility to stare down Bebe's cleavage. "Wendy, I was looking forward to the day you stopped having your period about every little thing and I'm super-sad I'll miss it. Bebe, I'll always regret I never got to ski down those fine slopes of yours. Daaaamn gurl."

So actually, Kyle hadn't been glaring at them at all, just in their direction. He had a feeling these misunderstandings were going to happen more and more often. He slammed his locker door shut, and then his face against it. "Shut the fuck up, Cartman," he whispered against the bitter metal.

"What about Cartman?" asked Stan.

"Nothing dude."

"Well, can I talk to you about him?" Kyle nodded, trying to ignore him in the corner of his eye as he continued gleefully marching up and down the hall spying on the other teens. Stan shucked his rucksack onto his shoulder and played with the strap as he tried to find the right words. "I'm sorry I was shitty to you at the hospital. I was just pissed that…"

"It's okay, Stan. I understand." Kyle frowned at Cartman waving from behind Craig and Tweek and poking his finger through his closed fist. "But just because Cartman would never sit by my bedside doesn't mean I shouldn't sit by his. I don't regret a second of it."

"Kahl, Kahl, look!" Cartman called, repeating his gesture. "Get it? Because they're GAY, Kahl!"

Kyle sighed. He regretted it a little.

Stan added, "If I'm honest, I was jealous. And well… scared."

"Scared?"

"Uh-huh," he murmured and Kyle could swear he was blushing. "Scared he was going to die." He scuffed his foot against the lockers, his voice lowering sadly. "And then he did. He died thinking I hated him. Hell, even I thought it."

"Stan…" If only Cartman had heard all that, instead of making bunny ears behind Red's head with his fingers. "I'm sure he knows you cared. In fact I bet he's watching us right now."

"He's got better things to do these days," Stan smirked. "Like compare notes with Hitler." Stan couldn't be more wrong about that – Cartman's new hobby was that of planning good deeds with a Jew, Kyle thought idly. He caught sight of him sidling up to Token.

"Hey there, my nig-"

"CARTMAN!"

"Whaaaat? He can't hear it. And everyone's staring at you, by the way. Nice going."

Kyle gulped down his dread as he grasped the situation he had been plunged into. Everyone was staring at him, and murmuring at his piteous state. Stan's hand graced his back with a guarded stealth. "Dude, maybe you should have stayed home."

Kyle's mouth twisted around as he tried to figure out a sensible explanation for his actions. "I think my blood sugar's low. I'm gonna go test it."

"Okay, but remember there's an assembly for us before lunch about the funeral."

"Got it!" Kyle called back as he ran to a secluded spot trying to drag Cartman with him as inconspicuously as possible.

Next Chapter:

"You're sorry?" Cartman sneered. "That makes me feel sooo much better. Oh wait, no it doesn't because I'm still dead and it's your fault."