A/N: A little bit more introspection into Eric Cartman. :) I always thought of him as a complicated soul...Enjoy.

Chapter 5

January 11th

History class was painful. Eric's nose throbbed violently throughout the lecture, which made it increasingly hard to focus. He made sure to sit as far away from Kyle as possible. For the next two weeks or so, Eric planned to watch Kyle from afar. Make sure nothing he did was noticed by the redhead. It had been clear, if the bruise surrounding his healing nose was any indication, that Kyle had been pushed a little too far with the party. If he were to give him just another few days, the redhead would calm down, and Eric could set upon him again.

But the disgusted glances from his classmates was disheartening. He thought, perhaps, that it would have worn over by now. After all, it wasn't unlike Cartman to drug someone at a party. Certainly, this hadn't been the first time he'd been the accused. Everyone had simply shrugged it off, and continued on with life. There was no disfunction between his classmates and himself. It lead him to wonder if perhaps there was something a bit different being tossed around that Eric himself wasn't aware of.

Even at lunch, the time where everyone seemed to join together. The only time when Kyle would willingly sit beside the brunette, if only because of continuity. And yet, Eric found himself sitting alone in a rather abandoned corner of the cafeteria. Time seemed to pass agonizingly slow as he let his brown eyes slip over the student body. Everyone else was socializing with their friends; chattering, and bouncing their legs in anticipation for upcoming events.

Heaving a sigh, the larger boy pushed himself away from the table and made to dump his, still rather full, tray into the garbage. Whatever slop they had decided to serve for the day was more unappetizing than usual. It was all disheartening to say the least; as if a gray cloud had settled over him. When he passed a group of students, it didn't go unnoticed that they averted their gazes faster than the star runner on the school's track team. It all hit hard to his chest, and Eric almost couldn't contain it. He'd have loved to walk out of the school, and go home. Alas, he would have to reserve it for another time. He had pulled his trump card on Monday when Kyle had literally thrown his own weight around.

For an akward instance, Eric's groggy brown eyes met with Kenny's blue ones, and a world of words passed between them. But Eric knew he couldn't allow himself to believe whatever it was that Kenny was telling him.

For the same reason as before.

He was Eric Fucking Cartman.

And good things never truly happened to Eric Cartman.

It was all a farce he put on, so that no one else would know just how broken he was. He would defend himself by attacking the insecurities of others because that was the only way he knew how. He didn't know how to be friends with anyone, because he could never let them know who he was. His mother had never been wrong when she called Eric a sweetheart. But back then it had been viewed as a weakness; something someone could bully him for.

They didn't know, or at least, they didn't understand, that his mother was a prostitute who would bring home weird men every night. They didn't understand how humiliating it was to go through puberty while listening to your mother moaning the name of a new man every night. They didn't understand that in order to protect his mother, dignity, and himself...he had to give up on it all. He had to become cocky, overwhelming and crude. It was all in self defense.

There was a lot about him that the students, and town as a whole, did not know. And he planned to keep it that way.

So he broke eye contact with the blue eyes and made his way outside. The cold air washed over him, calming him in a way that food had never been able to. It was a nice break from the heat that encased the school, and a certain glower from a specific redhead. When he sighed, his breath clouded the air. If this was an english test, he would say it was an allusion to the release of his pent up emotions. Probably would have scored him a hundred—not that his grades weren't already fantastic.

"Hey," A new bravado interuppted his thoughts. "You alright?"

Heat flared instantly in Eric's chest, but he willed it down.

Don't let him see.

Be that one fucking disney princess.

"I'm fine." Eric snapped turning a scowl on the person he expected to see least. "What's it to ya jew?" He crossed his arms over his chest, and arched a brow. The cockier he looked, the quicker Kyle would get annoyed. The faster Kyle got annoyed, the more beautiful he was. The more beautiful he was...well...the more pleasure Eric could derive later. He was a complicated soul, he knew.

"Jesus fucking christ," Kyle snapped brushing a hand over his face. Frustration was written in his shoulders, and if it was possible, it would have been stamped across his forehead. A beacon to the entire world how he felt about the brunette he had come to check on. "I just...why can't you be a decent fucking human for once, huh? I was gonna apologize for your face! But since you want to be such an asshole!" Kyle threw up the middle finger, effectively flipping him off before turning on his heel and storming back into the school.

It was beautiful. The way that Kyle bit his lip as his brows furrowed, and the way his hips swayed as he walked with a purpose. But it was painful as well. Too true to what Eric could mistake as his heart thumping with love.

Granted, Eric loved very few things in his life. His mother, his cat...his dad if he knew who the fuck that was honestly. So when his heart thumped so heavily in his chest, Eric knew. But he wanted nothing more than to be able to play it off, because it was what was expected. He wanted Kyle's rage to be the reason he was beautiful; for the fits to be the reason that he was falling. But it wasn't.

It was because Kyle fucking Broflovski was a good person. He would worry about someone even if he hated him, and that was more than Eric could ever find himself doing. Even if Kyle loathed a person, he would make sure that they were okay. That was one of the things that made Eric absolutely crazy for him—the selflessness. It was the opposite of his own capabilities.

Heaving a sigh, the portly boy turned towards the other side of the court yard. The bell was due to ring any moment, and he wanted to gather his books and get to his classes as fast he could. There was no room in his walls for other students. It never panned out well.

Deep in his pocket, his phone buzzed with a message. From who, he wasn't sure. Plans to ignore it until after school were followed thoroughly.

The halls were already starting to fill with students who had similar ideas to his own. Shoulders bumped into his, but no apologies were thrown towards him. There was no need after all. Typically, he would have sent a witty retort at them. However, he found himself pushing through without his mouth even opening. Something was happening inside his head, and worst of all inside his chest.

"What the fuck is your problem?" A voice whispered in his ear. Fingers wrapped around his bicep, before turning him and slamming him into the wall. Eric simply looked up and sighed. It would have only been a bit of time before he was confronted by none other than Stanley Marsh—star quaterback with his dick shoved so far into Wendy's vagina that it was impossible to tell where he ended and she began.

"Nothing," The brunette muttered as he shoved the grip off of him. Could the world be kind to him for all of five minutes? Would that be too much to ask for? His days were getting shittier and shittier, and he was starting to feel the effect emotionally, mentally, and physically. He didn't need Stan telling him (ontop of everyone else) how shitty he was as a person. He fucking knew.

Ask anything he'd ever written in private.

He was an expert on how shitty he was. He had a PhD in it; just look at the plaque tacked to his wall.

"Bull fucking shit!" Stan hissed crossing his arms. It would be obvious, to the rest of the student body, that he was sticking up for his super best friend. But there was something the rest of the world didn't know about Stan—he was a bully. Out of their group, Stan was the one that would pressure someone into doing something. Especially if it was something that he wanted to do himself, but was too pussy faced to do it. It was subtle though; under the table words that went unnoticed. "You fucking drugged Kyle on saturday, and now you're acting like...like a fucking emo brat."

"Says the kid who went goth," Eric scoffed before his mind could calculate the consequences. Luckily, Stan only deadpanned. Apparently, the bruising that had taken over his face was enough to get him off the hook with Stan physically.

"Foot in your mouth, Cartman." Stan snarled getting much closer than was comfortable for either boy. But the ravenette had a 'point' to make.

One that resounded rather heavily inside the brunette's head every day.

It screamed violently, and bounced off the caverns of his skull, repeating like a mantra.

'You're not good enough to be happy.'

And well, fuck. Would you look at that? It was right.