A/N: Hi! I'm back from my trip! It was wonderful... and I got sick again. Great. Anyway, I bring you chapter 2! I hope you all enjoy it.

There are just a few notes I want to get out there before this story continues:

1. Yes, Eric's personality may seem different from SPK's Eric, but he's anything but OOC. He has such a complex personality, and I believe the show has done a fantastic job portraying all his sides; this is one of them.

2. The rating may change in the future, but this story will deal with possibly triggering themes such as self-harm, substance abuse, eating disorders, mental illness overall, and childhood trauma. In short, everyone is broken in this story, so I advise reading discretion.

3. This will mostly be in Eric's POV, but if a chapter is told from another character's POV, I'll make sure to put it in the beginning to avoid any confusion.

Enjoy!

Eric sat by his computer, unsure if he wanted to hit send to the email. His eyes paused momentarily on his poetry notebook sitting open by his keyboard. The words, full of raw emotion threatening to come alive, looked right back at him — taunting, judging his every move.

He sighed.

Eric had done a fantastic fucking job keeping a specific image all these years. A front no one had dared to cross before, not even the people he considered the closest to him. He was a cold, cynical, and egotistical bastard who jeered at making others uncomfortable and angry. As a kid, he took pride in being cataloged that way, but as he grew, he felt miserable more days than not.

Yes, he was a narcissist and a hypocrite, but for once, he wished he could just be himself with someone, open up about his insecurities, and have a meaningful connection. But it was too late, in Eric's opinion. People's minds wouldn't change overnight, and he'd graduate in less than a year. He could suck up a little bit more. He couldn't rely on his friends with his secrets, but he at least had people to hang out with.

Before his finger could slip and push the delete button, he hit send and turned off his computer. He mentally promised to go hiking that weekend to forget the whole ordeal. He wasn't a fan of exercise, but it allowed him to swallow an entire bucket of ice cream without too much repercussion. He knew giving up on sweets and junk food would instantly make him lose weight, but being fat didn't bother him as much as it used to. Plus, he did feel better after breathing the crisp, fresh air from the mountains.

He opened his pill box and, from the Tuesday container, dropped the little orange pill in his hand. He debated taking his medicine – he felt his writing was much more organic without it, but his last meltdown was enough reminder to make him swallow it.

Soon he'll start feeling droopy, and hopefully, Stan will read his sappy poem and tell him it isn't good enough. Tell him that on second thoughts, they should just forget about it. Maybe the poem was everything Stan needed to finally break up with Wendy. And eventually, recognize his latent feelings toward the Jew. Sure, why not. Let those hippies have their fun. It was stupid of him to hope for such delusion when in the morning, still sleepy from the medicine, he saw a text from Stan saying Wendy lovedthe poem. He instantly knew his day would be anything but pleasant.

Eric's disappointment grew when he saw the meatballs at lunch. "Fuck" he said under his breath. "I, too, forgot it was Thursday," Kenny casually commented, his tray full of fries.

"I don't mind meatballs, but fuck, I was hoping for pizza." He said with resignation as he copied Kenny and filled his tray with fries.

They sat with Kyle and Stan at one of the cafeteria's center tables, the jew looking angry at something and Stan looking less depressed than usual. Eric swallowed and tried not to overthink it. He suddenly felt exhausted and tried not to fall asleep while chewing his fries.

"Hey, Stan." Eric's eyes snapped open at the sound of the honeyed voice. A wave of addictive, floral perfume hit his nostrils, and his muscles tensed when he felt Wendy's hair brush his shoulder. He saw Kenny trying not to snicker at him, and Eric ignored him. No one paid him any attention to notice his flared nose, the fidgeting of his fingers, and his pink ears when the pretty girl stood next to him – no one except for Kenny. He could proudly say he was a damn good liar, but he had to acknowledge that this girl had him whipped.

He didn't know when it'd started.

Ha, As if.

Eric internally chuckled. He knew the exact moment when those deep brown eyes took away his breath and made his pulse quicken for the first time. He remembered the sunny morning of May when he first noticed the gleam of chapstick on her lips or when his eyes began following the wave of her raven hair against the crisp wind.

She'd won the Spelling Bee that day, and before his mouth could run with jealous insults, he saw the open package of double-stuffed oreos in her hand. She was so happy; she even offered Eric one. But his eyes were too busy watching how she licked the leftover crumbs on her glossy lips to accept the Oreo.

They were eleven when Eric was involuntarily made aware by his instincts that Stan's girlfriend was actually a girl , not some strange, demonic alien. He tried to ignore it as much as he could. Not being able to name those sensations, he decided teasing her would make them disappear. Besides, he could easily forget she always wore the same glittery pink hairclip on Fridays. Right? He was fourteen when the sweat from a feverish dream and the tightness in his pants finally made him realize it was foolish to continue in denial.

The deep blush that ran through his neck and chest when he saw her the following day after his revelation made him stop teasing her on the spot. He stopped interacting with her altogether. He could see the hurt in her eyes when he passed through the halls without acknowledging her. And he was painstakingly aware of how her lips thinned when they had to work together, and he did it in silence, only talking when necessary.

She said nothing in return – never complained to him. Because, in hindsight, there was nothing to complain about. Eric remembered how annoyed she always looked when he teased and provoked her. But the soft chuckles, the tug at her lips when she won an argument, and the shine in her eyes, when he competed with her were also hard to forget.

They were frenemies at best, but Eric knew it wasn't all him. She teased him, too; he could swear on all his chinpokomons that she enjoyed the banter as much as he. And maybe that's why she looked so miserable when he stopped leaving notes with trivial facts and obscene jokes on her desk every Monday.

It crushed him, but it was his damn fault for getting close to her in the first place. Stealing your friend's girl was the worst betrayal, and if he kept interacting with her, Eric didn't trust himself not to make a move on her sooner or later. Not that she would ever return his feelings, but he preferred to save himself the inevitable letdown of rejection. Stan would also never forgive him if he knew.

A snap of fingers made Eric blink. He saw Kenny, his upper half resting on the table, his right hand inches away from his face. Eric glared at him. The blond only gave him a shrug and half-smiled at Marjorine as he sat down. Eric didn't know when she'd joined them or when Stan, Kyle, and Wendy had left. "You spaced out again, man." He didn't want Kenny to remind him. He knew that. Eric tried not to pout as he downed the fries in front of him. He was suddenly feeling ravenous.

"Hey dude, could you do another one?"

"Another one?" Eric replied, his tone sounding more surprised than he wished. They were the last to leave the classroom; He miserably thought Stan would be one of the first to go as today he'd practice, and Eric tried to take as much time putting his books inside his bag. It seemed Wonderboy was willing to wait for him.

"Yeah… isn't that what we agreed on? You make poems for Wendy, and I pay you." Stan raised an eyebrow, and confusion crossed his features.

"I just didn't think you'd need another so soon, Marsh. Inspiration doesn't come as easily, you know. I might charge you extra for it." Eric said in disdain, regretting the whole deal in the first place. Stan didn't seem bothered by it.

"Oh, of course! Sorry, I didn't think about that. I can cash in 5 more bucks if you want." Fucking- "Yeah, sure, dude."

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it a lot. It doesn't have to be, you know, for tomorrow; you can take your time. "Stan scratched his head, "Not too much time, if you know what I mean," He smiled awkwardly at him, and Eric tried his best not to roll his eyes.

"Fine." His patience was running low.

"I'll see you tomorrow then!"

Eric waited for Stan to exit the room before kicking the trash bin with full force, not bothering to pick it up afterward.

Eric felt the hole roar in his stomach, and he ignored the grumble and ran faster. It'd take him fifteen minutes to reach the trail that led to his house and another fifteen to get to his yard door. Exercise made him feel good, but when he felt as miserable as he did that day, he treated it as torture.

Just as he turned on the road, Eric abruptly stopped before he could bump into the person walking before him. Eric gulped hard; the bile resting in the pit of his stomach threatened to come up. It was Wendy .

She was still in her everyday clothes, her hair disheveled, and her cheeks flushed. Her shoes were muddy as if she'd run; it looked like she'd gone hiking on impulse. "Wha-what are you doing here?" He asked with ragged breaths. His head spun, and he tried to suppress the embarrassment of letting her see him sweaty and smelly from his run. It'd happened so fast he didn't have time to put up his mask of indifference.

"What do you mean?" She said defensively, crossing her arms, "I'm hiking, just like you are!" For a moment, he forgot his instinct telling him to turn and run the other way, and as he collected his breath, he raised his eyebrow at her.

"Really, Testaburger?"

Her features softened at the mention of her name. She swallowed hard and hugged her arms to protect her from the cold breeze. Her thin sweater looked anything but warm. "Sorry."

October's humid, cold air grazed Eric's cheeks, making him shiver. He'd thought of a million scenarios where he could have alone time with Wendy, all crushed before he could fantasize about their ending. But he'd never expect to bump into her during one of his afternoon hikes.

An awkward silence fell between them.

"Well, good day to you." He said almost robotically and made to move past her, hoping she didn't see his neck, splotchy with red.

"Wait, Cartman." She grabbed the hem of his shirt, her hand quickly retracting as soon as he turned to her. There was doubt on her face, and he swallowed hard, his mind already making up a million more new scenarios that involved Wendy's fingers close to him.

"Yes?" His heart was beating fast against his ribcage. She wet her lips as she composed herself, and Eric tried not to think about it.

"Did I ever do something to you?" Her face remained impassive, yet her eyes lingered on his face – they seemed restless and curious.

"What?" He was not expecting that.

It seemed she did neither. She quickly blinked and turned her face away from him. "I… Just forget I said anything."

Before she could move, Eric said in a raspy voice, "No, I- what do you mean by that?"

"I don't know. It's only…." She kept silent momentarily as if debating on something, "We've never been friends, you know? We've never really gotten along, but you didn't act like I was a ghost back then. Maybe we weren't on the best terms; you were usually annoying, but I admit that you also lifted my spirits, even if you didn't know it at the time. I guess I miss the bantering."

Eric was glad the hike and cold air might've passed his red cheeks as the flush from the exercise. But he was at a loss of words; never in a million years he'd expect her to talk about this.

He spurted the first thing that came to mind, "What do you want from me, Testaburger?" He didn't mean to sound as harsh as he did, but Wendy took it the wrong way.

"You know what? You're an ass, Cartman. I don't know why I bothered."

"No, please, I- I know I can be defensive, okay? Maybe you're right; I've avoided you for years." Wendy's eyebrows rose at his declaration. He, too, surprised himself with such a confession. He didn't intend to do this or even speak to her at all . But repression had an ugly way of backstabbing people. He quickly added, "I've avoided many people, and it's no one's fault but mine. I don't like to talk about it, but you're right. It wasn't fair of me to do that to you."

"So you promise you won't do that anymore?"

Eric chewed the inside of his cheek. The situation seemed out of his control. This was not how this was supposed to happen . Still, he nodded solemnly.

"You're one of my boyfriend's best friends, and we're in our last year of high school. Stan cares for you, and while we've had our run-ins, I just don't want any animosity between us."

Eric said nothing to her in return. Wendy continued,

"So what do you say, we pick it up from where we left it four years ago?" She reached out her hand, and before paranoia surpassed him, he took it and shook it quickly.

"Just don't expect me to be all nice and doting."

"Good. I wasn't expecting you to be." The last sun rays crept between the tree branches and illuminated her face, her eyes shining bright with the dying sun's light. It made Eric forget that he was supposed to ignore her until she wasn't around. Her playful smile made him feel younger; a joyous and warm feeling passed through his veins.

"Hm-hm, whatever you say, you hippie, " He said with a smirk.

" Bastard. " She laughed.