Chapter 2: "Cartman better be right. I'll fucking kill him if I die!"

Never, ever, in his 18 years of life, had Kyle heard such stupid bullshit before.

"You guys, I'm seriously! Jesus made Trent turn gay and fall in love with Craig in order to make me start running track!" Cartman was whisper-yelling, they were in the middle of study hall and Kyle just wanted to do his stupid homework. "Why do you refuse to believe me? I'm telling the truth!"

"I just don't get it still" Stan whispered "It doesn't make sense at all, what does that story have to do with us staying alive?"

"Okay, okay. Let me explain" Cartman started, "I ran into Trent yesterday. He didn't recognize me. But, Rick was there, and he fucked me over. Then he leaves, and I'm all along with Trent. He's got me, he is about to kill me, out of nowhere someone comes to my rescue, it's Craig motherfucking Tucker. Trent stops dead. I have a religious epiphany: Jesus Christ made Trent fall in love with Craig in order to make ME start running track"

"Jesus did not do anything to Trent, you idiot" Kyle sighed. "And what does that even have to do with you running track?"

"Well, how would you explain his sudden infatuation, Jew?" Cartman asked, openly ignoring the other's question.

"I doubt Trent is even in love with Craig, but let's just pretend" Kyle began. "They were both troublemakers in preschool, so they've probably spent countless hours together waiting outside the counselor's office. They probably bonded, and now that Trent is out of juvie, he's found himself very fond of Craig, because Craig reminds him of the time before juvie"

Cartman grunted, "I like my theory better"

"Dude!" Stan exclaimed, annoyed. "You still haven't explained how that keeps us alive, dog."

"Oh, right I forgot, also ew, don't call me dog." Cartman continued. "Here are the facts: Trent is so in love with Craig that he chose to ignore beating me up in favor of talking to that asshole. This leads me to believe that we can convince Trent to not kill us, if we help him get together with Craig!"

"That's great, Eric" Kenny said "But you're overlooking some small issues"

"And those are?"

"Did you entirely forget about Tweek?" Kenny asked, seriously tired of Cartman at this point. "Also, why can't we just go to the police? They can probably keep us safe."

"Firstly, Kenny, you of all people should know that the cops in South Park don't give a flying fuck about anything." Cartman was making a surprisingly good point there. Rick was a cop. There was no way they would come help. "Secondly, it can't be that hard to make Tweek and Craig break up and to be fair Tweek isn't exactly an S-tier boyfriend"

Kyle had to admit Eric was right on this one. Tweek wasn't exactly a great catch. He certainly wasn't a bad catch either, but anyone would agree that Craig was far out of his league. Of course, Kyle wouldn't claim to be an expert on other people's relationships, but as an outsider looking in, it definitely seemed like Craig was doing all the emotional labor.

Three years ago, when Mr. and Mrs. Tweak were caught lacing their coffee with meth, the Tuckers had been the ones housing and taking care of Tweek while his parents tried to flee to Mexico. The Tuckers also helped Tweek get clean off meth and when Tweek's parents were found dead near the border, the Tuckers organized their funerals. They were also the ones who ensured that Tweek would inherit all his parents' possessions, which turned out to only be the coffee shop and every bad thing associated with it.

Sure, Tweek hadn't touched meth in the past three years and he was far less paranoid, but there is certainly still a limit to how much baggage one would want in a partner.

"Fine" Kyle groaned "How do you suggest we bring your plan up with Trent without getting murdered first?"

"Oh, that's easy" Cartman started "I looked at Trent's schedule. He's at kickboxing practice in the gym at 3:30 pm every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We can totally approach him there. He's obviously not gonna try to kill us while surrounded by a bunch of people, who happen to know how to fight"

"Alright, so we'll meet up outside the gym later today, dogs?" Stan asked

"Well actually…" Cartman started; his tone was weirdly apologetic "…you are meeting up outside the gym, I have to meet with the track team and start training with them… in honor of Jesus. Also, stop with the dog bullshit it's fucking annoying."

"Oh my god, Cartman. You're gonna be the death of me! You're not seriously leaving us to confront Trent alone!" Kyle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Was he seriously betting his life on Cartman's stupid assumption about Trent's sexuality? "Eric Theodore Cartman, I can, with 99% certainty, assure you that Jesus does not care that you run track."

"Of course, you would think that, jew! But we can't all be heathens like you, some of us have actually been enlightened." Eric started making weird gestures with his hands as if to show how enlightened he was. "Anyway, if you guys survive and manage to convince Trent to go along, meet me at my house at 7 pm, with Trent, we'll layout the plan. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go read The New Testament."

Eric stood up and got ready to leave. The bell rang, signaling the end of study hall. There was only one class left before school ended and kickboxing practice began.

Cartman better be right. I'll fucking kill him if I die!

Kyle's last class of the day was chemistry, which was pretty nice for several reasons. One reason was that Kyle at least could feel smart one last time before he had to play Cartman's little Russian Roulette game. His second reason was that this was one of the few classes he shared with some of his old elementary school classmates, like Tweek and Clyde. He really didn't care much for the two, but they were both really bad at chemistry, which made Kyle feel even smarter.

He watched as Tweek desperately tried to balance a chemical equation only to fail. Chemistry must be really hard when you don't even understand the basic concept of balance.

"I just don't get it!" Tweek looked like he was about to start crying. Kyle watched as Tweek's hands rose to his head and started tugging on his hair, only for Tweek to immediately put his hand back on the table "I'm so confused I can't even form a question!"

"It's okay, dude" Clyde was patting Tweek's shoulder "We can just ask the teacher to explain it again."

"It doesn't matter how many times he explains it, I still won't get it. None of this shit makes any sense!"

Tweek did have a point, he wouldn't understand even if the teacher explained it again. While most students needed things explained to them verbally, Tweek was the exact opposite of that. If he really needed to understand a relatively difficult subject, he needed to be able to read it over and over again. That was simply how he worked.

Damn. I almost feel bad for the guy; right now, he's panicking over simple chemistry and soon, he'll be panicking about losing his boyfriend.

Kyle walked over to the pair. He placed his hand on Tweek's back and said: "Calm down, Tweek. If you want, you can borrow my notes to help you understand"

"Why?" Tweek asked, "What are you trying to get out of it?"

"I don't know, man" Kyle answered "Can't a guy just be friendly?"

"Oh okay, thanks." Tweek sheepishly took Kyle's notebook. Well, at least I get to do one last good deed before my life ends.

"Oh right, this is for you Kyle" Clyde said, giving Kyle a small piece of paper that kinda looked like a small business card "It's an invite to Tweek's birthday party in two weeks, you don't wanna miss it, it's gonna be awesome. It's at Tolkien's house."

"Thanks, guys, but I probably won't be able to make it. I'll be dead before then."

Before they could even respond Kyle went back to his own desk and resumed his work, seriously hoping that Eric wasn't bullshitting the whole Trent thing. He really didn't want to spend his last living, breathing minutes solving chemistry problems. If I do die, I might as well make sure that asshole gets caught, though.

He picked up a pen and a piece of paper and started writing:

Friday, September 3rd

My name is Kyle Broflovski, I am 18 years old, and if you're reading this, I am probably dead, having been brutally murdered by Trent Boyett. My asshole friend named Eric Cartman likely sold me, Stan and Kenny out in order to save his own skin. That fucking dick.

Let it be known that I was murdered by Trent Boyett, because Eric Theodore Cartman fucked me over.

He put his signature on the bottom of the paper. The bell rang, sending a chill down his spine. He could feel his hands start shaking ever so slightly. He carefully folded the paper and placed it in his back pocket. He took a deep, shaky breath and exited the classroom meeting up with Stan and Kenny outside the gym.

Stan and Kenny looked even more scared than Kyle felt.

"Dude, are you sure we should do this, dog?" Stan asked, looking at Kyle.

"Huh? Why are you asking me? I haven't been sure since Cartman opened his mouth earlier." Kyle answered "And you can't say 'dude' and 'dog' in the same sentence like that; it sounds fucking stupid."

"Maybe we should just… leave?" Kenny suggested, smiling like he had the greatest plan. "We could try moving to Canada and become prostitutes to make ends meet."

"As enticing as that sounds I don't think any of us can afford to move to Canada," Kyle said.

"Hence becoming prostitutes," Kenny retorted.

"I dunno, dog," Stan said, and Kyle had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. Stan seriously needed to get out of this phase of calling everyone dog. "I don't really wanna be a prostitute. Let's just go inside and hope Cartman's right"

They entered the gym, hoping and praying that Cartman hadn't just decided to pull a Judas on them. Kyle could feel his stomach doing loops, his hair sticking to his forehead, and his knee becoming jelly-like. He rarely entered the gym, feeling way too intimidated by all the buff guys beating at each other. He looked around; there was a surprisingly large number of guys in kickboxing, but Trent had to be in there somewhere.

The gym had absolutely no business being as large as it was. They had to split up to find him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kenny taking his parka off and hanging near the entrance. From the other eye, he could see Stan cautiously walking around, studying the faces of every blond guy he saw. Then it dawned on him: they didn't actually know what Trent looked like, not anymore. Hopefully, that meant that Trent didn't know what they looked like anymore either. However, he highly doubted that.

Well, they did have a few indicators they could look for, like Trent's tattoos.

Moving forward, they advanced through the gym, not seeing a single trace of Trent. However, they did see a surprising number of blond guys. Maybe Trent wasn't at practice, maybe he was off doing God knows what, God knows where. Maybe they could simply go home and pray or something—pray that Trent was just kidding when he chased Cartman around and that he would forgive and forget. Maybe they could pray that Trent would have another run-in with Rick, realize that they had enough to deal with, and leave them alone. Maybe he could start fighting him, and they could rip each other to shreds, killing each other in the process.

Hopes and prayers really seem to go hand in hand.

Just as he was about to turn to find Kenny and tell him that they should give up on searching, he stopped when he saw Kenny fall to the ground, covering his mouth with his hand and groaning in pain. He had walked right into someone whose knee-jerk reaction was to push him back, hard—essentially punching him in the mouth.

"Ugh, watch it, dwarf!" the guy Kenny collided with hissed. He had some serious audacity, calling Kenny a dwarf. He was only a little bit shorter than average, and only because he was basically starved as a kid.

Upon further inspection, Kyle could see that Kenny might have just stumbled into the right guy. He was blond, blue-eyed, and muscular, which were literally the only things they knew Trent looked like. Unfortunately, he was wearing a t-shirt that covered his shoulders, so Kyle could not see if he had any tattoos. He also looked far too attractive to be Trent; not like a fighter at all. He had a straight nose, perfect teeth—all of which were present in his mouth—no cauliflower ear, no concaves in the face from being punched too often. However, he did have very rugged hands with scarred knuckles. He actually looked very familiar.

If Kyle didn't know better, he'd think this guy was Max Kentwood's ghost or something.

The guy's cold blue eyes softened as he looked at Kenny on the floor. He leaned down and helped him up. "You're clearly not here to kickbox," he said, far less angry than he had been just a few seconds prior.

"Ow, ow. I'm looking for someone," Kenny lamented, still rubbing where he had been 'punched'. It would almost certainly leave a bruise. "I can taste blood. Why'd you hit me, you asshat?" He sounded so impressively non-confrontational; Kyle had to wonder how he learned to do that.

"Sorry, sorry. It was a reflex," the guy said, scratching the back of his neck and looking elsewhere, avoiding eye contact. "Who were you looking for?"

Kenny smiled and fidgeted a bit with his foot. "I'm looking for a guy named Trent Boyett. I'd give a description, but I'm actually not entirely sure what he looks like."

The guy leaned back a bit, studying Kenny's face with skeptical, confused eyes. "I don't need a description," he said. He crossed his arms. "I'm Trent Boyett. What do you want?"

Kyle's heart skipped a beat. It was glaringly obvious that Trent didn't recognize Kenny without his parka. This was their chance to potentially diffuse the situation, to convince Trent not to harm , he couldn't help but feel a mix of hope and apprehension. He wanted this to work, but deep down, he couldn't shake off the fear that things could and would go horribly wrong. Kyle decided to stay back; Trent would almost certainly recognize him.

Kenny cautiously smiled. "I heard you ran into Craig yesterday," he said, attempting to divert the conversation. He was so incredibly bad at acting. His entire demeanor so clearly changed when Trent introduced himself.

Kyle turned his head and caught Stan's attention from across the gym, signaling him over. He then looked back to Trent, his eyebrows furrowed in glaring confusion as he said, "Who?"

Kenny hesitated before speaking again. "You know, Craig Tucker. He's, like, a total space nerd, and he's kind of mean sometimes, but that's just the autism. He's Tweek's boyfriend," he explained, trying to provide some context.

Trent was looking at Kenny's face, studying the new red mark near his mouth. It would certainly bruise. "Like that Tweek over there?" he asked as he pointed behind himself. Sitting on some guy and continuously punching him in the face was Tweek, in all of his twitchy glory. "What? Is he, like, mad that I talked to his boyfriend? Does he wanna fight me or something?" he crossed his arms and sneered a bit.

Kenny shook his head, his blond hair swaying along. Trent seemed almost mesmerized by it.

"Whatever," Trent said, looking away, almost embarrassed. Then, it seemed a lightbulb had gone on over his head. "Wait, wait, does Craig have green eyes and black hair?"

Kenny nodded. "Yep, that's him," He paused, realizing the difficulty of bringing up their plan. Both Kenny and Kyle seemed to have the same thought simultaneously. "Uhh," Kenny's voice was small and trembling. "I heard a little rumor that you have feelings for Craig, and I was wondering if that was true?" He smiled sweetly, pretending to be just some random person interested in gossip.

Trent cocked a perfect eyebrow. "Feelings? I guess that describes it pretty well," he replied. Kyle's eyes nearly popped out as he examined Trent's face from afar. His response was frankly really ambiguous. Trent neither denied nor confirmed anything, leaving their plan hanging in uncertainty.

There was a pretty long beat of silence as Kenny fidgeted with his feet, trying to think of how to continue the conversation. He eventually looked up, making eye contact with Trent.

It changed something in Trent's demeanor; his shoulders tensed, jaw clenched, eyes widened, and his face twisted into an undeniable scowl. He reached a muscular arm out in front of himself and grabbed Kenny's collar, pulling his face close to his own. He hissed out, "Those are some pretty eyes you have. I like purple, but it's not all that common, is it?" Shit. Shit. Fuck. He had recognized Kenny's eyes.

"I-I, uh," Kenny stammered, shooting a quick glance at Kyle and Stan. It was so very easy to read the message in his eyes: 'Help me!' it said.

"What the fuck do you want, McCormick?" Years of contempt and hatred seeped from Trent's voice, dripping from his canines. He was practically growling, ready to rip him to shreds and leave him in little pieces scattered around the gym.

Kyle's heart raced as he watched the tense situation unfold before him. He knew that they had to diffuse the situation somehow, or else Kenny would be in serious danger. Acting on instinct, he quickly walked over to them, stepping between Kenny and Trent.

"Hey, hey, calm down, wait, wait," Kyle said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He looked directly at Trent, his eyes pleading for reason. "We don't want any trouble. We just want to talk."

Trent's grip on Kenny's collar tightened, but he hesitated for a moment, seemingly considering Kyle's words. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he released Kenny, who subsequently almost collapsed on the floor.

"Talk then, damn," Trent spat, crossing his arms.

Oh, that was far easier than expected. Kyle cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, moving to make sure he was standing in front of Kenny. His hands were clammy, nerves taking over. "Well, alright then. We have an offer for you," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "We want to help you get together with Craig in exchange for you not killing us or... or mangling us or anything like that." He sounded so small, unsure if the plan was even worth mentioning. The whole concept felt absurd, too out there and weird to be true—Trent being in love with Craig.

Trent looked so very unimpressed. Oh well, at least he didn't look angry anymore. He walked closer, completely towering over Kyle, who braced himself, ready for the inevitable punch to the face. But then, unexpectedly, Trent said, "Okay," in a nonchalant tone. "Sounds entertaining."

Kyle's legs went weak, and he almost collapsed on the floor, holding on to Kenny like a lifeline. Did Trent just agree? It couldn't be that easy, could it? There had to be some underlying motive. There was no way Trent actually wanted Craig. Doubt and suspicion filled Kyle's mind, making it hard for him to trust Trent's apparent agreement.

"How, though?" Trent asked, sounding very amused. It was a pretty obvious question in hindsight, but none of the three had even considered that he might ask it. "What's the next move?"

Stan, who had finally joined them, apparently decided that it was his turn to talk. "No clue, dog. This whole thing was Cartman's idea," he explained. Did he seriously call 'dog' unironically? It's not a synonym for 'dude', he really shouldn't make a habit out of using that word. "He says we should meet at his place tonight at 7 pm to lay out the plan. Do you know the address?"

"Of course, I know the address. I know all your addresses," Trent replied, looking menacingly at Stan. He almost looked a bit offended. "You live pretty far away, don't you, Marsh? Must be a pretty long commute."

Stan laughed nervously, opting to ignore the underlying threat behind Trent's words. "I guess it does take some time. I usually just sleep on the bus."

Trent smiled, "Alright, let me help you with that."

Kyle watched in shock as Trent raised his fist and slammed it right into Stan's face, hitting him above his left eye. Stan fell backward, hitting the ground and losing consciousness. What the fuck?

Trent then turned his attention to Kyle, who could feel the blood draining from his face. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd simply pass out from fear.

"Tell that asshole never to call me dog again," Trent said, receiving an almost instantaneous nod from both Kenny and Kyle. "Good, see ya' at piggy's house." And with that, he was gone.

Kenny and Kyle stood completely still for several long seconds, waiting for the adrenaline coursing through their veins to calm down. They made eye contact.

"Holy shit!" Kenny whispered. "That guy's fucking insane!"