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No one remembered how the conversation had started, but Mr. Garrison's fourth-grade class was currently on the topic of loathing; more specifically how it felt. Some students agreed with the concept of hatred. The other party believed loathing didn't exist at all; that, naturally, everyone had a positive connection to everything in some way, shape or form.
Of course, Eric Cartman did not agree.
"That is so not true, you guys! If loathing doesn't exist, then, why do I loathe Kyle?" Cartman smiled devilishly, drawling out Kyle’s name annoyingly.
Kyle shot him a look of disgust before rolling his eyes, scoffing, “Oh please, fat ass, I bet you don't even know what loathing means. You just know it's negative so you're using it against me!" He retorted.
"Ay! Loathing means hatred. And I hate you, Kyle." Cartman taunted in response, sticking his tongue out teasingly.
Kyle rolled his eyes again, mumbling profanities under his breath. He really didn't feel like arguing any further in front of the class — even if they did so at least once a day.
"Well, Eric, if you really hate Kyle, maybe you can come up here and explain to the rest of the class what loathing really feels like, so we have a better understanding?" Mr. Garrison asked, not sure if Cartman would comply.
But, it was silly to think he wouldn't.
Since when did Eric Cartman turn down an opportunity to be the center of attention?
He beamed, getting out of his seat to strut to the front of the classroom, turning swiftly on his heel as he came to face the rest of the fourth graders. His smile never settled, and he grazed his eyes over the class to meet Kyle's look once again.
Kyle's pencil snapped in half as he shrunk into his seat, fuming.
"Well, Mr. Garrison, where do I begin? Loathing is a strange feeling,” Eric started, pacing back in forth, “Sometimes it's not just mental, but physical. Like, when I'm with him, sometimes my heart starts beating really fast. That means I'm pissed off at him, so like, sometimes he's not even doing anything to make me mad, but like, even just his presence makes me mad. Oh, and sometimes I feel nauseous. It's not exactly like I'm gonna puke nauseous, but, I guess it kinda...tickles–" he was smiling triumphantly, hands on his hips in a proud manner.
"–and whenever he touches me, I just get these chills 'cause I'm scared I'm getting his germs,” he shivered, hunched over, “Blech, I can't stand it when he touches me, it makes me get that stupid chill and it even sometimes makes my stomach feel weird, so, actually now that I think about it...I'm probably right about the germs...and I'm getting sick! So, thanks for all those ugly germs, Kyle!" He spat his name, breaking his smile momentarily for dramatic effect.
"But, back to my point. Whenever I think about him, my face gets hot, and that's 'cause I'm hot from anger. And whenever I'm angry for no reason, it's usually because I just hate that something I'm thinking about, so, I guess that means I hate you, Kyle — it's inevitable. So yeah, that's what loathing feels like everyone! Alright, now, does anyone have any questions?" Eric clapped, finished, oblivious to his classmates' shocked expressions.
Eventually, someone broke the silence from the back of the room by clearing their throat, and a hand raised. Cartman leaned over, trying to see whose it was — he grunted when he saw it belonged to Wendy Testaburger.
"Yes, Wendy?" He asked monotonously through clenched teeth.
"Cartman, I think what you're experiencing with um...Kyle isn't loathing, but, uh...a crush. Hear me out; every feeling you just described is how I feel about Stan–"
"–Well, then I guess you must hate Stan. Anyone else have a serious question?"
The class went silent again.
Before an anonymous voice piped up.
"I think Wendy is right."
Eric’s face flushed red, the hand he had so confidently raised falling to his side as he looked around the classroom while they mumbled in amused agreement.
Kyle sunk lower and lower into his chair till he was nearly lying down in his seat — he wanted to disappear. Eric Cartman basically just confessed his crush on him to their entire class, not to mention their best friends. The teasing would never die down.
"Oh, come on, you guys! I do not have a crush on Kyle!" He protested, frantically made gagging motions, but his face said otherwise — he was blushing and sweating while his classmates laughed, including their teacher, Mr. Garrison.
Eric was staring at Kyle — the only other kid who didn't find this amusing — pleading for help with wide eyes. He had a gloved finger pointing down his throat in an attempt to show he was sickened by the idea of having a crush on the said boy.
Kyle groaned awkwardly, but no one heard over the ringing of the bell.
Eric removed his finger from his mouth, sighing with relief at the cliche 'Saved By The Bell'. Well, at least for now he was saved — he assumed lunch was going to be torture.
As the rest of the students poured out into the hallway, Eric continued to stand frozen at the front of the classroom, shook by previous events.
Being the last kid out, Kyle stopped at the doorway, staring back at him with a soft, pathetic smile.
"I...hate...you...so...much..." Eric hissed, his face still deep red.
"Love you too, fatass."