Chapter Text
Kyle Brofloski was tired.
He wasn’t sure of what, and he wasn’t sure why butterflies weren’t bursting into his gut and making him sick. He should be excited, but all he felt as he slipped on a t-shirt over his almost-sickly frame was tired.
Tired of one fat fuck in paticular, and as he took his insulin for the day- hissing while he did it (the pinch still hurt, come on.), he just felt apathetic for another year of school. Just because it was high school didn’t mean anything would change. For better or for worse, he was stuck with the same kids, in the same year; every year. What made 9th so much different? It was just another shitty year, just in a less-shitty building.
What he hadn’t expected was to be shorter than Eric Cartman.
They lived so close, yet between church-camp and video games, he hadn’t seen much of anyone except Stan; and even then, he was usually off somewhere sucking face with Wendy. Gross.
Since when had he gotten so tall?
Eric approached the bus-stop, watching the other three chatter, finding some sort of complex in his newfound height.
Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t a stud-muffin or anything, he still had flab around the edges, he was still built very chunky; but he had a huge growth spurt over the three months they were apart.
“Holy hell, Fatass,”, Kyle blinked, “When the fuck did you get so tall?”
Stan sniggered, “How’s the weather up there dude?” he elbowed Kenny, who- albeit muffled- muttered something about ‘tall guys getting chicks.’
“I don’t know Kenny, Cartman’s kind of faggy.” Stan snorts, doubling over and nudging Kyle’s ribs to get him to laugh too.
Kyle, of course, laughed. A little less than everyone else of course- he made the joke, but he could appreciate that Kenny was howling out.
Eric sneered, face contorting at the accusation. He clearly was not happy with it. “You’re one to talk about faggy, Kyle.” He waited a moment, testing the waters- “Remind me what you posted over the summer?”
Kyle’s face went red at that, and he stood in silence. He said he wouldn’t take Cartman’s shit this year. Especially about his sexuality. Cartman was two minutes into the year and already grasping at straws.
He reminded himself not to give Eric the satisfaction, and stepped onto the bus as it pulled up.
South Park only had one bus, so they were forced to sit together; Kenny was sitting with some goth chick, and Stan was sitting with Wendy.
They bickered the whole way, never escalating into one of their big fights.
Kyle hated to admit it, but fighting with Cartman gave him this rush he couldn’t stand;
It was like he needed it, he needed the argument and the frustration it gave him.
So, he bickered. He was ‘just giving himself something to do’, he told himself; Kyle was just going with the flow. Keeping it.. Somewhat cool.
Like all their bickering, it escalated.
Then it escalated again.
And again.
And soon enough, Kyle and Eric were having a full blown argument; the exact thing Kyle told himself he wouldn’t give into. He forced himself to draw back from it; reminding himself that he didn’t want Cartman to get the satisfaction of his reactions.
Kyle sighed. “I’m done. We’re here, at school. Just go to your homeroom, asshole” He shifted away, “Go to your fucking homeroom, shitlord.”
Eric simply followed Kyle, “We have the same homeroom, Kyle.” He put on that stupid voice he used to mock him, “Aren’t you going to enjoy spending every day with me?”
The sarcasm was obvious, but Kyle reacted to it like he just ate something nasty.
“Dude, gross-” He moved away, “Quit making moves on me.” He knew that would piss him off more than anything.
“Do you actually think I’m fucking gay or something?” Cartman busted into a yell, hand on his chest and body bursting forward; he was very obviously defensive. Kyle was not amused by this display. Definitely not. His face kept in a thin straight line, biting back and fighting the heat rising in his face. He wasn’t going to break without a fight. He didn’t want to give Eric the satisfaction of seeing him angry.
“Uh oh, cat got your tongue?” He teased, leaning in and patting the side of Kyle’s cheek. “With your bitchy, fat mom, you probably needed to learn to shut up.” He sneered.
Why wasn’t Kyle responding? He threw all the things he usually did at him.
Kyle was holding out on him. That was the only explanation, he wanted their little highschool reunion to be better than the others. It was a special year, after all. Freshman- the first step into what would be their last four years together. He wanted to cherish this.
He had to ramp it up a little.
“Oh, don’t like talking about mommy?” Eric’s voice pitched a bit higher than usual, he pressed his hands together and fluttered his eyes. “Good little momma’s-boy doesn’t want to laugh about his mommy?” His tone was antagonizing, and when Kyle’s cheeks turned ruddy and he opened to respond, Cartman broke into an anticipating, stupid ass grin.
“You fat fuck!” Kyle was practically screaming, “I don’t want to take your shit this year, or ever again! Shut the fuck up about my mother!”
Cartman felt high. Adrenaline shocked up his spine, his smile didn’t fade, and he just kept pushing his luck. He wanted more out of this, and he knew exactly where it was going. It would never escalate too far, they didn’t play like that.
They bitched at each other, they gave each other hell. They loved it, at least he did- and he would never want to ruin the one thing that kept him coming to school, ripping on Kyle for being a stupid fuck.
“Well, Kyle.” Eric began. “Where did Sheila send you this summer, conversion camp?” His pupils blew wide, he was practically itching for a bigger reaction, “That must be where you got the massive mop handle up your ass.” He patted himself on the back for that one.
The entire hallway was silent- staring at the two of them, and Eric declared it a victory. He began to walk away slowly, throwing his bag over his shoulder- trying to piss off Kyle as much as possible with just the way he conducted himself. He was content.
Until Brofloski had to open his damn mouth.
“Some fucking mental gymnastics you’re going through,” Kyle “C’mon Cartman, why rip on my mom? Yours is the fucking whore.”
Something struck a nerve in Eric. You could see it, his neck twitched and he kept his jaw locked as he turned around to face Kyle. Ironically, he felt calm. Calmer then he had in days. Eric had his hit, he had his rush. He didn’t have to care anymore.
“Fuck you Kyle!”
Eric’s arm came swinging up, fist slamming into the other boy’s face. Right on the nose.
You could hear the crack, but Cartman made damn sure he didn’t throw enough force to break it.
Kyle stumbled back, holding his face for a moment. He looked around, people had their phones out- recording. Like they were waiting for him to do something.
“Not gonna do anything Kyle?” Eric’s head shook a bit, like he was physically vulnerable to Kyle’s next move and he knew it. He got the other boy with the pain for now, but soon the adrenaline would hit and he would have to be prepared for it. “I finally got your face good! maybe Tom’s Rhinoplasty does free surgery for the attractivley-impared? I heard they were having a special for ginger faggots this weekend!”
A shaky breath came from Kyle, and he began to weigh his options in his mind.
Kick Cartman’s ass; get in huge trouble. Don’t kick his ass; feel like a defeated pussy until he could get a good rip on him again.
Yeah. He knew what the fuck he was going to do.
A moment passed.
“Kick his ass, Brofloski!” He heard a yell from the small crowd around them (since when were people watching them?), and then something muffled he couldn’t make out- presumably some remark from Kenny.
For once, he didn’t really care.
He didn’t care about the crowd, he didn’t care about the consequences- Kyle just knew he wouldn’t go down and walk away without a fight.
Like seconds hadn’t passed, Kyle burst into a sprint at Eric, who stood in waiting.
He tackled the bigger boy, pushing him against the locker- punching once, twice- almost three times before Eric lunged forward.
Cartman shoved Kyle off as he lunged, wiping the open cut on his eyebrow. It was bleeding. He stared at it, somewhat surprised Kyle had actually hit him that hard. Every other time they’d fought, Eric would end up bruised at best. Never bloody.
So Kyle was either serious- or made a huge mistake; and Cartman was going to find out which it was.
“Nice hit, faglord! Do you need a safeword?” Eric snickered, not expecting to not see Kyle when he brought his head back up; and suddenly his legs were being pulled out from under him.
He hit the tile hard, luckily not slamming his head (was that deliberate or a coincidence; he’d contemplate it later), before he could even get his bearings; Kyle was on top of him, slamming his fist into the other boy’s chin.
As Eric attempted to push him off, shoving him hard to the ground; then, as he reached to hit the other boy again, he was being grabbed from behind. He was being restrained, and so was Kyle.
Butters held a surprisingly hard grip on Eric’s arms, not letting him get away, and across the hall Stan did the same. They gave each other a familiar kind of look, like they knew this was bound to happen eventually.
“You can’t go fightin’ people like that Eric,” He whispered- not maliciously, just in a very Butters fashion. “You gotta behave. It’ll make it better.”
As soon as Mackey arrived at the scene, the crowd had scattered except the aforementioned fighters, Butters, and Stan.
“Stanley, Butters- you’re free to go, you boys clearly have no part in this m’kay?” Mr. Mackey shooed them, and they both scuffled off to their respective homerooms.
“But as for you boys, we’re going to have a very stern talk today, m’kay? In my office. Now.”