Cartman's POV:

I leave Kyle's house, looking for Stan. I walk down the sidewalk, looking in the alleyways, just seeing some homeless guy. I continue looking, not giving up for Kyle's sake. I guess I kind of care about the dumbass hippie, but not as much as i care about Kyle.

I finally find Stan leaning in an alleyway, curled up in a ball, crying. I sigh and sit down next to him, feeling sorry for him.

"Hey Stan," I say. He looks up at me, tears in his eyes.

"Cart-Cartman?"

"Yeah, it's me." I sigh. "Listen, Kahl is really worried about you. He started crying after you left and felt really guilty for turning you away. I told him that you're welcome to stay with me. My mom is hardly home and there's a spare bedroom so you could-"

"No! Fuck you!"

"Stan, I'm trying to help you-"

"Shut up you son of a bitch! You are just a fat fuck whose mom doesn't care about him and whose dad left him because you're just a piece of shit that no one loves! Kyle probably doesn't even love you, he's probably just using you because me and him aren't super best friends anymore! Plus he could never love or want to be fucked by a fatass piece of lard like you! And ya wanna know what? Your dad is lucky to be dead so he never had to meet you."

That. Fucking. Hurt.

I get up and walk away without saying another word, shoving my hands in my pockets and walking to Kyle's house, tears blurring my vision. Why would he say all of those mean things?

Because they're true.

I start crying, my lip quivering, and I start breathing hard. I stare down at the ground, not wanting to be like this when I see Kyle again. He'll worry and keep asking me what's wrong. I'm not worth worrying over.

I eventually reach his door and knock, quickly wiping away my tears and swallowing the lump in my throat. I close my eyes and try to stop my shaking and crying, but it doesn't work. Hopefully Kyle won't notice.

The door opens and I see Kyle's mom. "Oh, hello Eric. Are you here to see Kyle?"

I nod. "Uh, yeah."

"Okay. He's up in his room." She steps out of the way, letting me in. I thank her and walk up the stairs. I knock on Kyle's door, quickly trying to pull myself together.

He opens it smiling, but once he looks at me, his smile fades. "Baby, what's wrong? What happened?"

I stare down at the floor, a pit in my stomach. "I tried to reason with Stan, but it didn't work out very well."

"Here, come in." He gestures for me to come in and sit on his bed. I do so and he closes the door, sitting next to me. He takes my hand in his and looks at me in sorrow. "So what happened?"

I stay silent for a moment, not knowing what exactly to say. "He got all defensive and just...started insulting me..." Fatass.

"What did he say?" I look up at him and anger is burning in her eyes.

"Um...I dunno if I should tell you...you'll get upset and-"

"Just tell me, Cartman!"

"He told me that I'm fat and that my mom doesn't love me and that my dad is lucky to be dead because he never met me and that I'm a fatfuck and that you don't really love me, that you're just using me because Stan isn't your super best friend anymore!" Tears started to flow down my cheeks and my heart hurt.

"HE SAID THAT!"

"...yeah."

Kyle kisses me on the lips and hugs me, resting my head on his neck. I wrap my arms around him and start crying.

"It's okay, Eric. None of those things are true. Your mom loves you, your dad I bet would've loved you, and I'm not using you. I fucking love you. And sure, you're a little chunky, but in all honesty, I think it makes you hot." We both chuckle and I look up at him, stroking his cheek with my thumb.

"Thanks, Kyle. I think that you're hot too."

He chuckles and gives me a peck on the lips. "Do ya want something to eat?"

My stomach grumbles but a word pops into my head: FATASS.

"No, I'm not hungry."

Kyle raises his eyebrow. "You're not?"

I shrug. "No, not really."

"That's...no offense, but that's weird."

"Whatever."

"Are you sure you're okay? You can talk to me."

"I'm fine."

"Cartman, you are not o-"

"I am fine goddammit!" I freeze up and realize that I just yelled at Kyle. "I'm sorry for yelling, Kahl. I'm just a little upset right now."

"It's okay. I understand. Now come on. Let's go eat some dinner." He kisses my ear and whispers, "I can hear your stomach rumbling."

He takes my hand and drags us downstairs to the kitchen. "What do you want? We have pizza and mac and cheese."

"I'll have some pizza I guess."

"Okay. How many pieces?" He grabs the container out of the fridge and opens the container. Then he grabs two plates from the cabinet and places them on the table.

"Just..." Five please. "...just one please."

Kyle raises his eyebrow at me and looks at me in suspicion. "You usually have like four or five."

I shrug. "I'm just not that hungry."

"Okay. Cold or warm?"

"Cold."

"Okay." He hands me my plate and I sit down, nibbling on my pizza.

Kyle takes three, puts the container back in the fridge, and sits next to me, moving his chair closer to me. He kisses my cheek and starts eating.

Halfway through eating my piece of pizza, I start to feel sick. I start to feel...disgusted with myself because I'm eating food. I don't know why I'm feeling this way. Sure, I've felt it before, but not this strongly. I put down my piece and just stare at it, feeling like puking.

"Cartman."

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is."

"Okay, that's it." He moves my chair so I'm facing him and he moves his chair so he's facing me. He cups my cheeks in his hands, trying to make me look at him, but I just stare down at my lap, not wanting to look at him. "What's wrong? And don't say nothing because I can tell that that's complete bullshit."

"It's nothing really to worry about."

"Tell me. Please."

Should I tell him? No, then he'll worry. I already made him worry. Godfuckingdammit, why am I like this? I'm not depressed or anything! Right? Or maybe I am...

"Cartman, look at me."

I continue to stare down at my lap, not knowing what to do.

He lifts my chin up with his finger so our eyes meet. "What's going through your head right now, babe?"

"I...I..." I'm a depressed teen who now is disgusted with eating food and I used to cut myself who might go back to doing that. "It's...it's just that I'm...worried about Stan!"

Kyle gives me a blank look and says, "I'm not that fucking stupid. Now what's wrong?"

I feel panic start to engulf me and I know that I have to get out of here before I have a freakout. "I...I...I gotta go." I quickly get up and run out of Kyle's house, him not too far behind me.

"Cartman! Stop running goddammit!"

I reach my house and slam the door, locking it. I curl up in a ball and start crying. I start shaking and breathing hard. I lift up my sleeve and make tiny scratches with my nails. Some blood seeps out and I instantly feel better. Then I make myself walk to the bathroom, lift up the toilet seat, shove my fingers down my throat, and puke. I don't know why I did that all I know is that I feel better.

"Eric?" Goddammit, he must've came in through my window!

I quickly flush the toilet, roll down my sleeve, and wipe my face, trying to seem okay. Kyle comes downstairs just as I walk out of the bathroom, our gazes meeting.

"I thought I heard puking sounds from down here," Kyle whispers, tears falling down his cheeks. "Did you throw up?"

"It's just a thing that happens when I have a panic attack."

"I feel like you're hiding something from me." He takes a step towards me and looks up at me. "Roll up your sleeves."

"What? Why?"

"You know why." He looks down and starts rolling them up. The left one is all good, but the right one has some blood leaking out of it. "Oh, Eric." He stares down at my arm with tears in his eyes. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He leads me to the bathroom and makes me put my arms under the running water. Then he dries it off and bandages up. "There. Does that feel better?"

I nod. "Yeah. Thank you."

He looks up at me and kisses my forehead. "Do ya wanna tell me what's bothering you now?"

"Could it...could it wait until morning?"

He nods. "Sure, sweetheart." He kisses me on the lips and hugs me. "Goodnight. I love you."

I hug him back and kiss the top of his head. "Goodnight. I love you too."

We let go of each other and he walks out the door. He takes one sad look at me before leaving, closing the door behind him.

I slump down with my back to the wall, curled up in a ball, crying, because I hurt him once again.