Cartman starts to figure out that nothing tastes as good as Kyle's concern feels.
The wind cut through his new coat, but Cartman didn't let himself shiver.
No more cafeteria. No more stupid friends bugging him.
If he could stand the cold. He could stand the hunger.
He binged and purged all the Christmas leftovers New Years.
Six times in a row. After, he felt like a slug drowning in salt.
It was too embarrassing and pathetic. He was going to be clean and perfect.
Not a gross pathetic junkie ass single-parent like his mom.
He was going to matter. Kyle was going to tell him he did, too.
He sat in the stadium bleachers. Watching cameras he installed in his house.
Devron was in and out a lot during the day.
He paced on the porch waiting for strangers all the time.
The camera started to blur. Cartman lifted his head up and scanned the snow-covered track.
A bird flew off a branch and disrupted the quiet white.
Blurry branches dropped piles of snow on the ground.
The whole world tilted sideways. He hoped he passed out, he hoped his mom felt like shit.
He looked back at the screen.
Devron grabbed a box of something. It had a label on it that looked like it belonged to a fast food restaurant.
Cartman couldn't read it.
Devron was absolutely a heroin dealer, that was a given.
There was something else Cartman was missing.
How could he bust him without indicting his mom?
The bleachers rattled like metal whips.
Cartman turned his iPad off
"'Sup, Jew?" He dropped it in his backpack.
"Do you need to talk to someone, Cartman?" He sat beside him.
"That's a brand new iPad you're hiding from me."
"I think..." Kyle exhaled and stuck his hands in his pockets.
"Maybe you need a brain scan or something?" He was dead serious.
"Dude, people just change, okay?" Cartman pulled his hat off, and messed up his hair before readjusting.
"I'm not totally proud of how I was when we were little."
"Fine," Cartman muttered. "How was lighting candles and getting left out for a month?"
His heart wasn't in the jab.
By the way Kyle didn't react he could tell he clocked that.
Kyle ran a hand through his hair and looked at his shoes. "Why aren't you at lunch?"
"Why aren't you?" Cartman raised a brow.
Kyle fidgeted with a pile of sticks on the edge of the stands.
"You've lost... like two-hundred pounds since we started school."
Cartman snapped his head up and his chest was warm again.
Kyle snapped his head to Cartman. His gaze faltered around the concrete holding up the seats.
Cartman felt warmth creep on his face. He knew Kyle would care. A part of him did, anyway.
He kicked himself in his head. 'Don't let your heart do that!'
"I think you're going too fast," Kyle said slowly.
"Thanks! I was losing like four pounds a day at first! It was insane! The only thing I miss about being fat is how fast it came off."
Kyle rested his chin on his thumbs, nodding like he had no way to figure out rent that month.
"Look, Cartman." He sat up straighter.
"... I'm sorry about all that stuff I used to say."
Kyle exhaled, his hand hesitated before gripping Cartman's shoulder.
"I don't think this is healthy. I think you need to talk to someone."
"I don't give a fuck about what you think!" Cartman swatted his hand off his shoulder.
Kyle sighed. "Right... but—" He clicked his tongue. "You're gonna stop now, right?"
"What the fuck do you care?" He narrowed his eyes.
"I know..." He sighed. "But, whether we like it or not, you're my friend."
"So?" Cartman hissed. "What are you doing? Is this what I think it is?"
He still half expected Kyle to laugh in his face. It felt like somehow he knew he was throwing up. How could anyone, though?
"Well..." Kyle rubbed the back of his head. "Me and the guys have been talking..."
"Why didn't they send Kenny?" Cartman twisted his brows.
Kyle dragged his hand down his face. He muttered something Cartman didn't catch.
"I'm worried about you!" Kyle snapped.
"About my weight?!" Cartman lit up. "Fuck off, no way!" He laughed.
"It's so early, I'm so big! Is it that noticeable!?"
"Cartman." Kyle grabbed his shoulders. "I'm not joking."
Cartman froze, staring at Kyle's hand. They looked soft. He wished he wasn't wearing three jackets.
He blinked hard remembering where he was and who he was talking about.
"You pieces of shit ripped on me—"
Kyle let go of his shoulders, flinching. Cartman drank in his remorse, it was fucking decadent.
"I know we did." Kyle's tone lost confidence. "We're not anymore. You can come eat with us again, dude!"
"I'm fine!" Cartman muttered to his lap. "You need me to be the fat one again so you can be better than I am."
"I don't need to be skinnier to be better." Kyle folded his arms.
Cartman's nostrils flared. "I can eat cleaner! I can stay thinner! I can go weeks without food! I don't need anything! I don't need anyone! I—"
"You sound fucking crazy!" Kyle squeezed his fists.
"What the fuck ever, Keel!" Cartman roared, he winced at his impedement.
He spent hours with speech courses on YouTube but they always came back.
Kyle was clenching his jaw.
Cartman saw the fight bubbling inside of him. This was going to go on a decade if Cartman could help it.
The clouds moved over them fast. There was supposed to be another snowstorm tonight.
Maybe if he went just a little harder. Kyle would obsess right back.
"You're just pissed off 'cause you're the new fat ass!" He stood for a dramatic exit but his bag pulled him down.
It felt like electrical cords snapped off inside his body and flailed around dangerously.
The black dots seemed to come down like snow.
"Cartman!" He grabbed him before he fell off of the bleachers. His backpack crashed to the concrete.
Kyle anchored Cartman by his shoulders. Sleet covered his eyelashes and coated the bleachers thin slippery ice.
"I'm fine!" Cartman shoved himself out of Kyle's arms before he started to enjoy it.
"I have a bunch of those little peanut butter packets." Kyle offered, unzipping a pouch in his backpack.
"They come in the little plastic snack things at lunch and I don't want to waste them, so—"
"NO!" Cartman slapped Kyle's hand and let packets of Jiff rain down the bleachers.
"I don't need your stingy ass jew-hoard! I just need water." He took a drink from a giant thermos.
He started carrying it around. It was easier to starve when he had a half gallon of water at all times.
"Leave me alone!" Cartman stood up more carefully.
"You have to eat." Kyle shoved his hands into his pockets. "You proved me wrong, you can lose weight. Okay? Stop!"
"And you're sorry for ripping on me for being fat while I was starving myself?"
Kyle rolled his eyes. "Yes."
"Do you feel bad?" Cartman crossed his arms.
"So are you going to eat peanut butter?" Kyle bent down, snatching up the packets.
Cartman was close enough to smell Kyle's lemony shampoo.
His brain was putting together how to leverage this in more ways than Cartman was comfortable with.
"I don't need anything! Stay the fuck away from me!"
He marched down the steps.
Cartman's foot crunched the snow before he noticed the weightlessness on his shoulders.
He looked up at the bleachers Kyle was peeking in it.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
Cartman thundered up the steps too fast for the ice to catch him.
"What's Bronkaid?" Kyle furrowed his brows.
Kyle turned the box over, his face fell.
He pulled out a box of laxatives.
"GIVE ME THAT!" Cartman snatched his bag.
"God, Cartman," Kyle's voice softened. "I thought you loved yourself too much to..."
Cartman snatched the box of laxatives out of his hands, he felt his face get hot.
"This isn't even funny," Kyle winced at him tossing them back in his bag.
"Jesus!" Cartman rolled his eyes.
"It's none of your business!"
Cartman panted and grabbed his chest. It was tight.
He was sweating and his legs felt like Jell-O.
"I know we've had our problems," Kyle gripped his wrist. "—I'm not letting one of my friends—"
"I wanna help you, dude." Kyle continued, anyway. "Let us."
Cartman's lips drew into a thin line. The back of his throat tasted like pennies.
"Why do you give a fuck?"
Kyle shrugged. "We've been through a lot together."
"Don't waste your time, Jew." Cartman flung his bag over his shoulder.
He left Kyle standing stunned and waiting for the punchline.
Smirking only after his back was turned.
He was already gone, and didn't have any more time for Kyle indulgence.
Cartman needed to lick salt off his hand. That helped when he got black dots.
Probably not in front of Kyle, though.
"Cartman!" Kyle shouted again.
He sat back down on the bleachers with his head in his hands.
Cartman made it all the way to the concession stand in front of the football field before his legs couldn't handle it anymore.
"Agh!" Cartman breathed heavy leaning forward. Breathing as hard as he did at his worst weight.
Kyle didn't really call him thin. But that was even better.
It almost felt like someone actually loved him.
Back at the bleachers, Kyle got out his phone and googled 'Bronkaid.'
He didn't need to click on anything to have his answer.
Kyle blinked, looking in the direction Cartman took off.
He felt a little guilt before he typed in his next search.
'Can someone go from obese to anorexia?'
Kyle's nostrils flared. Fucking fatass was going to dig himself into a hole.
Kyle had to drag him out of it and make Cartman admit he couldn't do it by himself.
Everyone hounded him about forcing a moral compass in his hands. Who the fuck else was going to?
Cartman's psyche was like his personal DaVinci code. There was something under all that bravado he kept away from Kyle that drove him fucking crazy.
He was the only person Kyle had ever met that could not only keep up with a conversation with him.
And warp or blindside him so quickly Kyle couldn't help but admire it sometimes.
'Can sociopaths get anorexia?'
