Chapter Text
Kyle was sure this was going to be the worst summer ever. In the fall he would be starting college at Carnegie Mellon University in Pennsylvania and he had looked forward to spending one last summer with his friends before they went their separate ways for a while. Unfortunately, none of them were going to be there.
Stan, who was staying in Colorado to study environmental sciences, was spending his summer as a camp counselor in North Park. “It'll look good for school in the fall,” he had said and Kyle reluctantly had to agree.
Kenny, who hadn't at all decided what he was going to do with his life, wasn't going to be around either. He had taken a temp job in Denver for a few months and would be staying in a crummy motel in the city. It didn't sound at all pleasant but no one could blame him for wanting to get out of his house as soon as possible.
Butters was staying with relatives, Craig had already left to study in Peru, Clyde was on vacation, Jimmy was touring as a motivational speaker, Token was moving, literally everyone was gone for the last summer in South Park.
Except for Eric Fucking Cartman.
Instead of visiting his family in Nebraska with his mother, he had elected to stay in South Park and Kyle was sure it was just to fuck with him, it almost certainly was, and Kyle wasn't having any of it.
And that was why Kyle was holed up in his room on a beautiful June day, mindlessly scrolling through Tumblr instead of enjoying himself outside like he wanted to. Sure, he was bored out of his mind, but at least he had convinced himself that this was better than letting Cartman think that he had won. He wasn't sure what he wasn't letting Cartman win but he was not going to lose.
His phone buzzed and he was disappointed when the message wasn't from Kenny or Stan. Instead, it was from Cartman.
'dude lets do something im bored'
Kyle made a face. 'No,' he texted back.
Almost immediately Cartman replied. 'jesus who got your little jew panties in a bunch'
'My panties aren't in a bunch, I just don't want to hang out.'
'come on jew im not asking you to suck my dick im just asking you to play cod or something' said Cartman.
Kyle huffed and tossed his phone onto the bed. He wasn't in the mood for this. He never was. His phone vibrated three or four more times but he didn't look. Instead, he typed up an extremely vague Tumblr post about people who couldn't take a hint but didn't post it. Cartman didn't even have a Tumblr as far as he knew. He always called it “That Hippie Trash Site” so Kyle didn't figure he'd made an account, never mind followed him.
Instead, he decided to work on his summer reading for school. He plugged his phone into his charger and reclined on his bed with a worn, paperback copy of King Lear and read until he fell asleep with the book in his hands.
He woke, disoriented and sweat soaked, in the middle of the night and reached for his phone for the time. He was greeted by a dozen or so messages from Cartman and one text from Stan. He skipped Cartman's messages and opened Stan's.
'How's hanging out with Cartman? ;-)'
Kyle aggressively rolled his eyes. He had been complaining to both Stan and Kenny about being stuck in South Park with Cartman but neither of them seemed to care much.
“He's not that bad anymore,” Stan had said before leaving.
“Maybe not to you,” Kyle retorted, “He never fucks with you.”
Stan had shrugged and Kyle had frowned. It was true that Cartman had always singled him out more than anyone else for his taunting. Even now that they were older and Cartman had mellowed out significantly, he still ripped on Kyle like there was no tomorrow. Not as much as he used to, but it was still annoying.
'I wouldn't know' he texted Stan.
He had just hit send when he was startled by a clattering against his window. He nearly pissed himself when he looked up to see Cartman grinning against the glass. He clutched his chest out of sheer astonishment and Cartman laughed.
“Jew, open the fucking window!” he shouted from outside.
Heart racing a thousand miles per hour, Kyle raised the window. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” he hissed in a harsh whisper.
“Didn't you get my texts?”
“Your texts? Wha- I-” Kyle stammered and then looked down at his phone.
5:36 pm
'so is that a yes or what'
5:43 pm
'are you seriously ignoring me'
5:47 pm
'wow that s mature'
6:02 pm
'whatre you even gonna do? do your college reading and go to sleep?'
6:45 pm
'thats fuckin weak dude'
7:29 pm
'im offended'
8:52 pm
'text me back you jew rat piece of shit fucker im so fucking borED'
9:18 pm
'kyel pls'
9:44 pm
'ok so heres what im gona do'
9:45 pm
'im gonna come to your house'
9:51 pm
'and were gonna have fucking fun you douche'
10:32 pm
'stop jerkin it to the fuckin dictionary and do something with your life'
11:11 pm
'omw motherfucker'
Kyle was incredulous. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? It's the middle of the fucking night, Fatass! Do you have any fucking concept of what is and isn't appropriate!”
Cartman shrugged. “Okay, but you can't say I didn't give you any warning.”
“Just get in here before you fall and kill yourself in my backyard, you asshole,” Kyle sighed. “And be quiet!”
Cartman squeezed through the window and into Kyle's darkened room. “Okay, so what are we gonna do?”
“You're gonna go the fuck home, that's what you're gonna do!”
“Okay but consider this: No,” Cartman said matter-of-factually.
“What do you mean no!”
“You're gonna fucking live a little, Kyle,” Cartman continued. “Let's go get in trouble like we used to.” He grinned mischievously, his odd eyes glistening in the moonlight that filtered through the curtains.
Kyle slammed the window shut. “In case you haven't realized, Cartman, I'm going to a really fucking good school in a couple of months and I don't wanna get kicked out before the semester even starts because I get caught doing God knows what, with you!” he said, sharply.
“It'll be fiiiiine,” said Cartman. “We won't get in trouble trouble. Just like... Regular trouble.”
“Have you ever made sense in your life?”
“No, not really. But just come over to my house. My mom stocked the place to the brim with alcohol before she left.”
Kyle's mouth fell open. “Why would she leave you alone with a house full of alcohol?”
“Because she's a cool mom, unlike the bitch that spawned you.”
Kyle punched him in the arm, not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough for it to hurt. “Dude, don't call my mom a bitch!”
Cartman leaned back against Kyle's desk, the wood creaking under him. “Do you wanna come over or are you gonna spend your last summer in this shithole town reading-” he glanced at the book sitting on the nightstand “-King fucking Lear.”
Kyle chewed over that thought for a moment. Cartman did have a point. It wasn't the best point, nor was it articulated very well, but it was a point he had tried not to consider until now. “My parents won't know where I went,” he said, finally.
“Then, Jesus Christ, write them a fucking note,” Cartman huffed. “You're eighteen fucking years old, they can't tell you what to do anymore.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “You try telling them that.”
“I will, don't test me, Kyle. I'll go wake them up right now and tell them that they don't own you.”
“Don't actually do that,” said Kyle, fully aware that this was something that Cartman had the full intention of doing. “Just...” he grabbed a pen and paper pad off his desk and scrawled a quick note, then took his hat from its hanging spot on his bedpost and slipped it on. “Fine, let's go.”
Cartman jumped up, giddily. “Fucking finally!”
Kyle held a finger to his lips as he softly shut the door behind them and silently slunk down the stairs. Cartman slid past him, noiselessly. Kyle had forgotten how quiet Cartman could be when he was trying. Once out on the sidewalk, however, he wouldn't shut up.
“Why are you so excited to hang out with me anyhow?” asked Kyle as they walked.
“Because,” said Cartman, “you're the only person left in this town who's remotely cool, and I use the term lightly. And I don't wanna spend my summer doing nothing like a huge nerd. Plus I hate drinking alone.”
“Dude, I shouldn't drink. And, neither should you. We both only have one kidney.”
“Yeah, you have mine. Give it back.”
“Hey, maybe if you ate better and took care of yourself-”
“Hey, maybe you should shut the fuck up.”
Kyle huffed and knocked into Cartman with his shoulder. “I hate you, Fatass.”
Cartman looked down at him and smirked and Kyle wondered to himself when on earth Cartman got so tall. “You don't hate me,” he said. “Why would you hang out with someone you hate?”
“I was trying to avoid you since graduation,” Kyle snarked.
“Weak. And yet, here we are. Admit it, Kyle. You looooove me,” Cartman teased, cupping his face in his hands and batting his eyelashes.
“I do not!”
“Kyle, don't make me sing to you again.”
“Cartman, don't make me punch you in the throat again.”
“You've never punched me in the throat before and I'll take that as a sign that you really, truly care about me,” said Cartman.
Kyle made a fist and held it up threateningly. “We can change that,” he growled. He pretended like he was going to throw a punch but Cartman didn't flinch. He just stood there, smiling, driving Kyle out of his mind.
“Why didn't you want to hang out with me anyhow?” asked Cartman, continuing to stroll down the street. Kyle turned and jogged briefly to catch up with him.
“Because you're an asshole,” snapped Kyle.
“Not always,” said Cartman, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Kyle out of the corner of his eye. “I can be nice sometimes.”
“Maybe when you want to be,” Kyle said, “but you never want to be. Being a dick is too much fun for you. Isn't it?”
“Please,” Cartman scoffed. “You're just as much of a dick as I am.”
“That is a blatant lie, Cartman!”
“It's true. You're a prick, Kyle. You're no better than me.”
Kyle studied Cartman's face, searching for some sign that he was joking, and, when he didn't find it, he turned abruptly. “Screw you, Cartman. I'm going home.”
“See?” said Cartman, a bit too loudly for the middle of the night. “That's something I would say! You can't even handle somebody calling you out for once!”
Kyle turned back, quickly, stomping into Cartman's personal space, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. “You aren't 'calling me out,' you're trying to instigate me! You're a racist and an antisemitic dickbag and I am not like you!”
Cartman made a disgusted noise in his throat. “In your lifetime, you've probably made just as many offensive jokes as I have!”
“There's a difference between joking and actually being a bigot! You're not just trying to be funny, you actually mean those things!”
Cartman rolled his eyes. “Oh, wow, Kyle, I didn't realize you were a mind reader who can tell what people do and don't mean,” he snarled.
Kyle narrowed his eyes, the darkness casting long shadows down his face. “You're trying to tell me you don't hate Jews? Or black people? Or Muslims? And you're just trying to be funny (and failing miserably) when you say those horrible things?”
“I don't hate anybody. Except maybe hippies and homeless people. But I mean, let's be real.”
Kyle waited a moment for Cartman to continue and, when he didn't he tilted his head slightly. “Okay, I honestly can't tell if you're being serious or not right now,” he said.
“Super seriously.”
“See, I still can't tell.”
Cartman clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times as he walked, turning up his own driveway. “You can think what you want about me, I guess. Just like... Don't assume people are the same as they were when they were kids, alright?”
Kyle sputtered, wordlessly as Cartman unlocked his front door. He followed him into his house and, inside, stared at him, blankly for what seemed an eternity. “You're kidding, right?” he said after a long time.
Cartman turned on his Xbox and flopped down on the couch. “I'm just saying,” he said, “things are different now, alright? We used to like... do shit. Now we don't do anything.”
Warily, Kyle took the seat next to him. “This is earth-shattering and I'm honestly so confused right now but... Cartman, are you depressed?”
Cartman let out a loud laugh. “We're not having this conversation, Kyle. You were hating my guts three seconds ago and now you're worried about my state of mind?” He smirked. “It's cool, alright?”
Kyle sighed. “Alright. We're cool?” He wasn't sure what Cartman had been talking about but he felt a lot more at ease as he sat on Cartman's couch as he started up a game of Grand Theft Auto. It felt good. It felt like old times. He thought maybe he was wrong and this summer would be different.
He was right.
It would only continue to get worse.