AN: Someone on tumblr mentioned something like this (Cartman getting bullied and Kyle saving him) and the plot bunnies ate at me until I finally broke down and wrote it. I thought it would be a really cute and angst filled idea. There's two parts; one in Cartman's POV and one in Kyle's.

I'm not really sure about this, but I couldn't get to my other stories until I finished this. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.

Catch Me

Part 1

Cartman eyed the surroundings around him with suspicion (and quite a bit of fear). He wasn't suppose to be here. His mother always told him to never linger near this place for to long. It was the one thing he actually listened to and obeyed from her; she had seemed so serious and so unlike her usual self that Cartman had listened and never talked about it again.

"I'm sorry, mam." He whispered, creeping through the more rundown area of South Park, making sure to avoid anyone on the streets, sticking to the alleyways.

Apart from not actually allowed to be here, he also didn't want to be here. This place had never really clicked with him, despite what others may think of him. In fact (if he was honest with himself), he was scared of this place and the things that went down here.

So, with all of these plain and simple reasons, why was he here?

Cartman frowned at that. It was an ugly frown filled with undisguised anger and disgust. He really despised the reason he was here. He despised the fact he couldn't do anything about it; that he was powerless to stop it.

Cartman hated when he wasn't the one with the power. He wasn't used to being pushed around and when he was, he didn't sit down and let it happen; he fought back.

In this situation, though, he could not. Terrible things would happen if he even thought about it, let alone attempted it.

In the end, he was better off making a fool of himself and letting them push him around.

...At least till Cartman found an opening, that is.

He would bid his time, he kept telling himself, then he'd strike. Forget the fact that he'd been doing this for over a month and no such opening had ever come up.

He didn't want to admit he needed help.

Cartman tsked at that thought, rolling his eyes.

"I don't need help. I can handle this myself." He spoke, wondering when his words would actually be convincing enough for him to fall for them. Cartman had always been good at convincing others, though sometimes he found it difficult to trick himself. It was never easy and there was always a part of him nagging at him to remember what was actually going on.

Cartman sighed, taking one more turn down an alleyway, before pressing himself against the brick wall and peeking around the corner, just to know what he was dealing with today.

Four boys a few years older than Cartman were leaning against another brick wall, snickering to each other. One more boy, the ring leader, was a few steps in front of them, stoic and waiting, arms crossed. He was the one that Cartman was really worried about, the one that actually had something on him, the others were really only tagging along and (at best) guarding the leader. He could probably take the others, if he had to.

Taking a deep, calming breath (knowing he couldn't sit here watching them forever), Cartman slowly walked around the corner and forced a sly smirk on his face.

"Hey, assholes, how's it going?" He asked with as much casualness he could muster.

The leader snorted, not at all offended or convinced by Cartman's greeting. He came closer to Cartman, his 'friends' stopping what they were doing to come over and stand on either side of the leader.

Cartman, who was a head and a half shorter than them, couldn't deny how intimidating they were, but Cartman happened to be excellent at hiding his true emotions. He didn't even flinch, not taking his eyes away from the real threat; the leader.

"So, you get what I asked for, fatso?" The leader asked. He looked bored with this whole exchange and not for the first time, Cartman wanted to kill him. Or at least his parents.

He fought down the urge.

Pulling some papers held with a paperclip out of his bag (Cartman found it interesting that none of the boys reacted, not at all expecting him to attack them; he wasn't sure how he felt about that) and held it out for the other, holding his tongue when the boy snatched it from his hand seconds later.

There was silence, the only noise the flipping of paper, as the leader looked the papers over. His 'friends' were grinning evilly at Cartman, glancing between their leader and Cartman, waiting for something good to happen. Good for them and bad for himself, he had no doubt.

Cartman fought back an eye roll.

He was fighting back a lot of things; none of which he wanted to fight back.

His thoughts were interrupted by the leader.

"Well done, fatso! Seems you can do something right after all! What a pleasant surprise! I thought you were incapable of anything!" The leader said, grinning, nastily, causing the others in his group to laugh, rudely.

Cartman couldn't hold back what he said next, even if he tried, knowing it was a mistake before he even finished.

"Ay! You wouldn't even have me doing any of this stupid shit for you if I couldn't do anything! If I'm 'incapable', I'd hate to see what you are!" Cartman growled, hands in fists at his sides, shaking.

The grin on the leaders face changed, becoming more dark and sinister and Cartman backed up, briefly wondering if this was what it was like on the receiving end of his evil grins. Before he could think further on that theory, the leader stepped forward, like lightning and without warning, and wrapped his hand around Cartman's throat, pushing him, making Cartman stumble into the wall.

With his hand still on Cartman's neck and choking him, he leaned in to whisper in the younger boys ear.

"What have I told you about speaking back? It gets, not only you, but your own flesh and blood into trouble. Do you really want your own mother hurt?"

Cartman shook his head quickly (or tried to), squeezing his eyes shut, ignoring the sting that came with the familiar lose of air. His lungs ached, but his heart hurt more, he supposed. He wouldn't be continuing this charade if it didn't.

No, he didn't want his mother to go to jail. He didn't want her 'job' activities shown to the whole world. He didn't want her put away for 'child abuse'. She may not be perfect, but she was his mother, he needed her as much as she needed him. In a way, they only had each other. Cartman wouldn't allow anything bad to happen to her.

And Stephen knew this. It was the one thing keeping Cartman from killing this worthless teens parents; slaughtering them right in front of him with his own bare hands.

Cartman began to choke, tears coming to his eyes, though, despite this, he still managed to spit at Stephen when the boy moved to look at him.

Stephen flinched, tightening his grip.

"You never listen, do you?" He spat, "You're useless. You have no friends, else they'd be here saving your ass. You have no one, but your whore of a mother who lets strangers shit on her for fun. You and your mother are pathetic. Neither of you should be alive. And you know why?"

Stephen didn't wait for a response. He leaned forward, until their noses were touching. Cartman just stared, emotionless, in return.

"It's because both you and your mom are horrid human beings. A Slut and a murderer. You shouldn't exist in this world. You're absolutely useless to society and ruin peoples life's. I should kill you right now, but I won't. I get way more pleasure this way." Stephen laughed softly to himself, finally pulling away.

Cartman coughed, falling forward on hands and knees, feeling dizzy, from both the choking and the words being spoken to him. No one, not even Kyle, had ever said such words to him. He stared, blankly, at the gravel below him, barely recognizing the fact that he was crying; silent tears sliding down his chubby cheeks and hitting the gravel. His fingers were digging into the ground; to the point that his fingers started to bleed.

He finally looked up when he heard gruel laughter from all five teens.

"Well, fatso, thanks for the cheat sheets. See you tomorrow. Same place." And with those parting words, Stephen and his gang left the alleyway.

Cartman stared at the place where they were before for a few seconds before slowly climbing back to his feet, grabbing his bag and heading home, like always. The same things happened ever time, from the fake confidence to the disobedience to the quick downfall right to the very end, where Stephen would explain why Cartman (and his mother) were the worst people imaginable, then leave. Cartman wasn't sure what was worse; when he first saw Stephen in the alley every time or when the older boy left. Each made him feel like shit, either way.

And maybe it didn't really mater in the end. Nothing really mattered in the end.

He wished he was stronger and could have kept the one thing he promised his mother he'd never do.

She was more right than he ever gave her credit for.

"...And that's how Taylor Swift became a no good whore! Any questions?" Mr Garrison asked, teaching 'history', which, as everyone knew, was just an excuse for Mr Garrison to talk about his opinions about celebrities.

Either way, they would still be tested on this, so the whole class took notes, looking bored, but not really complaining. Anything was better then math, many believed.

Only one person was not taking notes. In fact, wasn't even paying attention. That one person was Eric Cartman, who was too busy tapping his pointer finger against his desk, looking agitated and...

"Eric!"

...jumpy.

Cartman jumped in his chair, letting out an unmanly scream and ducking behind his arms, eyes squeezed shut. He looked the image of an abused lover.

The class and Mr Garrison starred, uncomprehendingly. When nothing bad hadn't immediately happened, Cartman opened his eyes, glancing behind his arms at all the staring faces of his classmates. He blushed a burning red, swearing under his breath.

Trying to look like he didn't just make a fool out of himself, he cleared his throat, laying back against his seat, trying to look casual.

"I mean, yes, Mr Garrison, what may I help you with?" He asked, innocently, shaking slightly from the adrenalin from earlier.

Mr Garrison didn't look amused.

"You haven't been listening all morning, Eric. Do you, perhaps, have any questions needing answers?" Mr Garrison's voice was laced with dry sarcasm.

Cartman blinked once, unsure how to answer that. He wasn't sure if admitting to the fact he wasn't (hadn't been) listing this whole time. Would it even do anything for him to lie, either? Cartman was sick of pretending things weren't happening. He needed this one.

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face, looking much older than he was.

"Yes, Mr Garrison. I have absolutely no clue what has gone on all morning, but the truth is, because of this, I really have no questions." He said, truthfully, ignoring the surprised looks from his classmates.

Mr Garrison didn't seem to know how to answer to such bluntness.

So, he didn't.

Clearing his throat, he turned away as the bell rang for lunch.

Cartman wasn't all that surprised at the fact he wasn't even a little bit hungry.

Cartman stared at his food with blank curiosity. He wondered why he ever liked this shit before. It was full of awful shit and tasted like shit. But maybe that was just because Cartman was jealous of all the people able to eat, while he couldn't. Food, at the moment, made him sick.

Kyle glanced up from where he was eating and narrowed his eyes, suspiciously.

"What's wrong, Cartman? To healthy for you?" He questioned, smirking.

Cartman just blinked.

"I've lost ten pounds." He said, motionlessly, voice dull.

There was an awkward silence after this statement. Kenny coughed.

"That's... great, Cartman." Stan said, unsure. The way Cartman had said it didn't give away if this was a good thing or not.

Cartman just snorted.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

He then got up, throwing his food in the trash and leaving the cafeteria.

As he left, his phone buzzed.

Freezing, Cartman leaned against a row of lockers and pulled it out, staring at the screen.

He shut his eyes, banging his head once against the metal behind him.

Change of plans. Meet me now. I don't have to remind you what will happen if you don't.

Cartman let out a shaky breath that came out more like a pained whimper. They had never asked to see him during the school hours. He wasn't sure if he could do this.

"Cartman."

Cartman gasped, eyes flying open and body instinctively laying flat against the lockers. He relaxed when he saw Kyle standing a few feet away from him, looking unsure.

It was his default emotion when dealing with Cartman when he was emotional, Cartman knew.

Cartman gave him a suspicious and paranoid look.

"What do you want?" He snapped, defensive.

"Look, dude, I'm sorry if I hit a nerve or something. If it helps any, I think it's really awesome that you're trying to lose wait. I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I know you're probably going through a hard time with this. I just want you to know that I support you." Kyle looked Cartman in the eye throughout his speech and Cartman choked on the strange emotion's battling within him.

He wasn't sure how to react. He decided it was best not to. He needed to get to Stephen, anyway.

He turned away from Kyle, trying to pretend Kyle's words hadn't given him the strength to go in the first place.

I just want you to know that I support you.

Cartman closed his eyes and raised his head.

Maybe he wouldn't have to fake confidence this time.

"What took you so long?" Was the fist thing out of Stephen's mouth, rude and annoying.

Cartman winced. He hadn't known at first where to find him as they never had meetings at school. He somehow found him in the music room, ten minutes later.

He decided telling Stephen this was pointless. Besides, he more than likely done that on purpose; not telling him. He wanted him to be late.

"What do you want?" He asked, just as rudely, Kyle's encouraging words still echoing in his head and making him more brave.

Stephen narrowed his eyes.

"You're lucky we're in school, fatso, I'd give you a good beating otherwise!" He snarled, lighting a cigarette and leaning forward to blow the smoke in Cartman's face.

Cartman shut his eyes at that, but otherwise said nothing.

Opening them again, he caught the lack of others in the room.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Turning back to look at Stephen, he gave him a suspicious look.

"Why are you at my school? This is a elementry school. Unless, you're trying to tell me something..." He let that comment hang in the air for Stephen to wonder what he meant.

After a few seconds, Stephen snapped, "Are you calling me stupid?"

Cartman smirked.

"As stupid as a doe doe bird."

Stephen was on him in a second, banging Cartman's head roughly against the tiled floor.

Cartman winced.

"You little bastard! Who told you you can talk to me like that? You think just because I'm alone, you can take me! Those stupid fuckers never touch you, only I do! So stop getting ideas, fatso or I'll break a finger next time!" He screamed in Cartman's ear, pulling him back up, which was kind of impressive considering Cartman's weight.

He pulled Cartman with both hands toward him, until they were eye to eye, facing each other.

"You need to learn. You need to learn badly what it's like with me. You'll never get out of my clutches. You know how hard it is to obtain you; to get even a little bit of information on you and your stupid hoe of a mom! Everyone is to afraid of you to give anything out. You've scared them all, you little freak! You're disgusting! What is so great and 'scary' about you? You're nothing! Just some stupid brat! I'm not afraid of you 'cause I see that. I see the worthlessness. How pathetic you really are." He growled in Cartman's face, spit flying and hitting Cartman.

Cartman scrunched up his nose, pulling uselessly on the others hold.

"Let. Go." He hissed, glaring daggers, for once, not afraid.

The teen only sneered and threw Cartman to the ground. Cartman fell with an audible thump, groaning.

Stephen suddenly calmed down and smirked, running a hand through his hair.

"Why am I here, you asked? Well, I have another job that just couldn't wait."

Cartman slowly looked up to meet Stephen's cold eyes and held the bile in his throat.

"So, that cool game for the ps4 is out and my mom got it for me for getting an A on that test about Paris Hilton. You guys want to come over to my house and play it?" Stan asked, turning to look at his friends as they all walked home from the bus stop.

"Hell yeah!" Kenny cried, pumping his fist in the air. It was hard to tell if he was happy to play or for the free food. Possibly both.

"Dude, I'm totally in." Kyle agreed.

That's when all three realized Cartman hadn't answered in his loud, pushy way.

They turned to look at him.

"Fatass." Kyle called, confused.

Cartman was brought out of his mind to glance around. His eyes widened when he realized he was walking.

He brought his eyes to Kyle.

"Uh, I can't. I, um, need to... leave." He said, lamely.

He gave his three friends one more panicked look before turning away and practically running in the opposite direction.

Stan and Kenny looked at each other.

"What was all that about?" Stan asked.

Kenny shrugged.

"Beats me."

They continued walking, unaware of Kyle staring after Cartman with a confused and (despite himself) worried frown.

Cartman smiled without any humour as he stared at the sheets before him. He eyed the blood stain in the corner and the man lying on the floor. He wasn't dead, Cartman knew, he had been the one to stab him in the arm, but the way he looked tricked Cartman in believing, despite the odds, that he was dead; never to come back and all because of some stupid exam cheat sheets printed out from a computer.

He wondered why he never just hacked the servers instead of doing this face to face, but Cartman didn't really know how to hack and didn't feel like learning. He liked doing things this way, it strangely calmed him before he had to meet up with Stephen and his gang.

He finally looked away from the man and sighed, stuffing the papers in his bag and leaving before someone found out.

He wasn't going to go to jail for this; not for something he didn't even want to do in the first place.

Cartman was more subdued this time around as he sneaked through the alleyways. He wasn't sure why, but he could feel something bad going to happen; something far worse than anything Stephen had done to him so far.

It made him shiver, though it could have been the cold. It was colder than usually, the clouds in the sky making things darker and eerier. If it wasn't for the fact he was used to these alleyways by now, he would have been more concerned.

Right now he was just tired. Tired of everything and nothing at all at the same time. It was strange.

He also felt light headed, from lack of sleep, lack of food (when was the last time he did either of those? He couldn't remember) and the stress of the situation was defiantly getting to him.

Before long, he was at the usual alley, not even bothering with checking how many people there was today. His gut told him it would only be Stephen today. Why else would he go alone to Cartman's school? He probably didn't want the others to get these papers; keeping them to himself.

And it was. The teen was smoking and kicking the brick wall, trying to keep warmth in his feet.

He looked up when Cartman came over and grinned, cat like. He turned to him.

"I'm guessing you got it. You're such a sweet servant. Let's see if you'll stay that way." He held out his hand, expectantly.

Maybe it was because these papers were for exams and not any old test (though this defiantly wasn't the first time he helped people cheat through huge tests), but he felt like someone was watching him as he pulled out the huge document, smeared with the blood stain.

Stephen didn't say anything about the stain, but he did raise his eyebrow, questioningly.

Cartman didn't really care much because he was to busy feeling eyes on his back.

Great, now he was getting paranoid. Well, more paranoid than before.

"Looks about right." Stephen said shortly than grinned evilly at Cartman.

Cartman swallowed thickly and walked a few steps backward, laughing hesitantly.

"Well, you don't need me anymore, right? This is the end. The year ends with an exam. What would you need me for now? Nothing. So, you should let me go." He said, reasonably, wondering if he could escape.

That feeling of dread was back.

The other laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head.

"Oh, of course. I have no use of you. Guess I'll have to kill you. Oh, well." He said in fake sadness.

'This is what he's really wanted all along,' Cartman realized, eyes widening, 'He just wanted to get his use of me before he killed me.'

Before Cartman could really think any further, Stephen had already kicked him in the stomach, causing Cartman to fall to his knees. He continued to kick Cartman, screaming.

"Why shouldn't I? No one would care anyway! You hear that. No one cares! No one ever did, except your stupid mother, but she made you, so who's counting her. Your friends don't care. They don't care because they would be here, wouldn't they? Why aren't they here, hey?! Why aren't they-" Stephen was suddenly cut off by something ginger springing at him and tackling him to the gravel covered ground.

Cartman was confused, but glad of his good fortune. He slowly climbed to his hands and knees and crawled to a nearby brick wall, leaning against it and glancing behind him. The screams and grunts were getting to him.

He blinked.

And blinked two more times to make sure he was seeing what was happening and not imagining it. He wouldn't rule out delusions.

But it wasn't a delusion. Kyle Broflovski was really tearing a knew one at Stephen. Cartman wondered if he was seeing Kyle's Jersey form again. He found he didn't really care what was happening as long as he wasn't getting hurt anymore. He felt close to faint.

Something slid toward him at that moment, distracting him and he stared at it, confused. He quickly realized it was a cellphone. More importantly, it was Stephen's cellphone.

With the information on him and his mom; the pictures discrediting them as a healthy family.

Something snapped in Cartman and he growled, somehow finding the strength to get to his feet on pure will alone and stomping violently on the cellphone, yelling words that didn't make sense, but echoed against the walls and through the alleyway.

He let out all his pent up frustration, disgust, anger, murderous rage, embarrassment, hate; anything he could think of. The cellphone was long gone by now and he was still stomping the ground and the miniscule pieces left of the long dead cellphone.

He started to scream; loud and piercing, when words didn't carry what he wanted to express any longer.

His voice grew horse, but he continued, only stopping when a hand rested on his shoulder.

Panting, Cartman gave himself time to think; to realize what had just happened.

He was free. He was fucking free. He didn't even care that Kyle had saved him, as though he was some bitch in distress because he was free. He was fucking free. He didn't have to do any more shit for Stephen, who was probably to afraid of angry ass Jews to try to go near him, let alone hurt him.

When he finally moved away from the cellphone remains, he blinked and then smiled.

"Cart-"

Cartman suddenly turned around, jumping at Kyle, causing them both to fall over. Cartman wrapped his arms around parts of Kyle and buried his head in his clothed stomach and just wept. He couldn't even be embarrassed; it felt good to let it out.

Quickly, his tears turned into laughter and he was soon cackling into Kyle's stomach, with that same (almost crazed) smile on his face.

He was defiantly going off the deep end. First violence, then tears, now laughter? If he wasn't crazy before, he defiantly was now.

Sighing, Cartman silenced himself, feeling a heavy burden leaving his shoulders and calming him. He was now so very tired and so very hungry.

He realized Kyle was still silent and finally moved away from the other boy.

Kyle was staring at him, thoughtfully.

"You should have told someone." He said, sitting up.

Cartman frowned, not wanting to admit he had started to believe the words Stephen had said about how no one cared. He also really didn't want to listen to any speech's from Kyle right now.

Something in his face must have shown his thoughts because Kyle glanced away, chewing on his bottom lip.

He wasn't wearing his hat, Cartman realized, curious on where it went.

"You don't need to feel that way, okay. I'm not going to say this for the others, but I care. I wouldn't have followed you here and beaten that guy up if a didn't." Kyle admitted, still not looking at Cartman, instead staring at the teen lying on the ground a few feet away.

Cartman stared at him for a few seconds and snorted. He padded Kyle's shoulder, rolling his eyes and standing up.

"Thanks Kahl, I really appreciate it." Though he was sarcastic, it was obvious how much Kyle's words meant to him. He'd never tell him outright, but he had a feeling Kyle knew by the way he was smiling softly at him.

Kyle stood up as well and they both stared at the beaten up body of Stephen.

After a few minutes of silence, Kyle turned to look at Cartman, knowingly.

"There were others, weren't there? You want to trash all their computers and cellphones, don't you?"

Cartman shot Kyle a sly look, tapping the Jew's nose with his pointer finger.

"You know me so well, Jew. Well, come on, lets get started. I can't wait to ruin those pussy's lives."

The two left the scene (and Stephen's bruised body) with lighter hearts, though Kyle vowed he'd keep a better eye on Cartman for now on.

Just in case.

AN: Please tell me what you think. Part 2 is coming up tomorrow!