A/N: This is for my Frozen-obsessed friend.

Oh, and to avoid confusion, the Roman numerals tell you how old the boys are throughout the story.

V

Lianne Cartman was another ordinary mother in a very unordinary town. A town whose council held meetings on matters like potholes and garbage collection while government agencies and military officials attempted to clean up the wreckage that some rage-filled, genetically engineered cyclops had left weeks earlier.

True, she was raising her child as a single parent and her once promiscuous, wanton ways were still the talk of the bar and community center functions. But she felt she had proven herself as capable, taking Eric to preschool with her head held high and daring to meet the eyes of the judgmental, pious mothers with defiance and common courtesy. Screw them, she thought as she drove home, Eric was her only concern, the only person who mattered to her and the only person who could make her feel such an overpowering sense of love and motivation to be a better person. She would never have thought it in her early twenties, she would never have thought it as she knocked back spirits, danced on tables, let her hair grow to her svelte waist and wrapped her legs around any guy who asked her to dance, but being a mother was the best label that had ever stuck on her.

Did she miss being able to dance all night, hitch up her skirt and laugh mindlessly until her lungs were sore? Of course. But for now she was enjoying cutting coupons, tucking Eric into bed and making cupcakes with him on lazy Sunday afternoons.

It was hard to believe, as she sipped coffee in her kitchen and watched her son play in the snow covered backyard, that five years ago she had held a baby in her arms. Her baby and felt the heady, primal love thaw away a fear that had silently haunted her for nine months.

The cat purred and circled her ankles, Eric caught snowflakes on his tongue. To Lianne, South Park seemed like the most peaceful place in the world.

But suddenly, with wondrous ease, a flurry of shimmering snowflakes rose from Eric's tiny, pudgy palm. As quickly as they started to elegantly intertwine, they had formed into a bird. Ice cascading from it's frozen wings, it's feathers millions of latticed snowflakes. Eric smiled naively at the bird, setting it free from his palm and letting it fly into the lazy storm.

Lianne raised a trembling hand to her mouth, dropping her coffee and calling Eric back inside.

VIII

"Come on, Cartman!" Kenny smiled excitedly "Do it!"

"Why do you guys care so much?" Cartman asked, hovering the marshmallow over the campfire.

It was another camping trip at Stark's Pond for the four boys. It was almost 8:30 which meant they soon had to pack up their stuff and leave but it wouldn't be a camping trip without Cartman doing something spectacular, leaving his friends speechless.

"Because it's fucking cool dude!" Kyle replied, as much as he took great pleasure in fighting with that douchebag, all that resentment and frustration seemed to disappear when Cartman lost himself in this incredible ability. Kyle loved to watch, it was fascinating; not just the pretty, brilliant creations Cartman effortlessly conjured but the pure delight that flashed briefly across Cartman's softened features as he did it. Kyle blushed at the word beautiful, but it kinda was.

"Please, Cartman?" Stan joined in eagerly.

"Fine" Cartman smirked arrogantly, rolling his eyes.

The boys watched with bated breath and disbelieving eyes as Cartman's fingers brushed against the flame, numbed against the tight, flushed heat of the fire. A flicker of pale pink ice danced within the flames before an icy butterfly flew out of the smoke, it's rigid wings just about reaching the fire's glow before it burst, sending a flurry of snow in it's wake. For a while, the snowflakes floated in the air among the pieces of burning wood.

Cartman glanced at his friends, their widened eyes immersed in the reflection of his creation, smiling humbly to themselves, if they weren't so speechless they would ask him to do it again. You would've thought after all this time, they would've got used to this by now.

"Wow" Kyle whispered, trying to spot every snowflake that spun in the air.

"That was fucking amazing, man..." Kenny agreed, shaking his head in awe.

"You assholes wanna see something awesome?" Cartman grinned, raising his hands and letting a storm of multicolored snowflakes spin and whip around them, their own personal blizzard.

"Jesus Christ!" Stan laughed, catching a few and watching them vanish in the warmth of his gloved hands.

And as the laughter grew, the storm became more ferocious, beautiful twinkling colors winking at the boys and passing them by teasingly. Some they caught like insects in their hands, some melted on their tongue.

Some rose up into the night sky, forgoing the constellations. Waving goodbye to the kids and their campfire, the bright, orange glow and the secretive storm that was just for them.

XI

Snow wasn't a rare occurance in South Park. The sky was always ripe with pregnant clouds, the air was always frigid and sharp and the fervid colors of nature were always smoothed over by the beautiful blanket of white.

This was a relief to both Cartman and his mother. Sure, this strange ability, power whatever you want to call it, was unusual. But in a town where subzero temperatures where just as common as UFOs and monsters, Cartman was able to feel like less of a pariah.

It was only when his emotions began to corrode the control he had over his power, did he start to panic. He began to loathe anger, fret about stress and fear fear itself. Childish tantrums made him conjure storms and gale force winds in the comfort of his living room, his mother would scream at him, voice trembling in fear, begging him to control it. With sore hands, Cartman would realize what he had done and then curse his powers, wishing them away, denying them to the point they'd fight against him.

Tears would freeze as they slipped down his face, his eyelashes tipped with frost. Forlorn flurries would appear above his head, coating him in snowflakes as grey, sad clouds continued to weep. And although he wished his mother wouldn't do it, she'd hug him and press his cold body closer to hers. And while her fingers became numb and frozen, as snowflakes marred her flesh beneath her clothes, Lianne would shiver as she consoled her son. Telling him that crying only makes it worse, he could control it with happy thoughts, staying strong and not letting this 'miracle' as she begrudgingly called it, get the best of him.

Miracle. Cartman hated that word.

Still, Cartman was stubborn and proud. He would defy the bonds of his power and be like the other kids, do exactly what they did. So as he stepped out into the constant blizzard the town provided, he reminded himself firmly to control it, to not get overwhelmed or worked up and to avoid contact with people. He didn't want anyone touching him, freaking the fuck out and crying to their moms. He didn't need anymore shit.

But it had to happen in June didn't it? The month where he felt the most exposed and anxious. His power had to snatch everything away from him on a warm, humid June day.

It's not your fault, Cartman had frantically told himself as he sat in his room waiting for the outcry of the town. It's their fault for fucking pushing me.

Cartman vaguely recalled the boys who had cornered him. The usual suspects; older guys who wouldn't last ten seconds in a fight with guys their own age so they push around the younger ones instead. Cartman was no saint, but he chose his battles carefully. With his circumstances he had no fucking choice.

And as much as he tried to listen to his own advice, he wasn't able to hear those stern, foreboding words among their loud voices, the piercing humiliation that this was happening in a crowded hallway and his anger that he could teach these guys a lesson, silence them for good with a flick of his wrist and yet for his own sake, he couldn't. He had to let these douchebags win when he knew what he was capable of.

So he took a shot.

He smirked madly when one of the bullies' fist turned blue and icy under his strong hold. The horrified looks on those dickhead's faces, their bewildered exclamations of "what the fuck?!" sent an intoxicating shiver to travel down Cartman's spine, telling him to abandon restraint, screw control.

They edged away carefully, but Cartman couldn't allow this to finish just yet. To terrify them even more, to elicit that wonderfully cold rush again, as soon as the bullies edged closer, Cartman conjured tar black, frozen jaws to jut out of the linoleum floor, his darkest, most formidable creation.

The huge, jagged icicles winked and glimmered at Cartman and he couldn't help but acknowledge the cloying, heady satisfaction that seemed to make his common sense melt.

Too soon, the petrified gasps and screams of the onlookers shook Cartman back to trembling reality. His hands quivered and he wrapped his arms around his heaving chest, slumping back against his locker helplessly although every instinct was telling him to run. His heart thumping crazily in his throat, his own locker crackling with frigid, glittering ice behind him as the stress manipulated his ability to control it. What had he done? What was going to happen now?

If I run Cartman thought If I run far enough then everything will be okay, I'll be safe, everything will be okay and they'll forget I was ever here.

His golden brown eyes searched frantically for answers. But all they saw were people screaming, running and hiding from him. Like he was some kind of monster.

Even Stan, Kyle and Kenny looked terrified, unable to say anything or move any closer. Because this wasn't another snowball fight, camping trip or pretty, frozen illusion. This was frightening and real.

But Cartman was sure that they ran after him. As far as they could go.

Because he didn't know where he fell, sobbing icicles into the summer grass. He didn't even knew how long he lay in the heavy sun, not feeling the heat at all, thinking about his situation, trying his hardest to come up with a solution that didn't involve running away.

It took two days for the town to call a meeting to discuss "the Incident". Cartman started to think he should get used to people captilizing his actions, turning them into events and stories of caution and panic. An even harder pill for him to swallow was the fact that this was all inevitable.

He sat on the stairs and watched his mother try to calmly put on her lipstick in the hallway's mirror. Her hands were trembling, her eyebrows knitted together in nervous thought. He shook his head stubbornly at the weak snowflakes that had started to fall into his hair.

Although he hated the word, he wanted to hug his mother and apologize. Cartman held the vain notion that saying sorry would take back what he did. But he didn't want to touch her, make her more cold.

At the town meeting, he kept his head down, in an effort to control the anger that was elicited with every accusing word spat at him.

Suddenly, the chair flushed a rosy frost under the grip of Cartman's icy hands. He recoiled instantly, praying that no one saw before sighing helplessly. A warm, comforting hand gripped his shoulder, the only place that was ever safe to touch and when Cartman looked up, he saw his mother staring ahead, bitterly listening to every word. But she wasn't looking back at him and Cartman had to wonder whether she was gripping him in fear or reassurance.

The accusations continued to be thrown around the room as recklessly as the morning paper;

"He clearly can't control it! My kid was there! They said he went crazy!"

"God knows what sets him off! How do we know what he's capable of?!"

"He needs to be taken out of that school! Our children aren't safe with that, with that God damn monster around!"

"That's my child you're talking about!" Cartman flinched at the force of his mother's words. He had never heard her raise her voice like that before. Jesus Christ, had he underestimated her? It was almost enough to make him smirk. "And he is not a monster!"

Cartman noticed the heads hung in shame then; perhaps thinking of their own children and their own visceral anger if anybody dared to call their kids such things.

Lianne wiped the hot tears that stung her eyes before clearing her throat and explaining "He was angry and stressed, like most kids would be if they were in that situation, the trouble is... He's not like most kids and I realize that. For six years we have been trying our hardest to make sure that Eric has a normal childhood, that this power shouldn't inhibit or diminish his chances of living his life and it's been hard, extremely hard. But I'm so proud of him and his ability to control it. Because he can control it, he controls it every day and I can't even begin to explain how difficult that is. And I will not stand by and watch all our efforts in the last six years be in vain. It's not fair"

That last sentence was suspended in the air, waiting for somebody to grasp onto it. In recognition, with a chance, with hope or just denial. Cartman closed his eyes as his plexus roused an anxious storm, hoping that he wouldn't feel a snowflake melt on the tip of his nose.

"Eric" The familiar voice of the mayor, forced his eyes to open "Do you have anything to say?"

Cartman swallowed nervously, his golden eyes flashing between one disconcerting face after another. And he realized this wasn't another frozen-water-fountain prank that could be quickly forgotten, this could be what he had always secretly feared.

With a terrified, gnawing pit in his stomach, he said firmly "I'm not sorry"

Those three words caused the room to erupt in feverish mumblings and Cartman couldn't ignore the hurt and fear that struck his mom's face.

"And why is that?" The mayor asked, she had heard of this child, of course she had. She had even listened exasperatedly to the warnings concerned, paranoid townspeople interrupted her important work with. Only now did she realize how peculiar Eric Cartman was, standing before her was an eleven year old who exuded anger, resentment and exhaustion.

"Because I didn't do anything wrong" Cartman explained, looking at the mayor with calm, indignant eyes "My mom's right, those dickweeds made me angry and I used my power against them. But I was just trying to get them to leave me alone, I didn't mean for it go this far"

"Alright" The mayor nodded, her unpopular decision already made. Eric was obviously a very stubborn boy and the honesty of his last sentence made Mayor McDaniels want to give him the benefit of the doubt. That being said, she had to somehow silence the foreboding voices, which, over the years, she had heard raised in concern.

"I understand every worry expressed here this evening" The mayor began "But I think we can all sympathize with Miss Cartman's wish for her son to continue having a normal life. And while I too don't want to jeopardize this, or put any restrictions on Eric's rights, I also have to be cautious. Because, Eric, just like you have been working your whole life to control your power, I too have spent a long time trying ardently to keep this town safe. God knows that isn't easy. So, Eric, in order to both keep South Park safe and ensure that you maintain your rights... Your schooling will continue as normal. But you are to be kept in your house out of school hours and your interaction with others to be limited"

"What?!" Lianne cried, the obnoxious figures of the room blurring into swimming shapes.

"I apologize again, Miss Cartman. I want to believe that your son can control his powers but I must listen to the majority." The mayor explained sadly "And the majority of the town think your son can't be trusted and that their children would be safer if their interaction with him was minimal"

Cartman felt numb and weightless as he sat back in his chair, flecks of pearly snow peeling away his 'sentence' and every ounce of tired restraint. At this point he didn't care about the weak, listless snowfall that was circumnavigating him. Because a part of him knew that this was just the beginning of the end of a storm that had roared inside of him.

"Now, Eric, you remember what we talked about on the drive home, don't you?" Lianne asked, stepping in the way of the front door just in time. She couldn't let Eric go to school without reminding him of the boundaries set in place. As speechless as she was leaving the meeting, Lianne felt for her own sake as well as Eric's that this whole situation needed to be put in perspective.

Cartman simply nodded, teeth gritted and eyes dampening with frustration. He tightened his fists when he felt the first snowflake on his shoulder, the ferocious flurry silenced for now.

Lianne frowned before continuing, with strained optimism "I know you're supposed to keep your distance but that doesn't mean you still can't talk to people-"

"I don't want to talk to anyone" Cartman spat, his eyes burning an impassioned shade of gold as he glared at his mom "And nobody wants to talk to me. Ever since the incident they've been treating me like I'm a-"

"Please don't say it, Eric" Lianne whispered, pleading silently.

"Why?" Cartman snaps "Because that's what I am to them, a fucking monster!"

"Don't let them think that" Lianne spoke softly "Control it. Like I know you can. Every time you feel scared or angry or upset, just push those feelings away and you'll be fine."

"Anything else?" Cartman asked sardonically, folding his arms over his chest.

"Always be aware of what you're feeling" Lianne replied "You can't be careless, okay?"

"Okay" Cartman mumbled, wishing that it was winter.

Cartman kept his head down in concentration as he pushed past his mother and as he stepped outside, he refused to see the beauty in a summer morning. It was all just warm, sizzling colors that he couldn't understand and a frigid sun unwilling to embrace him.

"Oh, and Eric?" Lianne asked "Remember to come straight home, alright?"

"Alright"

"I love you, poopsikins"

Cartman only nodded as he walked down his lonely block.

XVI

Cartman smiled weakly at the cold constellations he had mapped out on his ceiling. The starry snowflakes spun and shone just enough to make him appreciate their prettiness. He didn't care what anybody said, ice is beautiful. Clear, still and elusively magical. And, sometimes, the only thing he felt he had.

The snowy clouds he conjured above his bed, the constellations and the frosted ivy that crawled up his bedroom walls distracted him just enough.

They distracted him from the lucid reality that he was only ever exposed to in designated slots. When he stood at that bus stop with his head down, too anxious to meet the eyes of his friends and unable to fathom any words he wasn't terrified of, he'd think of the ice. The wonderful creations, the technicolor masques that could make this town so much sweeter.

For the last five years, he'd felt suspended. Close enough to contribute to the feverish rush of conversation in the cafeteria and hallways, close enough to make someone listen, acknowledge and care. He was close enough to touch someone, feel their warm body next to his unfeeling, cold one. Hell, he was even close enough to Stan, Kyle and Kenny. God knows he had been before.

But, for what seemed to be forever, Cartman was stuck in this isolated dream. Blending into the lockers, classrooms and ominous mountains until he was invisible. As disposable as fresh snow when it's soaked by the sun. And he wished he could whisper, cry out, plead but... The hope. The hope that constantly chirps in us all like a fervid colored songbird had been clipped and shut away.

Once, dreams of revenge, of resentment and bitterness dissolved into dreams of contact, wanting to feel real again. Like he mattered to somebody other than his mother, whose patience was wearing thin with every failed attempt of trying to cheer him up. And he wanted to say sorry, but that was the most difficult word of all.

But how could he let himself trust? How could he let another person in on this unbalanced world he was living in, when he flinched if someone came too close? Fear. Nobody would understand. His heart thudded in his throat and the metal of the door prickled with frost whenever someone took books out of the locker next to his. Through gritted teeth and five years of perfecting his ability to control it, the ice would vanish. Still, Cartman wondered how long would it be before it appeared again.

And while his creations soothed him just enough, Cartman wondered forlornly how long would he be living like this?

Like a porcelain figure in a snow globe, still and frozen, his life dominated by four, small walls.

Forever, he guessed. He hated that word.

Up until he was thirteen, Kyle had the nasty habit of throwing snowballs at Cartman's window, in an effort to get him to come out and talk.

He couldn't tell you why he stopped. But two years of trying and countless snowballs can only get you so far.

And as selfish as Stan and Kenny felt about thinking this, the good part about Cartman essentially being under house arrest, was that Kyle's fiery, dangerous obsession with that enigma of a boy could burn out.

Kyle could only pretend for so long that Cartman acknowledged every attempt Kyle made to talk to him, that as Kyle walked home Cartman was watching him gratefully from his frosty window. Still, that didn't mean that Kyle no longer cared. Quite the opposite.

For, like a breathless Capulet, his only love sprung from his only hate. And Kyle knew that he was a couple more impatient snowballs away from waxing lyrical about how Cartman is the sun and how his love, like the sea, is infinite.

Still, Kyle wasn't entirely sure he was in love with Cartman. The fact that he was even considering his feelings towards him was unnerving enough.

But it was sympathy. A keen sympathy that made words catch in Kyle's throat, his vision become misty and elicited an impulsive, carnivorous tremor of irredeemable pity whenever he saw Cartman alone, anxious, constantly terrified. And just not him. Not the boy he could remember both fondly and otherwise.

Kyle wasn't an idiot. He knew the worries that had plagued Cartman throughout their childhood, regarding his powers. After all, if Cartman wasn't scared of what he possessed then why try so damn hard to control it? But Kyle would have never imagined that Cartman would let it consume him.

Sadly, it was also that age-old, infuriating philosophy that singers moon over in cheesy love songs; not knowing what you've got until it's gone. But Kyle wasn't ready to drink copious amounts of coffee and write poems about his heartache just yet, he felt he'd be giving Cartman more ammunition to rip on him. At least that's what he told himself. Sometimes Kyle wanted to give Cartman that ammunition. Pathetic and needy as it might have seemed, Kyle longed for the days where Cartman wasn't considered a pariah. Where he wasn't slowly disappearing.

And so, for his own selfish reasons and to keep the memory of that boy he once knew alive, Kyle would fucking fight for Cartman.

Even if the poor bastard didn't know it.

On a solitary seat next to the frozen bus window, Cartman smiled in relief. The town was nothing but a stretch of white, houses struggled to be seen among the snowy mountain peaks and frosted evergreens. To him, it was the purest blanket anyone could hope to have and he took great pleasure walking home in the midst of a blizzard.

As he stared out the window, there was one shattering prick in his resolve. How easily he could disappear into the scenery, crystals formed in his eyes and he blinked them away effortlessly. Maybe one day he could leave without saying any goodbyes, not promising any attachments to anybody and he could tentatively begin again.

As the bus approached his stop, he vowed to entertain the thought on the walk home. Catching snowflakes in the palm of his hand and probably conjuring a few in the process. He kept his head down as he left his seat and abandoned the bus quickly, not bothering to look back, not even bothering to watch it drive away, a blur of saccharine yellow.

But he hadn't been walking five minutes, hadn't even created any snowflakes when he heard a voice. "Hi"

Crisp and transcendent, permeating Cartman like the voice was meant for his ears only. And God, did it sound familiar.

Out of curiosity, Cartman turned around and discovered a colorful bullet, struggling to pale in the snow.

Kyle.

The lax storm surrounding them masked him just enough and he seemed unsure and nervous.

The howling wind is almost as loud as their tight breathing and choked heartbeats as they take each other in. People who appeared too briefly and sporadically in their everyday lives, now suddenly partitioned by winter weather and a stunned silence. As they stared, it seemed like they were viewing their emerged selves. Their cocoons decaying long ago due to mistakes and lessons. Whether they would survive, whether their colors would flourish and indeed, whether they would soar above this podunk town was another matter. For now, they seemed so unusual, so mature, so bright in their disbelieving eyes.

Was this the same person on those camping trips and slumber parties? Was this the same kid who Cartman watched play basketball during lazy summers? Was this the same boy who Kyle had marveled over in magical snowball fights? It's uneasy and exhilarating. Strange and yet wonderful.

"Hi" Cartman faintly whispers. His hands stung with both fear and embarrassment. He didn't know why he was still here, why he hadn't walked away as soon as the word caught him. He instead chose to stare at his sneakers, pathetically.

Meanwhile, Kyle has no idea why all the words he had wanted to say to Cartman had suddenly been blown away by the snow.

Kyle looks up at the swollen clouds for words before he laughs anxiously "Christ, how long has it been?"

"Since what?" Cartman mumbles, knowing that everything Kyle will say will feel like an accusation.

The hurt briefly stroked Kyle's features as he replied, blushing "Since we talked to each other"

Cartman frowns, muttering the words mindlessly as they roll from his conditioned mouth "Go home, Kahl"

He immediately turned to leave, convincing himself that Kyle would just abandon him then and there. Like he was supposed to. Cartman cursed every second he had just spent with him.

Kyle gritted his teeth and sighed heavily, the sight of Cartman walking away provoking an ugly, visceral anger to tighten in his chest. "Wait!"

He had caught up to Cartman and was matching his inpatient, pissed off pace as he snapped "God damn it, wait! It's been five years, you're not leaving me with just a 'hi'!"

"Why are you so hung up on the fact that it's been five years?!" Cartman replied moodily "I'm not!"

Kyle swallowed his pride and apprehension as he declared honestly "Because I've missed you! Hasn't that ever occurred to you?"

Missed him? Sharp ice crawled up Cartman's throat then and wound around his arms like pale blue bonds, he instructed darkly "Go home-"

"You would've thought it would, right? Since being cooped up in your room for five years gives you a lot of time to contemplate-"

Cartman sighed, pained, furrowing his eyebrows as the snow flurry whipped and groaned faster and harder around the two of them, a frantic race of white "Listen to me, Go home"

Kyle cried desperately over the noise "Do you even remember me throwing snowballs at your window?"

The flurry multiplied, tormented snowflakes falling to the Earth quickly

"Kahl-"

"Do you remember how many times I came to your house and asked to see you?"

The storm was blinding, deafening. The two boys numb to it all.

"Please-" Cartman begged, the force of it all was excruciating.

Still, Kyle fervently continued "Or are you just so afraid of the fact that people have noticed that you've pretty much disappeared? That people care about you?"

Cartman stopped then, seething "I'm not afraid of anything!"

Kyle laughs wryly and replies, exasperated "Come on! You've always been terrified!"

Cartman ignores him, walking away with every intention of leaving Kyle out in the cold.

Kyle persisted, trailing after Cartman and carrying on "Even when we were little kids you were so cautious, so concerned with what could go wrong. So now you've decided it's better to shut people out and block out the world than be a fucking man and face it!"

In a desperate attempt to get Cartman to listen, Kyle grabbed Cartman's shoulder. The fear draining out of him at that simple touch. The first time Kyle had touched him. And what felt like forever since Cartman had been touched by anyone at all.

Cartman turns to face Kyle timidly, his hand slipping from his shoulder. Cartman's eyes are wide and frightened and he loathes the vulnerable trembles that seem to pulsate.

Cartman asks, near silent "How did you-"

"I haven't forgotten" A quivering smirk appearing on Kyle's face before it gets replaced with determination and passion "And I never will. You may want to be invisible and lonely and act like no one remembers you... But not with me. Never with me. I will fucking fight to remember you!"

After a fragile, ominous pause, Cartman smiles nastily "How fucking noble of you, Kahl"

The grin on Kyle's face is smug and his entire body tenses, ready for defense.

Cartman shakes his head and snaps viciously "You have no God damn idea! You think I want this? You think I want to disappear and fade from everybody's memory? Fucking bullshit. I thought it wasn't possible for you to become more of an obnoxious little asshole but I guess there is, huh? You have no idea. None at all."

"Cartman!" Kyle shouts as Cartman storms off "Come back!"

Kyle hopelessly touches Cartman's shoulder and bites back frustrated tears as his cold, sore fingers get violently shrugged away.

"Fuck you" Cartman sadly mutters, tears stinging his own eyes. Frost gnawing at his fingertips.

"Tell me!" Kyle yells "You say I have no idea then fucking enlighten me!"

Cartman swiftly turns around and yells back "I'm doing this to protect you, don't you get it?!"

"What?" Kyle whispers, his throat feels raw and hot, stumbling backwards slightly at Cartman's confession.

"These past five years..." Cartman begins, his shoulders heaving as he continues "It's all been to protect you. To protect everyone. Because after what happened that summer I can't trust myself. It's better for me to keep my distance than for you to get hurt"

Kyle edges closer, asking softly as guilt and sadness permeate his features "And do you really think that's what's best?"

Cartman sighs, only allowing a slight smile as he wishes he could reach out and touch Kyle's face. He only had one person firmly etched in his mind when he answered "Yes"

"I'm safe, Cartman" Kyle nodded, on the verge of pleading "You don't have to protect me-"

"You don't know that" Cartman interrupted "I don't even know what I'm capable of and neither do you..."

"I was never scared of you" Kyle says "Even after what you did"

"Well, I was scared"

Kyle takes a shuddering, thoughtful breath before he nods "You can control it, Cartman. I know you can."

"That doesn't matter-"

"Yes it does" Kyle pleads, softening his voice "Believe me"

Cartman didn't like the hope that Kyle had elicited. It was too poisonous, too malignant. It had been locked away for so long that it was struggling to sing, to fly. Cartman couldn't let himself believe the lullaby, the siren song in Kyle's voice.

"I don't" Cartman begins, dropping his eyes to the floor and moaning helplessly "I don't know..."

"Trust me, Cartman" Kyle replies, warm and confident.

Cartman's eyes searched for Kyle in the lethargic morning traffic of the hallways. Like every other sleep-deprived teenager who was listlessly making their way to class, Kyle stood by his locker, his stance disinterested and his eyes thoughtful. Cartman suspected, not thinking very much about him.

Their confrontation was the previous day and while the both of them paled in this clinical building, yesterday they had both felt so torn and yet lucid in their manufactured storm. Kyle's loaded, colorful words had reverberated and while Cartman could not register the sensation, the blank, comforting coldness had started to tingle with something strange. It's mystery was perturbing and Cartman wished it would go away, but Kyle's voice would send it back, his confident eyes and assured smile flickering in Cartman's mind.

Kyle had told Cartman to trust him and Cartman wasn't sure if he could. He didn't know how. But he had to show Kyle once and for all that he wasn't afraid. Hell, Cartman even had to do this for himself. He wasn't afraid of himself anymore, these people, this town. This ice was no longer terrifying.

With a frail, unsteady breath, Cartman flexed his fingers and watched with unadulterated joy as the first snowflake fell.

It melted, invisible on his sneaker. Effortlessly, more appeared, arriving in couplets, trios and quartets, all of them different, all of them translucent shades of pink, purple and blue.

It wasn't until they arrived, thick and fast did people look up and gasp. Staring down at the pools of snow that crunched beneath their shoes, catching the flakes on their tongues and watching them shimmer in their hair.

And as laughter erupted in the halls, excited chatter began to thrive and eyes gleamed with childish wonder, Cartman felt eight years old again. Impressing his friends and creating and preserving memories.

But that beautiful bullet of color had claimed him again. Kyle nodded and grinned at Cartman, his eyes glistening and snowflakes clinging to his scarlet hair. Heavy, fiery heartbeats poured from Cartman, a rich crimson.

He held Kyle's wonderful gaze and sighed.