Just a little bit of weight

Just a Little Bit of Weight

Kyle Broflovski has always considered himself a good person with firm principles, not just because of his religion or his parents’ upbringing, but also because of his own way of seeing the world and people. He is polite, understanding, and aside from some small issues with managing his anger, which he has been working on in recent years, he is quite patient and willing to help others. The only person who truly drives him to the point of physical confrontation is Eric Cartman, the same person he is in love with, despite his better judgment.

He smiles to himself as he finishes preparing breakfast, thinking about how even in something as simple as forming a relationship, things were not exactly normal for them. He can’t remember exactly when in their adolescence they went from hating each other to the brink of trying to kill each other multiple times, at least on Cartman’s part, to simply arguing in a nearly friendly and affectionate way. Somehow, they had become closer over the months, sharing experiences that neither Stan nor Kenny ever found out about. Gradually, his thoughts became filled with the image of Cartman and the idea of sharing their lives together, even though he had nearly strangled him multiple times.

The exact moment their friendship turned romantic isn’t entirely clear to him; it was like a tacit agreement between them, understanding what each felt for the other without needing to say the words out loud. However, this agreement had remained relatively secret until one day, which they now commemorate as their official anniversary, at a party they attended in their senior year. One of their friends had jokingly commented on how Cartman and he seemed to orbit around each other more than usual, and with pride, without even thinking about his words, Cartman responded with something that made it clear they were officially a couple. The look of surprise in everyone’s eyes when, instead of denying it, Kyle simply confirmed it by putting an arm around Cartman’s shoulders still amuses him.

“Kahl!” Cartman’s voice echoes through the apartment they share, pulling Kyle out of his thoughts. “Kahl!”

Kyle finishes serving breakfast, placing the plates on the table and looking up to see Cartman, half-dressed, walking toward him with a frown, holding one of his favorite shirts in one hand, clutching it as if it had deeply offended him. From the wrinkled state of the fabric, the redhead can imagine the cause of his partner’s anger, who, not receiving more response than a raised eyebrow, huffs petulantly, leaving the shirt on the back of his chair before sitting down.

“The stupid shirt won’t close, none of my stupid shirts do, again,” the brunette explains, extending his hands in front of him as if asking for an explanation.

“Did you save any of your old shirts like I told you to, you stupid fatass?” Kyle asks, placing one of the plates in his hands. Cartman looks offended for a few seconds before accepting the utensil he offers and starts eating, mumbling under his breath. “Stop acting like a pig and swallow before you answer me,” Kyle scolds, sitting down in front of him, taking a bite of his plate.

Cartman looks at him and very slowly takes another bite, chewing with his mouth open, making it as loud and unpleasant as possible. When Kyle can’t stand the sight any longer, he kicks Cartman’s leg under the table, causing him to choke and start coughing, which elicits a small laugh from Kyle.

“Asshole,” the brunette mutters when he recovers, but instead of continuing to annoy him, he takes a few more bites like a normal human, swallowing before speaking again. “I said stop acting like a know-it-all, you fucking Jew,” he rolls his eyes. “Yes, I saved them like you said, but they’re horrible. I want to wear this one.”

The redhead looks in his direction as if he could see the piece of clothing, suppressing the small smile forming on his lips when he realizes he can’t even see a glimpse to the sides of his partner’s huge chest. He eats a bit more, delighting in the annoyance starting to appear on Cartman’s face until the latter finally crosses his arms, demanding his participation in the conversation.

“Even if you could make the buttons obey you,” Kyle says slowly, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, “you’ve wrinkled it so much that it’s impossible to wear without looking ridiculous.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Cartman sighs, letting his forehead fall on the table, brooding over his bad luck. “Stupid gym that’s useless, stupid diet, stupid shirt,” he mutters, lifting his head and letting it fall again softly.

For a second, Kyle feels guilty, but the feeling quickly passes when Cartman straightens up to continue eating with a dramatic sigh.

“We can go buy more shirts later,” Kyle offers, finishing his breakfast and getting up to serve Cartman a bit more. “Shirts that will fit you this time.”

“But that’s my favorite,” Cartman protests, receiving the second portion of food without objections. “You gave it to me,” he adds after a while, surprising Kyle, who, having finished, had started washing his plate and the utensils he used to make breakfast. Kyle sighs, leaving what he’s doing and drying his hands with a nearby kitchen towel, walking to the table.

He knows Cartman’s worry isn’t exactly that the shirt doesn’t fit, but that it means he’s gained weight again. Of course, he doesn’t really care much about his weight or what others might think about his appearance, boasting about his physique in response to every bad comment he’s received, puffing out his chest with pride or batting his eyelashes as he responds sarcastically. Despite this, he had resolved to lose weight, and Kyle had supported him from the beginning, motivating him in his way. The problem, for Cartman, is that he’s too proud to admit his attempts have been fleeting and too stubborn to change his mind. The problem for Kyle is that, despite supporting him unconditionally, he can’t help but sabotage him at the slightest opportunity.

“We’ll buy all the clothes you need, as many times as necessary,” the redhead stops in front of him, taking his face in his hands and sitting on his lap. “A little setback doesn’t mean you’ve failed, idiot,” he kisses his forehead, smiling softly against it when Cartman hugs his waist tightly despite muttering things that sound like “stupid, smug Jew” against his shoulder.

Kyle has always considered himself a good person; he is kind to others and, with few exceptions, quite patient. Even when he started noticing how others looked at Cartman when he decided to lose weight just for the pleasure of it. Even though he knows others would say what he’s doing is wrong, he knows he’s right in doing whatever it takes to keep Cartman by his side.

What did it matter if every now and then he made sure to give him two or three extra servings of food? Nothing that his gym work couldn’t balance out. What did it matter if he took advantage of his time in charge of the kitchen to prepare high-calorie meals to counteract the times Cartman reduced the number of meals he ate per day? He kept the fats and some seasonings to a minimum to maintain the benefits of whatever diet his partner was practicing at the time.

“Aren’t you going somewhere?” Kyle asks, separating enough to look him in the eyes, gently caressing his cheek.

What did it matter if Cartman knew exactly what he was doing and still let him get away with it, complaining about his weight gain as if he really cared? The important thing is that no one would dare try to steal him away.

“No, I just found something better to do,” the brunette replies, smiling amused, lifting Kyle in his arms and showing off the strength he’s gained after so much time in the gym.

Nothing else mattered, Kyle thinks, protesting being carried to the bedroom in this manner despite the laughter escaping his lips.

Nothing else worried him. After all, what he loved most about Cartman was the way the bastard saw the world, not how the world saw him. A little more or less weight wasn’t going to change that.