A/N: Okay, first try at a SP story, so give me some slack :) I have a really good idea for what I want to do with this, so it'd be great if you guys could give me some advice, anything will do.

I know this chapter is on the short side, but it's kind of like an introductory, to show you the mood of the story, so the others will be longer.

Enjoy :)

Oh, and this is all in Stan's POV

It was raining. I never could stand the rain. It made the ground turn to mush and flushed every worm from the ground, forcing them to lie like thick, sticky snakes across every stretch of pavement. It was quite unfortunate for me, therefore, that Kenny loved the rain. He could dance around in it for hours like some child, his face turned heavenward, eyes tightly shut while his mouth hung ajar, trying to drink up the raging storm. It was magnificent to watch, really. His bright clothes stood out like a diamond among coal against the dull shades of gray that covered a stormy day. His laughter mingled in a strange, yet impossibly natural harmony with the splattering rain and crackling thunder. He looked so utterly poetic that it made me wish I knew how to write beautiful sonnets, just to convey the sheer majesty of these rare moments in time. So, instead of ruining his perfect landscape of ineffable aesthetics, I found myself content with watching from my porch stoop.

"You ready to go in?" He asked as he ran up to the porch, his blond hair soaking wet and dripping spiraling rain drops down his angled cheek bones. I nodded and stood up, telling him to wait for me to come back with a towel. My mom would freak if he tried to come into the house so drenched.

He dried his hair off and removed his jacket and shirt so he could ring them out. I sat down on the decrepit porch swing to wait and he joined me a few minutes later, making it creak in disapproval. It was sure to give way and send us crashing to the floor one of these days. I glanced over at his shirtless frame, his entire body emitting an intense glow that only a nostalgic episode, such as running up and down the street in the rain, can extract from you.

"You're still a fuckin' kid in there, aren't you?" I shoved his shoulder roughly, making the swing sway slowly and groan like a dying frog. He replied with his usual crooked smile. Brevity of silence passed between us, neither having anything important to say. That's the way it always seemed with Kenny- if you didn't have anything truly relevant to talk about then there was no point in opening your mouth.

I stared straight ahead for a while, letting my thoughts wander to a particular stretch of road where Kyle and I had fallen down and scrapped our knees pretty bad on our first attempts at riding bikes sans training wheels. I remember because they were expensive, neither of our parents could afford them, so we saved up our own money. We had fought over who should get the red one at the store, until Kyle decided it'd be a sweet idea to get matching ones. He was always doing things like that, settling our stupid disputes with his never failing solutions.

I was brought out of my own episode of nostalgia as Kenny shifted, making the porch swing move again. I glanced at him to find him looking far into the distance, much as I had been doing. His face held many distinct lines of worry, though. I could trace it easily in the hard crease between his eyebrows and the deep impression in his slight, unconscious, frown.

"What's wrong, dude." I nearly whispered, the words slipped so quickly from my mouth.

It must have been sufficient enough to break his line of thought, though, for he slowly turned to me.

"I just love the rain," he replied after a short pause. After seeing the disbelief in my face he smiled, but it held a distinct, melancholy air to it. "Always have."

"I know you love the rain. Hell, you drag me outside every time they even mention it on the weather," I replied slightly louder this time. "And you've never acted like this because of it." He was usually much giddier and slightly more talkative.
He sighed loudly and placed his head in his hands. He rested like that for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before shifting his head to look into my eyes.

"Do you ever feel rushed?"

"Rushed?" I repeated incredulously. "Yeah. I mean, sometimes I sleep past my alarm and-"

He shook his head, effectively silencing me.

"Not that kind of rushed. A more desperate kind." He looked away from me to stare out at the road again. "A kind that keeps you up all night, wondering what's trying to speed your life up. A kind that makes you glance over your shoulder constantly, always second guessing if this is how you should really be spending your precious time."

"Can't say I have, man." I shook my head as Kenny closed his eyes again.

"I didn't think so."

"What do you mean, Ken? What's going on?" I asked, growing uncomfortable from his increasingly somber aura.

"Let's go inside," he suggested suddenly as he stood up. "It's cold out here."

"No way!" I stood quickly and blocked his path to the door. "Tell me what's wrong."

He looked away, letting his gaze wander to the abandoned street again. "Okay," he nearly whispered. "But not here, let's go inside."

I nodded and stepped aside to follow him in.

"Hello Kenny!" My mother called, leaning backward from her place at the kitchen sink so she could see us. "Thanks for being a dear and drying off on the porch!"

"No problem Mrs. Marsh." Kenny flashed a charming smile, one that only I could detect the pain in.

"So, what are you boys up to today?" She inquired as she walked up to us, throwing her dish towel casually over her shoulder. Only my mother could make cleaning look casual.

"We were just going to go up to my room to play some video games." I replied, shifting anxiously.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste until a crack of thunder reminded her of the weather outside. "Well, I guess it's okay if you play for a while today, since it's storming."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay mom."

"I'll have lunch ready in a bit," she started as we made our way up the stairs. "I'll call you down when it's done."

"Kay, thanks!" Kenny called before we stepped into my room and closed the door.

Kenny crossed my room and sat down on the edge of my bed, throwing his wet outfit into my clothes hamper.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest to ward off the cold.

"Yeah, sure." I sifted through my top drawer and pulled out a plain blue shirt. I tossed it to him and took the spot on my bed to his right.

He pulled it over his head and ran a hand through his dirty blond hair, staring distractedly at the carpeted floor. I knew he was looking for the right thing to say so I sat quietly, not wanting to push him. It took a few minutes, but he finally broke the silence.

"You know how I die all the time, right?"

"Yeah dude. You've done it since we were kids." I replied.

"Well lately it's been... different." He continued, a stygian look taking over his features.

"Different? How?" I asked, eyebrow arching in confusion.

He didn't say anything, simply bent down to roll up his left pant leg. Underneath there was a set of horrible scars, spider webbing all down his shin. I breathed in sharply as he winced.

"What the hell, man?"

"You remember the last time I died?" He inquired.

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his leg. "You got caught in that electric fence."

"My leg got caught in that electric fence. I tore it up pretty bad trying to get out."

"But," I glanced desperately up at him. "You don't usually come back with scars, do you?" My voice was taking on a tone of alarm as something awful began to creep around the edges of my consciousness.

"No. I don't."

"What does this mean?" We stared at each other for a long time. He didn't have any plausible answer to give me. Or he didn't want to relay the only plausible one.

"I don't know. But it can't be good." He placed his head in his hands before continuing. "I've been having this awful feeling lately, wherever I go, and no matter what I do, it's always in the pit of my stomach. I don't know what it is," he looked at me and his grey eyes had turned to liquid, swimming like pools of metal. "But it's not good. For any of us."

"You mean-?"

"Yes, all four of us." He emphasized, giving me a cold look as his eyes hardened from soft liquid to steel.

"There isn't 'the four of us' anymore, Ken." I stated my voice thick with a barely suppressed anger.

"It's always been the four of us," he declared, looking away from me. "Nothing you can do will change that."

"I haven't done anything to change it," I scoffed. "Kyle has."

Kenny swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. "It doesn't do any good for you two to keep blaming each other. Neither of you did anything wrong."

"Try telling him that." I snapped, crossing my arms defiantly over my chest.
He stood up then and grabbed his damp clothes out of my hamper.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving. If all you're going to do is talk bad about Kyle again then I'm bailing." He turned to look at me again, jaw set in a hard line.

Our eyes locked in a silent starring match until I blinked, looked away, and sighed.

"Okay, I won't talk about it," I paused and I know my face fell into a pitiful look of desperation. "Just sit down, man."

He jerked his head stiffly, but his jaw softened slightly. I stood up and gripped his shoulders tightly.

"You can't come here, drop something like that on me, and leave," he looked me straight in the eyes and his steel gray softened and liquefied again. "You're my best friend, dude. I don't want to lose you."

A small smile tugged lightly at the corners of his mouth and I pulled him in for a quick one armed hug. He followed me back to the bed then and sat down. We didn't speak to each other the rest of the night, but we didn't have to. That was one of the good things about being best friends with Kenny. The only bad thing was that he wasn't Kyle.

It'd be really great if you'd review, especially if you liked it cause then I'll most likely get the next chap out quicker! Thanks