Wow. Hi there, pals. I haven't written in quite some time! It's kind of sad, but meh. I'm here! I actually have no clue what this will be about, even as I'm writing this. It might be crack, might be real. Might turn into a long term story, but who knows! When I write, I write, and even I don't know where that will take me.
It wasn't my fault he was dead.
It wasn't my fault he was dead.
It wasn't my fault he was dead.
Dammit, IT WASN'T MY FAULT.
Just because Kenny killed himself, doesn't mean it's my fault. Just because he wrote in his suicide note how he loved me, but I didn't love him back, doesn't make it MY fault. It's not my fault I didn't love him. He shouldn't have done it.
"Kyle, you know it's not your fault. You didn't know," Stan reassured, wrapping his hand around mine like a vine creeping up a fence.
"I know, but if it wasn't for me, he would still be here!" I cried.
Stan just wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in closer. It's been two days since we found out. Two days, and all I can do is cry.
I tried to get away from most of my friends since it happened, but today was the funeral. Today I had to face everyone who knew that it was my fault. Or, thought it was my fault.
"Listen. I love you, Kyle. So did Kenny, but if he really loved you, he wouldn't have done that. It's not your fault. I'm here for you, and I know you don't beleive it, but you couldn't have done anything to change his mind."
That is the reason I love Stan. How he always trys to make things better. Like a mother kissing her son's "booboo" to make it better. Someone to make all the pain go away. Stan does that for me. Just by being him.
I helped him tie his tie, and he helped me with mine, and we got into his beat up truck. A left, a right, straight for a mile, and then another left. The way to the cemetary and church were in my mind forever. We had been there so many times. The deaths of Chef, Ms. Choksondik, we grew up with peopel dying. But never like this.
Never someone this close.
Never Kenny.
Never a suicide.
This time seemed different. It wasn't just because he was such a good friend. It wasn't just because he had grown up with us, too. He had been with us through it all. No, it was way more different. Kenny had hated life so much. We weren't enough to keep him smiling. And he ended up blasting a bullet through his brain because of that. And that is why were here. Not just another teacher dying. Not just another family friend. But a friend that was like family.
Kenny Fucking McCormick. The blond haired bisexual pervert, who always got away with anything. The one we always loved no matter what he did. The one who would make crude, sexual jokes in a normal conversation. The one everyone loved being around.
He was dead.
He was laying there, only feet away from us, laying in a coffin. He was being buried into the ground, and we would never see him again.
Next to me was Stan, who sat by Butters, accompanied by Cartman. We were in the second row, which had been a special request by Mrs. McCormick. Even though Kenny had many friends, she knew we were the best. She knew how much we meant to Kenny, even though I'm the reason he's dead. She must think I'm a monster, but yet she lets us sit behind her like everything is fine, like it's just another funeral.
Butters goes up to the podium to make a speech. Butters and Kenny were so close, like brothers, or maybe even gay-lovers, but it wasn't like that. They just loved each-other in a playful way. Kenny loved to shock Butters with his sexual knowledge, and Butters loved the way Kenny made everything warm, happy, exciting. They just loved to be with each-other, even though they were only close friends.
And that is exactly what Butters talked about. How they had became friends. He even mentioned how they always would be friends, which made a tear fall from everyone's eyes. It also made me bury my head into Stan's shoulder, and try to be as silent as I could. My sobs were loud enough, I didn't want to disturb people.
After everyone was finished with their speeches- I couldn't bring myself to write one-, we all watched as people walked up and placed loved items atop the coffin. His parents left items from when he was a baby. A very daring Butters left the condom Kenny had given him long ago, joking about how that way, Butters will think of Kenny when he has his first time. How he was the one who gave them the protection.
Stan and I walked up to the casket and both placed our childhood hats atop it. My green ushanka, the one thing I always had with me while I grew up. Stan, his poof-ball hat which he never would have parted with unless I gave up mine, aswell.
We wanted Kenny to go to Heaven-or Hell- with items reminding him of the way life used to be. Before all we cared about was love, lust, sex, and being with whoever we wanted. Before Kenny liked me, but I liked Stan. Before any of that started. And those hats were the perfect reminder.
Stan starting tearing up as well once we walked back to our seats. When they lowered the coffin into the ground, we were both so upset that we literally had to hold each-other up. It was so much. This wasn't supposed to happen.
"It's over. Kenny's gone. We just have to deal with that," Stan told me as we were walking away from the grave-yard.
"I know, Stan. I just don't know if it's going to be easy," I confessed.
"Don't worry. I'm here for you, and I know you're there for me. We can make it through this."
Stan stoped, turned to face me, and his eyes told me everything he had said, and more. Like he knew that we would always be there for each-other.
And then, avoiding all the stares of parents, preists and younger siblings, I kissed him. More passionate then any of the kisses we had ever shared. Because suddenly, I thought that maybe everything would be alright.
So that wasn't so bad, was it? I'm pretty sure this is a one-shot, unless I'm begged to write more. :P Please review. :)
