[Kenny]
"We are all crazy."
Well that's what Kyle told Kenny after he showed up to his house, and Kenny didn't doubt it – Kyle was, after all, the most knowledgeable out of all four of them.
Sometimes Kenny would think back to the times from many years ago, when he was ten, back when he was shit poor and dying every few days. Life was absolutely shit, but it wasn't fucked up, not yet, not for him. However he insisted on making the worst life for himself, pushing everyone away and eventually leaving them – the only thing that got better was that Kenny escaped his parents and his room now had unbroken windows – so, needless to say, he was surprised when Kyle turned up to his doorstep that day, three months ago.
Kyle told Kenny that he was flicking through the old telephone book and he saw his name, mulling over visiting for a few days, but he eventually just decided to come and if Kenny stopped him entering then he would camp out the front until he came out.
Laughing, Kenny shuffled to the fridge and pulled out two beers – the only beverage that was present in the house, with the exception of a bottle of vodka when it could be afforded – and handed one to Kyle, sinking into the chair across from him. Any kind of alcohol was the best icebreaker - it lightened up the mood. Kenny had a feeling that Kyle wouldn't drink it – maybe a sip to be polite, but he wouldn't finish. Imagine his surprise when Kyle downed the bottle in a few gulps, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
Kenny raised an eyebrow but reached his hand out and toasted the air, taking a large swig.
"So why did you come?" Kenny's voice was hollow, foreign almost, making Kyle falter before he spoke again.
"It's been a long time, I wanted to catch up," he averted his eyes away from Kenny, looking instead at the peeling wallpaper, "and I know you do too, Kenny. No one wants to be so alone."
Kenny snorted, "Right… that must be why you just let me leave right? Why all of you just stood there when I left?"
"No, Ken. We were all going through our own problems then, well some of us," Kyle's head dropped down, "we were too focussed on ourselves to even process what was happening."
Kenny took another swig of the beer, but it had lost its appeal and he only did so to have something to do before he spoke. "Fuck Kyle, don't lie. I know that I pushed you away, I know that a part of you – a part of all of you – was glad to see me leave that day."
Kyle's silence answered any doubt that may have been present in Kenny's statement – not that there was any, he knew what he was doing back then. Now - he isn't too sure, he is just leading the life he has to, whether he wants to or not.
"Good thing I don't maintain grudges then," Kenny finished his beer, setting it down on the table and swiftly getting up. "Do you want another one?" he pointed towards the glass bottle on the table.
"Err, no – one was fine for me, thanks." There was relief in Kyle's eyes – not because of the offered beer, but because Kenny told him that he was okay with him, that they could be friends or at least, be civil acquaintances for now.
"So how is everyone?" Kenny slid into the same chair as before, cradling the new beer bottle.
"We are all crazy."
That earned a rolling of Kenny's eyes, "I never would have guessed Kyle, good observation."
"No, as in we are actually crazy, psychological problems and all."
"Oh." Kenny didn't know what else to say, so he covered it up by having a mouthful of beer, "wait, even Cartman? I know he was a fucking child and immature and all of that shit, but is there even anything psychological that explains what is wrong with that motherfucker?"
"Actually, yes," Kyle's eyes were sparkling as he continued, and the fact he must have pursued a career in psychology was blatant to Kenny, and he chuckled quietly glad that Kyle hadn't changed too much from the last time he had seen him.
"So," Kenny leaned forward, arms resting on his knees – still holding the trusty beer. "Wanna tell?"
"You haven't seen these guys in how many years and you want to know about all of them, their problems, and their issues?"
"You did bring up the subject, Kyle," and I haven't stopped thinking about you guys since I turned my back, you were right, no one wants to be alone – and you guys were the only guys that I had, Kenny added silently and automatically, he took another swig to shut the voice up.
"Why do you keep saying my name whenever you speak to me?" Kyle's tone wasn't accusing, just curious.
"Why? Do you like the way your name sounds when I say it?" Kenny batted his eyelashes, knowing it was a completely inappropriate time for a joke – especially this type – but he wanted to have fun, "I can scream it louder if you want, I'm sure the neighbours won't mind."
Kyle lightly slapped Kenny on the shoulder, "some things never change, eh Kenny?"
"I could say the same to you," he paused for a moment, picking at the lint balls that had collected on the chair, "I'm guessing you continued on with school and into university?"
"Huh?" Kyle had zoned out momentarily and it took him a few moments to process what Kenny had said, "Ye-Yeah, I did. I earned a scholarship to Denver University, but that was revoked, so now I go to South Park College, majoring in psychology."
"Congrats Kyle," Kenny slurred, proud of his friend's achievements but completely jealous that Kyle had done so much with his life, and he could barely hold onto a job, and the only one he could resulted in his own shame and depression. "No, I really mean it!" he asserted when he saw Kyle's look of disbelief, "it's just… I'm kind of jealous that you have done so much with your life."
"Why? What have you been doing with yours?" Kyle didn't believe that Kenny's life could be so horrible – he could afford a place away from home that had some of the necessities, he had windows and could afford food and alcohol, and he was away from his parents. He knew Kenny's life wasn't as grandiose as his own, but he was getting by, better than before at least.
"Holding onto a job for me is quite fucking hard; I never make it past the probationary period. The longest I have had a job was three weeks, and I don't even know why the fuck I got fired from that." Kenny could feel his mood dropping at the subject. He knew that soon enough he would have to sell himself to some horny cunt out by the border of the city just to pay for his rent, then several times more for the bills. He had received the call from his workplace just two days ago that he would have to come in for a 'talk.' Kenny knew what it was about, they thought he had stolen cigarettes, it wasn't a wrong assumption, but he would never admit it.
"Kenny… Kenny?" Kyle snapped his fingers in front of Kenny's face, bringing him back to the present, "dude, you okay?"
"Fine," Kenny toasted the air again and drank the remaining liquid in the bottle he was holding, sad that the lies had to begin already.
And that was the majority of Kyle's first visit; Kenny drank a few more beers despite Kyle's persistent nagging at him to stop. They talked about nothing, stupid things like the sport – how the Broncos sucked, Kenny mentioned NASCAR, but Kyle wasn't too into that.
Kyle continued coming over to Kenny's house for the next few months – unbeknownst to Cartman, and even Stan. That was the way that both of the boys wanted it, Kenny didn't want Stan to know, Stan was that one that he had hurt the most when he pushed everyone away, and Kyle was uneasy of letting Cartman to know because the way he would react was unpredictable.
Nothing too important was every exchanged by the two boys – Kenny kept his prostitution career in the dark where it would always be, and luckily Kyle never pried, nor said too much about his own life. However, Kenny had a goal – he wanted to know what was wrong with the other boys, Kyle included, he recognised the way that Kyle dodged his question, and he hoped to wear Kyle down eventually. Just as it was about to seem hopeless, Kyle broke.
He was slouched on the chair that Kenny usually took position in, and was downing his third beer of the evening. Kenny knew something must have happened during the time Kyle wasn't over at his house, because the amount he was drinking was uncharacteristic.
"I know I shouldn't say this - but Ken," Kyle hiccupped, "I know you still care about us as much as you did then, even if you pretended you didn't. We were the only ones you had, and that kind of friendship doesn't just disappear, does it Ken?"
Kyle always called Kenny Ken when he had drunk too much, but there was truth in his words, and Kenny nodded at the younger one, prompting him to continue.
"Stan – I don't know where to start with him. He was always so put together when we were younger, sometimes he needed some pushing and prodding and someone to be there for him – but he was always okay, you know?" Kenny nodded to Kyle, "I don't know what set him off, it was a few months after you left. His parents apparently started getting very protective, they would overreact at the smallest thing, Stan would have to report what he was doing every hour when he was out, and if he didn't then he was viewed as some juvenile or some shit. Eventually Stan just couldn't take it, he had repeatedly yelled at his parents to leave him alone, he was sixteen now after all – he had more freedom when he was ten. They never listened, so Stan ran away, he came to my house in a panic, telling me that he had to get away from here – it was crushing him, he didn't know how to be himself. If I didn't know better I would've thought he was tripping. I don't know where he went; no one does, well except for him. But he came back a few days later, his parents backed off a bit, and everything seemed to go back to normal, well as normal as it could be at that point in time. Then Stan started getting… weird. He would forget things and not know what he had done previously, there were times when he was with us, we were playing or having a sleepover, and by the next day, he wouldn't remember it at all. He would get confused about who he is, eventually we talked him into getting some help – it was messing with his ability to cope and do work.
Stan got diagnosed with dissociative amnesia, he's been taking probationary meds for a few years now, and he seems fine – almost no signs or symptoms, he recalls pretty much everything and doesn't have any episodes anymore, which I'm really thankful for."
Kenny was stunned into silence after Kyle had finished speaking. He wished that he hadn't have left, he wished that he was there for Stan, even though there wasn't much he could have done.
"I think he missed you Ken." Kyle interrupted Kenny's thoughts and the silence that had grown around them.
Kenny shook his head, denying the statement, his eyes glazing over with what Kyle recognised as regret. "The shit I did to him, there is no way he could forgive me for that, – I saw the hate in his eyes when I left."
"Yeah, he hated you for a while – I won't deny that, but he does miss you, I'm sure of it."
"He's better off without me," Before Kenny could continue, Kyle's cell buzzed and he flipped it open, answering the call.
"What fat ass?" Kyle spoke with decidedly less animosity to Cartman than what he would have held many years ago, and listened rather tranquilly.
"A movie? Sure," Kyle felt heat creeping into his cheeks, and tried to hide it, but realised he could just blame it on the beer he had been drinking, "yeah, fine. Bye dickwad."
Kenny raised an eyebrow as Kyle turned around, and Kyle just shrugged, "I've got to go Ken."
"I guess I'll have to hear about Cartman next time then. Right Kyle?" Kenny reinforced his last two words so Kyle knew that there was no way he was getting out of explaining Cartman's problems.
Kyle sighed, "There isn't much of a point keeping it from you now that you know about Stan, but I really have to go now."
"Oh, on your date with Ewic?" Kenny fluttered his eyes, and pouted as he used Cartman's name.
"No, there is just a movie that looks good that no one else wants to see," despite his excuse, Kyle punched Kenny playfully in the shoulder.
"Of course there is Kyle, of course," Kenny was sarcastic as he nursed his shoulder and walked to the door, opening it for Kyle. "Thanks, dude."
"For what?" Kyle was puzzled at the sudden thanking, he hadn't been thanked before, and he didn't know why he was being thanked.
"Just for coming, just for showing up that day. You were right."
Kyle didn't need to ask about exactly what he was right about, so he just smiled and patted Kenny on the back, "it's okay buddy."
Kenny struggled with the next question as Kyle turned to leave, "hey Kyle…" it was a whisper, and part of Kenny hoped that Kyle hadn't heard.
When Kyle turned his head around he saw Kenny's expression and cocked his head at it, "what is it Ken?"
"I know you have to go, but I have one last quick question." Kenny bit his lip, pausing for a few moments, "what – no. How is Butters?"
"Oh, Ken." Kyle looked at the floor; it was his time to bite his lip nervously, not knowing how to say what he had to say next, "did no one really tell you?" when he looked up his brow was furrowed and his lip trembled, he didn't want to be the one to break the news to Kenny, anyone but Kenny.
"What?" Kenny struggled to keep his voice monotonous, but the sharp increase of sound at the end of the word suggested he had guessed what was coming, "Kyle, tell me."
Kyle heard the desperate plea in Kenny's voice, and he knew that he couldn't stall it much longer. "Kenny, Butters – he, he died Ken, about four years ago."
Kyle placed a hand on the elders back, comforting him, Cartman didn't matter as much now, he had just broken completely heartbreaking news to Kenny, and he didn't want to leave him like that.
"Kyle, it's okay, really," Kenny was surprised that his voice stayed level, "you have to go to Cartman, plus Butters was years ago, I'm over him now, and yes – his death is sad to me, but I can cope with it. I promise," there he went with the lying again - he wanted so much to tell Kyle that he didn't want to be alone tonight, or even for the remainder of today. He wanted to say how much he regretted not being able to say sorry to Butters for breaking his heart, but all he did was smile and shut the door with a sinking feeling in his heart.
Kenny doesn't cry – it isn't that he won't let himself, it's the fact that he just doesn't. He hadn't in a long time, not since he had last seen his parents and said goodbye to his little sister, and that was over six years ago. Instead, Kenny gets his feelings out in other ways. He breaks things, smashes things, smokes, drinks, gets high, but he doesn't cry.
Never.
However, he still found himself on the floor among the shards of glass from the mirror he had just smashed, with a stray tear running down his face. He wiped it away violently, subsequently scratching his face with a sliver of glass stuck to his finger, he barely noticed, only realising when he felt warmth creep down his face.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed himself against a wall, trying to clear his thoughts and think rationally. All he could think about was that he was an absolute fuck for leaving Butters, especially in the way that he did, without a proper goodbye, just "I don't want to be with you Butters."
Even the way he said it was disgusting, "fuck, Kenny you fucking bastard," Kenny cursed at himself aloud. He missed Butters, and ever since he left he had felt a tremendous guilt, the face of the disappointed and broken Butters haunted his dreams for many months after he had broken it off with Butters.
"Fuck this," Kenny slammed his fist into the wall, causing his arm to scream pain, but he ignored it and stood up, glancing at the window in his bedroom – visible through the open door to the lounge room – and noted that he must have sat on the ground for a long time, as the moon was almost in the middle of the sky. He headed towards the door, but all of a sudden, noises started creeping up the stairs outside of his apartment, and he stopped in his tracks. Kenny was no stranger to foreign noises, but the reason he stopped was because the steps the other person took were familiar, and there was a less familiar set of footsteps, but they weren't as foreign as it should be.
Kenny had no time to process who may have been making the noises because all of a sudden they stopped at the front of his door and started banging on it, "Kenny! It's Kyle, open the door please."
Kenny inwardly swore, and tiptoed to the window in his bedroom, planning to jump out, even though he lived on the second floor.
"KENNY, I know you're in there!" Kyle shouted and smashed the door harder with his fists,
Kenny breathed silently, opening the window and glad that Kyle hadn't tried the handle because Kenny hadn't been bothered to lock the door after Kyle left. He peeked over the windowsill and he didn't think it would be too far to fall, so he eased his way into the windowsill.
"Keeeny," Cartman's whiny voice made it through the door and Kenny silently groaned, out of all people, Kyle had to bring along Cartman. "Look, Kenny, I just wanted to see you, Kyle mentioned you and well, I probed, and you know what Kyle is like." Cartman paused for a second and Kenny would have sworn that he was giggling, but he knew better – Cartman didn't giggle, but he didn't cry, so he guessed many unusual things were happening this night – "But that isn't the point, Kyle was worried sick, he didn't want to leave you after he told you about Butters, we all knew what he meant to you."
Kenny could barely believe his ears, Cartman being heartfelt, even giggling at one point. Either the world was ending or he was high. Kenny jumped off the windowsill and landed with a loud thump on top of a dumpster, only this dumpster was full of green waste, as in branches of trees and grass.
Well, I must say this is handy to have just below my room, Kenny thought, brushing himself down and simultaneously looking up at his apartment, noticing his light was on, that must mean Kyle finally decided to try the handle. What a dipshit, always try the handle first.
Kenny took one last look back, hoping they wouldn't find his weed stash, and walked away, not really knowing where he was going, but he didn't care much either, Butters' face was still haunting his vision.