Before you read, I just want to point out that this story takes place in middle school, maybe 7th or 8th grade rather than in high school or otherwise. Also, ignore the fact that most of this doesn't make any sense because I haven't had any sleep and I literally just wrote this and haven't gone back to read through it yet so there's probably a shit ton of errors. But I don't really care sdkjfgslf make of it what you will.
Also, I started out thinking this was going to have a COMPLETELY different plot revolving around Kenny's deaths, but this one just kind of happened, so yeah, yay for spontaneous writing. I completely intend on coming back and fixing this up later on, elaborating plot points and grammar blah blah, but ha when do I ever actually do that? D;
Where should I actually even start… Uh, I guess hi. My name is Craig Tucker. And I'm not sure why I have to write all this down, but I'm going to tell you – whoever "you" are – how I got here. It's Kenny McCormick's fault.
I'd been curious about him, a little. He was always so rowdy with his friends – even when he was with strangers. When he was alone though, he was quiet. He almost seemed kind of sad, maybe.
I only know that because, I admit, I was extremely creepy and I watched him for a while. I think he knew, too, which I think is why he even approached me at all.
See, while he was the obnoxious talkative type, I tried keeping more to myself. I didn't care to get involved with other people. Other people weren't trustworthy. Other people always let you down.
Not that I didn't have friends. No, Clyde and Token played that roll. I'm just saying that I never really let them in. I had a wall. A really high, really fucking think wall that I didn't even realize I had at the time.
I'm getting off track now – Kenny, right. I think he knew I was watching him because one day after school, he asked if I could walk him home.
"Hey, Craig, wait up!" Kenny called, waiving a hand as he jogged to catch up.
A bit confused, Craig stopped and turned. "Why?" he asked. Why the hell would Kenny talk to him? They weren't friends, they never even really talked.
Kenny smiled that simple smile he always wore; charming, wide, not-quite-honest. "I was wondering if you'd walk home with me."
Craig was surprised, but he wasn't one to let things like that show. "Why?" he asked again. There was absolutely no reason for that.
Kenny pursed his lips as he seemed to think about it. "I just want some company, that's all," he said. "You don't have to think so hard about it; just answer yes or no."
Craig gave it a few more moment's thought before responding. Craig wasn't much of a spontaneous decision maker, but what was the worst that could happen? "Okay."
"Awesome!" Kenny said, smiling a little wider. That one seemed a little more real. He started out the door after that, expecting Craig to follow.
Truthfully, Craig thought about turning the other direction and forgetting that Kenny even ever asked to be walked home. But he didn't. Something – curiosity, most likely – made him follow Kenny.
They walked in silence for a while. Craig lagged a little behind, not feeling comfortable enough to walk directly beside Kenny. No, no, he was just fine walking behind him.
Kenny stopped though, after a while, when they reached a set of train tracks. He looked both ways, a little nervously, and Craig was again stumped. They would hear a train coming; why did Kenny stop?
"Um," Kenny started, looking toward Craig. "Will you hold my hand?" he asked.
Craig stared at the offered hand like it was some kind of joke. "Are you kidding?" he asked. He looked back up, and Kenny was smiling again.
"Please?" Kenny asked, pushing his hand a little closer to Craig. "I don't want to get hit, keep me safe."
Craig rolled his eyes. "That's a bullshit excuse, if I ever heard one," he said dryly.
He took his hand out of his pocket and placed it in Kenny's open palm.
It was a bit rougher than Craig would have imagined – not that Craig imagined what Kenny would feel like, but Kenny's skin wasn't as smooth as a normal hand should be. It almost felt like… scar tissue.
Kenny gripped Craig's hand tightly and started across the tracks, humming happily. He didn't let go, even after they were across the tracks, and Craig didn't question it. The day was weird enough without questioning someone like Kenny's reasoning.
After dropping Kenny off at his house with a bit of an awkward good bye, Craig started walking back toward his own house, clear on the other side of town.
So after that, somehow, it became a regular thing. After about a week, he stopped asking and I just walked with him because I wanted to. It was normal. Every day he made me hold his hand so he could safely cross the tracks, and every day I rolled my eyes, wondering when he'd give that shit up.
We never talked outside of the occasional small exchange on the walk home. Not during school hours, not on the weekends, never except the walk back to his house.
He tried getting me to talk, but what can I say, I wasn't big on conversation. He'd talk about his friends or what he had for lunch, or even sometimes he'd make bad jokes.
Once he got be to laugh. I don't remember what he said, but for whatever reason it was really, really funny, and he got a little chuckle out of me, whatever. It seemed to make him happy, though. Like he accomplished something.
Sometime after that, he ended up getting me to hold his hand the whole way home. I knew it was dumb, there was no fucking reason I should have done it, but he made me want to. It didn't take a lot of convincing, and I still don't know why, but he asked one day and it just stuck.
It started to make me feel weird. Every day, we'd walk home together. Alone. Holding hands. And it started to mess with my head.
It made me wonder why I'd never questioned it before, and why I still didn't want to question it. But that weird feeling died off pretty quickly when I started seeing him with girls.
It had been about a month and a half since Kenny first asked Craig to walk home with him. Kenny didn't seem affected by it at all, other than the occasional genuine smile or two. Then again, Craig didn't seem affected by it either, but he very much was.
He started looking forward to walking home with Kenny every day. It made his gut feel warm to know he'd be walking home with Kenny. It made him stare at the clock and gnaw on his lip until that final bell rang every day, his foot dancing subtly against the tiles under his desk.
He found himself strangely disappointed when he exited his classroom one Friday to see Kenny talking animatedly with some girl. Kenny was smiling, and he had that look.
When he spotted Craig, he told the girl good bye and the two of them walked home together, just like always, holding hands.
By Monday, Craig had forgotten that strange sinking in his stomach, but it came back when he saw Kenny talking to another girl. How had he never noticed Kenny talking to so many girls?
Craig noticed it a lot after that. Every couple of days, Kenny was talking to a new girl. It frustrated him, and it frustrated him even further because he didn't know why he was even frustrated to begin with.
"You sure talk to a lot of girls," he said one day, after a particularly long, silent walk. He didn't mean to voice it, but he'd been thinking it, and there was no way to take it back, so he just waited for Kenny to answer him.
"Uh, yeah, ahaha," Kenny said, rubbing at the back of his head with his free hand. "It's really no big deal."
"How many girlfriends have you had?" Craig asked. It came out on it's own, and Craig didn't even know he was curious until he asked.
Kenny bit the side of his lip as he thought about it, seeming to count in his head. "One," he finally decided.
That surprised Craig, confused him. "One?" he asked.
"Fourth grade, her name was Tammy," Kenny said. A sort of nostalgic look overcame Kenny's features, but he was brought back by Craig's next question.
"Then what are all those other girls?"
Kenny gave a sore laugh and looked straight ahead as he said, "No one wants to date the poor kid, Craig. Just because I talk to girls, doesn't mean I've been with them."
"Oh," was the only thing Craig could think to say. They were at Kenny's house anyway, there wasn't anything to say.
They stopped, but they didn't let go of either other's hands right away like they normally would have. Kenny turned toward Craig, standing just a little too close, and opened his mouth like he had something to say. After a few seconds, he ended up saying, "See you tomorrow, Craig," before letting go and going inside.
I talked more after that. It wasn't much, but it was the first time I'd really held conversation with him that was more than one-word responses on my part.
It made that feeling in my gut get worse, though. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't want to know. They say ignorance is bliss, and they're right. I dare to say I was happy like that, walking home with Kenny every day. It was nice, he was nice. Really nice. I liked it.
That's when I started to get scared. I questioned myself and looked too far into what was happening, and I realized what I was doing. I was slowly falling for him, and that wasn't okay. No, no, no, I wasn't gay, I wasn't anything, I didn't like him, and I was only walking with him because he wanted me to.
The more I told myself that, the more I started to believe it.
The more it hurt.
I started to notice little things about him that were cute. I watched him just so I could see that face of his. I smiled more. I laughed at all his stupid jokes.
I started to panic when I realized there was no turning back. I liked him, a lot, and I didn't know if he wanted me back. I didn't want him to want me back. It was bad, terrible, and I had to remove myself from the situation.
I stopped walking home with him. I didn't tell him why, I just stopped. I thought it was for the best.
They walked home together again, another Friday afternoon. It was starting to get warm by now, but they held hands anyway, despite the heat.
When they got to Kenny's house, Kenny waited a second before going inside. He turned to Craig, and Craig's eyes instantly fell on his lips. They'd been doing that a lot lately.
He quickly snapped his eyes back up when he heard Kenny start to talk. "Do you want to, um, come inside?" he asked. "We could hang out or something, you could stay the night…"
Craig wanted nothing more than to say yes. All of the scenarios played through his head of things they could do together, every possibility playing out just the way he wanted.
He shook his head. "Sorry, I can't," he said quietly, turning his eyes away from Kenny's. He let his hand slide from Kenny's grip and waited for Kenny to leave him.
He wasn't sure what he expected, but Kenny actually turning and going inside without another word was not it.
Craig knew it was bad. He knew he didn't really want anything. He knew it wasn't a good idea. He knew he should know better. He knew, so he skipped school the next day, claiming to have a fever.
He didn't want to see Kenny, he couldn't.
What if Kenny wanted him back?
What if Kenny didn't want him back?
It was best to avoid the situation entirely.
He started leaving out the back of the school instead of the front, so Kenny wouldn't find him. It was a brilliant plan; they'd never exchanged phone numbers, and there was no way Kenny would suspect the back door instead of the front door.
What Craig didn't expect, though, was the hurt looks. Across the cafeteria, passing each other in the hallways, wherever they unfortunately happened to meet eyes. Kenny looked sad, confused, maybe even angry, but Craig never stuck around long enough to figure out what was wrong.
One afternoon, after nearly two weeks of avoidance, Kenny caught Craig at the back door. And by "caught," I mean that literally.
He grabbed Craig my the sleeve and held him in place. "Why?" was all he asked.
Craig refused to look at him, the hand on his arm already making him more uncomfortable than he cared to feel. "Because I can't," he said.
"Can't what?" Kenny demanded. He was definitely hurt.
Craig just shook his head and jerked his arm from Kenny's grip.
And then he ran.
He shoved his way out the back doors of the school and didn't stop until he couldn't see anymore. He was pretty sure he heard Kenny running after him, but his adrenaline and his fear pushed his legs to just go faster.
He didn't go home.
And that's where I am now. I'd like to say I came to my senses and went home. I'd like to say I forgot the whole thing.
But here I am, sitting in the dark under a tree in the woods, writing all this bullshit out in my Math notebook.
I'm still afraid, and I only admit that because I fully expect to burn this book when I go home.
When I… go… home…
I don't want to go home. I've been out here in these fucking woods for three days. I'm hungry and I'm sore from sleeping on the ground, but I don't want to go home.
There's too many "what if's" if I go home.
What if I have to see Kenny again?
What if I have to talk to Kenny?
What if he finds out?
What if he already knows?
What if something happens?
What if he likes me too?
What if my mom finds out I like some guy?
No, I can't let that happen. I don't like Kenny and he doesn't miss me and my mom doesn't have to know. She's probably worried, though. My phone died before the first night was over so she has no idea where I am.
Maybe I should just stay out here. Carve a little cubby out of a tree like that kid in that one book and live out here and survive on wild animals.
No, that's stupid. Someone will find me eventually. It's not like these woods are too far out from town. Besides, it should be Monday again by now, that means I skipped school.
Oops.
"Craig?"
Craig slams his notebook shut at the call of his name. He looks around, hiding behind his tree to find the source of the voice. He already knows who it is, though. Why does it have to be Kenny?
"There you are," Kenny says, seeing Craig's back as the other leans to look around the tree.
Craig jumps at how close Kenny sounds and spins to see him standing there. "Uh, hey…" he says, sliding his notebook under his butt so that hopefully Kenny won't notice it.
"What the actual fuck are you doing out here? I don't care that you've bee ignoring me, if that's what you want to do, but you can't run away from everyone else too." He looks worried, disappointed, but also relieved that he's found Craig alive and in one piece.
Craig bites the inside of his cheek, wanting to deny that he was ignoring Kenny, that sounds harsh. But that's what he was doing. He doesn't say anything.
"What are you doing out here?" Kenny asks again. He sits on the ground a few feet away from Craig, not wanting to get too close. Craig obviously isn't too keen on hanging around with him anymore.
"I don't know," Craig says. It's kind of the truth. It's not like he thought he'd never be found, so what was the point in running away at all?
Kenny sighs and doesn't ask again. "Are you hungry?" he asks instead. He pulls his back pack off his back and pulls out a saran-wrapped sandwich.
Craig hesitates before nodding and taking the food. He might not know a lot about Kenny, but he knows enough to know that Kenny isn't the one that should be handing food out.
He opens the sandwich and it's a single piece of bologna without any other toppings between two pieces of white bread. He eats it anyway, even though he doesn't like bologna.
After a few long minutes of silent chewing, Kenny finally speaks again. "Why did you stop walking me home?" he asks. It's quiet, like he doesn't want to know the answer.
Craig thinks about if for a few minutes, and Kenny waits without saying anything else. "I didn't want to see you anymore," he finally says.
Kenny cringes, but presses on. "Why?"
Craig feels bad, but he can't say it. Kenny thinks he hates him, and that's about as far from the truth as it can get. "It's not because I don't like you," he says, staring at his last bite of bologna sandwich.
"Then why…?" Kenny starts, but he sees the way Craig is fidgeting with his hands. Oh.
He tentatively sets his back pack aside and gets to his hands and knees. Craig looks up to see Kenny crawling closer, but he doesn't say anything. He's not sure what to do anymore, so he just sits there.
His eyes widen with surprise when Kenny kisses him. He's not sure how he didn't see that coming, but he didn't and now he's frozen. His heart is beating fast and his skin feels hot. That feeling in his stomach is worse than it's ever been and it almost feels like he's going to get sick.
"Sorry…" Kenny says slowly, pulling back. Craig hadn't kissed him back, so that must not have been what he wanted.
"No," Craig says, dropping the last bit of sandwich in favor of pulling Kenny back toward himself. He falls back against the tree trunk with the force of his own tug, but he doesn't care because Kenny is kissing him again.
It's awkward, and it's pretty obvious that neither one of them has a lot of experience, but then again, neither of them could possibly give less shits.
Craig still feels that nagging "bad, bad, bad" feeling in the back of his mind, but he can't bring himself to care when Kenny is actually right there, with him, sharing his feelings.
By the time they stop, they're both breathless and kiss-swollen. Craig stares and Kenny and Kenny stares at Craig. After a while, Craig laughs.
All that trouble, all that time, all that hesitation, all that fear, and it was this easy. He knows it won't be this easy if other people find out, but when it's just the two of them…
"So do you want to come over tonight?" Kenny asks. "We could play playstation; I'll kick your ass at Tony Hawk."
Craig smiles, and it's the first time he can remember smiling in a long time. "Yeah, sure."
He lets Kenny take his hand and they make their way back to Kenny's house for a night that's sure to be filled with video games and more kisses.
And Craig is happy.
This has been an ending.