AN:

I wrote this on the twelve hour drive from my hometown to Ashville, North Carolina on my way to Hilton Head, South Carolina. We still have four hours to drive tomorrow. The big bad period monster is rearing its ugly head and I'm cramping. :C Not a happy camper. But it's not too bad. I'm tired. XD So, here you go. KSquared.

"I'm leaving."

Eighteen year old Kenny McCormick looked up from his magazine at the sudden appearance of his old friend. The blond was minding his own business on a boring summer afternoon, flipping through an old Playboy magazine. His sky blue eyes had grazed the skimpy-clad ladies time after time that their bouncy breasts no longer stirred movement in his jeans, but offered faux entertainment on a day where there was nothing to do. The 'legendary four', including Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and yours truly had broken up their group about four years ago when Stan decided Wendy came first place in his life. Even after the countless breakups they experienced, Stan was still under her spell. She forced him to commit, which meant his friends were dropped. He tried to make things worth while still giving Wendy all the attention she required, but his visits with the guys gradually waned. Kyle and Kenny wanted to think she'd dump him and he'd come to his senses, but Cartman saw the truth they refused to acknowledged. Before long, the fat ass focused completely on his football and student council president, using his power for the worst. He wasn't a president, so much as an evil dictator, and the occasional malicious look that flashed in his eye as a child became permanent.

So, without the two main characters to glue them together, the redhead and blond unwillingly broke apart, as well. Kyle got in with the artists, much to his mother's dismay, and the math team, to please her. Without any better influence to sway him, Kenny pegged himself where it was easiest—the Goth druggies. They seemed to accept him because of his random encounters with death, finding it somehow 'inspiringly dark and nonconformist'. Over the span of two years, they tried to engulf him completely by pressing black hair dye and ear piercings at him, but he refused. He enjoyed not looking like a complete fag, thanks. Before long, they booted him out, marking him too conformist to be with them. Even still, being with them for so long made him used to cigarettes and alcohol. He would steal the goods from his drunken father when he wasn't paying attention, easily growing an addiction to the stuff. He became a loner, rarely even getting a girlfriend. He would often have quick lays with Raisins girls, but never wanted a commitment. He went down the general tubes, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, no matter how much Mr. Mackey tried to convince him otherwise. It didn't matter how much he fucked himself up, he would never receive the consequences. His grades turned to shit, okay, he could never get into college, but why should he, anyway? He was perfectly content with his job at the local auto body shop and didn't have advancing plans for the future, anyway. His body was somewhat alive, but his heart was dead. It died long ago, for it had no reason to live.

Now here stands a blast from the past, his old friend Kyle Broflovski in his bedroom doorway, face beet red. Kenny's room was a mess, but either Kyle didn't notice or he didn't care. His chest heaved, which gave evidence that he ran the entire distance to the blonde's far-off trash home specifically to see him. That was weird. Even when the four were friends, they hated going to Kenny's house. It was dirty, had no food, and always stank of stale cigarettes, yet Kyle, again, seemed not to care.

"Excuse me?" Kenny spoke up, lowering his boring magazine.

"I said, I'm leaving!" The redhead growled, scratching his fingernails into the dirty doorframe. "I can't stand my family anymore and I want you to ruin me. Drive me far away from here."

Kenny stared at him hard and stood, an eyebrow raised. He walked closer and grabbed the curly orange head, tilting it back so the taller blond could examine him. His eyes seemed normal, not blood-shot or dilated with signs of drugs. His breath smelled normal without the smallest hint of alcohol. "Dude, are you feeling okay?" Maybe Kyle's brain stem had finally snapped from the pressure of having a fat bitch as a mother. Stan was usually always the one to think things through while Kyle broke into uncensored rage, but he never decided anything as tremendous as running away.

"I'm fucking fine!" He hissed, slapping the tan hands away. "I came to you because I knew you wouldn't give a damn about my reasons. I have money and I can pay for the gas, food, and lodgings, please just drive me out of this god damned town!" Kenny stepped back in surprise, eyes widened slightly at his outburst. He was used to seeing the fiery redhead rage, but it was always directed at Stan or Cartman, never him. Kenny always blended in the back. The only time the focus was on him was when he died for real. Well, for a month or two. He got caught up in Hell at the time, having a little mini-fling with Damien. That eventually came crashing down and he was sent back to Earth.

Kenny huffed and shrugged. "Kay, guess I can't turn that offer down. One second." He held up a vague index finger and turned, grabbing his ratty school bag. He dumped the books and papers on his bed and filled it with his few favorite garments, along with the savings he had been building from work. He shoved his PSP inside and grabbed his car keys, flinging the bag over his shoulder. After all, he had nothing significant to bring along. He was the poor kid. He had nothing.

"All right," The blond hummed, taking one last glance around the room. He grabbed the burnt orange and pillow off his bed, shoving the bundle into Kyle's arms. "My car only knows burning heat and freezing air conditioning. I haven't fixed the systems yet, so you might want that." Kyle nodded, having seemed to calm down enough to understand what was said to him. He followed his orange-clad friend through his house, pausing as they reached the kitchen where his parents were screaming at each other as usual.

"Bye, guys, running away, never coming back, have fun with Karen's puberty," Kenny waved a dismissing hand at his neglecting parents.

"Yeah, that's great, we're so proud of you," His mother growled out, appearing as though she was about to deck his drunk father. Kenny grunted and stepped out of the house, glancing over his shoulder at the redhead. The angry expression seemed to have dissipated to a melancholy one as he followed down the steps, his eyes on his feet.

"You okay, dude?" Kenny asked as he opened his fixed up '46 Cadillac's back door, flinging his bag inside. Kyle followed suit with the bundle and nodded.

"Just trying to figure out if anyone on the planet has a good family," He mumbled, glancing to the side.

Kenny shrugged, kicking the door shut. The old 1946 chipped-burgundy Cadillac was his pride and joy. It appeared as though it was the pride of its day, and that day was a long time ago. He got the piece of shit cheap at a used car lot. When he bought it, only the back right door opened, the front bumper looked like the angry face of a disgruntled Mr. Garrison, the air conditioning was either sweltering hot or freezing cold, the radio only sang a lullaby of AM static, the windows were stuck closed, and the trunk door refused to be shut. Kenny couldn't believe the treasure he found for only one hundred bucks, and the salesman couldn't believe the luck at finding a kid dumb enough to buy the hunk of useless metal. After a year of tinkering with it whenever he got the money to buy the materials, she finally resembled a moderately fair car with relatively decent mileage. He gave her a brand new used bumper and painted her a renewed dark red, finishing it with coating the vintage seats with fake tan leather. When Kenny was finished, she looked so beautiful, he actually cried. Like, serious tears falling down his face crawling. Of course, it was a hollow victory and embarrassing end, for he had no one to brag about it to. He had no one to show his pride and joy to. He had put nearly a thousand dollars into the beauty, along with several deaths and buckets of sweat, but it didn't matter to anyone but him. He tried telling his parents his accomplishment and his father replied with an encouraging 'You have a car?' His family rocked.

"Token," The blond offered, rounding the hood to jump in the driver's seat. "Them rich kids got everything, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Kyle nodded and got inside the passenger seat, looking around the interior. He had never actually been inside the car. Kenny sorted through his multiple key chains until he grabbed his car key, shoving it in the stick ignition.

"You did this yourself?" The redhead asked, running his hand admiringly along the smooth fake leather.

Kenny blinked, glancing over at his friend. "Um… yeah. I've been working on it for a year now."

Kyle looked up at him with a small smile, forest green eyes boring into his sea blues. "It looks really good."

"Uh… thanks," The blond stuttered, surprised to finally get a compliment about his baby. He flashed him a smile, putting the car into reverse. "Thanks, dude! Do you know you're the first to compliment her? Actually, you're the first to notice her."

"Really?" The redhead murmured, pulling his seatbelt on. "That's retarded."

"Yeah, I know." Kenny carefully pulled out of the driveway, making sure there were no beer bottles littering the cement. He had the mistake of not looking first and he had to pay nearly two hundred to fix his back tire. He screamed to his parents about it, but again they didn't pay attention. They never did. "So, you're seriously running away, then?"

"Yep," The pale lips popped at the 'p' and the grave expression came over his face again.

"Do I need to know why?"

"Nope." Another pop.

"Fair enough. Do you want to get your clothes or something?"

The Jew grimaced, a shiver running down his spine. "Fuck no. I never want to see those people again. I can buy new clothes."

The blond glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. "Damn. Well, you have to have clothes or something. We can break in your room without them knowing. It'd be easier and less expensive than getting new clothes." He could feel the cogs churning in his friend's head as he weighed the pros and cons.

"Fine, but you look in the window first. If anyone's inside, I'll just suffer through getting new clothes."

Kenny sighed and nodded, heading through to streets to where he knew Kyle's house sat. The question of what happened to push Kyle off the edge tugged at his mind, but he came to Kenny in the first place because he wouldn't ask questions, so he decided not to ruin his little reputation. They drove in silence for ten minutes until they arrived at Kyle's house. If Kyle didn't bristle when they drove up, it would've been difficult to tell which house was actually his. Every house in South Park looked exactly the same, because the founders of the town were so fucking original.

"We'll sneak around back and climb the tree to my room," Kyle said as they stepped out of the Cadillac, heading to the backyard. Kenny marveled at how clean the exterior was. Instead of beer bottles and cigarette butts, petunias were planted in neat rows around the edges of the walls. A large oak stood proud in the middle of the back yard, its longest limb reaching Kyle's open window. Kenny remembered a situation like this once. He was trying to get into Kyle's window to surprise him with a sneak hello, but instead he misplaced his footing and ended up breaking neck on the fall. He woke up twelve hours later in his front yard with a very stiff neck. People just didn't know how to treat his dead body. He shook his head, starting up the tree. That was years ago and he was stronger now. It wasn't that long of a distance and he probably wouldn't die from it, but just get a broken something.

"Anyone there?" Kyle whispered as Kenny reached the farthest limb to peer inside. He peaked in and, upon not seeing anyone, leaned in for a better look. He glanced over his shoulder where the redhead waited nervously.

"Nope." The blond flung his long legs inside the strangely clean room, examining it. He huffed, glaring lightly as Kyle followed. "Jesus, what kind of guy are you? This place is clean enough to be a chick's room."

"Well, a bitch surveys it daily, so it has to be up to par or I'll get an hour's lecture of the importance of personal hygiene." Kyle rolled his eyes and grabbed a random duffel bag, setting it on his tucked bed. Kenny lay beside it as he watched Kyle scurry about the room, filling the duffel neatly with his favorite clothes and little essentials such as his cell phone, laptop, and an atlas. Luckily, Kyle paid for his own cell phone program, so his parents couldn't cancel his subscription. He grabbed the duffel and headed into the bathroom to load up his toiletries. He opened the second drawer where a thin wooden box sat. He glanced over to Kenny to make sure he wasn't watching, and opened the lid. He grabbed a handful of condoms and the lube that sat inside, shoving them in the bottom of the bag. One could never be too prepared. They might end up at a bar some lonely night and the always organized Kyle wanted to be ready. After deciding he grabbed everything, he slung the duffel over his shoulder and returned to where his friend waited.

"Ready?" He asked, looking down at the blond.

"Yep," He nodded and stood, glancing around. "Just marveling at how much nicer the wealthy live." He let out a weak chuckle as he headed back to the window, crawling onto the tree. Kyle swung him the duffel as he did the same, speeding down to get on the road. Once they were set once more, Kenny set off to another road for them to plot their course.

"So, where are we headed?" The blond wondered as the redhead scanned his atlas, his finger running along the long page.

"Baltimore," He replied, using a black pen to mark what route to take.

Kenny raised an eyebrow, looking over at the map. "Baltimore? Why Baltimore?"

"I received a full-ride scholarship to an Art Institute there." The corner of Kyle's lips turned up in a small smile as he stared at Baltimore's large label over the state of Maryland. He was so proud the day the acceptance letter came in the mail. "We took a vacation there about two summers ago and I loved it. Mom thought it was too hot and sunny, but it was amazing. You can actually see the sun down there."

Kenny glanced up at the pale face, smiling a bit. It was rare to see someone so passionate in a place like South Park, the town of bums. "Congrats, dude. What are you going to do there?"

The Jew paused, biting his lower lip before he answered. "I want to draw."

The blond nodded, resting his chin his palm. "That's cool. Don't forget me when you're the next Mozart."

Kyle's head fell back against the head rest in laughter, shaking his head. "You moron, Mozart is a musical composer!"

Kenny blushed a bit, giving him a sheepish side smile. "Hey, shut up, dude, I never claimed to be smart. Be like Michelangelo or something, is that right?"

The redhead glanced at him, still hiccupping giggles. "Yeah, that works. Thanks, dude." He rolled his eyes and looked back at the map, the grin remaining. He had had the scholarship for six months and no one had congratulated him on it. Not one person, especially not his parents. Instead, they were disappointed.

With a sigh, the redhead folded the long atlas to have the map face up. "Okay, let's go. We'll take 70 most of the way until we get to 79. It's mostly a straight trip."

Kenny nodded slowly and started the Cadillac up again, following Kyle's direction silently. The redhead laughed like he hadn't in quite a while. Had he been in the same rut as the blond? Why did he seem so surprised to receive praise? Kenny didn't ask, but he wondered. He would ask later.