Author's Note:

This story is a slow burn Ike x Kenny romance that starts off Kyle x Kenny. Nothing explicit happens with Kyle and Kenny, and their relationship eventually becomes more like family, but it's not just a portion of the story that can be skipped. I understand that it may suck reading through K2 if you came for iKenny, but it's the story I wanted to tell.

Chapter 1: Lost but Found

Monday, September 15 Year 1

Kenny

A groan of grinding metal filled the back-alley as Kenny McCormick hoisted the lid of the industrial sized garbage can. He peered down below and scanned for breakfast contenders. It appeared last night not many people could finish their spaghetti with Alfredo sauce. Foods covered in sauce were usually a last pick from desperation. Kenny wasn't to that point yet. He was holding out for a bread roll with an outer layer he could peel away. His pale hands shifted through the cleaner garbage as his head kept the lid propped open, forcing blonde hair into brown sludge. It was a struggle with his height of 5 feet 7 inches to get to most items, but he continued to search quickly because today was Monday and the garbage trucks would be making their rounds in a few hours.

"Hey you," a man's voice called.

Kenny pulled out of the green bin and slowly turned. He hadn't heard anyone approach, a mistake.

The man wore a white apron with the restaurant's logo printed on the front, which was bestrewn with food stains. In the man's right hand he held a black garbage bag, brandishing it like a club. He lifted it higher and said, "Get lost or I'll call the police."

Kenny didn't want trouble so he shot out of the alley as fast as his legs could muster. He turned onto the sidewalk and continued for several blocks until traffic made him wait on the corner next to some suits. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his orange hoodie. He didn't want any of the businessmen or women heading to work to notice the layers of grime caked on his fingers. None of them regarded his presence but he watched each of them, making a note of their features.

It took another half an hour of wandering through side streets before Kenny secured another garbage can. This one was outside a bistro in a less popular part of downtown. After the lid was up Kenny spotted a half eaten sandwich. His stomach growled, reminding him not to be too picky. He picked up the sandwich and took a peak under the bread. It still looked pretty good. Most of the contents were there, and it didn't look like it was just picked up from the trash so it was probably fresh.

Kenny was about to chow down when a shadow fell across the ground where light slipped in from between the buildings. Panic filled his aching stomach.

Fuck. Unlucky twice?

He turned to face the newcomer.

It was a cat. A black cat with a long skinny tail. The animal sniffed the air, approaching the garbage slowly as if stalking prey. It seemed the cat had the same idea as Kenny.

"Sorry, I took the best thing in there," Kenny smiled at the cat. "Here."

He pulled a slice of turkey out of the sandwich and tossed it toward the feline.

The cat pulled away at the movement, but the smell of food drew it back. Before Kenny could take a bite of his own share the cat had snatch the meat and was gone.

"You're welcome."

Kyle

Kyle Broflovski sat at his computer, shoulders slumped, sighing as his eyes roamed around his personal space for the billionth time. His accounting diploma sat proudly in its frame above his computer. A two-year-old picture of Kyle and his younger brother was nestled beside the monitor and his pen holder. He had post-it-notes with messages scrawled on them in neat handwriting lined up on the wall, and a calendar featuring puppies hung right above his garbage can to the left of his desk. He didn't even like puppies. His mother gave him the calendar because she thought it would liven up his work space. Well it hadn't.

"I hate my life."

"Argue with Cartman again?" Kyle's neighbor poked his head around the thin wall that separated their cubicles.

"No, haven't seen the fat-ass all morning," quipped Kyle as he swiveled his chair so he could face his co-worker.

The man's name was Kevin Stoley. He was Asian and as far as anyone knew, a banking genius. Kyle was also stereotyped as such because of his Jewish heritage, which bugged him even though he did excel at his work.

"Then why the long sigh?"

"I was just thinking that my life is really mundane."

"My mother would say that's a good thing, that boring is good as long as you are well."

"Thanks Kevin, but I don't think your mother has ever experience my level of boredom," Kyle held back another sigh. "What constitutes as excitement in my life is taking a bus to work. And even that was dull."

"You rode the bus?" Kevin didn't try to hide his surprise. "What happened to your car?"

"Brake-pads needed to be changed and the engine needed to be tuned so I left it at the mechanic's."

A deep voice grumbled above where the two sat, "Are you two chit chatting like little girls when we open in three minutes?"

Kyle looked over at the large man wearing a brown suit and clashing yellow tie. Cartman. For once the man didn't linger long, as quickly as he appeared he disappeared into his office down the hall.

"Guess we should get ready," said Kevin as he stood and stretched.

The day went by like every work day. Kyle saw to the customers who came in, answering questions about checking account policies and helping people make withdraws. Things were busy, it being a Monday, and by the end of the day Kyle was ready to go home.

"Have a good night."

Kyle didn't bother to look back at Kevin as he called,"You too."

Kyle stopped himself from heading toward the parking garage, as was routine, and instead ambled out the front doors. The night was a cool one with a lingering promise of autumn in the air. After being stuck inside all day the breeze felt refreshing. He loosened his tie, allowing for his neck to breathe, and headed for the nearest bus stop. He learned last night that no bus went directly from his home to work, so he had to transfer at the bus plaza. He successfully made it to work in the morning and was unconcerned about the trip home. He knew he needed to catch the 17 after the 23 to get to his apartment complex.

The bus was only a few minutes later than printed on the schedule, but when Kyle got on he noticed a lot more faces than the last time he rode. Taking the easiest option, he stood next to the driver instead of trying to squeeze through a group of teenagers clogging the walkway to the back seats. When the bus arrived at the plaza he was one of the first people off.

He looked down at his watch.

Good, I should be able to make it.

Kyle headed in the direction of the 17, but as he walked and observed his surroundings his eyes passed over a bright orange blob, snagging his attention. The act of stopping in the middle of foot traffic caused a woman to bump into him.

"Excuse you," said the women with a curl to her lips. She clutched her purse closely to her side before maneuvering around the redhead.

Unconcerned by the woman, Kyle turned his eyes back toward what had caught his interest. It was an orange hoodie on a figure leaning against the bus station. Judging from the person's frame they were a man, though a slender one. Kyle assumed the man was homeless based on his sitting location. Only bums sat on the ground outside a bus station wearing such filthy clothes. Even from where he stood Kyle could tell the orange hoodie would be a lot brighter if it went through the wash.

What am I doing? I'll miss my bus!

Kyle hurried through the plaza.

He caught the 17 without bumping into anyone else. From his seat he had a great view of the station, but he couldn't see the man in the orange hoodie. He wasn't sure why he even looked for him. Maybe the image of the hunched figure reminded him of a classmate he had in elementary school who always wore an orange parka but died before the sixth grade. Or maybe seeing someone living so poorly made him compelled to try and help. Either way, he was disappointed that he had to leave before getting a better look.

Wednesday, September 17 Year 1

Kenny

Night had arrived by the time Kenny became sick of the dirty looks the plaza security guards were sending him. Once the buses stopped running the place had to be cleared out. The station's owner claimed it was for safety, and maybe that was true, but Kenny figured they just didn't want to be responsible for any of the homeless in the area.

Not waiting to get the boot, Kenny left.

He'd been sleeping in an alley outside an apartment complex with crumbling walls and lax security, but tonight he didn't think the cardboard fort he'd made would block out the wind. He had a few other locations around the area but they were all similarly built.

Tonight he was headed for The Place of Charity, one of the city's few homeless shelters. This one had a no drug or alcohol policy where first time offenders were shunned for life. He didn't mind though. He wasn't one to get wrapped up in those troubles, he was too busy dealing with the ones he already had. It was too late to get a bed, those were always taken quickly, but he figured he could get a spot on the floor crammed between other people who smelled like shit and looked it. He didn't mind. After a while it was easy to get used to the smell. He was just thankful that he'd be in a heated room because the nights were growing colder and he was painfully aware of how thin his clothing was.

Kenny planned to stick around for the breakfast the shelter served, since he'd be there anyways. He'd eat there every day if it was safe to hang around the area. It was common for the homeless to go missing around downtown and the shelter was in the thick of it. Kenny only braved the trip on nights like tonight, and more often once winter set in.

As he walked deeper into the city's underbelly the sidewalk became harder to see. Streetlights were placed sparsely along the path and sometimes there wasn't one at all. The mayor seemed to forget that downtown existed and people, even taxpayers, still lived there.

Kenny was less familiar with the area and so he took his time getting from street to street. In the distance he could see the old cracker factory's brick walls and knew he was getting close. He saw his destination whose roof he could just make out over the low rent apartments and the black and white movie theater, a relic of the past.

As he came to the last three block stretch before The Place of Charity he ran into the first sign of life since he left the main downtown shopping district. A small group of men huddled together smoking joints, evident from the smell. Normally street folk kept to themselves as long as you didn't get in their business. Kenny liked it that way and followed the same unspoken code. He expected this group to do the same and was annoyed when they moved right into his path. He tried to sidestep them but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Kenny, right?"

Normally street folk didn't know his name. Kenny looked back at the man holding him in place. The fellow was square shouldered, with a chin of similar shape, and had smoker's teeth.

Well shit.

Kenny recognized at least two of the men to be from Petei's gang. He thought for sure he'd cut clean from them.

The man holding Kenny, Anthony, let go once he had the blonde's attention.

Anthony scowled as he gritted out, "You've been summoned."

"Last I checked Petei's gang didn't rule these parts." Kenny kept his face neutral.

"You'd be better off not refusing," Anthony warned. "I bet your sorry ass could use what Boss has to offer."

"No way would I stoop so low as to crawl back to that place." Kenny took a step back, trying to distance himself from them as much as possible. "You can take your offer and shove it up yo-"

A fist from one of Anthony's lackeys came flying at Kenny, but he dodged to the right, dropped low, and with a swift kick managed to knock the man's legs out from under him.

There was a race to stand, which Kenny won, but his advantage was short lived when a knife was added to the equation. The guy wielding the knife only made shallow cuts before Kenny knocked him on his back.

Kenny was recovering from the second attacker when the shortest member of the group landed a solid punch to his side, knocking his breath away. At the same time Anthony's fist found its way to his shoulder.

The force of the blows sent Kenny to his knees. His right hand clung to the front of his hoodie as he used the other to keep himself upright.

Before Kenny could make another move the world became a blurry mosaic and his left eye felt numb. The only clue as to why came from the fuzzy image of Anthony pulling back his fist.

"Learn some respect." Anthony swung back his leg in preparation to kick Kenny but the blow never landed.

Kenny dropped to the ground and rolled off the sidewalk and into the street. He quickly stood back up and readied his fists. He had to block a punch before he could go on the attack, but once he was able to land in a few hits he began to feel better. He knew he was better than these thugs when it came to skill. They lumbered about swinging their muscles and threw punches every which way, whereas Kenny knew where to aim. A solid hit from Kenny to Anthony's collarbone ended the fight.

The lackeys spat at Kenny as they gathered their leader and hobbled off into the shadows throwing back curses. Kenny assumed they parked their vehicle back there and that they would drive off, but he didn't stick around to find out.

With the adrenaline spike fading, Kenny felt more tired than he had in a long time. The walk to The Place of Charity felt like a journey on top an escalator going the opposite way. It didn't feel like his destination was getting any closer, and each step hurt more than the last. The hit to his side probably didn't break anything, he'd suffered a broken rib before as reference, but that didn't stop it from slowing his progress. He was having some trouble seeing but that was because of the swelling.

It was beside a bridge that held train tracks where Kenny finally decided to give up. It wasn't worth the slightly warmer environment. He slid down along the cement and came to a slouched resting position. At least with the bridge overhead he'd have some sort of shelter from the elements.

Beats the flea infested mattress at Petei's hangout.

Kenny laughed. No it didn't.

Thursday, September 18 Year 1

Kyle

Kyle had taken the bus on Tuesday and Wednesday even though his car was back. Not once did he spot the orange hoodie again. It was Thursday now and he vowed that if the man wasn't there today he'd stop this. He realized his obsession was strange, out of the blue even, but the desire to see the man again gave him the first driving feeling he'd had in a long time. No way was he just going to ignore it.

The man was there. Kyle felt a rush of butterflies that he dispersed by pacing the length of the plaza several times.

Has he noticed I've passed him several times now? God I'm like some shark or something. I should just approach him. Now. Like right now. Or in a minute. Okay, now.

As Kyle got closer he noticed something was different with the man's appearance. The orange hoodie was worse than he thought, with several large tears in the fabric, and when the man looked up Kyle saw that he was sporting a black eye.

"You should go to the hospital if you're hurt," blurted Kyle once he was standing within ear range.

Idiot! What kind of thing is that to say to someone in his position?

"I've already seen a doctor."

Oh.

"At which hospital?"

The man stood up and began a slow meander in the opposite direction.

Kyle followed after him even though he knew he was the reason the man was leaving. "I know of a really great clinic where they can help the swelling in your eye go down."

The man turned and opened his mouth but quickly snapped it closed. He seemed to be looking through Kyle.

Kyle looked over his shoulder. The only thing he saw of interest was some guy in the crowd wearing a biker jacket. Sure he looked fierce with all his tattoos, but Kyle didn't think it was anything to gawk at. Then a few more rough looking guys joined Mr. Tattoos.

Still no concern. Even thugs are allowed to walk the streets.

Kyle realized his homeless acquaintance didn't feel the same. His one good eye was wide and movement from the hoodie's front pocket suggested inside it he was twisting his hands together.

"How about you come with me?" Kyle thought that if the thugs were a problem then it would be a lot safer off the streets away from this place.

"Get lost."

He sounds young.

The guy moved quickly after that. He weaved in and around buildings, somehow always finding a hole to squeeze. Kyle knew this because he was following close behind. He was slower, less familiar with the terrain, but he managed.

Between city blocks Kyle would look back to see if they were being pursued, but they weren't. The man was fleeing without cause.

And here I am following him. Maybe I'm the one he's actually trying to lose but he hasn't said anything more.

The man eventually slowed down once they were far from the bus station. Kyle walked a step behind the man as they passed by a rather dilapidated structure that looked like an apartment building. If it was one, it probably needed to be condemned. The man didn't head to it, and instead entered the alley.

"So this is where you live?" Kyle took in the view of cardboard. There were boxes from retail stores, one had someone's address on it and another was a pizza box. Probably all of them came from people's garbage. When the snow hit, and it was coming, that thing wouldn't hold up.

Kyle felt the man's glare before he saw it. A minute went by before all the fight seemed to seep out of the hoodie clad man and he sunk down to rest his back on the crumbling wall.

"One place."

"Excuse me?"

"Your question."

"Oh." Kyle was surprised he got an answer. He pulled out a loose twenty he had in his pocket on the off chance he'd see this man again. He crouched down and offered out the bill.

"I don't do that."

Huh? He couldn't possibly think I'm trying to solicit sex from him...

"I'm not a charity case."

So he won't take money from strangers. Of course that's what he meant.

"So why do you go to the plaza if you're not looking for cash?" Kyle had seen a lot of beggars standing around while he'd been taking the buses.

No response.

"I understand." Kyle stood and turned to leave, but not before releasing the twenty. The paper fell down and came to rest on the broken asphalt.

Kyle walked away leaving it behind.

Friday, September 19 Year 1

Kenny

Kenny stood next to one of the benches surrounding the plaza. His eyes were focused on the loading area for bus 36. He scanned the crowd every twenty seconds, watching for familiar faces. Finally the bus arrived and he was able to lock on to the loose brown shoulder length hair and the light airy giggle.

Kenny emerged from his place along the wall and headed for the girl. When she saw him she said her goodbyes to the group of girls she was with and rushed to meet him halfway. As soon as she was close she latched onto him, hugging him so tightly that his lower back popped.

"Karen, I've told you not to do that."

"Nope. Never." She stepped back and met his eyes on the same level, for she was only an inch shorter.

"You'll get dirty."

"Don't care." Karen reached up and pulled down Kenny's hood, with minor protest from him, revealing more of his face.

She frowned and Kenny knew she was looking at his eye. She didn't ask about it though, and instead pulled out a sandwich from her backpack, which she placed in his hands. The sandwich was wrapped in plastic and cut neatly in half.

This must be her lunch.

"Karen, you should eat this yourself."

"But Kenny-"

"I'm fine!" He laughed as he tried to give it back to her.

"I can tell you're not getting enough to eat." She poked at where his ribs were but her finger got lost in the orange fabric. "You're not hiding anything with that sweatshirt."

"Honestly Karen," he laughed some more as if her slight pressure on him tickled. "I ate like a bandit not that long ago."

"And how exactly are you eating? Last month you told me you had a job but you never said what it was."

"We'll it's a secret, but I guess since you're family..." Kenny leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You see, I'm a superhero called Mysterion. I go around at night fighting crime, which is how I got this." He pointed to his eye.

"You don't have super powers."

"Neither did BattyMan."

"If this is all true then why do you look like a beggar?"

"It doesn't pay to be a superhero."

"Then you're in the wrong line of business..." Karen seemed to have lost her worries to the joke and took back the food without fuss.

"Yeah, maybe." Kenny ruffled her hair. "So how are your classes?"

They chatted for a while before parting ways. It always put him in a better mood to talk with her, but it was a long walk back to his fort with a grumbling stomach. It had to be that way though. If he'd taken the sandwich Karen would have worried more and he couldn't have that.

Wednesday, September 24 Year 1

Kyle

Kyle decided that if he wanted to get the man to open up more he'd have to spend some time observing him, which he did for several days. Some days went better than others, but he was quick to realize there was only one predictable pattern that the man followed. Around the same time every weekday the man would wait at the plaza in front of the same loading dock. Some days he would meet a girl getting off the bus. Today was one of those days. It was only during their meetings did the man look happy.

Kyle waited until the two parted before trying to talk to the blonde again.

"Who was that?"

The man didn't say anything, only stared back like he didn't understand.

Or maybe he is questioning my intent, which is smart.

"I'll treat you to meal if you answer some of my questions, that way it's not a handout." Kyle took a step toward the nearest place to get food, a fast food burger shop. The man didn't look like he would follow so Kyle grabbed the cuff of his right sleeve and tugged.

"You're crazy."

"Maybe." Kyle smiled at him. "But it's a good offer, right?"

The man responded by walking and once they were closer to the building Kyle could tell that the smell of meat coming off the place killed whatever resolve the man had to say no.

They came to the register where a pimple faced fellow stood with a slight sneer on his face. Kyle wasn't about to put up with any snobbish attitude and ignored the cashier long enough to ask his companion, "What would you like?"

The man shrugged, his eyes glued to the menu above.

Kyle decided to order for him. "I'll have a bucket of fries, two vanilla milkshakes, that burger that has two patties a tomato and cheese on it and two waters."

Kyle threw down the money, grabbed the cups offered, and went to get water for both of them. The man just followed. Kyle handed him his cup and propelled him to a seat.

"What's your name? I'm Kyle"

The man stared down at his drink and didn't make eye-contact as he murmured, "Kenny."

"So how old are you Kenny?"

This one took the guy longer to answer. "24."

He probably hadn't thought about his age in a while.

Kyle was surprised to hear Kenny was close to his own age. The blonde sitting there hunched over and sunken looking made him seem much younger. Kyle would have guessed closer to Ike's age with that slim frame.

His small stature might be due to a lack of proper nutrition when growing up. I bet he's at least four inches shorter than me.

"How did you end up on the streets?"

Kenny didn't answer this one so Kyle tried a different question.

"Who is that girl you're always waiting for?"

Kenny stiffened and glared at him. He did a lot of glaring, Kyle noticed, but it seemed more defensive than angry. Most of the time anyways. Like a cat ruffling it's fur trying to make itself seem more intimidating.

"I mean no harm," Kyle played with the straw sticking out of his drink. "I was just curious."

"She's my little sister."

"Oh! I have a younger brother." It was a connecting point.

Their order was called and Kyle retrieved their meal.

The redhead picked at his burger as he watched Kenny eat his own burger, the milk shake, and half the fries. Kenny was rather slow about it, taking his time, most likely savoring it. Kyle had expected him to devour the meal quickly, but he ate it at his own pace.

They didn't talk as they ate, and when all the food was gone Kyle asked, "Did you like it?"

Kenny bobbed his head up and down once before withdrawing his hands, hiding them under the table.

Kyle got up and placed another order for an additional two hamburgers. When he returned he saw a crumpled twenty on the table.

"You didn't spend it," he noted as he sat back down. "Why not?"

Kenny shrugged but Kyle didn't let the matter go. "Keep it and use it for things you need, like food."

"You saw the look I got when we walked in," Kenny jerked his head towards the register. "Businesses turn people away all the time around here. Besides, I don't need it."

Kyle tried to get over the fact that this was the most Kenny ever said to him at once. "But I want you to have it."

Kenny's hands never got close to picking the bill back up, and when Kyle's other burgers arrived Kenny stood to leave.

"Wait!" Kyle offered out the extra burgers. "At least take these."

Kenny eyed it.

"For later."

Kenny grabbed the bag, "Thanks... Kyle."

Kenny

Why did I agree to that? Why did I answer his questions? Is that guy a stalker? He did follow me back to the one location. Should I avoid him in the future?

Kenny looked down at the bag he was holding. For once his hands were warm. The Kyle fellow was strange, no doubt, but he didn't seem like a bad guy.

And that's how they get you.

His entire body involuntarily shivered at the thought. From now on he'd have to be extra weary of the young man.

When Kenny got to his makeshift home near the train tracks he crawled inside the layers of cardboard, finding the heart of his fort where it was the warmest. He was resting when a chorus of voices made him take notice of the fact that people were nearing his shelter.

Could it be Anthony again?

Kenny stuck his head out and saw that they were no thugs, but other street goers. All the same, he began to feel anxious as they got closer. When they stopped outside his fort he climbed out to greet them. He was just standing to full height when a pizza box from his roof was ripped away.

"Get your hands off my house," Kenny grabbed for the box but the shaggy old man who stole it knocked him back.

"Mine."

Kenny was about to argue when the other homeless men and women began tearing his fort apart. He tried to stop them by appealing to any morals they might have left after suffering on the streets, but his words were ignored. He continued to protest, and though he didn't want to fight them he tried taking back his stuff. It had taken him weeks to find all the pieces he needed to make his fort and he needed all the insulation he could get.

His efforts were shrugged off but he was still hesitant to throw punches. When all the walls were stripped away those gathered noticed Kenny's small collection of clothing and the hamburgers sitting on the cardboard floor, and they took all of that as well.

Kenny lunged for his food.

Not that!

The woman holding the grease stained bag knocked Kenny off, landing him on the ground. Before he could get up another woman tugged off his shoes. A shoe for each hand. Kenny had never met other homeless people who acted this way before. Normally they were paranoid, or somewhat friendly, but they never stole from each other like this.

There was no way he would fight them. Street people were unstable, possibly more dangerous than thugs in their unpredictability.

"Ma'be we c'n sell hm too."

"That seems like an awful lot of work."

"I hear hearts go f' a lot."

"What about 'is body? Drug lords always need a way to smuggle."

That was it. Whether they were joking or not Kenny sprung to his feet and wiggled away from their outstretched hands before running away.

He'd been running a lot lately, but that was typical for street life. He didn't hear them following, but he was too frightened to stop. He ran on asphalt and he ran through broken shards of glass. It didn't matter as long as he got far away. He kept going until he ran right into someone on the sidewalk.

Kenny swayed on his feet, luckily not falling, as the person he hit tried to help keep him on his feet. As soon as he was stable he looked up at the taller person only to see a familiar dark blue uniform. A cop.

"I come out for a noise complaint and I nearly get run over," the man joked. His playful smile became more serious. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Kenny saw blue eyes analyzing him. The officer wasn't letting go of his shoulders so he said,"I was attacked."

"By who?" The man looked up and gazed out at the night that stretched all around them. It was pretty quiet since this area of the city lacked bars that stayed open all night. No one else was around so the cop looked back at him.

Kenny couldn't make eye-contact. No one cared about homeless people.

"Come with me," the cop started moving Kenny toward a vehicle parked next to the curb. "You'll be safer at the police station."

"But-"

"It's okay, you're safe now."

Too tired to argue, Kenny got into the back seat and wondered if this was some trick to arrest him for being homeless. He wasn't sure if that was even something that could happen, but with the luck he was having he wouldn't write it out.

When they pulled up to the station Kenny began regretting saying anything to the cop besides an apology.

Which I forgot to say.

The officer opened the door and assisted Kenny in getting out. They walked side-by-side to the front door. Kenny wasn't sure if it was to make him feel safer or if it was to make sure he didn't run away.

The officer never once acted hostile though.

Kenny was lead to a desk with a computer chair behind it and a straight back wooden chair beside it.

"Why don't you sit here and I'll go get you some water," the cop indicated the wooden chair.

Kenny took the seat offered to him. The nameplate on the desk read Marsh and he wondered if it was the cop's desk. The man came back with a paper cup and a blueberry muffin.

"I know this isn't much but," the cop held them out.

Kenny took the water but declined the food, "No thanks."

The cop set the muffin down on the desk next to Kenny anyways, "Just in case you change your mind."

"My name is Stan Marsh and I'll be taking your statement now." Stan pulled out a notebook and pen. "Can you please give me your name, address, and the story of what happened?"

Did I say I wanted to make a statement? Is this standard procedure?

"My name is Kenny and I live on the streets."

When nothing else came Stan said, "And?"

Since the cop wasn't put off by that Kenny continued, "A group of other street goers mugged me. At least, I assume they were homeless. I know that sounds strange but they took everything I had, even my shoes."

Stan looked down at Kenny's feet, which were covered in streaks of dried blood.

"Can you describe the people who mugged you?"

"No, what I saw would match half the homeless population," Kenny's shoulders hunched down further. "I know you can't do anything, so can I leave?"

"I may not be able to arrest the people who stole your things, but you're not the first person to have this happen to them. I'd like to send you to a safer place for the night. There are institutions here in the city that put people up. They-"

"No," Kenny shook his head. "I don't want that."

For all I know Petei has them all being monitored. I can't risk it.

"But it'll be safer."

Kenny shook his head 'no' and the officer stood up. Kenny saw him move to the front desk where he began speaking to the woman seated there. They both looked over at him. As they were speaking another person entered the station.

Stan looked up, "Hey, what brings you here? Have something stolen?"

"No, I just came by to ask if we were still on for tomorrow night, though now that I think about it my neighbor's bike was stolen last week."

"Yeah, I got the time off after all. I was going to text you but I've been busy."

"I noticed. Overtime?"

"Well first a couple were causing a racket for their neighbors and now..."

Kenny watched as a familiar face stretched past Stan to see further inside the station.

Kyle's mouth hung open for a second before he called out, "Kenny!"

"Wait, you know him?" Stan seemed to hesitate before motioning Kyle into the back area. They both stopped in front of Kenny who was beginning to feel like a child being looked down on by teachers.

"What happened?" Kyle's brow furrowed.

Kenny didn't say anything.

"Stan?" Kyle gave a pointed look at the officer.

"I really shouldn't say, but considering what I'm about to say next I might as well. He said he got mugged by a group of homeless people. I was just trying to get him to go some place safer than the streets. If you know him, think you could convince him to do just that? Reason with him."

"He can come to my house."

"What?" Stan and Kenny asked, both wearing an expression of shock.

"Um Kyle, this isn't a situation where you can just-" Stan's hands waved wildly as he spoke.

"Nonsense," Kyle looked at Kenny. "You don't want to go to a shelter do you?"

"No..."

"Then come on," Kyle started walking away.

"But-" Stan began but the redhead ignored him.

Kenny and Stan shared a look before Kenny got up to follow Kyle out. There was only real hesitation once he was standing outside Kyle's car, but the redhead opened the back door and motioned for him to get in.

This is a bad idea...

"Don't worry, I'm a safe driver."

I better not regret this.

Kenny got in. The seats were grey and the car smelled like air freshener, something tropical. The place was clean, not a piece of trash anywhere. The only other item in the car was a brown briefcase on the passenger's seat.

"If you have a car why do you always take the bus?" It was the first question he had asked Kyle.

"It was in the shop."

Kenny was a little doubtful but didn't bring it up. The drive was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the engine, and Kenny was thankful for the lack of small talk.

When they pulled into the parking lot of an upper middle-class apartment complex, made evident by the covered pool fenced in the back, Kenny finally regretted his decision. He had no business being here, and no business associating with Kyle. It was too late to realize this though, and Kenny found himself climbing the flight of stairs until they reached the room marked with the bronze number 308.

Kyle opened the door and said,"This is home."

Inside was pretty basic. There were a few modern minimalist decorations on the walls and at the same time there was clunky furniture that looked worn with age. The blue two cushion sofa in front of the TV looked the most loved. Kyle gave a quick tour. The place had two bedrooms, a room he used as a study, one bathroom, a kitchen, a small area off the side of the kitchen where the dining table was located and the living room space.

"Why don't you take a shower?" Kyle pointed out everything Kenny would need. Towels, soap, shampoo, a hairbrush and a hairdryer.

I haven't had a proper shower in ages.

"Thanks. I guess I will... are you sure you don't mind?"

Kyle was quick to wave his hands, "Of course not! Take as long as you need."

Kenny stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door. The click of the lock made him relax for the first time since the whole ordeal started.

I guess since I'm here I might as well. Karen did say I smelled like a sewer the last time she hugged me.

One at a time he peeled each layer of clothing off. When he got down to his boxers he nearly had to rip them off to get out of them, the weeks of dirt and sweat bound them to him like glue.

Before getting in the shower he checked his feet to see how they were. He didn't see or feel any broken glass embedded in his skin, a good sign. They were a little cut up, but they would heal quicker than his eye would.

Kenny took his time in the shower, making sure to clean every surface, and when he opened the door to exit the bathroom he found a pile of clothes sitting at the base of the door. They didn't look like they would fit Kyle, they looked like a size too small, but the clothes rested just fine on him if not slightly baggy. When Kenny was all dressed he found Kyle in the kitchen.

"Did the clothes fit?" Kyle turned around and stared. " So there was a prince under all that grime after all. Well, a prince with a black eye." Kyle went back to placing food on a plate. "It's not much but I have leftovers from dinner. Take a seat, it'll just be a minute."

Kenny sat down at the table and soon he was eating steak and mashed potatoes. Kyle just sat there watching him, like the time at the burger joint, and when Kenny finished Kyle cleared away the plates.

"You'll be sleeping in the guest room tonight. Normally Ike, my step-brother, sleeps there so it's made to his tastes, but I'm sure you'll still find it comfortable." Kyle smiled at him, "And don't worry, if Ike stops by he can always sleep on the couch."

"This isn't permanent," Kenny reminded him. "I appreciate the hospitality and all but I only came tonight because the streets are more dangerous than usual."

Kyle didn't make any indication that he heard, "I'm sure you're tired, why don't you head to bed and I'll take care of your old clothes for you."

I don't think he cares what I have to say.

Kenny gave up on talking and entered the room meant for Kyle's brother. The color scheme was blues and greys. The walls were a steel grey and the comforter was a navy blue with dark grey and red stripes going vertical. The lamp that sat on the end table was made of clear glass, and the only decoration on the wall was a poster of a lot of tiny green numbers. A dresser sat at the foot of the bed and Kenny wondered if there were a lot of clothes stored in them.

After crawling under the covers and pulling the blankets up to rest under his chin, Kenny realized it was the first time in forever that he was sleeping in a real bed. The mattress was soft enough that he sunk into it and the pillows smelled like cinnamon. It was a strange but comforting feeling Kenny had before drifting off to sleep.