South Park © Matt and Trey.
Full summary: The foundation holding Kenny McCormick's mediocre life together begins to crack apart as the past comes back to haunt him. Meanwhile, Kyle Broflovski returns to South Park after being gone for nearly ten years; however, the person to return is not the person who left. Kenny now has to deal with past relationships, broken friendships, a sick roommate, his drug dealing family, and a very secretive redhead all while trying to maintain the normalcy. In the end, it's harder than it looks and he seeks a dangerous kind of comfort while trying to stay sane.
Kenny is a lot less knowing in this than he is in my other fics. He's just your average every day guy, minus the dying business. Characters will probably be a bit OOC at times. If you don't like the idea of Kyle being a little docile, you might want to turn away. I also made Kenny a bit of a tool in this one for the sake of the story.
Warning: dark themes – drugs, abuse, violence
I don't know much.
To be frank, I kind of suck.
I'm bad at relationships and I had poor marks all through school, but I like to think know a bit about the real things in life. I think in the end, that's what really matters. I think that's why I was always skipping classes when I was young, and why I didn't attend university. Not many of us did. In the end, there are more important things than being able to memorize the periodic table of fuckin' elements and quote Shakespeare. Many of us weren't going to be scientists. We weren't going to be historians or professors or doctors.
School really sucked. It was like a game and when it came down to things, you could never really win at it. If you were loud, you were annoying. If you were quiet, you were weird. If you were a virgin, you were a prude. If you weren't, then a slut. If you got bad grades, you were an idiot. If you got good grades, you were keener. If you cussed, you were uneducated. If you smoked, you were trying too hard to fit in. If you drank, you were still trying too hard. If you were poor, you were dirty. If you were rich, you were pretentious. If you were sad, you were an attention seeker. If you were happy, you were lying.
I think it's safe to say everyone is glad it is over and anyone who says they can look back on their school experiences with joy are probably suffering from memory loss.
Stan works at a bar now. The bar my dad loves to get drunk at. Eric owns the local Shakey's Pizza, and me? I don't have an actual job, per se, but I still do an awful lot.
I fix cars, for one thing. I don't do it professionally, but everyone in South Park knows that I'm the guy to go to for any car trouble. I get paid under the table by the old dude who works at the local auto shop. Sometimes I sing at the bar Stan works at, too, and well… I also deal, but I try to keep that a secret. It's what helps most to pay the bills.
I know what everyone would probably start thinking if they found out about it. They'd blame my parents. And hey, maybe it is partially their fault. They raised me, and even though they always stressed the importance of making something of myself, I couldn't help but watch what they were doing with their own lives. Kids are impressionable like that and naturally, I ended up making a lot of the same mistakes they did. So as I got older, they realized that I wasn't going to be doing anything fantastic with my life.
It might not seem like much, but for guys like us this kind of life is more than enough. It suits us. Stan loves to drink, Eric has a passion for fast food, and I like cars. I don't think that for guys like us university was necessary. Sometimes you don't need to spend thousands and thousands of dollars to end up where you want to be, I suppose.
Well… maybe I'm over compensating just a bit. I like to make it seem like I'm doing all right when in fact I'm still a piece of shit.
Whatever.
Stan is still dating Wendy. Actually, they just got engaged. Eric is dating Rebecca and has been for the past year. In my humble opinion, that is pretty fucking weird. The idea of Eric in a stable relationship isn't something I'd ever have imagined, and I especially never imagined he'd end up with a girl as great as Rebecca.
Kyle was always a little different than us three, but not in a bad way. He's smart, for one thing. He had immense amounts of motivation and direction. I guess this is why he was able to make something bigger of himself than the rest of us did. A lot of people hated him for it.
According to Stan, he is now Dr. Kyle Broflovski. I get that. It fits. He always did love learning, but what I don't understand is why he is coming back to South Park. He really has it made for him, which is why I don't get it. If I ever got out of here, I'd probably stay out. This place can suck a person dry, but maybe Kyle looks at it differently. Maybe only be being away from this place for so long can you find something good about it. Or maybe it's just Kyle, the kind of guy who finds something good in just about everything and everyone.
When we were young, I chased him even more than I chased my fucking alcohol. I think I admired him, and in many ways I still do. I think we all admire him – even Eric, but in secret of course.
"I'm home," I yell once I open the door.
Craig is leaning in the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed and a ladle in hand. "Welcome back," he says mildly.
"Heh," I snicker. "All you're missing is the frilly apron."
"Shut the fuck up."
Our apartment is simple. Right upon entering, you're in the living room. It's just as simple as the rest of the house. There's a tall flat screen television and a long, red sofa sitting in front of it with a short, round table in the center of the room. It's usually where the beer and pizza goes on junk night or when our buddies come over. There are also two bedrooms separated by a bathroom, and a kitchen with enough room for a small two-person table. It's not much, but it's comfortable. There are no cracks in the walls, no peeling paint, no leaks. I guess you could even go far enough to say it's kind of nice.
I shut the door and kick off my sneakers, stifling a yawn with the back of my hand.
"How was work?" Craig asks carefully.
Craig is the only person who knows that I deal. He isn't okay with it, but he doesn't say anything about it. He'd probably be cool if it was just marijuana, but meth is a whole other ball yard.
"Work was work," I shrug, tossing my bag into my room before following him back into the kitchen. "You?"
"Same," he says.
Craig is a welder. He took a two year long course at the nearest community college. I personally don't understand why anyone would want to do a job like that. When I asked him, he just told me he did it to shut his parents up. He's a pretty mundane person. I thought he would end up doing something mundane like the rest of us, but he didn't. He actually does some pretty tough work. How do I know that? Well, I didn't simply look up what welding was. I had to see for myself. So I went and invaded his workspace. Let's just say I didn't walk out of there alive.
"Kenny."
"Hm?" I ask. He must want something, because he rarely uses my first name like that.
"Tweek's coming over later…" he says, trailing off.
"Got it," I wink, "I'll leave before he gets here."
He nods, turning around to watch the stove.
It's awkward being around when they're together. I mean, this apartment is pretty small and no sounds remain secrets if you get what I mean.
Oh, well. I've probably seen just as much of Craig as his boyfriend has.
I think it's funny how our friendship progressed to this. We cook for each other, we take turns shopping, cleaning, doing laundry and other chores. We still have mindless arguments, but they rarely amount to anything. It's a pretty easy way of living.
When we were in our early teen years I sucked Craig's dick. I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the drunken boredom that gave me the courage but I just turned to him and said it in the bluntest way possible.
"What about Tammy?" Craig had asked.
"I don't like her," I said simply, "I like you."
And then it happened.
I had struggled with the button on his jeans, and I had struggled even more to pull them down.
It was a lot different than it was in porn. I cried about it later when I was walking home and couldn't get the taste out of my mouth. I'm still not sure why it made me feel that way. Maybe it was because we were still kids and I was confused. I was never really sure why I did any of the things I'd do. I just went with it, trying not to let anything bother me, and it worked for a while. But I'm older now. We all are, and I find myself missing the days when we were young and stupid – almost embarrassingly so – still at the age where writing your name in the snow with piss was considered to be hilariously creative. What a fuckin' talent. If you managed to write your entire name, you were a winner.
We were so young and so stupid that looking back on some of the shit we did is still embarrassing as hell.
But fuck, I miss those days. Not the school part, as I've said, but the other parts were nice.
My crush on Craig didn't last long. I think I might have even been lying when I said I liked him at all. I think I just wanted an excuse that would let me validate cheating on Tammy. It was shortly after being with a girl, really being with one, that I realized I wasn't that into them. I think it surprised me as much as it surprised everyone else who found out.
I mean, sure, girls are beautiful, but I guess that wasn't exactly what I was looking for. So I cheated, and it happened once more after that. It was just drunk sex with your best bud – the kind of sex you never mention again once it's over.
I was still dating Tammy, but I made myself forget she existed that night. Me and Craig emptied a bottle of Captain Morgan's, watched porn, and I fucked him up the ass. Simple as that. It was a pretty brutal porno. It didn't do much for my dick, but I think Craig got off on it. I always knew he was into some weird shit. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.
The following week he started dating Tweek. No one was all that surprised. Sometimes I can't help but wonder how Tweek deals with Craig's kinks. I wonder if he plays along and gets rough. Somehow I can't really imagine it. He's a pretty rigid guy. He made Craig get an STD test before he let him stick anything anywhere. I thought that was kind of funny.
Tammy ended up breaking up with me shortly after. I was kind of glad she was the one to end things. She's a good person and I wanted to avoid hurting her. Turned out that I wasn't as great at hiding stuff as I thought and she knew something was wrong. She didn't pry, and I didn't give her any clues.
I still see her around sometimes. We're polite and we greet each other, but that's usually as far as it goes. I'm thankful for that because when I see her I still feel kind of guilty. I feel like I should have told her I cheated, but at the same time maybe it's better that I never did. We're over, and I wouldn't want her feeling worse about what happened. It would be pointless to open up any ancient wounds.
Our breakup wasn't a big surprise. Everyone saw it coming, but for all the wrong reasons. They said two sluts can't be in a relationship because it won't end well. I fucking hate that word. It makes no sense. So some people have a lot of sex… Who the hell cares? That word is only used by insecure people.
I always stuck up for Tammy, and I'd still do it today if someone said anything bad about her. They don't know her so they should just shut the fuck up.
She got pregnant, which made things even worse. Shortly after we broke up, she got pregnant. I don't know who by. I never asked. It wasn't my business anymore. The kids gave her hell for it. A hell she didn't deserve. Once the bump started to show, it got worse and she dropped out.
Sometimes I find myself wanting to call her, but I don't know if I ever will. I miss her. I don't miss the relationship, but the friendship – the fact that she was always there for me.
I guess that's kind of selfish.
"So what's for supper, lover-boy?" I ask from my place at the kitchen table.
"Nothing if you ever call me that again," Craig says tersely.
I grin to myself. "Fine," I sigh dramatically, "You're no fun."
"I know," he says dryly.
"You'll dull."
"Yup."
"How does Tweek handle such a lame guy?" I ask, staring at the back of his head as he stirs a pot on the stove.
Craig pauses for a moment, as if he's actually considering the answer to my question. It's something he rarely does. "I'm pretty sure we even each other out," he says, "I'm, as you say, dull… and he's jumpy as fuck. He never stops moving… ADD, like his mother always says."
"Two extremes," I snicker. "I don't get it at all, but I guess it was situational."
Tweek hasn't changed much over the years. He works at his parent's cafe and still drinks more coffee than he can handle.
"So when is Tweek coming?" I ask.
"An hour or so."
"I'll eat and leave," I say.
Craig nods his head.
"So, really, what are you making?"
"Stew."
"Fancy."
He snorts, "A hell of a lot fancier than your fucking chicken nuggets."
"There's nothing wrong with nugs," I say, defending my delicacy of choice.
"It's all you can cook," Craig says, "And it isn't even cooking, you just pop them in the oven and press a few buttons."
I roll my eyes, "Well sorry I'm no master chef like you are."
"It's hardly rocket science."
"No shit," I say, "I'm just not into it like you are."
"I wouldn't say I'm into it…"
"You don't mind cooking though, right? I mean, you cook for Tweek all the time."
"I guess. But so what?"
I shrug, "I guess I prefer to spend my time concentrating on other things."
"Right," Craig says, turning off the stove and getting two bowls from the cupboard.
And this is basically how our arguments start and end. They never amount to anything, unlike when we were kids. We didn't just argue, we fought. I mean it, full blown fist fights. Then again, it wasn't exactly a rare occurrence between friends. Tweek and Craig beat the hell out of each other before becoming close. Eric and Kyle used to throw punches, too, and one time Craig and his buddies kicked the crap out of Kyle. However, they did apologize for it later. Even Wendy's been in on some of the fist-fighting action.
Maybe it's just normal for kids to do that shit.
Hell, I think it's normal for everyone to do that shit. I still end up in fist fights every time I get drunk, but maybe that's just because I can never seem to keep my mouth shut.
"Here," Craig says, placing a bowl on front of me and handing me a fork.
"Thanks," I say as he takes a seat across from me. "Apparently Kyle is coming back to South Park," I converse with my mouth full.
"Who said?" Craig asks before taking a bite from his own bowl.
"Stan. I saw him a couple days ago. He was all smiles over it."
"He still keeps in touch with Kyle?"
"I guess so," I laugh, "They probably have a Skype schedule or something."
"Hm," Craig mumbles. "Why's he coming back?"
I shrug, "To teach, I think. That's what Stan said."
"When's he coming?"
I shrug again, "Stan never said."
Craig nods lightly, "Gonna go see him when he does?"
"I don't know."
"Why not? You were friends."
"I know," I say, "But I haven't spoken to him in years. He hasn't even been here during summer and winter breaks. He vacations a lot with his parents, I guess."
"Wealthy people…"
"Yeah," I chuckle.
Part of me is wondering if Kyle will call me when he gets back. Part of me wants him to, but then again, part of me doesn't. I'm afraid that I'd feel like less, standing in front of him. He is Dr. Kyle Broflovski, the genius with multiple degrees and I am just white trash Kenny McCormick.
"I probably wouldn't be enough for him," I say, finishing my bowl.
Craig rolls his eyes, "Doesn't Stan work at a bar? Clearly Kyle's not shallow."
"But he's moral."
"… Yeah, I guess."
I stand up, taking my empty bowl to the sink. "I'll be going, then," I say, "Thanks for the food."
Craig nods, waving me off.
I walk back out into the living room and to the front door, slipping my sneakers back on and zipping up my parka. I grab my backpack from my room before walking out.
I make my way down the elevator, past the lobby and outside.
It's cold.
Shivering, I tighten the drawstrings on my hood before reaching the sidewalk.
What to do…
I could always go see Eric. I haven't in a while.
Yeah.
Yeah, I think I'll do that.