Kenny was dead.
Well, of course Kenny was dead. Kenny was always dead. By that point, all of South Park had become immune to the teen's constant deaths. Nobody could tell whether Lady Luck was, or was not on the male's side. After all, no matter how many times the blonde died, he would always be back the next day, just the same as he'd been before dying the day before. In short, nobody cared anymore. Not his parents, Stan, and admittedly, not even I cared anymore. We would leave his dead body, and expect him to be back the next day.
Yet something was different that Monday morning. The night before Kenny and I had gone out for a walk in the woods. Nobody ever knew when disaster would strike, and Kenny would be killed. Sometimes it would happen often, sometimes he would be lucky enough to go weeks, even months without dying. In the past month, he'd only died once before that Sunday, when a hunter apparently misfired and shot Kenny instead of their target. While the hunter was distraught, I could only assure the poor man that it was fine, and though the boy looked good and dead, he would be fine the next day.
Then I left him there.
Monday was a particularly cool morning, the sort of morning where even the locals, who'd grown up in South Park and were fully accustomed to the cold bundled up and prepared for a cold day. Winter was approaching, after all. The McCormick's could never afford to do so themselves, so I, after getting over the inconsiderate nature that came with childhood, had taken to bringing an extra jacket for my friend on days like this.
There was no sign of Kenny at the bus stop that day, however, or in any of our classes. In fact, there was no sign of Kenny anywhere, and that was troubling. At first, I only assumed that he was sick, or some new pornography or magazine was out, and Kenny was preoccupied with that. Since we entered high school, I'd been trying to convince him that he should graduate and move onto college. It was our senior year, but I was still having a hard time convincing him, and often times he skipped classes, or even the entire day if he decided against it.
Stan, Cartman and I went about our day as usual, but split up at school. Time had only brought the four of us closer. Cartman was still an inconsiderate dick who never seemed to stop with the jew jokes, but I could still tolerate him. Cartman would never grow up, he was still a manipulative bastard, and he was still a fat ass. Stan and I were as close as ever, best friends regardless of what happened. He and I were on good terms with most of the kids we grew up with, but because of our friendship, most girls steered away from us, assuming we were gay. I felt bad for Stan, I really did, but there was nothing either of us could do about it, and we'd both decided that High School was far too immature a place to find the right person, anyways. He was wrong. We were both wrong. Kenny and I were closer than ever.
I told myself countless times that Kenny was preoccupied with porn that day, but I knew better than anyone that he'd grown bored of it a long time ago. He had no interest in girls, or really much of anyone. We'd grown closer since high school started, and now there was only us. So no matter how many times I tried to convince myself he was looking at porn, I couldn't bring myself to believe it, and there was a constant worry nagging at the back of my mind.
Maybe he'd been beaten, maybe he was sick, maybe he was upset with me for not showing any concern for him when he died yesterday, or maybe, maybe he'd really died this time, and wasn't coming back. That thought hurt more than any, and I was beyond frightened.
Nonetheless, I waited for school to let out before I went looking for him.
That afternoon, the first place I checked was our usual meeting spot. Then his house, and any other place I could think of that Kenny might be. By the time supper rolled around, panic had long since swept through me, and I was running about the town frantically. I didn't want to think that my worst fear had come true, that something terrible had really happened to Kenny; that he wasn't coming back.
I wanted to think that he was fine, that he was just the same as he always was, but I couldn't ignore the fear. As each second ticked by, the possibility grew stronger. Was Kenny really dead?
I was on the verge of tears when I returned to the spot I'd left Kenny yesterday, a shaken wreck. My eyes darted about, avoiding the spot I was afraid his body might be, double crossing my fingers and hoping, praying that he was fine. Yet there he was, right where I left him, bloodied and half buried in the snow.
Kenny, without his hood on, looked like an angel. His skin was fair, and the way his blonde hair framed his face was beautiful. He was really a beautiful person, and I was proud to be the only person that could see him like that whenever I wanted. Even the way he laid now, hair and face lined with blood, he was beautiful.
Only, beauty wasn't what I was looking for then.
My heart snapped in two, and my gut sank when I spotted him there. I felt like I might die, seeing him like that. It took all the strength I could muster to force my legs to carry me to him, and before I could make it all the way, my knees gave out on me, and I had to crawl. I could feel streaks of tears running down my face. My throat was tight, and my body was shaking as I reached out. "K-Kenny?" I stammered, placing a hand on his shoulder. I shook him weakly. "Kenny, wake up." I sobbed, then shook him again, this time with more force. "Wake up!" I demanded. There was no response.
"Oh god.." I breathed the words to the sky, then leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his chest. "Please wake up." For a minute or so, I was overcome with grief. Then I noticed something.
A heart beat, and fingers in my hair.
There was a familiar chuckle. "Relax." A smooth, velvety voice told me. "I'm not gone just yet." Kenny told me, a hand still in my hair, and another on my back as he sat up. "Christ, I didn't think you would cry this much." He kissed the top of my head, and despite now being furious with him, I couldn't help but smile.
I sniffled. "You bastard."