A/N: Wow, I should totally be working on my other story, but this just came to me and gnawed at my brain for a while so I had to get it out.
Death.
Kenny McCormick was lying in bed, staring up through the darkness at his ceiling, pondering the word. Most people preferred to not think about death. It's morbid, they would say. Let's talk about something else. Changing the subject would provide them with an escape, for the time being at least. Death was inescapable. Sooner or later, all living beings die, replaced almost instantly by the new life of a different being.
Kenny understood that part. What he didn't understand, what kept him awake at night, was why he continued to return from the dead. Why he continued to be denied the afterlife. He had been to Hell, yes; he had been to Heaven, too. But always, only briefly, for sooner or later he always found himself back on Earth, his absence barely even questioned. His family, his friends—everyone seemed to take for granted that he would always be around. And why shouldn't they? He'd been run over, turned into a zombie, spontaneously combusted, he'd had a terminal illness and died in the fucking hospital for Christ's sake. And yet, here he was, alive, suffering another sleepless night. But why? Kenny let out a frustrated sigh, knowing there was no one to answer his question. He wanted to die. He would give anything to have that elusive, eternal peace.
What would everyone do, he wondered, if one day he really was gone for real? Would anybody care? Would anybody notice? Would anybody come to his funeral? Would they cry? Or would life simply continue on as usual?
The unanswerable questions swirled inside Kenny's brain, mixing with each other in a sea of gibberish until one word floated up to the forefront of his mind.
Suicide.
Maybe he could find out the answers. It wasn't like he had anything to lose. After all, he always came back. And this time, if he killed himself, maybe then everyone would finally see that the blond in the orange parka was in pain. He considered his options. He didn't want to shoot himself—what if he aimed wrong and didn't die right away? He didn't want to make himself suffer. That would rule out hanging himself as well. He could try to drown himself. Kenny remembered the jagged rocks underneath the bridge just outside of town. All he had to do was make sure to land on the rocks. If that didn't kill him, the water would.
Slowly, quietly, Kenny got out of bed and pulled his parka on, leaving the hood down. He slid open his window and crawled through, dropping almost silently to the ground. The night sky was free of clouds, the moonlight illuminating a silvery path for him. It was almost like destiny, in a way. He walked slowly, taking in everything around him. The world was beautiful at night, so peaceful. As he walked, he tilted his head up, watching the stars. He wanted to be up there, among them.
He reached the bridge. Turning back, he cast one last look at his hometown, the town he had lived and died in more times than he could count. Maybe this could be it. Maybe this could be goodbye. Kenny turned to the bridge, ready to face death once again. But there was already somebody there, halfway across the bridge, leaning over the railing, looking down at the water.
Kenny's eyes widened, and he took a step forward. A twig cracked under his foot, and the other someone looked up in alarm from his position on the bridge. He was shaking uncontrollably, and Kenny could see tears streaming down his face.
"Tweek?" A million questions were in Kenny's eyes as he said the name of the other blond. He took another step forward.
"Don't – don't try to—" Tweek's voice broke and he squeezed his eyes shut, more tears falling.
Kenny moved closer. He was now only a few steps away. "Tweek, what are you doing?"
"I can't – take it – anymore!" Tweek gripped the bridge railing so tightly his knuckles turned white. He was trembling so violently it seemed as though his grip on the railing was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
"Take what?" Kenny was at a loss for what to do. It was one thing for him to contemplate suicide; he had no reason to shy away from death. But Tweek?
"Everything!" Tweek made a noise somewhere between a hiccup and a sob. "The pressure! The – the way everyone looks – nrgh – at me like I'm – I'm a freak! I can't – I want it to end!"
Kenny's heart broke for Tweek. But at the same time, he recognized feelings of jealousy. If Tweek wanted to die, wanted it all to end, it would. Kenny didn't have that luxury.
"Me too." He hadn't meant for that to come out. But there it was, out in the open.
"You – you do?" Tweek stared at Kenny. Kenny looked back, into Tweek's eyes, and saw something there that shocked him. Through the tears, through the fear and desperation, there was love. And Kenny realized the real reason why he was ready to throw himself off that bridge. He wanted to see who cared. He wanted to see who, if anyone, loved him, Kenny McCormick, the poor boy in the parka. He didn't want the peace that came with death; no, he wanted the peace that came with having someone to love, someone who loved you back, with the kind of the love that lasts forever.
Kenny saw that kind of love in Tweek's eyes. Without thinking about it, simply knowing it was the right thing to do, he reached out and took one of Tweek's shaking hands in his own. Tweek jumped at the contact, but didn't pull away, and after a second his hand tightened around Kenny's. Kenny looked down at the water before speaking.
"I know...what it's like to want it all to end," he said quietly. "To feel like the only way out of something that's making you miserable...is to die."
Beside him, Tweek let out a tiny whimper. Kenny turned to face him. "But I've died, Tweek, and I get it now. Death is meaningless. It has no effect on the life you live. It always happens. It will always happen. It's inevitable. But we have to keep living, even if it's just for the sake of living. For the little things."
"The little – little things?" Tweek echoed, casting a nervous glance over the side of bridge.
Kenny smiled a small smile. "The little things," he repeated. He let go of Tweek's hand and leaned in closer, touching his forehead to the other boy's. Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips to Tweek's. He could taste tears. It took a second—only a second—for Tweek to kiss him back. In unison, the two wrapped their arms around the other, pulling each other closer. After what seemed like an eternity, Kenny broke the kiss, but they stayed locked in the embrace, neither one wanting to be the first to let go. They stayed like that, on the bridge, until the moonlight turned to sunlight, and Kenny had never felt so...
Alive.