AN: This is just a random fanfic I wrote a little while back... I might end up scrapping the rest...
I do not own any South Park characters.
"Kenny!"
The shriek was so harsh, so pained; I couldn't believe it was my own. It felt just as unreal as the dark stains on his orange parka, as unreal as the deep red spill spreading from him. My knees hit the hard ground and quickly cooling droplets slid down my cheeks. Stan's gloved hand folded over my thin shoulder, but it did nothing to stop the tears—nor did Cartman's murmured, "He dies all the time."
"Ali. Ali, look at me," Kyle said, taking my face in his hands. My eyes were forced to meet his brilliant green ones. "Ali," he continued, "He'll be fine. Trust us. We don't know why, but he always comes back." I tore myself from Kyle's eyes to look back at Kenny, still lying in the road. The blood had ceased to flow—he was dead. My feet found the frozen Colorado ground and I propelled myself onto the black asphalt. My thin fingers dipped around the fur-lined hood, cradling his lifeless body to me.
They let me sit like that for a while. Finally, Kyle's green-gloved hands and Cartman's chubby hands eased Kenny's body from me, and Stan wrapped one arm around my shoulders. I threw my arms around him and buried my face against his warm neck. His lips brushed my temple as he whispered, "Don't worry, he will come back." He pulled me to my feet and guided me out of the road. I could feel their worry—it permeated everything around them. Then again, knowing my own history, I couldn't blame them. My eyes closed involuntarily as my mind retracted into its darkest corner—the one where I could see just how damaged I was. The tiny blade I kept with me felt heavy in my pocket, and the thin red lines that overwhelmed my shoulders and arms seemed to burn.
I turned myself so I could face Kyle before inquiring, "When will he be back?" Those bright green eyes searched my face, looking for the impending breakdown that was lurking. "A few days," he replied after a while, never breaking eye contact with me.
Sunlight streamed through the bare branches of South Park's woods, shining through my eyelids. I shivered, huddling down farther into my parka. I hated the way the cold breeze nipped at my nose, but I didn't have a home to go to. Not that I'd tell the boys that. We were still waiting for Kenny—or I was, at least. Pushing myself to my feet, I began my usual morning jog to the local truck stop to shower. That's when I realized how true the strange reality of Kenny's immortality was. I watched the door of his ratty trailer creak open and he ducked out, orange parka and all.
"Kenny!" I cried for the second time in three days. I slapped my hand over my mouth as he turned. My legs ran before I realized what was really going on and I crashed into him, tears sliding from my eyes. "Ali! Ohmygod, Ali it's really you," he said, wrapping his arms around me, crushing me to him as we lay on the ground. I buried my face in the fur of his hood, wrapping cool fingers around the back of his neck.
I kissed his neck and whispered, "I didn't think it was true…the whole 'he dies all the time, he'll come back' thing. I…how?" He shushed me, murmuring, "I don't really know either. I just wake up in my bed after a few days." I pulled my face from his neck, looking up into his gemstone-blue eyes. "Oh," I breathed, letting my fingers trail up to toy with the errant blonde strands over his eyes. He grabbed my hand and nodded, leaning up to kiss me. I met him halfway, pushing his hands to the ground with mine.
The kisses deepened, and I swung my leg over his waist. He grabbed my hips and levered me over him, one knee on each side. My hands fumbled with the zipper of my parka, only stopping when I remembered that we were outside in the middle of a Colorado winter—and I had been on my way to shower when I saw him. Kenny's eyebrows twitched down when I paused, silently asking, "What? Did I do something?"
Smiling, I shook my head and answered, "I was on my way to TruckCo to shower… I should probably go do that before…you know." I looked down at my bright pink, half-unzipped parka. He laughed, rolling me over and pulling me up as he stood. "C'mon, you can shower at my place." He dorkishly bowed slightly as he opened his trailer door and ushered me in. Inside the rusted tin outside, Kenny's home was pretty good-looking—off-white walls, plush carpet, old pictures of him and the others on the walls. I stopped in front of one, from when they were in fourth grade. Grinning, I turned to him, taunting, "You really used to keep your hood that tight?"
"Of course. That was what everyone knew me as. Other than the kid who always died," he replied, stripping off his parka to reveal a white wife beater. My eyes locked with his, and I couldn't make myself move as he walked closer to me, his slimly muscled arms reaching out to unzip my parka. I let it slide off my shoulders and to the floor, leaving me in a blue-and-aqua bra and my light-colored jeans. He raised his eyebrow briefly, a smirk twisting his mouth up. "That was a little too easy, especially for you. Not that I'm complaining about the view," he said, his eyes flitting from my face down. Then Kenny saw my arms. His smirk dropped, and he added, "When did you start doing that again? Is everything okay? Are you okay?" I nodded, then replied, "Yeah, everything's fine. I just…I didn't know if you were really going to come back or if they were just trying to keep me from breaking down."
He nodded, taking my hand and towing me down the hall to the first of two doors—the bathroom. He wrapped his arms around me, asking, "Need anything? Clothes? There's towels and my mom's old shower stuff under the sink. Unless you don't want to use her stuff, then I can find som—"
"Don't worry, you dweeb!" I said, stretching to kiss him again. His hands toyed briefly with my back before he let go and gave me a tiny shove towards the open doorway. I stepped into the tiny, neat bathroom, realizing my bra had been unclipped. My eyes narrowed, and I playfully said "you bastard" before closing the door.
