A/N: OMG, I have no idea where I'm going with this. I really do want it to be slash though, but I can't choose! Haha, so many great couplings in his show. UMMM, this IS my first South Park fanfic, but I'm really obsessed with the show so I really doubt I've got the information wrong, but it might sound a bit odd coming from a first time writer! I'm going to try to keep this as canon as possible, but who knows? J PLEASE let me know what you think about it, okay? Love to all you sweets!
DISCLAIMER: I wish, dude, I WISH.
Kenny didn't know how to tell someone that he was hurting. Maybe it was because he didn't consciously know he was hurting, but he knew he had to say something, so he shouted at his friends and his teachers, hoping that someone somewhere would understand and rescue him.
It wasn't too hard being the one everyone ignored. It meant he got away with doing more things, that he never was the one people picked on. But it also meant that he was the one no one knew about, the one that no one ever could love… It made him a myth, the kind of little story you tell your kids at night to scare them into being good citizens.
You shouldn't lie, otherwise you'll end up like that little Kenny McCormick, and no one will be able to see you anymore. You shouldn't steal, or Kenny McCormick will come and get you. You should share because you don't want to be like Kenny McCormick.
It was no big secret, anyway, that parents hated him. Even his friend's parents gave him suspicious looks and checked their bedroom drawer before they went to sleep every time he came over. He could feel their eyes on him as he did what every other boy did. As if he wasn't good enough to be their child's friend, as if he wasn't human. It made him sick in the bottom of his stomach when he saw them, it felt so wrong sometimes to be himself.
He sat on his bed, the one without the bed frame, and he stared at the discolored watermarks on his ceilings wondering if his life would get any better anytime soon. He look at his dirty windows, and wanted to crack them wide open. He saw the old rug on the floor covering the "bad" part of the flooring, the part where you weren't supposed to step on unless you wanted to fall under. He saw the stains, and the cracks, and the plain ugliness of everything, and he wanted to cry.
Kenny sat up in one fluid motion and stepped out of bed like he had forgotten the stove was on, and hurriedly put on his orange sweater, making sure to hide his hair on the way out the door. He passed his dad on the way out, who looked so much like him, so much that he could see what he might look like in the future if he became an alcoholic, and if he didn't do anything about his future now. In a almost calm way he accepted it as fate, as if nothing could ever change his situation.
He banged the door shut even though the lock was broken. No one bothered to fix it, afterall what did they have that was so valuable and worth stealing? Only the old beaten up sofa if anything at all. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he crossed the train tracks and headed towards Stark's Pond.
It was cold, but it wasn't dark. There was almost a surreal whiteness to the snow, the light glancing off the tiny crystals and if he were anyone else, Kenny would have been almost inspired by them. He decided he didn't give a fuck, and headed down the dirt road that would take him to the frozen pond.
Surprisingly, no one was there. His breath came out in small, shadowy puffs of air and he wondered why he was there. He fumbled in this pockets for a while before taking out a cigarette and a lighter. He remembered the first time he had a cigarette, out behind the school with Stan, Kyle and Eric. It felt so bad, like his throat was closing up and trying to expand at the same time.
It was ironic then that he was the only one who became addicted. He told his dad right off the bat, bumming some off of him at times. His dad had laughed at him, almost in a proud manner, "Yeah, Kenny, the McCormicks are smokers, all of them." It was one of those rare times that his dad clapped him on the back and gave him a one armed hug, and he kissed the top of his head like he was still a little kid.
Yeah, the McCormicks were smokers. They were drunks, and gamblers, and thieves. Kenny hated it, hated his father for being so accepting of something that was bad.
He finished off his cigarette and threw it to the ground. He watched in almost sadistic curiosity as the smoke steamed out from under the snow, melting a little hole around it until he couldn't see it anymore.
He felt like he could relate.