South Park © Matt & Trey.
I'm driving to Montreal in a matter of hours, so this is the last thing I'll be posting for a couple days. So, this was inspired by a poem I wrote over on DA earlier this year bahaha. I wanted to write a story like this ever since I saw the SP movie. So, here it is!
You go home
And you cry
And you want to die
The Smiths
1.
It's almost May 26th. I turn eighteen in a matter of minutes, but I still feel like a child. I still feel small and unsure about most things.
It's snowing outside, like always, and everyone else is asleep. It's just me here, apart from Kenny, who is sauntering around in my kitchen. He's humming a song I don't recognize, wearing the exact same clothing he was the last time I saw him – orange hoodie, blue jeans, and an ugly pair of hefty looking boots. It's been a year and he still looks the same. Not a thing has changed.
"Why are you here?" I ask, a lump rising in my throat with the simple question. "Why do you keep coming back?"
I watch Kenny, waiting for a reaction or a reply but he just smiles and, with my own silence, it's quiet again – just the ticking of the clock hanging above the door, just the leaking of the kitchen taps, just the rain, just a siren. Crime and murder and death are nothing new in this sad town. I've learnt that. We've all learnt that.
He looks at the digital clock above the stove, still smiling.
"Two minutes 'til your birthday," he says. "I just wanted to wish you a happy one."
I try not to choke.
"You know," he whispers airily, "the world won't wait for you. You're missing out. You're allowed to move on with your life. In fact, you should."
"I'm not ready yet," I admit, because I know what will happen when I am.
"There things far more important than me and they're just around the corner."
It's dark in the room but he's still fucking smiling.
"You smile too much," I tell him. "You always have."
He laughs, he smiles, he glows – lighting up the whole fucking room and for a split second, it's no longer dark. "How can somebody smile too much?" he wonders.
Yes, how?
It makes me feel sick. How can he still smile so easily?
"Sometimes I hate you… I hate you for leaving…" I sniff, but who the hell am I kidding? Probably not this boy… this ghost… and definitely not myself.
He pauses, letting out a little chuckle. He slowly raises his hand, as if he may place it on my cheek, but he doesn't. He stops, smiling one last time as he lets his hand fall to his side.
He won't touch me. He can't.
He glances towards the digital clock one last time.
"Happy birthday, Kyle."
I let out a quiet, strangled noise, no longer able to ignore the lump in my throat.
"I love you."
By now I'm crying so hard I can't see clearly and when I wipe the tears away he's gone. He's been gone for so long, but he still keeps coming back.
I turn away. I laugh, I sob, and I leave the room.
I don't understand. It reminds me of something he said, something I could never make sense of: "You either have everything or nothing at all."
What do I have? I think about that and I think about how quiet it is yet again. I hate the silences he leaves behind.
It has now been a week since my birthday. Stan is naked and asleep in my bed as I converse with Kenny.
"So, it's Stan now?" he asks. He's not smiling anymore. Instead, he looks the way I feel each time I see him.
"Were you watching?"
"No," he insists, but I can tell he's lying.
"He makes things better… Stan does…" I whisper. "I don't know why."
"He cares about you."
"Does he?"
"I can tell."
"Perhaps that's why he makes me feel a little lighter."
"He loves you. Do you love him?"
"No," I say.
"You will."
"I don't want to…"
"You can't help who you fall in love with."
"I know," I tell him. "If you could, I never would have fallen in love with you and this wouldn't hurt as much as it does…"
"It's already been a year, you know. I should be long gone."
"Shut up," I choke out.
"I really did want to marry you," he says.
He had told me so many times in the past. "Hey, we should get married," he would say, bringing the topic up easily. He'd be smiling, playing it off like a joke, but I knew he meant it.
I'd just laugh it off, "We have plenty of time to think about things like that tomorrow and after that and after that."
But we didn't. Life is such a cruel game.
"I know," I say hoarsely. "I'm sorry."
He shakes his head. "Don't apologize. You're too young to be a widower, anyway."
"Shut up," I moan miserably, squeezing my eyes shut and grab at my hair in a frantic frenzy.
"Kyle?"
I jump, turning around. Stan is awake. He sits up, looking concerned. "What is it?" he whispers the question, and I can tell he already knows the answer.
"K-Kenny's here…" I say.
He gives me a helpless look. "Kyle… Kenny's been dead for a year."
I start sobbing again because I know Kenny's dead and I must be going mad.
Stan says nothing more, but he understands.
"Don't cry anymore, Kyle," Kenny pleads. "You're not crazy."
"Stop…" I continue to sob. "Leave… Please… I can't keep doing this."
"I can't leave yet."
"Why?" my voice cracks.
He smiles again, but this time there is something sad about it. "Because you won't let me."
"Stop!" I shout and Stan makes his way towards me, enveloping me in his arms.
"Shh," he comforts, "it'll… it'll be okay."
2.
I'm nineteen and high school is long over. I was elected valedictorian, but I didn't go to the ceremony so Token Black gave the speech I should have been giving. I don't mind. He probably did a better job, anyway. I was never good with crowds.
I spend summer in a hospital because, even now, my head is full of ghosts – full of these goddamn memories I can't seem to get rid of. I've learnt in school that the human mind is impressionable. You can easily forget things, and you can easily believe the lies you tell yourself. Soon enough, they aren't lies at all. Your personal reality is so… malleable.
I really am going fucking crazy.
Stan snaps his fingers in front of my face, "Dude, stop nodding off."
He visits me every day. Not even my family does that. I feel like they've gotten sick of the melodrama.
"Sorry," I force a laugh.
"You sleeping okay?" he asks.
"All right, I suppose," I shrug, though it's a lie. I see Kenny whether or not I have my eyes open.
My body is still waiting for my mind to wake up… but nonetheless, I push forward, mechanically doing the things people expect of me. Everything feels numb now. I guess that's what happens when the person you love dies. A little piece of you dies, too.
"Are you ready to finally move forward?" Kenny asks, standing in the corner of the room.
I don't answer him and Stan continues to chatter away, trying hard to distract me from the things he knows are going through my mind.
After he leaves, Kenny is still standing in his usual place.
"What?" I ask, feeling the familiar, bitter sadness in my chest.
"You know what."
"No, I don't."
"You shouldn't keep Stan waiting."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't kid yourself. You're a smart guy and playing stupid was never one of your strong suits. You know exactly what I mean."
I scrunch up my face, trying hard to will away the tears that want to fall. "I can't… I can't do this…"
"Yes, you can."
"I can't!" I cry.
"Kyle, you're strong. A hell of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."
I sniff, carelessly wiping my nose on my sleeve.
"Say what you need to and then let me go."
"I hate seeing you here like this," I say between sobs, "It's wearing me down! It hurts to see you and not be able to touch you, it hurts and it makes me want to fucking die!"
"I know it hurts right now," he whispers, "But you're going to live. You're going to get out of here and live life and be happy with Stan."
"Why did you have to go?" I ask desperately. I feel like I'm choking on each word that escapes my lips and it's draining me.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I love you, Kyle. I'll always love you."
"I can't keep doing this," I sob.
"I know. This is the last time," he says, "I promise."
"What?" I ask weakly.
"Say it."
"I can't!"
"Yes, you can."
I stare at him and an onslaught of memories make their way to the front of my mind, threatening to drown me whole.
The simple sound of his name was a grievance, even when he was alive. I wanted him but I was so afraid to say it. He made the first move, and I was surprised when he said he felt the same way. He was a little scruffy, but I didn't care. To me, he was perfect. Always perfect.
He liked to hide in that orange sweater, and when it came off there were no more secrets. It was just me and him. The first night we kissed was the first night we fucked and I felt the history that stained his skin.
"I think I would be lost cause without you," he'd say. "You make me want to be a good person."
I fell so hard and I fell so fast I barely knew it was happening.
But… I can't keep doing this…
It's time to move forward – for Stan's sake, for Kenny's sake, and for my own sake.
I take a deep breathe. "Kenny…" I say softly. "I never said it enough, but I'm grateful for everything you gave me. You gave me something to look forward to. Every single fucking day, I was happy knowing I'd get to see you, to spend it with you. You said I made you want to be a good person? I never told you that were already were. You were the one who made me better. I'm sorry I never told you."
It's Kenny. It's always been Kenny. I am who I am and it's all thanks to him.
"It's okay, Kyle," he says.
"I love you," I tell him one last time. "I feel like I never said that enough, either."
"You never had to say it. I always knew."
Forcing the word out, and forcing a smile, I whisper, "Goodbye, Kenny."
"Goodbye, Kyle." He smiles back before leaving me alone in this little room.
He won't be back anymore.
Weak kneed, I fall onto the dusty floor and allow myself to cry until there's nothing left. I clutch at my chest, as if I'm willing my heart to heal, though I know these things take time.
3.
Summer is almost over and I'm going home today. Stan picks me up; he's smiling as we make our way to his beat up car. He has my hand in his as he comments about how happy he is that I'm finally leaving.
Last night I dreamt of Kenny. I dreamt of a moment in my childhood –
I can remember it so perfectly. The grass was so green and the sky was so blue. I was watching him sit at the edge of the pond, glancing out toward the calm water; however, the lake's movement didn't seem to be what he was so mesmerized by. "You can see them too, can't you?" he asked, turning to look at me.
Childishly curious, I asked, "See what?"
He pointed at what seemed like nothing at all.
"What are they?" I asked.
"Ghosts," he explained simply, a small smile playing on his lips. There was always something a little otherworldly about him. He continued to prove this even after he died… but then again, maybe I was just crazy.
"Ghosts?"
"Can you see them?"
"…Yeah, Kenny. I can see them," I lied.
He nodded. "You're lucky, you know."
"Why is that?"
"Not everyone can."
"Why?"
"Because they don't want to," he said. "People only see what they want to see."
"Oh," I mumbled, trying not to sound sour.
Until this day, I still don't know whether or not Kenny was telling the truth or if he was just having fun. Either way, I often still wish I could go back to those days. I wish I could go back and see him – fresh faced and laughing and smiling and glowing. Always glowing as if he was the sun itself.
He gave me something to look forward to. With him, I could breathe easy, even if it was just for a moment. No matter what, I'll always miss him. He was my everything and I don't regret loving him. I never will.
He deserved all the love I had to offer.
4.
That was the last time, awake or asleep, that I saw Kenny McCormick.
I'm twenty now. It's already been three years since I lost the most important person in my life. It's strange when I say it like that. Three years. It doesn't sound like a very long time, but it felt as though I mourned for an eternity.
"Are you okay?" Stan asks, rolling over in bed to face me. He knows not to leave me alone anymore, but I'm doing much better.
"Yeah," I smile, "I'm just thinking."
"About what?"
"Kenny."
The name comes out easily now and I don't choke on it. I guess time does that to a person. Time helps and grief slowly ebbs away.
"Oh," Stan says softly. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Always concerned.
Always patient.
Always kind.
"I'm okay."
When I had finally stopped grieving, a part of me had wondered if Kenny was ever really here, or if it was all in my head. I don't think it would surprise me. I think too much, and sometimes I allow my thoughts to take me far, far away. Often that is so much easier than dealing with heartache.
It's just like Kenny said – People see what they want to see. The mind is home to many strange things… but then again, so is the world.
I suppose there are some things we can never truly know for sure.
"Have you seen him recently?" Stan asks carefully.
"No," I say, because I'm moving on. Just like he wanted me to. "Not even in my dreams."
I'm not sad anymore.
I don't frown. I don't cry, either.
Kenny would be proud.