It's been exactly a year since I got this! Yay! So of course I had to write something for Kenny. :3 Hope you enjoy~!

He opened his eyes and saw three fourth graders run by, laughing happily. His sight was drawn to a keychain bouncing around on a girls purple backpack. It was of a white bear, and it was bouncing around with an irregular rhythm. It was funny how his eyes were drawn to the smallest of things.

It seemed he had been sitting on the bench for a few hours now. Minutes. Days. Weeks. Years. It didn't really matter anymore. Everything was the same. Time passed by at the same pace. Everything was dull. Boring. The same.

Slowly, he stood up, brushing nonexistent dirt off of his dark colored jeans. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, he was just walking. Step by step, second by second, he was moving.

How many times have I walked down this road?

The February air made his cheeks flush red, going through his thin sweater and giving him goosebumps. He couldn't feel the chill embracing him. He was cold, but not chilly. Cold inside, feeling-less, and he couldn't feel anything else. Cold, mundane. Dull. This was how Kenny McCormick felt.

A concrete building loomed in front of him, the dark clouds swirling behind it giving it an ominous feeling. Wind blew from behind it, making the oak trees standing by it in it's abandoned yard blow its fading leaves through the air, making small twists and turns, like some type of cosmic ballet. One leaf, a faded orange color, got stuck in Kenny's blond hair. He ran a hand through it, successfully pulling it out and dropping it to the ground. He brushed his pale bangs out of his face, giving him a better view of the building before him.

It was a grainy color of gray, with cracks leading down its sides in dark, foreboding criss-cross patterns. It's windows were dark and cracked, some shattered and some shuttered up with rotting wooden boards. It didn't have a No Trespassing sign, but it did have a chainlink fence surrounding it. He slipped his overly thin frame through a small opening and entered the building. There was graffiti covering the walls, but nothing that could really be called 'art'. It only further heightened the feeling of abandonment the building had. Shards of glass and litter covered the concrete floor, crunching under his feet as he walked to the stairs. He was taking the same path that he had taken, through the floor and up the floor.

Unlike the psychological feeling of suffocation he had felt at the station, this time it was a physical shortness of breath that Kenny felt as he used his legs to go upstairs. There was no way there were working elevators here.

Tenth floor. Most trespassers didn't bother coming this high. So, unlike the floors below, this one was not cluttered with glass and trash. Just a thin layer of dust and words written with magic marker on the wall by the window.

Those words remained, without any sign of disappearing.

The boy had committed suicide about a year ago. At the time, he had been a sophomore in high school. Just a year older than Kenny. He had leapt from the tenth floor.

He had scrawled countless words on the walls of this floor. Words which could have been badly-written poetry or maybe his final testament.

Crap.
It's all crap.
Nothing has a meaning anymore.
Crap.
Living is crap. Why doesn't anyone realize this?

That was his last message to the world.

Kenny approached the window where the boy had jumped into the sunset sky to his death. After his suicide, the police had covered all of the windows of the floor with tape. Kenny ripped away part of the tape so that he could see outside. He wanted to see the scenery that the boy had seen. Forcing the rattling window open, a gust of cold February air into his face and blowing the dust that had settled on the windowsill into his face and making him shut his eyes. Coughing, Kenny stepped back for a moment until it subsided, then stepped forward again.

His hair had grown irritatingly long, as if to erect a barrier against all human reaction. From between the countless platinum strands, he viewed a distorted world.

The sun had begun to descend, painting the sky a bright Bengal orange.

A year ago, the boy had seen this exact same view. He had realized that he had no wings, and yet, he had tried to fly.

The boy had died. He had taken his own life and ended it forever. But Kenny was not dead, yet neither was he truly alive. The poem, though one of despair, had strangely touched the teenager.

The boy, to bring his thoughts to life, had left his 'poem'.

It was later discovered that he had had countless poems and thoughts scribbled in notebooks he had left behind. Those feelings of pain, despair and hopelessness remained in the world as a reminder.

Kenny shut his eyes and turned his head to the ceiling, ignoring the chills radiating through his body and the urge to run away.

As he opened his eyes once more, he saw in front of him the white clouds of his breath and the orange fading into dusk. As if to shake him from his thoughts, a strong wind blew forth. His body reacted without thought. Kenny put his hand on the windowsill and leaned half of his body outside.

The ground below seemed so far away. The height was enough to make him dizzy. This was a place cut off from the world.

He had no wings to fly. Scattered tufts of dust drifted in the air like feathers, but they were not his wings. He had no wings. He'd realized that about himself a long while ago.

Crap.
Crap.
Crap.
Crap.
Crap.
Crap-

Like a chant, the word ran through his head.

Fly. Reach for the sky. You can do it, he thought.

"I'll never see this warped twilight again. Goodbye, fleeting world-"

Just as he was about to hurl himself out of the window, it happened.

~Fsht

The smell of smoke. And then, a voice.

"Do you want to fly?"

The voice was close- no, it was whispered in his ear. Not expecting this, Kenny swallowed back a shriek of fear.

There shouldn't have been anyone else there! No matter how focused he was on his task, he would have realized it if someone came near. His body froze, but he managed to move his eyes towards the direction of the voice.

A face was there. Close enough for him to feel an exhaled breath on his cheek, had there been any.

He had thin, with slanted, bright red eyes. His skin was almost as pale as snow, giving him a ghost look. His jaw was rounded yet straight, framed by his dangling dyed red and black dreadlocks. He seemed to be older than Kenny, but he was about seven inches shorter than his 5'10 frame.

"Damien?"

"If you're going to fly," the demon continued, "then you need to spread your wings. Or... would you just rather die?"

He fixed his thin red eyes on his. His voice, low and grainy with an implacable accent, had the feel of an adults voice, although he couldn't be older than fifteen.

"If you fall from here, it will be quite painful. Unless you want to kill yourself, that is." He laughed softly.

Kenny quickly regained his senses, edging away from Damien and the window. "What are you doing here, Damien?" he said as bravely as he could.

"I felt the presence of death, that's all." Damien answered flatly. Without making a sound, the Anti-Christ approached the boy. "You're trying to kill youself, aren't you?You know that suicide would take you away from life forever. You won't come back. " he asked. "Er..." Kenny hesitated, and it wasn't because his throat was dry.

"That's odd. You do want to die, don't you?" Damien asked. "Then why don't you just do it?"

The boy's body trembled upon hearing such words uttered without a hint of emotion. Without warning, Damien snickered and moved away from him. He pointed towards the open window.

"Go ahead."

As if hypnotized, Kenny was unable to look away from Damien's slanted, red eyes.

"If you jump from here, your wish will come true... Right? Then you'll surely be dead. For good." Damien cocked his head to the side innocently. "Now, come on. Why don't you just jump?"

"..." Stunned, Kenny was unable to move a muscle.

"What are you doing? You were about to jump because you wanted to die, weren't you?" Damien let out a big sigh. "I guess you can't kill yourself after all. What was that now, some spur of the moment thing? You can't even kill yourself of your own free will. How sad."

Damien looked at him with cheerless, pitying eyes. "At this rate, you won't get the death you so desire. You probably confused the aura of death around you for your own, didn't you?"

The Anti-Christ's words rang in Kenny's ears and slowly traveled to his brain. Slowly being absorbed. Melting.

"You're emitting the smell of death. You reek of it. But it isn't yours, this time." Damien slowly started to fade away. "Remember that. Okay then... see you."

~Fsht

In an instant, everything went white. Kenny was taken aback. He looked around and, of course, no one was there.

"What was that just now?" he asked no one in particular, his low voice echoing around the empty room. "...it was just a bad dream," he answered. "I had a bad dream... must have fainted."

He had let his chance slip away. Death was now estranged from him. Now it seemed better to get away from this place.

At least for today.

You like it? Then stay tuned for more chapters! Yes, its multichaptered. It won't turn into some huge thirty chapter thing; I'd say about three to five. Reviews?

Songs inspiring this chapter:
Faking My Own Suicide (Relient K)