South Park © Matt & Trey.

Inspired by the episode "Kenny Dies" and the TV drama "1 Litre of Tears". Craig is probably OOC in this, so if you're not into OOC Craig, turn awaaaay and never return!

1.

It was Saturday night.

Fifteen year old Craig Tucker watched Kenny McCormick from across the room with a sour expression. The blond tied a cherry stem with his tongue before winking at the girl sitting next to him. She giggled, impressed. She touched his thigh and her eyes said bedroom. Kenny's eyes agreed and the two of them disappeared together.

Craig shook his head at the very typical scene, thinking, 'Kenny McCormick is such a whore.' It was a common thought, and he wasn't the only jealous male in the room thinking the same damn thing. However, unlike the others, he wasn't jealous of Kenny's bold behaviour and boyish charm, he was jealous of the girl he was currently hitting on. The realization of it all disgusted him.

Craig and Kenny weren't friends. They never really were, and they probably never would be. Kenny wasn't the type of guy who would allow himself to belong to one person. He was the type of person who belonged to everyone, and took pride in that fact.

Craig let out a quiet sigh, turning away and deciding not to dwell on things that would never be.

"Hey!" Clyde said, nudging him and chattering mindlessly about things Craig didn't care about.

Craig shook his annoying friend off after a couple minutes and went to get himself a drink. Four heavy drinks later, he was the drunkest person in the room and it showed.

"Hey," Kenny said, waving his hands in Craig's dazed face.

"What?" Craig snapped, swatting the boy's hand away like he was trying to kill a fly.

"There's more to life than getting drunk," he said with a little smile playing on his lips.

"No, there's not," Craig answered, feeling like he was being rushed down the currant of a magic river. Kenny rolled his eyes. "You know," Craig continued, "there's more to life than fucking everything that moves."

"Jealous?" Kenny teased.

"No," Craig said a little too quickly. Not quite convinced, Kenny smiled, leaning forward and pecking the other boy on the lips. "What the fuck was that for?" Craig almost choked.

"Oh, come on," Kenny winked. "I saw you checking me out earlier."

"You're fuckin' gay," Craig mumbled in an attempt at an insult.

"Nah," the blond shrugged, "But I'll try anything once."

"People probably saw."

"Do you care?" he asks.

"No…" Craig admit.

Kenny smiled. "Good. Me neither."

The following Monday, Kenny stumbled into class, tripping over his own feet in the process. The other kids chuckled at him and he took a bow after standing up.

"Quite the entrance," Craig said as the blond took the chair next to him.

Kenny just gave him a toothy grin. "How are yah?" he asked. "Was Sunday painful?"

"Well," Craig started monotonously, "I woke up with a headache as evil and sadistic as a Madonna concert. My entire body felt like a wet noodle as I dragged myself to the bathroom, which was where I proceeded to vomit like I was being turned inside out. My mom said good morning. I told her it wasn't and she forced me to eat these really heavy pancakes, which I puked up during my second bathroom trip."

Kenny smiled, "Sounds exciting."

"Hardly," he grunted.

"Are you going to math class?"

"No. I fucking hate math," Craig mumbled. He hated school in general, among many other things.

"It's just math," Kenny reasoned. "Hate is a strong word."

"So is love," Craig argued, "but we throw that word around all the fucking time like it's no big deal."

"Yeah, but so what?" Kenny shrugged. "Love should be thrown around. The world needs more of it. There's already more than enough hatred in the world."

It's something Craig never really considered. He just rolled his eyes at the people who threw the L word around, never really understanding why, but maybe there is some truth to what Kenny said.

"I'll skip with you," Kenny declared and the two of them made their way to Stark's Pond. Kenny looked up at the cloudy sky, took a deep breath and started screaming as loud as his voice would allow.

Craig clapped his palms over his ears. "What the fuck?" he hissed once the blond quieted.

"Scream, Craig!" Kenny demanded with a wild grin.

"No," the dark haired teenager snapped. "You're mental."

"Scream!" Kenny demanded once more, with intent.

"No," Craig refused again.

"Do it!" Kenny shrieked.

Craig let out a sigh, knowing the blond wasn't about to relent until he did as he was told. So, he took a deep breath and shouted as loud as he could.

For some reason, that day Craig returned home feeling lighter.

2.

The following year, Kenny stopped going to school. The teacher told the students it was because he got sick, but of course, he would get better. He was Kenny McCormick after all, and everyone got used to those stories of immortality he loved to tell.

After a month of absences, Craig finally forced himself to visit Kenny in the hospital. "McCormick?" he said in a questioning tone, his throat suddenly dry as he entered the hospital room. He couldn't bring himself to say another word, not yet.

"Hey," Kenny held up a hand briefly before letting it fall. "I was wondering when you'd show. I've been waiting."

Then the room was quiet, only the faint sound of a machine in the background. Craig's hand found his chest, gripping it tightly – to an almost painful extent. His eyes were locked on the figure in the bed – locked on his friend Kenny McCormick.

"C'mon," Kenny laughed, and the sound was raspy and tired. "Don't look at me like that, I kind of thought you would have expected this. Didn't the teachers tell you?"

What a riot.

"They said it was degenerative… or something," Craig murmured.

Kenny nodded slowly. "Exactly… Do you know what that means?"

"No."

"You didn't Google it?"

Craig shook his head. He was too afraid to find out. "G-get out of bed," he stuttered out the faint demand. "Stand up…"

"I can't," Kenny said.

"Why not?"

"It's too hard, Craig," he admit weakly.

"When will it stop being hard?" Craig asked, sounding small.

"Never."

"Why?"

"That's the first part…"

"The first part…?" Craig repeated fearfully.

"Yeah," Kenny chokes, voice cracking. "I can't walk well anymore. It's a struggle to stand up. I can't do it for more than a few minutes. Soon enough, my speech will go. I'll start stuttering my words and soon I won't be able to talk at all. They'll have to keep me alive with tubes until my body shuts down and you know what the worst fucking part is? I'll still be here – trapped in my fucking mind. I'll have to lay here; perfectly conscious as someone washes my body and takes care of my piss… doing all the personal things most people can do with unthinkable ease. It could be for a few years, it could be for a hell of a lot longer. The doctors don't know yet. This disease kills the body, but it doesn't kill the mind."

The hopelessness of it all was making Craig nauseous. "B-but you're invincible, right?"

"No one is invincible, Craig," Kenny admit. "Not even me."

"Then what was all that stories you were always spouting?" the dark haired teenager raised his voice, suddenly angry at the lies he's been fed.

"That's all they were," Kenny sighed. "They were stories."

"Why?" Craig asked desperately.

"South Park is boring," he said. "I wanted to make it seem a little more interesting."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Craig shouted.

"I didn't want anyone to know I was dying," he gave a bitter chuckle. "Everything would have changed. I wanted things to stay the same for as long as they could… I mean, what would you have done if you knew I was dying?"

"I'd…" Craig paused, trailing off.

"You would pity me," Kenny finished his sentence.

Craig closed his eyes, shaking slightly, but refusing to cry. "I thought you were clumsy," he whispered. "I never thought you might be sick."

Kenny smiled, "It's okay."

"Is it?"

"I don't know."

"I'll come back," Craig muttered the promise before leaving the room.

Suddenly everything was clear and Craig found himself understanding why it was Kenny tried so damn hard. He was trying to live his life as fast as he could because death didn't give him the head start most people got. It was chasing him quickly and cruelly.

True to his words, the following day, Craig came back. "What's that in your hand?" Kenny asked.

"A book," Craig said, holding it up. "The teacher wants us to read it by next week. If you want, I thought I'd read it to you."

"All right," Kenny smiled as Craig settled down in the chair next to his bed. He opened to the first page, beginning to read. Kenny shut his eyes, happily listening to Craig's rough voice and allowing the words to create images in his mind.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Craig asked with a smile as he noticed the piece of paper in Kenny's hand.

"I was gonna make something…" Kenny admit, "but it sucks…. It looks like something a baby drew."

"No, way," Craig chuckled, moving closer. "I think it's great."

"Heh, yeah… It's January twenty-fifth, right?" Kenny remembered. "I was gonna try and make you a card, but my motor skills aren't as good as they used to be," he smiled sheepishly. "It's funny… I used to be so good at drawing… but I can't draw anymore."

"Either way, I love it," Craig said sincerely, taking the card and reading it. There isn't a lot of writing inside. It was probably hard for Kenny to even hold the pencil, let alone try to write neatly. Craig can't even begin to imagine how frustrating that would be – having the mind of a sixteen year old but the motor skills of a child.

Craig put a hand on Kenny's blond head and wondered silently what was going on inside his weird brain.

"You're awfully different than I once thought," Kenny said, his voice tired and strained with effort.

"I'm dull," Craig admit. "People don't really like me."

"Because they don't understand you," Kenny smiled again. "You won't let them understand you."

"Hm…" Craig mused thoughtfully.

"Besides," Kenny offered, "there's nothing wrong with being a little boring."

"I suppose."

"You always visit me," Kenny noted offhandedly. "Every day, you're here. Why is that?"

"I don't know," Craig said, but it was a lie and they both knew it. They also knew that telling the truth wouldn't make things any easier. Saying I love you would only make things harder.

The more time Craig spent with Kenny, the more he changed. Craig began to smile, but that wasn't all – he also began to laugh.

3.

As the years continued to pass, things continued to change. Everyone grew up. Everyone graduated high school, and everyone moved on to college. Soon, they were all college graduates finally entering the real world – a world that wouldn't comfort and coddle them when times got rough. Everyone moved forward – everyone except for Kenny McCormick, who was still lying in that hospital bed.

"Hey," Craig smiled as he entered the familiar room.

Kenny returned the smile, though with a lot more effort. By then, he lost his ability to talk. Craig dug The Adventures of Tom Sawyer out of his bag and began to read. Kenny always liked Mark Twain best. He found a comfortable kind of familiarity in the antics of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.

When Craig was twenty-four, he got a phone call. "Hello?" he answered.

"Hello, Craig," came a feminine voice with a slight twang he recognized as Carol McCormick.

"Carol," he greeted her.

"Can you come out?" she asked. "I think Kenny wants to see you."

Craig didn't hesitate to ditch what he was doing and drive to the hospital. His mind was blank on the ride there, and he never allowed himself to think the worst. He thought the worst happened when Kenny finally lost the ability to speak, or when he stopped being able move his hands, but he knew there was still more pain to come because he knew how this would end.

"Hi," he greeted Carol with a forced smile upon entering the waiting area. Stuart was sitting down next to Kevin and Karen. They all looked numb. Leaning against the wall was Eric. He had his arms crossed and looked like he was angry rather than sad. Stan and Kyle were there as well, both of them desperately trying to stifle their tears.

"Hello, Craig," Carol returned his smile with one of her own, though looking thoroughly worn down. I guess that's what watching your son slowly die will do to a person.

She silently walked with him toward Kenny's room. "Craig," she put a hand on his back as they reach the door.

"Yeah?" he turned to look at her.

"If there is anything you want to say to Kenny," she paused, swallowing harshly and briefly closing her eyes, "Now would be the time. The doctor said..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Craig took a deep breath, feeling his chest tighten at her admission. "Oh," is all he could bring himself to say. With a shaky hand, he reached for the doorknob and he forced himself inside. Carol didn't follow him. Instead, she closed the door behind him, giving him a moment alone with her son. She knew he needed it. Craig didn't say anything as he watched the despair in Kenny's eyes. He let out a soft sigh, trying hard to will himself not to cry. "Hey, Kenny…" his voice cracked as he swallowed a sob. By then, he was shaking so violently each sound he let out trembled. Kenny forced a smile as best as he could. It was small and faint, but Craig could tell he was trying. "Stop it," he hissed, unable to look. He let out a sob as he fell to his knees, unable to suppress himself any longer. He finally allowed himself to break down and release every pent up emotion that had been dragging him down since his first hospital visit. He pressed his face into the mattress and let out a string of muffled, agonizing cries. "You don't have to smile," he sobbed, shoulders shaking violently, "You don't need to pretend anymore."

There were things Kenny still wanted to say, but he couldn't and, though it hurt, Craig understood this. He tried to calm himself for Kenny's sake. He tried so damn hard to stay strong. He wiped his eyes and raised his head, letting out a sigh that came out as a whimper. By now, Kenny's cheeks were damp, too.

"C-come on," Craig said, sniffing as he grabbed one of the blond's limp hands and held it tightly. "We shouldn't be so damn sad… Look… you'll be turning twenty-four in a few days. That's exciting, right? Me, Clyde, Token, Bebe, Nichole, Butters, Eric, Kyle, Stan and everyone else… We-We'll all come visit you."

Of course, Kenny didn't reply. He couldn't, but he took comfort in the sound of Craig's voice the same way he had been doing since his first visit.

Craig leaned down and pressed his lips to Kenny's – just like Kenny did the day they became friends. However, this kiss meant something different. This kiss meant didn't mean hello, it meant goodbye. They both knew that.

"I love you," he finally said, but by the time he got the words out, Kenny's eyes were closed.

Love isn't kind. Love is crueller than hatred could ever be. Craig learned that, though Kenny tried so hard to teach him different.

Craig didn't bother trying to wipe the tears away as the machine flat-lined. Kenny was gone, and that meant Craig didn't have to be strong anymore. He saw it coming as soon as he entered Kenny's hospital room. He didn't bother trying to collect himself when the doctors rushed into the room in a frantic panic, or when Carol ran in screaming, or when they desperately tried to revive the lifeless body.

They couldn't, and birthday plans were turned into funeral plans.

"No, no, no!" Locked in her husband's arms, Carol wailed in agony at the sight of her dead son.

Kevin refused to cry, but his glassy eyes were glued on the doctors failed attempt. Karen sank to the floor, unable to look as she sobbed openly for her deceased brother. Eric pressed his lips together to form a thin line and everyone in the room could see how damn hard he had to try not to let his emotions show. Kyle and Stan cried into each other's shoulders, mourning the loss of their other best friend.

Craig's mouth went dry as he witnessed everyone's grief and it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He was in a room full of people who loved Kenny McCormick and Kenny McCormick was dead.

Love isn't warm. Love is cold and sad and painful.

.

.

.

Epilogue.

Craig Tucker sighs as he walks into the office building where he now works. A dull job for a dull man, but then again, there's nothing wrong with being a little boring.

"Hey, hey, hey," Clyde says, tossing an arm around Craig's shoulder. "What time do you get off today?"

"Five," Craig answers, offering his lively friend a small smile.

"Me, too!" he grins. "Let's go to the theatre after work. There's a new movie out I want to see!"

"Sure, I'd love to."

Wherever Craig Tucker went, a rain cloud once followed. Wherever Kenny McCormick went, it was always sunny… It's been a year since he died – three hundred and ninety-seven days, to be exact. Craig still finds himself keeping count, and each day he wakes up, he wonders when he'll be able to stop. Grief is a sickness that can't be thrown up or pushed to the side like a chore. When Kenny died, Craig knew he would never love again but that hasn't stopped his list of emotionless fucks from piling up. It hasn't stopped him from trying and it hasn't stopped him from throwing that little word around in a desperate attempt to fix what has be torn apart.

There are days he still wants so desperately to believe the stories Kenny used to tell. There are days when he convinces himself that they still might be true, and if he waits long enough, he'll see Kenny again. He'll show up out of the blue and he'll laugh and say something stupid... but he doesn't hover on the thought.

"You're different," people will say to him, and that's because Craig still remembers what the sunny boy tried so hard to teach him.

So, Craig smiles, even now, because that's what Kenny would have wanted. It's the least he can do.

Fin.