Chapter Track: Mary Jane's Last Dance – Tom Petty
Bebe wakes up gradually and more comfortably than she has in years. It takes her a minute to get her bearings – at first she thinks she's back in bed in her apartment in South Park, but as soon as she smells the aroma of motel bedding and morning breath, she knows that's not the case. She's tangled up in somebody, when she definitely went to bed alone.
She opens her eyes – it's Kenny. He's fast asleep and dead to world, and he reeks of whiskey. She wonders when he finally came back last night. He couldn't have gotten very far wearing nothing but boxer shorts, but Kenny doesn't really have shame, and probably didn't care that he was one step away from being naked.
He kissed her.
She feels her cheeks heat at the memory. It wasn't just a kiss. It was a fucking kiss. He'd kissed her neck and pulled down her dress, and she'd been an instant away from wrapping her legs around him when he tore himself away from her and stormed off down the stairs. She'd waited a solid forty-five minutes for him before falling asleep. She was confused. She is confused.
"Ah."
"Clyde, be quiet."
"I'm trying."
Bebe freezes in her spot with Kenny draped over her and listens carefully. It's clear that Craig and Clyde are making an attempt at not waking them up. They can't possibly be dicking around with two other people in the same room, though, can they? Bebe wouldn't put that past Craig, but she feels like Clyde would at least have a little shame.
She hears a stifled little cry that sounds like it came from Clyde. They are. They are having sex in the bed next to her. This is definitely not the way that she would have preferred to wake up. Her face is on fire, and even when she opens her mouth to clear her throat and get their attention, she can't find it in herself to do it. Bebe lies stock still for several minutes, through muffled noises and moans. She finds herself burying her face in Kenny's chest. He doesn't smell pleasant despite showering the night before. He must have gotten wasted someplace after their romantic interlude just outside the room, because he smells faintly of cigarettes but mostly of alcohol.
When Bebe pulls back to peek and see if Clyde and Craig are anywhere close to finished, she sees that Kenny's eyes are slitted open. He yawns quietly and Bebe holds a finger to her lips, pointing behind him to the bed on their left.
"Are they fucking?" he mouths.
"I think so," she murmurs back.
He looks pale, like he needs to throw up, but he also seems as though he doesn't intend to move until Craig and Clyde have finished with their sexcapades.
A loud groan belonging to Craig erupts, and a moment later Clyde follows. The mattress springs stop squeaking and the noises wind down. For a too-long moment, there's nothing but Clyde and Craig breathing heavily. Clyde asks, "Do you think we woke them up?"
"McCormick is probably sleeping off the hangover of his life," Craig says, "we should shower."
"Mm," Clyde agrees. There's shuffling, and the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. Bebe dares a peek and sees that they've gone into the bathroom to shower together, which she supposes is only natural after they've fucked each other.
"I can't believe they did that," she remarks, when the water starts running.
"I can," Kenny says. He rolls away from her and stumbles across the room to the trashcan, where he coughs up bile. He sets his head on the rim before throwing up a second time and says, "Hey, at least they used protection."
"Oh, gross," Bebe says, "I did not need to know that." Nonetheless, she digs in her purse and finds the Advil that she tossed in at the last minute. She dumps a couple pills into her palm and swipes Clyde's half-full water bottle from the TV stand, handing both to Kenny and rubbing his back as he downs them.
"Maybe we should go get coffee?" Bebe suggests, "We can bring some back for Craig and Clyde – I know their Harbucks orders." Clyde doesn't really drink coffee, but she supposes that he'll appreciate a vanilla frappuccino nonetheless.
"What time is it?" Kenny asks into the trashcan.
Bebe turns to check the clock on the bedside table. It's a few minutes past eleven o'clock. She frowns, "Holy shit, we woke up late. It's eleven, dude." Considering last night's events, that's hardly surprising. She's a chronic late sleeper, and Kenny probably drank enough to sleep for a century and still wake up miserable and hungover.
"Fuck," Kenny sighs, face still in the trashcan.
"Mm, I'm gonna get dressed," Bebe says, "You don't have to come with me to get coffee if you want to stay here and rest for a little more." She was hoping to get him by himself, though. He has some explaining to do about last night. She knows that they're attracted to each other, and they always have been, but Kenny's always been able to keep himself in check.
And because of what happened, now she's confused and horny. Kenny's a good-looking guy. He's slim and toned, has nice shoulders and soft hair, and light blue eyes that you could get lost in. His mouth is a work of God, and it was all over her for far too short a time. She dreamed of having it on her again, and now she's sore and tingly. Bebe knows that trying to kiss him again is seven levels of a bad idea, but she can't help but want it desperately. She doesn't have anybody really close to her to get advice on about it. Wendy's off on the east coast with her new friends, probably busy with leadership of some important cause or another, and Bebe isn't that close to anybody else. She guesses she can try and talk to Clyde, but that would require detaching him from Craig, which will take more effort than she can muster up at the moment.
She shucks off her pajamas and replaces them with denim shorts and a loose white tank top. It's a little see-through, making her red and white polka-dotted bra visible through the fabric, but since they'll mostly be driving today, Bebe can't find it in her to care.
"Mmph, don't leave without me," Kenny tells her, face still pressed against the trashcan, though there's a little more color in his cheeks than there was a few minutes ago, "I'm coming. Just need to put clothes on."
Bebe laces on her converse as Kenny pushes himself up and sifts through his duffel on the floor, pulling out the first two items he finds and sniffing them to make sure that they're okay to wear. She puts a touch of makeup on her face, just mascara and lipgloss, but enough that she looks better than she did yesterday, all exhausted and frizzy.
"Can I have a stick of gum?" Kenny asks, obviously intending to use the gum as a substitute for brushing his teeth while Craig and Clyde are still occupied in the shower.
Bebe fishes in her purse and hands one to him. She scribbles out a note to the others on the motel stationary before asking, "You want me to drive?"
Kenny says nothing and simply tosses her the keys. He has sunglasses on, but still makes a little whining noise when they exit the room and are hit by hard sunlight. She wants to touch him and reassure him, but Bebe isn't sure where they stand and can't say what is and isn't okay between them anymore. Kissing and anything sexual had always been off limits as per their agreement, but everything else – cuddling, hugging – was fair game.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Bebe uses her iPhone to find the nearest Harbucks. The drive is short, but Kenny still sits in the passenger seat with his face planted in his knees and his hands over his head, making Bebe wonder why he even bothered to come with her when he could have been sleeping this off for at least another half-hour or so.
Bebe orders their drinks while Kenny sits at a table on the side of the Harbucks without windows, his head on the laminate. She brings his Americano to him and sits across from him, the other drinks nestled in a paper tray.
"Hey Kenny?"
"Mm."
"Can, um – what was up with last night?" she asks, feeling her heart beat harder against her ribcage, "I'm really fucking confused."
Kenny sets his chin on the table and peers at her through tired eyes. He says, "Can we not talk about this while I'm hungover? I feel like shit."
"It's not that fucking hard to explain to me what the hell was going through your head when you – you kissed me," Bebe bites out. She feels her fist clench in her lap, and takes a long swig of coffee to prevent herself from calling him names, which is something that she would really like to do right now, despite knowing that it will do nothing to help the situation. She does add, however, "And 'kissed' is putting it lightly, by the way."
"I know!" Kenny snaps. He runs his hands over his face and says, "God, I know. Can you just fucking leave it alone?"
"Fine," Bebe answers tightly, "Let's take these back to the motel." She stands and takes the coffee tray with her, flipping her hair over her shoulder haughtily. Kenny trails after her with his coffee in hand, but he doesn't speak, even as they climb into Goldilocks and Bebe asks him to hang onto the paper cup holder while she drives.
And fine, she can play that game, too. When they park back in front of the Sleep Inn, she pulls the coffee holder out of his grip without saying a word and flounces away, trying to not to put her nose in the air, but not exactly succeeding on that front.
Inside the room, Craig and Clyde are already fully dressed, hair still damp. Both of them seem to be in good spirits, enough that Craig even gives a terse 'thanks' when Bebe passes him his soy caramel latte.
Clyde touches her shoulder as she packs her things neatly back into her suitcase. He crouches down next to her and asks, "Hey, you okay?"
Bebe turns into his chest and hugs him close. Hugging Kenny is evidently off-limits now, something that's always managed to cheer her up through the years, and so she'll just have Clyde hold her. Clyde's hugs are just as good, firm and kind in the same way that Kenny's are, but something about Kenny's hugs made her feel excited, whereas Clyde's arms around her is merely comforting. It's not an inferior feeling, just a different one.
Clyde smooths a hand over her back and says, "Craig said something happened with Kenny but he doesn't know what it was. You know you can talk to me, right?"
"Ugh," Bebe expresses, "I know. I'm just, blah. Fuck. Feelings. They're everywhere."
Clyde laughs and helps Bebe stand up. He offers to help take her suitcase down to the car, and Bebe accepts, because he looks like he wants to feel helpful. Kenny trudges into the room without speaking. He smells like he smoked a cigarette before coming up. He tosses his empty Harbucks cup into the trashcan and stuffs his things into his duffel, throws it over his shoulder, and tromps out without another word.
"Jesus," remarks Craig, "What the fuck happened with you two?"
"I don't even know," Bebe responds, "and he's being a twat about it all."
"You say that like it's a surprise," Craig responds.
Bebe rolls her eyes at this and doesn't bother responding.
By noon, they're back on the road. Bebe drives with Clyde in shotgun. She refrains from playing music until she sees that Kenny's fallen asleep in the backseat, his head slumped onto her pillow and his legs up on the seat and curled into his chest. She opts for quiet music, Iron & Wine, because she knows that it won't wake Kenny up.
Craig drifts off after a few songs, and it's then that Bebe takes the opportunity to turn to Clyde and explain, "He kissed me last night."
Clyde quirks a brow and turns around to stare at Kenny's sleeping form before responding, "Did you like it?"
Bebe hadn't actually given that part much thought yet, she realizes. She's been too busy being angry at him to consider how it felt. She's acknowledged that Kenny's attractive.
"Fuck," Bebe responds, "I did like it." She's actually having some serious lady-boner issues over the whole incident. She can't stop thinking about what would have happened if he'd kept going. She'd wrap her legs around his waist and press into him, and maybe he'd slide the straps of her dress off of her shoulders and kiss the freckles there. Maybe he would have reached into her bra and taken his mouth one step further.
Oh, God.
She wants this with him way more than she thought that she did. If she wasn't driving, she'd cross her legs in an effort to get her to stop feeling so fucking frisky, but she can't, and so she just sighs out, "Damn it. He's being a dick right now, too. There's nothing I can do about it."
"He's just hungover," Clyde says, "Maybe when we stop to eat he'll snap out of it."
"I hope so," Bebe says, feeling her heart sink a little at this turn of events, "It's just that none of this had turned out like I hoped it would, and it just seems to be getting worse."
"I think you're worrying too much," Clyde chirps.
"I think you're optimistic because you got laid this morning," Bebe snips back.
Clyde flushes and says, "You heard that?"
"We both did," Bebe answers.
"Sorry," he says, tomato-red in the face and all the way up to his ears.
It's about an hour from Provo to Salt Lake City, where Bebe exits the highway and stops in front of a Chipotle for a late lunch. She and Clyde wake up Craig and Kenny, who blearily shuffle out of the car and into the restaurant. They sit at a table in the back of the restaurant, near the restrooms, and take turns going while somebody watches their burritos.
"Do you guys feel up to seeing some of the sights?" Bebe asks, setting her fork back down in her burrito bowl to scroll through a list of roadside attractions on her phone, "There's some rock garden near here with a sphinx that has the face of Joseph Smith."
Kenny cocks a brow at that and asks, "Wait, seriously? What's it called?"
"Um…the Gilgal Gardens," answers Bebe, "It looks kind of cool."
Kenny shrugs, "I'm up for it." He seems to be in better spirits now that his hangover his waning and he's gotten some food in him.
Bebe discovers as they finish up their meal and make their way to Gilgal Garden that although Kenny is feeling better and speaking to her again, he is pretending as though nothing happened between them last night or this morning. It's infuriating, but Bebe decides to ignore it while she's trying to have fun and worry about it when they have some down time. She won't let him wiggle out of this one with some lame excuse, like she does when he disappears for days on end and can barely explain his absence. That's fine and his business, because his absences seem to stress him out much more than they do her, though she worries over him tirelessly when they happen. But she's involved in whatever the fuck is going on this round – his mouth was all over her, for fuck's sake. If he's not going to do it again, she at least deserves an explanation of why it happened in the first place.
Clyde reverts back into paparazzi mode when they arrive. It's a quirky place, with idiosyncratic statues and stone body parts scattered in the grass. Clyde and Bebe take a Myspace-style picture together in front of the Joseph Smith sphinx and make stupid faces at each other, laughing the entire time. For a space of time, she almost forgets about everything that's been going on, but can't quite seem to stop it from looming in the back of her mind like a shadow.
Bebe breaks away from Clyde when sees Kenny with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts, staring off near one of the sculptures. He's more looking past it than looking at it, and Bebe waits a beat before touching his waist with the tips of her fingers and asks, "Penny for your thoughts?"
"Jesus, Bebe," Kenny says, "You scared the shit out of me."
She laughs and apologizes, then asks, "What's up? You zoned out."
Kenny half-smiles, but the expression doesn't look cheerful. He shrugs and says, "Nothing much. Nothing important anyway." He pulls her in by the shoulders, giving her a tight hug. Something in Bebe relaxes, relieved that Kenny is still touching her. Even if he's pretending not to have had his mouth on her, he'll still hug her and treat her like the friends that they were a mere two days ago. He reaches down and fiddles with her necklace, a sterling silver sparrow that Wendy bought her for her sixteenth birthday.
They're both silent for a long moment, just looking at each other with his arm hooked around her. Kenny's head dips a little. Bebe's heart slams against her ribcage when she realizes that he's about to kiss her again.
Except he doesn't. He pulls back and says, "We should probably get going. It's almost three, dude."
Bebe flicks on her phone to see that he's right and says, "Shit, son. I'll go gather the boyfriends. You start the air conditioning." She tosses him the keys and receives a salute in return.
Craig and Clyde aren't very far away. In fact, Bebe suspects that they may have been talking about her until they saw her approaching, because they fall silent, and Craig lets go of Clyde's hand as though hand-holding with one's boyfriend is some sort of dirty secret.
"What the hell was that with McCormick back there?" Craig asks.
Bebe answers sourly, "Fuck if I know. Come on, we're heading out."
Before they leave Salt Lake City, Kenny fills the gas tank again and they replenish their snack supply in the convenience store. Kenny drives and Bebe takes shotgun again. She touches the back of Kenny's neck while he drives and remarks, "Your sunburn looks like it's getting better."
"Is it?" he answers, glancing at her for a brief second, "That's good."
The conversation throughout the ride mimics just that, gruff and awkward sentences between the two of them, because neither of them wants silence. Silence, somehow, would be much worse than trying to speak to one another without discussing what the hell is going on, because in silence they would have actual time to contemplate what the hell is going on.
Bebe scrolls through local sites and mentions, "We should go see this 'Metaphor Tree of Utah' thing. It's like an hour from where we are now, right next to a state park."
"Fine by me," Kenny says. From the back of the car, Craig groans, but doesn't comment. Perhaps he's learned that they figured out not to humor his complaints. Kenny adds, "What is it, exactly?"
"Mm, it's a sculpture. I guess the artist bought the land, built it, and left," Bebe summarizes the information that the website she's on provides, "We may as well stop in Wendover for the night after that, I guess. It'll be evening anyway and we could go out to a bar or something."
"I'm in favor," pipes up Craig.
"I'm down," responds Kenny.
Clyde simply nods, and Bebe smiles at actually having a plan for once, although this one is only a couple hours in advance. The rest of the drive goes smoothly. Kenny plays more country-toned rock music and lets Goldilocks' top down as the fly down the highway. When he looks over to Bebe and offers a grin, she feels better about this whole strange day. Last night lingers in her head. Anticipation builds in her when she thinks about tonight. After they have a few drinks and a few laughs, surely Kenny will be more willing to talk about it, or at least explain and drop it.
She wants to tell him that she wants it to happen again, but considering his hot and cold reactions, she decides to keep this information to herself.
The Tree of Utah is visible from a ways away, and Kenny pulls over a solid few yards away. They take several goofy pictures before Clyde figures out how to rig his camera to take automatic pictures, and sets it on top of Goldilocks to get a shot of all of them grinning under the sculpture.
Only thirty minutes later, they hit Wendover, a small, vacant looking town. On the way in, Kenny spots a bar and points. He says, "How about we go to that one?"
"Ugh," says Craig, "that looks like some cowboy bar or some shit."
"So?" Kenny says.
"So, Clyde and I are gay, in case it escaped your notice," Craig responds, "We're not exactly popular with a bunch of small-town Mormons."
"I think it'll be fun," Clyde says.
Craig gives Clyde a look of helplessness. He says, "Really?"
"Come on," Clyde nudges him. He leans over and kisses Craig's cheek. It's the most affection that Bebe has ever witnessed between them with her own eyes, and she expects Craig to be a dick about it, but instead his sharp grey eyes soften, and he moves his hand to rest on Clyde's knee.
Craig grudgingly says, "Alright. Fine."
"Let's get settled at a motel first, okay?" Bebe suggests.
They choose the first motel that they see, which is a Best Western, and settle in a lower-level room for the night. Bebe takes a shower first, redressing in a fresh pair of panties and her same polka-dotted bra. She opts for an ivory-colored cotton dress and some leather sandals, and puts a little more makeup on her face, since she's going to be seen out in public for an extended period of time.
Well. And maybe Kenny would be more willing to explain himself if she can seduce him into doing so.
When she emerges from the bathroom, the boys are all already dressed. Clyde's in jeans and plain white t-shirt, though he has expensive-looking sporty shoes on. Bebe lifts a brow at Craig, who has opted for a black muscle shirt, tight jeans, and – Bebe chuckles, to which Craig gives her the middle finger – purple cowboy boots.
"Are you serious?" she asks him.
Craig responds, "I'm just going with the theme," and folds his arms over his chest defiantly.
And Kenny – Kenny will fit right in. He's in jeans and a plaid button down with the sleeves rolled up enough that Bebe can see the tattoos on his left arm. He smiles at Bebe and tells her, "You look really nice, baby doll."
"Thanks," she responds, "You do too."
"Ugh, will you two please just fuck and get it over with? The flirting is making me sick," Craig says, scowling deeply at both of them.
"Shut up, Craig," Bebe and Kenny snap out in unison.
The bar is close enough to walk to, so much to Craig's chagrin ("These boots are snug, okay?"), that's what they opt to do. It's only about ten minutes. From outside, they can hear country rock music and enthusiastic voices. Craig complains about the music and Kenny tells him to shove his opinion up his ass. Though country music isn't Bebe's favorite genre, she doesn't mind it from time to time, especially since she knows that Kenny harbors a not-very-secret love of it.
Kenny hooks his arm around Bebe's shoulders as they walk in. The bar has a homey atmosphere, and most of the people inside seem to already know each other.
"Where you guys from?" asks the bartender when they approach, putting her hands on her hips. She gives Craig a look up and down, focusing on his flamboyant cowboy boots before shaking her head and shrugging to herself.
"South Park, Colorado," answers Kenny. He gives the bartender a boyish grin, the kind of smile that works wonders on melting any predisposition not to adore Kenny. He's not even twenty-one until tomorrow, but the bartender doesn't bother checking his ID, probably entranced by his charming smile.
Clyde, Bebe and Kenny all order beers, while Craig orders something pink and fruity. It takes multiple drinks to dissolve the tenseness between Kenny and Bebe, but eventually they're telling jokes and laughing like old times. They chat with some of the locals.
"Excuse me, miss?"
Bebe turns to see a man that looks a few years older than they are. He has short sandy-blond hair and is good foot taller than she is. She cocks a brow and asks, "Can I help you?"
"I was wondering if I could have dance," he asks, a little color rising to his cheeks. His lips turn down, and he points behind her and adds, "Unless that guy there's your boyfriend."
Kenny's mouth is twisted into a frown, and there's a hitch between his brows.
Bebe turns back to the man and says, "No, he's just my roommate. I'm Bebe."
"Alex," he offers.
The next song starts. It's something with a good beat that Bebe recognizes. She's dances in sync with Alex and closes her eyes, letting herself sink into the sound of the music. That's the nice thing about some songs – you can get lost in them and forget that things are still happening in the world around you, like your best friend putting his mouth all over you and subsequently pretending that it didn't happen, or that nothing about this trip has gone according to plan except for the past couple of hours.
Except then, she feels a hand on her arm. Bebe opens her eyes and sees Kenny standing there. He holds out a hand in front of Alex and says, "I'll take it from here, dude." Something in Kenny's tone makes Alex hold up his hands in defense and walk off in the other direction, glancing only once over his shoulder as Kenny takes one of Bebe's hands and puts another on her waist.
"What did you do that for?" she asks, "He was nice."
Bebe sends a pleading look in the direction of the bar, but neither Craig nor Clyde is anywhere to be found. Bebe's guess is that they've gone back to the motel. Craig didn't look very comfortable in this environment, and she's sure that they're desperate to have some genuine alone time. Being crammed into a car with three other people can do that to a person.
"Bebe," Kenny says, "Look at me."
She does.
Kenny gazes at her, hard. It makes her breath feel short and insides clench up.
The song changes to something slower with more guitar. Kenny traces under her eye with his thumb and says, "I've been a dick today."
Bebe interrupts, "You're telling me."
Kenny retorts, "Excuse me, I am trying to have a moment here. I've been having this problem recently. I really like you, Bebe, and it's been fucking me up because I don't know what to do about it. What I want to do about now, though, is kiss you. You alright with that?"
Bebe nods dumbly, unable to find the right words. She lets her eyes slide closed, and a moment later, feels the warm press of lips up against hers. Kenny tastes like beer and himself. She leans up into him, pushing into his chest. He coils his arms around her and brings her up close.
"Fuck," Bebe says, when they part.
"Fuck is right," Kenny agrees.
"I – God, I – I need you," Bebe stammers out. She can already feel herself getting hot, but she just fucking needs him right now.
"Yes, ma'am," Kenny grins. Before Bebe can get out another word, they're making a beeline for the door. Kenny locks his arm around her waist. The moment that they've made their exit, Kenny heaves her up and presses her against the brick wall outside the bar and kisses her hard. Bebe loops her arms around Kenny's neck and rubs up against him, sighing into his mouth.
God, he feels so good. She doesn't know how to describe it, exactly, just that having his arms locked around her feels perfect, like she's been waiting for years to do this with him. He tears their lips apart to press smaller, tighter kisses to the line of her jaw and down her throat.
"Shit," Kenny breathes out, "I've thought about this so fucking much, God, fuck." He dips in again to kiss her neck and nips down, sucking gently at her skin and coaxing a hickey to life.
Bebe moans helplessly at the scrape of his teeth over her sensitive skin and grips his hair, tugging when he bites down harder. He gasps and kisses down lower, trailing down to her cleavage. He cups her breast through the fabric of her dress and uses his thumb to peel down the top of the fabric. He mumbles in between kisses, "Jesus Christ, you have phenomenal tits."
Bebe chuckles, which cuts off when Kenny dips his tongue down into her bra, laving over her nipple. She yanks at his hair and curls herself around him, panting back, "I know. And I love when they get – ah – paid attention to."
"Me too," Kenny grins. He pulls her up so that she can wrap her legs around his waist and their bodies press together. He's hard as rock against her, and a little noise that she can't help erupts from her throat.
She feels his hand creep up her thigh and dip under her dress, his fingers skimming the edge of her panties. He grins like a hyena up at her and kisses her again, whispering in her ear, "Mm, you're wet for me."
It's only as he reaches underneath the lace to stroke her that Bebe realizes, "Holy shit, we're doing this on the wall of a bar."
Kenny blows out a long sigh against her neck and says, "I guess banging up against a brick wall in public isn't the wisest move, is it?"
"Probably not," Bebe responds.
Kenny groans and withdraws his hand from underneath her dress, before detaching from Bebe almost completely. He runs his hands through his hair and says, "Fuck me. I'm sorry. I got carried away. I – fuck."
Bebe wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him again. She says, "Don't worry. We can just finish this at the motel."
"What if Craig and Clyde are there?"
"Payback."
The trek back to the motel is made as quickly as their legs can take them, punctuated by laughing and all-consuming kisses that make Bebe hot all over again. She gasps into Kenny's mouth one moment, and the next he's grabbing her wrist and running for their room. They dash through the parking lot and press together for a kiss near the door of their room –
Except that it slams open and Craig storms out. He's wearing sweatpants and worn-down looking blue hoodie over his bare chest, and flip flops on his feet. When he sees Kenny and Bebe latched together, a fiery look of scorn falls onto his face. He barks at them, "Man, fuck you guys!"
"What did we do?" Bebe retorts, momentarily forgetting that she doesn't want to fan the flames of whatever is wrong with Craig.
"Just – fuck you guys! You made Clyde believe that fucking bullshit about me, you know? This whole trip you've been like 'Oh, it's just Craig Tucker' or whatever, and now he doesn't fucking believe that I love him. You know how many fucking years it took me to build up the fucking nerve to finally tell him that? And he fucking laughed at me! Because obviously me giving a damn about somebody other than myself is a fucking joke to everybody around here. I fucking hate you, and I hate everybody that has ever written me off because I'm 'just Craig,'" Craig zips up his hoodie and shakes his head, shoving past them and storming off through the parking lot.
Kenny and Bebe stare after him for a few seconds before turning to each other. Kenny ducks and presses a kiss to the center of Bebe's forehead and says, "I should probably go make sure that he's going to be okay. You go check on Clyde, yeah?"
Bebe leans up and gives him a chaste kiss before agreeing, "Yeah. You go get him," and Kenny jogs off after Craig.
Back in the room, Clyde is sitting on the mussed bed that he's sharing with Craig, wrapped up in a blanket and wearing nothing but boxers patterned in cartoon puppies.
"Are you alright?" she ventures to inquire.
Clyde sniffs and wipes under his eyes before he answers, "These cheap motel tissues make my nose hurt."
Bebe sits down next to Clyde on the edge of the bed and rests her head on his shoulder. She asks him, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," Clyde says, "I just want to eat Milk Duds and watch All Dogs Go to Heaven." This makes him start to cry a little more, and so Bebe wraps her arm around his shoulder and rocks him back and forth. Clyde adds, "I – I didn't think he was serious, Bebe. He'd never said that before, you know? That he loved me. I thought he was kidding. He jokes about us getting married all the time. I just – like, I thought it was an extension of that joke, or something."
"Shh, it's okay," she reassures him, "I'm sure he'll forgive you when you apologize, right? That's what people who love each other do."
"Not Craig," replies Clyde knowingly.
o.o.o.o
"Craig! Craig, wait up, dude," Kenny calls out, short of breath as he catches up to Craig's brisk walk.
"Fuck off," Craig spits out at him.
Kenny says, "Come on, man. Let's just go back to the room."
Craig veers around and marches toward Kenny with a flame in his eyes. He winds up his fist and punches Kenny in the gut, sending him stumbling back several steps before he catches himself on the pavement with one of his palms.
Kenny wheezes, "Jesus, dude, what the hell?"
"You don't know what it feels like, you stupid fucking asshole. I fucking told Clyde that I loved him. I'd been waiting to – to say that shit for years, you know? And he actually laughed in my face. You know, I never say anything unless I'm fucking serious, but nobody takes me seriously. Why the fuck is that, huh? I have been treated like that by everybody since I was a goddamn child, and for some dumbass reason, I thought that Clyde would act differently," Craig shouts the first half of his rant, but his voice begins to wither and quiet near the end. He pushes his hands through his dark hair and holds them over his face, breathing erratic. It takes a few wordless moments for Kenny to realize that Craig Tucker is actually crying.
Craig wipes his hands under his eyes an instant later. His eyes are red-rimmed, but otherwise there's no sign that he's been upset other than his typical frown. He laughs mirthlessly and comments, "Fuck."
Kenny finally gets to his feet. He doesn't step closer to Craig, and he doesn't reach out to touch him, because he suspects that Craig would appreciate neither of these things. He does, however, ask, "You alright, man?"
"No, dickbag, I am not alright," snaps Craig.
Kenny responds, "Well, I'm sorry, dude, I've never had something like that happen to me."
"Of course you haven't," Craig icily replies, "You're pretty fucking Kenny McCormick, the kid that everybody loves. It must have been so hard to be you, the blond, popular boy."
"Whoa," Kenny says, holding up his hands, "Where is this coming from?"
"I don't know," Craig says. He sounds broken.
There's silence between them after that. It's awkward, and makes both of them shuffle their feet and avoid the others' gaze. Finally, after Kenny has had enough quiet, he says, "I got some weed. You wanna smoke it with me?"
Craig stares and answers after a beat, "Do you even have anything to smoke it with?"
Kenny digs around in the pockets of his jeans and extracts his pipe, a tiny little thing. He holds it up and inclines his head at Goldilocks, "We can smoke it in my car. C'mon."
Kenny unlocks Goldilocks and they both slide into the backseat without speaking. Kenny packs a bowl and offers it to Craig first, who accepts. He lights it, and Craig inhales, exhaling on a shaken but grateful sigh. Kenny lets him have another hit before taking his first.
"You know something," Craig says, "I was so fucking jealous of you in high school. Maybe I still am. You were so fucking normal compared to me. You just – knew how to deal with people, and pretty much everybody I knew wanted to fuck you. It pissed me off. You have lots of friends. I have Clyde, and that's just as good as lots of friends, but it's bad, because he's fucking everything to me, you know?"
Kenny never had a best best friend, like Kyle and Stan, or Craig and Clyde. He always wandered from group to group of friends and didn't really care who he hung around, because he liked pretty much everybody. The thing is, he thinks that he understands what Craig means, because he's got Bebe now, and she's been that friend to him for a couple years, now that everybody else has up and left. The thing about having lots of sort-of friends is that too many of them don't give enough of a shit about you. Clyde would die for Craig, and Kenny's pretty sure that Craig would die for Clyde, too.
"I always wondered what that would be like," Kenny replies, flicking his lighter on to take another hit before exhaling cloud of fragrant smoke and coughing a little before going on, "having a friend like that. Kyle and Stan, they care about me and all, but there's so much that I've never been able to share with them."
"I'm a fucking waste of space," Craig announces, maybe not to Kenny, just to the universe in general.
Kenny frowns, "Dude, don't say that."
"Why? It's true. I'm everything that society tells you not to be. I'm a basement-dwelling, people-hating homosexual."
"So?" Kenny says, "You have a guy that loves the fuck out of you. That doesn't happen as often as you'd think. I wish somebody would love me the way Clyde loves you. And you have your, um, guinea pigs. They love you too, I'm certain."
"Yeah, and how the fuck do my guinea pigs suddenly make me not a waste of carbon, huh?" asks Craig.
"Dude, I don't know. It's like, you just gotta live sometimes. Don't just poke at your life and keep expecting shit to happen when you need to let it alone and grow," Kenny responds.
"Holy shit, you're high," Craig laughs.
Kenny laughs, too. The atmosphere changes, after that. It's comfortable, easier between them. They pass the pipe until they're out, and even after that, they just sit together and trade far-fetched ideas and eat the snacks that they left in the car, not a care given to the fact that Kenny found the bag of gummy worms they're passing underneath the driver's seat and melted together.
"We should go back," Kenny says, after a long while.
Craig's smile melts off of his face, transforming back into his usual frown. He agrees solemnly, "Yeah, we should."
o.o.o.o
Hello again! Thank you to my marvelous reviewers: Sami, lilykinz200, BattyCore, MissSouthPark, prettyoddrydonfan, and KirstenTheDestroyer.