Practical Applications of the Scientific Method

Chapter 7: Overanalyzing

"How come we never go to your house?"

Kenny laughed.

"I'm serious," Craig said, clutching the straps of his backpack. "We always go to my house. I want to go to yours."

"You don't want to go to my house," Kenny replied, stepping over a puddle.

"Yes I do."

"Okay, I don't want you to go to my house."

"Why not?" Craig asked.

"Because I don't want to break the illusion."

"Everyone knows you're poor Kenny. I'm not expecting a mansion."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then explain."

Kenny shrugged. "I mean, it's easy to, like, insert myself into your world, where everything is new and secret and just feel like I belong there. But outside of your world, I'm just…" He ran a hand though his hair. "I'm just trying to be everything to want, okay?"

"Kenny, I've wanted you for as long as I can remember."

"But that was in the abstract," Kenny replied. "It's one thing to want someone you think you can never have. In the abstract I can be whatever you want to be. In real life I'm just this." He gestured up and down his body as if that explained it. "I like girls and I give mediocre blowjobs and I don't take it up the ass."

Craig stopped in this tracks, grabbing the other boy's hand to stop him too. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

Kenny sighed. "I'm not Sean, okay?"

Craig tried to make eye contact, but Kenny avoided his gaze. "Kenny, what's going on?"

Kenny bit his lip. He stuffed his free hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a card. "This," he said, handing it over. "This is why you're not ready to be with me, right? Because you still have feelings for your ex?"

Craig stared at the old birthday card. "You went through my stuff?"

"No," Kenny replied indignantly. "Stripe went through your stuff." He looked at his feet. "I probably shouldn't have read it though."

Craig sighed. "Look, for the record, your blowjobs have improved a lot."

Kenny kicked at a hardened patch of snow. "Thanks."

"Kenny, Sean was a jerk."

Kenny looked up. "Oh."

"He criticized everything I did. He pressured me into shit I wasn't ready for. He cheated on me. Made me feel guilty for suspecting that he was cheating on me… And who do you talk to about that shit when you're sixteen and nobody knows that you're gay?"

Kenny swallowed. "I'm sorry. He…sounds like an asshole."

"He was. And the worst part is, it took months after he dumped me to figure that out. Kenny, you are the nicest guy I've ever been with. And I'm a mess of control issues."

Kenny pulled his hand away. "So why do you keep his stuff all over your room?"

Craig laughed. "Because I'm a slob. Have you seen my room?"

Kenny shrugged. "Point taken."

"That whole thing you were saying about inserting yourself into my world? Sean never wanted to do that. He's never even been in my house."

"What?"

"He didn't want to meet my dad."

"Dude, what the fuck?"

Craig gave Kenny a tight smile, then looked around to make sure they were alone before placing a soft kiss on Kenny's temple.

"I have something for you," he said abruptly. He slid his backpack off his shoulders and rummaged around in it until his hand closed around a small, hard object. "Here," he said awkwardly, shoving the small clay object into Kenny's hands.

"Uh, thanks?" Kenny replied, accepting the gift. "What is this?"

Craig shrugged. "I made that in ceramics. I thought…I don't know…you might want it or something."

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "Cute."

"You don't have to be an asshole about it. Throw the damn thing away if you don't want it."

Kenny studied the hardened chunk of clay. "What the fuck is it supposed to be?"

"It's a deer."

"It doesn't look like a deer."

"Yes it does. That is clearly a deer."

"Maybe a deer that got hit by a truck."

"Kenny!"

"I'm just kidding. Mostly."

Craig grabbed the clay deer from Kenny's open palm. "If you don't want it, don't take it, jackass."

"I didn't say I didn't want it."

Kenny made a grab for the deer, but Craig held it high above his head. "Well maybe I don't want to give it to you anymore."

"Craig!" Kenny whined. "I want it back."

"Then take it and shut up."

Kenny snatched the clay animal and hugged it to his chest possessively. He grinned up at Craig. "You know, giving me cheesy, sentimental gifts totally makes you my boyfriend."

"It does not."

"Agree to disagree."

"Kenny," Craig warned.

"Craig," Kenny retorted, cradling the clay animal in his hands. He looked down at the misshapen deer. "You know, he's kind of cute, really."

"You're making fun of me."

"I am not. I like it. Really."

Craig rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It's just a stupid art project."

"I'm gonna name him Craig Jr. after you."

"Don't you dare."

Kenny held the clay deer up to his face. "Hello there, Craig Jr. Would you like to live on the nightstand beside my bed? I think you'll like it there."

"Kenny, fucking stop it."

"You know who's never been in my bedroom? Craig Sr. He hasn't gotten into my bed yet."

"That's not funny, you little shit."

Kenny put his mouth to the clay deer's ear as if telling it a secret. "But he really wants to," he whispered loudly. "He acts like I annoy the shit out of him, but he's totally into me."

"You're a dick, Kenny."

"He says that, but he secretly kind of likes me."

On Friday morning, the eve of Craig's eighteenth birthday, Kenny was waiting for him by his locker. Craig couldn't help but grin at the sight of him, leaning against the locker with his arms folded across his ratty old backpack, absently chewing the inside of his lip. He felt a sudden surge of affection as he sidled up to the blond.

"Hi," Kenny greeted him with a secretive smile.

Craig nodded nonchalantly, dialing this locker combination.

Kenny licked his lips, and Craig's eyes flickered down at them momentarily. "I got you something," Kenny said, unzipping his backpack.

Craig smiled. "You didn't have to."

"I know," Kenny replied. He produced a small wooden picture frame from his backpack and handed it over.

It was a black and white photo of the two of them in biology class. Kenny was leaning over the lab table, pushing his thick blond hair off of his forehead. Craig was leaning over him, studying the open text book in front of them.

"I stole it off Jimmy's flash drive," Kenny explained. "He took it during class for the school paper, back when we were doing the fruit fly lab. I thought you might like it, since that's when we started…you know." He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't know what to get you."

Craig grinned. "Kenny, this is great."

Kenny smiled. "Well, I have something else for you too."

"Ken, you didn't have to…"

Kenny waved his objection away. "It's no big deal. My brother owed me a favor, so I got him to invite my parents over to his apartment for the weekend. And they're taking my sister, so I'll have the house to myself."

"Kenny McCormick, are you inviting me to stay over at your house?"

"Believe me, after an hour you'll be wondering why you wanted to." Kenny glanced over Craig's shoulder. "Stoley's coming this way. I'll see you in class."

"Yeah, see you," Craig replied, shoving the picture frame into his locker.

Without breaking eye contact, Kenny ran a hand through his hair, taking a few steps backwards before finally turning around and sauntering down the hallway.

"Sheesh, the hair on that guy," Kevin said in lieu of an actual greeting. "The everything on that guy. Don't know if I want to be him or be with him, you know?"

Craig forced himself not to smile. "No, I don't know," he replied in his usual monotone.

Kevin shrugged. "Well, whatever. I brought you a cupcake."

Craig accepted the pastry, chocolate with white frosting and a bright pink, unlit birthday candle stuck in the middle. "Thanks."

"So what are we doing for your birthday?" Kevin asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I'm…" Craig thought quickly. "Going to my mom's. All weekend."

Kevin frowned. "Lame. Well, maybe we can do something next weekend."

"What's next weekend?" Clyde asked, sidling up to Craig. "Ooh, cupcake!" he exclaimed, snatching the cupcake from Craig's hand and taking a bite. "Why's there a candle on it?"

"This isn't what I was expecting," Craig said, perching on the edge of Kenny's bed.

It wasn't much, to be honest. But still, the room had a certain charm to it. The twin bed was covered by a colorful quilt that appeared to be hand-stitched. The walls were adorned with posters of cars and half-naked women. On top of the dresser sat a radio, a framed picture of Kenny and his sister, and the sad-looking clay deer Craig had given him. The words Eric Cartman was here were scratched into the side of his night stand. A photograph of Stan and Kyle wearing stupid hats and standing in front of a rollercoaster was stuck into the corner of his window pane. The room simply felt like it belonged to Kenny, Craig decided.

"I hate to ask, but what were you expecting?"

Craig shrugged. "I don't know, like a bare mattress on the floor and a flickering light bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling."

"You're hilarious. At least it's clean."

"Your front door doesn't close," Craig pointed out.

"That's Cartman's fault," Kenny replied, flicking on the space heater next to his bed. He bit his lip. "We don't have to stay here. It's not too late to just go to your house."

Craig felt a twinge of guilt creep up. "No, I want to be here," he said, grabbing Kenny by the hand and pulling him onto the bed beside him.

"Nobody ever comes here," Kenny admitted. "There isn't much to do."

"I bet we can think of a few things."

Kenny smiled. "That's true. There are things I do with you that I wouldn't think of doing with Cartman."

"I should hope not."

"Stan maybe."

"Kenny."

"Oh, relax, Craig. You know I'm all yours."

Craig's stomach flipped. He tore his eyes away from Kenny and reached down for his backpack.

"I, um, brought something for you."

"But it's your birthday."

"I know," Craig said, pulling a CD in a clear plastic case from his bag. "I made it a while ago, I just couldn't decide what to write on it."

Kenny looked at the CD. "You didn't write anything on it."

"I know, I never decided."

Kenny shrugged accepting the CD. "You want to listen to it?"

"No," Craig replied firmly. The thought of Kenny listening to the CD at all mortified him. He'd rather not watch it happen. "You have to wait until after I leave."

Kenny grinned. "Oh my god, are you embarrassed? Are these a bunch of mushy love songs?"

"No, they're just songs I like. Don't be a dick."

"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that you liked dick."

"Funny."

"I found an extra toothbrush for you," Kenny said, as Craig stepped out of the shower. "We can just leave it in the box. It can be yours for when you come over."

"You think I'll be here often enough to warrant having my own toothbrush here?" Craig asked, wrapping a towel around his waist. "You stay over at my house all the time and you don't have a toothbrush there."

"I should," Kenny replied, running a comb through his hair. "I've just been using yours."

"Sick, Kenny. I know where your mouth has been."

"Yeah, on you."

"Exactly," Craig said, squirting some toothpaste on his toothbrush. He narrowed his eyes as he lifted the toothbrush to his mouth. "Don't watch me brush my teeth, dude."

"Why not? I've watched you orgasm."

"Kenny…"

"Twenty minutes ago I came in your mouth."

Craig rolled his eyes and began to brush his teeth.

"Besides," Kenny said, slipping an arm around his waist, his fingers dipping just beneath the hem of Craig's towel. "I like a man with good oral hygiene."

"Mm, shay 'oral' again," Craig spat around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Kenny laughed. "Fuck off."

"Come on, Kenny, it'sh my birfday."

"I know it's new, but this is real, and I'm afraid of what I feel," the singer crooned from Kenny's CD player.

He was trying his hardest not to read into it. Kenny knew he had a problem with reading too far into things when it came to Craig. But somehow the words in the song sounded like Craig was speaking them directly to him. He lay back on his pillow, folding his hands behind his head.

"It's hard for me to feel this way about anyone…"

It was stupid to think that the words were a reflection of Craig's own feelings. It was just a stupid mix CD. Craig had said himself, they were just some songs he liked.

It was hard to keep telling himself, after all they'd been through together, that Craig didn't have some real feelings for Kenny. And if anyone was the type of person to push down his feelings, it was Craig. So maybe it wasn't that Craig didn't want a relationship. Maybe he was just afraid to try.

"What are you listening to?"

Kenny lifted his head up to see his sister standing in his doorway.

"Hey Karen," he greeted as she strolled into the room. "Just a mix CD someone made for me."

"How do you feel about me?" the singer asked.

Karen raised an eyebrow. "Someone who's in love with you?" she asked, taking a seat on her brother's bed.

Kenny let out an indignant snort. "No. It's just a CD they threw together."

Karen rolled her eyes. "Have you ever made someone a mix CD? You don't just throw them together. You put thought into them. And the thought behind this song is…"

"I lay my cards out on the table. Surrender all my words."

"That."

"Well not everyone thinks like a fifteen-year-old girl, Karen. Some people don't put feeling into anything."

"Okay, well who is this unfeeling person who just threw together a random mix CD for you?"

"Just someone in my class. A friend."

Karen narrowed her eyes. "Don't lie, Kenny. I know you used your favor from Kevin so you could have someone stay here over the weekend."

"This is not a simple answer I am bound to understand. It's just I shuddered when I kissed you and I trembled in your hands."

Karen crossed her arms and stared at her brother pointedly.

"You really think this means something?"

His sister grinned like she'd won. "You want it to, don't you?"

Kenny sighed. "Yeah, I do."

Ding-Dong!

"Dad! Door!" Craig shouted, pulling a few old T-shirts from his closet. He glanced at his doorway as his dad shuffled by before discarding the old shirts into a trash bag.

His talk with Kenny last week had been somewhat of a wakeup call. It really had been too long since he'd cleaned his room. The trash bag was already half full just from crap he'd uncovered under his bed. It really was time to declutter. And to purge his room of all things Sean once and for all.

For his own peace of mind, he told himself, and not for Kenny's.

Sean had no hold over him anymore. He couldn't control him anymore. The fear that Sean had instilled in him that kept him from ever trusting another person was no longer a constant presence in the back of his mind. Now there was only Kenny.

He smiled to himself, clutching the trash bag as he walked across his room and began clearing off his desk. There was nothing holding him back anymore.

"You're cleaning your room?"

Craig looked up to see his dad standing in the doorway, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Yeah."

"You're smiling." His dad stepped inside. "You're not on drugs, are you?"

Craig raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck, Dad?"

"That wasn't a 'no'."

"No."

His dad shrugged. "Had to make sure."

"Because I'm smiling?"

"Because you haven't cleaned your room in three years. And because you haven't been yourself lately."

Craig rolled his eyes. "You want a urine sample? Blood sample?"

"No, I believe you." His dad crossed the room. "I never thought I'd have to worry about that kind of thing with you. Because you're smart, you know?" He perched on the side of Craig's bed. "But now I'm finding out there are drugs out there for smart kids. Just when you think you've got this parenting thing figured out, they find a way to make it harder."

"I'm not on Adderall, Dad," Craig assured him. He picked up the old birthday card from Sean on his desk and shoved it in the trash bad. "I'm just getting rid of junk I don't need anymore."

His dad sighed. "If you say so. The door's for you, by the way."

"Jesus, Dad," Craig muttered, setting his trash bag on the floor. "Don't go through my shit," he ordered, hustling out of the room.

He hoped it was Kenny. His reaction to Craig's clean room was sure to be better than his dad's.

He hurried to the front door and swung it open. "Sorry, Kenny, my dad thinks I'm on…"

He trailed off when he realized it wasn't Kenny at the door, but a handsome man in his mid-twenties, almost as tall as Craig, with soft brown eyes and a thick beard.

"Hi, Craig," the man said with a smile.

Craig's heart dropped. "Sean."