South Park © Matt & Trey.
Some grim parts in this chapter, read with caution.
Christmas sucked. New Year's was worse. I don't want to sound negative and annoying, but it's true. It was all crap and you can probably guess what Craig did. Yup, he got drunk and cried some more. It's like Kenny broke the dam in his head and now the waterworks keep on coming.
Token, Nichole and Kevin made short appearance. Craig tried to play nice, but it was lackluster and they could tell. Nonetheless, I think they appreciated the fact that he didn't try to verbally attack them. Old Craig wouldn't have had that much self-control.
Right now we're in his room talking. Just talking. We've been doing a lot of that lately – just me and him.
"It's fucked up, isn't it?" he says to me. "Part of me hates him and wants to fucking kill him… but then another part of me is still attached to him. Why…?"
"I don't know," I admit. "Maybe it's because he was your first of many things?"
He lets out a sigh. "I'm a sentimental person, so maybe you're right."
Funny, in a sad way. I never would've pegged Craig as a sentimental guy, but I guess he likes to find meaning in things. I'm kind of like that, too.
Craig has been a bit of a hermit lately. My goal is to at least get a genuine smile out of him by his birthday. His birthday is at the end of the month. He'll be nineteen. He'll be in his last teenage year. It's a big deal, but he probably won't want a celebration. He's going to want it to be yet another quiet day. Even in the past, he was never one for birthdays.
On the weekend, I let Bebe and Red drag me to a party they were invited to in the rich part of town. Stan, Kyle and Cartman come, too. Naturally, that means Kenny is probably loitering around here somewhere. If I see him, I'll ignore him. At least Craig isn't here. The last thing they need is to be in the same room while drunk. I don't even want to imagine what that would lead to.
I take a minute to glance around the room. I think this is a college party and they're definitely not first years because everyone seems a little older. I hate parties like this. They're usually just giant orgies with everyone fucking indiscriminately during some drug induced haze. I'm sure these kind of parties are full of morning-after regret. Nonetheless, I try to put on a happy face and smile. I drink, I socialize with some girls I've never met before tonight, I drink some more, we dance.
Bebe tries to get Kyle on the dance floor and when she does it's obvious how much he doesn't want to be there. His movements are stiff and awkward. No rhythm, that guy. I guess it's true what Cartman used to say about him and his lack of dance skills.
Stan and Cartman chat with each other, red cups in their hands. There's no sign of Kenny around yet, but I take that as a good thing.
Towards the end of the night I break away from the girls I've been hanging around to go find a bathroom to piss in. All of them seem to be occupied. People are probably just fucking in them.
I move to the basement. It's a furnished, open space with a foosball table, some sofas and a flat screen. There are a few guys down here, but it's pretty barren compared to upstairs. They're watching some sports game on the TV and looking pretty preoccupied.
"Hey, is there a bathroom down here?" I ask, interrupting.
"Yeah," one says offhandedly before jabbing his thumb towards a door in the back of the room.
I open the door and am immediately greeted with an unsavoury sight. "Ugh!" I exclaim, hearing bursts of cruel laughter from behind me. What a sick joke.
Kenny is on his knees sucking some guy's dick. At least he's dressed. When he sees me he pulls away and gives me a dull stare before calmly telling me to fuck off. I do, no questions asked. I shut the door and stand there for a few minutes. I shouldn't be surprised, but I still am.
After a few more minutes the door opens. When the guy Kenny was sucking off leaves, I enter after him and stare down at Kenny where he's seated on the floor.
"What the fuck do you want?" he asks.
"Looks like you're the one that wants to hook up, not Craig," I say, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. "You told Craig you didn't like men," I point out. "Clearly, that isn't the case."
"Obviously I lied," Kenny states, finally rising to his feet. "I just wanted to make him as upset as I could. I like men… but I don't like the fact that I like men."
Just like Stan said.
"Stop taking your own self-hatred out on Craig," I bite out.
He stands in front of the sink and turns on the taps, lowering his head. He takes the tap water into his mouth and raises his head, swishing it around. He stares at himself in the mirror above the sink, eyebrows drawing together. A split second later, he spits the water out at his reflection and I'm taken aback. Wiping his mouth, he turns away and leaves the room.
When I'm left alone, I finally pee.
Back outside, Kenny is sitting on the arm of one of the chairs with the rest of the guys. They're passing around a bottle of alcohol. No more dick sucking. Maybe he already did his rounds. Yuck. That hardly sounds safe. I wonder if this is why he comes to parties. I wonder if this is why he's always popular.
I shake away the thoughts for now and make my way back upstairs. I end up finding Red again, but I don't tell her about Kenny.
"Where were you?" she asks.
"Peeing," I say.
"Oh," she laughs.
"You?" I return.
"I found a nice boy and escorted him to the nearest empty bedroom for a while," she says with a wink.
"Oh, scandalous," I respond.
She chuckles and then changes the subject to something a little more serious. "How is Craig doing?" she asks. "I haven't seen him in a while."
"Yeah…" I murmur. "Everyone is kind of distant lately. He seems to be doing slightly better than he was last month. I think there's a part of him that wishes he could make up with Kenny, though."
Red frowns, nodding her head. "I can understand that. It'd probably be easier on him if things were civil. Then he wouldn't have to be so worried all the time. Kenny can be pretty mean."
"I'll say," I mutter.
We move into the kitchen and I fix myself another drink. I don't want to be sober. It's fine if I drink tonight. I don't have to look after Craig, so I can let loose a bit.
Besides, I need a distraction. I don't want to keep thinking about Kenny. Ugh. It pisses me off.
"What's wrong?" Red asks me knowingly.
"I just have a lot on my mind," I tell her vaguely. It's not a lie, it's just not the entire truth.
She nods understandingly. "Make me another, too," she requests as I mix my drink.
I do so and soon enough we're both sipping stiff drinks.
"Whew!" she exclaims, cringing.
I just smile at her.
When I go to take my second piss, I end up in the basement again. By now, Kenny is naked and clearly too wasted to be in the position he's in. Not neat. I say nothing at first because I can't find my voice. I just do my business in the bathroom, but once I'm done I find it hard to walk past. He looks like he's only half conscious. His eyes are glazed over and half-lidded while his movements are disoriented. He's shaking and squirming and the entire scene is making me incredibly uncomfortable. He's bruised, but I try to ignore it. He's on his hands and knees, displayed on the coffee table in the center of the room. One of the guys has the neck of an empty beer bottle up his ass and all I can do is turn my head away from the incredibly lewd sight.
"What the fucking hell is this?" I hiss out shakily. Kenny groans when he notices me. He turns away and tries to move, but the hand on his hip prevents him.
"Lift your ass up, McCormick," one guy says. "Wanna get fucked by me or by everyone?"
I feel my heart sink into my stomach and, in unison, my face heats up. "Stop it!" I exclaim with anger and disgust. "He's drunk!"
"So? He likes it."
I decide to intervene. I push the perverted college guy away from Kenny and the bottle falls onto the carpet. I hoist him to his feet and they don't seem to care that their night's fun has been taken away.
"Go away!" Kenny shouts at me. "I don't need your fucking help!"
"Too bad!" I shout back. I gather his clothes from the floor and force him to put them on. He stumbles and his movements are groggy. With a sound of blatant frustrations, I help him put his clothes back on. When that's said and done, I grab him by the wrist and drag him upstairs to the front foyer. I begin sifting through jackets, trying to find his stupid, familiar parka. When I spot it in all its orange glory, I hand it to him. He slips it on as I look for his boots. I don't even know what the fuck I'm looking for. "What kind of shoes do you have?" I ask him.
He rubs his eyes and shrugs. When I'm about to blow my gasket, Bebe appears like a fucking angel floating down from heaven.
"Bebe!" I exclaim.
"Hey, guys!" she greets. "Leaving?"
"Yeah," I say with a nod. "What kind of boots does Kenny have?"
"Timberlands," she says. "They're pretty worn out…" she trails off and starts helping me look as Kenny sits on the floor. "Hey…" she whispers once he's out of earshot. "What the hell are you two doing together?"
"I'm taking him away from here," I whisper back. "I'll fill you in later."
"All right," she relents easily. "Ah, here they are!" She picks up a pair of old Timberland boots and then kneels in front of Kenny, helping him slip into them before tying his laces. After that, she offers Kenny her hand and pulls him to his feet.
"Tell Red I left," I say, holding up my hand.
"Will do," Bebe promises, waving.
After that, I leave with Kenny at my side. As soon as we reach the driveway, he slips on a patch of ice. I turn around and stare down at him. I don't want to feel bad for him because he's such a piece of shit, but I do… I feel fucking awful. He looks so out of it. I help him stand and then I start moving again only to hear him slip again two seconds later.
I let out an impatient sigh. "What the fuck, man?"
"I'm drunk, choad!" he shouts justification at me.
"I'm more than aware," I point out bitterly. "Trust me. Your little display earlier proved that."
Kenny pauses for a moment and then his eyes widen, like he's just realizing what he put himself through. Maybe he just forgot. A second later he starts to cry. He's either a really good actor or he's severely fucked. All I can do is stare awkwardly. I want him to stop, but I wouldn't dare say it. I know how shitty it feels to be told to stop crying.
"Come on," I say, turning around and kneeling down. "Jump on my back."
He does so without protest and I stand up, hooking my arms under his knees. He's definitely heavier than Craig, but he's still easy to lift. I hear him letting out quiet sobs and I feel his breath against my ear. With that, he slumps against me in a way that makes it seem like he's giving up. He tightens his arms around my neck and I feel wary.
"Don't strangle me," I warn him.
"I won't," he responds sharply.
The walk is silent – uncomfortably so. I don't really know what the fuck I'm doing or why. None of this is my business. It's Kenny's life, right? Why am I making it my business? I don't fucking know.
"Where am I taking you?" I ask him.
"Home…" he mumbles.
"Anywhere else?" I urge. I don't want to take him home – especially not like this. I don't want to return him to his father.
He doesn't answer. So, instead, I simply take him to my house since it's closest. Yeah, it's a stupid idea, but I don't know what else to do. I can't take him home. I'll feel guilty. I'll lie in bed all night thinking about what I may have subjected him to. I don't want that to happen. It's better this way.
The walk is quiet and for that, I'm thankful. When we reach my house, I set Kenny down on the porch and dig my key out before swinging open the door. We both move inside, kicking off our shoes. I hang up our jackets before dragging him to my room.
"Stay put," I tell him. "You're sleeping here tonight, okay? I'm going to bring you a glass of water. Sip on it. There's a bathroom across the hall if you get sick. Do not puke on my carpet."
He sits at the edge of my bed, head in hands. I don't know if he heard a damn word I just said, but I hope he did. I wonder if he even knows who I am right now. I wouldn't be surprised if he had no idea. He seems really fried.
I run downstairs and fill up two glasses of water – one for him and one for myself.
I return to find that Kenny has kicked off half of his clothes. His jeans and hoodie are lying on the floor and he's sitting on a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. I guess it's fine… but I've already seen enough of him to last a lifetime.
"Here." I hand him a glass of water. "Sip slow."
He nods his head, taking the glass. He's being weirdly quiet. Maybe it's because he's humiliated. Maybe he's not simply drunk. Maybe he's also high. I don't fucking know. He could be on a whole myriad of gross drugs.
I sit down on the other side of the bed, taking a long sip of water before setting the glass down. It's quiet again. I glance at Kenny, watching him. He drinks slowly, just like I told him to. I try not to pay attention to the bruises, but I can't stop staring at them. They're clear as day and vividly colored. There is a ring around his neck, almost like someone tried choking him. There is another bruise on his upper arm – large and purple.
After a few minutes, he sets the cup on my nightstand, drawing his knees to his chest. "Why didn't you take me home?" he asks. The words come out slurred, but still decipherable.
"Because I didn't want to take you to your father," I admit. "I know he does more than hit you."
He lets out a laugh that sounds like a sob. "So… you know about that…"
"Yeah, I know about that," I murmur.
"I did more than hit Craig," Kenny says, almost like it's an afterthought.
"Yeah, I know about that, too," I murmur, trying to keep myself calm.
"He never said no even though he didn't enjoy it…" he murmurs, staring at me. "Why didn't he?"
"I don't know, Kenny," I whisper.
He sniffles and lets out a shuddery breath. "I knew I was being too rough, but he never told me to slow down or stop…"
"You scared him," I say.
"I never thought of myself as a particularly scary person," he confesses.
"If he pleaded for you to stop, would you have?" I question him.
He doesn't respond. Instead, he says, "I just… I wanted to know what it felt like… to be in my dad's position… to have power. So, I chose Craig. I chose him because he was mean to me and I thought that would make it easier."
"And it didn't?" I ask expectantly.
"It didn't," he confirms. "I always felt bad. I just pretended not to. I kept playing the bad guy. I acted like my dad. Well… not really. If I really acted like my dad, then Craig would probably be a lot more fucked up than he is."
"Oh," is all I muster up.
Kenny presses his palms to his eyes, sinking into himself. His hands are shaking. He takes in a sharp breath and then I realize he's crying again. For fuck's sake, I feel like crying, too… but I won't. Hesitantly, I shift closer to him and pat his shoulder.
Soon, the shaking subsides. "You're not supposed to care," he says hoarsely. "You hate me. I hurt Craig. You're supposed to leave me to rot."
"Am I?" I murmur.
"Yes!" he insists sharply. "Give me what I deserve!"
None of what he's saying are the words of someone well in mind. He needs help. A lot of fucking help. Surely more than me or anyone else in his life can give him.
"No one deserves the shit you put yourself through," I say and he lets out another string of heaving sobs, looking like a fucking helpless child. "Just go to sleep."
Without another word, he lies down, borrowing beneath my duvet. I kill the lights and lie down next to him, feeling kind of weird about it. He's still making upset-sounds, but I try to drown him out. I just lie here and start mentally listing off all the things Kenny has in common with Craig.
They were both abused at some point in their lives. Kenny is abused by his father and Craig was abused by his aunt's husband… and Kenny. They both like men and have shitty taste. Kenny likes old men and Craig likes bad ones. Yet, at the same time, they both hate men. Kenny said it a little while back and Craig said it the day of exams and many times before that. They are both manipulative. Kenny manipulated Craig and Craig used to manipulate most of the people in his life. They are both abusive. Kenny abused Craig and Craig abused all of his friends. They both drink too much. Kenny loves the booze as much as Craig, but at least Craig doesn't touch the hard shit. They're both in a lot of fucking pain. They both feel alone, even though they're not. They both push people away to make it so. They're both emotionally volatile. They both lash out. It's like Kenny tried to act out what was done to him and he used Craig to do it.
I feel like the list could go on forever. It's strange and scary that they found one another. Even if Kenny never wanted revenge on Craig, their relationship would have been doomed from the start. It's hard to make things work when two people seem to have all the worst things in common… but maybe they could have been friends.
I never thought Craig was evil, even when everyone else did. I guess I feel that way about Kenny, too. He's not a good person, but he's not evil. He's trapped and broken and sick, but he's not inherently evil. Someday I hope he learns from the mistakes he's made. I don't know if Craig will ever forgive him, though. Perhaps what Kenny did can't be forgiven. I'd think not, but it isn't for me to decide. It's for Craig to decide and he can hold a pretty mean grudge. That, I know.
Morning comes too soon. I spent most of the night lying awake, listening to Kenny mumble as he tossed and turned. He's a restless sleeper. He smacked me in the face a few times, but I know it was by accident. He wasn't conscious, after all, so I can't really blame him for it. Plus, I've hit him enough times to last a lifetime. I wasn't asleep for it, either.
As soon as I wake up, Craig is hovering in my doorway with a look of betrayal on his face. "What the HELL?" he shouts.
"Oh, fuck!" I exclaim, jumping out of bed. "It's not what you think!"
Then again, what is Craig thinking? I have no fucking idea.
God damn! Of all the times he could choose to invite himself over it had to be now?
He doesn't wait for me. Instead, he spins around on his heel and runs off. I don't hesitate to follow him, grabbing him by the shoulders before he reaches the stairs. "Please, listen," I try to reason.
He lets out an angry sigh, turning around and leaning against the wall. "I know you didn't do anything with him, dumbass," he mutters. "I was just surprised."
"I'm sorry," I tell him sincerely. "I found him in a pretty bad situation and… Well, I couldn't leave him like that."
"You're a good person," Craig says. "You hate him, yet you help him. You're a really good person."
"It was the right thing to do," I respond.
He shrugs his shoulders, sticking his hands in his sweater pockets. "Your dad let me in… He seemed cranky."
"He always is," I admit. "He'll be leaving for work soon, though. We can go downstairs and talk if you want?"
Craig nods his head lazily and we move down the stairs and into the living room. I sit on the love seat and Craig sits down with me. He lets out a frustrated sigh and says, "I feel really bad lately… like, I really fucking hate myself. No one wants me."
"Don't measure your self-worth based on a thing like that," I tell him.
"It's hard not to…" he murmurs. "We need others to validate us. If they don't, then our personal identity is completely meaningless."
"Well, either way… it's not true," I promise him.
"Yeah," he scoffs. "Right, I forgot about all the assholes that want to fuck me just to put me in my place. Gosh, I sure am lucky!"
Ah. The sarcasm is strong with this one.
"Okay," I say. "Yeah, that's shitty… but you'll find someone new. You'll find someone better. You'll find a guy who will treat you right. Come on, dude. You're young. You're attractive. It won't be hard for you to find someone."
"I don't care that people think I'm attractive," he bites out. "Is that my only redeeming quality? God! I wish I was ugly!"
I wince. I feel like I said the wrong thing. I feel guilty. I used to think his good looks were the only good thing about him. I had a lot of mean thoughts about him. Things have changed since then, but I can't really make up for it. "I'm sorry," I tell him. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't see you for just the way you look."
"What do you see, then?" he asks me. "Why did you stay by my side when no one else did?"
"You're best friend," I start. "You're difficult at times, but you can be sweet at others. You've been through a lot, but you're still moving and that makes you pretty damn strong. We had fun together, even before you lost your memories. Sure, there were some times that sucked but there were also a lot of good times. I've been your friend since we were little kids. I wasn't about to let your attitude get in the way of that. Even when you pushed me away, I'd always stay close enough where you could reach me. I guess I was persistent and annoying at times, but I'm glad I was. You're my favourite person in the world. My sister moved out, my mom died and my dad doesn't really give a rat's ass about me… You're like family."
"And that's why you stayed?"
"Yeah, that's why I stayed."
He nods his head slowly, drawing his legs onto the sofa and pulling his knees to his chest. "I feel like I'm in need of major reassurance lately."
"That's okay," I tell him. "I don't mind giving it to you."
He closes his eyes and lets out a breath before opening them again. "I'm so self-conscious. I feel like I'm being watched and judged no matter what I do. Every time I see someone stare at me I wonder if they're someone Kenny showed pictures of me to. God… I'm just waiting for someone to come up to me and fucking say it."
"If they do, I'll beat them up," I promise him.
He lets out a forced laugh. "Deal."
After that, we hear footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, Kenny appears. "Craig," he murmurs a weak greeting before glancing at me. "I'm going to go."
"All right," I say. I have no reason to keep him here.
I watch him grab his coat and slip into his shoes. He shields his eyes from the sunlight once the door is open. He probably has a pretty hardcore hangover.
Once he's gone, I glance at Craig. He forces a smile and says, "I'm fine, Clyde. I'm sorry I've been so lame lately."
"Ah, it's okay," I tell him. "You weren't being lame. I get it."
He wrinkles his nose. "It just… sucks. I know me and Kenny only dated for a few months, but I really did feel like I loved him… and the more I loved him the less I loved myself. By the end, I didn't really have any dignity left. I took a lot of abuse. Then again, who the fuck knows? Maybe it wasn't love. Maybe I don't really know what love feels like. Maybe I didn't love Kenny. Maybe I just loved things about him and things he provided me with. A sense of identity? Belonging? He was so controlling and it was just convenient to become the kind of person he was moulding me into. That's pretty fucked up, though."
"I know," I say softly. "It's not your fault. It's his."
"He brought out the worst in me," Craig continues with a sigh. "I feel like he turned me into a completely different person at times and now that he's gone I find myself trying to get back to the person I was… because, quite frankly, I miss him. I wish I could forget about it."
"Yeah," I whisper.
I wish he could forget about it, too.
I see Stan and Kyle at Tweek Bros the following day. I wave at them. I don't hate them the way I used to. I don't hate them at all. I guess hate was too strong a word. I order a latte and they end up inviting me to sit with them.
Yeah, things have definitely changed.
"What's up?" Kyle asks as I take my seat. "How is Craig?"
"Uh, good," I start off. "He's doing better, I think."
Kyle nods his head. "Good to hear."
"How's Kenny?" I question. "I had a strange run in with him the other night."
"Really?" Stan cuts in. "He didn't tell us…"
I shrug my shoulders, taking a slow sip of my drink before speaking. "He got pretty trashed. I found him in a bad way, so I took him to my place."
"Oh…!" Kyle exclaims before glancing at Stan and saying, "That's why we couldn't find him."
Stan laughs somewhat sadly. "Right, yeah… We were looking for him. We thought he just ended up going home with some guy who wanted to fuck him or something."
"Nope, just me," I say.
"Uh, what was he doing?" Kyle pries, sounding like he isn't sure if he really wants to know.
"Indiscriminate drunk fucking," I tell him crudely. "It… didn't look like he's was particularly enjoying it."
Kyle pales. "Well… thanks for removing him from the situation," he says sincerely.
"Yeah, thanks," Stan adds. "I mean… he gets into a lot of trouble like that and we can't always keep an eye on him."
"It's not your job to," I point out.
"I know," he says with a shrug, "but we his friends we feel obligated to. I mean, we love him and we want to save him from as much pain as we can. It's just difficult because he usually refuses help. We've tried time and time again to get him out of that house, but he won't leave. I keep telling him to come live with me, but he won't."
"It's hard to watch," Kyle murmurs. "He gets into these situations because they're familiar. It's all he really knows. I feel like I'm watching his father slowly kill him."
I wince. "Yeah… I can't really imagine it."
"I think he hates Stuart deep down," Stan interjects, "but he'll never act on it. He'll never retaliate. He'll just pretend it's love and he'll try hard to convince himself and everyone else that that's all it is. Stuart probably brainwashed the fuck out of him."
"How do you think it will end?" I ask them out of the blue. Maybe it's a cruel question, but I can't help but wonder.
"Whether it's next week, next month, next year or ten years from now… it's going to end with Kenny dead in a ditch if he doesn't settle down," Kyle mutters.
"Or as some guy's pet," Stan adds with distaste.
"Sometimes I think about it…" Kyle confesses, "and I think it would be nice if Kenny could actually manage to find a decent guy who wouldn't slap him around… I mean, a stern guy who could play the 'Daddy' part Kenny craves, but would also be able to treat him nice and be real with him. I don't know. He seems to have a type and that type is abusive. Just like his dad."
"I'm sorry," I tell them both. "I wish I knew what to say…"
"Anyway… just keep this stuff to yourself, okay?" Stan requests. "Most people know Kenny's dad hits him, but they don't know what else goes on… and Kenny probably doesn't want anyone else to know."
I nod my head. "Don't worry, I won't say anything. I promise."
Soon enough, it's the twenty-fifth. I make my way to Craig's around midnight. I didn't buy him a present. I just got him a card. It's pretty sappy. I wrote a lot about our history, but I glossed over the sad stuff. He probably doesn't want to hear any of that – especially not on his birthday.
We've been friends for ten years. It's crazy when I think about it like that. Ten seems like such a large number. It feels like such a long time. Even though there are things he doesn't remember, I no longer mind.
I invite myself in when I arrive. It's only noon. Craig might still be asleep.
I remove my coat and shoes before walking upstairs. I push open his door and it creaks softly, causing Craig to stir. He's lying in his bed and the room is dim, with just a little sunlight peeking through the curtains.
He sits up and stretches his arms when he sees me. "Hey."
"Hey," I echo as I make my way towards him, sitting opposite to him. "It's your birthday today," I tell him, wondering if he remembered.
"Oh, shoot," he murmurs. "Is it?"
Guess not.
"Yeah," I chuckle. "Your parents will probably have a cake ready in the morning or something," I add, handing him the card.
"Thanks," he says, taking it. "What is it?"
"Open up and see," I tell him and he does so carefully, slowly taking the card out. It's a big messy block of text because I wasn't really thinking about grammar when I was writing it. I just let it all flow out.
Craig,
You're my best friend. I might not say it enough, but I love you. I mean that. I'm not really one for letters. I don't do well in school and I'm not particularly eloquent when it comes to speech, but I'll try to convey my thoughts to words. I thought I'd start with a bit of history since there are some things you don't remember. We met in grade three. I thought you were so fucking cool. You sat in the back of the class, looking like you didn't give a damn about being there. I remember thinking I wanted to be your friend. Unfortunately, you didn't seem interested in being anyone's friend. I thought that somehow made you even cooler. Lucky for me, our parents got to know each other. It seemed kind of perfect. Soon enough, we were inseparable. I feel like I've watched you grow and change in so many different ways. We've been friends for a damn long time and I hope that doesn't ever change. I want you in my life. I like having you around and I hope you like having me around, too. I love that you talk to me. In a way, I feel honoured to have your trust. I want you to know that. I want you to feel like you can come to me no matter what. I want you to feel like you can say anything that's on your mind. So, happy birthday and all that.
Your pal,
Clyde
He smiles as he reads it and it makes me feel light because it looks so genuine.
"Happy birthday, dude," I say again.
"Thanks, Clyde."
