Temporary Fix
Kyle stood up, not sure what to do, "Kenny?!" He cried out above the noise the flatline of the monitor made. The rest was blurry- a foggy memory that wasn't his; he didn't want. Doctors in white coats, Stan yelling. Someone told him to come away, and he did. His dim perception told him that people continued to talk to him, but their words meant nothing.
And how could they? Kenny was dead, and he wasn't coming back.
Damien wanted to be angry.
Yes, anger was the surest course of action. Those two jerkoffs who called themselves Kenny's friends- and he let them call themselves his friends!- had let him die! It was their fault. Damien had promised to kill them if he died. And it was never good to be dishonest. Yes, it was all their fault. Especially Kyle's. Kyle was the worst. Kenny never talked about goddamn Kyle without the word love. Not ever. He said love and he let him die.
Damien had so many reasons to be furious. He was always angry; it came naturally to him. Fury was his disposition. But, staring at a pale corpse in a morgue, he felt no anger. Only sadness. And a bit of a distant curiosity. There was no autopsy; no one cared about the cause of the disease. Damien dimly wondered why; didn't they know it wasn't just another death of Kenny? It was the death of Kenny? Or perhaps it was that no one cared about Kenny in the first place. Sometimes, it seemed like Damien was his only real friend.
He remained unseen as they wheeled away the pale tagged thing that wasn't Kenny anymore to be cremated like the others. Damien couldn't help but wonder if a demon could cry.
"No! No fucking way! Kenny! Kenny, stop it! You're okay! Get up, goddammit! Don't fuck with me, Kenny! WAKE UP RIGHT NOW, KENNY!" Stan knew he was screaming and that no one in the room could really hear him. He knew it, deep down. He refused to acknowledge it, though, because if Kenny was...
"No! GET UP! GET THE FUCK UP!" Stan noticed he had grabbed Kenny by the shoulders, and was trying to shake him into consciousness. His pale, blond, battered friend moved limply in his grasp. His eyes were closed. Someone had their hands on him, tried to pull him make him leave Kenny when he needed him. Not this time- not again! Kenny needed him! No, no, not away! Not away from Kenny who needed him! No!
"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Kenny has to wake up! He fucking has to! Lemme go! Kenny! KENNY!" And then his fingers slipped on the doorframe, and he couldn't see Kenny anymore.
It's so dark... Where am I?
You are here, obviously.
Hm? Who are you?
I'm you.
Oh. And who am I?
Shouldn't you know that?
That's the problem.
Ah.
Wait. I remember something. I remember home... A little girl with a bruise and a smile on her face, a boy, much taller, smudged with a grimace and oil stains. Man with something that could be either beer or coffee and a playboy; red haired lady with smile. I like her. Warmth. Tiny rooms, cramped and uncomfortable, but familiar and warm. Snow outside, always there. Home.
Home does not sound very nice.
It isn't. But it's home. I have to love it.
And if you did not have to?
What?
If you did not HAVE to love it, would you?
...I don't know.
Do you remember anything else?
I remember friends. Stan and Cartman and Kyle... the best friends in the world.
And what are they like? Why are they so special?
Oh... Stan is my best friend in the whole world. He must be colour-blind or something, his clothes are always blinding. Red and blue, yellow and purple! Ouch. He's very good at video games. He used to cry for me.
Used to?
Stan does not like me now. He is my very best friend ever, but I am not his. I mean very little to him, and it hurts my heart.
So why do you care about him, if he does not care about you?
That's a dumb question.
Why?
We're best friends; forever. He's going to be important to me no matter what he says or does; one day he'll look back and remember me without hate. I know it.
Who is Cartman?
Cartman is an ass. He hates the world and everyone in it. Everything has ever done he has done solely for himself and no one else. He is selfish and cruel.
So why is he special?
I've known him forever. He was there for me when I needed him, even if he did it for himself. Once I was very sick. Stem cell research might have helped, but I didn't care at that point. I knew I would die. I don't mind dying. But he was gaining support for it so that he could sell his fetuses. Or was it to make his own shakey's? I don't quite remember...
He had to be my best friend. He had to save his best friend. That was what he told them. So he cried for me. And he was scared for me. And he was sad for me.
But it wasn't real.
...There was a time, when I was sick, that he came into my room to tell me it was going to be okay. I was. That he was going to fix me and make me better again. He was going to cry. It would have been a great act.
But?
But we were alone.
And Kyle?
...Kyle is my world. My everything. He's a constant light that scares awya the darkness that's always after me. It rears up and tries to eat me, but Kyle is there to save me. Every day. And yet... I feel as if I'm killing him.
How? You have given up your own life for his.
I know that. How do you?
I am you. All you know, I do.
I'm killing him because every time I die, I take a piece of him with me. I can see it in his eyes. I am breaking him. I was breaking him. But I am gone now, and he is for the better.
Do you know anything else of him, than what he is to you?
Of course! I know everything. I know that he's a neatfreak. He likes guitars, and even though he's never had a lesson, he can play favorite shampoo is strawberries and peaches, but it smells like strawberries and oranges to me. His favorite colour is green, he secretly thinks I may be a bad influence on Ike, he's unsure of the 'rightness' of his sexuality, his mother scares him, he's really easily frustrated, he hates my house, he's a fucking genius in school- um... um, he's really great at math, he wants to move somewhere by the beach one day, losing his virginity scares him, he hated Brokeback Mountain, he doesn't understand the concept of chinpokomon, and if Stan told him that he was doing something like sneaking battered tigers across the Canadian border, Kyle would want to help. He has a stuffed rhinoceros under his bed that I won him at the fair two years ago. It's green, and has one eye left because Ike tried to flush it down the toilet.
And yet, you do not know you.
...And yet.
"Alright, fags. Listen to me." Damien's voice was a constant growl. Stan would have thought he would be sad- his best friend had died. And why? Because no one had been paying attention when his parents had said it was time to let go.
Maybe he was sad; maybe anger was just how he dealt with life. But it wasn't his job to care.
"I talked to my dad, gave in to some shit he's been pressuring me to do."
"Like what?" Kyle asked suddenly, the first thing he'd said since Kenny's funeral had ended. Or started. He had pulled them back after it was over, with something of apparant importance.
"...Well, he kind of wants me to take over the family business. I don't really want to- nevermind. It isn't important. Either way, he said that we could have Kenny back if we could find him."
"Where would he be?" Stan asked, "He's dead."
Damien rolled his eyes, "Duh. He's in a Nowhere Place. Kenny can't die. That's just how he's made. It's his spirit and his soul floating around with nowhere to go."
"What's a Nowhere Place?" asked Kyle.
"I think you humans would probably call it something along the lines of 'purgatory.'"
"Oh."
"We had to go and find him ourselves. Since we're so close to him, we have a chance of attracting what's left of him. We jut have to fit the pieces together. And then... maybe... I can bring him back."
Kyle stood up from his seat in the chair.
"Let's go."
Draik: Well, this fic is begining to wrap up. :) If I've planned it out correctly, then there should be only two chapters left. :D
Kenny: Woooooo! I'm a ghooooOOOOoooost!
Draik: SHUT DA HELL UP KINNEH. *hits with heavy object*
Kenny: X_x
Kyle: You've actually started another fic though, haven't you?
Draik: By ACCIDENT. My brother is developementally disabled; I've been at Victory Junction this past weekend. It's about a five, six hour drive without much to do. I brought my laptop, but this file was typed COMPLETELY in Google docs, so, no internet on the road. I just started typing in Word, and I'm actually starting to really like the new story.
Stan: Am I in it?
Draik: Yup. :D You're sorta kinda a douche, but not really. You bother Kyle a lot.
Stan: Aw. :(
Cartman: Am I in it?
Draik: ....uhm....
Kenny: Am I the main character? :D
Draik: NO! :D
Kyle: I am. ^^
Draik: But you're very very important.
Kenny: Yay. ^^
Draik: I'm not deadset on a name yet, but it's going to being a multichap. Memory, or something.
Sorrowsnow: *bows* I have returned. :D
StupidityIsStupid: Well, the next chapter has good old fashioned "I'm Sorry"'s in it, so, awesome. :D
xichxliebexdichx: HOORAY FOR GERMAN. My grandfather fought in a war with the Germans. I have his old calvary sword. :3 And I do that for alllll the wonderful people who review me. :) It's how I get more reviews. ^^
That was my favorite part to write. I was ver careful with it; I knew exactly what I wanted. And only 100? D:
KingdomHeartsForevs: YAY. I'm sosososo glad you enjoy it. :)
