A.N- Hello! Sorry for the long wait. I have not been able to write recently because of excuses.

But I had to update today because it's a certain redhead's birthday.

Thank you for reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoy~


Chapter Twelve: Ignorance is Bliss

If emotion was water, then for far too long Kyle had been suffering a deadly drought. But now it was raining, the fountain was overflowing, and there was no ark to save him from drowning. Time had passed and the sun was now fairly high in the sky, yet the heavy clouds did not show a sign of it. For hours nothing had moved; Kyle didn't even notice himself blink as he stared at the fresh grave. The redhead did not care to wonder whether his friends were worried about him, in fact, he didn't wonder about anything.

It was now raining, not metaphorically, but the drops of water were so isolated that one would hardly notice. Kyle, still hugging his knees in a ball, certainly didn't respond to the gentle mists of water. But the sound of droplets hitting and sinking into soil finally reached his ears in the background when another sound entered him.

They were footsteps, rubber soles sinking into dampening ground, and they became louder and louder simultaneously with the sound of the rain. It was strange because the rain was not becoming heavier, but still Kyle did not respond to it. He simply sank everything in unquestioningly, even the hand that came onto his shoulder.

'You'll get sick, sitting like that in the rain.' Kyle didn't look back at the voice, but raised his hand to his shoulder and held the fingers resting there. 'What's wrong?'

'I thought you had gone.'

'Forever? Is that why you're sitting in the rain?'

'Yeah.'

The hand tensed in Kyle's hold, before it gently flipped and gripped Kyle's hand right back. Keeping their hands connected, Kyle pulled his face away from his knees and looked up at the person standing behind him.

'Where did you go, Kenny?' The blond's weak smile tensed, and his own question made Kyle's eyes widen. He jumped to his feet, disconnecting their hands as he did. 'Why are you here? How did you know I was here?'

Kenny's eyes drifted slightly, from Kyle's burning emeralds to the fresh soil covered on the ground in a long rectangle. Still without a word, Kenny leaned down and took the cross made from twigs from the ground into his hand.

'You were mourning…' The cross did a small twirl in Kenny's hand before the blond looked away from it and back to Kyle's eyes. The straightness of his gaze made the glimmer hesitate in Kyle's. 'Do you know who's buried under here?'

Kyle's lips parted: Yes, it's—

Kyle blinked and his lips shut firmly. What was he about to say? A soft shudder shook his organs, taking the colour away from his cheeks. He was about to say, Yes. It's Kenny's grave, you are buried under there. But how was that possible? It wasn't, because Kenny was standing right in front of him. What madness! Kyle dropped his paled expression and shook his head instead.

'No. I don't. It's strange though… I thought I knew a moment ago.'

There was no habitual smile on Kenny's mouth.

'Well. I do.'

The words hardly processed through Kyle's mind before the blond leaned down, pressed his knees into the damp ground and to Kyle's shock, began to dig up the soil of the grave. Kyle could only watch in silence, frozen, as Kenny's long fingers dug mercilessly into the ground, not caring about the dirt staining his hands and digging into his nails. It wasn't a deep grave, which was one of the only things Kyle could remember about it, but the time Kenny spent digging seemed too long and painful, until he stopped, suddenly.

Kenny's body tensed for a quiet second and Kyle knew he had reached something. But when Kenny leaned back up with what he found in his hands, Kyle couldn't believe his eyes.

'That's the photograph you gave me. But why is that—' The photo frame in Kenny's hands were covered in the dirt it was buried in, but it trickled away to reveal cracked glass and brown stains, like blood, on its corner. Yet all the boys were still smiling. Kyle was not conscious of having a memory of why the photograph was buried in the grave, but somehow, he knew as a fact: 'I put that there. I buried that with the body…'

Kenny's fingers lightly squeezed the dirty photograph, before he lied it on the ground and continued to dig the grave deeper still without a word. The next thing that was found, Kyle saw it peeking out of the soil before Kenny completely reached it. It was black and shiny, and light. It was a plastic bag, a large rubbish bag, ripped, with tape stack to it. It was long, as if two big bags were stitched together, and it took a while until Kenny had finally dug it up.

It was empty. Just a long, empty rubbish bag, big enough to wrap a person. The tape that was wrapped around it in different areas, some tight, some loose, made the empty bag look as if it had been holding a human body. But there was no one.

'What the hell…' Kyle stood up and jumped to the dug-up grave to look inside, but there was nothing there. No body. 'How— how can that be? Where's the body? There was definitely someone buried here last night, I know, I was there, mourning. I was sitting beside this grave all night watching— No one? Just an empty rubbish bag and the photograph? There was no one buried?'

It didn't make sense. Yet, what did nowadays? It seemed as if nothing had made sense in such a long time. Not for months.

'There was someone buried—'

'Who!' Kyle shouted, feeling raging frustration towards Kenny's collected and calm tone for such a confusing and mind-tearing situation. But as he met Kenny's icy-blue eyes, the heat began to leave him. 'You said that you knew who was buried here. But there is no one, just empty bags that seem as if someone was buried here. But no one had come out of the grave since it was made, I know, I was here!'

The small whisper of a smile had returned to Kenny's mouth, but the warmness in his eyes, maybe because of the rain, seemed darker and damp.

'It was me.' Kenny's words were still calm. 'I was buried here last night.'

Kyle's eyes were blazing. His face was tensed, his whole head was, making his hair seem to rise on his scalp.

'Don't you fucking joke with me Kenny. Not now…'

'I'm not.'

'Then why would you say that!' Kyle's voice cracked as he yelled. His eyes were beginning to burn, red and glistening. 'The person buried here was dead, Kenny, dead! Which you are fucking not!'

'I was. I was murdered last night.'

The heat exploded in Kyle's eyes and he raised his fist to strike the blond on the cheek. A fierce sound shocked the rain, but Kenny didn't make a single cry of pain. His eyes returned to Kyle, and although his swollen lips had lost their smile, his eyes still held the same gentle sadness. It made the fire burn out in Kyle's eyes and his muscles relax in shock at Kenny's acceptance of pain. He was serious. Kenny was dead serious.

'Do you remember what happened last night? About the person in the grave and how he may have died?'

Kyle shook his head weakly.

'I, somehow, did think it was you for a second. I think I was, sad, because I thought you were dead. But then that was all wrong, because you appeared behind me just then, alive.'

'So you have no clear memory then? Of last night?'

Kyle shook his head again. The idea of him having amnesia was at first, horrifying. But at the same time, it wasn't his first time. In fact, over the past few months it had happened quite a few times. It had caused an ugly knot of confusion and fear in Kyle for a while now, and Kyle had tried to analyse it with some suggestions from Gregory, but in the end Kyle had began to ignore it rather than to solve it.

'And it's not the first time, is it? That you lost your memory?' Kyle shot his head up, his eyes again piercing into Kenny. 'It has happened quite a few times, but not for long, only the past few months. You keep on losing parts of your memory from the previous night in the morning, and always, always, when you're sure that something certain has happened?'

Kenny's careful and gentle voice made words that stirred Kyle with fear, and even anger. Yet his words were slow to react; they were quiet, clear, and suspicious.

'How could you possibly know that?'

Kenny's eyes looked down, but the next time he blinked, they were back meeting Kyle's again.

'Because I never lost my memory.' Kyle squinted in confusion, and then he felt a sharp pain in his head that made him skip a breath. It was gone the next second, and Kenny continued. 'I remember the first time we met and how we parted in the alleyway. The second time, you burnt your leg, and then we went for coffee before you left. I remember the third time, it was brief, you called me to meet you in a secluded street. And after that, for a month or so, you didn't even answer my messages. Yet you must have seen me, on the streets and so on, without even a "hello". But then you called me, and we went out for dinner. Our first date. It couldn't have ended more disastrous, but the next day you came to my apartment and—'

'Had sex.' Kyle finished for him, matter-of-factly. And as he did, he looked at the palm of his left hand. He didn't know why, but he felt immense sorrow for the tingling warmth on his skin that he could not make out. Kenny watched him in silence before he continued.

'Later, I invited you over to make bread together. It was ready the next day, and we both agreed that you needed more practice… And then yesterday, we decided to runaway together, without saying anything to anyone. We went to get your stuff, I waited outside, but then you were taking far too long so I went up to get you. And then—' The rain was weak, not enough to drench them, but Kyle's head was beginning to throb, and worse the more Kenny talked; it was probably from his dampened clothes. The morning mist was beginning to clear around them and the trees. Kyle waited eagerly and anxiously for the rest of Kenny's words. He was only reciting what had happened last night, but strange, Kyle did not know how it ended. Then Kenny finally finished, 'These are the days that you don't remember how they finished. How we parted and said good bye.'

'And you do?'

Kenny nodded.

'I always do, even when nobody else does. They all end the same way.' So then, what happened? The question grasped Kyle so strongly that it ached. But as Kenny opened his mouth again, all he wanted to do was close his ears and scream to not hear the final punch line: '…I died.'

The words didn't echo in his head. It was just one single blow with a dim ring that was enough to finish him off. It was an impossible answer to all the riddles, ridiculous, even. But somehow, Kyle could not deny it, could not accuse it as a lie, because it made sense. His head now felt as if it were going to split and tear apart, pumping pain and frying his brain, but he didn't make a sound; he felt clarity. There were flashes in his head that seemed like images, like random missing pieces of a puzzle falling from the sky. He saw a dark alleyway, and a flower blooming in what seemed to be bloody blond hair. He saw fumes, and then a take-away coffee cup on the ground. Gun shots echoed in his head, a candle light and Kenny's smile. Even after the images disappeared, they did not disappear from his memory.

But they were still just fragments, not even close to show the whole picture.

'So, you're immortal?' Kyle finally murmured with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 'That's impossible…'

'You're more impossible.' Kenny chuckled quietly. 'In what world does such a sexy assassin exist?'

Kyle flinched at the word "assassin".

'How do you know that I'm an assassin?'

'Well, you killed me almost thirty times. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.'

Kyle scoffed with disgust, then clasped his head frustratingly. He wanted to deny it as his rational brain screamed so, accuse Kenny of being a liar and curse him for making jokes while he was in a seriously distraught state. But he didn't feel as bad as he could have been, no. He already felt better than he did an hour ago, when he was still alone with the grave.

Kenny's smile disappeared as he watched Kyle hold his head as if in agony, and Kenny didn't doubt that what he said was causing him pain. Frowning, Kenny took Kyle's shielding arms into his own, making Kyle look up and meet his gaze. They were burning, glistening, but they did not dare to shed any tears. His frown tightened, and Kenny wrapped his arms around Kyle's back and brought him into his chest.

Kyle froze; he didn't know what to do. The sudden warmth was immensely comforting, but at the same time he wanted to push the blond clown away from him. So his body took over, and his muscles tensed to push the blond away.

'Kyle.'

He stopped. Kenny's quiet voice was powerful. But more than that, it was the name that it formed and reached the redhead's ears that petrified him. The hands began to strengthen around his tensed body almost mercilessly, not forgiving resistance.

'I know this is hard to believe, and I can't prove it by maths or science, logic. But there's one thing I'll like to ask you.' The arms slowly began to release Kyle, only enough so that they could meet each other's eyes. Icy-blues grasped him, and they did not quiver. 'What is the number on my chest?'

'What—'

'The number, on my chest. You have seen it a few times, right here. Do you remember what number it was?'

Kyle blinked rapidly a few times as he digested Kenny's words and searched his mind. He looked through his memories, and saw Kenny's bare chest.

'It was… six.' A pill, a can of cola, their connected hands breaking away as Kenny's fell lifelessly into the sheets. 'No… it wasn't, it was five—' Kenny's apartment window, freshly baked bread, a knife, an apology.

'Four.' Kyle was breathing heavily. Each word sent more images flashing into his head like a chain reaction, like lightening. 'It was four.'

Kyle stared into Kenny's eyes daring, pleading, not for him to say anything, not to deny his answer. Because he was right, wasn't he? But then Kyle's eyes drifted down to Kenny's hands. They were on the hem of his shirt, and then, they began to pull the shirt up.

Kyle was looking at the number on Kenny's chest. Etched roughly, yet cleanly into his skin: a blazing red three.

'Three…' Kyle murmured, and then grimaced, his eyes shutting for a quick second. A dark apartment and his bag, Christophe, anger and hands, Kenny's yell ringing out, the old photograph, and blood.

The shirt slid back down, and Kyle resigned to the ripples shaking his memory. One by one, lost sounds, smells, tastes and visions were returning back to him. And as they did, Kyle realised that the emotions were the only thing that did not return to him, because somehow, they had never left. Maybe that was why nothing made sense, why he was so distraught, because while the memories left him, he had no explanation for the feelings that were whirling inside him still attached to the lost moments. But now they were beginning to return, everything was beginning to make sense, and Kyle wished that he had never remembered them. The knowledge was agonising.

'Come on.' Kenny's voice brought Kyle out of his darkened thoughts and back into the light air. 'Let's get out of the rain.'

When the doors of Kenny's car closed, Kyle noticed the warm air that wrapped around them, and realised how wet his clothes actually were. He looked to the side and saw that Kenny had brought along the small, hand-made cross Kyle had made for his grave. And then he looked down, to the photograph firmly gripped in his hands. His hands were cold, tensed and numb around the bloody photo frame. He stared and acknowledged, but could barely move his fingers; they were bony, and so horribly white.

'I wasn't always so pale.' Kyle murmured with his eyes still glued to the icy skin. It was ironical how it was Kenny, driving his car out of the parking lot to the forest, who had suffered death only a few hours ago, yet it was Kyle who looked like the walking dead. He didn't find it humorous though. 'I always had white skin, but it used to be lit up from the hot blood pumping enthusiastically underneath. The sunlight made it glow like it would any normal person, but now I'm semi-nocturnal with my nights and days jumbled up, and the moonlight doesn't have the same effect as the sun.'

Kenny didn't say anything, but quietly tried to digest Kyle's words and their meanings. The redhead shifted, holding one hand up in the air as if to cast it under the light to show every detail.

'And I didn't used to be just bone and skin. I liked food, and the energy it gave me to move and think. I wasn't big, but I had enough muscle and meat to make my parents worry-less. But now, I don't like moving, and thinking is torture. My movements are swift and strong, only so that I can end it instantaneously. My stomach can no longer hold the same amount of food before it makes me sick, and the meat and muscle is now barely visible.'

The rest of the journey was in silence. Kenny was aching to say something, to voice out the thoughts and questions that were overflowing and threatening to burst from the inside-out. But he didn't know where to start. In the end he used driving as an excuse not to say anything.

Neither of them came to an agreement of where to go, but they both somehow assumed that they were going to Kenny's house. Where else would they have gone?

With a calm, yet firm demand, Kyle managed to make Kenny stop at his own apartment. The blond was hesitant about the favour, but the redhead's silence seemed to leave no room for a discussion. The minute or so that Kyle left alone to his apartment was so worrying to Kenny that he wanted to burst in after him. So when Kyle returned with his bag, Kenny let out a long breath of relief.

'Was no one home?'

'Christophe wasn't. The one who hit you.'

Kenny seemed satisfied with the answer and left it as that. Christophe wasn't home, that was true, but that didn't mean that nobody was home. Gregory was there, sitting behind his desk as he usually did. He seemed startled with Kyle's frisk and firm footsteps as he entered the room but managed to greet him, and said nothing as Kyle left the room with his bag and the same thumping footsteps.

With his bag now in hand and Kenny beside him, Kyle wanted to run away, now. But he kept the urge inside himself. They still had a little time, and before they could do anything, they still had to talk. There were still a few things Kyle had to ask and say.

When the front door shut behind them and they were secured inside Kenny's apartment, alone, it suddenly felt a little easier to breathe and the air seemed lighter. They peeled their wet clothes off and took a shower, not sharing any words or even glances. Kyle kept his back on Kenny as they showered while Kenny watched his quiet state. But Kyle's eyes did glance towards him: to the number on his chest.

Kyle dressed in a shirt and jeans that he had brought in his bag, and then when he let out a small sneeze, Kenny handed him an orange sweatshirt. The sweatshirt lied in Kyle's hands for a moment while he stared at it. He blinked when he heard Kenny's soft chuckle, and then pulled it over his head. It was thick and large enough so that Kyle to snuggle into it like a sack. It warmed him up almost instantly, and the smell, it was Kenny.

'Nostalgic, isn't it? It's not the same one as what I wore when I was small, but you can never separate me from an orange hoodie.'

Kyle smiled, sinking in the feeling of sweet sorrow. Orange had always been Kenny's iconic colour, since they were even toddlers probably. But the fact that Kenny would say that to him had made him feel uncomfortable.

'Kenny.' The blond blinked. 'Kenny McCormick.'

'That's my name.'

'What's my name then?'

Kenny's smile tensed for a second before he opened his mouth.

'Scarlet.'

'Really?'

Kyle's smile was resigned, as if he were all tired, sad and happy at the same time, and didn't believe in Kenny's words. It made the blond's smile drop as he himself gave up.

'Kyle Broflovski.'

Kyle looked down, nodding. He knew it, but to hear it properly, intentionally come out of Kenny's mouth left him no room for denial.

'How long have you known?'

'Oh, come on. How often is it that you come across such a pretty daywalker?' Kyle smirked humourlessly, and Kenny knew that his own words lacked it too. He sighed quietly before he continued. 'The first time I met you, well, the first time I met "Scar", "Kyle Broflovski" was immediately in my head. But unlike Stan, it evaporated the second I met your eyes. They were empty, and I couldn't see a thing the way I was able to seven years ago. The fact that you kept on killing me without hesitation didn't help.'

Kyle shook his head subtly, while on the other hand, Kenny's smile returned as he traced back the newer memories of the past few months.

'But as you became more desperate to kill me, you became closer. We interacted more, which seemed like new experience to you. It made you open up, slowly, but you did. And I could see you more and more. I could see "Kyle".'

'Why didn't you contact the police, though? Tell Stan that I was trying to kill you?'

'I didn't want to lock you up. And I have enough lives to spare. I wanted to know why you were doing what you were doing.' Kyle's eyes lowered slightly with dissatisfaction of the answer, and Kenny's eyes warmed as he watched. 'That, and love at first sight.'

The blond held in the urge to chuckle as he watched Kyle's warming face tense up, knowing that he was hiding his embarrassment. Silence entered the room as the warmth subsided between them. Habitually, Kenny wondered if he should turn on the light, but then thought that it would be too bright for them now.

'Why did you lie to me then?' Kyle finally broke the silence.

'Would you have believed me if I told you that I don't die? Besides, you were lying to me too. That makes us equal. Sort of.'

Kyle nodded, and then a short silence continued.

'Why can't you die?'

'Well, I will. I mean, I do die quite often, especially after you started hunting my ass. I just… Come back.'

Kyle couldn't believe it. He did, but, he couldn't. He never believed in the supernatural, and to now be experiencing it.

'So you're immortal? You will never die?'

Kenny shrugged with a lop-sided grin and rose his shirt above his chest. The red number three on beige skin was burning to Kyle's eyes. His lungs stopped for a second until the shirt dropped back down.

'Probably not never. Probably, someday I'll die and stay dead. Someday, when that number reaches zero.'

'That's still two more than the average person.'

Slight warmth returned back to them, and then they met each other's eyes, and smiled.

'Do you wanna go now?'

Kyle's eyes widened.

'You still want to come with me?'

'If you're still going, I'll follow you.'

'You still don't even know why I was trying to kill you, whether or not I'll still be killing you.'

'After last night, I'm guessing that you're somehow working with that guy who killed me with the photo frame. And as for the latter,' Kyle tensed as he waited for the answer, 'I just hope you don't.'

It was a gentle blow, like a gash of wind blowing the weight off his shoulders. He watched dumb-founded as Kenny stood up with a reassuring smile, and followed him onto his feet.

'You ready?'

.

Gregory didn't seem to care for Christophe's flustered state as he casually made himself a cup of earl grey. The Frenchman had come back home after calming himself down to find that Kyle had not yet come back home. He had run down the stairs with quick breaths to find Gregory in the tiny kitchen.

'Actually, I did see him this morning.' Gregory answered after giving Christophe's question a second thought. 'Only for a second though. I don't know what was wrong with him but he didn't even say "good morning". He left quickly.'

'Well? Do you know where he went?'

Christophe's feverish state was beginning to irritate Gregory, as he usually did when the brunet was worried about Kyle. It wasn't jealousy, it was the fact that Christophe became blind to everything else once his mind had caught a concern about Kyle. He became impatient, emotional and even irrational, which the professional mercenary would normally never become. And how was he supposed to solve anything in such a state?

'How the fuck would I know, Christophe? He came home, grabbed a bag from his bedroom, and left without saying a bloody word.'

To Gregory's surprise, the colour in Christophe's face changed with what he said. He didn't know what exactly triggered him, but he thought it might have come from the mention of a bag.

Without an explanation, Christophe bolted. Gregory called after him, but with a cup of tea now ready in his hands, he chose not to follow him. He heard Christophe's car start up and drive away in the distance, and the blond let out a heavy sigh.

.

Kyle picked up his bag, and a natural smile rested on his lips as Kenny wrapped his arm around him and pulled him towards the door.

'He was my friend you know, the guy that I work with. And there was another. My two dearest guardians.' He wasn't hesitating, just voicing out his guilt. It was amazing how letting it out as if to buy sympathy didn't make him hate himself. Maybe it was because of the firmness of Kenny's grip.

The clouds were dark and heavy now and the rain had begun to strengthen. Just a few minutes would have been enough to drench their clothes, so the two grasped each other's hands tightly before heading off to Kenny's car around the corner. The old brick buildings seemed like they towered in, making the alleyway seem more like a tunnel. And Kyle looked up against the rain to see the end of it.

Kyle blinked and his eyes narrowed. He could see a shadow, no, a human, standing at the corner and looking at them. For a second he seemed like he wasn't moving, until he began to move their way. Kyle's feet naturally stopped in suspicion, bringing Kenny to a halt as well. The blond frowned, but then followed Kyle's gaze and looked ahead.

'Who's that?'

The person's pace began to quicken and he dug his hand inside his coat, and then with a burst of a heartbeat, Kyle knew who it was.

'No!' Kyle called, pushing Kenny behind him. He dug into the pocket of his coat, grasped his small revolver, and pointed at the man coming towards them, just as the man drew out his own hand and pointed a gun at them.

Their eyes locked, and so did the points of their guns. For a second they were both still as a photograph.

'Christophe, drop the gun…' Kyle said carefully and steadily. But his words had no influence, so he cocked the hammer back as a warning. '…I don't want to shoot you.'

Christophe stared in hurtful disbelief.

'You would shoot me? To protect him?'

Watching Christophe carefully walk around in a circle, still with their gun points connected, Kyle nodded. The single movement of the head stopped Christophe in his steps, and his gunpoint slightly lowered as the tension flowed away from his guarded posture.

'Is that how much he means to you?'

Through the corner of his eye, Kyle caught a glimpse of Kenny. Even though Kyle was the one at gunpoint, he knew that Kenny wasn't oblivious of the fact that he was the most in danger of Christophe's wrath. But the blond was still locking his eyes on him, forgetting about himself and worrying about the redhead who had killed him almost thirty times. Despite everything, Kyle felt a small warmth in his chest, and then turned his eyes back to Christophe, more firmly than before.

'He means everything.'

The air seemed lighter after that word. It was still electricity to his skin, but it just seemed a little clearer and easier in his lungs. He knew Kenny felt the same way, and for a second that was all that mattered.

Christophe looked down, nodding, bringing his shoulders and gun down with it. Kyle's breathing deepened in relief as he watched Christophe's tension flow away. Was this it? Was this finally the light of the tunnel?

Cold, hazel eyes looked up murderously. Kyle's smile froze and the gun in his hand tensed, still pointing at Christophe. And then his whole body felt as if it set fire as Christophe raised his gunpoint swiftly at Kenny.

'No!'

Two shots rang through the damp, heavy air.