A/N; Wow. Chapter 11.. I think this has to be the longest fic I've ever written, so y'know.. I'd quite like to celebrate it. So: YAAAAAAAAAY! 11TH CHAPTER. I hope you enjoy. And for Myurra's sake - my laptop's backlight has gone, so I can't see what I'm doing on it.. This means that I can't log on because I can't see anything, which in turn means all the saved work I've done for your story is inaccessible. That also means that I have to re-write the chapters I haven't upload which'll put me back further on writing and uploading it. I'm so, so sorry..


"Angel."
A south park fanfiction by Lilzenium

Previously: There's something I must tell you before this story continues. You may not thank me for lying in the beginning and you may also think that as God's right hand man I should be pure and never deceive, but the truth is I'm human and I had to lie in order to keep your attention – in fact God specifically asked me to. Some things in this story are still true: The bracelet being used to pay off debts, the one last feather... however, one thing is false: Kenny does not have to fall in love. I think I owe you an explanation after misleading you for so long, my friend. Kenny does not have to fall in love because he is already in love. He has been for a long, long time. I don't know if you've heard the song "A walk through hell", but if you listen to the lyrics you'll find the words: "Through hell for you, let the torturing ensue, my soul is useless without you," and it is these words that are the most apt description of Kenny's reason for coming back. Kenneth McCormick walks on the red hot coals in hell not because he has to, but because he wants to: his love for that one person is so strong that even death cannot break it. And so, I now can reveal the one thing Kenny has to do to pay off his last feather; he has to be true to himself.

He has to tell Kyle Broflovski he loves him.

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Chapter eleven: Let me tell him, please. (Kenny)

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I guess I've always sort of known what I have to do to get rid of my last feather. It was inevitable that my biggest fear would be the one to set me free because that's just my luck… it's just the way that bastard God seems to want things to happen to me. That phrase reminded me of Christophe, always calling the so-called God a bastard. Now I know why.
But I'm moving away from the point. I knew I had a thing for Kyle when I was 12 and although that seems too young an age to know you're in love, I knew it to be true.

Everyone knows I've worked as a rent-boy for cash since I was 15, but no-one knows that every time I was used by various members of the community I kept myself from dying of embarrassment by imagining that my 'master' or 'mistress' for the evening was none other than a curly red-haired jewish boy.

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My phone vibrates in my pocket as I'm thinking and I pull it out quickly, hoping against hope it's from Kyle. And it is. I read the one word message of 'fine' quickly and sigh. I was hoping for a longer answer if I'm being honest, but being the optimist I am I'm thankful I got a reply at all.

I select Kyle's number from my shitty old phone and hit the call button, praying that I have enough credit to tell him what I need to. That's the problem with pay-as-you-go, you always run out at the worst times. Or at least I do, but that's probably just my luck again. The phone rings for awhile before Kyle actually picks up. By awhile, I mean I have to phone him 5 times and leave very insistent messages telling him to 'pick the fuck up'. Eventually he complies.

"What, Kenny?" He asks. He sounds tired and bored, and I immediately hate myself for what I've done to him; How much pain I've caused him. "I need to talk to you."
"I figured that one out myself, thank you."
There's silence for a good five minutes, but it feels like forever. "Kyle, I have to tell you something." I begin, " I've known it for awhile.. Kyle I lo-" I say the rest of the words to myself. My credit hasn't died, but my battery has. I stand up from the table I've been resting on and hurl the phone at the wall. Water trickles down my cheeks and I'm not sure why.

I pull the keys from my pocket and wipe at my eyes fiercely, stomping out of the abandoned Raisin's building and into the parking lot where the pickup is. I fall into it, resting my head against the ripped leather and I sigh once more.
Slotting the keys into the ignition I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Me and Stan aren't the closest of friends, but since the fallout with Cartman last year (he left our group shortly afterwards, preferring to spend time with Craig's gang.. god knows why) and since Kyle hates me, he's all I've really got left.
The drive to the Marsh's is long and arduous at most times, but it's even more difficult when my heart hurts and both my brain and bones ache with lack of sleep. My reaction time is probably slower too, so I drive slowly along the roads and earn myself honks of annoyance from the vehicles stuck behind me. Fuck them though. That's the problem with people now-a-days; They're so impatient. They want to get to places as quickly as possible and they don't enjoy just rolling along the roads with the stereo blasting feel-good music.

Eventually I pull up into Stan's drive and get out, stumbling along to the door. I lean on it heavily, taking deep breaths before ringing the bell. Randy opens it and does his usual I'm-sorry-stan's-not-here routine, which I know off by heart. It's not true, Stan's always at home. Well, nearly always. Randy would know that if he actually paid attention to his son instead of pretending he was 18 years old.
Stan shoves his dad out of the way and surveys me with his blue eyes. "Kenny," he says, slightly coldly, but I crumple and beg him for help before he can turn me away.

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