Kenny frowned, ramming his hands into the worn out, holy, pockets on his worn out, holy trousers. He really didn't want to be here, not today, not ever. He hated it, he hated his dad's stained, too big, bright white wedding tuxedo, he hated the badly vanished, dingy wood, he hated the dirty, claustrophobic confessional, he hated the eroded, limestone gargoyles, he hated Father Maxi, he hated the guilt and begging, the lies, and the suits. The pompous, unnecessary, stuffy fucking suits.

No, Kenny really didn't want to be here. He'd only come because his father had growled at him, because his mother had screamed at him, threatened him with eternal damnation, threatening to cry. She was really shaken up at the whole Stan and Kyle thing, everyone was. It'd left a weird feeling in the air, the whole fucking town was doing some kind of obligatorily balancing act, no-one was ever heard openly talking about it, the whole thing had been rendered verbally uncouth. Behind closed doors however, well, it was obvious no-one was talking about anything else. It'd die down soon, Kenny knew that much for sure, a week, a month, nobody'd care. But for now, the perfect fucking quarterback and the stompy litte Jew; it'd spread across the town like a virus, like bad fliers and cheap confetti.

Scoffing, Kenny scuffed his foot through the snow, kicking up chunks of ice and grit. It was only snowing lightly, only a few flakes, but it was bitterly cold and utterly miserable. He was waiting for his parents to finish talking to Butters's, discussing menial pleasantries, their faces set, everyone determined not to mention yesterday. Determined to rise above that, to pretend they're better then all the petty gossip. Even though everyone knew they weren't. No-one in this town was.

Frowning bitterly, Kenny turned away. He really wished he'd put up more of a fight, demanded he wasn't going to come. He didn't care how upset it made his mother; eternal damnation was underrated anyway. At least someone was listening to you down there. You make one mistake, one lie, one missed church session, and hey, he hears. There's nobody listening upstairs, no matter how desperate you are, no matter what you ask for, no matter how necessary, how menial, nobody cares. Nobody fucking cares.

Exhaling slightly, Kenny clutched his chest, rubbing the spot just above his heart. He felt heavy, heavy and empty. Angry, bitter, he felt like there was something wrong, really, really wrong. He felt heartbroken, like a falcon punch had just fractured all his ribs.

Glancing up, Kenny grimaced, narrowing his eyes though the splitting wooden doors, squinting to see through the dimness of the church. He could see Stan, sitting on the end of a pew, tucked away at the back of the church, posture slumped, shoulders hunched, head drooped. His parents were sitting next to him, about a foot away, their shoulders ridged and awkward, their expressions wide-eyed and tortured. All three of them silent, surrounded by wangst and misery. Dipping his head, Kenny bruised his hair out his eyes. Having spent a lifetime gazing moonily up at the poverty line, he knew how much it sucked, being the talk of the town, the one everyone talked about behind cupped hands. It really wasn't a nice experience. Exhaling, Kenny smiled slightly, slipping though the creaking doors.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" Stan deadpanned him a look, Kenny rolled his eyes, dropping messily onto the cold wood next to him. "I mean aside from the whole carnival-outing-fucking thing. Christ, you look like someone offed your faggy mutt. It's not that bad, it's just paper."

"I'm just tired." Kenny raised his eyebrows, gazing at him disbelievingly. Stan pulled a face, wrinkling up his nose. "Shelly stole my car."

"Shelly stole your car?"

"Yep. Shelly stole my car."

"Christ, how'd that happen?"

"I dunno. I woke up today and the keys were gone. Looked out the window, my car was gone too."

"How'd you know she took it?"

"Who else could it have been? Dude, my keys were on my bedside table! It was Shelly."

"Well, that sucks."

"Yep."

Exhaling, Kenny cracked his knuckles, leaning back against the wood. "On the bright size, no matter what she does to it, it's not like it can look any worse. If she bangs a enough dints into it, she might actually even it out. You never know, chances are she'll increase it's aesthetic appeal. She'd have to work damn hard to make it uglier."

"You didn't see what she did to the door?"

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "What did she do to the door?"

Stan shook his head, refusing to answer. "I bet she's going to torch it or something. She's a fucking bitch like that."

"Just think of it as a new paint job. Black's a really classy colour, after all. It'll hide the scratches, and the mismatched body parts."

Stan narrowed his eyes, clutching his hands together. "You know Kenny, I'm really not in the mood for your wise-assery, not today."

Kenny snorted, tossing his head back. "Yeah, well me neither." He bit it out, his voice low and stinging. "But I just found out my two supposed best friends are fucking, and-" He swallowed hard, twisting his face, biting back the bitter jealously. He just wanted to punch Stan, he really just wanted to hurt him, to do something to him. "And they never even thought to let me fucking know. Forgive me for not being Miss Sympathetic America."

Sighing, Stan ran his hand through his hair, leaning forward. "Kenny, it was nothing personal. We… We had to keep it a secret."

"Why? Because life in South Park just isn't dramatic enough for you? You had to add a clandestine scandalous romance to boot up the crazy? Fuck me Stan!"

"No! Because… Because things happen in this town Kenny! Stupid, retarded, mob things! I didn't want to do anything to provoke it, I didn't want to-to put Kyle in any danger! Sometimes it's just easier to keep you head low until you can get the hell outta Dodge, yeah?" Stan exhaled, rubbing his eyes. "But hey, best laid plans of mice and men and all that fucking crap."

Pursing his lips angrily, Kenny averted his gaze. "Well, do try look on the bright side, you overdramatic dick. At least you get waffles in an hour."

"No, I'm not going to brunch."

"Why? I always thought brunch was the only part of this shit that was vaguely tolerable. Especially for you guys, I mean, you lot actually get to eat."

"None of this bullshit is tolerable."

"Oh, do try not to be too optimistic, you wouldn't want to fucking hurt yourself!"

"Christ Kenny, I just don't want to be around this" he made a weak wristed gesture "these people any longer then I have to be. I just want to go home. I just want-I just want to not be here anymore!"

Kenny sighed, biting back the urge to kick him. "You never solved anything by running away. Sometimes you just got to stand your ground, suck it up, and be the goddamned hero."

"Not all of us want to be heroes Kenny. Maybe some of us just want to keep our heads low and get by. Besides, I don't want to leave Kyle alone for too long. He's a bit shaken by the whole... By it."

Kenny pursed his lips, lowering his head. "He'll be fine. Fuck Stan, he's not a puppy. He's not going to cry and piddle on the carpet if you leave him alone for too long."

"I'm never quite sure what he's liable to do when distressed. He gets a bit unpredictable when he's emotional."

"Yes; I had noticed." Kenny bit dryly. "But nevertheless, he'll be fine. He's hormonal, not stupid."

"I guess. It's just… I wish… It's… It's just not fair."

Kenny raised his eyebrows, blowing air into his cheeks. "Well, life ain't fair Stanny-boy. You'd should be used to it by now."

Stan just shrugged, his eyes glued to the stonework on the floor. Kenny just sighed, leaning back in the pew. The service was really fucking late starting, but that was nothing new. Father Maxi was hardly known for his dedication. He wasn't a bad guy, he just wasn't a particularly good priest.

Frowning, Kenny narrowed his eyes towards the alter. Wendy was standing up at the front, dressed up in neat, fluffy lavender and pale creams, her arms crossed, a foul look twisting her face. Cartman was leaning over her, his dull, brown, custom made suit, bunching up depressingly, repulsively invading her space, a weird smile twisting his face. Kenny quirked the corner of his lip, wondering if Cartman still had his creepy little stalker-cave all wired up. He wondered if he was still watching her undress, and shower, listening to her every word. Crossing his arms, Kenny dimly pondered reporting Cartman to the police. It was a massively temping idea, but it'd never work. No matter what happened, Cartman always got away with it. And he actually sort of liked juvie. He liked to strut about, playing that he was some kind of kingpin. He always had been a very convincing actor.

"Have you talked to her yet?"

Stan blinked, glancing up. "What?"

"Wendy. You really sort of owe her a conversation. Have you talked to her yet."

"Not really. She came and shouted at me yesterday, I tried to apologise to her today, she wasn't having any of it."

"Well you sort of were a supermassive dick to her."

Stan sighed. "I know."

"Have you talked to him yet?" Stan blinked questioningly, Kenny pointed across the church. "You know, have you spoken too South Park's very own fascist epitome of assholeness?"

"No. I've been trying to avoid that. I'm just at a loss as to what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to deal with that, I mean, it's just so-so… Christ, I think we should all just do that thing where we pretend he's dead. Just, just pretend he doesn't exist. Like everything's okay, because he doesn't exist. He might freak out and make us fruit baskets again."

"Not likely. He won't fall for that, not again. He's not that stupid."

Stan twisted his lips, pulling back his shoulders. "I beg to differ."

Across the church, Wendy suddely snapped, shoving Cartman back, storming away, down the isle, slamming through the doors, stomping though the grit and ice. Cartman just watched her leave, a weird expression murking across his face. After a few moments he blinked, shaking his head, blinking slightly. Gancing across, he caught Stan watching him, dark faced and angry. Bearing his teeth, Cartman swaggered down the isle, lumbering towards their pew. Stan cursed under his breath, shakily running his hands across his face.

Lumbering up, Cartman cocked a disgusting grin, leaning across the pew, almost smothering Kenny in his endeavour to invade Stan's personal bubble. Stan just glared at him, his mouth twisted angrily. "I gotta say Stanley, you certainly seem to have a type. First Wendy, now Kyle, it's just bitchy, pathetic, screechy, holier-art-thous all the fucking way with you."

Stan clenched his fist. "Seriously Cartman, get out of my face."

"I mean, Jesus," Cartman didn't even blink, not missing a beat, "at lease Wendy was aesthetically not hideous, I mean, you can look at her and not feel too nauseous. Fuck, I just don't know what you see in the ki-"

Stan was a laxed catholic. He didn't try to hide it. He blasphemed, he lied, he sinned, he broke all manor of commandments, he didn't respect his parents. He fucked other men. He just wasn't all that religious. But that didn't mean he didn't believe in God, it just meant he didn't really follow the bible. Kenny was surprised; usually a catholic, even a laxed catholic, drew the line at punching someone in a church, at drawing blood on holy ground.

But hey, people always have exceptions, especially when it comes to Cartman.

When near-as-damnit two bucks of quarterback decides to slam a fist into your face, he can cause quite a bit of damage. The entire church was silent, staring over their shoulders. Cartman was on the floor, clutching his face, whimpering and sobbing. Stan was on his feet, bent forwards slightly, swearing violently, his fist curled up against his chest, his face twisted in pain.

Kenny just blinked, tilting his head to the left.

A/N - Sorry sorry for the delay (no, it's not over, not just yet, it's just FrightFest on Film4 and I went to IKEA because I'm moving back into Studentland soon and I have no attention span and am easily distracted by thing and cannot process more then one thing at a time apparently, oy) but there're only two chapters left (I've planned them and everything so yay they should be out sooner then this one was eheh). Anyhoo, thank you thank you for reading, even though my has lag, is supercool. And booper major muches super duper awesome lovely thank yous for reviewing, is awesomefluffy soft candyfluff and makes me so write-friendly yay. Lovesloveslovelyloves :3

And Princess-of-Your-Doom95, damn, you kinda called it. Have a freshly baked kudos cookie =P

And Savannah, aye, sorrysorry, the redundancy is just a manifestation of silly temperamental writers block. As is the repeats. Daymn. Price of updating-as-I-go I guess. And don't worry, I 5p34k a L1tTl3 1337.