Chapter 25: A New Chapter

Monday, June 29 Year 1

Stan

It was late, an ungodly hour for ungodly crimes. The sun had set on the summer sky and the instant its rays disappeared over the horizon the night crowd sprung from every crevice imaginable. Stan drove through the downtown arteries on his regular patrol route, the street lights casting long shadows for the patrol car to pass through. For this early in the season it was unbearably hot out. Sweat gathered under Stan's collar and he could feel his skin sticking to the steering wheel. South Park, his hometown, always ran cooler since it was farther north. Still, the heat was a small price to pay for the location.

Stan loved the city. It was vibrant and full of culture. It was becoming more innovative with solar energy, they had citywide recycling, and the populace on the whole was LBGTQ+ friendly, which meant Kyle and Wendy were less likely to be attacked for holding their loved one's hand in public. The parks were well maintained, lots of people had pets, and the city encouraged its inhabitants to carpool or ride bikes to reduce carbon emissions.

It was Stan's city. But it was also the backdrop for drugs, guns and rape. As an officer of the law he was always racing off to one crime scene or another. His department was understaffed and overworked, but someone had to keep the streets safe. Or try to.

Stan hated the city.

There was too much corruption, too many lowlifes out to make a profit on the innocents. Stan wasn't part of any special homicide unit, but he was usually one of the first responders to grisly scenes. They stayed with him, all of them. But so did the good ones. Like that time he helped a little girl find her mom during a street fair, or the time he rescued an elderly woman from her mugger. He also found Kenny, or Kenny found him. Still, he'd give it all to be back in South Park where the worse riff raff were high schoolers and the local drunks. He could handle that with ease.

But this was his city and he would never leave it because someone had to wear the badge. That, and Kyle was adamant about not moving back home. Stan didn't think he could handle living so far apart. He barely survived losing Wendy. He couldn't imagine weekends without Kyle. Sure they could travel and visit, but it would drain them both.

Tonight's patrol had been like all other others. Stan and his partner, Jim, were cruising, eyes on the sides, when a dispatcher reported possible "homeless aggression." That's what they were calling it these days.

Jim grabbed the radio, buzzing through, "10-4, we're close so we can check it out."

"What is your ETA?"

Stan considered the nearest street sign, they were about ten blocks away and traffic was light. "Tell her five minutes tops."

When Stan pulled into the alley in question he knew it was going to be a long night. He grabbed for the radio off his dash and called back to the dispatcher, "We've got multiple DBs, requesting an ambulance and possible backup."

When they got out of the cruiser the first words out of Jim's mouth were, "Oh God."

Oh God is right.

The smell of rotting flesh clung to everything. Stan swore he could taste it, death kicking at the back of his throat. Only the hours of training he went through prevented him from spilling his guts. He joined his partner by the bodies. There were two of them, both mutilated. It would be hard to argue they were human, except the teeth didn't lie. The smiles were missing more than a few teeth, but human was human. Based off their clothes Stan assumed they were homeless. They each worse several layers of tattered garments. Beside the taller of the two bodies was a threadbare backpack.

These people obviously died a while ago. They sat in their own puddles of decay, making it clear they weren't just dropped off. It made Stan wonder who reported the homeless aggression and what exactly did they see? If these people were murdered it had to have been awhile ago.

"Wonder what got them." Jim moved closer to inspect. The bodies looked as if they were caving in on themselves. Jim pulled back one of their shirts and both he and Stan gasped.

Large chunks of flesh and muscle were missing from the person's torso. Stan checked the other body to see it in similar condition, this one's ribs were even partially exposed. It was hard to tell because of the condition of the skin, but Stan could swear he saw teeth marks.

Neither Stan nor Jim touched anything else. They secured the scene, checking for possible witnesses and tapping the area off to stop anyone from tramping through possible evidence.

Stan's phone buzzed to life. It was his work cell, which meant it could only be a few people. He pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID before answering.

"Sir." Stan greeted Richard, the station's police chief who answered directly to the mayor.

"I heard you called for backup. What's your status?" The man's voice was gruff and uninviting, like usual.

Stan did his best to explain what he was seeing, his concerns immediately getting shot down with disinterest.

"But sir-"

"Look Marsh, we don't need to cause a panic over a couple of dead homeless. Have it cleaned up and move on."

Stan was seeing red. "Our job is to keep people safe. I'm telling you, these bodies look like someone took a bite out of them first. Their entire midsection-"

"Marsh! I will not tell you again. Leave the examination to the coroner. You and Carter wait for the ambulance then get back on patrol."

Stan hung up first, slamming his thumb down on the end call button. He was livid, but not at all surprised. No one ever gave a thought to the people living on the streets.

Jim came up beside him, slapping his shoulder. "Richard has always been like that."

"Yeah, well he's a dick."

"It's just some homeless people."

"We're cops! They're people!" Stan yelled, one step away from punching his good friend. "God."

Jim's shoulders drooped. "I know. I know. Sorry, it's, it's just the mindset around here. You know?"

Stan had to step away from Jim and the remains. He could feel the bile rise up his throat along with his anger. He didn't want to say anything he'd regret, but he was absolutely going to put his foot down. City funds be damned, the police should treat everyone equally. He couldn't help but think of Kenny. If Kyle hadn't rescued Kenny from the streets it could have been his body that Stan had to clean up.

"Are you okay Stan?"

"Yeah. Let's just get this over with."

Kyle

Kenny had gone to sleep hours ago leaving Kyle with his book in the living room. He was enjoying this historical fiction novel he'd picked up a whim. He told himself it was historically fiction, but he knew better. It was a romance. He wasn't normally one to read romances, but the main character was gay and the plot intrigued him. The sex scenes were also pretty spicy, if not overly dramatic. He would switch from laughing at the description to finding himself hardening at the imagery.

He heard the handle of the front door rattle and turned to greet Stan, not at all concerned that the story's escalating plot was interrupted.

"Welc- oh, dude, you look like shit." Kyle tossed aside the book and scrambled to meet Stan halfway across the living room. Stan's face was pale, his eyes dull and withdrawn. Kyle reached out for Stan's hands, grasping his clammy digits and pulling him into better lighting. "What happened?"

"Rough night." Stan looked around, eyes falling back on Kyle's anxious face. "Kenny?"

"Went to bed already. It's late after all." Kyle smacked Stan lightly on the arm. "Don't ignore my question."

"Sorry, I'm just tired."

I can see that.

Whenever Stan became wound up Kyle would always try and distract him with movies, games or poorly executed jokes. But whatever this was, was clearly beyond the help of his normal lineup. This kind of look was the one Stan would get before drowning himself in booze.

"I have an idea." Kyle pulled the grumbling Stan through the kitchen where he grabbed two glass bottles of root beer from the fridge. He then proceeded to lead Stan outside to the porch bench. They both plopped down, bodies melding into wood.

"Isn't it a little late for soda?" Stan took a bottle anyways.

Kyle popped the lid on his own drink. "There's no caffeine in it."

"Shit, really?" Stan scrutinized the label. "I'll be damned. Still doesn't explain what we're doing."

"Star watching, just like old times. Only instead of stars it's light pollution because fuck us." From the corner of his eye Kyle watched his friend slowly relax. Both of them tilted their heads back and gazed at the washed out sky.

This was nice. Stan's shoulders bent down as his body shifted closer to Kyle's. Stan pointed north. "Is that a star?"

"Plane."

"Ah."

Kyle eyed him closely, watching as Stan's brow smoothed out as he continued looking up. "You going to be okay?"

Stan took a swig of his drink and sighed contently. "I am now. Thanks, I needed you."

"Always here for you."

They clicked their bottle necks together and took a swig. Kyle would ask about the problem another time, maybe when Stan broached the subject first. Most likely it had something to do with work and he knew a lot of that information was classified. Instead, he could do his best to cheer his friend on.

"Don't panic, but you have a spider on you." Stan pointed to Kyle's shoulder.

The redhead jumped and flailed, Stan laughing all along.

Wednesday, July 1 Year 1

Ike

Music pulsed as chatter filled the background of the Gamma Sorority House. The entire living room was one giant mass of bodies pressed together like flowers in a book. There was no strobe lights, but there was underage drinking. Ike didn't care to join the strangers. He had better things to do than be a wallflower at a stupid party, but it was Filmore's idea to drag him out. College may be out for the summer but that didn't stop the parties. It just meant it was socially acceptable to not wait for the weekend.

This was stupid though. After only half an hour of suffering this soul sucking a social interaction, Ike flagged down Annie to say he was going home. His friend was shaking her hips to the music, carefree and most likely drunk. She smiled as he approached.

"Dance with me!" She shouted over the music as she tried to pull him into the motions.

He brushed her hands away, used to her antics. "I'm going home."

Her face fell and her bottom lip jutted out. "So soon?"

He just stared at her, because even when drunk she knew better. Annie was swaying pretty badly, and it wasn't her attempt at dancing.

"How drunk are you?"

She considered the question. She held up her hand, shoving three fingers into Ike's face. "This many."

The party was one of those all campus ones were people got smashed and most likely dabbed. Ike didn't care for booze, drugs or hookups, and he didn't normally judge, but he also thought this place was sketchy as fuck. Without Steven, Annie's fiancé, and without Filmore to supervise—where the hell did he go?—there was no way Ike was leaving Annie.

"Let's go home together."

Annie's pout returned but she considered his outstretched hand and after a few beats she grabbed it. She was sweaty, and sparkly from body glitter, but Ike didn't mind as he pushed his way through the crowd.

Stepping outside was like breathing for the first time. Inside was muggy and hot, but the night air was cool. They started down the sidewalk heading for their house just below the campus hill. It wasn't a long walk, but in the darkness of the street lamps anything could happen. Ike had read all the articles, heard all of the horror stories of campus rape. Their campus had its own police that patrolled the area, but there were never enough of them. He was always happy to escort Annie from her night classes, and of course he made sure she was safe walking home from stupid parties like this one. Steven was good about it too, but he wasn't always around to keep an eye on her.

Annie and Ike continued holding hands as they strolled past block after block, because it was the only way she was getting home without face planting.

"Thanks for dragging me away."

"Of course."

"Did you have fun?"

"No."

She snorted. "Of course."

Their house was a two story building built in the last century. The outside paint was peeling, and the front porch had seen better days, but the rent was pretty cheap and it meant not living in the dorms.

Ike unlocked the door and helped Annie to the couch, where she proceeded to flop down on the warn cushions. The three of them pretty much lived like paupers, but that was typical for college life. Ike shuffled to the kitchen and poured a glass of filtered water. He returned to the living room where he found Annie with the TV on channel surfing.

She heard him coming though and climbed halfway across the couch to accept the drink. "Thanks, you're a peach." She took a few gulps before asking, "Wanna watch a movie with me?"

A second later Ike's phone buzzed. He took a look to see it was a text message from Filmore. He cussed both him and Annie out, calling them wimps for heading back early. Ike decided to ignore the text and closed out of the message. His eyes immediately fell onto his background image of Kenny. It was so adorable how he had flour everywhere. Like how do you get that messy?

"You're staring again."

"I can't help it." Ike's eyes lingered a moment longer before he shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"You've got it bad."

"So bad," he agreed.

"Well?"

"We've talked about this." Ike's words were almost a growl, but his friend didn't even blink.

"We've talked about how we're not going to talk about it." She corrected him.

"And that still stands."

"Fine, continue pinning over your brother's boyfriend while watching unsatisfied from afar. But don't come whining to me when they settle down, get married and have children."

"Noooo!" Ike flung his arms around Annie, causing her to nearly spill her drink. "I want him to have my babies."

"If I didn't know better I'd say you're drunk," said Annie. With her free hand she patted Ike's arm. "I know Kyle means the world to you, and you would never purposely do anything to hurt him, but if you think you have a chance why not throw your hat into the ring? I don't think it's all one-sided."

Ike pulled away, "It's not wise to take advice from a drunkard."

"You text him more than you text me." She pouted, the other insult washing off her back like Ike knew it would.

"Are you jealous?" He teased, hoping to distract her.

"He's trying to take you from me!" Annie proceeded to pretend to cry. Her acting skills were atrocious. "Who will peel the dead skin off my back when I get sunburned? Who will paint the nails on my right hand? Who will hack into my enemies social media accounts to fuck with them?"

Ike rolled his eyes. "You are, and will always be, my best friend. He's not going to replace you."

"Of course not. You don't want to fuck me."

"Annie. No." He glowered. It was clear she was hell bent on talking about it, so he did the only honorable thing to do, he retreated to his room on the second floor. Not quick enough though. He could hear her holler after his retreating form, "Do you masturbate to his picture?"

Ike slammed his door closed. He wasn't mad at Annie, but he wasn't about to put up with her right now. He crawled across his bed, buried his face into his pillow and kicked his shoes off as an afterthought. He loved Annie, but God was she good at pressing his buttons. Because they knew each other so well she was skilled at getting under his skin.

She just doesn't get it.

Kenny and Kyle were together, and he wished greatly for their happiness. They both deserved to be happy and he was not going to be the wedge that tore them apart. But are they happy? Of course they are. Could he be happier? Of course Kenny could. I could make-NO!

Ike screamed into his pillow, the frustration pouring out of him along with the primordial sound. Since his last visit to the city, when he stayed at Stan's, Ike had been trying to keep his distance from the tantalizing blonde. But the pull was so strong. He could physically keep his distance but his mind refused to restrain itself. It would think about Kenny constantly, and in ways Ike never imagined. He'd be making breakfast and then wonder how Kenny preferred his eggs. He'd be playing board games with Annie and wonder if Kenny would prefer the blue or red pieces. What does Kenny's singing voice sound like? How does he feel about hair clips, because he looked really cute in Annie's. Shit like that. All. The. Time.

He could never win against his thoughts, but physically he was doing good. He'd been good about not visiting their house, and he hadn't appeared at the coffee shop again. But texting, he and Kenny had texted a lot. Just this is okay, right?

Just the thought of texting Kenny had Ike reaching for his phone, almost like an addiction or an itch he needed to scratch. He hesitated only a moment, considering the late hour, before typing up a message.

'Hey, you still awake?'

'Just woke up actually. What's up?'

'Wait, were you napping this late at night?'

'I fell asleep watching a documentary with Kyle.'

'No wonder you fell asleep, he used to rope me into those.'

'It wasn't so bad.' A second later. 'So what's up?'

Ike's fingers hovered over the keys. 'Nothing, just wanted to talk.' 'Sorry, I know it's late.' He typed rappily. 'Have a goodnight Kenny.'

'Wait!' Kenny's messages came in quick succession. 'I like talking.' 'Besides, Kyle just ditched me to hang with Stan.' 'Keep me company?'

Ike felt his throat dry, thankful Kenny couldn't see the lust surely exposed across his face. He knew he was obvious, but it was okay as long as he kept his distance. Because he knew he couldn't help but swoon.

'Gladly.' Ike buried his face further into the pillow. Oh yeah, I have it bad.

Kenny

Kenny had escaped into the bedroom about the time Ike had texted. Now he was staring at his phone screen, the only light in the darkness. He waited patiently for Ike to tell him more about his evening. It sounded like parties weren't his thing, and thinking back to Halloween and New Years Eve, Kenny was inclined to agree.

'What is your ideal outing then?' Kenny typed out.

'Something relaxing and with less idiots.'

'Like?'

'Bumming on the beach at night, I guess?'

'Skinny dipping?'

Ike's reply took a long time, eventually he posted. 'Sure, why not?'

Kenny grinned. Ike had no idea the surprise Kyle had in store for him. It was only a few days from now, but Ike wouldn't be in the know until tomorrow.

'Your ideal outing?' Ike messaged him.

Kenny should have seen the question coming, but it was hard to answer. 'I think it would be fun to go camping.' Camping in a non survival way, which Kenny was sure was a lot more fun. 'We could camp on the beach and both get our ideal outings.'

'That sounds fun.' Was Ike's short reply, followed by, 'Are you inviting me?'

Kenny felt his face heat up. He immediately felt guilty, unsure why such a simple question found his heart racing. He thought about typing how they could all go together, but the message became bogged down and he deleted it all to start over. Borrowing Ike's words from earlier, "Sure, why not?"

'You should get to bed, it's late.'

'I'm already in bed. And you should take your own advice.' Kenny retorted, adding an emoji face with its tongue sticking out.

The door creaked open and Kenny turned to see it was Kyle slipping into the room for bed. The redhead smiled. "I didn't think you'd still be up."

Kenny scooted over, giving Kyle more room on his side. "I was trying to sleep."

Kyle crawled into bed, planting a kiss on Kenny's lips. "Goodnight."

"Night."

Kenny's phone vibrated, alerting him to another text. He turned his back to Kyle, trying to block out the harsh light with his body. He glanced at the screen. Ike had messaged him back, but the message made no sense, like someone slamming down on the keyboard. Must have accidentally sent it. He wondered if there would be another message and fell asleep waiting for it.