Author's Note: I don't have a lot to say right now, I'm sick and felt I hadn't updated in awhile but I've been busy so... that's going to happen. Plus I'm writing a ton and really need to be careful with how much I update because I've had writer's block for this story for like a month and I'm catching up to current chapters. Anywho, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy.
This chapter is very important and contains one of my Stan headcanons.
Chapter Forty-Seven: Delicate in Every Way but One
"Coffee!" Karen cried excitedly as she ran into the Tweak's coffee shop. Kenny gave a look to Butters, who grinned and slipped his finger in his belt loop as they entered the shop. The smell of coffee woke Kenny's senses and he suddenly felt himself craving the strongest cup of coffee Mr. Tweak could possibly make.
He had worked three and a half weeks straight and finally had his first day off since school started. Now he was working another straight two weeks and his nerves were fried as he tried to focus on one thing at a time. But tonight was the homecoming game and he still wasn't sure if he had the whole night off; and he wasn't going to miss out on going to the dance with Butters. They had planned it for the past two weeks.
Butters stood behind Karen as she placed her order for an iced coffee to go. He ordered a latte to go and turned to Kenny, who was standing next to him with his eyes closed. Tweak's father looked at him with concern in his features.
"He really needs some coffee," Butters said with a quiet, sad laugh, "whatever the strongest coffee you have is... large." He nudged Kenny, who opened his eyes suddenly and coughed lightly in his sleeve. Karen grabbed his arm and nodded toward a booth. Butters slipped his finger from his belt loop and opened his wallet as he pulled out the cash.
By the time Butters had been given the two coffees, Kenny had dozed off on Karen's shoulder.
"Can we just take him home?" Karen asked as she wrapped her arm over her brother's shoulder. His breathing was slightly congested, and Butters sighed. He still hadn't driven since the accident.
"If he doesn't go to school he can't play in the game and-"
"He doesn't want to," Karen grumbled. Butters nodded and slid the cup in front of Kenny. Thankfully they had a half an hour before class started. Fridays were nice because they started an hour later than usual and ended forty five minutes earlier. Considering it was game day they would probably be out by noon after the pep rally.
"Shit, the pep rally..." Butters trailed off sadly. He had forgotten that in a drunken agreement between Stan and Wendy, the school president- which had angered Cartman to no end considering he was her vice president-, Stan and Kenny had to play a song as The Appropriate Burrito for the pep rally. Which Kenny hadn't even been looking forward to in the first place because "playing for school functions is fucking stupid". But he had eventually agreed; it had taken Stan even longer to re-agree.
Karen groaned in annoyance and shook her brother slightly. He mumbled quietly and incoherently, and continued to snuffle in his sleep.
"I'm gonna call his boss tonight, he can't work tomorrow, then." Karen huffed. Butters raised an eyebrow.
"But he's taking off tonight."
"He's sick, whatever, he's killing himself." Butters nodded solemnly at that and took a sip of his coffee. The door jingled and he heard Mr. Tweak greet someone with his mellow voice. "Kenny, wake up. Coffee." Karen said, shoving him a little harder.
"Mmm..." Kenny moaned in aggravation. Karen sighed and patted his head a couple of times.
"Kyle's gonna have a fit," she said. Butters giggled and nodded as he looked over his boyfriend. Kyle had already been nagging Kenny about needing more sleep and that he couldn't let his school work fall behind everything else, which it had begun to. Kenny had ended up shoving a piece of pepperoni in his mouth as he ranted, which caused everyone at the table to laugh and Kyle to get off his case for awhile.
"He's gonna lay eggs," Butters added, causing Karen to snicker.
"Butters?" The bright blonde lost all traces of a smile as he heard the voice behind him. Slowly, he turned around and prayed it was just his imagination yet his eyes fell on his mother and his heart dropped. "Butters!"
Kenny's eyes snapped open and he jerked up from his sister's shoulder. Karen looked between Butters and Linda with fear in her eyes, and Kenny was braced to rush over to Butters' side.
"M-mom?" He squeaked; it had been nearly two months since he had even heard from her. No phone calls, no texts, nothing. Butters had tried, he called twice a week. He had finally managed to convince himself that it didn't bother him and now... Now his heart felt as if it had been sent through a shredder.
"Butters, why haven't you answered my calls or texts? I've been waiting to hear from you." Kenny narrowed his eyes and felt Karen grab his arm.
"I..." the bright blonde trailed off uncomfortably. What was he supposed to say? He faltered under her hawk like glare and looked to Kenny for strength; yet his tired eyes only made him feel weak. "I d-don't know..." he whimpered.
"We have been worried sick after that tantrum you threw, your father was upset. I said I would be willing to accept your lifestyle and..." her eyes glanced at Kenny, who sat up taller.
"Tantrum?" Kenny blurted, earning a pleading look from Butters, "with all due respect, Mrs. Stotch your husband beat your son. I don't think Butters was the one who had the tantrum."
"I don't have to tolerate your disrespect to my family."
"And I'm not tolerating yours to mine. The fact you allow your son, who I love and would die for, to be abused by your husband is disrespectful to your son, and my family because he is a part of us, in every way except by law." Kenny retorted, then pulled from Karen's grip as he stood up.
"Mrs. Stotch, all I have ever done is love Leopold, and I have always respected your family but you and your husband don't respect him. I'm sorry, but I was there when he called you, texted, hoped for some sort of contact. You weren't the one to attempt a connection, you weren't the one who was ready to apologize. You and Stephen need to realize Butters has nothing to apologize for, but is owed a decade's worth of apologies. But all he wants right now is to hear you say you love him and miss him." Kenny was calm; there wasn't an ounce of anger in his voice. But Linda Stotch looked at him as if he had called her every profane word in the book and turned to her son, who looked ready to burst into tears.
"This... this is the boy you love?" Linda finally asked, looking ready to strangle someone... probably herself. Butters looked up and slowly nodded as if he were afraid to move a single muscle. Linda looked from her son to Kenny, and shook her head. "You're Carol and Stuart McCormick's son." Kenny nodded, "and that's your sister?" Karen hid behind Kenny. "Your family... is the scum of South Park and yet you feel you have the right to speak to me in such a manner, and brainwash my son by your perverted behavior. All you McCormicks have ever done is give South Park a bad name by being the white trash you were born to be. Your father is a lousy drunk and your mother deserved what she got."
"How dare- Kenny, let me GO!" Karen screamed as she lunged at Linda, who backed away as if Karen were rabid. The customers looked to the four in astonishment, and Mrs. Tweak came out from the back kitchen to find the source of the uproar.
Kenny held his sister back, bit his tongue, and stared hard at the middle-aged woman. Butters watched his jaw clench and unclench and knew he was fighting every bone in his body not to say or do something. So he did.
"At least Carol McCormick never tried to kill her children," Butters said, "at least Carol McCormick told her kids she loved them. And she never said a single mean word to me. I only met her once or twice but she was the best mom in the world. Not you. D-don't... don't bother us again.. a-and don't send dad around. If you do I... I'll call the cops."
"Butters, you don't mean that." Linda gasped. Butters looked to Kenny and saw his body shook and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Karen had hid her face against him and her shoulders shook.
"If you mean what you said, then I do. I-if not, th-then say sorry to Kenny and Karen. A-and me. I'm eighteen in two days, so now is your last chance t-to try to fix... this."
"Come home, come back home and stop this idea-"
"No," Butters barked with as much courage as he could muster, "just... no. W-we're gonna be late for school. Come on, Ken... Karen." He mumbled, then picked up his coffee, "I'll... see you around, mom," he mumbled, then brushed by her as he headed for the door. Linda's eyes followed her son out the door and looked away as Kenny led Karen out of the shop with a comforting hand on her back.
As soon as the door to the shop closed Butters grabbed Kenny and Karen both as tears streamed down his face.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." he sobbed as he held them both tightly. Karen cried louder at that, and Kenny wrapped his arms over both of them as his eyes stung. "I thought..." Kenny shook his head and kissed Butters' forehead as he led the three to Butters' car.
"It's not your fault, I..." Kenny trailed off as he opened both the back and passenger doors. Butters and Karen remained in his arms. "I shouldn't have said anything." The bright blonde looked up at him in surprise and sniffled. He wiped his eyes and finally pulled away.
"Ken, you were right... you said everything I couldn't say and... you shouldn't have had to do that. Why do my parents suck?" Kenny and Karen both laughed, and Karen hugged Butters tightly.
"Don't they all?" was her response. Butters smiled sadly at that, and finally nodded.
"Now... we're not going to let this ruin our day, okay?" Kenny said, taking a swig of his coffee. He turned on the car and put it in reverse, yet stayed parked. "We have an early day, and we don't have practice, and homecoming is tonight. And Karen has her first dress for it, so... this is gonna be a good day."
"And then we can come home and watch "Doctor Who"?" Karen asked. Kenny sighed and looked to Butters, who wore puppy eyes.
"Fine."
"And "Supernatural"?" Kenny threw his head back on the seat and groaned.
"Fine but don't hate me if I end up passing out..."
Kenny ended up passing out.
Multiple times throughout the day even though they only had four hours of class. As soon as they were assigned their homework in French Kenny rested his his head on the table and was out in moments. Kyle lowered his book as Kenny's head hit the table, and looked to Butters worriedly.
"He had really strong coffee," Butters mumbled as he ran his hands through the blonde tendrils. Kyle raised an eyebrow and sighed as he set down his book. Stan looked up from the video he and Cartman were watching and grimaced as Kenny slept.
"Is it true you ran into your mom?" Kyle asked, Butters nodded as he ran his fingers over Kenny's back. He could still feel his bones beneath his fingers, and it didn't help that when he was stressed he lacked an appetite.
"Yeah, I-I... she said Kenny's mom deserved to die. Like... how low can you get?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"How did he not punch her in the face?" Stan asked, Butters shrugged; honestly Kenny's calmness throughout the conversation had surprised him. But he wasn't one to yell, especially when he was angry. Butters hadn't really seen him angry before but his quietness was always more terrifying than a shout.
"I about did, and... I... after everything, is it bad that I just feel relieved? I mean, I've never felt so betrayed and I just... I'm tired of it. I'm eighteen in two days and... soon none of this will matter." Butters mumbled, "I went through s-so much and the fact she can't even apologize a-and attacks Kenny for standing up for me..."
"Dude, you just deserve to be happy," Stan said, "and I still can't believe you're older than me." Butters shrugged and smiled, then lifted Kenny's head slightly. The strawberry blonde grumbled incoherently but settled when Butters put his arm under his head, a makeshift pillow. He felt his cheek press against his skin, and patted his head with his free hand.
"I am happy, for like... the first time of my life I'm completely happy!" Butters chirped excitedly, "like my parents aside everything in my life is perfect. And that's because everyone always thought I was the youngest in the class. Spoiler alert, I'm the fourth oldest!" He teased.
"Kenny is passed out cold," Kyle announced after poking the blonde's shoulder for a full minute. Butters nodded and rubbed his back once more; he knew Kenny liked that, or his hair being touched.
"He doesn't really sleep at night, I've given up trying to wait for him to fall asleep. I once woke up at like 5:50 and he was wide awake. He's usually dressed and ready to go by the time I actually wake up." Stan shook his head and Cartman grabbed a Sharpie from his binder. He grabbed Kenny's limp hand but Kyle took the marker and tossed it in the trash can.
"Ey! He drew a pussy on my face last time I passed out!" Everyone snickered and their teacher gave Cartman a stern look as she looked up from grading papers. "So get my damn marker!"
"No, fatass, get it yourself," Kyle grumbled. Butters scrubbed a hand through Kenny's hair and felt his breath tickle his arm. He sniffled, then coughed lightly, and nuzzled Butters' arm. Stan gave him a grin, and Butters blushed darkly.
"Have you tried sleeping pills?" Stan asked, Butters nodded.
"Benadryl at least and he is like... immune to diphenhydramine. Which is dumb because it knocks me out in like twenty minutes." Butters pouted, "it's 'cause of stress. I just wish he could let it out instead of keep it all pent up, and like... find a way to relieve his stress."
"What about sex?" Stan blurted. Cartman gagged and Kyle smirked as Butters' cheeks heated. "What?! It's a natural stress reliever... trust me..." Kyle winked and Cartman managed to fall to the floor from his disgusted flails. Butters giggled as he saw the couple give each other bedroom eyes and looked to Kenny.
"No, we don't have enough time for anything... I tried one time to stay awake until he got home... I even handcuffed myself all kinky-like and I ended up passing out. I woke up to Kenny laughing and taking them off at like two in the morning. My arms were so sore..." Kyle sent him a sad expression and Stan stared at Kenny in surprise.
"You're telling me the sex addict doesn't have time for sex?"
"No!" Butters whisper-cried, "and I'm really fucking horny! All the fucking time!" Kyle cackled at Butters' outburst and threw his head back as he laughed. Stan snickered but sent him a sympathetic look, "like I got turned on by watching him eat a hot dog. And I hate hot dogs."
"You poor thing..." Kyle said, Butters nodded and pretended to cry.
"I just wanna get laid!" He said a little too loudly, which earned snickers from the rest of the class. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment, and Stan was trying not to burst out laughing, "and I have to watch him undress and dress right in front of me and it's all I can do to not throw him on the bed and fuck him as hard as I can."
"Wait wait waaaaaaiiiiit," Cartman said, "hold up." Butters looked at him curiously, "you're telling me Kinny takes it up the ass?"
"Half the time, yeah," Butters replied nonchalantly. Cartman slammed his head on the table, which startled Kenny awake. He nearly jumped a foot in the air and looked around with bleary eyes.
"Whasgoinon?" He asked with a quiet voice, the one that made him sound so young, and Butters' rubbed his back soothingly.
"Nothing, Eric's just being overdramatic."
"Overdramatic?!" Cartman cried in a huff, "I'm surrounded by fags!" Kyle scoffed and Stan rolled his eyes.
"You've got ten more minutes to sleep, Ken, and then we've got parenting."
"Mhmm," Kenny mumbled as he rested his eyes on Butters' arm to block out the bright light. His deep, stuffy breathing told Butters he had already fallen back asleep, and Stan shook his head in awe.
"Jesus, he needs like a week of sleep or something," he said with a slight amount of worry in his voice.
"Yeah, and I need a week of sex," they all snickered once more and Cartman groaned in disgust.
Kenny managed to stay awake for fifteen minutes of parenting. He fell asleep for awhile, but was jolted awake when he was called to the office. Butters gave him a curious look as he rubbed his eyes and grabbed his books.
"Trouble?" Kenny shook his head and yawned.
"Sarah," he replied quietly. Butters gave a nod and went back to his worksheet on birth defects.
Kenny stumbled out of the room and put his belongings in his bag before he headed to the office. This was their last class before lunch, and the pep rally occurred after that. Then he'd go home for four hours, hopefully get a decent nap, and then head over to the football field.
He slammed his locker shut and scrubbed a hand through his hair as he fought off the sleepiness that burned his eyes. He hadn't meant to fall asleep but he used all of his energy for his first two classes and he was on the verge of a migraine.
He opened the office door and waved at Mrs. Reese, the secretary, then headed down the hallway. He stopped at the third door, then knocked a couple of times. Ms. Carlson opened the door and smiled warmly at Kenny, then...
"You look like death," she stated as she closed the door. Kenny scoffed and sat down on his usual chair and shrugged. "Too much partying?"
"I wish," Kenny mumbled, "too much work," he replied wearily, "all I've been doing today is sleep and if I'm like this for the game we're screwed. But all I wanna do is sleep. Like, nothing else matters except sleep right now."
"That's because you're sleep deprived, mister," She answered and he gave her a look as if she had told him one plus one equals two. "I mean, when you crave something that's all that matters. Like food, or fun, or... sleep."
"Uh-huh..."
"I can already tell your physical and mental health is on the line. I mean, you're as stressed as someone who is going through their mid-life crisis. You need to let something go... or at least cut back hours at your job." Kenny raised an eyebrow and rested his head on his hand.
"I can't. I have to work, if I don't work then I can't pay my rent and if I don't pay rent I don't have a house..." Ms. Carlson sighed and looked over his file. He grimaced, knowing his grades were spiraling downward fast; the past year he had worked extremely hard to raise them.
"Well, your wellbeing is murdered, you're obviously not sleeping, your effort in school is suffering, and I'm guessing your social life is, at best, nonexistent?" Kenny nodded. "Off the record?"
"Off the record," Kenny mumbled.
"Off the record I suggest a mental health day."
"A whata-what day?"
"Mental health. Rest, chill, do whatever you'd do if you had the time... knowing you I probably don't want to know."
"I'm sure you got the right idea," Kenny smirked. She rolled her eyes and smiled a little.
"I don't want to know when or what you do, but it's something I suggest. Kenny, you're putting yourself through hell and I'm sure your friends and loved ones are worried about you," she said with a sad smile. He sighed and picked at the skin by his thumb.
"They are, Lee's been worried, Kyle is mother-henning me, Stan's been extra happy, and Karen told me I should just stay home today." He mumbled, "and I wanted to, I feel like shit... but there's the stupid homecoming game and I promised Lee I'd go to the dance and it's like... I just want sleep. But when I try to sleep I can't, except in school I can. Ugh, there is something seriously wrong with me, Sarah..."
"Well, they're all a little right. Have you thought about quitting football?"
"I like playing, I don't know if I'd want to quit." Ms. Carlson nodded and began to search for something in her desk drawer.
"Okay, so is there anything you're doing now that you'd want to stop?"
"Work, but I can't... I could drop out of-"
"No."
"Of course you'd say that... do you have anything better?" Ms. Carlson nodded.
"How much are you making now?" She asked, "if you don't mind my asking." Kenny shrugged and played with a paper clip on the desk.
"Well I'm working 40 hours a week and work for $8.25 an hour so like with taxes I usually bring home like $620 a paycheck..."
"40 hours on top of school?" She asked incredulously, he nodded, "Jesus, kid, how are you not dead?" She shook her head and typed something on her computer, which caused him to furrow his eyebrows. "Chill, I'm looking something up, we're still off record."
"So on top of all this, Lee is dealing with the fact his parents are screwed up and pretty much never wanted him. I don't care if they like me or not, they were awful to him. And my sister's going through a rough time because her friend apparently kissed her and she's trying to figure herself out and I don't feel I can help them because my mom was amazing and my dad's... my dad, and I'm also not exactly the person people probably want to go to for relationship advice so... I just feel helpless."
"Well you definitely don't have reservations about opening up to me anymore," she quipped as she clicked on a link. She read for a moment, then turned back to him, "as for Butters, you should find out what he wants to do about his parents. Does he want to try to reconcile with them? Is there any chance they can compromise? And Karen... I've talked to her about that, you know how she is and she's extremely delicate with anything and she is stressed in an entirely different way than you. Anxiety is awful, you know that, and all you have to do is be supportive and try to help her relax. She probably wants her brother home more often, too." Ms. Carlson said. Kenny shrugged and considered that bit of information, although he was sure there was no way Butters' parents would ever compromise. He could at least work on the Karen issue, though.
"His parents won't accept him for being who he is and what he wants for his life and they won't budge. His dad has done awful things to him, and he's such a hypocrite. His mom is just all kinds of whack-a-doodle so that doesn't help and I just wish he had some adult figure to look up to... because he was so warped as a kid and they treated him worse than dirt. But you're probably right about Karen," Kenny replied as he rubbed his eyes. He glanced to the clock and sighed heavily; he had an hour and forty minutes before he could go home and sleep.
"All you have to do is be there for them, I'm sure you've helped in more ways than you know. Just talk to them, though. You'll find out much more than if you just speculate. Anyway, we'll return to this but I wanted to tell you that I found a way for you to cut back your hours at work but still get paid a good chunk." Kenny looked at her curiously. "You could donate plasma, it's not as much as working forty hours a week but... you can donate twice a week for $50 each donation." Kenny raised his eyebrows and looked at her, waiting for more information. "If you worked twenty hours a week, with taxes taken out you'd earn about $305 a paycheck. I know that's less than half of what you're used to, but with donating blood it would be about $405 a paycheck, and yeah, you'd struggle but you're pretty gung-ho about going it on your own." Kenny scrubbed a hand through his hair and grimaced. That was a ton of money lost that he could be earning. But at the same time he needed sleep.
"What if I worked 30 hours a week?" He pushed. Ms. Carlson looked at him and scrunched her lips a little.
"That's too much for someone in high school. You could at least have the weekend off if you worked five six-hour shifts. I'd say at the most work 25 hours but that's even pushing it... though it's your comfort zone." She further explained. That wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, and he was more than capable of handling thirty hours a week as he had been maintaining forty okay. In his mind he was at least.
But he sighed and looked at her with tired eyes, and slumped his shoulders forward. She recognized this as his begrudging attempt to be persuaded and consider something he didn't want to do. "Over breaks you could work more, and you have money saved, don't you?" The look he sent her was one that was easily read as, "you're testing me."
"Yep..." he trailed off, "but a big part of who I am is doing stuff when people don't think I can. Just to spite them."
"Trust me, I know. I know you can keep working like this but... it's your choice. I've given you options, it's up to you to consider them. I just think your sister and your boyfriend need someone to help them right now, and you need someone to help you too."
"But I'm fine," he murmured, "just a little tired and stressed. Why are we actually talking? By now we'd be watching Marcel the Shell and I'd be spinning around in this chair on a sugar high."
"You were the one who walked in looking like you were about to keel over, I've got the chocolate and the Youtube." Kenny groaned and slammed his head on her desk.
"I don't know what to do with my life..." he whined as he shook his forehead.
"Come here, just forget about it for now, we'll get back to that. I wanna show you a video anyway, it's this guy that does covers as Smeagol from "The Lord of the Rings"," Ms. Carlson said. She scooted so there was enough room for Kenny to bring his chair back at her desk and he looked at her with a growing smile.
"No way," she nodded.
"He did "Trouble" by Taylor Swift and I swear I haven't laughed like that in years."
They ended up watching all of his videos by the time the lunch bell rang. Kenny left her office with tears in his eyes and an aching gut from laughing so hard, and gave her a gentle wave before he left. She just smiled, told him to come to her office Monday, and he shut the door.
His friends watched with twitching eyes and muffled laughs as he skipped into the lunchroom. He waved and his skip turned into a bolt that terrified Butters every single time. Kenny skidded to a halt just before colliding into him, and the table, and slipped in his normal spot, next to Butters, across from Stan, with Cartman on his other side.
"Someone's happy," Butters chirped, Kenny grinned and nodded.
"Yeah! We watched videos of this guy who does covers as Smeagol. I almost pissed myself!"
"You're kidding," Kyle said, his interest peaked at the mention of J.R.R. Tolkien character. Kenny nodded. "Who is this god?!"
"Some English teacher!"
"Coolest English teacher ever," Stan declared, "you're showing us those." Kenny nodded and knocked his knee against Butters'.
"Oh my God," Bebe gasped, looking at the four. Kenny turned to her curiously and she wore a slight sneer, "you're all nerds."
"Huh," Wendy said as she looked at the six boys. Cartman had frozen in mid-bite, and his eyebrows furrowed angrily as she looked at him. "I never noticed it before..."
"I am not a nerd," Kenny grumbled, Bebe scoffed and nodded.
"Right, you're not a nerd," he beamed proudly and Butters smiled smugly; he knew where Bebe was heading, "you're a class A dork." As Kenny gawked, their whole table erupted in snickers and he pretended to pout.
"There's nothin' wrong with being a dork," Butters chirped after he stifled his laughs. Kenny pretended to cry, and began to reach for Butters' shoulder, but let out a loud fake sob and quickly turned to Cartman. He squeezed the chubby boy, who flailed to get out of his grasp.
"Ey! Get off me ya poor faggot!"
"Just let me love you, Cartman! I need your fat to fill the hole in my heart!" Kenny cried as he burrowed his head in his shoulder. Kyle shook violently as he giggled and Stan nearly fell off the table.
"EY! I'm not fat! I'm big-boned!" Kenny quieted and pulled away slightly. Butters covered his mouth and tried not to burst into a hysterical fit when seeing the smirk growing on his face.
"Yeah you are, big daddy," He purred seductively.
Their whole table roared with laughter, including the opposite side, with Clyde, Token, Tweek, and Craig. Cartman's face was a perfect mix of utmost horror while trying not to laugh, or cry, and Kenny just smirked with those bedroom eyes.
"WEAK!" Cartman finally shouted, "woman, quit laughing!" He barked at Wendy, who had tears streaming down her face as she was overcome with giggles. "Fucking weak! I seriously hate you guys!"
"It's what gets me off," Kenny moaned, then rested his head back on Butters. The strawberry blonde let out an awkward noise of surprise as Butters seized Kenny's lips in a feverish kiss, as if Butters were starving. Bebe's jaw dropped and Cartman tried to back as far away from them as possible.
"Hot damn!" Bebe cried, earning raised eyebrows and smirks. She blushed then, and Kyle and Stan were trying not to laugh as they heard Kenny moan.
Butters took control of the kiss and swiped his tongue over Kenny's in the way that always caused the taller boy's knees to buckle and his body to melt. With a slight tug on his hair Kenny had leaned them back far enough that they were practically laying on the bench.
"Ey! Quit it! Kinny! Keep it in your pants!" Cartman yelled, slugging Kenny's legs as they uncurled under the table. Butters whimpered as he felt Kenny pull away, and pushed his head down.
"I miss you," Butters whispered against his lips, Kenny smiled softly and gazed with lovingly hazy eyes at the bright blonde. "You could fuck me right here and I wouldn't care." Kenny laughed quietly and kissed him once more; this time his lips lingered and Butters' felt his entire body buzz.
"I'm not gonna fuck you with Cartman behind me," Kenny replied, causing Butters to laugh, "but... we have all the time in the world in like... an hour. I promise I'll do anything you want if you can wait." Butters gave him a look and bit his lip.
"I suppose..." Butters teasingly huffed, then squeezed his hand and kissed his fingers. Kenny kept his arm around his waist as they sat up and smiled smugly at their friends.
"All cheerleaders, band members, and football players report to the gym please report to the gym," the intercom announced. In a moment most of their table, spare Cartman, Craig, and Tweek stood and headed out of the cafeteria.
They entered the gym and split ways; Kenny and Stan waved to Kyle and Butters as the two walked to gather their instruments. The two had been wearing their jerseys all day, as was school code for sports teams on game days, so there wasn't a need for them to go to the locker room. Instead, however, they worked on setting up their instruments.
"I still can't believe we have to do this," Stan grumbled. Kenny scoffed as he tuned his guitar and plugged it in to the sound system.
"You were the one who dragged me into this, fucknut," Kenny replied with a smirk as Stan set up his Macbook and the keyboard he brought from the music room. "D'you want Butters on drums or do we need 'em?" Kenny asked. Stan shook his head.
"Don't need 'em, what're our choices?" Stan asked, Kenny shrugged; they hadn't come up with what songs they wanted to play. When they last practiced they just got high and jammed out.
"Uh... dude I don't even know." They both snickered and Stan scrubbed a hand through his slightly wavy hair as he thought about it. "All I know is I can't remember the words to our songs yet." Stan shook his head.
"That's 'cause we're always high..." they both grinned and sat down on the gym floor. "We've got like twenty minutes to figure this out. If that... so, covers. What have we practiced?"
"Our go to is either The Beatles or REM lately."
"Okay, so "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?"" Stan teased, Kenny rolled his eyes and laid back on the floor. "I did a remix to a shitty Lorde song."
"Why the hell'd you do that?"
"I was bored... it's not that stupid "Royals" song, it's a different one."
"And you think broadcasting mainstream shit will get through to the herd of cattle, how?"
"'Cause people love shitty music and wouldn't be able to handle the complexity of anything more than a three-chord song structure."
"Well then, we're looking at shitty pop and Green Day."
"Sounds about right."
They both burst out laughing. Multiple people glanced at them oddly, and Wendy walked over to them.
"So what're the songs you're going to sing? You'll only have a chance to do like one or two, so..." they both looked at each other, then shrugged.
"We've really limited our choices."
"Wait, you haven't figured this out yet?" She snapped at Stan, who raised his hands in the air. Kenny suddenly had a rush of nostalgia as he looked between the exes.
"Well it's not like we've had a lot of time, Wendy. We'll just... we're thinking."
"I got it!" Kenny exclaimed, "it's a solution to the shitty Green Day and the shitty three chord structure rule for the herd to comprehend us." The raven-haired girl glared at him, as if offended by how he referred to the school population. "Didn't they do a cover of "Working Class Hero?""
"Go figure..." Wendy trailed off, shaking her head as she walked away. "Or I could do "What Does the Fox Say?"!" Kenny called to her, earning several groans. Stan shook his head vigorously at that suggestion, and Kenny smirked.
""Working Class Hero" or you could do "Longview" 'cause "Dookie" was probably the only semi-decent album they released."
They decided to go with "Working Class Hero", and thankfully Kenny actually knew how to play that song. The two hadn't played a single Green Day song, due to the fact that really wasn't their style. But they could overlook the ignorance of their fellow students because it was John Lennon's song and they had actually played it before.
By the time Stan and Kenny finished setting up the rest of the student body was called to the gym. They sat down with the rest of their team, joking and hoping the pep rally wouldn't last more than fifteen minutes. But no one would be that lucky; it wasn't like anyone really gave a damn.
The students all sat down and the band played a couple of songs; the stereotypical choices of various 80s rock songs that had made their way into one-too many sports movie montages filled their ears and Kenny and Stan whispered to each other in mocking; they knew Kyle and Butters hated those songs more than they did. Then they played the school song and everyone stood up and the two looked at each other as if they were considering joint suicide.
Their coach took the podium and gave a speech that Kenny probably should have paid attention to but didn't. It was the usual "we've had a great first few games and our team is the best it's ever been" crap that Kenny never bought. He actually thought they were getting worse, if he had to be honest. It was probably because Stan and him were co-captains.
Their numbers were called one by one and they had to stand in front of the school. Looking as if they cared at all was difficult, so Kenny stared at the ground and tried to count the speckles in the tiles. He blinked as they began to move.
"And before our always supportive cheerleaders start the entertainment," their coach began, "I'd like you to give a warm welcome to two of the best players I've had on my team, who I've seen grow into two strong leaders that have proved that discipline and hard-work will get you to the top," Stan snickered under his breath and Kenny bit his lip as he stared at the tiles, "Our first-string quarterback, an award winning, all-state and district champion Stan Marsh, and our first-string wide receiver, record-breaking, all-state champion Kenny McCormick."
They both looked at each other with horror in their faces. The crowd was on their feet and Kyle and Butters stared at them with as much shock as they probably had on their faces.
"We... speech?" Stan squeaked. Kenny gulped and looked at the podium, and at their coach who was now glaring. Kenny nudged him forward and slowly walked up to him with a nervous smile and a skipping heart. "Shit..." Stan whispered.
"Stay cool," Kenny whispered; he was the worst person to say that; he was the worst at giving speeches.
The students' cheers died down and Stan laughed quietly as he looked to Kenny, who blinked back at him.
"Uh... yeah..." he trailed off, trying so hard not to laugh. The black-haired boy took a deep breath and looked out a window above everyone. Suddenly, escape seemed like a great idea. "We uh... we've been working real hard and we've got a great team this year, a lot of effort and improvements and we just... we're gonna play our best and win the game tonight. And... and continue to work hard so we can be State Champs this year. Right... Kenny?" Stan asked nervously. Kenny scratched at his neck and nodded.
"Right, totally. We uh... we're just... yeah. Took the words right outta my mouth, Stan..." he said through gritted teeth as his cheeks turned pink. Stan looked at him sheepishly. "Uh... everyone just come out and..."
"We're not gay, faggot!" Someone yelled in the audience. Kenny groaned and facepalmed. Right. This was where he made his flamboyant entrance. Stan gave him a look and sighed heavily.
"Just come out and support us like you always do. Uh... we were told by the cheerleaders it's a green-out so, wear your St. Patrick's Day best. Thanks," Kenny mumbled, then stepped away from the microphone.
The applause was quieter but they didn't care. Their coach clapped the loudest as he walked back up to the microphone. Both boys averted their gaze because they knew he was furious.
The cheerleaders did a couple of routines, the band played another song, and then they played a video made by the journalism department of the football team from the games they had played this year. Stan clapped Kenny on the back, who stared quietly at the floor, as if he was embarrassed.
"Hey, Kenny?" Stan whispered as the video continued to play with cheesy 80s hair band music. The blonde looked up at him and tilted his head.
"We can introduce ourselves as Fingerbang if you want."
They both snickered, which earned them several disapproving looks from the teachers. Kenny shrugged, then nodded.
"We can't forget Moop," he mumbled. Stan bit his lip and breathed a chuckle.
"Yeah and sing one of Faith + 1s songs..." They both laughed quietly again, which hadn't stopped until the video ended and the lights turned back on.
Wendy and Bebe walked up to the microphone and nodded for both of them to come forward. They sighed heavily and stood.
"Here goes everything," Stan murmured as they walked to their instruments. Kenny snorted and winked at Bebe as he passed. She rolled her eyes and he smirked.
"You're speaking," Kenny hissed as Wendy introduced them, as their shortened name; Tab 43. Stan groaned then ran to the microphone quickly.
"Thanks Wendy, uh... yeah, we're Fingerbang-" Kenny barked with a laugh, "or... 2/3 of Fingerbang, the others are there- there- and..." he pointed behind him, to a fuming Wendy, "there. We are also known as Moop. Or The Appropriate Burrito. Or Tab 43... and we spend our days being the two awesome guys you all know and love so much... but at night we... well we can't really say exactly what we do but it has a little bit of this involved so... yeah..." he trailed off as everyone laughed. Kenny exhaled loudly and smirked at Stan, who tried not to laugh. "We're gonna do the singing thing now so... cool..." he trailed off, slowly walking to his Macbook and keyboard. He started the song and Kenny listened to a few bars before he caught the general structure and key the song was in.
He played along quietly and watched as Stan took a deep breath.
"There's a humming in the restless summer air
And we're slipping off the course that we prepared
But in all chaos, there is calculation
Dropping glasses just to hear them break
You've been drinking like the world was gonna end (it didn't)
Took a shiner from the fist of your best friend (go figure)
It's clear that someone's gotta go
We mean it but I promise we're not mean
And the cry goes out
They lose their minds for us
And how it plays out
Now we're in the ring
And we're coming for blood
You could try and take us
But we're the gladiators
Everyone a rager
But secretly they're saviors
Glory and gore go hand in hand
That's why we're making headlines
You could try and take us
But victory's contagious..."
The music was different from what he was used to, and what they played. He had never heard the song but somehow Stan probably made it that much better because it didn't sound bad at all. It reminded him of Stan's style and of the songs he wrote, which Kenny wasn't sure how to feel because the lyrics were written by a sixteen year old girl rather than a seventeen year old boy.
"Delicate in every way but one (the swordplay)
God knows we like archaic kinds of fun (the old way)
Chance is the only game I play with, baby
We let our battles choose us
And the cry goes out
They lose their minds for us
And how it plays out
Now we're in the ring
And we're coming for blood
You could try and take us
But we're the gladiators
Everyone a rager
But secretly they're saviors
Glory and gore go hand in hand
That's why we're making headlines
You could try and take us
But victory's contagious..."
Stan was singing with the kind of voice that Kenny recognized as apathy. It wasn't that he didn't care about the performance, music was his life. But as he played along, improvising here and there because it needed to be different, he noticed an air about the raven-haired boy. One that he hadn't quite caught before and wasn't sure what to make of it.
"No-one round here's good at keeping their eyes closed
The sun's starting to light up when we're walking home
Tired little laughs, gold-lie promises, we'll always win at this
I don't ever think about death
It's alright if you do, it's fine
We gladiate but I guess we're really fighting ourselves
Roughing up our minds so we're ready when the kill time comes
Wide awake in bed, words in my brain,
"Secretly you love this do you even wanna go free?"
Let me in the ring, I'll show you what that big word means
You could try and take us
But we're the gladiators
Everyone a rager
But secretly they're saviors
Glory and gore go hand in hand
That's why we're making headlines
You could try and take us
But victory's contagious..."
As Stan finished singing and when his music began to fade Kenny played the beginning chords to John Lennon's "Working Class Hero". A lot of that was their style; no breaks in between, go right into the next song because why kill the creativity? Stan looped his guitar over his shoulder, closed his laptop, and strummed a harmony with Kenny. Stan was better at playing than he was, but Stan liked his raw energy as he played. Stan was much more technical, whereas whatever sounded good to Kenny he'd play it, even if it wasn't "correct".
"As soon as your born they make you feel small
by giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
Working Class Hero is something to be
Working Class Hero is something to be..."
Where Stan sang with all of the technical tricks and knowledge learned from his entire school career being involved with choir, Kenny had been the one to train himself. He wasn't sure if what he did was right, but the sounds he made weren't a squawk and people liked it so he figured there was nothing wrong with the way he performed. But he still couldn't shake the odd feeling of performing at the school, for the kids who either thought he was some enigma or were terrified of him.
"They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
Working Class Hero is something to be
Working Class Hero is something to be..."
He glanced at Butters and saw him watching with pure adoration in his eyes. He bit back a smile and continued playing. Kenny glanced to Stan and saw him staring off, then turned to Kyle and wondered if he noticed the apathy. He couldn't tell by the glance he stole and figured he'd just have to talk to him.
"When they've tortured and scared you for 20 odd years
then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
Working Class Hero is something to be
Working Class Hero is something to be..."
Kenny glanced around the room and suddenly felt small. He found it difficult to breathe, but tried nonetheless, as he felt hundreds of eyes on him. Because when he sang, he sang from the heart, and right now this felt like a page torn out from a journal he had never written. Suddenly he felt judged, critiqued. Their pondering eyes made him wonder if they thought he chose this song for significance. Had he?
"Keep you doped with religion, sex and T.V.
and you think you're so clever and classless and free
but you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
Working Class Hero is something to be
Working Class Hero is something to be..."
Now he kept his eyes low and focused purely on the music. He had to. If he looked up he'd suddenly feel like someone, or something, under close observation. Trapped. But music could help him get rid of that feeling; it was almost as good of a drug as drugs themselves. Made him buzz and calm and mellow until he passed out, either from relaxation or exhaustion. Maybe he needed to just listen to music when he got home tonight. Or get stoned. Maybe both.
"There's room at the top I'm telling you still
but first you must learn how to smile as you kill
if you want to be like the folks on the hill
Working Class Hero is something to be
Yes, a Working Class Hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me..."
As he finished playing the last measure he felt Stan clap his back and grab his wrist. He raised their hands and squeezed his wrist tightly, as a reassurance, as if he needed it too. Playing for bars or small sets was nothing compared to this. There they hardly knew anyone. There people were drunk. But here... this had been their lives for the past thirteen years and suddenly using your voice was opening your heart to people who didn't deserve to hear the story.
Kenny glanced to Stan and realized he got that too. He seemed to understand it loud and clear as he muttered a quiet thanks, after the students all cheered. It was ridiculously stupid but he felt more insecure doing that than anything he had ever done before; that he could remember, at least. Because, apparently he and Stan saw music as more than music; it was therapy.
Now that made a lot of sense, Kenny figured as they packed away their stuff. The band played a couple more songs as they dismantled the sound system and carefully carried the laptops and guitars. They left, with silent permission from the principal, and took their cases to Stan's car, along with their backpacks.
"I'm gonna have a smoke," Kenny said after he set his guitar in Stan's trunk. The black-haired boy nodded and rubbed at the back of his neck. He stood awkwardly next to Kenny as he pulled out his lighter and lit the butt of the cigarette. He took a deep inhale, felt the burn, and exhaled. "You want one?"
Stan rarely smoked cigarettes, mostly because of his asthma, but he was known to smoke with Kenny a couple of times. He held out his hand, took the cigarette offered by Kenny, and Kenny quickly lit it. He pocketed his cigarette, then leaned against Stan's car. The shorter boy coughed a little, and Kenny gave him a sympathetic look. Smoking with asthma was stupid, but it was his fault... although Kenny probably shouldn't have offered.
"Was that weird or was it just me?" Stan finally asked. Kenny sighed heavily and let out a barking laugh.
"I couldn't stop thinking... I mean that shit was fucked up, I'm never doing anything like that again. What I wanna know is how the hell did I manage to do that in drag last year?"
"Bebe forced you...?" Kenny shrugged, then nodded, "I was gonna beat the shit outta that kid, if I find him, I will." Kenny shrugged and flicked his cigarette. The ashes fell to the ground and he watched them fall like grey snow.
"Yeah, I guess. I dunno. Hey Stan, is everything okay with you?" Kenny asked quietly. Stan gave him a look, but faltered and sighed heavily.
"Pot calling the kettle black."
"Thanks for making me the pot." They both snickered and Stan sat on the trunk of his car.
This suddenly reminded Kenny of when they were younger and would just hang out like this. Kyle was never just chill enough to hang out; they always had to do something. But Stan was more of a down-to-earth, hang out, kind of a home-body kid. When they weren't getting into trouble, that is. And Kenny had been too, more-so than Stan even. Cartman and Kyle were constantly at each others' throats and wanting to go out and do things that usually did wind them up in trouble; even though Stan was considered the leader of the group all he wanted was to watch from the sidelines; like Kenny. That was probably why they were the way they were, and why they were so close.
"But really, are things cool with you?" Stan took his ambiguity with a grain of salt, Kenny always knew that. Down to it, Stan was extremely cynical, and was probably thinking Kenny was out to get him. But, he took a drag from his cigarette, coughed a little, and exhaled.
"Kenny, I'm crazy." The blonde tilted his head and looked to Stan with curiosity in his eyes. The raven-haired boy grimaced, then rubbed his arms. "I've been on anti-depressants since I was fifteen... a little before my seventeenth birthday they put me on mood stabilizers and finally we went through some tests... apparently I don't have bipolar or type two bipolar like they thought."
"Well, that's good." That definitely didn't explain Stan's mood swings and constant shifts in personality or ambition. But he didn't say anything. As long as he didn't have half of what made Linda Stotch completely psycho he figured Stan was good.
"Kenny, I haven't told Kyle but my psychiatrist told me I have borderline personality disorder." Stan whispered, looking about ready to cry, "and... it fits, y'know? And I've got all this crazy shit up in my head and sometimes I can't control the thoughts I have and I don't get why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling... and it sucks. It fucking sucks. It's like... there's something wrong with me, and everyone around me is just... normal. Why can't I be normal?"
"I can't die," Kenny blurted. Then his eyes widened. He had not meant to say that, "but Stan," he tried again, "no one is normal. Everyone's got some fucked up shit." He hoped Stan would just overlook the first bit of his mini-speech and would take what he had to say once again with a grain of salt. But Stan's eyes narrowed, and Kenny sighed heavily.
"What do you mean you can't die? Is that the Mysterion shit, Kenny? Seriously?"
"Just, just forget it, it's nothing. I'm sorry."
"Unless you're serious. You've been going on about this shit for years, Kyle's parents were convinced you were the one who needed to see someone. But I went instead. And right now I'm a little fucked up so maybe you could convince me." Stan said. Kenny sighed heavily and shook his head.
"I don't want to convince you, I just want you to believe me. I... I was just trying to say I get it, even if you don't believe me. I get what it's like to see everyone live normal and know there's something wrong with you, and you can't figure it out and you don't know why you were given this curse but it's your cross to bear and it fucking sucks. But no one will ever quite get it, but I do. In a twisted, fucked up way I get it. People think I'm crazy but I'm not, and you think you're crazy but people don't," Kenny said sadly. Stan looked at him with a certain weariness in his eyes, and rested his head on Kenny's shoulder.
"...if you have any way to prove I should believe you I'll believe you. I mean, Craig shoots lasers out of his eyes, I can believe just about anything." Kenny snorted and took off his shirt much to Stan's surprise. He pointed to his chest, where stitch scars criss-crossed over his entire torso. They would never fade from the constant re-opening and sewing shut.
"If I've never died, then why do I have autopsy scars?" Kenny asked, then moved closer and pointed to under his rib, "there's a stab scar. There's a bullet hole..." he pointed to his neck, "this is from decapitation. And this is from shooting myself." He pulled his hair back, exposing a dark scar from the countless times he had killed himself. "And... remember my first girlfriend? Tammy?" Stan nodded slowly as he looked at the scars on Kenny's body, trying to find reason behind them yet couldn't. "Do you know what happened to her?"
"She died..." he trailed off, Kenny nodded and took one last drag of his cigarette before he stomped it into the ground.
"Right. Of what?" He asked. Stan thought for a minute, then looked up.
"Syphilis." Another nod.
"And... if she died of syphilis after giving me my first blow job..."
"You have syphilis?!" Stan cried with a face of utmost horror. Kenny groaned and shook his head.
"No, I'm clean... but I did have syphilis. I died of it before her." Stan gawked and continued to look between his eyes and his scars. There was no sense to this, and Kenny knew he'd tell Kyle about this as soon as Kenny was out of ear-shot, and he was probably facing several psychiatric tests. "But between that and the scars believe what you want... I only know three people other than my brother and sister who know, so-"
"Who?" Stan asked, "who else can actually say they've seen you die?"
"Cartman, Craig, Butters. In that order. I died for about a year in fourth grade, when Cartman used stem cells to build a Shakey's pizza. He's also killed me a couple of times. Craig used to kill me to vent. Butters, you and Kyle tried to save me after my dad stabbed me, and in July I died from burns in a car accident to save Butters. It's why he won't drive."
"...what?" Stan exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Kenny pulled his jersey back on and nudged Stan's shoulder. The older boy looked up at him with confusion in his face.
"I didn't say that to switch the subject though... you have borderline personality disorder and I have no clue what the fuck that is. Do you have like tons of people in your head?" Stan laughed and shook his head.
"No, it's like bipolar only the mood swings and shifts go a lot faster. Like what you saw just when we were singing. We were joking around and I was happy and then bam, I was super depressed, and now I'm feeling weird. With bipolar it can take a day or more to go through that change, but with borderline personality it could just take a minute. And it's apparently way more chaotic." Kenny nodded slowly and flicked his lighter absentmindedly.
"Oh, well you're still Stan, so... bring on the hurricane of emotions!" Kenny cried, "but really. You're not crazy, there's just something that makes you different. Like Kyle has to take muscle relaxers 'cause he stresses so much, and Butters is like... genderfluid, and I'm being treated for OCD. Dear God, Stan, we're Degrassi!" The raven haired boy through his fists in the air dramatically and pretended to sob.
"You were the one who predicted this!" Stan cried, lightly punching Kenny in the shoulder, "we're a fucked up Colorado teen soap opera!"
"Better than teen special, at least our lives are exciting. Oh, and we've got Cartman the sociopath so..."
"Is he gonna shoot someone and put them in a wheelchair?" Stan asked. Kenny gave him a look and Stan blushed, "shut up! My sister watched the show! It was on before "Terrance and Phillip"!" The blonde shook his head and patted Stan's back sympathetically. "Hey, Ken?" The name sounded foreign on Stan's tongue yet it was nice nonetheless. His voice sounded littler, quiet, and Kenny turned his head slightly to meet his gaze, "thanks for... for making me feel normal... and... if you say you die, then you do. I'm just... a little skeptical but we've seen weirder happen, so... just don't let me see you die."
"Dude, you've only missed like ten deaths. Youv'e been there for them all, you go, "oh my God they killed Kenny!" and Kyle goes, "you bastards!" and then you forget, or drag my dead body around for awhile."
"Oh, sick!" Stan cried as he scrunched his face in disgust. Kenny shrugged, "but yeah, that sounds like us." The raven-haired boy was quiet as he looked at Kenny, "what's it like?"
Kenny had a feeling what he was about to say could ultimately change Stan's life forever, so he considered his words for a moment. When he described death to Butters, he joked. He talked about the fun things; the parties, pranking people, even helping Satan with his relationship problems was kind of fun, albeit mostly disgusting. But Stan was different, and he knew Stan had contemplated suicide on more than one occasion. Sometimes when you're dead you pick up on those thoughts.
"Dying is the worst. It's cold... you can feel your whole body just stop but you, your soul is like, "no! I can keep going!" but you shut down and you're stuck. It's so fucking cold, and it usually hurts, and it's like... the worst. You can hear and see everyone around you, crying and freaking out and you realize that you mean something and you're going to miss out on so much. The afterlife is pretty fun, depending on where you go... but lately I've been going to purgatory or this weird mental state that won't take me anywhere so it's lonely. You're alone, and that's the suckiest part. But I'm not afraid of death, what I'm afraid of is outliving every single person I love... because then I'd be alone too."
Stan said nothing. Instead, he just took his hand and rested his head on Kenny's shoulder. They stared up at the sky, waiting for Kenny's words to take effect and hit home.
