Chapter 7 – Purple Pills.

Kenny stays in hospital for another two weeks, where staff commemorate his miraculous recovery, although he had quickly passed out after waking, and then being unable to locate the past two weeks of his conscious memory before the accident. He'd been lucky enough to miss out on being paralysed or brain damaged; his ribs were beginning to mend themselves and already Kenny was hobbling along aided by crutches and Kyle's fretting. Kenny had become a miracle within the ward, and each day Ike's words rung true. They'd finally sat and exchanged rings, Kenny had placed the thicker band onto Kyle's Christian left, made Kyle put Kenny's on his Jewish right.

Kyle finally faces his home, lets his mother sweep at his cheeks and peck his forehead and reunite him with her arms. The house becomes a safe zone, somewhere where he and Kenny can retire and pretend that everything is how it always was – playful boyfriends without injuries or amnesia. When the police had questioned Kenny, they'd found out nothing more than his middle name – no one hated them, they hadn't made trouble for themselves, no one needed revenge; yet the crash didn't seem accidental and even after Kenny insisted they drop it – that his gut tells him it definitely was just an accident. It had Kyle scampering out after the meeting, winded and pleading not to discharge the case; that Kenny's assailant needed to be found and prosecuted. But it's not his attack and therefore not his case. Kyle watches the police turn away, wittering "Sorry, there's nothing we can do."

Instead, Kenny had been discharged, and Kyle had barely teethed permission to get Kenny's pills for him. Returning home had been a town scandal; people openly gawking when the ambulance had pulled into the Broflovski's residence. Kyle had found himself for the first time resenting his work, it would never pay enough to cover Kenny's hospital bills; nor would it keep him subdue from peoples' gossip and whispers. Sheila promised to stay at home a little while longer before joining Ike and her husband back along the east; she pitters around the house muttering prays and relighting candles, she spends an entire weekend rearranging the downstairs office into a bed stay for Kenny, knowing that they'd never manage to juggle him up and down the stairs. She keeps tins of soup lined along the stove ready for use if Kenny calls her – not that he often does, he spends days sleeping away something that begins to consume him, and with no doctors or nurses around now to monitor him, Kyle watches Kenny begin to decay.

"You're a chemist?" Kyle had gapped the first time he had gone to gather Kenny's prescription drugs. Kip stood tall in front of him, decorated in a white lab coat and a netted hat which captured his curls. He had a different air about him, he looked strong and triumphant – Kyle hadn't questioned him as to why this look was so apparent but instead raised a coy eyebrow in acknowledgment.

"I've always been good with chemistry, so it only seemed fitting." He replies with a shrug, taking Kyle's green slip and raising his eyebrows at it, "I hope these aren't for you." He jokes.

"No, they're Kenny's – he, he woke up, Kip."

"He didn't!" Kip sparks in shock, jerking his body towards Kyle. His invincible attitude fizzes and Kyle sees something set ablaze within his eyes.

"He did! He had some injuries but he's healing nicely, I'm so pleased!" He sighs, mimicking Kip's happiness. He catches himself then, switching into a gooey stoic state, "I'm so sorry for how I acted, you were so nice to me; thank you for looking after me then, I didn't realise how much it helped."

"We're friends, Kyle. It's what we do. I'll always be around for you. I promise."

"I appreciate it, Kip. You're a good person. I didn't realise how rude I was, so caught up in my grief, but everyday gets better – He's walking now, he's laughing. I just have to find the ones who did it, it's keeping me up at night." He rubs his palms together in awkwardness, sighing downwardly to defuse the boiling rage that begs to spill out of him. "He's safe now, and I'll keep him safe!" He declares, reclaiming his chaotic emotionality. "I will find who did it, I won't let them get away with this. Someone out there is after him, and I'll do anything to keep him protected. It's my duty."

"Oh, really? Don't do something you'll regret."

"I'll only regret not finding them." Kyle defends, "I'd tell the police, I'm not violent - I just need proof."

"Good, violence is bad." Kip agrees with a shake of his head. "I'm glad you're against it, too." Then he's going, sauntering around the back of the chemist to spawn Kenny's medicine. Kyle sits without thought for a mindless minute, and when Kip returns with a small, white paper bag Kyle nods his head in mindless gratitude. Kip instead of releasing his hold on the bag, leans forward and whispers. "Think of me as your accomplice – I'll always be here to help you with your investigation. Remember, you can count on me, always."

.

Kyle begins by visiting the jewellers where Kenny was hit, he asks for the worker who sold Kenny the rings and requests for the receipt to them; he tries demands to see the CCTV footage, but without a police badge to authorise his actions, he's bade to kindly remove himself from the shop. He plummets onto the ground outside, absently spinning his engagement ring around the base of his finger, his eyes flicker about and he begins to retrace Kenny's steps. He wanders until he reaches the zebra crossing and something within him drops, he sees the flashing lights highlighting the crossing and how the long stretch of road makes it easy for someone to be noticed. He tries to imagine how this could've been just an accident but when he tries to picture what happened that night; all he sees is Kenny's shattered body sprayed along the road, can only see the way his skin falls away from his arm and how his legs are hollow, and his ribcage is beginning to deflate. He only sees Kenny rise and walk forward, unaware of his lethal injuries, and as Kyle retreats backwards, trying to exit himself from his illusions, Kenny's hand reaches out and presses against his cheek. Kyle can feel the cool of Kenny's engagement ring before it drops, clangs on the floor and Kenny is gone. He's floating up and up and up until the clouds consume him and when Kyle eyes fall away from Kenny's memory, he plants himself back into reality. And it has him running.

Craig refuses to abuse his power like that, he says he will file charges if he tries to convince Clyde to do the same. He tries to be as apologetic as he can be, but it's Craig and their years of friendship isn't worth him looing his job and Tweek. He tries booking several appointments with the mayor to try and convince her to let the police run the investigation again. He feels himself turn into his mother, he wants to campaign and rampage and he can't understand where this sudden need to insight anger had sprung from, Kenny was happy and alive and just wanted Kyle.

He gives in after three weeks; tired of pestering and being ignored. Instead, he spends these empty moments beside Kenny, who dreams whisk Kyle away into a mindless hum. He feels himself growing numb to the perturbing sensation of him trying to return to the rogue detective persona he had created to try and enhance his thinking skills. Kip would say "found anything yet?" and Kyle's stomach would churn, because how hasn't he found anything yet? Why was he stopping himself from discovering who committed a Hit-and-Run of his fiancé? Eventually the feeling fades. Kyle goes back to work, lets his mother fly back out to re-join Ike and Gerald, Stan and Wendy announce their choice to remain in South Park but it feels like a blurry, white wash which no longer seems significant to Kyle anymore. Kenny's health doesn't pick up and Kyle struggles to reason why. Kip appears at Kyle's doorsteps more and more, checking on Kenny and staying for tea – both waiting for Kenny to retire before the Sherlock spark within Kyle is relit and they discuss possible threads. Kyle ponders making a suspect board.

.

"Ky." Kenny chokes, wheezing from his bedsit. He's surrounded by pillows and blankets and if he hadn't looked so frail and whitish, Kyle could've mistaken him for a king. Kyle had just waved goodbye to Kip after another night of drinking and planning, Kyle had suggested checking the local garages to see if anyone had come to them for a dented bonnet in the past three months. Kip suggested against it, then left.

"Yeah?" he murmurs from the doorway, his palm encasing the doorway to steady him, "I thought you were asleep, what's up?"

"I don't want to do this anymore."

"Do what?" Kyle echoes, sitting himself at the end of the bed and holding Kenny's ringed hand.

"The drugs – I'm not going to take them anymore."

"What?" He chokes, "Ken, they're the only thing keeping you alive!"

"I don't care!"

"You don't care if you die?"

"No, I don't! I-I just need to regenerate – these drugs won't let me."

"Regenerate? This isn't fucking Doctor Who! If you die you're never coming back!"

Kyle releases his grip and stands, ready to pace around the room, "Please hear me out!"

"No!" Kyle screams, frozen and terrified. "Where have you got this idea from? What put that into your head – I won't let you die, Kenny!"

"This isn't you call to make!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Since when?" Kenny bites back, his teeth grinding against one another, he's so frustrated with the whole situation, he's losing everything; life slips by without him knowing, falls between his fingers like silk, snagging on his ring and leaving him with nothing but snapped threads; he watches days fall suddenly into nights and hours melt away like seconds, he feels himself decay, feels himself drift in and out of nothingness.

"Since you got yourself hit by a car!"

"Got myself hit?"

"You can't wait to do anything! You're always living in the moment, even now–" Kyle feels like sobbing, "All you wanna do in this moment is die? But what about tomorrow or the day after or the day after?"

"I haven't been thinking about this for just a second."

"What about me?" He blurts. They're both crying now, the air is thick and Kyle plunders back into his seat, "L-look, I know your recovery's slow, but we have to bear through it. I mean even Kip thinks you're getting better–"

"I don't care what Kip thinks!" He thunders.

"He's a chemist, Ken, he knows what he's saying."

"I don't care, I'm sick of seeing him over here – suddenly you two are best friends? I didn't think you liked him?"

"Are you jealous?" Kyle rumbles. "Is that where this nonsense has come from? Jealousy? Kip and I are just friends! He's just always there if I need him, even when you and Stan aren't. I didn't realise it affected you so much."

"It does, I don't like him, and I don't want him in our house. He gives off shaky vibes – he's trouble and I know it."

"What are you suggesting Ken?"

"You're too close, I'm your fiancé, yet you see him more than me!"

"You're resting – you're ill."

There's a soft silence before Kenny cracks, his tries to push himself forward but only manages to support himself halfway. "You're not seeing him anymore, Kyle!"

"I'll do what I like! I've been doing what I've liked for my entire life and I'm not going to start now because of you and your reckless ideas around dying." Kyle leaves in a fury, he isn't sure if he slammed the front door close, or if it ricocheted and bounced against the doorframe instead. Yet, he doesn't want to check, instead he sullenly draws towards Skeeter's Bar, his feet slowly falling from stomps into guilty patters. Kyle had been so infuriated with Kenny's sudden proclamations that he forgot Kenny is ill and suffering and not getting any better. He half blames the alcohol for making him selfish and although he wants to pin the other half of his anger onto Kenny, he knows he can't. He's much more aggravated over his own selfish actions then Kenny's tender words. He is walking over a tightrope; waiting for Kenny to ping the string and watch Kyle plummet into a deep abyss.

Once he enters Skeeter's Bar, he sits himself on the same seat he ordered his and Kenny's celebratory champagne in before weeping to himself. He orders a water and a coke and tries to sober himself up. He needs to get back to Kenny quickly, apologise and protect him like he vowed.

"Kyle?" A voice resonates behind him and Kyle slowly turns to reveal Kip standing dubiously behind him, head tilted and eyebrows scrunched together in question. "What are you doing here?"

Kyle pauses, watching Kip sit beside him and order a rum and coke. "Just needed some fresh air."

"But it's so late, I thought you'd be asleep. You're not still thinking about going to the garages around here, are you? It won't work, you know – they won't let you check things like that."

"No, no – I–" He begins before pausing. "Why are you here?"

"I came here straight after leaving yours. You seem irritated, are you sure everything's fine?"

"Kip. I think we need to drop this. We need to stop seeing each other like this, it's not right – I'm getting married and I should be focusing on that."

"What are you getting at?" Kip asks, voice lashed with hurt.

"Maybe." He whispers meekly, "Maybe we need to go back to being acquaintances."

"What sparked this thought?" Kip's eyebrows have not softened and the lines of discomfort between them begin to grow thicker and thicker.

"Kenny and I had a row – he's right and I'm doing what's best." Kyle admits.

"Can I just have tonight?" Kip tries, "Can we just have tonight?"

"I'm yours for the hour, and then promise to forget about me, OK?"

"OK."

.

He feels drunk, but not in an emotional sense, just physically; his vision is vague and woolly, fish-bowling into a tunnel with blurred, teary edges. Colourful and distorted boundaries, indefinite and bleary. All he can see is Kip, airborne above him, his expression undefined and his hands quivering in a fashion that Kyle can't focus on them. He can't understand how he has gotten here; he recognises nothing.

Kyle's body rushes with a damp balminess, veneering his unguarded chest. Kip disappears from his provisional vision and with no strength to lift his neck, he curls his body to the side to try and find him again. He distinguishes his bare leg, curled over onto its side and rested in a position to stop Kyle from rolling over further. He moans at its resemblance; unknowing to why he lays nude with Kip above him, panting.

The siege of warmth renders him incapable; he focuses on the mix hormones in his body, swirling both sickness and want. How did he get himself here? He blinks at an inexperienced notion; stinging him. He rumbles from it, a gush of warmth working its way up Kyle's bones and melting his iced muscles. Kip is inside of him: digging himself into Kyle and trying to hold out from the lust he is feeling. Kyle pants and mumbles, fidgeting against the heat and Kip – whom he feels he should escape.

White flashes before him and Kyle wonders if he is getting a migraine. Yet he doesn't feel the accompanying symptoms. He tricks himself to believing it's a hallucination from the drinking and continues to grunt and shield himself from Kip pathetically. Somewhere within him, something screams this is wrong and although he can't help it. He awaits perplex, primitively desperate to dream.

Soon, Kip heaves the duvet over them and slacks an arm over Kyle's torso. He kisses his shoulder blade and Kyle stares at the ceiling above him trying to comprehend how this all happened. What time is it? He turns his head towards the blue flash of digits; unable to read them because of Kip and he drowsiness of words that knock him into mystified spot.

"I love you."

Through his covert, messy, disordered mind; he wonders could he ever love Kip too. Could he ever feel for him like he does Kenny? Could he ever love and adore him so emotionally that he feels nothing but Kip? And through the rubble of his head, his stomach churns – no. No, he couldn't. Only maybe if Kenny was asleep forever and decaying voicelessly without Kyle. Perhaps if Kenny never existed and Kip replaced all Kyle's emotional need for Kenny with his own. He mumbles and sways desperate to reply to Kip, he has Kenny and he'll never stop loving him. He consciously dreams of Kenny's funeral and ponders how he would ever unravel his physical craving for him. How he would ever breathe without an insufferable yearning for him. How he could ever move on to someone as unstable and pathetic as Kip.

His voice stings, he coughs. What was he thinking about again?