Another night, he laid on his mattress in his bedroom. Only sixteen and if it weren't for his constant deaths, he would be an alcoholic and drug addict. Even then, with the constant dying, all that did, was drove him to do more. Death by overdose was occasionally terrible, especially if he was on his way back down and choked on his vomit. Other times it was almost preferable. The only regrettable times of OD-ing were when Kyle found him. He'd become hysterical, screaming, sometimes shaking the blond, though there was nothing to be done.
He hated hurting the ginger.
It only mattered in the moment because when Kenny returned to life, it was like it had never happened anyway.
He had given up on trying to tell his friends about dying all the time. They never remembered.
Another party tonight, probably another death too. He grinned savagely before rolling off the mattress and climbing to his feet. He dug through the pile of laundry on the floor to find something halfway decent before going to the bathroom down the hall to take a quick cold shower and dress in his mostly clean light blue jeans, plain black shirt and his usual orange hoody. He zipped it as he exited the bathroom, dropping his old clothes in his room before tugging his hood up and leaving the house. His parents, no doubt, still asleep from the previous night's drinking.
Funny, in a way, oftentimes they provided his meth, occasionally his booze, but they mostly bought the cheap shit beer. If he was desperate enough though, it didn't matter. He'd be dead before they could miss it anyway.
He trudged through the slush to the bus stop, the other three were already there, talking animatedly as usual.
Stopping beside them, he fished around in his pockets for his cigarettes, lighting one as he half listened to their droning voices.
It didn't take long for Kyle to start shrieking about second hand smoke. With an amused, half smile, Kenny blew smoke into his face.
He started shrieking louder at that, to which Kenny only laughed and reached out to ruffle his hair, which he no longer hid under a large hat, instead letting his, regularly relaxed hair, hang free. Kyle scowled but stopped yelling. An unreadable expression on his face. Kenny paid him no further mind and blew his smoke away from the friends, careful to put it out by the time the bus arrived.
After taking their seats on the bus, Kenny turned his attention to Stan, "Where's the party?"
Stan glanced at him warily, "Don't you think you're overdoing it?"
"Piss off Marsh," Kenny snapped back, turning his head and gazing out the window instead.
He didn't need Stan to tell him where the party would be. He was well connected.
He felt someone's gaze boring into him, he didn't need to look to know it was Kyle, with that stupid look on his face, biting his lower lip as he gazed at his blond friend. He ignored the feeling though, focused on the landscape going by. All too soon, they were at the school, Kenny leaped up, one of the first off the bus. He should have time for another smoke before class. He made a beeline for his usual spot, the back of the school, far enough away from the goths to not draw their annoying attention. Leaning against the cold brick building, he fished in his jeans for another cigarette. He glanced at the pack in dismay, he was almost out. Funny how that happened considering how often he died. He lit up, stuffing the pack back into his pocket. He held the smoke a while, letting out a slow, steady exhale.
He managed a few more drags before putting it out on the side of the building and stuffing the half back in the pack as he walked to his locker to grab the very few items he took with him to class. First period of the day was always a bore. He sat down in his usual seat just before the bell rang.
Opening his notebook, he flipped through to a clean page, tapping his pen idly.
Doodling through all his classes, it was finally time to leave. He dug around in his locker, looking for some quality shit to sell for some more cigarettes and maybe a coffee from Tweek Bros. He finally found what he was after, stuffing it into his hoody pocket and slamming his locker closed.
Letting the tide of students carry him towards the door, he listened to the idle gossip, eventually picking up what he was after.
A party that night, at Token's. Token always had quality shit.
He wandered through the streets of South Park after leaving school, cruising for good buyers.
Hours later, with plenty of time to swing by Tweek Bros and the gas station, Kenny was whistling almost cheerfully as he walked. He'd made plenty, considering what he'd sold. His first stop would be Tweek Bros. Business was dying down by the time he ambled into the shop, Tweek was behind the counter, jittery as usual.
Kenny offered him a smile and placed his order. Tweek made it and handed it over, Kenny paid and left the shop, sipping his coffee. He'd been doing meth long enough now to recognize the taste, he wondered, idly, if anyone else realized that's why they preferred their coffee.
With a smile, hidden by his coffee, Kenny walked to the nearest gas station/convenience store.
He overpaid for his cigarettes, but such is the price of underage smoking.
Lighting one as he walked away, he pondered what to do with the remaining time before Token's party. He finished his coffee and trashed it, eventually opting to stop at home to store his cash. Unsurprisingly, his dad and Kevin were watching tv, while his mom was slamming shit in the kitchen. He trudged to his room and found his usual hiding spot, stuffing the majority of his newly made cash inside.
He stopped in the bathroom to apply more deodorant and give his teeth a quick brush before leaving the house again. His stomach was grumbling, it was a good chance he could pester Kyle's mom to give him some food. He used to feel bad about getting free food, now though, he didn't care. His families money and most of his, went to booze, drugs, and cigarettes.
He knocked politely, once at their door, giving Sheila his most winning and pitiful smile. She ushered him inside and set about getting the sandwiches she had made earlier from the fridge, yelling up the stairs to Kyle.
He was making his way through his third sandwich when his friend appeared in the doorway, he almost looked sad, Kenny thought before turning his attention back to the fourth sandwich that had appeared. As he wolfed it down, Kyle sat across from him.
"Hey Kenny."
"Yo," he said around a mouthful.
Kyle sighed but didn't comment on his table manners. At least the ginger knew that was a lost cause.
"Are you going to the party tonight?"
"Of course," Kenny replied, taking a swig of the glass of water Sheila had given him at some point.
If Kenny noticed the pain in his friend's expression or voice, he gave no indication.
"You don't have to go, you know. We could hang out here. Play some PlayStation or something."
"Nah man," Kenny replied, not looking up, busy mopping up the crumbs of his sandwiches with his fingers.
He felt the repressed sigh but didn't say anything, waiting for Kyle's inevitable offer.
"Want to at least hang out here until it's time?"
"Sounds great," Kenny beamed up at him, taking the plate and rinsing it off and putting it in the dishwasher before refilling his glass and following Kyle up to his room.
Kyle's room couldn't have been more different from Kenny's. Kyle's had actual framed art and posters with smart guy quotes. Not to mention a whole bed, complete with a frame and a nice dresser and no clothes strewn about. His bookshelf had numerous books as well, most looked well read. Kenny happily dived onto Kyle's bed, so much goddamn better than his shitty mattress.
"Shit," he mumbled into the softness, his body actually relaxing some.
It wasn't long before Kyle joined him, handing him a controller.
Reluctantly, he took it and rolled over, sitting up with his back to the headboard, just like Kyle.
Soon, he forgot his reluctance as the game sucked him in.
It must have been hours later when Kyle asked, "Why do you do it Kenny?"
Focused on the game, Kenny absently asked, "Do what man?"
"Destroy yourself like this."
The silence after Kyle's words were deafening.
"Wh...what do you mean man?"
"I guess you don't remember..., it was like six years ago, you made a video and gave it to me, to us, really, but I don't think they remember. I don't think they made a copy. It was you..., you killed yourself. But before you did, you said that you die all the time. And that none of us ever remember. You wanted to give us proof. Attached to the tape, you handwrote a note that told us to watch it in the morning."
Horror slowly descends on the blond as he listens because Kyle isn't done.
"At first, I didn't believe it. How could I? I had literally seen you. But then, I'd ask the guys about you on a given day, and they'd say you had left or something equally impossible, and you know how I knew it was impossible? Because I'd seen you die that day."
Kenny squirms in his seat, inching away from Kyle.
"In the last three years, I've noticed how frequently you've died. Every time. I don't need the tape anymore. I can't just sit here while you do this."
His voice breaks and Kenny knows he's crying. He can't comfort him though, he's too stunned.
"Just..., just tell me why Ken. Why do you keep doing this?"
"It's not to hurt you," is all Kenny can think of to say.
"I know that," he sobs, "I'm not trying to make this about me. I just want to know how I can help you."
He knows what he's about to say will hurt. But he doesn't care, he can't afford to care.
"Did you ever think you can't?"
"Of course I can!" Kyle all but screams in that high pitched way that happens when he's too emotional.
"No..., Kyle, no one can help me. My life will always be this. Dying, Living, Dying, on repeat. Forever. At least, until my mother dies. It was part of that stupid Cthulu ritual they unknowingly partook in."
He's still crying but the protests have died on his lips as he looks at Kenny, who's standing in the center of the room now.
"I'm sorry you remember Kyle. I was just an angry kid when I gave you that video. Stop clinging to me and I'm sure you'll forget again."
He has no idea if that's true, but it doesn't matter. He turns to go.
And then Kyle has his arms around his friend and his face, still wet with tears pressed into Kenny's back.
"Please."
It's just one word. One word and a stifled sob.
Stupid fucking ginger.
But there's no real venom behind it.
He turns in Kyle's grip and wraps his arms around the other teen and squeezes tightly. Kyle cries harder into Kenny's chest and they stand like that for what feels like a very long time.
"I can't make any promises."
"I'm not asking you to."
"I can't always control when I die."
"I know."
"Stupid fucking ginger." He breathes into Kyle's hair.
Kyle laughs, "Damn blond."
"Can I still go to Token's party?"
"Just don't overdo it."
"For you."
Kyle hugs him tighter in response.
They stand like that for a while longer.
"You could come with me."
"Parties aren't really my thing."
"Yeah but you'd probably feel better if I was in your sight."
"And here I thought you didn't know me very well."
"Of course I know you well," Kenny scoffed.
"Did you know I cried every time you died?" Kyle challenged.
"Well..., no. I knew you'd get upset if you were the one who happened to find me," Kenny shrugged uncomfortably.
Kyle sighed and just rested his head against Kenny.
"Might as well get ready," Kenny suggested.
Kyle grumbled but reluctantly let go of the blond to go to the bathroom and wash his face.
He slipped out while Kyle was in the bathroom, leaving a note on the ginger's bed though, 'Thanks. C U There!'
He wandered the coldening streets of South Park, hands stuffed into his pockets. Kyle..., really, really fucking cared. Damn. He felt kind of bad, for putting him through all his deaths. Which is when he was struck and killed by a semi truck.
Damn it.
