Not much of a headline here... So... Kenny/Wendy initiating in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1-
Rivers Flow In You
Chapter IV - Déjà vu
"Kenny... Kenny, wake up,"
Kenny audibly observed the identifiable voice blindly, as he realized that his feet were hastily walking behind the guide of somebody who had him by his shirt. He glanced up, as his vision absorbed the recognizable face of someone who had heaved him before: Wendy Testaburger. Still slightly intoxicated, he raised his hand, gently breaking the confines of her grip from his collar.
"Wendy?"
"You're awake." she said, with the absent tinge of fore-estimated relief in her voice and rather a hint of vexation. She refused to reduce her swift walking velocity that intoxicated Kenny could barely tail on. Kenny had to question the first that initially proposed itself in Kenny's conscious.
"What the fuck...?" He snapped, relatively impolitely, but partially with the target of curiosity as well.
"Do you remember the party?" Wendy said.
"Uh, yeah..." Kenny aloofly replied, increasing his own pace with Wendy.
"Kyle couldn't keep you there as you know," she re-informed, as her head started pivoted in several directions.
Kenny felt a palpable, pulsating beat in his temple, as a major sinus headache weighed his forehead down. He took the extremities of his fingers and lightly pressed them against his head, arching in agony. He took a prolonged pause, and Wendy had stopped herself in her persistent tracks. "Come on now, then!" she urged, oblivious of Kenny's transparent discomfort.
Kenny couldn't muster the strength that was contracted by his affliction to wittingly retort to Wendy's urgency, instead stubbornly remaining in his stance for a few moments. Wendy eventually became vexed enough to grab the hood of Kenny's parka, and harshly tugged it, and Kenny nearly lost balance, completely disregarding his tribulation.
"Come on, Kenny. Just hurry up and you and hunch over all you want." Wendy said, before a thought introduced itself to Kenny, stupefying him why it didn't occur instantaneously.
"Wait, where are we going and why are you taking me there?"
"Kenny, you got completely wasted; you're still currently tipsy," she clarified, leaving impatient Kenny unsatisfied before she added. "I'm taking you home. Stan can't take you and Kyle is having living hell at his house right now. This was sort of last minute to, so..." Kenny promptly became perplexed of why Wendy took him, out of all of the people under the roof at the wingding.
"Why... what about Butters or Tweek?"
"Most everybody had fled before I did, to tell you the truth. Kyle's mom sort of... came... and yeah." Wendy informed, before Kenny released a resonant wave of guffawing at the embarrassment Kyle underwent, illustrating his beefy, monstrous Jewish mother exploding in front of him. He envisioned Kyle being drenched in his mother's saliva after she spewed vocal missiles at him. Wendy rolled his eyes.
There was a prolonged pause. "I'm going back to my place now..." Kenny tipsily stated, starting to saunter off.
"Why? Your house is like miles away," Wendy reminded Kenny who remained reluctant. "Stan and Kyle knew that city buses don't aloud drunk people. Plus, you spent all your money betting it on stuff," her initially snappy attitude dimmed, as Kenny began to absorb slightly more. "As I said before, you're still tipsy." Kenny released a melodramatic sigh to avoid the awkwardness of debt, and ambled following behind Wendy's steps.
Kenny, who was absentmindedly spaced as he involuntarily followed Wendy, had mustered his mental orientation when he found himself on the asphalt of a driveway. He saw a Prius that was aside a Grand Cherokee Jeep.
"Which one is yours?" Kenny curiously asked.
"The Cherokee." she replied, almost immediately.
She subsequently directed him into her house, informing him of the current isolation other than her mastiff, who wasted no time to bombard Kenny. Kenny involuntarily ambled up to her room, and examined the interior. It had matured from her ecstatically archetypal "pink" themed bedroom to a standard bedroom. She had two lustrous, slender championship title posters above the head of her bed: one for the "South Park Elementary Girls Volleyball" and one for "South Park Middle School Women's Cross-Country." Wendy emerged from downstairs, witnessing Kenny sitting on her orthodox-striped bed sheets.
"I'm calling Butters," she stated, retrieving her phone from her pocket. "he should get you."
"You're annoying," Kenny bluntly indicated. "I could have just walked home myself; why do you always have to be the up-stander of everything?" Wendy's facial expression stirred with a sunken self-esteem but also vexation. Her mouth was briefly ajar from offense, before she protested with hostility.
"Excuse me then!" she stepped closer. "I'm trying to be a good friend-"
"Oh, I guess we're 'friends' then, I guess." he aloofly spat. An interval stood between the conversation.
"You're like Stan..." Wendy reincarnated the quarrel.
"How?" Kenny curiously questioned, as a prolonged absence of reply took place. "But I guess there's two sides to every story-"
"Shut up Kenny..." She faded, pivoting her body towards the transparent windowpane. What she did next began to bewilder Kenny, perplexing him as Wendy strode in front of her clothing-drawer column. She retracted the drawer handle, and inside was a sequential organization of arbitrary items. She withdrew a piece of paper, examining it. "Do you rememb-" she stopped herself. Kenny decided not to contemplate the questionability. Wendy wanted to say something, but something unknown to Kenny McCormick restricted her of doing so.
Yeah, I know; this was a pretty short chapter. But stay tuned! Also, as I said before, leaving a review or opinion really helps, even if it's negative :3 Buh-bye