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Unless It Trembled With the Strings

Do You Believe in Destiny?

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STAN'S POV.

Kenny's death was a huge shock. Probably the biggest shock of my life. Well, there's no way that it wasn't. I mean, seriously, how often do you hear, "Oh, by the way, your best friend is smeared all over the pavement over by your school,"?

When my mom told me, I was eating a splendid breakfast of cheerios, and choked on my fucking spoon.

I couldn't believe it. Just… just the day before, Kenny and I had been throwing rocks at kids on the playground, battling it out on the Okama Gamesphere, paying Mexicans to do stupid shit, and watching crappy movies like Baseketball! And the next day they just expected me to believe he was gone? Not coming back?

Actually, Kenny wasn't smeared all over the pavement. His body was, surprisingly, fully intact. As a result, it would be an open-casket funeral. Originally, he was just going to be cremated, but a few family friends chipped in for a proper burial, myself included. Now I got to look at his face one more time and have the comfort of knowing he's buried ten feet under the ground for the rest of eternity.

Shit.

I pushed my bowl away from me and walked out the room into the street. I didn't look, see, or care where I was going. I just ran as fast as I could. I didn't know why exactly I ran, perhaps just to get away. I didn't want to think about anything. I didn't want to think that my best friend, the person I shared all my secrets and thoughts and hopes and fetishes and goals with was…

I stopped when I ran out of breath. I had simply run around in a circle, and I was almost back to my house. Almost. Where I found myself was standing in the front yard of the new neighbors. The… Brofskis? Broncovskis? Brofuckskis? Broflovskis? I didn't have a clue, but I did know they had a son my age. Kyle.

And then I thought of Kenny again and started crying.

This was extremely significant because Stan Marsh never cries. Actually, no, that wasn't true. I cry all the time. Just… never outside. Not when people could see me. Yet, there I was, bawling my eyes out, on full display.

- - -

And there I was again, three days later, bawling my eyes out even harder at the funeral. I hadn't actually listened to a single speech about him yet, and I didn't plan on paying attention to any that would be given in the next few minutes. These people weren't Kenny, so what they had to say about him didn't matter.

My own speech had little relevance to reality. I had written one before hand, but standing in front of all of the people who knew him and talking about him… all I could say was that I loved him, that I missed him, and that I would never forget him.

When I sat back down, I took a look around me and noticed that besides me, only one other person was crying.

Dude, it was like no one cared that Kenny died. Sure, they looked sad, but they weren't crying! You cry when you're really upset, don't you? It was totally weak. Kenny deserved better than that shit! Initiate tears, now.

I was so wrapped up in my own little world, I didn't pay attention to the only speech that had any meaning behind it all. Surprise, surprise: it came from Cartman.

"As we all know, poor boy had plenty of chances to die in his life. He had a chance this time, like all the other times, and he just chose a different option. As his friend, I'm sure he had a reason. But I don't know what it is and I don't really care, but I do hope that poor asshole is having a shitload of fun in hell."

- - -

The burial wasn't any easier. Every part of my being was saying things like, "He's never coming out of there", "This is the closest you'll ever be to his body again", and "You didn't say goodbye."

It was hard to watch. Too hard, actually, so I didn't even try. I just buried my face in my hands and tears, and thought of his face when I looked in the casket. I thought of the way his yellow hair fell too long in his face, although brushed aside so his features would be fully visible in the casket. His lids closed over eyes that were as blue as the sea after a storm, and those light freckles that he denied the existence of that adorned his sun-kissed nose and cheeks.

Christ, I sound like a bad poet. Maybe that's just what happens when your best friend dies; you start to sound like a bad poet.

The next thing I knew, he was gone. The last image I had of Kenny was a peaceful one, which was quite unlike his life. He deserved peace. I hoped he had that now, if nothing else.

People started to leave, but I stayed in my place. I wasn't going to leave just yet; I owed Kenny a lot more than that. I couldn't think of anything to think about while I waited, so I stood there numbly.

"Stanley, we'll wait in the car for you. Take as long as you need," my dad said with his hand on my shoulder. Those might have been the first words I registered and understood in three days.

When everyone who was going to leave had disappeared, I cleared my eyes and looked around to see who was left. Wendy stood beside me, her hand methodically rubbing my back. I think she might have been doing that for a while in an attempt to sooth me, but I honestly hadn't noticed until just now. Cartman was attempting to be inconspicuous, but I noticed he was there too. Other than us, though, there were only Kenny's direct family and… who the hell was that kid?

I nudged Wendy and motioned to him, thoroughly confused at his presence. I was still too choked to verbalize my questions just yet, so it took effort on Wendy's part to figure out my distress call. While she looked the kid over, trying to place him, I did the same.

Firstly, I noticed he had the absolute reddest hair I had ever seen in my entire life. It wasn't even orange/ginger colored; it was just... red. Not only that, but it was a freaking fro. Really, really curly. It didn't look that bad, either, but it did seem like too busy a hairstyle for a simple kid, though.

Dude, he was also pretty pale. He probably didn't get out much, which is uncommon for someone in South Park. He's also got a pretty weak frame, which is also rare for a hick like the majority of the citizens here. The funniest thing was probably the amount of clothes he was wearing, especially for the summer. He seemed pretty bundled up, man.

With all of this insight, I used my deductive reasoning skills that were on a level to rival Sherlock Holmes to deduce: he was not a native South Park citizen. Genius, yes, I know.

But this led me to another question that I barely managed to choke out, "Why is he crying?"

Wendy looked at me like I was a complete and total idiot. Usually, this kind of reaction was not surprising, but I found it to be rather uncalled for in that situation. And it was following that moment when I realized that she really, honestly thought that I was neglecting the fact that we were at a cemetery and someone close to us had just died. Ergo, I clarified things for her, "He's not from South Park, so it's not like he knew Kenny. Why's he upset?"

Funny thing happened; Wendy persisted with the Stan-you-are-a-dumbass facial expression. "Dude, Stan, he's the kid whose life Kenny saved." Oh.

Oh.

So it was him. Kyle Bro-whatever-the-fuck. The Kenny-killer. The bastard.

I bit my lip; I had no right to call him any of those things. Not only did we have his testimony (that I didn't listen to), but there was also security camera footage. Kenny had completely and voluntarily sacrificed himself to save this kid. "Kyle" had no participation with his death, but… but… if Kyle just hadn't been there, Kenny would be here now.

I wanted to blame him, and I almost did. But I realized that his eyes were redder than mine, and the poor kid already blamed himself.

Dude, this was the only other person that had cried, even the slightest, and we were both still crying.

Wendy talked to me a little more about something, but once again all I heard was a colorful assortment of "blah". After a while, she left with Cartman. I thought I saw the McCormick family leave with them… which meant I was left alone. With the new kid.

Holy shit, he had freckles in the exact same places as Kenny.

I decided I was tired of standing, so I resigned to sitting just in front of Kenny's gave. After a few moments of consideration, Kyle took the empty patch of grass next to me. For what was probably a full six or seven minutes, the only sounds were his occasional sobs and my sniffling.

During that silence, I noticed the only thing on Kenny's tombstone was "In Loving Memory of Kenny McCormick". It was so short and simple; it wasn't fair that he didn't get something creative and fun. It should say something like, "The coolest and most amazing person ever". Because he was.

Kyle abruptly broke my thought process, "You were his friend?"

I nodded; I wasn't too keen on speaking in the event that I let my distaste and unjustifiable blame for this kid turn itself into words.

"I'm so sorry."

Once again, I did not say anything, but I really wanted to. I just had to… take a break, a deep breath, and think this through a little more. I didn't want the first thing that came out of my mouth to make him feel worse about this, because it really wasn't his fault, as much as I felt it kinda-sorta-really was.

"It's all my fault, man," Kyle managed out between sobs. "If only I had been paying attention or… or not listening to Death Cab for Cutie… just, ugh, Jesus fucking Christ!" He sighed, and made this weird pouty face. Like he was really blaming himself.

Huh. Death Cab for Cutie. Nice, dude. Oh, wait, I think he might want a reply. That's what people tend to want when they start talking. I think. Actually, I couldn't think at that moment so I just said the first thing that sounded appropriate.

"No, it's not. It's totally okay." I was surprised to find those words had left my mouth, because what I was really thinking was something along the lines of, "Yes, you killed Kenny. You're a bastard."

He let out a collective sigh and rubbed his temples methodically. After decreasing the stress enough to converse casually, he asked for my name. I responded quite creatively with, "I'm Stan Marsh. You're Kyle Browhat-the-fuck, right?"

"Broflovski."

"Right, right." I smiled. "Kenny wouldn't blame you, by the way. He was really forgiving," I continued to say before a silence could settle between us and make the situation more awkward than it had to be.

Kyle smiled and sniffed. "Thanks, dude."

"Yeah."

The exchange of words stopped there, and we sat in silence for the remainder of the afternoon. I thought about a lot of shit, but as time dragged on, my thoughts became more focused on the boy next to me instead of the one under the ground. He was really… nice. And really cold, apparently, because he kept hugging himself. Maybe if he hadn't have just killed my best friend, I would've let him borrow my jacket. Maybe.

A few minutes after the sun set, Kyle's stomach growled. Immediately, his pale complexion adorned a fascinating scarlet, and I wanted to tell him that being hungry was a normal bodily function and nothing to be embarrassed about, but didn't. Instead, I stood up, stretched, and offered my hand. Much to my surprise, he actually took it, and we began walking back to the parking lot.

It suddenly occurred to me that we had been there for a few hours, and my parents would probably have fallen asleep… or just gone home. I really hoped for the first, because I wasn't feeling up to calling them and waiting for them to pick me up.

Oh, disappointment, I should just learn to get used to you.

"Dude, you have a ride?" Kyle asked whilst unlocking his car. I shook my head. Nope, because my parents are freaking retarded. "You need one?"

"If you're willing," I told him, shrugging, and helped myself to the passenger seat of his car.

Kyle apparently felt the situation was awkward, because when he spoke as we left the cemetery, his voice was a little anxious. "Do you mind if we grab a bite to eat?"

"Sure thing, dude."

"And I, uhh, don't know my way around yet… so can you pick something?" he asked somewhat sheepishly.

I gave him a weak grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Are you in the mood for pizza?"

"Yeah, sure, that sounds cool," Kyle grinned back at me. For the course of the next few minutes, the only words I said were directions, and the only words that came from Kyle were acknowledgements like "okay" and "sure". I also pointed out a few places on the way that he may want to remember the location of.

When we pulled into the parking lot of Shakey's, Kyle gave me a thank you that I accidentally ignored. My thoughts were focused more on the fact that this was the last place that I had had food with Kenny. For a moment I wondered if I had subconsciously chosen this place for that very reason, but ignored the feeling and followed Kyle inside.

As soon as I stepped in, I realized I was seriously fucking hungry, so I was really relieved that the restaurant was empty today. The waitress, Bebe, took us to our table, took our drink orders, and left me and Kyle to continue our awkward little conversation.

"So, uhh, Stan, thanks for showing me around."

I shrugged. "I didn't do much. We should hang out later, though, and I can for sure."

"Sounds cool, dude," Kyle said, and he began to relax in his seat.

We didn't really talk much until Bebe brought our drinks back. Our conversation wasn't too deep or lively, and mainly consisted of finding what we have in common and what we don't. And surprisingly enough, we had everything in common. And seriously, I mean everything.

We had the exact same taste in music: Artist vs Poet, The Script, All Time Low, Good Charlotte, Boys Like Girls, The Killers, Death Cab for Cutie, and Modest Mouse. The only inconsistency was where Death Cab for Cutie was my favorite, Modest Mouse was his. But the other's first choice was our own second, so it was pretty much the exact same list. It pissed me off a little that he's been to see them both in concert. Lucky bastard.

We shared the same preference in pizza, as I discovered: Meat Lover's! This also lead me to find that Kyle was ethnically Jewish, but hated Kosher food with a passion, and didn't actually believe in his parents' beliefs at all. Kyle also enlightened me with the fact that he had tried going vegetarian for the animals, but had simply loved meat way too much. I told him that I had done the same thing for the first semester of sophomore year, to which he replied that his month-long vegetarian experience also occurred during the beginning of tenth grade. I thought that it was a pretty funny coincidence.

Kyle and I kind of danced around the topic of our romantic interests, because neither of us was too interested in dating. Kyle did get around to mentioning, however, that if he were to date someone, it'd be a best-friend type of person. I agreed, because I can't imagine myself loving anyone who doesn't like to sit down and play SSBB with DCFC on full blast.

To which I found out that Kyle is a crazy fan of Nintendo, which I was as well. It was about that time that the pizza arrived, and over a delicious meaty slice, we discussed our favorite Nintendo products. We agreed that the Legend of Zelda franchise was by far the best, and Ocarina of Time was the greatest game ever. We also enjoyed all the regular FPS games, but any normal teenage boy played COD, Halo, and the like, so I didn't find that to be a significant similarity. I was a little upset about how he seemed to be better at those games than I was. I made a mental note to challenge him later.

After we had finished our pizza, I asked for his number. I started laughing when I saw it, namely because it was the exact same number as mine… only backwards. Holy fucking coincidences. I was pretty sure Kyle found this funny, too.

"Ready to go?" I asked after we had finished the last of the pizza. Kyle nodded, I waved goodbye to Bebe, and the two of us headed into his car.

Now that we had broken the strangers barrier, Kyle didn't have a problem with making the ride more comfortable with some music. I amused myself with looking through his CDs, feeling strangely in the mood for All Time Low. Kyle shrugged, and I put the CD in.

Kyle had some serious freaking pipes, I might add. I turned it up obnoxiously loud while still managing to direct him to the whereabouts of my house.

"Thanks a bunch, dude. I'll text you later," I said before closing the passenger door.

"Sure thing, dude."

I watched him drive off to his house, which was within sight, before going into my own house. I saw my family enjoying their own dinner when I entered the kitchen.

"Thanks for waiting," I told them sarcastically.

My dad replied without looking up from his plate of food, "No problem, son." He was probably dead serious about that, too.

I ignored them and went upstairs to my room and threw myself on my bed. I lied face down in the covers for a few minutes until I looked at my phone. I had a few messages.

One was from Wendy telling me she loves me (platonically) and that it's gonna be okay. There was a blank message from Cartman, which only leads me to assume that he thought about sending something, decided against it, but accidentally sent an empty text instead. There were a couple others from some of my classmates, but none of importance.

I kicked off my shoes, snuggled up underneath my sheets, and fell asleep to the sounds of Sparky asking for my attention from the other side of my bedroom door.

---

Upon waking up sometime past 2 a.m. (thank god for summer holidays!) and mulling yesterday over, I concluded that it was entirely too creepy how similar Kyle and I were. As a result, I decided that I would associate myself with him no longer.

Which ended up putting myself in a weird position when Cartman, Wendy, and I were creepily watching the boy in question from our huddle a few feet from the smoothie stand.

"He looks kinda lost," I murmured, and took a sip of my smoothie. Blueberry. It was the bomb.

"Then help him out, Stan," Wendy commented after a slurp from her grape and apple smoothie. At least, I thought it was grape and apple. That didn't exactly sound like an appealing combination, so I didn't contemplate it further.

"Fuck no! He's a bastard," I said in retaliation. I didn't feel like explaining how creepily similar I had discovered we were, and how freaked out I was by it. Wendy wouldn't buy that as an excuse, either.

She tossed me this are-you-kidding-me look. "Stan, he hasn't done anything."

"He killed Kenny!" I said.

"No, he didn't, Stan!"

Ugh. I knew he didn't. I decided yesterday that I wouldn't hold Kenny's death over him, but… it was just easy to use that as an excuse.

Wendy and I ceased our brief exchange of ideas when Fatass erupted with a rather obnoxious burp. He went on to express his undesired opinion on the subject, "I saw you hanging out with him yesterday, Fag. You don't have to pretend you hold a grudge against him."

Goddamnit, Cartman. Just, God damn…

"Seriously, Stan, our trio needs a new fourth member," Wendy unrelentingly added, much to my dismay.

I pouted. "Kay, so why do I have to talk to him?" I noticed then that I was out of smoothie. Bummer, dude. I should've bought two, like Cartman, because Wendy always took her damn sweet time with everything.

"Because you went on a date with him yesterday," Cartman volunteered, earning himself a stomp on the foot from Wendy. She only bothered to get on to him for being a dick if his bullying was directed at her or me, and although I'm thankful, it wasn't really necessary. Cartman was Cartman, and everyone who knew him also knew to ignore 95% of what he said.

I gave him a 5% range for the occasional intelligent statement that would accidentally find its way out of his fat-boy lips.

Just as I was about to throw away the remainder of my smoothie, Kyle and I made eye contact. Reluctantly and very much against my will, I waved him over. There was really nothing wrong with him, I thought, but I wanted to avoid him anyway. It was like gravity. I could feel myself drawn to him, like the earth's pull. But wasn't it a desire of man since the beginning of time to defy gravity, and fly? It was like that. I wanted to deny what was natural, and I didn't even have a reason why.

"Hey, Stan!" he said, a little more cheerfully than I would've hoped.

I tossed the empty smoothie to the can and missed. Cartman farted, and I ignored both of these events. "Hey, Kyle."

A silence settled over the group until Wendy gave me a not-so-inconspicuous elbow to the side. Oh, right, right.

"This is Wendy Testaburger," I said, motioning to my left. "And Fatass, a.k.a. Cartman." I'm sure he could deduce where Fatass was without me making an effort. His humungous weight was only the most obvious thing in the world, after all.

Kyle flashed this boyish smile on his pale face, and I found myself fascinated with his freckles. He and Wendy began talking about something I didn't bother to care about as I started counting the little specks. He kept moving, shifting his weight kinda like I do, so I had a rather difficult time deducing that he had thirty-four freckles, which is eight more than the amount Kenny had. Kyle's freckles, like Kenny's, were very subtle and didn't exactly stand out. I supposed his was just a thing that came with the strawberry-red hair, and Kenny's from being out in the sun so often.

"What do you think, Stan?"

That Kyle's freckles were cool, and that I kinda wished I had some too so I could join the club. "Think about what?"

Wendy gave some exaggerated sigh. "You never pay attention!"

I smiled. Wendy frowned. "I know."

Kyle laughed and filled me in, "Who's better: Ironman or Wolverine?"

"Wolverine. Duh," I said.

"I thought so too," Kyle replied, and I thought I saw his green eyes sparkle a bit.

Wendy looked angry for a minute, and I patted her on the head. "You just like Ironman because you think Robert Downey Jr is cuter than Hugh Jackman."

At this, Wendy flew her arms in the air, smacking Cartman in the face in the process. A yelp of annoyance went ignored as Wendy protested, "I do not! You know I was a bigger fan of Ironman before that movie came out!"

Fatass whined, "Wendy, I like Ironman better!"

"Yeah, but your opinion doesn't count," I shot at him, and Wendy walked off, mumbling something about the bathroom. Fatass took that opportunity to buy a hotdog, which left me and Kyle alone. At first I contemplated asking about how they got into their little debate, but I immediately noticed that Kyle was wearing a Wolverine shirt. That explained it, then.

"Nice shirt," I audibly noted.

"You too," he said in reply, and I glanced down to see what shirt I was wearing. Dude, it was just a plain brown shirt.

I looked up in confusion to find Kyle suppressing a giggle. "Very funny," I told him.

"No, man, I'm serious," he stopped to laugh for a few seconds, quite obviously not serious. "It looks so delicate, soft, and, uhm... luscious."

I cracked. Luscious? Really?

"Yeah, man. Totally luscious. And those jeans of yours? Damn, they look like Jesus made them," I said, continuing the joke through a healthy amount of laughs.

"They feel like Jesus made them," Kyle responded, and looked me over for something to comment on, finger on his chin in thought. "And your hat," he uttered a rather fake groan before continuing, "looks like it was made in heaven. I can hear the angels' trumpets now. Glorious."

"Oh, you fucking bet it was," I said, and turned into a fit of giggles. The situation was officially hilarious. "But don't get me started on your scarf. I'd just fucking love to rip that thing of your body and—"

"Dude! Faggot alert!"

Damnit, Cartman! "Shut up, Fatass, it was a joke!"

He scoffed and took a bite of his hotdog. "I'm sure it was, fag. Just take your gay shit elsewhere when you decide to fuck."

I noticed that Kyle had glanced off to the side, and a light blush tainted his cheeks. Of course, not everyone was used to this monstrous asshole we occasionally label as a friend, so it was perfectly natural for him to be uncomfortable. I brushed it aside when I saw Wendy emerging from the restroom.

"So, I think Bebe's party is still on. I ran into her just now," Wendy said, and glanced at Kyle. "Do you wanna go?"

Before Kyle could answer, I voiced a question. "The day after Kenny's funeral?" I thought I came across as sounding a little bit more upset than I actually was, but I didn't care. It was important. You don't just go off and fucking celebrate after a kid you've known your whole life dies.

"Stan, she's had this planned for a while. It's not like she knew Kenny was going to die," she said, and shot her head back at Kyle in anticipation for his answer.

I didn't like her reasoning, but I put up with it. It was true, after all.

"Uhh, sure, I guess. Who is Bebe?" Kyle responded sheepishly.

I kicked Fatass in the leg to tell him to chew more quietly and stop farting before I answered, "She was our waitress last night. The blonde one with huge knockers."

And then Wendy kicked me in the leg, which I ignored. I made cups with my hands in front of my chest for extra impact. They both ignored this, to which I pouted.

"Okay, then. When is it?" Kyle asked, checking his phone for what I assumed to be the time.

Wendy thought for a minute, and brushed a strand of hair over her shoulder. I never noticed how friggin long it is. It went down to her waist, man. That was totally creepy. I thought girls with short or curly hair were definitely the best. And something colorful, definitely not black. Wendy's hair didn't exactly matter anymore, since we had long since stopped attempting a relationship.

"Sometime around nine or ten," Wendy said thoughtfully, eyes cast upward in thought. "Or at least, I think that's it."

I shrugged. "We'll show up around ten, then. Should we bring beer?"

Now Wendy shrugged, and Kyle looked a little nervous. I figured that he probably wouldn't have a way of obtaining any. "Bebe usually has it covered, but I can take some of my dad's shit for the four of us, just in case. He won't notice."

Kyle, Wendy, and Fatass decided that was a cool idea and they were down with it, and we proceeded to engage in idle chatter. Our little quartet eventually got bored of standing around, so Wendy volunteered to give Kyle a tour of South Park, to which he agreed after a tossed glance back at me. I shrugged, Fatass complained, and we followed Wendy. I didn't talk much during the "tour", but I listened to Kyle a lot.

I noticed that he was really, really smart. Way smarter than I could ever hope to be, and probably smarter than Wendy. That was saying a lot, because Wendy was a freaking genius. I wished Kyle had been around since freshman year so he could have challenged her for the title of valedictorian. That would prove to be a very entertaining situation.

Sometime around seven or eight, we decided to go home. Kyle promised to pick me up since I didn't have a car in my possession as of the moment. Cartman muttered something about being glad about not having to haul my ass around, and something else about how there had better be a lot of fucking people at Bebe's.

I kind of hoped there wouldn't be, because it would be really reassuring if everyone was too busy mourning Kenny's death to come.

---

Oh, disappointment, welcome back.

Bebe's party was huge, as Bebe's parties tended to be. The music was loud, people were drunk, and the place was a mess. I felt upset already.

Cartman immediately left for the kitchen, and Wendy immediately left to find Bebe. Those two were really good friends, which I didn't quite understand. Bebe wasn't a slut or anything, but she was so… adventurous. She liked things crazy. Wendy was more intellectual and preferred things organized. It was weird, but it apparently worked. Friendships were weird.

Then I noticed Kyle and I were alone again. Why the fuck did that keep happening?

I shook off the feeling of being upset over the fact that no one cared about Kenny's death and decided that I would enjoy myself. With Kyle. He was apparently not feeling up to making new friends.

At first I wasn't even close to being hyped up about the situation, but by the end of the night (or morning, your choice), Kyle and I had clicked once again. We were drinking and talking about the most random shit, most/all of which we had a mutual interest for.

I discovered that we shared favorites in alcohol, TV shows, cakes, sock brands, and colors. It was still creepy as hell having so much in common with a complete stranger.

I eventually decided to embrace it, though, as opposed to defy it. This weird otherworldly power that kept drawing us together won out, and I found myself looking forward to the upcoming school year. Kyle was going to make an awesome friend.

---

-Claire. R&R?