Selfish
Boys are very simple creatures.
They don't need much to survive. Some potato chips, a couch, and something to quell their incessant boredom, and they'll be easily satisfied.
In the case of Kenny and Kyle, it was a bag of cheesy poofs, Kyle's too-small couch, and a very bad horror movie. The perfect combination.
But, Kyle's couch being as small as it was, it wasn't quite an adequate size for two teenage boys to properly spread out on. So, kicking their shoes off, they battled for space. It was a very brief fight that Kenny easily won, shoving Kyle to the smaller side, giving Kenny ample room to kick his legs out over. Kyle pouted.
"Asswhipe, it's my house."
"Yes-yes-yes, but I'm the guest, eh?" Kenny grinned.
"Pfft, guest? You practically live here."
"Only 'cuz you got food!" He laughed, searching couch cushions for a DVD remote.
"Hey, stop raiding my fridge!"
"But- but-" Kenny made a kicked puppy face, "Poor Kenny is poor! I have no money for food! Would Kyle-wyley really put out his bestest fwiend?"
"Shut up, you douchebag," Kyle joked, smiling despite himself.
"Hey now, that anyway to talk to your boyfriend?" Kenny waggled his finger, then lifted a cushion to find the remote buried beneath.
Kyle made a short, guttural noise that actually made Kenny turn to look at him, "You're never gonna let me forget this, are you?"
"Never!"
"Argh."
Over the course of the movie, however, Kyle shifted positions, and their legs ended up overlapping casually. Occasionally, one would remember they were supposed to be territorial, and shove the other off, laughing maniacally. But it didn't take long to end up in the same position, laughing hysterically at the poorly done horror flick.
God, he has the cutest laugh- Kenny caught himself thinking, only to mentally slap himself. No! Stop it, don't think like that. It's Kyle. It's creepy.
Suddenly, Kenny found himself wanting a handful of cheesy poofs, and stretched his hand out of sight for the bag. He closed his hand on empty air. Kenny paused. The bag had been there a few minutes ago. And yet here he was, hand grasping idly at nothing. Kenny looked over, to find Kyle greedily holding the bag.
Kenny stared at him for a moment. Kyle turned to look at him. Kenny leaned forward to grab the bag. Kyle pulled it away.
"No way, there's only a little left-"
"I just wanna bite-" Kenny insisted, reaching forward awkwardly, trying not to twist out of his comfortable movie-watching position.
"You're gonna eat it all-"
"No, I won't!"
"Yes, yes you will!" Kenny grunted, and sat up, diving for the bag. Kyle made a valiant attempt to wrench it out of Kenny's suddenly extended grasp, only to put his weight over the side of the couch accidentally, and send him and Kenny, whom his legs had become tangled with on the far-too-small couch, tumbling to the ground in a heap.
Kenny continued his determined attack for the cheesy poofs, only to find himself less than an inch from Kyle's face. On a sudden impulse that he himself didn't even understand, he leaned forward the extra inch and pressed his lips against Kyle's.
Kyle's face flushed (Again?) and he drew back. But not until after letting me kiss him, huh?
"Wh…" Kyle paused, uncertain, eyes gazing away, "What was that for?"
Kenny floundered. What WAS that for?! "P-practice."
"For- For what?"
"For, y'know. Tomorrow. I don't exactly kiss guys too often."
"Oh."
Oh? That's it? Oh?
Kenny looked at the floor, suddenly finding Kyle's carpet fascinating. Oh? Good.
"I, um, I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay?" Kyle just nodded. Kenny fled.
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"Tomorrow's homecoming, guys. We really oughta practice today." Stan commented during second period. Their science teacher continued to ramble on.
"Seconded. Meet at Stan's house by five, Kyle brings snacks?" Kenny said.
"Mm. The usual." Stan nodded in agreement.
"Why do I always bring snacks?" Kyle hissed.
"Duh, I provide the house, Cartman would eat it all, and Kenny's poor as shit." Stan laughed back. Normally, that would have been a casual remark that didn't bother Kenny. But he frowned, because it didn't sound quite as casual as usual.
"Fine, whatever." Kyle shrugged, only to finally be called down by a furious science teacher.
During lunch, however, something happened.
Kenny had one hand against the locker behind Kyle, and one in his hair, his fingers coiled in Kyle's absurd red curls. Damn, he's a good kisser- he couldn't help but think, lip-locked with him.
It was then that Kenny realized he wasn't doing it for the money anymore. And more importantly, he didn't care. Kenny pressed his lips against the side of Kyle's neck, "I think I love you-" he heard himself whisper.
Kyle pushed him away, his face confused. "Wh-what?"
"I-" Kenny started, horrified at himself- probably could have said that BETTER, stupid! "Forget about Stan. He's not into you, but," Kenny paused, smiling tentatively, "I am."
Kenny's smile faded when Kyle just looked at him with eyes as big as dinner plates, "I- I think you should go, Kenny…"
"B-but, I just-" He stuttered, trying desperately to recover. Kyle just shook his head.
"I'll see you… Um, l-later, okay?"
Kenny nodded numbly when Kyle hurried away.
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Kenny went home after that, rather than go to last period. I just need to… to think. So does Kyle, right? Yeah. No way we wouldn't still be friends, and if he has time to get over Stan, maybe- maybe- his mental reassuring came to a sudden halt when he saw the ambulance.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
It was at his house, and there was a huge crowd of people circling his trashed yard. He took a slow step forward. Another. And then he realized he was running; he'd dropped his pack and run as fast as he could. He shoved his way through the crowd, terrified.
"I heard the gunshot- did you?"
"It was the scream- I heard that-"
"Why wasn't anyone else home?"
"Where's the family?"
Snippets of conversations his terrified ears caught as he pushed his way past the curious bystanders, only to have a policeman grab him as he burst out of the crowd. He struggled, kicking and grabbing, trying to get away.
"No, you have to stay back-"
When he saw the stretcher come out though, he stopped breathing. It was the strings of chocolate brown hair he saw first, spilling out over the side of the stretcher, just like the streams of blood spilled out of-
"Karen!" He screamed, as loud as he could, though he didn't hear it, "That's my sister!" He made several choking noises, and slumped into the policeman's grip.
"I- I- I-" He stuttered, feeling his eyes start to burn. But he couldn't cry. Kenny didn't cry. 'Cuz when Kenny cries, Karen cries too. Karen loves her big brother and when he's sad so is she. Can't cry, or Karen will. Is Karen crying?
"I- h-how?" Kenny stammered out. Karen please get up.
The man averted his eyes, "I-" he paused, "-I don't know." He's lying.
Kenny blinked. Karen didn't get up. Why doesn't Karen get up?
"Karen…?" he said quietly. He stood up, just staring. They loaded her into an ambulance, and drove away. No sirens. No hurry 'cuz Karen's not in it. That's another girl. That's somebody else's sister.
He walked forward, slowly, uncomprehending. Kenny found himself in front of one of the officers who was carrying a camera. Miss, she's only fourteen.
"…Miss…?" He asked, eyes wavering. She looked over, startled at his presence. "Is my sister dead?" He said it bluntly. The words sounded so strange in his mouth. Because it was it was just so simply impossible, that the words meant nothing. Because they had to be lies. Had to be lies.
She said nothing, just gently handed him a crumpled up piece of paper. Kenny stared at it dumbly for a few moments, and realized the woman had left. He unfolded it.
He forgot how to read. Kenny wasn't sure why he didn't understand the letters on the paper, but he knew they were letters. So the first thing he saw was the blood splattered on the corner. Then, all at once, he knew what the three words said, and he felt sick to his stomach.
I'm sorry Kenny
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Kenny supposed he should have been sad. But all he was, was angry. He was furious.
Angry because he hadn't gotten home in time.
Angry because he hadn't known how sad she was.
Angry because he hadn't been a good enough brother.
Angry that Karen was dead.
He yanked his backpack open, ditching all of it in his yard but one folder, containing all his unfinished music. Sheet first, lyrics later. He pulled out one that he'd never been able to write anything that fit. It was one of his favorites. It sounded so well when played- too well. He had no words for it. But now-
The words came out of him, fast and angry and perfect. He wrote them down as quickly as they came, choking back sobs.
Kenny pressed his hands against his face, and let the paper slide to the ground as he pulled his knees to his chest. But he didn't cry.
If he cried, Karen would too.
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When Kenny opened the door to Stan's garage, he still felt angry. But all that anger had turned inward on the way over, and morphed into an ugly form of self-loathing. If I'd been better- If I'd just asked her if she was okay- It's my fault!
"Kenny, where the hell have you been? You're late, asswhipe!" Kyle yelled, sitting on a precarious chair, making notes on some sheet music.
Kenny said nothing.
"Hey, Kenny? The fuck, you listening?" Kyle stood up, glaring. Why's he so angry?
"Play this." He thrust a crumpled sheet of notes at Kyle, who frowned at it. "We have to practice it for tomorrow, dipshit."
"Where's Stan?"
Stan poked his head from behind an amp that was resting on a desk. "Yo."
Kenny continued to hold the music out. "Play. It."
"No way, dude! The fuck is wrong with you?"
"Hey, assholes," Cartman sneered, leaned back in a chair behind his drums, "I think we should play it."
"We have to practice for tomorrow!" Kyle insisted.
"Well, I'm gonna play it with or without you guys, and I ain't playing the right song 'til we play the new one. So shut the hell up, get your damn guitar, and play with me."
Kenny looked at Cartman for a moment. He didn't have to say anything. He didn't want to say anything.
Kyle picked up his guitar uncertainly, and Stan followed suit. Kenny pulled out the few lyric-less copies he'd made, and handed them to his friends.
They read it over for a minute or two.
"Kenny- that looks- great-"Kyle said after a moment.
"Play."
Stan started, then Kyle, and Cartman finally entered. Kenny said nothing as he retrieved his mic from its resting place. He took a deep breath.
"I'm in the mood for murder
Cause nobody heard her
When she cried
I! Want! To die!
I don't care
If you think it's fair
Karen was a good kid
She didn't deserve what she did!
Why's it the good kid who always loses
Karen shouldn't have hid the bruises!
I just want to know why
Karen had to die!
I'm in the mood for murder
Cause nobody heard her
When she cried
I! Want! To die!
One of her friends caught her crying
Looked at me, said 'Kenny why is Karen lying?'
Well what the hell am I supposed to say?!
Karen didn't come to school today!
Karen didn't come to school today!
Poor Karen! What she said, what she said!
Too late now, since Karen's dead!
I'm in the mood for murder
Cause nobody heard her
When she cried
I! Want! To die!
I've got to hit something, I'm just so mad!
Only cuz I never noticed she was just so sad
Maybe it's my fault, I prob'ly showed her how
Oh, god! It's too late now!
Karen didn't come to school today!
Karen didn't come to school today!
All her friends said it was such a cliché
Karen, come back! Karen, come back!
I never even saw her start to crack
I don't know what to fucking say,
Since Karen didn't come to school today!
Karen didn't come to school today!
Karen didn't come to school today!
Karen didn't come to school today!
Karen didn't come to school today!" Kenny was literally screaming at this point, his voice cracking. Kyle and Stan had stopped playing by now, and Cartman was actually shaking Kenny, trying to get him to stop.
"Karen didn't- Karen didn't come-" Finally, he broke down, and all the sadness came, his beautiful, perfect numbness cracked and shattered.
"God!" He screamed, and he felt Cartman trying to tug him out of the protective ball he found himself in.
And then he was running. He didn't know how or why but he was running. The street fly by, and cars were honking like he was in the way- was he? Why am I always in the way!?
He ran on.
Suddenly, he wasn't in the street anymore. There were a thousand people around him, all of them silent, staring at him. He blinked, and they all looked like Karen. A thousand bloody, crying Karens.
He was running again. More cars honking. Somebody was yelling his name. Was it his name? Could he really claim it? I don't want it anymore, please take it back.
And then the car hit him.
DON'T COME BACK KENNY
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Draik: I think I put way to much raw emotion into it.
Cartman: I… I don't even feel like cracking a racy joke. That was too intense.
Kenny: You-! You killed my sister-!
Draik: …Erm…
Stan: Dude…. You turned me into an asshole…
Kyle: Me too…
Kenny: …You know what? I am in the 'mood for murder!' I'MA KILL YOU
Draik: …oh dear.
Kyle: God, I can't believe you killed Karen.
Stan: She wasn't even IN this story!
Kenny: What is WITH you and my little sister?!
Draik: Um… I'm the oldest of three in my family, so I guess I've always really really wanted an older brother to be around for me? Like, seriously. It's almost an obsession. My friends keep going on about what I'm missing not having grandparents and all (they died before I was born) and having a little Down's Syndrome brother and all- but I've always had a really romantic view of protective older brothers. *sigh* So I guess THAT'S why you're always super over protective of little Karen.
Kenny: …damn.
Draik: Sorry.
Kenny: I can't believe she's dead. That was so random.
Draik: Was it?
Kenny: Of course it was.
Draik: Jeremy spoke in class today.
Kenny: What?
Draik: Jeremy. It's a song by Pearl Jam. Go listen to it, and read the lyrics and the story behind it while you're at it.
Kenny: eh…
Karen: I'm dead?
Kenny: Holy-!
Karen: :)
Draik: …I'm… I'm just gonna go now. =_=