"So, are you gonna go back and pick up your sister?"

A few hours had passed by since they had been doing nothing but sitting around in Craig's room, and Kenny hated to admit it, but he already felt like he was welcomed, almost like this was a safe place for him to be. It was awkward as all hell at first, but it went away after just sitting there, being there.

He had thought about that at first. Really though, he was going to. He cared a lot about his sister, but today was just a bad day for him, and to be honest, he didn't want to leave Craig's room. He finally felt comfortable. What if he got back out again and broke down in front of Karen? He couldn't explain to her what was wrong with him, that he'd been murdered the night before. She would ask too many questions and they wouldn't be any he could answer. Not that she would even believe him in the first place.

Besides, it's not like she'd never taken the bus by herself before. He didn't have to hold her hand every second of every day, especially during his bad days. It wouldn't be unusual for him not to show up to the bus stop.

After several seconds of silence, he finally answered, "Nah." He didn't want to be rude, but he really, really didn't want to leave. How the hell do you ask someone to stay at their house though. Maybe he would just stick around until Craig kicked him out. It would be better than groveling and asking flat out of he could stay. "Why'd you even go to school if you were just gonna skip?"

Craig had stopped playing on his phone and was now leaned back on his bed looking up at the ceiling with his hands crossed over his chest. "You made me skip, remember?"

"No, like. You didn't even stop at the student parking lot where we could all get out, you drove straight to the front of the school to drop us off. Why would you do that if you were just gonna go to the parking lot afterward?"

"I don't know. I skip when I feel like it. I was gonna go, but I guess along the way, I didn't feel like it anymore."

"That's kind of a half-assed way to skip school. You'd already gotten out of bed, so why even bother?" He had to kind of laugh at the thought of it. Craig seemed like the kind of person to stop giving a shit even if he had his foot halfway through the door.

"Are we in the same History class?"

That was random, but Kenny had to stare at the ceiling to think too. Uh...he didn't remember. He didn't pay much attention when roll was called, but maybe...yeah, now that he thought about it, yeah they were. "Yeah, we are. You're the very back of the room though."

"We had a presentation due today. That's why I skipped. I didn't feel like standing up in front of everyone."

Wait, they did?

"...What presentation?" He'd had his head so far up his ass lately, he had kind of been slipping in school lately. Definitely failing English. And Art. Ugh, why did he even bother with school anymore. He was going to live forever, so it's not like going to school would do him any good now. It was social suicide and only grated on his last nerves.

"It was assigned like a week ago. We got a rubric for it and everything. No partners though, it's just a short presentation, thank God. I hate group work."

"Me too." Thinking, thinking, nope. He didn't remember getting a rubric for it. Maybe he'd died that day? Jesus, even when he skipped, he worried about school. He was supposed to be taking this time to not worry about school, but fuck that.

Maybe Craig had noticed he was getting nervous, and maybe he wasn't the bastard he always thought he was since elementary school. Maybe he really was nice and it just didn't show until you actually had a conversation with him, and maybe he really was empathetic towards other people, because then he asked, "Do you want to play Mario Kart?" and Kenny could feel himself already forgetting about school again, about his deaths, about being immortal.

"Yes."

The next two hours were spent just playing video games. Craig had a Wii which Kenny hadn't played very much, but it wasn't hard getting accustomed to the weird controls. Pretty soon, he and Craig were yelling swears at each other, how dare one of them throw that turtle shell, how fucking could Kenny hit Craig with that banana peel?

Kenny always picked Princess Peach no matter what race they were in and he was astounded that Craig didn't give him shit for picking a girl. Every time he played Mario Kart with Stan, Kyle, and Cartman, he always picked a girl too, but he was ripped on for it. Oh my god, how could you pick a girl, are you gay? Just shit like that. Mostly from Cartman. God, that guy was such a bastard, he never knew why he ever hung out with him, why he didn't just ditch them.

This was the most he'd ever seen any emotion from Craig, and he supposed Mario Kart could bring out the worst in people, but it was so interesting to see Craig shouting at him, calling him an asshole bastard dipshit, and flipping him off every two seconds. It made him laugh. And he just threw another red shell at him, knocking Craig off a cliff and he could hear his character's wails of noooo as they fell and he threw his head back laughing as Craig turned to him, fuming with anger.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'D JUST GOTTEN IN FIRST PLACE!"

Pretty soon, by about another hour had run around, Kenny was losing his winning streak and Craig had gotten the upper hand, and now he was the one suffering from having shells thrown at him and falling off cliffs and the swears were now directed the other way.

"NO, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, ARE YOU SHITTING ME?" And it was funny when Craig wasn't the one yelling at him, and he was the one winning, all he said in retaliation with a straight face was, "Hehheh," and it only made Kenny more irritated at this stupid game.

The final race was underway and Kenny was still yelling at him and had fallen back to fifth place and was groaning about it, when they both heard the front door open and slam shut from downstairs. For Kenny, who was used to slamming doors and yelling family members, but who had also gotten used to the silence, it made him jump so bad, he dropped his controller, and Craig paused their game, mumbling, "Shit" under his breath.

Not even bothering to sugarcoat it, Craig just turned to him with an expression that said he was tired, but also accepted what was about to happen and said to him," My mom is about to come up here and yell at me. I forgot to pick my sister up from school."

Before Kenny could say anything, sure enough, footsteps were heard stomping up the stairs and then Craig's door was slammed open, his mom standing there absolutely fuming. She stopped to stare at Kenny for a few seconds, then back at Craig. "Come out here right now." It was said in such a low tone that did not match how she looked at all, a sweet-looking mom, the kind that looked like she'd call you sweetie or bake you cookies for no reason, that it even freaked out Kenny, and all he could do was watch as Craig rose from the floor, standing taller than his mom, and walk into the hallway with her. She slammed the door shut before shouting at him.

Most of it was unintelligible yelling. Craig yelled, his mom yelled back, but Kenny made out the gist that was basically how dare you skip school again, do you realize your sister had to take the bus home, do you realize how dirty that bus is, she hates taking the bus, you made your sister cry, why can't you be responsible.

It was so fucking surreal to hear a parent yelling at their kid and being an audience member to that, instead of being in the situation himself. Kenny was used to hearing his parents argue almost every night. He was used to yelling. It made him nervous, he had turned into a type of person who hated loud noises because of it, and he swore he'd never pick up a bottle of alcohol and become a person like his dad, but this was just weird. He felt horrible for being there, for even hearing this, because it was something private, and he shouldn't be hearing it.

The yelling stopped and the house was quiet again, but it felt strained instead of safe. The bedroom door opened and Craig came in, his head held down and his shoulders hunched up. That seemed to be the posture he took whenever he was stressed. The figure of his mom appeared behind him, holding onto the doorknob. "Just wait until your father gets home and hears about this. And stop smoking in your room! How many times do we have to tell you? You're going to give yourself lung cancer! All of your things smell like smoke now! Why can't you just behave?"

Not even waiting for an answer, she slammed the door shut, and Kenny was able to breathe. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. Turning to Craig, he felt so bad for being there, for hearing that, and he didn't know what to say, to do. He couldn't even muster an, "Are you okay?" It wouldn't come out. Finally, he said, "Um-" but Craig cut him off.

"Don't talk to me."

Oh god, he was pissed. Kenny was kind of internally freaking out, because they were just having fun not five minutes ago, and already it was ruined, and he didn't know how to make it better. This was all his fault. If he hadn't asked Craig to skip for him-even though he told him he was going to skip anyway, it was still his fault. He shouldn't be here. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was just getting Craig in trouble for being at his house.

Craig wasn't saying anything and Kenny didn't know what to do. Sitting in silence was agonizing for him, because it felt so good before, but now it was wrong. Finally he stood up to leave. Craig still didn't say anything. He said not to talk to him, and maybe leaving him alone was the best thing to do right now. He still had to deal with his dad once he got home, and Kenny didn't need to be there for that.

This was stupid. Stupid, fucking stupid. He still couldn't say he was sorry, or how he could help, because he didn't know how to say it. Kenny didn't know how the hell to comfort people when they were upset, so he left. Without saying anything, he felt like the biggest ass in the world for not saying anything, but he didn't know what to say.

With his little crappy backpack in his hands, he was back on the streets when he left Craig's. It had started snowing again, but he didn't care. He didn't want to go home, he didn't want to go anywhere.

Things were finally starting to feel bearable again, only for it to be ripped away from him. Why? Why did it have to be this way? Why the hell did he even bother with anything? Life was so pointless, only because the fact that he was going to live forever kept going through his mind day and night. It was a broken record, repeating itself over and over, and it would never go away. You're never going to die, you're never going to die.

Kenny walked aimlessly, not caring where he ended up, because now he felt numb to the world. Nothing mattered. Nothing ever mattered. He wanted to blame someone for making him feel this way, but it all came back to himself. It was his fault. It was always his fault, so there was no point.

He wished he really was insane and that nothing was real. He wished everything was just a figment of his imagination taking over and that he really would die one day, so at least everything would go away. He wished this was all a dream. It hurt so much to feel emotion, something happy, and have it taken from him. Why did God hate him? Was this all a cruel joke? If God wanted him dead so much, why wouldn't he just fucking kill him and stop making him suffer so much?

There wasn't a rational part of his mind anymore. There was nothing telling him Craig probably didn't hate him and that him being there during a fight was just a coincidence and there was nothing he could have done to stop it. Everything was his fault, and that was fact.

God, he was so tired of everything. He was so tired of living. He would have killed himself a long time ago if he wasn't fucking immortal.

The snow had started to fall harder, and Kenny realized he didn't know where he was anymore. But, that was okay. He had wound up in some kind of back alley that smelled like garbage. It didn't matter, it really didn't.

Sitting down, he pulled his backpack into his lap before digging around inside. He pulled out a gun and he had to wonder if his dad even realized he sometimes stole it from him. Once he used it, it would end up back in his dad's underwear drawer, but.

His hair was wet from the snow and he was cold and there was no more thinking, because he was tired of thinking, he was tired of being here, he was tired of everything when he put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.