South Park © Matt & Trey.
Kenny's POV
Kyle and Stan are back in South.
Of course, the super best butt-friends had to attend the same university. It sucks that I don't get to see them during the year. I'm kind of pissed I didn't even get one email from them, but I won't bring it up. Kyle would just tell me that we don't need to talk every day to stay close, our friendship is stronger than that, we will be friends forever, blah blah blah gay.
I think that's why I spend all my time with Craig, among other reasons. He stayed in South Park when everyone else was eager as hell to get as far away as possible.
But like I said, they always come back. So I don't know why some of them bother leaving at all.
Craig works at an auto-shop and I still don't have a job. I'm not sure how Craig holds his down. To Craig, if something is optional, the answer is "no" and if it's not optional, he'll half ass it. That's kind of his motto. At least I have an excuse for why I fuck around. I can't hold a job down because I just end up getting fired for missing shifts. It's not my fault I keep dying. Fuck.
In a matter of minutes I'll be seeing Kyle and Stan for the first time since last summer and I know exactly what is going to happen once I get to Kyle's house. I'll ask him how school is going, how his marks were, things like that. I'll let him rant for a little while, because I know he's probably aching to tell me all about the university experience. Once he's finished, he'll ask how I'm doing. I'll tell him I'm doing fine, and he'll leave it at that, not noticing that maybe I'm not fine. I'm pissed. Tired. Angry.
People seem to think that Kenny McCormick isn't capable of feeling those things. Kenny McCormick is a fun and easy going guy. I guess that is true enough, but I can also be the opposite of those things. I kind of wish people would understand that, but then again maybe it's all my own fault for keeping quiet.
And sure enough, that is exactly how it went down. Kyle ranted about school, and when he asked me how I was, I told him, "I'm fine. Nothing new in South Park."
However, he seems a little bit off.
"Stan will be over in a bit and Cartman will be back in South Park tomorrow," he says after he's finished filling me in on his school life.
"Okay," I smile. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
"Uh, no?" Kyle tilts his head.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes?" he frowns. "Why?"
"You just look like there's something else on your mind."
"There isn't…"
"If you say so," I shrug, still not quite convinced. "Hey, can I use your shower? There's no hot water at my place."
When we were young, I'd usually do my bathing at Stan or Kyle's house, sometimes even Eric's when the fucker would take pity on me. Now I just bug Craig when we run out of hot water.
Kyle nods, "I'll get you a towel."
"All right," I say, making my way into the bathroom. Once inside, I turn on the taps and strip down.
Kyle politely averts his eyes as he walks in, towel in hand.
"Kyle?"
"What?"
"Want to stay in here?"
"But you're naked," he mumbles.
"It's okay," I say, amused. "You don't want to be alone now, do you?"
"Stop reading my mind," he sighs, slowly lifts himself up and takes a seat on the counter, placing the towel on his lap.
I chuckle, stepping into the shower and watching him through the transparent shower curtain. He looks like he's contemplating something. I wonder what.
I turn away and reach for a bottle of raspberry scented shampoo, squirting a bit into my hand. I wonder if it's Kyle's or Ike's shampoo… I'd guess Sheila's, but Kyle's parents have their own bathroom. It's probably Kyle's.
"Kenny?" he finally says in a loud. "You know how Wendy and Cartman go to school in the same area?"
"Yeah…?" I raise an eyebrow, sticking my shampoo-covered head out from behind the curtain.
"Well…" he trails off.
"What is it?"
"Wendy's fucking Cartman," he mumbles miserably.
Wait…
"What?" I just about choke. "Seriously? Just like that?"
His cheeks turn pink and I see him frowning.
"Kyle," I say, before repeating my question. "Why would Wendy do that if she's dating Stan? And why does that even bother you? Clearly something happened."
And I think I have a feeling what it may have been.
He mumbles something indiscriminate, looking down at the tiled floor as if he's searching for life's fuckin' truth.
"Well?"
"Because," he sighs, "Wendy and Stan had a fight. They've been fighting like that for a while… I guess the long-distance part of their relationship was hard for them both to handle. So without warning she came one night to work things out with him in person… She ended up walking in on Stan and I… in bed… together… It was her payback to Stan."
I feel a laugh force its way out my throat before I can stop myself.
"Dude!" Kyle shrieks, giving me a sharp look. "It's not fucking funny! It was mortifying!"
Haha! Oh, God. Oh shit, this is perfect. I always knew Kyle was secretly gay for Stan. I knew that Stan probably felt something too, but was probably too scared to act on it. I guess I was wrong. I guess this is the only way it could've happened. Stan is a little too dumb to do things the right way.
"So you are screwing Stan –" I start while rinsing my hair.
"Was," Kyle corrects, "We… stopped doing that stuff. Stan wants to fix things with Wendy."
Ah. Of course Stan would end things like that. Poor Kyle.
"Why the hell?" I ask, "You are way better suited for Stan. Why the hell would he sleep with you if he knew he'd regret it later? It doesn't seem like something he would do."
Eric is probably revelling in the twisted betrayal. He loves this kind of sick shit.
Kyle nods miserably, and I give him my most understanding look.
"I don't want pity," he mumbles, rubbing his hand over his face.
"It's not pity, dude," I shrug. "I guess you could say it's empathy."
"Empathy?" he asks, looking up at me.
I see the blood rush to his face as I step out of the shower and onto the floor mat. He turns his head away and hands me the towel. I feel myself grin. I bet Stan would be jealous if he was here to witness Kyle blushing at me.
"Weird as it may seem, I understand what you're going through. You know, we're kind of in the same boat, you and I."
"Yeah?" he asks, tilting his head.
"Yeah," I say. "But it's okay, dude. It'll be okay. Stan was kind of a dick for doing all that shit to you."
"I wanted it, though…"
"You wanted something different than what Stan gave you. What you wanted was his soul and mind and all that gay stuff, but what he gave you was his body. It was all he could give you. Wendy has, or had, the part of him that you want. She keeps it locked away where only she can reach it." I shake my head and sigh, "Stan should have known better… To be honest, I don't think Stan knows what he wants, even now. You've given him something important to think about."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," I start as I dry off my limbs, "you might have a chance with him after all."
Kyle just shrugs, probably trying to play it off like he doesn't care but we both know that isn't the case.
"And even if you don't have him in the end, you know what they say," I continue, tossing the towel into the hamper before getting redressed. "It's better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all."
"Maybe," he mumbles.
"Come on," I say, throwing my arm around him. "Cheer up."
We walk back into Kyle's bedroom where we find Stan sitting on Kyle's bed with crossed arms.
"What have you guys been doing?" he raises an eyebrow at us, looking annoyed as we walk into the room together.
"Showering," I grin.
"Together?"
"Yeah –" I begin, but Kyle cuts me off.
"No."
Stan's annoyance lessens visibly and I can't help but smile to myself.
"No need to be jealous, Stan," I laugh, jumping onto the bed where Stan and Kyle are situated. "So," I begin, "Anything you want to talk about?"
It's evident that Kyle is getting pretty tired of Stan crying about how Eric stole Wendy away from him.
"Wendy's a smart person, dude," I say, in an attempt to help. "She's the type of person who wouldn't let herself be stolen away unless she wanted to be. She's also the type of person who would rightfully scold you for saying that she's capable of being stolen away because women aren't property… And she'd be right. Wendy isn't stupid. She's smart, really smart. She knows exactly what she's doing."
"So, you're saying…" he pauses, "that I'm being an idiot."
I smile lightly, "Glad you caught on."
He sighs, letting out a defeated sounding chuckle. "I guess I was asking for it, though. I didn't really ever listen to her."
"Maybe," I say, joining him in soft laughter… That among other things, Stan.
"She was always so bothered when I spent time with Kyle," he shrugs.
"Did you ever wonder why?"
He flushes. "I mean, I couldn't choose between my super best friend and my girlfriend. That's dumb."
"Did you ever think that maybe that wasn't what she was worried about when she was jealous?" I offer.
"What do you mean?"
I smile a bit. "I mean, look at the way you and Kyle are with each other. You still share a bed during sleepovers, and you basically spoon with each other in your sleep," I hold up a hand when Stan and Kyle look like they're about to protest, "Don't even bother denying it, guys, I've seen it firsthand. She probably felt threatened by Kyle… Besides, you did fuck him. Wendy isn't naïve. I'm sure she had that fear lingering in the back of her mind, and when you guys confirmed it something in her broke."
"So you told him," Stan mumbles, peering over at his best friend.
"Yeah," Kyle shrugs.
Stan seems to be considering what I said, while Kyle simply asks, "By the way, Kenny, how do you know I was on the bottom?"
"Oh, Kyle," I say, patting his head in mock sympathy. "I just know these things."
Apparently Kyle also has a pretty big dick and I personally can't see Stan taking that up the ass anytime soon. He has a pretty low pain tolerance and gets incredibly whiny when he's in pain.
Their cheeks turn a faint pink color and Stan mumbles something indiscriminate.
"What was that?" I ask.
"Nothing," he shakes his head. "Just… when I think about it, it makes sense."
"What does?"
"Cartman and Wendy."
"Yeah?"
He nods, "I mean, they kind of… mesh well. She's kind of scary sometimes. Remember in grade three, when we had that substitute Ms. Ellen? Wendy got jealous and she decided to… get rid of her…?"
"Yeah," I snicker. Wendy could be fuckin' crazy. She's kicked Eric's ass once or twice in the past. Knowing how fucked up he is, it probably made him like her even more.
After getting all the heavy talk out of the way, we enjoy the rest of the night with simpler talk and some good old video games.
The next day I visit Tweek at the hospital.
"Hey, you," I say, because he's never the first one to talk.
"Hi," he says, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.
"Tired?"
"I guess."
"Are you sleeping well?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sleeping often?"
"Yeah…" he frowns. "It's almost all I ever do now."
"Y'know, I used to sleep a lot, too," I laugh bitterly. "I think I felt that I could sleep my problems away. I mean, I've never exactly died in my sleep and if I did I don't remember."
"Did it make things easier?" Tweek asks.
"For a while, but the problems were always there when I woke up," I say. "That's why you need to deal with things. You can't just pretend they aren't there in hopes they'll eventually go away. They won't. You have to talk to your doctors, and talk to your friends."
He looks down.
"Tweek," I say.
"Huh?" he jumps at the sound of his name.
"How's therapy going?"
"I'm not –nng– sure," he shrieks his admittance.
"Come on," I reach out and puts a hand on his shoulder. He shudders at the contact and I draw back. "You can talk to me."
"I know," he says. "You listen, and you don't tell people's secrets."
I nod.
"When I was sixteen I had a therapist who… He-He used to make me keep these lists about some of my secret things," he starts.
I nod again.
"I didn't like that… telling a stranger those things."
"What things?" I ask softly.
"What-I-did-during-the-week kind of lists," he continues. "What I had eaten, who I had argued with… Fights I've been in, who I hit, who hit me, what I had thrown up, how many cigarettes I smoked, who I had sex with, how many lies I had told and who to, whether I hurt myself… He didn't make me do it for long. I always worried so much about the lists, because Jesus Christ, having to remember all the shit I say and do is way too much pressure, man!"
"Yeah," I smile lightly. "That's a lot to remember."
"I didn't like him," Tweek shudders.
"How's your new therapist?"
"He's nicer… He doesn't make me keep those kinds of lists."
"That's good."
"Do you think Craig hates me?" he asks suddenly with a slight tremor.
I shake my head.
"Do you think he's angry?"
"No," I say. "He's upset, but not in the angry way."
"Then what way?"
"He didn't want to see you like that."
"But why?"
"He cares about you, and when he found out what you were doing he seen a part of himself in you."
"A part of himself?"
I nod, "The part he hates most."
Tweek frowns, "Is Craig sad too?"
I smile, though it's probably a pretty lame attempt. "Everyone is a little sad," I say. "Even the happiest people. Sometimes people don't even know why they're sad."
"Sometimes I don't know why I'm sad," he admits.
"That's okay. Sometimes there are reasons, and sometimes there are none."
My first visit with Tweek didn't go over well.
He didn't notice me when I entered the little square room. His eyes were open, but I doubted he was seeing anything at all. I thought for sure that his mind had been breaking into a new fit of paranoia. He was shaking, trying to scratch at the holes in his arms and making quiet murmuring sounds.
He was just lying there, strapped down and staring wide eyed at what looked like nothing in particular. I picked up one of the pillows on his bed and lightly hit him with it, but he didn't seem to notice. I gave him a couple light smacks on the face, trying to make him snap out of whatever trance he was in.
"Stop," he eventually mumbled.
"Sorry," I said. I reached for his arm and lifted up his sleeve.
"Tweek…" I mumbled, noticing the bandages. "Why did you hurt yourself again?"
"Relief?" he said, wording the answer like question. "Every time I bled, it was like… things were pouring out of me… not just blood. In the end, that's all I really wanted… I wanted the bad things gone."
I nodded, somewhat sympathetically, "I think that's what everyone wants. They want the bad things gone."
It's true, I think.
I'm no different.
"Hey, Tweek?" I say, snapping myself out of depressing nostalgia. "Do you want me to call Craig?"
He shakes his head frantically.
Craig's been here, but he never stays long, and he hasn't spoken to Tweek yet. Maybe it's still too soon. Things are still pretty tense between the two because of everything that had happened between them.