South Park © Matt & Trey.
Kenny's POV.
I'm visiting Tweek again.
I managed to convince Craig to tag along with me, but he won't even enter the room. He is just standing in the doorway, staring blankly at the shaky blond.
"See, Craig came again," I say to Tweek.
He doesn't answer me, he just frowns.
"He's just being stubborn, don't mind him," I offer, "You know how he is."
Still nothing. His gaze continues to travel toward Craig and then back at me.
"Talk with me for a bit," I say gently, "You look like you have something you want to get off your chest. I'll listen."
He trembles, and I can see the anxiety building up.
"I d-don't know what to do," he whispers, looking straight at me as if I should have the answer. Unfortunately, I don't, so I just wrap an arm around him and let him lean into my shoulder. I give Craig the stink eye from my position on the bed, but his expression still doesn't change.
I just sit here, rubbing Tweek's back as he shakes and shudders, making miserable sounds. I see Craig hovering in the doorway, but he doesn't move until the shaky blond grows quiet.
"He needs this," I say softly.
"He needs what?" Craig asks, taking one small step forward but no more than that.
"Human contact, I suppose." I look up at him, and force a smile, "I like to think it helps him."
Craig frowns.
"But you know what?" I ask, "He doesn't need this from me. He needs it from you."
"I hurt him."
"Yeah," I say, "And that's why it has to be you. He needs to know that you aren't angry at him. He needs to know that he shouldn't be ashamed and… well, that you care."
"Shut up, McCormick," Craig mumbles.
"Sure," I laugh. "You should fix things. I won't always be here to help. To be honest, I could be dead tomorrow."
"You probably will be."
"Not like that," I say, "I mean I could be gone forever."
"How?"
I shrug, "It's complicated."
"Well make it uncomplicated."
I don't say anything. I just smile, because it's all I really can do.
Craig leaves minutes later. I'll visit him tonight. I'll tell him what's up and some of what's been on my mind lately.
Minutes later, Tweek lifts his head and apologizes, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"You have nothing to be sorry about," I assure him.
"Kenny, what did you mean you could be gone forever?" he asks.
I wave my hands dismissively. "Nothing, don't worry about that. I'm just fuckin' with Craig so he'll stop being an asshole," I lie. I don't really like to lie, but Tweek doesn't need anything else to worry about. He should just concentrate on feeling better.
"Oh," he lets out a deep breath and miserably says, "I'm tired."
I smile, probably looking just as sad. "Crying makes people tired," I say simply.
He shakes his head against my shoulder, "It's not just that."
"Then what is it?"
"I'm just… tired of everything."
"Tweek…."
"I'm struggling, Kenny."
"I know," I say softly.
At least he's finally admitting it.
As I leave the building, a rush of warm air comes over me. Summer is nice, but part of me misses the sound of the snow packing under my boots.
Craig is sitting in his car waiting. He has his arms crossed and a scowl placed firmly on his face.
"Hey, ass-face, you waited for me," I say once I step into the car, settling in the passenger seat.
"Dick."
I just laugh.
"How's… things?" he asks carefully, and I know he's referring to Tweek.
"As good as they can be," I pause, "Maybe getting better."
He nods, uncrossing his arms and starting the car. "Do you mind if we stop at the pet store?" he asks, staring ahead.
"No."
He looks over at me briefly before turning his gaze back to the road. "No, as in you do mind, or you don't?"
"I don't mind," I say, "Sorry."
"Don't apologize," he mumbles.
"Sorry," I grin.
He rolls his eyes.
I look out the window. It is beginning to dim outside. The streets, the traffic, the yellow taxis, the blaring horns, the lights and all the strange faces start to disappear. The moon casts foggy shadows on hay bales strewn across the miles and miles of farm land. Cows are lying restless on the fenced in green fields.
I guess South Park can be nice sometimes, when weird shit isn't happening… Or maybe it's the moon, with its romantic connotations, making everything seem a little prettier.
Soon we pull in front of the pet store and Craig parks the car.
"What are you buying?" I ask, even though I already know.
"Stripe died," he mumbles as we walk through the doors. "Don't pretend you didn't already know that."
"Fine, fine," I say, following him into the shop. I trail behind him silently as he purchases a new guinea pig, which he will also name Stripe. That's how it's been going since we were children. He'll mourn for a few days and then make his way to the pet store.
I watch Craig look at the guinea pigs, stopping when he finds the one that looks closest to Stripe.
He buys the little animal and makes me hold the box on my lap during the ride back to his place.
"So, what are you going to name it?" I snicker, sticking my hand in the box and playing with the rodent.
"You're hilarious," he says dryly, "Oh, wait, no you're not. You're a faggot."
"Stop being a bastard."
"Why?"
"Because someday I'll die for good and then you'll feel guilty. You'll wish you could see me again so you could say sorry and kiss my ass but it'll be too late because my ass will be rotting away in a grave."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
I scoff, "Really, Craig, I'm obviously not going to live forever. No one does."
"But you're immortal."
"I can't even call it that anymore," I mumble. "My life is connected to my mum's, remember? When she dies, I'll probably follow a few days later. Sucks to be me."
Mom told me that crucial piece of information when I turned twelve. God, I was so fucking angry at her for putting me through this shit.
I hope the fucking free beer was worth it.
Control is something I strive for, and it's something I don't have. I've lost all control I've had over my life a long time ago. Maybe I've never had any to begin with.
"What?" Craig asks.
"That's the curse," I say, "or have you forgotten?"
Craig's eyebrows draw together. "But your mom… she's fine, right?"
"As fine as a meth addict can be."
To be honest, I'm lying. I'm gonna die young.
My mum is in pretty rough shape. So is my dad, but he isn't the one who keeps ODing. It's happened a few times already, but I keep that information to myself. I guess this is why I've been trying to get my act together and fix things lately. Someday soon it might be too late and I'll be in hell full of regret. I'd hate that.
I've tried to tell my mom that she should take better care of herself because her life isn't just her own, it's mine as well, but she never really listens. I gave up on asking her to sober up a long time ago.
"Well, shit," Craig says bluntly.
When we arrive back to his house, Ruby is playing in the front yard with a few of her friends. When Craig steps out of the car, she turns and gives him the middle finger.
He carelessly returns the gesture, and the two of us walk inside. I think Ruby's friends like Craig, which is pretty adorable. I don't blame them, Craig is pretty damn fine, but Ruby is always there to remind them that he likes to play "butt pirates" with me, "that blond gay". Not guy, gay.
I go straight to Craig's room, while he grabs me something to eat. I can hear him arguing with his parents. I can't make out what their saying. I can just hear Craig raising his deep and nasally voice. I try to ignore it as I put Stripe in his cage.
"Here," Craig says, tossing me an apple after entering the room.
I nod my thanks, taking a bite out of it. "So, why were you fighting with your parents?"
"They're pissed I took the car without asking," he shrugs, "Apparently I'm also irresponsible."
"Can't argue with that," I shrug nonchalantly.
"Shut up before I stick that up your ass," he growls, nodding toward the apple.
"Hm," I say, looking at the round fruit in my hand, "It's pretty wide, I don't think it would fit… Want me to try?"
"You have absolutely no shame."
"I know, I know," I grin, "You love it."
He grimaces, "Can you stop being a whore for, like, five seconds?"
"Language, language," I mock scold. "But to be honest, I don't think you're irresponsible. I think you are lazy and unmotivated, but if something has to get done, you get it done… Even if you make sure to exert minimal effort."
He rolls his eyes.
"You should get your own car," I suggest, "You do work at an auto shop."
"Cars are expensive."
"Then save up."
"Whatever," he says, walking towards his desk and sifting through the drawer.
"What're you looking for?" I ask.
"This," he holds up a dime bag, and about fifteen minutes later we're both getting pretty ripped.
"Ever think about moving out?" I ask.
Craig shrugs. I think he's scared to move out. He doesn't want to end up alone in a dark, empty apartment with leaks and weird smells, unable to pay the cheap rent because he spends his money on stupid shit.
"I wish I could," I say, "If I could, I'd leave in a heartbeat. This place has a special way of sucking the life right out of yah. In my case, somewhat literally."
"Yeah…" he mumbles.
"So, gonna confess to Tweek?" I ask, blowing smoke in his face.
"That's the last thing he needs right now," Craig mumbles, "I've told him I was interested a long time ago… But he doesn't want any of that right now."
"Ah, yeah, it's probably best to save the romance until he gets better."
"It doesn't matter," Craig shrugs, "He doesn't love me."
"I love you."
"Stop joking around," he growls.
I'm not…
I smile, despite feeling like shit.
"You know," I point out, "Some people… they don't ever get better. It isn't like it is in faggy novels, television, and dramas. Everything likes to glamorize illness, but there's really nothing glamorous about it. Some people can't be saved."
"Yeah…"
"Tweek might not get better."
"I know," Craig admits, "I'm trying to prepare for that."
When it gets dark, I finally leave Craig's house to meet Stan and Kyle. Apparently Eric is coming home tonight…. probably with Wendy…. That'll be interesting.
"Hey, Stan," I say when I arrive at his doorstep.
"Hey," he says, "What've you been doing all day?"
"I went to see Tweek and then I went to Craig's house."
Stan nods, stepping out of his house.
"What about you?" I ask as we get into his car.
"I was at Kyle's."
"Ah," I say, "Did you fuck?"
"No, dude," he gives me a dry look. "We played video games. I want to make up with Wendy."
"Do you really?"
"What do you mean by that?" he raises an eyebrow at me before starting the car and pulling out of the driveway.
"You can't have them both, Stan," I say.
"Ughhh, shut up," he groans, tightening his grip on the steering wheel to a point that looks almost violent.
"That isn't going to help," I chuckle.
"Honestly, I have no idea what to do, dude," he sighs, relaxing his fingers.
"I thought as much," I shrug, sticking my hands in the front pockets of my sweater. "I can't tell you what you are supposed to do. Sorry, man."
"I know," he frowns.
"You'll have to figure it out on your own," I say, "But you will figure it out. Just think about it. I'll help in any way I can."
"It shouldn't be this hard, though," Stan says, "I mean, it has been me and Wendy since we were eight years old. Ever since then, I thought I'd just get married to her… It sucks. When we were young, we never questioned things. We never worried that things might change, that some of us might start drifting apart… We didn't really worry about anything when we were kids."
"Yeah, but at least it made for some interesting adventures," I supply, grinning.
"That's true enough," he chuckles lightly.
"So what about now?"
"Now I'm really confused."
I nod, "Well, how does Kyle make you feel?"
"I don't know, he's my best friend. He's… He's important."
"Well, I suppose you have to figure out how important," I say, "But just know one thing, if you go back to Wendy, Kyle will still be there. He'll forgive you. I can't say the same about Wendy if you choose Kyle. There's also the issue of Eric and how he'll react if you end up with Wendy. Or maybe he'll go all macho-man and beat you up for pissing her off, though I'm sure she could do more damage to you than he ever could."
"Dude…" he pales.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm not trying to persuade you into a certain decision; I'm just telling you what the outcome could be," I continue, "But then again, maybe not. Maybe each of you will be content with the choices you've all made and you will be brought together. Maybe you'll all be happy and you'll all have each other."
Stan grumbles.
"Compare your experiences with Wendy and Kyle. Think about how they make you feel. I mean, sex is one thing, but also try to think about who you enjoy your time with the most. I know you loved Wendy, maybe you still do, but is it the same love you had for her five, or even ten years ago?"
"Yeah… No… Fuck, I don't know."
I smile, "Like I said, take your time. This choice will affect your life."
"No pressure or anything," he sighs.
I laugh, patting his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll make the right choice."
"Kenny," he says, briefly peering over at me, "Out of curiosity, do you know what choice I'll end up making?"
"Yeah," I nod simply.
"Then why can't you just tell me? Help me out a bit?" he asks as we pull into Kyle's driveway.
"I can't do that, Stan," I shake my head, "You know I can't do that. It has to be you making these decisions. You have to figure things out for yourself. If you take the easy way out, you might end up living your life doubting me and, in turn, doubting yourself."
"Fine," he whines. "But… will I really make the right choice?"
I smile, "Yeah, dude."
He lets out a breath, nodding.
"You should try talking it all out with someone when you're ready," I suggest.
"Like who?"
"Anyone you're comfortable with. I'll listen, if you want."
"Thanks."
"Then when you piece your thoughts together, you can tell Kyle and Wendy what you want to do, and see what they think and feel as well."
"Yeah, maybe."
I just smile, looking out the window. Kyle exits his house and jumps in the back seat.
"Okay," I turn around and point my finger at him, "You aren't allowed in the back with Eric, so we're doing a switcheroo after we pick him up. You'll be up here with Stan, and I'll get in the back with Eric."
Kyle laughs, "That's probably a good idea…"
When we arrive at the airport we find Eric chatting with Wendy. As soon as she spots us, she bids Eric a goodbye and walks off, towing her luggage behind her. Stan looks miserably. I know he probably wants to run after her, but if he truly does want to fix things with her it is probably best to give her some time. After all, he isn't the one who's been hurt.
"Hey, fags," Eric greets us.
Stan opens the trunk, where Eric shoves his bags before hopping in the back seat with me.
"So, as you both probably know, Wendy told me what happened," Eric says, sounding pretty damn smug. "Oh, Kahl, you dirty boy…"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Kyle asks tersely from the passenger seat.
"Kahl, the only thing worse than a ginger Jersey Jew is a gay ginger Jersey Jew."
"Shut the hell up, Cartman!" he screams, turning around.
"I'm driving here, dude," Stan says, "Besides, he's not worth it, Kyle."
"It's going to be tough to keep this piece of ass in line, Marsh. Are you sure you want to commit so soon? I assumed you were above cheating. I guess I was wrong."
"FUCKING –" Kyle continues to scream obscenities.
"I always knew this was going to happen someday," Eric says, looking highly amused, "I just didn't think it would be this dramatic."
"Eric, lay off," I frown.
"Was raping the tight-assed Jew worth losing your girlfriend?" Eric asks, eying Stan in the rear-view mirror.
He's on a roll tonight… Jesus Christ.
Kyle is still shrieking in anger, while Stan cringes but manages to remain tight-lipped. I salute him. It's an especially difficult task to ignore Eric when he's being such a fucking dick.
As soon as we pull into Stan's driveway, Kyle jumps out of the car.
"Kyle," I warn, "Don't do anything stupid."
Clearly ignoring my request, Kyle jumps Eric as soon as he exits the car. He lands a few solid punches to Eric's face before Stan manages to pull him off.
"How come you didn't fight back?" I ask Eric while Stan tries to calm Kyle down.
"He's too small and weak," Eric spits, "I would've killed him."
I chuckle. "He can't be that weak," I say, gesturing to his lip, "He made you bleed."
"It doesn't hurt," he says, wiping the blood off on his sleeve.
"Sure, sure," I grin, "You just don't want to admit that Kyle has a wicked set of fists."
"Kahl's a diabetic pussy."
"I AM NOT A PUSSY," said redhead yells angrily, lunging at Eric once again.
"Guys, stop," I say, putting myself between them.
"No, Kinny, if Kahl really wants a fight, then I can give him one," Eric says, cracking his knuckles.
I put a hand firmly on each of their chests in one final attempt to get them to calm down, but they push me out of the way and directly into a nearby tree.
Ouch…
I look down at myself and see a branch protruding from my chest. Fucking great.
"Ah, you guys suck so many asses," I rasp, tasting blood.
"Oh, shit!" the three of them say in unison.
I swear, no matter how unlikely something is to happen, it will still happen.
Of course, I woke up in my bed again and left the house as quietly as I could.
"Where did you go?" they all ask once I get back.
Mrs. Marsh let me inside, walking me to the living room where the guys are watching television.
"You bunch of faggots killed me!" I yell. For emphasis, I pat the spot on my chest where the branch was sticking out from earlier.
Kyle opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it, frowning. "Did we… Did we really?"
"Yeah, you fuckin' well did," I say, turning to Eric, "What did you do with the body?"
"Tossed it in Stark's pond," he supplies unceremoniously.
I roll my eyes at the disgusting normalcy of it all.
Eric has always known, and on many occasions in the past he had been the one to dispose of my body. I don't know what it is that makes him immune to the ignorance that overcomes everyone else. Maybe it's because of how goddamn fucked up he is in the head.
Oh, well.
My parents won't even bury me anymore. I guess burials and funerals and all that shit probably got pretty costly. Now, they just toss my ashes into the wind.
To be perfectly honest, I'm not really angry that they killed me. It isn't the first time and maybe it won't be the last.
"So did you guys at least stop fighting?" I ask, eyeing Kyle and Eric.
To be honest, I don't think Eric really wants to hurt Kyle, he just can't control himself when it comes to the possibility of pissing him off and getting a rise out of him. I know he takes pleasure in that.
"Yes," Kyle mumbles somewhat angrily, giving Eric a look of repulsion.
Eric smiles sweetly at Kyle, who, in turn, mumbles, "Fatass."
"I'm not fat, Kahl, you're just anorexic. Someone needs to feed your skinny ass. What do you weigh?" Eric asks, "50 pounds wet?"
"I'm 120 pounds, fat-tits!"
"Same thing," he says dismissively, "Sorry we can't all have slim hips and perky little tits like you."
Stan puts a hand on Kyle's shoulder in an attempt to keep him calm.
I guess it works well enough, because he doesn't retaliate.
I hope those two morons work things out, because to be honest, I think they belong together. They complement each other perfectly.
And as for Eric… Hell, having a girlfriend as moral as Wendy would be perfect for him.