South Park © Matt & Trey.
r&r!
Kenny's POV
"This is boring," I sigh. We're parked near Stark's Pond and Craig just lit his sixth cigarette since we've stopped here.
"Yup," he says, "Nice and boring, just the way I like it."
I frown, puffing up my cheeks.
He grimaces, "You're not as cute as you think."
"But you admit I'm cute," I wink.
"… Maybe," he mumbles, leaning back in the car seat, "When you're not being such a fag."
I take the cigarette from between Craig's lips, inhale, and then blow the smoke back into his face.
He gives me an irritated look, but doesn't say anything else for a while.
"Hey…" he starts.
"Hm?"
"What's it like to lose everything?" he asks.
I laugh, rolling down the window to let some of the smoke escape. "What do you mean by that?"
"That's what dying is, right?" Craig continues, "It's losing everything you have, everything you know, everything you are?"
"In a way… maybe it is."
"So what's it like?"
"Quiet, if you can imagine," I say, trying to explain it to him as best as I can. I don't think it's possible to accurately word what it's really like. Putting it to words always makes it seem less horrible.
"Oh."
But I suppose it can be quiet here, too.
When we arrive back to Craig's house we fling off our clothes unceremoniously and his crappy death metal playlist is on full blast in the background. I don't get how he can listen to this shit. Least of all, I don't get why this is the type of music he chooses to use as his sexual soundtrack… Then again, maybe it's only with me. And maybe that makes sense. This definitely isn't movie-type romance. It's far from it. This is all pretty angry and desperate and miserable, just like those songs.
Once he's naked, he sits on his bed, up against the headboard.
After preparing myself properly for once, I position myself over him and sink slowly into his lap before moving my hips.
He has his eyes closed again.
"Fuck," I breathe out between shaky pants, digging my nails into his shoulders. I'm probably hurting him, but he doesn't say anything. He just digs his fingers into my hipbones and I let out a quiet string of moans.
I love you.
We're close enough to kiss, but we don't. Of course we don't.
I love you…
I fucking love you…
Why can't you see that?
Craig drops me off at Stan's later on in the day. The guys are all standing around in the driveway waiting for me.
"Kenny, you look like shit," Eric laughs at me through the rolled down window.
"Eat me," I yawn, stepping out of the car carefully. My butt hurts, even though I was careful this time.
Eric laughs some more, "You look like you just got good and fucked."
Well… yeah, I did, but Eric definitely doesn't need to know that –
"Oh, yeah, McCormick likes it rough," Craig cuts in nonchalantly, "He's into all that weird kinky shit."
Kyle laughs loudly and Stan makes a face, while Eric simply raises an eyebrow. "And you know all of this how…?" he pauses and begins waving his hand dismissively, "You know what? Never mind, I don't even want to know."
My lips part in annoyance, causing Craig to snicker and say, "Dicks don't fly, McCormick, though I'm sure you wish they did. It must hurt spending so much time on your knees."
"You're funny, Craig," I say, somewhat bitterly, "I didn't know that about you."
He just smirks before pulling out of the driveway.
"What a bastard," I mumble after he's gone.
Kyle laughs, "Was he serious, dude?"
"Of course not," I grimace, "Like I'd fuck that ugly asshole."
An obvious lie and a pretty weak insult, but hey, I'm allowed to keep my own secrets. I'm not looking to bother anyone with my problems, especially when they have so much of their own shit to deal with.
"Ah, Craig isn't bad to look at," Kyle shrugs, "He's definitely a bit of an asshole, though."
"A huge asshole," I correct.
"Plus he has crooked teeth," Eric supplies as the four of us walk inside Stan's house.
"His teeth aren't that bad," I reason, because they're really not. Besides, I think it's one of the few things he is actually self-conscious of, no thanks to Eric's constant taunts when we were kids.
"Who did you guys get to buy the booze this time?" I ask as we settle in the kitchen. Sharon and Randy are gone to Florida for the week, so an opportunity like this called for celebration.
I don't think Sharon and Randy are very fond of me. It's probably because my father. My father used to be friends with Randy and Gerald, but now they both hate him. I don't blame them. If I wasn't his son, I'd probably hate him too. But he's my dad, so I can't.
"Shelley," Stan says.
I lift an eyebrow, "She actually agreed to it?"
Stan frowns, "I had to pay her extra for the energy she would have to exert going down to the liquor store."
"Not surprised," I laugh.
Stan Marsh drinks more than I do. I guess it's one of the things he's never really grown out of. He's been getting people to buy him liquor since he was a fucking child.
If you were to ask me, I'd say that it's fine to drink with friends, but when you start drinking alone then you know there's a problem. I think Stan still drinks by himself sometimes.
"Where is Shelley going to be tonight?" I ask.
"With her boyfriend."
"Ah," I say. To be honest, I'm glad she won't be here. I can't stand her.
"So, what's everyone having?" Stan asks, going into the cupboard and grabbing a bottle of spiced rum, and a bottle of raspberry vodka.
"Raspberry vodka?" I cringe, after reading the label.
Stan shrugs, handing us each a glass. "I told Shelley to just get whatever."
"Sounds kind of gnarly," I say, pouring myself a glass.
"Sounds like something dainty little Kahl would drink if he could."
"Dainty," I laugh, "Kyle is many things, but I wouldn't say dainty is one of them."
"I don't know whether I should be annoyed or pleased," Kyle says, sipping on a glass of water. He doesn't like to drink. I think it has something to do with those insulin shots he takes. Eric never misses a chance to laugh at him over that little tidbit of information. I've asked him if it bothers him that we drink, but he's insisted it doesn't. I think he finds it entertaining to watch us all make idiots out of ourselves. I also don't think he minds taking care of us when one of us takes things a little too far. He reminds me of Craig in that way, always helping me when I've had too much.
"Look at how he drinks!" Eric points, "If that isn't dainty I don't know what is."
Kyle rolls his eyes and I half expect him to spit his water out into Eric's face, but he doesn't.
"Dude, do you have sprite or lemonade or something?" I ask.
Stan nods, "Sprite okay?"
"Yeah," I say, thanking him after he hands me a can. "This stuff… I don't even know how to describe it."
"Personally," Eric states, "I would describe it as gay."
I snicker.
"And that is why I brought my own drink," he says, pulling whisky out of his bag.
"Disgusting," Kyle grimaces.
"It's a man's drink," Eric corrects him, "Kyle, you are not yet a man."
"Oh, really?" he asks dryly, giving Eric the stink-eye.
"Really," Eric says, chugging straight from the bottle while keeping a perfectly neutral expression.
I don't know how he does it. Whisky has never been something I could keep down for long.
As the night progresses, we find our way in the living room. Stan and Eric are sitting on the floor playing video games and Kyle and I are on the sofa, watching.
"So," Kyle quietly says, "You and Craig?"
I turn to face him, "No –"
"Don't lie," he warns.
"Okay, fine," I say somewhat tersely. "Yeah, me and Craig… Kind of."
"Goddamn, for how long?"
I don't say anything.
"Kenny," Kyle nudges me, "Come on. We're friends."
"Kyle…"
"Come oooon," he says, repeatedly poking me in the side.
"Okay, okay," I relent. "We first got it on when we were fourteen, but I've been interested in him since we were fuckin' twelve."
"That's a really long time."
"I know."
"Do you love him?"
"I guess so," I say, "How'd you put all this together anyway? Usually I'm the one who solves these little mysteries."
Kyle grins, "Stan told me you loved someone."
"Ah, Stan, you traitor," I yell over at him.
"Huh? What did I do?" he asks airily without turning around. He doesn't sound like he's all there, so I don't bother answering. I suppose I'm not so angry. Maybe it's best not to have any secrets.
"Heh," Kyle snickers, "Does Craig love you?"
"Nah."
"Does he know you love him?"
"Nah."
"You should tell him."
"I know."
"He deserves to know, I think."
"I know."
"You might feel better once you tell him, even if nothing comes out of it."
"I know."
"Dude, is that all you're going to say?"
"Sorry, sorry," I sigh, "It's pretty complicated."
"Is he ever nice to you?"
I snort, "Not really."
Kyle frowns, "He's emotionally selfish."
"I think we're all a little emotionally selfish," I say, "Craig is just more so."
Kyle smiles a bit, "He doesn't want to get hurt."
"Who does?" I chuckle, "But I guess… He can be nice sometimes, now that I think of it. There have been times when he's tried, so I guess that counts."
"Yeah, I'd say that counts," Kyle agrees.
"We can hear you guys," Eric interrupts loudly.
"Yeah, that's fine," I say.
"It's funny," Eric continues, "How you all turned out to be a bunch of faggots."
"Eric, as kids, you were stereotypically the gayest of us all," I say, "Putting Butter's fuckin' dick in your mouth, dressing in drag and seducing old dudes, and lest we forget Hennifer Lopez. It's ironic how you're the one who ended up with a girl."
"Yeah, well…" Eric mumbles, "That was a long-ass time ago."
"Dude, you gave some guy a blowjob."
"How'd you know about that?" Eric asks, "You were dead."
"Kyle and Stan kindly filled me on it."
Eric growls. "I was young! I thought it was a straw!"
I snort, "A fucking straw, dude, seriously."
"Hey!" Eric shouts, "You sucked cock before too."
"Well, shit, yeah. I do it all the time," I shrug.
He cringes before collecting himself, "I mean as a kid, ass-wipe."
I laugh, "But I'm not the straight one."
Eric groans, clearly irritated.
"Just admit it," I reason with him, "You had some gender identity issues going on."
"So what?" Eric asks, miffed.
"Does Wendy know?" I grin.
"Don't you fucking dare tell her!" he says, looking mortified.
Kyle laughs loudly.
The night is going by pretty smoothly. Usually someone gets too drunk and hurls, or someone gets too drunk and cries… But none of us are puking or sobbing yet, so it's a good sign.
By "someone", I'll admit that I mean Stan is always the one to cry and I'm always the one to puke. Eric prides himself on never doing either of those things.
Ah, well.
Stan and Eric return to playing video games, bickering over who is winning.
"Kenny, you're not a God," Kyle says, turning to me. "So stop pretending you are. You're a human being, just like me, just like Stan… Just like Cartman and just like Craig. Humans need contact from other humans, not just physically, but mentally as well."
"I think I'll tell him," I say.
"Good."
"I don't know if he'll believe me," I admit, "I've tried before, and he brushed it off like a joke. It hurt… But I guess I should do it more tactfully next time."
Kyle smiles sympathetically, "Prove it to him, look him in the eye and don't look away until he understands."
"Yeah…" I mumble, chewing on my thumb.
I already know how this will go, but I guess Craig still deserves to hear it.