South Park © Matt & Trey.
Why am I so mean to Kenny?
Kenny's POV
"Do you ever pretend I'm Tweek?" I ask Craig the next day.
He doesn't answer.
"It's okay…" I say, "If you do, it's okay… You can pretend I'm Tweek."
Shit, I know how wrong it is. I know how completely pathetic it sounds. I know I'm just making things worse, but I can't end things just yet. I'm not ready to end things yet.
"I'm not going to pretend you're Tweek," Craig mumbles, "I never did."
"Then why wouldn't you look at me?"
"Because it's harder than it sounds."
"No, it isn't, I always look at you, even though you never look back."
"We're two very different people."
"I suppose…"
"For me, things like that are hard."
Maybe it's that mental connection Kyle was talking about last night. Craig wants to avoid it, while I've been here unknowingly seeking it out.
I only nod and suddenly, Craig puts his hands on my shoulders.
"What're you doing?" I ask.
"Hold on, shut up…"
"Well romance me with small talk…" I say sarcastically.
"I'm trying something," he says awkwardly. He leans in closer and presses his lips to mine.
It's over about as quick as it started, but it happened none the less. Craig Tucker kissed me.
"What was that for?" I ask, somewhat surprised, after he draws back.
"Don't say anything," he holds up a hand and takes a few steps back.
I watch as he lifts his t-shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor before carelessly shrugging out of his pajama pants.
I raise an eyebrow as he strips. "Craig…?"
I can feel my heart beating faster and faster in my chest, like it's trying to force its way out.
He gives me a look, and I can't help but smile.
"Are you gonna make me say it?" he sighs, lying down in the center of his bed.
I chuckle, "Yeah, I wanna hear you say it."
Propping himself up on two elbows, he looks at me and says, "Fuck me, McCormick."
"Craig…" I say again. My heart is beating so fast and loud he can probably hear it.
He rolls his eyes, "Get over here."
"It's okay," I take a step towards the bed, "I can't force you to love me."
"I know," he agrees, "But I can give you this much."
"You don't have to do that. I don't want you to if you don't want to…"
"I want to."
"Is it wrong?" I ask, taking another step closer.
"It's not wrong," Craig says, sounding uncharacteristically amused. "We've done way worse than this."
"I suppose so."
"Besides," he starts, "Since when do you put value in things like ass-virginity?"
I smile at that, "Well, never I supposed. Not until now."
"Am I that special?" he asks. There isn't malice or mocking in the question.
"Yeah," I say.
"Well, then," Craig snorts, "If we're going to be all sentimental and gay and shit, then I want it to be you. You deserve it."
"You're not a prize, Craig."
"You know what I mean," he shrugs. "Come on, take of your clothes and get over here."
I tilt my head to the side, still unsure of many things. Is this really happening? Why? Does Craig have some weird ulterior motive?
No. No, I know that isn't the case. He's not that kind of person. Deep down, he's good.
"Are you sure?" I ask.
"Please."
A word I never thought I'd live to hear him say.
I chuckle as I begin to undress. "So, hey, am I allowed to kiss you tonight?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says, lying back down.
I saunter towards Craig, kneeling over him. It's weird, how much I've wanted this to happen, how much I've fantasized about it. I reach for the rim of his boxers and he lifts his hips as I tug them off. I toss them behind me and he spreads his legs apart so I can settle between them. Hell, I have to take a second to admire him looking like that, because I doubt it's something I'll ever get to see again.
"Stop staring," he mumbles, looking away.
"Sorry." I grin at him. "Now relax."
"I know," he releases a breath. "I've done this to you before."
"Is this okay?" I ask, touching him with fingers first.
"I'm not made of glass."
"I know you're not." Believe me, I know.
I grab his hips and drag him closer to me, positioning myself against him. To be honest, I've never been on top before. It feels different than it was with a girl. I push in as slow as I can. Immediately, his muscles tighten and his eyebrows draw together.
"Give me a sec," he says in a gravelly voice.
I nod, waiting until he'd ready for me to move.
"How does it feel?" I ask.
"Weird…" he says honestly.
I laugh lightly, "I know…"
"But not in a bad way," he finishes.
I lean down and press my lips against his, opening and unresisting. I watch his eyes close before I allow mine to do the same, getting lost in the mild sensation of his mouth moving with mine.
What could be seconds or minutes later, he pulls back with a quiet, wet sound and looks up at me.
"You can move now," he whispers.
It's twisted, but at the same time it's kind of perfect. Of course it would have happened like this; however, I don't mind it. I don't mind at all. I've wanted him like this for so long, and I don't think I'd ever be able to put into words what I'm feeling.
I can hear Craig panting, taking in ragged breaths and damn, he looks perfect.
I don't care what anyone else says and I don't care how corny it sounds – to me, he's perfect. Even with all his flaws.
Of course, when the best moment of my life occurred, the worst moment would follow shortly after. Apparently Kenny McCormick isn't allowed to be happy for more than a few hours. Can't say I'm surprised.
On my way home from Craig's last night I felt something. Something painful, like a part of me was being ripped out. I wouldn't know how to describe it using better words, but it was all wrong. I fell onto the ground, clutching my chest. I had this feeling of impending doom swelling in my gut. At first, I wasn't sure why, but once I returned home everything was made disgustingly clear.
It happened.
My mom's dead.
I want to laugh and cry and scream, all at the same time.
I had reached forward to touch her. She was cold. I was too late. Even if I did call 911, they wouldn't be able to do anything. She wasn't like me. There's no one to bring her back, and now there's no one to bring me back either.
There was a needle sticking out of her arm. I knew it would end like that. I knew that was how I would find her when it finally happened. This was one of the few things I truly worried about. At least now I can cross it off my list of stressors.
I just sat there for the longest time, staring and that's how my father found me. The bastard actually thought I did it…
I don't remember too much about the rest of last night; only that I was numb and trembling. After she was taken away, I just sank onto the carpet and I couldn't get back up for what felt like a long time.
It is now morning and my mind is still reeling.
I wake up with an incredible headache and a splendidly sore body, probably from a mixture of too much crying, and my shitty mattress.
Holding the walls I shakily go to make my way out of the room only to find my father standing mere feet away from the door.
I find myself preparing for the worst, but am pleasantly surprised to find that he is perfectly sober.
"I'm sorry, Kenny," he says gruffly, "for everything…"
"I know you are, Dad," I reply, trying to sound apathetic but my voice cracks.
I know he's sorry, but at the same time, I know he isn't sorry enough to stop fucking up. He'll pick up another beer and begin to swing his fists, but next time there wouldn't be anyone to get in his way. I won't be there to get in his way.
I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor, rubbing my hands over my face.
"Well, then," I say aloud, laughing bitterly. "I guess it'll be my turn soon, huh, Dad?"
He frowns, "Don't say shit like that."
"But it's true," I argue, "So who the fuck cares what I say when I'll be dead soon? Hey, you wanna do the honors?"
His face remains expressionless.
"Dad…" I mumble, weak and helpless, silently begging him to make it all okay.
Aren't parents supposed to make things better?
He doesn't say anything.
I don't know what he's thinking.
I don't know anything anymore.
I tremble, feeling disgustingly pathetic. I feel tears welling behind my eyes and rather than waiting for my father to turn his back on me again, I force myself to stand and be the first one gone.
It's dark outside again and I'm afraid to leave the house. I wipe my eyes on my sleeve but tears keep coming so I just give up and let them fall.
Someone help me…
Please…