Kenny couldn't help the way his hands were trembling. Trent was looking right at him, his eyes piercing him with an excruciating coldness. They were still in Eric's room, although it certainly didn't feel like it. No, being in this room felt more akin to being trapped in a cage with a Pitbull, not that Kenny had ever experienced the latter. Kyle, in an attempt to lighten the mood, had left to go get snacks a few minutes earlier.
The sound of his phone buzzing gave him a start, and he immediately took it out, ready to distract himself with it. The bright phone screen taunted him with his stupid calendar app notification. Remember. You have work in 15 minutes. He had made a habit of writing his shifts down in his calendar app to make sure he never forgot. After all, there was no place in South Park that you couldn't get to in 15 minutes or less from any other place in the town. But now it was just taunting him.
Top Pot wasn't that far away from Cartman's house. But there was no way he was walking there. Not with Rick roaming the streets. With Kenny's luck, that raging psycho had probably seen him go to Cartman's house. Surely, he was just waiting for him to leave. Surely, he had seen Eric and Stan leave and then seen Kyle leave. Surely this, surely that. Surely, Kenny just had to text Tweek to let him know he couldn't come. No, no, there was ample time to call Kyle, get him to come back, and then have him drive him.
His eyes quickly darted up to look at Trent. His attention had thankfully been diverted to his phone. He was really handsome now that Kenny was actually looking at him. Right, of course, Kenny had already noticed the handsomeness. After all, he recognized Trent as the hot cashier at Corvus' antiques. How on earth Ms. Corvus decided that Trent Boyett of all people should work for her was beyond him.
He didn't seem mad that Kenny was distracted, though, so everything was fine.
His fingers fumbled slightly as he tried to find Kyle in his contacts. He really didn't want to be late for work. Tweek tended to get quite mad whenever he was late.
K, K, k, where the fuck was Kyle in his contacts?!
"Jesus, this is such a fucking waste of time," Trent groaned from where he was sitting. "I thought at least you worms could entertain me a bit, but this is so fucking boring."
Kenny let out an exaggerated half-chuckle, "Tell me about it. I'm about to be late for work, too."
Something Kenny couldn't quite place hung in the air as he felt Trent's eyes take him up and down. Trent looked almost as unsure as Kenny when he finally responded. "Top Pot's not far away. You can just walk. I'm not keeping you here."
For a second, Kenny wondered how on earth Trent knew he worked at Top Pot. Was he stalking him? The thought made his legs tremble. Thank goodness he was still sitting down, or else it would've been embarrassing. But it didn't take him long to realize that if Kenny had noticed Trent working in the antique shop, then surely, he had seen Kenny working right across the street from himself. Besides, the fact that Trent didn't even recognize Kenny without his hood yesterday, was enough proof that he had not been stalking him. Thank goodness for that, Kenny did not need another insane man in his life.
"I, well," Kenny began. He didn't want to confide in Trent that his crazy ex constantly showed up to harass him. That would be so lame. "I have an ankle injury?"
He based the quality of his lie on Trent's facial expression. Not impressed. "An ankle injury?"
"Yup. Sprained it." Kenny mumbled, looking away.
"But you're not limping?" Trent asked. Damn, Kenny thought, what even was the point of interrogating him anyway? Couldn't Boyett just mind his own business?
"Well, I have a high pain tolerance." Kenny crossed his arms.
"Sure, you do," Trent drawled. Kenny hadn't even noticed how closely Trent had moved to him.
Trent's cold eyes started to examine Kenny's face; they eventually landed on his mouth—a place he had painted with a deep purple and yellow bruise. He placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Kenny's cheek, caressing the bruise with his thumb.
The sensation made Kenny want to flinch away. It felt too intimate. Like something Rick would do.
"Well, time's ticking, Ken Doll. Don't wanna piss the tweaker off. 'm sure he could punch you teeth out." He mocked.
Not for a second did Kenny doubt the validity of that statement. Tweek was wild at kickboxing. But he doubted Tweek would become violent just because he was late for work.
Kenny quickly checked the clock again. It had already been 7 minutes. "Shit," He hadn't intended to sound so panicked, but that was what happened.
Trent let out the most agonized sigh Kenny had ever heard, acting like Kenny had just put him through several hours of begging or something. "Fiiine," He drawled, "I'll give you a ride. If you want."
Kenny should've by all means felt a stronger sense of stranger danger. Or guy-you-knew-in-preschool-who-is-now-probably-on-a-wanted-list danger. But he didn't, in fact, he immediately agreed, following Trent downstairs and into the Cartmans' driveway. Only when Trent threw him a motorcycle helmet did he question things.
The helmet was new, but it was the only one Trent had.
"Put it on, toots," Trent said, as he found the keys to his bike. It was a really good-looking, black motorcycle. Kenny didn't know much about motorcycles, but he could say without a doubt that this one was pretty alluring. There was a certain sex appeal to it. Still, he needed to be a bit cautious.
"Uh, my ex fell off a motorcycle and broke his leg once." He said. It seemed out of place, but he hoped Trent got the message. Kenny did not want to be on that thing. Also, he was lying a bit. Rick had not just fallen off, he had tried to do a stupid stunt and then fallen off. Stupidly, he had tried to blame Kenny for the whole thing.
"Well, beggars can't be choosers. And I don't have a car."
Ugh, that was a good point. Kenny didn't have any other way of getting to work. Still, the argument creeped him out a bit. Rick would've said the same thing.
Kenny hesitated before putting the helmet on. It was slightly too big for him, but he supposed it would suffice. He took a moment to adjust the slightly oversized helmet, securing it in place as he glanced warily at Trent. The uneasy feeling lingered, fueled by the memories of Rick and his reckless stunts. Still, the urgency of getting to work on time won out over his reservations.
Before long, he was sitting on Trent's motorcycle, his arms wrapped around his torso and holding on for dear life. He kept telling himself that this was just a small, little favor and that this physical contact was nothing more than a necessity, given their current position. Even still, it was hard to take his mind off just how toned Trent's muscles felt beneath his shirt. He must live in the gym or something.
The engine roared to life, making Kenny instinctively tighten his grip on Trent. The wind pushed past them as they sped away, weaning through streets and past shops. There was a certain thrill to it. Sure, riding a motorcycle was fucking terrifying, but something was exciting to it. It felt like flying.
Soon enough, they were getting closer to Top Pot. But once they were close enough, Kenny noticed something outside the shop: Tweek, talking to someone. He looked like he was trying to shrink into the ground. They both did. This person Tweek was talking to was a large man in denim pants and a black jacket. Rick.
Unlike most other times, Rick didn't look the slightest bit intimidating. Not right now at least. In fact, he looked like he was lamenting something to Tweek in a very panicked way.
Kenny smacked Trent's shoulder. It was meant as a message, a please-keep-that-guy-away-from-me, and it seemed like Trent got the hint because he parked a bit away from them, behind a big tree where they couldn't see them, and helped Kenny dismount.
Something in Kenny told him to keep the helmet on. After all, it covered his entire face, so maybe if he was lucky (and if Rick was drunk, which was highly likely), Rick might not recognize him.
Trent didn't ask any questions (thank God). He just kind of stood there while Kenny tried to listen to whatever Tweek and Rick were talking about.
"Listen, I do not have time for your stupid fucking conspiracy theories. Dead means dead. Period." Tweek's twitchy voice rang out. Dead means dead? "I just got Bebe to take my lifeguarding shift, man, I'm so fucking tired. I can't waste my time entertaining your ideas. The only reason you think this, is because you keep getting drunk all the time."
"Oh, fuck off, Tweaker, don't lecture me on your bullshit," Rick mumbled, the usual liquor dripping off his tongue. "You weren't there. You didn't see him!"
The evening darkness hung in the air and seeped into every little crevice around them. Despite the relative cold and the urban setting, the cicadas sang their nightly ballad, laying a backdrop for the eavesdropped conversation.
Tweek was using his rude customer voice. It was this strange mix of condescending and polite that left the receiver confused and mildly disturbed. "You're fucking delusional. That's all there is to it." Perfectly soft delivery, cruel words. Kenny would feel bad if the receiver was anyone other than Rick. "And I know you clearly just wanna talk to someone, but I'm not your guy. So, I suggest you either go home and sober up or call your stupid big brother to come fix everything for you again. Like he always has to."
Damn. Kenny had thought maybe Rick had been talking about him. But if Tweek was suggesting, admittedly sarcastically, that Rick get Victor involved, then there must be a lot more to it.
Next to him, he felt Trent move a little closer. Right. The tree was big, but they still needed to stand pretty close to each other to not be seen. Kenny was pretty sure Trent had no idea who Rick even was. But he could tell Kenny was afraid of him, and that was enough.
Unfortunately, Trent stepped on a small rock that slipped and made an exaggeratedly loud noise. That shit was almost cartoonish. Like, CHRAshhsaaAØÆA. Damn.
"Who's there?!" Rick roared. Always so dramatic.
Kenny's blood froze when he heard the footsteps approaching them. Each one grew louder and louder, until…
"Jesus Christ," Trent exited the cover of the tree, making sure they couldn't see Kenny back there. "You guys don't own the sidewalk you know. Can I not lean ominously against a tree in peace? Is that not allowed?"
Silence. Complete and total silence. God, Kenny wished he could see Rick and Tweek's faces right now.
Tweek remained silent, but Rick quickly barked. "What the fuck were you doing there? Eavesdropping on us? You fucking creep!"
"Well, it's not my fault you guys were so easy to eavesdrop on. You know, I came here on a motorcycle. A motorcycle. Do you know how loud those things are?"
The sound of Rick's footsteps came closer. He was almost snarling with every step, and Tweek was still suspiciously quiet.
"Anyway," Trent continued, "I was just channeling my inner Disney villain, talking to the crows and stuff." That shut Rick up completely. He even ceased walking. "You know they remember faces, right?"
Kenny, still hidden behind the helmet and the cover of the tree, couldn't help but marvel at Trent's audacity. The way he casually defused the tension with a mix of sarcasm and nonchalance was impressive. Rick's aggression seemed momentarily halted by Trent's unexpected response.
For a least a year now, Rick had had some serious hatred for crows, and birds in general. He said they were judgmental sky rats. It was honestly impressive that Trent had immediately started talking about one of the things Rick hated most in the world.
Another set of footsteps began closing in on them. After many years of learning the difference between them, Kenny could tell these were Tweek's. "You should go home."
It was unclear who exactly Tweek was talking to, Rick or Trent, but they apparently both took the suggestion to heart. Rick almost immediately turned around and started walking home, meanwhile, Trent stayed put until he was sure Rick was gone. Then he left after getting his helmet back from Kenny. He never even got an explanation as to who Rick was.
"You're late," Tweek mumbled.
"Yeah, well, I needed a minute or two to convince Trent to gimme a ride," Kenny responded. "Besides, isn't the place basically empty?"
"Off topic."
"I didn't eavesdrop on you."
"Sure, you didn't."