The floor shook with the bass of the unnaturally loud music. It hung off the walls in vines and made explosions of sound that nearly burst his eardrums at every beat drop. A kaleidoscope of bright lights blinded him to any and all visual input. It was hot. He was hot. He couldn't breathe.
With the fervor of a buzzed, or belligerently drunk, teenager (he couldn't tell), Kenny moved to the fancy-ass mansion's exit, which was really difficult, considering his crutches. He would be lying if he said he had never felt he wasn't the slightest bit jealous of Tolkien. What with his own home being such a complete shithole. Nonetheless, at least his house was small and if you needed to find someone, it wouldn't be very hard. But this mansion did not work that way. It certainly appeared that Trent was nowhere to be seen.
Just as Kenny was about to enter the living room, Bebe's high-pitched voice stopped him in his tracks. "Kenny, darling, where's your costume?" He turned around to see her.
Her playboy-bunny costume had gradually been ripped to shreds during the party. Okay, that was hyperbolic. A few glistening rhinestones had been picked off her torso, particularly the boobs, — probably by Clyde, he was the only one who was 'permitted to touch' as Bebe had put it —her tail had been upgraded to detachable, and somewhere upstairs Craig and Clyde were switching who got to wear her bunny ears.
Kenny wasn't exactly the picture of grace himself, having drunk at least 7 solo cups of punch. But that wasn't his own fault, he just needed to calm his nerves, so he wouldn't look like a bumbling idiot while trying to talk to Trent.
He looked like trash, though.
"What, you think I just look like this normally?" Kenny laughed back, hoping she would get distracted.
Bebe let out a delighted, if a little intoxicated, laugh, "No, of course, you're dressed as a homeless guy!"
"Already am one." Kenny laughed back. He didn't think it was particularly funny, but she was laughing. He might as well laugh back. "Anyway, have you seen Trent? He's here, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Bebe said, losing her balance and almost falling on him. He quickly got her back on her feet. "He went outside. Why, do you wanna say hiii?" Her voice had that awful teasing voice she so often used.
"Yeah, duh. Why else would I look for him?" Kenny shot back. He really didn't have time for this. He had written Trent a whole letter, apologizing for not telling him about Victor, and for letting Cartman go off on him, and for letting Stan take his cat and not give it back to him. It had taken five pages and so he decided to turn it into a speech.
"Aww, you really have a type," Bebe squealed, squishing his cheeks.
"A type?" His voice was muffled by the whole cheek-pinching thing.
"Yeah, yeah, you know, he and Rick're all big and strong and stuff," Bebe responded, slurring a little. Oh… she was definitely more drunk than Kenny was, considering all the talking out of her ass. "Oh, and Trent likes cats, I bet that's a plus too, huh?"
Kenny just stared at her. "What…?" His face was heating up. God, Bebe was so loud. Everyone would hear. "Sure, whatever, I need to go." He rushed, stumbling on his crutches as he left. Thankfully, Bebe left him be.
Getting outside was frankly a horrendous struggle with all the drunk people (himself included) who kept bumbling around and bumping into everything and everyone. A sexy cat girl almost spilled her punch on him, and the 14th jock he had seen that night almost slammed him into a wall. His crutches, and general lack of idea where he was going, really didn't help either.
But eventually, he made it outside, in one piece and his ankle only hurt a little more than it had earlier that day. Now, where on earth could Trent be? Kenny quickly scanned his environment, noticing that he was in the backyard. A rather stunning yard with bushes shaped into different figures and funky shapes like squares. But there was no Trent.
With an exasperated groan, Kenny made his way to the other side of this absolutely massive building. He had very diligently used those crutches, thus keeping his fucked-up ankle off the ground for most of the time. But with the keyword being most, his poor ankle was pounding. Despite his sluggish pace, he reached the other side of this Versailles-like building.
He heard Trent before he saw him, "Listen, dude, I can't throw up on command. That's not how it works."
Kenny didn't even have time to speculate who he was talking to before Tweek responded. "That is exactly how it works, though. You just use your gag reflex."
Kenny froze. He had wanted to know where Tweek was, given that the birthday boy should be at his own party. His mind, already woozy from the punch, lurched to a confused halt. Wait… throw up? Why would Trent want to...? He wanted to know, of course, but he really didn't want to see Tweek again. In fact, he didn't want to talk to Tweek for the next century if he could avoid it. And if he went to check on them, he would be forced to.
"Well, suck it up. I'm not making myself vomit!" Trent bit. There was a slurring to his voice.
"Then what'd you want me to do?" Tweek asked. His voice was as crisp and clear as usual. Sober.
"I don't know." Trent trailed off. "Make sure I don't get raped?"
"I really don't think roofies work that way.…"
"How would you know?" Trent teased, "Got experience?"
"Shut up, Trent, you did not get roofied." Tweek sounded so done, it was honestly funny.
Okay, they still managed to get Kenny's attention. He really had to just suck it up and go over there, even if he really didn't want anything to do with Tweek right now. He briefly considered just retreating when Tweek noticed him. But Tweek turned his head away, his face red.
As Kenny got closer, he examined the scene. Trent was lying on the grass, wearing a lifeguard uniform that sat rather tightly on him, and Tweek stood over him, wearing his kickboxing clothes and a very ashamed look on his face. The pool's underwater lights of the pool shed them with idyllic purple hues, illuminating their figures despite the dark night surrounding them.
"Hey, guys," Kenny awkwardly began, "Whatchu doing?"
"Nothing," Tweek grumbled. Kenny made a point of giving him an angry look. Angry enough for him to actually notice it.
"I'm being punished for not spitting in his car. That masochist." Trent said, evidently not caring that Kenny had no clue what he was talking about. "As they say, 'no good deed goes unpunished'. Not a roofie though."
Trent looked up. He seemingly hadn't noticed that Kenny was the one that just arrived, because when he saw him, his face lit up, and he quickly gestured for Kenny to come sit next to him. He couldn't help but smile at that; Trent certainly wasn't mad at him, not when he was all smiling and excited to see him.
A warmth spread through his chest despite the chill in the night air. Trent's goofy grin was contagious, and the image of him sprawled on the grass spouting proverbs, purple light washing him in an otherworldly glow, was...unexpectedly endearing.
He maneuvered his crutches closer, the damp grass offering a muted squelch. Tweek, still radiating a flustered energy, shot Kenny a look that could only be described as a 'plea for help' disguised as a glare.
"What?" Kenny snapped at him as he sat down.
"I, uh…" Tweek began, fiddling with his fingers. "I… I'm sorry for those things I said yesterday."
"You should be," Kenny snapped back. "It was rude."
It was way worse than rude. But Kenny was not about to let him know how much he had hurt him. Especially not when hurting him had so obviously been his intention.
Usually, Kenny wouldn't be so directly angry, but when he was with Cartman in the hospital earlier today, he was given some very concrete and kind of sloppy pointers on how to be more assertive. Cartman had even stopped Kenny from actually quitting his job just to get away from Tweek.
Tweek looked like he wanted to melt into the Blacks' manicured lawn. "I have something for you." He said, pulling some dollar bills out of his pocket and trying to hand it to him. Upon closer inspection, Kenny could see that there were at least 3 thousand dollars there.
Now, why on earth would Tweek give him that much money? Maybe he was getting his salary early? Maybe Tweek was flexing on him? Or maybe…
"Goddamn it, Tweek! I am not a fucking prostitute!" He hadn't intended to yell. But it just riled him up so much whenever people actually thought he was a hooker.
"No, it's… I lost to Victor today, okay?" Tweek looked away, his cheeks turning red. "And he wanted me to pay the hospital bill for your ankle."
The air crackled with tension, a stark contrast to the playful pop music pulsing from the mansion behind them. Trent's goofy grin, usually infectious, seemed misplaced amidst the brewing storm. Tweek, fidgeting with a wad of cash, looked like a cornered animal.
Kenny knew Tweek had money lying around. He did run the town's most popular café after all, but to think he had enough to just dig 3 thousand dollars out was wild.
The idea that Victor had wanted Kenny to have that money was sickening. A mere week ago. It would've made him so happy to know that Victor was watching out for him. But now it made him uncomfortable. Like Victor was watching him. Always.
"Fine. But only 'cus Victor says so." Kenny mumbled, putting the money in his pocket. No point in arguing. He wanted actual medical attention for his ankle too. "I want a raise."
"Okay…"
"And a song and dance number about how sorry you are, performed in front of the whole school," Kenny added, surprised by Tweek's nod. "And you owe me, like, 30 unspecified favors."
"3 favors." Interesting time to start haggling, Tweek, a little late though.
"3 favors." Kenny agreed. "Anyway, what happened to him?" He pointed to Trent, who at this point had started hugging Kenny's torso.
"He drank something weird, and now he's in pain. But he's not exactly acting like it." Tweek mumbled. "He's also very drunk."
Very drunk seemed like a good description. Trent certainly seemed completely out of it, hugging Kenny's torso and mumbling inaudible things. His tight grip left Kenny halfway unable to breathe. His cheeks were burning. Here he was, stuck between a drunk (and very cuddly) Trent and a flustered, apologetic Tweek, all because of a misunderstanding and a misplaced… well, something. Trent definitely wasn't roofied, that much was clear. But the whole situation reeked of something weird.
He tried to gently pry Trent's arms off him, but even in his intoxicated state, Trent was way stronger than him. He opted to just rub Trent's back instead, feeling his heartbeat. Now that they were closer, he could read what the lifeguard uniform said: no drowning on my watch.
Oh… it was Bebe's uniform. The one that was around 4 sizes too big on her but apparently a size or 2 too small for Trent.
"Anyway." Kenny began, side-eyeing Tweek. "You can go."
"No, that's okay," Tweek retorted. "I wanna make sure he's okay. You know, I'm the only sober person here, right?"
"No thanks. You're not needed." Kenny said.
"But I-"
"Not needed."
"Kenny, seriously I shou-"
"No! Leave!" Kenny almost yelled. "You're not needed and not wanted!"
Kenny clenched his jaw, glaring at Tweek. He looked hurt, but Kenny didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to. Not when Tweek had spent so much time prancing around not caring how much he hurt others. The least he could do now was leave. And that's what he did.
But before he was out of sight he called out. "Come get me if something happens, okay?"
Kenny didn't respond. He just turned away.
He flopped down, laying on his back. When he did, Trent let go of him and just laid next to him.
The scratchy grass felt cool against Kenny's skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat radiating from the mansion behind them. A comfortable silence settled between him and Trent, punctuated only by the distant thrumming of the party music and the chirping of crickets.
Above them, the vast expanse of the night sky twinkled with a million diamond-like stars. Unbidden, Kenny found his gaze drawn upwards, a sliver of his earlier frustration melting away in the face of the universe's grandeur.
"Hey, Ken Doll," Trent mumbled, his voice thick with intoxication. "Look. That one looks like a fucked-up house."
He gestured to a collection of five stars that looked like a child's drawing a house. "Yeah, that Cepheus," Kenny responded. He knew way too much about stars and constellations. Craig had rambled at him a lot. "He's, like, some tragic Greek guy. A king stuck in the stars forever."
"Huh," Trent mumbled, "How'd he get up there?"
Kenny smiled and pointed to another constellation that looked like a w. "That's his wife Cassiopeia. She said she was prettier than the sea nymphs, which pissed Poseidon off. And that started a whole butterfly effect that ended with the two of them becoming constellations."
"Crazy, dude," Trent muttered. "Don't mess with Poseidon. Insane ocean motherfucker."
"Yeah. The ocean's scary."
"And cool."
The night air was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and chlorine from the pool, a strange but not unpleasant combination. The conversation lulled, the silence broken only by the chirps of crickets and the distant thump of the party. Kenny continued watching the stars. The sky was a tapestry of blue hues and blinking stars. Some shy and dim, others bright and forward. Funny how Cassiopeia shone so much brighter than her husband. Even in her eternal prison, she was vain.
Kenny peeled his eyes off this great, big tapestry and looked at Trent.
He was quiet, his chest rising and falling in a steady motion. His half-lidded eyes moved from one spot to another, looking for any patterns or connections. The moonlight (maybe also the pool lights) cast an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting the blue in his eyes and the few freckles Kenny hadn't noticed before. Freckles like stars sprinkled on his cheeks.
He looked like art.
He was acting so stupid. So silly. He had a whole universe to look at, and he was busy looking at Trent.
He moved closer, not knowing what possessed him to do so. Maybe he just wanted to. Their shoulders were touching.
"Sorry," Trent whispered. "I kinda freaked out today."
"You're apologizing?" Kenny asked, sitting up so he could look down at Trent. "Don't do that. I should be the one to apologize. I even wrote a whole speech about it. Wait a sec." He fumbled a bit, looking through his pockets until he found a folded piece of paper. He cleared his throat.
"Ahem, dear Trent. I'm really, really, really, really, really, super-duper sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Victor when I found out, and I'm sorry I let Cartman go off on you when you got mad at us, and I'm sorry I didn't tell Stan to give your cat back, and I'm sorry Kyle broke into your apartment and completely violated your privacy, and I'm sorry I caused you to get into a fight with Rick even though I made you promise not to fight him, so you ended up just getting beat up, and-" He had to pause, so he could take a deep, asthma -sounding breath. It was hard to read such a long ass run-on sentence. "And I'm sorry Rick broke your wrist while you were protecting Kyle, and you had to waste your money on getting it fixed, and that you had to spend money on getting Kyle to the hospital, and I'm sorry we wasted your tim-"
He was cut off when Trent sat up and gently took the note from his hand, crunched it up, and threw it behind him. "Yup, busy week." Was all he had to say with a lopsided smile on his face. But the smile faded quickly. "Is Cartman okay by the way?"
"Pfft," Kenny waved him off, "He's fine. Just a broken nose. He deserved that punch too. He's still in the hospital, but it's mostly Victor's fault. So, no worries."
"Cool." Trent laid back down on the grass, urging Kenny to lie next to him with his head on his arm.
"If you want…" Kenny began, placing his hand on Trent's chest to feel his heartbeat. "We could totally do something about Victor."
"Nah," Trent mumbled. "You guys are bad at schemes."
"Well, then, what're you gonna do?" Kenny asked. He leaned a little, so his head was resting properly on Trent's bicep. He could hear it. A movement, a spasm in the muscle. Like a cramp.
"I'm gonna dig a hole for myself. And die in it." Trent said. He didn't sound sarcastic, and his heartbeat picked up. "Or I could just hope he isn't obsessed with me. Either way, I'm outta here ASAP. I've been brainstorming and Detroit seems far enough away."
Kenny closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Trent smelled like that same ocean-like cologne he had smelled like for the past few days. But he held a hint of cigarette smoke. "You're a hypocrite, Trent." He whispered, pulling himself just and little bit closer to him.
"How so?"
"Last Sunday, at Top Pot, you went off on a whole rant about how revenge is good, and you got mad at me for disagreeing." Kenny wasn't angry about it, and he made a point to not sound angry either. "You said it wasn't your responsibility to heal from other people's actions. So, how is it your responsibility to move to a completely different city in a completely different state just to avoid Victor?"
Trent just smiled and brushed a blond lock out of Kenny's face. "Come on, Ken Doll, you of all people should know I'm clearly awful at the revenge buisness."
Okay, Kenny must've been really down bad because that half self-deprecating joke, half simple fact actually made him chuckle a bit. Maybe it was having Trent's hand by his face that did him in. Yeah, that was probably it. Trent was really out here making him nervous by merely brushing a lock of hair out of his eye.
"Trent, I… I don't think running away is the right answer." Kenny spoke. He was trying to make eye contact, but Trent had started stargazing again. "The guys and I really do want to help you. Even if they're assholes sometimes."
"Why?" The sharpness in Trent's voice caught him off guard. "You don't even like me."
"I like you!" Kenny immediately answered back, his cheeks burning. "I like you a lot. A lot, a lot. And that means something because I don't like a lot of people. I-in fact, I don't think I even liked Rick this much back in the day."
His cheeks were actually on fire, he should've really omitted that part about Rick, that was waaay too 'I want to marry you', which kind of took away from the whole 'I like you as a person and would like to see you happy'- thing. Not that they didn't both fit.
Of course, Trent picked this time to look at him, to look right through him. "Don't lie to me, Kenny."
Kenny lightly smacked Trent's chest and sat up, looking down on him. "Oh, come on, you really think I'd write you a long-ass apology letter if I didn't like you? Scratch that. Do you think I'd basically cuddle with you out here if I didn't like you? Don't be stupid, Trent."
Trent looked surprised for several seconds, then a sly smile spread across his face. "I can't not be stupid. That's, like, half my personality." The smile widened. "So, I guess you'll have to prove your devotion to me in some other way."
For a few moments, Kenny just kind of stared. Prove his devotion? He had literally never had to confess to anyone before. Rick confessed to him back in the day by cornering him and basically forcing him to go on a date, but he had never confessed to anyone himself. Fuck, he had never even expected to develop a crush on someone so damn fast!
"Uh, I could write you a sonnet…?" He asked, his voice shaking. He was so nervous he was actually pumping adrenalin right now. With all this nervousness clouding his senses, he only vaguely discerned a loud bang from somewhere nearby. Fireworks?
"Okay, but only if it's iambic pentameter. Shakespeare style." Trent responded, his smile growing cockier. He must also have thought the bang was just fireworks. "Cross rhymes, a concluding couplet, three quatrains, and a volta should also be included."
Once again, Kenny just stared. What the fuck was iambic pentameter? Literally, the only 2 of those words he understood were 'cross rhyme'. Kenny was way too much of a science nerd to understand English technical terms.
"Uh, shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" He began. "Uh… thou art more lovely… and more… temperate?"
"Now you're just plagiarizing."
"You asked for Shakespeare. I'm giving Shakespeare. Just let me prove my devotion." Kenny said. He must have looked like a bright red tomato, given how hot his face was. "Actually, you know what."
Making a point to catch Trent off guard, he grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss. It was a pretty cute kiss all things considered. Usually, he would've asked for explicit consent (as you do with a first kiss), but he was pretty sure Trent wanted it. Besides, the way Trent's hands moved to his back and started pulling him closer was a pretty good indication that he was okay with it.
The kiss deepened when Trent physically pulled him into his lap, whilst showing surprising consideration for his injured ankle. Nice.
Kenny, for his part, felt a surge of confidence he hadn't known he possessed. He explored Trent's mouth tentatively at first, surprised by the warmth and softness against his own. The world seemed to dissolve around him as he melted into him.
Suddenly Trent's hands were on his shoulders, roughly pushing him off. He pushed so hard that Kenny hit the ground on his back with a hard thud. That shit hurt. Not just his back, but it physically hurt in his chest. Who knew rejection could be painful in that way?
The sharp gasp that escaped Kenny's lips was quickly replaced by a choked sob. He tried to get on his feet, tried to get away, but Trent fucking grabbed him, covering his mouth. "Quiet!" He hissed, in a hushed tone.
His eyes were wide, fixed on something behind Kenny. The urgency in his voice was enough to snap Kenny out of his emotional daze. A deep voice echoed in the distance, only barely overshadowed by the loud music emanating from the mansion behind Trent. Someone was getting closer, and whoever it was kept yelling something inaudible.
Once Trent removed his hand, Kenny turned to look. His eyesight must not have been as good as Trent's was, because he really couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Yeah, a rather large male figure was moving closer, and he held something in his hand while yelling. Creepy, but not panic-inducing.
"Kenny," Trent's voice was low, serious. "Go inside."
He wanted to ask why when it struck him: he hadn't seen any lights in the sky aside from stars.
That bang was not a firework.