Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

it’s widely known amongst, well, everyone who knows him that kenny mccormick has always had a very active mind.

a very active mind.

for as long as he can remember, he’s been borderline obsessed with sex. ‘your parents gave you comic books and Tigerbeat, mine gave me playboys. Not my fault toys were harder to come by,’ he would say offhandedly to wendy and bebes snarky ‘get your mind out of the gutter’s.

it’s unfortunate, really, that everything happened the way it did.

that’s why it stings when the older man above him grunts and passes the rolled up dollar bill to him, grumbling out “god, you were made for this,”

kenny grins all lopsided and his face is flush and sweaty, accepting the dollar bill with a trembling hand. he ignores the pinched nerve feeling in the back of his mind, instead opting to arch his back further as he snorts away at the line in front of him.

the walk back home after his night (doing just that) is humbling, to say the least. he wobbles drunkenly over his bright red heels, smeared red lips pressed tight around a cigarette as he mindlessly scrolls through his phone. it’s 5am, the time says, and it’s thankfully early enough in the year for it to still be pitch black outside.

his apartment could be a lot nicer. it’s an ancient building with a permanently out of order elevator. it smells of mothballs and bitter black coffee, and the peeling wallpaper is yellowed from years of cigarette smoke (that he definitely contributes towards). he feels bad that kyle is his roommate — kyle even offered to find them somewhere nicer, but they both knew that this was about all kenny could afford, and it would be impossible to live anywhere without a roommate with how rent keeps skyrocketing everywhere.

“jesus, ken,” kyle says, letting out an amused scoff. “i don’t even want to know what kind of night you had.”

kenny groans in response, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. his fishnets are torn, his mini skirt has been riding up embarrassingly high, and fuck, he must’ve forgotten to pick his shirt back up because he’s bare chested beneath his leopard print coat, bellybutton and nipple piercings on display. there’s residue beneath his nose, makeup is running and smudged, and his hair is a mess.

“fuck,” is the only thing kenny can utter back, slipping a hand beneath his waistband to fish out the wad of cash haphazardly placed.

it really isn’t any surprise kenny turned out this way. really, everybody saw it coming — cartman would always make jabs at him, even as children, calling him a slut and a lot lizard. but it’s not like kenny wanted to live like this. his parents enabled his crippling drug and alcohol addiction, which caused him to get into, well, sticky situations. usually run ins with the police, and thank fuck kyle’s dad works with him pro bono, but it’s been enough for kenny to not be able to stick with the most typical of jobs. since he turned 16 he’d sell himself, or deal, or do odd jobs here and there — money is money.

kyle chuckles again at the state of him, glancing back down at some assignment or last minute cram session. kenny finds it almost humiliating, getting home at the same time kyle gets ready to go to his classes. god, kenny wishes he could’ve gone to school — there was this preconceived notion from his parents that he never would, and by the time his high school counselors informed him about scholarships he could’ve applied for, it was far too late to bring his grades up. and, hey, getting fucked was always more appealing to him than enlisting — whenever stan is back from training he counts his blessings that he doesn’t have to endure that.

“fuckin’ beat. sore. old men are gross,” kenny mutters, stumbling to the fridge — it was empty, save for a few cans of PBR, a half empty bottle of tequila and a tupperware of kyle’s leftovers from a dinner with his parents. he grabs a can of the shitty beer, cracking it open as he leans on the counter. “and to top it off, i saw mr. marsh.”

kyle looks up at this, his brows knit in confusion. “as in… he was your client?”

kenny shakes his head, clicking his sore tongue. “jesus, no. he was just at the same bar i was at. if he tells stan…”

“if he tells stan, you’re fucked.”

the blonde nods, crushing his now empty can. he shudders at the thought, squeezing his eyes shut. “i would’ve said hi or bought shit from him if i wasn’t, you know, dressed like this and being dragged into the bathroom. fucking praying he didn’t see me.”

if stan were to find out, he’d undoubtedly blab about it to cartman, and cartman cannot know. it isn’t like kenny likes lying to the others, but really, being a hooker isn’t exactly something he brags about.

kenny isn’t fully gay, anyways. not that that even matters to cartman — homophobic slurs and derogatory remarks would be thrown his way no matter what.

“public bathroom?” kyle muses, pouring himself another mug of coffee. “no shit, you weren’t kidding about old men being gross.”

kenny gives a shrug, deciding to light up one last blunt for the night. or first one of the morning. “it’s whatever. $500 and free coke, i can’t complain.”

“that’s, what, five clients? in a bathroom stall. that’s sick.”

“get back to studying, why don’t you? i thought you didn’t wanna know.” kenny retorts, giving kyle the bird before slinking into his room. it’s small, just enough to fit his full bed and desk, but that’s really all he needs.

it’s painful to sit on the edge of the bed. people who bend him over in alleyways and dingy stalls aren’t really the type to be carrying lube around. after toeing off his heels and stripping out of last nights uniform, he flops onto his back, exhaling smoke. he can’t exactly pinpoint when everything went wrong, maybe it was just his entire life; he has the scars to prove it.

the walls are thin, and he can hear kyle mumbling about torts and how they’re ‘fucking bullshit’ before the heavy slam of the door pulls him back to reality. as much as he feels bad that kyle has to put up with living with him, kyle’s kind of the ideal roommate; he doesn’t pry about his suicidal tendencies, so to speak, and their schedules never really clashed. kyle expressed his concern when he needed to, but he knows how kenny gets; erratic, defensive, and closed off. kenny cringes, pushing off the thoughts of razor blades and his own fists, flicking his finished blunt to the ashtray. 6:15am. he needs sleep.

it’s 2pm-ish when he wakes back up, and kyle is done with classes for the day.

“so he awakens,” kyle smirks, sprawled out on the couch with a pipe in hand. kenny yawns, extending his palm for the pipe.

“i think that’s the most sleep i’ve gotten in days.” he sighs, motioning for kyle to scoot over.

“crazy,” kyle says, catching kenny’s yawn. he lazily hands him the pipe, flicking through channels on the tv. “dude, did you even eat since you got home?”

kenny rolls his eyes at this. “with what food? i’ll go shopping before tonight. wasn’t in the mood to stop anywhere last night, can you blame me?”

“not really, you just kinda look like shit. i think there’s still cum on your face.”

“you’re just jealous it’s not yours.” kenny smirks, rubbing at his face. ew.

“oh, go fuck yourself, ken. i mean it when i say you look like shit. stan and eric are coming over soon, just a warning.” kyle hums, tugging on his ginger locks.

kenny stands up (a little too quickly, he falls right back down), shooting kyle a nasty look. “shoulda fucking told me sooner, fuck.” and with that, he’s in the shower before he can even get his head straight. “and fuck you for using all the hot water.”

————

when stan and cartman arrive, kenny tries to play things cool. granted, he still looks a mess — his hair is going every which way, he couldn’t be bothered to throw a shirt on, and his body is wrecked.

”who fucking attacked you?” cartman scoffs, tossing his keys and a large bag of kfc — kenny’s favorite — onto the coffee table.

”not attacked, dude,” kenny smirks. “just got lucky. should’ve seen the rack on this bitch.”

kenny receives a round of applause from the three boys, but can see kyle shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

after a few hours of drinking, smoking, and a couple of pills, kenny checks the time.

”fuck, dude. ‘m supposed to go to the grocery, then to work. i should go.”

”work?” stan asks, his lids hooded. “where at? i didn’t know you got a job.”

”whatcha do for a living now kenny?” cartman chimes in.

kenny sighs, scratching at the back of his neck. “receptionist, for now. at that gym thirty minutes out.” he knows the boys don’t work out.

hurriedly, he says his goodbyes. “i’ll be back in a few to drop groceries off. cartman, keep your fatass hands off of them.”

he can hear cartman bitch about that comment as he throws a sweatshirt on and exits the premises, lighting a cigarette as he slides into his beat up truck — one his dad was working on.

kenny was able to get in and out, throwing packs of ramen, frozen dinners, and a few healthier options into his cart. two handles of shitty k, a few six packs of beer, and a few fruity wine coolers are thrown into the cart, as well as copious amounts of ground coffee, mostly for kyle. the boys are playing call of duty when he gets back to drop the groceries off, much to his dismay. 

his tongue piercing aches as he gnaws on the tip of his tongue, contemplating how he’ll get ready without stan and cartman noticing. it’s cold enough where he can hide under his parka, but it’s just so much hassle shedding all those layers with waiting clients. so, he opts for a thin crop top that exposes his piercings and tattoos, cutoff shorts, and a bright red thong. easy enough to cover up if he wears sweats. typically he’d wear heels or boots, but worn out sneakers will have to do — and he can forget about his typical makeup. he coats his already long lashes in mascara and slips a tube of lipstick in his pocket.

”hurry the fuck up in there, kenny,” cartman whines, banging on the bathroom door. “you don’t need to get pretty for anyone.”

”fuck off, unless you wanna fucking watch me shoot up?” kenny hisses, rolling up his parka sleeve. he lights the spoon that was haphazardly in the sink, using his teeth to secure the band around his arm.

he can hear cartman groan, heavy footsteps retreating back to the common room. after the wave of euphoria hits him, kenny swings the door open, flicking them all off. “nice seeing you guys, bathrooms all yours, fatso.”

——————

“fuck,” the graying man moans out, his grip on kenny’s thighs lethal. “such a fucking whore. dirty fucking slut.”

kenny’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his knuckles white from how hard he’s clenching around the sheets. a lewd moan escapes his lips as he parts his thighs wider.

”fuck, daddy,” he whines out, pressing his face to the suspiciously stained motel sheets. he really, really hates this. does he get off to it? yes. but he still hates it. 

after what feels like hours, the man releases into him with a primal growl, biting down onto kenny’s shoulder. they stay there for a moment, panting, and kenny couldn’t be happier that this was his last client of the night. the man offers him some meth, which he agrees to, and offers to drive him back to the corner, which he declines. they smoke as the guy lazily continues to thrust into him, and kenny is so fucked-out that he thinks he might break.

the walk home is long, and maybe he should’ve taken him up on the ride, but he thought he might blow his brains out if he had to spend any more time with him. 

to his luck, the guys are still awake when he gets home. he ducks his head as he rushes to the bathroom, feeling more like tweek than he does himself. fuck meth. 

“dude, kenny, when did you get back?” he hears stan slur out, and kenny grimaces. he scrubs at his face to get the makeup off, his hands shaking beyond his control.

”just now. gimme a minute, i’m tired.” he calls back, changing into briefs. he strolls out to the common area, leaning against the doorway. “the hell are you guys still doing here?”

the boys look uncomfortable. they look up kenny, and it feels like a million daggers are piercing him. “do i have something on my face? stop looking at me like that.”

“nothing against you, man,” stan laughs, passing him the bottle of vodka. kenny accepts, taking a few swigs. “you’re just clearly cracked out. the fuck did they do to you at the gym?”

kenny winces, the burning sensation making him nearly gag. “nothing. just a coworker offered me some. it’s, like, 4 in the morning, i’m going the fuck to bed.”

in reality, kyle squealed to stan when cartman was in the bathroom — the kfc didn’t do him any favors. stan knows, and kenny is oblivious. kyle huffs as kenny retreats back into his room, giving a knowing glance to stan — keep your mouth shut.

Chapter Text

“kenny,” kyle mumbles, shaking the sleeping blondes shoulder. “ kenny,  wake  up .”

kenny stirs slightly, curling further into himself. his head is pounding, which isn’t the only evidence of his week long bender; syringes, empty shooter bottles, and powdered contact mirrors litter the small room. “mmph,” he groans, pulling the blanket over his face. “what time is it? what do you want?”

kyle frowns, brows furrowed. “4pm. you need to get up and clean, i’m sick of having to put shoes on to even enter your room. and stan is coming over. him and wendy just broke up.”

with clammy hands, kenny pulls the covers down and pulls himself into sitting position. it feels like somebody is jackhammering into his skull. “no shit?” he mumbles, wincing as he tugs on his earring. “‘m not cleaning my room today, kyle. sorry. it’ll have to wait till’ tomorrow.”

it’s freezing in his room, and he isn’t quite sure himself how he was able to sleep fully nude, but he rolls his eyes at the glance he gets from kyle. he rolls his eyes even harder as kyle shoves a digital camera in his face, rapidly clicking through pictures: kenny shotgunning a beer, kenny on his knees in an alleyway, kenny with his head in a trash can. “fuck you, man,” he grumbles, standing up. “when was this? last night?” last night had been craig’s birthday. he was gonna cut the bender short the day before, but he couldn’t just skip out on his friends like that.

“mhm,” kyle affirms, stepping back to the door. “there’s more though from all throughout the week. it’s clyde’s camera.”

clyde,   fuck.  kenny groans loudly, tugging at his earring harder. clyde is, well, clyde. a friend with many benefits, if you will. kenny remembers bits and pieces of the week, but no faces were sticking out in his mind. “really? when was he even here?”

kyle barks out a laugh at this, punching the doorframe lightly. “uh, try  all fucking week . you two have been fucking like rabbits all fucking week,” he grimaces, studying kenny’s eyes. did he really not remember? “ ‘you own me, master, use me.’ i thought you only did shit like that with clients? unless he paid you.”

kenny shoots him a look, bending down to grab whatever discarded clothes he can find. “fuck off. it’s been a blur.”

 and that, it has been. kenny doesn’t remember the first night, but he knows he got the shit beat out of him at work. he came home banged up and battered, mumbling on the phone to tweek about needing a fucking break, and that tweek should sell him some crystal. he guesses it spiraled from there, because the dates on the photos start with last thursday. 

“shit, that means i actually have to work tomorrow then,” he whines, pulling on sweatpants. tomorrow is valentine’s day. “i didn’t want to have to deal with the lonely weird freaks.”

”tough luck, ken. or you could just get a better job.”

kenny scoffs, pushing past kyle to beeline for the pantry. he anxiously gnaws on his dry, chapped lip before settling on a cup of instant ramen. kenny doesn’t like eating: he denies that his eating is disordered, but you can’t beat around the bush when it comes to that. his life feels like it isn’t even his own — he blames his parents for the addictions and his line of work, and he blames his parents and cartman for his self harming. as he waits for it to cook he gingerly touches his face, pressing down on the bruise around his eye. it’s all just too much.

kenny eats it all though, knowing he’s hardly had anything to eat the past few days anyways. and, since his weight dropped significantly, he figures one cup wouldn’t hurt.

thankfully the shower is scalding when he gets in, and he allows himself to sit down to wash himself. the blood circling the drain is a sight for sore eyes, he thinks, as he turns the water off with a hiss. 

kyle is lucky, lucky that he has loving parents, that he’s able to go to school, that he can control himself. kenny frowns down at his arms as he wraps himself in a ratty towel. littered with track marks, bruises, and scars, he knows it’s his clients least favorite thing about him. hastily, he cleans his wounds, eyes watering as the rubbing alcohol drenched cotton balls make contact with the jagged red lines. he knows kyle gets suspicious when he takes this long in the bathroom, hence the deafening music to drown out his whimpers and stumbling — even if it intensifies his headache.

kenny can’t remember the last time he was actually happy. his first attempt came at 10, which led to him living with the broflovskis for two months following — his own parents didn’t have the money to spend on looney bins and hospital trips, and they couldn’t stand being in the same room as their son. they had to sell the family dog to earn less than a fraction of the hospital bill. if only they could put down the crack pipes and get real jobs… alas, kenny isn’t in any position to say that now. had he had that thought in the shower, it would’ve led to another punishment.  even though it’s on paper, kenny wouldn’t consider himself to be borderline, or even schizophrenic. in fact, he thinks it’s rational for him to act the way he does, considering the circumstances. and as for the schizophrenia, he’s not crazy. the deaths were real to him. did they stop after being in the mental hospital for a month, being force fed medications? well, yes. but they were still real, and he sometimes still wakes up in the middle of the night, hair plastered to his sweaty face, chest rising and falling a million times a minute, the graphic visions and feelings of another death making him nauseous.

”kenny, you’ve gotta stop doing that,” kyle tuts, eyes fixed on the video game in front of him. “you can’t use all the hot water, or as much water as you did. shits expensive.”

kenny looks up, disoriented. he doesn’t remember getting dressed and walking into the common room. “i must’ve had a weeks worth of glitter and beer in my hair. my bad.”

kenny sinks into the sofa, bringing his carpet burnt knees to his chest. it’s nice, sitting there with kyle, though he doesn’t vocalize it. he’s getting tired of the same old shit, the days bleeding into each other. maybe he has to lay off the vicodin. his eyes flutter shut as he grazes upon his bruised face once again, groaning to himself. fuck. his phone buzzes. it’s stan.

”the fuck?” he mutters, running a shaky hand through his hair. withdrawals are a bitch. “why did stan just tell me that we need to talk?”

kyle’s red tinted eyes break away from his game, a hint of panic in them. “huh? maybe about the breakup, he might need expert advice.” he jokes, biting his nail. 

kenny shakes his head, slowly standing up. he paces around the room for a few minutes, hands twitching slightly as he formulates his response. “god, what if his dad told him,” he quickly says, his usually sultry, raspy voice laced with fear. “fuck no. dude. that has to be it.”

kyle looks guilty, using his teeth to tear at a hangnail. “relax, ken. randy wouldn’t have just remembered out of the blue over a week later. he doesn’t have the brain capacity for that.”

”not helping, man.”

kyle sighs, returning to the game. “just talk it out with him. i don’t know. it could be that, but it could also be nothing. i’m sure it’s just about him and wendy, honest.”

————

in part, it was about the former relationship. 

“high school sweethearts my ass,” stan grumbled as he swung the apartment door open, brown paper bag in hand. his hair is greasy, eyes rimmed with red. he had been crying. “eleven years just down the drain.”

kenny and kyle scoot over, giving him looks of sympathy. “you’re enlisting, man, bitches go crazy for army men. you’ll be married by june, guaranteed.” kenny tries, bringing a nervous hand to clap his friend on the back. 

“seriously, dude? not fucking helping,” stan sneers, shouldering him off. “i really don’t need your advice out of anyone’s.”

kenny flinches, scooting away further. “you’re drunk.”

”and you’re high. what else is new.”

”fine, i won’t speak.” kenny retorts, gluing his eyes to the movie in front of them. today, it’s kill bill. 

stan continues to shake his leg anxiously, ranting to kyle about how much of a bitch wendy is, or something along those lines. and then comes the topic of kenny.

”…and don’t sit there all high and mighty, ken. you can act like you’re above relationships and know what’s best for me, think that just because you get paid for sex you have any right to-“

”who the fuck told you that, huh?” kenny snaps, giving himself whiplash as he looks towards the two boys to his left. they remain silent. he gets close to stan, his bloodshot eyes suddenly dark, yet scared. “who fucking said that?”

stan’s lips curl up into a cruel smirk, his thumb wagging towards kyle. “what? you’re suddenly ashamed?”

”i’m not fucking ashamed, dipshit,” kenny spits out, reaching for the bottle of tequila between his legs. he takes a swig, slamming it back down. “why the hell would you say something, kyle.” i trusted you, he wants to say. or maybe he does say it, because kyle suddenly seems uneasy.

”kenny, please. please. he figured it out on his own.” that was a lie.

he feels numb. his hearing gets fuzzy as he stands up, their voices sounding like fucking charlie brown adults. he slams his head into the wall in frustration, turning towards them sharply. he sticks a shaky finger out towards them, eyes welling with tears. “fuck you two. i’m serious. fuck you guys. this wasn’t even supposed to be about me. why am i being dragged into this all of a sudden?”

he doesn’t wait for a response before slamming his head into the wall again with a loud crack, stumbling backwards and staggering into the bathroom, a loud slam of the door behind him. his life is over.

Chapter Text

kenny is being petty. he turned his read receipts on so that stan and kyle know he’s ignoring them, despite the countless apology texts from kyle and “i was drunk i didn’t mean to hurt you”s from stan.

kenny even makes a point to stay out later, at least until 7am, to make sure he doesn’t run into kyle at the apartment. he should’ve known by now — trust no one. he hits himself a few times when he wakes up in the morning, upset and disgusted at the fact that he actually trusted kyle. what disgusts him even more, however, is how dirty it all made him feel. sure, maybe he wasn’t the nicest to stan about his situation, but he thought he would at least make him laugh.

he misses his friends, though. having your only social interactions being with clients gets pretty fucking depressing. and he doesn’t know when stan will be leaving for the army. he at least needs some sort of closure, you know, in case he dies.

so, when another text from stan comes through saying that he’d pay him to talk to him, kenny knew he kind of had to accept.

“look, are we here to actually talk or are we here to fuck. you tell me.” kenny sneers as he walks into the motel room. stan shares a place with cartman, tolkien, and butters, and kenny really couldn’t risk any of them hearing — assuming stan didn’t go ahead and tell them.

stan avoids the question, bringing a bottle of beer to his lips. it takes him a minute to finish chugging, but once he’s done he frowns. “talk. as much as the offer is enticing,” he says mockingly, rolling his eyes. “you wouldn’t respond to me normally,  and believe it or not i’m not an asshole. so, if it takes being a fake client, so be it,” he says sternly, motioning to the bed. “sit.”

kenny obeys, lighting a camel blue. “if you’re gonna sit here and preach to me about how what i’m doing is wrong, i already know.”

his frown deepening, stan crosses his arms. “i was actually just going to apologize. i don’t think you’re stupid, ken, i know you know what it is.”

“fine. apology accepted. happy now?” kenny mumbles around the cigarette.

“no,” stan sighs, leaning back against his forearms. “i wanna know why you didn’t just tell me.”

kenny brings his knees to his chest, staring intently at stan. this is a setup, he thinks. cartman is here somewhere, ready to make his life a living hell, more than it already is.“don’t take it personally. i only told kyle because i live with him.”

“are you still mad at him?”

kenny ponders a moment, sighing deeply. “i don’t know. yeah, i guess. i made him promise not to tell anyone.”

it’s silent for a few minutes, stan staring the younger blonde down. kenny looks away, darting his eyes around the room.

“is this about eric?” stan deadpans.

kenny’s eyes flutter shut, and he takes a drag of the cigarette between his lips. “so what if it is, stan? you don’t get it.”

“what don’t i get?” stan asks defensively. “he’s a dick to all of us, man. do you really think any of us like him?”

“it’s not just about him being a dick, and you know that.” kenny says. tears threaten to spill out of his eyes. “it’s about the fact that he is genuinely a bad person. it’s about the fact that he has basically bullied me my entire life for things that i can’t change. does he think i like being poor?” he snaps.

silence.

“does he think i liked being abused? being called worthless? being forced to use with my parents? to watch karen be taken away?” he presses further.

he remembers clearly cartman’s stupid comments. about how he was a horrible son and a horrible brother. about how he must’ve done something to deserve the abuse. about how he’s good for nothing. those jabs, those remarks… they were cartmans daily mantras. sure, he was an asshole to everyone, but hearing this shit every single day… not to mention how they were always cartmans loudest jokes. the most laughed about. the ones that got rumors spread about kenny. 

“kenny, stop.”

“did he honestly think i’d laugh along with him when those are the only things he’d ever say to me? it is so fucking unfair that he managed to make something out of himself. do you know what he’d fucking say if he knew about this? he has driven me to the brink of fucking killing myself, stan.”

stan stares at him, wide eyed, wordless.

kenny has already talked himself into a circle, and he can’t stop. “nobody would fucking hire me. and i’ve died before, stan, and it fucking hurts. or else maybe i would’ve joined you. but i can’t do it. i can’t do any of this, stan. this was my only fucking option. i can’t stand it. you have no idea how much he made me fucking despise myself.”

kenny stops to catch his breath, his face wet with tears. god, he wishes he had his stupid parka with him.

“ken,” stan says softly. “i didn’t know how badly he bothered you.”

a dry laugh escapes kenny’s lips, twisting the finished cigarette against the ash tray on the side table. “then you’re either ignorant or just a fucking prick.”

stan sighs, laying down flat on his back. he thinks for a moment, shaking his head. “well then i’m sorry. and your secret is safe with me. i promise.”

as much as kenny wants to believe him, he can’t. he just blinks in return, nausea waving over him. he needs a fix.

“yeah,” he mutters, standing up. “i should go.”

“wait.”

“what do you want?” kenny whines, not even turning to face him. he chokes back another sob, squeezing his eyes shut. this is humiliating.

“i really am sorry, kenny. you don’t… you don’t have to believe me. or accept my apology. but i’ve always respected you more than i’ve respected him. and i can’t let you go home. not when you’re as upset as you are.”

it leaves a bitter taste in kenny’s mouth that he said that, but he isn’t willing to put up with another fight. “don’t even worry about me,” he mutters, zipping his hoodie. “i can’t die, you fucking know this.”

stan shakes his head, standing up and placing a hand on kenny’s back. “please just stay. just before work, at least. it’s valentine’s day, i’ll get you dinner or something.”

kenny turns back around to face him, his body trembling ever so slightly. he cocks his head to the side, wincing. “like a date?” he asks, wiping his tears. “don’t bother. this has been enough.”

stan’s eyes widen and he retracts his hand, stuffing it inside his pocket. “not like that. if you don’t want. kyle just said that you hated working on valentine’s day, and it’s not like i’m doing anything. i have this room for the night, so we can just eat, you can get high, and i can drive you wherever you need to be first.”

the blonde goes quiet for a moment. he feels like this is a trap. he feels like there’s cameras everywhere, that this is all an elaborate prank, and cartman is watching from somewhere else, pissing his pants laughing. “fine. only since you’re driving.”

kenny is taken by surprise when stan kisses him directly on the lips. “dude, what the fuck?” he asks, pulling back. his face flushes red and he stares down at the brunettes lips.

“fuck. sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” stan pants out, seemingly equally as surprised. “i don’t know why i did that.”

kenny can’t help but burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. he can’t remember the last time he’s laughed that hard. stan shifts onto his other foot, looking down awkwardly before cracking a grin.

“jesus, man. if you wanted to get your dick wet you could’ve just said that. you didn’t have to get me to spit all my feelings out.” kenny laughs, wiping his eyes.

stan looks flustered. too flustered. “t-that’s not what i meant to do. that wasn’t why i called you here,” he sputters, sitting back down on the bed. he contemplates a moment, looking back up at kenny. “are you being serious?”

kenny’s smile drops momentarily, and he sits back down onto the bed. “nah,” he hums, looking away. “you just got out of a relationship, otherwise i would.”

”i’ve never been with a guy. i wouldn’t take it up the ass either way.”

this causes kenny to go into another fit of laughter. “it’s a two way street, man. do you really think i’m the one doing any of the fucking? that’s fucking ridiculous.”

stans face flushes, and he shakes his head. “whatever. i’m getting you dinner. what do you want?”

”i thought your lips were my dinner.” kenny can’t contain himself at this point. he’s holding onto his stomach, in tears with laughter.

kenny sees right through stan, how serious he was about that. and if kenny was a better man, he’d let him win, he’d drop it. but he can’t help himself.

Chapter Text

stans mouth was hot against his own; demanding, hungry, forceful.

”shit,” kenny hisses, breaking away from the passionate kiss. “you get broken up with two days ago and you’re already all over me.”

stan ignores this, grunting as his calloused hands grip at kenny’s small waist. he massages his fingers against the tattoos, hard enough to leave bruises, before he moves a hand down to idly grope his ass. kenny is practically melting into him, a dopey smile plastered onto his face, pupils blown.

“you look good like this,” stan mumbles simply, his hand giving a rough squeeze — to which kenny whines. “i’ve always liked you.”

the four boys have always had a complicated relationship. as much as they enjoyed being each others friends, they each had their mysteries. some of which made them intolerable at times.

stan, for instance. his parents basically hated each other, and ended up getting divorced in the middle of high school. this wrecked stan. he hates change, so much so that he’d rather keep reveling in nostalgia than accept difference. 

cartman is fatherless. and while that wasn’t easy for him growing up, he uses it as justification for being a grade A asshole. “i just never had someone to look up to,” he’d say, nonchalantly shrugging. this was usually at kenny’s expense, coming after a particularly crude remark. 

kyle is… well, kyle. he just cares too deeply, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. it only becomes an issue when he gets headstrong, trying to insert himself into other people’s issues — it comes out of empathy and a desire to help, but it doesn’t always come off that way. exhibit: kenny.

kenny was quiet growing up: hiding. keeping his head low. he envied his friends and their seemingly minuscule problems (compared to his. not that it was a competition. maybe kenny was a narcissist). he found comfort in making his friends laugh with his perverted jokes and antics, until it became all he was really known for. especially with cartman. he had been embarrassed by the way he was brought up, really; he often couldn’t join in with his friends and their adventures to the extent he would’ve liked to, always feeling more like a pawn in their plans.

so stans words come as a surprise.

“really?” kenny pants, groaning as another hard smack comes his way. it’s not that kenny never liked stan back, but kenny didn’t really think he was capable of being liked, period. even as a friend. and besides, stan’s first choice was always kyle, which unfortunately left kenny to be cartmans little pet. stan nods, reclaiming kenny’s mouth, licking and biting at his bottom lip. he continues to explore kenny’s lithe body, his hands curiously rubbing and squeezing every inch.

the wind is knocked out of him as he’s shoved harshly against the bed, the look in stan’s eyes absolutely animalistic. with a dominant hand, stan spreads kenny’s legs, nibbling at his ear. “take these off.” it’s not exactly a request.

so, kenny complies, breaking away only to slink out of his wife beater and track pants. stan raises an eyebrow.

”no underwear?”

”nope. they just get irritating after a while.” he admits, smirking devilishly.

stan just grunts in return, staring down kenny like he was prey. his breaths are heavy, and kenny can tell he’s rock hard. they always are.

kenny slips to his knees, a slim hand toying with the zipper; stan tilts his head back when kenny slides his worn out jeans down, his fingers slipping into the waistband of his briefs. 

“you’re sure you want to do this? i mean, it’s just like being with a girl. kind of.” kenny hums, feigning innocence as he mouths at stans clothed erection.

”mmph… yes, i’m sure, ken,” stan murmurs, adam’s apple bobbing as kenny uses his teeth to drag down the last layer. stans dick springs free, hitting the side of kenny’s face. it really shouldn’t have been that hot, but stan forcefully reaches down to squeeze kenny’s cheeks, forcing his head to stay still. “open.” 

kenny chokes loudly as stan fucks into his skull without warning, doe eyes widening and watering. there’s something behind the roughness that makes him feel at ease, yet weary. he should be more uncomfortable by the whole situation, but it doesn’t matter because it’s happening. it doesn’t matter if their friendship ends after this because he assumed it was over just the day before. it doesn’t matter if stan was just pretending to listen to his suicidal manifesto and apologize because kenny is now vulnerable beneath the thrusts and tugs at his hair. it just doesn’t matter.

his big blue eyes flutter shut, loud gags and whimpers escaping his lips. it hurts, but it’s a pleasurable kind of hurt. this wouldn’t be the first time he’d choke to death in this manner.

kenny gasps for air as stan pulls out, face bright red. “shit,” he chokes out. he gives a few kitten licks to the tip in front of him and follows the throbbing erection with his mouth. as he hollows out his cheeks, he uses his eyes to smile back up at stan before taking him all in his mouth, suckling.

”so fucking pretty…” stan groans, carding his fingers through kenny’s damp blonde hair. not even wendy could take him all the way. “you look so fucking pretty, ken.”

kenny lazily strokes himself at the praise, coming back up for air with a wet pop. “and you’re fucking hung, man.” 

stan chuckles at this, using his thumb to stroke kenny’s cheek. “do you say that to everyone?”

”ew. god, no. you don’t wanna know how many microdicks i have to deal with.”

kenny climbs off the bed, reaching for a loose cigarette, a bottle of lube, and poppers from his jacket pocket.

”the fuck is that?” stan asks, scrunching his face.

”it’ll make it easier for the both of us, trust me,” kenny hums, sniffing straight out of the bottle. immediately, a rush of lightheadedness courses to his brain as he flops back down onto all fours. he reaches back and grabs stans wrist, shoving the bottle of lube into his hand. “you know what you’re doing, right?”

stan snorts. “is it not just anal? that’s not revolutionary.” he says, squirting the lube onto his fingers, teasing three of them.

”well, it’s revolutionary with me,” kenny whines, arching his back into the olders touch. “i shouldn’t need much prep. just… do whatever, dude.”

stan rubs small circles around him, dipping his fingers into kenny, who’s practically dripping with pure need.

”i’m gonna need you to take the lead. consider me a virgin.”

”so… you want me to be a power bottom…?”

”be whatever you wanna be. i don’t care. this is all greek to me.” stan says with an impatient huff, easily sliding his fingers in and out of the boy in front of him.

kenny hisses, arching his back. feebly, he lights his cigarette, needing to orally fixate on something. “just like that,” he groans. “just… just like that, yeah.”

it’s nice being touched by someone he knows: makes kenny feel a little less cheap. as much as he doesn’t care that this is all happening, as much as he’s into stan, the tiniest voice in the back of his mind yells at him to cut the bullshit. this is stan. this is eric’s roommate. and stan is unpredictable. he does the right things for the wrong reasons. but what does he gain from this besides someone to fuck? 

kennys mind grows fuzzier (whether that’s from the poppers or the frenzied thoughts), absentmindedly taking drags of his cigarette as stan pushes into him. the stretch and the feeling of being full is nice.

so while he doesn’t mind, it just feels like one big joke to him. 

“kenny?”

kenny looks back, tears brimming his eyes. “huh?”

”i’ve been trying to get your attention. you just went all silent.” stan says softly, using his free hand to trace around kenny’s scars.

”what? just keep going. please.” kenny sighs, arching his back further.

stan frowns, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of kenny’s clammy neck. “okay. you just worry me when you get like that.”

with a sharp groan, kenny rocks his hips back. please don’t do this now. “i’m fine. i mean it. i actually feel amazing, so if you could just fuck me ‘til i forget my name already,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “that would be greatly appreciated.”

stan complies, entwining his hand back into kenny’s hair, lifting his head up as he begins to thrust experimentally. “god,” he moans out, his hips snapping quicker, harder, sloppier.

kenny wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to forget his name, but truthfully his head was entirely empty from the getgo. and it’s almost as if everything crashed down onto him at once, the severity of the situation. he moans and whimpers when needed, his voice not entirely sounding like his own. he flicks his now finished cigarette into the ashtray, his eyes falling heavy as stan continues to fuck into him. 

he honestly doesn’t even realize it’s over until it’s over, when stan is groaning out his name as he pulls out. kenny looks down at the bed below him, his entire body feeling limp as his knees buckle. 

“kenny, honestly,” stan murmurs, a worried look etched onto his face. “you haven’t said a word since you told me to fuck you.”

kenny manages to roll over, covering his face with his hands. he doesn’t know why but he starts crying. hysterically.

”kenny, kenny, hey,” stan tries again, shaking kenny’s arm. “did i do something wrong?”

shaking his head, kenny squeaks out “it’s not you.”

”then why are you crying?”

kenny doesn’t know what to say. he’s not even sure he even knows what’s wrong. his crying falters as he tries to catch his breath. “because i liked it. i like you — as a friend. i know you’re not gay, or bi, or anything like that. i know this was just fun for you. i just don’t…” he trails off, his body practically twitching. he uncovers his face, scrambling to dress himself. “you know what i am, and that’s fine, i don’t care, but i’m just confused.”

stan goes quiet, eyes fixed on kenny’s out of nowhere panicked state, rushing to dig his eyeglass case out of his pocket — stan knows there aren’t glasses in there, but his heroin. stan sighs. “we shouldn’t have done that. i’m sorry.”

this just leads kenny to grow more agitated, and it feels like his chest is collapsing, which isn’t a great way to feel when there’s a needle stuck in your arm. “stan, stop. i wanted to do it,” he whispers, frustrated tears dripping onto his chest. “i’m sorry for being crazy. i’m sorry for crying. i really don’t know what happened.”

”i do, though,” stan mumbles uneasily. he runs his fingers through his damp hair, tugging on his jeans. “i shouldn’t have done that. to you. i took advantage of you when you were clearly not okay. that wasn’t okay. i’m sorry.” 

“what? don’t be ridiculous, stan,” kenny says frantically, stumbling over himself as he pulls his jacket on. “it’s my fault. i didn’t know that was going to happen.”

”i should’ve seen it coming, ken. i shouldn’t have done that.”

”please, stan, let’s just go. i have to work. please.”

it’s uncomfortable in the car, as kenny is still hysterical; he’s having a panic attack, he can recognize, but mentally he’s anywhere but there. he shouldn’t have shot up a second time before leaving the motel. he also shouldn’t have done those lines. stan is driving slowly, too slow, and his unspoken words hang heavy in the air. “i’m taking you home, kenny. look, i’ll pay you extra to not work. name a price. i’m not letting you work.”

kenny hates himself. he hates the hole he dug himself into. he can’t breathe. he’s clawing at his skin, he shot up too much, he can’t fucking breathe. he’s so, so cold. he hears stan’s voice growing more and more desperate, he feels the frantic shaking of his arm, he recognizes the feeling of being carried. and then everything goes black. 

Chapter Text

kenny woke up in the hospital, which isn’t his usual respawning point. the lights are blinding, and he’s attached to machines he’s never seen before, and he can only make out bits and pieces of the conversation around him.

”…my dad might be able to negotiate the bill, but kenny doesn’t have insurance, so…” kyle.

”i didn’t know what the fuck else to do, man.” stan.

“it’s no use negotiating it if they’re gonna make him go to an institution or rehab…” tolkien.

”can we go now? we’ve been here long enough, and-“

”no, cartman, we’re not leaving.” stan again.

kennys mouth is dry, his tongue feeling like it’s cemented to the roof of his mouth. he lets out a small groan, lifting his head slightly. stan, kyle, and tolkien are clustered by the window, each looking drained and weary. cartman and fucking butters are sitting down — butters at least is at the side of his bed, telling kennys sleeping body stories as if he was comatose and needing to hear familiar voices to lull him out of a vegetative state. cartman is just watching tv.

”dude,” kyle squeaks, rushing to the side of the bed. “you’re awake!”

kenny reaches to the oxygen and feeding tubes, trying to yank them off of him. “what…” he’s able to croak out, the words struggling to be voiced. “why the fuck am i here…”

”well, kenny, you uh, kind of had an accident,” butters says nervously, twiddling his thumbs. “but it’s okay, accidents happen! you’re safe here now.”

kyle reaches to pull kenny’s hands away from the tubes, also protectively covering where his IV is in place. “don’t pull. those are helping you.”

”well i can’t afford those, so help me take them off. i’ll be fucking homeless if i stay.”

his face burns red, wanting to cry at the looks the others give him. he feels like he’s at the zoo, there for everybody’s entertainment.

”just to clarify, i didn’t die?”

”kenny, you overdosed, so being homeless is the least of your worries. we’re trying to talk to the hospital, but your doctors are saying that they want to transfer you to the psychiatric unit, and they want you to go to narcotics anonymous, so…” kyle whispers, and he says a lot more, but kenny can feel himself pushing down crashing out. the words are numbing, and he almost starts to wonder if any of it is even real.

”i can’t pay for that,” kenny says softly, blinking back tears. he knows he died again, and for the short few minutes he was gone, he never felt so free. “should’ve just given me a narcan.”

”yeah, dude, we did,” stan mumbles, “please just rest. don’t worry about this.”

kenny scoffs, laying his head back down. first off, they should’ve just left him for dead, even though it wouldn’t have worked. secondly, there’s no way in hell kenny can afford any of this. thirdly, the feeding tube is not okay.

”why the fuck do i have this?” he asks sharply, gesturing to the offensive tube in his nose. all of his hard work gone. 

tolkien is the first to pipe in, sitting on the edge of the bed. “well, you’re severely underweight,” he sighs, looking at the pastel still life paintings on the wall. “no offense kenny, but they said they had never seen someone so close to death.”

so it almost worked. damnit. why didn’t it work?

”kenny, if you can’t afford food you could’ve just said that.” cartman snickers, flicking through the channels. you could hear a pin drop.

kenny closes his eyes, his breath hitching in his throat. not even now can he catch a break. this is fucking humiliating.

cartman looks around at the other boys, his smile faltering. “did you guys hear what i said? i said that if kenny can’t afford-“

”we heard you. it just wasn’t funny.” stan snaps, his eyes never leaving kenny. 

kenny appreciates that, but it doesn’t do nearly enough to make him feel any better. “can i please just be discharged? i’m fine, it won’t happen again.”

kyle sighs heavily, still holding onto kenny’s hand. “i mean… i can see what we can do… but kenny, you’re really not okay. mentally.”

”oh fuck off,” kenny rolls his eyes, loosening his hand from kyle’s death grip. “i’m okay. seriously. let’s just wrap this up. i’m not going to a mental hospital.”

the boys look around anxiously (besides eric, who has wandered out of the room in hopes of finding a vending machine), looking down at kenny with a shared look of disappointment. “we called karen’s foster parents,” butter says, trying to be helpful. “she’s, uh, on her way over to see you.”

kennys eyes widen, sitting up so fast that he sees stars. “what?”

kyle fixes his gaze towards the window, his jawline sharp as he clenches his teeth. “we thought you were dying, so…”

”no. no, no, no,” kenny chokes out, nostrils flaring. he can feel himself get lost in a vast sea of panic once again, his heartbeat accelerating to a nauseating degree. “what the fuck you guys? why the fuck would you let her see me like this? she’s been through enough.”

the boys stay silent for a moment before the doctors come in. “visiting hours are over,” they say, ushering everyone towards the door. “you guys can come back tomorrow. no non-family members.”

”let me stay,” kyle begs, not moving. “his sisters on her way, and i just… this is all making him uneasy.”

kyle is granted permission to stay in the room until karen comes. the ginger remains firmly by kenny’s side, taking butters seat. “it’ll be okay, kenny. my dad is trying to sort things out, and i can pay full rent until this is all taken care of… i don’t mind…”

kennys face is wet with tears. he feels disgusted with himself, with the situation. with everyone, as unfair as it is. 

“tweek and craig are offering to sublease if you decide to go… please, man, just don’t worry about it. we’re all just worried about you and want you to get better.”

kenny can’t help but break down, his skin cold and clammy and sweaty. he feels so, so sick. withdrawals and the situation and the fact that his beloved little sister has to see him in such a state… and there’s no way around it.

”i get it if you don’t want to talk, kenny. i know that i fucked up by telling stan everything. but you’re still our best friend.” kyle murmurs, touching his shoulder lightly.

”kenny?” a soft voice asks. big brown eyes peer into the room, and kenny snaps his head up immediately.

”karen…” kenny starts, at a loss for words. “i’m so, so sorry…”

he glances over at kyle, and kyle can’t help feeling guilty at the sight before him. kenny really does look pathetic, but not in an embarrassing way. in a helpless, scared, vulnerable way. he looks so small and fragile, eyes red and glossy with tears, skin sticky with a layer of sweat, his bony body jutting out beneath the thin hospital gown. kyle gives kenny a small nod before smiling softly over at karen, who he hasn’t seen since she was much smaller, and joins the rest back in the waiting room.

——————

“you’re a real asshole, eric, you know that?” stan hisses, pacing around the depressing gray room. kyle has only seen stan get this angry a few times.

”i don’t know what you’re talking about, stan. i wasn’t lying. it’s not my fault he’s poor — i actually feel really sorry for him.”

”you think he doesn’t know that? he’s had to live it every single day of his entire life, man.”

kyle frowns as he sits down, slinking into the peeling foamy seat. “knock it off, guys.”

”stay out of this, jew boy,” cartman snaps, his hand buried in a bag of chips. “better yet, tell stan to get off my back.”

kyle snorts, crossing his arms. tolkien and butters watch, visibly uncomfortable. “how about you learn to read the room? i’m sick of this.”

”thank you, kyle. i think the last thing kenny needs is to be fucking harassed by you, of all people.”

”gee, i don’t think kenny would be too happy to hear how you guys are fighting,” butter says nervously, eyes darting around the room. “he really needs us, and it would be a real pity if you all kept this up.”

the boys fall silent, looking anywhere but at cartman. 

“eric, maybe it’s best if you just leave,” stan mumbles, kicking his foot against the chair in front of him. “i’m not saying that to be mean, but the last thing kenny needs is for you to be making fun of this.”

”fine. since i’m clearly not wanted.” and with that, the elephant in the room is gone.

—————

“you haven’t responded to my calls all week,” karen whispers, interlocking her fingers with kenny’s. “you scared me.”

kenny bites down onto the inside of his cheek, trying to cover his arms in the blankets. “i know. i’m sorry. i’ve been busy, i didn’t mean to ignore you…”

karen nods sadly, studying her older brothers behavior. “i just miss you. and kevin. i don’t like being alone.”

karen has been in foster care for three years now, after a particularly bad drunken beating from their mother. kenny had just turned 15, and he had been out — sneaking into the clubs in denver with stan, kyle, and cartman. there had been police cars and an ambulance when he got home the next afternoon — the neighbors had anonymously called, reporting of screaming, asking to do a wellness check on the mccormicks. kevin moved out years prior, sending small sums of cash to karen and kenny every other month. the guilt still eats up at kenny, having not been there to at least try and protect karen. 

kenny had gotten emancipated two years after, having still lived with his parents. child protective services deemed his parents fit to take care of him, seeing that he was independent enough to fend for himself. it was bullshit. kenny didn’t go to school for two weeks after. this wasn’t the first time they had been removed from their parents care. or even the second time. 

the first time was when their parents meth lab was discovered, the second time being when they had to temporarily live in a motel after their father had gambled away all of their money. their parents didn’t come back to the motel for a week, and the three children were so scared that they had no choice but to call the police. this was when kenny was 12.

“i know. i miss you more than you could ever imagine. please, karen, don’t be scared. i’m okay.” kenny pleads, sniffling. his body is twitching out of his control, and he almost doubles over from how sick he feels. not to mention all of the visible track marks scattering around his body.

”i know you’ve been using, kenny,” karen whispers. “i’m not mad, i just wish this never happened.”

”you’re telling me,” kenny says, squeezing her hand. “do you mind calling the doctor? i just really don’t feel well.”

karen nods silently, pushing the button next to his bed. the doctors come in, holding a bucket for kenny to get sick into. he’s so desperate to shoot up that he seriously considers calling his dealer to come to the hospital. 

“there you go, ken, let it out.” karen whispers, stroking back his damp hair. 

after a few grueling minutes, kenny wipes his mouth, panting. “you shouldn’t have to watch all this, karen, honest.”

karen shakes her head, standing up. “i’ll ask to visit again tomorrow. if not tomorrow, soon. you need sleep.”

kenny doesn’t argue, nodding weakly. “i love you, okay? i’ll call and text. please come back soon.”

kenny doesn’t allow himself to cry again until karen has hugged him and gone. guilt, regret, and shame coursing through his veins. he’s so alone. why couldn’t he have just died?

Chapter Text

the last time kenny has been referred to as schizophrenic — genuinely schizophrenic — was the last time he sat in front of a psychiatrist two years ago, the last time somebody found him after an attempt. the first time he heard it was after his first attempt. in between those two instances, he was just called crazy, delusional, or paranoid.

the first time he had died was when he was 7. him and the boys were playing on the train tracks in front of his house, just being stupid. cartman had the wise idea to tie kenny to the tracks, like they’ve seen in old cowboy movies, and take a picture. it’ll be funny. of course, it wasn’t funny when a train actually came, which was weird, because trains are never on the track. it’s a very vivid memory: his screams and desperate pleads for help, squirming like a fish out of water, and then the feeling of being crushed. it was like every nerve in his body was individually picked apart and torn to the very atom, and it was then when he understood the gravity of what an ant must feel like, being crushed on somebody’s leisurely stroll.

and then he woke up, still feeling his insides exploding. he couldn’t move, not for hours. his vision remained spotty, like his eyeballs were squishing into itself. he couldn’t think straight. when he looked in the mirror, though, he was entirely unscathed. at school, he had screamed at cartman, asking why the hell he made him do that, why nobody helped him, and he was met with confused stares.

”kenny, what are you talking about?” he remembers kyle asking.

”you guys fucking got me killed. i was dead.”

”you’re so full of shit, kenny, you freaked out so we untied you and we left,” cartman had scoffed, rolling his eyes. “you’re just lying for attention.”

and this would happen repeatedly, nearly every day. and nobody would remember, or moreso believe him. he told this to the therapist assigned to his case after his first attempt — after repeated prodding and honestly invasive questions (are you hypersexual? i like sex, yeah. do you ever stay completely still for hours on end? all the time. do you see things that other people don’t? every fucking day,) he had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. which is total bullshit, because all of that actually happens.

which is the same predicament he finds himself in now.

”kenneth, the last time you were here, the dying stopped,” the therapist says frankly. “we had you on an antipsychotic, a mood stabilizer, an antidepressant, and a benzodiazepine.”

kenny nods, entirely numb. “yeah, but i was also here. there isn’t really anything to shoot at me or decapitate me in a hospital.”

”do you know why your friends brought you here?”

kenny nods again, drumming his fingers on the armchair of the plush sofa beneath him. “because i died.”

the therapist removes his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “not exactly. you overdosed, and they administered narcan, and you went catatonic. your friend kyle says that everyone thought you were dying. you weren’t moving, weren’t speaking: breathing was your only sign of life. you weren’t even blinking.”

“well, i remember dying.”

they talk in circles for about two hours, kenny growing increasingly erratic. they conclude — well, kenny concludes — that he’ll be discharged as soon as the primary doctor approves of his physical health. as unhappy as his therapist is, kenny ultimately calls the shots.

this irritates kyle. kyle sits with kenny as kenny picks at the blob of hospital food in front of him, sorting the vegetables from the mystery meat, and further sorting the vegetables by color. 

“you’re really not being institutionalized?”

”fuck, no,” kenny smiles softly, stabbing at an undercooked carrot. “i’m not taking out my piercings for that shit. my earrings and nose ring i can deal with, but im not taking out the tongue, nipples, or bellybutton. those would have to be repierced.”

kyle groans, crossing his arms. “fuck your piercings, man. you really don’t want help?”

kenny shakes his head. he plays with his food a bit more before nibbling at the veggies. “i don’t need it. unless you wanna be the one to pay for it.”

—————

kenny voluntarily discharges himself the next morning. he’s not letting some doctor dictate how much he should weigh or what he puts into his body. he feels selfish, but at the same time, he feels like he’s the only one who knows what’s good for himself.

he normally gets sticker shock from regular things, but he quite literally gets sick at the sight of his bill.

”you might as well find another roommate. i’m gonna have to fucking live out of my car for the foreseeable future.” kenny sighs, taking a rip out of kyle’s bong. 

kyle chuckles at this, shaking his head. “for the last time, you’re not gonna be homeless. i’ll buy you a years worth of poppers so you can earn your money with ease,” he teases.

kenny can’t help but laugh — he’s high as a kite. they both are. “this shouldn’t be that funny, should it?”

”not in the slightest. you’re a fucking trainwreck.””

”i’m your favorite trainwreck.” kenny muses.

both kenny and kyle know how awful this actually is for kenny. they can laugh and crack jokes about it all they want, but after the incident (as they call it), they both know things won’t be the same.

kyle especially knows how fragile and susceptible to hurt kenny will be. as much as kenny says he’s okay, the two of them have been down this path before — kenny gets severely depressed and barely functions, abuses drugs, overworks himself as a distraction, gets hypersexual since that’s just how his brain works, abuses drugs some more, then gets extremely manic for about a few months before the cycle repeats itself. none of this makes kyle like kenny any less, and kyle knows that kenny doesn’t just have the privilege to get help and go on medications, but god, if kenny could at least just admit that he has issues, it would truly make the world go round.

the fact that kenny was being weirdly calm about all of this is what worried kyle the most — maybe calm isn’t the right word. kenny’s been spacey, more distant than usual. but he hasn’t raised his voice with kyle, or had a meltdown, or even talked about the incident in full. so, kyle hid all the knives and ransacked the apartment before kenny got discharged, finding a bag of razor blades beneath kenny’s bed and keeping them safe in his own room.

but kenny didn’t say anything about it.

——————

kenny has options. he can hit himself, burn himself, go on a hunger strike. just because blades are easy doesn’t mean they’re his only way out.

a few regulars told him that they missed seeing him on the street or at the truck stop, and kenny would laugh shyly, explaining that he was just home visiting family. these people didn’t need to know about his personal life. his last client of the night was a middle aged woman, which was rare, and being the one to be in control was a safe feeling. women typically didn’t dehumanize and degrade him — he wasn’t just seen as a hooker fetish. to them, he was a real person. and they usually pay well, usually out of pity. seeing the tarnished wedding ring on her veiny hand was jarring, but nothing he’s never seen before.

kenny lost his virginity at a much younger age than the rest of his friends. he had just turned 12, and it had been with some 13 or 14 year old girl from school in the janitors closet during lunch. there’d been rumors that he “got around,” which wasn’t a lie per se, but he’d never gone all the way before that. and actually being inside someone, even if it was a quick fuck that led to nothing, was like being in the garden of eden for him. feeling that good without feeling ashamed or guilty of who he was as a person was something he could get addicted to — and did.

it’s been a week and a half since his little mental breakdown/overdose combo, and while he doesn’t feel any better (he actually feels worse), he’d never let his friends know. 

it would be business as usual: get home in the wee hours of the morning, drink and make small talk with kyle before kyle left for his classes, shower, shoot up or take some pills, sleep until the evening, drink and smoke with the boys for a bit, go to work, and repeat. there’d be no mention of his mental state or illicit behavior, not if he can help it.

he sees, though, that kyle has been lingering around him more than he usually does: standing in the doorway as he shaves, setting out a bowl of cereal for him in the morning, inviting him everywhere he went when they were both home at the same time. 

“you’re coddling me, dude,” kenny had hummed one day. he was laying on the couch stark naked (save for the blanket haphazardly wrapped around his waist), blunt between fingers and bottle of beer in hand, watching shitty reality tv. “you know i can take care of myself, right?”

kyle nudges kenny’s legs to the side, grabbing the bottle out of his hand and taking a few good swigs out of it before returning it to the strung out blonde. “i know, kenny,” he sighs. “but you’re not, so.”

kenny just shrugs, bringing the blunt to his lips. they sit on the couch together in silence for an hour or two, interrupted by knocking on their door — kenny secures the blanket around his hips, opening the door to stan and cartman.

”i leave in two days,” stan blurts out, patting kenny’s shoulder as the two advance into the tiny apartment.

”you’re kidding.” kenny mutters, grimacing at the large pizza cartman has brought in.

”nope. our boy is getting deployed,” cartman bellows out, taking kenny’s spot on the couch. “consider this the last supper.”

kenny pops a squat on the ground next to kyle, resting his chin in his hands while he listens to the three express their disbelief that the time has finally come. 

“i’ll be in turkey for an entire year,” stan explains grimly. “i thought they’d send me to texas or some shit.”

“jesus,” kenny groans, staring at the pizza that was pushed in front of him. “this is insane. like, unreal.”

kyles eyes are teary, and kenny feels like he might get to that point, but continues to focus on the plate in front of him. he forces himself to take small bites after taking a napkin and blotting off the grease, not wanting to ruin their last night together.

“it’s gonna be so cool,” cartman says between bites. “stan is gonna get to shoot innocent people. i wish i could do that.”

”then take my place, fatass.” stan barks back, elbowing cartmans side — to which cartman whines.

kenny remains silent, sneaking glances at stan. it sucks that the last few weeks they had together were miserable, and he regrets every moment since stan came to their apartment crying about wendy. kenny feels selfish, attention seeking, awful.

kenny doesn’t realize that he’s moved to the couch, his head against stan’s shoulder until he wakes up at midnight. the boys are still asleep, and it’s time for kenny to go. 

Chapter Text

it’s shifts like these where he reminisces on the normality of sleeping with stan: he’s surrounded by at least eight guys (he’s taking two up the ass, which isn’t something he normally does, servicing one man with his mouth, and using both hands on either side of them), and he’s glad he took ketamine, because being able to disassociate during sessions like these is the key to not entirely breaking your mind. once he gets too far gone, it’s almost impossible to bring him back. 

he feels good. being as filled as he is is what produces that equal parts numbing and euphoric sensation. as much as he feels like he’s on top of the world, the men around him freak him out. they’ve been pushing him around, hitting him, choking him, pulling his hair — all the works. it’s nothing unusual, but kenny is half convinced they might beat him to a bloody pulp. it wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.

minutes feel like hours, and he’s never felt more, well, turned on. this has been one of his best shifts all year: he lost tally of how many clients he’s had, and it takes his mind off of everything. it’s the shift he needed after finding out stan is getting deployed. he’s almost disappointed when all of it is done and he can see the sun start to rise. he needs to get home before cartman sees him in his “uniform” — a leather harness, cutoff shorts, fishnets, and his furry leopard print coat.

thankfully, the boys are still sleeping when he gets home: it’s saturday, kyle and cartman are done with classes for the week. they can afford to sleep in. stan stirs as kenny closes the door, his heels making more noise than he wouldn’t hoped. he makes a beeline to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of vodka that needs to be replenished soon (even though he feels like he just bought it.)

”kenny?” stan whispers, sitting up slowly. he took the couch, kyle is slumped over in the chair, and cartman is on the floor. deserved.

kenny stumbles over to the couch, brushing the bottle up against his lips. “stan? go back to sleep, it’s 6am.”

stan scratches his neck, sitting up further. he has major bedhead and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “i couldn’t sleep, and i hardly saw you last night. i’m seeing my parents today and tomorrow i’m gone. i wanna at least hang out before i go.”

“okay. if you’re sure,” kenny says, sauntering to his room. he pauses at the door, turning around to face stan. “come on. i’m not waking them up.”

—————

the two sit on the side of kenny’s unmade bed, kenny’s fishnet clad knee grazing stans flannel.

”don’t leave us with eric,” kenny whispers, disguising it as a joke. “just fake an injury or something.”

a sad smile turns the corners of stans lips up. “i’m sorry, ken. this couldn’t have happened at a worse fucking time.” stan brings himself closer to the blonde, his hand resting on his lower back.

kenny nods, letting his head fall against stans shoulder. “i’m sorry for not taking you and wendy seriously. and for not being honest with you about work. and for a lot of things.”

”don’t be. i don’t care about any of that,” stan replies softly. he pauses, rubbing small circles into the blondes leather-clad back. “i want you to be okay. and, look, this has nothing to do with me, or with what i did. i just want you to be alright.”

kenny sighs, looking up at stan with big, round eyes. “i will be. just this once, please believe me.”

stan squints, sunlight spilling into the room through the snapped in half blinds — a mistake made last year in a drunken kenny’s rage towards a bitch fight he had with cartman. “how was work?” he asks, skirting around the topic of kenny’s wellbeing. kenny’s response isn’t the one he was hoping for, in the sense that kenny seemed to be in denial rather than reassuring.

”it was good,” kenny nods, kicking the bedframe repeatedly. “i’ll spare you the details, but it was busier than usual. i ended on a good note.”

stan hums slightly, shifting himself to take a few sips out of kenny’s bottle. “i don’t mind the details, i just wanna hear you talk.”

kenny raises his eyebrows and bites the inside of his cheek. “okay, well, i started off at the truck stop and worked my way to the usual corner,” he starts. “and then i had a group of like ten guys take me to the vip room in that one sex club. i don’t think i’ll be able to walk properly for a bit.”

“well, you look really, really good, so that’s no surprise.” stan smirks, tussling kenny’s hair.

”you’re just saying that to get into my pants again.”

”i’m actually not,” stan says back, flicking kenny’s cheek. “it’s just the truth.”

”are you sure? you don’t wanna get laid one last time before leaving?” 

stan frowns slightly, removing his hand from kenny’s waist. “ken. no. it’s been too soon since the incident.”

”suit yourself,” kenny tsks, standing up slowly. “you can’t smoke anymore, can you?”

stan shakes his head. “sadly. i haven’t in two weeks because they’ll have to drug test me. such bullshit.”

kenny makes a sound of sympathy, grabbing the baggie of bud off of his desk and packing a bowl. he takes his lighter (which is white — he took it from a client, and tweek had fought tooth and nail to try to get kenny to buy one that was any other color, giving into the conspiracy theories,) and lights the pipe, taking a large, calming inhale. “fuck,” he sighs, looking in the mirror. “i can’t believe this.”

he crawls back onto the bed, closing his eyes: he replays every moment (that he can remember) of their time being friends. all of their schemes and ploys and pranks.

”i’m lucky to have you as a friend,” kenny whispers. he blinks back salty tears, his stomach feeling heavy with fear and sadness. “please don’t leave.”

”i wish i didn’t have to, ken,” stan murmurs, watching kenny carefully. “i wouldn’t leave you guys willingly. especially not now.”

kenny nods. he sets the bowl down, standing up to get changed. “i know… please try not to die though. i mean it. kyle would probably kill himself if you did, which means i would have to, too. i’m not living if my only friend is cartman.”

stan laughs, pulling himself up. he plants a sweet kiss on kenny’s forehead, fingers brushing through his hair. 

“you’re treating me like you’d treat wendy.” kenny groans.

with a pained grimace, stan steps back. “oh,” he says. “force of habit.”

the two remain silent as kenny redresses himself: flannel pants and a hoodie that engulfs him, reaching down to his thighs. “it’s late.” kenny yawns, bending over the desk to set his alarm clock. 

“it’s early — 8am.”

kenny shrugs, flinging himself into bed. “you can lay here with me if you want. i don’t care. just tell me before if you wanna do something. i don’t like waking up to getting fucked.”

stan brings his fist down lightly against kenny’s back, and then to his shoulder. “you’re full of yourself, ken.”

kenny flicks him off before burying his face in his pillow, falling asleep almost instantly. 

—————

stan and cartman had left by the time kenny woke up. clyde’s camera was gently placed on the pillow next to him, a sticky note attached that read: “look at the last photo! :) -stan.”

kenny blinks a few times before turning the tiny silver rectangle on. the photo stan had been referencing was taken what must have been a few hours before — it’s a selfie with all the boys, who had clearly been crying, kenny asleep and face down in bed behind them. it was silly, and kenny halfheartedly smiles, upset that they hadn’t tried to wake him up. he also sees a text from stan in his notifications, reading “p.s. - your hooker clothes were still on the floor when cartman came into your room. you owe me, i told him you had a girl over earlier. i saved your ass.”

he texts back, thanking him and apologizing for not waking up to say goodbye. a year is a long time to not see your friend, but it’ll feel even longer considering the complicated, unresolved mess they got themselves into.

padding out of his bedroom, he finds kyle sitting at the counter, head down, bottles of beer around him.

”dude,” kenny says, opening the fridge and grabbing the precut veggie tray kyle had bought for them. “wake up. we need to go to the smoke shop. i’m gonna see if i can get a second job there.”

kyle grunts in response, lifting his head groggily. “second job? you’ll never fucking sleep.”

kenny shrugs, biting into the celery stick in his hand. “i get enough sleep, i’m just nocturnal.”

kyle agrees to come with him, because he needs a new vape and needs to stock up on rolling papers, and kenny has never felt more relieved that he got hired on the spot, no questions about his lack of prior work experience.

it called for a celebration, kyle decided, so kyle drives them to the local hole in the wall chinese restaurant, sandwiched between the pawn shop and a laundromat. kyle orders his usual: kung pao chicken, veggie lo mein, and crab rangoons. kenny orders what the cheapest menu items are, and what he know will be enough food to last maybe three days: a side of white rice and two spring rolls. kenny asks for a fork, and he doesn’t know how the fuck kyle can even use the chopsticks in front of him. 

“maybe they’ll promote you if you consistently work. that means no quitting, no getting fired for stupid shit. then maybe you can quit the streets.”

“meh,” kenny says, picking around at the rice. it’s too sticky, and he’d pour soy sauce over it to give it more flavor, but he doesn’t need to add anything extra to it. plus, he actually ate a few vegetables before his interview, so he doesn’t feel so bad about it. “but i can’t get a couple thousand per night at the smoke shop.”

kyle shrugs, taking a bite of food. he chews for a moment before calling the waiter over for carryout boxes. “true. you never know, though.”

”no, i do know. but that’s a nice thought,” he pauses, packing up his meal. “i used to think this was the best job ever, being paid to literally just get railed. but after all the creeps and std scares, it stops becoming a hobby and it gets tiring. maybe you’re lucky your body count isn’t as high as mine.”

kyle scoffs, pushing his chair back. “no, you’re actually right,” he pushes the complimentary fortune cookies towards kenny, using his teeth to tear the plastic on his. “i’d hate to be in the triple digits. hey, what does your fortune say?”

kenny kicks kyle from under the table, jaw dropping. “brutal. and i don’t know, you can have them if you want.”

“to truly find yourself you must play hide and seek alone,” kyle says after breaking kenny’s cookie in half. “the fuck does that mean?”

kenny sighs. isn’t that the story of his life? “it’s like that one was deliberately for me.”

before his night street walking, kenny goes to walmart and buys a gun.

he’s shot himself before, but not recently, and he kind of misses tasting metal and gunpowder. and it’s not like he’ll be using it tonight. save it for a rainy day. 

Chapter Text

the video he made got him a lot of money. enough for two months worth of rent.

it was clyde’s great idea to film them when he swung by the apartment to get his camera back (and to buy from kenny). with clyde, though, meeting up with him was never just to hang out, to catch up, to deal. clyde was never that casual.

kenny was just sliding down to his knees, his pupils dilated so much that they looked pitch black, when clyde whipped out his phone.

”you’re really gonna play on your phone, acting like i’m not literally between your legs?” kenny asks all irritated. he’s massaging clyde with a greedy hand and fiddling with the zipper teasingly.

”i’m not playing anything,” clyde says. he turns his phone sideways, leveling it with his chest. “just be pretty for me. just like that.”

kenny smirks and raises his eyebrows, wiping the residue from beneath his nose. “you’re recording?” he unzips clyde, dropping his underwear in the process, using one hand to ghost over clyde.

clyde groans, nodding as he pulls kenny’s head closer to me. “i haven’t seen you since craig’s birthday. how else am i supposed to get my fix of you?”

kenny inhales before suckling on the tip before him. clyde had just finished up working out at the gym and hasn’t showered yet — one of kenny’s guilty pleasures. he’s salty and earthy, but that just makes kenny’s libido skyrocket in a primal way. “mmm…” is all he can reply, affirming clyde’s words with his mouth otherwise occupied.

he hollows his cheeks out, glancing back up at clyde — or moreso the camera — with wide, innocent doe eyes, the way clyde likes it. he fastens his hand on clyde’s muscular thigh, sucking with a renewed enthusiasm at clydes moans and tugs.

he can be pretty for him, for the camera.

”look at you… so desperate…” clyde grumbles, using the toe of his sneaker to press up against kenny’s clothed erection. “you’re too cute.”

even the slightest touch from clyde causes kenny’s wires to overheat, and he rolls his hips against the shoe.

”fucking humping me like a dog,” clyde continues. kenny moans lowly at the words, rolling his hips again, seeking out friction like it was water in a desert.

it’s not long until he’s being slammed into at a back-breaking pace, clyde’s hand squeezing around kenny’s neck. “stupid whore,” clyde grunts, placing the pad of his thumb against the tongue of the boy on his back beneath him. “you have no dignity, do you? you fucking love this.”

kenny nods and whines wantonly, his legs shaking as he tries to spread them further. “fucking love it,” he agrees breathlessly. he’s using one hand to clutch a pillow to his face, the other gripping onto the comforter beneath him. 

“tell everyone how much of a slut you are.” clyde demands. he uses his free hand to push kenny’s legs further apart, moving his phone closer to kenny’s face.

kenny definitely looks the part: he’s so entirely blissed out that he’s gone, not a thought going on behind those eyes. it’s hard to respond with the air being squeezed out of his lungs and the feeling of a bulge pressing against his insides, visible on his flat stomach. 

“god. so fucking stupid you can’t even answer. this is all that you’re good for.”

kenny nods slowly, mouth hanging open. clyde spits in it, watching with a sinister look in his eyes as kenny swallows. 

“thank you, sir,” kenny murmurs while he licks his lips. he knows how loud they’re being, he knows kyle probably has on his noise canceling headphones. he takes that opportunity to scream out clyde’s name repeatedly, almost like a chant, his eyes rolling back as he feels clyde’s load in him.

”that’s a good toy,” clyde grows huskily. “such a nympho… you’re the perfect little slut…”

kenny lets clyde degrade him for a while longer, throwing out lewd insults and dehumanizing observations. he finishes with a loud mewl, arching his back as he spills out onto the sheets beneath him. clyde finally pulls out, running his hand along kenny’s body as he stops the video.

”dude, you’re a fucking natural,” clyde groans, laying down next to kenny. “don’t make me wait as long as you did next time. that was awesome.”

kenny buries face in his pillow, his words muffled and his voice wrecked. “show me the video. i wanna watch.”

the video just made both even hotter than they already were, and they keep up at it all afternoon, bleeding into the evening, until they’re both laying in a sweaty, heaping mess.

clyde pays for his coke and leaves, promising to send the photos on his camera to kenny. he did a lot more than just send kenny the photos, though. he failed to tell him that he uploaded the video to a fucking porn site until days later.

”blonde twink gets railed by monster cock…?” kenny grimaces, showing his phone to kyle two days after. “dude, he told me this was for his own personal use.”

kyle doesn’t bother looking at the screen, shoving kenny’s phone out of his face. “gross, man. i had to listen to that shit in real time, i’m not watching you.”

kenny is more shocked than he is mad, but he decides to tell clyde off, sending a slew of angry texts about how he’s blacklisted from buying from him again, that he could’ve at least told him before uploading it.

”did you see the views though?” clyde had replied, sending a screenshot. shit. “i mean, i just posted it for fun. i’ll send you half the money it makes.”

kenny couldn’t agree any quicker than he did.

”okay, fine. you’re not blacklisted anymore.” kenny texts. “when’s the soonest you can come back over?”

——————

stan has been gone for three weeks now. he’s 9 hours ahead, and can only text in a limited time frame, and all the boys miss him.

kenny knows it’s stupid to miss him as much as he does. they fucked once, and it was disastrous, and kenny needs to stop thinking about him. but nobody — nobody — has treated kenny as well as stan did in that one night.

the cutting gets worse, too. kenny managed to buy some blades on his break at work one day, hiding them in the pocket of a denim skirt hung in the back of his closet. he doesn’t know why his absence affects him so much.

luckily he now has two jobs to distract him: his new job at the smoke shop is easy enough. he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to weed, and he gets a great discount on all of the products. although he feels a twinge of longing every time someone asks for the same vape stan likes.

kyle is still in class by the time kenny gets home from work. a big snowstorm is headed their way,  and tolkien texted him that he was throwing a party in honor of jimmy landing a big comedy gig, so the streets aren’t really calling his name (even though it’s been easier for him to tap back into that persona and he’s been making loads more money, he doubts very many people would be calling for him in this treacherous weather.) he’s grateful for the party being thrown, because he needs every distraction he can get his hands on, but not so grateful that cartman will be there — seeing that it’s his apartment too.

he dials clyde’s phone number as if he was in autopilot, pouring himself a few shots while he waited for him to pick up.

”what do you need?”

”you’re going tonight, yeah?”

”i planned on it.”

kenny takes his first shot, shaking his head rapidly to ease the burning down his throat. “well, so am i. you should come over and pregame with me. that way, if you drive here, we can walk to tolkiens, and then if you get snowed in you can just crash with me. you know you want to.”

clyde gets there in record time, and before he can even greet him, he’s being yanked down onto clyde’s lap on the couch. 

“missed me that much, huh?” kenny giggles, rolling his hips teasingly. he whimpers when a hard smack to his ass ripples through his body, clyde’s eyes dark and hungry. 

“mhm. i was just thinking you’d make a good pornstar,” clyde grows, teething on kenny’s already bruised neck. “people fucking love you.”

he tilts his head back for easier access, running his hands down clyde’s back. “right. i’m surprised you don’t have your camera shoved in my face already.”

clyde laughs at this, lifting up kenny’s shirt. he tweaks at his nipples, smirking up at kenny’s sensitive reactions. “nah, not this time, man. maybe tonight. i want you all for myself now.”

they get a little too into it, because kyle walks in as kenny is riding clyde, not having bothered to move from the couch.

”dude, what the fuck?” kyle asks, nearly dropping his thermos. “this is sick.”

kenny doesn’t break his pace, looking up at the flustered ginger. “oh, hey ky. sorry. we’ll be done soon.”

kyle grumbles something about getting a room before he skirts into his bedroom with a heavy slam of the door. clyde and kenny laugh breathlessly, movements getting more jagged and rigid as they both come closer. 

eventually, kenny climbs off, kneeling down at the coffee table to where his spoon and needles are. “did you want any? in return, you know.”

clyde shakes his head, pulling his pants back up. “for the millionth time, no. you’re like the only one who does.”

kenny pouts, injecting himself. “no fun. tweek used to, and him and craig are coming over soon with our good friend crystal, but i’m assuming you won’t want that either?”

”maybe. meth makes you horny, so i could be convinced.”

standing up, kenny motions clyde towards the bedroom, making him watch as he finds an outfit. he loves clyde because they can act like a couple without actually being one. they’ve both discussed this on several occasions, and they agreed that kenny, out of the two of them, would probably break his heart. 

the pregame to the party was better than the party itself: tweek and craig fulfilled their promise of delivering drugs, and kyle joined them in taking shots and shotgunning drinks to form a liquid blanket for their walk to tolkiens shared apartment with butters and cartman.

”i can’t believe cartman actually lives with them,” tweek says anxiously between twitches and tics. “they all hate him.”

”not butters,” kyle chimes in, shoving his hands in his pockets. “butters looks up to him still for some reason.”

kenny is clinging onto clydes arm, his legs feeling like jelly. “i feel bad for tolkien. stan is probably the only one who stopped cartman from being a racist piece of shit.”

at the party, kenny had himself a time locating the blow and the ketamine, dragging clyde with him like a dog on a leash. the two snort some lines, and before long, they’re in the bathroom together fogging up the mirror.

”your nose is bleeding.” clyde grunts out, wiping at kenny’s face. 

kenny’s eyes roll back as he leans further over the counter. he obeys every one of clyde’s demands, getting louder when he was instructed to “scream for him,” biting his tongue when he was told to “stop sounding like a whore.” they get some stares when they leave, and with kyle looking miffed in the corner with cartman drunkenly talking his ear off, they decide to call it a night.

Chapter Text

“you’re crazy. genuinely crazy.” clyde yells, snatching the gun away from kenny. it’s kenny’s 19th birthday, and the two of them had been having birthday sex on the floor of kenny’s room when it had caught clyde’s eyes from under his bed.

kenny blinks a few times, his words caught in his throat. “clyde,” he whispers desperately. “not right now. please.”

clyde laughs meanly, pressing the barrel to kenny’s temple. “look at that. didn’t even flinch. you fucking love it,” he puts his finger on the trigger teasingly, keeping kenny flat on his back. “you’re fucking psycho. i should have you committed.”

kenny squirms beneath clyde’s strong grip, eyes welling with tears. “stop. i’m serious. just stop.”

”why the hell are you crying? knock it off.”

”because this isn’t any of your fucking business, and to be completely fucking honest, you’re scaring me.”

clyde squeezes kenny’s cheeks, forcing his mouth open. kenny’s eyes widen as the gun now enters his mouth, and he’s crying even harder now. he isn’t scared of being shot. in fact, that’s ideal. but clyde is scaring him. clyde is being mean. more than usual.

kenny mumbles something around the gun in his mouth, completely unintelligible. clyde harshly takes the gun out, throwing it onto the bed. “what?”

kenny glares up at him, his bottom lip quivering. “i said not on my fucking birthday. and how dare you pull the gun on me after calling me crazy.”

clyde stands up, adjusting himself in his pants. he kicks kenny’s side. “well, you are. you don’t have anyone to defend yourself from. i know what that’s for.”

kenny wipes his eyes, standing up on shaky legs. he takes a few steps to his desk, fixing up a dose of heroin. “leave me the fuck alone. i mean it. get out.”

he doesn’t turn back around when he hears clyde yell obscenities and harsh names. he doesn’t turn back around when he hears clyde punch a hole into the wall. he doesn’t turn back around until he hears the door slam, which knocks a framed photo of him and karen off of his bedside table — it shatters. and if kenny wasn’t crying before, he’s really crying now, knelt beside the broken glass. he lets himself scream bloody murder, his breathing quickening into hyperventilation.

”dude, what the f— oh.” kyle stops himself, looking around the room. the gun on the frameless mattress, the shattered glass, the paraphernalia on the desk, the razor blades beside them, the hole in the wall. 

kenny doesn’t look up, but cowers into himself in fear. he shakily, slowly, starts picking up the glass, cutting his fingers in the process.

”kenny, stop, stay where you are, let me get the broom.”

”no,” kenny hisses, collecting the shards in his palm. “you can leave me alone, too. everyone can. cancel tonight’s party.”

kyle sighs heavily, leaning against the door frame. he observes how hollow kenny seems, how detached he is, how there’s almost no life behind his eyes. “kenny. please can you just look at me?”

kenny shakes his head, choking out pathetic sobs. “leave.”

”jesus fucking christ, kenny, i’m not fucking leaving you alone until you just fucking talk to me.”

”happy?” he snaps, looking up at kyle. 

“can you please explain why there is a glock on your bed and why the fuck you two were having a literal domestic dispute?”

kenny shakes his head again, standing up. he brushes past kyle as he makes a move to throw the glass away. “oh my god, this is nobody’s business.”

kyle follows him, throwing his hands up in an exasperated manner. “i’m not trying to yell at you or tell you how to live your life, man,” he retorts, cornering kenny. “but jesus, i thought you were getting murdered in there.”

kenny frowns, starting to cry harder. he slams his head back onto the wall, repeating that several times before kyle grabs the back of his head, holding him in place. “we aren’t doing this again, kenny, c’mon. please just talk to me.”

kenny grabs the handle of vodka from the counter, pushing himself away from kyle. “you didn’t hear? i’m fucking crazy, a psychopath, even,” he says. he takes a long swig of the cheap drink, chugging for a moment before lowering his arms. “i might snap if i have to talk.”

kyle hears the sarcasm in kenny’s voice, but still follows him as he stumbles over himself into his room. it’s in worse condition than he saw when he first gave it a glance over. it’s a wreck, whether that’s from him literally never having the energy to clean it fully, from clyde’s bout of rage, or from his weekend birthday bender. or all of the above. 

“be so fucking serious, kenny. you know i’m not like clyde. you know i’m not gonna be a bitch to you about this.”

kenny swiftly picks the gun up, pointing it at his own head. “really? because i wasn’t exactly expecting clyde to react the way he did when he found this, but here we are.”

he drops the gun suddenly, sinking back to his knees. he looks like a kicked puppy, kyle thinks, and he wants to kill clyde. “i mean, i’m really not thrilled that you have that. at all. at all at all.”

”i get it, christ.”

”that’s… a conversation for another day. get up. let’s go out.”

——————

kenny sulks the entire walk to cartmans place. he was able to ground himself with a few deep cuts, more vodka, and some blow, but he’s still far from being fine.

”look who it is,” cartman smirks, clapping kenny on the back. “hey, everyone, it’s the birthday boy!”

kenny gets some whoops and hollers as he trips into the apartment, aptly decorated with streamers and balloons. butters hands him a beer, furrowing his nearly nonexistent eyebrows. “are you okay, kenny?”

kenny nods, taking the drink. “i’m fine. just hungover still.”

”hair of the dog!” butters hums. he then turns to talk to kyle, and tolkien is talking to some other people he doesn’t recognize, so he’s face to face with cartman.

”uh, i announced your arrival to everyone here and i can’t even get a hello in return?” he says sharply, cracking open a seltzer.

”okay, fine. hello, fatass,” kenny deadpans, giving him a small smile. “thanks for hosting.”

”i’m not fucking fat. watch yourself or i’m kicking you out of your own party.”

kenny rolls his eyes, tapping his foot anxiously. “is tweek here?”

cartman nods towards the bedroom, smirking. “occupied.”

”fuck,” kenny groans. he takes a sip of his drink, glancing around the room to find anybody else to talk to. “i need to talk to him. it’s kinda important.”

”you’re a fucking addict. don’t overdose on us again. that would really suck, and everyone would probably be too pissed off to stay here.”

”oh, fuck you, man,” kenny scoffs, trying to find where kyle had gone in the sea of people. “maybe they should leave because i don’t know, like, anyone here and it’s supposed to be my birthday. who even are these people?”

cartman shrugs, reaching behind him to take a piece of paper stuck to the refrigerator door. “dunno. me and tolkien were handing out flyers at the student union. but you don’t go to college so you probably wouldn’t know.”

kenny shoves eric’s shoulder before slinking off to the bedroom. he pounds on the door, yelling tweeks name, hoping it’s actually him in there and not some innocent couple.

”gah! oh, it’s just you, happy birthday, man,” tweek pants, peeking out through the ajar door. “uh… can you give me a moment?”

”fuck, no,” kenny whines, crossing his arms. “i’ve had the worst day of my life, can you just… yknow… if you have literally anything on you…”

”honey, get back in here,” he hears craig call out.

tweek twitches and groans, eyes darting around before he grits out “gimme one second. uh, it’s on the house.” and before he knows it, kenny now has meth. and acid (which was a birthday gift, tweek explained.)

kyle finds kenny lounging on the couch between two girls, one of which he recognizes from his philosophy class, his arms around both of their waists. the blondes eyes are as wide as saucers, pupils blown and rambling about one of the posters on the wall across from them. kyle smirks, perching himself on the armchair. “having fun, ken?”

kenny flashes him his signature lopsided grin, giving one of the girls’ waist a squeeze. “yeah, dude. have you seen stan anywhere?”

kyle groans, turning himself towards kenny. “um, in case you forgot, he’s in turkey.”

kenny scrunches his face, resting his head on the other girls shoulder. the girls giggle, and they’re all over him, and kyle knows that they’re soon to occupy the same room craig and tweek just left. “right. he’d love that pink floyd poster.”

”i’m sure he would too, because that’s his poster. this is his place too, you know.”

kenny giggles, sinking further into the seat. “these two were telling me about their friend that’s here. we think you’d really like her. she’s around here somewhere…” 

kyle reaches over to ruffle kenny’s hair, standing up. “well, i’m off to find tolkien. have fun.” he teases.

”he’s tripping,” one of the girls mouths to kyle, placing her hand on kenny’s chest. kyle nods slowly, giving them a thumbs up before heading off.

he thinks the girls think he’s weird. he lets them give him a birthday blowie, and fine, they have a threesome, but he quickly kicks them out as soon as they’re done. “look, you girls are great, that was great, but i think i’m gonna pass out.” he lied.

he allows himself to sit in silence, the room dancing and morphing around him. he then realizes that it’s stans room. he lays back against the bedframe, lighting a cigarette. he hasn’t really looked at his phone all day, and notices a few messages: birthday wishes from stan and karen, a plethora of slurs and angry messages from clyde, and a “where are you?” from kyle. some birthday, he thinks.

stans room is perfectly preserved. his sheets still smell like him, which is a miracle considering how many people have been in and out of the room, and all of his framed photos sit neatly on his table. kenny finds one of just the two of them — it’s from the fourth grade, and stan’s mom had made the two of them pose after a little league game, and kenny gives it a sad smile. for the hundredth time (or so it feels like), he starts crying. they both seemed so happy in the picture, so full of hope for the futures ahead of them. 

kyle has to carry kenny home over his shoulder, bridal style, breathing heavily as kenny mutters something about wanting to shoot himself. maybe clyde had a point, maybe he just went around it the wrong way. “you’re just having a bad trip, kenny. keep talking like that and you’re sleeping with me tonight.”

kenny giggles at that, kicking his legs. “you’d like that.”

”what i’d like is the peace of mind knowing that you’re alive.”

”i can’t die, stupid. we’ve been over this.”

kyle rolls his eyes, unlocking their door and tossing kenny on his own bed. “now sleep. i mean it, ken.”

”no way,” kenny groans, flipping to his stomach. “why doesn’t clyde like me? i really, really like him.”

kyle sighs, changing into his pajamas. “he just has anger issues. always had. and he’s on, like, a shit ton of steroids.”

”still. i wanted him to like me.”

”you’re repeating yourself, ken. just go to bed. don’t let him get to you, you know you’re not crazy. he’s just an asshole who takes advantage of people.”

”stop telling me to sleep. i’m being serious,” kenny says. he gets quiet for a moment, turning his head. “can i tell you something?”

kyles ears perk up at this — kenny never willingly tells anyone anything. he’s always brushing off questions about his life, or fighting people who pry too much. “go ahead.”

kenny closes his eyes, burying his face back into the pillow to hide his tears. “the night of my overdose,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “i hooked up with stan. i got too deep into my own head, because i opened myself up to him about everything and i just couldn’t get out of my mind. and he was being so sweet to me, which i didn’t deserve, and… i don’t know why i did what i did. it’s like i had to ruin it to prove something to myself.”

kyle listens, keeping his true thoughts to himself. “oh, kenny,” he murmurs, rubbing kenny’s back softly. “i’m sorry.”

“and with clyde… i’ve always liked him. i thought we could date, but i let my ego get in the way, and now he hates me. he said i’d be the one to destroy him, and now i just feel used.”

kyle lights a joint, passing it to kenny. “damn,” he sighs, watching kenny’s face. “that’s… really rough. i wish i knew what to say. screw clyde, he doesn’t see what he’s missing out on. anybody would be lucky to have you.”

kenny takes a long drag before pressing his face against the pillows again. kyle is wrong: he deserved to be treated the way he was. kyle just doesn’t see that. 

once kenny is passed out, kyle carefully rolls him onto his side to avoid him choking on his own vomit, and reaches for his phone. he reads through kenny’s texts to clyde, wincing. this was an issue.

Chapter Text

tuesdays are kyle’s therapy sessions. he mostly just goes for stress management and to rant about his uptight parents, but lately he’s been adding more to the conversation: kenny’s overdose — really just kenny in general — and stan’s absence.

”i don’t know why he just doesn’t accept anybody’s help,” kyle groans, hugging a pillow close to his chest. “he’s freaking me out. he’s not the same anymore. i’m seriously scared that i’m gonna come home and find him dead.”

his therapist writes furiously on her yellow legal pad, tapping the end of her pen on her desk when she’s done. “you can’t take that burden alone,” she explains. “it’s great that you care so deeply for him, but it seems like you’re putting all of your energy into being a caretaker figure for him. you can’t change somebody who doesn’t want to be changed.”

”but i know that deep down, he does want to change. he always used to talk about how he wanted to be a scientist, break generational cycles, be able to become karen’s legal guardian,” he explains. “it’s just like he doesn’t care about his own life anymore, doesn’t consider the people who care about him.”

”you mean he doesn’t consider you.” the therapist corrects.

kyle sighs, nodding softly. “i guess. he’s just mental. i love him, but he really is. and he just pushes everyone away because he thinks he deserves to be alone, but that’s the shit that’ll make him kill himself.”

looking at the clock, kyle sighs. there’s not much time left in the session. “and he got with stan. am i a bad person to say that that makes me kind of jealous?”

the therapist shakes her head, continuing to scribble down notes. “jealous of which one? your best friend or the guy you’ve liked since middle school?”

great reminder, kyle thinks. it’s true that he’s always repressed his feelings for kenny: everyone liked kenny. it’s almost as if nobody cared that kenny’s a guy, there’s just something about him that draws people to him. granted, he’s hot in a dead sort of way — he’s thin, toned, legs for days (despite the fact that he’s the shortest of all their friends), deep blue eyes. he really could be a model. it could also be his personality. despite the shitty cards kenny has been dealt, he’s the most selfless guy he knows. kenny has a light about him, one that never seems to dull, even in his darkest moments. everybody is infatuated with him.

to be honest, kyle really didn’t pay much attention to kenny before middle school. him and stan would laugh along at cartmans crude jokes, intentionally leaving him out of plans, generally just making his life a living hell. it’s something he’s always regretted. it wasn’t until kenny finally came out of his shell and started talking more, showing everyone how great he really was, even if kenny couldn’t see it himself.

clyde had to have been the most obsessive. he followed kenny around like a lost dog, letting kenny hang off his waist at every moment. he was the first of any of them to openly admit how hot he was for sweet little kenny their sophomore year of high school. this shocked just about everyone because clyde was always so different. kenny was open about how he’d fuck anything that walked, and clyde was always talking about girls. kenny was always fragile and delicate, clyde was brutish and rough around the edges.

they were never exclusive — clyde would shoot down the comments about him being gay, saying that he just appreciated how easy kenny was. and kenny couldn’t settle down, even if he tried: he had spread his legs for just about everyone in south park by that point. 

evidently, they just weren’t good for each other. it took about a month of consistently fucking kenny for clyde to follow him into the depths of addiction, and it took even less time for kenny to stop eating so he could always look good for him. that’s how it started for ken, but it rapidly developed into a way of life for him, a coping mechanism. kyle didn’t understand how toxic they were for each other until the other day, kenny’s birthday, when he was trying to do homework but was interrupted by the screaming match the two lovebirds had. kyle felt disgusted that clyde would even dare lay his hands on kenny.

clyde always said he liked the crazy ones, but clearly couldn’t handle kenny at his worst. douchebag. 

maybe it’s unfair to say, but kyle knows he could treat kenny better than clyde could. he wouldn’t objectify kenny the way everyone else does. especially clyde. kenny has told kyle about all of his sexual endeavors — the things he lets perverted men do to him, the way most of the men are nearly triple his age, the married women who use him to get back at unfaithful husbands.

“i don’t know. i guess i’m jealous of stan. he knows how much i like him, and now kenny won’t stop fawning over him. but i'm also upset that kenny screwed him — he seems to catch onto every single person who flirts with him but is oblivious when i do.”

”have you ever considered that to be a good thing? i mean, kyle, kenny is a prostitute. you should take it as somewhat of a good sign if he isn’t willing to let go of your friendship just to sleep with you.”

kyle grunts, brushing off his jeans. “yeah. i don’t even think he knows i like guys. i don’t know if we’d even work together. he can be a lot, and i know i can’t fix him.”

”you’re not supposed to fix him, kyle. that’s his own journey to go on. sure, you can support him, but again, you’re not meant to take on all of his problems and fundamentally change him.”

kyle thinks back to their childhoods; it amazes him, how clueless they were to kenny’s problems, and how kenny turned out. had they just paid attention a little more, maybe kenny’s life would’ve improved.

”i don’t want to change him. i like who he is. i just wish i could make him happy. he always disguises himself as someone who is, he always says he doesn’t care about anything. but he’s miserable. he’s literally deteriorating, physically and mentally.” kyle says. times up.

—————

kennys getting ready for a night of work after kyle finishes his classes and club meetings. he’s pacing around the shitty apartment, half undressed, yelling on the phone.

”i’m not,” he grits out, balancing on one foot as he tries to get his heels on. “look. i’m not having this conversation. you had your chances to fix things, and you didn’t take them. that’s your own faults. i’m blocking this number.”

kyle raises his eyebrows, tossing a can of beer to him. “clyde?” he asks.

”no, my parents. they haven’t spoken to me in three years, now they’re asking for money, saying they’ll try to get karen back if i can help them out,” he sighs, catching the can. “i know karen hates foster care and everything, but no way in hell am i sending her back there, and they’re delusional if they think i’m sending them anything.”

kyle studies kenny: even high and disheveled, he still looks like a million bucks. he has a very feminine form, and he doesn’t know if he can consider kenny’s current getup as clothes rather than scraps of tiny ripped up cloth. he counts more track marks on his arms, and notices the way his wrists are stacked with bracelets and bangles. even though he’s a mess, he’s still perfect in kyle’s eyes.

”oh,” he says, taking a seat at the countertop. “that fucking sucks. and out of the blue.”

kenny leans against the wall, crossing his arms over him protectively. “not really. clyde sent our sex tape to them to try to get back at me, fucking dumbass.”

kyle frowns at this. “weak. can’t you get a restraining order against him or something?” he really hopes, although unlikely, that kenny would just listen to him and protect his own peace.

”no, we could still kiss and make up,” kenny hums, taking a few sips out of the lukewarm can in his hand. “i kind of miss him.”

”dude, he fucking laid his hands on you,” kyle says, raising his voice slightly. “come on, raise your standards a little bit.”

kenny rolls his eyes. “kyle, standards don’t pay.”

”oh, so he was just a client to you?”

”no. i loved him. you didn’t see how he’d usually treat me, that was like one of the only times he’s been violent with me. not in a bdsm way.”

kyle scoffs, finishing his drink. a twang of jealousy buzzes through him. “well, it shouldn’t have ever happened. you’re strong, he knows you could easily clock his shit. you just don’t. you let it happen. so, stop that.”

kenny goes silent. he glances over at the blonde, who’s drawing blood from biting his lip. it stays that way for a few minutes before kenny says quietly “i’m not gonna hit him back. he’d stop liking me.”

”well yeah, because he likes how easily he can manipulate you. is it really worth it?”

”for love? yes, actually, it is.”

kyle stands up, keeping his hands on the counter to steady him. “it’s not love. he doesn’t love you. he loves fucking you, we both know that’s what he’s said. he loves that he can use you as his own personal sex slave, have you at his beck and call. he treats you like shit. when was the last time he’s ever taken you out on a real date?”

kenny pathetically kicks the wall a few times, keeping his head down. kyle fears he might’ve gone too far. “not since the first one.”

”see? someone who loves you would actually treat you like a boyfriend.” 

“well, nobody actually wants to date me, so. please stop thinking you know everything.”

”you literally told me that stan was the only one who treated you with some ounce of respect.”

kenny snaps his head up, scowling. kyle can see his chest rise and fall rapidly, a telltale sign of him snapping. “yeah? and where’s stan now? newsflash, dickwad, not here. so just leave it alone.”

kyle sighs as kenny storms out of the apartment. they always do this. why the fuck is kenny so stubborn?

—————

kenny leans against the red brick wall of the alleyway, taking small drags out of his cigarette. he watches as people walk along the sidewalk, going about their nights, having fun. one of his regulars approaches him, nearly startling him. they go at it, right in the alleyway, and he should be enjoying himself because he knows he’s making bank, but his conversation with kyle keeps ringing in his mind.

kyle needs to stop getting so involved in his life. every single time his friends insert themselves in his problems, it just causes even more problems. he’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. 

kyle doesn’t see that. he doesn’t see how good clyde can be to him. he doesn’t see how clyde sweet talks him, how he’ll say he loves him behind closed doors, how good he makes him feel.

and, of course, his fight with his parents. they told him what clyde had shown them, and if the thought of that didn’t make him feel sick enough, the fact that they were using it as an excuse to pawn him for money nearly sent him sending his nonexistent lunch into the toilet. 

“don’t drag karen into this,” he remembers shouting. “she’s much happier without you two fucking up her life. you guys ruined mine, isn’t that enough?” 

he almost offered to double the money just to get them to leave him alone. but the the mere idea of having to actually see them and have them use him as a cash cow sent a shiver down his spine. god, when will it all end?

Chapter Text

by the time spring turned into summer, the days started bleeding into each other. this could be interpreted as either a good thing or a terrible thing, but to kenny, it was bliss.

he might not have known what happened hours before, let alone yesterday, but he knew that right here, right now, he felt free. he had just gotten off of working at the smoke shop, and was sitting on a park bench nearby, smoking a cigarette and unsticking his cropped shirt from his glistening chest. kyle would be heading his way soon, his last final exam having been today, and the two of them would go out into the woods and smoke.

he spots kyle’s flaming red hair amongst the crowd of people walking by, so he stands, raising his hand in the air. “dude,” he calls out, turning his fingers into a gun and pointing it at him. “over here!”

kyle makes his way over, face flushed and sweaty. “how long have you been sitting out here and how have you not melted into a puddle?”

kenny smiles. “like an hour. it’s not that hot out.”

”that’s because you’re usually all bundled up no matter the weather. do you have everything?”

”is that even a question?” kenny snorts, patting down his pockets.

the air is steamy and humid as they trek to kyle’s car, the interior of the car being even more stifling and muggy than it was outside. 

“roll the windows down, jesus,” kenny groans, wincing as the hot leather seat presses against the more recent wounds on his legs. “why did you park outside if there’s a parking garage not even a minute away?”

kyle shrugs sheepishly, turning to kenny. “i don’t know, i wasn’t thinking about it — are you tripping?”

kenny blinks a few times, brows furrowed in confusion. “what? no. swear on karen’s life.”

”so you’re just manic then? your pupils are huge.”

kenny scoffs, sticking his head out the window. “no. this is ridiculous, attacking me as soon as you see me.”

they drive through taco bell, kenny getting a large diet coke and kyle getting a baja blast with two doritos locos tacos, and kyle spends the rest of the drive complaining about his exams, how glad he is to be off for summer now, how he needs to start looking for a summer job. kenny continues to lean out the window, engaging in the conversation as much he can with his mind racing with pure euphoria.

”…are you even listening?” kyle hums, turning the radio down a few decibels.

”yeah? just work at the smoke shop with me, the pays decent.”

”kenny, i’m a law student. i’m not working at a smoke shop. if i sell an underage person anything it’s over.”

kenny rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. “but you fucking buy underage all the time. whatever, suit yourself.”

kyle pulls into the secluded wooded area, looking over at the wide-eyed blonde. “you rolling?”

”already rolled.”

kyle grins, reaching over to muse kenny’s hair. “you’re the fucking best.”

the pair smoke lazily for about thirty minutes, giggling over stupid videos they’ve seen that week, or people they mutually know, or whatever antics kenny got into that week (that he can remember). it’s a nice kind of high, one that makes kenny feel lighter, less on edge. kyle was more of a drowsy smoker. sure, he got giggly, but he often went mute, taking everything in. 

kenny wasn’t too phased by it. he was busy explaining some movie to kyle, satisfied with his little nods or one word answers, until kyle suddenly looked right at him. “do you remember my bar mitzvah?”

”uh… i guess so? some of it, why?”

kyle’s face turns beet red. he’s intently staring at his lap, rubbing his hands along the material of his shorts. “well, do you remember playing truth or dare?”

kenny snorts back a laugh, bringing one knee up to his chest. “how could i forget? butters dared you to fucking kissed me, dude.”

“about that,” kyle starts, bringing his gaze back up to kenny. “before we played… i kind of asked butters to dare me to do that.”

kenny is taken aback. he tilts his head sideways, blinking as best he can despite his eyes being bone dry. “what are you talking about?”

”i don’t know, it’s stupid,” kyle says abruptly, tossing kenny the keys. “forget i even said anything.”

”uh, no?” kenny says, catching the keys with one hand. “that’s not fair. you liked me?” what the fuck is going on? this has to be a prank. first stan, now kyle — if cartman isn’t behind all of this, then maybe all of his friends have just genuinely gone insane.

”i said forget i even said anything,” kyle sighs, climbing into the passenger seat. “i know you don’t like me, so that’s that.”

kenny scoffs loudly, raising an eyebrow. genuinely, what the fuck. “i never said that. excuse me for being a little fucking confused.”

”what are you so confused about? i fucking like you. and you don’t need to play dumb because you seemed to understand that clear as day when stan and clyde confessed their undying love,” kyle snaps, pressing his forehead against the window. “and i’m not saying this just to fucking sleep with you because it has nothing to do with that. why do you think i worry so much about you? why do you think i decided to be your roommate over stan or cartman? huh? is it really so hard to believe that i just fucking like you?”

kenny takes a deep breath, starting the car silently. “fuck.” he mutters, eyes prickling with tears, startled at kyle’s sudden outburst. 

“and it’s not fair that stan knew this, that he fucking went behind my back and has you hooked on him. you think i don’t pay attention to you, but i do. and you worry me sick. and i know you say you don’t do relationships, and i know you say everything is fine, but i know. you think i don’t hear you cry yourself to sleep in the mornings? you think i don’t see every new cut, every new visible bone? you think i can’t connect the dots?” kyle continues, teary eyed himself. “you are… such an incredible person, kenny. and it fucking kills me that you don’t see that, that you don’t believe that. i don’t think your past defines you, i don’t even think your current struggles define you. i don’t just see you for your body. it’s not your body. it’s your fucking personality, man. i mean, you’re beautiful, but not just on the outside.”

”kyle,” kenny says softly, pronouncing every letter in his name. he drives quickly, erratically even, eyes glued to the road. he blinks through the tears, hands clenching the wheel. “you don’t want me. i promise. i’ll fucking destroy you, the same way i did clyde. you don’t want anything to do with me.”

”jesus christ, kenny, yes i fucking do,” kyle whines out, huffing in frustration. “you wore that parka every single day until middle school because it made you feel safe from everything. your favorite food is fried chicken because it’s what we’d get for celebrations. you love watching nascar and wwe fighting when you have trouble falling asleep. you are the most selfless person i know because you never had anybody do that for you growing up and you just want to make people happy. you’re an incredible singer and musician. your favorite movie is creed. you paint your nails red when you’re upset because it soothes you. you’re afraid to get help because you’ve never known anything other than what’s in your brain.”

kenny slams the brakes in front of their apartment, looking over at kyle — his face is stained with tears, and the music is a bit too loud to hear, but he’s swallowing back desperate sobs. “kyle, please just believe me.”

“i can’t believe you because you only think you’re unloveable because of all of the fucked up shit that’s happened to you. but i’ve loved you since middle school, and that’s never fucking changed. i think i know what i want. and if you don’t feel the same, i’m okay with that, and i’ll never bring it up again. but i really do love you.”

kenny's chest rises and falls rapidly, and he begins to nod slowly. “can i think about it? it’s not that i don’t like you, i just… i hate myself. i just need to think…”

kyle sighs, nodding along with him. “take all the time you need. i’ll be right here.”

Chapter Text

kenny goes silent for a few days. he knows it’s wrong — that kyle just spilled his guts out to him, tried to make him feel loved, but all he feels is too closely watched.

theres a certain comfort that comes with anonymity. but now, he just feels so exposed. it isn’t kyle’s fault, kenny thinks: it’s his own. so, he doesn’t speak. this visibly worries kyle, and there’s no avoiding him now that summer has arrived and he’s practically home all the time, and this makes kenny feel so guilty, so ashamed.

kenny isn’t angry with kyle. it’s a dumb crush, and kyle doesn’t see what kenny knows is true — that he’s dirty, used up, good for nothing. that his core is so severely rotted and picked apart, that there’s nothing left for him to offer. hypothetically, if they were to date, he’d make a monster out of kyle. this has been drilled into his mind with every potential suitor there has been. everything he loves, he ruins. they get sucked into kenny’s destructive way of life, or they get increasingly angry and agitated by his decaying mental state, or he does something to upset them and gets beat into submission. love just isn’t for him. he’s accepted it, no matter how much it hurts to think about.

”i feel like i’ve deceived you,” is the first thing kenny says to break the silence. it’s 8am, and he just got back from the longest night of work in his life. “i made you think i’m this amazing person. but i’m not. and it would be a waste of your time and energy to try and start anything with me because i am a horrible person.”

kyle looks up from the tv, frowning. “kenny, i’ve known you my entire life. i think i’d know if you were awful.”

”but you don’t,” kenny sighs, leaning against the counter. “you deserve to be with someone who’s normal. i mean, what would people say if they found out you were with me? what if people find out what i am? and your parents, they know i’m a lowlife. they’d resent you.”

”kenny, i know my parents better than you do. they love you,” kyle says, “look. you can just say no if you don’t want to be in a relationship. you don’t have to put yourself down to try to make me feel better.”

kenny frowns, lighting a cigarette. “i never said no, either. i’m just saying. i don’t know if you realize what you’re asking for.”

kyle turns the tv off completely, making his way towards kenny. he sits down at the counter, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “can you be honest, kenny?”

”i guess so?”

kyle sighs, looking up at kenny, whose gaze is fixed on his bedroom door. “why do you think so lowly of yourself?”

kenny looks down, taking a long drag off of his cigarette. exhaling, he glances back over at kyle, his eyes glassy and seemingly elsewhere. “you know why, dude.”

”i don’t, though. remember when we were 9, and you were in the hospital?”

kenny nods, wincing slightly. he had isolated himself for months after he was discharged, seeing therapists, or so his parents say. he knows he had died, and he thought it was permanent. “yeah? what about it?”

”you didn’t want to die. you were fighting so, so hard, and everyone around you just… we were all so scared. even cartman.”

”what does this have to do with anything? this is stupid.”

”if you were such an awful person, nobody would’ve been so affected. i mean, i know that’s a stupid way to put it, but you get what i’m saying, right?” kyle says, reaching out to flick kenny’s arm.

kenny shrugs, taking another drag. “i get what you’re trying to say, but… i don’t think you can change my mind, kyle. you’d understand if you were me.”

kyle sighs once more, patting kenny on the back. “okay. i’m not pushing this any further for now, i understand. just… please don’t push me out?”

”i’m not trying to, kyle. i’m really not. this is all just weird for me.”

he closes his eyes, remembering the last time this happened, with stan. he remembers how panicked he had gotten, how the entire weight of the world felt like it was crashing down onto him — how he couldn’t imagine that anyone would like him, let alone a close friend. it’s scary, having friends get close to him in such a way. he knows that they’ll see things they don’t like, things that’ll make them rethink their entire lives with him. it’s not necessarily things they don’t know already, but it’s nothing they’ve ever seen up close and personal. and that’s not to mention his line of work. nobody actually wants to date a prostitute, let alone kyle. and then he remembers the aftermath. he remembers how much he hurt everyone, how much he hurt himself.

”i know. i’m sorry, ken. i’ll let you go to bed, i know you’re tired.”

kenny nods, stubbing out his cigarette. “i’m sorry too. if it’s any compensation, i’ll let you take me out on a date. i mean, we go out all the time, but if it makes you happy.”

kyle laughs, shaking his head. “dude. i mean, i’d love that, but don’t just do it to make me happy.”

”look, i’ll sleep on it. literally. i just don’t want you to get your hopes up,” kenny groans, making his way over to his room. he reaches his hands up, holding onto the doorway, looking back at kyle. “really, i’m really flattered by all of this, i just don’t want to hurt you.”

”kenny, go to bed, okay? you’re talking yourself into circles, and you’re still in your work clothes. get some rest, and we can maybe talk about it later?” kyle says softly, a tiny smile on his face.

kenny nods, returning the smile, as much as it pains him to do so. he retreats into his room, slowly falling onto his bed. it’s mind boggling, that’s all. he’s been on plenty of dates, sure, but it’s not like anything came out of any of them. he just has too many issues, too much emotional baggage. he feels like he’s deadweight, doesn’t contribute anything.

what kyle sees in him is a mystery, he thinks. and there’s still stan. they only fucked once, granted, but everything between them is still unknown and unspoken about. hell, he doesn’t even really know if stan actually likes — liked — him, or if it was all just a game that was just fun for him.

the voices come back, screaming at him this time. he can’t possibly do this and be able to live with himself after. kyle is really all he has left. he can’t afford to be selfish, can’t afford to throw what little he has away for the sake of a relationship that he knows will crash and burn eventually. he can’t envision his own future lasting more than a few more years. he can’t ever see himself truly getting better, relationship or not. all he will ever do, ever amount to, is bring misery and pain to what good he tries to pursue. 

clyde was great before he became a cokehead — and that was kenny’s fault. the one real girlfriend he’s ever had was put on suicide watch after he broke things off with her. stan almost got way too close, but he’s deployed now, which feels like a bad omen all together. he can’t do that to kyle, no way. kyle has a real shot of being someone. he has a future, he has a family, he has friends. kenny is the common denominator here. kenny must be the one to eliminate the curse he has.

Chapter Text

kenny didn’t expect to see tammy warner, his elementary school girlfriend (he doesn’t count this as a real relationship — they went out for 5 months and they just dissolved into nothing when she moved on to middle school), at the bar he was at during his shift. he was about four vodka redbulls and a few lines of blow in, and he just gone done with his client, and he knows it’s unfair to kyle, but he approached her — she wasn’t hanging off of any guys, and neither was he, so why the fuck not?

”oh my god, kenny?” she had squealed when he tapped her shoulder. he had to admit, she looked good. it was almost embarrassing to be seen next to her in an outfit that looked like it could’ve come from her closet, but either she was too drunk to notice or just didn’t care, because they were both horny enough to screw in a bathroom stall. honestly? kenny kind of needed that. to take his frustrations and put them into a healthier outlet than all the booze and drugs, and she really seemed to be into it, so a win is a win.

they decided to go out and smoke a cigarette on the patio afterwards, before they had to part ways, when they got to talking.

”i haven’t heard about you since, well, elementary school,” tammy says, lighting kenny’s cigarette for him.

kenny inhales, smirking. “yeah… yeah, i guess you’re right. do you go here?” he asks, referencing the university of denver, where the bar they were at was so conveniently located.

”yeah, nursing. full ride. you?” she hums, tapping her foot against the concrete below them.

”no, actually. i don’t… i don’t go to school. i kinda just live with kyle? all of my friends, they go here. i just work.”

tammy nods understandingly, asking “what have you been up to since we last saw each other? it’s been ages.”

and he doesn’t know what compels him to do this, — maybe it’s the fact that she’s the only one who has been remotely close enough to his own situation, from what he can remember, or maybe it’s the fact that they’re not close — but he tells her (most of) everything.

”honestly? a lot. i just… i haven’t been good,” kenny starts, flicking the ashes into the street in front of them. “just… family issues. karen’s in foster care, and i bounced between living with eric, stan, and kyle for a year when i got emancipated, and i was arrested about this time last year, after i got alcohol poisoning and got my stomach pumped, for underage drinking… but kyle’s dad bailed me out and i had to go to alcoholics anonymous, and… i don’t know why i’m telling you all of this.”

”shit,” tammy mutters, raising her eyebrows. it doesn’t seem judgmental, though. moreso just… interested. “now i feel bad for asking. i’m sorry, kenny. that all sounds really hard.”

kenny sighs deeply, nodding. “i didn’t mean to open the floodgates or anything. it kinda felt good to get it all out to someone i don’t see every day. like… to you, that’s all just a story. but my friends watch me have to live it every single day, so it gets awkward sometimes, just updating them instead of telling the watered down version. it feels more concise this way.”

the two talk for a little longer before kenny has to cut it short — he has clients to service. they hug, and kenny promises to hit her up if he’s ever not doing anything (he probably won’t, he feels as if he’s betrayed kyle).

kenny gets home a few hours later, surprised that kyle isn’t awake when he steps into the small living room. DVD cases are stacked on the coffee table, along with a whiskey bottle, an ash try, and a few porno magazines. the couch is practically falling apart, stuffing peeking through the ripped seams, and kyle’s dads old recliner is buried beneath dirty laundry and throw blankets. he heard kyle’s snores from the room attached to the kitchen, and a sigh of relief comes upon him. kyle hasn’t abandoned him.

it’s been his new fear ever since kyle opened up to him: that he’d get sick of waiting for an answer, get repulsed by him in general, get up and leave. it’s probably an irrational fear, he’s stuck around this long, but the playing field feels very different.

it’s right then and there that kenny makes his decision.

he can’t fall asleep, no matter how hard he tries. he smokes a bowl, takes benadryl, he even tries praying — but, no cigar. the anxiety and anticipation of waiting for kyle to wake up is far too much for him to handle. it’s as if an elephant was sitting on his chest, making him unable to breathe, all oxygen cutting off from his brain. it makes him feel delirious on anxiety, and it’s the same kind of feeling he gets when he wakes up from dying, except this time he knows he never died in the first place.

when kyle finally does wake up, kenny is in the shower, limiting himself on his cutting — only five per arm. he can’t ribbon open his skin, not right now. he finally emerges from the steam, kyle is sitting on the couch, staring into his mug of black coffee.

kenny feels lightheaded, woozy, nauseous. he thinks he might throw up in his mouth — this all feels so forced. “kyle?” he asks meekly, peering his head around the corner.

”what’s up?” kyle yawns, turning down the volume of the tv. his eyes are tinted with worry, as if kenny did something horrible. in part, what kenny was doing was horrible, but it’s not like he’d ever know that.

”i’ll… i’ll go out with you. i’ll try it out. but if things just don’t work, please don’t hate me. please.”

kenny feels so, so guilty, so selfish, when kyle’s eyes light up. you can’t do this, the voices shout, clawing their way into the forefront of his mind. you’re just trying to appease him. you don’t deserve this. you’ll have to change everything about yourself. you don’t deserve any better than what you have. 

“kenny, i wouldn’t ever hate you… if things don’t work, they don’t work. at least we’re giving it a try,” kyle says softly, setting down his mug. he stands up slowly, approaching kenny with such caution, as if kenny might shatter at the slightest touch. “i mean, we know we work as friends, so there’s at least that.”

kenny nods, pressing himself into the doorway. he’s trembling, and he feels as if he’s on autopilot — his movements aren’t his own. “yeah. yeah, you’re right. i just… i hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

kyle reaches out, gingerly brushing against kenny’s arm. “dude, i know. i’ve known you for, like, 17 years at this point. a few dates won’t change the fact that you’re still, like, my best friend.”

kyle stops when he’s close enough, tilting his head down to look at the seemingly terrified boy next to him. he sighs, reaching out to play with his hair. “are you okay? with this, i mean. you seem… nervous.”

”i am nervous. it’s not you, i’m just in my own head.” kenny replies, leaning into kyle’s touch. it’s oddly comforting, that kyle is being this gentle with him, because that’s not the love or adoration he’s used to getting. love, to him, came in the form of black eyes, rusted spoons, bloody noses. it came in the form of screaming matches, rough and painful sex, demeaning words. and it always ended with slamming doors, tears, broken glass. 

“is it okay if i kiss you?” kyle asks softly, his eyes warm and endearing. this isn’t the love you deserve. 

kenny hesitates, then nods. he’s not prepared for kyle to push his sweaty hair from his face and plant a sweet kiss on his forehead. this isn’t the love you deserve. 

“there. well, when are you off work next? i’ll take you anywhere you want.” kyle asks, moving back to his seat on the couch. kenny follows behind closely, beelining himself to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

”uh… smoke shop? sunday, i think. i just won’t work that night either.”

”okay, well, what do you want to do?”

kenny ponders this a moment. what did he want to do? “anything, i guess. again, i’m really not used to any of this.”

kyle nods slightly, giving him an empathetic smile. he almost looks sorry for kenny — which makes kenny feel smaller, weaker, more vulnerable. it’s not meant to be condescending in any sense, but kenny just feels… well, awful.

”maybe relationships just aren’t for me,” he tells karen over the phone that night. he whispers this, for kyle is in the shower and the walls are thin. 

“how do you know?” karen asks. “you’ve never really given one a fair shot.”

kenny sighs. it’s far too complicated to explain. “i know, i’m just not super optimistic that it’ll lead to anything. he could do so much better.”

”maybe he thinks you’re the best, though. maybe he doesn’t want anybody else.”

kenny can’t imagine such a thing. he sees himself as less than nothing. subhuman. pond scum. why the hell would kyle settle for him when he could easily have anyone he wanted? kyle would learn sooner than later, he thinks, that he isn’t someone to trophy around. he’ll be an embarrassment. he’s better to be left for dead.

Chapter Text

within the past three months, kenny has died 43 times.

that’s 43 times that kyle has found him seemingly completely frozen in time, not moving, not speaking, hardly blinking. his breaths were always short and choppy, and he’d never respond to kyle’s desperate attempts to bring him back down to earth. it was only ever in the morning, when kyle would wake up next to him, when he would fully show any other signs of life. he would always shiver, despite him sweating bullets, and he’d always be murmuring absolute nonsense to himself. none of what he said ever made sense, like he was speaking in code. or, on occasion, kenny would go fully autopilot, and wouldn’t remember any of it the next morning, insistent that he had been dead.

kyle knows that it’s not what kenny claims it to be — he is well aware of kenny’s schizophrenia diagnosis, he knows that kenny hears, sees, believes things that aren’t there. 

if that was kenny’s most worrisome indicator that things were getting bad again, well, kyle’s life would be a lot easier.

kyle has learned how to properly take care of him when he’s convinced that he’s dead, knows how to gently try to distract him from whatever hell he’s living through. it’s the other things that are making things a lot worse.

it’s the fact that kyle can’t remember the last time kenny hasn’t been either drunk, high, or both. it’s the fact that kyle has hardly seen kenny eat anything other than cucumber slices and rice cakes since they started dating. it’s the fact that kenny has been bleeding through his bandages on several occasions, usually leading to another catatonic spell. it’s the fact that he looks like a shell of who he once was.

kenny can’t stop his destructive behaviors, no matter how much he tries to. it’s a ritual for him, living through the same day of getting drunk, getting high, waiting for the deaths to come, snapping out of it, picking around at the meals kyle offers him, and then going to work. he honestly feels more dead than alive, and he’s genuinely convinced that somebody is using his dead corpse as a puppet, forcing him to move along with life for their own sick pleasures.

it took a lot of convincing for kyle to get kenny to share his bed with him.

”you don’t want to sleep next to me, trust me,” kenny had said softly when kyle brought the idea up. it was about a month into their… relationship, as hesitant as kenny is to call it that… and it shouldn’t have surprised kenny as much as it did. “whenever i come back from being dead, it happens in the mornings, and it’s… weird. we have different sleeping schedules anyways.”

”i don’t mind, ken,” kyle had reassured, tracing patterns into kenny’s bony back. well, they weren’t so much patterns, kyle had been tracing over visible bone. so, seemingly all of them. “i work closing shifts anyways, so i usually get home when you’re working. and i wake up a few hours after you go to bed… i can just lay down in bed with you in my down time.”

kenny had no reason to keep pushing this — sacrifices. he’s still weary of this entire situation, so much so that it sends him into a panic more often than not, but he has to try to act somewhat normal. it’ll make kyle happy.

kenny sighed, his nails sinking into his thighs. “okay. i’m just warning you though, it’s not pretty.”

”mmm, everything you do is pretty, ken.” kyle said soothingly. this wasn’t meant to enable him in any sense, and kenny understood that. kyle knows, has known, that the way kenny treats himself is wrong. the situation is just so, so complicated: kenny brings in enough money for rent and groceries, and whatever is left is used to pay off his hospital bill from february. and, of course, the drugs. but they both know that kenny can’t just get off of them cold turkey, which would seemingly be his only option as of late. especially with rent increasing.

—————

it was one of the increasingly rare days where kenny doesn’t have either of his jobs to attend to. he’s sitting on the couch, his head resting in kyle’s lap, cartman on the other end, gawking at them. kyle was the one to break the news to cartman that they were giving a relationship a go. “dude, i knew kenny was gay as fuck, but you too?” he said, eyes wide in disbelief. “is that why you’ve virtually never had a girlfriend? are jewish people even allowed to be gay?”

kyle knew that if kenny had been the one to tell him, the comments would probably be a lot worse. it’s actually a miracle that kenny has been able to hide his job from cartman for this long — sure, he may have been the one to blab on him to stan (in his defense, stan was already getting suspicious. kenny was scared of driving that far out of the city, where he claimed he had been working), but even kyle knew that cartman dogged on kenny to extreme lengths.

the three of them were watching some stupid movie, taking turns ripping kyle’s bong. kenny was practically falling asleep, kyle carding through his messy hair. thirty minutes later, kenny actually had fallen asleep.

”dude, your boyfriend looks like shit,” cartman whispered, glancing over at the two. “it’s like he’s knocking on deaths door.”

kyle rolls his eyes, looking down. there’s a little bit of truth to his statement, but kenny doesn’t look like shit. he never really does. “shut up. he’s just been exhausted lately.”

”is it because he’s anorexic? or does he have aids from all the needles?”

kyle grimaces, shooting cartman a nasty look. “do you have a fucking problem? you’re more than welcome to just leave.”

cartman shrugs, looking at the time. “soon. but i’m being serious. he genuinely looks like he could be dead.”

”dude, seriously. you think i don’t know that? look, drop it. he’s literally right here. just shut the fuck up.”

they sit in silence for a few moments, not making eye contact. cartman always pretends to care, always makes phony concerned statements. but cartman has never gave a shit about anyone but himself in his entire life. kyle bites his tongue, stopping himself from completely snapping. 

“well, i’m going home,” cartman yawns, seeming to be completely unfazed by the conversation before. “good luck, man. you need it.”

—————

 kenny doesn’t deserve this. he wakes up, groggy, as kyle transfers him to his their bed, but feigns sleep until he knows for certain that kyle is snoring. he doesn’t deserve how sweet kyle is. he doesn’t deserve to be laying here next to him. he doesn’t deserved to be held so closely. 

five more cuts, he tells himself, wiggling himself out from kyle’s grip. five quickly multiplies into god knows how many, and fuck, he can’t breathe. it sounds like he’s underwater, his vision blurs. he can’t feel himself move, he can’t feel hear himself whimpering. he can’t process the fact that he’s shaking kyle awake, blood dripping onto the sheets below.

”jesus, kenny, what’s going on?” kyle gasps, startled from the sudden awakening. 

kenny can’t bring the words out of his throat, whimpering hurriedly. he’s clutching his arms to his chest, and he shakes uncontrollably as he peels them away, showing kyle the mess he’s gotten himself into.

”fuck. go into the bathroom, love, i’ll get the first aid kit.”

kenny doesn’t know why he even told kyle. usually he just deals with it all himself. something about this… something about how deep he suspects he might’ve gone, something about how woozy he feels… kyle had every right to know.

Chapter Text

“was it because of me?” kyle asks first thing when kenny wakes up.

kenny blinks the sleep out of his eyes, squinting.  “what?” he looks down at his heavily gauzed arms, looking back up into kyle’s eyes. “you’re joking, right?”

kyle frowns, getting out of bed. “well, no. i’m only asking because…”

”because of how awful i’ve been. got it.”

”kenny, not like that. i’m just saying, ever since we started dating, you’ve just been… your mental health just is seemingly getting worse. that’s all.”

kenny sighs. it’s noon, and he has to be at work soon, and he really, really doesn’t have the time for this. “it’s not you. it’s a lot of things, but it isn’t you.”

kyle has never pried about these kinds of things before — while it’s true that he’s never been his boyfriend before, it’s still uncomfortable that he would pry now. it just adds on to the feeling of being too closely watched. even when they were just roommates, even when kenny lived with kyle for a few months in elementary school, kyle never pried. there was a mutual understanding, although unspoken, that kenny doesn’t need somebody breathing down his neck at all times. that kenny prefers not talking about things.

”are you sure, ken?” kyle hums, staring kenny down as he scrambles to get dressed. “you can tell me if i ever do something to upset you, you know that, right?”

”kyle,” kenny mumbles under his breath. “if it was because of you i wouldn’t have asked you to help me. i would’ve hidden it. no offense.”

kyle sighs in defeat, sitting back down on the bed. “okay, fine. can you eat something before work?”

this is when kenny starts to get irritated. it’s supposed to be a good thing, having someone to look out to you, it’s just that this isn’t how kenny likes to function. “i’ll grab something on the way there, okay? i don’t have time to make something right now, i need to leave in like… 15 minutes.”

”i can make you a sandwich? you just haven’t really been eating much lately.”

”jesus christ, kyle. can we please stop talking about this? i just woke up, please, can we just not?” kenny says sharply, his words rushed and jumbled. 

“well excuse me for not wanting you to literally kill yourself.”

”fuck this. you know i can’t, i’ve fucking tried. please just stop. seriously, man.”

kyle rolls his eyes. he’s been trying to be patient, to be understanding. but cartmans comments last night… something about them just made him snap. he was never in denial about kenny needing help, lord knows. but seriously, if cartman is starting to notice, then it’s clear he’s been silent about it for too long.

”fine. i’ll see you after work then.”

kenny bites the inside of his cheek, grabbing a banana off of the counter. “happy?” he asks, not waiting for an answer before he pushes himself out of the door.

job number one is boring. cop cars have been sitting at the intersection in front of the strip, and he’s not fucking stupid, he knows that most of the customers are underage. kyle texts him a few times throughout his shift, apologizing for his behavior, checking in on him, making sure he’s changed his bandages. kenny sighs. he knows he means well. he just wishes he wouldn’t make him feel so guilty for the way his brain works, even though he knows it’s never the intention.

kyle just thinks he can save kenny from the cold, dingy prison that is his brain. if kyle knew half of what was happening up there, or what  wasn’t happening up there, he would back off and understand.

first off, the cutting wasn’t because of kyle. it was because kenny knows that he’s done nothing in his life to provoke that kind of affection. in fact, doesn’t kenny kind of cheat on him every night? kyle says he doesn’t care, that he understands that it’s just work, that none of those people mean anything to him, but god, kenny doesn’t know how kyle puts up with it.

second off, his eating is nobody else’s concern. it’s actually a good thing he doesn’t eat — the more he eats, the more he cuts. there never seemed to be an issue when he wasn’t eating because his family didn’t have hardly enough money to even afford a trip to the dollar tree. but now that it’s about control, now that it’s about the number on the scale, then there’s a problem? if it’s the one thing that brings some sense of peace to his life, why even get mad about it? 

the small timeframe between job number one and job number two is uneventful. kyle is home, cooking dinner, on the phone with his parents. kenny gives him a small wave, slinking into his bedroom to get ready. he went the entire length of the first shift without shooting up, it’s a non negotiable that that’s the first thing he does. as if it’s like a light switch in his mind, kenny instantly feels better — not happier, but better. less irritated. 

kenny is halfway through his makeup, balancing his cigarette between his teeth while he cakes on blush when kyle knocks on his door. “can i come in?”

kenny stands up, his movements feeling like slow motion, and unlocks the door. “hey,” he says softly, taking his seat at his desk. “how are your parents?”

kyle groans, flopping onto kenny’s bed. “fine. i guess ike got in trouble at school, and now they’re bitching at me because of it because somehow they still expect me to be responsible for him. the usual.”

kenny hums in sympathy, stubbing his cigarette out in his ash tray. “can you help me lace up my corset? i can’t reach.” he has no intentions of bringing up the afternoons quarrel, and is hoping, praying that kyle doesn’t either. kyle’s hands are steady as he pulls the laces tight, tying them into a neat little bow, as if kenny is a present to be opened.

”i’m just going to offer, you don’t have to accept it, but i made dinner for you,” kyle starts. fuck. “i feel really bad about earlier. i was being unfair, and i kinda just got insecure and i took it out on you. you don’t have to forgive me or anything, i just wanted to apologize.”

kenny sighs, leaning forward on the desk. “it’s okay. i get it. i’ll eat, i promise. i like your cooking.” it makes kenny cringe, saying those words out loud, and he wants to punch himself in the face for even agreeing. but he can’t keep being selfish. he knows it’ll just make things worse if he doesn’t, even if kyle denies it, and then that really would give kyle a good reason to just pack up his shit and leave all together. as long as he just doesn’t take any unnecessary rides from clients, it can be walked off easily.

clearly, it’s what kyle wanted to hear, because he’s grinning ear to ear, like a kid in a candy store. “really?” he asks, standing up quickly. “i’ll bring it to you, if you want, or we can eat together. it’s up to you.”

“both? just eat in here with me, i have like an hour before i have to leave, and i also feel bad about snapping on you, and… i dunno, you’ll be in bed before i’m back so i don’t want you going to sleep thinking i’m mad.”

kyle comes back with two plates — salad, a sweet potato, and some chicken pile high on kyle’s, and kenny is at least relieved to see that the portions on his are considerably smaller.

they eat, and kenny fights every last nerve in him to not just push things around the plate and cut his meal into microscopic pieces. kyle at least seems satisfied that something is going into his system.

thirty minutes out before work — kenny finishes getting ready, he does a few bumps, and him and kyle make out. truthfully, their sex life has been kinda perfect. it’s consistent. no notes. which is why kenny feels all the more guilty about everything. “i can get tested as much as i can, i’m not risking giving you anything.” kenny had said to kyle when sex was first brought up. 

“you don’t make them all wear condoms?”

”i try to, but sometimes they pay extra not to, and then my hands are kind of tied. not to be gross or anything. or sometimes they slip it off and don’t tell me, then get mad when i tell them that i can feel the difference.”

kyle had gotten quiet, and that had been that. it was nothing short of a miracle that he was clean (finally some good karma), and kenny finally had to accept there was no going back with this now, and he would be lying if he said that that wasn’t the best sex of his life. it was far more gentle than how it was with stan, and he even considered that to be gentle. this was more love making.

kenny considers just saying fuck it and not go to work. but he’s not given much choice, seeing that he’s already in debt, and he just really, really hopes that kyle isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t care.

Chapter Text

the truck stops were the worst places to pick up men. the worst in the sense that the men there who eyed kenny up and adjusted themselves in their pants were always, without fail, the most feral. they were always pent up from long days and nights on the road, called him names, pounded him until he could hardly walk. always, without fail.

kenny has had his fair share of bad shifts — but a bad shift, to him, usually meant very few customers, requests to do weird shit, or disgusting men who didn’t care about their own personal hygiene.

kenny had never been raped during a shift, before tonight.

he had been walking out of the truck stop, done with his last client of the night — a tall, bulky man had cornered him, dragged him back into his truck, ignoring his desperate attempts to free himself of the forceful and demanding grip. he tried to scream, tried to make it known that he needed help, but nobody fucking listened.

kenny tried to disassociate as much as he good as it was all happening. he tried to kick, tried to push himself off, but he knows he’s growing weaker and frailer by the day. it’s no use. it’s painful, so painful, and he feels so incredibly disgusting. the man smells of sour sweat and greasy fast food, and he throws up in his mouth. the words can’t come out of him, and he feels as if his body is betraying him as he moans. he doesn’t enjoy this, not one bit.

he doesn’t even get paid.

he calls kyle when it’s over. he’s leaning against the brick wall of the tiny rest stop, sobbing, silently begging for kyle to pick up the damn phone.

”hey, ken, what’s up? i thought you were working?”

kenny doesn’t even know how to explain it. he gags when he tries to talk, tears and phlegm clogging his throat.

”kenny? are you okay?”

”no,” he gasps out, holding onto the wall behind him for dear life. “no. no. please pick me up. please.”

kyle curses under his breath, forcing kenny to stay on the line with him as he speeds his way over. out of all the times to disassociate, it couldn’t have been when he was in that truck? he flinches when he hears kyle whisper out his name, his touch scaring the shit out of him. 

“holy shit, kenny, you’re bleeding. what happened?” kyle breathes out, crouching down to meet his level. the expression on his face carries so much fear, kenny crumbles beneath him.

”i can’t say. i can’t. please take me home.”

it aches to walk, and kenny doesn’t even make it three steps before he’s relying on kyle to carry him to the car. he can’t stop crying. please stop crying. this is what i deserved.

kyle wastes no time in speeding off, going way above the speed limit. “kenny, please talk to me.  you’re scaring me. did somebody hurt you?”

kenny nods, sobbing harder. “he just… and then he took me into his truck… and he…” he wails out, his sentences only coming as broken fragments. he can’t bring himself to actually say the word rape out loud. he almost expects kyle to laugh in his face, being told ‘i told you so.’ because, honestly, what did he expect, being a hooker? this was his own fault.

”shhh… kenny… it’s okay… it’ll be okay…” kyle whispers in an attempt to soothe the inconsolable boy beside him. “did he…” he trails off, equally as uncomfortable addressing the painfully obvious. 

kenny nods once more, banging his head on the headrest behind him. 

“oh my god,” kyle mutters, rolling the windows down. “fuck. it’s… we’ll figure this out, okay? do you wanna go to the police, or…?”

”no. please, god, no. they’ll… they’ll arrest me.” kenny cries rapidly, his hand gripping the seat with such force he thinks his fingernails might snap in half.

kyle sighs. he knows this is probably true. “okay, okay… we’re almost home, okay? can you try to breathe?” he asks gently, as if walking on eggshells. he doesn’t know what else to say. he accelerates, weaving in and out of traffic. 

when they finally reach the apartment, kyle has to carry his trembling boyfriend up the stairs. his shirt is staining with tears, blood, and snot as kenny presses his face to his neck. kyle gently places him on his bed, sitting down next to him. “do you want me to help you get changed? i can start a shower for you…”

”i can get undressed myself… i don’t… i don’t want you to see me. please. i can’t, not tonight.”

kyle nods softly, scooting himself away from kenny. it’s not that he doesn’t want to be close to him, it’s that he doesn’t want to scare off kenny. he’s shaking like crazy, closed into himself. kyle has only seen kenny this scared a handful of times — the first time being when kenny was first removed from his parents care, the second time after his first schizophrenic episode.

”okay, that’s okay. i’ll start your shower… let me know if you need anything.”

kenny sighs, not moving. he stares ahead at the wall in front of him, his thoughts racing at a million miles a minute. the walls are cracking and peeling, and there’s a spider crawling on the windowsill. usually this would make him flip his shit and he’d try to kill it, but he doesn’t have it in him.

“kenny?” kyle says softly, poking his head into the room. “are you changed? the waters running, i don’t want it to get cold.”

”right… just give me a second,” kenny whispers, still staring ahead. he knows what he has to do. he sees kyle disappear around the corner, and he starts to strip slowly, not daring to look down at his body. he’s disgusted by it, disgusted that he would dare react to such abuse, dare betray him. he wraps a towel around him, moving slowly to the bathroom. the water is a little too hot, and kenny flinches, but doesn’t dare turn it down. he lowers himself to the floor, reaching out to clutch at the razor in the corner. he detaches the blade, bringing it to his stomach.

he feels numb. the shower is a sea of red, and he swallows hard. he needs to take this further. how the fuck could he be so stupid? why the fuck did he do this to himself? why did he put himself in this position? he just had to sell himself that first time. he just had to give into his parents cracked out demands, had to use with them. his vision gets spotty, his thoughts become more broken. he lets the water wash over him, trying to will himself to die — he doesn’t have the strength to make any more cuts. he physically can’t. he can only make a weak whimper when he hears kyle knock on the door. “‘m almost done.” he croaks out, feebly pushing himself up. 

it takes him a few minutes to stand up, and he has to hold onto the wall to keep himself straight. the water has run cold, kyle will be pissed. he’s a mess. he drops the bottle of rubbing alcohol, the gauze clings to his wet hands, his head is still swimming. this is pathetic. 

he doesn’t sleep next to kyle that night. he doesn’t sleep, period. kyle starts his next year of college in a few days, it isn’t fair on him to help kenny. it’s 6am. the time he’d usually get home from work. none of this is real. he drags his feet as he grabs the six pack of beers from the fridge, setting it on the coffee table, next to the bottle of vicodin. please, let me forget, he thinks. this is all just a bad dream. 

he’s still awake by the time kyle wakes up mid afternoon. he’s barely moved from the couch, his knees tucked up into his sweatshirt, barely registering the cartoons flashing on the tv. he’s on his last bottle of beer, and he popped a few pills, and the thoughts in his mind have slowed considerably.

he doesn’t respond when kyle kneels in front of him, only glances down to acknowledge his presence. “kenny, dude. are you okay?”

he shakes his head ‘no,’ fixing his eyes back on the television. he’s so exhausted, but he fears what he’ll dream of if he gives in to sleeping. “please don’t tell anyone,” he murmurs, dazed. “nobody can know about this.”

kyle nods. “i won’t, i promise. can i get you anything? anything at all?”

”i’m fine. you don’t have to tend to me, man. enjoy your last few days of summer.”

”dude. i’m not gonna just let you sit here and suffer alone,” kyle frowns, reaching up to gently cup kenny’s face. “i want to try to help you.”

“it’s fine. nothing can be done. i just have to get over it.” kenny says, wincing at the touch — everything hurts.

kyle drops it. he sighs heavily, sitting down on the couch next to him. if kenny doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s best to not push at it, he’s learned. the severity of the situation might push kenny over the edge if he does. they sit in silence for a few hours before kenny stands up, his legs feeling far too weak to keep him upright. 

“i have work soon,” he whispers, his voice trailing off into nothing. “i’ll go to the grocery on the way home.” 

“are you sure you’re okay to go? i can call your boss, or i can drive you… i don’t work until 7…”

kenny trudges to the bathroom. “i’ll be fine. i can drive myself.” he says, splashing his face with cold water. he just needs to sober up.

”don’t be ridiculous, babe. i’ll call your boss, i’ll just say you’re sick or something… you look exhausted…”

”but i need the money, i’ll be okay, i promise.”

kyle places his hand on kenny’s shoulder, keeping him in place. “i wasn’t really asking, kenny. i’m working tonight, i can consider this shift as a makeup shift for you. i really don’t mind, i have birthday money, and it’s just one shift, just so you can rest. just this once.”

“fine. just this once. but i’m going tomorrow, i’m not taking your money.” kenny says softly, biting his lip. 

this satisfies kyle enough, enough so that he plants a kiss to the top of his head. “i meant it when i said you look exhausted. you should really sleep…”

kenny nods. this is all just to please him. his life isn’t even his own. he won’t sleep. he might pretend, sure. but if he closes his eyes, he knows he’ll relive last night over and over and over again.

Chapter Text

high school was really, really bad for kenny. it wasn’t that he wasn’t well liked or didn’t have his friends, it’s just that so much had happened in such a short period of time.

his freshman year was average. he made decent grades, he had a girlfriend, he was pretty involved.

”kenny, these are your years, i’m telling you,” cartman had said one thursday night. kenny, and stan had been on the football team and, miraculously, had won a game. “you’re finally normal.”

those words, especially from cartman, had always rubbed him the wrong way. he always thought of himself as fairly normal, despite the fact that he couldn’t die, was clinically insane, and was an addict.

kenny tends to blame cartman for jinxing him. 

he was dropped from the team. ‘let go’, as the coach put it. maybe it was his failing grades (that nearly set him back a year if it wasn’t for kyle and tucker essentially letting him cheat off of them), maybe it was the (multiple) failed drug tests. whatever it was, it was bullshit. didn’t even make it to varsity. that was supposed to be his out, getting a football scholarship somewhere (“keep dreaming,” stan had drunkenly told him). 

and then he broke up with his girlfriend. to this day, he feels bad about it, because it was vulgar and messy and could’ve easily been mistaken for one of stuart and carols infamous screaming matches. that, and it had ended in her being put on suicide watch. 

to be completely fair, kenny had always rationalized, she had been cheating on him with fucking clyde donovan of all fucking people. it’s almost funny, looking back at it, that he’s been the one under clyde lately. it shouldn’t be funny.

“she was more upset that she got caught than the fact that she actually did something wrong.”

sophomore year was spent more dead than alive — that’s when tweek introduced him to speedballs, tolkien started throwing his, admittedly awesome, house parties, and kenny had to get a job. well, a job that didn’t involve rigid hours, background checks or minimum wage. more than half his paychecks were pocketed by his parents, and whatever was left rotated between going to karen and fueling his vices.

actually, it had been some nameless, faceless senior at north park who had given him the idea. 

“lotsa people would pay for a mouth like yours,” he had grunted to kenny from the backseat of a cherry red sports car, t-2 hours away from his first heroin overdose, the windows fogged up — a telltale sign of what they’d gotten themselves into. “but i’m getting it for free.”

it spurred something in kenny. he half remembers lifting his head from between the thick, muscular thighs, tilting his head back in pure ecstasy. 

“you mean that?”

“shit, dude, yeah. they don’t call you mcwhoremick for nothing.”

kenny had shrugged, resuming his mindless sucking. the idea wasn’t half bad. if he started at $25 for a blowjob and $50 for the real deal, and he had X amount of clients per shift, well… hell of a lot better than minimum wage. 

junior and senior year? forget about it. kenny could barely remember any of the details. he showed up to school either strung out, tweaking or still drunk from the night before majority of the time. there wasn’t much worth remembering — barely passed his classes, reputation as the ‘school slut’ solidified, and he emancipated himself. more importantly, karen was taken away. so, no. kenny would rather not remember.

——————

kenny had woken up in the late evening, a thin film of sweat sticking to every crevice, making him uncomfortably sticky.

kyle had asked if kenny wanted to sleep in his bed that night. he knew kyle was worried. he knew it was stupid to not at least pretend to be okay. so, he said yes. he said yes, and he found himself drifting further and further away from kyle until he was practically pressed into the wall, falling off the very edge of the bed.

he sat in silence a few moments, taking a moment to observe kyle’s room; the giant ‘beer pong champion’ flag that hung above his desk, the neat stack of CDs on his dresser, the broken hamper at the edge of his bed overflowing with dirty clothes. his room was much neater than his own. when kenny closed his eyes again, he could hear kyle out in the kitchen, microwaving what was probably his dinner, beavis and butthead reruns just loud enough for kenny to make out bits and pieces of the dialogue.

he has to go to work. 

“you’re awake,” kyle had murmured softly, pulling leftovers out of the beeping appliance. “you’ve been asleep all day.”

kenny nods. “i know.”

the air is thick and heavy with the silence that follows. maybe kenny was hallucinating — at this point, he doesn’t even doubt it anymore — but he could’ve sworn that kyle had a look of disgust on his face. 

kenny cocks his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows. “huh?” he asks, rubbing his sore face.

”what?” kyle replies, his voice soft and laced with concern. “i didn’t say anything. just thinking.”

kenny swallows and looks away, treading into his room. he needs something, anything. 

“are you sure you’re fine?” kyle asks through the door. he isn’t an idiot. he knows what kenny’s doing. “you’re not actually working today, are you?”

kenny grunts and ties the elastic around his arm. “fine,” he confirms, his voice hoarse and raw from what he can only assume is crying. “and yes, i’m going. not to the truck stop, not for a while. i was just thinking the bars.”

”dude, honey, no,” kyle groans, wincing when he hears kenny hiss. “you gotta let yourself at least recover.”

“kyle. you said that yesterday. i can’t afford to recover.”

”do you know how fucked up that sounds? no offense.”

kenny peeks his head out of the ajar door, his eyes glazed over. “actually, full offense taken. maybe you can take a few days off of work when you need to, but i can’t. you know this.” 

kyle looks down, frowning. he sees the emptiness written all over kenny’s face. usually he’s good at determining if it’s from the drugs, his deteriorating mental state, or, well, anything else. but this time around, it’s beyond him. maybe it’s a mixture of all three, maybe it’s something entirely different. he just seems so… hollow. his skin is a sickly shade of pale, almost seeming blue. the bags beneath his eyes are a striking contrast, almost as dark as his pupils, which now seem to encompass his typical striking blue irises. the expression on his face is dazed, and even though he’s saying words, his body language doesn’t express it.

”okay. i know that. i’m just saying, i have the money. and my parents give me my allowance next week. so money isn’t an issue.” kyle says slowly, bluntly. he doesn’t necessarily like having these heavier conversations when kenny has so clearly just shot up, but they’re having it anyways, so he forces himself to speak in a way where kenny can get it all through his head.

”i’m not some fucking charity case, kyle,” kenny sneers, opening the door a little wider. he feels kyle’s eyes burning on him, or, more specifically, his outfit. his small skirt not even fully zipped, tube top nearly sliding off his chest. he’s not even aware of how much of a mess he looks. “i am fully — fully capable of supporting myself. i am not some weak, fragile little boy who needs help. i can work. let me work.”

kyle scans kenny’s pigsty of a room behind him, grimacing. it’s gotten worse since, well, the other day, a layer of bottles, trash, and clothes burying the floor. he purses his lips, reaching behind the smaller blonde to grab his carton of cigarettes on the bedside table. he lights one for himself, wordlessly passing one to kenny.

”i can’t, in good consciousness, let you work. you have to understand why.”

kenny groans around the cigarette, batting at his own face. it smears his eye makeup even more, his face scrunching up in a pained-looking twist. “jesus fucking christ. you know what?” he scowls, tapping the ashes away, not even really paying attention to where they’re landing. “fine. fine. keep me here, locked away like some fucking damsel in distress. if you wanna act like a fucking hero or a savior, don’t get it twisted for a minute, you’re not.”

kyle pauses. he squints his eyes down at kenny, visibly confused. “you’re fucking high, man.” he mutters, closing the door behind him. 

kyle knows that kenny wouldn’t usually be this angry, be this bitchy. he knows it’s the heroin (and whatever the fuck else he’s taken) talking. but it’s not like it’s not annoying. as much as he tells himself that it’s not kenny’s fault (which… is debatable), he’s at least seeing that kenny’s not trying to make things any better. even though it pains him to think that.

he can’t help but roll his eyes as he hears kenny blast his music annoyingly loud. but he also can’t help but sit outside of his room, pressing his ear to the door, listening intently to kenny’s off key singing, the flick of his lighter, and then, shortly after, choked back tears. 

—————

the heroin is good. he’s warm, he’s floaty, he’s lightheaded. he’s only slightly bothered that kyle was seemingly trying to hold him back. out of ‘love’ and ‘concern’, yeah. undeniably so. but what does kyle know? what does he know about only having mere cents left, trying to make them stretch as much as possible, even if it means sacrificing everything. what does he know about the guilt and shame that comes with  doing something for yourself? what does he know about… well… anything that kenny has ever gone through?

kenny sits in front of his cracked floor length mirror, eyes brimming with tears as he passes the flame under his hand repeatedly. kyle needs someone who’s more like him. he can’t help but sing a little louder, doing everything he can to drown out that one voice in his head. that one voice has been here from the very start, trying to sabotage the one good thing he has left in life.

the bottle of fireball threatens to spill at his feet as he stands up, swaying and stumbling as he brings himself closer to the mirror. at least, he thinks, i look good. at least i’m wanted, even if it hasn’t been deserved.

he doesn’t notice his sobs getting louder until kyle’s reflection is behind his own, staring down at him with weary eyes. 

“kenny.”

the blonde looks behind him, cheeks streaking with black and mica powder. 

“‘m sorry.” he whispers quietly, disoriented.

with a shake of his head — a silent oath, that all his struggles are forever forgiven — kyle steadies the swaying boy, placing rough, calloused hands on trembling shoulders. kenny’s flinch doesn’t go unnoticed, and kyle bites the inside of his cheek. what was void of any emotion just thirty minutes prior is now spooked and shattered, almost as if he’s seen a ghost. 

“please talk to me, kenny,” a low voice murmurs, the ginger burying his face in the blondes messy hair. “you’re scaring me.”

kenny whines slightly, his voice no louder than his quietest whisper. kyle can’t make it out at first, reminiscent of his muffled adolescence. it’s not until kyle asks him to repeat himself when the gravity of kenny’s words dawn on him, all color draining from his face when the smaller boy speaks again, only a hair louder.

”i’m going to die tonight.”

Chapter Text

whether kenny’s meek uttered words had been a cruel joke, a prophecy or the black tar running through his veins, kyle had no idea. but he wasn’t taking his words lightly.

”don’t even fucking say that,” he whispered harshly, guiding kenny into the warmth of kyle’s room. with a gentle push, kenny flopped onto kyle’s bed, staring back up at the shaken redhead towering over him. “kenny, baby, i’m so fucking serious. do not say that.”

kenny could only blink in return, tugging weakly on his clothes. “why? i won’t stay dead. it’s just —“

kyle cuts him off sharply, not daring to take his eyes off of the clammy boy below him. “no. that’s not funny, and you’re not going to die. not on my watch you’re not.”

”okay. then don’t watch.” kenny mumbles under his breath, pointing to the door. “can i please change? yknow, if you won’t let me go out.”

kyle shakes his head, simply turning around instead. “i’m not leaving you alone.”

defeated, kenny sighs. kyle not looking is better than nothing. he slinks towards kyle’s dresser, grabbing a pair of his stupid heart printed boxers and a large hoodie, changing hastily. he’d wear pajama pants or something to fully cover himself, but kyle’s his boyfriend (as much as that still doesn’t feel natural to him), and he can’t afford to sweat through all of his clothes, and at least his arms and scabs and track marks are covered. that, above anything, is better than nothing.

”kyle?”

”yeah?” the older replies, in an equally soft tone. he turns his head slightly to acknowledge kenny, not wanting to turn around fully and rake his eyes over the vulnerable boy.

”do you hate me?”

there’s a wavering in kenny’s voice and a trace of tears, and kyle just can’t help himself but to turn around, his own face contorted in a way that reflects his hurt by the question.

”what?” he asks breathlessly, studying the rapid rising and falling of his boyfriends chest. “no, ken, i don’t hate you. why would you think that? did i… do something? to make you think that?”

kenny avoids his gaze, tucking his knees beneath his chin as he sits down.

”no, not… really,” he says slowly, picking at a loose thread on the hem of the long sleeve. “i just don’t want you to think that i had a choice, or that i was asking for it, or that i’m a bigger whore than everyone already thinks i am.”

kyle's wordlessness doesn’t come from anger or judgement, just confusion. once kenny picks up on the hint that kyle is digesting the heaviness dropped on him, he continues.

”maybe it’s all in my head. it probably is. i just can’t shake the feeling that you’re grossed out by me or something. by everything i do. everything. not just the stupid drugs or the sex. but at my stupid fucking curse, and the fact that i’m not as smart as you are, or at how i can’t… bring myself to eat, or at how i contribute nothing at all to this relationship. i’m trying to. i just don’t know what’s wrong with me. what’s actually wrong with me. and i wouldn’t blame you if you did hate me, or if you were disgusted by me, because i’m pissed off and disgusted with myself. i just don’t want you to see me that way, that’s all.”

kenny exhales as he finishes his rambling, only looking up when he notices kyle dropping to his knees to meet him at eye level. kyle’s hands are calloused and veiny, and if it hadn’t been for the turmoil of the situation, kenny can bank on the fact that he would’ve spread his legs for him in record time.

”i don’t see you that way,” kyle hums, his voice steady and collected. if kenny knew any better he would say there were tears gathering in kyle’s hazel eyes. “and i’m not disgusted by you. far from it, actually. it hurts that you think so lowly of yourself, kenny; i wouldn’t have blabbed to you about how much i love you if i wasn’t okay with being with you in the first place.”

”but did you know what you were getting yourself into? i’m just saying, it’s not too late for you to change your mind, i’d understand.”

kyle sighs, pressing his forehead down onto the quilt below him. “it’s not about that, babe. can’t i just love you for who you are? is it really that hard to accept?”

”it is, actually. i’m not gonna try to change your mind or force you to leave me or whatever. just think about it.” kenny whispers, sinking himself to match kyle’s position. 

the room is eerily silent for a long while after. kyle refuses to acknowledge kenny’s desperate pleas for him to ‘think about it,’ because it’s no use. he knows what he wants, and he wants — no, needs — kenny. prostitution and drug addiction be damned. 

“stan texted. he’s coming back for a week.” kyle says quietly, turning his head to face kenny, who looks like he’s close to falling asleep.

he winces, unable to hide his discomfort at that knowledge. “is he actually?”

“yeah, really. you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, but cartman and i are.”

kenny groans, squishing his cheek to the mattress. “that makes me feel guilty. i don’t think i’ve interacted with any of the guys in months. not since… well, yeah.”

”so… maybe it’ll be good for you to see them? we were probably gonna drive back down to south park for at least a day, maybe go to boulder and spend a night out there.” kyle murmurs, reaching a gentle hand out to run his hands through kenny’s short, choppy hair.

instinctively, kenny leans into the touch, peeling his face up hesitantly. “i would be down. potentially. does he even wanna see me? i didn’t tell him about us, i was assuming you did. and i didn’t properly say goodbye to him. for all we know he hates my guts.”

a small chuckle escapes kyle’s chapped lips, and he can’t help but jab at kenny’s cheek. “you’re driving yourself crazy. of course he wants to see you. and for the record, i told him. don’t even worry about it, you’re sounding like tweek.”

kenny can’t help but snort slightly, jerking his head back at the jab against his protruding cheekbone. “not tweek. don’t say that shit, man.”

for what feels like the first time in eons, the two laugh together, the rest of the world melting behind them.

——————

piss poor timing of stan to return (albeit briefly) the week school started back up for the rest of the boys (sans kenny). the door had been left unlocked, presumably because of kenny’s drunken habit of sitting on the street corner in the middle of the night, before coming back from his long overdue shifts, chainsmoking while he waits to enter the apartment and inevitably disturb kyle’s sleep and forgetting to lock the door behind him. usually, it wouldn’t be much of an issue, had kenny not been in the middle of an A+ throat performance on a way-too-stoned kyle when cartman had barged in, waving his vape around while rambling on and on about how stan’s flight was delayed and whatnot before he stopped dead in his tracks.

”what’s going- aw, sick, guys,” eric had whined, covering his eyes. kenny barely even glanced his way, merely just furrowing his eyebrows with a throat full of cock. “get that faggy shit out of here. this is disgusting.”

kyle scoffed, pulling kenny away by the hair and throwing a pillow at cartman, his face now a deep crimson. “ever heard of knocking, fatass? just fuckin’ great, now you totally ruined everything.”

cartman uncovered his eyes to whine at the pillow hitting his face just to be met with the picture of kenny panting and wiping his mouth between kyle’s now clothed — thank god — lap. kenny pulled his head up, looking between the two boys, an uncomfortable scowl on his face. “that was like the first fucking time we were able to do that in, like, a week,” he groans, standing up. he doesn’t even care that he’s pitching a full tent in his sweats, honestly hoping that eric can get a full view of what he interrupted. “you’re a fucking prick for that.”

”i’m so telling all the guys — wait, you haven’t blowed him in a full week? here i thought you couldn’t go more than a few hours without jizz down your throat.” cartman questions, sitting on the barstool by the counter. 

kenny grimaces, looking up at kyle with wide eyes. first off, low blow. “i don’t know, man, school? work?” he really wasn’t about to tell cartman, of all people, that he was raped. 

“isn’t it a little soon? i understand if you don’t wanna, i can just… i don’t know, get myself off. i’ll go to the bathroom or something.” kyle had said earlier, hiding his lap beneath the very pillow that had bullseyed cartmans face.

”it’s fine. not too soon,” kenny had said, words running into themselves. in all honesty, it probably was a bit soon, but he was back to taking clients anyways, and besides the pure self loathing that came from that, there had been no physical issues. so, really, it would be unfair if he denied kyle. it was the least he could do after making him put up with his bullshit. “don’t hold back, either, really. i’ll be okay.”

“what the fuck ever. as i was trying to say before my eyes nearly got burnt out of my skull… i’m gonna need a ride to the airport whenever stan’s plane lands. tolkien was supposed to, but now that it was delayed, he can’t fucking take me.” cartman huffs, helping himself to the carton of goldfish sitting on the counter.

”not a chance, i don’t do highways.” kenny said, rubbing his eyes as he crossed his legs impatiently, really fucking bothered by being cockblocked.

”i don’t know, isn’t that a tomorrow problem?” kyle sighed, wrapping his arm around kenny’s waist. “it’s like a thirteen hour flight or something. and besides, couldn’t you have just texted? or, i don’t know, scheduled an uber?”

cartman grumbled and scoffed around a mouthful of goldfish, shaking his head. “yeah i could’ve. but i thought it would be more fun to just talk to you guys in person. whatever, clearly not.”

kenny sighs exasperatedly, sinking himself further into kyle’s side. he really fucking hates eric cartman.

“is there any other purpose for you just fucking walking in here like you own the damn place?” kyle snaps, tapping his foot impatiently.

”just wanted to hang out. but if you won’t stop being such a jew and your boyfriend won’t stop being a slut, then i guess i’m done here.”

in unison, kenny and kyle both flipped the heavier off as he walked out the door, breaking into a fit of giggles as soon as he was out. kenny stood up on wobbly legs, teetering to the door to make sure to actually lock it this time, wiggling his eyebrows as he turned back to his boyfriend.

”i’d be turned on at the idea of being caught and everything if it wasn’t cartman. and if he didn’t call us fags. and if he didn’t call me a slut — well, maybe the comments would’ve turned me on if it wasn’t cartman. you get the gist.”

kyle just rolls his eyes playfully, eyeing kenny’s lap. “we could continue… but i don’t know if i can get him out of my head now.”

“gross,” kenny mumbles, settling himself back between kyle’s thighs, resting his chin in his lap. “now i feel bad. this was supposed to be about you. maybe if i change into one of my outfits and put the voice on it’ll undeniably be me in your head?”

”you’re such a fucking dork.”

Chapter Text

kenny hadn’t been expecting for stan’s return to affect him so much.

seeing stan for the first time in months was jarring. his thick black hair was now buzzed off, the light in his eyes is now dull, his nose a hair more crooked than when he left. 

all he can think of is valentine’s day; the sweet nothings, the warmth he exuded, the feeling of having someone who understood him. then the crash of it all… the hollowness and filth of what they were doing, what they had done, practically eating him alive. the unadulterated shame that pricked at his skin, stinging him like a thousand wasps. the pain he had put everyone through.

kyle first noticed the shift in kenny’s mood at the pregame — being surrounded by all those people, especially stan and clyde, had kenny visibly on edge. kyle stopped counting the drinks his boyfriend had consumed after the fourth, and he was honestly shocked that kenny wasn’t blackout at that point. it wasn’t that he was a lightweight, theoretically, but with all skin and bones, the fact that kenny was handling his liquor as well as he was was honestly pretty impressive. it was actually pretty scary.

other than the fact that he was avoiding stan and clyde like the plague, and that he had barely said a word to anyone but kyle this entire time, nobody else really noticed anything drastic with his behavior. he smiled softly when jokes were cracked, he was downing shots like a champ. 

to anyone other than kyle, kenny seemed, well, fine. 

but kyle noticed. kyle could notice the stomach churning emptiness that was written all over kenny’s face. he could notice the sheer terror etched into his goosebump raised skin any time stan or clyde got too close. he could notice his boyfriend slipping into the bathroom every so often, coming back the tiniest bit more chipper, rubbing his nose nearly raw.

but to everyone else, he was fine.

until.

“get your fucking hands off of me,” kenny was slurring, clutching a bottle of vodka to his chest. “you’re lucky i’m even within a foot of you. after that little fucking stunt of yours i should’ve taken kyle’s advice and gotten a fucking restraining order.”

kyles ears perked up at this. immediately, he knew clyde was behind kenny’s raising voice. quickly, he passed the joint he was enjoying back to craig, his eyes cold as ice as he glared toward the scene.

”oh, so broflovski had some input on the situation, huh? did he get the full fucking story?” clyde sneered, crouching down to meet kenny’s gaze. 

butters was in the fucking way. so was stan, so was tweek, so was jimmy. “move,” kyle hissed, elbowing his way through the boys. “clyde, enough. just leave him alone. kenny, come on.” he pleaded, his fingers brushing against kenny’s wrist.

”fuck no. kyle, you know that your boyfriend is a raging fucking psychopath, right? who keeps a gun under his pillow? he’s just waiting for the right moment to blow his brains out the second nobody’s watching.”

”knock it off, clyde. kenny, we’re leaving.” kyle muttered lowly, glaring back at clyde. the situation between the two of them was months ago, and honestly, couldn’t clyde just give it a rest? couldn’t clyde just be satisfied with the fact that he punished kenny enough, pushed his former plaything away entirely?

or was torturing kenny like this just getting him off further?

“no, no, this is just getting good. kyle, did you know that your boyfriend is the biggest slut in all of denver. if not all of colorado?”

you could hear a pin drop. if the previous dispute wasn’t enough to get everybody’s attention, this sure was. 

“clyde-“ kenny started, his eyes unfocused and his face suddenly serious.

”kenny mccormick, everybody,” clyde announced, raising his drink in the air. “denver’s favorite, most seasoned prostitute.”

kenny dropped the bottle, letting the glass shatter and the clear liquid pool beneath his feet.

he heard a few snickers, and then heard cartman howling with laughter. when stan, kenny, and kyle didn’t laugh along, cartman stopped. 

“wait, clyde, you’re serious?” cartman had asked, his laughter dying for just a few moments before picking up again. “you’re shitting me. kenny, you’re not a hooker, are you?”

he couldn’t look up. he couldn’t address cartman. he couldn’t move. he couldn’t breathe.

”no, i’m serious, man,” clyde grinned wickedly. god, he must’ve been more coked up than kenny was, which was saying something. “raise your hand if kenny has slept with you. c’mon, raise them high.”

kenny didn’t have the guts to look up, but kyle did. if kyle felt sick, he couldn’t imagine what kenny was feeling. first, clyde raised his hand real high. then it was tolkien. then it was stan, then craig (“it was only once, and it was when we were on a break. you slept with that guy from north park, let’s just call it even.” he had whispered to a twitching tweek). 

“kyle, raise your hand. you’ve probably reaped the benefits more than any of us here.” clyde scoffed, taking a large swig of his drink.

”that’s it,” kyle snapped, looking around the room in a frenzy. he was seething, and he could hardly see straight. he really, really considered throwing a punch at clyde, but decided to be the bigger person. the sound of cartmans cruel jokes and laughter was enough to set him over the edge, though. “come on, kenny. i mean it.”

kenny nodded, mumbling out an apology to tolkien for the shattered bottle of smirnoff, and followed kyle right out of the door. the two said nothing for a while, the sound of their heavy footsteps and kenny’s sniffling filling the silence.

kenny felt entirely numb. humiliated. just straight up let down.

“didn’t think he’d say that.” he whispers as quietly as he can muster. he stops for a moment, crouching down to the ground. kyle thinks for a moment that maybe he had dropped something, until he started murmuring incoherently about seeing things.

”let’s just go home,” kyle whispers, kindness dripping from his voice like honey. you don’t deserve this, holy shit, you don’t deserve this, kenny thought. “come on, baby. let’s go home, and we can-“

”holy shit, kyle, you don’t fucking get it,” kenny all but whimpered, his eyes pooling with tears, his lips bitten bloody. “do you understand what happened? as a viewer, sure, but do you understand what happened to me?”

for the millionth time the past few months, kyle didn’t have a response. he never knows what to say when kenny spirals like this. not that anything he could say could even calm him down.

“everyone knows. cartman knows. look, kyle, this has to stop. i’m sorry, you deserve better.”

kyle is stunned. “what are you talking about?”

”this, us,” kenny explains desperately, unable to control the strangled noises of his sobbing. he’s really done it this time. “i’m serious. i can’t put you through any more of the taunting, any more of the fighting. i can’t put you through me and my episodes. i can’t put you through being in a relationship with me.”

before kyle can get a proper sentence out, kenny books it, running as fast as he can to the apartment. there’s no turning back. not after what happened. 

kenny all but slams the door behind him as soon as he steps into his room, locking the door and using all of the little strength he has left to move his desk against it. 

the dizziness hasn’t left him from the second clyde laid his hands on his waist. this time, it wasn’t a pleasant ‘fuck me until i forget my name, and then continue’ type of dizzy. this was a galaxy-collapsing dizzy. he hears kyle pleading for some rationality from behind the door. he hears the banging. that doesn’t still his movements. it doesn’t still the shakiness of his hands as he bums a cigarette, leaning out of his window as he takes lung-burning drags. he can’t even consider this to be his last cigarette — for all he knows, he’ll be back tomorrow morning.

he knows how worried kyle probably is. he shouldn’t be, he thinks. he’ll forget all about this in a few hours.

the letters weren’t hard to write. one for karen, one for kevin, one for stan, one for cartman, and one for kyle. and then one more, one with a vague goodbye. six letters that he’ll probably end up trashing in the morning regardless.

the hardest part is ignoring the countless notifications on his phone. that, and making sure his music is loud enough.

the one person who hasn’t sent a text about the situation is karen. 

i love you he types, sending it without a second thought. even if this doesn’t work, even if he wakes up unscathed, she should still hear it. he hasn’t said it in a while. 

he can hear kyle’s knocking get a little more forceful. he decides that maybe he should shoot up one more time, maybe just to ease a bit of his nerves. why am i scared? 

ten minutes go by, and kyle has finally retreated. probably back to his room, better yet, maybe down to the park where he usually goes when he’s upset.

the gun is fully loaded. one finger cradling the trigger.

darkness.

Chapter Text

it’s been five weeks since kenny took his own life.

it’s been five weeks since kyle had been pacing around the apartment, pleading on the phone with 911, saying how his boyfriend — or, ex boyfriend — didn’t seem sane, that he wanted to do a wellness check when the deafening sound of the gun went off. 

it’s been five weeks since kyle threw up when the emts broke kenny’s door open, revealing blood and brains splattered across the room, the small boys body drained of any life laying in the middle. clyde was right.

it’s been five weeks since he watched kenny’s body be hoisted onto a stretcher, a thin cloth covering his entire corpse. it’s been five weeks since kyle threw up for the second time.

it’s been five weeks since stan, cartman, and the others — even clyde — rushed into the hospital, finding an inconsolable kyle sitting in the waiting room, head buried in his hands.

it’s been five weeks since kyle punched clyde square in the jaw, screaming like a banshee. “you fucking did this. he fucking killed himself, and it’s all your fault.”

it’s been five weeks since he had to break the news to kenny’s family. karen’s blood curling scream will never leave his mind, the sight of her dropping to her knees in front of the hospitals morgue burned into his brain.

it’s been four weeks since kyle found the letters.

kyle,

i’m so sorry. i had to do this. if you’re reading this, it means it worked. please don’t be sad, and don’t blame yourself. you did nothing wrong. nothing. this is all my own fault, and i don’t think anything could’ve prevented this. one day, you’ll wake up and realize how much easier your life is without me in it. you’ll realize that i really am better off dead — everyone knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later. i can’t promise you that i’m in a better place, because i’m honestly probably in hell. but for all i know, this could be one of my episodes, and i could wake up with you telling me that this wasn’t real. but the pain of living became unbearable, and i knew that if i didn’t do something soon, that i’d be making your life just as miserable as mine. i’m really proud of you for everything you’ve accomplished, and i know that this is only the beginning for you. i’m sorry i had to do this while school is in session, that’s really selfish on my end. but i know you’re gonna do great, and you’ll find someone who can love you better than i can. you deserve the world, if not more. 

i love you,

kenny xoxo

it’s been four weeks since the funeral. kenny’s parents didn’t show, but his siblings did. so did cartman (kenny would’ve hated it), tolkien, jimmy, butters, tweek, and craig. so did the marshes, even if stan could only show up for a little over an hour. he had to go back to turkey. and so did the broflovskis, to be there for their son. it was closed casket.

it’s been four weeks since kyle saw stan cry, which was rare.

it’s been four weeks since kyle resumed therapy. he couldn’t bring himself to talk about kenny.

it’s been three weeks since cleaners came to clear out kenny’s room, against kyle’s wishes. all of kenny’s personal belongings went to karen, except for his ratty old security blanket. kyle kept that for himself. it’s one of the few things that still smells like his cheap perfume and cigarettes.

it’s been two weeks since tweek and craig subleased and moved into kenny’s empty room. kyle still hasn’t been able to bring himself to talk to craig. why did you raise your hand? you knew how mean that was. 

it’s been five weeks since kenny took his own life, and kyle can’t help but count every minute since it’s happened.