Summary - For a reason unbeknown to him, Kenny shoves a redheaded boy he's never seen in South Park out of the way of an oncoming truck. After Kenny's funeral, Stan is compelled to find what about the stranger was so alluring that Kenny felt obliged to die for him to live. StanKyle, Style, slash

Warnings – language, eventual slash

POV – alternating

AU – Kenny doesn't die regularly, Kyle was never in South Park, the group consisted of Cartman, Stan, Wendy, and Kenny, and Kenny was best friends with Stan.

Unless it Trembled With the Strings

Prologue

I woke up that morning with the strangest feeling. Like something very important was coming up, and I didn't have the slightest idea as to what it was.

All throughout my morning ritual, which consisted of a shower, brushing my teeth, and putting on the only clothes that fit me, I felt like I was forgetting something. The kind of feeling you get when there's a massive essay due and you haven't written a single word. Except, I dropped out of school so there's no way it had anything to do with not having completed an assignment. Maybe I was supposed to do something for work, and I didn't? I had no idea.

Speaking of work, I was going to be late, so I headed out the door. I tried to push that feeling out of my head, but it wouldn't leave. I couldn't do anything about it, and it only got worse as the day progressed. All day at the gas station, I couldn't greet customers as friendly as I did on a regular basis. I didn't feel the slightest inclination to look at playboys, either. In fact, I felt guilty. Like I had done something terribly wrong. Like my entire life's sins and regrets were just… piling on me. Like there wasn't any time left.

And that's when I thought about the many instances in my life in which I have almost died. The worst of it occurred in 3rd and 4th grade, but that doesn't change the fact that something had been out to get me my entire life. It seemed like death was always knocking on my door, and everyone knew it. I'd get carried off my enormous birds, run over by cars, dragged across streets while being attached to cars, poisoned, nibbled on by rats, an unusual amount of accidental cuts in shop class, and a variety of other things. They weren't simply injuries—they were near death experiences. They became a regular joke between me and Stan, occasionally Cartman, but I never told him that I was worried.

Quite frankly, it scared the piss out of me.

On a regular basis, I felt like I could die. That's not something that most kids endure, I'm quite sure. It's incredibly unnerving and extremely hard to find the motivation to try anything new.

"Hey, Kenny, something wrong?"

I snapped out of my daydream to face the customer. "Oh, hey, Craig," I told him, trying to sound as excited as I could. Honestly, I was very relieved to see a familiar face. But, seeing Craig at the gas station meant that he was trying to win over Christophe again, who was an extremely late sleeper, so it was therefore past lunch. Damn, how time flies. "No, nothing's wrong."

He didn't have anything in his hands, so what he wanted to buy was quite obvious. He flashed me this huge, guilty grin when my realization made itself known on my face. "C'mon, you know you love me," he purred.

"I also know you're not eighteen yet. Sorry, but I think my job is more important than you satisfying your smoking habit," I told him, smirking.

"Aww, Kenny. Don't do this to me," he pouted, and tried a puppy dog face. The problem with this method, though, was the fact that it wasn't very cute at all, and didn't arouse any pity from me.

Nonetheless, I turned around and looked for his favorite off the shelf. I grab a lot more packs than I usually would and toss it at him. "I'll cover it," I said, and his face immediately brightened. For some reason, how little money I have and how much I couldn't afford to buy cigarettes didn't really matter today.

He shoved the smokes into his bag and grinned. "Thanks, man," he told me in an ecstatic rush, and he pulled out his phone to tell whoever sent him, who was most likely Christophe, that it had been a successful venture. After he slid his phone into his pocket, he abruptly reached over, pulled my head towards him, and kissed me on the forehead. "I owe you one!" he said before leaving the store.

God damn, Craig was such a fag.

Immediately after he left, I felt myself become absolutely consumed with that feeling of regret. It just absolutely wouldn't leave! I grew more and more upset, and found myself taking my break a half hour early. I'd get yelled at for sure, but some feeling I couldn't place told me that it wouldn't matter.

So I pulled out a cigarette and lit the thing. I had been smoking for quite some time, but I was unable to recall when the habit started. It wasn't a pleasant experience at first, but as time moved on, I found smoking to be a fantastic stress relief. When I exhaled the smoke, it was like exhaling problems. So I kept it up.

I felt an urge to talk to Stan. Then, I felt worry grip me, like something really, really bad was going to happen. Or I had forgotten something huge. The feeling was beginning to get so bad that I almost hunched over and spewed my breakfast all over the sidewalk, but I kept it down. I took a drag; I exhaled the stress. But I still wanted to talk to Stan. I felt like I should, like there was something I needed to tell him.

As I continued to walk, I realize I was passing by my old high school. During the school years, Stan would skip class to talk to me on my breaks. It depressed me a little when I realized that the majority of my breaks were generally spent hanging around Park County High. Sometimes I wished I had more of an opportunity to do something with my life.

Back when I realized there would be no possible way to go to college, I immediately dropped out of high school. Since then, I had been working at a gas station until I could find a better job. Recently, I had been considering joining the army. Perhaps my uncanny ability to avoid death would prove to be useful for once, instead of freaking everyone out.

I think Stan said once he wanted to be a surgeon. He was lacking in general study skills, so I doubted that he would get far, and probably settle for something like a nurse. Nonetheless, I cheered him on. He could make it if he really wanted it; Stan could do anything he put his mind to. But, at that time, I didn't think he had realized that yet. He just… did whatever, like he was waiting for something.

Upon reaching the corner of a street, I noticed I had long since finished my cigarette, so I looked around for an ashtray or something outside of a store. With no such luck, I simply threw it on the ground. I always hated doing things like this, but I would anyway. South Park was a nice town, and it had serious potential to be someplace special if would only take care of it. Unfortunately, no one really cares. That's probably the case for every town, though.

It was at this time that I noticed two very important things. Firstly, there was a kid my age that I had never seen before who was obviously had no idea where he was going right next to me. Secondly, that wrenching feeling had completely vanished. I didn't know why, but I suddenly thought of the words "this is it." Like some finale was going to happen.

Curiously, I watched the boy for a while. He must've been the Jewish boy, Kyle, that everyone had been talking about for the past week or so. As of the moment, he looked a little shaken up and cold. Barely recalling the fact that he used to live in a slightly warmer environment, I laughed a little at the heavy coat he was wearing. I also took notice that he was wearing a Terrance & Phillip shirt underneath it, slightly amused at how obsessed Stan used to be with that ridiculous show.

This Kyle boy pulled out his phone, and I'm very surprised to see that he has a Nokia. Cell phones (which I didn't own, by the way) were a funny trend amongst our group of friends. Generally, everyone had the same one. But, for whatever reason, Stan was the only one that insisted that Nokia was the way to go. I bet he'd get a kick out of the new kid's phone, then.

I continued to smoke at the corner of the street, looking at Kyle. I couldn't help but also notice that he stands exactly like Stan does; both of them shifted their weight to the left, and they alternated to the other every thirty seconds, only to stand on the left once again after a second or two. Very fidgety. He was listening to his iPod a little loudly, so I was able to deduce that he was a fan of Death Cab for Cutie. This was, in fact, Stan's favorite band.

Considering this strange string of coincidental similarities, I conclude that Stan would probably get along really well with this kid. I felt a pang of sorrow that I no longer attended school, and I wouldn't get to get to know him like the others would. Some feeling told me that even if I did go to school when summer break ends, that I wouldn't have the chance. I ignored that, however, and continued to observe the new kid.

He was definitely trying to figure out where he was, and where he needed to go from where he stood. I laughed a little, because I could probably help him out. Instead, I looked around us; the streets were basically empty. Ah, but such was South Park.

I said basically because there was a single truck moving, which would, in a few seconds, go directly in front of me and Kyle.

In a few seconds. Somehow, I sensed some significance about this. A few seconds.

Kyle finally decided which direction he was going to move in, and walked forward with his head tossed to the right. The truck was coming from the left.

Speaking of that truck, it seems like it's going really, really fast. Way faster than it should be. And I'm pretty sure that it has a red light, and it doesn't look like it's slowing down, either. I don't think Kyle notices.

"Kyle! Get the fuck out of the way!" Damn, he's listening to his iPod! He can't hear me!

Dude, that truck is going to kill him if I don't do something!

Everything stopped.

Without a single conscious thought,

I pushed him forward

and

the

world

vanished.

----

-Claire. R&R?