South Park © Matt & Trey.

Here :) I decided to give Kenny something good for a change haha. Enjoy~

I don't mean to close the door
But for the record my heart is sore
You blew through me like bullet holes
Left stains on my sheets and stains on my soul
You left me broke down begging for change
Had to catch a ride with a man who's deranged
He had your hands and my father's face
Another western vampire, different time same place

Cocorosie

5.

Summer is coming to an end and I haven't seen Kenny since the night I cooked him dinner. I knew I probably wouldn't see him again. He isn't the type to accept help easily. He wants to be able to take care of himself and not be a burden on anyone. He's always been that way. I remember offering to buy him lunch back in school on many occasions, but he'd never accept. I'm surprised he wasn't more malnourished.

I haven't been back near the street corner to see him, either. I think I've done all I can. Next time, he needs to be the one to come to me.

Stan and Cartman don't know that I saw Kenny. I don't think they need to know. It would only make Stan upset, anyway. I don't need him drinking any more than he already does.

"Hey, what's on your mind?" Stan asks, eyes narrowing as he leans forward suspiciously.

"Ah… nothing," I say, laughing lightly.

"You sure about that? You've been really spacey for the past little while… It's weird. You're usually so focused."

"Just the stress of work, I suppose," I fib. I know how to do my job and it causes me no grief.

"This is your day off," he shrugs. "Take it easy for now."

"Yeah, I suppose," I murmur, typing away at my laptop.

"God," Stan laughs. "We probably look like a couple of fuckin' hipsters sitting in Harbucks with our computers out."

I snort.

"But, Kyle," he starts again, "what's really going on?"

"Nothing, Stan," I say.

He rolls his eyes. "Dude, I've known you forever and I know when you're lying. I won't pry, though. If you don't want to talk about it, it's probably something shitty, huh? That, or something about your sex life that I don't want to know about…" he makes an exaggeratedly disgusted expression.

I chuckle. "It's a bit of both, actually."

"Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure."

"Are you okay?"

"Again, I'm not sure."

"If you ever want to talk…" Stan trails off. "Look, I know I joke around about not wanting to hear you talk about that shit… but if you ever need to, you know I'm all ears."

"I know," I force a smile, "and thanks."

"So?"

"Maybe I'll tell you sometime, just not now."

"Okay, fair enough."

"Also, don't worry," I chuckle, "it's nothing overtly sexual."

"All right…" he snickers.

Stan is a good friend.

6.

When I arrive home that night, I find my door already unlocked. Frowning, I step inside and quietly walk around, scanning each room and preparing for a fight.

By the time I reach my bedroom, I see someone lying on the mattress. As I creep closer, I see that it's Kenny and a warm feeling of unexplainable relief explodes in my stomach. I guess I really do love him, even now. I lean down and see that he's asleep. I feel my frown deepen as I take note of the bruise on his cheekbone. I slowly reach forward and brush the hair out of his face. Hell, it looks painful.

His eyebrows draw together and he lets out a quiet moan before opening his eyes. "Hey, Kenny," I say softly.

"Mm… Kyle…?" he mumbles hazily.

"Sorry to wake you."

"It's fine. I'm in your house, after all," he says, sitting up. "What time is it?"

"It's almost nine."

He smiles, still looking thoroughly exhausted. "I slept for a good four hours, then."

"I was worried about you," I tell him, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Don't ever be worried," he insists.

"I can't help it. I kept thinking, like… What if you died or something?"

"I can't die."

I roll my eyes, "Right…"

"Joking, joking," he says, laughing.

I shake my head at him. "Honestly, though… Where have you been?"

"Around."

"Why didn't you come here sooner?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I guess I felt nervous about it. I had all these thoughts… Like, what if you changed your mind? What if you regretted what we did?"

"I didn't change my mind, and I don't regret it," I tell him.

"Thanks, Kyle…"

"Sure," I say. "So, have you eaten today?"

"Yeah."

"Be honest."

He makes a face. "Yeah! I raided your fridge… Sorry. I was really starving."

I wave my hand dismissively. "It's fine, Kenny. Eat all you want, seriously."

"Okay," he chuckles.

"Okay," I repeat. "Wanna watch TV or something?"

His eyes widen, as if he's having an epiphany of sorts. "Oh, man!" he claps his hands together. "I haven't watched television in so damn long!"

He hops off the bed and runs into the living room without another word. I can't help but smile as I saunter in after him.

He already has the remote in his hand.

"Anything particular you want to watch?" he asks.

"It's all yours," I say, flopping on the sofa next to him.

He grins, turning the TV on and flipping through channels.

"Oh, my fucking God," he declares, stopping on an old rerun of Terrence and Phillip.

"Oh, boy," I snort.

"This shit," he laughs loudly. "It's interesting what little kids find funny, isn't it?"

"It really is," I laugh along with him.

He continues to flip through the channels, stopping again on a music video countdown.

"Who is popular these days?"

I shrug, "I have no idea, dude. I've never really paid attention to that junk."

"Me neither," he admits.

"You used to sing," I say somewhat offhandedly. "Remember?"

"Yeah… I haven't in a long-ass time."

"Why not?"

"Things got in the way, I guess."

"You had a really nice voice," I tell him.

He smiles. "Thanks. That means a lot," he says, before letting out a little chuckle. "Hell, I feel like I haven't smiled – really smiled – this much in a while."

"That's why you should visit me more," I wink.

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively – something he used to do when we were kids – before lying his head down on my lap.

I begin to play with his hair as Taylor fuckin' Swift plays in the background on the television.

"We probably both look really gay right now," he snorts, closing his eyes.

"Probably."

"You know, I've been thinking about it… and I think I like rentboy," he says out of nowhere.

"Huh?"

"Remember? You gave me that long list of names I could say instead of whore," he explains. "I like rentboy the best. Escort sounds too classy, prostitute sounds boring… I don't know. There's just something about rentboy. It makes it seem a little less awful. I mean, to rent something isn't necessarily a bad thing, right? You rent something, and then you give it back. You have to take care of it. You can't damage it, otherwise you have to deal with the consequences. I'm like a book at the library. There are people who tend to treat books gingerly, and then there are the people who tear through them and stain them…"

I force a little laugh. "I think you're a little more than a book."

"Someday…" he pauses, opening his eyes and looking up at me. "Someday, I'd like to stop, but I'd also like to be unashamed of my past. I want to be able to talk about it freely and not feel embarrassed and disgusting."

I nod lightly.

"I'd like to be able to be sure of myself and say that, yes, I used to be a rentboy and that it's okay… I think that'd be nice. When people ask, I'll tell them, and they might think it's awful, but I won't. I think… that'd be nice."

"Me too, Kenny."

He smiles again – that smile that makes him look so damn young and so damn innocent.

"Hey… Let me take you out," I request, recalling when he said he's never been out on a date before.

"You're gonna take a rentboy out on a date?" he asks, with a little laugh.

"Yeah," I say.

"You know, you're probably the first person in the history of South Park to do a thing like that. Everyone knows about me, Kyle. Won't you be embarrassed?"

"No," I shrug. "I've already told you, I couldn't give two shits what people think about me."

And it's true.

"I like you, Kyle," he starts, "and that's why I'm worried about doing this."

"You like me?"

"Yeah," he says. "I don't want you to sacrifice you reputation because of me. That's the last thing I want."

"Like I said, I don't care about things like that. I mean… I'd kiss you in the middle of a fuckin' city hall meeting and not give a shit."

"Heh... Why? Why me?"

"Because it's always been you."

He sits up, placing his hand on my cheek and kissing me briefly. "I just don't want to hurt you," he says.

"You know, it feels like just the other day I was the one saying that to you, and what did you tell me in response? You knew I wouldn't hurt you. It's the same with me, Kenny. I know you won't try to hurt me. Yeah, the shit you do makes me kind of sad, but I get that it's the way things have to be right now."

"You're… You're a really good person, Kyle. I mean it, you are," he sighs quietly. "Why am I so damn lucky? I doubt others in my position find someone as great as you… someone who is so accepting."

"I want you to be happy," I say, "because, God knows, you deserve to be."

"Really…" he murmurs softly.

"Really," I continue. "I want to be the one to make you happy."

"You already do," he smiles. "Christ, this is getting pretty fucking sappy…"

I snort. "Way to ruin the moment."

He just chuckles. "I like it," he says. "I like being with you."

"Is it different than being with other people?"

"Yeah. I can always tell what people are thinking when they fuck me. I mean, it's pretty much always something vile… You can tell these things."

"How?"

"It's in the way they look at you, the way they touch you, the way they fuck you. You might ask them to be a little gentler, but they won't… That's when you realize that you're expendable. You're garbage that can be thrown out after they use you. They don't give a shit about you because they're releasing their sexual tension on a worthless body. It's purely selfish. That's what selling sex is usually about…"

"Usually?"

He nods. "I mean… sometimes people are just looking for a body to hold. However, you're still expendable. It doesn't truly matter who you are. These people aren't seeking out Kenny McCormick, they're just seeking out anyone. They just want to feel a little less lonely. They're usually the ones who talk a lot. It makes them happy to be heard… I don't mind making people happy."

"Oh," I frown, wishing I could tell him that he isn't responsible for the happiness of strangers, especially when it means sacrificing his own.

"It's different with you, though. I can tell you aren't like any of that… You don't see me as expendable. You want me for me."

"You asked me a while ago if I still loved you," I state. "Do you remember?"

"Yeah… I remember."

"I said I didn't know. At the time, I didn't… but fuck, I do. I really fucking love you."

He closes his eyes, inching closer. "Thank you, Kyle," he whispers.

I put my arms around him and draw him into my chest possessively. "Would you be opposed to meeting up with Stan and Cartman?"

"I don't know," he mumbles into my shirt. By the tone of his voice I can tell that it's probably something he doesn't want to think about. "To be perfectly honest, the thought of seeing them kind of scares me."

"Why?" I ask. "It's just Stan and Cartman."

"I haven't seen them in so long," he says.

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know."

"Okay. Well, it's up to you."

"Hey, can I stay over tonight?" he asks, letting out a little laugh. "I think I want a break."

"Of course," I nod. "A break from what?"

"I guess I just want to feel safe."

"Okay," I say softly. "As I've said, you're always welcome here. There's lots of room and even if there wasn't, I'd make room."

He chuckles. "You can call Stan and Cartman over tomorrow," he says.

"Really?"

"Yeah… It might be nice to see more old friends."

7.

Tomorrow comes fast and I can tell Kenny is anxious. I keep telling him he has nothing to worry about, but I don't think that's reassuring.

"Jew, why did you call us here?" Cartman asks as we meet in the apartment lobby. "I need to be at the station in an hour."

"Chill out," I say.

"Honestly, Kyle," Stan chuckles nervously. "What's going on? You're acting a bit weird."

I don't say anything else, I just gesture for them to follow me up to my place.

"Okay," I say once we're standing in front of the door, "Now, be cool."

"Kyle," Stan says my name again, giving me a suspicious look.

"It's okay, guys," I open the door, entering first.

Once we're all inside, Kenny makes his appearance. He saunters around the corner with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, guys," he says, smiling.

"Kenny?" Stan chokes.

"Yeah, it's me," Kenny holds up a hand, offering a small wave.

Stan immediately pulls Kenny into his chest, apologizing profusely.

Kenny tightens his arms around Stan, pressing his face into his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry," Stan wails. He has always been a little overemotional.

"It's fine, dude… Stop apologizing," Kenny muffles into Stan's shirt, letting out a light chuckle and patting him on the back.

Cartman snorts, "Stan, you're so fuckin' pathetic."

Once Stan and Kenny break apart, Kenny and Cartman hug it out. It's a lot briefer, but it still happens. I think if this were any other circumstance in the world, Cartman would push the person away and give them a good slap. But no, I think even he realizes that it would be a fatal move to do that to Kenny.

Kenny offers him a smile, and Cartman just crosses his arms. "So, you're alive."

He shrugs. "Seems that way, huh?"

"I knew you were."

"I know."

We settle in the living room and spend the next short while catching up. We don't talk about Kenny dropping out of school, or the things he does for money. Instead, we talk about the silly things. We talk about drinking too much cough syrup and we talk about Barbra Streisand. We talk about Cartman's anal probe and we talk about the Jewpacabra. We just keep it light, and talk about things that we can laugh at until Cartman checks his watch. "I need to get to the station," he announces, heading towards the door.

"Wait," I stand up and follow him.

"What is it, Jew?"

"Do you care about Kenny?" I ask quietly.

He raises an eyebrow. "Just say what you want to say, Kahl. None of this bait and switching."

"Kenny's in trouble…" I start, glancing back at him. He's still sitting on the sofa, all smiley as he talks with Stan.

"What kind of trouble?"

"He's in a bad place… and there's someone keeping him there."

"What are we talking?" he asks. "Drugs? Dealing? Prostitution?"

"The last one."

"Oh," he says understandingly. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't know… What can you do?"

"Whatever you want me to once I have the name."

"I don't know his name…" I sigh.

"Well, get it."

"What will you do once you have it?" I ask.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'll leave it up to you," I say, knowing that will be more than enough.

"It would be very unfortunate," Cartman begins cryptically, "if I went to simply question him for acting suspicious and he didn't respect my authoritah… Even further, if I had to shoot him in self defense. You know how the other cops are in this damn town…"

"No one would question you," I murmur, finishing his train of thought.

And God, the fact that we're all standing here plotting murder really makes it feel like we're kids again. How fucked up is that?

Things have been slow, but now that we're all together again I have a feeling things will be picking up.

"Cartman?"

"What now?"

"How did you know Kenny was alive?" I ask.

He just smirks. "He's cursed."

"Cursed?" I feel my eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean just that – he's cursed."

"By what?"

"Life? Death?" he shrugs. "Depends what your perspective is."

"So, you're in on the joke, too?" I cross my arms.

"Trust me, Kahl. It's not joke," he says, "Now, I really need to go."

After Cartman leaves, Stan follows shortly after. I think today went well, considering the circumstances.

"Kenny?" I say carefully.

"Yeah?"

"I told Cartman about the guy who's fucking with you."

"Why?" he asks, sighing.

"He's a cop…"

"I know."

"He's a cop," I say again, "and he can make it right."

"Can he?" Kenny tilts his head to the side.

"I think we all know that Cartman is more than capable of taking care of this. All you need to do is tell me his name."

Kenny shakes his head, letting out a short laugh. "Kyle… I know what you're getting at and I can't ask Eric to do a thing like that for me."

"You're not the one asking. I am."

"Murder is a crime."

"Sometimes it's justified," I say bitterly.

"You're angry," he states. "I understand that… so am I…" he trails off.

"Do you really want a man like him walking around this town?"

"Kyle, there are so many men like him," he forces a smile. "They're everywhere."

"But one less would be a good thing."

"I know…"

"It's all up to you."

He lets out a sigh, holding out his hand. "Give me your phone."

I do as he asks and I watch him type something into the touch screen.

"Done," he says, giving my phone back.

"You told Cartman?"

He nods. "I'm going to take a nap," he says, standing up and walking away from me.

"Okay."

"Think things will be better from now on?" he asks from my bedroom doorway. The question is vague, but I know exactly what he is referring to.

"Yeah," I tell him. "Cartman will take care of it."

"Will he really?"

"Definitely, dude," I chuckle. "Cartman is fucking crazy."

He did kill his own father, after all. Whatever he's planning… it will be a piece of cake.

"Okay," Kenny says, forcing a smile. "Thanks, Kyle."

"Kenny?"

"Hm?"

"When you joke about not being able to die…" I pause, "They're not jokes… are they?"

He doesn't say anything for what feels like a long time –

"What made you finally understand that?"

"I don't know," I sigh, "I guess… something Cartman said. Weird as that sounds."

"Oh."

"I mean… I don't understand it…"

Kenny shakes his head. "You don't need to understand it, Kyle. All you need to do is accept that it's just something that happens. It's just one of the many things that don't make any sense and looking back on all that we've been through… Is it really that surprising? This is just another one of those things that makes no sense."

"I guess not," I say. "I still don't understand half the shit that happened to us as kids."

"Me neither," he laughs.

8.

Later in the day, I put the television on and flick to the news channel. Channel 4 news is rarely exciting, but I have a feeling that tonight will be different.

I turn up the volume and listen to what the anchorman has to say.

"What are you doing?" Kenny asks groggily, entering the living room.

"You're awake?"

"Yeah… and no, you didn't wake me," he says before I can ask.

"Okay," I chuckle. "Come sit. I'm watching the news… I want to see if Cartman did that thing yet. I'm sure it will be all over the place once in happens… This stupid town thrives on that shit."

"Oh," he says, flopping down beside me. I throw an arm around him as he leans into me.

"And bigger news tonight," the anchorman starts, "Local cop Eric Cartman was forced to pull out his gun in self defense earlier tonight. With the details is Chris Swollenballs."

"He did it," Kenny says, as if he can't believe it's true.

"Of course he did…" I tell him. "Cartman acts like a fucking vulture, but deep down… And I mean very deep down, he cares."

"Thanks, Tom," the man on scene says as he relays the night's events. "And now, a witness…"

"Look," I point to the screen. "It's Frida…"

"I was mindin' my own business," she starts, "He was always a jackass. The cop pulled up to ask him some questions and he took a knife out of his pocket…"

"She's lying," Kenny laughs. "I doubt there was a knife… Eric probably paid Frida off. He really thought this through."

"Yeah…" I say, somewhat surprised. I guess Cartman can be smart when he needs to be.

Kenny reaches for the remote, turning the television off.

"You okay?" I ask.

He nods, letting out a shaky breath before covering his mouth in his hands and sobbing. I put my arm around him, but I don't say a damn thing.

9.

It's been a couple weeks since Cartman shot a man down for Kenny's sake. Of course, no questions were asked about whether or not Cartman actually had a knife pulled on him. A cop's status has it's perks. Apparently he really did pay Frida off in advance to lie. There was no investigation. Then again, no one cared. Another asshole was peeled off the streets. Boo fucking hoo.

Kenny is slowly starting to act like his old self again, and it's comforting in ways I can't even begin to explain. I mean, it's not perfect. It's not going to be perfect for a while. Maybe it never will be. He still has things to deal with, but I think he's going to be okay.

"How was the library?" I ask once he returns home. He is now determined to get his GED so I won't have to be his "sugar daddy" forever. His words, not mine. It isn't like I mind supporting him, but at the same time, there's nothing wrong with having goals.

"Good," he says, approaching where I'm currently seated in the living room. He drops a hefty looking bag on the floor – probably filled with borrowed books.

"Okay," I smile. "Did you learn anything?"

"Oh, yes," he returns the smile, sinking to his knees and unbuttoning my jeans. "You know," he begins as he wraps his fingers around my dick, "I'm kind of glad I won't need to do any stupid graduation shit."

"Oh," I stifle a moan.

"Can you imagine me wearing a suit?" he asks, laughing softly. "I can't."

"Hnng… You'd l-look good," I tell him.

He grins, seeming highly humored. "You're cute," he says before sticking out his tongue and licking up and down.

"I'm cute?"

"Yes," he looks up, rubbing his thumb over the tip. "Especially when you're all hot and bothered."

"Okay," I laugh, "Stop teasing."

"But you make is so enjoyable," he wiggles his eyebrows as he jerks me off.

I lean back against the sofa, trying to keep my eyes from closing as I feel his mouth close around my dick. "Feels good…" I mumble.

"Mm," he hums.

I tilt my head back, breathing heavily.

I still think it's funny how things worked out. Funny, in that good way. God, I can't even explain how good it is to know that he won't be going back there because most of what kept him is gone.

"I'm… Ah…" I attempt to choke out a warning, letting out a low moan.

Kenny lets out a sound of surprise nonetheless, but makes no mess. Not that I'd mind it if he did.

"You okay?" I ask, zipping my jeans back up.

"Fine," he snickers, standing up and sitting on the sofa.

I lean forward, but he backs away.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I should wash my mouth out."

"Why?"

"I just had your jizz in my mouth."

"I don't care," I snort.

"Okay," he chuckles. "Most people don't like it…"

"Well, most people are assholes, by the sounds of it," I say, cupping his face in my palms.

"Basically."

"You just sucked my dick. The least I can do is kiss you," I chuckle. "It'd make me a pretty big douche if I acted all grossed out."

"I guess so."

I peck him on the lips before saying, "Let's go out for dinner tonight."

"Out?"

"Yeah, let's go out on that date we talked about a little while ago."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asks.

"I'm one hundred percent sure," I say, putting an arm around him.

"Okay," he chuckles, curling against me. "Kyle knows best."

I just smile.

"I went to see Frida earlier," he says.

"You went there?" I ask.

"One last time," he admits. "I wanted to tell her that I wouldn't be coming back. She was glad. She said the streets are a bad place for a kid like me."

"She's right," I say, pulling him closer.

10.

"Ready?" I ask Kenny later on in the night as we leave the apartment.

"Ready," he answers.

I grab his hand as we walk through the streets, paying no mind to the looks we're receiving because they don't matter.

Summer is nearly over and maybe, for once in my life, I'll miss it. Yeah, summer sucks… but this one wasn't so bad.