Chapter Text
“Do you think we’ll always be together?”
It was a chilly afternoon on March 22 when the question slipped past Kenny’s lips. Although he didn’t intend to sound a little too needy, mostly out of fear the guys would poke fun or shrug it off, he couldn’t help the desperation in his voice. Not to mention the timing; their group had just finished playing video games and decided to linger around Stark’s Pond for a break from the city hustle and bustle. All sprawled out on the snow near each other, and now here Kenny was worrying over a friendship he might lose.
As expected, three pairs of eyes zoned in on him. Above their heads hung the sun, providing enough light to frame his face with a halo. A spotlight, so to speak. If it weren’t for how comfortable laying across the ground was, he would’ve shrunk away. Kenny didn’t wanna bring up a friendship fallout or its consequences, especially not during his birthday. But curiosity killed, and his job was to die.
Kyle was the first to snap back to reality. “What kinda question...”
Confusion wrinkled his scarlet brow, and the stare Kenny wore served to further wrinkle it. Kyle proceeded to straighten his posture, knees tucked beneath his chin. It was odd to ask something this profound, in Kenny’s case rather. Normally he’d be yapping about boobs and shit a normal fourth-grader would find freaky, or his sister Karen. Or even an activity their group could enjoy: stupid shenanigans, pranks and whatnot.
“Haven’t you asked that before?”
He did doubt their bond ages ago. Goddammit, he did. And the boys were more than happy to reassure Kenny they’d be around for his sake. In their own way, of course. Stan inviting him to stay over and go watch movies during the holidays. Kyle writing down notes for him whenever he was absent. Cartman offering him his change or a worn out plush if he felt like a saint.
And in return, Kenny never turned them down. But he didn’t really have anything else to give his best friends other than a couple hugs and a hand to hold. It helped him forget his situation at home, and remember he’d always be welcome here. His true home.
Unable to prevent a pout, Kenny buried himself deeper in the parka that reeked of takeout food and cheap cologne. Kyle didn’t mean to be so blunt simply to offend him, he knew that. His hands dug into his pockets, however, the tension causing him to sweat despite the weather. A kid, sure, but Kenny was no baby. Hell, he’d argue at times he could act more mature than the dickheads he called friends.
“Aww, you guys,” cooed Cartman, reaching over to poke the blonde’s cheek, and increased his volume to counter the passiveness he received. Nearby, Stan pinched the bridge of his nose while Kyle’s expression soured. Cartman didn’t mind; he thrived on pissing them off. “Kenny’s getting sappy. Bet you ten bucks he’s gonna cry his lungs out.”
In an instant, a punch to the shoulder shut Cartman up but earned a whine not long after. Ever the menace, Kenny blew raspberries and hit him harder, laughter muffled through his hood. The impact prompted Cartman to screech, staggering as he made an effort to retaliate. Kyle’s hand flew to his mouth, a snort barely stifled behind it. He had to admit, he didn’t expect Kenny to beat him to it. Knocking sense into the asshole, obviously.
Stan heaved a sigh, eyelids closed to mentally count from one to five. The cold nipping at his skin didn’t help either.
“Lay off him, fatso.” Who he was referring to, Kenny couldn’t quite confirm. Nonetheless, the smile Stan had put him at ease, whereas Cartman resorted to mumbling obscenities. “And sure, I guess. We’re having fun right now, yeah?”
“Uh huh. I like hanging with you.” Kenny nodded in a bashful manner that startled the trio, scuffing his toe on a hill formed by the snow. Under their scrutiny, he deflated and chewed on his lip. How he wished to take it back, lest they ridicule him. Pick on him for carrying such sentiments. “But oh, I dunno… I mean us four forever.”
Stan seemed to consider it but couldn’t pinpoint an answer that’d delight their youngest. As a result, he scratched at his neck and turned to Kyle for guidance, then surprisingly, to Cartman. It appeared they shared the same thought: not wanting to risk giving him false hope. Forever was too big a word, too long a time.
Rocking back and forth, Kenny squeezed his palms together as though in prayer. Mischief danced in his baby-blues as he leaned forward to dare either boy into reacting. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally tried to gauge what went on within their minds. And yet the silence told Kenny everything he needed to know.
It wasn’t like any of them wanted to say no, but well… there was no way they wanted to say yes either.
Kenny’s lip trembled. He wondered whether or not he should crack a joke, blurt out a “Just kidding!” to break the ice but decided against it.
Stan tilted his head in curiosity. “What made you even ask, Kenny?”
Kenny felt himself flush slightly. He shrugged, trying to seem casual about the whole thing. Kyle had a point. It wasn’t that he hadn’t asked before, but this time it seemed different somehow. Maybe because he was actually curious about what his friends thought about it. Or maybe because he wanted to know if his friends really did think about their friendship as much as he did. Or if he was just being a hopeless cause.
No, no. They did care. Kenny had always known, throughout all his lives and deaths, that they weren’t so vocal. He just… He just wished his friends were more upfront, genuine.
“Just wondering. You know, since we’re friends and all.”
“Well, then... yeah! It sounds pretty cool, dude,” Kyle eventually settled on the safe reply. His expression softened when he noticed Kenny tugging on his parka strings to hide a smile. The smaller kid began to play with them. “Kinda gay, but cool.”
Cartman slinked up beside him, similar to a demon perched atop an animated character’s shoulder. Their proximity made Kyle’s hand twitch into a fist. He resisted, but only because it was Kenny’s birthday.
“Forever is pretty fucking gay, Kyle.”
“Shut up, fatass.”
“Try and make me!”
As if on cue, the redhead and brunette resumed their daily routine: being at each other’s throats and hurling insults no one would wish on their worst enemy. By the corner, Stan shook his head but posed no threat to quell the banter. Instead, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly, commenting every now and then.
A few inches away, Kenny stared out across the lake. Sooner or later, the wind picked up and scattered ripples all throughout the water that bore resemblance to glass itself. The trees swayed, as if to shy away from the setting sun. In the horizon, Kenny could spot the mountain ranges silhouetted over their little town. Laughter drifted behind him, along with out-of-pocket profanities he couldn’t be bothered to enumerate.
In his musings, he vaguely recalled a sleepover a year or so back, when the group passed out in Stan’s bed and one another’s arms. Probably after hours upon hours of gaming sessions and movie marathons, which rendered them incapacitated but conscious enough to stir. Kenny was sandwiched at the center, Kyle’s cheek tiredly nestled into his hair. Although Stan remained further on the side, he managed to keep a protective grasp. And Cartman had insisted on squeezing next to Kenny, snores rumbling through the silence.
Then before Kenny knew it, sometime around midnight, they all came crashing down the bed like dominoes. Blankets already flung aside, pooled around their ankles. Laughter spilled forth, coupled with accusatory shouting. But none dared to detangle their limbs.
A funny memory, but oddly touching.
Their limbs tangled. There was something so precious about that. Kenny felt warm just watching his best friends. Home. And should it melt away, he’d miss it.
Maybe nothing would ever need to change as long as the four of them had each other.
His vision blurred at the thought.
Kenny didn’t know what compelled him to whip off his hood, just that it felt right. Breath puffed out his mouth as mist, which dissipated almost immediately. Blonde locks swayed to and fro, seeming to droop with the temperature. Goosebumps formed upon pale skin, the cold seeping through. Kenny allowed his head to tip back and directed his gaze skyward. Strange; normally he would’ve died a horrible death before sundown.
He lifted a hand to shield himself from the setting sun’s glare, blinking as fast as his eyes let him.
Footsteps crunched upon the frost, steady but cautious until they skidded to a halt beside Kenny. He continued to stare at the clouds, though, finger tracing their path like a map. Slowly but surely, his attention shifted to the newcomer. A blue-red pompom beanie adorned his head, strands of raven peeking under the brim.
Stan offered such a tiny smile that Kenny had to squint to see it, but appreciated the sight regardless and tried to mimic the expression. It ended up more so resembling a pout instead, which Stan often considered adorable enough to ruffle the honeyed mess Kenny flaunted for a hair.
“Hey, dude,” Stan greeted softly, and proceeded to plop down with a thump when Kenny patted a spot left unoccupied nearby. Upon taking his seat, he pressed both palms against the ground out of habit. Some snow clung to his gloves, painting them a dull white. He didn’t scrub it off, simply tugged at the wool and shook his hands. “What’s up?”
Huh. What even was up? A beat passed before the gears in Kenny’s brain clicked into motion. His mouth formed a straight line, switching between open and closed. He struggled not to fidget, wanting to say something but clueless as to what. He wasn’t the type to mope about crap. Perhaps silence would suffice to convey the thoughts consuming him.
A mild frown wrinkled Stan’s face, eyelids flitter-fluttering. Half the time he could never figure out what the fuck Kenny was thinking. The sun hung low enough that it cast shadows onto Kenny’s features, his speechlessness an omen Stan couldn’t put his finger on. He looked like a ghost suspended in amber, almost, if the orange parka were any indication.
Stan scooted closer until their shoulders bumped. He hoped it’d get the message across, that he was here to offer him company, and lighten the mood. Kenny had jolted but instantly reverted to his composed yet impish disposition.
“Psst. What’s up?” repeated Stan.
Kenny bit back a snicker. Idiot fell right into his trap. “The sky.”
The black-haired boy made a noise of annoyance and rolled his eyes, the deep cerulean agleam beneath the light. A swat at Kenny’s arm prompted giggles from the latter, who nudged his rib harder in response. But the playfight was practically rainbows and sunshine compared to Kyle and Cartman.
“Haha. Classic. Real funny.”
“I know,” boasted Kenny, lips twitching as he scooped a handful of snow and flicked it toward Stan. The older boy yelped out obscenities, the substance causing his nose to tingle, and fought a sneeze. “Laugh.”
Unamused, Stan crossed one ankle over the other.
“Remind me how old you are again?” He jabbed a finger at the blonde’s chest. At least the burdens Kenny seemed to carry faded now, judging by his shit-eating grin. Stan wouldn’t be surprised if he inherited that from Cartman.
“You’re just jealous ‘cause you’re a fucking fossil.”
Stan shook his head fondly. “...Sure, Kenny.”
Kenny debated commenting further but saw no reason to do so. His gaze drifted to Stan’s hand, and Kenny’s first instinct was to place his smaller one above it. The gesture earned him a smile from Stan. Warmth from where the boys’ hands were pressed together crawled through the fabric of their gloves.
Long ago, Kenny had learned the art of letting actions fall into place on their own accord. One of the reasons he solidified his role as the group’s quiet tagalong guy. The guy who sorta just lingered there to be with them. He wasn’t too good at words or affection; his parents weren’t the best examples at love. And in his defense, no nine-year-old was. His group included.
Cartman would stir the so-called fun without pondering what repercussions followed. Kyle usually held the moral compass but a dangerous impulse and an explosive temper when ticked off. Stan would try to keep them on their toes despite the reluctance in taking initiative. Whereas Kenny relied on his presence to speak for his sake. Four peas in a pod.
But the more he thought about it, the less he thought of himself. Kenny’s smile evaporated as quickly as it appeared. He didn’t ask to be a prop, a shadow. Nor did he ask to die every goddamn time while the so-called broship found it impossible to give a fuck. It wasn’t that big a deal, though; it shouldn’t be. Stan, Kyle and Cartman were kids like Kenny was. No child could suspect their friend was at the risk of dying, especially not when said friend hopped around in such high spirits. Stan and Kyle wouldn’t know. Cartman wouldn’t care. But this had to be for the best.
Excuses. One after another.
How cold the wind blew now, so crisp Kenny could’ve sworn he tasted it upon his tongue. Even the leaves trembled, miniscule flakes of ivory falling to blanket the landscape. Kinda a wonder he hadn’t frozen to death.
Kenny’s shoulders sagged, arms encircling his knees as he hugged them close. Somedays he didn’t know whom to direct the hate towards, his friends—or himself because of putting up with those three dickheads. Come to think of it, they didn’t quite listen to him. Maybe he wasn’t as cool. A burden the boys kept out of pity, or to make themselves look good.
God, all the overthinking was gonna kill him.
Wordlessly, Stan slung an arm around Kenny and startled him into his grasp. Not too tight, but close enough for comfort to ensure the birthday boy would acknowledge his company. And only for a minute, Kenny felt that the embrace lifted a weight from his shoulders.
“Touchy?” teased the blonde, a mischievous glint in his stare. Kenny relished the hug, however, butting his head against Stan’s chest. Not a single member of his friend group sought the huggy-feely type, so whenever one did, Kenny couldn’t believe his luck. “Excuse you, that’s my thing.”
“Screw you too, Kenny.” Stan struggled not to smile, tone light in deference to the winter’s stillness. Just like earlier, he tousled Kenny’s hair, prompting him to sigh and take it in stride. Kenny couldn’t pretend to fight the gesture anymore. “No but seriously, you look distracted. You okay there, buddy?”
The corners of his mouth quirked upward, cheeks puffed out slightly to add onto his youthful innocence. Well, innocence wasn’t a description appropriate for Kenny. But him adoring the ‘buddy’ nickname said otherwise. Besides, it was the littlest things that mattered the most.
“Cold,” he half-lied, and in an effort to conceal the embarrassed flush spreading across his face, snuggled into his friend’s shoulder. Stan instinctively pulled him close, the gesture causing Kenny to blink and clear the moisture from his lashes.
“I mean…” Stan tugged on the hood Kenny had slipped off earlier.
Kenny shot a glance to stick out his bottom lip. “You don’t like my face?”
“Hate it.”
“Good. Don’t get the wrong idea; I’m not into guys.”
Stan smacked his arm. The pair laughed to themselves and exchanged playful shoves afterwards, pausing only when an enraged cry pierced through the air. Followed by footfalls that seemed to increase in speed and volume. Their giggles faded, gazes flicking left and right to locate the source. Not even surprised to catch Kyle scrambling after Cartman, whose fist closed around an item that looked awfully familiar.
A green hat in Cartman’s hand, the red curls upon Kyle’s head. The pieces clicked into place for Kenny. A hardly stifled snort escaped him as he toyed with his parka strings. As if expecting Stan to steal the jacket the same way.
“Jesus, dude,” commented Stan, his brows arched high in amusement.
“Those two dickwads just don’t know when to quit.”
Stan graced him with a faint grin. “You said it, alright.”
“Think we should stop them before they start killing each other?” Kenny mused, eyelids closing briefly to savor the deep breath he took. The scent of earth and pine tingled against his nostrils.
“Nope.” Snickers left Stan’s mouth. Kenny leaned back, drumming his fingers against a knee while waiting for his friend to elaborate. “We’ve got front row seats.”
Kyle was fuming, his fists clenched at his sides. “It’s over when I get your ass, Cartman!”
“In your dreams, ginger,” said Cartman, waving the hat around like it was a trophy.
With another war cry, Kyle sprang into action and launched himself at Cartman, who barely dodged and darted away just in time, the hat still clutched tightly in his hands. But Kyle was faster, channeling all his pent-up frustration into his sprint.
“Come on, Kyle! Get that fatass!” Kenny shouted from behind right as Kyle lunged forward, fingers outstretched. Stan snorted, having caught onto whatever the fuck Kenny was doing.
In one swift motion, Kyle caught hold of the back of Cartman’s jacket, yanking the heavier boy back as hard as he could. Cartman yelped in surprise, stumbling to the ground. Before he could properly react, Kyle snatched the hat from his grasp.
“Looks like you were too obese to run,” Kyle snarked, immediately jamming the hat onto his head as he stood over Cartman, breathless but grinning.
Cartman’s eyes narrowed, a familiar glint of something sinister flashing in them as he stood up and brushed the snow off himself. “Keep one eye open when you sleep, dick.”
Kenny laughed, slapping his knee. Stan gave him a look.
“I thought you’d be tired of their bullshit,” Stan said, trying to sound irritated, but the upward curve of his mouth made his efforts fail.
The blonde shrugged. The grin had remained on his face. “Nah, it’s way too much fun to egg them on. Come on, it’s what makes this South Park dump of a hometown we have interesting.”
“Interesting?” Stan scoffed. “More like exhausting. I don’t wanna be collateral damage.”
“Pussy. What’s the worse that could happen?”
“Famous last words, Ken.”
But thankfully Kyle and Cartman simmered down at last, returning to Kenny and Stan as the tension eased. Kyle had his arms crossed, the visible vein in his forehead indicating that he wanted nothing to do with Cartman. Whereas Cartman looked unbothered, as usual, and sat down on the snow next to Kenny.
“Wow, you’re not trying to rip a hole into each other’s asses?” Kenny asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “What a surprise.”
Kyle scrunched up his nose. “Ew. Kenny! Why’d you have to word it like that?”
His arms shot up in defense. “Hey, whoa. Get that imagery out of your brain, Kyle. I didn’t word it the way you thought I did.”
Knowing that it was a lose-lose situation either way, Kyle didn’t say anything else. Kenny was damn lucky that he wouldn’t be able to push or even come close to the buttons that only Cartman could.
With a blink, Stan awkwardly looked between the three of his friends. He was no mediator. At least he didn’t see himself as one, but he was unanimously appointed due to his age. Stan popped his lips, glancing around the pond to search for something to do. The last thing he wanted to deal with was his friends squabbling for no reason.
“...You guys wanna do something that doesn’t involve bickeri–”
“Yes.” Three deadpan voices interrupted.
Stan smiled a little, amused by how they responded. “Sweet, dude.”
Kenny snickered, leaning back on his elbows. “Sweet, indeed, Stan the man. So what else did you have in mind for my birthday?” He made a show of wiggling his brows.
“Honestly, no idea,” Stan admitted, drawing incoherent shapes on the snow before he offered a shrug. “Maybe we can… hit up the arcade, or go sledding down that big hill?”
“Something more special, dude!”
Kyle glanced over from where he was kicking at a patch of ice. “If you call taking free food from Cartman’s mom special, we’re already covered.”
“Mrs. Cartman’s cooking is a damn heavenly gift to humanity, but nah. I’m thinking bigger and better.”
“We can throw you a surprise party with cake, balloons, and big-boobed strippers.” Cartman’s tactless suggestion caused Kenny to burst out laughing, nearly choking on his saliva. “I’m talking crazy huge tits.”
“Now that would be a party,” Kenny said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.
Stan looked thoughtful for a second. “How about we rent out the whole arcade? Or… oh! We could break into that old amusement park.” He paused, sensing an evil afoot when Cartman rubbed his palms together. “No, wait. I take it back.”
Across him, Cartman had been sitting cross-legged on the ground with a bored look on his face, but now he perked up at the mention and the very plan of breaking in.
“Now that I’m down for. Let’s steal some funnel cakes and cotton candy while we’re at it.”
Kyle let out an unsurprised scoff. “Of course, you’d be all excited about the free food.” He took his seat beside Stan and rubbed at his arms to keep away more of the cold. “I was thinking we can go with one of Stan’s first suggestions. You know, the sledding part.”
“As long as you losers keep up with me on the sledding track, I’m in.”
Kyle snorted at that. “Sure, Cartman. I’m sure gravity will help you plenty.”
The brunette turned as red as the jacket he was wearing. “Ay! Fuck you, Kyle!”
Without a word, Kenny suddenly stood up. The other kids glanced at him out of instinct, confused as to why, but understood when they caught him picking up a stone. After weighing it in his hand, he wound up his arm and sent the stone flying over the surface of the pond. It skipped once, twice, three times before plunking beneath the freezing waters. Kenny whooped and did a little celebratory dance.
Kyle cracked a smile. “Not bad.”
Kenny just grinned wider, bending down to grab another stone.
“Thanks, Kyle,” he said with a playful wink, tossing the stone up and catching it again in his hand. Then Kenny launched it across the pond. Now the stone skipped four times before sinking beneath the surface. “You guys see that! That’s how it’s done.”
Cartman rolled his eyes to the back of his skull and released the loudest sigh possible on purpose. “Are we really just gonna spend the rest of the day watching Kenny skip dumb fucking rocks.”
“Come play if you’re so bored, fatass.” Kenny skipped the next stone, this time with even more confidence when he spied the slight smiles on Stan and Kyle’s faces. “But I’m deciding what I should do for my victory lap. Do you guys remember your scores from a week ago?”
“The last record of skips I had was ten... five, three...” Kyle commented absently. “Eighteen if you count all of them.”
Stan looked at him with wide eyes. “Jesus, dude. I barely remember our math homework.”
“Okay, it’s settled! We’re all starting on a new game.”
And start they did.
Later, the children were all lounging around the edge of Stark’s Pond and mindlessly hurling stones into the water. They didn’t even pay attention to the scoreboard that they chose to scribble on the small clump of snow nearby. Instead, the boys were sharing the kind of conversation that didn’t really mean much, but meant everything at the same time.
It was just one of those lazy days where time seemed to slow down, and nothing mattered except being together.
Kenny stopped playing. There was a peace in the air that felt rare, even for him. He was pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t stabbed or bludgeoned on his birthday yet. And Kenny wanted to savior this moment. Maybe God didn’t hate his guts after all.
The breeze played with the mess of his blonde hair as he gazed up at the clouds, a faraway look swirling in his eyes. The more Kenny tried to hold onto one train of thought, the farther it drifted off in the direction of another. He wasn’t dead. He was alive, and he was with his friends.
Kenny was okay, and so were they. Everything would be okay.
“You guys ever think about what happens when we die?” Kenny asked, his voice unusually soft again as his eyes fluttered closed.
“What the fuck is up with you today, poor kid,” Cartman spat, looking at Kenny like he was the abomination of the earth. “Seriously, you sound more depressed than the hippie.”
Stan paused as well, glancing over at Kenny with a frown. “What do you mean, Kenny? Like… after we die?”
Kyle threw a pebble into the water, mumbling a small cheer of “Yes!” when the ripples spread out. He thought about what Kenny believed in. “I think he means heaven and hell, but it might be reincarnation.”
A faint smile played on Kenny’s lips. He didn’t expect them to understand the gravity behind his words and situation. No matter how many clues he’d drop about his immortality, his… his curse, they would never understand. And perhaps that was for the best. Kenny shook his head to himself.
“Nah. I don’t mean that. I mean… what happens with, you know, our bodies and stuff. Where we go when we’re really gone.”
Confused as all hell but not wanting to assume things, Stan just stared at him to try and gauge what was in his younger friend’s head. Kenny stared back, unblinking, and the sight made a shiver ghost down Stan’s spine. Stan couldn’t keep up the eye contact any longer. He avoided his gaze.
“I dunno, dude. You’re kinda creeping me out. But people get buried, I guess… why, you thinking about dying or something?”
“And cremated,” Kyle added. “Or if they’re fancy, kept in a cryostasis.”
Unsure of how to go about answering Stan’s question, Kenny hesitated. But he tried not to let the hesitation show on his face and posture. He didn’t want to burden Stan and the others with his troubles, but he also didn’t want to lie to them.
Cartman, lying lazily on the ground, snorted. “Pfft, what’s the point of thinking about that shit? On your birthday too, what the hell. You die, they stick you in the ground, and that’s it. End of story.”
But to the boys’ surprise, Kenny didn’t laugh even if he normally would. He just kept staring up at the sky, his expression more serious than usual. His lips pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t bring himself to respond right away and just let the wind whistle softly around them, carrying Cartman’s words off into the distance.
“I don’t want to be buried.”
A look of sympathy seemed to flicker across Kyle’s eyes. The redhead stopped tossing rocks and turned to look at him, his lips twitching.
“Yeah?”
Kenny shrugged, gazing at the clouds this time. “Yeah. It just seems so… final, you know? Being put in the ground. It’s like you’re stuck there forever. I don’t wanna be stuck anywhere. It’s lame.”
Stan’s frown deepened slightly. He still didn’t quite get where Kenny was coming from.
“So what do you want, then?”
Yet again, Kenny almost didn’t say a word. But then he gained an expression of solemn acceptance as he rose back up to his feet and walked even closer to the pond. Their pond. The place they always came back to as best friends, no matter the circumstances.
It felt so cold all of a sudden.
“I was thinking… if anything ever really happens to me, like for real, I’d want you guys to take me here.” Kenny turned around to face them with a bittersweet smile, his arms spread wide. The wind was tousling his blonde locks around, giving off the impression of a halo broken into pieces. “To Stark’s Pond. I don’t know why, but… this is where I wanna be. Just spread me out here, you know?”
Stan, Kyle, and Cartman stared at him blankly. It wasn’t the kind of conversation they expected to have with Kenny, the guy who tended to laugh in the face of death.
“You’re serious?” Kyle asked, his voice quiet. Like he was afraid of what Kenny would say to him.
Kenny nodded and dropped his smile, realizing that he might’ve looked insane smiling like that while talking about his own death. “Serious as I can ever be. I mean… it’s not like I think about it all the time or anything. But if I’m ever really gone—like, gone gone—this is where I wanna end up. Right here with you guys.”
Cartman rolled his eyes. “Kenny, dude. That is the gayest fucking thing you’ve said all week. Second, you’re supposed to be celebrating your day out of the womb.”
But one day, I won’t be able to, was what Kenny wanted to say.
Stan glanced at the pond, feeling a lump form in his throat. “You actually want us to do that? Spread your ashes here?”
Kenny nodded firmly. “Yeah. Right here. That way, I’ll always be with you guys.”
Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation but unable to brush it off because of how adamant the blonde was at continuing it. “You’re not gonna die, Kenny. Not for real. Not anytime soon.”
Kenny smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe not. But just in case… I wanted you to know.”
The boys sat in a heavy, unbearable silence of unspoken feelings, each one processing the weight of Kenny’s request in their own way. It felt colder despite the presence of the setting sun. So cold that Stan had to rub his hands, that Kyle had to pull his hat over his face. That Cartman had to blow air onto his gloved palms.
Finally, Cartman broke the tension with a huff. “Fine, since it’ll make you shut up. If you die for real, we’ll dump your ashes in the stupid pond. Happy?”
Kenny shot Cartman a grateful grin, though he knew better than to expect anything remotely sentimental from him.
“That’s all I’m asking for.”
Stan couldn’t shake the essence of finality in Kenny’s tone, but he forced himself to smile.
“Okay, Kenny. If it ever comes to that… we’ll make sure it happens.”
For once, it felt like he didn’t have to carry the burden alone.
As if on autopilot, Kenny leapt forward and threw his arms around the friends he’d be better off calling family. The momentum along with their shared weight caused Stan, Kyle and Cartman to stumble. Shrieks of laughter erupted into the air as they crashed down in a heap like bowling pins. A glimpse at Kenny revealed a tear glistening across his cheek before it slid to the fur in his parka, the fabric darkening with moisture.
“I love you guys,” Kenny wanted to say, but ended up swallowing it down like a bitter pill. Too lame to blurt out loud. So he settled for mumbling “Thanks, you guys.” through his tears, jiggling about as he tightened the hug. His words emerged as more so a whimper rather than a statement, but he didn’t care.
“Kenny, dude,” Kyle said in surprise. “Are… Are you crying?”
Crying? He didn’t even realize he’d been crying until he felt his shoulders start to shake under such weight. It hurt too bad to breathe. Just the cold, Kenny repeated the phrase as if it were a mantra, just the cold.
“Just… happy is all.” Kenny laughed, but it was clear in the strain of his voice that it wasn’t just that.
The other boys, startled by Kenny’s desperation for comfort the moment he clung to them, let their expressions soften. Stan brought a hand to Kenny’s hair, while Kyle whispered words of reassurance. Cartman, albeit hesitant at first, patted Kenny’s back in a rare display of empathy.
Stan ruffled his hair, smiling from ear to ear. “Happy birthday, Kenny.”
“...What a fag.” Cartman breathed in exasperation.
Kyle, not the type to allow an insult to slide, glared daggers. “Says the one stuck in this hug as much as we are, fatass.”
“Not denying it, I see.” Cartman grinned, a devious twinkle in his gaze. Stan rolled his eyes. Kenny had to chew back a snicker, Kyle twitching next to him.
“I hate you so much.”
“Kyle, Cartman… come on.” Stan made an effort to get them to stop bickering, just so he could spare Kenny from their banter. Only to be interrupted by the blonde’s giggles, his watery eyes crinkled because of the utmost affection he held for his best friends. He wouldn’t dream of anything or anyone better.
“Please,” he softly mumbled. “Never shut up, you guys.”
And so the four stayed in a hug, the cold of winter forgotten in the warmth of their friendship.