Chapter Text
Was taking seventy-five milligrams of benadryl on an empty stomach before school after a sleepless night on purpose considered a form of self harm? If so, Kenny didn't get the memo. It wasn't that he necessarily wanted to (he did), it was more like he needed to. How else was he to atone for being unable to sleep on a school night? Sure, it never exactly taught him to stop doing it, but he's sure he'll learn from his self punishment someday. It wasn't any different than when he had to cut a mark into his hip after he got off to some particularly disgusting thoughts, negative reinforcement was how it always went with him. There was also a small, sick part of him that wanted to see what would happen if he did this.
So, he went to school with the intent of punishing himself for his sin. He sat through first hour, his stomach growling and aching from having only bitter coffee and pills to digest. His forehead was slick with sweat, his nerves felt like they were coiled around his entire body. His stomach clenched painfully and he grit his teeth. He ran his mantra of 'I deserve it,' through his head over and over until it calmed him. He did deserve it and he was going to take it like a man.
In second hour, the benadryl kicked in as his chemistry teacher went over balancing equations. Kenny saw nothing out of the ordinary, but he couldn't make sense out of the letters and numbers in front of him. He made a mental note to ask Kyle to re-teach it to him. The teacher handed out a worksheet, Kenny swallowed and struggled to pick up his pen. His arms felt so heavy, writing was more difficult than he ever remembered it being. His usual heavy-pressed chicken scratch handwriting was reduced to faint pencil marks on the paper, so small it was almost unnoticeable. He couldn't do this.
As he slowly walked to the bathroom, he berated himself for not sticking it through the class, for taking the easy way out. Telling any teacher that you're feeling queasy makes them sit stiff and blurt out,
"You don't have to tell me, just go!"
And he went. He felt like somewhat of a coward but that didn't stop him from going anyway. He stumbled through the bathroom door and saw Kyle washing his hands in the sink. That was odd, Kenny would've sworn that Kyle was just in chemistry with him, although it could have been some random curly haired redhead. Still, he gave Kyle a strange look.
"Stop staring at me, dude, it's freaking me out," Kyle's annoyed tone rang on the insides of Kenny's head. All he could do was nod his head and shuffle to a urinal. He hovered, hoping Kyle would leave so he could sit on a toilet seat and gather his bearings. Instead, he stood there with an expectant look on his face.
"What?" That was too quiet, it was almost a whisper, Kenny cleared his throat and tried again. Kyle just rolled his eyes in impatience.
"Aren't you gonna tell me what the fuck happened the other night?"
That didn't ring any type of bell in Kenny's head, he gave a bewildered stare.
"You know, when I came to get your ass out of bed and you just sat there and mumbled something about eyes before passing out?" His words came out practiced and smooth, was he really that pissed that he rehearsed this meeting in his head eighty times over? Perhaps.
"What? What were you doing in my room anyway?" Kenny's words came out slow and choppy, that little voice in his head told him this was his punishment for not just sitting through class.
"Don't act like you don't know, Kenny, we've planned this for weeks."
The simple fact of the matter was that Kenny truly didn't know why Kyle would be in his room at two (or was it three?) in the morning. He shrugged and gave a flimsy excuse of accidentally taking too much benadryl to clear his nose or something. Kyle scoffed at that and he just wished Kyle could let something go for once.
"How do you accidentally take too much? You take one and you're done!"
Kenny barely restrained his urge to groan, he didn't have the emotional capacity to skillfully dodge any questions about his drug use.
"Look, dude, can we just not talk about this right now? I need to get back to class." Somehow he managed to get say this without getting tired from the effort, and he walked out of the bathroom. He decided sitting through class was punishment enough.
Lunch was avoiding Kyle's stare, which was an incredibly hard thing to do. He perfected his 'we're going to sit and talk about this' stare in the eighth grade, it's been his weapon of choice since. Although, Kenny couldn't be sure if what he was experiencing was real or not. Exhaustion was creeping in, and the edges of his vision were black. To him, everything was so real it was surreal, like he was in a video game. He picked at his hamburger bun, tearing off a little piece as Cartman jabbed his elbow into his side. All he could muster was a glare before he went back to dissecting his bun. Normally, he ate his plate clean even if he didn't like it, but today he could barely give the energy to speak much less eat.
When the bell rang, he threw out his food and went to his next class. Unfortunately, he shared that class with Kyle. While he loved his friend, he had to admit that when Kyle wanted to talk to you (or at you) he most definitely was going to make it happen. It was a trait Kenny admired up until he was on the receiving end. Still, Kenny slumped into his seat and shoved his face into the crook of his elbow. A headache was beginning to form, the only food he ingested that day was instant coffee his mom bought from the 99cent store. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he only had two more classes and then he could go home. The bell rang and he settled in for a long hour of geography.
Halfway through class, he felt a light tap on his shoulder and a folded up piece of paper landed on his desk. His face screwed up in confusion, were they still allowed to pass notes in high school? Was that still a thing? Anyone who would need to pass him a note had his number. He flipped it open to see Kyle's handwriting on the page. The entire page was filled with what Kenny could only describe as word vomit. The gist of it was that Kyle was worried about him and wanted to talk after school. Then a weird set of instructions on how to respond; either fold it up and put it in his pocket for yes or throw it away for no. Kenny didn't have it in him to get up so he folded the note up and put it in his pocket. He was slightly annoyed with how complicated Kyle could make things sometimes.
After school, Kenny found himself in Kyle's bedroom awaiting for the inevitable. The tension was palpable and he was debating on telling the truth or lying. It was somewhat an internal battle between his own good and evil. One part wanted help and recovery, to be fixed, the other wanted to go to rock bottom find out if there was a limit to how much he could die.
"Kenny," Kyle started, "are you okay?"
Kenny shrugged and stared at his friends dresser, taking in every detail and committing it to memory.
"Dude, seriously, you've been acting weird lately. You haven't even cracked one dick joke, what's going on?"
Kenny was quiet, he held his breath and weighed his options. He never did like the feeling of being healthy.
"I dunno, I just haven't been sleeping well lately."
If Kyle truly had lasers that could shoot from his eyes, Kenny's sure he'd be long dead by now. He shifted and brought his knees to his chest, the lack of sleep was catching up to him. Kyle doesn't say anything for a minute, Kenny doesn't either. It's awkward and he wonders if he can just get up and go home.
"Are you cheesing again?"
Kenny raised his eyebrows, holding back a laugh. He was long past getting high off of cat piss.
"I haven't touched a cat since the sixth grade, dude. The whole piss smell thing got old."
Kyle nodded thoughtfully, and he gazed up at the ceiling. Kenny just wanted to go home and sleep, this felt like an unavoidable, extremely long cut scene that he's not allowed to skip.
"Are you sure you're okay? I don't think you're just tired, Kenney, I've seen you tired and that's not it."
"Maybe I'm just hungry and tired, you ever think of that?" he snapped. Admitting that he developed an unhealthy want for one of the easiest drugs out there wasn't in his agenda today. It was embarrassing, he wasn't addicted to anything truly awful, just over the counter drugs that made his heart skip four beats in a row. Kyle seemed taken aback by his friends tone.
"Look, dude, I'm just worried about you, seeing you like this makes me scared that you're gonna die."
Dying and people saying they cared about it was somewhat of a trigger to Kenny, who scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"I can't die, Kyle," he spat, adding more emphasis to each word.
"Don't say that, you asshole! I don't want to see you waste away like this! You look like shit, dude."
"Gee, thanks, you're such a good pal."
"You know what I mean!"
Kenny was tired of this, he didn't want to admit he was dependent on drugs. Shame wormed its way into his heart, taking root and leaving behind a burning trail of misplaced anger.
"No, Kyle, I don't know what you mean! I don't give a fuck about what you mean! Just leave me the fuck alone!"
With that, he stormed out of Kyle's room and angrily walked back home, his breath forming plumes of steam in the cold winter air. He ground his teeth together and looked down at his feet while he walked. He was shaking in anger, his fists clenched tightly, and stomping with each step. Who did Kyle think he was?Was he some sort of therapist now? What, did he have all the answers to Kenny's problems? Each thought banged around his head, making him angrier. That, paired with Kyle's audacity to claim he cared if Kenny died, left him seething in rage. Then, he ran into Cartman, who immediately opened his mouth to say something that would probably push him over the edge. And that he did.
"Oh, hello, Kenny, how was your little fag sesh with Kyle?"
"I'm not in the mood right now, get out of my way, fatboy."
"C'mon, please indulge me on your faggy date with Kyle."
"I said get out of my fucking way!"
There was only so much a sleep deprived, sobering up, already irritated Kenny could take. He swung his fist and it connected at Cartman's nose. Kenny's chest was heaving and his knuckles ached. At first, Cartman stared at him with utter disbelief before realizing his nose was gushing blood. Kenny brushed past him and left him there crying for his mom.
He slammed the door shut behind him once he got home and rushed to his room. He slammed that door too. He leaned up against his bedroom door and pulled the hood of his parka off, burying his face into his hands. He slowly slid down to the floor and again brought his knees up to his chest. The shame that rooted into his heart bloomed within an instant and for the first time in a while, he cried. It was more than crying, he was sobbing, his shoulders shaking. He felt so stupid for saying those things to Kyle. He knew Kyle cared, he knew that he was just worried about his friend.
His fingers had taken ahold of his hair, and he started tugging at it in frustration with himself. Tears and snot ran down his face with ease, and Kenny almost couldn't breathe.
"Why the fuck did I do that?" he whispered to himself, his throat catching on each word. He pulled harder at his hair before banging his fist on his head. He ruined the one shot of actually fixing this shit because he was too ashamed to admit it. For hours he sat there and sobbed his heart out. He couldn't stand himself anymore, he hated how self sabotaging he was. What he hated more was the small, sick part of him that enjoyed and thrived off of this. His heart ached, he wished he could just die and stay dead. He knew the world would definitely be better off without him. He knew everyone would be happier in the long run without him there.
For the rest of the night, he stayed at that spot, not daring to move. He cried on and off, bursts of tears forming at a single thought. Again, he didn't sleep that night, he felt it was the only fair punishment for himself.