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Kyle thinks that Kenny is beautiful.
It was something he had first noticed a few years ago, back when he was in middle school.
They had been playing baseball during gym class, and the sport had forced Kenny out of his normal orange parka. It wasn’t the first time that Kyle had seen him out of it, of course, considering that they had been friends for as long as he could remember. So, although the sight was unusual, it wasn’t world-altering.
At least, not at first.
He never did figure out the cause, and he didn’t think he ever actually would. Maybe it had just been a trick of the light or something, but all Kyle knew was that a certain divide happened that day. An ordinary event that would forever divide his world into two segments: the before and the after. He had been on the bench talking to Stan when Kenny walked over to them, and the second Kyle lifted his head to acknowledge him...everything fucking changed.
The moment he looked up everything he had ever known about Kenny McCormick ceased to exist and was promptly reborn. It was as if he had only been living his life perceiving shades of gray and then finally opened his eyes only to all at once become inherently aware of the whole damn picture. Of every colored hue and delicate paint stroke.
It was the first time Kyle had ever looked at another person and thought that they were truly beautiful.
He wouldn’t have considered it a crush, at least not at the time, but hidden within his young heart was a desire to admire Kenny McCormick like he had been an art piece. To paint him, his golden hair, and his bright blue eyes across a canvas and display it in some stupid art museum so that the world could see exactly what he saw. To take photographs of him to capture his essence in immortal film. Something he could hold onto. Something he could keep with him for the rest of his life.
It was pretty gay.
Not that Kyle ever really cared about that shit. He gave up on titles about the same time he gave up on dating, which was shortly after he dated Bebe Stevens for about a week in his freshman year of high school. There was nothing wrong with her of course, at least not in any logical way. Kyle thought she had nice hair and a nice smile. Besides, dating her had always come with the added bonus of going on double dates with Stan and Wendy so that he could just sit back and pretend like he was having a good time. The problem was that the issue ran deeper than that. It was written in the fabric of his being, ingrained into his heart and soul for as long as he could remember. And that, of course, was the fact that in all his life, Kyle had never found anyone attractive in the way that he found Kenny to be. Kenny existed on another level for him. Was the counterpoint to his soul or some other poetic shit like that. He was beautiful, inside and out.
Still, for as much as Kyle appreciated Kenny McCormick at any given time, there was something to be said about the longing he had to comprehensively inspect Kenny when he wasn’t trying his best to be invisible.
There was just something especially breathtaking about Kenny without his hood. The sight itself was something Kyle had only witnessed in passing, a right reserved for specific occasions where wearing his signature orange parka was an impossibility and Kenny McCormick had no choice but to face the world unshielded. They were moments that were few and far between, as well as ones that usually occurred in inopportune times when too many people were present for Kyle to be able to sit back and commit the image to memory. Still, he thought about it a whole lot.
Thought about what it would be like to see Kenny’s blond hair framed against the afternoon sun. Thought about following every line of his profile, the slope of his nose and the curve of his smile as if he were a living breathing painting. He wanted it so badly, it was maddening.
There were too many times where Kyle almost asked him if he could remove it, but he stopped himself every time. He wasn’t stupid, and he knows such a question would be like asking the blond to flat-out strip in front of him. Would be like calling out the old ancient habit that everyone pretended not to notice, and asking Kenny to peel back his every layer so that Kyle could openly stare at him as if he was an exhibit. In certain ways, he was, but only in the most positive connotation of the world. He only wished that Kenny could see it that way.
But he knew he wouldn’t. He knew that Kenny liked to hide from the world in the safety of his hood. It was a habit that stayed with him beyond childhood, suggesting that somewhere along the line it had grown from a source of comfort to something that was ingrained into his being. That it had become part of his identity without him even realizing it. Kyle saw the way he sometimes reached up as if to remove it, only for his hands to stall and then fall to his sides. Kyle knew that if he were ever to ask him, he would have to have a good reason behind it.
So, naturally, he came up with a plan.
The plan was simple: he’d tell Kenny that he had an art project where he had to draw a portrait of someone he knew. Would tell him that Stan had already agreed to be Wendy’s model, and that all he would need from Kenny would be one close up picture of him that he could use as a reference. Then, Kyle would have the picture forever, a permanent reminder, and he could stop driving himself mad thinking about it.
It was, of course, a project that didn’t exist. Kyle didn’t even have an art class this semester. He was just fairly desperate at this point, desperate enough to hope that Kenny didn’t happen to know his schedule like he knew his and that he’d just smile and go along with it.
And Kenny, to his great relief, had done exactly as he hoped he would, and only smiled with a quick, “Sure, dude,” when Kyle had popped the question.
And that’s how he found himself here.
They’re seated on the grass in Kyle’s backyard, as Kyle pretends to fiddle with his phone’s camera. Kenny is sitting in front of him, plucking out blades of grass and tying their edges together to make some sort of grass chain. He seems entirely relaxed, so entirely in his element out here surrounded by nature that Kyle for once is at a loss for words. Kenny doesn’t seem bothered. Kyle knows that Kenny had never been much for talking in general, and was always perfectly happy to just back and enjoy the tranquility of the contented silence.
Their easy silence had also always been a refreshing change for Kyle who sometimes grew exhausted of shouting his opinions into the atmosphere while hoping that someone out there might be listening. Kenny didn’t need to say anything for Kyle to know that he heard him. It was written in the shades of his eyes, and the curl of his lips, and the slight inclination of his head.
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Kyle finally speaks, hating how loud his voice sounds in the moment.
“Ready?”
Kenny smiles and nods, releasing his hold on the grass but making no other motion. Kyle blinks at him, a small frown gracing his features. “Uh, Ken?” He says as gently as he can and makes a telling gesture to his own head.
Kenny’s smile falls and apprehension flashes across his expression as if he hadn’t considered that removing his hood would be a necessary part of the deal. There is a considering and vulnerable glint to his gaze, and Kyle watches as he begins to lift his hands before they fall back down to his lap.
They’ve always had a way of speaking without words.
Kyle drops his phone to the ground, forgotten. He moves over until he’s kneeling directly in front of Kenny, and slowly raised his hands toward the hood of his parka.
“Can I?”
Relief sinks into Kenny’s expression at Kyle’s insistence to do what he found so difficult, and he offers a small nod of approval. Kyle is well aware of the amount of trust he’s showing him, and briefly, he wonders if he’d let anyone else do this. But then his hands are carefully pushing down his hood, and all other thoughts become obsolete.
Kenny’s hair is sticking up in all different directions, and Kyle is suddenly at an altar, looking upon something extraordinarily sacred. Before he can think better of it, his hands are running through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down, and Kenny just sits there and lets him, eyes falling closed.
His hair is as soft as he always imagined it would be, and it actually seems to have a bit of a light brown laced within the strands. Kyle keeps the action up a bit longer than necessary, and by the time he stops Kenny’s eyes are open and he’s looking at him as if he’s divinity itself.
Kyle knows the feeling.
So, instead of reaching for his phone, he finds himself holding Kenny’s face in his hands as if he were made of stained glass, before leaning in and pressing his lips against his.
The kiss is soft and gentle, and it gives him a warm and comforting feeling, like the shiver of happiness he’d get after curling up in his warm bed during an especially cold night. It’s like that, only intensified. It reminds Kyle of warm summer days, and as his hands tangle in Kenny’s hair he’s reminded of the dark green grass beneath him and he has a sudden feeling that the two of them would make the perfect painting because if every beautiful thing could be bottled up and put into one feeling, this would be it.
When at last they part, Kyle looks at the perfect boy in front of him and can’t help the breathless words that fall from his mouth, “Go out with me?”
And Kenny just pulls him back in and kisses the word yes onto his lips.