Work Text:
Kenny laid on his mattress, staring up at the ceiling. His room was dark, illuminated merely by the moonlight flooding through the tatters of his curtain. Earbuds in place, he vibed, listening to a hip-hop playlist that Kyle had made for him, that he’d insisted would be perfect for these moments. It wasn’t the first time that Kenny thought that Kyle was absolutely onto something.
This was how he intended to wait out the night. At least, until he heard a loud clattering from the living room or the kitchen —he wasn’t entirely certain—but it was loud enough to be heard over the rhythmic beats against his ears. It wasn’t a surprise, almost immediately following, that a sliver of light lit his room as his door cracked open.
He jerked his earbuds away and sat up in time to hear the end of the hesitant, softly-spoken question. “— ny?” When she saw him gesture in the dark, she slipped into the room, carefully closing the door behind her. It barely made an audible click as it closed, and then she was tiptoeing across the floor to Kenny's bed.
As soon as she was settled, she leaned her head against her brother’s shoulder. “I don’t like it when they fight.” As if prompted, the muffled screaming from the other side of the house got louder, followed by the telltale sound of glass shattering against a wall.
Kenny tucked his arm over Karen’s shoulders, squeezing her into a side-hug. “They’ll stop soon. Everything will be fine in the morning. It was a white lie, but if it reassured his sister, it was worth it. He picked up his phone again, dragging his hand along with the connected cord until he found one of the earbuds. “Here. Listen to this, it’ll help.”
She put one earbud in, he took the other.Huddled together, they listened to the playlist and drowned out the world around them until Karen was finally able to fall asleep.
Please believe that this too shall pass.
(I want you to know that)
Sunburst will soon come
After rain clouds…
Kenny wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when he awoke, it was pressed in some unreasonable position against this windowsill, still sitting up. Bright sunlight illuminated his room and hurt his bleary eyes as he looked about his room. Karen was already up, and he needed to be as well. The last thing he wanted to do was spent his Saturday at home, especially after a fight like that. He knew well enough that tensions would be high between his parents still, and the combination of that and them coming down from whatever was guaranteed to trickle down to him and his siblings somehow or another.
After tugging his parka on, he got completely dressed, all the way down to his shoes. He thought nothing of it, not really; some of his friends had strict ‘no shoes past the doorway’ rules, but here, it was better not to risk bare feet on these floors.
When he emerged from his bedroom, he wasn’t surprised to find his dad still sprawled on the couch, snoring in that booming manner he always did after a heavy bender. Neither of his parents bothered to clean up, but that came as no surprise. Glass littered the floor. An end table was overturned. New holes in the walls would have to be covered up.
There was no sign of Kevin or their mother, but Karen was at the microwave reheating food for breakfast. By the stench of it, it was that awful ‘fortified rice-soy casserole’ the church’s foodbank always pushed onto them. It served its purpose in providing the necessary nutrients for growing children, but it tasted awful and he’d yet to find a way to remedy that. Still, it beat going hungry.
Karen stopped the microwave before its final second, but it still made a loud enough sound when she opened the door that she flinched and peered over her shoulder toward the living room. Their father didn't stir from his spot on the couch. It was only then that she looked to her brother, mouthing an easily readable want some?
Kenny nodded, grabbing a couple plastic plates from the drying rack along with two spoons. They ate quietly, without any real interest in the food apart from chasing after a reprieve from the stomach pangs with which they were often wrought. Karen finished hers first, and with the lingering pallor expression, Kenny accurately assessed that she was still hungry.
He nudged the plate in her direction after declaring that he was done and got up to get a broom and dustpan from the mostly-empty pantry. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her reach for his plate and pull it the rest of the way over. As Karen finished eating, he swept up the dark brown shards of glass that littered the floor.
It was only when a loud ow was elicited from Karen that he realized he missed a piece. Her cry was loud enough that their father muttered an angry shut the fuck up but otherwise made no effort to bother getting up.
Kenny, on the other hand, dropped everything. The glass in the dustpan went safely into the trash can, but once that was out of the way he was helping her to the bathroom, allowing himself to be used as a crutch so she didn’t have to apply pressure to the foot that had the piece of glass lodged in.
“You’re going to be okay,” he assured her as she sat on the toilet seat lid. Digging into the cabinet under the sink, he pulled out the first aid kit that was stored under there. He was fairly certain it must have been older than he was, given how worn and dusty the plastic box was, but its contents would still be helpful.
As he was removing the glass and sanitizing the afflicted area, he noticed that Karen’s foot was covered in blisters. Not just the one. Rather, both of them. “What happened?”
“Oh…” Karen hesitated. “My shoes don’t fit right anymore. But it’s okay,” she quickly added. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Mom. Karen needs new shoes.”
The response he got at first was his mother turning in her bed to face away from him. It prompted him to repeat the statement. This time, she responded to him gruffly. “Kenny, yanno I ain’t no mornin’ person!”
It was on him to do something about it. But that wasn’t anything new.
“I can give you forty bucks for it, kid.”
Kenny’s gaze trained on the cell phone that rested on the counter separated him and the overweight man on the other side of the counter. He knew these places were a rip off that profited off desperation, but still. “Forty? C’mon, man, I paid $200 for it.”
The man chuckled. It wasn’t just an ordinary chuckle; his belly shook with the condescension he’d already heard far too many times in his young life. “Look, kid. I’m giving you a better deal than anyone else around here will. It’s a piece of shit phone with a now-unsupported OS. Take it or leave it. I don’t give a fuck.”
“I’ll take the money,” he mumbled. He could at least get Karen a decent pair of shoes with it.
Monday morning rolled around, and while Kenny could feel the absence in the front pocket of his jeans, he was satisfied in knowing that Karen would be able to walk comfortably again. As he opened his locker to switch out the books and supplies he needed, he heard Cartman from the end of the corridor.
“Hey, Kinny !”
He looked over his shoulder to see his group of friends approaching, eventually stopping beside him at his locker. “Hi, guys.”
“Kinny, why the fuck have you been ignoring our group chat? You haven’t reacted at all to any of my meeeeeeeeemes .”
Kenny merely shrugged, but when he caught the much more concerned expressions of Kyle and Stan, he offered a simple explanation: “I don’t have it anymore.”
Kyle and Stan shared a glance as Kyle’s brows furrowed. “As in you got grounded?”
Sometimes, Kyle really was a sweet summer child. Kenny really didn’t have it in him to be annoyed about the question. Kyle just didn’t understand what it was like to live like he had to. “A little more permanent than that, Ky.”
His friends didn’t seem to know what to make of that, but that really wasn’t Kenny’s problem. He closed his locker, and after telling his friends that he’d see them in class, he headed down the hall. Cartman, Kyle, and Stan remained where they were, but Kenny was able to hear part of their conversation for much longer than they likely realized.
Kyle and Cartman never seemed to notice just how much their voices carried.
“Guys, I don’t think we should use the group chat anymore if Kenny can’t be in on it,” he heard Kyle say in that impassioned tone he used when he felt really badly about something.
“Fuck you, Kahl! Where do you expect me to share my memes, then? You want me to print them out?
“Your memes are stupi—”
“—Stan’ll end up crying stupid hippie tears—”
“Guys.” Stan’s softer tone wasn’t as easily heard, especially as Kenny didn’t pause in his trek. “That’s enough. We should just—”
It was after school a few days later that Stan rested his hand on his shoulder, stopping Kenny in his tracks before he headed off to City Wok. Beside Stan stood Kyle, and Cartman about a step behind the both of them. “Hey, dude. We got something for you.”
“What?”
Stan stuck his hands in his jacket pockets as Kyle set his backpack on the ground and dug out a small walkie talkie with a charging port. He handed it to Kenny, who merely studied the device in bewilderment. “We’re gonna be using channel ten. It was Stan’s idea.”
“We were talking about, you know, you not having your phone anymore. This way we can keep talking when we’re not hanging out.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “I know it’s not the same, but it should still be fun.”
“It better be,” Cartman interjected. “I put my allowance money into this.”
Beneath the hood of his parka, Kenny couldn’t help but smile. He really did have the best friends a guy could ask for. He was equally surprised and absolutely thrilled that they’d come through for him like this. “Thanks, guys.” It meant a lot. More than he knew how to express. The unspoken gratitude hung between the four of them.
It was Kyle who departed first. “I gotta go. Ike and I have to get home before Ma starts wondering where we’re at. Don’t forget, channel ten!”
It was later in the night when he first heard a voice coming from the walkie talkie on his desk. It was a little staticy, but he could still hear Cartman clearly enough to understand him. “Ay, what’s the answer to number fifteen?”
Kenny assumed he was working on the same math assignment as him, but as he’d only just gotten home not even half an hour before, he wasn’t that far along. He said nothing. Neither did Stan or Kyle.
“Guys? Seriously.”
It was only then that Kyle chimed in. “You have to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking, Fatass. Over.”
“Ugh, whatever. What’s the fuckin answer to number fifteen, Kahl? Over. ”
“Do your own work and find out for yourself. Over.”
Kenny snickered. It was the same banter as always. Silence followed, and he could imagine the reaction Cartman was having in the interim.
Finally, Stan chimed in. “Hey guys, why-you-dee. Over.”
Taking the walkie talkie in hand, Kenny pressed down on the button that transmitted his words. “En-em, luhm-ow. Over.”
“For fuck’s sake, guys.” Kyle said in that tone that suggested he was merely mildly annoyed but was trying to sound more irritated. “Can we not? Over.” The conversation devolved from there, and though Kenny didn’t feel the need to add much, he was happy. Satisfied with how this turned out.
Karen had the shoes she needed, and for once, not having something didn’t mean being left out. His own sunburst had arrived.