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Things were looking bleak. Kenny had always been dirt poor, he didn’t expect to become anything different. What really had him stressed out was the fact he was now dirt poor with Craig, like, love of his life Craig. Craig had never been ridiculously wealthy either, but he had always been far better off than Kenny had. Certainly, it wasn’t something Craig wanted to experience, especially in their shared adulthood.
But here they were, sleeping in the back of Craig’s old hatchback, tank practically empty and no way to pay for a refill. Thankfully, Craig’s parents were more merciful than Kenny’s and had allowed them to stay at their place for a few months to get back on their feet. They were still far far away from South Park, but they had started to head there soon after they were chased out of their crappy apartment.
Craig was mad about it, for sure. Kenny was too, but he still tried to make light of the situation. At least they had a place to fall back to, but Craig didn’t seem thrilled about moving back in with his parents. At least they didn’t have to complain about their shitty, run-down apartment anymore, but it had made them independent. At least they had each other. Craig hadn’t argued with that one.
Kenny couldn't help but feel guilty about all of this, even if none of it was his fault. It wasn't his fault that Craig and him only managed to get worthless, barely-paying-the-rent jobs and there was practically no way they could've kept afloat. It wasn't his fault that their apartment was a part of this huge, ridiculous money laundering scheme that neither of them expected to get wrapped up in. Kenny knew what he had to do when the going got tough; Craig just couldn't accept it. Kenny was well-adapted to a life of poverty and crazy happenings that spiraled out of control like a butterfly effect on steroids. Kenny knew how to serve and protect; years of playing masked vigilante made sure of that.
What Kenny wasn't used to was having someone protect him.
Craig was stubborn. Not in the usual depiction, with flashes of aggressiveness, or blinded by arrogance. He knew how to see right through people, and once he had his mind made up, there was little that could persuade him otherwise. He relied on logic, knew the best and most rational way to handle things. He almost never let his feelings get in the way of what needed to be done, something that Kenny envied.
Kenny had a strong sense of justice but lacked trust in authority. How could he? Growing up in South Park taught him that there was no reasoning with adults or figures of power; they all had their own conspiracies to act out on, never listening, but instead acting.
Craig thought it ridiculous that Kenny wanted to take control of the situation, his own solution being they stop getting involved while they were ahead.
“But, Craig, innocent people are being persecuted and used because of these low-life scumbags. They need to be stopped.”
“They do,” Craig agreed. “But you’re not Batman, and this really isn’t any of our business. I’m not letting you get yourself killed by the scumbags just because you want to play hero.”
“I’m not playing hero, I’m doing the right thing,” Kenny argued, his teeth grinding.
“Okay, Batman,” Craig went back to stirring butter into their microwavable mashed potatoes. Kenny wanted to punch something.
Later that week, he stumbled into their small apartment, blood spilling from his abdomen from a rather gnarly stab wound. Craig watched him die for the third time ever since they started becoming closer. When Kenny woke up, reborn in their shared bed, he found Craig packing what little they had back into the boxes they had come in.
“What are you doing?” Kenny asked, trying to keep the mood calm.
“I’m packing, dipshit,” Craig responded, not looking over to Kenny.
“Why?”
“You know why,” Craig spat out, making Kenny’s stomach leap. “I’m not doing this, Kenny. We’re getting out of here.”
Kenny swallowed. “I can protect us, Craig.”
Craig slammed whatever he was handling into the box, a sudden rush of anger possessing him. “But I can’t protect you, Kenny. You can’t die, I get it, but I can. And if you keep getting involved in this shit I… I just don’t want to deal with it. This isn’t the life I want with you, Kenny.” Craig let out a shaky breath, still not looking over at Kenny. “We’re gay, not gangbangers.”
Kenny couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled in his chest at Craig’s words. Craig looked over his shoulder at Kenny for the first time and smiled back. Kenny got up and started to help pack up their belongings.
“You okay?” Craig mumbled, turning over into Kenny’s side, causing the car to shake with him.
Kenny hummed in response, slipping his arms around Craig. “Worried.”
Craig hummed back, just resting against Kenny for a moment, then he looked up, snaking his hand up to Kenny’s face. His fingertips ghosted over the stubbled on Kenny’s jaw, almost like a blind man trying to recognize someone’s face.
“We’re outta there, don’t worry, babe,” Craig said, opening his eyes for the first time. He looked up at Kenny, though his eyes were out of focus and tired. Kenny just smiled down at him solemnly.
“Not that,” Kenny whispered back. He didn’t want to have this talk at all, let alone while he and Craig slept in the back of their car, half asleep.
Craig closed his eyes again, bringing his hand down to wrap around Kenny’s middle, bringing them closer together.
“We’ll be okay. I don’t care where we are,” Craig started, burying his face into Kenny’s chest. “Whether it’s on the streets begging for money or in our custom fifteen-acre mansion estate. ‘S long as it's with you.”
Kenny felt his heart leap at Craig’s words.
“You’re so cheesy when you’re half asleep,” Kenny chuckled.
“Whatever, asshole. You agree with me.”
Kenny pushed out a soft laugh again, closing his eyes and planting his face in Craig’s hair.
“Yeah. You know I do.”