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They sit in Stan’s car; the hushed radio playing a song by Peach Pit. It’s not typically the music that Stan listens to, but it’s one of Kenny’s favorite bands and it’s grown on him. Kenny sits in the passenger seat, feet pressed to the dashboard and knees to his chest. He drapes his arms over his knees, and wears a smile composed of contempt and cannabis.
They sit in his parked car outside Kenny’s house; the old train-tracks in front of them and the intersection-light blinking red a few streets down. Kenny seems mesmerized by the blinking red light; resembling a moth drawn to a light.
Though, he supposes the brightest light is Kenny himself; sunshine in his hair and constellations on his cheeks. He is the definition of ethereal. He draws people in; is everything Stan wishes he could be in the eyes of the public — well liked without even trying. Everyone in the whole school likes Kenny — accepts him in their conversation with broad grins and open ears. Kenny is personable, and warm, and lively. Kenny is the type of person that always makes you feel better, just by being around him. It’s almost as he wears a halo around his head with that thick, orange parka.
He likes when he takes it off — he likes seeing his tangled, mess of hair and watch as he brushes his chipped nail-polished fingers through it. He likes when it gets so long that Karen makes random braids in it; he likes it when Karen has given him a horrendous haircut that he refuses to ever complain about. Because even in private, Kenny would never say anything mean about his sister.
“You know what I wanna be?” Kenny says suddenly.
“What?”
“I want to be a damsel in distress tied to the train tracks.”
“What?” Stan breaks out into a laugh.
Oh, yeah.
Kenny is funny too. He’s not only funny, but he finds everything funny. He can find the humor in any situation; can quip up a hilarious joke on even his worst days. He is the funniest person he knows, but he never acts like he is. He acts like everyone is hilarious. He laughs loudly and proudly. He always laughs in his own jokes too, somehow making them funnier.
“I want to be tied up to the tracks — and then see who comes and save me, and they can be my savior, or prince charming, or princess charming — like Princess Bubble Gum type baddie, and then, they save me and we have really good sex.”
Stan bursts into laughter again, turning his head to the old train tracks.
“And then, if no one comes to save me, I just die and come back to life, like any other day.”
Stan’s laugh falters into a frown as he looks out into the night; to the dark train tracks that the boy next to him speaks of. “No way, dude. I would untie you before that ever happened,” he looks to Kenny again; honey eyes staring back with a gentle smile spread out at the bottom of his face.
“You’d be my prince charming-type, huh, Marsh? Prince Marsh? Knight Marsh — Oh, you could be Knight Stan and I could be Princess Kenny — in this situation, I was already picturing myself as a girl so, it works even better.”
Stan smiles — maybe at the memory of their childhood game or the enthusiasm laced in the words, but his cheeks burn with fondness. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m pretty good with knots due to years of Boy Scott’s too.”
“There you go,” Kenny swats him, “you’re made for this role, Marsh. I can’t believe my knight in shining armor is the star quarterback. This is every girl’s dream.”
Stan shakes his head, feeling heat wash over his face as he flickers his eyes down a moment. He doesn’t know how much of what Kenny says is a joke but it still forms a pool of warmth in his stomach. He flicks his eyes up again. Kenny holds another warm and soft smile; honey eyes twinkling.
“You’re not disappointed Princess Bubble Gum isn’t coming for you?”
Kenny smirks, “well, if you really wanna please me, you could always dress up as her.”
“You want the best of both worlds, huh?”
“Always,” Kenny nods with a shining grin. “But for you, Stanley Marsh, I’d be happy with almost anything — your football uniform, your toolshed costume, your favorite brown sweater? Just as long as it’s you wearing them.”
Stan’s heart swells with joy, his lips racing out to his cheeks. He does not care if it’s a joke, it fills him with immense gratification. He is so, so lucky to have someone like Kenny in his life — someone who constantly lifts him up, constantly brings him joy, constantly fills the room with laughter. It is if his emotions pour out of him; possess him and take over. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Kenny’s lips.
When they touch, he is instantly mortified with himself — what is he doing? Kenny is just his friend — he is going to fuck that all up! He pulls back, but as soon as he does so, Kenny pushes forward, pressing their lips together again.
Stan sighs in relief; sighs in content as the lips of the other once again coat his mouth. It’s the best feeling ever. This kiss is not deep or long, or even very sensual, but it’s perfect. It is the person behind the kiss that makes it heaven. It’s Kenny McCormick’s light shedding through him.
When they pull away, they gaze at one another and then laugh. Kenny’s cheek’s resemble pink clouds and his honey eyes are the sun; his glowing smile is the crescent sliver of the moon. He smells like weed and cigarette smoke, and tastes like it too, but god, if he doesn’t want to savor in that scent forever when it’s coming from Kenny.
Their lips connect again; the night fading away into sloppy wet kisses and the taste of tobacco. The intersection light blinks in the background, the train tracks underneath. Peach Pit continues to play, and Stan’s heart melts even further.