Work Text:
Kenny could vaguely hear the sound of arguing in the background. His parents, no doubt, especially since Carol uncovered more disturbing aspects of drug addiction. Kenny tuned it out, it’s nothing he hasn’t already heard.
He noticed the apparent lack of Kevin’s contribution. Starting a couple months back, Kevin had decided he was old enough to partake in every ‘family’ disagreement. Karen was adamantly against this development. Kenny had lost hope in convincing anyone in his household of anything rational. The youngest begged and cried every time Kevin suffered a yellow bruise or cut lip from his father’s doing. Kevin was relentless. Kenny suspected the eldest was deliberately looking for an outlet. Kevin needed serious anger management and his father was an enabler of bad habits. Anytime a male presence so much as spoke with a smirk, the fire was kindled in Kevin’s power hungry bones.
Yeah, Kevin was certainly not home if he was missing this.
Kenny could easily tune out a fight. He had practically trained himself from a young age to internally muffle domestic arguments. Things changed when Karen came of age. Kenny had to pay closer attention to the innocent lilt of her voice. He had made damn sure that lilt never entered a hostile conflict, not without his presence.
Karen was still at school, no need for Kenny to get worked up yet. Not when he was busy with…
Right.
Schoolwork.
Ever the distractible, Kenny lightly shook his head. A weak attempt at refocusing on the task at hand. What appeared to be a couple thousand math problems was, in reality, twenty-five.
Twenty-five meaningless, boring, stupid, redundant, waste-of-time, could-be-doing-anything-better math problems.
Kenny hated math. (who could have guessed?)
Mostly, though, Kenny hated the way math made him feel, the way school made him feel. His body could explode, guts painting the wall, blood washing the floor, and it wouldn’t surprise him. That’s exactly how his body felt. The crushing weight of responsibility, the pressure surely building to capacity. Kenny wishes he would explode to relieve it. Doing these stupid math problems was akin to forcing his hand on a burning stove top. He just couldn’t seem to do it.
Yet, here he sat. Years since the bygone days of elementary, Kenny was a twelfth grader now. Society (South Park High School) had thrust upon him truckloads of work upon entering ninth grade. He was woefully unprepared, previous grades having been somewhat of a cake walk to an academically prone boy. It was as if puberty were the catalyst of his sudden depression and inability to focus.
No.
That’s not quite right, a little to the left of the truth, maybe.
Kenny didn’t loathe school like he did now, but he was neutral towards it in his prepubescent years as well.
What had changed so dramatically then? What was the cause of this seemingly newfound strife?
Kenny found himself ruminating on that every once in a while. He had come to the conclusion that, below eighth grade, things came naturally to him. Little workload, easy questions, talking with friends. Sounded like a decent day to him.
Now of course, with the threat of college looming near, things became dreadful and intense. Studying for SATs, multiple pages of history questions and english essays. College applications for a good degree for a good job for a good career until you die. Stressful and devoid of hope, in Kenny’s opinion.
Kenny bit his lip and blinked hard.
He’d gone off task again.
Math problems.
Focus.
He picked up his pencil, expression souring at the chewed up eraser head. He had a habit of fidgeting (and chewing) while he worked. It seemed impossible to have completely undivided attention on school or homework. How could anyone sit contentedly studying biology? History? Any subject? Kyle claimed it could be done, using himself as an example. Kenny didn’t believe him.
Focus.
Math problems.
That aching feeling in his gut stirred, and he realized he hadn’t eaten in awhile.
Wow, has his room always been this filthy?
Kenny should really see about getting new shoes for Karen.
One time, Stan informed him of this awesome shoe store that…
Math problems.
Focus.
Kenny slammed his workbook shut. He threw his pencil at the wall, grabbed his jacket, and shut the door on his way out. He could better hear the argument of his parents as he walked the dull hallway. This only served to further sour his mood.
He sped up his pace, jogging out of the house and into the streets. Running from the streets to a neighboring forest.
He picked up a jagged rock and threw it at a tree. Satisfied with the outlet of his frustrations, he did it again.
Again, again, and again.
Eventually his arms grew tired and he sat beneath the abused pine. Patting it lightly with his condolences.
He couldn’t wait for this to all be over.