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It’s a late night in winter when the snow begins to fall harder than usual and Stan finds himself hand-in-hand with Kenny McCormick. A beaming grin is spread across his face, the gap between his two front teeth on full display as he pulls his friend along with him like an eager puppy. When he looks back, big blue eyes filled with genuine happiness for the first time in months, Stan mirrors his smile, putting on a happy face in spite of the fact that he’s far from happy. It’s the least he can do.
Kenny is sick. Really sick, with some mysterious illness that doctors can’t put a name to. Stan doesn’t know how diseases work, or why this one popped up out of nowhere, but he knows it’s bad. Over the past few months, Kenny’s condition has worsened to the point that he needed to use an oxygen tank, and sometimes even a wheelchair, depending on how strong he felt on certain days. But, most of the time, he was confined to an uncomfortable hospital bed, in a stuffy room that was far too sterile and far too empty for somebody like Kenny McCormick.
The other day, Stan had overheard the doctors talking to Kenny’s mother. He remembers how sorry and hopeless they looked, he remembers her crying and hugging Kenny closer and more often than she ever has. He remembers the way his heart dropped to the floor when he’d heard them say the word “terminal”.
Going outside in the winter is something the doctors had initially advised against, for a number of reasons. They said it’d do nothing but worsen Kenny’s condition and make him more susceptible to viruses that could be deadly to somebody in his state. But, as his condition worsened on its own, and Kenny grew closer and closer to his inevitable end, Stan knew better than to let him spend his last days in a suffocating hospital room. Doctor’s advice be damned, the happiness of his friend is Stan’s top priority, even if it gets him in trouble.
Heavy boots crunch against freshly-fallen snow as the two of them skulk around the edge of Stark’s Pond, eventually opting to take a seat on the snow-painted bench they’ve sat on a million times before. It doesn’t last long, just long enough for Kenny to catch his breath and collect himself before he’s ready to go, go, go once again. Stan knows better than to protest. He just holds onto Kenny’s hand as the boy leads their trek to the center of the pond, wheeling his oxygen tank behind him with a smile wider than Stan’s ever seen.
When Kenny sits down on the ice, Stan follows, having a seat right by his side as the snow falls around them.
It’s a quiet night, save for the whistling of the wind or the distant shrieking of coyotes. Stan hates the quiet, especially tonight. But, despite that, he can’t bring himself to say anything. He wants to apologize to Kenny, apologize about his oxygen tank, and the shitty hospital food, and the whole shitty situation in general, but he knows an apology is the last thing Kenny wants to hear, so he ultimately decides to stay quiet.
The first sound to break the silence is a low chuckle from Kenny, one that soon evolves into a full-on fit of laughter that has him clutching his stomach and gasping for air. It’s a comforting sight, to see him so happy. But, it’s short lived, of course. Not taking much time at all to shift into harsh, wet coughs that wrack his body and leave him fighting for breath. Still, he smiles through it with a grin that could outshine every star in the galaxy.
Once the coughing ceases and he calms down a bit, Kenny sighs and leans into Stan’s arm. And, for the first time all night, his smile begins to falter.
“Fuck,” is all he says. That one word is enough to encapsulate it all. Stan doesn’t feel the need to add anything else.
Kenny moves from where he’s sitting, scooting on the ice and turning to face Stan with a smile that doesn’t seem happy enough— Kenny enough— to be real. He’s lost that sun-kissed tint in his skin, now looking pallid and ghostlike, thanks to the hospital’s fluorescent lights and soul-sucking atmosphere. He’s also lost the glimmer in his eyes that brings so much life to those captivating smiles he shares with the world. He doesn’t look alive.
He doesn’t look like Kenny
“I think I’m gonna die tonight, Stan,” Kenny confesses. Stan feels his heart sink and he shakes his head.
“Don’t say that,” Stan says.
“It’s true,” he insists, voice going all hoarse and scratchy when he tries to raise it even slightly. He’s frustrated. Angry. Not at Stan, but at everything else. He’s angry at the doctors for keeping him cooped up for so long, at his parents for wasting money on treatment that led nowhere, at the people who tiptoe around him and treat him like a fragile doll instead of a real person. “Shit,” he laughs sadly, “this kinda sucks, doesn’t it?”
As Kenny looks at him with those sullen blue eyes, a pit forms in Stan’s stomach, twisting his guts into knots and making it impossible for him to even take another breath. His heart aches. Kenny makes his heart ache.
Stan doesn’t dare to say anything. He knows that if he tries, his voice will go all wobbly, like it always does when he’s trying to pretend he’s okay. So, instead, he feigns a smile.
But Kenny sees right through him, because of course he does.
“You’ll be okay, Stan,” Kenny reassures, giving Stan’s hand a weak squeeze.
Stan wants to scream until his throat rips in half.
“No I won’t,” Stan says, voice wavering just like he knew it would.
Kenny smiles in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t work. Stan can’t ignore the way his cheekbones protrude more than they used to, how he still shivers through his thick orange parka. How, when Stan holds his hand, his fingers feel gaunt and cold. It’s impossible to look on the bright side when Kenny’s sickness shows itself on his face.
“Can you try to be?” he asks. He knows it’s a selfish request, that it’s not fair to ask something like that when he knows Stan won’t be able to do it. But, the thought of Stan moving on makes everything hurt a little less. So, he allows himself to be selfish, just this once.
“Kenny, you know that’s not–“
“ Please, Stan.”
Stan sighs. He can’t say no to that.
“Sure, dude.”
He smiles, for real this time. Stan can’t bring himself to do the same. He can’t even look at Kenny’s smile without feeling horrible.
Then, it’s quiet again. And Stan wishes he was brave enough to pull Kenny into a hug. Brave enough to keep him in his arms forever and never let him go. Maybe then, he’d be okay.
As much as he wishes that were the case, Stan knows it wouldn’t work.
He’s always been too much of a coward to take initiative, even in moments like this, when it’s his last chance to. So, Kenny is the one to move closer. Kenny is the one to throw his arms around Stan. Kenny is the one to speak up when Stan can’t get a single word out.
“I don’t wanna die.”
Stan’s heart shatters to pieces in his chest. And, despite how badly he wants to say something, how badly he wants to scream and beg Kenny not to go, he decides not to keep his mouth shut. because what is there to say aside from an apology? Nothing that Kenny would want to hear, he’s sure.
“Stan, I need you to look out for Karen when I’m gone,” he says, worrying about anybody but himself in typical Kenny fashion. That’s one of many things Stan’s always admired about him.
“I will,” Stan says.
“Promise that you’ll pick her up from school everyday and make sure she gets home safe.”
“I promise.”
“And, she um–“ Kenny’s voice begins to waver, Stan just holds him tighter. Given the opportunity, he’d never let go. “She likes having her hair braided too. Just, uh, in one braid, not two.”
“Kenny–“
“Remember to use the pink hair ties. The purple ones leave glitter in her hair, and–“ he clears his throat and Stan can feel tears dripping onto his shoulder. “A-And the girls in her class make fun of her for it. So, just, please remember to use the pink hair ties, Stan.”
“Kenny, I–“
“She knows how to cook some things, but you need to help her with the oven. And with knives. She’s clumsy.” His breathing is uneven at this point, and Stan can hear a rattling in his chest. “And if you order pizza, uh,” he sinks further into Stan’s arms, wiping away his tears with his palms. “Sorry– Fuck. Um, if you order pizza, her favorite is Hawaiian. But, she likes pepperoni too. Sometimes she–“
“ Kenny. I’ll take good care of her, I promise. Just, focus on your breathing. Please.”
Kenny’s rambling slows to a stop and, after a few moments, so does the crackling sound in his chest. His breathing slows from the near-hyperventilating he was doing before, and Stan notices that his hands shake just a little bit less
“Yeah, uh,” Kenny snivels, trying to stop the tears from flowing before he breaks out into another coughing fit. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I trust you. I– I don’t know why I–“ he lets go of Stan, shifting to sit in front of him instead of clinging to him like a koala. “I’m so fucking sorry, Stan. I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t want you to go either,” Stan says, offering a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m kind of really mad at you for leaving, dude.” He laughs humorlessly. “Sorry, that’s kinda shitty of me.”
“No, it’s fair,” says Kenny. “I’d be super pissed if you got all sick and wimpy on me.” He makes an attempt at humor, but neither of them are really in the mood to joke around. Especially not about the thing that’s majorly fucked up Kenny’s life.
The silence afterward only lasts a moment, as Kenny is quick to break it with a question.
“Stan? Can I ask you something? Just, as a sort of dying wish?”
Stan’s stomach churns at the word ‘dying’. Part of him wants to tell Kenny that he’s okay. That he’s not dying and this is just a hurdle that he’ll eventually overcome. But, he can’t bring himself to hope for something that’ll never happen.
“Of course, dude.”
Kenny’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, like he wasn’t expecting Stan to say yes.
“Okay.” He lightly squeezes Stan’s hand. “Could you kiss me?”
Of all the things he could’ve requested, this is the last thing that Stan would’ve thought he’d want. His heart skips a beat nevertheless. “You want me to kiss you?”
“You–“ he starts, dropping his gaze to the ice below them in an uncharacteristically sheepish way. “You don’t have to, or anything. I just thought I’d ask ‘cause…” he pauses. “Shit, because I really like you, Stan.”
Stan doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he leans forward, taking Kenny by the shoulders and pulling him in for the kiss that he’d asked for.
Kenny is quick to bring his hands to Stan’s face, cupping his jaw with ice-cold fingers that send shivers down his spine. They remain there even after the kiss ends. Which, despite their temperature, Stan is grateful for. It’s a reminder that Kenny is still here. A reminder that he doesn’t have to say goodbye just yet.
“I really like you too, Kenny.”
—
That night, when Stan takes Kenny back to his room in the hospital, he says goodbye as Kenny flashes that sunshine-bright smile for the final time.