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Kenny collapsed into the snow somewhere near the high street.
Maybe collapsed was a strong word, it was more like a… voluntary but exhausted fall. His knees buckled as soon as he let them, and then he was on the ground, cushioned only by a thick layer of fresh snow. It was still falling in a fast flurry, and Kenny wondered how long it would take it to cover him up completely; that would be nice, maybe, probably the closest thing to a fresh start he was ever gonna get. He imagined it would at least be quiet, and that would be a mercy.
The whole reason he’d left in the first place was to escape the noise. His parents had gotten into it again, Kenny had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and shit happened.
Shit always happened, more and more so ever since Kevin up and left one day. He didn’t even say goodbye; that stung a little, some days more than the beatings he was no longer being shielded from. He hadn’t really realised how violent his parents got until he was he didn’t have a big brother to stand between him and them anymore.
This time felt worse than the others, maybe, but it was getting hard to tell. It all kind of blurred together. He just knew his whole body hurt and he could taste metal in his mouth from where his lip had split open. He stuck his tongue out and probed, wincing slightly. His lower lip was swollen; not cute.
But at least the snow was acting like one big ice pack and he felt almost entirely numb other than the fact he was so cold it burned. He’d left in a rush and a daze and hadn’t put his coat on. He’d layered two t-shirts and his jeans were pretty thick, but the snow seeped through easily. Maybe he’d been there longer than he realised…
He let his eyes close and draped one arm over his aching stomach, trying to find comfort in what was probably frostbite. His mind drifted back to the idea of getting buried here. Knowing South Park, the snow wouldn’t melt for days. He wondered if his body would be preserved, frozen in time like those cavemen in glaciers. Maybe he’d stay frozen so long he’d end up in the far future and all of this would be just another grain of sand in the hourglass, not even significant enough to make a footnote in a history book.
It was a nice thought, in a bittersweet sort of way, but a stupid one. He’d probably just die and wake up back in his house.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps crunching closer before suddenly stopping right by his head.
"Dude."
Kenny cracked an eye open and saw the toes of red Converse then looked up to see they were attached to none other than Stan Marsh. Kenny had to look up at him even when he wasn’t spread eagled on the floor, he’d grown a lot over the summer.
Stan crouched down, sinking into the thick jacket he was wearing over his favourite hoodie. He was better prepared for the cold than Kenny was, and seemed to be thinking that too based on the way he was looking Kenny up and down.
"The one time you’re not wearing that coat is when you decide to make snow angels?" he asked, a slightly strained smile on his face.
Kenny let his head loll to the side and laughed weakly. "I like the cold," he croaked.
Stan grabbed Kenny’s hand with a firm grip that was so warm Kenny almost gasped. "No you don’t."
He pulled Kenny to his feet and then he was taking off his jacket; it was faux leather and fleece lined, the kind of jacket protagonists in movies would wear. He pulled it over Kenny’s arms for him and zipped it all the way up, lingering only to fiddle with the collar. His warm hand brushed against Kenny’s cheek and he shivered, which just made Stan’s frown deepen further.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
Kenny shook his head wordlessly. He’d rather talk about it with Stan than Kyle, who was obsessed with providing solutions, or Butters who’d probably cry, or Cartman who… well, Kenny didn’t know what he’d do, but it probably wouldn’t be a comfortable conversation. But as much as talking about anything with Stan was easy, he didn’t want to talk about this at all. Not right now.
Stan was quiet for a moment. "Do you wanna get a burger or something?"
Kenny met his gaze and his stomach growled, answering for him. He smiled slightly, equally embarrassed and amused, and Stan grinned back. He reached towards Kenny and into the pocket of his borrowed jacket, returning with his car keys.
"Let’s go," he said, gesturing over his shoulder and shaking the keys by the fuzzy blue keychain attached; a gift from Wendy. "I’m starving."
~*~
They ended up in the Burger King at the roadside services just outside of Denver, so a decent way away. Stan said he wanted a drive anyway, and Kenny wasn’t going to argue; he wanted to be as far out of South Park as possible. Stan got them both large meals, so it was hard for Kenny to argue, and the cashier gave them a weird look while he ordered. Kenny’s rapidly bruising eye and busted lip in combination was weird enough, so it was understandable when combined with the fact the place was totally abandoned, except for two teenagers on a school night.
On the upside, they had free choice of seating, and ended up in a nice little booth in the corner. Kenny could see the door, which he liked, and he knew Stan let him sit on that side intentionally. He was good like that.
"Don’t eat too fast," Stan warned after a couple full minutes of nothing but the sounds of chewing and paper rustling.
Kenny looked up at him and scowled but set his burger down in favour of sipping his coke. He did, admittedly, have a bad habit of eating too much too quickly and making himself sick from time to time. Throwing up in Stan’s car wouldnt be a kind way to repay him.
"Thanks for paying," he said quietly.
Stan just waved a hand. "I got my allowance yesterday," he dismissed.
"Still," Kenny mumbled. "It feels weird, you spending money on me."
Stan tilted his head slightly. "Why?"
"Dunno. I guess you should be spending it on your girlfriend, right?"
Stan’s nose wrinkled slightly at the mention of his girlfriend, and Kenny didn’t enjoy the slight glimmer of hope that sparked. He liked Wendy, he did, he just… liked Stan more.
Too much, really. It was something he’d struggled to come to terms with a long time ago and now it only hurt if he let it. The problem was, he did let it. A lot.
"What’s the face for?" he asked, which was probably equivalent to self harm. Now Stan would either reaffirm his loyalty, or say something that would lead to Kenny getting his hopes up only to ultimately, inevitably, be let down.
Stan’s expression soured a little more and he slurped his soda seemingly to put off answering. "No just we’ve been arguing lately, she’s been kinda naggy."
Kenny raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh…"
"Just, like, about college applications and stuff," Stan muttered. "We don’t have to talk about it."
Oh.
Still hurtful, but in a different, unexpected way. Although truthfully, Kenny had been wondering how long it would be before college inevitably came up.
He’d long accepted he would not be leaving South Park alongside his cohort and broadening his horizons and whatever the fuck else went on at college (drugs and binge drinking, from his understanding). He wanted to finish high school which felt like ambition enough for someone like him, and then it was the rest of his life in some shitty, probably minimum wage job.
Everyone else at least tried to avoid talking about it around him, but it ended up happening anyway. It was like a big dark cloud that hung over the entire student body.
Kenny exhaled heavily out of his nose and slumped a little in his seat. "We can talk about it."
Stan shifted in his seat, clearly not wanting to get into it to save Kenny’s feelings. He looked guilty; Stan wasn’t very hard to read. "It’s just… I don’t know, dude. Like I don’t know what to do there too much…"
"Choice," Kenny concluded for him, unable to keep a slight bitterness leaning into his tone. "I can imagine."
"Yeah," Stan sighed. "And I wanna leave South Park, I really do, but I also don’t wanna leave… certain things."
"Like what?"
Stan’s mouth twitched and he scratched his jaw uncomfortably before resting his chin in his palm. "Like you?"
Kenny blinked, taken aback, and dropped the fry that was on its way to his mouth. He held Stan’s gaze for what felt like way too long, before robotically picking up his burger again. "You’ll be fine," he mumbled.
"Are you saying you won’t miss me?" Stan asked, kicking Kenny’s ankle under the table in a clear attempt to lighten the mood.
"No."
"Wow, not even a little bit?"
Kenny scowled and kicked Stan back, harder. "That’s not what I meant, asshole. I meant what I said, which is you’ll be fine. You’ll forget about me soon enough."
"Hey," Stan said softly and he sounded almost offended. "No I won’t."
Kenny glanced at him and lifted one shoulder into a shrug, trying not to wince when the motion pulled on bruised skin. "I’m just saying you shouldn’t think about anyone other than yourself when it comes to this."
"You wouldn’t think it’d be so hard for me, huh?" Stan muttered. "I mean we all know I’m not winning any prizes for selflessness."
Kenny didn’t agree with that, not exactly, but he knew there was no point arguing so he just sighed. "Just follow your heart, I don’t fucking know."
Stan smiled a little then shook his head. "I don’t wanna talk about it anymore."
"What do you wanna talk about?"
Stan hummed idly and took a second to think. "I kinda like not talking with you," he said eventually.
Kenny frowned. "Thanks."
"No I just mean it’s not awkward, you know? You’re quiet, it’s nice."
Kenny, perhaps fittingly, didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded and they finished their food in the silence Stan wanted so bad.
It was still snowing when they stepped back outside, but it had slowed down significantly. Kenny shuddered and squinted up at the white sky as fat snowflakes landed on top of his shoulders. The idea of being buried was much more unpleasant now, and he found himself just wishing it would warm up.
"You were right," he murmured, and met Stan’s confused gaze with a weak smile. "I don’t like the cold."
Stan smiled too, bemused. "I know dude. You never have."
"I think I’m just used to it," Kenny said quietly. "Like it’s all I know, you know?"
"Are we still talking about the weather?"
Kenny suddenly felt a lump in his throat. "I don’t think so," he admitted, his voice cracking a little; it was a pathetic sound.
Stan reached out and placed a guiding hand on his elbow, tilting his head towards the car. "Come back to my house. We can sleepover, it’ll be fun."
He always offered whenever he found Kenny wandering the streets with fresh bruises, to the point it felt almost like very subtle begging. Kenny always said no. He was pretty sure if he got into Stan’s bed it would be too hard to leave, and he’d want to instead crawl deeper, maybe even inside of Stan’s skin, and sleep there forever.
"I can’t," he said quietly, "Sorry."
Stan’s expression flickered but he didn’t say anything, just nodded and squeezed Kenny’s elbow. "Let’s go."
He turned the heat all the way up in the car.
~*~
It was hard not to cringe in embarrassment whenever Kenny was driven home by one of his friends. The nice, uniform streets of South Park completely fell apart when they hit the train tracks, replaced with the ruined attempt at gentrification and makeshift homeless camp he called home.
Stan never said anything, but Kenny knew he had an opinion. It would be hard not to. He parked as close to Kenny’s house as he could and turned to look at him, eyebrows knitted together with concern. Kenny couldn’t take it, so he averted his gaze and focused on pulling off the jacket he’d borrowed.
"Thanks for… you know." He waved a hand in lieu of explanation and Stan nodded.
"Yeah, no problem." His mouth twitched and he sighed softly. "Ken your eye—"
Kenny frowned and flipped the passenger side mirror down. His left eye had bruised nastily, a little swollen but not enough he’d noticed. It was an ugly dark purple though. Now he was thinking about it, it hurt.
"It looks really bad," Stan murmured, making Kenny look over. Stan seemed to hesitate then reached out, gently brushing the tender skin with the tip of his index finger. "Like really bad."
Kenny didn’t wince, didn’t flinch, just gripped the denim of his jeans until his knuckles turned white. "It does hurt," he admitted.
"Ken…" Stan inhaled sharply and placed his thumb on Kenny’s bottom lip, just below the cut. "Seriously, dude, what happened?"
Kenny swallowed and took a moment to adjust to the touch, to the new closeness, to the way Stan was looking at him, and forced a smile. "Fell down the stairs?"
Stan’s expression turned almost painfully sympathetic. "Please don’t go back in there," he murmured. "Just come back with me, just for tonight at least."
"Stan—"
"Bring Karen, she can sleep in Shelley’s old room—"
"Stan I can’t," Kenny said quietly, placing his hand on the back of Stan’s. "If I do then it’ll just be harder when I go back."
Stan held his gaze, lips pressed together. He looked like he was trying to be brave. "What if you didn’t go back?"
Kenny blinked and reared back, causing Stan’s hand to slip away from his face. "Huh?"
"I don’t think my mom would mind," Stan said. "In fact she’d probably be happy to let you stay, she loves you."
"Stan that’s— No, that’s insane," Kenny said firmly. He unbuckled his seatbelt. "I have to go."
"Wait, Ken—"
"Thank you," Kenny said, reaching over and squeezing Stan’s hand. "Seriously, you’ve done more than enough."
"I don’t feel like I’ve done anything," Stan mumbled.
Kenny smiled weakly. "I’ll see you tomorrow, Stan."
"Promise?"
Kenny sighed and opened the car door. "I promise. Drive home safe."
He stood on the front step until Stan left, partly because he wasn’t sure he’d trust him to leave without seeing it with his own two eyes, and because, despite how bone brittling the temperature was, he needed to take a moment before he stepped inside.
When he finally did, he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding at the sight of his dad passed out on the couch. His mom was nowhere in sight which was… fine.
He crept around the corner and pushed Karen’s door open just a crack. She was asleep too, curled up around the doll he thought she would’ve outgrown by now. Kenny felt a sudden pang of guilt for leaving her; he should’ve dragged her out the house with him and just kept running until his legs gave out.
"Didn’t think you’d be back."
Kenny whirled around to find his mom stood in the dimly lit corridor, her expression unreadable. "Ma—"
She cut him off with a cold, slightly clammy hand on his face, her thumb running over his cheekbone. She tilted him up, towards the light, and he held his breath in anticipation of her saying something.
He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. A hug, maybe, even though he couldn’t remember the last time they did that. Maybe he just wanted her to say she was sorry, even if it wasn’t really her fault at all.
Whatever it was, it never came. "Go to bed," she said eventually, folding her arms around her body.
Kenny waited for about a half a second before nodding and entering his own room. A sudden wind knocked the door shut and he suddenly remembered he’d left the window open. He’d been sat on the sill smoking when everything went down; his ash tray was still balanced there, next to his parka.
He crossed the room and shut the window, storing his cigarettes and tray away, then wrapping his coat around his body. He needed all the warmth he could get.
His current sleeping situation was a mattress on the floor that was probably on it’s way out, and a blanket that was big enough to drown him when he first got it, but now barely covered his admittedly tiny frame even when he curled into the tightest ball he could.
He did just that and pulled the thin blanket over him, staring at his water stained wall. The left side of his face hurt, as did the rest of his body, making whatever position he chose uncomfortable, and there was still a heavy chill over him, one that seemed to reside deep in his bones at this point.
His phone suddenly buzzed in his jean pocket and he pulled the battered thing out. It was so old that a single message had it close to overheating, but he couldn’t deny that it warmed his hands nicely. Kenny squinted in the darkness to see a message from Stan.
Offer always stands. See you tomorrow.
Kenny stared at the text until it didn’t even look like real words anymore, then put his phone down and closed his eyes.
Maybe one day he’d get tired of being cold, but for now he could still pretend there was a comfort in it.