Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite having been born into an era of what seemed like utmost acceptance, Kenny had been labelled a monster. Or, rather, something along those lines. To have seemingly survived asphyxiation, drowning, stabbing, getting shot and the likes wasn't exactly normal. Especially when it was multiple times.

There had only been one person who knew and accepted what was happening, that being Kevin McCormick. Kenny had given up hoping that anyone else would figure it out anyways. He had even given up on Stan Marsh of all people, and he was his only friend in South Park.

So, it was probably pretty clear as to why he didn't want to go somewhere that Kevin said could “cure him”, whatever that meant.

“It’ll be fine Ken, calm down,” came his brother’s voice from beside him in the truck. Kenny did not want to be going anywhere, he wanted to be at home where his stuff was. Well, besides his bed, because for some reason Kevin decided out of everything to bring, that the best thing would be his bed. 

Kenny’s old, worn bed that his parents were either not bothered or too low on money to replace. Because that is clearly the best thing to bring when going anywhere. Not clothes, not food, not even water. Just a very old bed. The place probably had a bed anyways, so there was no need for it.

Instead of replying to his brother, Kenny grumbled and looked out the window again. The scenery outside was more interesting, since it was fields of corn, sun, and more sun. He almost regretted refusing to take his parka off, but now it was about the principle. There wasn't anywhere to put it anyways. Unless he wanted to put it with his bed, which didn’t seem like a very good idea.

Kevin ruffled his hair and continued driving. At least he had the sense to take the hood down - heat stroke was not going to be added to the list of deaths. Not if Kenny could help it. Being realistic though, since he just so happened to be the universe’s favourite punching bag, he probably would.

Die, that is. Not suffer from heat stroke. Hopefully Kevin wont crash the truck.

***

The roads eventually stopped being lined by corn and sun, instead donning a dead green-ish colour compared to the cheery yellow he had grown used to. Like mold, the colour had seeped in before Kenny or Kevin realised it was there. 

The road also quickly became overgrown and mossy, like no one had been down there in a while. As thunder loomed overhead, if there were 2 things Kenny knew, it would be that he was most likely going to get electrocuted and die, and that there was something off about the area.

Despite the place being seemingly abandoned, a large grey building that mirrored the clouds in colour came into view. The road stopped in front of the front door, its hinges looking on the rustier side, as if no one had gone in or come out in years.

Kevin stopped in front of the building, before the road ended, and got out. He looked up for a moment before pulling Kenny out of the car and pointing up at a sign with fading letters, him being barely able to make out what it said: “Dr. Tucker’s Research and Rehabilitation Facility”.

“Can y’read that?” Kevin asked, still pointing up at the sign. Maybe driving for hours on end without break was making him tired, but it was clear to see what it said. Besides the chipped paint and peeling outlines of where older letters used to be.

Kenny turned to face his brother. “Do you need glasses?” he asked, as innocent as he could muster. If Kevin was anything like their dad, then this probably wouldn’t end well. 

Kevin sighed and shook his head. “S’not my fault the letters are all blurry and move about,” he chided lightly, before knocking on the doors. No answer.

“Who needs rehab for death though-”

 Kenny didn’t get to ask as the door was answered by a man in a lab coat and a blue hat. Quite the choice of fashion.

“What is it,” the doctor(?) asked, tone flat and nasal. He had a clipboard in his right hand and looked bored out of his mind. He was also on the taller side. Hell, he was taller than Kenny and he was still tall for his age. Scary. Kenny pulled his hood back up.

Kevin shrugged. “I’m leaving my brother here. For research. Can’t die. S’not normal,” he blurted out, almost as if he was being rushed. It had been a while since discussing The Deaths, so it was probably just fear of the response.

Usually people just thought Kenny was delusional and Kevin supported said delusions whenever either of them brought it up, but the presumable doctor just stared, face unchanging besides a faint glint of intrigue in his eyes.

“I see,” he started, slight curiosity in his voice as he held out his free hand. “Professor Craig Tucker, just refer to me as Doctor Tucker.”  Doctor Tucker finally introduced himself as Kenny shaked his hand because he felt awkward about leaving him hanging and Kevin wasn’t showing any interest in shaking it himself.

Doctor Tucker then turned his attention to Kevin. “I take it that your brother here has nothing to bring with him then, right?” he asked. Kevin paused, thought about it, and ran back to the truck. He dragged the bed back to Kenny and Tucker with a grin of triumph.

“His bed,” he heaved out as he dropped the bed. “He always wakes up in his bed after, for some reason, so you’re gonna need it.” 

Kevin McCormick then got back into his truck and drove away, leaving Kenny and his poor old bed outside with Doctor Tucker. Kenny was going to start yelling the worst things he could think of at his brother, but then Doctor Tucker spoke up.

“You should.. Probably come inside.” He said in mild shock before attempting to pull the bed inside. He didn’t have the strength, so he just gave up and led Kenny inside. He could get the bed later.

The building was very sterile, almost like a hospital. It also smelled a lot like a hospital too. The only thing that stopped it from being described as “hospital” was that there was nothing in the halls. No one there, like a ghost town.

It was only after walking through how many corridors did Kenny see any sign of life. An entire living space, almost like a hotel in a hospital colour scheme, which did include rooms. Only the rooms had clear windows. Great, just great, let's sacrifice privacy because why not! That’s clearly what was needed here.

Doctor Tucker patted Kenny’s shoulder before speaking again. “Since every room is full, you’ll be sharing a room with Leopold Stotch, referred to as Butters, because I wouldn’t trust you with anyone else here.” 

He motioned towards a blond boy with a long scar going across his left eye, who was reading peacefully in a white bean bag.

“I would consider putting you with him , but he can be a bit troublesome without his ‘normal pills’,” Doctor Tucker continued, air quotes on normal pills, while staring at a little fat boy. He looked harmless enough, but he probably knew what he was talking about.

Doctor Tucker then walked towards a ginger boy, said something to him, and started walking back the way he and Kenny had come in. It was none of Kenny’s business though. Maybe, that is. It could’ve been, but most likely wasn’t.

Kenny then sat down beside ‘Butters’ and did the most rational thing he could think to do in that moment. He then pulled down his hood and asked him a singular question.

“So, what’re you in for?”

Chapter Text

The blond boy turned to him and smiled. “I’m here because my dad said I’m insane!” he chirped a bit too cheerily. “He had enough of grounding me, said I had a defiance disorder, and sent me here! Now Doctor Tucker is training me to be like him some day!”

Kenny had to admit, while Butter’s positivity was infectious, he was left with more questions than answers. He didn’t feel like getting those answers yet though, the scar was curious enough. 

“So, uh, about the scar then?” Kenny asked, pointing to the area on his own face where Butter’s scar was. The boy stared at him for a moment, smiling and unblinking, before realising what he was talking about.

“Oh yeah! I was outside playing with Eric and Scott one day and we found someone selling weapons. They were like real life ninja ones, and, and Scott got himself a ninja star! Then we played ninjas for a bit, got too into the game, aaand he threw his star at me. Got me square in the eye!”

Kenny silently prayed he wouldn't have to meet this Scott person anytime soon while Butters started up again. Almost seemed like he never ran out of anything to say.

“A bit after that Eric gave him some chili made from his parents, and then Eric found out Scott’s dad was also his dad! How cool is that? And then Scott, well, he, uh..” He trailed off, looking uncertain of what to say. “I don't really know what happened to him, but my dad wouldn't let me play with him anymore.”

Butters looked a bit sheepish as he spoke, twiddling his fingers and cracking his knuckles in a poor attempt to soothe himself. “Bu-but then I found Eric again! He was here the entire time!” the boy continued, now sounded slightly concerned.

Kenny sighed. “I’m just here because I can’t stop dying, I feel a bit silly now,” he chuckled lightly, hoping to lift the mood. Butters did laugh, but it sounded more strained and awkward than anything.

“There’s funnier reasons that people are though! Like Kyle- He’s from New Jersey,” Butters explained. Being from New Jersey didn't seem like a fair reason to be in a.. Mental hospital? Normal hospital?? Insane asylum??? Kenny could question it later.

“Isn’t that unfair though?” Kenny went to ask, only to be cut off by the stubby rotund kid that Doctor Tucker had said was only ‘normal pills’, whatever that meant.

“NUH-UH! HE’S HERE ‘CUS HE’S A JEW!!” he yelled across the room, toddling over as he did so. “He's also a ginger, and that’s 3 strikes- 3 J’s. Which is why he's here,” the professional fat explained, so matter of factly that Kenny almost believed him.

Keyword: almost, because that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. 

“Anyways, I’m Cartman, pleasu- OH MY GOD ARE YOU A POOR??!” Cartman introduced himself, leaning over to give his hand (presumably to shake) before recoiling in disgust and wrinkling his nose. Kemmy didn’t smell that bad, did he?

“Dude,” was all Kenny could muster in response. What else was he meant to say? Yes, I am a poor, now please sir could I have some more? Kenny would rather die than answer like the frail victorian child he was probably expected to.

That analogy doesn’t exactly work, but it gets the point across. “Kenny,” he introduced himself in return curtly, remaining on the floor beside Butters. 

“Anyways I got a jew to fuck with byeee,” Cartman said and left, the building shaking with each step he took while running. If this was what Cartman was like on his normal pills (whatever that meant), then clearly they weren't working right because he did not normal in slightest.

There was a pause between the two before either of them spoke up. 

“So, uh, I heard we’re roommates now. That’s fun! We can have sleepovers, and play games together and- OH! Doctor Tucker might let us play Hello Kitty Island Adventure on his computer!!” Butters rambled excitedly, his eyes shining with what felt like the force of a thousand suns. Ow.

“Uh, sure. Why can’t you just play Hello Kitty New Horizons in your room though?” Kenny questioned Butters yet again. Felt like all that happened since they had started talking was that Kenny would ask something and Butters would ramble and somehow end up on a different topic that vaguely answered his question.

Butters’ excitement dimmed a little. “Well, uh, that’s because the only computer in here is in his office! I-I don’t really know why though,” he grimaced, then paused. “Hey, it’s called Hello Kitty Island Adventure, not New Horizons!” the blond exclaimed, near comic levels of anger.

Kenny couldn’t help but laugh. Butters looked so funny with how red was turning over something as silly as getting the name of his favourite game wrong. “Hey!” Butters pushed him lightly in frustration, but Kenny just toppled over and started to laugh harder.

It almost reminded him of when he got the name of one of Karen’s dolls wrong. He knew the name, he just thought it’s be funny. And like that time, Kenny just continued laughing even when the other tried to get him to stop.

Anytime Kenny so much looked at Butters, he’d start laughing again. Somehow, that got Butters laughing too. Maybe it was a bit too early to decide, but Kenny was beginning to think he might enjoy it there.

Sure, the circumstances around meeting his new friend was odd, but at least he had a friend. A friend who he was already comfortable with. If everyone in the facility was the same as Butters, then maybe he wouldn't hate it there as much as he thought he would.

As they continued to laugh over nothing, Doctor Tucker came back in, leading the ginger kid from earlier through the building. The kid had very curly hair and was carrying Kenny’s bed with one arm. 

Butters looked over at them and waved. “Heya Doctor and Kyle!” he greeted them merrily, only to receive no response from either of them. Doctor Tucker then led the ginger kid into a room and the ginger put the bed down on the other side of the bed already in there.

The doctor and ginger then left the room, going their separate ways as if nothing had happened. Kenny must’ve been staring dumbfounded, because Butters quickly took to explaining. He was beginning to feel more like a tour guide than a friend.

“That’s Kyle, he’s like a werewolf, but New Jerseyian!”

Oh. Now what he had said earlier made sense. It didn’t seem like a silly reason to be there though, it seemed more like having Kyle there made life easier on Doctor Tucker if anything.

“Should we go in?” Kenny asked, not really knowing what to do. Butters nodded enthusiastically and took his hand, then skipping to their shared room as if he was frolicking through a field without a care in the world.

The room was on the minimalistic side, and that didn't say much. It was, for the most part, completely white with padded walls. The only things that broke up the constant white was Kenny’s bed and the Hello Kitty plush on the other bed.

Butters sat on the bed with the Hello Kitty on it while Kenny took in the room, marveling how it made his house seem like the most maximalist place on earth. “So, what'd ya wanna do?” Butters asked, kicking his legs off the edge of the bed.

Before Kenny could answer, Doctor Tucker knocked on the door and came in.

“Testing is tomorrow,” was all he said in his nasally voice before leaving again. Kenny could feel himself dreading it, but he knew that he’d be fine. It wasn’t like he would permanently die or anything.

Butters sat there on his bed, looking at Kenny in mild confusion and concern. “Is.. Is he actually going to try kill you?” he asked, voice weak and shaky. “W-were you joking earlier?” he continued, almost like a sad hamster with how scared he seemed.

Kenny flopped onto his bed, facing away from Butters. “Yeah, he’s probably going to. I’ll be fine though,” he answered as calmly as he could, hoping that Butters wouldn’t be as upset as he was.

“B-b-but what if you actually die? I won’t have any friends besides Eric!” Butters cried out, getting more upset. Kenny didn’t really know what to do, so he just waved him off dismissively and tried to sleep. The quicker the testing came and went the better.

“Oh god, please don’t die, I don’t wanna be sad an’ lonely again..” was the last thing Kenny heard from Butters that day.

Chapter Text

Kenny awoke to loud banging on his door. Great, he thought in his sleepy stupor, he had overslept and now Kevin was going to yell at him to get up because their dad had just yelled at Kevin to get up. God, how he hated living with the McCormicks.

“Hey, uh, Kenny?” a small, uncertain voice called out beside him while its owner shook him. The voice sounded distant, but Kenny was probably just falling back asleep. He got shook harder and harder until the voice eventually yelled at him. 

“GET UP!” Butters practically screamed as he hauled Kenny out of the bed, leaving this fellow blond in a daze on the floor. “Doctor Tucker is outside waiting for you, come on!” he urged as he began to drag Kenny across the floor and to the door.

Butters then opened the door, with - unsurprisingly - none other than Doctor Tucker standing there. “Kenny, get up,” he commanded in a rather harsh tone, which made Kenny scramble to his feet. It reminded him of his dad, in a way.

Doctor Tucker then turned and started to walk away, Kenny quickly following after him. For some reason, Kenny realised, he was still allowed to be in his parka while everyone else was wearing the same white, almost papery garments.

The doctor eventually stopped in front of a metal door. Compared to the sanitisation Kenny had gotten used to, seeing something so industrial was like not only seeing a pig fly, but also said pig finding a needle in a haystack with barely any effort.

Doctor Tucker then unlocked the door. “In,” was all he said as Kenny got pushed in, the door closing behind them with a loud thud. Kenny shivered slightly from the sudden cold, but continued into what seemed to be a rather bare office. Doctor Tucker really liked minimalism, it seemed.

There was also a window at the back of the room, but instead of providing a view into the outside world like Kenny hoped, all there was behind it was another white padded room. That was he was going to be, Kenny assumed.

Doctor Tucker sat down at the desk, resting head in his hand while he played around with a pen in the other. “What’s your preferred method of death?” he asked, slowly and calmly, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Getting shot, quick and effective,” Kenny answered as quickly as he could. “It’s also mostly painless,” he felt the need to continue with, like that would make him sound more normal and sane. Speaking of normal and sane, why was that question being asked?

A slight grin appeared on Doctor Tucker’s face. “I see, how does burning sound to you?” he almost seemed to offer, but the lighter he then took out from his desk said otherwise. Burning it was then. Cool. Kenny hadn’t personally experienced it but it could be worth a try.

He shrugged. “Why not,” was all Kenny could get out before Doctor Tucker handed him the lighter, his smile growing more smug as he led Kenny into the room behind the window. Doctor Tucker then positioned himself back at his desk as he waited for Kenny to die.

Kenny unfortunately didn’t know what part of him would be the most flammable, so he started with his hair. It caught fire surprisingly fast, and before he knew that part of his hair had turned to ash with no damage done. Lesson learnt.

He then moved on to his beloved parka, already feeling regret for what he was about to do. He pulled the hood over head, tugged the drawstrings as tightly as he could, and lit the furry part of his hood ablaze. Since the parka was fur-lined, it started to burn quickly. Burn a bit too quickly in fact.

Kenny could feel the panic start to well inside him, but he choked it down as best he could. He just had to wait for the fire to consume him, and then he’d wake up in bed like nothing happened, minus a new scar or two.

Then his skin started to bubble and pop under the heat, like water at boiling point. It was a new feeling, an unwelcome one at that. It felt uncomfortable, the way his skin contorted under the heat’s pressure. Aside from the obvious reason of how much it hurt, Kenny didn’t like it. Not in the slightest. 

So he just stood there, as his flesh boiled while Doctor Tucker just observed, looking a strange yet fascinating mixture of horrified and entranced. They both watched each other as Kenny burned, each small pop making him want to scream. But he couldn’t, not when had experienced worse. He had been hit by a meteorite for crying out loud, how could this be worse?

Then his eyes started to melt and he couldn't hold back his anguish anymore. Kenny screamed as his vision deteriorated. Screamed as his near corpse hit the ground. Screamed from the pain he had felt. Screamed from his core until his throat went hoarse. 

He screamed and screamed until he finally returned the nothingness that had always soothed him like a mother without fail. The pain was gone at last. All Kenny could do was hold back tears of relief as he did every time he ended up back in the peace of the abyss he had long called home. 

Kenny knew he was going to wake up in his bed as he usually did afterwards, so he embraced the comforting bliss while he could. He soaked it for as long as he able to before finding himself back on his uncomfortable, cold floor, back aching from resting there all night- 

“KENNY??”

***

As Kenny’s body burnt to a crisp in front of him, Craig just sat and watched. He had to admit, it was mesmerizing the way the skin on his face continually popped without an end, as wrong as that sounded. Once Kenny had finally died though, he knew he had to get back to working.

The doctor opened Kenny’s shiny new file on his computer and typed under his status in all capitals ‘DEAD’. He also categorized Kenny under delusional instead of abnormality, because only true abnormalities belong in that section. And Kenny clearly wasn’t one of them.

He peeked over his monitor, out of slight curiosity to see if the body was still burning or not. He did hope it was, because then he’d have an opportunity to study the way people burn. Only the body had disappeared, as if it had never even been there. 

Unless Kenny really was the abnormality he claimed to be, that logically wouldn’t be possible. Unless someone came along and stole it while he wasn’t looking, there was no explanation for a corpse to simply disappear.

Something akin to fear then filled Craig’s bones as he realized what could’ve happened. He had to place his pride and joy under lock down as soon as he could.

Chapter Text

Kenny sat up in alarm. This wasn’t his bed, he was on the floor. The floor in his house, the one that he had only just left. He scanned around the room and found Kevin staring at him, gobsmacked, in the doorway.

As much as he hated it, Kenny’s first instinct was to crawl into a corner and hide. Like he was a prey animal being cornered by a hunter. Kevin watched Kenny as clawed himself through his room, as far away from him as possible. He shouldn’t have been back there. They both knew that. Would Kevin think he escaped? Would he be angry at him? Disappointed maybe?

“..Kenny,” Kevin started, looking tense. “Y-you’re Kenny, right? Not just sum trick of the light or somethin’??” he continued, backing away from the door slowly as he asked. For the first time since who knew when, Kenny could clearly see his brother was scared. Terrified, even. He wasn’t even this freaked out after seeing him die and then come back to life for the first time.

Kevin was scared of him. Like everyone else in their damned town. Kenny stood up shakily, his legs not feeling like his own as he made his way over to Kevin. Instead of screaming and running like he expected him to, Kevin just stood there, paralyzed with how petrified he was. 

Kenny then grabbed his brother and pulled him as close to himself as he could. He felt bad, as redundant to say as it was. Kevin remained frozen, staring down at Kenny. After what could have been a few seconds or hours, Kevin sighed and choked on air. “Jeez Ken, I thought I was havin’ a weird dream,” he muttered shakily. “Why are ya here again then?”

Kenny paused for a slight moment. He didn’t know why he was back. “I died,” he stated, near speechless at the state of himself. Normally he had all the answers to his death-related conundrums, but now? 

Now a solid answer was more fickle than Lady Luck being on his side.

Kevin patted his back. “Figures,” he answered, somewhat sleepy. “Well, now we know s’not the bed that’s the respawn point. Take the couch, I’ll drive ya back in the morning,” he exhaled, clearly drowsy. Must’ve been pretty late. Kenny resigned to sleeping on the couch, it wasn’t like he had much choice anyways. Unless he wanted to share the bed with either of siblings. 

Clearly, Kenny didn’t have the slightest choice in the matter.

***

As Craig ran frantically trying to lock any doors he could find, there was only one thought on his mind: why didn't he accept Tolkien's offer to set up an automatic lock down system? The man was a civil engineer for crying out loud, it would’ve been as easy as one of those baby shape games was to any over the age 5 who didn’t have any IQ problems!

Plus, Jimmy and Clyde had been funding the research facility after the government pulled funding with their comedy and football careers. While he was lucky to have friends who supported him, the guilt weighing heavy on his mind of not being able to provide for them as they do for him was always convincing him otherwise.

Thoughts of the friends he most certainly didn’t deserve aside, Craig still had at least a dozen doors to go. That was a thing he didn’t know, how much was in a dozen, so as far as he was concerned it could’ve 50 billion.

He kept running around locking all the doors he could, before bumping into the one person he didn’t want to see: Tenorman, Scott. Said to have gone insane after being fed chili in which the meat was his parents remains, but rather skilled at keeping it under wraps. Also not to be allowed anywhere near Cartman, Eric.

The reason that Craig didn’t want to see him was for one very particular reason: he was number one on the list of possible body snatchers. Also, if he was out of his ‘room’ (it was more like a jail cell), then he had pulled some sort of escape stunt which he shouldn’t be doing under any circumstances.

“Tenorman, back to your room,” Craig demanded as he locked the next door as frantically as the others while Scott stood there, unblinking, just watching with a slight cackle to himself. Scott, as much as it pained Craig to admit, had always scared him a little. It was most likely just laughing at random times thing anyways.

Scott smirked. “And what if I don’t want to?” he asked smugly, clearly not expecting Craig to kick him, toppling him over into a nearby wall. Scott yelled in pain as Craig went on locking doors, ignoring Scott in the hallway. “POINT TAKEN!” He called to Craig as best as he could, then trying to walk back to his room/holding cell.

Craig continued on, regardless of whatever Scott had said, and kept locking every door. It didn’t matter whether or not anyone came up to him to ask about what he’s doing, he still had doors to shut because he felt too lowly in himself to accept something as basic as help.

Door after door after door, Craig locked them all. Until he came to the final one. The room belonging to the first in his facility. The reason he could even call this place his pride and joy, the reason it even existed.

Craig opened the door slightly, and lo and behold, there he was. The reason he was doing any of this in the first place: a person he barely knew turned lover in all his twitchy glory. Craig cleared his throat slightly, and a mess of golden hair turned to face him.

“GAH- Craig!” Tweek exclaimed as he stood up to greet him, slightly less twitchy than before. If Craig could die anytime he saw Tweek, he’d be dying happy from simply haven seen him. Maybe those asian girls were onto something all those years ago.

“Hey Tweek,” Craig returned gently, smiling softly as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “I just came by to say that we’ve gone into lockdown,” he continued, but was unable to get in another word as Tweek quickly took to screeching.

“OH GOD, WHAT HAPPENED??? IS IT THE GOVERNMENT?? ARE THEY COMING FOR US????” he yelled out in his panic, tugging on his hair in a poor attempt at self soothing. Craig had gotten used to the routine by now: Tweek would be told something happened, he’d automatically assume the worst and Craig would have to calm him down.

He wouldn’t have minded as much if there wasn’t a literal corpse missing, but at that moment it just seemed like an inconvenience. He was going to have to apologise to Tweek after everyone was sent back to their rooms for that.

Craig guided Tweek’s hands out his hair and placed his own hands on his shoulders. “It’s nothing that big, I just can’t locate someone is all. There’s nothing to worry about, ok?” he tried, as calmly as he could. Normally Tweek would either start to calm down or get worse, but currently it was neither. He stayed at the same level of panic.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SOMEBODY’S GONE MISSING??” Tweek shrieked, hurting Craig’s ears a bit. “HOW DO YOU JUST LOSE SOMEBODY THAT EASILY???” he continued, starting to shake more and breathe more heavily.

“It was just the new patient - Kenny McCormick. Came in yesterday, he’s probably just gotten lost,” Craig reasoned, omitting the fact that Kenny was dead and his corpse was gone for obvious reasons. “Now can you please calm the fuck down? I have shit to do be doing.”

Apparently swearing in a calming tone was funny to Tweek, because he started to giggle slightly. “Y-yeah, sure. I’ll see you later then, right?” he asked, voice still shaky, as Craig started to leave the room. 

“Don’t worry, I will,” the doctor exited with, locking the door as he went. Now he just had to round up everyone else in the building military style - apart from Scott or maybe Cartman - and drill them to see who took it. 

Didn’t seem that hard.

Boy was he wrong. 

Chapter Text

He should’ve realized his first mistake when he made it.

“Right,” Craig started, his tone harsher than normal while pacing up and down the line of patients, some of them even considered inmates. “One of you is missing, and when I say that, I mean the corpse of one of you,” he continued, spotting Butters out of the corner of his eye looking like someone had beat up his hamster and spat on it, then eating the thing whole. 

He stopped walking in front of Cartman. “I don’t think any of you would know anything about that though, correct?” the doctor almost sneered while staring down at the little fat in what could only be described as pure disgust. Well, as much disgust as someone like Craig could muster into their face, which wasn't much but got the point across quickly enough.

“Well, nobody here besides Butters knows jackshit about Kinny, so maybe you should ask him, Doctor Fucker,” Cartman said, somehow managing to sound innocent and intimidating. With his arms crossed though, instead of looking larger and more menacing he just looked larger.

“How did you know it was..?” he went to ask, but quickly decided against it. Craig knew better than to humour Eric Cartman of all things, but why not just once. “Sure, Butters?” he called out to the now petrified boy. He was shaking and sweating. Kind of like a guinea pig. 

God Craig missed his guinea pigs. Even though they’re all dead now, that didn’t stop him from digging up the corpses when he was younger during a period of not having any just to pretend he still had one. That was a bit weird, now that he thought about it, but it didn’t really matter. The past was the past.

“I-I didn’t do anything, I swear! Wh-wha-whahw-hwh-what would I even do with a corpse anyways??" Butters struggled through his words, looking just shy of blurting out a sir. It wasn’t like Butters to even take anything without asking, so it was highly unlikely to be him.

Craig turned back down to Cartman. “Answer him. What use would he have for such a thing?” he asked, watching as the gears turned in Cartman’s head. With his eyebrows furrowed and a bead sweat going down the side of his head, the fatass finally came to an answer.

“To fuck,” he said very smugly, like he was so certain his answer being the right answer, with no other answer possible. “You could also make chilli with it, I heard it’s quite the delicacy on planet ginger,” Cartman continued. “You could also sell it onli-!”

He was cut off by Scott Tenorman grabbing him by the throat, seemingly having appeared from thin air. “ You don’t fucking talk about the chilli ,” the ginger said through gritted teeth, flopping Cartman around for what could only be seen as dramatic effect. “ Nobody talks about the chilli. ”

Oh yeah, that’s why Craig was scared of him: he could appear from anywhere if you brought up what happened to his parents. It was good when he couldn’t be found, but otherwise it was just annoying to deal with. Especially when trying to get to the root of Cartman’s ways.

“Right, shut up,” the doctor said as he tried to pull Scott off Cartman. He was only successful when Kyle stepped into help, as per usual. Sometimes Craig felt bad for Kyle’s parents, they were really missing out on the extra help.

Craig shook his head disapprovingly at Cartman and Scott. Sometimes he felt like he was dealing with literal children. There was a knock from behind him, but it was probably something he could tend to later.

***

The couch hurt too much to sleep on. Not only did it have damp patches, it also smelled strongly of alcohol, cigarettes and the likes. It also made Kenny’s back stiff. How fun. Maybe instead of sleeping he should see if he had any new scars.

Kenny rolled off the couch and to the nearest mirror. His face looked normal enough, his eyes looked slightly like melted chocolate that had reformed itself, but that could’ve just been a trick of the light.

Since he somehow had his parka on, Kenny went through the effort of removing it. His neck and chest looked normal, and so did his legs. It was just his arms that had changed, now having dark red patches that were raised and warped all along them. They did look kind of cool, but they stung like a bitch.

So he did the most logical thing he could think to do: knock on Kevin’s bedroom door at what could be 3am and ask for painkillers. When he answered, he simply stared at Kenny before saying anything. “I don’t have any,” was all Kevin said. He went to close the door on Kenny, but he paused momentarily.

Kevin then stepped out into the hallway. “Get your parka, we’re going back,” he said, grabbing his own coat. Kenny cheered mentally at the hope of the pain ending, grabbed his parka, and ran out after Kevin.

Kenny never knew he could be so happy about a two hour long road trip to the middle of nowhere, but he knew now. Kevin even let him drive despite technically not being allowed to. Turns out going for a joyride in your most hated teacher’s car and crashing it beyond repair wasn't exactly legal, but, in his defense, the guy was a bitch.

As the familiar grey building came into view, Kenny felt almost comforted by it. He was probably just delirious from lack of sleep and pain though. He stopped the car in front of it and got out of it, slamming the door shut. He somehow woke Kevin up, not having even realized that his brother had fallen asleep.

Kenny knocked on the doors and waited for a response while Kevin flopped out of the car. When there was no response, Kevin decided the best idea would be to just walk in. So that’s what he did, Kenny following him in because what else was he meant to do.

They couldn’t have walked in at a worse time. Doctor Tucker was physically restraining Cartman while Kyle was doing the same to someone that looked like he could be his older brother. What was worse was what they heard Doctor Tucker say to the pair.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should invest in shock collars or you two. A little behavioral conditioning might stop you squabbling all the time.”

He looked like he was about to say something else, but couldn't get a word in over Kevin screaming. “WHAT THE FUCK??” he yelled at the top of lungs, catching the doctor off guard. He released Cartman by accident but before he could make it to Scott, Kyle kicked his stomach, leaving him incapacitated.

Doctor Tucker took a moment to regain his dignity. “I see you brought Kenny back then. Seems someone pulled a little escaping trick then,” he muttered, then turning on his heel and walking away.

“Well then Ken, in ya go,” Kevin said, giving him a little push. Kenny waved to him and walked back inside. He wasn’t expecting anyone to approach him, but he had barely gotten in when Butters ran over to him.

“Kenny!” he greeted him cheerfully, pulling him into a hug. “I thought you went missing or something, but no - you just escaped!” Butters looked a little too eager and excited, but that was just the way he was. Or not, Kenny didn’t know him well enough to be the best judge of character.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled through his parka hood, pushing Butters off and straight to their shared room. Kenny had never felt so grateful to have such an old and worn out bed, but he certainly was then and there. And what else could he do to celebrate such a momentous occasion besides flop down on it and ignore everything around him.

Chapter Text

Kenny didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, but he did know one thing - There was someone else in there besides himself and Butters.

He awoke with a start and caught himself before he could let out a sigh of relief. It was only Doctor Tucker and some kid with black hair. It looked greasy. Like it had been under a hat for a while. It was only when the doctor had motioned towards Kenny did he realise who the new person was.

“STAN??” he found himself blurting out, unable to stop himself at the realization and sat up. Stan Marsh, probably his only friend while he was still in South Park, was in there with him. It felt almost surreal, seeing someone who used to only see in school outside of that prison.

Stan responded with an equally confused answer. “Dude? What’re you doing here?” he asked, putting his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think you had an addiction or something,” he continued, mildly sheepish.

Doctor Tucker took his turn with the confusion. “This isn’t rehab rehabilitation,” he stated in his usual bluntness, just with a touch of confusion. “You come here, I help with your problem, and you leave without us talking again.”

“Yeah, rehab,” Stan confirmed while kicking the air. “I think my dad would be better here though, he’s got the addiction. ‘m just an alcoholic. Don’t think I am, but everyone says I am. He’s so addicted to weed that if he could choose between it and his entire family he’d choose the weed.”

Doctor Tucker groaned. This was probably the most expression Kenny had seen in him, and probably would ever see. “No, rehab rehabilitation treats people for all sorts of addictions and physical problems, this rehabilitation deals with the people who need it but don’t fit under the descriptors of addicted or physically disabled.”

Stan made a noise of understanding. “Oh, a mental hospital!” he grinned at his supposed comprehension, clearly satisfied with himself at getting right while Doctor Tucker looked like he would explode. If he did explode, it’d probably be from the influx of feelings/rage.

“Wha- NO!” the doctor yelled, pulling his hat down onto his face to scream into. “It’s like a, uh.”

He then left the room, leaving Stan, Kenny and the previously forgotten Butters alone at last. Kenny slid out of bed to properly greet Stan, but before he could Butters decided to make his presence known.

“H-how much d’you wanna bet he’s gonna go kabluey?” he asked, sincere enough that it almost seemed like a genuine question. Kenny thought about it for a moment, but he already knew the answer - his life, he’d come back afterwards, so it wasn’t really much when it came to betting.

Stan shrugged. “I don’t dude, like, 10 or 12 bottles of cheap liquor from that one store down the road,” he answered, not sounding fully sure of his answer. That would cost a lot, wouldn’t it? Kenny’s parents only ever bought the one bottle of that stuff on rare occasions.

“Jesus,” Butters screamed in alarm at Stan’s words. “Why would ya bet that many??” he continued, his horror of which Kenny found to be understandable. The most he ever saw him down at the one time was 5, and that was when Wendy broke up with him for the six thousandth time.

“It’s a normal amount?” Stan said, clearly thinking that Kenny and Butters were the weird ones. “What, next you’re going to tell s’not normal to have nearly killed-”

It was almost a relief when Kyle came barging in to bring them all out from breakfast. Kenny didn’t feel like listening to the story of how Stan accidentally left his alcohol in his dad’s weed barn and nearly set the entire farm on fire.

***

“So, uh,” Butters started, scooping the bland goop they had been served into his mouth as spoke. “Who did ya, uh, nearly kill?” he asked, clearly for Stan to answer. The boy in question stopped moving the ‘food’, if it could even be called that, around before answering.

“M’sister and my mom,” he answered, somewhat calmly. “I hope they come visit, I think I’d miss not having my sister screaming at me every day for the dumbest things,” he said as he shoveled the slop into his mouth, only to immediately spit it out. “Dude, this is shit!”

There was a loud clattering from across the table, the sound of someone having dropped their cutlery filling the cafeteria. “I know,” Kyle said softly, almost as if he was awestruck by the fact someone agreed with him. “I’ve been saying that for 3 years and nobody’s agreed with me.”

“Damn,” was all Stan responded with as he started dividing his portion between Butters and Kenny. “You wanna be friends then?” he asked, continuing to give his meal to the two blondes, much to their dismay.

“Fuck yeah do I wanna be friends!” the ginger responded merrily, his eyes shining. “Now I can have someone to shit talk fatass with!” he cheered, a short yet disgruntled “Hey!” being heard shortly after.

“Cool, so then, uhhh,” Stan said as he stood up, falling forward momentarily before catching himself. “You wanna ditch this?” he asked, as his face started to turn green. At least his bowl was empty when he threw up.

Kyle stared at his display, grinning a little. “Dude, I didn’t think it was that bad, but sure,” he answered, getting up from his own seat and walking over to Stan, his share of the goop in hand.

“You wanna see something funny?” he asked, and instead of waiting for a response he threw the slop at Cartman, taking off running before he could have a chance to respond. The ball-like boy stood up and threw his own half finished portion at Butters, who threw his own goop back at Cartman. It missed and hit someone else.

It was then Kenny decided to run after Stan and Kyle because he did not want to be a part of whatever they had started in the slightest. It was going to be all out war in there, and Kenny had spent his time in far too many sick bays after food fights to know that.

Chapter Text

After following Kyle and Stan through what felt like several thousand corridors, the pair finally slowed down. Maybe Kenny shouldn't have died all those times during track and field from lack of air, he might actually have a chance at running otherwise. It was a bit of a surprise that he hadn’t died yet though, considering how dizzy he felt.

“Dude, did you see the look on his face when it hit him!” Kyle cheered, somehow not out of breath from all the running. Maybe being a New Jerseyian made him superhuman, Kenny wouldn't know, he's never been there.

“Hell yeah dude!” Stan said, a lot more animated than normal. “He looked so pissed man, he was an actual tomato!” he continued, getting a bit too excited for himself. Stan couldn't stop himself before he threw up again, unfortunately right onto Kyle.

The ginger gagged from the smell of stomach acid mixed with some sort of alcohol while Kenny burst out laughing. “Jeez dude, not even a day in and you’ve caught the hots for him?” he said with a grin, Stan looking at him in disappointment.

“The fuck is that meant to mean, uh, Kenny?” Kyle asked, a mixture of confusion and concern filling his voice. Stan shook his head, trying to tell Kyle to ignore it before he threw up again and decided that laying down on the floor, face flat, would be the best option.

Kenny felt something evil spawn inside him. Evil honesty. Seems a bit like an oxymoron. “Stan has a girlfriend named Wendy,” he started, Stan looking a bit offended. “But, he also gets ill every time he sees her. It’s literally like, ‘Oh hey Wendy, how are you?-”

Kenny then started pretending he was belching, cackling all the while. Stan rolled over, away from Kenny in a huff. Kyle stared in bewilderment and mild amusement. “..I see,” the ginger eventually forced out, staring down Stan, who just lay on the ground. Poor guy looked oh so very dead and dehydrated. 

“Should we go get Doctor Fucke- Doctor Tucker?” Kyle then asked, looking worried for Stan. It would probably be for the best to get him to help Stan, but Kenny knew that better than to ask for help of any kind after starting a fight.

But at the same time, it would be a lot for Stan to get the help he needed. Ah, how the moral scales weighed in neither’s favour. Although it would probably be better overall to help his friend out.

Kenny shrugged. “Sure,” he answered, a bit on the shorter side. He didn't want to get him, it was just for the best and it would mean no one would have to smell the god awful smells that Stan was single-handedly creating.

Kyle ran off to find Doctor Tucker, leaving Kenny alone with Stan. He didn't know what to do, so he started kicking Stan’s back lightly. It was more so tapping than kicking, but since it was with his foot he counted as a kick. 

Stan then went into a coughing fit. “Dude, stop,” was all he managed to get out before curling up in a ball and covering his eyes. “These lights hurt so fucking much,” he groaned out, looking a lot more dead than before. Is this how people see Kenny after he dies before they forget about it?

“Yeah, well,” Kenny started, his parka making a soft thud as he flopping down beside Stan. “They can’t all be winners. So how's school been without me then?” he asked, staring down at the other boy. Had his eyes always been that sunken in? Maybe Kenny hadn’t noticed before. “Did Wendy break up with you at all~?”

Stan wheezed, though it sounded more like a combination of a cough and a burp. “Somehow, she hasn't. I don't know how she manages with me, but yeah,” he said, with that lovesick expression he always wore when talking about her. “Also school has been shit, everyone thinks I killed you while drunk or something,” he almost laughed out, staring up at Kenny.

Kenny tilted his head in confusion, then put it straight again. He forgot how tight his hood can be. “What makes them say that?” he found himself asking. “Was Shelly being a dickhead again? Or was it that Canadian kid who got asked out by a teacher while he was a toddler?”

Stan shook his head with a laugh. “No dude, remember when there was the 4 of us? And how you used to miss so much school that we’d joke about you dying?”

The blond nodded. He missed those days, the days without worry about whether or not he'd have food or if his dad would blow it on meth again. It was fun, just going outside and playing without a care in the world. Why did things have to change?

“Yeah, well,” Stan started, doing his best to sit up. “It travelled fast and now? They’re taking it way too seriously man,” Stan finished, propping himself up against Kenny. The wall didn’t look comfortable, so it was understandable. “Dude, these fucking lights. I swear I’m going to kill someone over them.”

Kenny then realised how, for lack of a better term, gay it felt. 

God how he felt like saying something about Wendy seeing, but unfortunately Kyle had come back. By himself. Shouldn’t he have brought Doctor Tucker with him? That was what he left for, right?

Kyle grimaced and shook his head. “He’s busy dealing with the war we started,” he grumbled out with a defeated sigh, settling himself down beside Stan. He probably felt like he was in a sandwich. Ha, a Stanwich. That wasn't funny.

“I hate dealing with the consequences of my own actions,” the ginger scowled, continued to rant even though it was very likely no one was listening. “And now that fucking piece of shit is in there, acting as if he isnt to blame for this as well. He threw his portion at Butters for crying out loud! Nobody involves Butters in this stuff for a reason!”

“Why?” Kenny asked. He could feel his eyebrows furrowing under his hood. Maybe he should take it down, it was a bit warm. But he didn’t want to practically flashbang Kyle with his face. Why didn’t he worry about that with Butters then? It was probably because they both had large scarrage, but the only amount of scars on Kyle’s face were acne ones. Or maybe those were freckles.

So there goes the thought of pulling his hood down.

Kyle grumbled, rubbing his temples. “Butters has Doctor Fucker’s favour, anyone found guilty of harming Butters in anyway has to talk to Scott Tenorman about beef based dishes, which is not a good idea to begin with,” he muttered out, looking like he had just witnessed veryone he loved and cared about be trampled on multiple times with a roadroller.

“Don't hurt Butters then,” Stan started. He seemed like he was going to say something else, but instead he covered his eyes and cried out in pain. “I swear to god, if these fucking lights dont just dissappear Im going to kill myself.”

“Guess I’ll go back to looking for him then,” Kyle said as he got up and dusting himself off, more tired and disappointed than anything. Kenny would’ve gone himself, but Kyle said it first, so that meant he had to do it. Kenny didn't make the rules, that was just how it worked.

“Get painkillers,” Stan groaned out weakly, covering himself with one arm and using his free hand to give Kyle a thumbs up.

Kyle responded with one of his own as he walked away.

Now Kenny just had to figure out how to entertain himself until he got back.

Chapter Text

The hallways never got easier to navigate, continually blending into one until the realization dawns that you’ve been going in a circle for the past 20 minutes. That's what Kyle thought anyways.

It wasn’t his fault that there were signs for rooms and elevators that didn’t exist, but it was his fault for following them.

Kyle used to consider himself lucky for not knowing where Doctor Tucker’s office was. It meant, at least to him, that he wasn't a troublemaker. He did what he was told and generally stayed in line. Even if it wasn’t the best of ideas, maybe it would help keep the Jerseyian half repressed. 

At least that's what he told himself.

Now that he thought about it, he’d probably be better off asking Butters. He probably knew where the office was, he was literally learning whatever it was Doctor Tucker did for work from him. It would be weird if he didnt know where it was.

After weaving his way through even more corridors, Kyle finally gave up. He should work out more, he was too out of breath for just walking in what seemed like circles for half an hour. Leaning against the nearest  wall he could find to catch his breath, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. 

Gold.

Blond would be putting it better, but maybe he finally had a lead. Blond meant Butters, or maybe some secret second or third option. So clearly the best idea would be to call out to this blond person.

“Hey, uh-” Kyle started, before getting cut off by a loud yelp. That's definitely not good. He walked over to the source of the yelp, sliding his hand along the wall, only to find that the person who had yelped was the person with the blond hair. That person was certainly not Butters. Sure, they looked similar enough, but this guy was too tall. Too long of hair. Too twitchy.

“S-sorry,” the blond person stuttered out, fiddling with the collar of his white shirt. His uniform was the same as most in the facility, that being all-white pajama-esque with grippy socks, but he looked less papery. Someone was clearly a favorite. “What do you-GAH-want??”

“Do you know where Tucker’s office is?” Kyle asked, slower than he normally would. He hadn’t seen this person before, so for all he knew he could try to kill him. Or just continuing twitching. The ginger couldn't tell.

“It’s somewhere over this way- I THINK!” the blond person continued, starting to walk away before jumping for no particular reason. Kyle made a mental note not to talk to him again, he seemed to have Scott Tenorman levels of mental stability.

Kyle followed him down a few corridors, realised in the process he had actually been walking around in circles for half an hours, kicked himself mentally, and stopped in front of the metal door where the blond person had stopped.

“It’s in here,” he muttered out, sounding slightly uncertain. “If he asks, I-ack, Tweek wasn’t here.”

And with that, the blond person, presumably Tweek, walked away. How did this guy know this place better than Kyle did? He had been there longer than the majority of people/patients had been there!

He could question that later. He had things to do. Kyle tapped on the door lightly, and waited. It took a bit longer than he expected, but once the door was opened he released why. “Butters, are you seriously addicted to that game?”

“Well, uh... yeah,” the boy answered sheepishly, looking down momentarily. “I-I just think it's a fun game, you know?” he continued, stepping away from the door. Kyle walked in and immediately started rummaging through any shelf or drawer he could find. There was nothing.

“Where does keep the fucking painkillers??” Kyle cursed, kicking a nearby shelf. It hurt. That was a bad idea. He then turned to Butters. He was the only resource he had at that point. “Do you know?”

Butters stared back in confusion. “We have those?” he asked as he sat back down in the desk chair. “If we have ‘em, you’ll have to ask him, I don’t know where he keeps the medicine.” Butters then chuckled lightly to himself. “He said I said something one time that made him not wanna tell me where it is, but I don't know what that could’ve been!”

Kyle sighed. “Right, well-”

He was cut off by a loud thud. The ginger ran off to see what it was. 

“Hey, wait!” Butters got up off the chair and ran after him.

***

It took a while (cursed be his lack of directions), but Kyle and Butters eventually found what the bang was. An entire chunk of the wall had fallen on Kenny. Well, it looked like it could’ve been Kenny. Stan didn’t seem like he was fully there, Kenny had vanished, and the only trace left of him was the sleeve of an orange parka sticking out from under the rubble.

“What happened?” Butters asked Stan nervously, crouching down in front of him and waving his hand until Stan acknowledged his existence. The boy took a moment to blink and take in his surroundings, sighing deeply when he saw the wall on the floor.

“The wall killed Kenny, dude,” he finally answered, looking shaken up. “It was like it was out to get him or something. One moment we were sitting here, and then the ground started shaking, and then he got crushed.”

“Bastard,” Kyle muttered out, then picking up Stan and looping one of the boy’s arms around his shoulders. “We’re taking to you Doctor Tucker. I think you need therapy dude,” he said as he started walking while Stan groaned.

“Oh hey, that’s my job!” Butters called out cheerily, then walking over to help Kyle transport Stan. “Maybe I’ll get to do more than talk and take notes for once, maybe I’ll be allowed to suggest stuff to help you!”

Butters’s joy was, (un)fortunately, infectious. Stan smiled softly to himself. “Yeah, maybe. Who’s gonna tell Doctor Fuckface or whatever that Kennys dead though? Because I’m not doing it. Don’t wanna.”

“I’m not either,” Kyle seconded, looking over to Butters, who looked devastated. “That just leaves you then, Butters. Sorry.” he shrugged it off, while the boy in question looked like was going to start crying.

“Aw fellas, really? I always have to do the things that no one else wants to do!” he whined, clearly not happy with his predicament. “I-I’ll get Doctor Tucker to give Stan all the painkillers he would ever need if you don’t make me do this too!”

“Shouldn’t have been last then, eh?” Kyle laughed to himself, Stan whipping his head around to him. He grumbled a bit in pain from the sharp movement as the three went through the now empty cafeteria.

“Dude, have we been gone that long?” Stan asked, to seemingly no one. “Also, since when were you Canadian dude? What’s with the ‘eh’?” he questioned Kyle, who just shrugged and nearly dropped Stan. Thank whatever higher power/powers there were for Butters.

“My little brother is Canadian. Sometimes I say the ‘Canadian stuff’ because I miss him,” the ginger shook his head, gaze softened as he stared off into the distance. “When my parents sent me here he promised to write everyday. Haven’t heard from him since.” Kyle let out a slight chuckle that could’ve been mistaken for a sob.

“Wait,, is your brother that Ike ki- Oh, look!” Butter spoke up, pointing ahead of them at Doctor Tucker who was talking to the fattest fatass in all of fatty town. “Doctor! Over here!” he shouted to the doctor, who finished up the conversation he was having and came over.

“What is it?” he asked, looking around them. “Where’s Kenny? Didn’t he run off with you two earlier?” he questioned, addressing Stan and Kyle.

“Well, uh-”

“He’s dead,” Stan started, stopping Butters before he could say anything. “Got crushed by a wall dude. He didn’t flinch, just said ‘Oh shit’ and got crushed.”

“Damn,” Doctor Tucker said. “I love my job sooo much. I love how often I have to update things. I love how little I get paid,” he started complaining, almost monologuing. “I love how nothing ever changes here. I love the fact that my entire family has abandoned me over this. I love how much I have to deal with others. I lov-”

“Yeah, well, that’s cool and everything but Stan needs painkillers and Kenny is still dead,” Kyle stopped the doctor before he could get any further. He did not feel like listening, not when someone he now cared about was suffering.

The doctor sighed in defeat. “Fine, give me a few minutes. Wait here.”

He left while Butters and Kyle lowered Stan into one of the cafeteria seats. Kyle then sat beside him, Butters on the other side of the table. 

“Is he ok?” Stan asked, leaning across the table while Butters and Kyle huddled in as well. “I know he’s probably a psychologist or something and can figure it out himself, but still,” he continued in what seemed like genuine concern.

“Well, it’s not our problem if he is or isn’t,” Kyle reasoned, resting his head in his hand. “Besides, he’s been like this for as long as I can remember. The littlest thing sets him off for some reason.”

“Isn’t this big though? Why, Kenny is dead for crying out loud!”

The other two stared at Butters in disapproval before realizing he was, in fact, correct. It was ‘pretty big’ that Kenny was dead.

“..Maybe we should just wait for a bit guys,” Stan forced out, looking paler than before. So that was what they did; wait, as boring as it was.

Chapter Text

Kenny sat up on the floor. Yup, definitely back in his house. He couldn’t even remember how he died, he just knew he was with Stan and then woke up back here. HIs head did hurt quite a bit though, so maybe that could provide some sort of answer. Speaking of pain, his entire backside hurt. Weird, maybe something crushed him. Not that Kenny would know. 

He made his best attempt at standing up despite the pain walking into the living room, expecting Kevin to be there. He was not, instead it was just Karen on the floor playing with her doll. She looked up at him when he came in the room, her face contorting with her confusion. 

“I thought you went somewhere?” she asked, clutching her doll to her chest. Kenny thought that Kevin would tell more than somewhere, maybe not though. “Kevin said ya did. He said you’d be gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I did,” Kenny started, sitting down on the couch behind her. “Do you know where Kevin went though?” he continued, mentally sighing as she shook her head in response. Of Course he wouldn't tell her. Kevin didn't seem to tell her much.

“He just up and left all angry! He didn’t even say he was leaving, he just got in the car and went,” Karen pouted, holding her doll closer to her. Not much detail from her either then. Time for the worst game of all time in Kenny’s opinion: detectiving.

“What was he doing before he left?” he asked, sighing into his parka as Karen took a moment to think. The blond still regretting lighting it on fire, even though any remains of that were long gone.

“Well,” Karen started, looking up at Kenny with her round eyes. They were like Butters’s, to an extent. “He was, uh, talking to dad, and then he left? I couldn’t hear what they were talking about though because they had the door shut,” she answered, slightly sheepishly. Karen really reminded Kenny of Butters. Maybe he just missed him.

Besides Butters, it sounded a lot like they were fighting again. If anything, Kevin pulled his usual schtick of not telling anyone anything and now their dad was complaining about how much it cost for Kenny to be sent to a glorified mental hospital/insane asylum.

He’ll have to ask how much the admission fees are when he gets back, that stuff usually costs a lot. Kenny then got up and walked back to his room, intending to sleep off the pounding headache, but the lack of bed was still apparent. Back to sleeping on the couch again it is then. How fun.

***

The trio didn’t know how long they had to wait for Doctor Tucker to return, but it felt like a lot longer than it actually was and he looked angry. More angry than you would expect from him, the guy with the chronic resting bitch face.

“Who the fuck went fucking with the files?” he seethed, venom swelling every word to the point of bursting. While Butters took to shaking and Stan going back into staring into who knows what, perhaps the void itself, Kyle was the only left to answer. Anger Issues versus Angry Doctor Fucker, clearly this would end with world peace achieved.

The ginger let out a slight scoff. “Nobody except fatass would do that, and maybe that fucker Tenorman,” he answered, trying to sound more confident than he was actually was. He already knew he was going to meet Kenny again after this, may as well make it somewhat interesting.

Doctor Tucker sighed, gripping the fabric of his lab coat tightly. “Clearly someone did, because it already said that Kenny is dead. Explain that one to me, dipshit,” he practically snarled, looking like he would punch Kyle if it was completely legal to.

“Well no one here did, go ask someone else, you damn muff cabbage! Shoo!” he snapped back, making a shooing motion with his hand as he did so. Kyle had already accepted his death. He wasn't going to see another day realistically.

Doctor Tucker paused, his features softening momentarily. “The fuck did you just call me..?” he asked, in his usual monotone way. “You do know that I’m the one in charge here, right?”

He then slammed his hand down on the table Kyle, Butters and Stan were sitting on, leaning over the ginger while Butters jumped in alarm. “Don’t fucking forget that, ok? Just because you have responsibilities around here doesn’t mean you have all the power,” the doctor sneered before standing back up and walking away.

There was a period of silence after Doctor Tucker left.

“Dude.. what the fuck??” Stan started, in a state of utter horror. “Isn’t he meant to like, I  don’t know, care about us? And not treat anyone here like, y’know, that???”

Kyle sighed, burying his head in hands. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have tried arguing with him anyways,” he mumbled as he put his head down on the table, still covered by his arms.

“Dude,” Stan repeated, albeit softer, and patted his back. He didn’t know what he should do, but it felt too awkward to not try to help him feel better. He looked over at Butters, who seemed to be thinking the same thing with a weirdly wistful smile on his face. 

“Kyle, if you, uh, ever wanna talk about stuff I’m here,” the blond finally said something, the calm and relaxed look not suiting him. It felt wrong to see him acting as Doctor Tucker should be. It felt wrong to see someone like Butters acting as the adult figure.

The ginger looked up slightly. “Isn’t that your job though?” he asked, and despite it being an honest question it sounded harsh due to the tired tone. Butters chuckled nervously and started to fidget with his hands.

“Well, I mean outside of when he says ya have to,” he clarified. “Or maybe Stan if you’d be more comfortable with that?” 

“Please don’t assume things on my behalf dude,” Stan glared, now resting his hand on the ginger’s back. “I’ll listen if you need me to though,” he resolved, patting Kyle’s back again. He still felt awkward.

Kyle made some sort of muffled sound in thanks and got up to leave. “Should we get going then?” he asked the other two, who just stared at him. He looked very red. 

“Hello? Can I get an answer or you just gonna keep looking at me?”

“Oh, right,” Stan then made an attempt at standing up, only to be caught by Butters. “Thanks dude. I think I’m just going to go back to my room for a bit,” he smiled weakly and paused. “Where is my room again?”

“You’re with me and Kenny!” Butters beamed. “I’ll take ya over then, see you later Kyle!” he waved to the ginger, who responded with a meek wave of his own, and helped Stan back to their shared room.

Speaking of Kenny, where was he? Surely he hadn’t tried to escape again? Or worse, dead?

That last idea was just plain silly. Kyle shook it off and began the trek back to his own room. How would that even be possible, there was little to none chance of dying in here!

His head hurts.

Chapter Text

Kenny opened his eyes to Kevin staring him down. Oh, to just have a mere sleep with Kevin worrying he had died again. 

“Before you asked, I haven’t since coming back here,” Kenny muttered groggily, Kevin nodding in understanding before standing up properly. “Where were you earlier though?” the blond asked his brother as he stretched. 

“Just had to blow off some steam, y’know how it is,” he said, his saying he hadn’t a care in the world but his face asking for a gun to be shoved into his throat and shot. “I wasn’t fightin’ with da again or anything like that, just the school was callin’ bout ya. That PC guy is a prick.”

“Agreed,” Kenny started, before remembering where he was meant to be. “So are you gonna drive me back to that hellhole or??” he asked, his stomach growling despite having eaten  a portion and a half of goop that day.

“Nah, takin’ you and Karen out for lunch instead,” Kevin said as he made his way to the door. “You two coming or not?” he asked, Karen bounding over and vibrating while waiting for the door to be opened.

Kenny stood up and followed his siblings out to Kevin’s car, which he still had no idea how he was able to even afford it. The ride to Tweek Bros. Coffee was short and bumpy because apparently nobody knew how to make roads apparently. It was a good thing they finally installed a parking area.

Kevin opened the door and walked in, holding the door open for Kenny and Karen. It was the same as it always was, as boring and nose pain inducing coffee filled as that was. Karen quickly ordered her usual - two chocolate muffins, while Kevin ordered for himself and Kenny.

Kevin then shooed the two away as he went to pay, so they could find a table. There was somehow barely anyone there. It was probably a weekday, so that meant school. Kenny wouldn’t know either way, and neither would Karen. She probably would’ve said “Chocolate Muffin Day!” if asked.

Waiting was dreadfully draining. Kenny began drumming his fingers on the table and reading every announcement or advertisement on the notice boards. Stupid looking headshots, ads for Chinpokomon Go, a pair of old missing persons posters, yaoi, the menu to City Wok..

Wait, missing persons posters? Those weren't there before. Well, they hadn't been noticed before somehow. He waited until Kevin had sat down with the food to point them out. “Had those always been there?” Kenny asked, as he pointed to them with his fork. Kevin turned around to look at them.

“I dunno Ken,” he started, before suddenly gasping and leaning over the table to Kenny. “That guy with the big nose- Isn’t that Doctor Tucker?” he whispered, covering his mouth with his free hand.

The blond looked closer, and realised that it, somehow, was. “What the fuck?? Why is that there when he’s, y’know??” he whispered back, Karen enjoying her muffins undisturbed by the fact that Kevin and Kenny were having sibling bonding time together without her.

Kevin shrugged, leaning back into his chair. “How should I know? Besides, with the amount you’ve,” he motioned with his hands in lieu of saying ‘died,’ “I don’t think it’d be a good idea to go back. I mean, it’s only been like, I dunno, 2 or 3 days maybe. That’s once a day roughly.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Kenny mumbled as he took a drink from his cup. He wasn’t expecting it to be so bitter. “Dude,” he sputtered out, the coffee staining his parka. “I swear you could kill someone with this shit, and it’d probably only take one more of these to do it,” he complained, setting the cup down on the table as he wiped his face in his sleeve.

“Let’s not test that,” Kevin said as he slowly put down the cup he was about to drink from. “So how’s life been then in the, shoot, what was it again? Mental hospital or something?” he asked, looking over to Kenny for an answer.

The blond chuckled lightly to himself. “Nope, not that. He was adamant about it. But, uh, yeah, I’ve made some friends and Stan is there too now, so that’s pretty cool I guess. That’s about it though, how about you two?”

“My loyal steed hath been serving me well!” Karen exclaimed, giggling to herself. “We went down to Stark’s Pond together, and we went to the movies, and dad also took us fishing! Kevin even took me down to Denver! It was so cool!”

“True,” Kevin agreed, as he went to take a sip of the coffee. “I also took her to see some real horses, who’s the best big brother now, huh?- HOLY SHIT,” he cut himself off after drinking some of the drink. “I don’t what they’ve put in this, but jeez, it it strong, holy fuck man.”

“Can I try some?” Karen asked, looking over at the barely touched cup. Her muffins had been long finished.

“No, Karen, just no,” Kevin deadpanned, lifting the coffee up as high as he could so she couldn’t drink any without him or Kenny noticing. “Should we get going back there then, Ken?” he shifted his focus towards the blond, keeping the mug held up just in case.

Kenny shrugged. “Why not,” he said as he got up from his chair and left, Karen following behind after Kevin picked her up and put her on his shoulders. 

***

The drive back to, well, who even knows what it could be called felt shorter than usual with Karen in the car. She may have just been talking a lot about whatever she felt like, ranging from her favourite display fish in the grocery store to how she thought it was funny her science teacher wouldn’t stop flipping people off.

It was only once they got there did Kenny realise he didn’t want to go back. He wanted to stay with his siblings, but unfortunately (according to Kevin) money says no and apparently their parents have been using their extra income from not spending it on Kenny used on weed, of all things.

God how Kenny hated parents more than the genetic engineering lab wanna-be.

Chapter Text

Kyle hated walking around by himself. He didn’t know why, it just made him feel worried and out of control. Sure, that probably sounded like he had a power complex but if he was with someone else, at least if worse came to worst they could try to calm him down or go get Doctor Tucker.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him though. It was probably just Cartman being an asshole for no reason, but just because he knew what it could’ve been didn’t stop it. It was like he had the theory but no way of executing it, left trapped feeling stupid and wondering he couldn’t just apply textbook knowledge to real life.

The ginger just had to keep walking, that was all he had to do. As soon as he got to his room he could get into bed and forget about the argument, or rather disagreement, with him. Maybe if hadn’t called the doctor a muff cabbage he wouldn’t find the paranoia so heavy that it was hard to walk.

Kylee knew he was just being nonsensical, it shouldn’t be that hard to walk. He just had to put one foot in front of the other and ignore the sinking feeling of dread. He had nothing to dread, he was fine and perfectly normal.

What if he wasn’t though? 

Kyle then searched for the nearest reflective object, only to find he looked normal.. Did his hair look more wavy than usual though?

No, it wasn’t, he was fine. He wasn’t becoming that thing again. He was normal. He was his usual self. There was nothing wrong with him. Maybe the more adamant about it he was, the more likely it would be to come true.

He had to admit though, he could feel the inevitable coming on. The light headedness, fast breathing, the heaviness of everything - it was going to send him into a frenzy. He couldn’t have it happen. He wouldn’t let it happen.

***

Kenny hated how cold it was in Doctor Tucker’s something or other. It was probably why he and Stan had been allowed to keep their outside clothes on. The blond felt sorry for everyone else in there, having to wear those papery garments that looked like they felt as rough as cheap toilet paper while being as easily rippable.

As he continued on through the hallways, something felt.. Off.

Kenny then realised that he had been walking in the wrong direction the entire time. How fun. He was going to turn back and figure it out himself, but something told him, perhaps his poor sense of direction, that would get him into the otherside of the building. So he decided to look for anyone that could help.

After walking in one direction for a while, he sped up a bit. He was probably hearing things, but Kenny could’ve sworn he heard someone trying to muffle their breathing, for whatever reason. As he turned the next corner he could find, all he saw was Kyle on the ground, hand covering his mouth, staring at his reflection in Doctor Tucker’s office’s steel door.

The blond walked over slowly and crouched down beside him. “Kyle..?” he started softly, the ginger not seeming to take any notice. He looked rather pale and sweaty, shaky too - sort of like Stan after throwing up. “Dude?” Kenny repeated, waving his hand in front of Kyle’s face, only for him to flinch slightly.

Huh.

Kenny then thought about it for a moment. It did look somewhat like Kyle was having a heart attack, but with how long he had been gone, if it was that Kyle would’ve died by now. Kenny pondered it a bit more. He could’ve sworn he saw Stan in the same state after one his parents’s many fights went wrong and he got pulled into it.

What had helped Stan out of it though? What had Kenny or someone else done that calmed him down? What was done to get him normal again?

The blond tried to remember. He was unsure, but he did vaguely remember Kevin giving Stan Kenny’s coat after the boy showed up at their door. That was something at least.  He took his coat off and tugged it over Kyle the best he could. The shaking stopped a bit, so that must have been right.

Right, what happened next then?

Kevin had led Stan inside, onto their couch and sat down with him. Then Kenny’s mind went blank. He just remembered the pair on the couch, then him beside Stan and Karen in the blond’s lap, Stan saying he felt a bit better. 

The blond resigned to just sitting beside him. He didn’t know what else to do, so he did the only thing he could think of.

It took a while, but Kyle’s breathing started to slow down. It probably wouldn’t have taken as long if someone had been encouraging him to breathe deeper though, rather than allowing him to continue so shallowly.

Oh yeah, that was what it was Kevin had done with Stan; breathing exercises. Too late for that now he figured.

“You feeling better now?” Kenny asked, his voice wavering with mild uncertainty as he put his hand down on Kyle’s shoulder, who quickly looked over at him. His breathing started to speed up again, and just when he was starting to feel normal again.

The ginger stared at him, confusion and panic on his face. “When the fuck did you get here?” he asked, his voice shaky. Kenny shrugged in response. “What do you mean? What-” Kyle looked down and found Kenny’s coat over him, “What the fuck is happening?”

He started to zone out again. Kenny found himself wanting to groan, but figured that doing so would be a bad idea and probably make him worse. Maybe comforting would be the better option?

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait, hold on a sec,” Kenny said, placing both of his hands on Kyle’s shoulders as he readjusting his position to be in front of the ginger. “Fucking breathe, ok dude? In, out, in, out. C’mon with me.”

Kenny continued to repeat his steps on how to breathe, only to realise that Kyle was already breathing at the pace he was talking, which wasn’t good since he was a fast talker. Never mind, not working, try something different then. If only he could remember what Kevin had done, if only.

“What if you just, I dunno, in, hold, out, hold. And repeat for a bit?” the blond asked, only to find that Kyle wasn’t paying attention. “Ok, we’re doing that then!” he cheered, physically restraining himself from clapping his hands together.

It took significantly less time than before, but Kyle was actually looking normal again. “Are you better now?” Kenny asked, hoping he wasn’t coming off as rude or sarcastic as Kyle nodded.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” he mumbled as stood up. His legs were shaking and didn’t seem like they could fully support the ginger. “I’m just... Gonna go to my room now, see ya.” Kyle then started walking away

“Nuh uh.”

The ginger paused and turned towards Kenny again. “The fuck you mean  ‘Nuh uh’? I don’t even think that’s an actual word,” he scoffed slightly, as if he was trying to laugh but was failing miserably.

“Nuh uh. I’m going with you,” Kenny said as he bounded over to where Kyle now stood. “Lead the way to thy chambers, oh dearest.. High King of... Elves?” he requested dramatically, a hand on his chest with the other stretched out ahead of the pair as they started walking again.

The ginger snorted. “Yeah sure, so what are you then? A prince from some foreign land? You seem more like a traveller though, or maybe a rogue even?” he asked, thinking as Kenny walked in front of him and curtsied.

“A princess hailing from human and orc descent, of course,” the blond smirked as Kyle tried to hold back his laughter. “What is it that you find so funny, m’lord?” Kenny continued, doing his best to hold in his own laughter.

“Nothing, nothing,” Kyle swatted him off before continuing down to his room. “Where did you even come up with that stuff?” he paused, waiting for Kenny to catch up. “Was it like, something you came up with when doing something with Stan before all this or what?”

“Blame my siblings,” Kenny answered, resting his head against his arms as he walked. “My sister called my brother her horse when she roped us into playing some fantasy game. She was a human noble lady, so naturally I had to set out to start a war against her land as a half-orc. Orcs hate humans, humans hate elves, elves hate humans - That’s I gathered from the lore she made.”

“I see, so what would everyone else here be then?” Kyle asked as he opened the door to his room, Kenny following him inside, plopping himself on the ginger’s bed. “Hey-”

“Stan was my humble knight, so he’d be that,” Kenny started, ignoring Kyle as tried to get him off the bed. “Cartman would be a wizard and claim himself to be all-powerful and undefeatable because of that, Butters seems like he'd be a paladin or druid. Doctor Fucker is a good question, and I don’t really know anyone else here.” 

“He’d be a thief. Probably. That twitchy guy, I think his name is Tweek? He seems like an alchemist, or a barbarian. Destructive possibility.”

“Who? Welp doesn’t matter. Moving on,” Kenny finally got up and pushed Kyle down. “What was up with you earlier?”

“What? Oh yeah, that..” the ginger looked down, looking slightly embarrassed. “I called him a muff cabbage.”

“You called who a what ?”

Chapter Text

Kyle began to fidget with the hem of his shirt, it giving away and tearing the more he did so. “It’s a Jersey thing, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t get it!” Kenny chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “But what does it mean? Would be the equivalent of me calling Fucker a literal slur? Or is it more like just calling him a Poopy Buttface??”

“More like a bastard, or dickhead. Also can be interpreted as calling your mom a whore and saying she cheated on your dad with multiple other men who all are her sugar daddies and when she says she's going to work she's actually going to visit one of them, a different one for each day of the week,” The ginger sighed, staring up at Kenny while kicking his feet. “I don’t understand it either.”

“Why’d you say it if you don’t understand it then??” Kenny asked, completely bewildered as he lay himself down on the floor, resting his head in hand. “Paint me like one of your french women,” he grinned, Kyle deadpanning. He thought that was funny, maybe not. Perhaps it just wasn’t the time.

“I don’t know, it just came out,” he sighed again. It sounded oddly melancholic, and that’s a big word for Kenny. Kyle then yawned and settled himself down with a slight grumble. “I’m going to sleep now, it’s probably way past curfew and if we get caught up we’re dead.”

“Not that dying's a problem for me,” the blond mumbled as readjusted his position on the floor to be on his stomach with his legs swinging back and forth behind him. “So, we’re just going to sleep then or do you wanna talk drama like we’re in a generic white girl sleepover movie?”

Kyle sat up, looking like someone had taken a fat dump in his morning coffee and he hadn’t realised it until he took a sup of it. “What? No, we’re going to talk about what the fuck you just said and, in the case that you weren’t joking, why you would even say that!” he yelled out, somehow having his voice quiet enough to be barely above a whisper.

“You mean the death thing? Yeah no, don’t really care,” Kenny shrugged out, maybe with a little bit too much indifference about it because Kyle was now looking at him like he was insane. No, like he had just said the most concerning thing he had heard in a while? That description fits better. He felt he should explain a bit. “Been there, done that, it’d just be the usual.”

Kyle now looked.. Worried? Why would he be worried though? “Are you trying to say you’ve attempted or just survived many near deaths?” he practically mumbled out, choosing his words carefully while not fully looking Kenny in the eye. 

Kenny then burst out laughing while Kyle stared at him in pure horror. “No? I just straight up die!” he cackled out, then realising that maybe laughing wasn’t appropriate for the current conversation. “That’s how I get out so often, dying?” he continued, watching as the ginger took a moment to think about it before lying back down.

“I’m not doing this tonight, bye,” Kyle said, flipping Kenny off before rolling over away from him. He then started talking again, albeit softer and more controlled than before. “If you have tried to, y’know, then I don’t think you should be here. Just saying. Heard one guy tried to do that and nobody's seen him since. It was fatass who said that though, so I wouldn’t believe it.”

Wow, such inspiring advice! Too bad here was not suitable for any of the borderline prisoners and it was realistically too late!

***

“Butters? You up?” Stan croaked out, groggy from just waking up. It was dark, and with a lack of windows the only thing he could assume was that it was around 1am, maybe 2 or 3am. How spooky, maybe he should summon the son of Satan or something. His throat felt dry, despite the rest of him feeling sweaty. 

“Hmm?” came Butter’s voice from the other side of the now cramped room. Who knew that three beads would fill a room. “What’s going on Stan?" he asked, a faint silhouette getting from his bed and walking to Stan. “D’ya need anything?”

“I mean, not really?” he started, watching as what was most likely Butters sat down beside him and gave him something small and soft. Some kind of plushie, maybe? “I don’t remember, I just remember me and Kenny talking in some hallway here. One moment we were sitting here, and then the ground started shaking, and then he got crushed. It was like it was out to get him or something. The wall, that is.”

“Well, uh, that’s something!” Butters forced out, the terror he felt not being hidden very well. “Wh-what’s got ya thinking about that?”

“I don’t know dude, sometimes I get dreams where Kenny dies. One moment we could be walking home from school, and then he gets run over by a car while crossing the road. Usually pretty gory and realistic, one time I could feel bits of his brain hit me when it was a school shooting and he got shot square in the face,” The black haired boy shrugged out, finding himself fidgeting with something round on the potential plush.

“Worst part is there was one that day, Kenny had skipped though. Still feels like he was there even though I know he wasn’t.”

“WHAT??”

“Huh? It only happens when I’m stressed about something, it’s fine,” Stan waved Butter’s worry off, the blond’s shock comically visible despite the darkness. “I’m not stressed about anything at the moment if that makes you feel better, I don’t think so anyways. Could just be in withdrawal though, who knows. God I need Kenny to get me a drink next time he leaves.”

“Oh yeah, we could put him together a little shopping list and he can get it for us!” Butters clapped his hand before getting up. “I think that’d be pretty neato, well, uh, apart from the alcohol because he'd probably get arrested or something.. But, uhh, those dreams of yours don’t sound good to be having, huh?”

“I guess, it’s normal enough at this point that I just don’t question it,” Stan continued, watching as Butters got up and went back to his own bed, leaving the plush with him. “Don’t you want this back?” he asked, the blond’s head shaking no barely visible.

“You can keep her for the night,” he cheered, the smile obvious in his voice. “When I can’t sleep, she helps. I don’t really know why, but she might help ya too!”

“Her?”

“Yeah, Kitty! Nighty night Stan!”

Stan looked down at the plush’s faint outline, the round part he had been fidgeting with appearing to be her bow. He smiled to himself, remembering how his sister had done the same thing when she was seven or eight with her own Hello Kitty plush. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree or something like that, he missed his sister regardless. At least he was missing her and not her yelling at him over dumb things.

Chapter Text

Stan looked less tired than he usually did, and that was a good thing as far Kenny was concerned. The “food”, if it could even be called that, looked as unappealing as it usually did as well. For a research facility, or whatever Doctor Tucker had branded it as, it seemed more like a prison than anything. There wasn’t even any research being done! He should ask about that. Probably. Maybe not. He seemed easy to annoy.

“I’m so done with this shit,” Kyle spat out, standing up with his plate and making to dump his meal? into the nearby bucket. Considering how Stan had been, it wasn’t surprising. Kenny had been thinking about Stan a bit much, huh?

Butter’s face lit up. “Oh yeah, we were talking about this last night, weren’t we Stan! We were gonna ask Kenny to go shopping for some stuff! Put together a lil’ shopping list, ya know? For when you go out again??”

There was something hopeful in the way he spoke, and the fact that he had come up with the idea with Stan was probably what got Kenny to agree. Maybe it was just his stomach screaming about how it wanted actual food, who knew. It just seemed like a nice idea.

“Cool, what do you want then?”

Butters cheered and Stan smiled to himself while spooning his slop onto Cartman’s plate. “So then fellas, anything ya want Kenny to get for ya then?”

“Cheesy poofs. I need my goddamn cheesy poofs,” Cartman sighed out like he was an alcoholic in withdrawal. Then again, that description fit Stan and he wouldn’t have said in the dramatic way fatass said it in. 

Kenny made a mental note. Cheesy poofs, whatever the hell those are. Some kind of chip brand perhaps. “Those are chips by the way Kinny, you’re probably too poor to know about them,” Cartman explained. He must have looked confused. Or maybe Cartman was just being an asshole and assuming things.

“Some sort of candy would be nice,” Kyle shrugged, attempting to eat the sludge after he decided against throwing it away. He was somehow able to swallow it, but that was probably because he had been there a while. Three years was it he said? Who knew besides the ginger himself.

Butters nodded happily in agreement. “That’s a pretty neat idea, Kyle! No almonds though, I dunno why but they make me go all red and itchy and then my throats goes all dry, then I’m in the hospital normal again,”

“You’re allergic then? Damn, that sucks,” Stan shrugged as got pushed off his seat by Cartman for giving him his food. “I think it’s obvious enough what I’d want though,” he chuckled lightly as he dusted himself off and sat down again.

“You’re not having alcohol. Not even “yum yum vodka” or whatever you had said that one time,” Kenny deadpanned, despite trying to hold himself back from laughing. 

“I-I SAID THAT??” Stan squeaked out, hoping nobody caught his voice cracking as they all burst out laughing at him. “DUDE??? You can’t just say that and leave me without context!” he continued, staring Kenny down who he just knew was smirking to himself under his hood. He was correct though, the blond was having a field day with this.

“I don’t really know, you just said it one day and chugged down the entire bottle, only to cough it all up immediately after. Got all over me and the school counsellor. Poor guy only asked for your thought process when drinking,” Kenny chuckled while retelling the event, Kyle and Cartman both looking like they were on the verge of suffocating. Cartman even had boogers coming out of his nose from how hard he was laughing.

Butters was the only one who wasn’t laughing at Stan, but it was clear he was trying to restrain himself. “Fellas, tha-that’s not very nice!” he lightly chided, Stan attempting to become one with the table. He probably wanted the floor to absorb him as well, but we don’t know because this is Kenny’s perspective, not some alcoholic who is in the recovery process without wanting to be.

“Yeah, you could get reported or something!!” came a new voice from beside Butters, only there was an empty chair beside him. The chair beside said empty chair did have someone in it though, that being some guy who kind of looked like Butters. Maybe an older relative, but it was probably just the blond spiky hair. 

In terms of differences from Butters, the two most obvious were his body language and height. This guy was literally tweaking and he was very long and lanky. Maybe he was even taller than Fucker, who knew. 

Cartman looked like he had seen a ghost before taking to screaming and running like a madman. His running was sort of funny though, looking more like a granny going after someone who had just stolen her purse. In a similar vein to the elderly, he also fell over pretty quickly. Cartman then rolled over to the wall he could find pillbug style and stood up, pointing his finger at the new(?) guy. “YOU’RE MEANT TO BE DEAD!” he yelled, the blond just staring back in response.

“ ..What? ” he half-laughed, his voice smaller and less panicked than before. Cartman then took off, screaming again, his arms flailing wildly like a pair of windmills gone wrong as he ran out of the cafeteria. The blond guy began twitching, fiddling with his fingers as he looked down at his plate. “D-did I do something? To-GAH-him?” he asked nervously, looking like he was expecting to be told in alphabetical order everything wrong with him.

“Cartman’s just like that dude, he makes up bullshit and believes it when nobody else will,” Kyle sighed as he continued trying to shovel down the nonfood, only to give up and join in with Stan, dumping it onto Cartman’s plate. “I’d say ignore it, he’s just a jackass when he wants to be.”

Kenny nudged Stan with the end of his spoon. “D’you know him?” he asked as quietly as he could get himself to while motioning to the new blond. Speaking of blonds, Butters was being oddly quiet. Normally he would’ve said something by now. Maybe not, that could just be Kenny misreading his character. It was strange how he was just staring through the table though.

Stan let out a subtle laugh. “You’re acting like I’ve been here longer than you dude, ask Butters or Kyle,” he shook his head, still laughing ever so slightly. It was a surprisingly delicate sound, as if it was a bubble made of glass. Fragile as it floated through the air, the most minor of disturbances would’ve caused it to pop. That was certainly a thought, wasn't it? A bit more than something he would’ve normally thought about a friend, but questioning it could happen later.

“Oh, I-I uh, I don’t re-really know Tweek. It was just a once off that one time,”  Butters sighed, fidgeting more than usual. “I, um, don’t wanna talk about it, if that’s all right fellas.”

Butters looked like he was hiding something. This seemed like a moment where one could take prior evidence and put it together to form some sort of conclusion, but said evidence was very minimal. Irrelevant to the current topic though, his name is Tweek? Fucking Tweek?? Kenny bit back his laughter. His parents must have hated him for being born, or else how does one end up with that as a name, let alone if it was even a nickname?

“Tweek,” Stan repeated, staring the man in question down. “Your name is Tweek? Seriously?”

He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, Tweek Tweak. I’m pretty sure that’s worse than just Tweek though,” Tweek tried brushing how embarrassing it was to have that as a name off with a smile, though it was obvious enough to everyone there how embarrassing that was. It was worth a try at least. “So then, uh, Kenny? Or Kinny? Idon’tknowwhichitisohgodthisistoomuchpressure- When are you-ACK-leaving again then?”

“Once I can find a quick enough way out,” he shrugged, knowing full well it was soon as he found a means of death. Tweek’s eyes lit up, seeming excited about his words. Huh.

“Wait, I know one! I can help you!” the other blond cheered, sounding less strained than before. All things considered, his vocal range was more than most people’s in an average conversation. 

Also, it was weird how convenient this was. Almost too convenient. No death this time too. Seemed like a good enough deal. Too good to be true maybe, but a way out without death is way out without death at the end of the day. “Ok then, where is it?” Kenny asked as he stood up, only for Tweek to go skittering off somewhere. Great, more following people through corridors, his favourite.

May as well get going before he gets left behind then, Tweek moved faster than he thought.

Chapter Text

Kenny’s lack of care and ability for athletics had returned to bite him the ass again. Ouch. He probably had asthma or something with how out of breath it always left him feeling. What surprised him more was Tweek wasn’t showing any signs of strain like he was once they had finally reached the exit despite his larger frame. Only there wasn’t an exit there.

Tweek then began clawing his way through the wall, bricks and debris coming down as the foliage behind it started poking through. The blond eventually made a hole, wide enough for someone who wasn’t Cartman to pass through, and took to crawling through it into the plants behind it. If only it was high enough to walk through, but it would probably create structural problems. An exit is an exit though.

Kenny crouched down in front of the newly created hole, one hand against the wall above as he waited for Tweek to get through when he suddenly yelped. “You alright in there?” Kenny called out to him, only to hear a relieved sigh in response.

“I thought I saw someone,” Tweek responded, the rustling in the greenery dying down soon after. “Turns out it was just a big plant!” He took to laughing, most likely out of pity for himself. “I’ll see if I figure out what kind it is, you can come on through- If you want to, not forcing or anything. J-just be careful of the musk thistles, they hurt quite a bit with how pokey they can be.”

“What the fuck is a musk thistle dude?” the other blond asked as he started his own journey through the crawl space, shuffling along on his feet because he did not want to crawl. The soil would make his gloves dirty and he didn’t want that. Turns out using the plants to propel himself along was bad because he eventually hit a spiky one. The stem and leaves, despite being rather thin, were covered in spikes. Kenny paused, staring at the plant before the pain finally bloomed. 

He inhaled sharply and released his hand, shaking it off before continuing. The passage was shorter than he thought it’d be, but the pain certainly didn’t. It had turned into a burning itch, and his palm looked raised in areas under his thin glove. Kenny started scratching at it in hopes that the itch would die down, only for it to do the opposite. He eventually threw off his glove in frustration and started scratching it with his teeth, hoping it would do anything.

Tweek, who had been busy sitting and staring into the horizon, only realised he was out when he heard the glove hit the ground, and got up with a start. "Kenny? Kinny?? Aaaagh I don’t know, just stop it!!” He grabbed Kenny’s hand out of his mouth and stared down at it, examining it and muttering about something before speaking up again. “Allergies. Get yourself some antihistamine or literally anything that’ll calm the irritation.”

“Uh.. thanks?” Kenny took his hand back and picked up his near abandoned glove, only to shove it straight into his pocket. “I’d ask why you know so much about that stuff but that doesn’t seem to be the priority right now.”

“I don’t mind saying if you want me too,” Tweek started, voice small and more stable. “That rash won’t kill ya or anything.” He shook his head slightly and sat down on the ground again. “I wanted to be an ecologist back in high school. I don’t remember why, but I ended up deciding to pursue general botany. Sometimes life just doesn’t go the way you want to,” he continued, looking like wanted to say something more but didn’t.

Kenny knew he shouldn’t press him for more, but he was too invested now with the little information he had. “Are you going to continue?” he asked, continuing to claw at the itch as he sat down next to Tweek. 

“I wouldn’t want to keep you much longer,” Tweek answered, only to smile to himself. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to talk about it a bit.” Tweek then readjusted his position, getting comfortable before talking more. “I really wanted to go to this one college, so I decided to just not sleep so I could have more to study. Which, that’s just a bad idea, I don’t really know what I was thinking. My parents kept bringing me coffee, and, well.. Somehow I overdosed on meth.”

“The fuck?”

“I don’t know how either dude! And people just assumed it was intentional, and that I did it because of how stressed I was or something.” Tweek then took a deep breath, halting his rambling before finishing his story. “Even Craig didn’t believe me when I told him it was an accident, and he was, like, genuinely worried about me. I’m pretty sure it’s because of me he gave up on being an astronaut and became whatever he is now.”

He sounded vulnerable. Too vulnerable even. Kenny was in too deep now to back out though. 

“Sometimes I wonder how life could’ve been if that didn’t happen. I wish I had that life. We’d probably be married now or something.”

“You and who?” Kenny interjected, already knowing it was condemning him deeper to his fate of listening to Tweek ramble. “Is Craig Fucker???”

“Oh, yeah, he is.” Tweek looked similar to how Stan did when he was talking about Wendy as he fiddled with some grass. “He said once he figured out Tenorman and Cartman, which I don’t even know who Tenorman is, he’d spend more time with me. It’s been a while since then.” The blond paused, staring down at the blades of grass in his fingertips. “I miss how he used to be. We used to be allowed outside before Cartman annoyed Kyle so much he pushed him down a hill and he couldn’t get back up.”

Kenny forced back his snickers momentarily. “That actually happened??” He let out a cackle once Tweek nodded. “Dude, really?”

“Yeah, it did. It was funny until Craig decided that Kyle was the one that needed consequences. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more scared than he was when he was allowed out of that Tenorman guy’s room.” Tweek paused again, gazing into the distance like it would tell him something important before turning back towards Kenny. “Is your hand doing better?”

Kenny raised the hand in question for Tweek to examine again and he shook his head disapprovingly. “This needs help. I think you should go, like now. Get yourself antihistamine. Some make you drowsy though, so be careful of the side effects. Only take what the package says to take. Make sure you’re not allergic to any of the ingredients too.”

“Damn, ok then.” Kenny stood up and put his glove back on. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around then. Uh.. I hope things get better between you and... Doctor Tucker.” 

He then set off in search for a way around the building, only to realise it wouldn’t matter since he barely knew his way back to South Park. Curses. He’d probably get hit by a car on the way if he was lucky enough.

Chapter Text

Kenny started walking forward. Why had he picked going forward? He felt like it, plus he could claim it was for poetic nonsense of how it symbolises his drive to keep moving forward despite his life’s circumstances. Clearly, english was his best subject with the meaning he was pulling out of this.

He eventually found himself in front of a large grey building, ever so foreboding and familiar. He didn't walk in a loop somehow, did he? Kenny continued around to the front, only to find that this large grey building had windows. Lots of them. It was also bigger than the one he had been living in, so at least he hadn’t been walking in a loop!

The blond then decided to roll down the hill it was situated on, because snow wouldn’t kill him. Would it? That’d make a new one if it did. Regardless, he eventually hit a wall. Good thing he had his parka on, or else the impact would’ve hurt more than it already did. He’d be lucky if he had arm function after this, ignoring the lack of hand function.

Kenny sat up and looked for a way out, spotting an archway and path quickly. Too quickly even. He forced himself up and strolled out, resuming his descent until he came across a fork in the road. Great, left or forward? While going forward for the bit seemed funny, going left seemed like a better option. There was more sound coming from there anyways.

He walked down the path and came to a quick pause upon being met with the side of Skeeter’s Bar. No, that couldn't be right. The sign on the front that Kenny found himself staring at when he walked around told him that it was right sharply. His stung slightly, reminding him he had places it to be. He didn’t have time to celebrate making it back to South Park by himself without dying.

Actually, he technically had all the time in the world, assuming every time he died of old age he’d just come back for a bit longer. He cheered to himself and frolicked in the streets. Sure he probably looked high, but he could just call whoever assumed that classist for trying to ruin his fun with their.. what do rich people have? Unethically bred tiny dogs in tinier purses?? 

Well, it doesn’t matter, because fuck them! Yeah, swearing is cool now! Kenny stopped his dumbass frolicking to ponder whether or not Tom’s Rhinoplasty would fucking sell antihistamines, or whatever the shit Tweek said was. It probably did, because the bastard sold all medicinal bullshit. Swearing is no longer cool now, this joke is going on too long and made itself unfunny in the process.

Kenny went in and asked Stan’s mom if they sold any, because apparently she worked there now. Good for her, or maybe not. He wasn’t about to judge the Marsh’s financial situation or Sharon’s desire for employment. Fortunately there were some, because of course there were. Unfortunately Kenny didn’t have any money. What an oversight on his part.

“Can I just pay later?” He mumbled out, looking down at the crusty carpet they called a floor. It was a wonder they hadn't replaced it yet, it was a healthcare violation waiting to happen. Thinking about carpet ignores the feelings of being the generic poor kid who already knew he wouldn’t have enough money for medicine. Being the generic poor makes people look down on him. Carpet. Heh. Carpet bad. Carpet dirty and stinky. He was in the house like Carpet. 

“Kenny, I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Sharon Marsh sighed sadly, eyeing the medicine on the counter like Kenny would take it and run. How classist. Unfortunately, that was the only time classism had gotten him correct. Did he regret it? Yes. Was he probably going to ignore Tweek’s advice and do something dumb? Wouldn’t really matter if he died, so yeah. No time like the present to run home, right?

He must have been high on adrenaline or something because he somehow managed to run halfway across town without getting tired, let alone dying. That would make that a new personal best then. Small victories make life better or something, Kenny had hopped the fence and was popping the antihistamines like bubble wrap.

His hand was still itchy and burning. Oh wait, he had to swallow them! Kenny walked in through the back door and went straight to the tap. “Ken?” came Kevin’s voice from behind him. Probably because Kevin was behind him. “How come you’re back now?” he asked as he chewed one of his waffles, which were piled up on a paper plate. There were probably enough waffles in the pile to feed the entire McCormick family for several days.

Kenny dragged his glove off and showed it to Kevin. “Oh,” was all he said for a brief moment. “What’re ya going to do about it?” he continued, to which Kenny responded by pointing to his mouth and turning on the tap. Kevin let out a loud groan and pushed his chair out. “Seriously Kenny? Ken? Kendrick McCormick? Did you just take every single pill in the pack?”

“My name isn’t Kendrick,” Kenny said after swallowing. “We know that. Some other things I know though is I forgot money, and the cops can’t get my ass if I’m dead again.” The blond grinned slightly. “Yummy pills, am I right?”

“Kenny, no.”

“Yeah, they didn’t taste good. I don’t know why I decided to lie.”

“That’s not what I was referring to,” Kevin snarled through gritted teeth. Scary. “Do you even know the side effects of those things? What will happen if this is the last time? You need to stop killing yourself so willy-nilly!” he yelled, most likely out of concern, if the way his voice broke said anything. 

Kenny sighed. “Listen I don’t see why it’s that big a concern, but if it makes you feel any better I don’t wanna die anymore,” he shrugged, resting himself against the edge of the sink. “I only did that because I felt bad pulling a generic poor kid and stealing because I forgot I didn’t have any money. If I came here and went back, they might sell out in that time. I don't know who’d be buying out antihistamines that quick, but eh.”

“..Why do you act like this one big joke?” Kevin asked him. It was soft and cracked, the shards picking Kenny in places he didn’t know existed. What a party pooper. “You know you’re not guaranteed to come back, and yet you continue abusing it.” Kevin then started laughing and shaking his head. “Why? Tell me that, Ken.”

Emotional Mess Kevin: Scarier than Angry Kevin! What a tagline. “Iunno, I just do,” Kenny muttered as he pushed himself off the sink and walked out of the room. “I’m going to bed now bye.” The blond then walked to his room and flopped onto the floor where his bed should have been. 

He felt dizzy. Too dizzy too quick, to make matters worse. He also felt sick and shaky, fun. That was a lie, this was not fun at all. The inevitable light headedness finally set in and he let himself sleep through it. Didn’t really matter if he died or not, he’d still be in the same spot. 

What was Kevin even saying about him ‘not being guaranteed to come back’ about anyways? He wasn’t a cat, he’d be fine! Well, minus the slight worry he wouldn’t wake up. But that doesn’t matter, he’s going on a shopping trip tomorrow anyway! That’s something to look forward to at least.

Chapter Text

The first thing Kenny realised when he woke up was how much his head hurt. The second thing he realised was that he didn’t die and now had to suffer the repercussions of his actions. Fun. And here he thought he’d be getting a painless death and he’d get to move on from it, maybe that was too much to ask for in this economy.

The blond sat up and made a third realisation - it was too quiet. How troublesome, worrying even. He stood and walked out of his room, travelling to his living room to find Kevin and Karen on the couch. Karen turned around at the sound of him approaching. “Morning Kenny!”

“Huh?”

Kevin turned around and sighed. “Oh, yeah, morning Ken. You feelin alright, or, y’know..?” he asked, omitting the last part for some reason. He was realistically concerned about his brother’s wellbeing, but his own tomfoolery got him there in the first place. There was no better place to practise lying, Kenny supposed.

“I’m fine.” 

That one piece of dialogue somehow hurt more than his headache. Which, in fairness to the headache, was in between getting hit by a car and burning levels of pain. Thanks be to Craig Tucker for that comparison, by some weird freak accident. Speaking of that forsaken place that he wished he could commit arson on with nobody inside and leave the doctor from hell to go homeless, for a research facility there was no research. He really needed to bring that up to someone while he was thinking of it. Not now though, he was clearly in his own home.

“..Right, well, me and Karen were talking about going out later since dad got arrested again. I’m not paying bail for his ass after last time, so do you wanna come with or nah?” Kevin asked, Kenny choosing to ignore how it seemed he saw right through him.

“Nah, told the guys I’d get them some stuff.” 

Kenny then sat down on the couch between them while Karen started pouting. “But you’re always away now! Why can’t you spend time with us for once?” she complained, acting like a 2 year old despite being a lot older than barely a toddler.

“That was two days ago,” the blond started, stretching and resting his hands behind his head before continuing. “Also, well, sometimes people have certain.. commitments, like work. They have to go do these things or they’ll get in trouble. I have one of those, and I wish it was a job alright. The guys I’m talking about are, uhh, let's say more committed than me to this commitment of ours,” he continued, still fumbling over his words trying to explain the concept of a glorified mental institution.

“So I’m gonna get them stuff so they can, y’know, stay committed. To their hypothetical job, while I slack. Wouldn’t do that in a real job, that’d be dumb.”

“Oh! Ok then,” Karen cheered, Kenny thinking she had finally understood. “So if you were to get yourself fired from there, then you’d be here more, right? So why don’t you get fired then??”

“I mean I’ve already been fired technicall-”

“Ken.”

“Right right, my bad, Loyal Steed, Is The Senate, Kevin McCormick,” Kenny grumbled, waving his hands up in faux defeat. He then turned back to Karen. “This isn’t like a job in the sense I can get fired, it’s more like..” The blond paused, turning to his brother for aid. 

“More like telling your parents you’ll go visit them knowing they’ll get mad at you if you don’t turn up?” Kevin offered, Kenny mouthing thanks to him (despite having his hood up, he really should’ve thought that one through, huh?) and returned to Karen.

“What Kevin said.”

“Oh, ok! I get it now! You’ll get in trouble if you don’t go to work!” Karen cheered, Kenny letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “We shouldn’t be keeping any longer then, right? So, uh, how much will ya be needing then? Mom took out too much for Kev to pay the bail, and, well, Iunno about you but I think we're in debt now!”

Kevin grumbled slightly from across the sofa. “Don’t be saying that Karen,” he chided her lightly. “You’re right about the too much money thing though.” He then reached across to the makeshift coffee table, which was somehow loitered with dollar bills and pulled out a crisp fifty, handing it over to Kenny. “Here, for shopping. Be careful out there.”

Kenn hesitated slightly before grabbing it and bolting out the door. “OK THANKS SEE YOU LATER LOVE YOU BYE!!” he yelled as he ran out the door and straight to South Park Mall. Only place that sold basically everything. Did he cut through the playground? Yes, what was anyone going to do about it? Nothing. Boy, does Kenny love South Park sometimes.

Thank goodness for the conveniently placed Whole Foods in it. Or Badness, who really knew who to thank with a Whole Foods. Kenny walked in, found Cheesey Poofs after asking someone where they were. Whole Foods was Satan spawn confirmed, as offensive as that would be to Satan, comparing his creations to the horror that was Whole Foods.

At least they had almond free gummies. That worked for Butters and Kyle then. No alcohol for Stan. That rendered him finished, only he still, somehow, had 43 dollars and 99 cents left. While he could give it back to Kevin, getting something for Tweek as a thank you for helping him get out without dying felt right.

What would Tweek like though?

Tweek.. Tweek Tweak... His last name was probably referring to the coffee shop, buuuut considering his past that seemed like a bad idea. It was meth and not caffeine though, so maaaaaybe it wouldn’t hurt?

Kenny ended up walking down and into Tweak Bros Coffee. The bell above the door tinkled as he entered, an oddly warm sound. He walked straight over to the counter and asked “How much can I get for $43.99?”

He was met with a sales pitch and a Ted Talk about why coffee is the best bean in existence while trying to be sold on the ‘50-for-25’ special, which was rather conveniently $43.99. Almost too convenient for fifty espressos. Or was it plain black coffee? The man behind the till, Mr.Tweak, went on too long and Kenny got distracted by his headache. Damned thing was making it hard to hear, somehow. 

Kenny bought the FIFTY FOR TWENTY FIVE??? WHY IS IT SO MANY HOLY FUCK- coffee and left. He didn't see the point in walking home, so he just started walking back to the ‘research’ and ‘rehabilitation’ facility. He’d probably rage quit going back and stay home if he died, leaving Stan and that lot to wonder if he got hit by a car or something. Hopefully he didn't because of how infuriating that would be.

Chapter Text

So, how are we all doing? As you may have noticed, I did not upload last week. And you may also notice, this is a day earlier than usual. This is due to the fact I was busy sidequesting. I managed to get into one music group as a manager, another as the fx guy and the owner of one of them has hired me as their personal artist. Now, you may be wondering why I’m talking about this. Well, this might seem a bit off topic, but on the morning of the 25 of july, one of my beloved guinea pigs had the misfortune of passing. She was 3, and had some illness that apparently vets couldn’t do anything about. This is all to say I’m putting this fic on a temporary hiatus. This will only go on hiatus until a I can write a few chapter in advance, as the writing on the day it’s meant to upload isn’t working anymore, and the plot is be coming rushed and poor quality compared to what I would like. As a result of the sidequesting, I don’t have as much time as I usually would to write. I hope you all can understand, and continue to support men and the fic when this comes back, hopefully better than before. Thank you for the support received thus far. I’m deeply grateful for it and I hope you’ll tune in to the next chapter when this returns. Also, this chapter will overwritten upon returning, just saying.