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Kenny was confused.
Stan had become a very different person within the 72 hours since ‘Wendy-homie-hopper-Testaburger’ dumped him for ‘Tolkien-bro-code-destroyer Black’.
Sure, Tolkien could have waited at least a day (which was at least 2 class periods with Garrison in 4th grade terms) before getting with Wendy, but Stan didn’t really talk about his relationship to the black-haired girl.
So, Kenny figured, Stan should be perfectly fine.
The brown-eyed child watched on as Stan lay in bed, uncharacteristically depressed while he, Butters, Kyle, Jimmy, and Cartman stood in his room, having walked over from the park to try and cheer him up.
‘Cause they cared.
Sorta.
Not ‘cause they needed another body to play football and Tolkien was too busy hanging out with Wendy to be their quarterback, but because they slightly cared.
“Why? What’s the point of living when the only girl I’ll ever love is gone?” Stan replied after Kyle’s annoyingly motivating speech was over, the raven haired boy’s response killing the previously amicable mood die faster than Kenny ever had.
“GAHA, what a fag!” ‘Eric, the-definitely-somewhat-repressed-queer laughed’, before quieting down as Kyle gave him a verbal warning, getting the fat kid to look down in shame.
Stan then launches into some long depressing rant about heartbreak songs, allowing Kenny to zone out and wonder what the hell was the big deal.
Maybe, it was ‘cause he had grown fully detached from whatever the hell reality was after constantly dying and reincarnating the night after, and he lost what it meant to be heartbroken.
Not that it fucking mattered at all, dying hurt was worse than being dumped. Kenny would know.
Imagine how it felt dying from holding in your fart for too long after seeing your first and only long term girlfriend, for her to forget you even existed at all after reincarnating.
“Jeez he’s worse than I thought,” Kyle said after Stan finished his spiel, pulling Kenny out of his internal monologue and the 5 of them into a small huddle.
‘It could be worse,’ Kenny thought to himself, his mind wandering once again as Butters began to speak.
Kenny wished he could be playing football in the park like he, Stan, Kyle and Cartman usually do on school weekends, as it was only a matter of time before he would die again.
“I say we take him to Raisins,” Kyle said, cutting into Kenny’s train of thought.
His previous wave of disinterest was quickly replaced as a rush of excitement filled Kenny with the thought of getting to go to that God-sent restaurant.
He knew God made it because he had asked the strange looking creature the first time he had seen him.
That and a free meal.
It’s the Tuesday after their Sunday afternoon visit to Raisins.
During the visit, Kenny had one of the first few good meals he had eaten in awhile while engaging in one of his favorite activities. Ogling cuties.
Kenny, Cartman, Jimmy and Butters had a great time for what it was worth– the restaurant was packed with chics and guys alike, while Cartman had enjoyed an entire basket of wings on his own.
Kyle had been stuck with his debbie-downer of a best friend; even hooking Stan up with a really cute waitress to talk to while they ate their lunch.
It was pointless — Kenny had found midway through the meal — as Stan’s face remained as crest fallen as it had been when the group first walked into his purple bedroom.
Kenny was currently sitting against the wall furthest from the playground during lunchtime.
He was very unwilling to go inside and watch his friends eat happily packed lunches from their homes, as he would be alone to think about the hefty burger and fry meal he had just a mere 48 hours ago.
Kenny usually used lunchtimes to listen to his favorite old metal DVDs on the mini-disc he had gotten cheap from the discount bin in Best Buy. “The Evil That Men Do,” by Iron Maiden came on as he hit play; allowing the blonde child’s mind to wander as guitar strums played aloud.
“Ew, that poor kid in the smelly orange jacket is playing devil music again,” a small, brunette girl snickered as she walked past with her posse out onto the playground.
Kenny usually tolerated the rude comments made about his appearance and music taste, but today the lack of food was finally getting to him.
The starving boy let out a muffled huff of air, paused his music, and wandered behind the school building where the goth/emo kids sat out smoking their cigarettes; knowing the group didn’t mind his music taste.
Or the smell of his coat.
Kenny was used to the ash and the strong, lingering smell their cigarettes left, which was an added bonus — he didn’t speak to them and they never spoke to him unless it was to tell the orange hooded kid to skip the song he was playing.
He would listen to their stories about their similarly broken homes and if he was lucky, he would get pieces of the fat goth chick’s lunch if he played a little bit of The Cure.
As Kenny turned the corner, his eyes drifted over to the usual group of outcasts, with an extra guest seated next to them; refusing to bum a cigarette that the kindergartener was offering.
As the child got closer, he recognized the figure next to them.
“Stan?” Kenny asked in surprise, but was muffled by his coat.
“Hey, Raven, you know this poor kid too?” the goth kid with the stick casually asks, looking over at Stan.
Stan looks up at Kenny, allowing the blond child to see how his black eyeliner really lit up Stan’s pale colored eyes, and as they shined the specks of blue that seem to be scattered throughout his iris.
Kenny noticed Stan’s brand new singular earring on his ear with the swelling from the piercing being very red, along with Stan’s new dark wardrobe.
“Yeah, that’s Kenny,” the weirdly dressed boy started, “he’s one of my conformative friends, though,” he rushed to finish the sentence; averting the gaze of the boy in front of him.
“Smelly kid is chill with me,” the flippy haired kid interjected.
“Yeah, he actually has some good music,” the fat chick replied.
“Yeah, he isn’t pussy to hit my cigarette like a true nonconformist,” the kindergartener weighed in, staring at ‘Raven’ and allowing a thick silence to settle over the group.
Kenny, on the other hand, didn’t really give a fuck about what they thought him as long as it was ‘poor.’
A couple of beats passed before Kenny pulled out his mini-disc and hit play allowing Bruce Dickinson’s heavenly voice to flow out.
“The seventh lamb slain, the book of life opens before me
And I will pray for you, someday I may return
Don't you cry for me, beyond is where I learn…”
Collective cigarette drags (except Raven's), were hit once the melody began to play, allowing Kenny to breathe a sigh of relief; closing his eyes and resting against the yellow brick wall.
He could finally avoid lunch in peace. The blonde-haired boy remained in that position briefly before becoming uncomfortable, as he felt an intense gaze upon him.
Kenny peeked an eye open to see Stan hovering close to where he stands against the wall.
Though the blue eyed boy was supposedly a ‘nonconformist,’ it looked like he was waiting for the approval of Kenny to speak to him.
As the brown-eyed child regularly did, Kenny wordlessly shifted his position over some for Stan; leaving an obvious space for the other boy to slide into.
Stan immediately clocked the nonverbal permission, something that only a week before, the blue-eye child would have obliviously ask to stand next to Kenny.
Stan immediately glances over at him.
‘How did you do that?’ Stan asked with his eyes, as he gave Kenny a confused look.
Kenny only shrugged. He didn’t want to explain that this was one of the few times his poorness was a strength.
‘Dude, don’t bullshit me,” Stan wordlessly replied, raising a knowing eyebrow while gesturing to his outfit.
Kenny let out a rare laugh, causing Stan to crack a recently rare smile.
“Nice music taste Ken,” ‘Raven’ gothically replied, flipping his hair.
“Thanks,” Kenny replied, continuing to laugh at his friend.