Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you think we’ll always be together?”

It was a chilly afternoon on March 22 when the question slipped past Kenny’s lips. Although he didn’t intend to sound a little too needy, mostly out of fear the guys would poke fun or shrug it off, he couldn’t help the desperation in his voice. Not to mention the timing; their group had just finished playing video games and decided to linger around Stark’s Pond for a break from the city hustle and bustle. All sprawled out on the snow near each other, and now here Kenny was worrying over a friendship he might lose.

As expected, three pairs of eyes zoned in on him. Above their heads hung the sun, providing enough light to frame his face with a halo. A spotlight, so to speak. If it weren’t for how comfortable laying across the ground was, he would’ve shrunk away. Kenny didn’t wanna bring up a friendship fallout or its consequences, especially not during his birthday. But curiosity killed, and his job was to die.

Kyle was the first to snap back to reality. “What kinda question...”

Confusion wrinkled his scarlet brow, and the stare Kenny wore served to further wrinkle it. Kyle proceeded to straighten his posture, knees tucked beneath his chin. It was odd to ask something this profound, in Kenny’s case rather. Normally he’d be yapping about boobs and shit a normal fourth-grader would find freaky, or his sister Karen. Or even an activity their group could enjoy: stupid shenanigans, pranks and whatnot.

“Haven’t you asked that before?”

He did doubt their bond ages ago. Goddammit, he did. And the boys were more than happy to reassure Kenny they’d be around for his sake. In their own way, of course. Stan inviting him to stay over and go watch movies during the holidays. Kyle writing down notes for him whenever he was absent. Cartman offering him his change or a worn out plush if he felt like a saint.

And in return, Kenny never turned them down. But he didn’t really have anything else to give his best friends other than a couple hugs and a hand to hold. It helped him forget his situation at home, and remember he’d always be welcome here. His true home.

Unable to prevent a pout, Kenny buried himself deeper in the parka that reeked of takeout food and cheap cologne. Kyle didn’t mean to be so blunt simply to offend him, he knew that. His hands dug into his pockets, however, the tension causing him to sweat despite the weather. A kid, sure, but Kenny was no baby. Hell, he’d argue at times he could act more mature than the dickheads he called friends.

“Aww, you guys,” cooed Cartman, reaching over to poke the blonde’s cheek, and increased his volume to counter the passiveness he received. Nearby, Stan pinched the bridge of his nose while Kyle’s expression soured. Cartman didn’t mind; he thrived on pissing them off. “Kenny’s getting sappy. Bet you ten bucks he’s gonna cry his lungs out.”

In an instant, a punch to the shoulder shut Cartman up but earned a whine not long after. Ever the menace, Kenny blew raspberries and hit him harder, laughter muffled through his hood. The impact prompted Cartman to screech, staggering as he made an effort to retaliate. Kyle’s hand flew to his mouth, a snort barely stifled behind it. He had to admit, he didn’t expect Kenny to beat him to it. Knocking sense into the asshole, obviously.

Stan heaved a sigh, eyelids closed to mentally count from one to five. The cold nipping at his skin didn’t help either.

“Lay off him, fatso.” Who he was referring to, Kenny couldn’t quite confirm. Nonetheless, the smile Stan had put him at ease, whereas Cartman resorted to mumbling obscenities. “And sure, I guess. We’re having fun right now, yeah?”

“Uh huh. I like hanging with you.” Kenny nodded in a bashful manner that startled the trio, scuffing his toe on a hill formed by the snow. Under their scrutiny, he deflated and chewed on his lip. How he wished to take it back, lest they ridicule him. Pick on him for carrying such sentiments. “But oh, I dunno… I mean us four forever.”

Stan seemed to consider it but couldn’t pinpoint an answer that’d delight their youngest. As a result, he scratched at his neck and turned to Kyle for guidance, then surprisingly, to Cartman. It appeared they shared the same thought: not wanting to risk giving him false hope. Forever was too big a word, too long a time.

Rocking back and forth, Kenny squeezed his palms together as though in prayer. Mischief danced in his baby-blues as he leaned forward to dare either boy into reacting. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally tried to gauge what went on within their minds. And yet the silence told Kenny everything he needed to know.

It wasn’t like any of them wanted to say no, but well… there was no way they wanted to say yes either.

Kenny’s lip trembled. He wondered whether or not he should crack a joke, blurt out a “Just kidding!” to break the ice but decided against it.

Stan tilted his head in curiosity. “What made you even ask, Kenny?”

Kenny felt himself flush slightly. He shrugged, trying to seem casual about the whole thing. Kyle had a point. It wasn’t that he hadn’t asked before, but this time it seemed different somehow. Maybe because he was actually curious about what his friends thought about it. Or maybe because he wanted to know if his friends really did think about their friendship as much as he did. Or if he was just being a hopeless cause.

No, no. They did care. Kenny had always known, throughout all his lives and deaths, that they weren’t so vocal. He just… He just wished his friends were more upfront, genuine.

“Just wondering. You know, since we’re friends and all.”

“Well, then... yeah! It sounds pretty cool, dude,” Kyle eventually settled on the safe reply. His expression softened when he noticed Kenny tugging on his parka strings to hide a smile. The smaller kid began to play with them. “Kinda gay, but cool.”

Cartman slinked up beside him, similar to a demon perched atop an animated character’s shoulder. Their proximity made Kyle’s hand twitch into a fist. He resisted, but only because it was Kenny’s birthday.

“Forever is pretty fucking gay, Kyle.”

“Shut up, fatass.”

“Try and make me!”

As if on cue, the redhead and brunette resumed their daily routine: being at each other’s throats and hurling insults no one would wish on their worst enemy. By the corner, Stan shook his head but posed no threat to quell the banter. Instead, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly, commenting every now and then.

A few inches away, Kenny stared out across the lake. Sooner or later, the wind picked up and scattered ripples all throughout the water that bore resemblance to glass itself. The trees swayed, as if to shy away from the setting sun. In the horizon, Kenny could spot the mountain ranges silhouetted over their little town. Laughter drifted behind him, along with out-of-pocket profanities he couldn’t be bothered to enumerate.

In his musings, he vaguely recalled a sleepover a year or so back, when the group passed out in Stan’s bed and one another’s arms. Probably after hours upon hours of gaming sessions and movie marathons, which rendered them incapacitated but conscious enough to stir. Kenny was sandwiched at the center, Kyle’s cheek tiredly nestled into his hair. Although Stan remained further on the side, he managed to keep a protective grasp. And Cartman had insisted on squeezing next to Kenny, snores rumbling through the silence.

Then before Kenny knew it, sometime around midnight, they all came crashing down the bed like dominoes. Blankets already flung aside, pooled around their ankles. Laughter spilled forth, coupled with accusatory shouting. But none dared to detangle their limbs.

A funny memory, but oddly touching.

Their limbs tangled. There was something so precious about that. Kenny felt warm just watching his best friends. Home. And should it melt away, he’d miss it.

Maybe nothing would ever need to change as long as the four of them had each other.

His vision blurred at the thought.

Kenny didn’t know what compelled him to whip off his hood, just that it felt right. Breath puffed out his mouth as mist, which dissipated almost immediately. Blonde locks swayed to and fro, seeming to droop with the temperature. Goosebumps formed upon pale skin, the cold seeping through. Kenny allowed his head to tip back and directed his gaze skyward. Strange; normally he would’ve died a horrible death before sundown.

He lifted a hand to shield himself from the setting sun’s glare, blinking as fast as his eyes let him.

Footsteps crunched upon the frost, steady but cautious until they skidded to a halt beside Kenny. He continued to stare at the clouds, though, finger tracing their path like a map. Slowly but surely, his attention shifted to the newcomer. A blue-red pompom beanie adorned his head, strands of raven peeking under the brim.

Stan offered such a tiny smile that Kenny had to squint to see it, but appreciated the sight regardless and tried to mimic the expression. It ended up more so resembling a pout instead, which Stan often considered adorable enough to ruffle the honeyed mess Kenny flaunted for a hair.

“Hey, dude,” Stan greeted softly, and proceeded to plop down with a thump when Kenny patted a spot left unoccupied nearby. Upon taking his seat, he pressed both palms against the ground out of habit. Some snow clung to his gloves, painting them a dull white. He didn’t scrub it off, simply tugged at the wool and shook his hands. “What’s up?”

Huh. What even was up? A beat passed before the gears in Kenny’s brain clicked into motion. His mouth formed a straight line, switching between open and closed. He struggled not to fidget, wanting to say something but clueless as to what. He wasn’t the type to mope about crap. Perhaps silence would suffice to convey the thoughts consuming him.

A mild frown wrinkled Stan’s face, eyelids flitter-fluttering. Half the time he could never figure out what the fuck Kenny was thinking. The sun hung low enough that it cast shadows onto Kenny’s features, his speechlessness an omen Stan couldn’t put his finger on. He looked like a ghost suspended in amber, almost, if the orange parka were any indication.

Stan scooted closer until their shoulders bumped. He hoped it’d get the message across, that he was here to offer him company, and lighten the mood. Kenny had jolted but instantly reverted to his composed yet impish disposition.

“Psst. What’s up?” repeated Stan.

Kenny bit back a snicker. Idiot fell right into his trap. “The sky.”

The black-haired boy made a noise of annoyance and rolled his eyes, the deep cerulean agleam beneath the light. A swat at Kenny’s arm prompted giggles from the latter, who nudged his rib harder in response. But the playfight was practically rainbows and sunshine compared to Kyle and Cartman.

“Haha. Classic. Real funny.”

“I know,” boasted Kenny, lips twitching as he scooped a handful of snow and flicked it toward Stan. The older boy yelped out obscenities, the substance causing his nose to tingle, and fought a sneeze. “Laugh.”

Unamused, Stan crossed one ankle over the other.

“Remind me how old you are again?” He jabbed a finger at the blonde’s chest. At least the burdens Kenny seemed to carry faded now, judging by his shit-eating grin. Stan wouldn’t be surprised if he inherited that from Cartman.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause you’re a fucking fossil.”

Stan shook his head fondly. “...Sure, Kenny.”

Kenny debated commenting further but saw no reason to do so. His gaze drifted to Stan’s hand, and Kenny’s first instinct was to place his smaller one above it. The gesture earned him a smile from Stan. Warmth from where the boys’ hands were pressed together crawled through the fabric of their gloves.

Long ago, Kenny had learned the art of letting actions fall into place on their own accord. One of the reasons he solidified his role as the group’s quiet tagalong guy. The guy who sorta just lingered there to be with them. He wasn’t too good at words or affection; his parents weren’t the best examples at love. And in his defense, no nine-year-old was. His group included.

Cartman would stir the so-called fun without pondering what repercussions followed. Kyle usually held the moral compass but a dangerous impulse and an explosive temper when ticked off. Stan would try to keep them on their toes despite the reluctance in taking initiative. Whereas Kenny relied on his presence to speak for his sake. Four peas in a pod.

But the more he thought about it, the less he thought of himself. Kenny’s smile evaporated as quickly as it appeared. He didn’t ask to be a prop, a shadow. Nor did he ask to die every goddamn time while the so-called broship found it impossible to give a fuck. It wasn’t that big a deal, though; it shouldn’t be. Stan, Kyle and Cartman were kids like Kenny was. No child could suspect their friend was at the risk of dying, especially not when said friend hopped around in such high spirits. Stan and Kyle wouldn’t know. Cartman wouldn’t care. But this had to be for the best.

Excuses. One after another.

How cold the wind blew now, so crisp Kenny could’ve sworn he tasted it upon his tongue. Even the leaves trembled, miniscule flakes of ivory falling to blanket the landscape. Kinda a wonder he hadn’t frozen to death.

Kenny’s shoulders sagged, arms encircling his knees as he hugged them close. Somedays he didn’t know whom to direct the hate towards, his friends—or himself because of putting up with those three dickheads. Come to think of it, they didn’t quite listen to him. Maybe he wasn’t as cool. A burden the boys kept out of pity, or to make themselves look good.

God, all the overthinking was gonna kill him.

Wordlessly, Stan slung an arm around Kenny and startled him into his grasp. Not too tight, but close enough for comfort to ensure the birthday boy would acknowledge his company. And only for a minute, Kenny felt that the embrace lifted a weight from his shoulders.

“Touchy?” teased the blonde, a mischievous glint in his stare. Kenny relished the hug, however, butting his head against Stan’s chest. Not a single member of his friend group sought the huggy-feely type, so whenever one did, Kenny couldn’t believe his luck. “Excuse you, that’s my thing.”

“Screw you too, Kenny.” Stan struggled not to smile, tone light in deference to the winter’s stillness. Just like earlier, he tousled Kenny’s hair, prompting him to sigh and take it in stride. Kenny couldn’t pretend to fight the gesture anymore. “No but seriously, you look distracted. You okay there, buddy?”

The corners of his mouth quirked upward, cheeks puffed out slightly to add onto his youthful innocence. Well, innocence wasn’t a description appropriate for Kenny. But him adoring the ‘buddy’ nickname said otherwise. Besides, it was the littlest things that mattered the most.

“Cold,” he half-lied, and in an effort to conceal the embarrassed flush spreading across his face, snuggled into his friend’s shoulder. Stan instinctively pulled him close, the gesture causing Kenny to blink and clear the moisture from his lashes.

“I mean…” Stan tugged on the hood Kenny had slipped off earlier.

Kenny shot a glance to stick out his bottom lip. “You don’t like my face?”

“Hate it.”

“Good. Don’t get the wrong idea; I’m not into guys.”

Stan smacked his arm. The pair laughed to themselves and exchanged playful shoves afterwards, pausing only when an enraged cry pierced through the air. Followed by footfalls that seemed to increase in speed and volume. Their giggles faded, gazes flicking left and right to locate the source. Not even surprised to catch Kyle scrambling after Cartman, whose fist closed around an item that looked awfully familiar.

A green hat in Cartman’s hand, the red curls upon Kyle’s head. The pieces clicked into place for Kenny. A hardly stifled snort escaped him as he toyed with his parka strings. As if expecting Stan to steal the jacket the same way.

“Jesus, dude,” commented Stan, his brows arched high in amusement.

“Those two dickwads just don’t know when to quit.”

Stan graced him with a faint grin. “You said it, alright.”

“Think we should stop them before they start killing each other?” Kenny mused, eyelids closing briefly to savor the deep breath he took. The scent of earth and pine tingled against his nostrils.

“Nope.” Snickers left Stan’s mouth. Kenny leaned back, drumming his fingers against a knee while waiting for his friend to elaborate. “We’ve got front row seats.”

Kyle was fuming, his fists clenched at his sides. “It’s over when I get your ass, Cartman!”

“In your dreams, ginger,” said Cartman, waving the hat around like it was a trophy.

With another war cry, Kyle sprang into action and launched himself at Cartman, who barely dodged and darted away just in time, the hat still clutched tightly in his hands. But Kyle was faster, channeling all his pent-up frustration into his sprint.

“Come on, Kyle! Get that fatass!” Kenny shouted from behind right as Kyle lunged forward, fingers outstretched. Stan snorted, having caught onto whatever the fuck Kenny was doing.

In one swift motion, Kyle caught hold of the back of Cartman’s jacket, yanking the heavier boy back as hard as he could. Cartman yelped in surprise, stumbling to the ground. Before he could properly react, Kyle snatched the hat from his grasp.

“Looks like you were too obese to run,” Kyle snarked, immediately jamming the hat onto his head as he stood over Cartman, breathless but grinning.

Cartman’s eyes narrowed, a familiar glint of something sinister flashing in them as he stood up and brushed the snow off himself. “Keep one eye open when you sleep, dick.”

Kenny laughed, slapping his knee. Stan gave him a look.

“I thought you’d be tired of their bullshit,” Stan said, trying to sound irritated, but the upward curve of his mouth made his efforts fail.

The blonde shrugged. The grin had remained on his face. “Nah, it’s way too much fun to egg them on. Come on, it’s what makes this South Park dump of a hometown we have interesting.”

“Interesting?” Stan scoffed. “More like exhausting. I don’t wanna be collateral damage.”

“Pussy. What’s the worse that could happen?”

“Famous last words, Ken.”

But thankfully Kyle and Cartman simmered down at last, returning to Kenny and Stan as the tension eased. Kyle had his arms crossed, the visible vein in his forehead indicating that he wanted nothing to do with Cartman. Whereas Cartman looked unbothered, as usual, and sat down on the snow next to Kenny.

“Wow, you’re not trying to rip a hole into each other’s asses?” Kenny asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “What a surprise.”

Kyle scrunched up his nose. “Ew. Kenny! Why’d you have to word it like that?”

His arms shot up in defense. “Hey, whoa. Get that imagery out of your brain, Kyle. I didn’t word it the way you thought I did.”

Knowing that it was a lose-lose situation either way, Kyle didn’t say anything else. Kenny was damn lucky that he wouldn’t be able to push or even come close to the buttons that only Cartman could.

With a blink, Stan awkwardly looked between the three of his friends. He was no mediator. At least he didn’t see himself as one, but he was unanimously appointed due to his age. Stan popped his lips, glancing around the pond to search for something to do. The last thing he wanted to deal with was his friends squabbling for no reason.

“...You guys wanna do something that doesn’t involve bickeri–”

“Yes.” Three deadpan voices interrupted.

Stan smiled a little, amused by how they responded. “Sweet, dude.”

Kenny snickered, leaning back on his elbows. “Sweet, indeed, Stan the man. So what else did you have in mind for my birthday?” He made a show of wiggling his brows.

“Honestly, no idea,” Stan admitted, drawing incoherent shapes on the snow before he offered a shrug. “Maybe we can… hit up the arcade, or go sledding down that big hill?”

“Something more special, dude!”

Kyle glanced over from where he was kicking at a patch of ice. “If you call taking free food from Cartman’s mom special, we’re already covered.”

“Mrs. Cartman’s cooking is a damn heavenly gift to humanity, but nah. I’m thinking bigger and better.”

“We can throw you a surprise party with cake, balloons, and big-boobed strippers.” Cartman’s tactless suggestion caused Kenny to burst out laughing, nearly choking on his saliva. “I’m talking crazy huge tits.”

“Now that would be a party,” Kenny said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

Stan looked thoughtful for a second. “How about we rent out the whole arcade? Or… oh! We could break into that old amusement park.” He paused, sensing an evil afoot when Cartman rubbed his palms together. “No, wait. I take it back.”

Across him, Cartman had been sitting cross-legged on the ground with a bored look on his face, but now he perked up at the mention and the very plan of breaking in.

“Now that I’m down for. Let’s steal some funnel cakes and cotton candy while we’re at it.”

Kyle let out an unsurprised scoff. “Of course, you’d be all excited about the free food.” He took his seat beside Stan and rubbed at his arms to keep away more of the cold. “I was thinking we can go with one of Stan’s first suggestions. You know, the sledding part.”

“As long as you losers keep up with me on the sledding track, I’m in.”

Kyle snorted at that. “Sure, Cartman. I’m sure gravity will help you plenty.”

The brunette turned as red as the jacket he was wearing. “Ay! Fuck you, Kyle!”

Without a word, Kenny suddenly stood up. The other kids glanced at him out of instinct, confused as to why, but understood when they caught him picking up a stone. After weighing it in his hand, he wound up his arm and sent the stone flying over the surface of the pond. It skipped once, twice, three times before plunking beneath the freezing waters. Kenny whooped and did a little celebratory dance.

Kyle cracked a smile. “Not bad.”

Kenny just grinned wider, bending down to grab another stone.

“Thanks, Kyle,” he said with a playful wink, tossing the stone up and catching it again in his hand. Then Kenny launched it across the pond. Now the stone skipped four times before sinking beneath the surface. “You guys see that! That’s how it’s done.”

Cartman rolled his eyes to the back of his skull and released the loudest sigh possible on purpose. “Are we really just gonna spend the rest of the day watching Kenny skip dumb fucking rocks.”

“Come play if you’re so bored, fatass.” Kenny skipped the next stone, this time with even more confidence when he spied the slight smiles on Stan and Kyle’s faces. “But I’m deciding what I should do for my victory lap. Do you guys remember your scores from a week ago?”

“The last record of skips I had was ten... five, three...” Kyle commented absently. “Eighteen if you count all of them.”

Stan looked at him with wide eyes. “Jesus, dude. I barely remember our math homework.”

“Okay, it’s settled! We’re all starting on a new game.”

And start they did.

Later, the children were all lounging around the edge of Stark’s Pond and mindlessly hurling stones into the water. They didn’t even pay attention to the scoreboard that they chose to scribble on the small clump of snow nearby. Instead, the boys were sharing the kind of conversation that didn’t really mean much, but meant everything at the same time.

It was just one of those lazy days where time seemed to slow down, and nothing mattered except being together.

Kenny stopped playing. There was a peace in the air that felt rare, even for him. He was pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t stabbed or bludgeoned on his birthday yet. And Kenny wanted to savior this moment. Maybe God didn’t hate his guts after all.

The breeze played with the mess of his blonde hair as he gazed up at the clouds, a faraway look swirling in his eyes. The more Kenny tried to hold onto one train of thought, the farther it drifted off in the direction of another. He wasn’t dead. He was alive, and he was with his friends.

Kenny was okay, and so were they. Everything would be okay.

“You guys ever think about what happens when we die?” Kenny asked, his voice unusually soft again as his eyes fluttered closed.

“What the fuck is up with you today, poor kid,” Cartman spat, looking at Kenny like he was the abomination of the earth. “Seriously, you sound more depressed than the hippie.”

Stan paused as well, glancing over at Kenny with a frown. “What do you mean, Kenny? Like… after we die?”

Kyle threw a pebble into the water, mumbling a small cheer of “Yes!” when the ripples spread out. He thought about what Kenny believed in. “I think he means heaven and hell, but it might be reincarnation.”

A faint smile played on Kenny’s lips. He didn’t expect them to understand the gravity behind his words and situation. No matter how many clues he’d drop about his immortality, his… his curse, they would never understand. And perhaps that was for the best. Kenny shook his head to himself.

“Nah. I don’t mean that. I mean… what happens with, you know, our bodies and stuff. Where we go when we’re really gone.”

Confused as all hell but not wanting to assume things, Stan just stared at him to try and gauge what was in his younger friend’s head. Kenny stared back, unblinking, and the sight made a shiver ghost down Stan’s spine. Stan couldn’t keep up the eye contact any longer. He avoided his gaze.

“I dunno, dude. You’re kinda creeping me out. But people get buried, I guess… why, you thinking about dying or something?”

“And cremated,” Kyle added. “Or if they’re fancy, kept in a cryostasis.”

Unsure of how to go about answering Stan’s question, Kenny hesitated. But he tried not to let the hesitation show on his face and posture. He didn’t want to burden Stan and the others with his troubles, but he also didn’t want to lie to them.

Cartman, lying lazily on the ground, snorted. “Pfft, what’s the point of thinking about that shit? On your birthday too, what the hell. You die, they stick you in the ground, and that’s it. End of story.”

But to the boys’ surprise, Kenny didn’t laugh even if he normally would. He just kept staring up at the sky, his expression more serious than usual. His lips pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t bring himself to respond right away and just let the wind whistle softly around them, carrying Cartman’s words off into the distance.

“I don’t want to be buried.”

A look of sympathy seemed to flicker across Kyle’s eyes. The redhead stopped tossing rocks and turned to look at him, his lips twitching.

“Yeah?”

Kenny shrugged, gazing at the clouds this time. “Yeah. It just seems so… final, you know? Being put in the ground. It’s like you’re stuck there forever. I don’t wanna be stuck anywhere. It’s lame.”

Stan’s frown deepened slightly. He still didn’t quite get where Kenny was coming from.

“So what do you want, then?”

Yet again, Kenny almost didn’t say a word. But then he gained an expression of solemn acceptance as he rose back up to his feet and walked even closer to the pond. Their pond. The place they always came back to as best friends, no matter the circumstances.

It felt so cold all of a sudden.

“I was thinking… if anything ever really happens to me, like for real, I’d want you guys to take me here.” Kenny turned around to face them with a bittersweet smile, his arms spread wide. The wind was tousling his blonde locks around, giving off the impression of a halo broken into pieces. “To Stark’s Pond. I don’t know why, but… this is where I wanna be. Just spread me out here, you know?”

Stan, Kyle, and Cartman stared at him blankly. It wasn’t the kind of conversation they expected to have with Kenny, the guy who tended to laugh in the face of death.

“You’re serious?” Kyle asked, his voice quiet. Like he was afraid of what Kenny would say to him.

Kenny nodded and dropped his smile, realizing that he might’ve looked insane smiling like that while talking about his own death. “Serious as I can ever be. I mean… it’s not like I think about it all the time or anything. But if I’m ever really gone—like, gone gone—this is where I wanna end up. Right here with you guys.”

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Kenny, dude. That is the gayest fucking thing you’ve said all week. Second, you’re supposed to be celebrating your day out of the womb.”

But one day, I won’t be able to, was what Kenny wanted to say.

Stan glanced at the pond, feeling a lump form in his throat. “You actually want us to do that? Spread your ashes here?”

Kenny nodded firmly. “Yeah. Right here. That way, I’ll always be with you guys.”

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation but unable to brush it off because of how adamant the blonde was at continuing it. “You’re not gonna die, Kenny. Not for real. Not anytime soon.”

Kenny smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe not. But just in case… I wanted you to know.”

The boys sat in a heavy, unbearable silence of unspoken feelings, each one processing the weight of Kenny’s request in their own way. It felt colder despite the presence of the setting sun. So cold that Stan had to rub his hands, that Kyle had to pull his hat over his face. That Cartman had to blow air onto his gloved palms.

Finally, Cartman broke the tension with a huff. “Fine, since it’ll make you shut up. If you die for real, we’ll dump your ashes in the stupid pond. Happy?”

Kenny shot Cartman a grateful grin, though he knew better than to expect anything remotely sentimental from him.

“That’s all I’m asking for.”

Stan couldn’t shake the essence of finality in Kenny’s tone, but he forced himself to smile.

“Okay, Kenny. If it ever comes to that… we’ll make sure it happens.”

For once, it felt like he didn’t have to carry the burden alone.

As if on autopilot, Kenny leapt forward and threw his arms around the friends he’d be better off calling family. The momentum along with their shared weight caused Stan, Kyle and Cartman to stumble. Shrieks of laughter erupted into the air as they crashed down in a heap like bowling pins. A glimpse at Kenny revealed a tear glistening across his cheek before it slid to the fur in his parka, the fabric darkening with moisture.

“I love you guys,” Kenny wanted to say, but ended up swallowing it down like a bitter pill. Too lame to blurt out loud. So he settled for mumbling “Thanks, you guys.” through his tears, jiggling about as he tightened the hug. His words emerged as more so a whimper rather than a statement, but he didn’t care.

“Kenny, dude,” Kyle said in surprise. “Are… Are you crying?”

Crying? He didn’t even realize he’d been crying until he felt his shoulders start to shake under such weight. It hurt too bad to breathe. Just the cold, Kenny repeated the phrase as if it were a mantra, just the cold.

“Just… happy is all.” Kenny laughed, but it was clear in the strain of his voice that it wasn’t just that.

The other boys, startled by Kenny’s desperation for comfort the moment he clung to them, let their expressions soften. Stan brought a hand to Kenny’s hair, while Kyle whispered words of reassurance. Cartman, albeit hesitant at first, patted Kenny’s back in a rare display of empathy.

Stan ruffled his hair, smiling from ear to ear. “Happy birthday, Kenny.”

“...What a fag.” Cartman breathed in exasperation.

Kyle, not the type to allow an insult to slide, glared daggers. “Says the one stuck in this hug as much as we are, fatass.”

“Not denying it, I see.” Cartman grinned, a devious twinkle in his gaze. Stan rolled his eyes. Kenny had to chew back a snicker, Kyle twitching next to him.

“I hate you so much.”

“Kyle, Cartman… come on.” Stan made an effort to get them to stop bickering, just so he could spare Kenny from their banter. Only to be interrupted by the blonde’s giggles, his watery eyes crinkled because of the utmost affection he held for his best friends. He wouldn’t dream of anything or anyone better.

“Please,” he softly mumbled. “Never shut up, you guys.”

And so the four stayed in a hug, the cold of winter forgotten in the warmth of their friendship.

Chapter Text

It was a crisp morning, the kind that made their breath puff out in front of them like little clouds. The usual chaos of the playground buzzed about, kids laughing, shouting and trading stories about how they survived the winter.

Stan, Kyle, and Cartman were huddled together by the merry-go-round while they waited for the first bell to ring, their backpacks thrown carelessly on the snow nearby. They usually met up at the playground before class and on recess, either talking about who-knows-what or watching videos on Kyle’s phone. But today, they were strangely quiet but content to enjoy each other’s company.

The sun was still rising, casting a slight light that made Cartman squint his eyes and finally break the silence between them.

“Dumb bitch,” Cartman murmured, propping a hand by his forehead to shield himself.

Kyle shot him a disapproving look. “What’s your problem now?”

“You. And since you’re oh so blind, it’s the butt-fucking ball of fire that’s hitting my face,” Cartman grumbled, making wild gestures toward the sun. Kyle just snorted like it was the stupidest thing he’d heard this week, and said something about Cartman being a dumbass under his breath. “What was that, Kyle?”

“I said, you’re nothing but a dumb piece of shi–”

“Cut it out, you guys,” Stan interrupted to try and diffuse the brewing argument as he leaned against the merry-go-round, the metal cold against his back. He resisted the urge to run a hand over his face. The bags under Stan’s eyes were evidence enough that he had no time for their bickering. “It was funny the first few times, but dude, you’re gonna bust up my eardrums.”

Cartman made a mock face of sympathy. “Boohoo, Stan. I missed the part where I said I cared.”

Before a now-frowning Stan could open his mouth to retaliate, Cartman shut him up by making as much noise as possible while rummaging through his bulky backpack. All for a snack he really didn’t need, considering the breakfast that his poor mother had to wake up so early to make.

Stan rolled his eyes at that. “Real mature, fatso.”

“Jesus, dude,” Kyle blurted out, watching the brunette tear open a bloated pack of Cheesy Poofs and prepared to toss a chip into his mouth. “You can’t go five minutes without stuffing your face.”

Cartman shrugged, digging into the pack again to retrieve a handful of Cheesy Poofs and toss them into his mouth. “Shut up, Kyle. I’m a growing boy.”

“A boy growing rounder, you mean,” Kyle quipped with a sassy fold of his arms, earning a chuckle from Stan.

“Better than becoming more annoying like you, Jewfro,” Cartman shot back.

Looking between them with such a defeated expression, Stan let out a sigh. He kicked a rock resting just an inch from his shoe. There was no use in mediating for an immovable object and an unstoppable force, but there was also no time too early or too late for them to squabble.

As they continued to bicker lightheartedly, Stan’s eyes wandered further. His brows furrowed. Something felt odd, and it had felt odd since a while ago. He glanced around the playground and the paths that led to it, scanning the cluster upon cluster of children. But that familiar, almost beloved, flash of orange was nowhere to be seen.

Kenny was usually here by now, sitting amongst the group. And maybe chiming in with a few snide comments of his own or surrendering to a quiet fit of laughter at the bickering. Heck, he should’ve hopped off the bus along with Kyle and arrived sooner than both Stan and Cartman. But especially Stan, because of the whole farm issue.

Stan nudged Kyle with his elbow, briefly cutting his daily argument with Cartman short. “Dude, dude, have you seen Kenny this morning?”

Cartman wore a flat expression. “Gee, I don’t know. Do we see that traffic cone anywhere? …No? Do a head count, hippie.”

The question that Stan raised caused Kyle to pause, the playful glint in his eye dimming for a second. He didn’t even acknowledge Cartman’s remarks. Kyle stared past Stan and Cartman’s shoulder and toward the direction of the bus drop-off. Now that he thought about it, he never recalled catching a glimpse of Kenny’s bright parka.

“No, dude. I didn’t see him at the stop. Not on the bus either,” Kyle said, licking his lips out of a nervous habit. “Huh. I… I guess I didn’t really think of it. Kenny always asks to sit with me.”

Stan gave a nod. “Yeah. It’s weird, right? He never misses school unless he’s like, really sick.”

“Maybe he’s coming late and missed the bus,” Kyle offered, and although he didn’t sound convinced by his suggested scenario, it wasn’t far from the truth.

They all knew and joked about how Kenny had a body of steel, all because he would insist on pushing through freezing temperatures even if he had to walk by his damn self. Sure, sometimes he was late whenever Kenny got caught up helping his parents or had to take care of Karen, but he’d prefer to send a message or tell them the day before. And they hadn’t heard anything from him.

“Dude, I’m telling you. He’s skipping.” Cartman crunched through his cheesy snacks, crumbs already falling from the edge of his mouth. There was even stains of the powder on his cheek, a sight that made Kyle grimace in disgust. “And doing something lame like braiding Karen’s hair or some shit.”

Stan shook his head. “Nah, I doubt it. He’d tell us if he was gonna ditch.”

“Yeah, it’s not like Kenny to just not show up at all,” Kyle agreed, his voice suddenly quieter with uncertainty because his gut was usually never wrong. He shook his head and attempted not to dwell on it, a semblance of a smile twitching upon his lips. “Maybe he overslept.”

Cartman groaned and rolled his eyes to the back of his skull, clearly losing patience. “God, you guys are acting like a chick on her period. Kenny’s fine. I bet he’s just hiding out somewhere, trying to avoid the first bell. And knowing poor people, he’s hanging out behind a dumpster, and we’ll see him in a few minutes. Five minutes tops.”

But Stan couldn’t be so sure. He exchanged a glance with Kyle, and he could tell Kyle was thinking the same thing. Kenny was tough, yeah, but his life at home wasn’t exactly easy. There were days Kenny came to school with bruises that he couldn’t explain, or his clothes were extra dirty. And none of them asked questions because Kenny never expressed the desire to talk about it.

Kyle sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he reverted his attention to Cartman, who was shamelessly making a mess everywhere. “...Dude. For fuck’s sake, can you please clean? You’re gonna smell like Cheesy Poof crust for the rest of your life.”

Cartman rolled his eyes again and hurled the quickly emptied bag of Cheesy Poofs into the air. It landed several steps away from the garbage can, crumpling against the snow.

“Happy?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest with a self-satisfied grin.

“Your. Hands.” Kyle emphasized each word, his eyes twitching as he pointed at Cartman’s grease-covered fingers. “You’re seriously disgusting.”

Cartman stood up, a devious smirk spreading across his face as he mischievously reached out with his stained fingers. “Oh, come on, Kyle. Just a little touch won’t hurt!”

“Gross! Fuck off, fatass. Stop! I’m getting the hand sanitizer, you nasty fuck,” Kyle snapped, backing away with an exaggerated expression of horror on his face.

Stan couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. The redhead scrambled to where he’d left his backpack on the ground, fumbling for the bottle of hand sanitizer he always carried. As Kyle finally pulled out the small bottle, Cartman leaned in closer, eyeing it with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. Kyle popped the cap off with a twist and squirted a generous amount into Cartman’s palm.

“Hey, stop it!” Cartman squealed, jumping back just out of reach. He inspected his hands like they were somehow contaminated but rubbed them clean anyway. “I’m not some charity case like Kenny! And I don’t need that much gel germs, Jewfro.”

Stan and Kyle directed identical glares at Cartman, but right as their lips parted to scold him, the shrill ringing of the bell echoed across the school. The three boys reluctantly moved to gather their things, glancing around the now-emptying playground one last time for any sign of their friend.

“Y-You guys, over here!”

Three heads spun around in the direction of that muffled voice. Kenny was trying to wave at them to catch their attention, but his other hand was placed on his stomach. His parka hung loosely around his build, as if it had increased two sizes too big. He was even hunched slightly, shoulders slumped, and he looked more exhausted than they’d ever seen him. His face was pale, lacking the usual flush on the skin that was exposed.

When Kenny finally got close to them by limping, their hearts dropped at the same time. Kenny’s eyes were sunken, dark circles underlining them, and he was visibly struggling to put one foot in front of the other. It was as if he’d run a marathon or something, and Kyle felt a rush of overprotectiveness surge through him.

“Kenny, hang in there,” Kyle called out, rushing to his aid. He tried to intercept Kenny and guide him into his arms, but Kenny lightly shouldered past him to stand next to the merry-go-round that they’d been sitting on.

“Ken…” Stan practically whispered in shock, his hand lifted to his lips. “Dude, you look…”

“I-I’m okay, don’t worry,” Kenny managed to say, feeling both terrified and comforted by their presence. He was anything but okay, judging from his voice and the hand somewhere on his abdomen. “I tripped on the way here…”

But the spring in his step had been completely gone, replaced by a painful-looking limp. Cartman couldn’t help but scrunch his nose, noticing that his best friend was fighting to stay upright. Kenny seemed to wince, leaning against the metal for support.

Second by second, the pressure was mounting. Kenny attempted to shrug it off, but the pain in his stomach was still fresh, a reminder of the near-death experience he’d endured just an hour ago. He barely made it to school. But he just couldn’t afford to tell them the truth—not now, not when they were so scared.

Cartman frowned, studying Kenny closely. “Dude. We’re not retarded. You’re like a zombie tripping on meth.”

These assholes were making it so much harder for him to breathe. Kenny laughed at how ironic it sounded, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. His gaze drifted to the blurry concerned faces of his friends, and his shoulders trembled with a sob that he choked back.

“Kenny? Kenny, listen to me.” Kyle leaned in close but not too close that it’d make Kenny uncomfortable. He settled a pair of hands on Kenny’s shoulders to steady them, looking him in the eye. Kyle’s stomach churned at the sight. “Did… Did something happen at home? You can tell us, dude. If you wanna.”

“I just... I’ve been dealing with some stuff,” Kenny admitted as he avoided Kyle’s gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. He clutched the lower half of his torso tighter. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

But it was becoming so blatant that whatever Kenny was going through was far from nothing. The way he held himself, the tremor in his voice… made it obvious that he was holding back, trying to shield them from the reality of his situation. Kyle couldn’t bear to see him like that, so scared and vulnerable.

“I don’t… n-nothing’s… I swear I’m okay,” Kenny choked, his vision blurring even more. He lowered his head, breaths quickening. The smallest movement sent pain radiating through his body, which did weird him out, because Kenny was supposed to be used to it. “Please don’t… touch me.”

As if he was burned, Kyle retracted his hands off of Kenny’s shoulders. The redhead had his gaze fixed onto the spot that Kenny was so insistent on covering.

Cartman raised an eyebrow, and his tone shifted to something more serious. “Look, poor boy. If you’re so sick or something, you need to tell us. We’re not gonna freak out. I mean, so we know not to be contaminated by your gross ge–”

“Shut up, fatass,” Kyle bit out at him, and Stan took his frustration as a sign to take over for now.

“Hey, you know what, guys?” Stan said, making an effort to lighten the mood. “We can play some video games at Cartman’s after school. And watch that, what was that, Trolls movie you like. You could use a break from everything, Kenny.”

The mention of his name and the idea of having his house used made Cartman want to protest. But when Kenny offered a faint nod, the fatigue in his eyes undeniable, Cartman’s mouth remained zipped. He dropped his aggressive stance, and so did Kyle. An agreement not to be so overwhelmingly brash seemed to pass between them, especially after they saw just how haunted Kenny’s eyes looked under the sunlight.

One moment, Kenny struggled to put a smile on his face. The next moment, Kenny’s world was spinning. Another wave of pain surged through him, much sharper than what he was used to. As a result, he instinctively doubled over, trying his best to shield his abdomen from their view. The warmth of sticky blood leaked past the fabric and onto Kenny’s skin, his fingers shaking a little as he panted. The pounding in his head was growing louder, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or the panic setting in.

A soft noise of agony escaped him despite his best efforts to keep quiet. Just like that, Kenny felt his knees buckle beneath him. Stan, Kyle and Cartman let out a collective cry of his name, unable to stop themselves as they scrambled to cushion his fall. But Kenny’s body had given out like a ragdoll and sent him collapsing to the ground.

Kenny stirred slightly, his chest rising and falling with shallow, ragged breaths. Every breath felt like it was burning him from the inside out. His head lolled to the side, and his eyelids fluttered, fighting so hard to stay open. He’d heard them—Stan, Kyle and Cartman, all of them shouting his name, their voices frantic and filled with fright.

His friends looked so scared, and he hated that he was the reason.

“Kenny!” Kyle shouted once more, panic rising in his voice as he fell to his knees beside the blonde. His hands trembled as they hovered over his friend’s mostly-still form. Stan and Cartman dropped to their knees as well to form a protective circle around Kenny, like it was an instinct.

Stan’s breath hitched as his gaze trailed downward from Kenny’s pale face and to his body. His heart stopped for a second, and his stomach twisted in knots. Beneath Kenny’s hand, soaked into the fabric of his parka, was a spreading stain of dark crimson. That had to be blood, and now that his arm had gone limp, the bleeding became more visible. Stan’s pupils shrank in horror, his lips parting to speak but finding no words.

“Oh my God,” he finally said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Stan reached out but was too afraid to touch Kenny, out of fear that he might hurt him or worsen the wound that they failed to notice. “Dude, look.”

Despite himself, Cartman’s attention snapped to where Stan was pointing, his mouth going dry the moment he saw that same deep red soaking through the thick fabric of Kenny’s parka. It was more than just a stain, that was for sure. There was a wound bleeding heavily under the palm Kenny had been pressing so stupidly to his abdomen. Of course the idiot had been covering it this whole time.

Cartman released a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. “You dumbass.”

Kyle could hardly hear what Cartman and Stan were saying. His focus was on Kenny’s pale face, the soft rise and fall of his chest barely visible. For a moment, everything else blurred. He felt helpless, his mind racing for a solution, but all he could do was gently shake Kenny’s arm and check for his pulse.

“We should get the nurse,” Kyle exclaimed.

Stan pressed both of his hands to the wound in an attempt to staunch the bleeding, but the reality of his friend losing blood this fast made him so queasy. “Fuck the nurse, she’s just gonna get an ice pack. Someone call for help, now!”

Kyle’s hands shook violently as he clutched his phone, his fingers barely able to punch in the numbers. The cold air around them bit into his skin, but it was nothing compared to the icy dread settling in his chest. With each second that passed, Kenny’s breathing became more labored, his body as good as limp in Stan’s grip, and the blood... it wasn’t stopping.

“H-Hello?” Kyle’s voice cracked when the call connected, and he could hear the calm, professional tone of the emergency operator on the other end. His throat felt like it was closing up, but he forced himself to speak. “We… we need help. Our friend. He’s been hurt… hurt really bad. Bleeding a lot too.”

Stan concentrated on pressing down on the wound, but the blood continued to leak between his fingers. “Shit, shit. Tell them to hurry up, Kyle!”

He nodded frantically while listening to what the operator was telling him. “Yes, South Park Elementary. I-I think it’s a stab wound or something. We... We don’t know what happened, just– please, you have to come fast!”

With a tremendous effort, Kenny’s eyes cracked open, just enough to see the blurry shapes of his friends huddled around him. Their faces were twisted in panic. Stan applying pressure on his wound, Kyle’s hands shaking as he held his phone, and even Cartman’s typically obnoxious exterior was crumbling in front of him.

“Kenny, hang on, please,” Kyle pleaded, briefly putting his phone away from his ear as he leaned closer to his friend, his free hand gently cupping the side of Kenny’s face. His skin was cool to the touch. “You’re going to be okay, Kenny. Just stay with us. We’re gonna get you help, I swear.”

Cartman’s fingers found themselves gripping Kenny’s arm, his grasp surprisingly delicate as he rubbed circles there. “The ambulance shit’s coming, you poor asshole. Just… Just hold on. Breathe in and out, Kenny.” He noticed Kenny trying to speak, as well as Stan’s skin becoming slick with blood. “Kenny, don’t talk, man. You’re losing fucking gallons.”

Kenny’s mouth curled into a weak, strained smile as he nodded. He had always been the one to bounce back, no matter how bad things got. Maybe that’s why he had hidden the wound in the first place. Yes, he was so used to coming back from the brink that he didn’t think it mattered. But these days, his deaths and near-death experiences felt different. The pain was deep, the cold creeping up on him faster than he could handle.

The taste of iron was lingering on his tongue.

Kenny’s fingers twitched weakly, as if trying to reach for his friends, but he couldn’t muster the strength. His body felt so heavy, the world around him fading in and out like a distant echo. But Stan caught sight of the faint movement.

“H-Hold, please…”

It was a struggle just to get the words out, and the effort seemed to sap the last bit of strength from Kenny, but the desperation in his voice was unmistakable.

“Oh, Kenny…” Stan whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he reached down, clasping his friend’s hand gently but firmly all the same. He could feel how cold Kenny’s skin had become, and it terrified him, but he held on tighter, refusing to let go. “We’re right here with you, dude. We’re not leaving you.”

Cartman, who had been mostly watching in stunned silence, slowly extended his hand and grabbed a hold of the one that Stan was holding. Stan looked up at Cartman in surprise, seeing a side of him he rarely did, genuine concern. Then, without a word, Kyle immediately followed suit and intertwined their fingers. All that mattered at that moment was holding onto Kenny, making sure he knew they were all there.

Tears sprang to Kenny’s eyes. Them holding his hand… he didn’t know it would affect him this much. Even if Kenny didn’t have the strength to fight back right now, he wasn’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to pull him back from the edge.

“Why didn’t you…” Kyle couldn’t finish his question. He stared down at Kenny, searching for answers in the blood-soaked scene before him. The sight of his friend, pale and fading, made it impossible to form the rest of the thought.

“Knife–”

His three friends exchanged glances. A knife. It wasn’t an accident. Someone had done this to him. They could only imagine how big Kenny’s wound could be under his clothes. Their initial shock gave way to a boiling sort of anger that they struggled to contain.

“Someone stabbed you?” Stan asked, his words strained. His mind pulsed as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“I-I didn’t want you… to worry…” Kenny managed to croak, his voice so faint it was almost lost to the sound of the approaching sirens. The boys’ expressions softened at that. He always thought of them no matter what.

Suddenly, another wave of agony hit Kenny like a freight train, and he couldn’t hold back a pained whimper, his body jerking involuntarily. His friends held his hand tighter, as though they wanted to tether him to the world around them. Kenny’s breaths dissolved into mere pants and gasps, brows furrowing as the pain began to spread even more.

Cartman looked over at Kyle, urgency flickering in his eyes. “Where the fuck is that ambulance?”

Kyle swallowed hard, the weight of helplessness sinking in. “They’re coming, they’re almost here. They have to be.”

Although the blaring sirens of the ambulance indeed grew louder, to the boys, it felt like time had slowed down, each second dragging out into what appeared to be an eternity. They held Kenny’s hand like a lifeline, refusing to let him slip away.

Soon, the flashing lights bathed the snow in a harsh red and blue glow. The ambulance had screeched to a halt nearby, the doors swinging open as paramedics rushed out with a stretcher. Time was a blur as the medics hurried toward them, but all the kids could focus on was Kenny. His pale face, the blood still seeping from the wound on his abdomen and the fragile grip he still had on their hands.

One of the paramedics that reached out to pull the boys away hesitated momentarily, unsure how to approach the situation without making them snap. They just looked beyond reason. Stan, Kyle and Cartman were small, huddled protectively around Kenny, making it nearly impossible to pry them away without escalating things further.

The paramedic, seeing their fear and understanding they wouldn’t back down, sighed deeply. “We need to save your friend, boys. Please make some space for us, okay? Then you can hold his hand again.”

Stan, Kyle and Cartman reluctantly pulled back, still holding Kenny’s hand until the very last second before the medics took over. The paramedics moved as quickly as they could to work on stabilizing Kenny, checking his pulse and examining the severity of his wound. The boys were too frazzled to register one of them shouting to get Kenny on the stretcher.

Kyle’s voice had a tremor as he stepped forward to a paramedic, desperate to cling to any hope. “Miss, is he… is our friend going to be okay?”

The paramedic glanced at him for a split second, her expression unreadable. “We’ll do everything we can, but he’s losing a lot of blood and struggling to breathe. We need to get him to the hospital.”

They wheeled Kenny toward the ambulance, but just before they could load him inside, Stan rushed up to them, grabbing the paramedic’s arm.

“We wanna come with him,” Stan said firmly, using the best pleading face he had. “Please. He needs us.”

These kids were going to be stubborn, weren’t they?

“...If you do, please don’t interrupt the procedure,” the paramedic replied, knowing that denying their request would only result in delay, and the boys didn’t need any more convincing. Stan, Kyle, and Cartman scrambled into the ambulance after Kenny, their hearts pounding as they watched the medics continue working on their friend.

The inside of the ambulance was a flurry of activity, wires, beeping machines, the paramedics barking orders to each other. But to the boys, it all blurred together. Kenny’s pale face was barely visible under the oxygen mask, and his body was now unmoving. Cartman sat closest to him, his hand hovering just above Kenny’s, not daring to touch him but unable to look away.

Stan wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to clear his vision as tears mixed with sweat. He blinked through his tears, his heart hammering in his chest as he stared at Kenny. The oxygen mask obscured most of Kenny’s face, but what little he could see was ghostly pale, his usually lively blue eyes now hidden beneath fluttering lids. Stan wanted to believe that everything would be fine. That Kenny—their Kenny—would pull through this just like he always did. But doubt gnawed at him, filling every inch of his body with dread.

“He’s gonna make it, right?” Stan asked, but it sounded more like a plea. His eyes darted between the paramedics, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but all he got was nothing. Just their calm operation and hushed orders of what to do with their friend’s body.

Kyle’s voice trembled as he whispered, “Come on. He is, dude.”

Cartman, who had been sitting silently in the corner, finally spoke up. “Yeah. He’s Kenny. He always comes back.”

But even as he said the words, they felt hollow. The fear that Kenny wouldn’t make it was suffocating. As the ambulance raced toward the hospital, the paramedics continued their work. The boys were close together, their hands clenched into fists, watching Kenny’s chest rise and fall with shallow breaths, praying for him to hang on.

Chapter Text

The ambulance skidded to a stop outside the hospital, its sirens fading as the paramedics flung open the doors. Almost immediately, the boys were jolted back to reality. Kenny’s stretcher was wheeled out, the paramedics shouting medical jargon to the hospital staff waiting outside. Stan, Kyle and Cartman stumbled out after them, their legs barely carrying them along the way to the entrance of Hell’s Pass Hospital.

The fluorescent lights above were almost too bright, reflecting off the polished surfaces and making the hospital feel even more grim than ever. The smell of antiseptic hung thick in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh linens and medical supplies. Footsteps thundering across the corridor, none of the boys spoke a word to each other as Kenny was rushed toward the emergency wing. They’d been running so fast that their shoes squeaked against the floor.

A nurse came over before the kids could follow, his face ridden with sympathy as he guided the boys away from the emergency area. The boys stood there for a moment, frozen, staring at the doors Kenny had disappeared behind. It felt wrong to be separated from him, like part of them had been ripped away. But they had no choice.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna be sent back to school?”

Stan nodded. “I’m sure. We wanna wait for our friend.”

“You’re such nice friends. Why don’t you kids wait in the lobby or the waiting room for now?” the nurse said softly, gesturing toward said places. “We need some time to take care of your little buddy, but one of us will update you as soon as possible.”

Stan’s mouth opened to protest, but Kyle grabbed his arm, nodding numbly.

“Okay,” Kyle muttered, though his voice was thick with emotion. He and the rest of the group glanced back at where Kenny had been led to one last time before allowing the nurse to guide them toward the waiting area.

The waiting room was quieter than the main reception. Rows of stiff, plastic chairs lined the walls, and a few people sat scattered throughout, some flipping through old magazines, others just staring ahead or at their phones. A vending machine buzzed softly in the corner, its neon lights flickering as the boys dropped into seats near the window.

Stan leaned forward, his head in his hands, unable to stop his leg from bouncing nervously. Cartman sat beside him, unusually quiet, his arms folded as he stared down at the floor. Kyle, sitting on Stan’s other side, glanced back toward the emergency room doors every few seconds, as if expecting them to swing open at any moment with news about Kenny.

Stan exhaled slowly, his fingers threading through his hair as he tried to steady himself. “...This sucks, dude.”

“He’ll be okay. He’s gonna bounce back,” Kyle murmured, echoing Cartman’s sentiment earlier in the ambulance.

But this time around, even that phrase didn’t carry the usual comfort. Stan’s leg bounced faster as he sat up straighter, staring at the clock on the wall. Time crawled on as they waited. Every time the emergency room doors opened, the boys would jump, their heads snapping toward the sound, only to realize it wasn’t for them. Nurses and doctors passed by, but not one of them had any updates.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doors to the emergency room swung open. A nurse stepped out, her expression calm as she approached the boys.

“Excuse me, are you the ones who accompanied Kenneth McCormick?”

All the children stood at once, their hearts pounding in unison as they stared at the nurse. Kyle’s hands clenched into fists by his sides, his mind racing with a hundred different thoughts at once, but none of them made sense. Stan’s breathing was shallow, his chest tight, and Cartman’s usually slouched posture was stiff, his face drained of color.

“Yes, ma’am. It was us in that ambulance,” Kyle answered, his voice trembling slightly out of fear of what she was going to tell them. “We’re here for Kenny.”

The nurse nodded, glancing at her clipboard to check something. “It was a close call, I have to admit. He’s stable for now, but he’s still in critical condition. He’s lost a lot of blood and sustained severe damage to his abdomen. The doctors planned to have him in surgery right now to work on repairing internal injuries.”

Stan’s stomach dropped. He struggled to process the words that hit him like a punch to the gut.

Kyle swallowed hard, his throat dry as he forced himself to speak up for the group, “But… he’s going to be okay, right?”

“The doctors are doing everything they can, and your friend Kenneth’s a fighter. He’ll need time to recover, and as long as there are no complications, there’s a good chance he’ll pull through.”

“When can we see him?” Cartman’s question sounded more like a demand.

The nurse offered him a smile of reassurance. “He’s going to be in surgery, and it’ll take a few hours for him to get the pass on having visitors. Once he’s in recovery, we’ll let you know, and you’ll be able to see him then. We’ll be in touch with his family members as well.”

“Thank you,” Kyle muttered, though his voice was barely audible.

At that, the nurse bobbed her head and turned on her heel to head back to the emergency area. By the time the pair of doors swung closed behind her, the gravity of the situation settled in. Overcome with exhaustion from worrying, Stan sank back into his chair and gripped the edge of his seat.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. Stan just couldn’t shake the image of Kenny lying there in bed, helpless and motionless.

“Don’t be like that, dude. Kenny’s tough, and he needs us to be tough too,” Kyle told him in a gentle tone, sitting beside his best friend to lay a hand on his shoulder.

Stan’s lip trembled, his attempt to hold back his emotions failing as the weight of Kenny’s fate crashed down on him. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and the tight knot in his chest felt like it might burst any second. Kyle being Kyle saw it instantly. Without an ounce of hesitation, Kyle threw his arms around his best friend, pulling him into a tight hug.

“It’s okay, Stan,” he mumbled, patting him on the back. “It’s okay to be scared.”

Stan let out a shaky exhale as he clung to Kyle, finally allowing the tears to fall. He buried his face in Kyle’s shoulder, fighting to contain the sobs that shook his body. Sobs that he’d been fighting to contain the entire time.

For a moment, Cartman watched, the usual sarcastic quip on the tip of his tongue dying when he saw how broken Stan and Kyle looked. The weight of the situation was undeniable, and though he never would’ve admitted it out loud, the fear gnawing at him was just as real. He should’ve made fun of Kyle. Made fun of Stan.

But for some reason, he didn’t.

With an uncharacteristic hint of vulnerability, Cartman stood up and shuffled awkwardly over to where Stan and Kyle were holding onto each other. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around both of them and tugged them into a tight, clumsy hug. It wasn’t like him at all, and even he surprised himself. But right now, none of that mattered.

Stan sniffled into Kyle’s shoulder, his eyes snapping open as he felt the sudden warmth of Cartman’s presence due to the three of them huddled in an embrace. Kyle squeezed them both tighter.

“Kenny would be fucking with us if he saw us acting like a bunch of bitches, but his sappy ass would want us to be all buddy-buddy,” Cartman muttered gruffly.

A small, choked laugh slipped past Stan’s lips as he nuzzled his face into Kyle’s shoulder.

“He sure will.”

Kyle, still holding onto both of them, sniffled but managed to smile. “He’d be teasing us for weeks.”

“Don’t think I won’t tell him how lame this is when he’s better.” Cartman’s voice had its familiar edge, but the bite wasn’t quite present. It was softer—almost like he was trying to convince himself as much as the others. But he didn’t make any physical indication that he would be parting away from their hug. “Gaywads.”

So they all sat there locked in the embrace. A protective cocoon against the uncertainty and fear that lay within and beyond the hospital walls. But there was a sense of comfort in the silence, an unspoken promise that they didn’t need to say out loud. Knowing that no matter what, they had each other’s backs.

Just like Kenny always had theirs.

The hospital room felt cold. That was the first thing Kyle noticed when he finally summoned the courage to push open the door. Because Stan was crying too hard and couldn’t breathe without his inhaler, and Cartman was too much of a dick to step in before anyone else could. It had taken long, long hours—waiting for Kenny, but it was worth it.

Now they stood at the foot of his bed, cluelessly exchanging glances. They didn’t want to see the condition that their friend could be in. The unsteady beep of the heart monitor told them everything they needed to know. Like the ring of funeral bells, or the final swing of a pendulum.

It was almost poignant how Kenny lay in bed, so peaceful as though he were only asleep and not recovering from an injury that threatened his life. They’d seen Kenny hurt countless times, watched him bounce back, but this felt different somehow. His blonde hair was messier, skin paler, and he couldn’t move a muscle at this rate. Still, he seemed to smile at his friends even if his eyes were looking elsewhere. A tired smile, but still Kenny.

Kyle tried to swallow the lump in his throat, fingers tightening around the flaps of his ushanka. He wanted to say anything to break the suffocating quiet, but no words seemed right. He felt Stan’s hand brush against his shoulder, trembling. Stan’s eyes were red, face a mess of worry and exhaustion, and Cartman, for once, had shut up, the usual taunts and jabs absent from his lips.

They weren’t used to seeing Kenny hooked up to machines. Not to mention his eyes were red-rimmed, like he hadn’t slept, or worse, had been crying.

“Hey, you guys,” Kenny practically all but mumbled, his fingers twitching. He’d barely spoken and was out of breath already. “What’s… What’s up…?”

Kyle tried to smile back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

Kenny rasped out a giggle, immediately wincing at the sensation it brought his body. “What, did you– do my missed homeworks and wanna… wanna rescue me outta this hell?”

Kyle shared a look with the other boys. They didn’t have the guts to tell him they waited for the doctors’ approval. “Yeah, sure, man. Maybe we can bust you out of here, steal a wheelchair or something.”

Cartman shifted, looking down at the floor. “You look like shit, dude.” Kyle elbowed him. “Ay–”

Stan didn’t say anything, just staring at Kenny’s face for answers. His gaze fell to Kenny’s hands that were clutching onto the hospital blanket. The knuckles were white, but what caught his eye were the angry red marks—deep scratches on Kenny’s arms and across his palms.

“Kenny... your hands,” Stan said at last, unable to keep quiet. He couldn’t bear the thought, the imagery of Kenny trying to harm himself.

Kenny’s smile faltered for a split second, but he quickly shook his head. He went as far as to laugh again, but the sound was forced, hollow.

“Ah, it’s nothing. Just... you know, hospital stuff. It’s hard out here, gotta… keep myself busy.”

“And you’ve been hurting… yourself?” Kyle asked despite his initial hesitance to voice it out loud, his brow furrowing as he stepped closer. “Kenny, that’s–”

Kenny interrupted, waving them off as best as he could. “Nah, really… I’m fine. It’s okay, Kyle. Don’t– Don’t worry about it.”

But none of them were buying it. They could see the way his hands shook as he rested them back on the blanket, the faint tremor he tried so hard to hide. The heart monitor beeped beside him, a constant reminder of what he was dealing with. Something that was slowly wearing him down even through the surgery, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise.

“We can see it, Kenny,” Stan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to... pretend with us.”

Kenny’s smile finally slipped, his face crumbling for just a moment before he turned his head away to emptily stare at the wall. They really weren’t gonna leave him alone, were they?

“I’m fine, guys. I’m just tired, and the nurses… the nurses scratched me a little while doing IVs. That’s all. It’s nothing.”

The room fell silent except for the rhythmic beeps. The boys didn’t know what to say, the words caught in their throats. Seeing their friend, the one who always seemed invincible in the face of everything he’d been through, unravel… was unreal.

“Kenny,” Kyle started shakily, “you don’t have to be happy all the time. Not with us.”

Kenny’s hands tightened into fists, his nails digging into his palms again. He still wasn’t looking at them, his body tense, almost as if he were trying to hold everything together through sheer willpower. But then, his voice broke—soft, barely there.

“I just... I don’t want you guys to worry about me.”

Stan’s chest tightened, stepping forward and placing a hand on Kenny’s arm, careful to avoid any possible scratches. “We’re your friends, man. Of course we’d be worried.”

Kenny’s breath hitched, and for the first time since they walked in, his mask slipped. His eyes filled with tears that he couldn’t blink away. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palms into his face and digging there. Fresh scratches blossomed across his skin.

“K-Kenny,” Kyle stammered.

“I don’t... I don’t know what to do,” Kenny choked out. “I’m scared.”

The boys moved closer, watching Kenny struggle to handle his raw emotions. Kyle reached for Kenny’s hands, gently pulling them away from his face.

“We’re here, Kenny. We’ll figure it out together.”

Stan nodded, his hand now resting on Kenny’s arm while Cartman awkwardly patted the blonde’s back in a show of support. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Kenny’s tears spilled over, and he let himself cry, his body shaking as he curled up in the bed. His sobs started quietly, but built up into something louder. His hands quivered as he pressed them against his face again to scratch at his cheeks. Trying to hide from his friends, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that were crashing down on him all at once.

“I’m not sad!” he choked out between ragged breaths, but the words were broken, almost unrecognizable through the tears. His body shook violently as he tried to sit up, pulling away from his friends. He wanted to somehow convince them—and himself—that he was fine.

But the more he attempted to control it, the more hysterical he became.

“I’m not sad!” Kenny repeated, louder this time, his voice high and shaky. His face was blotchy and tear-streaked, his eyes red and swollen from crying. “I’m not. I’m fine, I’m–” His words caught in his throat as another sob wracked his body.

Kyle leaned in closer, his voice soft, trying to calm him down. “Kenny, h-hey. It’s okay, you don’t have to–”

“No!” Kenny cut him off, too desperate and frantic. “I’m not sad! I’m not! I don’t… I don’t want you to think I’m depending on… on you.”

He broke off again, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. His hands clenched the hospital sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His nails digging into the fabric like they had into his own skin.

Stan squeezed on Kenny’s arm, his own heart breaking at the sight of his friend falling apart like this. “Kenny, it’s okay, you don’t have to be strong for us. We’re here, dude.”

But Kenny shook his head violently, his blonde hair damp with sweat and tears. He was going mad. He hated everything about where this conversation was headed.

“No, no, I’m not–”

He stopped again, the words dissolving into more sobs. Kenny tried to speak, tried to force the words out through his tears, but his voice failed him. His whole body was trembling, and it seemed like the harder he tried to stop crying, the more uncontrollable his emotions became.

Cartman, for once, still didn’t make any sarcastic comment. He stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, watching Kenny with wide eyes. Truly, it was haunting and rare for any of them to see Kenny like this. So vulnerable, so broken. And it was clear that nothing any of them could say would make it better in that moment.

“I’m not sad,” Kenny whispered one last time, but the words were barely audible, swallowed by another sob that wracked his chest. His fists unclenched, and his hands fell limp to his sides. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, the weight of his illness and his fear finally crashing down on him. “I can’t be.”

Kyle gently placed a hand on Kenny’s shoulder, squeezing.

“We know, man,” he whispered, though his own eyes were brimming with unshed tears. “But it’s okay if you are. We’re not going anywhere.”

Kenny’s head fell forward, and he let out a deep, shuddering breath, his tears still flowing but quieter now.

“Y-You guys…” Kenny managed to say, a hint of pink creeping up on his cheeks. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Kenny, you’re not a burden,” Kyle said firmly, snatching Kenny’s hands away from his face before he could begin scratching again. “You’re our best friend.”

Kenny’s hiccuping breaths began to slow as he lifted his head slightly, looking at the faces of his friends, illuminated by the soft hospital lights.

“That’s so gay, Kyle.”

“K-Kenny!”

“Seriously, dude,” Cartman chimed in, crossing his arms with an exaggerated huff. “And if anyone’s a burden, it’s Stan with the stupid jokes he says to try and make you laugh. But we still put up with him because he’s our friend, right?”

“Hey!” Stan protested, though a smile crawled onto his face despite the situation. “At least I’m not trying to make Kenny sad or anything.”

Kenny chuckled, the sound hardly escaping his lips, but it felt like a small victory in the midst of his struggle. Even through the tears, laughter managed to seep into the cracks of his heart. It was a reminder that happiness could coexist with pain, that moments of joy could shine even in the darkest times.

“I guess it’s not so bad, having you guys around,” Kenny said, his voice breaking as he wiped away the tears cascading down his cheeks.

Kyle leaned in closer, his hand still resting gently on Kenny’s back. “We’ll be here, no matter how tough it gets.” He frowned when Cartman interrupted him with a small “Gaywad.” under his breath. “You don’t have to pretend with us. Just be yourself.”

Kenny nodded, taking a deep breath as he tried to embrace the comfort of their words.

“Thanks, guys,” he whispered, struggling to keep his eyes open. “It means... It means a lot.”

As the boys settled around him, their collective warmth enveloping him just as they did when he’d collapsed, Kenny felt something he couldn’t name ignite within him.

Suddenly, the heart monitor beside Kenny began to beep, the sharp, uneven tones slicing through the silence. His friends jolted, their heads snapping toward the machine as a surge of panic overtook them. Nonetheless, the relentless beeps accelerated.

For the first time in his endless cycle of death and rebirth, he sensed a sinking certainty that this time… there would be no coming back. The unyielding tug was less like a warning and more like a summoning, his body betraying him, urging him toward the void.

Kenny’s chest shuddered with a weak, trembling gasp as his strength ebbed. Their faces were drawn tight with worry, eyes brimming with a concern that felt strange and beautiful. Usually they wouldn’t remember his deaths, but now, maybe, he wouldn’t either. A realization so cold it burned slipped into his mind: if he died now, it would be real, final, and irreversible.

A single tear broke free from his shuttering eyes, trailing slowly down his cheek. He wanted to tell them, to warn them somehow, but his voice failed him, words caught in his throat as exhaustion pulled him further under.