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The first thing Kenny heard when he got home were the sounds of shattering glass and a shriek of either terror or pain. He didn’t really know which, but it didn’t matter.
As he rushed through the sorry excuse for a house to the kitchen in the back, he cursed his decision to stay out later that day. Stan had offered video games, Kyle food, and who was he to turn down any of that? Anything to keep from going home sooner- and to mooch off his friends, but could it really be called mooching when they all knew they offered that stuff on purpose?
But he should’ve rethought that decision, should’ve remembered that today was one of the rare days that Karen was coming home early because she didn’t have ballet class all afternoon. It had been cancelled after a fire broke out in the office from one of the teachers leaving a lit cigarette in the garbage can.
Kenny should’ve remembered that; after all, that was why he was trying to find a way to scrape up more money to send her to a better school.
And now things were being thrown around and his sister was likely terrified. He turned the corner and darted into the room just as another glass exploded as it hit the wall next to him, the shards scattering around him as they fell. Luckily his parka had blocked most of them, but one of the nastier-looking ones cut a scratch across his exposed cheek that he knew would smart the next day.
Karen looked up at him from where she was crouched next to the kitchen table, cowering behind the flimsy wooden chairs for whatever small amount of protection they could offer her. Past the table and chairs was the shitty excuse of a father that Kenny was stuck with, holding a beer can in one hand and his gut in the other, rage plain on his face.
“The fuck’re ya back for?!” the man slurred, tripping over his words in his drunken stupor. The same state Kenny was finding him in more and more these days ever since he lost his job three years ago and promptly gave up on ever working again. Kevin was lucky to get out when he did because Stuart had been on a downward spiral ever since.
“I live here, dumbass,” Kenny growled as he stalked over to Karen, grabbing her shoulders and shoving her behind him protectively. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, throwing shit?! What if you hurt Karen?!” He knew there wasn’t really any point in mentioning that, but it was still worth somewhat of a try.
“That little cunt poured ou’ mah fuckin’ vodka! That shit’s ‘spensive”
When Kenny turned to look at Karen in confusion, she quickly cried, “I was just trying to do the dishes! They’ve been piling up and I wanted to clean up the house a little! I didn’t know it was vodka in his glass, I thought it was water!”
“Hear that, old man? It was an accident, so grow the fuck up.”
“Ah?! How dare ya talk to yer father that way!” As he stormed over, Kenny’s face hardened as he once again grabbed Karen’s shoulders and shoved her towards the door.
“Go to your room and lock the door.”
“But-”
“I said go!” Karen looked at him with concern and fear in her brown doe eyes before scrambling away, nearly tripping over the broken glass on the floor as she did. Kenny heard the door click just as he felt his dad’s fist graze over his chin.
Darting away from the encensed man, he laughed coldly as he said “Looks like your aim’s off, old man! That’s what you get for drinking all fucking day!”
“Shut the fuck up, boy!” Stuart came at him again, shouting indistinctly as Kenny moved to grab one of his flying fists and restrain him. However, the very glass he had been careful to avoid earlier somehow wound up under his feet and he slipped. His dad’s fist collided with his ribcage as he landed on the ground hard. The wind was knocked out of him as the sharp glass underneath poked holes into his only decent coat, and, judging by the dull pain, poked a few holes into him as well.
“Dontcha dare disrespec’ me, fucker!” His father yelled as he kicked Kenny in the ribs, the blinding pain from the bones being pressed harshly into his lungs made his vision go blurry.
Before his dad could do anything else, Kenny pushed away from his position on the floor, ignoring the glass digging into his palms as he wobbled to his feet and bolted from the room. Now that Karen was safe in her room, he could leave. Even as mad as he was, their father had never attempted to break down the doors or anything like that.
‘Probably since we can’t afford to fix ‘em,’ Kenny thought as he sprinted out the front door, hearing his father stop on the stoop as he yelled out, “Yeah, yah better fuckin’ run! Back to tha’ l’il faggy boy of yers! Don’t fuckin’ come back t’night!”
Kenny stiffened but forced himself to keep running, turning around to flip Stuart off as violently as possible as he screamed, “Fuck you, you fucking douchebag! Bigotted asshole!”
As much as he wanted to punch his stupid fucking dad in his stupid fucking face, he knew that would only lead to more trouble. His mom would never take his side, even if, by some miracle, she came home that night. Kenny hadn’t seen her in almost two weeks now.
When he’d thought he’d ran far enough away that he was out of any danger of his dad following after him, he finally stopped so he could survey the damage. As he took inventory of himself in the dying light of the late afternoon, he realized that his parka wasn’t quite as ruined as he’d thought. Sure, there were a few more tears and holes in it and some of the feathers were poking out and slipping through the gaps in the nylon, but he was pretty sure he could staple it up easy enough. If that didn’t work, Karen could probably sew it or something. Both options were cheaper and easier than trying to find the money to buy a new coat.
As for the rest of him, Kenny wasn’t too concerned. It hurt, sure, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before, and he’d definitely had worse. The worst of it was probably his ribs where he was kicked, but he couldn’t really see that area all that well without a mirror and he didn’t care enough to go find one.
Wiping the blood off his cheek where a small drop had trickled down from the cut on his left cheekbone to his chin, he sighed and straightened up. “Where to now?” he wondered aloud. His dad was a lot of shitty things, but he was an honest guy. If he said Kenny had better not go back home that day, he damn well meant it.
Staying at Stan’s was out of the question. He’d already crashed there three times that week, and he knew that his presence was probably weighing on the guy’s parents, even if they did know of the McCormick’s situation at home. Even if Stan insisted that it was fine. Kenny knew better. It wasn’t.
Kyle was an option but the last time he’d stayed over, Mrs. Broflovski had practically had a conniption fit over all the mess he left around the house. It wasn’t like Kenny had been trying to be messy or anything, but when your dad nearly crushed your dominant hand in the door the other day, it was hard to maintain good control of it. Kyle had promised that he’d talk to his mom about it and that Kenny shouldn’t worry about it at all, but again, Kenny knew better. If there was one thing his parents had taught him, it was to know when he wasn’t wanted.
Stan and Kyle were as patient as possible with him. Their families were not.
Cartman… actually might not be that bad of an idea. Sure, he’d have to put up with the fatass’s constant belittling and teasing and blatant harassment but he’d get fed a great meal, courtesy of Cartman’s hot mom. He’d get to sleep in a warm bed in their guest room because even though Cartman always made a point of insisting that Kenny sleep on the floor where he belonged, he never actually checked that he was. But then there would be the inevitable walk to the bus stop the next day where Kyle and Stan would wonder why they came together and of course Cartman wouldn’t keep his mouth shut and then they’d freak out about why Kenny hadn’t come to them. Still, maybe that was just gonna be his cross to bear for the day.
Then he heard something shriek in the woods to his right and he looked over, curious as to what had been so loud that it had snapped him out of his own head. Any other person and it would’ve made them jump, but not Kenny. His fear reflexes had long since died.
Walking over to the edge of the trees, he peered into them to try and make out the shadowy figure that was obscured by the long shadows stretching down to smother the light on the forest floor. A familiar light blue collar and a soft “oh, shucks” later, Kenny was hopping down the bank by the road to trot over to the other person.
“What’re you doing?”
The boy he said this to jumped nearly a foot in the air as Kenny’s words cut through the silence he had grown accustomed to and Butters spun around in shock, losing his balance where he was crouched and landing on his butt.
“Ow…” he groaned, rubbing his sore ass as he looked up to see Kenny staring down at him in thinly veiled amusement and maybe just the slightest bit of concern.
“You okay?” the blond asked, offering his hand to the fallen boy. Butters, after staring blankly at it for a moment, seemed to realize what Kenny was doing and took his hand eagerly, getting pulled to his feet with ease.
“Yeah, ya just startled me, Ken,” Butters replied, wiping his hand against his jeans in a vain attempt to knock some of the dirt off his ass. Kenny didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was pretty much covered in dirt already, not just on his butt.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Kenny shrugged as he shoved his hands in parka pockets. “Anyways, whatcha up to? It’s gonna be dark soon.”
“Oh, well, I was lookin’ for something.” Kenny raised an eyebrow and Butters, prompted to go on with his explanation, continued. “Well, see, mom ‘n dad were fighting and when I tried to make ‘em stop, dad got real mad and left and mom said I just opened a can of worms, but I didn’t have any worms at all, so I thought I’d go get a can of ‘em for her ‘n open it. But worms’re harder to find than I thought.”
Kenny stared at Butters for a long moment, torn as to whether laugh or pity the guy. “Butters, you know that’s an expression, right?”
“Well yeah, but I thought it might cheer her up!” Butter frowned as he looked back at Kenny. “I’m not that stupid- at least, I sure hope I’m not. Dad might think somethin’ different though…”
Kenny grinned at Butters’ answer. It was just so him, it was positively adorable. That is, it would be if he hadn’t completely deflated when he mentioned his father. “Who cares what that asshole thinks?” Kenny attempted to console, reaching out to slap Butters on the back. The blond made a squeaking sound that made Kenny chuckle as he added,” C’mon, I’ll help you.”
Butters’ face lit up, grin wide as he cried out cheerily, “Okay! Thanks, Ken!” and that smile made however long this was going to take completely worth it.
They set to work, the fading sunlight offering very little help in their search. Of course worms just had to blend in perfectly with the dark, damp earth beneath their fingers. Still, it was actually kind of nice, thought Kenny. The temperature was dropping but not enough to be cold, the sun streaming through the gaps in the trees offering a vague amount of warmth to his stiff fingers that were stained with dirt and smelt of the wet earth, of ground damp after a rainstorm, of the sun-streaked outdoors.
It was quiet except for the occasional rumble of a car passing by on the road a hundred meters or so, the last chirps of the more stubborn birds that refused to stop singing until the sun was gone entirely, and the soft melody of the autumn leaves swishing above their heads in the gentle fall breeze that rattled them so.
Kenny had noticed Butters kept glancing at him every so often, probably wanting to comment on the scratch on his cheek or the ripped state of his parka, but he wisely held his tongue. Which was good; Kenny really didn’t wanna talk about it. He never did.
“Oh! Ken, look!” Kenny stood up from where he had been digging and jogged over to Butters, who was crouched by the banks of a small creek that ran lazily through the woods. He pointed to the hole he’d dug and Kenny followed his finger to see that there was a large swarm (Swarm? Group? Nest?) of worms writhing around. It was actually pretty gross, but Butters seemed happy.
“You found a bunch!” Kenny said encouragingly, grinning at Butters who smiled back.
“Yeah! I just gotta go get my can and hopefully there’ll be enough to fill it up!” he said joyfully, his excitement almost contagious. As he stood up, Butters took a step forward but landed on a damp log that rolled out from under him. With a yelp, he pitched backwards off-balance and before Kenny really realized what he was doing, he had grabbed the blond and shoved him forward. As Butters landed on the ground with a soft thud, Kenny fell backwards into the creek with a squelch and a grimace, the muddy water splashing up onto his parka and face.
“Ugh,” he moaned, shaking his hands to dislodge some of the mud from them as he looked down and frowned in irritation. Normally he would’ve been fine, but since his parka hadn’t been fixed yet, he could feel mud and water sinking inside it through the tears in the nylon, effectively ruining it for good. “Shit.”
“Kenny! Are you okay?!” Butters was standing in front of him worriedly, clearly not sure whether to reach out to the blond or go for help or do something else. Kenny smiled stiffly at him, not wanting to make the boy any more concerned.
“I’m fine, Butters. My parka ain’t though,” he groaned as he got to his feet. Muddy rivulets rolled down the sides of the formerly-waterproof material and he ran a hand through his sandy hair before realizing that that probably wasn’t the best idea. Now his hair had mud in it too. Now, how was he gonna convince Cartman to let him use his shower…?
“I’m so sorry, Ken! Ya shoulda just let me fall! I woulda been fine!”
“No worries, Butters,” Kenny answered as he stepped out of the creek to grin at the smaller blond. “Besides, what kinda man would I be if I did that?” Butters flushed pink and Kenny thought that was a very good color on him.
He slid his arms out of the ruined parka and held it out in front of him, surveying the damage. There were mud stains all over it, brown-stained feathers poking out of the many holes, and what seemed to be a layer of sludge at the bottom of some of the compartments. It would cost more time and money to fix it rather than just buy a cheap, used one at this point.
“Well, wanna start a dumpster fire?” Kenny said as he turned to Butters, grinning, but stopped when he saw the way the blond was looking at him in confusion and concern. Then he realized that he was only wearing a tank top under his parka and now the bruise that had definitely started blooming on his left shoulder from where he had hit the floor, judging by the dull throb it was radiating, was on full display.
“Ken, that mark…” Butters unspoken question was more than enough for Kenny to know his guess had been right.
“Eh? Oh, this?” He said, feigning innocent confusion as he twisted around to see if he could see how bad it really looked to no avail. “I fell down the stairs earlier.”
Butters was silent for a long time before he murmured quietly “...You’ve been falling down the stairs more and more lately.”
“What can I say? Maybe I’m the natural-born klutz here.” Kenny lied, the words coming far too easily to him. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”
“But-” And really, that was all Kenny could take because he snapped out, “It’s fine!” much louder and harsher than he’d intended to. Butters took a step back in shock, his face laced with hurt, and Kenny quickly added, “It’s just a little bruise. Really.”
The smaller boy frowned but didn’t say anything else, just took a step forward to brush his fingers along the injured area, so gentle that Kenny could barely feel them as they traced the outline of the bruise.
Then he stepped back and shrugged his own pale turquoise jacket off one arm and rolled up the long sleeve of his shirt to reveal a splotchy, purpley-black pattern tracing up the bare arm. Kenny’s eyes widened but before he had the chance to say anything, Butters smiled sadly at him and said, “I ran into the doorframe leavin’ earlier.”
“...Guess we’re bruise buddies then,” Kenny said at last, the same smile crossing his own face briefly as he scratched the back of his neck. The mud was starting to dry and it was itchy.
Butters pulled the jacket off the rest of him and held it out to Kenny. When the blond looked at him in confusion, he elaborated, “Ya must be cold, Ken. Take it.”
“I’m not-”
Butters thrust it into his arms before he could finish the rejection and, after a silent stare-off between the two stubborn blonds, sighed and pulled it on. Butters was right, he was cold. “Giving me your jacket, huh? Such a good boyfriend,” Kenny teased before he could stop himself.
Butters turned red as he quickly looked away, muttering something about getting the can before scurrying away to wear they had left it next to a big tree root sticking up from the ground. Kenny watched him go with a small frown. He’d been expecting that reaction, but it still hurt a little all the same.
Not that it would ever work between them; Kenny knew that good and well. Butters’ parents really didn’t like him. He had never attempted to hide his pansexuality once he’d been old enough to learn the right word for it, and even though he’d just given Cartman more ammo to use against him, other than the fatass, no one else at school had seemed to care. Actually, when he’d told Stan and Kyle, the two apparently thought it made perfect sense. Then he’d proposed a threesome and had gotten smacked by both of them, but at least he’d tried.
Some of the adults though… they were a different story. Apparently it was one thing if a guy only liked guys, but once he liked everything, some of the townspeople weren’t nearly so forgiving. Too stupid to understand it, Kenny supposed. Butters’ parents were two such people.
Once he’d figured out why his chest seemed to flutter and his breath had a penchant for catching in his throat when he looked at Butters, his attempts at courting the smaller blond had been stepped up a notch, determined to charm the pants off him. And Kenny knew he could be very charming, indeed.
But then his parents had caught them together hanging out after school one day at Butters’ house and Kenny was pretty sure even his own dad had never looked so absolutely enraged as Steven Stotch had. Objects were thrown, curses were shrieked, and neither boy had escaped unscathed. Butters still had the scar on his upper right arm from where the ceramic plate Steven had thrown at him had shattered on the poor boy’s arm. Butters had had to get stitches and that was what had ultimately made Steven calm down. That, and Linda promptly fainting at the sight of blood gushing out of her boy’s arm.
Kenny hadn’t talked to Butters for nearly a month after that. That had been almost two years ago and Kenny had never attempted to go back to Butters’ house since, despite the smaller boy’s insisting that it would be different this time. They both knew it really wouldn’t.
Kenny was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps approaching him and looked up to see Butters trotting back towards him, carrying the tin can under his arm. He caught sight of Kenny looking at him and smiled softly and Kenny practically fell in love all over again.
“I got it,” he said quietly, holding out the can for Kenny to see, and the blond nodded in response.
“Let’s get those worms,” he said at last, leaning down next to Butters to pile them into the can.
Five minutes later, the can was nearly three quarters full with the writhing mass of slender bodies and Butters was staring down at it with a satisfied expression. Kenny vaguely wondered if all those worms would really make someone like Linda Stotch happy, but he figured searching for the animals was more of a distraction for Butters than anything else.
“I think we’re done,” he said contentedly, grinning at Kenny as he straightened up. Kenny grinned back and they marched out of the woods with their own, personal can of worms in tow.
Once they were back on the street, the sun was gone from sight, leaving only the faintest hint of light in the sky remaining to illuminate their faces. Half the streetlights didn’t work so they were left mostly in darkness.
“...Are you goin’ home?” Butters asked softly, and Kenny knew it was because their homes were in different directions. So was Cartman’s place, but there was no way Kenny was letting Butters walk home alone at night. Nothing would happen, it was South Park; but anything could happen, it was South Park.
“Nah, I think I’ll head to Stark’s Pond for a bit,” he replied, knowing that the pond was about ten minutes past the Stotch house. Butters seemed to accept that answer and smiled as they started down the nearly-deserted street. It was a Tuesday night and there was a game tonight, so nearly all South Parkians were glued to their televisions at the moment. Kenny was pretty sure Cartman would be the exact same when he finally made his way over there.
Feeling something brush against his hand, Kenny turned his gaze away to the trees and avoided looking at Butters as he accepted the subtle invitation and entwined their pinkies together, willing the blood that was rushing to his cheeks back to the rest of his body. A quick glance at Butters showed that the blond was no better, his face expressionless but bright red nonetheless.
Kenny really wanted to hold his hand fully, to feel the soft skin of Butters’ palm beneath his own and to enjoy the warmth it offered his gloveless fingers, but he dared not do so. Just in case someone saw them. That was the last thing either of them needed.
Walking the line between friends and something more would just have to do for now.
When they finally came to Butters’ house and the boy pulled away, Kenny resisted the urge to pull him close into a tight hug. Instead, he grinned and offered a wave to the smaller boy. “See ya tomorrow?” he said stupidly, even though he knew he’d see him in school already.
Butters nodded meekly and Kenny turned to go. He felt a hand wrap around his elbow and as he turned around, for just the briefest moment, Butters stood on his tiptoes to reach Kenny’s cheek and brushed his lips against them in the most pure-hearted kiss Kenny had ever been on the receiving end of.
He stood there in shock, his freed hand slapping over his cheek, unable to stop his mouth from falling open as he stared dumbly at the retreating figure. Kenny couldn’t see his face, but the tips of Butters’ ears illuminated by the porchlight were tomato red. Then he turned around as he unlocked the front door and Kenny’s heart melted.
“Good night, Ken,” he murmured, smiling shyly at the dumbfounded blond before entering the house with the click of the door shutting behind him.
It wasn’t until he heard an owl start to hoot that Kenny finally gathered himself enough to turn numbly and start down the street again towards Cartman’s house, all the aches and pains completely vanished with the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading throughout his body as his grin grew wider and wider with each passing step until his cheeks started to hurt.
Butters hadn’t even cared that his skin was caked with mud and dried blood. Kenny didn’t care either; he was never washing this cheek again.