Authors Note: This re-posting of Dreams, Rain, Go Insane is brought to you by the wonderful CrimsonXbutterfly. Had it not been for her, this story would be lost somewhere in cyberspace, and I would not have had the chance to finish it, which I will do. :)
Once again-- Enjoy my original Kenny/Butters.
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.
Chapter 1- Disappear:
My name is Kenny McKormick, and I'm a sexaholic.
This is the first time I've admitted that out loud. God knows I've been accused of it time and time again, but never really saw it as a problem. Sure, I nailed every girl I possibly could, going the distance to get what I wanted, short of using force. But that was normal for any sixteen year old, wasn't it?
Maybe I do have a problem. And the only reason I say that now is because I've been watching Stan for the passed half hour. By "watching" I mean "wanting". I haven't craved this badly for at least… an hour.
This is going too far. I don't like to look at my friends and want to bang them senseless. It's just not healthy.
I could avert my attention and actually listen to the teacher for once, but just the thought makes me yawn. Stan really is much more interesting. To the naked eye -and lord I wish that meant I could see through his clothes- he appeared to be sitting there like a good little boy. But, I knew better. He wasn't keeping his hands to himself. He was keeping them in Kyle's lap. Nothing hot was going on (God damnit) he was simply caressing Kyle's knee, probably unintentionally, too. The two have been fucking for about a week. I don't give a crap how much either of them deny it. I first noticed this Tuesday morning. The way they looked at each other was all the proof I needed. Everyone always gave their lover that "look" when they screwed for the first time. I can't even tell you if they had been together before anything happened, or if they just decided to hump each other on the spur of the moment, because they never gave any sign of anything more than friendship until last Tuesday.
It wont last. Passion never does. I say just let them fuck each other hard and good, and hope it doesn't screw up their friendship once the lust wears off. Honestly, I don't even think either of them are really gay. I would place money on a bet that they were probably doing some stupid pansy shit like "practicing kissing" and ended up discovering what a boner is and liked it. Like I said, it wont last.
I shake my head and look away. The seat behind me and just to the left is empty. Butters is absent again. I don't think anyone has seen him in about a week. Last time this happened, he came to school with a broken arm and a deep cut near his eye. I drilled into him, questioning over and over what had happened. Eventually he invented a story about how he fell off his street bike.
Butters riding a street bike. I may not get the best grades in the school, but I'm not a complete dumb ass. There's no way that kid would have something like that. Not that he wouldn't think it was cool, but actually owning one and having the guts to ride it? It just doesn't add up. I laughed and told him he was full of shit. It was the first time I had ever heard him cuss at someone. He hasn't talked to me since then. It's been the longest three months of my life.
My attention is immediately drawn back to my previous interest when I hear Kyle moan softly. I look up just in time to see him pushing Stan's wandering hand off his lap.
"Stan, you fucking bastard," He whispers. "Don't."
But he's obviously not very convincing. A mischievous smile graces Stan's face as he leans over and whispers in Kyle's ear. I strain to hear what he's saying, but it's way too quiet. I have a few ideas what it might be when Kyle's eyes slip closed with another tortured moan. He reopens them again only after Stan completes his discreet love talk and pulls away.
"May I be excused? I need to talk to my friend, thanks," The teacher never even got the chance to give permission otherwise, and Kyle had already dragged Stan out the door.
This I had to see.
I raise my hand, using the same tactic Kyle just had. "I need to use the bathroom." I announce as I fly out the door.
Once out, I look down the school corridor to the left, and then to the right. Damn, they're fast. They're probably fucking already. There's only two places I can think to look; the bathroom most likely, or the janitors closet if they couldn't make it that far. Both to the right. I begin toward it at a running pace and while nearing a corner am ran over by another person going just as fast. I hit the ground with an "oomph!" and open my eyes to see Butters peering down at me, sprawled across my body. Hello sexy.
"Gee, I-I'm sorry, Kenny." He apologizes and scrambles to his feet, to my dismay. "A-are you alright?"
I sit up, placing a hand to my forehead. What the hell? My hood fell off! I replace it almost frantically and pull the drawstrings tight. I've worn it so long I feel unsafe without it. And if you laugh at me for that I will kick you in the nuts, or whatever you may have.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about it, dude." I promise in my muffled voice, and stand fully.
He wont look me in the eye.
"W-well, I'd better get to class-" He starts only to be cut off by my tugging on his arm.
"Where've you been?" I ask bluntly.
He looks scared, but he answers. "I-I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"Then let me clear it up for you," I offer, drawing him closer toward me.
"No one's seen you in a week."
"W-we took a trip to-"
"No, you didn't." I correct, shaking my head.
"S-see, I had the chicken pox-"
"In fourth grade." I finish for him.
He looks like he's about to cry, and I almost feel bad. Almost. Then he got pissed.
"I'm sick of you s-stickin' your nose in my business all the time!" The intensity of his yell would be shocking if I hadn't expected it. "If you can't back down, a-and stay away from me, then you can just- go to heck!"
Heck. Do you see what's so enchanting about him? I grew up in South Parks ghetto. I've seen, heard and been through things no one should ever have to. I'm the dirtiest, lowest form of human in the entire town, and he's completely opposite. He's so pure, so innocent.
I look down at my hand enclosed around his elbow and find I'm unable to stop myself from pulling him just that much closer to me. I can feel his body heat and his angry breath on my face, and look boldly into his eyes. "Maybe you need someone to make it their business."
"Wu- what do ya mean?"
I look down at my hand clutching his arm and slide it down to his wrist. With my free hand, I pull the material of his shirt up. I repeat this inspection on his other arm, and finally turn him around to look at his back. I don't see a single mark this time. I don't know if I'm more relieved or confused. When I turn him to face me again, he looks at me like I'm insane.
"What's been going on with you?" I question.
"I think you'd better- get your head checked, Kenny, cause you aren't making any sense." He pulls out of my grasp and straightens the material of his shirt. "I-it's probably all that junk food you eat. It'll rot your brain, ya know."
I yank him toward me again, feeling somehow that I need to keep him close by so he wont disappear again. I wasn't all too sure why it bothered me so much when he disappeared, anyway. We never were really close friends. We never really were friends. Semi-friends is more what it was. His parents are such assholes, and it always has pissed me off the way they treat him. The thought of hurting someone so innocent boils my blood.
"Let me go." It's voiced as more of a request.
I shake my head.
"Well, why the heck not?"
"I'm worried about you."
"You're bein' silly." He accuses me. "I told you ta leave me alone."
"I cant." I step toward him again, only this time he pushes me away.
"You've got to. Otherwise, I'll get grounded again." He explains, his voice remaining calm although now heavy with bitterness. "My parents say you're a bad influence and I can't- can't hang out with no good, stinkin' trailer trash anymore."
I'm taken aback, and I'm sure it's evident in what's visible of my expression. Normally, I would kick him, but I know that it isn't his fault. He already said it was his parents that said it. Still, I can feel the rage building inside me. Just like it isn't his fault what his parents think, it isn't my fault what my parents are. It's not like I chose to be born a piss poor, white trash baby.
"I'm awful sorry, Kenny." He apologizes, one warm, gentle hand giving my shoulder a sympathy touch.
His eyes are sad, and I forgive him because I know he honestly means he's sorry. Sorry that he can't talk to me and sorry that I'm trash. But, what he doesn't realize is that I feel sorry for him, too, because he was a prisoner to his own life, just like me.
I never do voice my apology acceptation aloud before he hurries down the hall and away from me. Away from me. That single thought is enough to make me crave an entire box of cigarettes.
I watch him until he's out of sight and then press my forehead against the cold steel of some random person's locker. I don't even consciously control the groan that hisses through my teeth, or the light thumping as my forehead hit's the locker a few times before coming to a rest. I've felt so drained and exasperated with everyone and everything. Had it really come to this? Was he honestly never going to talk to me again? Why did that bother me so much when it didn't seem to affect him at all?
I didn't even realize I had closed my eyes until I open them at the sound of distant footsteps coming down the adjacent corridor. It's only after I hear Stan's voice and Kyle's weak laughter that I remember why I was out here in the first place. I take a chance and peek around the corner, immediately zeroing in on the way they had their arms casually around each others waists and how weak-kneed Kyle appears to be. I also note the satisfied, dreamy expression on his face.
A new smile tugging at my lips, I pounce into the center of the hall and chuckle to myself when the two naughty friends take notice of my presence and spring away from one another, eyes wide and fearful. I can't help but feel a little guilty for snapping Kyle out of his Stan- induced afterglow, but mostly it makes me laugh.
"God damnit, dude. What the hell are you doing?" Kyle demands, pissed now that the initial shock wore off.
Stan magnetizes back to Kyle's side, not at all angered by my intrusion, but looking a little concerned about Kyle's obviously rattled mood. There's a bit of a white substance residing on the corner of his mouth, confirming my suspicions.
"I was just wondering what my two best buddies were up to," I answer the pissed Jew and work my way between them, slinging my arms around each of their shoulders. Stan takes it in stride, but Kyle looks even more irritated at me for physically separating the two of them. "But, I guess the evidence on Stan's chin answers my question. Having a little Kosher snack there, were ya, Stan?"
He looks mortified and hurriedly swipes it away with the wrist of his shirt. He looks "found out", and that's hot.
"So, what if he was?" Kyle snaps defensively.
"Dude!" Stan shrieks.
I use the arm cradling Stan to squeeze him against me in a semi-hug. "Relax, I figured it out already."
My hand creeping down his arm obviously doesn't set right with Kyle, seeing as how he not only pulls away from me, but takes the liberty of snatching Stan's hand and dragging him along for the ride.
"Figured out what?" Stan has the balls to actually ask that even as him and Kyle remain glued at the hands. I can see that Kyle's fingers are now purple from Stan's death grip, but his wince is kept to a minimum.
I sigh and roll my eyes. "You two have been doing more groping than a football player in a patch of cheerleaders. I always knew you two would end up fucking each other sooner or later. Turns out to be sooner, I didn't think it would happen until college."
He rubs the back of his neck nervously, leaning closer into Kyle and looking everywhere but at me. "Dude, I-"
"No." Kyle cut him off, pries his hand away and flexes his fingers to get the feeling back. "Just stay out of this, Kenny."
Stan blinks, then looks over at him. "Dude, chill out."
"No way," He argues, his hand making a smooth motion outward. Hmm, maybe he really is gay. "I know you, Kenny. You're going to pry every single detail out of us and then relay it all to Cartman for a five dollar bill."
"Ah, come on, Kyle," Stan starts.
"You really think that's what I would do?" I question him, a little intimidated by the coldness of his eyes.
"I know that's what you would do!"
"Kyle," Stan voices again.
"He doesn't know anything about love, Stan." He attests, startling me with the words. "He would make a huge ass joke out of it, you know that."
I look to the dark haired youth for some kind of reaction, and don't like the one he gives.
"I know, but it isn't his fault."
"I'm not saying it's his fault." Kyle confirms. "He wouldn't understand, and I'm not willing to risk our friendship because of that. Now are you coming or not?"
"Alright, alright." Stan surrenders. "Lets go."
"Kyle, wait." I call out.
He turns to face me, but there isn't any hatred or accusation in his gaze like I thought there would be. There is only pity. "Please, Kenny. Just stay out of it. You wouldn't understand."
Stan stays by my side as we watch him begin to walk away. I look up at him. His eyes aren't glued to Kyle like I thought they would be, but instead locked on me.
I scoff and then laugh slightly. "I don't know anything about love." I parrot Kyle with coated sarcasm.
Stan's expression saddens. He looks almost sympathetic. There's a split second I think he's going to embrace me, but that moment was lost amongst the compassion in the deep blue of his eyes.
I feel my heart sink as he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks away from me, tracing Kyle's path. That's the third time in fifteen minutes someone walked away from me for the sole purpose of getting away from me.
I've never felt more alone. But, maybe I'm not the one who's alone. Maybe I'm the one who needs to disappear.