Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, and I really don't want to.
Pairing: Mainly Kenny/Kyle, or affectionately K2. Some Kyle/Christophe and Kenny/slut.

how to survive anything in life but death

(except not really.)

It's January thirty first, freezing cold outside and high school has just let out. Kyle walks slowly toward the buses, eyeing them with clear disdain. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Stan usher Wendy to his car, tugging on her shirt with affection. He feels his chest tighten and turns away.

He used to be the one driven home by Stan. No, he's not jealous, that's really homo. It's just-he and Stan have drifted apart.

He's tired of being the one to call, to reach out a friendly hand.

There is a whistle, and his thoughts are distracted. He swivels his head around, seeing no one but the mass of students coming out of the double doors leading into the school. Another thin shrill of whistle, and Kyle sees Kenny leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette and waving him over.

Kyle looks back to the buses, frowning, but really Kenny is much more enticing so he hurries over, biting his lip nervously.

"Hey dude," Kenny grins, taking a quick drag. The smoke curls soothingly around Kyle's head. "You want it?"

"Nah. You'd think you wouldn't-you know, considering you die all the time."

Kenny shrugs, throwing the cigarette on the grass and rubbing it out.

"Not smoking isn't going to help me survive. You think you would know that. But whatever, you want to go throw shit at cars?"

Kyle smiles shyly, nodding.

They spend the rest of the day breaking out car windows and laughing like only boys can. They run away when some of the people chase, invincible and excited until one angry citizen throws a particularly sharp rock that was really meant for Kyle, but Kenny sees it and pushes the other boy out of the way and takes it. The rock goes through his temple and leaves him a crumpled, bloody mess.

"You bastard!" Kyle screams until his lungs ache, and slumps down beside the dead boy gracelessly.

Kyle holds his broken body until Kenny returns, hidden amongst trees and bushes, and he doesn't cry but he's close, because Kenny has been more of a friend to him this day than Stan has in months.

When Kenny's eyes flutter open and his chest begins to move, Kyle heaves a great breath, finger's combing through Kenny's blood stained hair gently.

"Why… why did you do that Kenny?"

"Shit Kyle, why do you think? You can't come back, man. Your life is way more important.

There is something in Kenny's eyes that Kyle can't place, but it makes him feel strange. It's a good feeling, he just doesn't understand it. Not until Kenny lurches up and crushes their mouths together, and everything kind of falls into place.

Kyle can taste the coldness of death on Kenny's lips, but that doesn't stop him from kissing back.


The August heat doesn't distract two teenage boys with raging hormones, and Kenny and Kyle first have sex on a late Saturday night at Kyle's house, after watching Terrance and Phillip reruns.

It's not really that special, nothing like Kyle expected. Kenny has done this enough to know exactly where to touch Kyle, where to lick and nip and kiss, and Kyle feels kind of weird, not really understanding why someone as wanted as Kenny would… want him.

And when it's over, and Kenny is lying on the floor, having fallen off the small couch, Kyle whispers, "why me?" like some complete pussy.

Kenny lets out a bark of a laugh, hazed blue eyes flicking to him curled in blankets. They're both still naked, and Kyle tries not to think about Kenny's bare ass sitting there on his parent's carpet, and what said parents would do to him if they found out, specifically his overbearing mother.

"Don't be such a girl Kyle. I just like you. End of story." Kenny stands up, his dick pretty close to Kyle's face, and scratches at his stomach absently. "I'm hungry."


A few years later, Kenny is attending community college classes and Kyle is taking a semester off. Kenny has stopped sleeping around and is scarily committed to Kyle.

Stan and Wendy break up and get back together to say they're engaged. They get married in the spring and not long after Wendy announces that she's pregnant.

Kyle has to stifle that jealousy that surfaced when they were in high school as he watches Wendy waddle around her and Stan's house, nearly due. Stan is painting the nursery. They are finally a happy family, and Kyle isn't sure why he feels so disconcerted.

It's easier now with Kenny right beside him, skinny arm curled tight around his waist.

Kenny whispers something in his ear that makes his cheeks burn that night as they make love, and his heart skip a few beats, his hands begin to sweat profusely.

Three simple little words reduce him to jelly shaped Kyle.


It's November twentieth, and Kyle wakes up to a sudden pressure on the bed. He cracks one green eye open to glare halfheartedly at his new husband jumping up and down beside his head, with only pair of orange boxers barely covering him that are slipping down with each jump.

"What are you doing Kenny?" he whispers, only slightly annoyed, and he can't help smiling at the other man, all the memories of a few hours ago flooding back.

They really did it.

Gay marriage had been legalized last year.

The slim band on Kenny's hand catches his attention, and he looks down to see a matching one on his own finger.

"I'm trying to release some of this crazy happiness. It makes me feel like I'm going to fuckin' explode."

Anyone else would probably take that as an insult, but Kyle knows Kenny inside and out and just laughed quietly. He loves Kenny's honesty, the way he needs an outlet for his emotions and finds one without bothering someone to talk about it. Although, when Kyle thinks about it that is also a bad thing, because Kenny will never tell him what he feels until he's screaming it in Kyle's face, all rage and hate and obscene anger and absolute passion.

"Why don't you stop that before you –"

Kyle doesn't get to finish, because there is a distinct crack and Kenny is crumbled on the floor, blood leaking out from his skull, and Kyle doesn't need to check if he's dead, because he is.

He always is.

It's okay, he'll be back soon. This is their wedding night, so Kyle has faith that wherever Kenny goes, they will understand and send him back. He smiles and reaches down to grab the man's hand, squeezing tightly.

"You bastards."


It's a few days after Thanksgiving, and they are on their Honeymoon at the Grand Canyon. It's cold enough for heavy jackets and hot chocolate, both Kyle and Kenny's favorite time of year.

Kenny sticks a video camera under his nose and grins. "What are we doing, Kyle?"

Kyle shrugs, and he knows there is a heated blush on his cheeks, and it's not from the wind. He isn't very comfortable under cameras. "Kenny," he hisses warningly.

The blond man only chuckles, stepping back to give him some room. "C'mon baby, let's make videos so we can look back on them later. Y'know, and embarrass our chill'uns."

Kids. Kyle never really thought they would have kids-didn't really think Kenny would want them, so he smiles shyly at the lens, his fingers ghosting over a bookcase. There is a thick coat of dust on it, like it's never been cleaned. This lodge is cheap, but Kyle didn't think he would be spending the day bleaching it. Horrible trait he inherited from his mother. Kenny notices the disgusted look on his face and turns the camera around, speaking loudly into it. "Kyle hates dust and dirt. It's a surprise he loves to suck my-"



Kenny grins, turning the machine back to Kyle and zooms in. Kyle is blushing now, and it clashes with his hair beautifully. Kenny could not be more in love. Kyle's usually graceful movements turn awkward as he moves around the blond to the kitchen, and gets a bottle of water. Kenny watches, entranced, as the water slides down the other man's throat, can practically taste it.

"As you can see, Kyle is shy. God, he's so fucking sexy. Babe, take your pants off. Show me some skin."

The camera makes a jerking motion and then there is static.


Kenny sings him to sleep at night, all curled up in a cocoon of hot limbs, his voice right beside Kyle's ear and he always always always shivers, but he fucking loves it. Kenny's voice is beautiful and if he wasn't into cooking, Kyle would make him consider the music industry.

Kyle knows Kenny snuck the video camera somewhere because he can see a red light, but he doesn't mind this time, because no one will see this part but them.


It's two years later in February when Kyle has had enough.

Really, he should have known. Kenny and the word faithful? In the same sentence? That was ridiculous. Actually happening? Don't hold your breath.

He knew, oh yes, he knew it.

But that didn't mean it hurt any less.

He stares at video playing shakily on the screen over and over, not really watching but mesmerized, entranced.

Kenny's body moving gracefully on top of some nameless woman, his thick pants and her soft, continuous moan the only noise in the room, but Kyle's ears are full of static. He zones in on the half grin tugging at Kenny's lips as he turns his face to the camera, biting down on the girl's neck.

Kyle vaguely wonders if he ever thought of him finding it. It wasn't hard, not really. In Kenny's tuck glove box, in a different case, and Kyle had just happened to open it. He had been curious.

His body is on autopilot as he gets up, turns off the television and waits. Kenny is at work, making food for strangers in a small little restaurant just outside of South Park. It does pretty well, and as soon as Kenny saves up the money, they're going off to New York to open his own place while Kyle gets a contract for basketball.

Except now they're not. Now, Kyle knows he's going to leave and never talk to the other man again. He starts packing all his shit, just throwing it into a garbage bag, all the essentials. Waiting for Kenny means they will talk, fight, whatever. Kyle just wants out.

Bitterly, he looks at the picture on their nightstand.

It was taken at Stark's Pond, but no one would know unless they were there. Kenny has his lips against Kyle's temple, but his eyes are trained on the camera at arm's length, and Kyle is smiling like an idiot, all bright and happy and nothing could hurt him then, not with Kenny holding him. The indestructible arms that have beaten death itself.

There is a creak of the door opening, but Kyle can barely hear anything but Kenny moaning some bitch's name he doesn't know, probably a girl at Raisons over and over again in his head. He doesn't even hear what the man says to him, really. He just pushes past and out and he's free and driving, away and gone.

His cell phone rings about thirty seven times that night, which he easily ignores. He thinks about breaking it, but instead he calls the only person he is sure will answer.

"Kyle, it's one thirty in the morning. This better be important," and Stan's voice is thick with sleep and maybe something else but Kyle isn't sure.

He can barely get the words out, but they spill out, quick and clipped. "Kenny cheated."

It's all he needs to say. Stan sucks in a breath.

"Shit dude -come over."

And Kyle does.


All the messages on his phone say the same thing in various ways. Kenny starts out softly, pleadingly, and progresses into hysterics.

Kyle erases all of them.


A span of five years passes and Kyle changes with the seasons. He moves to Chicago, forgets basket ball to become an artist.

There is a Kenny shaped hole burned into his heart, but he's okay with that, because he's moved on and the pain doesn't seem so raw anymore. The wound is being stitched and about to mend.

The divorce was mechanical and unreal, but it went smoothly, and Kyle just wanted to die when he was faced with the papers.

But life seems new again, it seems fresh. Instead of being in a love clouded haze, his mind is tight and focused. Kyle loves meeting people and loves sitting on his floor in his apartment, sketching until his hand cramps and he can't feel anything, listening to music and singing along into the early hours of the morning.

Kyle meets, or remeets a boy with messy brown hair and a constant need for cigarettes and black coffee he thought was lost in his childhood at the library one rainy afternoon.

It takes a shrug and a shiver and they are curled in Kyle's bed, kissing and touching and feeling everything Kyle thought he wouldn't again. After it's over they stay around each other, but Christophe lights a cigarette and Kyle coughs and hates what the smell of smoke reminds him of.

Three months of living with Christophe is enough to make him want to change again. He stops believing in God and his inspiration morphs into darker things.

He and Christophe only last about a year before the other man is on his way out one night, spluttering insults and spitting at Kyle's shoes.


Kyle comes home for the first time in nearly a year, and there is a letter for him that his mother gives to him quietly, and doesn't tell him who it's from. He sits on his bed and reads it slowly, absorbing everything it offers.

I'm sorry. I fucked up. I don't expect you to ever forgive me, or ever give a shit about me again. I'm fine with that. Just know, please Kyle, that I love you. I will never stop. I never stopped. I've never regretted anything in my life. Not really, not until you left me.

I hear you draw now. I never knew you could. I found out through Stan you're dating that French kid from the war. I try to tell myself it doesn't matter, you deserve it. You deserve someone who loves you and won't fucking cheat on you. It's hard not to be selfish, though.

If you're reading this, do you remember our homemade videos? I watch them all the time. I'm sending them over, y'know, just in case. It's stupid, but. I don't know.

Your mother hates me, more than ever, but I'm pretty optimistic she'll give them to you.

Well, you're probably sick of my shit, so I'll say goodbye. This isn't a cheap attempt at redemption. Take it as you will.

Kyle stops reading and is only a little surprised to see tears running like rivers down his cheeks, and he quickly wipes it off.

He mechanically takes the first dvd and pushes it into the player.

His face smiles against Kenny's cheek. Their words are spoken soft and weaved around each other. He recognizes the setting as their apartment. This must have been after they…

"I love you," his mouth whispers against Kenny's mouth.

The scene changes.

Kyle watches himself making something in their small kitchen, and hears Kenny's voice as he operates the camera.

"This is Kyle. He's making me a cake for my birthday. Isn't he sexy? Look at that ass… daaaaamn."

Again, the screen twitches, and Kyle sees blond hair against pale skin. His pale skin. There is grass and sky and the view is shifting around so Kenny's face is zoomed in. He looks carefree and so happy, all toothy grin. Kyle's heart starts a dull throb because Kenny has always been beautiful. Ethereal.

"Today is the best day of my life, because Kyle Broflovski said yes. He said yes."

"Stop it," Kyle screams at the television, flicking it off with the remote. It fucking hurts-hurts worse than he thought it would.

He doesn't watch the rest.


It's late July, and Kyle and Kenny sit on a bench by Stark's Pond.

"You never let me explain."

Kyle snorts. "Like you could."

Kenny shakes his head, shrugs. "You're right. I was scared Kyle. Afraid of commitment, afraid of loving you-fully. Of giving myself to one person."

"And what, you've changed? You really expect me to believe that shit Kenny?"

Kyle chuckles bitterly, but Kenny looks at him, blue eyes shining with something akin to determination.

They end up stumbling to Kenny's apartment anyway, a little bit drunk and fucking on Kenny's kitchen table like it's going out of style.

One of the table legs breaks off, but they keep moving, even through the fall. Kenny thrusts and thrusts, making Kyle feel everything he possibly can, and Kyle does, god, he does, hands clutching firmly at whiteblond hair until he can't moan anymore, can't say anything even remotely coherent.

He's missed this, if nothing else.

Before the night is over, Kenny coaxes three orgasms out of Kyle and a confession and the world is once again glued back together. Kenny doesn't make any promises and they take it day by day until Kyle is on his death bed and Kenny's hand is tucked in his, old and wrinkled and having never touched anyone but Kyle in over forty years and it's enough.

It's enough.