Chapter Text
“So then Garfield guy,” Kenny continued after a massive exhale that was accompanied by a laugh. He was telling some story about his shift the night before. He had come home around midnight, which was late for him considering the shop closed at 10. Craig had already gone to sleep. And Kenny had uttered some greeting mixed with an excuse after his shower, climbing into bed. But now he could tell Craig the whole story. “You know with the Garfield pants, he’s on the ground, whining about the rain and I shit you not he starts singing!”
Craig was already laughing, the story was unbelievable, and singing was insane.
“George called the cops,” Kenny went on, “but they took forever and by the time they got there, the guy’s drugs were kicking in because he was doing that weird bend thing on the ground and he was swaying all quiet.”
“Was he okay? Sounds like he was overdosing,” Craig asked, taking a hit. “What time are we going to Kyle’s?” He asked, forgetting he had to put real clothes on.
“We don’t have to go until…” Kenny looked at the clock on his phone, “We can leave here in an hour. The game is at 1:30, but I don’t care about football. He’s just trying to rub Harsha in Stan’s face again.”
“They’re kind of serious now, huh?” Craig asked, taking off his shirt. He went over to Kenny’s dresser, hoping he had something in that second drawer where Craig kept clothes sometimes. He opened it and was relieved to find a plain navy blue t-shirt.
“I think so. He basically lives there now.” Kenny watched Craig, partly checking him out, and the other part thinking about the fact that Craig was basically living at Kenny’s. It was November. It had been three months since Leo’s wedding and five months since Kenny and Craig had officially started dating. “Stan’s an idiot,” He said, lying back and closing his eyes. He felt like he could go back to bed, as if they hadn’t been lying in bed all morning. He caught himself before he could doze off, and just as he sat up, he heard the vibration of Craig’s phone somewhere in the sheets. He lifted the blanket, feeling around for it until he found it. “Here.” He said, holding the phone out.
Craig turned around and took the phone, but he hadn’t heard it vibrate. He looked at the screen, seeing two texts from Tricia. ‘Tweek is here,’ the first one said, followed by, ‘He’s looking for you.’ Craig thought both were odd. Last he had known, Tweek had come back from his aunts and was sent away to some psych hospital. He thought it’d be the last he would hear of him for a while. That he’d get through treatment, or whatever they did at the hospital, and get his schooling done so he could get to USC in the Fall. But then there was this. What would Tweek have to say to Craig after the last time at Tolkien’s party? Craig considered that maybe it would be part of his getting-better process, the apologies part. Maybe Tweek was getting ‘closure’. So he checked his texts to see if he had missed one from Tweek, but there was nothing. “Tweek is looking for me,” Craig said before tossing his phone back to the bed. He pulled the other shirt on and turned to look in the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles from it being folded.
“Is he home?” Kenny asked, eyes closed again.
“I guess,” Craig said, not sure, and surprisingly not caring all that much. Well it was probably the weed. He hadn’t smoked since Halloween, and now it was Thanksgiving.
Kenny lifted his head, forcing himself to wake up, “Did he ask where you were?”
“No,” Craig said, going back to the bed to sit. “Tricia said he came to the house, looking for me.”
“Maybe he’s doing better,” Kenny suggested, taking another hit, “Maybe he’s making amends, you know like alcoholics do.” And that had been a theory Craig was already about, although he wasn’t sure he wanted an apology. He felt for the time being he was probably far better off with Tweek out of his life. Tweek needed more than a few months of therapy and some apologies. He needed a reboot.
“Just weird that he wouldn’t just text me,” Craig said, unable to let it go. Kenny got up to start changing as well, finally, but Craig stayed stuck on the thought, “And I haven’t heard from Tolkien about him either and he was keeping up with the…the treatment or whatever. If he’s out, I—,” He stopped talking, because there was a sound outside of the room. Maybe downstairs. It had been a while since he felt paranoid from smoking. He felt stupid for startling, “Was that Karen?”
Kenny shrugged, “Probably,” he said, hearing more of her moving around on the stairs now. And then in the hall. He looked down at his phone, at the time again, and then it dawned on him, “Wait, no she’s with her boyfriend’s family all break.”
Craig didn’t like that. His body jerked upright into standing in time for the bedroom door to open. “Tweek?” he questioned.
Tweek was standing in the doorway. His hair was kind of flat on his head, wet from the snow probably. His eyes looked bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His jacket looked too big on him, it was wet like his hair and his jeans and sneakers. He had walked over in sneakers? Craig immediately felt his mouth go dry, the part of him that used to take care of Tweek was aching again. “Craig,” Tweek whispered, “I…I—you’re—,”
“What are you—are you okay?” he asked.
“Did you just walk in?” Kenny asked.
Tweek looked from Craig to Kenny and he seemed to get mad, “I knocked twice,” he said louder, “the door was unlocked.”
Kenny nodded, not bothering to argue the morality of it. Tweek was obviously not okay. Kenny noticed his hands in fists, shaking beside his thighs. He was probably freezing.
Craig didn’t know what to do, “How are you?” he asked, stepping closer to him. “Your clothes are all wet, do you need to change?”
“No,” he said and shook his head, “I need to tell you something.”
Craig nodded, “Okay,” he said, “What?”
Tweek looked at Kenny and shook his head again, quicker, “Alone.”
Kenny smiled, “This is ‘my’ room,” he said, but made for the exit anyway, putting a hand on Tweek’s shoulder as he passed him in the doorway “Make it quick, we have turkey day plans.” Tweek’s cheeks were red, up close he looked sick. Kenny was a bit worried about leaving the two of them, but he trusted Craig. And he figured Tweek wasn’t much of a threat, not in his state.
“What’s up?” Craig asked in a soft voice. The way he used to address Tweek. Warm, like they were together again. Tweek stepped closer and looked behind him to make sure Kenny was gone.
“Craig,” he whispered, somehow worried Kenny would overhear, “I know what’s going on.” he said, looking back again. He stepped towards the door to shut it then came back to Craig, closer. “I know what he’s doing to you. I can help you.”
“Tweek,” he said softly, calmly, “What are you talking about?”
“Kenny,” he said, turning to look at the closed door now. “I know you’re under his control, but I can stop it. I know what to do.”
Craig shook his head, “Tweek, it’s not—,” he started, putting a hand out to take Tweek’s freezing hand, “he’s not controlling me. I’m okay. You’re—you’re freezing. Let me take you home.”
Tweek’s brow was furrowed, he was studying Craig, like this was a scheme. He looked skeptically, “I…yeah, that will work,” Tweek nodded, “we just need to get you away from him.”
Craig nodded, “Let me get dressed,” he said, still in flannel pajama pants.
Tweek nodded again. He turned away and thought about how stupid it was to avoid seeing Craig without pants. He had seen Craig at his most vulnerable, he was here to save him from mind control. This was so much bigger than Craig in his underwear.
“Okay,” Craig said, walking towards Tweek, putting his hand on his back, “Let’s go.” As they headed down the hall, he took the towel hanging from the bathroom door knob and put it over Tweek’s shoulders. Tweek looked back at Craig when he did it.
“He’s down there,” Tweek said.
Craig kept a straight face, although he was confused for a second, “Kenny?” he questioned.
Tweek nodded, “You can’t talk to him.”
“I…okay,” Craig said, not sure what to say. They got to the bottom of the staircase.
“I’m making some coffee,” Kenny said, coming out of the kitchen, “Are you leaving?”
Tweek looked at Craig, taking his arm and pulling him towards the door. “I’m just gonna take him home,” Craig announced.
“Before coffee?” Kenny asked, “I mean we have time before the game. Want me to come?”
“No!” Tweek shouted, “Leave us alone.”
“Whoa,” Kenny said, putting up his hands. He was smiling again, “Just asking—,”
“Well don’t!” Tweek said, not quite shouting, but the anger was still there.
“Tweek,” Craig said firmly, but still somewhat calm, “He’s just being nice.”
Tweek shook his head, “We don’t have time for this,” he said, “—Ack, it’s already Thanksgiving. We have to go!”
“What’s going on?” Kenny asked.
“It’s none of your business,” Tweek said and stepped towards Kenny, “I’m not afraid of you.”
Kenny laughed, “Why would you be afraid of me?”
“I—I said I’m not!” Tweek said, louder. He held the front of his jacket tightly, “You can’t hurt me, and you're not gonna hurt Craig anymore!”
“Tweek,” Craig said, “He’s not hurting me—I think you’re sick—,”
“I’m not sick!” Tweek yelled, “I told you, he’s controlling you!”
Kenny laughed again, “Me? I’m controlling Craig?”
“It’s not funny!” Tweek shrieked and looked like he might jump at Kenny. Craig grabbed him and held him back, letting go of him by the door.
“Let’s just go, Tweek,” He said, “I’ll get you home.”
“It’s too late,” Tweek yelled, pushing Craig away, “He’s got you!”
“I’m—I’m fine, he’s not controlling me—,”
“You’re just saying that,” He claimed and then he reached into his jacket, his finger fumbling as he pulled out a gun. An actual gun, looking huge in his hand although it was only a handgun. Tweek’s fingers shook as he tried to steady the thing in his hands, aimed at Craig.
“Tweek!” Kenny said, not a trace of a smile left in his words, “Where did you get that?”
“Shut up!” He yelled and aimed it at Kenny, “Shut up and let Craig go.”
“Tweek,” Craig said, the least calm he’d been so far. He still held it together somehow, “Tweek, please put that down.”
“No, why? He’s evil!” Tweek yelled, “He’s turned you against me, he made everyone hate me. He made my parents send me away!”
“Tweek, he didn’t do any of that stuff—I’m not against you. No one hates you—please. Put it down,” Craig pleaded, “I—I’ll go with you. It’s okay. We’ll leave right now.”
“You’re just saying that—you’re just saying that to make me—Ah!” he yelled, turning the gun on Craig again, “You’ll do whatever he says. You’re just saying that—,”
“Tweek, he’s—,” Kenny didn’t know what to say, but he was terrified. “Please, put the gun down.You can’t—don’t do this, please. Don’t hurt him, shoot me! Shoot me.”
“I’m not going to hurt him!” Tweek said through gritted teeth, he was tearing up, lowering the gun, “I love him—Craig, I love you. I’m gonna save you!” He pointed the gun at Kenny and steadied his hand again. “It’s over!” he bit out, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled his finger back on the trigger. The gun didn’t immediately go off, and Kenny put his hands up. Craig went to push the gun away, but it released and the shot pushed Tweek back a little. His hand dropped, swinging beside him. Craig was in front of him, looking at Kenny. He was at a loss, not believing what he was seeing. Kenny had a hole low in his chest and he put a hand over the bleeding wound as he stepped back to sit or fall back onto the couch behind him. Craig followed through, reaching for the gun and putting it on the floor before he pushed Tweek, out of shock and maybe instinctive anger. Tweek fell back against the wall by the front door, maybe in his own state of shock.
“Kenny,” Craig said, running towards him, he sat on the couch taking Kenny’s hand and pressing it over the bleeding, “You’re—.”
“It’s okay,” Kenny said, squeezing his hand.
“What do you mean ‘it’s okay’?” Craig questioned, crying, too loudly, “You’re bleeding! You’re gonna bleed out!”
Kenny nodded, flinching at the movement, “I’ll be back,” he whispered, “Just stay away from him.”
Craig looked back at Tweek, who was crying now, sobbing into his hands. Craig looked back at Kenny, at the blood, “Are you sure?”
Kenny smiled, how could he smile right then? He coughed, “He’s killed me before, remember?”
Craig couldn’t remember right then, he was scared, and his eyes were blurred with tears. He didn’t know what to think. Before he had believed Kenny, or believed that Kenny believed. And that was enough. But he had never watched someone die. It was too vivid. The blood at the corner of Kenny’s mouth with another cough. “Is this real?”
“For now,” Kenny replied, looking over at Tweek. “You’re not gonna remember.”
Craig shook his head—how would he possibly forget this? He wiped his eye with a bloody hand, “I can’t do anything?”
“You could shoot me in the head so this will be over,” Kenny said, sounding in pain. But he wasn’t serious.
“Should I…” Tweek sobbed out, “Should I call 911?”
Kenny rolled his eyes, “Or shoot him,” he laughed. Craig shook his head again. This was insane. INSANE. He was watching his boyfriend die and he was supposed to just let it happen. “I’m gonna pass out,” Kenny choked out, coughing hard, more blood came up, “Uh, fuck it—I love you, Tucker.”
Craig was sure this was a nightmare now. His eyes hurt as they filled with more tears. “I—Kenny, don’t—,”
“Just say it back,” Kenny said, with a short ugly laugh. He was crying too. “Come on, I won’t remember—,” another laugh took him over and a whine. “Last chance,” he could feel himself going. It’d be over soon.
“I love you,” Craig said through his sniffling tears, “you better come back.”
Kenny laughed again, “I lied—I’ll remember everything,” he pointed at Craig and teasingly sang, “You said you love me!”
“I—fuck you,” Craig said, laughing too now somehow.
“You can’t say fuck you to a dying man!” Kenny coughed again, “F—uck you!” That was it, he gasped and choked a little, but then he went still.
Craig’s hands were still holding his one over the staining on his shirt. Craig turned to Tweek, “You better hope he comes back.”
Tweek didn’t know what Craig was talking about. But he looked at Kenny, “Is he…he’s dead?”
Craig clenched his jaw, and before he could tell Tweek off like he wanted too, there was a weird sound. Like a gurgling, coming from inside Kenny. Craig watched him, hoping that was a good sign. Hoping to god or whatever he could that Kenny was right, about everything. But then there was silence. And then Craig must have passed out because everything went black. And then there was nothing.
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Craig woke up. It was still dark, early in the morning. Usually the sun would have been out, but it was a cloudy day. Probably a lot more snow. Craig’s eyes felt swollen and itchy. He rubbed them, confused, and overall feeling hungover or something. He grabbed his phone, checking the time. 5:47 AM. He had a text, a few actually, all from Kyle.
‘Are you guys coming?’
‘Is everything okay? Kenny’s not responding,’
‘You guys could have at least told us you weren’t coming,’
‘You better be dead or something,’
Craig rubbed his eyes again, remembering, or trying to remember the day before. He had woken up in Kenny’s bed, it was a quiet morning, a slow one. They stayed in bed because Kenny wasn’t feeling good. He had come home late the night before and had a cough. His chest was hurting and Craig figured it was a bad cold. They decided not to go to Kyle’s, but it was weird, Craig was pretty sure Kenny had texted Kyle letting him know they wouldn’t be there. And then they went back to sleep for a little while, until Craig’s mom had insisted they come home for Thanksgiving dinner. But Kenny had refused, not able to get out of bed at that point, urging Craig to go so he could make him a plate and bring it back. And he had convinced Craig, but then the snow had gotten horrible, a white out basically, and Craig couldn’t go back. Kenny assured him he was fine. He had some soup, the kind that comes in the styrofoam cups, and went back to bed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” was the last thing he had said before hanging up. And Craig had texted him ‘Good night,’ but wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a response. Hopefully Kenny had taken some medicine and went to sleep.
Craig wondered if Kenny’s phone service was down, or off. Maybe it was a bill Kenny or Kevin had forgotten to pay. He shrugged off Kyle’s texts and got out of bed. Even if the snow was thick, and it would come down even more, he would get to Kenny’s with a plate full of thanksgiving food like he had promised. He had to spend a half hour clearing his driveway and his car, but a plow had gone through and cleared most of the roads, so once he was done with his car, he set out. Kenny’s driveway remained empty, as usual.
Craig went in through the garage. They never really locked it, no one in South Park was stupid enough to come in and try to take anything. They knew there was nothing to take. And Kenny liked to leave it unlocked for his parents who would wander in every once in a while, less than before but still sometimes. Craig had come in one night, before Kenny was even home, and found Stuart passed out on the couch. It hadn’t phased him, he just went up to Kenny’s room where he was essentially doing the same thing, freeloading, until Kenny got home.
Kenny was still in bed. Craig had left the plate of food on the counter downstairs, planning to heat it up once he got Kenny up and moving. But Kenny was still out. “Hey,” Craig said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He had ditched his boots at the door, but he was still in his jacket and jeans that were wet around the ankles. “Kenny,” he called, shaking his boyfriend softly. But Kenny wasn’t waking. Craig panicked a little. He put a hand up to Kenny’s face to feel for a breath, but his hands were too cold to be sure. Then he sat still, watching for the rise in his chest or a movement somewhere in his body indicating life. And then he saw it, Kenny was breathing, but it was slow and long. “Kenny,” he called again, shaking him again, “I brought you some turkey, and mashed potatoes.”
Nothing.
Craig was nervous, but seeing Kenny like this had reminded him of a time back in late May, maybe early June. Kenny had gone radio silent. No texting, nothing, and afterwards he had said it was a bad cold, just like this. Kenny told him he was in bed for three days straight, and although to Craig that didn’t mean actually sleeping the whole time, he later found out the truth. Kenny explained to him that sometimes he died. He’d die from minor accidents or sometimes horrific events, and somehow no one would remember, and then a few days later he’d be back and good as new. It had supposedly happened at a party at the end of the school year, when Tweek had punched Kenny, and Craig was amazed because the story had been backed up by some others at the school, not the dying, but the punch. And Kenny told Craig how he died right on the front lawn, and then two or three days went by and he was back.
Craig wanted to believe it. And partly he did, because he was sure he had seen Kenny die before, in an ATV accident right on the street. It looked brutal, unsurvivable, he had broken his neck for sure. But the more he thought about it, the more it felt like a dream. So Craig wrote it off as one, until Kenny had brought it up and confirmed its actuality.
So Craig did believe it. For the most part, he believed it, although he couldn’t understand it. And he was okay with waiting a couple days if Kenny was breathing and his heart was beating. He went downstairs to put the plate of food in the McCormick fridge and then went back upstairs to change into dry clothes. He put on a pair of Kenny’s shorts, took off his jacket and got into bed beside his boyfriend. Then he found something to watch on his phone, and did so until he fell asleep, hoping that when he woke up, Kenny would too.
Only it took longer than one sleep.
Craig slept well into the evening, it was dark when he awoke. He leaned over to turn on the light on the nightstand and was unsurprised, but not discouraged, to find Kenny was still there, still asleep in the same position as before. Breathing, heart beating and all.
“Kenny,” Craig tried again, shaking him and calling his name, but he remained asleep. So Craig rolled over and let himself fall back asleep again.
Besides a trip to the bathroom and then one downstairs to snack on a little turkey, Craig stayed there, waiting. They slept through the next night, and it amazed Craig how much he himself could sleep after so many hours of only doing so. He’d watch another few videos, one about a bridge collapse, another about a space conspiracy theory, and then he’d be out again. He would dream, a lot, about space and that bridge, and Kenny. Kenny waking up, but not being Kenny anymore. Or Kenny dying again, if he really did die in the first place. He didn’t like that because he wanted to believe Kenny. And he wanted Kenny to be fine, awake, alive and fine.
It was Sunday morning, super early, like 3 AM, when Craig woke up abruptly. His phone, plugged in on the nightstand, was vibrating nonstop. He sat up and reached for it, looking at the blinding screen. Tolkien was calling. Tolkien? At 3 AM? He hadn’t come home for thanksgiving, not like he said he would. His parents actually went to see him and they were still in Boston, Craig was sure. So it’d be a bit of a time difference, but it’d be even later there. Well…early, like in the morning.
“Who is it?” the crackly voice beside him wondered. It made Craig jump and drop his phone right onto Kenny’s head. “Ow—fuck.”
“Shit,” Craig said, picking it up, “Sorry, are you—you’re awake, Jesus.”
Kenny rubbed where his forehead had been impacted and laughed, “Yeah,” he whispered, sitting up a little before turning to face Craig. “Yeah,” he said again, smoother, “I told you I’d be back.”
Craig put the phone back on the table and willed his eyes to adjust so he could see Kenny. “I just…” Craig said, in disbelief. He wondered if this was another dream, but then Kenny’s arms were wrapped around him. “You’re back.”
“Mhmm,” Kenny agreed, his face pressed into Craig's neck. “How long was I out?” he asked, absently kissing the hollowed part at Craig’s collar.
“It’s Sunday,” Craig replied, “So…two days? Two and a half?”
“Mm,” Kenny hummed again, this time just acknowledging Craig’s words. He didn’t want to let go, so he didn’t. “I missed you.”
Craig basked in the sweetness. It wasn’t often that they were this tender with one another. But this was a good cause for affection. “I thought you’d never wake up.”
“That was the first time I’ve died since like May,” Kenny said, “So what’s that?...five—six months?”
“Yeah,” Craig agreed.
“You must be good luck,” Kenny whispered right into Craig’s ear, “I haven’t gone longer than two months since I was like…thirteen, I think.”
Craig flinched at the way Kenny’s voice tickled in his ear.
“And I’ve never woken up like this,” Kenny continued, “I’m usually alone. Did you stay here the whole time?”
“Most of it,” Craig replied, “Oh, if you’re hungry, there are Thanksgiving leftovers.”
“Mmh,” Kenny’s voice was lower, less raspy. His body, pressed against Craig’s, was not eager to leave the bed. He laughed, “You’d think, after being dead for three days, I’d be starving.” But it was evident in his tone and in what was happening under the blankets, he didn’t want food, he wanted Craig.
Craig didn’t realize how eager he’d be to have Kenny back, like back-back. But once Kenny’s mouth was biting at his neck, it was like nothing had changed. They were back. And Kenny must have been completely recharged, because his energy was unmatched. He had Craig on his back for nearly forty minutes, teasing him on his tongue. He wouldn’t let him cum, not until Kenny went down lower and teased him that way too. And then it was only a matter of time before Kenny would work into him, slowly, carefully, like it was the first time all over again. Craig was emotional, not over the sex, but over Kenny’s being back and being the same Kenny as before, and maybe a little over the sex. So it was real, very real. Kenny really had died and come back. And maybe it made more sense as to why Kenny was so impulsive all of the time. He did what he wanted, said what he thought—fucked whenever he wanted to fuck.
“Do you remember anything?” Kenny asked, leisurely rubbing his fingers up Craig’s arm. One round over, but Kenny was easing his way into another.
“Just…” Craig thought, slowly accessing the now foggy memory, “You being sick.”
Kenny nodded, that’s all anyone ever remembered. “You told me you loved me,” Kenny teased.
Craig’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Kenny, “bullshit.”
Kenny laughed, shaking his head, “Nope, you said it. I mean, I said it first, but you said it back.”
Craig didn’t believe it, or he did, but he couldn’t tell if he felt that way then lying in bed after. He felt even more naked than he was, which was impossible, because they were both completely stripped down. “That’s what you do when someone is dying.”
“And when you love them,” Kenny added.
Craig rolled his eyes, feeling his face heat up. Five months was probably long enough to know that you love someone. And, yeah, he probably loved Kenny, but not like love-love. Like…as a friend. A friendly love. A friend that you have sex with and call your boyfriend. “So? You said it first!”
“I was dying!” Kenny exclaimed stupidly, this whole argument was dumb.
“You knew it wasn’t for good, though,” Craig countered.
“I said it so you’d say it!”
“Why did you want me to say it?”
“Because I wanted to hear it!” Kenny was smiling, “It’s what you want to hear when you’re dying. Even when you’re dying temporarily.”
“So you probably get it a lot, then,” Craig said, putting his head down, laying it on Kenny’s shoulder.
“I wouldn’t say ‘a lot’,” Kenny disagreed, back to rubbing Craig’s arm. “Like Karen and Kevin, yeah, and Stan and Kyle a few times, Cartman once—I think my mom said it once when I was little. But…I’ve died alone a lot.”
“Okay, you’ve got my sympathy,” Craig informed him sarcastically.
Kenny laughed, “Fuck you,” he said, “Oh shit…that’s what you said—‘fuck you’.”
“Which one was it, then?” Craig asked, looking at Kenny, in disbelief all over again, “did I tell you I love you? Or did I say fuck you?”
“You said both!” Kenny laughed harder, “Yeah, I made fun of you for saying I love you and we both said ‘fuck you’ and I died.”
Craig shook his head, “The more you explain, the harder it is to believe.”
“It does sound insane,” Kenny agreed, taking Craig’s hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss his warm fingers and put them against his cheek. “I do, though.” He whispered.
And Craig’s body went still. More still than it had already been, and he whispered back, “‘Do’ what?”
Kenny laughed, “You’re a smart guy, Tucker,” he said as he sat up to flip Craig onto the bed again. This time he turned him so he was face down and he slid his legs apart to kneel between them. “You know what I ‘do’,” he said, taking Craig by the waist. He used his other hand to slide up, still between Craig’s legs. Craig kept his head down and Kenny didn’t mind. Feelings were hard for Craig. He was a fact guy. A straight up, information only, kind of dude. But Kenny knew how to read him. In his voice and his body. Kenny knew how Craig really felt. As he pressed in again, just as slowly as before, he heard Craig’s breath and a soft whine that Kenny lived for. Yeah. That’s what he lived for. All this time he had been dying and coming back, fucking around with all kinds of idiots and assholes, but Craig wasn’t an idiot—he could be an asshole—but he was more than that. “I love you,” Kenny said, well, moaned into Craig’s ear, “fuck, I love you so much.”
Craig gasped, “Shit, Kenny,” he whined, “I—,” he’d say it, not right then but he’d say it again eventually. He hid his face into the pillows even more so he wouldn’t say it by accident, and so he couldn’t make any more embarrassing sounds as he got close to the edge. Kenny fucked like he meant it, like he always had. And Craig wanted to cry again, but he held it together and let it take him all of the way. He was almost there.
“How about—,” Kenny said between breaths, “a facial—to welcome me back.”
And Craig lifted his hand, managing a strained middle finger, barely able to hold it in his position.
Kenny laughed, “Back shots it is,” he joked, putting a hand on the back of Craig’s neck as he leaned down again to whisper, “Unless you wanted it inside.”
Craig bit back an insult, somehow he still had an aversion to the excessive dirty talk. It made him squirm.
“Huh?” Kenny pressed, licking Craig’s jaw, right where it was clenched, “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He drove into him, knowing he had the spot by the way Craig arched, only a little, but Kenny knew. “Tell me.”
Craig kept his jaw tight and his eyes shut, his face hidden from Kenny who would only tease more if he saw.
“Say it, Tucker,” he insisted, saying his last name like it was a curse word. “Come on,” he whined, seeming desperate at that. “If you’re not gonna let me cum on your face, at least tell me how you feel.”
Craig couldn’t take it, he turned his head to look back at Kenny, who was right there, smiling that big bad wolf looking smile. The one he had when he was getting off on being annoying.
“Hey,” He greeted to top it off, as if he only just realized Craig was present. As if he wasn’t inside of him. Craig was on the verge of being very pissed off until he felt Kenny swell a bit and he connected the dots. “You’re so hot when you’re mad at me.”
Craig rolled his eyes and dropped his face back into the pillows, too close. He groaned and gave in, letting the wave of heat rush over him. He whined into the pillow as it subsided, Kenny’s hand squeezing his shoulder, releasing the tension with the tightness.
“My turn,” Kenny whispered, but it was a little late, he was cumming fast, “Fuck—,” he bit out leaning in, gently biting into Craig’s other shoulder. He had been working on the biting. This didn’t hurt Craig, in fact Kenny thought he seemed to like it, or had come to expect it at least. Kenny laid motionless on top of Craig for a few quiet seconds, feeling the after shocks of the intensity. Craig had drifted, not completely asleep, but close to it. “We should shower.”
“Mhmm,” Craig agreed weakly, not even attempting to move. He laid there in the silence, or close to silence. He could hear his own heart beat and maybe Kenny’s, or he could feel it inside himself. And that was a relief.
ֶָ ּ˚⊹ ｡⋆ ₊ ּ ˚⋆. .⊹₊ ּ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ּ ֶָ֢
Clean and dressed, Kenny and Craig sat at the dining room table. Kenny had been searching the room with his eyes for any trace of his death. No blood, not on the couch or the floor. Obviously no gun. Nothing. And Craig heated up the Thanksgiving leftovers.
As he put two plates on the table, he studied Kenny. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Kenny nodded, excitedly taking a bite, “You’re so lucky that this is your Thanksgiving.”
“It’ll be yours too next year,” Craig assured him, “Just don’t get sick—Kyle went off on me about us not showing on Thursday.”
Kenny shrugged, “Yeah, I’ll try not to die next time,” he smiled, savoring the bite of mashed potatoes he had taken. He thought some more about missing Kyle’s, and being ‘sick’ and wondered if he wanted to go any further into depth on his death. “Have you heard from Tweek?” he asked, a bit before he could think it over.
Craig’s brow rose as he chewed up his own bite. “Mm,” he thought about it, “Not since he was in that hospital, the mental one. I think he’s still there.”
Kenny nodded, feeling an unsettled chill fall over him as he thought about Thanksgiving and Tweek, and the feeling of being shot. It wasn’t his first time, but it was so recent in his head. In his body. “It’s weird. Whenever I die, all anyone remembers is that I was sick.”
Craig nodded, listening.
“Like even when it’s a car accident, or if I fell off my bike,” he continued, “They remember me hurt or in bed healing up and being fine. Or if it’s really horrific, they just don’t remember any of it, either the time they spent with me on that given day is erased or replaced with some other memory of me just having a cold.”
Craig stopped nodding and just listened. Maybe he realized.
“And there’s no point in trying to tell them what really happened,” he explained, “It’s all pretty unbelievable.”
“Do you mean me?” Craig asked, concerned because Kenny seemed serious. It was rare and it was scary.
Kenny, who was looking at his plate, looked at Craig then. “I mean anyone. But I wondered if you really thought that was how I died. Or if you would believe me if I told you.”
Craig furrowed his brow, smiling at the uncomfy feeling. It was his nerves. “Why wouldn’t I believe you?” he asked, “I believe everything else.”
Kenny shrugged, “Do you want to know?”
Craig rolled his eyes, “Yeah, Kenny, now that you’re making it so fucking weird. I obviously want to know how you really died.”
“It’s gonna sound batshit, Craig,” Kenny warned him, “I almost can’t even believe it. I wouldn’t believe it if it didn’t happen to me.”
“Just tell me,” Craig said, “I know batshit, I dated batshit for six years.”
Kenny shook his head, not believing the coincidence himself. It was so on the nose. “On Thursday, we were getting ready for Kyle’s thing, I was telling you about work Wednesday night. And you got a text from your sister about Tweek, that he was looking for you or something.” he paused, not sure he wanted to explain how insane it got so quickly, “He came to my house, in here. He told you I was like mind-controlling you and wanted you to leave with him.”
“Sounds like him,” Craig agreed, but his face wasn’t saying he followed. He was listening, but it wasn’t going in, not as a fact.
Kenny nodded, “So I guess I said I said too much and he was convinced I was some monster or something. He said I was evil. And he had a gun.”
This is where he probably lost Craig. Because where would Tweek have gotten a gun? And he wasn’t a violent person at heart. He was hurt, and needed help but…a gun?
“He pointed it at you at first, and was saying, like, ‘it’s too late’ like I had full control over you or something and I was making you say shit. And he aimed it at me and you a couple times but then he said he wouldn’t hurt you and he aimed it at me again and shot me, right here,” Kenny pointed at his chest. “Right there,” he pointed to the living room, at the couch.
Craig was silent. “H—how do you know that your memory isn’t being replaced?”
Kenny wanted to smile, he wanted to laugh it off. But Craig wasn’t joking, and Kenny didn’t like that. “You mean that.” It was kind of a question, or a statement Kenny didn’t want confirmation for.
“I just mean that there is obviously a supernatural element to this all. And I know ‘I’ don’t remember it correctly, it just doesn’t make sense, but maybe you also have it different.”
“I’ve died like 200 times, Craig,” Kenny said, putting his fork down, “I told you you weren’t going to believe it.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe it—,” but it was, “Tweek is in the hospital, Kenny. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”
Kenny didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have anything nice to say. Nothing that wouldn’t ruin everything. So he was silent until he could form something flat and uninsulting. “I always remember everything, I know what happened. I know how it felt. I might be fucked up, but my brain isn’t making up me being shot—You were there, sitting on the couch with me while I bled out.”
“Why would I just watch you bleed out?” Craig asked, grasping at anything for this to be fake or misremembered.
Kenny laughed, that humorless laugh he sometimes did, it was demeaning, “Because I told you I’d be back. Because everything was fine—because I die all the time.”
Craig just stared at Kenny, finding it impossible that this was real. Tweek was crazy, he’d always been crazy, but he wasn’t a murderer. He wouldn’t even know how to use a gun. He was actively getting help. Craig couldn’t imagine a version of Tweek capable of the things Kenny was claiming.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Kenny said. It was sobering, “He killed me before—the last time.”
Craig shook his head microscopically, “That was—,” it was different. Tweek had punched Kenny, but he hadn’t intended to kill him. Tweek could be physical when angry, but not homicidal.
“It was different,” Kenny could agree, “but I remember it. And I remember this.”
“How would he even get here?” Craig questioned, “And get a gun…”
“He walked here in the snow,” Kenny explained, “And I don’t know about the gun, but I know—I know it was real.”
Craig nodded promptly, it was short and uncomfortable. It was like before, when he didn’t know if he believed it, but he knew Kenny believed it. But this time he hoped Kenny was just wrong. He knew he had to be wrong. It was impossible. Physically impossible. Tweek wasn’t home. He didn’t have a gun. He couldn’t kill anyone.
“He almost shot you too,” Kenny said, “It shouldn’t be that hard to believe, he’s hurt you before too.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Craig argued, but had little fight in him. He didn’t want to argue. He could feel things being undone, inside him and in front of him. “He’s getting help, Kenny. He’s—.”
Kenny shrugged, “It doesn’t matter,” he said, but it was evident in his tone that it wasn’t true. “I’m alive. It’s over. It…it’s not real, not anymore.”
But Craig had a bad feeling. He stood up to clean up their plates, both of them having left a bit of food. He cleaned the dishes while Kenny sat at the table. When he was done he turned back to Kenny locked in thought. “I have homework.”
Kenny looked up at him, understanding his meaning. And even though it made him upset, he nodded. “I’m sure that’s the only reason you’re about to go home.”
“I just need to think about this,” Craig said, not letting the sarcasm go. “It’s just hard to process.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you. It’s not like I’m the one who died or anything,” Kenny joked darkly, actually smiling again. He was such a smartass.
Craig rolled his eyes, “fuck off, Kenny,” he said, feeling something in his chest twist, he walked past the table and towards the stairs where he’d go up to get his things.
“So, you’re really gonna go?” Kenny called after him.
“I have class tomorrow,” Craig called back, going up to the bedroom.
The front door opened, startling Kenny, it was Karen. She gave him a nod as she passed him. “How was your break?” he asked her.
“Fine,” she said absently, “How was yours?”
Craig was coming down the steps with his bag over his shoulder and he eyed Karen at the counter. He greeted her with a subtle nod, not so different from the one she had given Kenny. “See ya,” he said, to Karen and maybe to Kenny too. He was quickly to the door.
“Hm?” she questioned and then looked at Kenny, “What’s going on?”
Kenny shrugged, “He’s got homework and class tomorrow.”
Her brow was furrowed, but she nodded as Craig headed out. She was going to ask, but she was tired and Kenny didn’t look like he wanted to talk, so she got a water bottle from the fridge and went to her room, leaving an upset Kenny at the table.
Kenny was annoyed, at Craig, over Tweek, but mostly at himself. He knew he should have just kept his mouth shut and let Craig live in the ignorant bliss of not knowing. Of thinking Kenny peacefully went in a bout of pneumonia, or whatever the fuck he thought.
He should have just stayed quiet. He thought he might hear Craig say ‘I love you’ again if they went another round that day, but now there was no fucking chance.