1So - this isn't my first South Park fic, but it is the first one I'm posting. I have a few others that are already written, but still need to be edited. They should be out sometime this summer if I don't procrastinate too much, so keep an eye out for them :P Anyways, I hope you all like. Constructive criticism is much appreciated and welcomed :)
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of the characters mentioned in this fiction.
~Suburbs~
All the memories he had of him – the real him; no hood, no smirk, nothing to hide behind – were placed within the shroud of night-time. When he thought of him, the image that jumped to the front of his mind was always that of a contemplative frown and troubled eyes, framed by his messily kept spun-gold blond hair with the light spilling from the street lamp as his halo.
He'd remember what they had been talking about at the time; something inconsequential, or maybe he only remembered it that way because it hurt too much otherwise. Either way, Craig had said it easily enough and – either way – Kenny had frowned. Whatever words he had been about to say then had caught in his throat, waiting for a response, maybe, or just waiting for the melancholy look in the blond's eyes to pass.
He shouldn't have been so surprised when the drunk driver came out of nowhere, just narrowly missing himself as the car ran head on into the boy in the orange parka.
Craig had shoved his gloveless hands into his pockets and walked home with blood splattered on his sneakers and only street lamps for company.
He had always associated Kenny with the time when winter slowly ebbed into spring. Renewal – but really more the impermanence of it all; the promise the departing winter winds leave that the sun may only stay for so long, and eventually flowers will rot, too.
Dust to dust; Craig knew just what to expect.
And when he was lying in bed, eyes staring unwaveringly into the space above him, and – finally – the window was cracked open and the breeze came rushing in with the likeness of a sigh – he still feigned shock as the place beside him was suddenly filled. He stared into the face suddenly pressed up against his own, pretending to be too terrified to speak because it was better than verbalizing the words that he kept safe behind his teeth.
A hand would always find his then, their fingers twining together, while the other would come up and press against the hollow space in his chest, the dull thudding seeming to cease for a moment in response. The blond would rest his head next to his hand there, hoping to hear the beat that he felt under his fingertips, a smile rising to his lips in response and words forming quickly after it.
A continuation of their conversation, apparently.
Three words had never carried so much weight.
They had said nothing after that and – just like the other times – they stayed together until sunrise, after which morning or the headlights of a car would lead them in separate directions. And always, a part of Craig would go with him.
Still, he kept those memories pressed between the pages of his mind, hibernating and dormant in the night-time as he waited for the sun to rise again.
