Chapter Text
Kenny’s second semester of college was already going ‘off-roading’ in terms of predictability, given he was walking to a frat party to show up for Stan who had decided he was seriously joining a frat. Because someone always had to make it so that they always had something going on.
He surrendered to it, the way he always did. He always showed up when he could. That was what mattered to him. Even if that meant going to a frat house when he was already behind on labs. It was his own fault. He needed to learn how to look when he crossed the street.
But that was a problem for another day.
The block was alive when they turned onto it, chatter of people walking up and down the block, music blasting from the frat house from hell. Kyle and Cartman walked with him, the two arguing, existing in their typical whirlwind of half chaos and half competitive competence.
Kenny walked beside them, though he was lacking his own breath of insanity that existed in the shape of a really tall, half blind blonde. There was a chance Leo would show up. He seriously hoped so.
Stan had texted and said he wasn’t there a little bit ago, only supplying that he’d seen him this morning and he had ‘that look in his eye.’
Going to parties without him felt sort of misaligned, so he just hoped that he would pop in without warning considering Leo hadn’t answered his texts all day.
They approached the door that had been propped open with a shoe like nothing was wrong, because ultimately, nothing was wrong. It was just him. The smell hit him immediately: cheap beer, cologne, sweat.
The party was in full swing.
He stepped inside, pausing long enough to orient himself. The living room was full already, conversations overlapping under music. He scanned the crowd looking for Stan, tuning out Kyle’s aggravated, ‘riddle me this—’
They were arguing about intention versus outcome.
At a fucking frat party.
They were unreal.
Kenny pulled off his hoodie, tying it around his waist, spinning to face the two of them. “You’re both assuming people ever think that far ahead.”
“So you agree with me!” they both shouted in unison.
“Um, no. I agree that it’s my night off and I am going to drink like it’s my night off.” He shot Kyle a wink. “I’m gonna go take a lap. Pretty please take a break from the stick up your ass.”
Cartman barked out a laugh. Kenny didn’t typically make comments about the aforementioned stick.
“I do not have a stick up my ass!”
Kenny didn’t stay around to argue. With a lazy wave, he slipped through the wall of people, heading towards the kitchen. The music slammed, but it became background noise as he stepped inside. Stan stood at the heart, drunk enough to put on the performance of the greatest showman.
His hair was messed up and his face was flushed from drinking, running, and being caught up with the good that came with being alive when he was too drunk to remember he needed a double dose of prozac to keep going.
They made eye contact.
It was over.
“KENNY!!”
He couldn’t help his smile. Seeing Stan smile like that always made him smile. It was like they were tiny again. It overrode the logical part of his brain every time.
He trotted over. Stan was grinning, pouring up a new shot glass for Kenny. It was being handed to him before he even got a greeting. Stan gave their glasses a tiny, lazy slap. Kenny took his shot, wincing because they were seriously drinking Jameson this early in the night and he already knew what was coming before he even actually set the glass down.
Stan kissed him hello, less of an actual kiss and more of a theatric joining of faces. Kenny kissed him back, naturally, laughing like he always did when this was how he got greeted. “Happy to see you too.”
“I’m so happy you’re here!!”
“‘Course, Stannibal, I told you we were coming."
“You said that, like, three hours ago! I thought you guys were bailing!”
“No, no! We got kinda sidetracked.”
“Cartman and Kyle are here?!”
“Yes, Stanny.”
“Leo show up?”
Kenny shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Nope.”
“Do not give me that look,” he said indignantly.
“Then pour me a shot and stop being so obvious!”
Stan frowned at him, but surrendered just as quickly. “One more shot. And then I’m making you a drink.”
“The prospect of letting a frat boy make me a drink is terrifying,” he commented dryly.
Stan swatted at his arm. “Come on now!”
The shot was in his hand just as quickly. Kenny clinked their glasses, taking his next shot from the devil himself. He cringed, patting at his wrists the second his glass hit the table. Fuck. “nick-Stannon—”
Stan was already pulling a hair tie off his wrist.
“Love you!” he chirped, quickly throwing his hair up.
Stan looked back over, grinning like an idiot. “Love you most!” Then he was back to making his scary concoction in two cups that Kenny was trying not to look at too much because he knew he’d probably start gagging.
To his surprise, his first sip didn’t make his stomach spin. It was actually… good.
It was fruity and he had no idea how the fuck Stan managed to get Jameson to taste like fruit, but sure. He wasn’t gonna turn it down.
One turned into two and suddenly every step was accompanied with a little too much pressure. Kenny threw an arm over Stan’s shoulder. “Stanny, where’s your bathroom?”
He looked away from the girl he was rambling to. “Upstairs! Third door on the right!” he slurred.
Kenny smacked a kiss to his cheek. “Be back!”
He walked off, once again shifting through the wave of people and towards the stairs. The chaos died a little as he ascended. There was no one really up here, everyone seeming to actually respect the ‘no one upstairs’ rule, and the music wasn’t so loud it undercut his thoughts. It was as good of a break as he was going to get short of going outside.
Kenny did as told, or at least he thought he did, until he opened a door that looked like all the other ones and did not find a bathroom.
He knew immediately he’d made a mistake. The room was dim, the overhead light off but a small bedside lamp on.
And of course, with Kenny’s luck, someone had to be inside to watch him accidentally barge into their room like a freak.
He paused.
The guy was sitting on the edge of his bed, one leg pulled up with elbows resting on his knees and his face buried in his hands. His shoulders hitched sharply.
He wasn’t crying, he was full blown sobbing.
Kenny took in the details automatically because that was just kinda what he did when he had no idea what else to do. Knowledge was power and this guy's bedspread was half on the floor. His phone was face down on the hardwood floor.
His hair was a mess—brown, soft-looking.
Then he looked up.
Kenny’s stomach dropped.
Bright brown eyes were red and skin too clear to belong in a frat house was red and splotchy, dotted with beauty marks that gave this absolute shithead look cute. Because of course, Kenny was face to face with Clyde Donovan. Who was now staring at him with silent surprise, tears streaming down his face.
He didn’t even know Clyde went here.
And despite the instant flare of weirdness that came with seeing someone he knew in high school, all Kenny could see was how small he looked and that made this even weirder, compulsive part of his mind speak up.
He was not caretaking right now.
He was not solving other people’s problems right now.
This was his night off and he didn’t even really know Clyde.
This wasn’t his problem.
He was just going to back out. Quietly. And just pretend this didn’t happen. He was great at exits.
Then Clyde hiccuped again. “Sorry,” he got out.
Sorry. Like Kenny didn’t just walk in on him having a breakdown. Or maybe he was apologizing for breaking down? God, Clyde was genuinely so pathetic it made Kenny’s heart ache. “Um. Wrong room.”
“It’s—” He closed his mouth, settling on a tiny nod.
“Bathroom?”
He pointed to the left. “Next one.”
“Thanks.”
Kenny very awkwardly slipped out of his room, closing the door, and walking to the next door on the left. Which was the fourth, not the third. Fucking Stan.
Just as quickly, he was out, walking past the door that he’d accidentally breached at first. He paused, irritation flaring, more at himself than anyone else because he genuinely didn’t know how to turn it off, apparently. He walked back, opening the door with a little more force than he meant.
“Are you okay?” he exasperated.
Clyde jumped with a tiny yelp. “Fuck!”
“Sorry. It’s gonna bother me. Are you good?”
Clyde scrubbed at his face, sniffling hard. “Sorry. Yeah, no. Yes. I’m fine. Sorry.”
Kenny exhaled through his nose. He obviously wasn’t fine and Kenny couldn’t just nod and leave like a normal person. He shifted his weight. “Are you hurt?”
Clyde blinked at him, clearly not expecting it. “No. No, I’m just—” He let out a shaky laugh that collapsed into another breathless sob. “I just uh—my girlfriend broke up with me.”
Kenny wished he could say that Bebe Stevens breaking up with Clyde Donovan was something he was genuinely over and had been over like the rest of them had been since middle school.
But right now he just felt bad and he couldn’t help it.
“Do you um…” Fuck, he was not the person for this. He was the person for injuries and near deaths. “Can I do anything?”
Clyde looked at his hands. Then he started crying harder.
Oh my fucking god.
Kenny stepped fully inside, letting the door close behind him, telling himself that there was nothing wrong with doing a good deed and he’d leave in a minute. He slowly stepped closer, sitting down next to Clyde. “Do you want me to get Craig?” he asked, hoping to God that they were still close and Craig actually also happened to go to school with them and was also at this party. It was a lot of hopes.
“He’s not here—”
“Okay, okay. Do you have anyone you want me to get?”
“No.” He sniffled. “I’m alone.”
Of course. Kenny’s hand met the back of his neck. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked awkwardly. It sounded weird and way too intimate but that was the rational correct course of action.
“I–” He sniffed, dragging his arm against the back of his nose. He took a small breath. “Is that okay?”
“What happened?”
Clyde let out another exhale that was more of a shudder. “My girlfriend—ex, I guess.” He laughed weakly at his own phrasing. “She said she’s been feeling ‘off’ for a while. She said she still cares about me but it’s just not… like that.”
Kenny winced internally. He didn’t know what their usual break ups were like. He was kinda shooting in the dark. “This has happened before though, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m just tired. I don’t—” He cut himself off, wiping at his face. “It’s like that and then it’s not but then apparently it is and I—” He let out an exhale. “Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m this upset at this point. I should be used to this.”
“You’re allowed to be upset,” he said quietly. “Do you have somewhere else you can be right now?”
Clyde stiffened. “Oh. I mean—yeah. I could. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you hostage.”
Kenny regretted the phrasing immediately. “That’s not what I meant. I just—” Kenny really couldn’t help himself. This guy was so sad. “If you don’t wanna be alone?”
Clyde looked at him like he was waiting for Kenny to laugh at him or call him a crybaby or tell him to get the fuck over it.
Which just made Kenny feel more intent on staying because as far as he knew everyone had been doing that to him forever and clearly he’d just internalized that his problems, or at least this one, wasn’t worthy of care. “I can stay, if you want.”
“Do you think you can?” he asked quietly. “Just for a little. If that’s okay.”
“Yeah, I can do that.”