Chapter Text
“You're back late,” Bebe commented needlessly, perfectly plucked eyebrows climbing her forehead as she watched Kenny race past to dump his van keys and clock out.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” Poor Kayden and Kaitlyn probably thought they'd been forgotten. “Got a little held up at my last drop. You weren't waiting for me, were you?”
“No,” she said, casually examining her pink, pointed nails. One of these days, she'd lose one in a customer's order and Cartman would blow his fucking nut. “That's the shut-in, right?” Kenny breathed a quiet groan. On another day, when he wasn't this close to the school reporting him to the social for child abandonment, he might make time for a little light flirting with Bebe. Hell, wasn't like he had anywhere else to stick his dick. “Just awful, what happened to him.” Her tone held that distant, outer-edge note of sympathy. ‘Isn't it terrible, that earthquake in Japan? Did you hear about that car accident on the I-25? Such a tragedy.’
Regardless, Kenny found his interest piqued. “Do you know something about him?” He asked.
Bebe lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Okay, so my friend Wendy's boyfriend knows the guy, and apparently he got abducted by this psycho a few years back. Like, an actual serial killer. Wendy won't give me any more details.” She pursed her lips, apparently disappointed. “If you find out more, you have to tell me.”
Fuck. Poor Kyle. No wonder he'd withdrawn so far. Back on the road, having made a false promise to keep Bebe informed, Kenny fought an urgent want, a need to turn his truck back towards Kyle's lonely house. What he'd say or do, he didn't know. Maybe he'd just stand guarding the door so Kyle knew he was safe. Protected.
Kenny snorted. Who was he kidding? Keeping his own people safe was just about killing him. “Sorry guys, I'm so sorry,” he huffed, charging across the parking lot at school. The kids waved, giving him smiles he didn't deserve, Kaitlyn bobbing with her arms raised for a hug. “Sorry Kit-Kat, K-man.” Kenny buried his nose in the hair behind her ear, taking a calming breath of strawberry shampoo. He looked at the woman waiting with them. Not the bitchy administrator, thankfully. “Sorry, ma'am.”
“That's okay. Kayden was just telling me how hard you work. I'm Margaret Nelson,” she held out a hand. Kenny took it, shifting Kaitlyn to his free arm. “I'm the school's Welfare Officer.”
A cold stone dropped through Kenny's windpipe. He forgot how to talk, how to breathe, and could only listen numbly while Margaret Nelson explained she was covering staff sickness at Homework Helpers and hoped to have a word with the children's mother while she was there. “Karen?” He said stupidly, thinking of his sister sitting at home drinking wine coolers and chain-smoking. That'd be sure to impress the state. “She can't drive, dude. Never learned. That's why I always handle the school run. It's hard for her to get here.”
“Maybe we could schedule an appointment for her to talk to me?” Margaret pressed on, clearly not about to be dissuaded. “Nothing to worry about, Mr. McCormick. I just want to make sure we're giving Kayden and Kaitlyn all the help they're entitled to.”
Yeah, right. Kenny knew what ‘help’ meant. Social workers banging on the trailer door, ripping him and his siblings from their screaming mother while cops held their old man back, bundling them and a garbage bag of clothes in a car to dump on a stranger's doorstep. Sleepless nights in sheets that smelled wrong. Unfamiliar noises.
They didn't always place brothers and sisters together. Those were the worst times, when Kenny felt most stranded, most helpless. He couldn't stand the thought of that happening to the kids. Kaitlyn needed her brother around to scare off the monster under the bed, squash spiders and help her read her princess books, but Kayden needed her just as much. Possibly more. He took after Kenny, and Kenny knew he needed his family far more than they needed him. Without them he'd be like the chipped, forgotten shell of a hermit crab, abandoned to the riptide while his substance found a better life.
He thanked Margaret with all the courtesy he could muster, buckled the kids into their seats and took them home, heartbeat thudding in his ears. “What's for dinner?” Kaitlyn asked.
“It's Friday,” Kayden told her, rolling his eyes. “You know we get soup and spam sandwiches on Fridays.”
“I hate spam,” she whined. “It's the worst food ever.”
Usually this kind of OTT proclamation had Kenny biting back a giggle. He'd meet Kayden's eye and they'd shake their heads, sharing a grin while Kaitlyn demanded to know what was so funny. Today, it only made the lump swell in his throat. “Sorry, baby girl.” He managed to say. “How about grilled cheese instead? We got some of those orange slices you like.” Kaitlyn shook her head, bottom lip sticking out, and Kenny sighed. Looked like it was going to be one of those evenings.
Arriving back at Paradise, he found more unwelcome news in the shape of a text from Craig.
Tucker: Roach infestation. Closed for the weekend. Sorry.
“Seriously,” he groaned, dropping his head back to look up at the heavens, “the fuck did I do to piss you off this bad, big guy? Whatever it is, I'm sorry. Okay? We square now?”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Nobody, K-man,” with a hand curled on each of their shoulders, he steered everyone inside. “Talking to nobody.”
In the end, Kenny caved and fed the kids chocolate cereal for dinner, PB&J on crackers for dessert. He sat with them while they ate, staring at the jar of Jif -the only brand they were ever loyal to- and wondering where the hell Karen was. He wanted to tell her about the school meeting before she heard it through the grapevine. Mother of the Year she was not, but she didn't deserve to find out via some two-faced bitch running their mouth.
The kids were fine. Well fed, usually happy, and loved fiercely. What else did they need, really? Karen would come around, start engaging more, soon as she grew more confident. Stopped putting her faith in dudes Kenny hadn't pre-screened and personally approved.
Wanting to make the most of a rare night off, he decided to get his niece and nephew to bed early. Naturally, that meant they were impossible. Kayden couldn't entertain the idea of sleep without seeing the end of the Terrance and Phillip rerun he'd watched 382 times already, and Kenny practically had to drag Kaitlyn inside by the ankles, wrangle her into a pair of My Little Pony pyjamas and stuff her under the blankets.
Finally, weak with exhaustion, he fell onto the couch back in his own trailer. When Karen had showed up at last, a convenient fifteen minutes after the kids were snoring and actually smiling for once, Kenny pussied out of telling her about Ms. Nelson. It was so good to see her happy. The news could keep until tomorrow.
Sleep would be better than sex right now. And he probably should sleep, since Bonnie Tyler would be waking him at 4:15am on the dot to go scrub toilets.
Wrapped in the same Mysterion duvet he huddled under as a boy, Kenny dug out his phone and figured out how to open the browser, too warm and comfortable to fetch his laptop. Painstakingly slowly, he keyed ‘Kyle’ and ‘serial killer’ and ‘escape’ into the search engine and hit send. It wasn't much to go on. He thought it might take hours of trying clumsy word combinations, trawling through webpage after webpage, but he was wrong.
‘MISSING COLLEGE STUDENT SPARKS MAJOR MANHUNT’
‘THE POLAROID KILLER STRIKES AGAIN’
‘BACK FROM THE DEAD: KIDNAPPED KYLE FOUND ALIVE’
Kenny already felt set to puke. He should stop here, pretend Bebe never said anything about the mysterious Kyle Scwartz.
Except that wasn't his name, and Kenny couldn't ever put that knowledge back where it came from. Guilt prickling over his skin like spider legs, he opened a link at random. Much like his niece, reading wasn't where he shined. He squinted at the letters, trying to sequence them so they made sense, only taking in small nuggets of information.
‘…reported missing from his Pennsylvania apartment… multi-agency search… lead investigators have confirmed they suspect involvement… so-called ‘Polaroid Killer’... late last night with injuries not thought to be life-threatening… a suspect in custody, 35-year-old Josh Myers, is expected to appear in court… family have asked for privacy at this difficult time.’
“Fuck, man.” Kenny muttered. Between his shitty old phone and the crappy signal, Kyle's photo wouldn't load. He stared at the little black cross where it should be, strangely glad. If he ever got to see Kyle's face, it was going to be at a time that was right for both of them. Not a quick glance at whatever selfie USA Today took from his social media profile. He went back, searching instead for Josh Myers.
As daylight faded to dusk outside, Kenny read about the clinically depraved monster currently serving life without parole. How he stole six young men from places they should have been safe, plucked from their lives to land in his torture chamber. How he tied them up, cut, burned, strangled and beat them. Raped them. How his final victim miraculously escaped death after five days of hell. How Myers pleaded guilty to every charge except those in relation to Kyle Broflovski.
A last twist of the knife, Kenny thought bitterly. Myers didn't get to watch Kyle die, but no doubt enjoyed his chance to show out to the press while his victim suffered the trauma of a well-publicised trial.
Why did he read that? Disgusted with himself, Kenny shut down the browser and slouched off to bed, so exhausted he could barely stand, too heartbroken to sleep.
Hey Kenny,
It's Kyle.
Kyle
hey kyle, its kenny
what you up to?
kenny
That was how it started. They only emailed back and forth once or twice a day at first. By Wednesday of the following week, Kenny was logging in every chance he got. There was never any serious talk. He didn't mention money troubles or his worries for the kids, and Kyle said nothing of Josh Myers or agoraphobia. That was the official name for what he had. Kenny looked it up.
It was all little things; their work, Kenny's family, the latest book Kyle was reading or debates over the best jell-o flavour. Kenny liked orange. Kyle preferred strawberry. Kenny often recounted the funny shit Kayden and Kaitlyn came out with, hoping to make Kyle laugh. Over those emails, they began to know one another in small ways. Like how Kyle always used perfect spelling and grammar, and never corrected Kenny's even though Kenny got the sense he'd like to. The patience when it took a while for him to read and reply.
When he was home for the night they switched to a chat site and talked until the early hours, and it was always him who stopped replying first because Kyle didn't appear to sleep like a normal person. He'd type a last message -Goodnight, Kenny-, close down the chat, and send an email for Kenny to read when he woke up.
In the other parts of his life, things weren't going quite as good. Karen reacted poorly to the news about the Welfare Officer, convinced this was the start on a track that would culminate in the state taking her children, and Kenny didn't know how to reassure her when he secretly harboured the same fear.
Then there was the debt. An ever-present mass throbbing at the back of his skull. Even with his new tricks, the kind he wouldn't normally touch with a thirty-foot pole wearing a condom, he'd barely scraped a third of the cash he needed to pay off Loogie's goons. No way could he earn the rest with broken bones or a detached kneecap.
Kyle: What are you doing?
Propping his laptop on the cracked, slightly loose toilet seat, Kenny tapped out a reply one-handed while the other gripped a razor.
Kenny: truth be told, im shaving my junk
He sat back, watching dots shimmy along the bottom of the screen as Kyle typed a reply.
Kyle: Oh. Okay.
Kyle: Any particular reason why? Are you seeing someone?
Kenny: sorta
Kyle: A date?
Kenny: fuck no, who has tiem for that shit? just a little thing with this dude
Not wanting to bring Kyle down, he neglected to mention it was the first time meeting said dude and he felt nervous as fuck.
Kenny: pretty sure you dont wanna know more then that
Kyle: Try me. I can be surprising.
It was so tempting. Kenny wanted to tell him he was sick of this, taking stranger dick up the ass for crappy money when he preferred giving all the way, relinquishing power in the only part of his life he'd ever had any in the first place. Working sixty, seventy hour weeks and still shouldering the lion's share when it came to his niece and nephew, never complaining because God knew how much he loved them. Never getting to clock out. Never a night off.
Kenny: tell u later. promise
He closed the chat quickly. Given the proximity between his balls and the razor blade, the task at hand deserved his full attention.
At almost 3am, sore and grumpy and utterly degraded, Kenny parked up just outside Paradise Pines. He didn't like leaving the truck out of sight, but the engine growl might disturb Karen or the kids and he liked that even less. Most trailers were in darkness at this hour. There were just a few outliers still shuffling around like raccoons, clutching crack pipes and cans of Pabst instead of pizza slices stolen from trash cans. In no mood for drink-addled conversation, he avoided eye-contact and kept his hood up, head low, as he walked.
His new customer instantly made the top three of least favourites. Kenny wasn't typically the type to judge another man's shoe size so long as he wore socks that fit, but it proved hard not to when the guy possessed reams of confidence and a three-inch cock. Paired with the rough treatment, cute pet names like ‘whore’ or ‘hole’ and his unpleasant body odour, and the evening was downright miserable. Still, could be worse. Maybe the fella knew he'd gone a little overboard, since he left an extra twenty on the nightstand.
Kenny let himself in, grabbed a handful of animal crackers that were supposed to be after-school snacks for the kids, and took himself off to bed. His laptop lay where he tossed it on the mattress earlier in the rush to leave. After a moment’s hesitation, he flipped the lid, waited for it to get its shit together, and fired off a message.
Kenny: still up?
Of course he was.
Kyle: Yes. Are you alright?
Snorting a dry laugh, Kenny tossed a cracker in his mouth and chewed slowly, wondering how honest he should be.
Kenny: been better. you?
Kyle: I've been better too.
Kenny: tell you mine if you tell me yours
The reply took so long he thought it wasn't ever coming. He sat in a den of lumpy pillows and warm blankets, his mouthful turning to cardboard sludge he couldn't choke down, fucking furious with himself. Great going, dumbass. Took him all of two weeks to scare Kyle off.
Kyle: Would you like to video chat?
Those six little words were enough to raise Kenny's spirits through the roof. Scrambling up and swallowing the cardboard sludge with difficulty, he brushed the crumbs away, stripped off his vest -it was the bloodstained one he hadn't yet thrown out-, and combed his hair with his fingers. That would have to do.
Kyle talked him through the process, first ascertaining the ancient laptop actually had a camera, then how to make a call. Distracted by tech that usually went way over his head, Kenny barely had time to feel nervous before Kyle popped up on screen.
He was pretty. No, more than pretty; he was beautiful. Sharp cheekbones, perfectly kissable lips and a mop of gorgeous red curls cascading midway down his neck. Big, almond-shaped eyes in a shade of green that made Kenny think of spring leaves and jade seas and sparkling jewels all at once. “Hi,” he said, raising a hand. “Good to finally meet you.”
“You too,” the gemstone eyes flitted down. Kenny experienced a powerful rush of something both protective and primal. “This is probably different for you. I already know what you look like.”
“Guess so,” said Kenny. “I like your shirt.”
Kyle glanced down at his Smashing Pumpkins tee, pulling it straight for Kenny to get a proper look. “Thanks. I like your-” he flushed, gaze darting to meet Kenny's and away again. “I like your eyes.”
“Yeah?” Kenny grinned, knowing it made them crinkle. He could turn it on when he wanted to, and right now every nerve in his body screamed that this boy could implode his world. “I like yours. They're pretty.” Kyle flushed harder, and Kenny checked himself. What was he doing, flirting like that? Poor guy probably just needed a friend. “Where are you right now?”
“My office,” Kyle leaned sideways, giving Kenny a glimpse of a room just as beige and bland as his entryway.
“How come?” Asked Kenny. “It's the middle of the night, dude. You should be in bed.” Kyle shrugged. “Want me to go first?”
He looked up gratefully, relief almost palpable even through the screen. “Yes. Please.”
“Had a shitty night's work,” Kenny admitted. He told Kyle about his side-hustle, the new trick with the micro dick and his crappy evening spent on a motel mattress, hot and itchy everywhere. This was probably a poor choice of conversation for someone like Kyle. “I know I got no business complaining,” he wound up, “just- yeah. Shitty night.”
“I'm sorry,” said Kyle. Weirdly, he didn't appear the least bit judgemental or disgusted. “Of course you can complain. I'd never stop complaining if it were me. Is that because of what's happening with your sister?”
Kenny shook his head. But then he thought back, remembering how he'd only opened up shop when they were saving for Kayden's crib, diapers and formula. “Guess so, yeah. It's not her fault. She doesn't even know about it. She's kind, y'know? Sweet. And the assholes around here take advantage of that. She's also smart as hell, dude. Wish the world would just give her a chance. A break.”
“Poor thing,” Kyle said softly. “Some people never really get a break.”
“Got that right.” Kenny agreed. “Anyway, it's your turn.”
“I- well-” colour draining from his face, Kyle slid back out of focus. “I had a bad dream.” He spouted in a rush.
“Tell me.” Kenny's Dom voice slipped out accidentally. He gave the camera a reassuring smile, surprised when Kyle reappeared. Just a slither. His right ear, a fraction of those glorious cheekbones, a few fiery curls. “Hey there. You can tell me, Kyle. I'm here to listen.” Kenny waited.
Inch by inch, Kyle moved slowly back on screen. “I was in my kitchen,” he began, voice quivering, “making tea, and the walls- they grew teeth. They were biting me over and over. My arm got stuck. I was trying to pull it free, then it just- it popped off.”
“Popped off?”
“Popped right off.” His mouth quirked. “I suppose it sounds funny, now I say it aloud.”
Sounded nothing short of horrific to Kenny. “Shit, dude. No wonder you don't sleep,” he said, tempted to reach out and touch Kyle's image. His slanting jawline. The graceful curve of his neck. That crown of hair. “Anything I can do? Not to blow smoke up my own ass, but I got pretty good at lullabies when the kids were small.”
“That's okay, thanks.” Kyle said with a soft, breathy laugh, meeting Kenny's eye for a fourth time. If Kenny didn't know he was crippled by anxiety, he'd lay a bet on Kyle being submissive. “You should get some rest, though. Don't you have to be up soon?”
“Shit,” Kenny said regretfully, “you're right. It's my one day off from my cleaning gig tomorrow. Or today, I guess. Should probably take the opportunity to sleep in. If you can call it that,” he added, yawning, “when you have a six-year-old who likes getting up at seven even on Sundays.”
“You can't,” said Kyle, offering up the first genuine smile Kenny had ever seen on him. “There are rules, dude. Seven does not constitute sleeping in.” He hesitated, chewing on his lip, then, “Want me to stay on the video until you fall asleep? I'm not doing anything. I mean- I don't have to, if-”
“That,” Kenny interrupted, grinning wide and noting the return of Kyle's blush, “would be the best thing to happen to me all week.”