7

                                    

                                          
Quick A/N: since today is Butters' birthday, he is now 16 in the story. I would've uploaded a birthday chapter but I already had this chapter planned and uhh.. y'know 
                          
We go outside and sit on the picnic bench in the middle of the back garden. 
I haven't been in our garden until now and it looks very cute. There's a vegetable patch in the corner and a flower bed full of colourful flowers is beside it. 
                          
Kenneth loosens his hood and takes it down. 
His blond hair is messy and quite long, but whether he likes it that way or is just too lazy to get it cut is a question I don't know the answer to. 
He's got a scar above his right eyebrow, impossible to see whilst he's got his hood up, and what seems to be a fresh cut slightly above it.  
                          
"Have you hurt yourself, are you okay?" I ask, my voice high with panic. 
                          
"Hm? No, I'm fine," Kenneth carefully pats the cut with one of his fingers and frowns. "This isn't my blood, don't worry about it." 
                          
He licks his finger, not noticing my horrified expression. 
                          
"Who's blood is it then?" I almost shout. 
                          
"What? No, I meant that it isn't blood. It's, uh, strawberry jam." He doesn't sound certain, but I chose not to question it. 
                          
He pulls a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and pulls one out. He places it between his lips and attempts to light it with an orange lighter. 
He flicks it a few times, but nothing happens. 
                          
"Shit I think I need a new lighter..." he mutters, trying again. 
                          
"I'd lend you one but I had to throw mine out when I quit. I can go and see if I have one in a drawer somewhere if you want." 
                          
"Thanks, Leo." He pockets his orange lighter and takes the cigarette out of his mouth since he can't light it yet. 
                          
I run upstairs to my room and dig through the drawers in my dresser, moving pairs of socks or boxer shorts out of the way to see if there's one lying in a corner. 
I check all the pockets in my jeans and the ones in my jackets but I don't find one. 
I check the backpack I use for school since I always smoked during recess. 
                          
"Bingo!" I pull out a slightly sticky lighter my old friend Tony lent me, but I never gave it back. 
                          
I run back downstairs and open the back door. 
Kenneth is still sat at the picnic table, but the 'jelly' on his head is gone and his finger looks quite sticky. 
                          
Frowning, I sit across from him on the picnic table and hand him the lighter. 
                          
"Did you eat all the jelly off your head?" I ask. 
                          
"Umm yeah..?" He shrugs, putting the cigarette between his lips again and lighting it. 
                          
He smokes it for a while, neither of us saying anything. I watch him, not caring if he notices me creepily staring at him. 
He's very attractive. Attractive isn't a strong enough word for someone as hot as Kenneth. Despite his scar and slightly bruised face, he's the hottest guy I've ever seen. 
                          
"Wanna take a photo?" Kenneth asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. "I'll pose for you." 
                          
He puts one hand behind his head, the other on his hip and looks into the distance with a dreamy look on his face, lips parted, eyes twinkling. A smile tugs at his lips, but he forces himself to keep the same expression. 
And, just for the fun of it, I take a photo of him. 
                          
"Lemme see how it turned out," Kenneth takes my phone out of my hands and looks impressed when he sees the photo, "Damn, this is one good photo. You've really got an eye for photography, Leo."
                          
"I took an after school photography class back in North Park," I take my phone back and load up my editing app to edit the lighting and smoothen some parts out. "I'd quite like to be a photographer when I grow up." 
                          
"You should!" Kenneth smiles, stubbing out what's left of his cigarette against the table since we don't have an ashtray. "I'd happily model for you anytime." 
                          
"Well, my mom hinted that one of my birthday presents might be a camera so I might have to take you up on that." 
                          
I do hope it's a camera. I'd love to do photography. I hear that there's a special photography school somewhere in Denver, but I'm not sure if mom'd drive me there. Maybe?
                          
"What do you want to do in the future?" I ask, keen to learn more about my neighbour, who I already feel as if I've known for years. 
                          
"Me?" He taps his chin thoughtfully, "well, most people expect me to become a male prostitute or a stripper, but..." 
                          
His freckle dusted cheeks turn pink. Is he... blushing?
                          
"Go on." I prod his arm. 
                          
Kenneth sighs, "I'd love to be a florist. Flowers are just.. so interesting to me. They're so beautiful and I'd love to have my own flower shop. But sadly that can't ever happen." 
                          
"Why not?" 
                          
"It's complicated. You wouldn't understand," his stomach growls loudly. "I'd better go home, I'm starving." 
                          
"Why don't you come inside? I can fix us up some sandwiches, or maybe order pizza?" I suggest, practically begging on my knees for my sort of friend to stay. 
                          
"No thanks, I don't like pizza that much. I'll come talk to you tomorrow, okay?" He smiles before turning and running up to the fence so he can jump over it. 
                          
Once he's done so I call out to him. 
                          
"Kenneth!" 
                          
"Yeah?" His head appears at the top of the fence, although I can't see below his eyes. 
                          
"We're friends, right?" I ask, shuffling awkwardly. 
                          
"Of course!" He chuckles. 
                          
As his head disappears, I smile to myself. I've been here less than a week and I've already made a friend.