Archive of Our Own

Two hours ago — when Kenny left his home with only his worn sneakers, an old orange parka and a backpack full of useless items and the little food he’d found in cupboards — the sky had been blue, the sun had been warm and the blond had thought that it was a wonderful idea. Now the sun was slowly setting and the temperatures quickly dropping. Kenny was still walking but he wasn’t feeling tired, yet. He felt like he could go on forever — if the temperatures didn’t drop more overnight.

The idea of walking on the side of the road after dark finally started to worry him. He hadn’t thought of that when he’d decided to leave, the bruise fresh on his cheek. The pain had faded somewhat, receding to a numb — although sometimes stinging — sensation that he could push at the back of his mind. The memory, though — it was still vivid.

He’d been raising his thumb every time a car passed by for the past ninety minutes or so, but there wasn’t a lot of traffic on US Highway 285 and wherever he looked, Kenny could only see wide fields and the endless road in front of him. Behind, too, but he didn’t look that way.

He guessed that most people just didn’t trust strangers walking alone on deserted roads; it made sense, if Kenny had a car — and a driver’s license, too — he probably wouldn’t stop, either. Unless the stranger was handsome, of course.

As he walked, he occasionally found himself thinking that he should have done that ages ago. Run away from home, from his abusive father and his mother who always looked the other way, like Kevin had done when he was still a kid. Sometimes, mild panic crept up his chest and he almost paused, telling himself that it wasn’t too late to turn around, go home now and they probably won’t even notice you’ve been out. Wait some more and the consequences will be worse than you can even imagine. Then he brought a hand to his cheek and the tip of his fingers brushed the small swell; it must have turned purple by now.

It made him walk a little bit faster every time.

Most of the time, though, he thought about Karen. He wondered if she’d be okay and hoped her friend’s family would take good care of her, that they wouldn’t let their parents take her back home. He’d dropped her off before leaving, explaining the best he could without giving away too many details. He would have taken her with him if the uncertainty of where he was going to end — of the unknown and the potential danger — wasn’t as (if not more) risky as staying.

Suddenly, he heard a car driving fast somewhere behind him and raised his thumb mechanically. He also stepped aside and walked a bit farther from the road, too, just in case. The car seemed to go very fast.

When the car passed in a flash (way over the speed limit, by the way), a gust of wind slapping his face and making him wince, Kenny was not surprised. He was, however, slightly confused when the black car (a sports car, he realized) hit the brakes. The blond kept walking (more slowly, though) until the car started to drive backward.

Toward him.

He didn’t expect any car to stop; but if he had, not like this. Perhaps the driver didn’t see him at first. Perhaps they’d seen him and changed their mind after they realized he was just a short, golden-blond boy carrying a backpack that weighted more than him.

Perhaps the driver was a murderer and Kenny’s journey was going to end right here, right now.

Kenny had stopped walking. He still hadn’t decided between staying and running for his life when the black, shiny and expensive-looking car finally reached him. A Porsche, he noted, not that it really mattered if the driver was indeed a killer. Maybe he was worrying for nothing, he wasn’t in a horror movie; but still, even the most clichéd ones must take inspiration from real life, right?

The windows were tinted black. Definitely not suspicious.

The window rolled down and he held his breath. The driver — a man, although he didn’t look much older than the blond; in his early twenties, perhaps — had the cockiest grin Kenny had ever seen on a person. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of Aviator sunglasses. The black, reflective ones; Kenny could see in them his bewildered expression. He had pitch-black hair, just like his car, and perfect, straight white teeth. His blue eyes dropping to the boy’s chest, he noticed he was wearing a black button-up shirt. Overall, he looked like he’d walked right out of an ad; preferably an ad for an expensive car, like the one he was currently driving.

He didn’t just stink of wealth; he reeked of confidence, too.

“For a second I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Then I looked again and saw the most beautiful creature on Earth.”

Kenny was speechless. His toes tingled. Perhaps he should run. Through the fields. The stranger took off his sunglasses in one smooth movement that could only have been for show and Kenny was met with the strangest pair of eyes. He couldn’t decide if they were black like dark matter or red like blood. They seemed to change every time he blinked. Just like his hair, it absorbed light.

“My name’s Damien,” the driver said. His voice was dripping with arrogance; it matched his looks. “Damien Thorn.”

Kenny started to relax — just a bit. If the stranger — Damien — gave him his name, then he probably wasn’t planning to knock him unconscious and put him in the trunk, right? The dark haired stranger winked at him and Kenny decided then that he didn’t care either way.

“Kenny,” the blond gave him his name, still confused. He sank a nail into his palm until it stung, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He was not. Then, just because Damien had, he added: “Kenny McCormick.”

He just stood there for a moment and they stared at each other in silence. Kenny felt awkward but Damien’s grin had widened.

“Well,” the blond cleared his throat, “Where are you headed?”

“Everywhere, nowhere,” the dark haired boy shrugged. “I just drive and we’ll see where I end up. Name a place, and I’ll get you there.”

“Huh. Maybe get me closer to Denver, then?”

The plan (well, really, the initial plan was there’s no plan; but reality caught up with him and the blond realized that he’d better plan something urgently) was to get in a big city where he could disappear in the mass and get a job. Start over, start a life. He could afford a motel but not indefinitely (the jar he’d hidden under his bed didn’t have many dollar bills, despite him saving money as best as he could over the years. He’d been working part-time jobs since he started high school, but there were a lot of bills to pay and his parents expected him to participate), which meant he’d better get a job as soon as he arrived there, wherever there may be. Anywhere was better than South Park, anyway.

Damien nodded. “Get in.”

Kenny rounded the car and his initial suspicion turned into excitement — the car looked amazing and he’d never seen a vehicle as fancy as this one before. Nobody drove luxurious, sports cars in South Park; even the richest in town couldn’t afford it. To see one in person was a first; but to get into one? A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He opened the passenger door and sat down. It even smelled rich. Just like its exterior looks, the car seemed brand-new inside. There was no dust, no crumb, no dirt stain. Kenny expected to see a personal touch inside the car; plastic bags in the backseat or even an empty cup in the space between them but there was nothing. The blond wanted to ask Damien how long he’d had the car but he didn’t dare, not wanting to seem impolite. He must have had gotten it recently; because he looked young, it was probably a birthday gift from his parents. What an obnoxiously rich kid was doing in The Middle of Nowhere, USA, Kenny had no idea. Damien’s answer had been really vague, but the blond wasn’t going to pry; it wasn’t his business and he was afraid the dark haired boy would kick him out if he annoyed him. It would be dark soon, and he had no intention of wandering alone at night if he could help it.

Kenny set his huge (and heavy) backpack on the ground, at his feet. He was thin and pretty short, so there was enough space for himself. When he raised his head and glanced at the driver, he saw that he was being scrutinized. After a moment of breathless awe (during which the blond started to feel uncomfortable), Damien finally muttered:

“You look like an angel.”

Kenny couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. When he opened his eyes, he found the dark haired boy smiling softly, still in awe. The idea of him — with an obvious bruise on his cheek Damien had been too polite to point out — looking like any divine creature was just ridiculous. Damien, though; now he looked ethereal. Kenny briefly wondered if wealth did wonders or if he just had perfect genetics.

Curiously, he noticed that the black haired boy was wearing a silver necklace over his shirt — whose first few buttons were undone, not that he paid attention either way. It was an inverted cross, which he found intriguing. The other boy didn’t strike him as your typical metal music enjoyer.

“I’m serious, you’re even prettier up close.”

“Is that really why you stopped? I thought you were joking.” Kenny asked but he wasn’t annoyed; the opposite, really. Who wouldn’t be flattered? Damien didn’t sound weird, just genuine.

Damien grinned again, flashing his perfect, bleached white teeth. When he spoke next, he really sounded like the deeply arrogant, filthy-rich asshole that he probably was but Kenny didn’t even mind.

“I wouldn’t have hit the brakes so hard if your gorgeous face in the rear-view mirror hadn’t caught my attention.”

Kenny playfully rolled his eyes and Damien chuckled. He hadn’t killed the engine when he’d stopped and when he pressed the gas pedal, the car started to drive away smoothly, as if they were underwater. He was pretty sure the car made too much (unnecessary) noise, though.

“Who did that to you, by the way?” Damien pointed his own eye and glanced at the blond. His brows were furrowed and, to Kenny’s surprise, he actually seemed concerned. “Are you running away from an asshole-boyfriend? I can take care of him and he’ll never be a problem again, you know.”

Kenny let out a laugh, mostly because he could see that the other boy was actually serious. The thought of him — in his millionaire’s car — showing up at his parents’ house, in South Park, ‘shithole of the world’ Colorado, to confront his father was just hilarious. Actually, it was kind of tempting, too.

“Don’t worry,” the blond decided to say instead, shaking his head. He didn’t lose his smile. “There’s no asshole-boyfriend. No boyfriend at all, actually.”

“Nice,” Damien replied, shooting him a wink, “Noted.”

Biting down his smile, Kenny finally decided to say what he had been too shy to ask until now;

“You look like you’re running away from something, though. With you being vague about where you’re going and all. Not to mention being in the middle of nowhere.”

Damien grinned wide. In the rear-view mirror, he locked eyes with Kenny. His eyes were full of life and mischief, hungry and red like blood. Kenny blinked and Damien’s eyes were back to black.

“Babe, let’s just drive forever,” the black haired boy answered, blatantly dodging the question. “We could stop in Vegas and get married. Then drive to the coast and settle there. We’ll sleep in the backseat and watch the sunset. I’ll keep you warm all night,” he added, lowering his voice a notch, his eyes flashing red once more. In a second it was gone.

Chuckling, Kenny shook his head. “Idiot,” he muttered. “Bring me to civilization first, then we’ll see.”

A comfortable silence followed and the blond turned his head to stare out the window and watch the scenery. They were driving fast; way faster than what was allowed, but they were all alone on the road. They hadn’t passed a single car, so Kenny figured it was fine. It was strange how comfortable he felt. He hadn’t known this person for more than fifteen minutes — which, well, wasn’t enough to know somebody at all. Still, Kenny felt safe.

He watched out the window for a while; could have been five minutes, could have been twenty. There was a nice tune coming from the radio that Damien had turned up once they stopped talking. For a while, music was the only thing filling the silence — that, and the car, of course.

Kenny’s ears pricked up.

Somewhere in the distance, he thought he was starting to hear something. Sirens. Sirens started to wail far, far behind them. It felt weird, like a reminder from reality. For a while he’d been all alone on the road, the only survivor in a post-apocalyptic world. Later a dark, handsome and obviously very rich stranger picked him up and it felt just as surreal. But sirens were normal, plain. Trivial. There wasn’t much action for the local police back in his town, but still, sometimes he’d be taking a nap on the grass at Stark’s Pond and, while his eyes were closed and the wind brushed his cheeks in the warmer days of July, he’d hear the sound and it was soothing. It wasn’t coming for him and it wasn’t even coming for his parents, even though it should, and it was far enough not to be too annoying.

Kenny felt at peace, then. He relaxed some more into the leather seat and thought to himself that he could almost take a nap.

That is, until he heard Damien click his tongue in annoyance.

“Shit,” the dark haired boy said, “I thought we had more time.”

Kenny looked at him. “Hm?” he said politely. He must have zoned out for a minute and missed something. But when Damien looked at him and offered him a small, sad smile, it looked like he was talking about something Kenny didn’t understand, yet. Something he wasn’t going to like.

“Cops, Kenny.”

One beat of silence, two beats of silence. The sun was setting in the horizon and everything was turning orange. They were driving toward the sunset. Everywhere and nowhere, Damien had said. Kenny opened his mouth and almost told the dark haired boy they should take a picture, together. To immortalize the scenery, the moment.

Something completely different left his mouth.

“Cops?”

It felt wrong and it shattered the moment. Kenny stopped looking at the sunset and watched Damien instead. His jaw was set and he didn’t meet his eyes. The cockiness, the flirt, had left.

“Yeah. They’re still far behind and we’re driving fast, but there’s only one road and they’ll catch up sooner or later. Hell, there’s probably a roadblock waiting somewhere up ahead.”

“Wha—… What are you talking about?”

Damien’s lips were closed in a thin line. A conflicted expression was on his face. He didn’t even make eye contact as he refused to answer. Kenny’s heart started to beat faster. The pieces were slowly interlocking — the brand-new appearance of the car, Damien’s vague answers — and the image that was revealed to him didn’t please him at all.

Oh, no.

Kenny swallowed. He stared at the other boy, harsh and determined.

“Damien. Whose car is it?

Damien grimaced.

“Damien,” he repeated, his voice hardening. It vaguely occurred to him then that the way he talked to the other could almost be perceived by an outsider — if there had been one — as a lovers’ quarrel. “Did you steal this car?”

“Well, it’s one of my father’s cars, so technically I didn’t really steal it. But I might have broken in. And taken it without his knowing. Along with other stuff, too. Money. And I may or may not have a complicated relationship with him. And he may or may not have called the cops on me.”

“Shit,” Damien repeated suddenly, as if what he just said finally sank in, hitting the steering wheel once in frustration. Kenny grimaced. “The fucking bastard called the cops on me.”

“Oh my God,” Kenny whined, glancing over his shoulder and into the horizon; nothing, yet, but the sirens kept wailing and they sounded closer. “Holy shit,” he said, panic creeping up his chest. He wanted out, and he wanted out now.

As if reading his mind, Damien slowed the car down until it came to a stop. The silence was deafening. In the orange light of the setting sun, Damien’s eyes appeared redder than ever.

“You should get out of the car,” he advised, voice dark. “If you don’t, you’ll get arrested, too.”

Kenny had his hand on the door handle before Damien could even finish his sentence; but then he looked out the window again and thought about something.

“Night is falling,” he told the dark haired boy, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Because he certainly hadn’t been thinking about that earlier, when he was packing and already picturing himself in a better place, far from South Park.

“I’m sorry, Buttercup. I really thought I had more time; I wouldn’t have picked you up if I’d known they were already after me,” Damien apologized, giving him a regretful smile. But then he seemed to reconsider his words, and his face lit up with an arrogant grin; “Well, maybe I would’ve picked you up anyway. You’re just so pretty.”

This time, Kenny wasn’t in the mood to be amused or flattered; he just narrowed his eyes at the other boy and pushed the door open, wincing when the chill air caressed his face. It wasn’t cold, yet, but it was only a matter of time. The sun hadn’t completely disappeared behind the mountains.

“Wait, wait!”

A foot already out of the car, Kenny froze and slowly turned toward Damien, who was looking for something in the glove compartment. Finally, he pulled out a small, rectangular piece of thick paper and handed it to the blond.

“Call me, alright?”

Kenny stared at the card. It was creamy white colored and something was written on it in an elegant, italic and gold font. Damien was giving him a calling card. The blond made no move to take it and his puzzlement must have shown on his face, because the dark haired boy eventually slipped the car inside the small orange pocket on his chest.

“I’m serious, call me.”

When Kenny looked up from his parka, he didn’t have time to brace himself; there was a flash of red in Damien’s mysterious irises and then a burning palm was covering his neck and pulling him in. Lips suddenly crashed on top of his and oh.

Damien was kissing him.

It was hurried and sloppy; a tongue probed between his lips, twice, just teasing, and before Kenny could reciprocate or pull away, Damien did. It didn’t last more than three seconds and by the time the dark haired boy returned to his previous position, Kenny was still flabbergasted.

“I’ll be out of jail in no time,” Damien said in a neutral tone, shrugging, though Kenny spotted a hint of urgency in his voice; there were red and blue flashing lights in the horizon, now, where the sky had turned dark. Still, he looked pretty nonchalant, as if kissing perfect strangers was just routine to him. Kenny realized it probably was. “I’m used to this kind of stuff and it’s always the same; my father hates my guts but he won’t actually press charges. He just wants to piss me off and remind me who calls the shots, you know?”

Kenny didn’t. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, anyway. Nobody would bail him out if he ended up arrested, that was the only thing he really needed to understand. Damien was right, he should get out and he should get out fast. He was kind of mad at the other boy for doing this to him, too; who the fuck just picked up a hitchhiker with a stolen car?

Cheeky and arrogant daddy’s boys, apparently.

“Well, I guess thanks for making my trip a bit shorter, at least,” Kenny sighed, fully getting out of the car. When he turned around to close the door, Damien was leaning over the compartment between the two front seats and peering at him.

“Hey, Sunshine!” he called, “Stay safe, alright? Don’t get into a stranger’s car once it’s fully dark.”

It’s almost nighttime, already, Kenny wanted to say. And the idea of walking all night wasn’t particularly appealing, either. Still, because Damien’s brows were actually knitted in worry, he nodded. Deep down, he knew he would probably raise his thumb again later anyway.

“Good,” Damien approved and the blond didn’t feel guilty about lying; it wasn’t like he owed the other boy anything, not since he found out the car was stolen. “See you in another life, then.”

Kenny closed the passenger door and Damien pulled the car into drive. The engine roared and the dark haired boy changed the station on his radio, causing loud music to blare from the speakers. He made a final departing gesture at Kenny before slamming on the gas pedal, the shiny, black sports car speeding down the road and into the horizon, the engine roaring loudly and proudly all the way. The blond began to walk.

When Damien’s car eventually disappeared in the distance and Kenny could no longer hear it, it was when he finally realized that the sirens were only getting louder and louder. He estimated that he only had a minute before they drove past him. He shouldn’t feel threatened — they weren’t after him — but Kenny thought he’d better be safe than sorry and quickly ran off the road and ducked behind one of the many trees.

He didn’t intend to stick around to find out if the police stopped to question him. Though he hadn’t done anything wrong, he had been with a car thief and drove with him for a while. Walking alone with an oversized parka and a giant backpack on a deserted road was already suspicious enough.

Soon, four police cruisers drove past fast and though their flashing red and blue lights illuminated him, he wasn’t spotted. He only got out of his hiding place once they were far, the sirens reduced to a faint sound in the distance. Kenny resumed his walking.

He thought about the calling card inside his chest pocket and surprised himself by hoping that things would turn out fine for Damien. According to him, it wasn’t his first time being chased by the police. If his father indeed had a lot of money and only wanted to teach him a lesson, the blond figured things would be okay for the dark haired boy. Kenny wasn’t sure yet about calling Damien; the dark haired boy looked pretty serious about it, but Kenny didn’t think he could trust him to be anything other than a player. Absently, he thought about the kiss.

Hm. Maybe he’d call him, anyway.

Kenny walked a while; since he’d seen the police, no car had passed and his legs were starting to burn. He thought about finding a place to spend the night, but the idea of sleeping in a ditch put him off. He wouldn’t feel safe at all, and he’d probably freeze. It wasn’t like there were any inn or motel nearby, either.

Walking it was, then.

Night had completely fallen when the trees began to densify on either side of the road. When he stepped into the woods, he felt the temperatures drop some more and he tightened his parka around himself, suppressing a chill. At least he had the smart idea to run away in mid-July; it would have been suicide in winter. It was definitely darker, too, and less reassuring. For the second time, he wondered if he should just go back; this time, he didn’t need to touch his bruise to push the idea away. He was too far to turn around.

Fishing inside his backpack without slowing down, he retrieved a cereal bar and nibbled it slowly, making it last to trick his stomach into believing it was full. He was used to going to sleep on an empty stomach, anyway; which was probably the reason why he’d always been so tiny. Still, if he was going to walk all night, he’d better eat something.

Until this moment, Kenny had been debating taking his phone out to use as a flashlight. It was fully dark, now, and he had a hard time making the road out through squinted eyes. He didn’t want to risk using all his phone’s battery. As he thought, he stumbled on a pebble and almost fell, catching himself at the last moment.

“Fuck it,” he murmured to himself and fished inside his pocket. When he pulled his phone out — which was old and bore cracks — he blinked and squinted, momentarily blinded by the light. He thought about sending Karen a message, but had to give up on that idea when noticing the lack of signal. He was completely on his own. Thinking to himself that he wasn’t as scared as he probably should be, he turned the flashlight on and smiled. Definitely better.

He could actually see where he was walking, for one thing. Orienting his phone toward his right, he looked at the trees and bushes as he walked, but the beam of light seemed to be absorbed by the darkness of the woods. He thought there could be creatures lurking there, he wouldn’t even know. The night was eerily quiet.

Kenny walked.

Some time passed. Occasionally, he heard a branch crack in the woods, or a bird take off. There were some other noises, too; chirping, shrieking. Mostly, he heard the sound of his own footsteps. Rhythmic, constant. In a way, it was comforting.

Until a different, familiar sound startled him; the sound of an engine. He stopped walking and turned around, orienting his phone toward the sound — the car was driving toward him from behind — and waited, making sure to be seen. Getting hit by a car was the last thing he needed. He didn’t raise his thumb, just because Damien’s last words to him still echoed inside his mind.

All alone on the road, at night, in the middle of the woods, he wasn’t sure he still wanted to hitchhike.

Eventually, he saw a car and squinted his eyes, trying to make out the driver but it was hard with the lack of light and at that distance. The driver must have seen him, though, because the car gently slowed down. If Damien’s stolen car had an opposite, it had to be this. The car looked old, cheap and wobbly and Kenny honestly couldn’t tell if the color had once been a bright orange that had faded and turned rusty or if the vehicle was just so covered in dust and dried-up mud it appeared that way. The car eased into a stop right when it reached him, the window rolling down at the same time. Kenny peered inside the car while staying right where he was, not daring to move an inch.

The driver was a man.

He was alone.

Kenny tried to guess his age but it was hard to tell; he could be twenty-eight just like he could be forty. He estimated perhaps in his mid-thirties. He had messy, dark brown hair and thick eyebrows. There was a cigarette dangling from his mouth. There was no expression on his face when he set his dark-colored eyes on the blond.

“D’you need help?”

His voice was deep and rough. Kenny opened his mouth to answer, but not a sound came out. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say — yes, please give me a ride? No, I’m good, I’ll just keep walking in the dark, for hours? He quickly darted glances inside the car, studying the interior. Definitely Damien’s opposite. There was junk littering the floor, dust stains on the seats and an ashtray full of consumed cigarettes on the compartment between the two front seats.

From nowhere, his mother’s voice suddenly spoke inside Kenny’s mind, echoing one of the only useful pieces of advice she’d ever given him when he was a child. Something he’d even told Karen later, when she reached the same age.

Never get into a stranger’s car.

“Well?” the man said, raising one eyebrow. Kenny noticed then, the deep bags under his eyes; probably the feature that made him look older. “If you need a ride, you’re free to get inside. I’ll drop you off on the way, when you want to.”

It was stupid to hesitate. The man and his car looked shady as hell, sure, but only because the vehicle was kind of dirty and it was nighttime. Everything looked scarier at night; especially when you were alone in the woods. It didn’t mean there was any real danger, though. Kenny knew that, had it been daylight, he would be inside the car, already.

He had an opportunity not to walk all night; why was he still unsure?

Worrying his bottom lip with his front teeth, he debated one last time inside his head before deciding — once again — fuck it.

“I’d really appreciate it, yeah,” he said, taking a step forward. When the brown haired man nodded and leaned back in his seat, Kenny opened the door. “Thanks a lot.”

Just like he did in Damien’s car, he put his backpack down on the floor, at his feet, trying to let enough space for his feet, though they ended up crushed under his bag anyway. He closed the door, and only then properly glanced at the driver. Kenny noted three things: one, the brown haired man wore black gloves. Two, he also wore a camo jacket and dark clothes underneath. Three, there was a lot of dried-up dirt all over his black combat boots.

Absently, Kenny thought that he hadn’t asked himself what the man could be doing here at this hour, yet.

He cleared his throat, waiting for the driver to ask him questions, perhaps, but the man didn’t; he just pulled the car into drive and then they were on their way. What way, Kenny didn’t know.

“So, uh…” he started, unsure, “Where are you going?”

“Heading to a small town, not far from Denver.”

Kenny nodded. He expected the question to be thrown back at him, but it wasn’t. He decided to open his mouth anyway.

“Well, I’m going to Denver, too.”

In his peripheral vision, he saw the brown haired man nod once. Just a small movement that he would have missed if he hadn’t been paying attention. Kenny’s hands were folded in his lap and his back was straight, tense. He felt very uncomfortable. Perhaps the driver just wasn’t a talker. Still, wasn’t it weird that he hadn’t introduced himself? But then again, Kenny hadn’t, either. The blond cleared his throat again.

“What were you doing, walking alone on the road, so far from everything?”

Kenny almost started when the man spoke up again. His voice was still rough and deep, but it was strangely quiet, too. As if he was careful with his words, with what he told the blond.

Then, before he could say anything, he added: “Fleeing someone?”

Kenny subtly turned his head to look at the driver, startled by the choice of words and their accuracy, but it proved to be useless when he found that the man was already staring back at him, openly; never mind that he was currently driving in the dark. His cigarette was tucked between his fingers and the hand that was holding it was dangling from his open window. The man’s eyes were unsettling. It wasn’t really the color — they were a beautiful brown, lighter than his hair — but Kenny thought that, if the eyes really were the window to the soul, well… His must be tinted.

That, or the lamp was off.

“Uh,” he fumbled with his words, momentarily out of speech, “Not really, just— you know. Going on an adventure.”

A large understatement, sure, but still kind of the truth. Though it was a one-way trip, since there was no way in Hell he was setting foot in South Park again. Not to mention the fact that his father would never welcome him back into his house.

(Thinking, Kenny guessed that, technically, he would be setting foot in South Park again, hopefully in a near future; once he’d have the means and the place, he’d take Karen with him. Until then, she was better off with her friend’s family.)

“Does anyone know where you are?”

Not for the first time, Kenny’s heart nervously skipped a beat. It was a weird thing to say, wasn’t it? Or maybe the lack of daylight was making it weird? Yeah, probably the latter. There was nothing to worry about, he was fine.

(Were these crumbled, soiled tissues littering the floor, at his feet? There were dried-up copper-colored stains on it. Lots of it. Hmm. Strange.)

“Uh, no,” he replied truthfully.

Shit. Should he have said no? What difference did it make, anyway?

Subtly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, pretending to check the time when really he was checking something else entirely. And his stomach dropped.

Still no signal.

Blank-faced, Kenny slowly put his phone back inside his pocket. He risked a glance in the rear-view mirror and couldn’t help widening his eyes when finding the driver already staring back at him through it. Kenny couldn’t read the look. He averted his eyes and stared out the windshield instead, watching the road. The headlamps didn’t cover much of it, it was like the woods sucked up all the light.

Unable to stop himself, he darted another glance in the rear-view mirror. And found the man still staring at him intently, emotionlessly. The man’s eyes were unmoving, unblinking. Kenny remembered his earlier thought and a shiver ran down his spine. There’s no light, he thought, there’s no light behind his eyes.

He wondered if the driver knew he was making him feel atrociously uneasy. He wondered if he could sense his fear. It was contained for now and Kenny thought he was pretty good at hiding his emotions so long as he was deep in denial, which he currently was.

Maybe he was just scaring himself over nothing. The night had a tendency to make everything appear more dramatic.

“Do you have a name, Lamb?”

Kenny didn’t even start. He didn’t even twitch upon hearing the strange nickname.

“My name’s Kenny,” he replied with an even tone.

The blond waited for reciprocation but was only met with silence. He cleared his throat.

“…What about you? Do you, uh, do you have a name?” he asked lamely, immediately cringing afterward. He couldn’t help feeling this way; whether it was intentional or not, the driver didn’t help make the atmosphere comfortable. He was either extremely clueless or…

…Well. Kenny would rather not think about the other possibility.

The blond glanced in the rear-view mirror at the same time as the brown haired man’s lips twitched and turned into a mysterious smirk. The small smile didn’t reassure Kenny. The next moment, it was gone. Finally, the driver’s rough voice was heard once more, though what he answered didn’t seem to make sense.

“You can just call me La Taupe.”

Kenny opened his mouth and closed it right after, confused. He wasn’t even sure he understood the words and thus couldn’t repeat them. He felt like the man just told him a private reference he couldn’t possibly know and therefore felt like he didn’t get the whole joke.

He felt like he was the joke.

“O—kay… Is there a reason?” he decided to ask, though he wasn’t even expecting an answer at this point.

He was wrong. The brown haired man did answer, and it made even less sense to the blond.

“I just like to dig.”

“Oh,” he let out pointlessly.

And Kenny felt it, then. The certainty that the man was playing with him. Not an actually playful-play; not the way Damien had made him feel when they’d chatted before the police arrived. Kenny didn’t feel like the man was playing with him, because Kenny was the game.

He was being played with, the way a cat might play with a mouse.

And he hated it.

He still didn’t feel in danger, yet; not really. Slightly scared, yes, but not threatened. Apart from acting extremely weird and cryptic, the driver hadn’t done anything to make the blond frightened. Well, there was the whole eyes-thing, but Kenny didn’t think it was fair to judge someone based on one feature.

Silence fell once more, until the driver gestured at the car radio. “You can turn it up, if you want.”

Kenny quickly glanced at him, not sure why. Perhaps to check the man’s reaction, see if it’d really be okay for him to turn the radio on; but since he proposed, the blond guessed it was stupid to worry about it. Uncomfortable, he pressed a few buttons until statics came out of the speakers. He thought about where they were — on a deserted road, still in the woods — and how nice it would be to hear another voice than theirs. Especially the man’s. He changed stations until music filled the car, a nice change from the sound of the old engine.

‘Oh you never seem to notice, when I follow you home¹—’

Hm. Hands still folded in his lap, he tentatively glanced in the rear-view mirror. And found the brown haired man watching him, unblinking. Again.

‘—When you think you’re alone.’

The driver didn’t look away, yet, didn’t even blink. It was — more or less — fine earlier, when there weren’t creepy lyrics matching the stare, but now Kenny found that he couldn’t take it anymore. He quickly leaned over and pressed another button, changing the station, relieved when the song changed.

Not for long.

‘—I know, with the dawn that you will be gone²—’

A simple, old tune filled the car and the singers’ eerie and high-pitched voices chilled him to the bone.

‘—But tonight, you belong to me’

Yeah, no. For the second time, he smashed the button to change the station, way too aware of the brown haired man’s intense eyes on him. Jesus, did he ever look at the road? They were going to drive into a tree if he wasn’t careful.

‘Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, run³’

Slowly, Kenny looked up and in the rear-view mirror again. They just stared at each other in silence, while music played.

‘Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run’

Kenny was frozen on the spot. He found that he couldn’t even blink, either. The brown haired man’s eyes were still dark, still lightless. Still eerily focused. It’s okay, Kenny told himself, He’s just playing. A sick game. Maybe he’s a sadistic fuck who likes to scare people. The more plausible explanation, though, was that the driver was just socially awkward. Just not good with people, and he made them extremely uncomfortable despite his best intentions. That, or the owner of the car Kenny was currently trapped in was… not completely…

Sane.

Kenny blinked. The man didn’t.

‘Don’t give the farmer his fun, fun, fun’

Yeah, no, fuck that song, too. Kenny abruptly broke eye contact and smashed the button to turn the radio off. Silence settled once again, but this time it was welcomed.

“Hitchhiking,” Christophe said out of the blue, in the quiet, distant voice he’d been using every time he spoke; this time, he had a lot to say. “It’s a bit risky, don’t you think? At night, alone in the woods… You’re an easy prey. Aren’t you scared you’re going to run into… the wrong person?”

Like you? Kenny wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. He was no longer ignoring the possibility that he might have made a big mistake getting into a stranger’s car this time, but he was also still clinging to the hope that everything was fine. Everything looked shady about this man but he hadn’t really done anything. Perhaps he just seemed scary but wasn’t actually dangerous.

Yeah, it had to be that.

“W—well…” he stammered, eyes on the darkened road in front of them, the thick walls of trees and bushes on either side of it, “Yes, I was a bit scared, I guess… but I don’t have anything to worry about, now.”

Right? he didn’t add that part.

He tried to meet the driver’s eyes. Please, Kenny thought, Please nod and say I’m lucky you found me. The brown haired man slowly turned his head and bore his dark, emotion—(soul)—less eyes into him. Then, after a deafening, agonizingly long silence, he eventually smiled. A very, very small and mysterious smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

Kenny thought it would’ve been less frightening if he’d said No, Kenny, actually I think you were better off alone in the woods.

Kenny looked away. It doesn’t mean anything, he tried to convince himself; but this time, he couldn’t ignore the thumping of his heart, how his palms were getting clammy. The cold drop of sweat running down his spine. The driver was looking at the road again at least, thank God. Almost against his own will, Kenny’s eyes dropped to the pile of dirty tissues at his feet again. The blond studied the dark stains, how they looked faded now that they were dry.

Red.

It meant the stains had been red when they were still fresh.

(A nosebleed. Could’ve been just a nosebleed.)

Until now, he hadn’t dared to — fearing it’d be rude, fearing the brown haired man wouldn’t like it — to contort his head to study the backseat, but the urge to do so was too strong. Perhaps because he’d unconsciously switched to survival mode. Looking in the rear-view mirror was out of the question; if he caught the man’s eyes staring into his very soul again, he would lose his mind.

With a heart beating nauseatingly fast and the desire to convince himself he was being paranoid, Kenny contorted himself to look at the backseat. At first, there was nothing noteworthy that stood out; not because there was nothing, but because there was too much. Junk littered both the seats and the floor. White or blue plastic bags, some empty, some not. There were prospectus and newspapers, too. He tried to read a few headlines but couldn’t due to the lack of light. He was going to look away and back at the road when something caught his attention on the floor.

“Is that… Is that a shovel on the ground? Under the blue tarp?”

Now that he thought about it, a blue tarp was a pretty strange thing to have in a car, too. But maybe it was just to protect his car from all the dirt on the shovel.

Wait, what the fuck was he doing with a shovel? Ah, right. He liked to dig. A weird hobby, sure, but he’d seen stranger things before. Kenny suddenly remembered all the dried-up mud and dirt on the driver’s shoes. Hm, perhaps he’d been out for a digging session.

In the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

At the dead of night.

(The tissues at his feet—)

Whether the man was going to answer him about the shovel or not, Kenny would never know. Right at this moment, he heard something — something loud, some sort of bang, that neither of them could miss. It reverberated in the car, as if it’d come from… inside.

It sounded like a loud, desperate knock.

“Don’t mind the noise in the trunk.”

Kenny stayed in this position, contorted on himself, for a moment. It didn’t seem long, but then again he wasn’t really paying attention to the time. He was vaguely surprised to find himself so calm. Composed. He very slowly turned back and stared ahead, careful not to glance in the rear-view mirror, at the man next to him. He kept a blank face and folded his hands in his lap.

He avoided looking down. He didn’t want to see the tissues at his feet. He already felt sick knowing a few of them were crushed under his backpack.

The brown haired man kept driving. Kenny said nothing.

He had palpitations and his fingers were itching to grab the door handle and yank it open. He had his seatbelt on, though, and the car was going way too fast to jump. Still.

Every fiber of his being was urging him to leave.

While I still can.

“Could you…” he choked out, a pathetic whine following. He paused a second to compose himself, then repeated though his voice still sounded weak to his ears. “Could you stop the car, please? I think I’m going to be sick.”

It was a poor excuse and the brown haired man had to see through it; which is why Kenny was immensely surprised when the car slowed down and eventually eased into a stop, on the side of the road. The brown haired man didn’t kill the engine and it purred gently as they just sat there, saying nothing. The blond couldn’t move at first, too scared and confused. The uncertainty was the worst part, he thought. The driver was just so unsettling. He still didn’t know if the signs were actual evidence or just coincidences. It could be both.

Kenny really didn’t want to risk it, though.

Picking up his heavy backpack, the blond slowly got out of the car and slung it over his shoulders, a hand pressed over his mouth, almost expecting the man to pounce on him, or at least tell him to leave his bag inside. He didn’t even have to pretend feeling nauseous; he was nervous, in shock, his face was pale and his stomach was churning. There was one thing keeping him focused, and it was his survival instincts. He could still throw up later.

He took a few tentative steps toward the grass, feeling the man’s presence behind him, even though he was still seated in his car, eerily quiet. Kenny really didn’t know what to think. He thought perhaps it would have been better if the man had actually threatened or started to chase him; at least then he’d be sure.

Plus, Kenny was a fast runner.

With eyes as wide as a deer caught in headlights (and, with erratic heartbeats and an increasing stress-level, he realized that he was) he looked over his shoulder. The brown haired man was still watching him, his gloved hands on the steering wheel, unmoving, unblinking. Utterly emotionless. There was truly no guessing what was going on inside his head — if there was anything at all. Knock, knock, Kenny caught himself thinking, almost deliriously, Anyone home?

Finally, that last thought was the small push he needed in order to move. He didn’t waste any more time and dashed across the small portion that was left of the road and into the woods, without looking back to check if he was being followed or not. With his backpack weighing him down, the thick bushes to avoid and the roots sticking out of the ground like the hands of the undead reaching out to grab his ankle, he wasn’t as fast as he would have liked.

Still, he ran and ran through the woods until a root eventually managed to make him trip and fall flat on his face, making him taste dirt. Panting, sweating, exhausted but still high on adrenaline, he allowed himself the moment to breathe, and fuck it if he was being chased.

But minutes passed and nothing happened. Everything was completely still around him; there wasn’t a sound. He only had the moon as a source of light and it wasn’t enough. Groaning under his breath, he pulled himself up on his hands and knees, his bag killing his back, and wiped the bottom half of his face with his sleeve. And when the reality of his situation finally sunk in, he whispered a single word:

“Fuck.”

He was all alone in the woods, in the middle of the night, with no signal. And he couldn’t pinpoint his exact location, either. It wasn’t like there were a lot of roads, and he just fled the one that went to Denver. Great. Just great. He didn’t know whether he’d just run away from a madman on a killing spree or a completely random and harmless dude who now thought he was crazy and he was still in a dangerous situation.

He didn’t want to turn back, in case the brown haired man was still there. Which left him with only one option; walk in a straight line through the woods and pray to God he wasn’t too far from State Highway 9.

Fighting back the urge to cry, Kenny got on his feet and took his phone out of his pocket to turn the flashlight on. He really didn’t want to use all the battery, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. He pricked up his ears, making sure one last time that no one and nothing was after him, before setting off.

Not for a long journey, he hoped.

oOo

It had been a long journey.

When Kenny finally spotted concrete instead of bushes, trees and even more trees, he breathed out in relief and almost fell on his knees to cry. The sun was already high in the sky and, according to his phone and its very low battery percentage, it was now half past two in the afternoon. Kenny didn’t exactly walk all night, but almost. Turned out he’d been pretty damn far from CO-9 when he ran away from the shady driver. More than once, he was sure he was walking in the opposite direction and was going to die from exhaustion, hunger, thirst or all of the above before reaching his destination, but he held on and kept going, only stopping once when he couldn’t take another step.

He’d lied down in the hollow of a tree, hugging his knees close to his chest, trying to keep himself warm. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he had actually sobbed in a moment of vulnerability, all the bottled emotions and stress pouring all at once, until he was too tired to even cry. Without realizing, he’d fallen asleep and only woke up in the late morning, with a growling stomach. Against the tree he had slept in, he took a small breakfast with what he had, namely cereal bars and an apple.

Now Kenny was finally back on the road and, with the night gone, so did all of his problems. He was tired, sure, but he was determined, too. It would take more time, but he was going to Denver, no matter what. He wouldn’t give up, and he wouldn’t turn back.

No way.

It was almost too good to be true when the feeling of hard concrete replaced the one of dirt, grass and rocks under his feet, and he felt ten times lighter. For a full hour, everything was great. Not perfect, because he was still far from Denver and he was beyond tired, but great anyway. He was alive and fine. The sun was high and warm. He was alive.

And he wasn’t in South Park.

Absentmindedly, he began walking with a joyful stride. Not exactly prancing, but almost. It was only when a familiar sound in the distance caught his attention that he slowed down slightly. It was still far, so he had time to decide, and it came from behind him. Which meant that he really needed to decide.

Right now, he was good. He could walk, and he felt like he could do so for hours; but he knew that it was only because he felt mentally great. He was no longer scared of the dark and the sun was bright, he’d made it out alive and well. For now. Because he knew that sooner or later, the exhaustion in his body would catch up with his mind.

And when it happened, he’d want to be warm and seated inside a car.

Fuck it, he was too tired to care anymore. If the person or the people inside the car looked even a tiny bit suspicious, he’d run. If they were not, it would save him a lot of time and energy. He easily came to the conclusion that trying was worth it. Shit, honestly, it couldn’t possibly get any worse, anyway.

First he’d run away from his hometown and his shitty family. Then he got into the car of car thief and was caught in a police chase. Then he got into the car of a mysterious guy who might or might not be a coldblooded murderer, that bit would always remain a mystery. Truthfully, it felt like a bad dream and Kenny half wondered if he didn’t just hallucinate the whole thing. Anyway, after almost getting lost in the woods and mountains, he eventually found his way back to the road, farther away from Denver than he had been when he was still in South Park.

So, really, in comparison, whatever was going to happen this time was small potatoes.

The car was getting closer now, if the roar of the engine was any indication. Sighing, Kenny walked on the side of the road and raised his thumb without looking over his shoulder. Stop or keep going, he thought to himself, I don’t care at this point.

The car drove past him.

A cool draft slapped his face.

“Asshole,” he muttered through gritted teeth, eyeing the dark blue Mercedes with furrowed eyebrows.

And then the blond paused, because the car slowed down smoothly, the red lights taunting him, until it stopped. Fuck. Did the driver somehow read his lips? Kenny was so not ready for this. He stopped walking, ready to run through the fields if necessary. With a growing level of stress, Kenny watched as the passenger’s door was pushed open and he repressed a whine building low in his throat.

Oh God, what now?

Kenny was eating his words and it tasted like shit. Did he somehow jinx himself when thinking it couldn’t get any worse? Whoever was—

Wait. Passenger’s door? Maybe the driver wasn’t going to beat him up, then.

Normally, Kenny wouldn’t be expecting people to get out of their car to beat hitchhikers up, but after the crazy night he had, nothing surprised him anymore.

He watched silently as a blond boy who actually looked his age got out of the car, though he stayed right where he was, by the door, ready to jump back in. His hair was a lighter shade than Kenny’s and looked unkempt whereas his just looked messy most of the time.

They stared at each other for a moment, not saying anything. The funny thing was, the blond guy had a wide-eyed look and Kenny knew he probably mirrored his expression.

“You’re not a killer on the loose, are you?” the blond guy asked, and Kenny could have burst out laughing if he wasn’t so tired. Ah, that was it; his mind had finally caught up to the state of his body. He was worn out.

“No,” he said quietly then, because the blond guy probably hadn’t heard, cleared his throat and said it again, louder. “No, I’m not a killer on the loose,” and, because he wished he’d asked this to the brown haired man before getting in his car, threw the question back; “Are you?”

The boy looked surprised for a second. For some reason, he peered into the car and spoke, but Kenny was out of earshot. He was probably telling the driver that, no, the shortie with the golden-blond hair and the freckles who currently looked like he’d lose a fistfight against a five-year-old was probably not a hitchhike killer. Hooray.

The blond guy raised his head and glanced at him again. This time, he just motioned at him to approach. Then, he rounded the car — leaving the passenger door wide open — and got into the backseat instead. Uh. Not strange at all. Kenny took a tentative step forward, then another. Slowly, he walked to the dark blue Mercedes and stopped when he reached the spot where the blond boy had stood moments before. He leaned and peered into the car, in the same way he had done.

His breath caught in his throat. Piercing amber eyes looked back at him, neither friendly nor hostile — though they were ice-cold. The driver wore a dark blue baseball cap with the letters C and T embroidered in white on the front panels. He had jet-black hair; it was cut short above his neck, but a few strands were sticking out of his cap and falling over his tanned forehead.

After how things ended with Damien, Kenny wasn’t sure that getting into a car with another tall, dark and handsome stranger was the best idea.

“So, what’s it gonna be, Blondie?” the driver said, his voice deep and flat, and Kenny almost started. “You’re getting in or not?”

Kenny’s gaze trailed to the backseat. There, three pairs of eyes were looking at him curiously. There was the blond boy, of course, who looked even more wide-eyed up close, but perhaps it was only due to the deep, purple bags under his eyes. Next to him was a chocolate brown haired boy wearing a red and white letterman jacket who had a soft look in his brown eyes. He offered him a smile, and Kenny felt a bit better. The fourth person was also male and looked a bit fancier than the others. He wore a deep purple button-up shirt, rolled up to the elbows. Kenny noticed a beautiful watch on his wrist.

Looking again at the driver and ignoring the weak feeling in his knees when finding his amber, almost yellowish eyes still on him, Kenny nodded. “Uh, yeah,” he said, “Yeah, I’ll get in. Thanks.” Kenny took his backpack off and placed it at his feet as he sat down, way too aware of all the eyes on him and how awful he must have looked in comparison.

“We’d tell you to put your bag in the trunk, but it’s full already,” the brown haired boy in the middle told him, leaning over. He didn’t have his seatbelt on.

“Oh,” Kenny said pointlessly.

He shut the passenger’s door and the dark haired boy didn’t waste a second to drive away, even though Kenny didn’t have his seatbelt on, yet. As he put it on, he wondered what — who — made him change his mind and caused him to stop the car, because Kenny would bet his right hand that the driver hadn’t planned to slow down nor pick him up.

“What’s your name, Blondie?” the joyful brown haired boy asked him, one hand on each of the two front seats. Kenny wondered if he called him Blondie just because his dark haired friend had. The blond didn’t think every group of friends had a leader, but if this one had, it had to be him. He was quiet but exuded confidence, responsibility. Kenny figured that he was a man of a few words, but that when he did talk, people listened.

“I’m Kenny,” he answered, turning around on his seat to face the three people at the back. “What about you guys?”

It was the boy wearing a purple shirt who spoke up this time. “So, I’m Tolkien,” he said, pointing his finger at himself then moved it to point out the blond, “This is Tweek, who tends to be a bit paranoid sometimes. Clyde, the comic relief,” he said while giving the boy with the red and white jacket a playful tap on the shoulder, “And Craig,” he finished with a nod in the driver’s direction.

Tweek and Clyde waved, the latter with a wide smile. Craig said nothing and kept his eyes on the road. There seemed to be a constant almost-frown on his face.

“He doesn’t talk much, don’t take it personally,” Clyde leaned in and told him, probably having caught him staring at Craig. “He’s always either pissed off or apathetic, there’s no in-between.”

“You guys have known each other for a while?” the blond asked, turning his attention back to the three people in the backseat, since Craig wasn’t exactly what you’d call a social butterfly.

“Yeah, we all grew up together in the same city and went to the same school,” Tolkien nodded, “We’ve been friends since, like, shit, kindergarten.”

Oh, so just like Kenny and his own group of friends, then. Or, well, just like Kenny and his own group of friends, until they left South Park and all went their separate ways.

“Where?” he asked Tolkien, but the latter didn’t have the time to answer.

“Far from here,” Craig said, his voice still as flat and still as deep. Categorical. To Kenny, it sounded a lot like a ‘Don’t ask questions.’ He didn’t even glance away from the road.

“We’re on a road trip,” Clyde told him, then unexpectedly began to sing. “Road trippin’ with my three favorite allies.” It was slightly out of tune and he was quickly cut off.

“Shut up, Clyde.”

“What about you, Kenny?” Tolkien gently asked him, ignoring his two friends in the backseat, “Where are you from?”

“South Park,” the blond shrugged, “It’s a very small town. Very far from normal civilization. You must have passed it, actually.”

It seemed to pique Clyde’s attention, who suddenly turned around to face him. “Oh, shit, yeah, that small mountain town? We drove through it. We were following Route 285 but Craigster here thought it’d be a nice idea to take the scenic route.”

If he’d meant to get a rise out of his dark haired friend, it worked. Craig furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at Clyde through the rear-view mirror, amber eyes blazing.

“Shut the fuck up Clyde, you had one job and that was to give me the right instructions,” he barked at him, “You’re fired, by the way. Tolkien, you take over.”

“Hey, that’s not fair—”

Tweek elbowed Clyde, properly shutting him up, before facing Kenny.

“You must have been walking for a few hours, then. Isn’t your backpack heavy?” he asked, darting a glance at the gigantic, brown monstrosity at his feet. To Kenny, the size of his bag was answer enough.

“Actually, I’ve been walking since yesterday. I was following Route 285, too, but had to change my plans. I had a wild night.”

“Yesterday?” Clyde cried out, bewildered, “Man, you must be exhausted.”

Kenny gave him a strained smile. Yeah, that was an understatement.

“Anyway, what about you guys? Where are you all going?”

“East,” was Craig’s simple, vague answer. Kenny fought the urge to roll his eyes. The dark haired boy was making it painfully clear that he hadn’t wanted the blond to join them, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

“What he means by that is we have no plan and we’re just driving that way,” Tolkien explained patiently, unfazed by his friend’s behavior. They were probably all used to it. What a grumpy fucker. A hot, grumpy fucker. Somehow, that made it worse. “Maybe we’ll reach the East Coast, maybe we won’t. We come from south California. We’ll have to get back eventually. Right now, we’re just trying to get to Denver to stay the night.”

Kenny lit up at that, relief flooding him. Finally, things were looking good. Finally, he was nearing the end of his journey. Well. He guessed that, technically, it would only truly start when he was in Denver. Finding a job and a place to live and all that.

“I’m going to Denver, too,” he told them, showing them a genuine smile for the first time. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Craig looking at him quietly. When they made eye contact, the dark haired boy averted his amber eyes and fixed them on the road again. Kenny really couldn’t figure out this guy.

“We didn’t even ask you, how old are you?”

Kenny blinked and looked at Clyde, who still had his hands placed on each of the two front seats and no seatbelt. He didn’t say it, but it made the blond nervous. And, seeing as Tweek looked everywhere but at the boy sitting next to him, fidgeting and toying with the thermos in his lap, he wasn’t the only one.

“Nineteen,” Kenny replied.

“Awesome!” Clyde let out enthusiastically, flashing him a toothy grin, “We’re nineteen, too!”

“Yes, Clyde,” Tolkien sighed, “Like millions of other people.”

“Oh, come on. The coincidence is fun. Maybe in another universe, we all grew up together.”

“Can somebody just shut him up?”

“Fuck you, Craig,” Clyde answered, turning toward the dark haired boy. There was no heat behind the words and Craig didn’t rise to it. Until Clyde’s next words, that is: “So, Kenny. You’re going on vacation, too?”

“Seriously,” Craig repeated, sounding tired this time, “Somebody shut him up.”

As if he were programed to, Tweek said flatly: “Shut up, Clyde.”

“What?” Clyde looked at his blond friend, confused, “What did I say this time?”

Without glancing at Kenny, Tweek answered for him: “He’s obviously running away, dude.”

“Uh?” the brown haired boy blurted out, turning to face him once more, “You are? Holy shit, I had no idea.”

“Uh, yeah. I am,” he shrugged, slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh. Well, good luck with that,” he told him and though it sounded a bit tactless, Kenny figured Clyde didn’t mean anything by it. “What about school, though?”

“I didn’t go to college,” Kenny replied simply, not going into details.

Not going to college was something that Kenny had now almost convinced himself he didn’t mind. Last year, he, Stan, Kyle and Cartman spent the entire summer together, making sure to enjoy their last moments of adolescence in South Park. Now, his three friends were enjoying their lives in the different universities they’d gone to, living new experiences and making new friends.

Kenny had been the one to stay behind.

“What about you guys?”

“Yeah, we’re all students, except Tweek,” Clyde told him, “He chose not to go.”

“That’s right,” Tweek nodded, staring into Kenny’s eyes as he took a sip from his thermos, “Fuck school.”

Kenny chuckled. Right at this moment, he caught himself thinking: I’m glad I raised my thumb. And it was true. He was good. Though he was in a weird position to face the people in the backseat, he could rest his legs and his back. He was with people his age who could have been his friends in another life. The police weren’t after them. They were going to Denver.

“But don’t ask me about school stuff, ask Craig,” Clyde continued, unaware of his inner thoughts. He suddenly clapped both of Craig’s shoulders and started to knead them playfully. Kenny noticed that the dark haired boy’s frown deepened. “He’s the smart one. Studying physics and shit. Seriously, don’t ask me the details; I have no idea what he’s actually doing. Every time I see his notes, my brain just short-circuits. Too many numbers and long ass equations, not enough words. We’re roommates,” he added to Kenny, letting go of his friend’s shoulders after one last pat.

“That’s pretty cool,” Kenny said, looking at Craig. Trying to initiate conversation, but it was a hard thing to do when the person he was speaking to was ignoring him entirely. “I never understood Physics, either.”

He was hoping for an answer, perhaps a smile. He received neither. Craig said nothing and just rolled his window down, for some reason. Kenny watched him, trying not to show his disappointment on his face, in case the others were observing him. Suddenly, the dark haired boy reached for the glove compartment with a long arm and Kenny made himself smaller, already feeling like he was taking too much space when he was objectively speaking the shortest person in the car. Craig retrieved a pack of cigarettes as well as a lighter and closed the compartment, not saying a thing. The blond watched him as he easily took a stick out of the pack and trapped it between his lips. Still holding the steering wheel with one hand, he used the other one to light the cigarette up with ease, having clearly done the same movement countless times already. Kenny watched him as he inhaled, held it in, then blew the smoke out of the window, turning his head to avoid letting it inside the car. The blond slowly let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“What are you planning to do once you get to Denver, Kenny?”

Tolkien’s voice efficiently snapped him out of his trance and he blinked a few times, turning his head toward the dark haired boy. Tolkien was smiling and Kenny noted the similarities with Clyde’s smile. It was less boyish, more charming, but just as soft and caring.

“Get a job, that would be a nice start,” he replied truthfully with a smile of his own. “I had two part-time jobs back in South Park, so I think I’ll be okay.”

“What did you do?”

“Waiter in a coffee-shop and cash register at a gas station.”

“A coffee-shop?” Tweek repeated, his attention piqued.

“Ah, congratulations,” Tolkien chuckled, “Looks like you managed to snatch a place on Tweek’s good side.”

Confused, Kenny’s blue eyes hopped from Tolkien to Tweek, missing the context.

“I work at a coffee-shop, too,” the blond explained. “Well, my parents’ coffee-shop. I’d like to open my own place one day.”

“That’s nice,” Kenny said, then, using some of his charm, he widened his smile; “You’ll have to give me the address once you do.”

Before Tweek could answer, Clyde suddenly leaned in until his face was perfectly standing between Craig and Kenny and he studied the blond’s features, his light brown eyes passing over his bruise without lingering.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “You could totally apply to be a model, or something. No homo, but you’re like— gorgeous, dude. I’d totally pay for pictures of your pretty face.”

Kenny choked out a laugh and the rest of the car fell silent as the others stared at Clyde, unimpressed; and even Craig averted his amber eyes from the road to set them on his friend, furrowing his black eyebrows.

“…Are you hitting on him?” the dark haired boy asked suspiciously, not glancing at Kenny though he was talking about him. Kenny didn’t know how to feel about that; about Craig making him feel like he wasn’t there. Like he was unwelcome. It made him feel a little bit less thrilled about getting in his car.

“What?” Clyde said and he looked genuinely shocked that Craig would suggest such a thing. “No! I said no homo!”

“You can’t just say ‘no homo’ and then hit on a dude, dude,” Tweek said wisely, “It doesn’t work like that.”

“I said I wasn’t hitting on him!” the brown haired boy continued to whine and Kenny’s amusement grew. He let out another small laugh. “Can’t a guy compliment another guy with no ulterior motive?”

“Well, you did say you’d pay for pictures of his pretty face,” Craig reminded him, while still ignoring Kenny. “And that was after calling him gorgeous.”

“I said that in an objective, platonic way. One hundred percent brotherly.”

His friends didn’t seem convinced by that and neither did Kenny, whose lips tugged upward in a small smile.

“Oh, come on,” Clyde eventually sighed, giving up, “Just look at him, Craig. Wouldn’t you pay to see his face up close?”

And Kenny’s smile immediately dropped. He watched, unable to look away, as Craig slowly — lazily — averted his eyes from the road without braking even just a notch. He set them on Kenny instead, who could do nothing but stare and hold his breath, suddenly very aware of his features and his bruise. He caught himself hoping it didn’t look too bad.

“Hm,” he let out indifferently, his piercing yellow eyes roaming his face, looking completely emotionless. The longer they lingered on his face, the faster Kenny’s heart was beating. “Yeah. Without the bruise, totally.”

“Ah!” Clyde shouted victoriously, “Told ya!”

Kenny looked away, blushing hard. Looking out the window, he absently tucked a strand of golden hair behind his ear, his fingers grazing the numerous piercings he’d accumulated over the years. In the backseat, Tweek and Tolkien were still teasing Clyde, who kept denying hitting on the blond. Tentatively, Kenny slowly turned his head away from the window, careful not to be too quick, too sharp, and risk piquing Craig’s attention. He discretely glanced in the rear-view mirror.

In the end, he had been cautious for nothing. Craig’s amber eyes were already on him through the mirror, almost blazing yellow. And Kenny’s face was still burning up. Which Craig could see, naturally. And then Kenny saw something cross the dark haired boy’s eyes. It was fleeting, but unmistakable.

Amusement. Self-satisfaction.

Craig broke eye contact and fixed his eyes on the road again. Kenny did the same, still flustered. When a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, the blond started. Clyde’s face was suddenly inches away from his again. This time, there was a crease of worry between his brown eyebrows.

“Yeah, by the way, what’s with the bruise? You okay?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he answered vaguely, clearing his throat and trying to stop it from shaking. He was painfully aware of Craig’s presence and knew that he was listening, of course. “It doesn’t hurt that much anymore.”

“Don’t tell me you were attacked before we picked you up?”

Now, Clyde looked horrified.

“No, no, I wasn’t. This is from... before.”

The brown haired boy fell silent and Kenny could feel Tweek and Tolkien’s eyes on him, the former looking at him suspiciously. He realized then what it sounded like and was quick to clear the misunderstanding: “Don’t worry, I’m not a robber or anything.”

“I mean, not to offend you or anything, but even if you were, dude, I don’t think you’d do much harm. You don’t really look...” Clyde let his sentence hanging, slowly eyeing him up and down.

“Dangerous?”

“I was thinking tough, but yeah. That, too.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Tolkien chimed in and Kenny was silently grateful. Sure, he wasn’t intimidating, but still; he’d just spent the entire night outside, lost in the woods, trying to find a way out. If that wasn’t being tough, what was? “Look at Tweek. All scrawny, but he’s a real barbarian.”

“Oh yeah,” Clyde turned toward Kenny again to warn him, “Never piss off Tweek. He’s got claws and a thirst for blood.”

“He could be hiding a gun under his parka,” the blond said out of the blue, eyeing Kenny suspiciously. “Waiting for the right moment to pull it on Craig.”

“Can you not be morbid for one second, Tweek?” Clyde asked with an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes, at the same time as Kenny said: “I don’t have a gun,” all the while silently wondering how the conversation had managed to come to this.

“If you do have a gun, give up on the idea to pull it on Craig, dude,” Clyde advised him in a conversational tone, “Tweek’s savage, but Craig’s our fighter. His blood runs cold and he has no fear.”

“Shut your mouth, Clyde,” the dark haired boy groaned, “You talk too much.”

Kenny bit down a small smile. The rest of the ride was spent in the same way; Clyde physically couldn’t shut up, Tweek occasionally made fun of him, Tolkien calmed everyone down when these two got too agitated, Kenny mostly listened in amused awe and Craig sometimes participated, usually to tell his friends to shut up or to fuck off. He drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other dangling from the window. He’d finished his cigarette a while ago and didn’t light another one up. Not that Kenny paid particular attention to him. Because he definitely didn’t.

They stopped on the outskirts of Denver and parked in the lot of a cheap-looking motel, and it was only when Craig killed the engine that Kenny’s heart began to beat faster as he grew nervous. What happened now?

“So, uh… You’re staying with us for the night, Kenny?”

The blond quickly turned his head around and sent Clyde a surprised look. He didn’t know what to answer — because he didn’t think he got to crash their plans and their night; they’d already done enough by getting him to Denver — fortunately, the brown haired boy continued before he could embarrass himself.

“We’re gonna book rooms for the night, leave our stuff, get changed and all, then we’ll head to town for dinner. You could come with us, right guys? And we could book the rooms as a group, too. It’d be cheaper for you.”

Wide-eyed, Kenny darted glances at the other three. He wanted to say yes, of course, and not just because it suited him financially. But if Clyde looked optimistic as he said this and Tolkien was staring at him with a friendly, inviting smile, he wasn’t sure about the other two. Tweek’s green eyes were hopping from Clyde, to Kenny, to Craig and the blond couldn’t read his expression. Craig was just staring at the motel in front of them and there was no emotion on his face.

“I mean,” Kenny fumbled with his words and spoke in a quiet voice, “I don’t want to bother you guys, I’m already grateful you drove me here…”

Clyde widened his smile. “No problem,” he shrugged, “Dude, you’re cool. Just say yes.”

Kenny’s hesitation was obvious when he glanced at the other two again, who had yet to voice their opinion. Tweek caught his eyes and probably understood that he was waiting for some kind of confirmation from him and Craig, because he eventually shrugged.

“Do what you want,” he said, and though it sounded cold, Tweek didn’t actually seem to mind his presence. Which only left Craig, whose silence made the blond uncomfortable.

“Stop brooding, Tucker,” Clyde said with a strong clap on his friend’s shoulder, “He’s gonna think you don’t want him here.”

Well, isn’t that exactly what he wants me to think? Kenny thought, crestfallen. He was actually a bit upset, which was ridiculous. He felt rejected, somehow.

While the blond was already imagining the dark haired boy bluntly telling his friends that he wasn’t welcome, Craig turned his head toward him and set his amber eyes on his. He wasn’t frowning.

“You’re welcome to join us,” he told him, shocking the blond. His voice was still as deep and flat, but there was something else, too. Something subtle, but it was there; softness. “If you want to.”

“R—really?” Kenny breathed, dumbfounded. He’d feared rejection, but this was actually ten times scarier, for a whole different panel of reasons.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

And just like that, Craig unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. Kenny blinked, and by the time he got his motor functions back, almost everyone had already gotten out of the car. He scrambled out, picking his backpack up and slinging it over his shoulders with a hiss. He closed the door while the others were taking their bags out of the trunk and he just lingered by the Mercedes’ side, shifting on his feet, waiting for them — waiting for Craig — to take the lead.

When he heard the trunk close, he looked up from the ground just in time to see the dark haired boy walk by him, acknowledging him with a simple eye contact. Kenny could only stare back with wide eyes while his knees turned into jelly upon seeing just how tall Craig really was. Ah, he was so fucked. At least, it was only for the evening. Come tomorrow, he wouldn’t ever be seeing Craig’s piercing eyes again.

The idea didn’t thrill Kenny as much as he’d wanted.

He followed the group of friends into the motel, head bowed. Deep in thought. Craig and Tolkien went to the front desk and handled the booking while he, Clyde and Tweek stayed behind. Kenny tried to divide his attention between the brown haired boy, who was listing all the things he’d like to have for dinner, in a particular order, and the receptionist, trying to hear the price for the stay. He didn’t know how many rooms they wanted to book and he didn’t dare to ask. There were five of them, so perhaps three. It’d make sense. Two and two, and Kenny in a room for himself. He watched Craig and Tolkien out of the corner of his eye as they exchanged words with the girl behind the desk. Eventually, she smiled and handed them two key cards.

Wait.

Two?

The two tall boys turned around and walked toward them; one smiling, the other blank-faced, but Kenny was starting to learn that it was just Craig’s normal state, apparently.

“Motel’s almost full,” Tolkien told them, “There were only two rooms with enough beds left. One with a simple bed and a double, one with two simple beds.”

Before the information could even reach Kenny’s brain, Tweek suddenly spoke up: “I’m taking the simple bed in the room for three people.”

“Uh…” Clyde successively looked at Kenny, Tolkien and Craig, finally stopping on the latter and waiting for instructions.

“You and Tolkien go with Tweek,” Craig told the brown haired boy and— wait a minute. “We’ll take the other room.”

We?

The tall, dark haired boy turned to him.

Oh.

“That okay with you?”

Oh.

“Of course!” he hurried to say, meaning to hide his embarrassment; but then he realized how that had sounded like — like he was eager — and it mortified him. He cleared his throat and calmly added, though he was sure that he was beet red at this point: “I mean, sure, if you don’t mind me.”

God, he hated himself sometimes. Fortunately — or not, depending on how you looked at it — Craig didn’t pick up on it and just nodded. He didn’t waste time and started to walk toward the elevator. The others followed him, Kenny being last. He had to squeeze through so they could all fit inside, and for a while the elevator was filled with Clyde’s chatter, who was still talking about food. Until they reached their floor.

“Well, we’re here,” Tolkien said as the automatic doors let them out, “Craig, Kenny, see you guys in a bit.”

Oh. They were on different floors. Great.

Kenny watched as the doors closed, trapping them inside. The silence was deafening and the blond immediately missed Clyde and his incessant chatter. There was a decent space between them and they just stood there, facing the mirror hung on the wall of the elevator, something that Kenny found extremely annoying, as he was having a really hard time holding himself from glancing at Craig’s reflection. Before long, he yielded to his own curiosity and sneaked a peek, immediately regretting it when amber eyes zeroed in on his. Kenny quickly looked away and at the floor instead. It was better this way. Anything to stop him from thinking too much about the huge gap between their heights.

Finally, the elevator stopped on their floor and the automatic doors opened, letting them out. Craig walked out first and the blond followed him, looking at the dark blue backpack he’d thrown over one shoulder and was carrying with ease, despite its obvious weight. Everything was dark blue about Craig; his cap, his car, his bag, even his clothes.

Except his eyes. Kenny quickly shook his head. Stop thinking about his eyes!

He failed to notice when Craig paused in front of a door, almost colliding with his bag and Kenny was immensely grateful for his quick reflexes, only managing to stop a few inches from an impact that would have been terribly awkward. Craig unlocked the door with the key card and stepped into the room, Kenny following. The room was small, of course; as expected from a cheap motel. It wouldn’t have bothered him if he hadn’t been rooming with someone who bothered him. Whatever, he was stronger than this.

There was a closed door and the blond figured it led to the bathroom. He passed it, leaving his shoes near the front door, to put his backpack on the ground, in a corner. The two beds were identical and closer than Kenny would have liked, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He was about to ask Craig which bed he wanted to take when he was distracted by the sight of the tall boy taking his baseball cap off, freeing his jet-black hair. As Kenny had guessed, they were cut short on the sides and longer on top, straight strands falling prettily over his tanned forehead. His hairstyle was a bit messy, but not in the way Kenny’s was; Craig’s was messy in a careless, elegant way. Kenny should really stop staring at his hair in awe, or Craig was going to think he was a total creep.

The dark haired boy threw his cap over one bed, the one closer to the windows, and Kenny guessed he had his answer. He took his parka off and went to hang it on the rack. When he turned around, the blond found Craig looking at him. His heart picked up speed. Damn it, McCormick!

“You can go take a shower, if you want,” the dark haired boy told him indifferently, and Kenny nodded and muttered a thanks.

He quickly opened his backpack, took the first random spare clothes he found and a toothbrush, then went to lock himself up in the bathroom, only letting out a breath of relief when he was safe and out of Craig’s sight. He did want to take a shower, badly, but he’d also needed to isolate himself for a while. He felt extremely awkward around the taller boy; both because he didn’t talk much and because he had a fat, stupid crush. He hoped it wasn’t obvious. Craig didn’t seem to pay attention to him, anyway; most of the time, it’d looked like he wasn’t even aware Kenny was right there. It was the impression that Kenny got when they were in the car, at least. Craig ignoring his presence both disappointed him and caused his heart to beat faster.

He undressed, letting his clothes drop to the floor carelessly, and stepped into the shower, immediately running the hot water and closing his eyes when it poured over his head. All his muscles were sore and he couldn’t wait to get in bed and tuck himself under soft covers… even a bad mattress would be welcome. Anything would be better than a tree.

When Kenny was done showering and brushing his teeth, he half-heartedly rubbed his hair with his towel, not completely drying it, and gathered his dirty clothes to fold them, leaving the bathroom clean and ready to be used again, in case Craig wanted to take a shower as well. Using his sleeve, he wiped the mirror over the sink to remove the condensation. He stared at his reflection and studied the bruise on his face. He guessed it didn’t look too bad. He didn’t look too bad. Kenny conveniently ignored the breath of relief he let out. Now dressed in a clean oversized t-shirt and black skinny jeans, the blond opened the door and stepped into the room, regretting his poor timing when he caught Craig changing t-shirts. They made eye contact for half a second before Kenny quickly averted his eyes, willing his blush away.

Well, it kept getting more awkward.

Craig didn’t seem to give a single shit, though. He just put on a new shirt and threw the old one on top of his backpack left on the floor, in its own corner. Kenny sat on his bed, cross-legged, pretending to study the cracks in the ceiling, until Craig sat on his own bed, facing him. He spread his legs, leaning back to lean on his hands, the picture of carelessness. But Kenny figured he was tired after driving for God knew how long.

He couldn’t hide his surprise when Craig finally talked to him.

“So. What happened to your face?”

The truth naturally left his lips. For some reason, Kenny felt like he didn’t need to avoid saying it.

“My dad happened,” he said simply. When Craig nodded slowly, understanding but not pitiful, Kenny was glad he told him the truth.

“Is that why you ran away?”

His gaze trailing to the side, pensive, Kenny nodded. “I guess he hit me one too many times.”

Craig didn’t answer right away and the blond thought their conversation had already come to an end. He started to worry his bottom lip, trying to find something to add, something lighthearted this time, but couldn’t find anything. He was going to ask the dark haired boy about his life back in California but Craig beat him to it by speaking up:

“You could come with us, you know. On our road trip,” he shrugged, like it didn’t matter either way — but how could you offer a stranger to go on vacation with you and your friends and not care? For the first time, it occurred to Kenny that perhaps Craig’s lack of open emotions didn’t mean he didn’t have any.

“The guys seem to like you,” Craig added nonchalantly, looking at the wall. Maybe pretending to study the cracks in the ceiling.

What about you?

The words were burning Kenny’s tongue, but he wasn’t bold enough to let them out. They spent a total of two hours together, inside a car. Was it really enough to get to know each other and decide to go on a road trip? He figured Craig was aware that they still had an entire evening to get acquainted. If it didn’t go well, he would probably take his offer away. But then Kenny thought about Clyde’s friendliness, Tolkien’s, the way they didn’t hesitate to include him in their group booking, and the blond concluded that perhaps they were just carefree.

Kenny kind of wanted to say yes. Especially now that he understood Craig a bit better, and knew that the other boy’s coldness did not mean he was actually indifferent. Still, there was one obvious issue.

“…I’m not sure I can afford it,” he said quietly. His own disappointment was obvious in his voice.

Craig looked away from the wall and set his amber eyes on him. “Pay what you can, or don’t, it doesn’t matter either way,” he reassured him and this time he didn’t sound as detached. “The trip is mostly funded by Tolkien anyway. He doesn’t mind. He suggested the trip, actually. One more person is nothing to him.”

Tolkien’s expensive-looking watch flashed in Kenny’s mind and he nodded absentmindedly.

“Well… then I guess I’ll think about it,” he replied, still on the fence. It depended on how the evening went. Chewing the inside of his mouth, he debated asking his next question; in the end, curiosity won. “So... who made you stop the car?”

Craig cocked an eyebrow. His face was still blank, but Kenny figured he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“You said your friends seemed to like me. I’ve been wondering who told you to stop for me, before you let me in.”

The dark haired boy didn’t have to think for a second.

“No one.”

It was Kenny’s turn to be confused and it must have been showing on his face, because Craig clarified.

“No one asked me to stop. I just did.”

Kenny had been eighty percent sure he had to thank Clyde for being picked up. The twenty percent of uncertainty was caused by Tweek, who had been the one to get out of the car. Because of that, he’d thought perhaps the blond had been the one to ask Craig to stop, despite his interrogation and suspicion. At no time Kenny suspected that Craig had stopped for him willingly.

It was… Craig’s idea. He didn’t stop because one of his friends had asked him to.

“O—oh,” he let out, feeling himself blush once again. He couldn’t help it; the knowledge made his stomach twirl with joy. He’d completely misinterpreted Craig, mistook his silence for antipathy. He was so glad to be wrong. “Why? I mean, I’m grateful you stopped, of course, but I didn’t think…”

He let his sentence hanging, afraid to fuck up by saying too much. Craig just shrugged.

“Dunno. I don’t think I was really going to, not until I drove past you. Maybe it was seeing you prance around with a backpack that looks even heavier than you.”

The warmth in Kenny’s face increased until he was sure he was beet red.

Shit, he saw that?

“I wasn’t prancing, thank you very much,” he denied, pouting, and Craig raised his eyebrows again, unimpressed.

“It really looked like prancing to me.”

Kenny turned into a stuttering mess then and Craig scoffed, the blond’s heart betraying him by doing a somersault at the sound. He conveniently ignored the light, sugary feeling in his stomach and tried to steer the conversation in a direction that would make the dark haired boy embarrassed, for once. Without surprise, it failed.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what it says about you. Picking up random people just because they’re prancing and all.”

Craig scoffed again and ah, here went that ridiculous feeling again. It dawned on Kenny then, that they were teasing each other. He thought about Craig studying his face, earlier. Complimenting him, in his own nonchalant way. The way he’d looked smug afterward, when they made eye contact through the rear-view mirror. And just like that, the feeling in the pit of his stomach was set ablaze and its flames licked his chest.

Were they flirting?

And Craig was still staring at him with that look in his eyes. Intently, as if he was paying attention to every detail about Kenny, all the micro changes in his expressions.

“Hm,” Craig said and there was something glinting in his amber eyes, tugging at the corner of his lips. Amusement. “Not random people,” he corrected shamelessly, “Just you.”

Jesus, Kenny thought as his heart missed a beat and threatened to stop altogether, Is it really the same Craig who only grunted one-word answers in the car?

He tried not to show how flustered he was, but he was pretty sure the dark haired boy could read him like an open book. Unlike him, Kenny was emotional and expressive.

“Does that mean that the part where you said your friends like me and wouldn’t mind me joining you guys was just an excuse to hide the fact that you like me and you want me to join you on your road trip?” he asked cheekily.

For the third time since they began to talk, Craig scoffed. This time, a corner of his mouth tugged upward in a half smile that charmed Kenny. Yeah, he was definitely fucked. Kenny was falling deeper and deeper by the minute. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it had earlier.

Because there actually might be a tomorrow.

“Maybe,” Craig replied with a new heat in his amber eyes, entirely focused on him.

There was a knock on the door then, and Kenny didn’t know what would have happened had they not been interrupted. The sound was as effective as if someone had clicked their fingers in front of their faces. It snapped them out their trance and, at the same time, kind of shattered the tension.

Craig got up, muttering something under his breath — ‘I’ll get it,’ Kenny realized once the dark haired boy was already at the door. He turned around on his bed to be able to see without having to stand up, just in time to see Tolkien.

“Hey,” he said to his friend then, spotting Kenny over Craig’s shoulder, nodded in his direction, “We’re ready to go out for dinner whenever you are. Also, the guys wanted to know tomorrow’s plans and, uh… how many we’d be on the road.”

Oh.

Kenny absently straightened his back when two pairs of eyes simultaneously landed on him. Craig was looking at him with his usual blank face, though there was still something in his eyes. He was waiting patiently, not pressuring him. Kenny knew then, that Craig would leave it at that if he chose to refuse his offer. That he wouldn’t insist, wouldn’t get offended. He’d probably look as if he didn’t care, though it might be a façade. Tolkien was looking at him expectantly, just politely waiting for his answer, and it didn’t look like he was hoping to hear Kenny decline.

Kenny smiled.

“Count me in,” he said, looking at Craig.