Kenny McCormick x Male Reader!

HOLY SHIT CHAPTER THREE WOAH

I didn't see it behind me, but something ran into me-really fast- and it hurt a lot. My body was smashed and torn rapidly under what felt like a giant lawn mower. My nerves were snapped finally and it all just shut off.

And then powered back on.

I gasped when I jolted up out of bed, clutching my blanket like it was my shield. After a minute I looked around and groaned, throwing myself back into my bed. "Why can't I stay dead- Jesus!" I mumble to myself. Well- telling from the sky out my window- it's probably about time to go to school. So, I hop out of my torn mattress and grab a half empty can of axe and spray myself. I am not showering today.

Once i smell okay enough i pull out some simple shit to wear- and then my nice and comfy parka. I slide it on and smile, pulling the hood up with a flick and heading out my room.

Later, once I made it to the bus stop, I slide in next to my friends and act like I definitely didn't die yesterday. I mean- it's not like they remember. I like to think it doesn't matter at this point how common of an occurrence this is, so I just act like they do- except I'm trying- they legitimately don't remember. After the bus ride and making it to our lockers, I see (Y/N) again, standing in the same spot as yesterday. He's sluggishly putting his stuff away in his locker. His eyes are a bit glossy as he avoids looking up at us. I feel bad and wonder what's up, so I try to grab his attention from behind Stan and Cartman. "Hey (Y/N)!" I shout, it only coming out somewhat muffled- so he had to of heard it.

He snaps his head up, looking around the group. He then meets eyes with me. His face had a flash of shock, so quick I barely caught it. It looks like (Y/N)'s trying to hide it with his jacket hood lifted up against his cheeks.

"O-oh man, Kenny?" (Y/N) asks, his eyes watery and his open hand now clenching the shredded thread at the end of his sleeve. The rest of the gang pan their attention to us and pause their conversation. "What's wrong?" Kyle asks, looking around for clues to the solution. (Y/N) loosens his grip and closes his locker. The weary smile that faced us all was kinda off, like something was seriously wrong. "It's nothing, just had a fucked up nightmare, kinda shook me..." he said, rolling his eyes at us.

"Well if it's nothing then we should get to class crybaby, come on Kenny!" Eric said, as aggressive as usual. He walked off with Stan, signaling for the rest of us to go too, especially since he was calling for me like a dog.
Once we were on our way I walked alongside (Y/N) and gave him a little, "Don't mind his fat ass" to hopefully make him feel better.

I still felt bad that he was new, starting from the beginning with everyone, making it even easier for people to start things or pick on insecurities very easily. Kinda like how Eric does to us. Treats us like shit.

Class was decent for once, not making it sound like being a fifth grader is hard and all; that would be petty of me. During class I looked around, remembering that I don't know where (Y/N) sits yet- not that it matters- but it's just nice to look around at everybody.
I found that he was behind Cartman, making it so there was a little empty walkway of space between our seats. I could look to the side and barely see him, if that helps.

Now that I wasn't paying attention it was already too late to try and catch up. I just flipped a page in my one subject spiral notebook and started to do little ass doodles of cats. I mean- I like cats- no other reason. Well, getting fucking cheesed when I did do it as much was fucking awesome soooo... I like cats?
I giggle out loud, looking up thinking somebody heard me only to realize that my parka's too fucking thick for anyone to hear shit. So, I went back to drawing my silly little kitties.

After the first lesson I flip the page only to draw more of these silly little kitties. I drew one with Kyle's hat on, one with Wendy's hat, and one with a wheelchair like Timmy's. I smiled and looked up at the top corner at the other one I drew. It was me. A little kitty sprawled out with its guts spread against a basketball court.
I frowned.

The thought of it gave me a remorseful feeling thinking about how it wasn't the best first impression for the new kid, (Y/N). I glanced at him doodling in his notebook too, making me warm up a little at the thought of him not remembering. Maybe today I won't get mauled by a drunken trucker. Heh Heh....