Hate My Guts (Kenny x Butters) [Completed]

4

After spotting the new kid before their next classes, Kenny found himself being unable to get him out his mind. He would never admit it out loud, but he was starting to get very irritated with himself; Kenny felt like he didn't have the time for something so distracting - he had his gang to look after and keep on track. What was even the point of the continuous thoughts? It wasn't like Kenny even thought there was a chance.

He tried his damndest to keep his mind on track now that they were at lunch, at their usual spot in the courtyard that was centered in the school. Usually this was the time when their business would start to pick up, students knowing to approach them only outside where there were no cameras. Kenny was always the watcher during this time, as the leader his job was to watch over everyone and confront anyone with a problem. It was very rare that Kenny had to intervene with a deal, since most people found out pretty quickly not to mess with him.

Since the courtyard was expansive, located in the center of the school where their three main buildings connected, Kenny was able to sit atop of a picnic table from a short distance where the boys sold their weed. Their main sellers were Stan, Craig, Clyde and Tolkien - they happened to have the most success, and the better social skills. Bebe and Wendy also would sell sometimes, but their time was also split between the gang, and their own group of friends. It was easier to keep his eyes on just four people, anyways.

With his friends leaning casually against the north wall of the yard, Kenny's eye scanned the area noting the other small groups talking and trading unseeable things. Since they were all still closer to kids than adults, there was a sense of safety when it came to weapons. Most people had been affected by gun violence at this point, and chose not to continue that bullshit; of course, there were people that were still trigger happy, and those were the ones that Kenny watched for constantly. His gang may not have the beef he did, but he wasn't about to let anyone die because of him.

Aware of what was going on with his friends now, Kenny dropped his eyes to his hands where he was pulling out a cigarette, his shaky hands lighting the end naturally. All of the fights, and the infinite times that he had died, left Kenny covered in scars, and nerve damage. Once people saw his scarred hands, they backed down quickly. As he stared at his hands, endless fight scenes replaying in his mind, Kenny felt himself grow angry. Why did he have to make everything harder for everyone around him? Kenny was supposed to be helping people, and all he had done in his seventeen years of life was fight and survive. Was that anyway to truly live?

His stomach churned as his tensed fingers snapped the burning cigarette that he hadn't lifted to his mouth, a deep scowl cutting into his face at his lack of control. Everything was starting to slip out of his control, and Kenny was afraid of what that meant for his friend group.

Like a shock of electricity, his head snapped up as he realized that he hadn't been watching his friends. Kenny stood up as soon as his eyes landed on the scene of David pinning Craig to the wall, fire burning through his body as the rest of the boys were held back by the rest of David's posse. Furious - with himself mostly - Kenny was there in a flash, throwing David off of Craig, grabbing him by the throat tightly.

Surprisingly, the only response Kenny received was David chuckling at him. Kenny caught a flash of the gun that David had hidden in his baggy jacket, like it would make him scared. Of course, Kenny wasn't afraid in the slightest, since he knew that he couldn't die, but it was everyone else that he needed to think about. So, instead of challenging David like he wanted to, Kenny stood him but kept him only an inch away from his threatening eyes: "Don't you ever touch them again." David acted as if he was going to reach for the gun, Kenny only grabbing his wrist, not giving him a chance to move faster. Doing anything but crushing his wrist, Kenny dug his nails into the skin, not satisfied until he was drawing blood. "I don't fear death, motherfucker. I won't hesitate to kill you, either."