The people that you must remember (Kenny x Reader) (COMPLETE)

Jesus christ, this kid takes larping way too seriously

They cut your eyes wide open,
And pour into your precious head.
My reach don't go that far dear,
But please oh please don't let them in.

You walked through South Park silently, your cat headphones lighting up as you listened to you music, which you did constantly. It was one of the few things that helped settle your anxiety, and lord knew you were hardcore anxious with everything going on. Sure, Wendy had a point. The past was the past and you should get over it. You'd thought you'd already gotten over it a long time ago, and maybe for the most part you'd had. But now you were here, in South Park, the town that'd you'd lived in for a month under the care of an abusive foster family. The town you'd blocked out of your own memories in some weird attempt for a defense mechanism. And a lot of the people you've met in school so far seemed to be...REALLY good at holding grudges. And being the little shithead you were as a kid, who'd apparently hung around 'literally Hitler' Eric Cartman, a good deal of people here in South Park probably had it out for you. That thought alone made your anxiety fucking sky rocket. You shoved your hands in your pockets and glanced around the area. So far there wasn't anything interesting to eat around here, and you were getting tired. This day had just been so, so, so....

Exhausting.

And it was about to get worse.

Turning a corner you found yourself suddenly standing in front of a church. It was shaped like an arch, with a cross sitting at the top. A second, smaller cross sat on top of a set of red double doors, and it had large, maroon glass windows. A strange looking church for sure, and one that would be hard to forget.

Something was wrong.

You stared up at the church with a look of disinterest, but you felt yourself going light headed. Your ears were ringing and your legs felt weak again, just like earlier with the yearbook. What the hell was going on?? Your vision was going blurry. No...not blurry-fuzzy. Colors were fading together and your ears were ringing. Loudly, until the ringing changed into something else. Chatter. You could feel a hand clamp down tightly on your shoulder.

"You fell asleep during sermon." Your foster mother's breath was hot in your ear and smelt like commune wine. This was...wrong. Very wrong. She was supposed to be in prison. But you said nothing. "You're going to HELL if you don't get your shit together. When we get home, you will sit in the room and copy from the bible until I think you're done. Do you understand?" You have a silent nod and she began pushing you towards the family van. Your movements were sluggish and tired. You remembered this, you hadn't slept for two days. Of course you'd fallen asleep during that boring ass sermon. You kept silent as the dead, hoping that it would make your punishment a little lighter. As you were led through the parking lot, you noticed a blob of orange. Despite being unable to make out the details, you just knew that it was staring at you. At the hand clutching your shoulder in a feigning kind, caring way. This orange blur was so intent on watching you that it didn't notice the BMW...you remember it being a BMW...backing over it. The orange got stained with red and you opened your mouth, letting out the first sound most people in the church parking lot ever heard from you.

A blood curdling scream.

"Hey. If you don't say something, I'm taking you to the hospital."

A gravelly voice that vaguely reminded you of Christian's Bale's take on Batman brought you to your senses. Your headphones hung around your neck and you found yourself being cradled in someone's arms, held close to their chest. God, you had such a migraine. You slowly lifted your head and let out a yelp as you found yourself face to face with a masked boy wearing a purple hood. His eyes were brooding and a beautiful blue. You flailed, causing him to lose his grip, which allowed for you to fall out of his arms and land on your ass. You winced slightly and have gave you an annoyed look but held out a hand. He wore some dorky purple hero costume with a green M on the chest and a matching green question mark attached to the top of the hood. "...Are you alright?" "What...happened?" You asked, taking his hand. You both noticed how hoarse your voice was and he stared as he pulled you to your feet. "You were zoning out in the middle of the road and nearly got hit by a car. Are you on some sort of drug?" "Oh HELL no. I was just..." You trailed off, trying to think of an excuse. You decided to just tell the truth, but be...very vague about it. "I've never had one before, so I can't say for sure, but uh...I think I was having like, a...PTSD episode?" "...About?"

Ugh, why was he even asking? You could insult him over wearing his goddamn underwear on the outside, but seeing as he saved your ass, you decided to hold back.

"I...had family that used religion to abuse me as a kid, so I tend to avoid churches and I guess seeing that one just...triggered me. Sorry for, uh...the trouble."

"You should have let her get hit."

You and the mystery boy turned to see-ugh. The goths. You let out a tired sigh and rolled your eyes. "God, you tortured tryhards are the LAST thing I want to see today. Do me a favor and go cry under some stairs about how hard your suburban upper middle class lives are. I'm going to completely ignore the three of you now." You turned back to the masked boy. "Well..I guess I should count myself lucky that you saved my ass, but what were you even doing over here?" ".....You've only been in town for a day but you've already caught my attention." He answered your question bluntly. That was...mildly threatening coming from him. "Is that..a good thing or a bad thing?" "That'll be for you to decide." He answered and then turned, jumping onto a nearby fire escape and disappearing over a roof. You watched with a furrowed brow. God this town was fucking weird.

"....Mysterion is SUCH a tease." Henrietta said suddenly and for once, you and her friends seemed to agree with something as the three of you groaned.