Archive of Our Own

It was Pete’s idea. The board game from a relative for Christmas, as a ‘you like this weird shit’ sort of present. There was some back and forth on whether they would use it or not, before they made a collective decision of why not.

The Ouija board was placed on the floor of the hayloft in the barn. The five goth kids sat round, staring down at the board as smoke filled the air from Henrietta finishing her cigarette. It was a black thing with white paint showing where the letters were, yes in one corner and no in the other. He imagined it was plastic, even if it was trying to emulate a gravestone.

Around them a circle of candles were lit. Henrietta and Michael had set it up, suggesting that it might help them to have a ring of protection, in case anything nasty was to show up. It didn’t fill Stan with confidence about the act they were to perform.

“Alright,” Henrietta stubbed the cigarette out on the floor, circular ash mark joining the others. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and leant forward. “Let’s get started.”

“How do we even start?” Pete drawled as they all moved in closer, creating a circle round the board. “Like, how do you summon the spirit in the first place.”

“You’ve done a spirit summoning before, Pete,” she replied.

“Yeah, like, years ago. The vamp kids got real into them; they’ve made them so lame.”

She rolled her eyes. Firkle next to her scrunched his nose up at the mention of their playground nemesis. 

“Fine, I’ll do it,” she agreed. “Seeing as you’re all too chicken shit. Everyone put your fingers on the planchette, but do not push it! If one of you fucker's messes this up, I’m going to stub out my next cigarette in your eyes.”

The boys all leant forward at her instruction and Stan pressed his index fingers against the black iridescent planchette in the centre of the board. He watched on as Henrietta closed her eyes and prepared herself to start summoning a spirit.

He was doubtful about the whole thing. Partly because he didn’t believe that Ouija boards were legit, but mostly because he was a little worried if they were. They were in his barn, if it turned out that they ended up summoning some evil, nasty spirit, it wasn’t like he had many options as far as running away went. Being on some marijuana farm in the middle of piss all nowhere? Not ideal conditions for a poltergeist haunting. And, his sister would murder him.

He didn’t want to argue with the others though. The last thing he needed was them thinking he was a pussy.

“Spirits, we summon you to our circle, to join us in the world of the living and communicate your wisdom...”

He glanced at the others. Firkle and Michael both had their eyes closed too. Pete was looking round at the others, but when he made eye contact with Stan, he shut his eyes.

Stan followed suit. If they were all doing it, he might as well commit.

There was the whistle of the wind outside. The only sound after Henrietta’s little speech. He cracked an eye open to see the candles flicker.

“Alright.” 

They all opened their eyes at Henrietta’s voice. She was staring down at the board with determination etched into her features.

“We ask the spirits, is there anyone here with us today?”

Stan held his breath. 

Nothing happened. The candles continued to flicker, distracting his gaze from the board to the way the shadows moved against the walls of the barn. He could still hear the wind outside, breezing past the fragile building. Nothing. 

“We ask again, spirits, is there anyone here with us today?”

After a few beats, Firkle gave a low grumble of annoyance. “This is stupid.”

“Shut up, Firkle.” 

“It is.”  

“Just...be patient,” she insisted. “There’s something there, I can feel it.”

Another beat. Stan looked up to see the crease in Firkle’s brow. He was close to losing his patience and abandoning the game.

Then the planchette moved. 

It was a bizarre feeling. His fingers were glued to it, trying hard not to press down. It took him with it, though he could feel Michael next to him fumble as they moved from the unexpectedness of it. His heart felt as if it stopped for just a moment.

The movement was swift. Short. It landed on a single word.

Yes  

“Holy shit.” 

“Was that for real?” Stan asked as he stared down at the word.

“Let’s keep going,” Henrietta said. “Put it back in the centre. Alright, now: spirit, tell us, what is your name?”

Stan watched on in awe as the planchette started to move once again. He followed the letters it was spelling out, echoing them with the others as they sounded out the words.

“D...e...z...n...u...t...s-?” 

Henrietta gave a horrified gag and leg go of the planchette. “Which one of you motherfuckers was that?”

“What?” Stan asked. He glanced at Pete to find him looking equally as lost. “What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? Deez nuts? What are you, twelve?”

He had to bite down on his tongue – hard. Judging from her reaction it was not something he wanted to laugh about, because she did not find it funny.

“It wasn’t me!” Pete defended with a scowl. “I’m not here for some normie prank.” 

“Maybe our spirit just has a funny sense of humour?” Michael drawled. “Let’s keep going. See what else it has to say.”

Henrietta shot him a glare which he met with a bored stare. Stan wondered briefly if it was him who had moved the planchette. 

“Fine, I’ll ask another question. Let me just...think of something to ask.”

They all waited with their fingers poised. Before she had chance to form her words, Stan felt his fingers dragged once again.

He followed the letters again, a little more prepared for it this time. No one was sounding out the word this time. It made it a little more difficult to keep along, but he was trying his best.

The tone shifted again as the five of them concentrated. When it landed on the last letter, there was silence as they all tried to figure it out.

“Did anyone get that?” Pete asked. 

Michael answered him, “it said something like, ‘watzupdog’?”

Stan failed to stifle his laugh that time. 

Henrietta pointed an icy glare his way. “Stan!” 

“It wasn’t me!” he defended as he put his hands up in surrender. “I swear it, it wasn’t me!”

“I still don’t get it,” Michael said. 

“When you said it out loud, it sounds like ‘what’s up dog’,” Henrietta explained. “Stan’s fucking pranking us.”

“I am not!”

Firkle gave a sneer. “No one else hangs out with the conformist crowd like you do. It’s probably a bad habit you’ve picked up from them.”

“Kyle does not count as the conformist crowd, asshole.”

“He so does. I’ve seen his report card, and he’s a no good-?!”

“Let’s not start this again, yeah?” Pete asked. “You two fight about Stan’s nerdy boyfriend way too often.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Shut up! All of you!” Henrietta snapped. “If you guys aren’t going to take this seriously, we can just stop it here! I don’t care which one of you did it so long as you fucking stop! I wouldn’t be surprised if it was you, Firkle, with all the times you try to set Stan up!”

He gave a withering glare at her accusation, but didn’t dare to argue. They all knew how true it was.

“We’re going to play the game properly and you’re all going to do as I tell you, understood?”

Michael heaved a tired sigh. He was the only one who dared not nod his head at her request.

“Is there a fucking problem-?!”  

Stan jumped half a foot in the air as there was a loud bang from behind him. He spun round to see the tall candle holder that held the head candle had been knocked over, melted wax beginning to harden against the floor. He reached out to pick it up, setting it straight before looking outwards.

Nothing was there. He could still hear the wind outside.

He turned back to the group to see them all eyeing the candleholder with varying levels of suspicion.

“What...was that?” 

He shrugged his shoulders at Henrietta’s question. “It-it can get pretty drafty in here, I guess?”

There was another bang. This time, it was from below them. 

He scrambled to the edge of the hayloft and looked over the edge to see if he could see anyone below. He scanned the area for his dad, or Shelly, or even just his mom, but saw nothing.

When he looked back up he found the other four staring at him. Waiting.

He shook his head. 

“I...I think I’m gonna go,” Pete muttered, breaking the silence. “I don’t wanna get back home too late.”

Michael nodded. “I can drive you.” 

“Are you guys chickening out?” Firkle scoffed as he stood up. “You’re all a bunch of loser normies.”

Henrietta brushed her dress off as she stood with Firkle. “Maybe now is a good time to stop. It’s getting late.”

“R-right,” Stan agreed. “I’ll...see you guys out.” 

He took them to where Michael’s car was still parked. Firkle was the first in the car with Michael not far behind. Henrietta and Pete stopped long enough to say goodbye.

On his way back to the house he glanced over at the barn.

He stepped back inside. It was empty. No bumps in the night. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He climbed up to the hayloft to find the Ouija board still there. He knelt down in front of it with the intention of putting it away, but...he wasn’t the one who moved the planchette. So if one of the others had been, it wouldn’t move now, would it?

“What am I doing?” he muttered as he stared down at the Ouija board that was sat against the wooden flooring, hands on his knees. “This is ridiculous.”

The board stared back at him. Unspeaking. 

“It was probably just...Firkle. Trying to set me up again.”

He couldn’t imagine the others doing it. For Henrietta? She was too dignified. For Pete and Michael it was too out of character. Even Firkle, really, but out of all of them...

He placed his fingers on the planchette. He let out a breath, long and low, as he tried to think about something to ask.

“Are...are you really there?” 

There was nothing. No bump from the corner. No mysterious moving of the planchette. No weird, tasteless prank. Just him and the motionless Ouija board.

“This is dumb,” he announced as he snapped his hands away and stood up. “One of those assholes was just playing some prank, and then it was like, the wind or something, that knocked something over. Yeah. What a waste of my fucking time-?!”

He stopped. His eyes blew wide as he saw the planchette move. Just an inch.

“Oh my god.” 

He dropped back down to his knees. He leant down, heart beating hard enough he could hear it in his ears as he reached out and placed his fingers against the planchette. He nudged it.

Nothing happened. 

“It was just...a trick of the eye,” he reasoned. “I’m exhausted. I need to go to bed.”

He left the board where it was. The image of it lying on the floor of the hayloft was burnt onto his brain as he lay in bed trying to sleep. No matter how many times he told himself that it had been just a trick of the eye something still didn’t sit right with him.

--

The next morning was normal. He sat in the kitchen having breakfast with his mom and sister. His mom drove him to school. He arrived before his usual friends and went to his locker to sort his things out.

Opposite him in the hallway were other earlier kids getting ready. Wendy was thee by her locker that was two down from Craig’s. He was there unusually early, but Clyde was the explanation. He was trying to impress Wendy.

He stood between the two chatting to Wendy while she tried to get ready. Stan had his back to them feeling a little bit like a zombie.

Craig’s loud shout of pain caught his attention.

“Ow!” Stan turned round to see Craig gripping the side of his head, fury in his eyes as he turned an icy glare to Clyde. “Dude, what the fuck?!”

“What?” 

“You just slammed the door on me!”

“No I didn’t!” 

“Oh, yeah, it just slammed itself, did it?!”

Wendy excused herself with a roll of her eyes as the two boys started to fight. Stan had other things to worry about.

Above the lockers, movement caught his eye. He looked up with a frown as he focused in on something that almost looked like it wasn’t quite there.

It was almost like an apparition. The body of someone floating in the air, semi-translucent and dull in colour. A boy their age, giggling into his hand as he watched the two below him argue. It almost looked like a mirage, but there was definitely someone there. Pale skin and a jacket with a fur lined hood. Messy hair.

It was...Kenny? 

Stan spun round to stare into his locker. That was impossible. Kenny was...Kenny died three days ago, he was pretty sure. His memory of it what had happened was hazy, but he was certain...was it a ghost? Was it Kenny’s ghost? 

He glanced over his shoulder. The apparition had gone.

It must’ve been his mind playing tricks on him. Didn’t get enough sleep last night after the Ouija board incident. It must’ve shook him more than he thought it did. He grabbed his things from his locker and shut it. He was determined to forget about it and pretend like nothing was wrong. The last thing he needed was his friends thinking he was going crazy.

--

He didn’t stop thinking about it.

After two hours, he gave up on pretending it didn’t happen. He didn’t want to go to the other goth kid’s for help. Firkle would just make fun of him, and Michael wouldn’t care enough to be proactive. Pete and Henrietta might try to help, but they’d just make it worse. He needed someone more rational than them.

He found his old best friend in the library for one of his spare classes, sitting at a table doing work. The perfect person to talk him down from whatever the hell hallucinations he was having.

“Kyle,” Stan whispered as he sat down at the table. “I need to talk to you.”

Kyle raised a brow, pen coming to a stop as he surveyed his friend. “Don’t you have class?”

“It doesn’t matter, this is important.” 

“So is class.” 

“I think I saw Kenny.” 

Kyle stopped. He scowled at Stan, narrowing his eyes as he tried to process the words he’d spoken. The silence made Stan panic.

“So, Pete brought a Ouija board round last night,”-

“Oh my god.” 

-“And we were just messing on with it, like you’re meant to with them, yeah? One of the others was playing a prank and making It say really dumb jokes, and then we heard a bang, and so we called it for the night and decided to stop,”-

Kyle sucked in a breath, running his hands over his face.

-“But then today, when Clyde was chatting to Wendy by Craig’s locker and the door hit Craig in the face and he blamed Clyde, I swore I saw Kenny,”-

“Dude, I swear, if you say you think you saw a ghost...”

-“I think I saw Kenny’s ghost.” 

Kyle let out a low groan into his hands. 

“I’m being serious!” 

“I know you are, and that just makes it worse.” 

“You have to help me, dude.” 

“Why me?” Kyle asked. “Why not go to Pete? Or Henrietta? You know I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“You’re Jewish, you believe in like, the afterlife and shit.”

“In all my years of knowing you that has to be the single most boneheaded thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Okay, fine, whatever, I haven’t gone to them because they’ll like, want to find him or whatever, but you...”

Kyle looked on, doubtful. 

“I thought maybe you could make sense of it. Like, be rational.”

He let out a long tired sigh. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

“I guess?” 

“It makes sense, if you were up late playing with a Ouija board, that maybe your brain was seeing things that weren’t there if you didn’t sleep great.”

“I slept like normal.” 

“Your normal sleep pattern is fucking garbage though,” Kyle responded with a scowl. “Maybe this is your kick to actually sort it out.”

It wasn’t the first time Kyle commented on his sleeping habits. Or eating habits. Maybe he had a point.

“Grief affects people in different ways.” 

“I suppose...” 

“Why don’t you have a nap, seeing as you’ve decided to skip class?”

“What, here?” 

“Mr Mayers doesn’t check up on me. You won’t get in trouble.”

He let Kyle get back to work. Put his headphones in to drown out the meticulous sound of the library. Of Kyle scribbling away on the page.

He put it out of his mind after that. Didn’t see anymore ghosts for the rest of the day.

Two days later, he couldn’t remember why he even thought seeing Kenny’s ghost was possible. There was an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he saw Kenny and Kyle walking through the school corridors together chatting like normal.

He remembered something like a dream. A really vivid dream of Kenny being dead. Vivid enough to make him see a ghost, apparently.

--

The farm was always the most active first thing in the morning. Between his dad and employees starting work, his mother’s chickens would start squawking for food. He usually woke up just before his alarm no matter how late he went to sleep. That morning was no different.

He groaned as he rubbed his wrist against his eye before reaching for his phone. There was a message from Pete from two am, sharing a song with no context. The thought was nice, though. He knew how much Stan liked music.

He set the song to play as he forced himself out of bed. He threw his legs over the edge as he let the music wash over him.

He looked up to the desk that sat on the opposite side of the room to his bed. He stared at the boy who was sat on his desk chair waiting patiently.

“Holy shit! ”  

The boy’s eyes widened, jaw hanging slack. “Oh wow...you really can see me?” 

“What the fuck?!” 

Kenny sat there. Just as ghostly as when Stan thought he’d seen him above Craig’s locker giggling. But Kenny wasn’t dead, Kenny was alive, and seeing him as a ghost didn’t make any sense, because Stan saw Kenny yesterday.

“What’s happening?” 

“Stan, calm down,” Kenny said, voice echoing in the air in a way that it shouldn’t have. He raised his hands in peace. Stan struggled to wrap his head around the fact that he could see his posters through them. “You need to relax.” 

“Relax?!” 

“Oi turd!”  

He jumped out his skin as the door to his bedroom came flying open. There stood his sister, snarl on her face. 

“What the fuck are you making all the noise for?!” 

“It’s Kenny!” 

He gestured towards his desk. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the space, but...

She didn’t focus in on where Stan knew where he was. 

“She can’t see me, dude,” Kenny advised. “You look crazy.” 

“Hey!” 

He forced himself to stand up straight and turn to his sister. “I...had a nightmare. About Kenny.”

“Ugh, what-ever! I was trying to sleep before you screamed! You know how hard it is to sleep in around here?!”

She slammed the door on her way out.

Stan gripped the bedsheets below his hands as he snapped his bug-eyes back to Kenny. He felt his heartbeat racing in his chest, beating against his ribcage. Kenny started to stand up. Stan inched backwards onto the bed.

“Okay, I know this is kind of weird.”  

“How are you a ghost?” Stan hissed. “I saw you yesterday!”

“Well, yeah, but then last night I got hit by a car on my way home from work, so right now I’m dead.” 

“Oh my god, what?!” Stan stopped backing up. “You’re-?!” 

“It happens.”  

“What do you mean it-?!” 

There was a loud, pounding knock on his door. “I said, shut the fuck up, turd!”

He clammed his jaw shut fast enough his teeth clacked.

“Kyle said you’d told him that you saw me as a ghost last time, so I wanted to know if it was true and that you could see me. And...well, you can!” 

Stan nodded once. 

Kenny shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t really plan beyond that. I didn’t think you would actually be able to.” 

“But last time I thought I saw your ghost was when I had that really vivid dream of you being dead, but you – you weren’t dead. I remember seeing you!”

“Like I said, it happens. It’s a long story, dude.” 

There was another, softer knock on his door that time. “Stanley? It’s time to start getting ready for school. I have to take you in a bit early today, if that’s alright?”

“Okay!” he cleared his throat to try keep his voice steady. “Thanks, mom.”

The sound of her footsteps fading signalled he was safe again. He realised the song Pete had sent him had stopped.

He turned to Kenny. Kenny rocked back on his weird ghost feet.

“Are you...just gonna stand there while I get ready?” 

Kenny snorted, lips pulling upwards. He covered his eyes with his hands before kicking off the floor and leaning backwards.

He floated away. Right through the wall to where his parent’s bedroom was.

“I’m going crazy,” Stan announced to the room. “It’s finally happening.”

He got ready as best he could. A rush to put clothes on with shaking hands. He didn’t even bother with his eyeliner. He crammed his phone into his pocket and grabbed his school bag. When he left his room, Kenny was nowhere to be seen.

He took the steps down to the kitchen one at a time. He froze when he looked over to the dining table.

Shelly was there eating her pancakes. Next to her was Kenny looking quite content watching his mom cook.

Stan sat down at the table opposite him. Kenny finally turned his gaze to him, and a lopsided smile formed on his face.

This was... 

Insufferably weird.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today?” Shelly snapped. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Stan blanched. Kenny gave a long snort of laughter.  

His mom arrived with a plate of food for him and scolded her daughter. “Don’t use that language. It’s too early in the morning.”

“Yes, mom.”

The two women chattered away while Stan ate his food. Every time he looked up it was to see Kenny’s eyes on him, amusement written across his face at Stan’s discomfort.

“I’m not going to bite you,” Kenny said, before he leant closer with a leering grin. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” 

Stan choked on the piece of pancake he was eating. Sharon looked over with concern on her face as she asked if he was okay.

It was alarmingly easy to accept the idea that Kenny had died last night. Hit by a car on his way home. Having Kenny follow him around in this strange, ghostly form was not as easy to accept.

He was tense as his mom ushered him out the door. Kenny floated ahead of them and phased through the car to settle down inside.

Stan got into the front of the car. Kenny was on the middle seat in the back seeming quite content to just follow him around.

“Have you got everything, Stanley?”

“Uh, yeah, I do.” 

“Are you feeling alright? You seem a little distracted this morning.”

He sunk down in his seat. “I’m fine, mom, it’s nothing.”

“If you’re sure...you know you can talk to me about anything you need?”

He wanted to punch himself in the face. He didn’t dare turn round to see Kenny sitting happily in the back of the car. What the fuck was this cruel joke that was being played on him?

“Anything you need honey, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, mom,” he cut abruptly. “I get it.”

She gave him a disapproving look, but let it slide. She let him connect his music to the car rather than listening to the radio station.

Kenny was silent until they arrived. She dropped him off outside the school to join the other low energy teenagers arriving for another day in paradise. He said his goodbye as briefly as possible before shutting the door. He felt his heart sink to see Kenny float out after him. Then he had to open his mouth and speak.

“God, your mom is such a milf.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“She is!” Kenny defended as he floated over to be by Stan’s side. “I mean, obviously you don’t see it. Or I assume you don’t see it?”

“I don’t,” Stan hissed as he started to march towards the school building. “And will you stop following me?”

“It’s not often someone can see me. Like, it’s never happened before. It’s kind of nice.”

“Nice for you.” 

“You should be happy we get to hang out together! I feel like I never see you these days.”

“You never see me because last time I invited you to hang out, you got with Henrietta and then ghosted her the next day.”

Kenny snorted. Stan shot him a scathing glare.

“Seriously?” 

“It was funny. The pun, not the – I didn’t ghost her, okay? I literally died.”

“People don’t just die and come back.”

“Then how did you see me as a ghost, and then I was alive, and now you’re seeing me as a ghost again?”

He didn’t have an answer, so instead he powered through to his locker and opened it. Kenny was relentless.

"What class do you have first?”

“None of your business.” 

“Dude, what’s your damage? Are you upset because I called your mom a milf?”

Stan spun round with a glare to Kenny leaning against the locker next to him. “No, I-?!”

Lola was ten lockers down from him. He saw her look up to him through Kenny’s body. She glanced around herself before giving Stan a dubious, squinted stare. Stan felt his cheeks burn as Kenny turned to see her standing there as well.

“You gotta stop talking to yourself, dude, people gonna start thinking you’re crazy.”

“It’s hard to keep it in when you’re busy chatting to me every five minutes!” Stan said into his locker.

“I’m not used to what I say being heard...I don’t usually try to keep it to myself. I guess hearing myself speak makes me feel a little less like a ghost.” 

Stan resisted the urge to look at him. He kept speaking into the locker instead, keeping his voice quiet. “You’re usually kind of...quiet.”

“I can leave you alone, if it’s bothering you that much.”

He said it in a lax tone, but it felt forced. Like he was giving Stan the option, but it wasn’t sincere. As much as part of Stan still believed he was just going crazy, if it was true and Kenny was periodically just...a ghost, he could see how it might get lonely.

He felt like kind of an asshole. Being the first person to see him and also telling him to fuck off.

“It’s...fine,” he tried to put his emotions into words. “I’m just kind of frazzled by it. This whole, Kenny’s a ghost thing. And that it happens? Often?”

“Less often than it used to.”  

“That doesn’t make it better.” 

“I try not to think about it.”  

He risked turning to see Kenny’s expression. He was still leaning against the locker now looking down at the ground. He almost looked like he was pouting.

“You can hang out with me if you want.”

The way his eyes lit up at the offer had Stan melt on the inside. In some ways, Kenny was a little bit like a stay puppy that was offered a bed for the night.

Stan had a weakness for stray puppies. 

Before Kenny could say anything his eyes widened and he phased through the lockers as if to hide. Stan turned round to see what he’d seen to cause him to panic.

Kyle was rushing over with his phone in his hand.

“Dude, have you seen the news?” 

“No?” 

“Kenny died in a hit and run last night.” 

He hesitated. So, Ghost Kenny was telling the truth.

“Look,” Kyle held up the article on his phone. “The investigation has ended early, due to there being insufficient leads to follow to catch the people who did it.”

It sounded so wrong for it to be over in such a short space of time, but Stan didn’t feel a need to question it.

“I can’t believe those bastards are going to get away with it.”

“Yeah...” 

Kyle put his phone away, anger dissipating as quickly as it appeared. “You ready for English?”

“Sure, yeah, I’m ready.” 

“Let’s go!” 

He glanced over his shoulder when he was half way down the corridor. Kenny was leaning out of his locker watching them leave. He raised a hand to wave goodbye. Stan turned round and decided he did not want to look like a crazy person again so soon.

--

Kenny didn’t reappear till their break. Stan had almost forgotten about him. He was half way through the fire doors that lead out to the dumpsters when he saw a ghostly figure hovering by the doors.

“Hey!” Kenny greeted with a lopsided smile. “Going to the trash heap with your lil’ trash friends?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Trash friends?” 

“They hang out next to the garbage, what do you think I’d call them?”

He didn’t respond that time. He instead opened the door and stepped out into the brisk air.

Henrietta and Michael were already there. They looked up at Stan’s arrival and gave nods of acknowledgement. Michael was just withdrawing a cigarette.

Stan saw the packet and felt a creeping dread sink in. In his frazzled state that morning, he hadn’t picked up his smokes.

“I know that look,” Henrietta drawled with a smirk. “Someone’s forgotten his cigarettes again.”

Michael narrowed his eyes at Stan. “Dude, seriously?”

“I didn’t mean to! I was...kind of distracted this morning.”

His face bled into something a little bit more sympathetic. “I heard one of your friends died last night?”

“Yeah,” Stan nodded his head. Ignored the way that Kenny moved round in the corner of his eye, settling down next to Henrietta on the cardboard mat they had set up. “They did.”

“Was this Kenny?” Henrietta asked. “I heard that cheerleader bitch talking about it.”

“She means Heidi,” Kenny supplied. “I’d bet money on it.”

“It was,” Stan said. He was struggling to ignore the blonde that no one else could see.

“Are you okay?” 

“I’ll be fine. Just...kind of knocked off balance, y’know?”

Michael gave a sage nod as he handed his packet to Stan. “You can share with me today.”

“We can have a poetry reading round mine tonight. You should bring your guitar.”

“I don’t think my mom will be willing to bring it all the way here...” 

“That’s fine, my brother has one that he literally never uses, I don’t know why my dumbass parents decided to waste their money on it when he never continues with any of the hobbies he wants to do.”

Michael scoffed. “Your brother is so lame. He just has it for the aesthetics or whatever.”

“Exactly.” 

“They’re right about that I guess, Bradley’s kind of all over the place with his hobbies,” Kenny agreed. 

Stan sat himself opposite Kenny. He hoped some distance would help, but now he was just left with Kenny in the centre of his view.

Firkle came stomping out to the area with all the grace he normally did. He sat down opposite Stan, forcing Kenny to move out the way. He floated above where Firkle was sat pulling faces down below at him.

“What’s up with you today?” 

He snapped his eyes back down. Firkle was glaring at him.

Henrietta nudged him in the side. “Don’t be a bitch, Firkle. His friend died yesterday.”

“We all die, work in this tortuous capital machine until it eats us up and shits us back out the other end into our graves.”

“Wow. Wow, he’s fucking charming.”  

“Shame it wasn’t that wannabe valedictorian. I saw him walking around the halls perfectly alive. If there’s someone that the machine will happily chew up and spit back out, it’s that poser.”

“Wait, is he talking about Kyle?”

Stan glanced up to Kenny. The look of anger on his face left Stan curling up on himself as he continued to smoke his cigarette.

“Whatever, I guess,” Firkle played with the lighter in his hands. He met Stan’s eyes in that same, challenging stare he always did when he was trying to get under his skin. “I don’t get why you like that one so much.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting him talk shit about Kyle!” Kenny huffed. “I’m gonna punch his fucking lights out once I’m alive again!”

“Firkle, just drop it.” 

“Why, you gonna cry about it?” Firkle sneered. “Go cry to your nerdy boyfriend?”

“Kick his ass, Stan!”

“I’m outta here,” Stan announced, standing up and offering down the half-finished cigarette to Michael. “Sorry to waste your smokes, dude.”

“Sure thing...” 

“You’re leaving?” Firkle hissed with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah,” Stan drawled. “I’m gonna go cry to my nerdy boyfriend about the kid that’s getting on my case about having friends.”

Michael choked on the smoke he was inhaling while Henrietta gave a low whistle. Kenny whooped and threw his fist in the air.

Firkle didn’t respond. Stan headed for the door and pushed his way through it with Kenny behind him laughing. He could feel a cold patch on his back and when he glanced over his shoulder he found the ghostly hand pressing against it as Kenny pretended to push him through the door.

“Wow, that little one is a fucking dick.”  

“He’s always like that; especially when it comes to Kyle,” Stan muttered. “He’s not as bad when Pete’s around, cause Pete’s like this buffer between us, but he’s been kind of absent lately. I’ve asked him about it but he just says he has these extra classes he has to do to make up for his history grade. He won’t accept my help in studying though. Says it’s a waste of time on a system that’ll fail him anyway.”

“Oh, honey,” Kenny giggled. “I can assure you, Pete is not in any extra classes.”

“What do you mean?” 

“How do I show you?” Kenny tapped his chin. “Usually they keep the door locked, but...follow me.”

Stan followed Kenny through the hallways. He watched as Kenny stopped floating long enough to walk straight through Bebe when they passed, causing her to give a whine of how drafty it was. Kenny winked at him and picked up speed.

He was taken to a corridor and told to stand out of view while Kenny looked down. There were rows of empty classrooms as far as Stan was aware, but Kenny was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Okay, now,” Kenny patted at his arm, hand phasing straight through him. “C’mon they’ve just left!”

Stan peered his head round the corner. He had to do a double take at what he saw.

“Is that...?” 

“I believe he goes by Vampir?” Kenny offered. “It’s Mike Makowski. They’ve been doing this for weeks.”

Pete and the poser vamp kid leader were there in the hallway. Stan watched as Michael gave an energetic goodbye, leaning forward long enough to place a kiss on Pete’s forehead. Pete swatted him away as he looked round the hallway to see if anyone had seen them.

Stan rushed back out of view with his back pressed against the wall. Kenny cooed at the display.

“Are they...?” 

“They go for dates in the woods behind Pete’s place,” Kenny advised. “Like, full picnic type things? It’s fucking adorable.”

“How do you know this?!” 

“Like I said, it can get kind of lonely being a ghost, and sometimes I’m like this for a few days at a time. So, I just kind of wander around town. Not like I need to eat or sleep.”

Stan tried to think of what to say to make it better. He couldn’t think of anything.

“Shit he’s coming this way,” Kenny moved straight through Stan in his rush to leave. He felt a full body shiver rush from his head to his toes. “C’mon!”

The pair ran down the hallway. While they were running out of sight the bell for class went.

When he arrived at his class, Kenny disappeared again. Stan didn’t blame him. If he wasn’t worried about what extremes his dad would take on finding out he was skipping, he would. He supposed in that way it might’ve been a bit freeing to be a ghost. Not having anyone bother you all the time.

Yet Kenny did seem as lonely as he said.

--

Stan texted his mom to tell her he was going to Henrietta’s after school. Her parents were obnoxiously friendly as ever. Her brother was nowhere to be seen. Stan quite happily went into his room to take his guitar; an acoustic thing that probably needed tuning soon. The only difference between this and a normal day was that Kenny had now joined them.

He was lying on Henrietta’s bed, head on his arms as he read over her shoulder. She was sat there with her poetry book.

Pete sat down next to him once he’d settled in with the guitar. Stan thought about having seen him in the hallway earlier with Vampir. He tried not to stare.

Michael put the music on low on his side before he got out his own book. Last Stan checked he was reading Frankenstein. He’d offered to share it with Stan, but one look at the long, endless work with few breaks kind of put him off.

The mood was as quiet as normal. The five of them sat doing their own things. Pete was on his phone as Stan strummed away on the guitar. He tried not to be too loud with other music playing in the background. Some songs that came on he knew and tried to match.

He found himself lost in his own little world while he played. Eventually shut his eyes as he tried to focus in on the music Michael had set to play, attempting to harmonise with it. It was something that he felt he was good at. Something he felt wholly comfortable doing.

Even as a low murmur of conversation happened around him, he continued to play. Oblivious to it all. He didn’t stop until Henrietta’s mom opened the door to offer them snacks. Henrietta snapped at her about knocking, and how they weren’t fucking five anymore.

He received a text from his own mom not long after with an apology that she needed to collect him early. His dad needed something that she went to pick up.

He said goodbye to Henrietta’s mom on the way out. Was given a cookie to cheer him up. Took it with an awkward thank you. He was never quite sure how to act around Henrietta’s parents.

He left the house to wait for his mom outside. Kenny wasn’t far behind him.

“I get why Firkle’s such a bitch to you.”

“Please, enlighten me,” Stan muttered through a mouthful of cookie. “Because I have no idea what it was I did.”

“He’s got a crush on you, dude.”  

Stan shot Kenny a disbelieving look.

“He totally does! You didn’t see the way he looked at you while you were playing the guitar. He practically had hearts in his eyes. I bet the reason he always bitches about Kyle is because he’s jealous.”

“You’re joking?” 

“I don’t blame him. You look so fucking good when you’re playing.”

Stan flushed at the sentiment. “Fuck off.” 

“You do! You get this boy-next-door look about you, except, the dark and edgy ver-?”

He searched Kenny’s face. He seemed to freeze for a moment, before his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s respawn time.”  

Stan’s brow twitched. 

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow!” Kenny gave a small salute. “Lat-?” 

And like that, he was gone. 

He didn’t sleep easy that night. He remembered their conversations. Remembered Kenny being a ghost. But there were blanks in his memory after just one day. He remembered Kenny saying he’d been hit by a car, but didn’t remember anyone else saying. He remembered Kyle telling him about a hit and run on the news, but no names were mentioned.

He remembered Kenny telling him it was respawn time, and then a switch in his brain flicking him from ‘dead’ to ‘alive’.

--

He sought Kenny out the next day. Asked Kyle where he could find him. Kyle said that Kenny was usually with Cartman and Butters before classes started, hanging out by the band room. Kyle offered to go with him, but he insisted it was something he needed to speak to Kenny about on his own.

This time, Kenny was fully there. He couldn’t see through him. Was quite clearly sat on the table, not just acting like it while hovering in the air. He was laughing at something Butters had said to Cartman, and Cartman turned to tell him to shut his poor-boy mouth. He was interacting with people other than Stan.

Cartman noticed him first, but Stan’s eyes were on Kenny.

“Well, well, well, well, well, if it isn’t our least favourite little pansy goth-?!”

“Kenny?” Stan cut Cartman off. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Kenny’s eyes widened. 

He seemed to wobble on his feet when he stood up and made his way over to Stan. Cartman loudly complained to Butters about it, but neither of them paid him any mind.

When they were in the corridor alone together, Stan wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Now that he was here he felt like a fucking lunatic saying it out loud.

“Stan?” 

Kenny had a furrowed brow, round eyes full of concern.

“You okay, dude?” 

“Did-?” Stan choked off. “Look, I don’t want to sound crazy, in case – in case it never actually happened, but yesterday, were you...?”

Kenny froze.  

“Were you a ghost?” 

Kenny didn’t respond at first. Just stared at him with a slack jaw. Stan groaned as he buried his face in his hands, feeling heat creep up into his cheeks at the dumb stare he was receiving.

Great. Fucking great. He really was just going fucking crazy.

“I - please don’t tell Cartman I asked that, okay?” 

“I was.” 

He stopped. “Really?” 

Kenny nodded. “I kind of...assumed you’d forget about it, after I respawned outside Henrietta’s.”

“It’s kind of weird. Like, I remember it, but I feel like there’s things that I’m forgetting. But I don’t forget anything you said, it’s things other people said.”

“Like what?” 

“Like, when Kyle told me about the hit and run on someone who wasn’t named? It feels like of blurry, even though it only happened yesterday.”

“That’s because he was the one who told you I’d been killed after being hit by a car.”

Stan’s brows pulled together. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah. But you don’t forget me telling you about it?”

“No. All of that’s crystal clear.” 

“Woah...” a slow smile began to spread across Kenny’s face. “That’s...wow.”

Before he had a chance to respond, Kenny threw his arms round him. He stiffened in place as he was squeezed tight into a hug. He raised one hand to pat it against Kenny’s back. He wasn’t quite sure what to do.

Kenny was warmer than he thought he would be.

“Sorry,” Kenny said as he finally let go. “I just – no one usually remembers, and knowing that someone does? And can actually spend time with me while I’m dead? It’s - it’s like a dream come true, honestly.”

He was...oddly flattered. It was clearly something that meant a lot to Kenny and knowing that he was the only person who could provide it? It kind of made him feel special.

“Yeah, well, you know where I am, when you need me?” Stan offered.

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.” 

The bell sounded above their heads and soon was followed by the door opening to Butters and Cartman.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Kenny gave a brilliant smile as he gave a wave and turned to follow his friends. “Thanks, Stan!”

He was left standing there with all brain cells knocked out of him wondering what the fuck he’d signed up to.

--

There were a few things that Stan learned about over the course of the next month. One was that when Kenny said it happened, he meant it. Once a week Stan would wake up to Kenny in his room. One time it was to Kenny trying to stack papers on top of his lampshade, focus evident on his face as he would lift one up like it was the same weight as a kettle-bell.

The second thing he learnt was that when Kenny was a ghost, he was a nightmare to keep a leash on. Slamming a locker door into Craig’s head was just one of several pranks that he committed on their classmates. He watched Heidi cleaning off paintbrushes and receiving a spray of water to the face, soaking down her front. He watched Kyle spend an entire day losing his pencils and pens, one at a time. He watched Wendy find her gym shorts in Clyde’s bag, and was incredibly impressed by how Kenny had managed to pull that one off, given how much trouble he had stacking paper.

He was sat outside with the other goth kids and had to bite his tongue as Firkle tried and failed to light his cigarette, as the ‘wind’ kept blowing out his lighter.

The amount of times beyond that where Stan received a weird look for trying to stop Kenny doing something, only to realise what it looked like to the others? If he hadn’t already secured his place in the social ladder as a weird goth kid, he would’ve definitely secured something unpleasant from talking to ghosts all the time.

The third thing he learnt was that Kenny was insufferably good. He always encouraged Stan to stand up for himself against Firkle. The reason he disappeared between Stan’s classes was because he was still attending his own to make sure he didn’t miss anything and end up with his grades slipping. He still worked part time jobs to help his family out. On one occasion Kenny even asked him to pick painkillers up for Karen, as he’d needed to get them for her but got hit by a sign falling off the old movie theatre on his way home. He couldn’t say no. Not when Kenny looked so genuinely guilty for it.

Kenny had become a more constant presence in his life once again. He started turning up to see Stan with Kyle in the brief moments they interacted between classes. When he’d asked Kyle about it one day, the redhead had shrugged it off.

“He just asked where I was going and when he found out it was to see you, he followed me.”

The final thing he learnt was that Kenny was kind of cute, and it was doing funny things to Stan’s insides. He would see Kenny on the morning waiting for him to wake up and make a joke about how insufferably happy he was in the morning, but Stan’s heart would pick up speed and he’d get a rush of dopamine from seeing his friend. He would get excited about getting to join Stan when he went to walk his dog round the farm, even if they went at tortoise speed because of how old Sparky was. He would lie on the floor of Stan’s room with the dog, pretending to pet him as he slept while Stan tried to do his homework and not get distracted by how gentle Kenny’s face looked.

It was awful. Awful. He didn’t like it.

Even though most of the time they spent together was in ghostly form, Stan still found butterflies entering his system when he heard Kenny’s voice shouting for him in the hallways or stopping him just outside of school.

“Stan!” 

The sound of Kenny’s voice got him to stop on the steps where he had been heading down to where he met up with his friends. Kenny was racing down towards him with a wide smile, gapped tooth grin fully on show. He waited patiently. He didn’t want one of their few, in person conversations to be for anyone other than the two of them.

“Are you heading to Henrietta’s?”

“I don’t know what our plan is,” Stan admitted. “I think earlier Michael mentioned maybe going out for coffee, so we’ll probably do that.”

Kenny scrunched up his nose. “Gross. Coffee?”

Stan shrugged. “It’s not that bad. Sometimes I get a mocha, instead.”

“You don’t have it black, like your soul?” 

He snorted. “I think my soul is black enough.” 

“You’re not as like them as I thought you were.”

“What do you mean?” 

Kenny shrugged. “From the outside you fit in with them pretty well, but you don’t have the same aggressive way of dealing with the world.”

“I never noticed it really? I guess you’re not...totally wrong. I think they know that I’m not totally the same, but they don’t really care. Even though I hang out with Kyle, and I’m still friends with you guys, they kind of just accepted that I’m not totally, purely goth. Though, maybe if I still played football they’d draw the line.”

Kenny laughed. It made his insides flutter. 

“I like hanging out with them. They make me feel like it’s okay to be angry at the world.”

They looked up at the sound of loud voices. There was Cartman and Butters heading down, arguing about something benign. Kenny rolled his eyes at their antics and nudged Stan in the side as if to say, look at these losers, and Stan found himself sniggering.

“What are you laughing at, ya wannabe emo?”

“Now, Eric, we’ve talked about this! Stan ain’t an emo, he’s a goth! There’s no need to be rude!”

“I’m not talking to you!” Cartman huffed out as he spun to Kenny. “Butters has gone and invited Craig to come hang out with us at my house!” 

“He just wanted to play, and you’ve got four controllers, and it ain’t like Kyle’s hanging out with us tonight.”

“Maybe Stan is!” Cartman turned his gaze to Stan. “Well? Are you?”

“Uh, no?” 

“Ugh, then why is Kenny even talking to you?! C’mon, assholes, let’s get going. I want to mentally prepare myself for Craig.”

“We can’t just leave without him!”

Cartman and Butters were already walking down the stairs. Stan looked up to see Henrietta and Firkle descending. When he faced Kenny again he saw the blonde’s gaze pointing up to them too. 

“I guess I should head off?” Kenny asked. When he met Stan’s eyes, Stan felt like he was flying. “I’ll catch you later?”

“Sure, dude. Catch you later?”

Kenny took the steps two at a time as he attempted to catch up to Cartman and Butters. Stan was left half way down the steps, waiting for his friends to join him.

They weren’t even there for five seconds before Firkle set on him with a narrow-eyed glare.

“What are you doing talking to Kenny so much? After what he did to Henrietta? You should ditch him.”

Henrietta rolled her eyes and waved a hand in front of Firkle’s face. “Uh, don’t speak for me, thanks? Way to fall into internalised misogyny, asshole.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder as she turned from the pouting Firkle to Stan. “I have no issue with you being friendly with Kenny. I’m like, so over that. It was two years ago, and I would hope that he’s grown up a bit since then.”

“I think he has,” Stan admitted. “He’s not that bad. Not anymore.”

“Consider this my blessings, then.” 

He didn’t have a chance to ask her what she meant so he could deny whatever she was vaguely implying in her tone. Firkle looked just as horrified as he did, though maybe less through embarrassment and more through jealousy. Pete and Michael made their way over and she swiftly changed the subject, suggesting that Michael drove them to the Village Inn for coffee. Firkle spent the whole car journey in the middle seat between Pete and Stan with steam coming out of his ears.

Stan was too busy wistfully staring out the window as he played Henrietta’s words over in his head. If she was giving him her blessing, did that mean she’d noticed something? And if she’d noticed something, was it just about him, or was it about them both?

--

Saturday nights in the Graveyard were the closest Stan really got to actively going out somewhere nice. A collection of alternative kids would show up until Father Maxi noticed them and attempted to chase them from the premises. The Goth Kids had their own, stationary corner of the place. He wondered if it was one of the places where Pete and Mike ended up growing closer.

Kenny was with him this time. He appeared half way through the day and started hanging around like a lost puppy. When he heard that they were planning to go to the graveyard he was plenty vocal about how stereotypical of them it was. Stan was thankfully, finally getting used to having Kenny give his unwanted input into his everyday life.

They were hanging out in his room while he got ready, sitting in front of the full-length mirror that was hung on one wall. Stan had put on his favourite short sleeved button up over a black turtleneck and had moved on to applying the makeup that had become a permanent fixture on his face ever since he started hanging out with the goths. 

Kenny was messing about with his music while he got ready, using the speaker his phone was connected to in order to mess around with the volume and the static in the background. Or at least he had been. Stan didn’t notice when he stopped, too involved in trying to get his eyeliner the way he liked it.

Then Kenny broke the silence with another one of his spontaneous, spoken thoughts.

“You’re kinda hot, when you go full goth. Like, damn, I dream about kissing you.”

Stan bristled at the words, spinning to see Kenny still hovering and watching him apply his makeup.

Kenny began to backtrack.  “I mean, just cause, goths are in a way, like they have this, wild in bed look about them – not that I’ve thought about that, about you, there’s other goths-?”

“Wait, what?” Stan scowled, a flare of annoyance lighting in his gut.

“That’s not what I meant! I didn’t mean that!”

“Which part?” 

“The, about the others part!”  

“So you  do  think about me?” 

Kenny sank through the floor. 

“Hey!” Stan banged a fist against the rug. “Where are you going?! You can’t just run away!”

“Yeah I can.” 

“Get back here!” 

There was a low groan of protest.  

“I bet ghosts are pretty freaky too.”

There was a beat of silence. Kenny’s face repeated through the carpet with narrowed eyes. “...You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, I’m not. It’s true. You probably are, at least.” 

He came up to his arms, folding them across the floor.

“So...” Stan sat back up in his cross-legged position. The bravery he had felt chasing Kenny had left. “You...want to kiss me?”

Kenny seemed to dip into the floor a little again.

“Because you can, if you want!” 

The felt heat prickle his cheeks and ears at the rushed panic he said the words in. At least it got Kenny to push himself back up fully to face Stan head on.

“Are you...serious?”  

“I am,” Stan confirmed. “I don’t mind. It’s – whatever.”

Kenny snorted as a lopsided smile spread across his face. “’It’s whatever’?”

“Yeah.” 

“Charming.”  

Stan adverted his eyes. “I can take it back if you’re going to be a bitch about it.”

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop.” 

He met Kenny’s gaze again. He turned back to the mirror. “Let me just...finish getting ready, okay?”

“And then...?” 

“And then you can.” 

His heart was drumming away in his chest as he got close to the mirror and tried to block Kenny out of his field of vision. He tried to gain some kind of control over his brain and his blood as he finished the eyeliner, trailing his finger along the bottom to smudge the pristine line. He hoped it would hide how wobbly his hand was when applying the right side

He put the eyeliner down. He turned to Kenny and found himself letting out a huff as a smile spread across his face. 

If Kenny had a tail, Stan had no doubt that it would be wagging wildly. The way he sat there so patiently; eyes wide and brows raised as he waited for Stan to finish. It was adorable. Kenny really was cute.

“Okay...” Stan cleared his throat before he moved to face Kenny fully. “I’ve never really tried to kiss a ghost before, so-?”

"Me neither,” Kenny laughed. “But there’s a first time for everything, right?”

He nodded and waited for Kenny to make the first move.

The smile on Kenny’s face dropped as he took on a more serious expression. It was one that Stan had come to know as concentration. Something he did when he was about to try fuck about with the physical plane. He raised his hands to Stan’s cheeks and Stan gave a small shiver at the sensation. A light, cold pressure against his skin.

Kenny leant forward. Stan’s breath hitched.

He felt it. The gentle touch against his lips. It was nothing like a real kiss. Wasn’t warm and soft, but cold and alien. He let his eyes flutter shut and was left gripping his ankles as he tried to resist the urge to reach out with is hands. He didn’t want to break the magic. Not when he could so easily imagine Kenny was really, physically, truly there.

He felt cold brushes of movement against his cheeks. Like thumbs caressing his skin. He found himself pushing forward that little bit more. He wanted more.

He gave a small, fraction of a noise. His body protesting at him holding his breath, yet not willing to let go. Then he fell forward.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” 

He caught himself on the floor. He had phased through Kenny’s face and was half-sitting in his torso. “Uh, it’s fine, I...?”

He pushed up as Kenny pulled back, separating themselves from each other. He felt a smile begin to spread across his face at the frantic look on Kenny’s. He gave a low chuckle.

When Kenny began to laugh, he found himself feel a rush of joy. His heart was still racing in his chest. His toes had curled in his shoes. He was...

“That was weird,” he admitted. “Not in a bad way, just...weird.”

“It was,” Kenny agreed. “I think I need a lot more practice manifesting myself before we try that again.”

Again.  Again.  He bit down on his lip as his smile grew wider.

“Or, I guess, we could just...do it when I’m alive? That way you don’t have to worry about ending up in my stomach.”

“I think I’d like that.” 

Kenny perked up, before his face fell. He flexed his fingers and looked down.

“Are you...?” 

“About to respawn.” 

Stan reached out. He held onto the space that Kenny’s arm occupied. “Will you come back straight away?”

“I-I should do-?” 

“Will you meet me at the graveyard?”

Kenny opened his mouth to respond, but blinked out of existence.

His mom drove him into town and dropped him off outside Henrietta’s. They walked towards the graveyard together. His phone started to frantically vibrate in his pocket. When he pulled it out it was to a mess of messages from Kenny, promising that he was on his way.

Firkle was suitably unimpressed when Kenny rocked up wearing the darkest items of clothing he owned, which was a navy sweater and grey jeans. Henrietta smiled at him as she greeted him, a peace offering that he returned before making himself comfortable next to Stan. It was the first time that he hung out with the goth kids in person, rather than as an unseen ghost. He leant back on his hands as they sat watching the others in the graveyard, sat close enough that one hand was placed just behind Stan’s back. If Stan leant in just a touch, their sides met.

He did lean in. And at the end of the night, Kenny kissed him.