Chapter Text
Driving through the mountains in their tour bus wasn't ideal considering the heavy snow pelting the area, but they had no other way of getting there. Kenny didn't know why the leader of the band would agree to do this stupid show in Denver of all places. When he made decisions while drunk, he never went back on them even when he should.
The band collectively agreed they'd never step foot in Colorado again, but then of course he promised he'd visit his parents this year so here they were, driving to Denver.
The tour bus was fixed up so they each got their own space, but it felt cramped nonetheless. Kenny couldn't wait until they made it to the point where they could fly everywhere. First class never seemed sweeter.
"Hey fellas, we're comin' up to the hotel we're stayin' at," Butters, their guitarist and the only one not coked up enough to forget how to drive, stated. He sat in the front seat of the bus, blasting the radio.
"Up next on ALT 66.6 is Crimson Dawn's newest single, 'DEATH OF A STAR', which peaked at #1 on the Billboard 100 last week..." the radio host drowned on about them.
"Yall hear that? Thats our song on the radio!"
"Yeah, Butters, a lot of our songs are on the radio," Stan Marsh, the lead singer and guitarist of the band, deadpanned. He sat on the ratty couch they had installed to the bus, picking at his guitar strings. "Thats how being famous works."
"L-l-l-lay up, Stan," Jimmy, their very own drummer who had a major stutter, said. He walked over and wacked Stan's knee with his crutch, earning a wince from the other.
Then there was the band's bassist, Kenny. He stared at the bickering group, thinking to himself. So far they've gone from New York to here for their US tour, so to say they still had awhile to go was an understatement. If anything, Kenny wished he was back at home in LA. He loved making the music but hated touring.
Groupies for the band were like cult followers. Some girls would follow their bus for miles after a show, and when let in, instantly try to pounce on the band members. The blonde was jealous of his friends. They were allowed to fuck whoever they please without catching feelings. Kenny on the other hand, hated hooking up.
He was viewed as the band horn dog, the slut, the manwhore, everything was thrown at him. That's because he usually sang the most lewd lyrics they had to offer. It was this bad boy persona he had to keep up.
The reality of the situation was that he was the last one out of the group to lose their virginity.
It was the summer of senior year when he had sex with a girl for the first time. It was an underwhelming experience. Sure he liked her body, but at the same time, he wanted something more. Through his band career, he hooked up with someone every stop they made, but he never enjoyed it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stand fucking, he wanted to embrace his partner. He wanted to make love.
That wasn't reality, though. One could only dream while living the life of a rock star.
'The Brown Palace' was the name of the hotel they were staying at. Apparently they prided themselves with their pretentious public view while also being pretty shit service wise. They still thought that they should've stayed at some random Motel out of town but their manager insisted on booking them a stay here.
When the tour bus pulled up, blasting their music out of speakers everyone standing in the valet section stared in disbelief. An old man, most likely an owner of the establishment, ran out and began to berate them.
"Excuse me! Turn down your music," he tried to shout over the speakers. The bus came to a cold stop infront of him, turning down the music. The bandmates exited, causing the old man's jaw to hang in place.
One other thing the band was known for was their fashion. The group always went all out with every outfit he wore. Today it was matching black trench coats over their band shirts. Kenny wore ripped up jean shorts, Jimmy wore regular flared jeans, Butters was in khaki shorts with legwarmers, and the dark haired leader of the group wore a long plaid kilt. Its a skirt, Kenny always told him, but it was disregarded. All the members had dark face paint on, black covering their eyes and the rest of their faces white. Why get all dressed up just to go to a hotel, you may ask?
It was fun to watch the workers squirm.
"Oh my," the man mumbled. "Do you fine gentlemen have a reservation?"
"Yeah, its under the name Crimson Dawn," Stan casually said.
The managers eyes went so wide that Kenny was convinced they were gonna pop right out of their sockets. "Right this way, sirs!"
The inside of the hotel was pretty vintage in a way due to it being open for so long. There were some renovations, sure, but the dark tan walls mixed with the black wooden hand railings made the eerie feeling in the hotel work for some reason. Behind them, busboys carried all their bags inside and up the stairs to their rooms. As always, they all shared a massive suite. It was easier to be together at all times.
Once reaching their room, Stan generously tipped the workers and they made themselves at home. The walls were a soft cream color, highlighted by the natural lighting from the windows. There were two white King sized bed frames, plush comforters thrown over them. A flat screen TV was perched on the wall, playing the news.
"W-w-well, fellas," Jimmy said, setting his crutches against one of the bed frames and sitting down. "W-w-what now?"
The shaggy blonde opened the blinds to let some sun into the room. "Show isn't till tomorrow so..."
"We should go clubbing. Its been awhile," the raven haired bandmate suggested.
"Is there any good clubs around here?"
"None on the map. I heard that there's an underground one a couple streets down."
Kenny raised an eyebrow, concerned. It was risky for them to go clubbing, especially if it wasn't in an actual known club. Jimmy and Butters instantly agreed to go, talking about how many girls they were gonna hookup with. When this happened, Kenny learned not to interject. They outnumbered him and besides, his opinion never really mattered.
Thats how he ended up here, in a secret rave on a Tuesday night.
The bandmates arrived to the area in their tour bus, causing the line of people waiting to get inside to stop and stare. Some instantly recognized them, screaming and rushing towards the barrier. Once the group began to step out of their bus, the crowd erupted into shrieks.
A large burly man stood in front of the solid steel door leading downstairs. He removed his dark sunglasses, gawking at them.
"Crimson Dawn?!" He shouted in a heavy country accent. "Go ahead," he immediately opened the door for them without asking, allowing them to skip the line.
As they entered, the bouncer stopped Jimmy in his tracks.
"Mr. Valmer... can I have your autograph?" He shyly asked, taking a 180 from his bear like appearance. Jimmy smiled and removed a pen from his coat pocket.
"Call me J-J-Jimmy, sir."
Kenny rolled his eyes, following the other two down the stairs. It was a sort of long walk underground and as they approached closer to the entrance, the booming bass of the music grew louder. It got darker then light again, a purple aura coming from a cracked open door at the bottom. Entering the giant room, Kenny was immediately blinded.
Multicolored lights illuminated the floors, draped in white tile to create a more intense shine. They changed along to the rhythm of the music blasting through speakers scattered around. There was a bar set up on a couple fold out tables near the entrance, people lining up for liquor. Various girls dressed in bright revealing outfits walked around with trays of shots, handing them out to booths in the corners of the room. It was messily set up, clear that this wasn't a professional establishment.
The other two he was with had already headed to an empty booth in the corner, a couple people following. Kenny sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, heading to the table himself.
"Hold on guys, I gotta meet someone," Stan stated to the people, walking away. Kenny already knew where he was going, but leaned over to Butters to ask anyways as he took his seat.
"He said there's a good plug here tonight," he explained. Jimmy had also arrived at the table, two girls attached to his hip. They both sat down with him, leaning into his lap.
"Already? We just showed up!" Kenny exclaimed.
"C-c-c-can't stop the hustle, McCormick." He smiled at one of the girls, teasing her.
Their raven haired friend arrived back, his hands shoved in his pockets.
"Did you get it?" Butters leaned forward in anticipation.
"Course I did! I heard they make good shit out here," Stan said, taking out a baggie off fine white crumbs and crushing them with a lighter. He poured the contents out onto the table and made 2 lines side by side. With a 5 dollar bill, he swiftly snorted the whole thing in one go. Butters didn't even use a bill, just took it straight in. He was weirdly coordinated for a coke head.
"Shit," Kenny sighed. "Didn't leave any for me? Assholes."
"Fuck you, this is my shit, go get your own," the raven haired man growled. "I only gave Butters a line cause I owe him." Jimmy stared at his bandmates, clicking his tongue.
"Can't go one hour without sh-sh-shooting, I see. You guys are the reason r-r-rockstar stereotypes exist."
"Look at you, got two whores by your side at all times!" Stan shouted back, flicking him off.
"Have ya already started drinking, Stan?" Butters asked.
The other blonde sighed as Stan began to berate Butters, setting his head on his fist. Sometimes he wished he never joined this stupid band. None of them were even friends in the first place, the only reason they began to play together was cause they felt bad for Stan. Now here they were, in their 20s, famous, and hating one another. All they ever did was fight. There was no chemistry. Kenny could've done something with his life, gone to college, became a scientist, anything but this.
He glared out onto the crowd of people dancing under the flashing lights, trying to find something to distract himself. He could go out there and dance, but dancing was boring. This entire fucking club was boring.
Kenny excused himself to go to the bathroom when things between Jimmy and his girls started to get steamy. He wasn't about to sit through not only that but Stan starting to choke Butters.
It took him a little to find where the bathroom was in this place due to the sheer amount of people. Some girls stopped him and asked for a picture, which he obliged to, putting on his fuckboy persona just for them. "Anything for you, ladies," he said. Once they turned their backs, he sighed to himself, rushing away.
The bathroom was in the corner, the guys room having a piece of paper taped to it stating "Men's." He entered the room hastily, walking to the largest stall to hide in it. He opened it up just to find someone else there, hovering over the box containing toilet paper. They had dark black locks that were swept to the side and olive skin that glowed underneath the fluorescent bathroom lights. The man flinched and immediately ducked down, wiping away whatever was on that box. A small powder cloud flew past him and he glared at Kenny.
"Thought you were security," he stated, scowling.
"Learn to lock the door, dumbass," Kenny grumbled as he turned away before stopping in his tracks. He slowly spun on his heel to face the black haired guy again. "What were you snorting?"
"I wasn't snorting anything."
"Yeah you were," the blonde smirked, entering the stall. "Whatever you're doing I wanna do, too."
"Fuck off," the guy flicked him off, turning to leave.
"Cmon, I won't say anything!"
"Its none of your business!" He shouted, shoving the stall open and walking towards the sink. He leaned down and turned on the faucet, splashing some of the water against his forehead and dragging his hand down his face.
Kenny glanced at him, reaching in his pocket and taking out a wad of cash.
"If you're into coke, I can get us some," he said. The guy turned to face him, his eyes widening upon seeing the cash. The blonde smiled, flashing his crooked front teeth. "Unless you're more of a opiate kind of guy."
The guy glared at him for a moment before squinting. "You're not a cop?"
"Nope."
"Where'd you get the money?"
"I'm kind of a rockstar."
As they walked through the club, Kenny learned a little bit about the guy. Apparently his buddy was a dealer here, the one that Stan had gotten his blow from.
"So... if we’re gonna shoot up together I at least wanna know your name," Kenny stated, leaning over to the man next to him.
He scoffed, frowning. "Hell no."
"Why?"
"What, you think we’re gonna be best friends after this?" The other man said, running a finger through his short black hair. "You have cash on you and I blew away the rest of my shit cause of you. It's just a favor."
"Well fuck me for wanting to get to know a guy before I spend money on him," the other grumbled in a playful manner.
"... Craig," he stated quietly. Kenny had to take a double take to make sure he heard that correctly.
"Craig? Your name is Craig?"
He nodded. "Whats yours?"
"Kenneth, but all my fans call me Kenny."
"I refuse to believe you're in an actual famous band. You look like the homeless crackheads that hang out by my apartment."
"Its a look I embrace," Kenny grinned, running his hand over his mouth, feeling the short boxed beard he had begun to grow due to not shaving in weeks. "You got an iPhone? Look me up."
"I don't have any one. I'll buy a CD any day before buying one of those pieces of shit." Craig glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting with another's. The guy stood in the corner, his head down. "Cmon, he's right there."
They approached the man, who dawned a dark blonde mop of hair and a clean shaved face. His eyes faced the ground as he mumbled to himself. Craig nodded to him, prompting the other to look up.
"Last one wasn't enough? Listen, I can keep giving out freebies just cau- COCK BALLS!" He shrieked in the middle of his sentence, tilting his head to the side. Kenny snorted at his dialog.
"I know, but I'm not here for anything. My buddy heres interested," Craig said under his breath.
"Hey, you're that guy from Crimson Dawn- SHITTING COCK- aren't you?" The man said, reaching out his hand. Kenny couldn't hold in his laughter anymore, bursting out into giggles.
"What the hell is your problem?" The black haired man next to him kicked his shin.
"No its- COCK- okay. I must sound crazy- FAT WHORE!"
"Oh my god!" Kenny laughed. "Is this some kind of joke? Why do you keep saying shit like that?"
"I have Tourette Syndrome, I can't help it!"
"Yeah, so stop being a dick," Craig huffed.
"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. Hey, I'm Kenny," he shook the others hand.
"So, you- WHORE- said you're interested in...?"
"Whatever he wants," Kenny nodded towards Craig. "I'm buying."
"Really now? Well, I got just what you need," he reached into his coat pocket and removed a small tied baggie of a fine white powder. Kenny counted a couple of the bills he had and took them out as well to pay.
The blondes exchanged their items discreetly, Kenny and Craig rushing away afterwards. They walked back to the table where the rest of his bandmates sat, without Jimmy. Butters was talking on the phone while Stan was socializing with some fans, holding a beer.
"Hey guys," Kenny waved, Craig standing behind him warily.
"Whos this?" Stan slurred out, spilling a bit of his beer on Kenny.
"Just a chill dude I found. Scoot over," he sat down next to Stan, both of them scooting to allow Craig to sit as well.
"He a fan?"
"Well-"
"No," Craig crossed his arms. "I've never heard of you guys, I didn't even believe that he was actually in a band."
"Guess what, asshole, we are in a band and a pretty fuckin' good one too!" He pointed at Craig.
"Listen, I'm just here for some blow. Could we please-"
"Yeah, yeah," Kenny removed his baggie and lined up the coke. He took his hit first, stopping in the middle of the line for a moment to wipe his nose and then did the rest. He handed Craig the 5 dollar bill he rolled up, shaking his head.
"Shits pretty good," he huffed as the other snorted his line.
"Yeah," Craig agreed with him, sniffing.
"Tell me more about yourself," Kenny leaned into Craig, setting his cheek onto his palm. "What brings you here tonight?"
"I was just here to meet Thomas. He's the guy who just sold to you."
"Just that nutcase? You really don't got any friends here?"
"Not really," Craig shrugged. "I'm not a big club person."
"I didn't except you to actually open up, that coke must be fast huh."
"Shit hasn't even hit yet," Craig tilted his head towards Kenny. "You just seem cooler than everyone else in this boring ass club."
"Oh?"
"Sorry for being a dick, I guess. I appreciate it."
"Switching up on me, are ya?" he smirked. "Is it cause I bought you off?"
"Maybe," his hand slowly guided itself onto Kenny’s thigh, tracing his fingers around the hems of his ripped jorts.
Kenny felt his heart race. The only conclusions he could draw that was causing this were that this was really hot or he was going into cardiac arrest. Either way, he felt himself leaning in closer until their lips nearly met.
"You wanna go to the back?"
Kenny led Craig to a private backroom so they could get some peace and quiet together. Once inside, he shut the door behind them. Craig sat down on the couch, setting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up, blowing smoke into Kenny's face. His vision became brighter as he sat down, his head turned to face him. The thing about coke is that it made everything more intense than it should be, so now instead of just feeling normally nervous, he felt his heart pounding into his ear, unaligned with the music outside.
Before he could lean in and kiss Craig, a wave of anxiousness hit his mind. Suddenly, his muscles were quivering, his skin felt prickly, and the others face wasn't recognizable anymore. Then, after the haze he felt was over, he realized how fucked up this was.
"I ain't no fag," he mumbled, pulling away.
"What?"
"We can't do this shit man," Kenny looked at the wall, avoiding eye contact.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
"Shit, was hoping I could get you to buy me more drugs," Craig openly admitted, his once aroused look quickly falling into a numb one.
"Wait, what?"
"Don't think I was actually interested, Kenneth," the black haired man hummed, his eyes low. "If we’re done here, I'm leaving."
"Thats pretty fucking shitty, man. I thought we were having fun. I thought..."
"You thought wrong. Thanks for the coke," Was all he said as he walked away, slamming the door behind himself.
Kenny, too high to actually process this shit, stared at himself in the mirror sitting on the wall. The shiny glass it was made of looked very enticing when you were a little fucked. He threw open the door and waved down one of the skimpy outfitted girls waiting the tables. "Bring me a round of shots, beautiful."
"Whatever you want, sweetheart," she winked at him as she walked away to grab the drinks he requested.
A couple rounds and some empty flirting later, Kenny brought the waitress into the private back room and they fucked. No need for any details, it was just quick and easy. She seemed to enjoy it, screaming his name. Kenny tried to get into the funk of things but ultimately found himself to be numb. He couldn't even keep his dick hard for long. After the waitress left, hobling on her leg, Kenng stayed in the room. He stared at the wall again, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.
Smoke left the huge gap between his two front teeth as he put his clothes back on. The night was ending and they had to get the fuck up out of there.
When he came back to the table, Jimmy was there too. He had a cigar dangling between his index and middle finger, his hair disheveled.
"Crazy night, huh?" Kenny mumbled as he walked up. There were very few people left in the club, most having left by now.
"These ch-ch-ch-chicks are crazy out here," Jimmy responded, nodding towards the others. Stan was being held up by Butters by the shoulder. "You all look like shit."
"Yeah, I know," Kenny ran his fingers through his hair. "I just had a really shitty night."
"Y-y-you got some puss, didn't you?"
He hummed, walking over to help Butters. "Is he out?" He asked.
"Yup, I hope he feels better before the show tonight." The perky blonde stated, causing Kenny to facepalm.
"Shit, the show! Practice starts at noon and we have to be at the venue by 2. Look, just grab the smelling salts from the bus when we get there. We don't have time for Stan to be blacked out."
"Sure thing, Ken!" Butters nodded. Jimmy joined the two by their sides as they dragged their unconscious leader out the door and up the stairs.
The group headed back to their bus still parked out front, shockingly not broken into. The only people around were a couple 'discreet' fans trying to snap pictures of the bus, quickly scattering once they saw figures approaching. The gang had to carefully maneuver Stan onto the mattress they kept in the back, allowing him to rest a little longer. Outside, Kenny could see the sky turning from a dark black into a grey-ish blue, a beam of light coming from the mountains. He walked over and gazed out the window of their tour bus, taking in the sight as he was still a little high.
He thought about the raven haired man he'd met that night. He thought about his tired eyes, the way the light reflecting off of then determined their color. He thought about how they almost kissed, gross. Then he thought about how he would kind of like it if they kissed. But only if that guy was a girl. Then he'd absolutely go for it. Eventually, his eyelids became heavy, dropping onto themselves and putting him into the soft slumber he desperately needed.
Hours later, he was woken up by someone he didn't recognize at first. Still in his post hangover haze, his eyes slowly fluttered open as he heard an obnoxiously high pitched voice call out to him.
"Keeny... Keeny... Keeny get up!" A pillow was smacked into his face, instantly causing him to sit up.
"What?!" He screamed, rubbing his eyes. Once his vision adjusted to the light coming from the window he laid his head on, he noticed who exactly was in front of him.
Oh.
Eric Theodore Cartman, the band's manager and childhood 'friend'. No one liked him and didn't expect to stay in touch with the fat boy after high school, but he ended up being a vital part of the team. He's the one that made this all happen behind the scenes, ruthlessly digging out the best gigs and marketing strategies he could. In that sense, Kenny was grateful for him. In everything else, Kenny wanted to shove him into on coming traffic, affectionately.
"Aw, fuck you!" Kenny groaned, setting his palms against his eyes and rubbing them.
"Get up, faggots, we have a show to run!" He walked around the bus, getting everyone up. Kenny looked at the table nearby to see Stan, who's head was bobbing due to drifting in and out of sleep. Cartman walked up to him and flicked his forehead, the other crying out in response.
"Hey!"
"Practice started 2 hours ago and you guys are still asleep? Should’ve expected it from the fags of the group, at least the cripple got up!" Cartman heckled them. "Now we have to go straight to the venue." Butters was sitting on the mattress, tuning his guitar. He seemed just as exhausted as the rest of them, but still tried to remain upbeat. "You tell em, Eric!"
"Shut up, Butters," the fat man turned and headed back up to Kenny, patting his shoulder. "You all look like shit. What happened?"
"We just went to some club," Kenny explained, walking to the coffee maker and starting a pot.
"And didn't invite me?!" He shouted, well, no, he was talking at his regular volume. The issue is that Cartman was really fucking loud so everyone thought he was shouting when they weren't used to him. "Assholes."
"Jim's already set up, we better hurry!" Butters got up from his seat and set his guitar in its case. "I'll meet yall outside."
"Alright," the other blonde looked at Stan, who seriously seemed like he got hit by a semitruck. "Dude are you good? I know last night was rough but..."
"Never been better," Stan snapped back, taking a paper cup from him and pouring himself some of the bitter brown liquid Kenny had brewed up. While Kenny needed a shit ton of sugar to drink his, Stan took his like a man.
"Ignore him, he's just being a bitch cause his Jew boyfriend dumped him again," Cartman mumbled to Kenny. "Can't say I'm suprised."
"Wait, seriously?" Kenny was shocked. "When?"
"I don't know, Khal told Butters who told me about it yesterday on the phone. Its cause that fag was drinking himself to pieces before a big show! Can you believe it?"
"I certainly can," the other sighed, mixing his coffee as he walked to the back of the bus to grab his bass.
"If he fucks anything up tonight, I'm gonna grind his balls with a cheese grater."
Chuckling at the lewd remark, the two headed off outside and into the venue. Kenny was lucky to not be high enough not to change when he got back that morning, so he was in some plaid pajama pants and a random graphic tee he found that probably didn't belong to him. He mad his way up the steps to backstage and onto the front stage where the rest of his bandmates stood. The venue they were playing was was similar to an arena, with the stage right in the middle. Light fixtures were being set up above and around them for the show. A bunch of workers hurried around the band as they all plugged in their instruments to do a couple sound checks.
Jimmy was the only one out of all of them who was actually dressed, sporting a black button up with the first few undone and some slacks. He was sitting at his drum set, listening to the bass. Kenny always wondered how Jimmy was crippled and still able to play the bass drum. Who knows, at least it sounded good.
The checks went fine, no disgusting squealing noise from the mics. By the time they were done with that, the sun had peaked in the sky and was very slowly beginning to set. It was the late afternoon in the moutains, making the sky a cloudy grey. It reminded Kenny of his own home back in LA. It was always cloudy there as well.
"Alright everyone, let's get together and do a run through of the set," Stan announced, approaching his mic. Everyone took their positions, ready to play through. Cartman sat in the corner, his eyes narrowed on Stan. A look that said "Don't fuck this up," was plastered to his face.
"One, two, three, f-f-f-four!"
Once the countdown was done, Kenny began to play like his life depended on it. It really wasn't that serious, but he felt like he should get at least a bit of his anger out before the show. He roughly strummed at the thick guitar strings, rhythmically producing the backing beat for the band while keeping the tone fresh.
Unlike when it came to their actual friendship, when they were playing, the band was perfectly in tune. Ever since they went big by covering a popular song at the time', they've developed less of a death metal and more of a 90s rock style. Kenny was personally more of a Hip Hop type of guy, that's not to say he didn't like the music his band made. He liked how it let him get his anger out, like how he got out the anger about waking up late, last night at the club, that stupid Craig guy, this tour in general, hey did he mention he was kind of mad at that guy, Craig?
"Hell breaks loose, keeping score on the times."
He closed his eyes as his friend sung out the lyrics to their single. Really, did he actually have a reason to be mad at that guy? It was him who bought the drugs, it was him who rejected him, and it was him that called him a fag.
"Holding out for a lover, growing out my demise."
Maybe he was more angry at himself. Angry that he let himself go to that stupid club anyways. Let himself into that situation where he had no choice but to reject the guy.
"Now I can't keep pretending I care, my feelings are faux."
Jesus did their lyrics always sound this gay?
"I can't keep hiding from heaven, running from below."
"The partys over, the lust has arose."
"But hey, the death of a star-"
"Wait stop."
"Hey Kenny!"
"Kenny!"
The blonde heard his name and became confused. Since when was that a lyric? He continued to play along to how he remembers the song, his fingers burning from the sharp edges of his guitar strings. He shut his eyes as hard as he could, trying to drown out the world around him.
"Kenny!" Stan shouted, now standing in front of him. The rest of the band stopped playing, confused. Kenny finally stopped playing, holding his strings so they wouldn't keep making sound.
"What?" He glared at the other.
"Dude you went off the fucking rails, thats not how the song goes! You started playing fucking... I don't even know what you were playing!"
"Whats going on here?" Cartman walked onto the stage. He had a headset on and was holding a clipboard.
"Kenny is totally out of it," the raven haired man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"If you didn't insist we go out last night, maybe I'd be more focused!" He rebuttals.
"The rest of us are fine!"
"A-a-a-actually, you've been out of tune this entire time, Stan," Jimmy inserted himself into the conversation.
"Yeah, Stan, whats that about?"
"You need to get your shit together," Stan ignored the two, shoving his finger in Kenny’s face.
"We're already so far behind so stop sucking each others dicks and get to work!" Cartman screamed at them. "Fucking faggots."
The band continued to run through their song with minimal difficulty, thought the tension in the air hung low. All of a sudden, this open venue was turning cramped and dark.
As the sky shifted to a pinkish color, indicating the sun was setting and evening was arriving, Kenny took a break from playing to smoke. He walked out to the back of the venue, leaning against the concrete wall. Some people passed by him, not noticing him. Maybe it was because he wasn't in his dark face makeup and eccentric clothing. Without those key components, no one really payed him much mind. He took out a pack of cigarettes and set one between his lips, fishing out his lippo. After clicking it a couple times, he realized it was out.
"Fucking hell," he groaned, dropping the empty lighter on the ground and removing his cigarette from his mouth. He turned to walk away when a familiar voice called behind him.
"Kenneth?"
Who the fuck calls him Kenneth? He spun on his heel, ready to be pestered by a fan, but instead was met with the face of the man he couldn't get his mind off of.
"Craig?" He said aloud. "What're you doing here?"
"My college is a couple blocks away, I'm just walking home," he stated, approaching the blonde. "What're you doing here?"
"Turn around dickhead," he pointed up to the large sign the arena had, displaying the band members promotional poster.
"Oh," he hummed, nodding towards the dry cig hanging from his lips. "You need a light?"
"Yeah," Kenny sighed, realizing the awkwardness of this interaction was worth it to get a light. Craig walked over and leaned in with his lighter.
A couple flicks later, the tip of his cig turned a light yellow and a puff of smoke was exhaled from his nose. He decided to take another cig out and hand it to Craig.
"Thanks," he plainly said.
"You have fun last night?" Craig asked, taking a drag.
"... Yeah. Why wouldn't I have?"
"I don't know. You seemed bummed when I left."
Kenny scoffed. "Yeah cause you used me for blow and then took off."
"You said you weren't interested."
"Maybe I just wanted to be friends! Jesus, why do people make everything so sexual all the time?" He chuckled due to the awkward conversation they were having.
"That makes sense, I guess. You didn't have to be a dick about it, though," the black haired man looked up at the streetlights. "You called me a fag."
"I call everyone that, and I didn't even directly call you it. I just said I'm not a fag."
"The way you said it... like dude I don't care if you're straight but how're you gonna lead me on and then do that shit?"
The blonde stayed silent for a moment before leaning his head on the other's shoulder. "I'm just not good with this feelings stuff."
"So you were interested?"
"I don't know, I was high and just..." he sighed. "I'd want to get to know you first if you were still... open to the idea. Of just being friends."
"... I'd be open to that." Craig nodded. He didn't really want to get to know this guy but hey, free drugs were free drugs. If this guy was rich and willing to supply a broke college student, whats the harm in playing along?
"Why don't you come to my show tonight?"
"I don't have any cash."
"Just go backstage and tell security you're with the band. I'll take care of everything."
"We'll see. Thanks for the smoke."
Kenny felt himself begin to smile. He walked back into the venue, stepping out his cig. As he was wisked away by his bandmates to get ready, he felt the night become brighter. Suddenly, he wasn't as exhausted as before. Maybe the show would be alright.