He was surprised to hear that Kenny even had a bike - but when he saw it, he was less surprised. About a hundred pounds of twisted metal and an engine somewhere in there, painted garish bright orange at some places, but mostly a dull metallic gray. It looked like it had been literally thrown together by the few useful pieces of scrap that always littered Kenny's lawn. Craig was too tired, too sore, and too cold to protest anything, so he waited, shivering, the ten minutes it took for Kenny to kick the thing into gear, and then hardly could protest when the now brilliantly smiling (was he fucking bipolar or something) Kenny McCormick told him to hop on. Once he was stationed on the back of the bike with his arms wrapped around Kenny's waist to his satisfaction, Kenny revved the engine with unnecessary volume and blasted them forward, out from under the small overcropping of rocks the bike had been sheltered under, across the desert. When the rush of the acceleration was past, it didn't take long for the cold of the wind to become overwhelming, and his already sore eyes began to water even more. He tightened his grip on Kenny's waist, and ducked his head down behind his skinny back to shield his face.
"Sorry about the wind!" Kenny yelled over the sound of the engine. "I only have one pair of goggles, and I don't want to crash into a tree!"
"Just get us home!" Craig was able to shout back, his legs now tightening around Kenny as well, and his fingers going numb from clutching his own wrists. Kenny gave him a sarcastic salute, and he re-buried his face in Kenny's parka. When he closed his eyes and stopped thinking, the momentum, the wind and the night air smelling faintly of plant life and firewood all filled him with an oddly serene sensation, as if he were floating.
-w0rmsign-
About an hour later, Kenny was pulling the bike up to the back of the garage, and Craig's body was sore and shaking all over. Despite that, he forced Kenny to lean on him until they got up the rickety stairs that would lead them to the garage door, although he had to hand the keys to Kenny when they finally got to the landing, because his hands were shaking. Breathing heavily, the first thing he did was to dump Kenny onto the couch, and then he turned on the heater before collapsing next to it, warming his shivering back on the slowly warming coils before they would inevitably become too hot to touch.
He and Kenny stared at each other. There, in the flickering florescent light of his stuffy little garage, with the smell of fried chicken still in the air from the half a box they had abandoned the night before along with the scent of blood and exhaustion from both of them, they saw each other as two kids who had had quite enough of life outside of the room they had just locked themselves into.
"Glad you didn't try to go to my parent's place," Craig finally said, to break the not quite comfortable, not quite uncomfortable silence that had been seeping in through their broken breath.
"The thought never even crossed my mind," Kenny said with a nod, and Craig gave a small groan of relief when warmth from the space heater finally started reach his actual body, easing away some of the worst of the aches. Something was still bothering him about the whole scenario - he could forget about the cultists and their creepy ways in the morning, but for now, he let himself have some more morbid curiosity.
"So...how did you even get all of those creeps to follow you in the first place? You're not exactly mister charisma, as much as you like to think you are."
Kenny sighed tiredly, and put an arm over his eyes instead of answering him verbally. Craig took the chance to get a look at the state of his body - something he had been trying to avoid since he first realized he was covered in blood in the graveyard. Most of the blood had dried by now, and the source seemed to be whatever was under the large stain on his chest. It didn't look like it was still bleeding, though, so that was something. Kenny took his arm off of his eyes slowly, and continued to stare at the ceiling.
"Here I go, then. From the beginning. As much as I can remember, anyway." He put his palms to his face, breathed out one more time, and then began. "A couple of weeks after I turned ten, some cultists came to visit my parents. I'd already known about my special curse since I could walk, but this was the first time someone other than me - someone I didn't even know - talked about it, as if it was real and normal. No one and nothing in this town is normal, but I used to try to pass off the worst of it as dreams. Like you and your eyes - I bet you thought that was a dream at some point, right? But it's real - or we're both having that dream again. Might as well accept that it's reality now." He paused, his eyes closed, and for a moment, Craig thought he wasn't going to continue. Then he opened his eyes again and kept talking.
"Anyway, this nutjob seemed to think that I should live with him and a bunch of other skeezes because to them I was a "chosen vessel". Naturally my parents told them to go shove it because they do love me, useless pieces of crap that they are otherwise. Everything should have gone back to normal after they backed off - but I just couldn't stop obsessing about it all. I knew that if I just started pulling some strings, I could find out more. But the more I looked into it, the scarier it got - that stuff they said about summoning the underworld gods isn't a joke, it can happen." Kenny shrugged with a smile, and Craig nodded once before moving away from the heater slightly, since it was getting too hot to touch it.
"Doesn't look like you summoned any of them, at least," Craig prompted, feeling pretty unsatisfied with this as the full story, even though he knew that was all there was. If the cultists were already organized, and thought Kenny was some new coming of Jesus, it wouldn't have taken any effort at all for him to dig up some old books on super-suicide while telling the group he was going to Apocalypse the world, instead.
"Don't get sarcastic. If you don't believe me, you can just say so - I'm not weaving some kind of story here, this shit has all happened to me." Kenny glared at him with unexpected heat, and Craig nodded, feeling like that reaction was only natural, somehow.
"I believe you. As if the circle of freaks in the graveyard wasn't enough of an argument, I know weird shit happens around you - but the truth is, it happens to me, too," he sighed, and gestured to his burnt face, evidence of something he'd really rather not think about. Kenny's face softened, and Craig kept going.
"And if you're crazy for thinking it's real, I just guess we both are. And no one else ever has to know."
Kenny smiled then, nodded, held both his hands out towards Craig in a warm gesture inviting him to come back into his arms..
"C'mere. I'm tired of you being so far away."
Craig got to his feet stiffly (god his thighs hurt), and took his seat next to Kenny with his arms firmly by his side. Then, he thought better of it, and put his arm around Kenny's shoulders instead.
"Okay. Nice and comfy. Is there more to your story?"
"Yeah. A little." Kenny all but purred, and smiled happily as he nestled into Craig's embrace. "So about a month ago, I died. And I stayed there. That happens sometimes...but this wasn't the usual fare...I was on the other side."
"Hell?"
"No, actually - and I've been there, it's not so bad. This alternate dimension, it's earth, but different. There's nothing green there - they live off farming each other's bodies and drinking blood - being a cannibal isn't just normal, it's how you survive, otherwise you starve to death. It was sick. Anyway, while I was down there, I met...well, in horror stories here on earth, he's known as Cthulhu. Apparently because of the ritual my parents accidentally participated in while my mom was pregnant with me, my father isn't really my father, he is, instead. Well. He made it seem like the ritual made her pregnant with me, but that's too fucked up to even think about. He told me that that death was temporary, but that I needed to find a way to make it permanent, and join him on the other side."
"So you told him to shove it up his tentacled ass, right?" Craig made no effort to hide his displeasure at the way this conversation was going. He was also squeezing Kenny a little too hard now. Kenny just shrugged, and gave him an apologetic smile.
"Not so much. I mean I wasn't having a great time talking to him, or anything, but if that...place is where I come from, then I guess I at least wanted to know more. I asked him why he wanted me there, and he said...well, most of it didn't make sense, but the basic gist of it was pretty simple. I'm a mini-version of the kind of monster he is - half human, but it's not like that ever did anyone any favors. And the longer I stay here, undying, different from everyone else, the more bitter I'm going to become...the less I'll care about other people. And apparently I'll just get more powerful and destructive when that happens. He was a dick for pointing it out, but he told me if I cared about my friends and family at all, they'd be way better off without me. So I decided to go. I found out where the cult members were, and it turns out anyone crazy enough to believe in me for a god is really easy to manipulate. What you got right was that I lied to them. Not about being an immortal, or maybe even being their fucking god, if they want to believe it, but I lied to them about bringing the Old Ones here - I would never fucking do that. No. Instead I was researching a ritual that would send me there. Permanently." Kenny went silent then, and Craig contained a slow boil in his stomach and his fist for as long as he could manage.
"You are the stupidest piece of shit that I have ever met," Craig said, trembling slightly, "I want to hit you so bad right now."
Kenny laughed, and shoved his mouth against Craig's. He started to say something, but he didn't get through the first word before Craig acted on his feelings, and his fist was connecting with Kenny's face and then they were both on the floor, sending the space heater flying and the pile of empty beer cans scattering with a hollow clatter. Craig heard himself growl and Kenny alternately laughed and shouted, then both of them devolved into angry barks back at him as each punch and twist back and forth got dirtier and more personal.
"TRUCE, you maniac," Kenny panted, his fist against Craig's chin and Craig's hand tightly grasping his nuts. "What the fuck even brought that on?"
"You did, you piece of shit," Craig huffed out, his left eye now swollen shut, since Kenny had hooked him right in on his puffy burns, and they were bleeding, "Did you ever think to fucking ask before making this huge elaborate plan to throw yourself into some kind of fiery pit? Ever thought of asking your fucking friends, 'Hey, do you think I should KILL myself?' - or, according to you - just LEAVE and never come back?"
Kenny gaped like a fish, and Craig almost hit him again.
"I...honestly didn't think anyone would...care." Kenny gasped a little, and Craig felt himself slightly pacified by the confusion in his voice, as if other people caring didn't even occur to him. That helped. It was a shitty of him, but if he got the message beaten into him tonight, maybe this would be over for good.
"Well, I do. I care. No cults. No rituals. No fucking netherworld. You depressing piece of garbage. Or I swear, I will lock you up in here and tie you down till you learn some fucking sense."
Kenny sighed, let his head fall flat against the ground, and closed his eyes.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now help me get this bed unfolded. I'm fucking exhausted."
The bed turned out to be pretty hard to unfold when they were both battered, bleeding, and already blinking sleep out of their eyes, but they managed somehow. Craig piled the cushions from the couch in the center of the crappy mattress, and they each took their jackets off to use as extra blankets in addition to the big one that was folded up on the couch. Not talking or questioning anything, they ended up right next to each other, their chests pressed together, and Craig thought to himself, in the last moments before he drifted off to sleep, that Kenny had freckles under his eyes when you looked at him really close, and that his breath smelled like burnt leaves.