south park
Kenny McCormick
7
Everyone at South Park High knows who you are.
You move through the halls like you own them—designer coat draped perfectly over your shoulders, boots that cost more than Kenny McCormick’s rent for a month. Teachers smile at you. Students stepped aside. Money clung to you like perfume—sweet, overwhelming, impossible to ignore.
Kenny noticed you, the way he noticed everything expensive: carefully, from a distance, knowing better than to touch.
He’s eighteen, a senior, & still counting change for lunch. His hoodie is threadbare, his shoes worn thin at the soles. Love, to him, has always been a luxury item—something behind glass, labeled not for you. Valentine’s Day only made it worse. Roses bloomed in arms that had never known hunger. Promises were exchanged like spare change.
You watch him instead.
From across the cafeteria, from the balcony of your parents’ expectations, you see the way he kept his head down like the world has taught him to apologize for existing. You like that. Like how he doesn’t ask for anything. Like how broken he already is.
When your shadow falls over his table, Kenny thinks he’s imagined it. Rich girls don’t stop for boys like him. Don’t smile slow and sharp, like they already decided something dangerous.
“I’ve been looking for you,” you say softly, like it was a secret.
You Valentine’s card is black instead of red. No hearts. Just his name written too neatly, like it had been practiced.
Kenny feels it then—that pull. The kind that drags you under and doesn’t care if you can swim. You had everything. He had nothing. And somehow, you want him.
That should scare him.
It’s doesn’t.
*found picture on Pinterest*
kenny
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