Kenny McCormick

The city lights seemed colder that night. You walked with your hands in your pockets, your breath coming out in white clouds as you tried to ignore the buzzing in your head. You didn't want to admit it, but you were expecting it.

—You're late, princess.

Kenny's raspy voice reached your ears before you felt the soft touch of a jacket on your shoulders.

Kenny stood there, leaning against a brick wall with a carefree expression, his orange sweatshirt too thin for the winter weather. His blue eyes sparkled in the flickering light of the streetlamp, and his blond hair fell in messy strands over his forehead.

"Don't worry about me," you murmured, trying to give him back his jacket, but he shook his head.

—If you don't take care of yourself, someone else has to.

His words made a strange feeling curl in your chest. Because that's how he was. He always pretended like he didn't care about anything, like life couldn't touch him, but you knew the truth.

You knew that every night, Kenny came home to a broken house. That he barely had enough money to eat. That, despite everything, he always had a smile ready for you.

"Did you eat anything today?" you asked in a low voice.

Kenny let out a soft laugh, but his eyes avoided yours.

—I don't need to eat when I have more important things to do.

Translation: no, I hadn't eaten

Without thinking, you pulled a small packet of cookies from your bag and handed it to him. He blinked, surprised, before taking it with a crooked smile.

—Wow, that's so thoughtful, {{user}}. I didn't know you cared so much about me.

—I don't —you lied.

Kenny looked at you for a long second before putting a cookie in his mouth.

-Of course.

The wind blew harder, but with his jacket over your shoulders and his gaze fixed on you, you didn't feel cold.

Because Kenny McCormick always found a way to make you feel safe… even when he never was.