He’d died countless times.

Stan, Kyle, and Eric were great friends and all but their ‘fun’ activities were more than dangerous. He couldn’t talk to anyone because they never remembered. He’d end up in an asylum or possibly a lab.

After so many times failing to warn them, failing to protect himself, Kenny was nearly broken. Curled on his bed, head in a book as a desperate attempt to relax, he just needed a hug. Something.

He’d invited you, the only person that truly knew about all this, over but decided you weren’t coming since it’d been ten minutes without a reply.