Each friend discovers Kyle is an Omega in a different way:
Kenny stumbles upon it by accident. He's the one with the least "self-interest" among the three. He discovers Kyle's secret, but he's neither like Cartman who wants to exploit him, nor like Stan who gets hurt by it. Kenny's experience of dying over and over has given him a kind of detachment, a sense that "nothing else matters that much." He doesn't care about the ABO social hierarchy, doesn't care about "how Kyle's Omega identity might affect his social standing." He just sees Kyle trembling, sees that he needs help, so he helps.
---
Kenny died again.
This time, he was crushed by a basketball hoop that fell from the gym ceiling. Three hours later, he woke up in his own bed, not a scratch on him, as if nothing had ever happened.
He silently pulled on his jacket and headed back to school. As he passed the fire escape behind the school building, he heard noises coming from inside. He peeked in —
His friend Kyle was curled up in the corner, body drawn into a tight ball, cheeks flushed a feverish red, pupils a little unfocused. He was breathing hard, chest heaving, and the air he exhaled carried a sweetness that didn't belong on a boy, like some kind of out-of-control pheromone. The back of his shirt was soaked through, strands of hair plastered to his temples, one hand gripping his collar so tight his nails were digging into his palm, like he was fighting something surging up from inside his own body. He was shaking all over.
Kenny quietly backed away, making sure Kyle didn't see him.
He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he'd lived enough lives to have seen plenty. He could probably guess what was going on with Kyle.
He left school, quickly ducked into the pharmacy on the corner, bought a pack of suppressants, and came back to the gym. Kyle was still curled in the same spot, eyes closed, breathing still ragged. Kenny crept over, quietly dropped the suppressants by his feet, and turned to leave.
The next day, he tucked a new pack into Kyle's locker.
The day after that, he added a few energy bars. He knew damn well that Omega heats drained you, suppressants alone couldn't carry you through.
On the fourth day, as he was tucking things into the locker as usual, a hand shot out from the side and grabbed his wrist.
Kenny flinched. He turned to see Kyle leaning against the wall, eyes a little red-rimmed, but his gaze was steady.
"It was you?"
Kenny scratched the back of his head awkwardly, his raspy voice lowered to barely a whisper: "...Sorry. That day in the gym, I accidentally saw."
Kyle stared at him for a long moment. The grip on Kenny's wrist slowly loosened. He dropped his gaze, voice soft: "...Thank you, Ken."
A few seconds of silence passed. Kyle spoke again, voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible: "...Don't tell Stan."
Kenny looked at him and gave a small nod.
"I won't."
Kyle opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, but in the end, he just turned his face away and blinked hard.
Kenny didn't ask anything more. He tucked the pack of energy bars he hadn't managed to leave back into his pocket and turned to go. He took two steps, then stopped.
"If you need anything… I'm here."
Kyle stood alone in front of his locker, the suppressants clutched tight in his hand.
---
Damn it, I'm an artist, not a writer. But maybe I could throw together some little snippets every now and then? Seems like it could be pretty fun. 😳
It's 6:30 AM and I really should go to sleep 😌💤
