A/N: Ugh what is this I don't even. Whatever, I'm sort of proud of it. It's based on a song, if you can guess what it is then you're AWESOME and I'll write a request for you. Even though I'll do that with most anyone who gives me a request because I'm idea-deprived.

But, yes, here it is, my second submission to ff net. Over nine thousand thanks to my beta. (:

So when I uploaded this, I got off the computer and my bro got on, I went to bed, and I checked it from my mobile to make sure everything was in order. And then I realized- oh SHIT, I uploaded the wrong file! I'd uploaded the original file instead of the file that was beta'd, so all the mistakes were still in it. So, to any of you who read it before I fixed it, forgive me. D:

And now that we have that out of the way, here's the story, totaling about 1,450 words.

There's a clearing out there on the other side of Stark's, nestled somewhere between all those pines—or whatever kind of trees they are. It's nice and warm out there, being spring and all, but the only thing I've ever seen growing there are weeds. It's a nice, sunshiney little field he and I used to go to so we could escape that prison of a town, if only for a short while.

"C'mon, Stan," he chirps, taking my hand. "We're almost there." I sigh and pretend to whimper. "But I'm so tired." The blond playfully nudges me. I smile, studying him. His face is flushed from the cold, the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose a bright pink. Pixie blue eyes, covered by golden locks of sheer light, are trained forward. He seems intent on bringing me to this place- wherever it is.

Smirking, he turns to me. "What're you looking at, Marsh?" he teases. I grin and gently squeeze his hand, dropping my gaze to the ground. Our footsteps fall into a rhythmic pattern, and they leave tracks behind us—proof that we were here… together.

"Babe?" He motions in front of us as I lift my head. The snow has some kind of luminosity to it that I haven't seen before. I can't put my finger on what it is that makes this snow different than the snow in town—maybe it's the way it glistens in the sunlight, or maybe it's the fact that it's free of any imperfections, of any imprints that keep the landscape from being flawless.

"We're here," Kenny murmurs.

I reach the meadow. The earth is carpeted with yellow-green plants that slightly crunch as I walk.

Then I notice a light, rosy-colored flower blooming at my feet—a rare sight. I bend down to look closer. It's a buttercup.

"Kenny, you've got something on your face," I say, gesturing to his nose. He sits up straight and tries to rub it off. "Is it gone?"

I chuckle. "Nope. Still there, dude."

"Well, what is it?" He asks, attempting to wipe the yellow substance from his nose.

"Uh, to be honest? I've got no clue." He shoots me a glare, but only holds it for a second before chuckling.

"What color is it?"

"It's yellow." An expression of realization pops up on his face. "Oh," he mutters. "I know what it is." I give a questioning look in response. "That buttercup Karen gave me. It left pollen on my nose."

I laugh. "Karen's a sweet sister, isn't she?"

Kenny nods, grinning.

"Alright, Buttercup, it's getting late. We ought to get going."

"Oh my gosh," he moans, "don't call me 'Buttercup,' Stan."

"I am totally going to call you Buttercup now, Kenny."

I grip the stem, tugging at the flower until the roots give way. I brush the dirt off and clasp the plant tightly. The leaves and petals are soft and airy.

The sun is high overhead, but I still feel cold inside. The last time I was here, Kenny had given me the ring. It wasn't much, but it was all he could afford. We'd had plans to run away together after college, but we weren't officially engaged until then. That cold January morning was the day we'd made our plans definite. We decided that the "civil union" Colorado now allowed wasn't good enough. We wanted what other couples had. We wanted to go to New York. Buy a house. Get married. Leave anyone that didn't accept us behind.

But now I have no reason to move.

"'And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love,'" I read, Kenny's head heavy on my lap, "But the greatest of these…" I leave the verse hanging in the air. A sea of blue lures me in as I run my fingers through that messy hair he's always had.

"'… Is love,'" Kenny finishes, sitting up and drawing me in for a kiss. And how can I resist those flawless lips?

I lay my Bible to the side, pulling my hands from their previous place on his shoulders.

"That's my favorite passage, you know," he murmurs, looking up at me through long blonde fringe.

"Wait, if you've already heard it, why did you make me read it?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Because I love the sound of your voice." Kenny smirks. I roll my eyes, but grin. He takes my hands and our eyes meet.

"Stan, I love you," he breathes.

"I love you, too, Buttercup. You know that," I tell him through a wide grin.

"No, Stan—" he glances in the opposite direction for a moment, but turns back to me before finishing. "I love you. I mean it. I love you like—like—I can't even think of a metaphor." Kenny tightens his grip on my hands. "I love you, Stanley Marsh, and I want to marry you."

All I can do is sit there, staring. Kenny must notice the dumbstruck look I have on, because he leans forward and whispers, "Is that a yes, or a no?" He tries to sound cocky, but he can't hide the tremors in his voice.

"How could I pass up an offer like that?" I beam as a thin silver ring finds its way onto my left hand and Kenny plants a light kiss on my cheek.

I sigh, looking down at my hand. That ring hasn't left my finger since the day he put it on.

I have to keep telling myself that this is wrong. That I can't keep wallowing in memories like this; I can't go back to how things were before. I've been up for days; I can't sleep knowing that he's gone, that he's not coming back this time. I get nightmares every time I close my eyes.

Dark water washes over me. My clothes are weights, pulling me down further and further. Icy water pours into my open mouth as I thrash around, desperate for air. My hopeless, silent pleas for oxygen are ignored. I need the shore. I need to rest.

Something calls out to me.

"Stan? Stan, where are you?"

I try and follow the voice. It sounds familiar. It sounds like… like… someone I know.

I haven't slept in three days, and it's all because of him. I'm not sure if I'll ever stop having these dreams.

The petals of the blossom are wilting and falling to the ground. They can't be away from the ground for too long, I guess. They're already starting to turn that dead, brownish hue. I sigh and press it back into the dirt so it won't die—one buttercup is already gone; why should I make myself responsible for causing both of them to leave the earth?

I hold my head in my hands. I'll never be at peace—not for a day of my life. I don't even know if he's in Heaven or Hell, even after all the shit we went through straightening him out. How can I be calm when my Kenny might be in pain?

My arms wildly search for something—anything—to grasp on to, but there's nothing around me but ocean. I take in a breath, sending saltwater down my lungs, which just causes me to spurt up more bubbles.

I want to sleep. I want to find the shoreline, where I can be free of worry, but how can I do that if I can't even find the surface?

"Stan? Stan? Stan—can you hear me?"

I can't place the direction the voice is coming from.

My nightmare is everywhere, and even though the blame is on me, it's all because of him. He had to go and make me fall in love with him. He had to be flawless, charming, and absolutely perfect in every way. It's all because of him… But I can only blame myself.

The nightmare… it's real. I'm drowning without him. I can't make sense of anything with him gone. I can't eat, and I can't sleep without waking up and immediately crying. I just want to lay my head in his arms, just one more time. And I know that I have to find something else to live for in this world… I just don't know what.

I don't care where he is now; he's my angel. He might not have wings, and he might not have a halo, but he's an angel nonetheless. Home was a place I didn't know, and he helped me find it. He showed me what love is like—real love.

My life is forever changed because of Kenny McCormick.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that lovely corn. Reviews are awesome. Please. Please review. Don't make me say it, guys. Okay, I'll say it anyway, because I like making references:

If you would review this, I would be so happy.