Summer was what they had. The warm nights of sneaking out and making sure there was a crack in Butters' window so it wouldn't lock. And they made sure he was back home by 5:30 in the morning each day. They wouldn't do anything in particular. Wander the streets, visit the cemetery, usual teenager antics.
Love was a four letter word Butters had convinced himself at a very young age to never believe in but if anything was love this had to be it. And it was comfortable. Scraped knees and belly aching laughter, exhaustion and a slight fear of wondering if the cops would find them and take them back home. Because if that happened he'd be worse than dead.
Well, Kenny was worth it, Butters had decided at the cemetery gates. The crickets were chirping and the birds were already singing their three in the morning laments. Kenny leaned against the iron rail and took his hand in his.
"You're my forget me not." Those were Kenny's favorite flowers.
Butters swore he would never forget those humid June mornings, the beautiful navy blue and indigo sky as the sun began to rise. The stickiness of his skin, or the heat of Kenny's against his. The first time they made love in Butters' basement because outside was just too crude despite being their style.
Like a clap of July heat lightning Kenny was taken from him. May it be his father walking in on them kissing and opening each others' jeans, or Kenny's recklessness, or both.
Butters couldn't visit the cemetery. Not that day. Not since. Because there was one body there that shouldn't be there permanently.
There was someone there that texted him, "I'll see you at midnight" and always arrived right on time with a Cheshire cat grin, brighter than the moon.
Curtains drawn, door shut. House arrest on father's orders. He read old texts to keep him company.
He read the ones from Kenny religiously, as if that was the bible he was meant to take a sacred vow in.
And there it was, like an ear worm. I'll see you at midnight. Over and over again.
He hadn't allowed himself to cry. But the tears came pouring down before he could stop himself. What does one do when they lose their best friend, the one they thought they may have actually been in love with?
He punched a hole into his wall. Actions speak louder than words.
Everywhere Butters looked he saw Kenny. He heard his laugh, he smelled his cheap shampoo. There was no escape. The cemetery gates were calling to him. The locusts screamed outside, drowning out the silence.
Butters couldn't go alone.
He turned his phone on. No one had texted. No one had called. No one cared.
Butters was a forget me not. A flower that withers and dies in the scorching heat of Colorado's July and August. But the heat didn't stick to him anymore. Those summer nights made him adapt.
Love. He loved Kenny. But Kenny was reckless and so was he, and so was what they had. Or at least he had to tell himself that.
September and October came and went. Christmas too. The new year. Perhaps he should try to reach out to someone… desolation was hitting in, and despite still being on house arrest he would be able to talk to someone.
The old texts were no longer company but ghosts haunting him.
March, Kenny's birthday… he would have been nineteen. May… June. June. June 15. The day the world stopped moving, even for just a brief second. The day reckless abandon had cost a life.
Butters stood up from his icy bed and crept to the window. It was still early. Too early for any human soul to be awake. For the first time in a year he peeked outside his window and looked up at the stars; they glittered like glow worms and brought tears to his eyes. He remembered catching a jar of them with Kenny.
A flash of orange caught his eye.
Butters lifted his window and tested the alarm system. It wasn't armed tonight. He breathed a sigh of relief and hopped down to the ground, and trailed behind the figure, dashing west. To the edge of town. Where only people up to no good went.
He saw the iron gates before anything else. Somehow he had forgotten this route. Why did this not seem familiar? Butters touched the black railing and it hummed with life. With warmth. He pulled away and saw something move in the corner of his eye.
A person in orange. Kenny's color. How dare they? Butters clenched his fist and prepared to leave when he saw them pull something. Something blue. Blue flowers. Forget me nots. Kenny's flower.
Butters walked closer.
"I said I'll see you at midnight. I'm sorry I…" Kenny. Kenny is alive. He was crying though. "I'm sorry I haven't been here in so long, I brought these for you." He placed the flowers at the grave, which was decorated with a Hello Kitty doll, various flowers, a memorial wreath, and...
His face was on the headstone.
"I don't know why you did it. I mean I do… but I don't. I'll never know. But… I know you'll be waiting for me, and if I have my way, someday we will meet again. Somehow"
Butters reached for Kenny, but despite his efforts, he could not stop him; he watched the only person he loved walk away from his grave.
He had heard Kenny though. He was willing to wait for Butters, so he would wait for Kenny. Right here, in hopes for the perfect midnight once again.