I'm so sorry if this sucks. No, not if, it does suck. Okay.
/\\\\\/\\\\\\/\\\\\\/\\\\\\\\/\\\\\\\/\\\\\\\\\/\\\\\\\\\/\\\\
Butters was getting too old for this. Every day after school, he'd come to the same house, trudge up the red carpet stairwell, and make his way into the boy-he-loved-so-much's room.
He would knock softly on the brown wood and wait for a response, one usually along the lines of "BUTTERS YOU BLACK ASSHOLE GET IN HERE.", and the blonde would come in, place his little red bookbag on the grey carpet next to the tubby boy's desk, and hop into his bed.
And for the next hour and a half or so, Butters was nothing but a slab of meat to fill the other's desires. His own regard was tossed aside, but he didn't really care. As long as Eric was here, his heart fluttering against his own back, those pudgy hands grasping his skin, he was happy.
And he'd move a certain way so Eric was comfortable- his own comfort didn't mean much at all. And there was name calling, yeah. Not the names the lithe blonde would prefer. He couldn't tell you how many times he'd hear the fat boy sob out a heart-wrenching "Kahl...", or "Sleazy Jewrat.", and he'd rather not count, anyway.
It was painful, yes, but getting lost in passion was his new favorite thing, and who can quit new habits when they're so, so good?
After the whole debacle would occur(no longer than 45 minutes, Butters comes a little early- Eric, on the other hand, does not), the large boy would roll onto his side and fall into a deep slumber, leaving the blonde inside of his mother's house for a good 30 minutes. He'd shower, as per Ms. Cartman's request, making sure to look at himself in the mirror. He always thought he was a particularly good looking boy, and he wondered why Eric didn't actually like him. He was funny, and quiet, and silly in the all the right ways, and pretty, but no, Eric had to have the most perfect thing that's just out of his reach. Why couldn't he just settle and be happy? No, he couldn't. The whole world just had to revolve around Eric-fucking-Theodore-Cartman.
And after leaving the shower, drying his hair with the blue towel in the towel closet, he'd go back into that purple room, change into his turquoise jacket, and sit on the bed. He'd watched the snoring boy, trailing his skinny white fingers on those large arms and he'd ask himself 'Why do I need him?' But then Eric would wake up, stretching those long, thick arms, rub his eyes and look towards Butters, his face a mix of wonder and annoyance. And then he'd remember. He craves this, this narcisstic, nihilistic, Nazi, sonofabitch fat-ass.
And he'd whisper, "E...Eric?" biting down on that one hangnail on his left pinky.
And the fat-ass's lazy brown eyes would flick towards his counterpart's of blue and yawn. "What, Butters?" annoyance thick in his voice.
"Well, I...I"
"Stop blubbering, Butters."
"I...I love you."
Eric would stop, his mouth agape, his arms weak. Then his face would turn into something one couldn't describe, the closest comparison would maybe be a pissed off Mickey Mouse. He'd backhand the blonde so hard his ear would bleed, but he'd stop, realizing how much he actually needed this boy. Butters would cry, and soon, Eric would too. They'd collapse into each other, their tears wetting each other's skin. They'd sob for what seemed like forever, until the larger boy's eyes would dry, and became bored. He'd stretch and start playing Minecraft on his 360, opting for a live session with Kyle and Stan.
Butters would dry his wet blue eyes with the corner of Eric's comforter, and pick up his stuff. He'd brush the dust or whatever else was on his pants and give the large boy a short wave before leaving the house without so much as a goodbye.
He wasn't Kyle, but he was damn close, and Eric wasn't exactly the loving guy he wanted, but he was damn close now. And somehow, in this fucked up town of South Park, it was okay.
/\\\\\/\\\\/\\\\/\\\\\/\\\\\/\\\\\/\\\\\/\\\\\\\
Okay, I am so sorry for this excuse for a one-shot. I'm so sorry. I just needed to write something, ya know?
It's so gay and faggy and stupid.
I just hardcore ship one-sided Cutters so much it makes me sick to my stomach(Or maybe it's the Chipotle I had for dinner), but yeah!
Okay I'm sorry.
PLEASEDON'TACTUALLYREADTHIS
Okay, toodles,
Zaki-Chan