four hundred and twenty seconds in Heaven
Note: I have some things coming up, so I'm banning myself from the computer for a while. I wanted to write a little Bunny oneshot before I went, however. Hope ya'll enjoy.
There are four hundred and twenty seconds in seven minutes.
For as long as Kenny could remember, he'd been watching Butters.
Not in a pervy kind of way, no. He didn't stare at Butters's ass like he did with Stan when he thought the other boy wasn't looking, or wonder about Kyle's sex-face, or even contemplate (for a brief, sickening moment) what Cartman would look like in a moment of vulnerability, all his crassness stripped bare. Butters didn't do it for him in that way. He didn't inspire any lewd thoughts. The kid was so innocent and pure-hearted that even associating him with sex seemed wrong somehow, as if Kenny had crossed the line from addict to full-on pedophile.
It all started accidentally. Kenny always sat in the very back row during class. Butters always sat near the front. He never sought the kid out, not consciously at least. Yet inevitably his mind would gloss over, his eyes would wander, and it was Butters he watched, again and again. This happened throughout most of high school. Butters remained cheerfully oblivious while Kenny stared straight through him, wondering why the boy never felt his eyes, like a ghostly touch on the back of his neck.
It was their differences he noticed, really. They had similar features. Both of them were blonde-haired and blue-eyed, average of height. Butters had a gangliness to him, though, as if his body were still trying to catch up to his arms and legs. He fidgeted constantly, shifting his weight from foot to foot, bumping his knuckles anxiously together, licking his lips before he spoke.
Kenny, on the other hand, was still. Languid. He exuded a silent confidence, too self-assured to fidget the way Butters did. Butters's hair was a white honey-blonde, fine as beaten gold, while Kenny's hair was a straggly mess the color of old hay. Butters's eyes were a clear aquamarine, always friendly, always open. Eyes that had everything to give and nothing to hide. Kenny's eyes were as dark as sapphires, equal parts sensual and jaded. They were old eyes, somehow, eyes that would never willingly give up a secret.
He found Butters sort of fascinating, to be honest. He wasn't like anyone Kenny had ever met. He was genuine without avarice, and so, so kind. His was the sort of kindness that expects nothing in return, the sort of kindness that was kind for its own sake. Kenny wasn't sure he liked Butters. He knew how to handle greed and alcoholism, selfishness and debauchery. Those things were all familiar. Butters's innocence was not. It got to the point where Kenny noticed him no matter where they were. In the hallways between class, at the other end of the cafeteria, racing home on his bike after school. It started to piss him off, a little. He wanted to know what it was like to live in that sweet, innocent little head. He wanted to shake him and open his eyes to just how awful things were in the real world.
Kenny watched him until it became unbearable, a tight, confused feeling in his chest. Then he started ignoring him, but somehow that was worse. As much as he noticed Butters, Butters never noticed him. Kenny didn't register as so much as a blip on that kid's radar. And why should he? He could probably count on one hand how many times they'd spoken. Ignoring someone only worked if they cared about you to begin with.
He needed a fucking distraction.
Bebe was hosting her sweet sixteen, and of course he was invited. Kenny liked Bebe a whole lot. He probably would have tried to pursue something with her, but she was much too smart to ever want anything serious with a guy like him. They had an unspoken agreement. Messing around was okay, so long as nobody got their feelings involved. Bebe had held up her end of the agreement perfectly. Kenny had slipped up once or twice, but there was always something to remind him. Bebe had started dating Token, but they still saw each other every once in a while. He was just a dick to ride. Bebe would vehemently disagree if he ever said that to her face, try to convince him they were friends.
But Kenny knew better.
He showed up a little late, a six-pack tucked under his arm. Butters opened the door. He stared into those aquamarine eyes, dumbfounded, hoping his shock didn't show on his face. Butters knocked his knuckles together and smiled nervously.
What are you doing here? Kenny wanted to ask, no, demand. But Butters had just as much right to be here as he did.
The party was nice, but he was barely present. His eyes kept drifting over to Butters mingling through the crowd, nervous but pleasant. Butters, choosing a Coke and refusing to spike it with rum. Butters, laughing at some idiotic thing Clyde said. Butters, watching the other partygoers with those wide, innocent blue eyes, as if he wanted to take down as many details as he could in case he never got another opportunity.
Then someone suggested a round of seven minutes in heaven. Kenny never saw who, but he was immediately turned off by the idea. Until he saw Butters sliding timidly into the circle, looking flushed but determined. Then any thought about how boring this was, how cliche, went right out of his head and he volunteered to play, perhaps a little too eagerly.
He didn't question it, and he didn't want to.
Kenny sat right next to Butters, but even then the boy didn't notice him. Butters's eyes were fixed on the spinning of the bottle, his blush growing deeper and deeper the closer it got to be his turn. Kenny spun first, and got Clyde. They had all decided to play a no-holds-barred game, boy on boy and girl on girl totally allowed. Clyde groaned with despair, but Kenny only rolled his eyes, sighed, grabbed the other boy up by the collar of his shirt and yanked him into the nearest closet.
Seven minutes later Clyde emerged, face as red as his letterman jacket. Kenny only looked bored. He hadn't wanted to give Clyde the wrong impression, so he had kissed the boy as disinterestedly as possible. But Kenny was a very good kisser, so it probably wasn't as disinterested as he thought.
Butters's turn. The kid looked so freaked out Kenny was almost certain he would chicken out at the last minute. But he reached for the bottle anyway, his small hands shaking a little. Kenny could feel a nervous lump in his own stomach. Why was Butters doing this? Was it only because he didn't want to feel left out? Or was there someone he was desperately hoping that bottle would land on? Kenny glanced around the gathered faces of his friends and acquaintances, many of whom were completely drunk by this point.
He had no idea who Butters might have had his eye on, if anyone.
The bottle seemed to spin for an eternity before it slowed, wobbling on its axis. Maybe it was just dumb, random luck, or maybe all those years of staring at the back of Butters's head had finally paid off. The bottle pointed firmly in Kenny's direction. Kenny studied Butters's face, hungry for a reaction. The kid's eyes went wide and his mouth opened slightly, surprise stealing briefly across his face. He went very, very red, then very, very pale. When he glanced up to meet Kenny's eyes, even Butters, sweet, kind Butters, couldn't mask his disappointment.
Disappointment. Kenny felt something inside him break a little, but he only stared right back at Butters, unflinching, until Bebe took them both by the hand and ushered them drunkenly into the closet. The sound of the door shutting behind them was like the slamming of a prison cell.
"Time starts...now!" Bebe shouted, her voice muffled.
The closet was silent, suffocating. Kenny could barely make Butters out in the dimness, but he could see his eyes, big as saucers. Kenny's hands tightened into fists at his sides.
"Butters." Kenny ground out. He made no attempt to hide the bitterness in his tone, every word breaking off like chips of ice. "Who were you hoping to get?"
Butters flinched, fidgeting miserably. The closet was so small Kenny could feel it every time he moved, like the beating of a moth's wing. Every touch burned him up. He felt like he was going to combust.
"Wuh-uh, I…" Butters stammered, his voice barely breaking above a whisper, "Aw gee, Kenny, I wasn't hopin' for...for anybody in particular. I was jus'...I wanted to play is all…"
But that was a lie. A terrible one. Kenny had seen the disappointment in Butters's eyes. And suddenly he couldn't stand it, couldn't stand this, couldn't stand him in all his innocence, trying to lie and failing so badly. He grit his teeth in a poor imitation of a smile and pressed close, crowding Butters up against the wall of the closet. Their bodies were pressed flush together, and everywhere they touched Kenny felt inflamed. He reached up to cradle Butters's chin in one hand, angling his head just so. He could feel Butters's breath puffing across his face, surprise mingled with fear mingled with reluctance. Kenny had never felt like this, a strange, confusing mixture of anger and sadness and arousal. He hadn't wanted it to be like this, but this might be his one and only opportunity to be so close to him.
Kenny kissed him, gently as possible. Butters's lips were baby soft. He kept a count in his head while he kissed him, and when he got to ten he pulled away. Butters had gone as still as a statue, and for once his open, easy expression was impossible to read. Only his eyes could be seen gleaming up at Kenny, bewildered and something else, something Kenny had no name for.
Kenny licked his lips, desperation setting in. He had wanted to end it there, let Butters go without too much damage, but it just wasn't enough. It'll never be enough.
"Can I -" Kenny swallowed, wrapping his free hand around Butters's slim waist, holding him close. "I just...want to kiss you again. Please. Let me kiss you again."
He didn't wait for Butters to respond. If he'd said no, Kenny wouldn't have been able to handle it. This time he crushed his mouth on Butters's as the other boy hitched in surprise.
His lips were so soft. Kenny didn't want to think about what those lips would feel like trailing kisses down his neck or wrapped around his dick. That would come later, literally. Kenny kissed him until it became more than that, a branding, a devouring. Butters had kept his hands firmly at his sides, but Kenny felt them twitching against his chest now, as if Butters was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to fist them in Kenny's shirt or shove him sprawling through the closet door. Kenny took it for encouragement. A small encouragement, but a small one was all he needed.
Kenny broke away, hissing Butters's name. Dove right back in, open-mouthed and hard. Kenny's teeth sink into the other boy's bottom lip, and he pulls possessively before soothing him with his tongue, trailing a wet line down to Butters's neck, where he nuzzles him. Butters smells good, like soap and cinnamon.
"K-Kenny?" Butters whispered, his voice small.
He sounded overwhelmed, and Kenny knew he ought to stop, because this was probably the first time Butters had ever done anything like this, and he deserved to have it be with something he actually liked, but Kenny was too far gone to stop. He just wanted to know what Butters felt like. He wanted to savor this moment, the last he'd ever get. So Kenny nuzzled Butters's neck, and those nuzzles quickly became kisses, unabashedly hot and moist. He leaves trails of saliva on his skin like an explorer planting a flag on foreign land.
He trailed his hands up and down Butters's sides, reveling in the soft scratchiness of his wool sweater. Then, without warning, Kenny yanked one side down, exposing a bit of shoulder, and raked his teeth there before sucking, hard. If I leave a mark, no one will see it.
Butters actually gasps, his hands curling in his greasy blonde hair. Kenny feels the kid give his head one short, sharp tug just this side of painful, and he's forced to stop, so frustrated he could scream.
But as soon as he lifts his head Butters is right there in his face, his expression so sweet and gentle Kenny could cry.
"Kenny? Would it be okay if...if I kissed you?" Butters asks shyly, and it's ridiculous, so ridiculous that Butters felt the need to ask his permission that way when Kenny hadn't even bothered to wait for Butters's okay before practically molesting him.
Kenny doesn't trust himself to speak. He merely nods, and Butters licks his lips before he leans in, timid and inexperienced but wonderful for all that. Kenny feels like he's taking advantage of him, knows he is. Butters's mouth is slightly open as he kisses him and Kenny wastes no time at all thrusting his tongue between those soft, adorable lips. Butters tastes as sweet as a sugar cookie; fuck, Kenny wants to eat him, lay him down and take him over and over again, until they're both cramped and sweaty and exhausted.
But before he can process that, or appreciate the fact that Butters is kissing him back, a little more boldly now, before he can even begin to sort out the scattered and reformed wreckage of his own feelings, it's over. The closet door opens and Butters yanks away from him, breathing hard. The world invades their moment, and just like that Butters is gone, fleeing from the scene as if his hair was on fire amidst drunken cheers.
Kenny watches him go, feeling strangely numb.
He doesn't see Butters any more for the rest of the night. Maybe he ran home in a panic. In fact, he doesn't see Butters until school next Monday. Butters doesn't look up when he enters the room and takes his usual seat at the very back, but just before the lesson starts Kenny catches him glancing in his direction. Their eyes meet for just a second, and then Butters turns away again, the tips of his ears just a little red.
It was a small sign. Kenny grinned. A small one was all he needed.