After college I moved back to South Park. There was nothing for me in Denver; I was only there to get my majors. [I didn't make many friends for that very reason.] For me it was easy. I didn't have much, really. Just some clothes, games, and plastic plates. Whatever furniture I had, I just donated or sold. All my belongings fit in one large duffle bag.

For Butters, it was harder. He clung to most of his things, so I usually had to coax him into parting with it. I could understand why. Most of his furniture was very well crafted. Not that cheap crap you get from Ikea, but faux antique pieces that you couldn't tell apart from the real deal unless you had a keen eye for that sort of thing. Anyway, it took much longer for him to settle with the things that were able to fit in the back of my pick-up and I could tell he was a little bummed.

He and I drove the 90 miles from Denver to South Park with me teasing him about his little fits he would pitch about getting rid of his stuff or how much to price it for, and even moving it. I did most of that work though, so I complained double about it. As I did, he just squinted out the window and I think trying to tune me out.

"What if something had fallen on me? Hmmm? What if you lived on the third floor and I fell off and died? Hmmm?"

He grumbled something, probably an insult. Aw. What had happened to the nice, non-insulting, non-grumbling Butters from grade school? And middle school. And high school, for that matter. Hm.

I couldn't think of anything else to tease him about, so I just stayed quiet and turned up the radio. After a while, I could see his hand creeping into my peripheral vision and then I felt his hand stroke the inside of my thigh and then farther in, grazing against me.

"Hey now. I'm sorry, don't distract me."

"Oh, no. You brought it on yourself," he mumbled, unbuttoning my pants with little difficulty. I guess I was just saying "no" for the sake of it. I actually liked to try things like this and come to think of it...I think this was actually on my list of things to do.

I felt the need to bite my tongue when he slipped a cold hand under my shirt before pulling the waistband of my underwear down and somehow managing to tuck it under my testicles before wrapping his fingers around my limp dick and stroking it slowly. Well fuck. He was making this hard to focus on the road. Probably his plot...damn. "Fuck," I hissed when I felt him lean over and kiss my stomach lightly, trailing down to my ever-hardening cock. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and slid my hand down to the small of his back, where I twiddled the fabric of his shirt mindlessly. A gasp escaped me when I felt his mouth around me, warm and wet, a contrast to the cold air in the cab of my truck. All I could to to keep from to keep myself from fucking his throat until he choked and tears came to his eyes was dig my nails into the steering wheel.

All I could feel were lips and tongue ans he kept taking my dick further into his mouth, gagging as the head hit the back of his throat, forcing him to ease back to breathe. Saliva dripped down my cock and some dribbled down to my testicles, tickling what little hair was there. As I began to muse what I would do to him when we got to his house, bit down gently on my shaft, and I grunted, instinctively jerking into his mouth and gagging him again. He had my attention and I'm sure he was aware of it when he was able to find a steady pace to bob his head up and down and suck just right, servicing me with the perfect amount of lips, tongue, and even teeth. My hand slid up his back to grasp at his hair, tugging until I got a sound of complaint. I did all I could do the keep on hand on the wheel and my eyes open.

Damn it, all I wanted to do was close my eyes and fuck his mouth until it was slick enough to bend him over and finish what he started. I groaned when I saw the green sign telling me South Park was in 5 miles.

Fuck. Fuck. He had to stop. I pulled his hair again, harder this time and he groaned, digging his nails into my leg. "Stop...We're almost-...hmm..." He pulled his mouth away, but lingered close enough to run his tongue along the head and along the now precum weeping slit. Damn it, he knew just what to do and how to do it... A few moments passed before he pulled away entirely and fixed my lower garments as well as he could. Sighing, he righted himself and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

More silence. City limits sign. "So what do you think everyone is up to?" he asked casually, glancing over at me. I thought a bit, confused... Suddently, a wave of bitterness hit me as I remembered everything from grade school to graduation. All those summers, winters, all those classes. All those times no one fucking noticed.

"I hope they're off fucking themselves with hot fire pokers," I grumbled. Whatever residual hard-on I had vanished as I tried to keep my anger at bay.

"Wha...what?" Aw. His stammer came back. Cute.

"Oh, just the fact no one noticed. For 13 goddamn years. They didn't fucking notice or care, even if I did it right in front of them!" I tried not to yell, knowing it upset him. Butters became silent and turned away so the only way I could see his face was to squint at the reflection in the passenger window.

"Am I no one?" I heard him mutter. Well fuck. I managed to upset him anyway with my resentment for nearly all of South Park. Pulling up to the stop light gave me the chance to leave over to his side for a little and kiss him on the cheek. "No, you're not no one."

He didn't move or say anything; he just kept staring out the window as I lingered, brushing my lips against his neck in a failing attempt to rectify what I had unknowingly done.

We both flinched as a char honked behind us. I glared at the rearview mirror, gaging if I should flip them off or not. Surprised at who I saw in what kind of vehicle, I gunned it as legally as I could, breezing through the rest of the green lights until I pulled up to his house.

I dropped our bags by the door and looked around the living room. It looked the same. Same pictures, same furniture, same colour paint. His parents hadn't touched anything for 6 years, it looked like...and now they were living it up in Hawii. Jerks. I shook my head and followed Butters upstairs until he went to his old room and shut the door in my face, and from what I could tell, locked it. Figuring it was best to just let him be, I sprawled out in the hallway, trying to fix my back after two and a half hours of driving non-stop.

I let my mind wander and dig up old memories of long ago. I couldn't remember if he mentioned that he cried when it happened or not, but I could figure why if he did each time. I was his best friend then. When we hung out, I never mistreated him. What little I had I would share. I listened, I watched him go through a whole lot of emotional shit, usually about Cartman mentally abusing him. I smiled to myself when I remembered when he still hand that Professor Chaos ego and I tried to do the hero thing with Mysterion. It's not as though I couldn't tell he was Professor Chaos. No one else besides Jimmy stammered like him.

I think at one point when we had been alone, all dressed up in our egos and trying to foil each others' plots, he kissed me when we were on top of that building. I couldln't remember...that whole martyr thing was a blur. Though I wouldn't be surprised if he actually did. I don't think I would mind...

Shit. I felt a pang of guilt when I remembered what I did out of a mix of dissapointment, disgust, and laziness...Right there. In front of those stupid Coon kids. I don't know why I had a gun or where I got it, but I know I used it. I shot myself, knowing I would just wake up in bed with no one recalling or caring that it happened. I remember staying awhile as my Casper-like entity, just to see maybe...maybe they would care this time.

"Oh, he's just playing." one said.

"Attention whore." Cartman said. I watched them all leave. Well, all but Butters. When they closed that basement door, he knelt down beside me, taking off his new, reformed good guy disguise and let himself sob.

"Wake up, Kenny." he whined, hiccuping. He pulled away my my mask, his tears dripping onto my cheeks. It reminded me of the Brothers Grimm version of Repulzel, when the Prince fell into the rosebush and the thorns punctured his eyes and made him go blind. Repunzel found him and cried over him, her tears dripping down her cheeks and onto his eyes, giving him back his sight. ...But in my case, the fallen tears just led to stained cheeks and a crushed heart.

He pulled my head into his lap and stroked my hair, still crying but quieter now. I could hear him humming a song, a lament, rather, that I had taught him years ago. It was too much. I couldn't watch. I had to get back into that dark void so I could wake up. My face was hot and I felt my own tears running down my face. "Oh, Leopold..." I murmured, turning my back. I hoped he wouldn't remember. When I left, he was still humming. Fuck.

"Hey."

His voice pulled me out of those all too vivid memories and I looked towards the now open door.

"Come here." He left the door open and turned back to his bed. I got up, groaning as I felt my back pop, and laid down next to him. He was still upset. I didn't blame him. I felt like a class A jackass... I wrapped my arm around his waist and tucked my fingers into his waistband. "Sorry," I whispered against his neck.

"Forget it and just sleep with me." He pulled a blanket over the both of us after I kicked off my shoes. This was fine anyway, seeing as I was tired. Before I could count to 60, I dropped off into what I began to call "sleep".