disclaim ;; I do not own South Park. This is a Bunny story. It is gay.
random ;; Story for Dylan. Just a quick drabble of our favorite pairing.
Feet shuffling, the blonde boy skirts around the iron peg gates into the weed-choked section of the local graveyard. Again, the third time this week. Like he's the only one who notices. Kyle keeps telling him that he's imagining things. Cartman - oh, Cartman had a few choice words, but when doesn't he? And then there was Stan, who had a rational explanation for everything. Even after seeing it for himself. But still, no one seems to notice. No one acts any differently. Like this happens all the time - and it does, but this should be something everyone notices.
No one, except Leopold Stotch, does notice.
Fidgeting as he comes closer, he bites his lip. Maybe he'll ask for a cigarette this time - taste it, see what its like. The thought is immediately out of his head as soon as it passes, because he's just not the type and every time Kenny does smoke around him he ends up coughing and his eyes get watery. Just not something he wants to know about.
The grave stone is fresh among the overgrown grass. The date is clearly marked, the fourteenth of September, five days ago. No one questions it, no one notices. He's there one day and he's gone the next and no one, not a single soul in all of South Park, wonders where he is. Butters swallows hard, standing at the foot of the grave. The ground is freshly turned, as if someone had, by chance been here to bury someone, or dig them up. The thought sends a chill down the teen's spine and he utters a small whimper.
Regardless of the gravedigging creeps in his thoughts, he sits at the edge of the freshly turned soil and waits. This is the hardest part. He's a fidgety, impatient person, and when his parents think he's going to Kyle's but he's really sitting in the graveyard, he has no idea how much trouble he's going to find himself in. Over the years, Linda and Steven have grown somewhat more lenient. The parenting spectaculars gave Butters the opportunity to step out of line once or twice. When he stepped too far, the punishment was vague, but ultimately terrifying.
After five days of Kenny not coming back, Butters could take some risks.
"No one even knows," he mutters to himself. "It doesn't make any sense. I-I never asked for any of this." It feels strange, talking to himself at a grave, so he changes his tactics. He's never talked to Kenny's grave before. He's never tried that, he's just sat there for a few hours, and every time he's fallen asleep and Kenny has woken him up with a grin and walked him home. This time, he wants to stay awake.
"Y... You're my best friend, Kenny. Ah, I know that I'm a loser and everybody kinda hates me, but..." there is a pause in his voice, as he searches for the right words, but he doesn't say anything for a long moment. Maybe his flighty mind gets the better of him, because he sighs and sets his chin in his hands. "Y'know, Stan says I'm making things up for attention." The blonde teen shakes his head. "I don't want the attention,"he says, shaking his head harder. "I-I just want everyone to s-see what I do."
Maybe he wants someone to tell him he's not crazy, which is what he's been thinking for the last few days now that so many people are telling him they don't see Kenny die. When Butters showed Kyle and Stan the gravestone, the pair said it must belong to a different Kenny McCormick. Right, because that happens all the time. When Butters told them that Kenny died after getting hit by a bus, the boys - and everyone involved with the bus accident - didn't recall a single thing and thought he was crazy. So he dropped it because he didn't want to be sent off to the looney bin.
Eventually, he runs out of words, and, sitting at the foot of the grave, he simply stares at the name and repeats it in his head a few dozen times before he realizes what time it is. Scrambling to his feet, he takes one more look at the grave.
"Sorry Kenny, I can't stay here forever, my m-mom is gonna ground me. But I'll be back tomorrow night, okay?" He feels better for saying it. Picking his way back through the overgrown section of the cemetery, back the way he had come, he doesn't look at any of the other grave markers. He wonders when Kenny will come back. He always does, right? This has been going on for as long as Butters can remember. This can't be the sudden one time when death is forever.
He finds himself sniffling as he steps out of the gates. His snuffles are so loud that, as he's wiping his nose across his sleeve, the arms around him startle him because he hadn't heard a single thing. Not that Butters is a particularly observant teenager, he should have heard someone else stepping on the fall leaves. Squeaking in surprise, the teen tries to turn around to see his assailant, but a friendly peck on his cheek and a few effective words put him at ease.
"I need to walk you home, Buttercup, don't wander off without me," Kenny purrs, pressing his face against Butters' cheek as he hugs the smaller teen.
"You're back!"
"Don't seem so surprised," Kenny says in dismissal. He kisses Butters on the lips - a delicate, teasing peck. "Damien wanted to ... never mind. Lets get you home."
Butters slips his hand into Kenny's and allows the taller teenager to lead him from the graveyard. Every time they leave, it is like a new start, a new couple fresh from their first date. Butters is getting used to the idea that Kenny wont always be there, but when he is, the world is right where it needs to be.