A/N: Thanks for all the reviews for the prologue! I really appreciate them. Don't worry too much, Cartman's plan will (eventually) backfire like it usually does. Sorry if there are any mistakes for this chapter; I've had a really busy week with shitloads of tests and Homecoming, so I've been trying to write in between all this other crap going on.

Disclaimer: *Craig voice* I don't own South Park, but if I did, I would be soooo happy.

Chapter 1

Kenny didn't have very good luck.

Of course, he knew this already. It was kind of hard to not realize your extreme lack of good fortune when you had been dying on a semi-regular basis since the tender age of 8 years old. But still, there were some days where life just seemed to bludgeon him over the head with its all-encompassing suckitude, just to remind him that his existence wasn't - and could never be - completely normal.

Today was one of those days.

It had all started when a drive-by shooting woke him up at 5 AM (hey, he lived in the ghetto, even if it was just a lower-class neighborhood in a little podunk mountain town). His house actually hadn't been the target, but a few stray bullets had still embedded themselves in Kenny's bedroom wall and shattered what was left of his window. After that significant rush of adrenaline, he did what any normal person would have done: gone into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

There were only two boxes of cereal in the pantry, and both were cheap-ass store brand rip-offs of more famous brands. Kenny, who was definitely not a morning person and so was already a little grumpy, scowled at this as he pulled the box of Meijer Toasted Oats from the shelf. Why couldn't they have just bought some goddamn Cheerios? the teen wondered sourly as he poured it into a green plastic bowl.

He shuffled over to the fridge to get some milk, but as he opened the cap and held the jug above the bowl in 'ready-to-pour' position, he realized that the milk looked like shit and smelled like it, too. A quick glance at the cap confirmed his suspicion: it had expired nearly one month ago. Kenny wrinkled his nose in disgust and dumped it in the trash. He was poor, not desperate, for God's sake.

The house was quiet for once as Kenny sat down in the living room to eat his dry cereal. His parents had celebrated their anniversary last night, so they would probably remain unconscious in a drunken stupor for the next 3 hours. Kevin, meanwhile, had been kicked out for running a crack house in his bedroom and was staying at a friend's place for the next few days, and Karen didn't start school until 8:30.

He turned on the black and white TV and watched the news for awhile. Apparently there had been a ManBearPig sighting in Colorado State Forest, which conveniently coincided with the mysterious disappearance of Al Gore. Kenny laughed at the irony as he finished up his cereal and deposited the empty bowl in the kitchen.

The next hour passed by uneventfully. He brushed his teeth, took a cold shower (they couldn't afford hot water), got dressed, and flipped through some old porn magazines to pass the time. When he finally ran out of things to do, he slipped on his ratty old parka and ventured outside. As usual, the air was cold and crisp as the first rays of dawn peaked out from behind the mountains, illuminating South Park in its murky early morning half-light. Kenny zipped up his coat, crammed his hands into his pockets and gingerly stepped over his sleeping neighbor, who had evidently wrapped himself up in a Confederate flag and passed out on the McCormick's front yard sometime last night. Not that Kenny really minded; since his yard had a reputation as a dumping ground for all the neighborhood alcoholics, he'd had more than one blowsy drunk chick and even a few guys stumble into his bedroom. It all evened out as far as he was concerned.

Although Kenny had a longer trek to the bus stop than the other boys, when their familiar old haunt came into view, there was no one there. He frowned a little at this but otherwise didn't think too much about it. It was quite possible that he was just early, and Stan, Kyle and Cartman would show up in due time.

He leaned against the yellow sign, digging around in his pocket for the lighter and pack of cigarettes he had found while snooping through his brother's underwear drawer (which wasn't as bad as it sounded, honestly). Might as well have a smoke when no one is around to bitch at me about lung cancer, Kenny thought as he attempted to click on the lighter, and because he was having such good luck so far, it was all out of fluid. He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat as he pocketed both the cigarettes and the lighter and slid to the ground.

It was oppressively quiet and boring without his friends. There weren't even any animal sounds coming from the nearby forest because last week, Kyle's Jewfro had morphed into a murderous, tree-uprooting monster and gone on a rampage when the boy tried to get it cut.

Yeah, it didn't really make sense to Kenny either. Talk about unmanageable hair, huh?

By the time the school bus came chugging down the road, there was still no sign of Stan, Kyle and Cartman. Kenny wracked his brain for any explanation of their absence - had they gone on some cross-country expedition and Kenny just didn't get the memo? - but he came up with nothing, so he reluctantly boarded the bus alone.

"Ooh, Kenny! Over here!"

Kenny's head snapped up, hearing his name being called by a familiar voice. Realization dawned on him and he grinned as he made his way down the cluttered aisle toward a boy in a turquoise jacket. Butters was sitting in the middle section of the bus, patting the empty space next to him invitingly and smiling.

"Hey, Butters," Kenny greeted as he sat down. "What's up with the hat?" he asked, pointing at the faded Colorado Rockies cap perching atop Butters' head.

The corners of Butters' mouth turned downward in a frown. "Oh. Um…" he hedged, rubbing his knuckles together embarrassedly. "M-my parents made me wear it. They said that my hair made me look like a… like a fag, so I have to cover it up with this hat." He gestured at the headwear and gave Kenny a wobbly smile.

Kenny blinked, tilting his head to one side. "Did you get your hair cut or something?"

"Nope."

"Did you do anything different with it?"

"No, not that I know of, at least…"

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Kenny prefaced, feeling more confused than ever. "Your parents are punishing you because they just decided that the hairstyle you've had for the last 8 years makes you look like a fag."

Butters paused, chewing on the side of his cheek thoughtfully. "Yeah, that musta been it."

Kenny continued to stare at Butters in shock. Of course, he had known for a while that the Stotches were the most unnecessarily strict people on Earth, but this… this just seemed a little too ridiculous, even by their standards.

With an air of determination, he leaned in close and grabbed the rim of Butters' hat.

"Kenny…" The other boy licked his lips and fidgeted nervously. "Wuh-what are ya doing?"

"Taking off your hat," Kenny replied smartly, and with a light tug, the hat was removed. He grinned and ruffled his friend's newly-exposed mop of blond hair affectionately. "What else would I be doing?" The statement was accompanied by a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, eliciting much stammering and knuckle-smashing from a flustered Butters.

"Just kidding, dude, chill out," Kenny said with a quiet chuckle as he leaned back in his seat. Butters laughed too after a few seconds and also reclined back, looking more content and like his usual self now that the hat was off.

For a few moments they sat in comfortable silence, Kenny absentmindedly tracing the purple letters on the hat and kicking the empty seat in front of them that was usually occupied by Stan and Kyle, while Butters watched the houses as they passed them by and hummed a song under his breath. Suddenly, the metaphorical light bulb went off in Kenny's head.

"Open up your window," Kenny commanded lightly.

Butters half-turned away from the fogged-up window and shot him a look of surprise. "Gee, Kenny, what would ya want me to do that for? You know the bus driver doesn't like us openin' the windows. She'll get real mad at us."

Kenny glanced over pointedly at their she-beast of a bus driver, who currently had her headphones in and was signing a very loud, very obnoxious version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart".

"Somehow, I don't think she's gonna hear us," he said drily, gesticulating in her direction as she launched into the chorus with gusto. Butters' eyes followed the motion and he nodded in understanding.

"Boy, she sure is bad, huh?" he remarked, then unlatched the window and pushed it up until gusts of fresh air were pouring into the sweaty and crowded bus. "Okay. Now what, Kenny?"

"Now this," Kenny replied, and before Butters could react, he pitched forward and shoved the hat through the small opening of the window. Butters yelped in alarm as the baseball cap was whisked away by the wind, only to land on the windshield of the infamous Darryl Weathers' car. The two of them scrambled closer to the window and craned their necks just in time to see the redneck scream and drive his pickup truck into a ditch, where it spontaneously combusted.

A few tense seconds passed by before Kenny dissolved into an uproarious fit of laughter. As soon as the initial shock subsided, Butters also became a helpless, giggling mass. They were getting odd and slightly concerned looks from everyone within a 5-foot radius, but they didn't care. They just continued laughing and laughing and leaning on each other for support.

When he had finally reined in his amusement long enough to speak again in a serious tone, Kenny wiped away a tear of hilarity and rested a gloved hand on Butters' shoulder. "Look, dude, you shouldn't let your parents treat you like that. It's not right! You should be allowed to dress and act however the hell you want without having to worry about them insulting you. You're fine just the way you are."

Butters' mouth was parted slightly, and he was regarding Kenny with such awe and pure, unabashed admiration that the teen in the orange parka had to avert his gaze. He's acting like no one's ever complimented him before, he thought, and a little part of his brain said, Well, maybe he hasn't, or at least, he doesn't get them very often. Kenny resolved to be nicer to Butters more often. God knows the kid needed a self-esteem boost.

"Aw shucks, Kenny," Butters whispered, a warm and genuine smile on his lips. "You're the nicest guy I know."

Kenny's heart melted at the words, and for once, he didn't know what to say. It wasn't very often that anyone complimented him, so on the rare occasion he did get one, he wasn't always sure how to react. Maybe Butters and I are more alike than I thought.

He ended up expressing his gratitude by patting Butters lightly on the shoulder, and when he removed his hand completely, he missed the way Butters pouted slightly at the loss of physical contact.


Cartman had arrived at school early.

He was allowed in about 10 minutes before school officially opened, making up some BS excuse to the janitor about how he needed to get in so he could have a teacher help him with last night's homework. The janitor gave him a suspicious look, knowing very well of Cartman's reputation as a troublemaker, but in the end he merely shrugged and let him in.

"Oh, thank you, sir! My education is so very important to me," Cartman said sweetly, flashing the janitor a winning smile as he strolled through the main doors. "And I must say, you're doing a spectacular job keeping the place clean."

The old custodian just waved the boy away. "Yeah yeah, get along, you brown-nosing little shit," he grumbled. All the coffee in the world couldn't prepare him for having to deal with snarky teenagers at 6:30 AM.

Cartman grinned to himself as he walked down the empty fluorescently-lit hallways. He slid one hand into the pocket of his coat, feeling the comforting bulge of paper that was tucked away in there. The anticipation of what was to come practically had Cartman salivating.

"What are you doing here so early, fatass?"

Broflovski.

The sound of his voice alone was enough to make Cartman's blood boil. He stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned around to face where the voice had come from. Sure enough, Kyle was walking toward him, one eyebrow quirked challengingly, and trailing right behind him was a rather tired-looking Stan. Cartman took a deep, calming breath; he wasn't going to let his good mood get ruined by these two party poopers.

"Why hello, Kahl, I'm just going to Mrs. Titmeister's class," he lied, flashing them a phony pleasant smile. "What brings you and your butt buddy here so early on this lovely Monday morning?"

Kyle glowered at Cartman. "We're not butt buddies, okay, asshole? And you're so full of shit- Mrs. Titmeister's room is all the way on the other side of the building!" he said, gesturing in the general direction of the class.

"Yeah, dude," Stan finally piped up, rubbing at the bags underneath his eyes. "If you're going to lie right to our faces, you should probably try a little harder."

Cartman's bravado fell, briefly giving away to a frown, but he regained it quickly. "Maybe I just wanna take the long way, okay? Jesus Christ, you guys are fuckin' relentless."

"Well, you need the exercise, that's for sure," Kyle said with a wicked grin. Stan chuckled, which turned into a full-out laugh when he saw the angry look on Cartman's flushed face.

"'Ey, fuck you, Jew boy!" he yelled. "I'm not fat, I'm big-boned!"

"You must have some pretty big-ass bones, then," Stan quipped, grinning at Kyle. Both of them broke out in laughter.

Cartman gritted his teeth. "Oh yeah, real funny, you gahs, I've never heard that one before," he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word as he crossed his arms over his protruding chest defensively. "Why are you two assrammers here, anyway?"

"We have actual work to do, unlike you," Kyle answered. "Stan and I spent all night working on our half of an AP English project with Kenny and Butters, and now-"

"Oh, fuckshit, Butters!" Cartman exclaimed, suddenly remembering why he had to come early in the first place. Without further explanation, he turned away from Stan and Kyle and ran down the adjacent hallway, speeding off toward Butters' locker.

Stan glanced at Kyle, eyebrows raised in surprise and confusion. "Um… what the fuck just happened there?" he asked, sliding his fingers under his hat and scratching his jet-black hair.

"I have no idea," he muttered, watching as Cartman rounded the corner and disappeared. Kyle had a sort of sixth sense when it came to Cartman; Stan referred to it as his "bullshit-o-meter", and right now, it was going through the roof. "But knowing Cartman, it's probably something bad."


Just because Butters was naïve didn't mean he was stupid.

Far from it, actually. He was one of the smarter kids in the 11th grade and was taking mostly AP classes. What he lacked in street smarts he made up for in sheer academic excellence, yet despite this, some people considered him dumb simply because he was genuinely kind and innocent. But in an unpredictable town like South Park, those two things didn't get you very far, and they definitely didn't make you popular… And that's why Clyde was now treating Butters like a social leper.

"Hey, Clyde!" Butters called to the brown-haired boy walking a little farther down the hallway. Clyde looked over his shoulder curiously, but when he saw who was addressing him, he ducked his head, flipped up the collar of his red jacket and began walking a little faster. Butters' eyebrows knit together in confusion and mild annoyance. Why was Clyde ignoring him? With a renewed staunchness, he gradually sped up his pace until he was right behind Clyde.

"Hey, Clyde?" he asked again, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. Clyde jumped a little bit, casting furtive glances this way and that. When he decided that no one was watching him, he finally looked Butters in the eye.

"What's up?" he asked in his familiar nasally voice. "Whatever you have to say to me, make it quick, okay?" A gaggle of guys from the football team walked by and gave Clyde an inquisitive look, which seemed to make him even more embarrassed. Butters frowned; so that's how it was. Ever since Clyde had been appointed quarterback of the football team, he had started acting like "a real doucher", in the words of Cartman. Although that seemed awful rude to say, he had to agree.

"Wuh-well," he stammered out, rubbing his knuckles together nervously. "I, uh, was just wonderin' if you've seen Kenny anywhere." Kenny had been strangely quiet on the rest of the bus ride, and when they got to school, the boy had just disappeared without saying where he was going. Butters wanted to make sure he hadn't done anything to make Kenny sore at him.

Clyde blinked slowly. "Ummm, yeah. I saw him by Mr. Balzac's room a little while ago." Then, without saying anything else, he abandoned Butters in favor of catching up with his teammates.

Butters watched him go, feeling disappointment in Clyde more than anger. What had happened to the days of elementary school, when they all got along? Well, to be fair, by 4th grade most of them had either aligned themselves with Craig's gang or Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny, but at least back then none of them had to worry about being "cool". Butters just sighed and shook his head. If he thought about it too much, he'd just get sad, so he decided to turn his thoughts to something that always made him happy: Kenny. Immediately an image of the blonde-haired, parka-wearing boy popped into Butters' mind, and his stomach filled with butterflies just like it always did. Clyde had said that he was by Mr. Balzac's room, which was pretty convenient because Butters' locker was in the same hallway. He smiled at this stroke of luck as he climbed up the stairs to the second floor and carefully navigated through the crowds to reach his locker. First he would put his stuff away, gather his books for next hour, and then he would go find Kenny. Butters had priorities when it came to school, after all.

It wasn't until he had started putting in his locker combination that Butters noticed the envelope sticking partially out of the middle slat. "Oh?" he said to no one in particular, as that was the first thing that had come to mind. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, he pulled it out and opened it up, not noticing Eric Cartman watching him from the other side of the hall. Inside was a piece of scrap notebook paper with writing on it.

'Dear Butters,' it said in messy print, 'I'm writing this to say that I like you. I think you're so cute. Do you want to be my boyfriend? –Kenny.'

For nearly a whole minute, Butters just stood there in front of his locker, staring down at the paper in his hands. Was this real? It looked like Kenny's handwriting, that was for sure; the penmanship in this was really bad, just like Kenny's. But would Kenny really think and say things like this? Butters wasn't so sure about that. One part of him wanted to jump for joy, but the unconfident part of him didn't really believe Kenny liked him that way.

Before he could think about it anymore, he felt a large hand clamping down on his shoulder. Butters suppressed a shocked squeak as he turned around, only to find himself face to face with Cartman.

"Oh! Well, uh, howdy, Eric!" he said, feigning joviality as he quickly hid his hands and the letter behind his back. He didn't like that mischievous look in Cartman's eye; it reminded him of the time that Eric had challenged him to a basketball game and ended it by dunking Butters into the hoop. He still had marks on his ass from trying to pull himself out.

"What'cha got there, Butters?" Cartman said with a smirk, peering around Butters to try and get a glimpse of his hands. Butters gulped nervously.

He managed to stammer out a lie. "I-It's nothing." Just as the words came out of his mouth, Cartman reached out and snatched the letter from Butters' hands. He pretended to be deeply engrossed in the note, nodding and humming to himself as he held the flailing blonde against the locker with one hand.

"Agh-Eric! Please give it back!" Butters pleaded, pitifully attempting to wrest the almighty letter from Cartman's pudgy hands, but to no avail. Gosh, this isn't working very well, he thought to himself. It was about time to channel his inner-Professor Chaos. "Look, Eric, you better give that letter back and let me go or else I'll- oh hey Wendy, hey Token!" And just like that, his attention was completely distracted and his anger dissipated as he smiled and waved at the couple (who, of course, gave him a weird look because he was currently being pinned against the locker).

"Chill the fuck out, I'm done reading," Cartman said at last, releasing Butters from his death grip and handing the letter back to him. "I always knew Kenny would confess."

Butters blinked rapidly at this as he massaged the area of his neck that Cartman had been using as a human stress ball. "Wait… whaddaya mean you always knew?" he asked, surprised.

"Kenny has been in love with you for quite some time," Cartman explained solemnly. "He was just too chickenshit to admit it."

"Really?" Butters asked, unable to hide the hopefulness in his voice. "H-how d'ya know that?"

"Psht, it's obvious," Cartman said, waving his hand airily. "With the kind of tents he's been pitching around you I'm surprised he was able to keep his piss-poor grubby hands to himself for so long. It was only a matter of time before he succumbed to his gayness and desperate street rat tendencies."

All this newfound information was overwhelming Butters. Sure, he had always held on to the little scrap of hope that Kenny might return his feelings, but to hear that Kenny actually had obvious feelings for him that he'd been harboring for quite some time…? That was downright mindblowing.

How had he not noticed it, though? Butters thought back to all the times where him and Kenny had hung out at Stark's Pond, or gone on crazy adventures with Stan, Kyle and Cartman, or just done homework together. Sometimes there would be moments where he could've sworn that Kenny looked at him the same way he was sure he looked at Kenny, or moments where it seemed like Kenny was touching him more than one should in a platonic relationship, but then again, it was a well-known fact that Kenny McCormick had absolutely no personal bubble whatsoever and took every opportunity to cop a feel, regardless of gender.

"Aw, geez," Butters said, practically shaking with happiness and excitement. He glanced at the letter with such reverence it might as well have been a page from the Bible and then looked back up at Cartman, his eyes shining. "Are you really sure, Eric? 'Cause I hope so."

Cartman's hands, hanging limply at his sides, balled into fists, and a hiss of frustration seeped through his clenched teeth. It looked to Butters like he was starting to get real annoyed, and he flinched as Cartman grabbed his shoulders. "Butters, would I lie to you?"

Deadpan.

"Wuh-well, yeah, actually."

"Goddammit!" Cartman growled, finally losing his patience. He took his hands off the shorter boy's shoulder and ran them through his brown hair in an attempt to calm himself down again. "Butters, you're breaking my balls, dude. I'm not lying. You've got the proof in your hands."

Butters considered this for a moment, his gaze once again flicking between the letter and the obese teenager in front of him. Cartman had a point there. "You're right," he decided finally, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Of course I am, Butters, I'm a motherfucking genius," Cartman proudly stated as if it was the most obvious truth in the world. Before Butters could object or agree, the warning bell rang, promptly signaling to the students that it was time they got their things together and went to class. "Now go find Kenny and shove your goddamn tongue down his throat already," were Cartman's final orders as he readjusted his backpack and joined the throngs of people heading to their respective classrooms.

For a moment, Butters just stood there, unconsciously hugging the letter to his chest and blushing at Cartman's suggestion. But then his own sixth sense - the one that told him "uh oh, you're gonna get grounded if you don't hurry up, mister!" - kicked in and he quickly gathered up the books he needed for his AP Bio class.

Once had gotten his necessary materials together, he took off down the hallways, nervously glancing up at every digital wall-clock he passed. He noted the time, 7:12, just as he rounded the corner and found himself about 10 feet away from Kenny.

He was walking toward him, sticking out like a sore thumb in his bright orange parka. When his blue-eyed gaze fell upon Butters, a barely-visible smile poked out from his hood, and he lifted his hand in a friendly wave.

"Hey, dude!" was Kenny's muffled greeting.

The butterflies in Butters' stomach fluttered rapidly at the sight of his crush - his crush who, apparently, returned his feelings. This knowledge, combined with the sensation in his belly, was what drove Butters to make his next impulsive decision.

The distance between them closed quickly and before Kenny even had time to react, Butters was tugging on the loose orange fabric of the front of his parka and leaning in to kiss him lightly on the mouth. It was a very chaste kiss, their lips hardly brushing, but it was enough to leave Kenny shocked and Butters red-faced.

Butters averted his gaze in mild embarrassment and scuffed his shoe against the floor. "I'll see ya later, Kenny!" he said with a glowing smile as he shuffled past, completely missing the dumbfounded expression on the other boy's face.