Author's Note: Sorry for being such a deadling! Bah. Anyway, I'm here now, with the new chapter! I've got the rest of the fic mostly planned out…and I've gotta say that it's going in directions I hadn't initially intended. I never intended for this to be so long either O.o;; Well, you get to watch Butters evolve from a Melvin to having some balls, so it's a good thing. Umm, John Cusack belongs to himself, and "Pictures of You" belongs to The Cure. All previous disclaimers still apply. R&R pleez!

Bully

Chapter Eleven

by MT Yami

It wasn't until they had all cuddled into their sleeping bags, spread out in Bebe's living room, that Butters at last felt like talking. The chick flick the girls had rented, "Must Love Dogs," was cute and funny, but for some reason, not even John Cusack could bring Butters out of his melancholy.

"I-I caught C-cartman making out with Kenny last night," he blurted finally, hiding his face partially under the flap of his sleeping bag.

Bebe sat straight up, curls flying and her expression aghast. "What the hell?"

"Well, that's certainly surprising." Wendy quirked an eyebrow as she looked over from braiding Rebecca's hair. "How'd this happen?"

The blond boy looked uncertainly down at his hands, which were starting to wring. "I-I…dunno. I just walked in on them at K-kenny's house and t-then stormed right back out."

"No explanation?"

Bebe scoffed at Wendy's interjection. "Would you have stayed for an explanation?"

"Probably not." The dark-haired girl shrugged. "Not to change the subject, but it doesn't matter for me anyway. I'm dumping Stan."

"What?!" It was Butters and Bebe's turn to gape at Wendy, who looked fairly nonchalant despite.

"I mean, I'm going to Stanford in the fall." She smiled to herself, seeing Bebe's excited grin. "Yeah, I got my acceptance letter last night. It's the real deal!"

"Wow, I'm so happy for you!" Butters smiled an empty smile, as her announcement reminded him that he was still waiting on his letter from his dance school of choice, the University of California, Santa Barbara. Fucking college, so stressful. "When are you going to dump him, though?"

"Not before prom!" Bebe and Wendy chorused, exchanging knowing looks.

The blonde girl patted her best friend on the back and then turned back to Butters. "Still, doesn't solve your problem. I don't really know what to say…I didn't know Cartman and Kenny were like that." She crossed her fingers and frowned. "I thought Kenny was into girls…and at least if he was gay, he'd be, you know…the guy."

Wendy couldn't help herself from laughing. "Yeah, not like Cartman would ever consent to being the girl."

"Frankly, I didn't think they had it in them to be so mean." Butters sighed heavily. "Out of all the pranks the guys have played on me throughout the years…this one trumps them all for sure." He bit his lip, willing the tears away. "You know? It really sucks. I was almost positive that…"

"Aww, don't cry, honey." Bebe gathered him into her arms as he began to sob. The girls on the other side of the room looked over concernedly; Annie looked up from her iPhone for the first time that night, Heidi draped over her shoulder.

"What do I do? Do I just leave it alone? Do I get back at him? How do I get back at him? He doesn't even care!" Butters wailed.

"Make him jealous?" Bebe offered. Wendy shot her a look. "What? People do it all the time to get their exes back."

Annie popped a sour gummy worm into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "She's got a point. It always seems to work."

"In the movies!" Wendy threw up her hands in exasperation. "Come on guys, don't we have any better ideas?"

"What about that guy you saw at Chrome?" Suddenly, Bebe's blue eyes lit up mischievously. "Cartman seemed pretty damn angry when he saw you with him."

Butters' mouth opened, but made no sound. It seemed like a good idea to him at first, but it wasn't going to change the fact that Cartman and Kenny had duped him, and duped him bad.

The raven-haired girl shook her head and echoed his thoughts. "How is that going to make any bit of a difference if Cartman is seeing Kenny anyway?"

Bebe held up a finger. "Okay, seriously, this works amazingly well. No guy likes seeing their girl, ex or not, with another guy. It's like, automatically if you have sex, you become theirs and nobody else's, even if they're seeing someone new."

"Well, that won't work, will it, because Butters didn't…oh no, Butters, you did, didn't you." Wendy's face fell as the blond nodded sheepishly. "That makes this ten times more difficult!"

Rebecca shrugged. "All the more reason Butters should go out with that other guy."

"Wait, wait, Bradley is my friend. My accountabilibuddy. That would be so unfair to him—"

Heidi cut him off, chuckling. "All's fair in love and war!"

"What school does he go to anyway?" Wendy frowned. "There wouldn't be a whole lot of point to it if Cartman never saw you guys around."

"North Park High School."

Bebe barked, "Perfect!" and hugged Butters. "This is genius!"

"I still don't know…" Wendy crossed her arms and sighed. "But it might be worth trying."

"But then what happens?" The troubled expression never left Butters' face. "So I make Cartman jealous. How does that change what he and Kenny did?"

"It doesn't. But then you're in control of the situation: the sick bastard realizes that he wants you, dumps Kenny's ass, chases you even though you will never take him back. Right?"

"Uh huh…"

"It only works if you don't take him back. You let him in, and he wins again. And I am tired of Cartman winning."

The buxom blonde nodded in agreement. "He needs to be taught a lesson, and who better than you to do it?"

"Hamburgers, I'ah guess so."

Butters sighed and curled up into his sleeping bag, unable to process any more. Wendy nodded, understanding, and changed the subject to the fact that prom was only a few months away—clearly, this was little time to be prepared. In excited response, the girls continued to chatter amongst themselves, echoing in his ears as the petite boy fell into a troubled slumber.

--

"So you fucked up. No big surprise." Stan reached over and took a deep drag of Cartman's joint, shaking his head. "So now what?"

"Fuck if I know." Cartman shrugged. "Not a whole lot I can do. I can't even talk to Kenneh about it, the goddamned fag."

"Where is he, anyway?" Kyle was curled up on the armchair opposite them, tugging at the pieces of Jewfro that had strayed beyond his ushanka. "I still can't believe this happened. I can't believe all you guys are fags."

"I'm not a fag! I'm just trying to help!" Stan protested. "Anyway, I'm the only one with a girlfriend, remember?"

Cartman grew red and yelped defensively, "You goddamn Jew! At least I'm not humping ugly girls like you, Butters is gor—oh fuck, I'm so whipped." He covered his face with his massive hands and shook his head vigorously.

"Okay, okay, this is not a time to be ragging on each other. We need to figure out how we can get Kenny over Cartman and convince Butters that it was all Kenny's fault."

"Well, shit. Let's think about that. How about we dangle some new bait in front of Kenny? That always works." Kyle crossed his arms and rolled his eyes sarcastically. "I mean, how hard can it be? Let's just find someone who's as big of an asshole and as close of a friend…oh no. Aw, come on! Naw, guys, naw! I was only kidding!"

The other two boys had turned to look at Kyle very expectantly, and the redhead shook his head wildly. "I am not the bait!"

"Come of think of it, you're kind of like a skinny version of Cartman, Kylie-poo." Stan chuckled. "You know, you're sharp-tongued, stubborn, maybe not anti-Semitic but you do a good job of being anti-obese. So unless Kenny gets off on Cartman's flab, you're golden."

"I am not obese!" Cartman growled. "Other than that, maybe I agree with you, Stan."

Kyle ripped his ushanka off and threw it to the ground, green eyes blazing. "Guys, I am not a fag, goddammit!"

"Not even for a couple days, so Cartman can sort out his deal with Butters?"

"Especially not for that fatass!"

Stan tapped a finger on his chin. "Well, if Kyle isn't going to comply with the plan, then…aww, Cartman, I'm sorry, but it's time to go à la John Cusack circa Say Anything…"

"Man, anything but that!" Kyle crinkled his substantial nose and shook his head again. "That almost makes me want to agree to your original plan. I mean, Cartman…I hate you, but that's pretty whipped."

Cartman's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck are you gahyz talking about?"

"You never saw Say Anything…?"

"Fuck no, that's a chick flick, isn't it?"

Stan shrugged. "I saw it with Wendy, like a long time ago. Dunno. She likes John Cusack."

"And you, Kahyle?"

Kyle turned bright red to match his glorious Jew-curls. "I like John Cusack, okay? He's a genius of an actor."

"Riiight." Cartman shook his head. "Well, gahyz, it looks like I don't have much of a choice either way. What do I need to do?"

Stan beckoned for Cartman to follow him out of his room. "We're going to need to start with a boombox and a bad Peter Gabriel song…"

--

The next night, Butters decided that it was time to call Bradley.

To Butters' surprise, the girls had done all the research for him: looked up Bradley's home phone from the North Park directory and got his cell number from a girl Bebe knew from cheerleading camp that went to NPHS, both lovingly scribbled on a scented piece of pink stationary. Despite all that, Butters felt a lot like puking.

He picked up his Hello Kitty-decorated cell phone, swallowing hard, and began to dial Bradley's cell.

One ring, and then two.

"Hello?"

Butters froze and felt words that were not his own leave his mouth. "H-hello? B-Bradley? It's B-Butters."

There was a loud whoop coming from the other end of the line, and Butters didn't know if he was happy or scared.

"Butters! Hey! Really good to hear from you, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the other night…too bad we got interrupted and all…so what's up with you?"

"Well, you know, about the other night…I'ah was thinking we could, you know, shucks, we could—"

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you

That I almost believe that they're real

I've been living so long with my pictures of you

That I almost believe that the pictures are

All I can feel



The blond was interrupted mid-sentence by the sudden blasting of "Pictures of You" by The Cure coming through his open window. He covered the mouthpiece of the phone and rushed to the sill, eyebrows furrowed.

"Son of a biscuit."

Remembering
you standing quiet in the rain

As I ran to your heart to be near

And we kissed as the sky fell in

Holding you close

How I always held close in your fear

Remembering
you running soft through the night

You were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow

And screamed at the make-believe, screamed at the sky

You finally found all your courage

To let it all go

Cartman stood right in front of his truck, holding a totally retro boombox over his head. He hadn't agreed to stoop down as low as Peter Gabriel, so he had settled on a sappy The Cure song instead. Personally, he found the song gay enough to make Liberace cringe, but it was probably something Butters would respond to.

He hoped.

Remembering
you fallen into my arms

Crying for the death of your heart

You were stone white, so delicate

Lost in the cold

You were always so lost in the dark

Remembering
you, how you used to be

Slow drowned, you were angels

So much more than everything

Hold for the last time then slip away quietly

Open my eyes,
but I never see anything


Butters stood at the windowsill, aghast at the sight of the behemoth, who had hefted a rather old boombox over his head and was blasting a sappy love song with a look of mixed determination and embarrassment. It tugged at the corners of the blond's lips, but Bradley's questioning voice on the line kept him aware of the situation at hand. But still, for someone like Cartman to pull a John Cusack was horribly touching, in a perverse sort of way.

He allowed the smile to form, and said absently to Bradley,

"Hang on. I'ahll call you back."

If only I'd thought of the right words

I could have held on to your heart

If only I'd thought of the right words

I wouldn't be breaking apart

All my pictures of you


Looking so long at these pictures of you

But I never hold on to your heart

Looking so long for the words to be true

But always just breaking apart

My pictures of you



Cartman's face lit up at the sight of Butters at the window, and hoisted the boombox even higher.

"Do you believe me now? I mean, I even wore this supa gay trench coat for you, not to mention that this is the gayest song ever!" he yelled over the music. "Can I come up? Throw down the key."

Butters leaned over the windowsill, smiling sweetly. He clutched something in his hand, and Cartman's grin grew even wider.

"…OW! Goddammit, Butters! What was that for?"

The behemoth rubbed what was going to be a fist-sized bruise on his head. Since when did the little pussy have such good aim? The culprit of the blow, a sizeable collectible moonrock, lay on the ground beside him. Cartman groaned aloud.

"Nice try, asshole! Now I'm going to tell everyone that you and your cousin touched wieners!"

There was nothing in the world

That I ever wanted more

Than to feel you deep in my heart

There was nothing in the world

That I ever wanted more

Than to never feel the breaking apart

All my pictures of you

With that, Butters slammed the windows shut. Cartman threw the boombox to the ground angrily.

"Aw, fuck."