Applause tore up the opera house, bouncing against the walls until it sounded like everyone was inside a massive bell. And Butters was behind it all, he deserved every clap and holler of delight directed at him.
He stood sheepishly in the center of a stage, blushing heavily as he held a bundle of lilacs in the crook of his bent arm. The purple hues of the fragrant flowers went with the violet glitter around his eyes, which shone even greater with the sheen of sweat upon his skin.
Waving with his spare hand, he met a set of brown eyes. Mouthing "Thank you" as he sent them a grateful grin.
Eric Cartman was clapping the loudest in the entirety of the building, proud grin stretched across his face as he stood from his position. Three lines back from the stage, but placed dead center in the row. Despite all of his earlier complaints, he was glad he went to the blonde's dance recital. Though he'd never tell Butters that...
...he'd never been more embarrassed in his life before.
Kyle sighed, unable to focus on his novel. Disposing The Picture Of Dorian Gray to his nightstand did little to quell his feverish thoughts, instead they seemed to worsen without anything to pretend to fixate on. Unfortunately they turned back to the events that caused him such discomfort.
Yesterday, shortly after the "kiss"
The door to the Cohen household slowly creaked open, thanks to the key that Abigail hung around her neck.
"After you" Abigail said with a smile, sweeping Kyle forward with a steady hand. And hesitantly he complied, walking into a darkened home with a cautious demeanor.
Seemingly the house was smaller than his own, though the contents appeared far more expensive. Everything was clean and precise, with fancy artwork painted by people with long and foreign names that Kyle knew absolutely nothing about. Immediately he felt lackluster in this house, and wasn't sure how to take everything in.
Abigail brushed past him, heading towards the kitchen attached to the living room.
"Go ahead and sit down while I go get us drinks."
"Uh, sure." Kyle eyed the furniture one last time before he seated himself on the couch. The only sounds came from the grandfather clock ticking at the end of the entry way and Abigail rummaging through the refrigerator.
"What do you want, beer?"
Kyle cleared his throat, glancing at the pale arm with a sweating can in its grip. He shook his head, but then swiftly realized that Abigail couldn't see him.
"N-no, I'm good. Do you have a Pepsi or some water?"
"We have some ginger-ale and coke."
"Ginger-ale is fine." Kyle mumbled, waiting until he heard the sound of Abigail's footsteps to look away from the sculpture in the corner of the room. He wasn't sure what it was, it looked like a thick piece of metal twisted into a pretzel and spray painted gold and orange.
Abigail held a beer in her hand, and a ginger-ale in the other. Quickly Kyle accepted his drink, watching as the other took a seat beside him and popped the tab on her's.
Quickly she gulped down the alcohol, uncaring of her current company.
"So..." Kyle started, after deciding to not comment on the underage drinking, "are your parents around?"
Breathlessly Abigail responded after she set her can upon the coffee table, "No, it's just the two of us..."
Kyle hummed, focusing on bringing the cool metal to his forehead until he noticed the pause in the other's words. He turned to her with a confused deliberation.
The smile directed at him had a frown gracing his face, "Are they going to be gone long or ar-" Words were knocked from his mouth as he was pushed, landing with a "Oof" as he sprawled on the couch. The force of the movement had the can slipping from his grip and falling onto the ground, eventually rolling away to some unknown destination.
Abigail crawled over him until she straddled his hips and planted two hands on either side of his head.
"We'll be alone for a while."
"I...what are..." Kyle swallowed the lump in his throat, widened eyes darting away from the butterscotch staring into his own.
A smirk pulled on the corners of Abigail's lips, "I think you know exactly what I'm doing."
"I'm flattered, but I'm, uh..." Kyle writhed under the other's body, trying to shift the weight above him. Just as he found himself beginning to get over the shock of the situation, glossy lips were forced against his own.
Kyle made a muffled sound of dislike, hands gripping the arms caging him against the sofa. He tilted his head to the side just as Abigail attempted to deepen the kiss, lips feeling slimy and unpleasant.
"Wait!" Kyle gasped. He tried to collect his thoughts, but his date wasn't undeterred, lips already latching on the side of his neck.
He shuttered at the feeling, completely different than his time with Eric. Just as the image of the chunky brunette entered his thoughts once again, he felt a hand clumsily attempting to unbutton and unzip his pants.
At that moment he snapped, and with his heart pounding savagely in his ears, Kyle gripped Abigail's shoulders and shoved her off of him. He scrambled to his feet, huffing as he found himself staring at a dazed teenage girl.
The only words he found himself able to say were, "I-I can't." Ignoring the calls sent after him, Kyle ran from the house, door slammed shut. Panting as he sped along the sidewalk, the only thing that reassured him that he hadn't imagined the event was the taste of Abigail's mouth which was cheap beer and cherry chap-stick on his tongue. Without even thinking he spat on the ground.
Around the same time this had occurred, Eric had gotten a phone call.
"Hello?" he sighed, walking beside Tweek as they headed to the twitchy blonde's house. It was the least he could do after the whole fact that he had cried, like a fucking bitch in front of everyone.
"Hey buddy, it's your best friend! Just wanted to remind you that I have my recital tonight."
"Oh...that."
"Remember? I'm playing a flower in Alice's garden?"
"Yeah I know, you're playing a pansy."
Butters scoffed, "You mean lily of the valley?"
"That's what I said. Look, Butters I-"
Butters voice swiftly cut his off. "Can I just say how lucky I am to have a friend like you, pal? 'Cause I'm really glad you're keeping your promise and coming tonight."
"Uhh..." Eric glanced to Tweek who rose a brow at his side of the conversation.
"Now what did you want to say?"
Eric coughed loudly before he finally said, "That I know you'll be the best flower out there."
"Thanks! Now I gotta go and practice some more. See you at 7!"
"Can't wait," Eric grumbled and hung up. His gaze wandered over to the snickering form beside him, "find something fucking funny?"
Tweek snorted, "J-just that you go to such great lengths to p-pretend that you don't care about your friends."
Eric rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well if you excuse me I have to pick my suit for some fruity dancing. Speaking of which..."
"I, uh, already got plans."
"Figures." Eric cursed under his breath, he clasped Tweek's shoulder before they went their separate ways.
Later that night, at 7 Pm
The theatre hall was just beginning to fill up, ushers busy as they showed expectant friends and family members to their seats.
Eric glanced down to his ticket, checking his seat number for an upteempth time. And like all of those times before, it was still C6.
Paying no mind to the people behind him trying to walk around, Eric lumbered down the aisle until he caught sight of a sheet of paper taped to a chair's armrest, which bore his letter.
He slid within the row, pleased that no one else had seated themselves in it as he side-stepped to his seat. A huff of relief escaped his lips as he sat down, taking his time to survey the auditorium.
The light fixtures above him were blindingly bright, casting such a glow that it made it easy to study the details of the decorations. Along the sides of the walls, great ribbons were strung, held loosely together with bouquets of vibrant flowers. Assuredly, Eric realized they were fake. This town was far too cheap to spend money on high quality flowers from a florist.
The lip of the stage was garnished with moss and vines that drooped off the sides, carrying open petaled flowers that were dusted with golden glitter. Nestled within the moss were odd bits and ends, upturned teacups, chocolates wrapped in silver paper, pocket watches, thick envelopes, and sprawling creamy papers. Nothing else was shown of the stage, heavy navy curtains were drawn to a close, leaving the audience curious.
All Eric cared about was the fans in the corners of the hall, each whirring loudly as they fought against the heat that a hundred some odd people generated as they sat pressed against one another.
Rats sitting in the dark, Eric thought with a grimace. He popped the top buttons of his white dress shirt, offhandedly waving his ticket towards himself in an pitiful attempt to remain cool.
The lights dimmed, and it took a second for Eric's eyes to adjust to the change. A clicking sound of gears being wound filled the hall, reminiscent of a music box. The curtains started to recede, revealing the rest of the stage.
Lights shaped into the form of botanical bulbs were hung from the awning that expanded across, each differing in shades of colours. The background was painted by hand, with fluffy clouds on a pink lemonade sky.
A flute whistled through the air, accompanied by a xylophone and cello as the first dancer stepped into view. From the tall weeds that cushioned each side of the stage before parting, a girl dressed as a peony drifted into the centre.
With a pause, she graceful dipped her knees as she rose her hands above her head.
And just like that the recital begun, something that Eric found himself sitting through hours of until Butters actually came on stage.
Presently, 10:30 Pm
Patiently a tall and hefty brunette waited to the side of the dressing rooms, away from the equally sweaty dancers and guests that drifted to and fro. After what seemed a century, Butters emerged, still holding his lilacs.
Quickly the two spotted each other, with Butters eager to hug Eric.
"Thanks for coming! I just knew you'd show!"
"Yeah okay," Eric awkwardly patted him on the back, "just...you're getting sweat all on me."
"Oops, sorry!" Butters said with a giggle, pulling away.
"You better be, you reek." Which wasn't true, he still smelt of the flowers he played. Not only was he dressed like the tiny bell shaped plants, but smelt of their fragrant essence, something crisp and sweet. The pair fell into an easy harmony and walked beside one another, mindful of the crowd that swarmed in the concert hall before they spilled from the building's insides and into the parking lot.
As they wandered a seemingly endless corridor, partially because Butters stopped every few seconds to chat with some other person, Eric couldn't ignore the small bundle protruding from his back pocket.
It was a gift Eric had saved up for. He never had a real friend before, which made Butters so special. And he planned on keeping him. Far too quickly for Eric to gather his nerves, they reached the exit. Opening the door revealed the night sky, though it was oppressive by its pitch black self, inside a swirling profusion of stars bled onto the heavenward canvas with a multitude of twinkling lights and unfathomable colours.
The sight of it was intoxicating, and Eric greedily attempted to drink it all up with his eyes. As it was a far more reasonable task than attempting to give Butters a gift.
"Hey, buddy?"
Disheartened, Eric lowered his gaping to Butters, who stood a few feet away from him. Obviously he was heading to the parking lot where his parents were waiting, unlike Eric who would hop on the night bus.
This was his chance, and taking a large breath to steel his nerves, Eric closed the space between them and withdrew the small box from his person. Wordlessly he stuffed it into his confused friend's hand before he spun on his heel, and quickly walked to his bus stop, not looking around even at the calls directed at him.
Butters frowned at the sight of Cartman's form disappearing, swallowed by a veil of shadows. He dropped his gaze to the object in his loosely clenched hand, opening it revealed a small box in the middle of his palm. Brows knitted together, he popped the lid back.
And a laugh escaped his lips, filled with elation as he removed the locket from its confines. Wedging the box in the crook of his armpit and torso, Butters used both of his hands to gently press open the metal shaped like a thorned rose.
Inside it was a photo, one of Eric Cartman staring into the camera. Dressed nicely, his face was stretched in an awkward but sincere smile. Chuckling, Butters closed the gift.
It was perfect.