It was rather easy to cut Butters down. The noose was made out of torn strips of a Hello Kitty blanket after all. Cartman did it, everyone else too shaken up to be bothered by his threats. He perched on the tipped over vanity with the bowie knife he kept in his desk and lectured them as he worked at the tight knots. Tweek sobbed over his words, on his knees with his hands clutched in his hair, pulling until strands floated to the floor. Blaze Starr stared at the softly swinging Butters and clutched at the space between her breasts, eyes wide and mouth hung open. She had been called back immediately after leaving, for reasons unknown to everyone else. Perhaps Cartman wanted to guilt her into doing a better job. Lord knows he wasn't doing it for Butters.
Diamonds, her ever faithful companion, had her face buried in her hands, staining the pure white silk with mascara and eye shadow. Angel stomped up the stairs just as Butters falls to the floor with a sickening thud. Tweek wailed. "S'all clear, boss." The blonde said uncomfortably. "The last girls have come back and they're all waiting downstairs."
"Good." Cartman stepped down and slung the blond over his shoulder. Moments later his face turned green and he dropped the body. "God, he reeks! Angel, take Vanilla down with you, Blaze, Diamonds, take the body down." They don't dare to argue as he pushes past them. Tweek felt the floor disappear from under his feet and wailed louder.
"I don't want to go!" He screeched. "Put me down, you sick son of a bitch!"
"Will you stop squirming? Jesus H. Christ." Tweek rested his head against Angel's shoulder and sobbed quietly.
"He needs me, take me back, please. He needs me."
He is gently deposited in a chair and curls into the plush material, trying to shrink away from the world. Everyone had been informed of what has happened by now; all looked wary, tired, and sad. Most had disliked Butters for his easy life but none had wished him dead. Tweek keeps his eyes closed and hidden behind his hands, unable to look up as there was the sound of rapid thumping; a dead weight falling down the stairs as two pairs of clicking heels followed.
He moaned deep in his throat as Rose screamed. Cartman hurried down, the cheap chandelier swinging as his weight shook the walls. "Shut up!" He demanded. "Everybody shut the fuck up! Do you want someone to hear?"
They all shut up.
Angel sat down next to Tweek and hugged him close, wrapping an arm around his waist. Tweek broke away and launched into a heart-wrenching coughing fit, hacking loudly. Cartman waited for him to finish before speaking up. "All right, so this is how it's going to go down. This night never happened. There has never been a boy named Butters here. Understand? He never existed. If anyone asks, you don't know what they're talking about." He paused, sides heaving with the force of his breaths.
There had been a small murmur of agreement from them all and Cartman nodded stiffly. "Good. Get on up to bed." Sugar hunted Tweek down and stared at him with large, betrayed eyes.
"I thought you said everything would be okay." He murmured. His shoulders slumped and his eyes are wide and broken. Tweek's smile is bitter and regretful.
"I never said anything of the sort." He marches up the stairs and slips into his bedroom.
His, not the others.
He hadn't slept in that room for a week, having either spent the night with Craig or bunking with the blondes. Angel sees him enter and nods respectfully. "I can leave if you want." He offered. Tweek shook his head. He didn't want to be alone tonight, or be in the presence of that hateful vanity. Tweek's bed is exactly that; a bed, complete with sheets, covers, and a frame. It was just one of the many unheard of luxuries iTweek supposed it's what he got for being the bottom bitch.
He and Angel curled up under the covers like a pair of kittens and Tweek melted, sighing in bliss as the feather stuffed pillows and blanket lured him into sleep. Moments later, he was fast asleep, two strong, warm arms wrapped around his middle. He would have never admitted it, but the sweet smell of Angel, and his understanding, respectful silence was better than any moment he and Craig had ever shared.
When he had woken up, it was far too hot. His eyes flew open and for a moment he wondered if the building was on fire. No. It was Gary who provided the heat, hugging him like a teddy bear, and the smoke was from Kenny's cigarette, blown back in from the nighttime wind and coupled with drunken ranting from the streets below. He seemed to be paying attention to something Tweek couldn't see or hear. He listened and froze when he heard muffled banging. But it was coming from the third floor. No one went to the third floor. Some of the old timers (but none as old as him) used to brag that they had been up there until Cartman had heard and punished them. He punished them because that's what Daddies are supposed to do (PUNISH) and when they never came back nobody questioned it because no one disrespects Daddy's authoritah.
Angel noticed him and smiled. Tweek remembered it as being beautiful, that smile.
Because Smiles are so rare, Tweek, so treasure it, treasure that smile and every breath you take because it might be your last.
"I hope you don't mind him." Angel says. "I heard his crying from down the hall and decided you wouldn't mind. He's just a kid, Tweek, he can't help snuggling up." He said that in the southern accent known to make women cream their panties and smiled again. "Is that alright, Tweek?"
Tweek?
How does he know my name?"
He doesn't know, but it sent a jolt of lust down his spine and to his toes. He nodded. "its fine, Kenny, I don't mind. It had always been my job to take care of the little guys and now…" He pet Gary's hair. "Now he's all I have left." "Of them" gets stuck in his throat when Kenny gives him a long, steady look.
"Now, that's not true Tweek." Kenny says, flicking his cigarette out the window. "You got me, too."
Tweek smiled gently and stood up, his sheets tumbling down and pooling at his waist. He walked (saunters, like a woman on a mission and you bet your fur he knows what that mission is) over to Kenny and pressed close, smelling his sweat and the tobacco on his skin, and the fading perfume on his clothes. He didn't know what he was doing as a warm, broad hand slides up the arch in his back to his quivering shoulders and Kenny pulled him closer. He didn't know what he was doing when his shirt is unbuttoned, but he knew he'd regret it later it later if he didn't stop now because Craig was waiting for him with Kyle and Flame and The Baby but Jesus Christ, Craig has never made him feel so beautiful as Kenny had.
They kiss, and just as his shirt hits the floor and Kenny's pants are undone, Gary began to stir and cry, tossing the covers off in his frightened haze. Tweek broke into another coughing fit and gasped for air as soothing circles are rubbed into his bare back. The banging had stopped. Tweek crawled over to his friend and hugged him close, cradling his head to his chest like a mother would. Revenge is a thought that comes gradually, but once it is there it doesn't leave.
He had been selling himself short, he realized that now, happy with just moving on and forgetting these chapters of his life like it never happened when he could have so much more.
He could kill Cartman right now and slip away into the night, no one would ever tell.
It would be so easy.
Tweek will not be satisfied until Cartman is dead. He counted Gary's tears and when the time came, Cartman would pay for each one with a bullet to the face.
He waited until Kenny and Gary were asleep again before he slipped out. The knife is plunged deep into the vanity of his old room. It is cold and solid in his hand as he walked silently downstairs. Cartman's door is opened slightly, enough for him to suck in his gut and slip through. It's expensively furnished, if a bit tacky, and he hates Cartman even more. His hands began to shake as his heart raced in excitement.
He was going to do it.
He was actually going to do it.
He was going to avenge Butters, Pip, and Gary, and everyone who had their lives stolen from them.
The trembling, sweaty fingers of his left hand grasp the doorknob as his right positions the knife so even if Cartman tries anything, he's going to get cut first. The door creaks open and-
Cartman gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He dragged the sheet covered bundle out of the back of his pick up and groped for feet. Getting a good grip, he hefts the foul smelling corpse up and over, watching as it fell with a sickening "thud" into the river. Cartman makes the sign of the cross and kisses his middle and index finger. "Go with Christ, bra." He mumbled, almost smirking at the irony.
Like fags went to heaven.
He was going to miss Butters a bit, he supposed, but he had a business to run and emotional attachments would only compromise that.
He walked back to the car and revved the engine. It was going to be a long drive back.