A/N: I wrote this a while back (like last year), and I figured I might as well polish it up a bit and post it. Are you all ready for the angst?
Most of the nurses can't even look him in the eye anymore.
Kenny reached for the sign-in sheet, keeping his eyes on the unnaturally white paper as he asks his usual question. "How is he today?"
The head nurse, a good looking forty-five year old named Dorothy, answers him as usual. "He's about the same, Kenny. I'm sure that if he was awake, he'd really appreciate your daily visits."
He nodded, a force of habit by now, and finished signing his name. He's written it down so many times now that it doesn't look like chicken scratch anymore. It may not be Butters' flowery script, but at least it's legible.
Dorothy walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't have to look into her eyes to see the pity in them. "I really think you're helping him by visiting, kiddo."
He gives her as nice a smile as he's capable of giving. They both know that it's fake, but he needs this. He needs to be able to smile at people the way Butters used to, or he might go crazy. "Thanks. You're the best, Dorothy."
He walks away from the nurses' station and towards the familiar door. Room 507. He lets his eyes flicker over the name on the sign. Leopold Stotch. The whole reason he took three buses to get here. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself for the sight that will be in front of him in a few seconds. He conjures images of Butters from before, of his smiling face and the way his lower lip jutted out when Kenny was being particularly cheeky.
"Remember that." He whispered under his breath as he opens the door. The smiling boy that he remembers so well is nowhere to be found. Instead there's a shell of that person in the hospital bed, pale and small, more plastic tubes and needles than flesh and blood. There are at least three monitors beeping next to him, something to control his heart rate or his brainwaves or whatever, Kenny tried not to pay too much attention to the details.
This wasn't the same Butters he grew up with.
He took his usual space next to him in the chair Dorothy brought in a few weeks ago. She wanted him to have a nicer one than the rickety old plastic one that the hospital provided. He really didn't care what he was sitting on, but she did, so he'd thanked her and let her know that he really appreciated it. Butters would have approved of that, at least.
He looked down at him, feeling his heart throb painfully in his chest. He let his hand hover over him, afraid to touch him. He looked so fragile, like he could shatter at any moment. He wished that he could just take Butters in his arms and hold him, hold him until smaller arms wrapped around him and Butters was whispering in his ear, 'I'm okay, see? It was all a mistake. I'm okay.' But he wasn't okay.
He was dying.
It really hurt to think those words; he couldn't even say them out loud. But he couldn't deny it. Butters was dying and there wasn't anything he could do about it.
He felt so helpless. Really, here he was, capable of surviving being shot in the head, or being crushed to death, and he couldn't do a damn thing to save the person he loved. It really fucking sucked.
Kenny took a deep breath and forced a smile on his face. It hurt worse than it should have, but he had to try to keep it. Just in case. "Hey, Butters. How have you been?"
Butters didn't respond. He didn't expect him to, but god, he couldn't help but hope. It was stupid, the nurses, the doctors, even other patients he came across had told him that the prognosis was grim, but he always held his breath for a second. Hoping that Butters might answer him back, tell him about his day or about the nice people he'd met. But only silence that greeted him back.
He swallowed the sudden lump that had grown in his throat. Fuck, this hurt so bad. He reached for Butters' hand, holding it as gently as he was capable of, and sighed. It felt almost weightless, like his bones were hollow or something. Kenny remembered the days when Butters would be the one to grab his hand and squeeze it despite all the times Kenny had told him it was dumb and to stop doing it, and now here he was. Now it was Kenny who wanted to grab on and never let go.
"I've been alright." He whispered. He didn't have to keep his voice down, Butters couldn't hear him anyways. But if he pretended that he was just asleep, not in a coma, he could get through this. "Karen got that scholarship. She's going to college. Can you believe it? My little sister's going to be a success."
He knew that Butters would have been very proud of her. He'd become a sort of honorary big brother to her before all this had happened. It was actually thanks to Butters that Karen was even interested in going to college in the first place. Of course, Kenny should have been setting a better example for her, should have tried to go to college himself. But that wasn't even an option for him now. Not even close.
He cleared his throat, feeling that familiar lump tighten as he swallowed. He wasn't going to cry right now, he'd promised himself that he wasn't going to cry in front of Butters. He made sure he was still smiling (the corners of his mouth were at turned up, but the reflection of himself in the window showed him that it couldn't be called a smile, exactly) before he spoke again.
"My mom's doing good too." He said. "She got a promotion at the Olive Garden. I'm working there now, did I tell you that last time?"
Butters would have been proud of that too. He had always been pushing him to get his act together, though not in a way that felt condescending. Kenny had always thought that he wouldn't amount to anything in his life, like his father and his brother before him. But Butters made him want to better himself. It was too bad that he couldn't show Butters how much better off he was now.
He looked down at his still form. He hadn't moved once in the whole time he'd been talking to him. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't. Butters wasn't supposed to be in this position. He had a life to live still, a family that, while didn't visit him nearly as much as Kenny did, still cared about him. He wasn't supposed to be dying.
Kenny had never gotten to tell him just how much he loved him.
Oh sure, he'd told him those three words, more than once. But it wasn't nearly enough for him. He had always thought that there would be more time to tell Butters just how he made him feel, how he made him want to try harder, how the day always seemed just a little bit brighter the minute he saw his smiling face. But it was too late now. Butters was dying and he couldn't bring him back, couldn't let him hear what he was saying, couldn't do anything to help.
Fuck, he was pathetic.
It took him a few seconds to register the knocking just outside the door, and he had barely looked up to see Dorothy standing at the door. The light in the room was different now, and Kenny realized that he must have just been sitting there berating himself for a long time now. By the look on Dorothy's face, he must have lost that smile he'd been trying to maintain. He struggled to find it for a few moments before giving up.
"Hey Dorothy." He said. His voice sounded so raw. He tried clearing his throat, but aside from sending a sharp pain shooting through him, it didn't help. "What's up?"
She bit her lip, clearly not wanting to tell him whatever it was she'd come in to say. "I… I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave for a while."
He felt the corners of his mouth curve further down. "Why's that?" He asked, not recalling any tests schedules today.
She looked so uncomfortable that his heart (the twisted shreds that remained of it at least), went out to her. She took a deep breath before she spoke again. "Leopold's parents are here, and they want to see him. Without… without you in the room." She added at the confused expression on his face.
It took him a moment to fully register what she'd just said and then a sudden surge of anger rose inside of him. "They're kicking me out?"
She nodded sadly. "They were very firm about this request and as Leopold's legal guardians, there isn't much we could do about it—"
He held up a hand, effectively cutting her explanation short. "It's okay, Dorothy, I don't blame you."
She seemed relieved to hear that. "I'm very sorry, Kenny." She said, gesturing for him to walk out the door.
"See you in a bit, Buttercup." He said as he stood up, keeping his eyes on Butters the whole time. It wasn't right, what his parents were doing. They knew how much he loved Butters, how much Butters cared for him too, and yet here they were, still being as petty as ever. He let his hand brush over Butters' face once, as gently as he could, and then followed Dorothy out of the room.
"I'm sure they won't be long." Dorothy was saying, trying to keep her voice chipper. "They're probably just going to check on him for a while, seeing as he's their son after all. You'll be back at his side in no time."
Kenny smirked. Oh he was sure of that. They were hardly ever around for more than ten minutes these days. Couldn't stand the sight of seeing their son die. He knew that he shouldn't hold it against them for dealing with the situation differently than he was, but he couldn't help the bitterness from seeping into his voice. "Yeah, sure thing."
He and Dorothy passed the nurse's station. He glanced around the area, not seeing Mr. and Mrs. Stotch around. They must have taken the long way around to avoid him. Very typical of them. He rolled his eyes and turned to the head nurse, giving her what may have been a smile (but in reality was probably more of a grimace) and waved. "I'll be downstairs for a while. You'll come and find me when they're gone, right?"
Dorothy nodded. "Sure thing, Kenny."
He winced. How many times had Butters said those exact same words to him before? He tried not to let Dorothy see how much it affected him and quickly turned towards the elevators. He had to keep it together just until the doors opened.
He pressed the button with a little more force than he had intended. Kenny allowed himself a deep breath (which was a lot shakier than he thought it would be) and pressed it again with less urgency this time. It was a few moments before the doors opened. There wasn't anybody inside, for which he was thankful. He stepped into the doors and quickly reached for the button that closed them. The last thing he saw before they shut and he started his descent was Dorothy's worried face looking after him.
As the elevator hummed around him, he let himself lean against the wall, suddenly exhaused. His legs couldn't support him anymore and he felt himself sinking to the floor. He brought his arms up to cradle his head as he fought off the urge to let the tears burning the back of his eyes fall.
Fucking hell, it wasn't supposed to be this way. They were supposed together now, out of this town, maybe looking for an apartment and… and being happy. But this was how life was supposed to be he guessed. His life at least. Miserable, hopeless, and generally unfair. He felt himself start laughing, a gross broken thing that didn't sound like it could be coming from his own mouth.
This was life as Kenny McCormick. Whenever he got something that made him happy, it was taken away from him. So fucking typical.
He felt the elevator rumble underneath him, wondering for a moment if it was malfunctioning. Which would have been a perfect way to die, if he thought about it. Getting crushed to death by a falling elevator in the hospital. It had happened once or twice before, actually. But no, it only rumbled to a stop and opened its doors for the next floor. Kenny lifted his head, wondering if he'd have to put on a brave face for the passengers who came on. Nobody was waiting for it though, so he just let his eyes roam over the floor until the doors closed again.
This continued until he reached the ground floor. He always lifted his head, wondering if someone, anyone was going to come into his metal prison and break the awful loneliness that seemed to press in on him with every floor that separated him from Butters, but no one ever came in.
The doors opened again and he saw that this floor was busier than all the others. The ground floor, he noted. He stood up and walked out of the elevator, finding that he barely had the strength to leave it. He briefly considered going back in for another mindless ride when a man rushed past him, pushing a pregnant woman in a wheelchair. He doesn't want to ride up with them, and all the other elevators were on another floor, so he forced himself to wander away.
He let his feet guide him, not wanting to put much thought into where he's headed. He maked sure to avoid any crowds of people, in the halls, the waiting rooms, anywhere. Eventually, his feet lead him to a sparsely populated room.
He looked around for a few seconds, wondering where the hell he was.
It didn't look familiar at all. He definitely hadn't been here before. The few people that are in there were sitting in rows of seats that took him a minute to place. Pews. He must have wandered into the hospital's chapel.
He might have actually started laughing if it wasn't for all the sad faces that looked up when he arrived. He wanted to shout up to the sky that 'yeah, this was really funny god, make a fucking mockery out of my entire life why don't you?!' but instead he took a seat in one of the pews in the back so that the rest of the people in there would stop fucking staring at him already.
He looked at the dozen or so people once they all bent their heads down again. Most of them look tired. A few of them look devastated. They were the only ones who didn't look up at him. Good, let them keep mourning or whatever it was that they were doing before. He doesn't care anymore.
Actually, that's not true. He cared a hell of a lot, just not about them.
He can almost imagine himself in one of those after school specials that Karen used to make him watch. One where the guy goes into the church for quiet contemplation or whatever bullshit church is for when his life goes to hell. And at the end, god answers his prayers and he gets his faith back and everything is sunshine and rainbows. But this isn't a kid's show and he knows that no amount of praying will fix his problems.
When he dies, he'll just spend the night in hell and come back, a little more broken and alone than before.
He's let his head drop down like the rest of them, so he hears them before he sees them. The couple walking into the chapel, a young guy and a frail looking girl. He looks up with the rest of them, watching the guy carrying the girl between the rows with a loving smile on his face. The girl has a handful of flowers that must have come from the gift shop near the entrance of the hospital and wore a flimsy thing on her head that Kenny was sure he vaguely recognized.
It took him a second to realize that it was supposed to be a veil and that they'd come here to get married.
He heard them talking to the priest that he hadn't seen before but must have been there the whole time. They wanted to tie the knot before the girl's cancer got her, they said. Since she obviously couldn't leave the hospital, they decided to do the ceremony here. They wanted to know if the priest would do it for them now.
He didn't want to be here for this. They look so fucking depressing, but everyonewas looking up at them with freaking smiles on their faces and there's no way Kenny can just walk away without looking like a fucking douchebag. So he stayed in his uncomfortable seat and tried to imagine how much Butters would enjoy watching a loving couple get married. Butters would want to watch, so Kenny does it for him.
It didn't take all that long. The priest said a few things, the couple said a few things, and then they kissed. Kenny didn't really pay too much attention until the bride threw her bouquet. She seemed too weak to throw it very far, but her happiness at just getting married must have given her extra strength or something, because it landed right at Kenny's feet. He blinked at the flowers, light pink, and picked them up without thinking. When he looked up, the new groom had picked up his bride and was leaving to the sounds of subdued applause.
It actually might have been kind of sweet if it wasn't so tragic.
Butters would have still seen the beauty in it though. He would have smiled and waved at the couple as the left, maybe even have caught the bouquet and joked that they would be the next ones to get married. Kenny swallowed the lump in his throat. And he knew that he would have gotten down on one knee and apologized for not having a ring while asking if they could get married too.
He wonders if the priest would perform the ceremony for them. He probably wouldn't, he decides, looking at the man. He looked like one of those conservative types. Besides, he wouldn't want that kind of a wedding, not with Butters. Butters deserved a big wedding, with cake and decorations and all their friends. A hospital chapel wedding was sad. It was resigning to the fact that one of them wasn't ever going to leave the hospital again.
And even now, he couldn't accept that.
He glanced down at his watch, eyes widening at the time. He'd been here longer that he'd thought. Maybe Butters' parents were gone now. It was no use killing time here anymore, at least.
He stood up and walked towards the elevators.
/
"When you get better, we're going to Hawaii again." Kenny whispered, holding Butters' hand up to his cheek. He only had five minutes before visiting hours were over, though he knew that Dorothy would cover for a few extra minutes if he asked. She always understood.
Butters didn't respond, of course. But Kenny wanted to tell him these things, even if they were never going to come true. "This time though, we'll spend every minute together. We'll go in the ocean and swim around until our fingers get wrinkly and buy expensive drinks afterwards, I don't care if I have to spend a week's pay on them. And… And when you get too drunk to walk, I'll carry you to the hotel room. And I won't let you go for the rest of the night."
That sounds great, he imagined Butters saying, smiling up at him with his eyes bright and alert. What else would we do?
"We could lounge around for hours under the sun." He answered his own imagined question. He squeezed his hand before placing it back on the hospital bed. "And we'd have sex in the morning, nice and slow, and I swear I…"
He can't finish his sentence through the lump that's caught in his throat. The words are too painful, the images they conjure up are pretty, but nothing more than a fantasy. He knows that they'll never be able to take this fabled trip, and he's being delusional for even saying things this.
He's so tired.
He leaned forward and rested his head on Butters' pillow. His eyes sting like crazy, but he's keeping his promise. He forces the words to come out, "I swear I wouldn't mind just sleeping next to you though. I just want to be near you."
He imagined Butters cheerfully answering, 'Well I just wanna be near you too, Kenny!' but the silence weighed heavily around him. He had taken it for granted that Butters would always be with him. Kenny pressed his lips to the soft, translucent skin of Butters cheek. It was so cool, as if there was no blood flowing underneath.
It was getting harder to breathe without letting the tears out, but Kenny wouldn't mind suffocating right now. He thinks he might prefer to forget the pain in his heart for the pain of his own death, but he managed to keep breathing, despite the pain.
"Please don't die." He whispered, moving his arms to wrap around Butters' fragile frame. "Please god, don't let him die. Please god, please, please, please…"
He continued to whisper his mantra as the machines around him continued their careful vigilance and the clock slowly ticked away the little time they had left.