Falling Star

by Animalcrunch12

After spending a year away and still reeling from her failure at MIT, Blossom Bellum returns to Townsville. Dealing with the repercussion of her actions before she left, a night at the lake with her former friends turns into something more. Now with mysterious powers and a long list of questions towards the supernatural essence of Townsville, they must solve a century old mystery.

16. The Erosion

October 2nd

Statesville, Arizona

One month ago…

"Hey, so, um…" Butch cleared his throat, scraping his fork lightly against the styrofoam container on his lap. "I should tell you the other reason why I'd needed to see you."

"Okay."

Butch watched as Berserk glanced down at the pebble in her hand before skidding it across the glassy surface of the park's lake in front of them. Her head tilted to an angle to follow the movement of the pebble. The afterglow of the setting sun made the rippling water appear like liquid gold. The sky was fading into shades of warm, creamy oranges and mesmerizing yellows.

"Get on with it," Berserk welcomed for him to elaborate.

Butch felt a hole seize up in his chest. What he was about to offer, Butch has been debating over for the past couple of weeks. It has been on his mind since the moment he had seen Berserk at Taipan when investigating Ace's powers with Blossom and Brick. It has been a seed that has overgrown inside of him, invading his mind and restricting Butch from seeing things in a different light.

It was risky and not full proof. Yet, it was a move he was willing to make to protect the girl he loves.

"I've been thinking about our situation," Butch started, hearing a sigh escape from Berserk's lips.

She had shot down any talks about her arrangement with Him already, but Butch had to keep trying for Berserk to hear his idea.

"And I may have come up with a totally insane plan, but maybe it could help you." He smiled softly at her, catering his heart out for Berserk to decide whatever she wanted to do with it. "It could help us."

"I'm not running away," Berserk said instinctively, shaking her head sharply. Her hot pink eyes burned from the assumption. "I'm not going. I can't do it anymore."

"That wasn't what I was going to suggest."

"Oh."

Berserk was not able to hide the fragment of embarrassment from sketching her face. Butch felt his heart hitch, wishing he could kiss her and tell Berserk how adorable she was, but he could not.

"I guess I shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong."

Berserk cleared her throat slightly, her gaze avoiding him. "You were saying something about a plan."

Butch nodded once despite Berserk not even looking at him to notice. "Right. I was thinking, if Him's order for you was to break me, then why don't I allow for it to happen?"

Berserk snapped her eyes back to him. "Butch, what the fuck?" Her voice smeared over into a defiant whisper. "I wouldn't allow it."

"I know you wouldn't," Butch responded gently. "Which is why you won't technically have anything to do with it."

Berserk blinked at him, confusion easily conveying from her face. "That doesn't… I'm lost."

"So say I allow myself to be "ruined" by you," Butch explained. "I pretend to be corrupted and that I've switched sides. I prove to Him that I'm trustworthy, and I'm not a concern to his schemes. And when he asks why I've "changed" my mind, I'll say it was because of you. That I was so blindly devoted, I had no other choice but to join your side. Thus, freeing you from Him's demands."

Berserk took a moment to let his plan sink into her. Her face was unreadable as she tilted her chin in Butch's direction.

"You play as a double agent."

Butch nodded, grinning from Berserk understanding his plan. "Exactly. I'll become a mole for my friends."

Berserk arched an eyebrow, her stare distant from him. "What about your friends?"

"What about them?" Butch frowned faintly.

"Do they know about this? Will they approve of your idea?"

Butch shook his head. "You're the only one who knows. I figured it'll be best if we kept this between us for liability reasons. It's more believable if only you and I are acting. My friends would be bound to give Him a show to our lie," Butch theorized.

"Then, you're willing to outright betray them?" She watched him with a critical eye.

Butch nervously ran a hand through his hair. "Who says I have to outright betray them? All I have to do is convince Him that my loyalties are with you and that I can be a "mole" for Him."

Berserk's gaze softened, appearing to pity him a little. "Butch, Him is going to make sure they know. Eventually, he'll use your changing of sides to his advantage. Him will want you to blindside them. He'll make you betray them. Which begs the question if you're ready for such a commitment?"

"Are you ready to lose your friends? For them not to trust you? For them to despise you to the cruelest degree? Because that is what's going to happen when they're led to believe you've chosen Him over them," Berserk continued, her voice raw from her own personal experience towards the subject.

Butch knew it had to be about Brute.

Butch pressed his lips together, facing the reality Berserk had presented to him. She was correct. There was no way to go about his plan without some damage done along the way. Butch has spent days wrapping his mind around how he could lose everything, but hearing Berserk say those thoughts out loud, made it all too real.

He hated the lack of knowing. Butch could plan and visualize the what-ifs, but there were no guarantees to any of it. He hated how each decision was a domino effect. One little push, the faintest breath, and it would tip over, taking all the other dominoes down behind it. Butch wanted a map to point out each and every repercussion to a decision he could make. Anything to help him make a choice on his own.

Butch needed familiarity. He needed a clear set of guidelines to make a decision. But with this idea, there was no one else to help Butch make up his mind. Butch was left to venture off the beaten path into the unknown for survival. He was scrambling, crawling, and scratching his way to make the right turn. To find the right direction. For the right move, but how could Butch know what was right and what was wrong when everything felt purposefully disguised for him to see?

Butch absolutely hated the position he has found himself in. He felt trapped in a burning room, full of invisible smoke infiltrating his lungs and the roof was close to collapsing in on him. Butch had two decisions to make: to flee while he could, or go down with the flames.

Emerald eyes fixated on Berserk, coming to terms with what he was willing to do. Butch had to convince himself it would be worth it in the end. He had to let the dominoes fall down around him.

Eventually, Butch would have to deal with the wreckage bound to happen with the fateful choice he was about to make. Still, the future was too blurry and far away for Butch to thoroughly think it over.

"I think I am," Butch said despite the grave twist in direction he was guiding himself in. A buzzing sound infiltrated his head, and Butch felt the weight of an anvil press into him from the uncertain decision he was making. "I can handle it."

Berserk blinked at him, taken aback by his choice.

Butch saw a glimmer in her eyes. He released a tight breath of relief, more than pleased to see a sign of her having hope in him.

"If that's what you want to do," Berserk eased out, trying not to convey too many emotions in her tone.

"It is."

Berserk looked at him with a prideful expression, crossing her arms. "I hope you do know that I don't need you to protect me."

Butch beamed at her. "Of course I do. But that doesn't mean I won't try to. Besides, I've heard two is better than one."

"You already—" Berserk had let out a heavy breath, stopping herself from finishing. She stiffened, evading his gaze. "If we're going to make this work, we have to be honest with each other. We're going to be lying to everyone else for, who knows how long, and I want to make sure there are no secrets kept between us."

Butch wanted to say how he has no secrets kept from her.

His regrets? Butch already told her about them.

His plan? He checked that off his list about fifteen minutes ago.

His love for her? Butch was pretty sure words were not needed for Berserk to feel his love. A single glance and Berserk had his heart beating out in rhythm for her only to hear.

"That sounds fair," Butch responded after a moment.

Berserk tucked a strand of orange hair behind her ear, timid to greet his line of vision, but she eventually did.

"Okay, then you should know that I… I'm still in love with you," Berserk confessed in a faint breath. She shook her head ever so slightly. "I don't think I could ever stop loving you," she added softly before divulging into a babble. "I know this is a bad time, and I sound like a hypocrite by telling you this now because, despite what you've said, you're still currently with Buttercup, but I had to get that off my chest."

It took an enormous amount of Butch's willpower to not kiss her. To not jump up and pump his fist in the air. Because what other feeling was better than having the single person who's captured your heart, to love you back in the same velocity?

Butch, instead, allowed a loving grin to tug at his lips, his eyes heavy with the emotions Butch felt for Berserk.

"I think it's pretty obvious by now, but I'm still in love with you too, Viviana."

Butch's smile may have grown more full from Berserk's warm gaze produced by the usage of her real name.

"Then I guess we're doing this," she decided after a beat.

It took Butch a few seconds to realize Berserk was talking about his plan and not whatever it was transpiring between them.

"Yeah, we are," Butch grinned in agreement. "Personally, I've always felt we made a good team. Now we can see if I was right or not."

"I think you're more right than you know," Berserk mused.

---

November 23rd

Townsville, Arizona

Present Day…

"No," Boomer said defiantly, his voice meddled by feelings of being blindsided and hot anger. His arms were crossed, shaking his head. His ocean blue eyes were darkened by a storm. "Absolutely not."

"Boomer, please consider—"

"Consider what, Blossom?"

Boomer threw his hand in Butch and Berserk's direction.

Butch sat on the window sill by Brick's door, with Berserk sitting on his left thigh. His arm was snaked around her, his hand settled on her hip.

Blossom remained frozen, a deer caught in headlights, by the front door since letting Butch and Berserk into Brick's home. She hugged her thin frame for support, trying her best to palliate Boomer.

Brick leaned against the wall shared by his living room and bedroom, his gaze to the floor, arms crossed.

Butch could only imagine Brick was missing the days where his home was a place of solitude.

"You want to trust them after what they've done?" Boomer fought back, not bothering to hide his disdain for the "them" he spoke about. "Butch betrayed us. Why would you trust him again?"

"Boom, I didn't betray you. I've been pretending to be on Him's side, but I was never with him," Butch confessed with sincerity. He attempted an easy-going smile to calm Boomer down, but Butch got the opposite reaction.

What Boomer did next, took Butch by surprise. He had expected Boomer's wrath to be projected at him, but instead, Boomer settled it onto Blossom.

"You knew," Boomer realized, his voice double-edged with hurt and venom.

"He told me after the week it'd all happened," Blossom revealed in an almost inaudible whisper. "We'd met at the Citiesville Airport, and he told Buttercup, Bubbles, and I the truth."

Butch took notice of how Boomer flinched at the mention of Bubbles' name, needing a second to recover from it.

"Then what am I doing here?" Boomer questioned, his cheeks were burning hot. Butch could not stop watching the way Boomer's curled fingers were shaking. "Why am I here? To be a puppet for you, Blossom? I'm just here for you to hide behind while you're pulling all these strings, huh?"

"Boomer," Brick warned with such a heaviness for only two syllables.

Boomer did not care for the warning at all. His eyes narrowed at Brick, seeming as if he was holding back from saying something to Brick.

Instead, his harsh gaze went back to Blossom.

"I'm the only one who can do this," Boomer echoed. "That's what you'd told me. Yet, you're still calling the shots, Blossom. You're the one who is sharing secret notes."

There was an abrupt, momentary silence. It felt as if they were trapped in a comic strip, and Blossom and Boomer's text bubbles were left blank, leaving the rest in the room to only assume what would fill in the space where words should be.

Blossom's eyes flicked over to Brick briefly, appearing quite upset with the quiet implication Boomer had presented.

"You're the one who kept Butch a secret." Boomer's hands combed through his golden locks, pulling at them slightly in frustration. "I've been sick to my stomach with this entire situation, and you just keep lying about everything."

"She kept secrets, Boomer. Not lies," Butch found himself saying in Blossom's defensive.

Boomer had the right to be upset, but the way he was speaking to Blossom was not. Especially when it was Butch's fault for putting Blossom in such a position.

The way Boomer had turned to him, the way the shadows collected and curved on his face. The way furious, choppy waves thrashed around in his eyes, Butch felt his stomach drop.

This was what Berserk had meant.

To have his friend, his best friend, despise him to the cruelest degree possible.

Butch could feel the heat radiating off of Boomer and his white-hot rage.

"Secrets are lies. They fuck with your head and make you believe in a different reality from everything else," he stated vehemently.

Butch recoiled a little, noting the gravity of Boomer's wrath by his usage of "fuck"; a word Boomer did not keep in his daily vocabulary at all.

He sharpened his gaze on Butch. "But I guess you wouldn't understand, Butch. You've been keeping so many secrets for the past couple of years, it wouldn't surprise me that you don't know what's true and what's not anymore."

Butch did not have a chance to respond as he had to hold Berserk back from moving forward to say something to Boomer.

"No," Butch muttered to her softly, his hand firmly pressed against her stomach to keep her still.

She murmured a "Pendejo," aimed at Boomer under a hot breath. Her leg bounced up and down to expel the buzzing kinetic energy searching for an escape out of her system.

On some levels, Butch was glad he had to hold back Berserk, to have a distraction, because he did not have any words to tell Boomer. It felt as if Boomer had sucker-punched him in the stomach, forcing Butch to gasp for air.

Butch thought he could handle this response, but truthfully, Butch was not prepared for witnessing the hurt he had inflicted. A naïve part of him had expected for Boomer not to care about his staged betrayal.

Blossom was able to get over it within one conversation, Bubbles had not expressed any grievances with Butch either, and Brick seemed okay with it since Butch was currently sitting in his home. Butch had figured Buttercup, rightfully, was the only one who would give him any loud push back. Not Boomer.

And then there was a couple weeks ago when Boomer had shown up at Batter Up. Butch had stepped out to take a call from Berserk and found Boomer sitting alone in his car. They only had shared a quick glance before Boomer had backed out of the parking space he occupied, leaving without a word. He left Butch wondering what it had all been about.

The way Boomer had appeared that day was entirely different from now. That Boomer was lost and mournful. There was no anger, just sadness.

In fact, now that Butch thought about it, he has never seen Boomer fitted with such anger before. He was like a new person. He was a person who could not simmer down all the frustrations, invisible wounds and lies that have been taught for Boomer to believe, from bubbling out of him.

"Boomer, I think you should take a moment to calm down," Brick suggested, falling back into his role of being a voice of reason.

Blossom had been withdrawn from the entire conversation since Boomer had accused her of lying, and Butch was too speechless to say anything to defend himself.

Boomer, again, did not take Brick's advice, steamrolling past it.

"How long have you known?" Boomer questioned with a valley of distance in his voice.

Brick had let out an exhausted breath before answering, "Only for a couple of hours. But that's not—"

"And you're okay with this?" Boomer cut in hotly. His hand was presented in Berserk and Butch's direction again. "You're willing to trust them?"

"I…"

His lips were pressed together to form a firm line, his jaw twitched from holding back his real answer. Brick darted his eyes over to the couple in question, then to Blossom. Another tired breath was expelled from his lips, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"I think it does. With all the secrets being kept, your feelings should matter, Brick," Boomer responded indignantly. He shook his head, returning his furious gaze to Blossom. "I can't believe I've been spending my time believing I'm not good enough, second guessing myself when I should've been more focused on whether or not I can trust anyone at all."

"Boomer, please," Blossom pleaded softly. Her eyes were wet, and Butch knew any more criticism from Boomer, and she would not be able to hold back from crying. "Just hear us out."

Boomer flinched. The sharpness to his expression had faded away for a moment. The weight of how much his words had affected her, how much he was hurting a close friend, settled into him. A faint flash of guilt expressed through his eyes, but it was shelled-over in a matter of seconds.

"I'm heading home," Boomer announced firmly, scooping up the car keys he had laid on the coffee table near him.

He brushed past Blossom, not bothering to give her a second glance. His hand reached for the doorknob, opening the front door.

"Can we expect to see you here tomorrow?" Brick asked diplomatically.

From how he had sounded, Brick made it out as if Boomer had not blown up on them for the past fifteen minutes. The neutral tone of his voice had made it feel as if Brick was a boss, just asking if an employee was going to work on a Saturday morning or not.

Boomer stopped in the middle of the doorway, considering Brick for the first time since Butch and Berserk had arrived. He looked over his shoulder, only greeting Brick's line of vision with tired eyes.

"... I'll try."

---

November 7th

Townsville, Arizona

Two weeks ago...

It was five-twenty in the morning when Butch's alarm went off for him to get ready for work at six. He groaned, wishing for nothing more than to lay in bed for another hour or so. Butch turned over onto his stomach, his eyes still shut as he extended his arm out to the right of him. He repeatedly slapped his hand against the flat surface of his phone until Butch was able to shut up the insufferable blaring of his alarm. It took another five or so minutes for Butch to force himself to give up on sleeping and to pry his eyes open.

Butch rubbed at his left eye, wiping away the sleep sand in it. He remained in bed, laying on his stomach as Butch lifted his head up, glancing over to his left to the other who laid in bed with him. Butch was not even surprised to find Berserk was already awake.

Due to her side effect, Butch has made a habit of trying to stay up with Berserk every night this past week. Energy drinks and 5-Hour Energy shots have become an unhealthy pairing for Butch lately. Last night had been another one of those nights, which also included the routine action of Butch passing out at some point without realizing it.

A leak of guilt had spilled into him. It was not that Berserk had asked him to do it, but Butch felt a sense of duty to be there for her.

He wanted to be there to help Berserk cope with Brat's death.

Berserk had been staring up at the sheer burgundy canopy over her bed when Butch turned his head to look at her.

The same black Pearl Jam concert tee-shirt, that was actual Butch's, draped her body. Ironically, Berserk was outspokenly never a fan of the tee-shirt when Butch used to wear it back when they had first started dating. But now, it has become her choice of a uniform for the past five days.

There has not been much of a chance for Berserk to change her clothing, anyways. Since Sedusa's salon was closed for the week to grieve the loss of one of their employees, Berserk did not have a reason to get dressed for the day.

For the last week, since the night of Halloween, Butch has slept over. Berserk has not outright said it, but Butch knew she was avoiding a night alone in her own bed.

Butch would leave for work at six, go home during his hour-long lunch break to get a new change of clothes, and end his shift to find Berserk still lying in her bed.

There were never any indications for Butch to assume she had left her home or even her room. She was motionless, suspended in time for only Butch to see. It was when Butch tried to communicate with her, did Berserk let a brief flicker of life spark back into her.

Butch did his best to take care of her, to give her the space she needed.

He made sure there was a new box of tissues on Berserk's side of the bed every morning, just in case she needed them. She normally did.

Butch would watch Berserk pick at her dinner, making sure she ate at least something that day. He even put aside the nagging voice of his endless hunger that grew frustrated by Berserk's lack of appetite and wasting of food.

He may not be entirely sure what he was doing or if he was doing it in the right steps, but Butch would take the time to do Berserk's skincare routine for her. While she may not care about herself or her appearance at the moment, Butch knew it was a small, irrelevant thing that he could do to lighten Berserk's day. That it had the capability to alleviate her self pity for a moment.

And most importantly, Butch simply listened to her.

He would let her vent, go on aimless tangents, speak about her guilt, and weep over her mistakes. It was all raw to Butch, and all he could do was be there for her.

The most frustrating thing about grief was it could not be fixed. It was a constant; the tendency of how it was felt was the only difference.

As of last night, Berserk was treading towards small progress, but the strength of her sorrow was all the same.

Butch reached out for her, laying his hand on her hip to gain Berserk's attention. She flinched for a second, but a weak smile graced her lips when she tilted her head in Butch's direction. Her eyes were glassy, but Butch did not see any wetness on her cheeks. Berserk shifted over closer to Butch, laying her head on the pillow where his head had been a minute ago.

Butch propped up his elbow next to her, holding his head up. His emerald eyes were half-lidded as he scanned over Berserk's face.

"I fell asleep again," Butch murmured to her, allowing a twang of disappointment in himself to be conveyed.

"I'd expected you to." Berserk gently laid her right hand on his cheek. "You'd kept rubbing your eyes when talking to me last night. You always do that when you're exhausted." Her weak smile was back, adding, "It reminds me of a little kid when you do it."

"I'm sorry," Butch found himself saying.

"You need your sleep. You shouldn't be depriving yourself for me."

"It is a bit unhealthy, isn't it?" Butch admitted in a quiet voice, already knowing the answer to his question.

"Undoubtedly."

Butch moved his arm to hug around Berserk's waist, pulling her closer to him in any way that was physically possible. He then scooted downward in her bed to lie his head on her chest, pressing his cheek into the soft, worn-out fabric of his tee-shirt. His right ear listened to the therapeutic thrum of her heartbeat, closing his eyes.

He spoke to her in a soft, low tone. "I want to make sure you're okay. I want you to know you're not alone."

Butch could feel Berserk's fingers soothingly comb through his curls. "Baby, I've never once felt alone. Not when I have you."

"I wish I could do more," Butch confessed after an extended period of comfortable silence swept them. He held onto Berserk more tightly. "I want you to know it was not your fault. None of this was your fault—"

Berserk snorted lightly. "Butch, we both know that isn't the truth—"

Butch lifted his head up from her chest, meeting Berserk's exhausted expression head-on. He narrowed his eyes defensively, not willing to hear Berserk speak down on herself.

"—But I think I'm done," Berserk finished firmly yet frailly at the same time.

Butch furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Berserk's hot pink eyes were back to her canopy, unable to meet his stare. "I think I'm done blaming myself. I'm done with..." The hand not weaving in and out of Butch's hair was thrown up in the air in a lacking manner. "Whatever it is that I've been doing... I'm done with indulging in this feeling of misery."

Butch lowered his head to lay back down on her chest, deciding he was needed by Berserk at this moment to solely listen. He let Berserk have the floor, taking in every word she had to say with an enormous amount of attention and care.

Berserk understood what he was doing, continuing on with her tangent of emotions.

"I'd thought about it when you fell asleep. I'd thought about how I've barely recognized myself this entire week. I'm trying to convince myself that I'm allowed. I'm allowed to feel this shitty because I just lost Brat. But..."

Butch felt her chest inflate as much it could with the weight of his head pressing into it, and then decompress with a shaky exhale.

"But where is this going to get me? I'm just going to spend the rest of my time lying in bed? Who knows how much time we have left, and I'm going to waste it wallowing in self-pity? I... I want to allow myself to feel my grief, but the other things I can't do anymore. Brat deserves better than this. I'm pretty sure if she saw me, she would've called me a little bitch for behaving this way," Berserk said with a weak laugh.

Butch did not find any humor in it. He knew there was too much pain masked behind it, which spilled out into her mournful expression after the laughter faded away.

Berserk took a long pause to collect herself, clearing her throat when she had her thoughts in order.

"I don't want this to be her memory, you know? Brat was way more than some victim. She was strong and beautiful, creative, and fun, a pain in the ass but lovable when you got to know her. She had a way better ear for new music than Brute and I combined. She always smelt like bubblegum or nail polish. And... And I never told her that I actually liked her Texan accent and how many ways she found it necessary to say y'all..."

"When I think of Brat, I want to think about all the pleasant memories I have of my best friend. Those are the memories I want to share. They're what I want Brat to be remembered for. I don't..." Berserk's voice faltered, speaking in a fragile whisper. "I don't want her to be only known for how her life ended."

"... So that's what I'm going to do," Berserk announced quietly. Butch had a feeling it was more for herself than him. "I want to do better and for once, maybe..."

Butch lifted his head up again, looking straight into Berserk's eyes. He saw a glimmer of hope greet him, returning back from a week-long absence. The sight of it naturally brought out a loving grin onto Butch's lips.

Berserk mirrored him, a certain yet familiar confidence subtly came over her.

"Maybe I do believe I can do better. And to do better, I have to move forward. I have to do the right thing. For Brat." Berserk curled her fingers in Butch's hair, pulling on his roots gently. "For the things I love. That's what I want to be. I want to be better."

There was an unspoken understanding between them. It was the mutual acknowledgment of how they could not keep up this charade anymore. They could no longer pretend to work with Him. It was time to admit to their failed plan and collaborate with the opposing side. To be on the right side of this.

Butch made a mental note of how he should approach one of his friends with the truth sometime later in the day.

"Then do it," Butch encouraged. "I've always known you had..." a goodness in you, Butch finished to her silently.

He did not want to risk Him listening in on them and picking up on certain context clues. In Butch's mind, he believed Him could see this moment as Berserk getting her confidence back, not Berserk realizing she could provide good to the world.

"Yes, you have," Berserk smiled gratefully. The hand in his hair found its way to caress Butch's right cheek. "Thank you, baby. Thank you for being you."

When there was a fall, there was always a rise that followed. Butch has seen it play out in front of him many times before, whether it be in media or real life. But Berserk...

Her rise was going to be the most triumphant for Butch to watch. Call it intuition; Butch just had a strong feeling about it.

---

November 9th

Citiesville, Arizona

Two weeks ago…

"You expect us to believe this?" Buttercup fumed, her light green eyes were bright and vindictive. "It's all bullshit!"

"Buttercup," Blossom pitched in to settle her down.

"I'm telling the truth," Butch claimed, his hands were held up to intend no harm. "I've been pretending this entire time. Berserk and I have been scheming behind Him's back." A dark cloud shadowed his face. "We just didn't know what other plans Him had for that night..."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Bubbles questioned in a voice that registered just above a whisper. She was removed from much of Butch's explanation of the past month until now.

The sound of an airplane departing roared above him. The blinking lights of the runway were the only witnesses to their conversation.

"I couldn't risk a slip-up," Butch confessed, running a hand through his hair out of habit. "We all know Boomer isn't great at lying."

Buttercup snorted, a stubborn gleam in her eyes. "I rather have Boomer's loose lips than being fed constant lies by you."

Butch kept a level head despite Buttercup's aggression, done with trying to argue with her.

He was exhausted with playing the argumentative role Butch has been cast in for the past month.

There was a danger with how committed Butch had become to his acting. He did lose his temper more than Butch would have liked to admit. Those false feelings of dislike and belligerence could be a fueling addiction, bleeding over into something real for a brief moment. With Butch being an emotionally charged person, it was hard for him to get his head straight sometimes when Buttercup was at his throat.

Butch liked to believe, at the end of the day, he had been trying to protect Buttercup with their fighting.

He followed in Berserk's footsteps with Brute. He was responsible for trying to make the distance, even more, deeper between Buttercup and him. So when the eventual happened, when Him wanted to show off his new collection of shiny toys with Butch in the starting line up, it would be easier on Buttercup.

It was easier for Buttercup to fully hate him after everything than to break up with her and be on good terms until his "betrayal" happened.

There were other moves he made to sabotage his friends to protect them.

For instance, Butch attempted to put mistrust in Brute to stall the groups' increased confidence in attacking Him. The sooner an attack, the quicker Butch had to display his false allegiance. He had to subtly drag his feet in the ground without setting them off.

Butch did not tip Him off about Halloween—and neither did Berserk—but Him had figured out something was happening that night. Butch resisted asking any questions as to how, and Berserk expressed false eagerness to retaliate by scaring them away from the lake again. Him approved with gluttony, ordering for Berserk and Brat to follow his friends after they left Princess' party.

There were no mentions of Ace's inclusion.

On Halloween, he wore white to throw off the wearing all-black plan. Despite how Berserk and Butch played it off, he had purposefully not been in his place by the pool with Boomer to delay things. Not that anyone noticed it, but Butch had driven incredibly slow to the lake that night too. Anything to halt them from carrying out the plan. Halloween had been the night Him wanted his friends to know about Butch's change of loyalty, that was a clear objective given to Butch.

Which was why Butch deliberately made surgical cuts to the plan, in hopes someone would back out. That they would feel compromised and choose to attack Him on another night.

Yet, his friends were blinded by their overzealous need to end things for good.

Even when Butch was keeping his secret to protect himself and Berserk, he almost let his entire plan slip. In the bubble, when Buttercup asked about his sudden change in behavior, Butch was ready to spill his guts to all of them. To tell them that he may have been in over his head.

But they had gotten distracted by the underwater bunker, and then there was that light…

That strange, bright light Butch had witnessed and had no clue where it came from, had disturbed the balance of Boomer's bubble. They had almost drowned because of it.

After recovering from their swim, Butch had to put on his mask.

What happened next was a blur to him.

Butch had been caught off guard by Ace arriving. Then there was Butch fighting Buttercup, her attempt on his life. Berserk saving him, and Buttercup falling apart as the fight between them came to an end.

The mask he wore was a blinder, and Butch could only see one thing through: make it look believable. Him was watching, and Butch could not slip up in his big moment. So he turned up the theatrics, becoming cruel and vengeful.

Butch acted out a perfect scene. Thus hurting the people who had done nothing but love and support him for almost his entire life, leaving them feeling utterly betrayed.

Berserk had stolen Blossom away from the action, pretending to be malicious with a fake agenda to protect Blossom from whatever plan Him may have for her. They had made up the flimsy excuse of wanting more information from Blossom, believing it would be plausible. Butch and Berserk knew Blossom was the key to ending the time-loop, making the collective decision to go out of their way to make sure no harm was done to her.

Berserk had even dropped Blossom off in the middle of the lake, hoping Blossom would take advantage of the location. That she would have used her powers to stop time at the place where it should have been the strongest.

Brick was the only one who saw through the flaws in their staged actions and reasoning for singling out Blossom. He was the first to call out the wrongs in the night, errors Butch and Berserk did not account for. Such as Ace showing up and his plans for the night.

Him is too crafty to throw out his secrets all at once like this, Butch recalled Brick telling him that night.

And Brick was right. It threw Butch off his game, leaving him to stumble into Brick's offense that took Butch down for a temporary period.

Butch should have known Him had more up his sleeve with Ace showing up. It was not until Brick pointed it out, did Butch fully grasp the huge mistake he had made.

But it was too late.

By the time he came to, Butch was quickly alerted to Ace's motive to kill someone, and no one was off-limits. Not even Berserk. Butch had to act fast, choosing to protect Berserk, saving her life from a similar fate to Brat's.

He has replayed that single moment over and over again, wondering if he could have saved Brat too. If he could have moved faster, if he never fought Brick, if Berserk never knocked Buttercup out.

If, if, if…

It was the most used word in his head lately.

Him had been proud of Butch, praising how ruthless he had been. Butch was anything but proud of himself after that night.

But Butch was stuck in the role he had chosen for himself. Him saw Butch as a strong asset to his side, especially when paired with Berserk.

That did not mean he could not spoil the truth to someone else that Butch trusted.

He chose Blossom because she was the most approachable between his friends. Buttercup would be blinded by rage if he attempted to tell her. Bubbles was not strong enough to keep such a massive secret around without harming herself. Boomer was all over the place with hard choices, and he would second guess everything, while Brick was not a forgiving person.

But Blossom? She would forgive him, looking more towards the reasons why than what he had done.

After his talk with Berserk the other morning, Butch knew he had to make a move. This led to Butch planting a seed in Blossom, speaking in specific non-sense that only Blossom would strive to figure out because she always did.

He chose the Citiesville Airport because Butch had recalled Brick talking about taking Blossom there once. It was nice and isolated from the rest of the world, the perfect location to tell Blossom the whole truth.

He waited for her when sunset approached, counting down the minutes, hoping Blossom would make the connection for two nights in a row until she finally did today.

What Butch did not factor in was Blossom deciding to bring Buttercup and Bubbles along with her. However, that did not stop Butch from telling them everything. Every thought, every action, every scheme, every mistake. Butch had presented his side of the story for them to examine and probe to their liking.

"Have you been able to learn anything about Him?" Blossom questioned, displaying the professionalism and quick ability to forgive that Butch had expected from her.

Buttercup grumbled hotly under her breath as Butch answered Blossom.

"Not as much as I'd wanted to, but Him obviously wants to destroy Townsville before anything else happens and has a strong vendetta against Brick." His emerald eyes went to Bubbles and Blossom, then even daring to make the mistake of looking into the fiery pits of Buttercup's gaze. "He doesn't like sunlight either, preferring to do things at night."

"The only other significant thing to me was Viviana and I didn't know about Ace's order on Halloween per Him's request. And from how Him was afterward, Brat wasn't the one who should've died that night. Him said he got what he wanted from Brat dying, but it wasn't the plan. Him was actually pretty furious with Ace for getting blinded by his blood-lust or whatever."

Butch scratched at the back of his neck. "I couldn't quite make out the rest of what Him had said because Viv and I were ordered to leave. We were only able to hear the beginnings of the conversation without making it obvious we were eavesdropping."

"Viviana?" Bubbles repeated in confusion.

"That's Berserk's real name," Blossom explained, earning a suspicious look from both Butch and Buttercup as to why Blossom had such knowledge. Blossom went on without addressing their looks, focusing on Butch solely. "You need to find out more if you can. Stay undercover until we can use you and Berserk."

"I got it," Butch smiled forcibly. He had hoped to end the role of Berserk and him being Him's accomplices tonight. Still, Butch understood why Blossom advised him to stay undercover. "I promise to be there when you need me."

He took in the reaction of the three girls in front of him, surveying their emotions.

Bubbles appeared unsure with Blossom's decision to allow him back in so quickly. Still, she was not going to make any complaints. She, instead, picked at her fingernails, flicking frost onto the ground.

Buttercup kicked the tip of her shoe into the dirt, her eyes were glassy and despondent. She chewed down on her bottom lip, giving Butch the indication Buttercup was holding back the urge to cry. A heavyweight of guilt swarmed his chest, and Butch had to fight off the innate want to comfort her as Butch has done for the majority of his life.

Butch studied Blossom a bit more to keep his mind from buzzing about Buttercup.

Boomer, in his vast complaints towards comics, has always made a point to speak about the problem of how women were drawn. Other than their unnatural proportions and the sexual objectification, Boomer would go on about how female characters would be drawn with such vibrant movements and colors, but they were often dead-eyed. Despite how hard the artist may have tried to make them look alive, to make the pages feel real, their vacant eyes gave it away.

That was how Blossom looked.

She was present and without at the same time. As if Blossom was a marionette, merely following her stage cues to survive. Her instincts were driving her, but Butch could tell she was unraveling. Dark circles adorned her face, and she had a wounded way to how she stood before him.

And when did she get so thin again?

No matter how put together her voice was, no matter how she was able to command and control this meeting, Butch saw someone who was lost.

In a way, Butch saw himself in her.

"I'll hold you to it," Blossom said with a ghost of a smile. She stuck out her hand, shaking Butch's to add formality to his promise. Butch could not help but frown at how limp her hand was in his grasp. "I'm glad we were able to clear this up."

"I can't listen to this bullshit anymore. I'm gonna wait by the car," Buttercup muttered venomously under her breath to Blossom, departing without waiting for a response.

"I think I'll go with her," Bubbles added, gaining a single nod from Blossom as a reply.

"You shouldn't have brought them," Butch said in a low tone once Bubbles and Buttercup were out of earshot.

"Buttercup deserved to know the truth," Blossom answered with a bit of sharpness to her tongue.

"And Bubbles?"

"Support for Buttercup."

Butch sighed, running a hand through his hair because he knew there was no way to fault Blossom. Not when he created this mess.

"Do you hate me?" Butch found himself asking.

Blossom blinked at him. A spark of life burned for a moment in her eyes.

"No, of course not. You did what you'd thought would give us an advantage. And you wanted to protect Berserk, I can't be angry with you for protecting someone you love. Even if it had been a bit misguided or not perfectly thought out, I would've done the same."

The way Blossom uttered her sentence, it made Butch's stomach twist. A sudden whiplash of déjà vu struck his body, nauseating him, but Butch was not sure where it came from.

"Besides, who am I to say anything about muffled plans?"

Butch took her attempt of humor, smiling faintly. "We need to get it together, Bellum. We're getting our asses kicked here."

"I know," Blossom breathed, her shoulders falling in defeat. "I'm trying to think of something new, but it hasn't come to me yet… I don't know if it will."

"I'm sure it will," Butch offered in support. "You know how to land on your feet, this is just another one of those times."

"Thanks," Blossom smiled warmly.

The action allowed her to be fully present again, filling in the distance she had been lost in a few minutes ago. She glanced back at her car, where Buttercup and Bubbles were having a private conversation besides.

"I know the others are going to have a hard time trusting you, but please know that I'm here for you."

"They're going to be pissed with you for it," Butch acknowledged, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but I also know what it's like to be public enemy number one here," Blossom admitted softly. She tucked a strand of orange hair behind her ear. "There's no way I would do that to anyone else. It's not right nor kind."

"You got a good head on your shoulders, Bloss," Butch appreciated. "Always have, always will."

Blossom shrugged, not appearing to believe his words. "I try."

Butch flicked his gaze to Blossom's car for a brief moment, then back to her.

"Could you do me a favor and not tell Brick or Boomer? I want to be the one to tell them the truth."

Blossom debated with herself, exhaling an exhausted breath. "Boomer will be easier to keep this from, but Brick…"

Butch nodded, fully understanding if Blossom did eventually let it slip to Brick.

"I get it."

"I'll do my best," Blossom promised after a beat.

"Thank you."

With the conversation coming to a natural end, Butch waited for Blossom to say her goodbyes to him. But instead, she stayed firmly in place, her lips pursed, her gaze reeling from words not yet spoken.

"Before I leave, there's something I need to tell you."

Butch raised his eyebrows, motioning for her to go on. "Shoot."

Blossom chewed down on her lip for a second, becoming a mirror image of Bubbles when she was holding back a potent secret.

"It's about your mom…"

---

November 24th

Townsville, Arizona

Present Day…

Butch was a bundle of nerves when he parked in front of Brick's house. After last night's cold reception, he had no clue what to predict may happen next.

He had taken a day off from the bakery, and Butch made sure to be at Brick's the earliest he could, to smooth out any more rough patches in his transition back.

Berserk had to work the opening shift at Sedusa's salon, planning on arriving at Brick's in the afternoon, which put Butch a little more on edge. If she was there, Butch would have someone to lean and depend on, and vice versa.

But instead, for now, Butch had to go in alone.

Blossom was the only person who beat Butch to Brick's, her pink Beetle parked right next to Brick's truck, covered in a thin layer of dust.

Butch wondered if it was just going to be the three of them for most of the day. With how Boomer had reacted the night before, it would not surprise Butch.

It was also Blossom who opened the front door when Butch knocked on it. She looked as if she did not get an ounce of sleep the night before. Berserk, who was cursed with being an insomniac due to her powers, has looked more well-rested than Blossom did.

"Morning," Blossom greeted with an attempt of warmness that was not fully there, moving to the side to let Butch in.

"Morning, Bloss."

Butch did a glance over the space, finding Brick missing and a few changes to the decor that Butch did not notice the night before. He made a beeline for Brick's kitchen, his stomach growling despite having eaten a dozen scrambled eggs with pepper jack cheese before coming.

He went through Brick's cabinets and refrigerator—since acquiring his side effect, Brick has allowed Butch to raid his kitchen anytime he wanted to avoid any whining from Butch about it—searching for something to hold him over for an hour.

Butch frowned, finding most of the cabinets bare.

The only options Butch had to consider was: store-bought white bread, Raisin Bran, and some strawberry yogurt. Butch cringed at the thought of eating Raisin Bran—no matter how hungry Butch would get, eating raisins for breakfast would never be appealing to him. He came to the decision to place slices of white bread in Brick's toaster, eating them dry. Once two slices came out, Butch would pop in two more while devouring the newly toasted bread in-between.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to watching you eat," Blossom stated, shaking her head a little.

Butch shrugged his shoulder, smiling faintly at Blossom. "It can get tiring sometimes. Especially when I wake up at two in the morning and crave chicken wings to the point I can't focus on anything until I have some."

"Speaking from experience?" Blossom expressed with baffled laughter.

"Oh yeah," Butch nodded, biting down on a crispy edge of bread. He continued to talk with his mouth slightly full. "It happened a week ago. Viviana wasn't exactly pleased when we drove an hour to a sketchy food truck to get some. You know, for a place that had a failing health department score, the wings weren't half bad actually," Butch admitted in a slightly impressed tone.

Blossom gagged at the thought, before asking, "You woke Berserk up for that?"

"Nah, she was already up, and I've been sleeping over at her house lately. I didn't want to go alone, so I kind of made her go with me," Butch said sheepishly.

"I see." Blossom flashed an amused smile, cocking her head to the side. "How are things going between you and her?" she inquired. There was a sense of lightness and hope in the way she had stated her question.

Butch raised his eyebrows, surprised by Blossom's intrigue.

He expected for Blossom to display a bit of resentment towards Berserk or, at least, dodge the subject of Berserk altogether due to Blossom's loyalty to Buttercup. But then again, Blossom was a generally curious person about anything.

"Sometimes, I feel like I'm doing something awful," Butch started. His face had softened entirely. A golden sense of elation conquered Butch, making him feel giddy for finally being able to tell one of his friends about Berserk. "With everything that's going on, I feel selfish by having her. It doesn't feel fair that I get these moments of peace and normalcy." His voice was warm and gentle. "But when I'm with her, things are easier, and I honestly don't know what I would do without her right now."

Blossom turned her head, casting a look beyond the living room, appearing heavyhearted. "I know how you feel…"

Butch frowned, reading Blossom's dispirited body language. "I take things didn't go well with Brick after Viviana and I'd left?"

When Boomer had left, Butch and Berserk soon followed his actions. Butch had not been able to recover from Boomer's berating of emotions. At the same time, Blossom and Brick were thickened by an unspoken tension. It was for the best that he and Berserk left at the time they did last night.

Blossom moved her eyes to the wooden flooring underneath them, hugging herself. She felt small—even more than usual for Butch.

"He would only give me one-worded responses before I'd decided to leave him alone. He did give me a kiss goodnight, at least. But after that…"

"It's been nothing but a cold shoulder?" Butch finished for her.

Blossom nodded slowly. "I should've told him," she murmured, growing quieter with each syllable. "I should tell him..."

"Bloss."

Butch placed a crusty piece of toast on the counter, wiping his hands on the fabric of his jeans, moving forward. He wrapped his arms around Blossom in a supportive hug, struck by an immeasurable amount of sincere regret from being the cause of the rift between Blossom and Brick. If Butch did not ask her to keep Brick in the dark, then maybe they would be having a different conversation.

Blossom returned the hug, squeezing his torso tightly, staying in his arms for a minute before slipping her way out of his grasp.

She tilted her head up, meeting Butch's gaze, a plethora of fears read off of her face.

"I should probably let you know about the endgame of Boomer's plan."

"Boomer's plan?" Butch repeated, eyeing Blossom skeptically.

With how Boomer sounded the night before, Butch had assumed it was actually Blossom who was in the driver's seat with the planning than Boomer was.

"Most of it is Boomer's ideas and strategy," Blossom confessed. "But I did have a majority on one part and that—"

Before Blossom could finish, the sound of a door opening and closing interrupted her. Blossom's mouth was zipped shut immediately. With how guilt automatically shined through Blossom's eyes when glancing to wherever a door had been used, it led Butch to assume it was Brick who had entered the space.

She left Butch without a word, taking cautious steps towards the door.

Butch, who was in the blind-spot of the kitchen, decided to remain in place to give Blossom and Brick some privacy. He planted two fresh slices of bread into the toaster, tapping his foot lightly into the floor while waiting.

"Blossom, I'm sorry…"

Butch perked up when unexpectedly hearing the hushed conversation Blossom was having. That apology did not come from Brick.

It came from Boomer.

Butch subconsciously crept closer to the corner of the kitchen, remaining hidden enough to go unnoticed. He was curious to hear what Boomer had to say, to know if Boomer truly felt the way he did last night about Butch or if he was just heated from being caught off guard.

At this moment, Butch wished he had super hearing instead of geokinesis.

"Obviously I, uh, was upset last night," Boomer said to Blossom. "And I took it out on you. It's just… All these secrets are getting to me, and I'm close to cracking, Bloss. I feel…"

Butch cursed in his head when Boomer became inaudible to him. He was stuck waiting for when Boomer raised his voice to an octave higher.

"... I'd projected a lot of those feelings onto you. And Butch being here, blindsided me." Boomer had let out a deep breath. "I'm so sorry for last night, Blossom."

"No, you're right. I shouldn't be…"

Blossom was speaking way too softly for Butch to pick up on anymore. He moved an inch closer, trying to hear more, but the sound of his toast getting ejected from the toaster startled him.

Butch side-stepped to the right, eyes wide at the toaster, revealing himself to Boomer and Blossom.

Boomer's face instantly hardened, and Blossom eyed him up and down, her lips pursed.

Butch could tell Blossom wished he had not just made his presence known to Boomer.

"Uh, hi," Butch waved awkwardly. He pointed back to the kitchen. "I'm just gonna get that."

"Does he really have to be here?" Butch heard Boomer ask in a heated tone when Butch went to grab his toast.

"I'm sorry, but we need the numbers, Boom. It makes our cause easier," Blossom argued back in a delicate manner.

Boomer groaned, and Butch returned from the corner, seeing Boomer's cheeks were scorched by a burning redness.

Berserk had mentioned in a conversation once of Boomer being like a porcelain doll. It was based on his facial features. His dainty nose was more feminine; he had sharp, angular cheekbones; and the vague sense of forlorn in his eyes. She had said he gave off the essence of being fragile.

Butch saw what she meant. The nasty expression Boomer portrayed proved it. The bones above his cheeks were going to break skin if he continued to ground his teeth together anymore. The heat dusting his complexion was spreading like wildfire. Cracks were rippling through Boomer, shattering apart his features, making them ugly.

He looked out of touch and broken. A stark difference—yet oozed out the same energy—to when Boomer had made an appearance and then a disappearing act at the bakery.

"Fine," he said curtly, glaring at Butch.

"It's nice that you made it," Butch offered to make pleasantry. He cringed internally, hoping he did not come off condescending.

Boomer puffed out some hot air. His arms were folded, and his gaze was removed from Butch. "I'm here because Blossom and Brick need me."

"Okay—"

"If we have to make this work," Boomer interrupted without any remorse. "Then we're going to do it the right way."

Butch blinked at him, believing a question mark was floating above his head at the moment. His fingers scratched at the toasted surface of the bread in his hand. Butch regretted the action, knowing it would leave crumbs on the ground that would surely irritate Brick. Still, Butch did not know how to control his nerves without having his hands doing something.

"Which is?" Butch inquired slowly, his eyebrows raised highly.

"I've asked Brute, Princess, and Buttercup to come here in the afternoon today. If we're telling secrets, they should be here to learn the truth too," Boomer revealed flatly. "They deserve to hear it."

Butch swallowed, panic blaring through him. He had not known what to expect, but Butch surely did not plan for everyone to show up today.

His mind worried about Berserk. Brute's presence was going to be parlous for Berserk. Brute had cut into Berserk's thick skin and left her inadequate enough to treat her scars since Halloween.

And then Butch had to worry about Buttercup.

If one thing Butch has been preparing for, it was the chance of running into Buttercup sooner rather than later. It was just the initial shock of knowing it was today has not fully exited his system.

But maybe Boomer was onto something.

The troubles Butch has dealt with, had all been stringed together from secrets and miscommunication. Perhaps it was better to finally have everything out and in the open. To have the chance to explain his perspective of the past two months—and for Berserk's sake, her point of view too.

This was an opportunity for Butch to make peace, to prove he could be trustworthy. To show the others that he had never flipped to Him's side.

Butch nodded at Boomer despite him not even wanting to look in Butch's direction. "That sounds like a good idea, Boom."

---

September 17th

Townsville, Arizona

Six years ago...

"Why are we here again?" Boomer questioned for the third time that night. He was a step behind Butch as they both were trying to navigate through the home brimming with people.

"To get our first real high school experience," Butch grinned optimistically, his emerald eyes scanning over the scene in the living room.

They were at a house party thrown by someone from South Townsville High. The room, in Butch's opinion, has seen better days. Dark wood paneling from the seventies lined the walls. A worn-out cloth couch occupied the living room with a bunch of cheap, plastic outdoor chairs littered around in odd places. The coffee table was scratched and collected a few water rings. An ashtray full of cigarettes and joints joined the decor of beer cans and empty red solo cups on top of the surface. Colorful Christmas lights were strung along the ceiling line to illuminate the space. The orange carpet underneath Butch was stained in a few places, and an old television from a decade before played music videos on a loop.

A glass sliding door displayed an image of the backyard and the activities taking place. A table was set up for beer pong, and a couple of blue coolers sat on the lawn. Discarded cups and beer cans were thrown to the ground with no regard.

A cloud of smoke filled the room from those smoking on the couch, the smell pungent and oppressive. Butch has never been a fan of cigarette smoke, and the strong smell of weed was not something he has grown accustomed to experiencing on the north side of Townsville. It took a lot in Butch to not divulge into a coughing fit from it all.

The crowd was a mixture of Gangreen Gang members who were proud to show off their affiliation and those who relished in the thrill of being around them. A sprinkle of the others who filled the space were those who attended South Townsville High and could not find anything else to do on this particular Friday night.

"But shouldn't we do that by going to a party thrown by people who actually attend our high school?" Boomer presented.

"Or it's a good way to see how the other half of Townsville lives?" Butch challenged.

As he said this, a guy threw himself onto the beer pong table outside. The cups of beer rained on those around him, the table capsizing to the ground from his weight. No one appeared angry, however. In fact, they were all laughing like it was the funniest thing to have ever been conceptualized.

"I think I've gotten a pretty good idea of what it's like," Boomer said lowly to him, his brows drawn together to express his wariness.

Butch sighed quietly to himself, knowing Boomer wanted nothing more than to leave. It took Butch a whole week to convince Boomer to even go out tonight, and it only took fifteen minutes to persuade Boomer out of it again.

Regardless, Butch forced a smile. He clipped Boomer's shoulder, leading him to the backyard.

"Let's get a drink. Maybe that'll loosen you up," Butch suggested.

Butch loved Boomer like a brother, but in moments like these where Butch wanted to live a little and have fun while Boomer wanted to do the exact opposite, could be tiresome. If Butch could have invited someone else, he would have. But the girls were still in middle school, and Butch's next closest friend was Mitch, who was out of state for his aunt's third wedding.

Boomer swallowed harshly, blinking through the dense haze disturbing his vision. "Do you think that's such a good idea?"

"Yeah, sure."

"But we're only fourteen."

"It's only one drink, Boom," Butch offered. "I doubt it'll do shit." He then inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh air of the outdoors after escaping the second-hand fumes of the living room. "But if you don't want to, you don't have to drink."

"But you're still going to drink if I don't..." Boomer attempted to clarify.

Butch nodded, his eyes going to where one of the coolers sat. A stack of cups was laid lazily on the ground beside it.

"I want the entire experience tonight."

Boomer stopped in the middle of his tracks, forcing Butch to do the same. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you care?" Boomer questioned, his head tilted to the side, trying to get a read on Butch. "You've never cared about partying or cliché experiences before. So why now?"

Butch avoided Boomer's gaze, running a hand through his thick curls. "We're in high school now. I guess I want to branch out more…"

"Branch out more from?"

Butch narrowed his eyes, giving Boomer an unfriendly look. "Does it matter?"

"It does if it pertains to a certain mutual friend of ours."

Butch let out a quick, humorless laugh. "When doesn't it?"

Boomer slumped his shoulders, giving him the same look that Butch was getting sick of seeing. It was the face of I-wish-I-could-do-something-but-I-can't-so-this-sucks.

"What did Buttercup do this time?"

Butch shook his head, feeling pathetic.

"Nothing at all. It's just—" Butch shrugged his shoulders despite indifference being the exact opposite of how he felt about the topic. "We're in high school, and I don't want to spend the entire time pining after my best friend. And maybe the reason I'm so wrapped up about Buttercup is that she's one of the few people I hang out with almost every day."

"So, you want to make new friends?" Boomer digested, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Or maybe meet a girl," Butch mumbled. Both of his hands sat on top of his head now, flattening the height of his hair.

Having to utter his reasoning out loud, made Butch feel stupid and over-dramatic. As if going to a party would change anything for him. It was a dumb idea guided by Butch's conflicting emotions over his affection for Buttercup.

And Butch has admittedly never been good at separating his emotions from his judgment. That was why he thought about attempting to squash the ever-present feelings he felt for Buttercup tonight. Butch knew it has been affecting him way too much lately.

"I get it," Boomer mustered, flashing a weak smile. "I totally get it, Butch. And if that's what you want to do tonight, then-" Boomer lifted up his hands to intend no harm. "–Do you."

Butch looked over at the coolers, taking note of the couple who were arguing by it, debating over whether or not he genuinely wanted it.

It was not just the want of drinking alcohol for the first time but also the want to continue down the path of diving deeper into his affection for Buttercup.

And with a minute to think about it, Butch's heart skipped a beat. He found an answer influenced by the emotions Butch had initially desired to avoid.

He chose to venture down the path Butch believed was the right one for himself.

A lopsided grin graced his lips, meeting Boomer's line of vision. "You know what I would really like to do right now?"

"Try and guess what that couple is fighting about?" Boomer wagered, glancing over Butch to get another look at them. "Oh wait—Yikes, the guy just totally left her."

"That's rough," Butch found himself commenting, before adding, "And no. I was thinking we could head to Otto's for some burgers and cheese fries. Our curfews aren't until eleven, so?"

"That's nearly an hour-long walk from here, but..." Boomer racked around the decision in his head before grinning. "Cheese fries are one hundred percent worth the workout."

"Sweet—"

Flashes of bright blue and red cascaded along the exterior of the house, interrupting Butch from finishing his sentence. The loud siren of the cops' presence sent the party into a frenzy. People ran in various directions, jumping over the fence trapping them in the backyard, scattering all over the neighborhood.

None hopped over the eastern fencing since a road was on the opposite side of it, fearing the chance of directly meeting a police car.

Butch and Boomer were frozen for a few seconds, staring at each other with paralyzing fear before silently following their instincts to run.

They, however, did not take into account the choice of which fence to jump over.

When they settled onto the other side of the fence, Boomer and Butch ran out into the empty road paved next to the house. Their bodies were swallowed whole by bright headlights making their way right towards them, stopping them in their tracks.

"Oh god, oh god!" Boomer panicked loudly, grabbing Butch's shoulders, shaking him crazily. "I'm too young to be arrested!"

"Boom, it's—" Butch choked on his words, finding himself unable to lie to Boomer nor be able to calm him down.

Instead, Butch put up his hands as if he was guilty, accepting what his fate was. His emerald eyes were the purest sense of mortification as the headlights grew closer.

Neither Butch or Boomer had gotten the bright idea of how maybe they should not be standing in the middle of the road. Fear had been guiding them, turning off any logical part of their brains.

The incoming car braked in front of them. It took both of them a few seconds, and deep breaths, to realize the police do not own cherry-red trucks as a standard vehicle.

The driver window rolled down, and a head stuck out to address them. "Is there a reason why you're both standing in the middle of the road?"

"Um…"

Butch moved his hand to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. "We thought you were the police."

"Right," the truck owner said with mild annoyance. "Obviously, I'm not, so." His ruby-colored eyes narrowed at Butch and Boomer, not bothering to wait for a response from them. "Aren't you a little too young to even be here?"

"No," Butch said stubbornly.

"We're freshmen," Boomer answered at the same time as Butch.

They heard the truck owner sigh, watching him run a hand along the length of his shadowy face.

"I'm going to regret this, but do the two of you need a ride?"

Butch jumped at the opportunity. "Yes—Ow!"

Butch sent Boomer a glare since Boomer had elbowed him in the rib cage.

"Stranger danger," Boomer whispered to him.

"Police danger," Butch argued back, jerking his head towards the house adjacent from them. The red and blue flashing lights in the distance illuminated the right side of his face.

Boomer weighed his options before exhaling in defeat. "Fine. But you have to sit next to him."

"Yeah, yeah," Butch dismissed.

They quickly got into the stranger's truck, settling into the cream-colored interior of the pristine vehicle. The truck smelt clean with a hint of cinnamon. The guy did not say anything, deciding to casually drive away from the house being disturbed by the police.

"I'm Butch," Butch announced after an extended period of silence. He jammed his thumb over in Boomer's direction. "This is Boomer. And you could just drop us off at Otto's if that's alright."

Another beat of silence filled them before the guy next to Butch spoke.

"Brick."

Butch nodded while Boomer narrowed his eyes at Brick.

"Wait… You were the guy arguing with that girl by the coolers," Boomer connected. "That was you, right?"

"I wouldn't call that arguing, but yeah," Brick said slowly and drawn out.

There was a dialect to his words that was not native to Townsville or Arizona. From growing up with Fuzzy, Butch knew it had an origin from the southern part of the United States, but he could not put his finger on it.

"That was me."

"I'm sorry about that, dude," Butch offered genuinely.

"I couldn't care less," Brick brushed off.

"Oh," was all Butch could vocalize. Butch and Boomer exchanged a look, both taken aback by Brick's aloofness.

It took a few seconds for Brick to understand how confusing his comment had been, thus forcing him to clarify. "I meant about her, not about your apology."

"Oh."

Brick sighed, shaking his head. He went on to make the effort of shifting the discussion away from him.

"You're from the north side of Townsville, right?"

"How did you…" Boomer trailed off, astonished.

"I'm pretty sure everyone at the party knew you're from the north side of town." Brick briefly glanced over at the two, adding, "And that you're freshmen too."

"It's that obvious?"

The corner of Brick's lip turned upward. "Completely."

"So... How old are you?" Boomer asked. He felt it was at least decent to know something about the person driving them.

"Seventeen."

"And you're from the south side?"

"Unfortunately."

The truck became silent again, and Butch grew uncomfortable.

He was not entirely enjoying the fact he had to sit in the middle of the truck's bench, either. He was six foot one—and growing—and Butch has grown accustomed to having plenty of legroom for himself. Instead, his knees were close to pressing into his chest when Butch leaned forward. Butch also had to remain absolutely still to avoid swaying into Brick or Boomer's personal space.

Butch needed to distract his mind from focusing on how discombobulated he felt. He tilted his head in Brick's direction, gaining a look at his profile.

"So, what happened with that girl?"

Brick's jaw tightened from Butch's question, and Boomer's eyes were bugging out of his head.

"I'm so sorry! He has no filter sometimes," Boomer babbled in a panic.

"I can see," Brick remarked. He stayed quiet for a moment before saying, "I'll never see you two again, so it's whatever," Brick shrugged off. "I'll tell you."

Butch grinned, turning and flashing a smug grin to rub it in Boomer's face.

"Lay it on us," Butch added eagerly.

Brick gave him a look that let Butch know Brick had no clue what to make of him.

"It's not a big deal," Brick began in the same slow drawl from before. "We've been talking for two months now, and we've been having fun, but, uh..." Brick moved one of his hands away from the steering wheel to scratch at his neck. "A classmate told me that she was using me to make her ex-boyfriend jealous. I confronted her about it, and then I ended things. That's about it."

"Wow, that's pretty messed up of her," Boomer commented, followed by a, "If it's true. That classmate could've been lying."

"She'd admitted to it," Brick replied flatly, not emoting anything to Boomer and Butch.

"Chicks suck," Butch added after an awkward moment.

"It's alright," Brick shrugged his shoulders again, letting out a genuine smile. "I kind of hated her laugh anyway."

"What did it sound like?" Butch asked out of curiosity.

"A mixture of someone's voice amp up on helium and a screaming pterodactyl."

Butch blinked at him, his eyes growing wide with excitement. "I would love to hear that in person."

"Trust me, you don't."

"So, you dodged a bullet then?" Boomer offered in support, smiling at Brick with uncertainty.

"I would like to think so," Brick responded. A sheepish grin framed his mouth. "I do wish I didn't sleep with her before all of this, but nothing I can change now."

Boomer reddened from gaining knowledge about a stranger's sex life, while Butch tried his best to not be awkward about it like Boomer was being.

"Girl problems, am I right?" Butch quipped. "We got them too."

Brick glanced away from the road for a second to look at Butch and Boomer. "What kind of relationship woes do freshmen go through nowadays, anyway?"

"Eh, you know, nothing too serious," Butch shrugged off nonchalantly despite how both his love life and Boomer's affected them more than they wanted to admit. "We're just two dudes who are helplessly in love with girls that we're best friends with."

"It's not fun," Boomer inputted, sounding as if he was speaking in a national public service announcement about a severe epidemic.

Brick snorted, moving his steering wheel to make a right turn. The house on the south side of Townsville was a distant memory for the three of them now.

"I rather take pterodactyl girl."

"Me too," Boomed said somberly.

"Have you tried, I don't know, talking to some other girls that you're not friends with?" Brick offered. "That could help both of you."

"Yes, we have..." Boomer grumbled, despite Butch knowing the both of them did not give any girls outside of Bubbles, Buttercup, and Blossom any real chance to know them.

"If you met them, you would understand," Butch found himself saying in defense. "We have this group with them."

"It's the five of us," Boomer continued. "Me, Butch, Buttercup, Blossom, and Bubbles."

"Okay," Brick said, his reply sounding more like a question. He did not understand why Butch and Boomer found it essential to divulge their friend group to him, but Brick went along with it anyways. "Which ones are you into?"

"Bubbles for me," Boomer sighed with a heavy heart. "She's the sweetest person alive."

"Buttercup."

"So this Blossom chick is the fifth-wheel in your group?" Brick determined, furrowing his brows. "Is there something wrong with her or...?"

"No, Blossom is awesome," Boomer defended.

"Yeah, she's literally everything nice a person could be." To explain himself, Butch added, "It's just Buttercup and I have more history. We've grown up with each other since we were toddlers, and I know her better than anyone I know."

"Butch happens to like tall girls too," Boomer added with a teasing smirk.

Butch shrugged it off. "I'm tall. I don't want to break my damn neck trying to kiss a girl."

"Butch also totally has a thing for girls who call him out on his shit," Boomer interjected with a snicker. "A girl could be stepping on his throat with no mercy, and Butch would be proposing to her thirty seconds later."

"Dude!"

"What? It's true!" Boomer guffawed. "You like a dominant type of girl."

Butch narrowed his eyes at Boomer, drawing a line across his throat, but it made Boomer bubble over with even more laughter. Boomer's hand slapped against his thigh, his eyes grew with slight water.

"Alright then," Brick commented, making his presence known to them again.

The neon sign for Otto's diner grew bright in the distance.

The corner of Brick's mouth tugged upward a little. "Nice to know Butch has a taste for masochism."

"I do not!" Butch refuted, his face growing hot while Boomer clutched at his ribs from laughing too hard.

Brick kept his left hand on the steering wheel, using his right hand to pat Butch on the shoulder. "It's okay, buddy. We all have our things. This is a safe space for you," Brick assured—or at least, he tried to. He could not even finish his third sentence properly before bursting into heavy laughter.

Both Boomer and Brick were convulsed with laughter at Butch's expense. While Butch felt hot from it, eventually, his embarrassment washed away.

Instead, he was slowly brought to a smile, their laughter becoming contagious. On the outside looking in, they appeared like a trio of good friends who were simply busting each others' balls. It did not feel as if they had just met thirty minutes ago.

When they had pulled into Otto's back parking lot, Boomer and Brick succumbed to a few giggles and chuckles here and there. Boomer and Butch ejected their seat-belts, giving Brick grateful smiles as he parked his truck.

"Thanks for driving us." Boomer opened the door next to him, stepping out of the truck. "I'm going to get us a table," he informed Butch.

Butch nodded to reply, turning his attention to Brick. "Like Boomer said, thanks for driving us."

"It's all good. I couldn't let you freshmen walk home alone in the dark," Brick smirked. "That would've been cruel of me."

Butch narrowed his eyes at Brick as he slid over to where Boomer had sat.

"Dude, you totally would've driven past us if we weren't standing in the middle of the road," he accused flatly.

Brick had let out a quick laugh. "Who? Me? Of course not."

"Right," Butch uttered skeptically. He tossed his emerald eyes over to the diner in front of them and then back to Brick. Butch jerked his head over to the entrance. "You want to come in with us? The food is on Boom and I since you drove us here."

Brick appeared confused by Butch's offer. "You don't have to do that."

"Why not? Come on, I doubt you have anything better to do for the rest of the night," Butch argued, raising his eyebrows in a challenge.

"Actually, I was planning on laying in the darkness of my room and crying about pterodactyl girl," Brick frowned deeply. "But thanks for forcing me to admit that."

"Oh. I'd thought you said you didn't care about her…" Butch trailed off cautiously. His mouth was slacked from not being able to remove the sad, vivid image Brick had painted in his mind.

The corner of Brick's mouth turned upward into a crooked smile.

"I'm just kidding, Butch."

Butch blinked. "Oh, okay." Butch cleared his throat, recovering quickly with his conviction. "Well, anyways, Brick. You did us a solid. Let Boom and I do you a solid." Butch flashed a grin. "That's what friends are for."

"Friends?" Brick repeated. "No offense, but I don't really "do" the whole friend thing."

Butch shrugged at Brick's warning, keeping his smile. "You've just never had a friend like Boom and me."

"You do realize we only met thirty minutes ago, right? After one short car ride, you're already calling me a friend?"

"You didn't have to offer us a ride back there, but you did," Butch explained casually. "And after spilling our guts out a little with girl drama, that qualifies us as friends now—at least, in my eyes, it does. If you need more convincing, then what's a better opportunity for getting to know each other than over the world's greatest diner food?"

Brick blinked at him, appearing to finally consider Butch's offer. The grin he had moments ago was back on his face.

"Who am I to say no to free food twice?"

---

November 24th

Townsville, Arizona

Present Day...

Butch needed to get a breath of fresh air before the arrival of the others. Mentally, he had to prepare for Buttercup the most. With how things have been going with Boomer, Butch was sure it would be easier to move mountains than to convince Buttercup of his trust.

It had all went wrong, all so fast.

Butch exhaled in exhaustion, leaning against the structure of Brick's home. He stood by the front door, dreading the moment another car pulled up.

The front door opened next to him with Brick shutting it, car keys in hand. From a passing of concerned words an hour ago, Blossom had said something about Brick uncharacteristically skipping work today.

"Hey."

"Hey," Brick said back out of courtesy, heading straight for his truck without bothering to give Butch a second glance.

"Heading out?" Butch asked despite not knowing why he was even trying to start a conversation with Brick.

Maybe it was the normalcy of it. To feel like things could go back to how they used to be. Or perhaps it was to get a better grasp on how Butch landed on Brick's scale of trust. He was giving Blossom the silent treatment since last night, and Butch could only imagine what opinion Brick kept to himself about Butch.

"We're out of milk and eggs," he answered curtly, unlocking his truck's door manually, opening it.

Butch was a little confused by the usage of "we're" since Brick lived alone.

"Want some company?" Butch tried, grinning despite his doubts. "There's a seller in Chandler I buy from for the bakery who would give it to you practically for free if I asked."

Brick shook his head, mumbling something under his breath, before meeting Butch's line of vision. His ruby-colored eyes were a dark void.

"No. I don't."

Butch raised his eyebrows, taking a quick census on how Brick was feeling.

"You're pissed too," he gathered flatly.

It felt as if a thick bubble coated them, only to burst with an abrupt and startlingly loudness.

Brick turned to him, narrowing his eyes. "You really don't get it, do you?"

Butch matched Brick's expression, crossing his arms. "Get what?"

"Do you even feel any remorse for what you did?" Brick acknowledged starkly. "Do you understand the repercussions of the decision you made?"

"Yeah—"

"Really?" Brick jumped, his eyebrows rising to meet his hairline.

There was a certain dripping of acid to his tongue that left Butch recoiling from the burn of it. And it was only the beginning.

"Because, to me, it feels like you expect us to just let you back in. You fumble your way through a misled plan, said, "whoops, my bad," and now we have to welcome you back in with open arms?"

"Of course not," Butch challenged defensively. His face hardened from the implications Brick brought up. "I feel absolutely shitty for what happened—"

"I have a hard time believing that," Brick interrupted. "Since you got here and told us what happened, I have yet to hear an apology from you. You expect forgiveness, but you haven't given any of us the choice to do so. Not even to the people who you owe an apology to the most."

Butch wanted to acknowledge how no apologies were even given a chance to be uttered last night. Not when Boomer was trampling over anything else said. It would have been pouring oil onto already turbulent water. It was not the time nor place for Butch to apologize. It would have been insincere and, possibly, another thing to have set off Boomer even more.

"I'm sorry, Brick. I shouldn't—"

"I wasn't..." Brick pulled at the hair that curled under his red hat. "I'm talking about Buttercup and Boomer. They should be the ones you're apologizing to."

Butch blinked at Brick. He understood Buttercup and has been running through apologies since Boomer told him about her impending arrival.

But Boomer?

Butch figured Boomer would understand and come to his senses eventually like Boomer did when he was upset. That was how their friendship has always worked. Every fight or argument they have gotten into, Butch and Boomer were quick to forgiveness after taking time to cool off. Apologies have been implied between them for over the past fifteen years.

"Boom and I will be fine—"

"You're so fucking dense, Butch," Brick spat out in defense of Boomer. "He lost his best friend in all of this. You fucked with his mind and made him believe you'd betrayed all of us. Betrayed him. You and I were friends, but we weren't as close as Boomer and you. I don't matter as he should. So, I don't want your weak apology, but he, at least, should be the one hearing it."

Butch should be taking in what Brick was saying. He should soak it all in like a sponge, but instead, Butch was heavily wounded by the single usage of one word.

"Were?" Butch repeated with a hint of devastation to his voice. His face crescendo into a mass of vulnerability and shock. "We were friends?"

This was the first time Butch has questioned his place in Brick's life since the night they had met.

But that Brick was utterly different from the Brick in front of Butch right now. The old Brick was less jagged around the edges. He had two walls to climb over and did not try too hard to prevent anyone from doing it. That Brick was comfortable; that person would crack jokes with his dark sense of humor without any cares; that Brick was good at being present.

This Brick in front of Butch was defined by a different life. A life Brick has been living for the past five years.

Tragedy had a particular way of changing a person. After Mojo, there was a notable shift in Brick's personality. He had always been standoffish and dry, but Brick had grown more withdrawn. Those two walls soon became thousands to venture over. If Butch had not already established a friendship with Brick before it all, then he was sure they would have never become acquainted.

And the Brick in front of Butch was a reflection of it. Of the torment and anguish, Brick has lived with. Of the voluntary isolation, Brick has committed to, forcing him to avoid going into Townsville by any means. Of the unrelenting inability towards forgiveness, Brick has been giving to everyone—including himself.

Brick slammed his truck door, realizing by now he was not leaving any time soon. His keys accusingly pointed at Butch, taking steps closer to him. He stopped when there were about two feet between them. His chin tilted up, and Brick was sizing up to be equal to Butch despite being three inches shorter.

"Butch, I don't trust you," Brick admitted in a rough yet quiet voice.

His stare made Butch feel every ounce of the villain Brick portrayed him to be.

"You've hurt way too many people for what exactly?"

Butch could not find his voice to answer the question, to emphasize he did it to protect Berserk, but also to gain an advantage for his friends. So Brick took it as a cue to continue on.

"And out of everyone here, I know just what it's like to get close to Him. You might believe you're in control, that you're pulling a fast one on Him right now, but how could you be so sure he hasn't been manipulating you this entire time?"

"No. That's not true," Butch refuted, sharpening his eyes at Brick, not even entertaining the idea Brick presented.

The way Brick looked at Butch, it reminded him of a lion waiting to strike down its prey. No matter the size or strength the prey had, the lion was going to win by going straight for the jugular.

"You'd agreed to Him's terms to get on his side. He gave you full access to your powers, and you don't think there'll be consequences for that?" Brick questioned in a certain way that implied how lowly Brick thought of Butch's intelligence regarding the decision. "Even with the purest intentions, you still sold a part of your soul in exchange for trying to use Him. You've stripped yourself down and played right into his hand. You let Him ruin you, Butch. Can't you fucking see that?"

Butch felt his stomach drop.

Was Brick right? Did he really play into Him's hand?

He just wanted to protect Berserk and gain an advantage for his friends, but instead, it has left Butch untrustworthy and villainous.

"Brick, I didn't…" Butch fumbled out, but his throat felt sandpaper dry.

Words were jumbled together in his head, unable to detangle into an intelligent remark to say back.

"Didn't know? Yeah, it's obvious," Brick said with mild venom attached. "And that's what makes you untrustworthy. No matter what you say or reveal, your actions are what define you, Butch. It always has."

"Blossom forgave me," Butch injected desperately, grasping at anything to lessen Brick's bite. He knew Brick could be unforgiving, but they were friends. Butch was not just anyone. "Shouldn't that mean something to you?"

Brick became shadowed by a cloud of guilt, softening at the mention of Blossom. His ruby-colored eyes went to the ground beside them.

"Blossom is capable of forgiving easily. I admire her for the kind heart she possesses and her ability to move on. But me–" Brick poked at his own chest with the ends of his keys, meeting Butch's eyes with a burning stare. Butch swore the wave of heat crashing into his face was not from the endless heatwave harassing Townsville. "–I like to keep my grudges. They let me know who to trust and who not to."

Butch ran a hand along his face, moving it up and picking at his curls to calm his nerves.

When they were younger, Bubbles used to cry just because someone would raise their voice at her. Butch never understood how she could let herself come undone by someone giving her criticism, but now, Butch finally got it.

It was the feeling of being utterly defenseless and humiliated.

Butch had his hands twisted behind his back, left vulnerable to merciless attacks. He felt small from the right cocktail of words and menacing stares. Brick was dissecting him, like a frog in a Biology class, and Brick was much unimpressed by what he observed.

He was not going to cry as Bubbles did, but Butch did not know how many punches he could take from Brick. All gloves were off, and Butch felt as if he had been in a boxing match for a full twelve rounds, getting his ass absolutely handed to him. All of Brick's punches were connecting, and Butch could not fight him off. He was backed into the corner of the ring, absorbing all of the hits and low blows.

Butch never meant for any of this. He never wanted to hurt the people he loves.

But he did.

How am I supposed to fix this?

Was there even a chance for him to do so?

Butch hung his head with deep shame, closing his eyes for a moment to hide away from Brick's relentless daggers.

"I'm sorry," he breathed shakily. "I know that's not what you want to hear, but that's all I can think of to say. I'm absolutely sorry for all these things I've done."

"You want a piece of advice, Butch?" Brick offered sharply after a beat.

At this point, Butch would take anything to straighten out his head. He nodded.

"You need to learn who you are. I think you've tried so hard to accommodate to what everyone else wants for you to be, that you have no clue who you are or what you want. You don't know how to make up your mind on your own," Brick began harshly. "You're like a pendulum, constantly in motion, moving back and forth between decisions—"

Butch rolled his eyes spitefully, not willing to hear what Brick was saying anymore. "That's not true—"

Brick gave him a blank, unimpressed expression, tilting his head to the side. It was an action that much reminded Butch of Berserk before she was about to verbally cut down an opponent.

"Are you going to stay enrolled at the community college, or are you going to pastry school? Are you going to commit to the Navy or stay here? Leave Townsville or not? Is it Fuzzy's dreams or your wants that come first? Who's it going to be, Butch? Buttercup or Berserk? Us or Him?" Brick threw back at him coldly. "When are you going to make up your damn mind?"

"I…" Butch shut his mouth, not trusting himself to say anything further.

He, instead, gazed down at the beat-up pair of Nikes on his feet in defeat. Butch had lost yet another round against Brick.

Brick snorted at Butch's lack of response before continuing on. "Maybe you're swaying in our direction now because it's what we need. It's what Blossom wants. But is it what you want?" Brick wagered, waiting for Butch to crack under pressure. "Or are you going to swing back into Him's direction and do what he wants?"

Butch glared at Brick for suggesting such a thing.

"You need to figure yourself out. You've built yourself up to be this constant in so many people's lives, but when the dust settles. When all their wants and expectations for you erodes away and you're left with yourself—the you that isn't derived by them—are you going to be proud of the man that's left?" Brick emphasized. "Or are you going to keep lying to yourself and pretend you are?"

Butch opened his mouth to respond, but he had nothing to say.

What could he possibly have to say anymore? Brick had taken all the oxygen out of his lungs and left him struggling to replenish it.

Butch, however, saw where Brick was coming from.

Butch has been bending himself backward for those in his life for as long as Butch could remember. His actions have been based on others' wants and needs, whether they fully pertained to him or not.

He could talk endlessly about what he wanted, but Butch failed at making any strides towards them. And when he did make moves, Butch regularly changed his mind between the opposite ends in fear of making the wrong decision for those around him.

Perhaps, Butch did not know who he was exactly. And maybe he was a little too late to do so.

The door beside Butch opened with Blossom walking through it, her wallet and car keys in hand. Her eyes widened when seeing Butch and Brick, freezing in place.

Butch wondered if she could feel the thick tension in the air like he did.

She appeared to have a question itching at the tip of her tongue, but she thought against it. Guilt pricked her eyes, casting a look towards Brick.

"We're out of milk and eggs," she said in a feather of a whisper to Brick. It took all of the strength in Blossom to keep her gaze on him.

Butch took note of the usage of "we're" again.

His eyes went over to Blossom's car that looked like it has not moved in quite a few days. Then images of Brick's home flashed through his mind. Butch played a mental game of I Spy when realizing there were distinguishable differences in his living room now.

It had all clicked together, with Butch coming to the quiet understanding that Brick and Blossom were currently living together.

That added another disheartening layer to Blossom revealing Brick did not talk to her last night. They went to lay in the same bed together without a conversation or a verbal utterance of "good night."

Butch's conscience pushed with shame from knowing he caused this chasm between them to exist. If Butch did not ask Blossom to keep his secret, maybe Brick would not have been so frosty towards her.

"I know."

Whatever ill feelings Brick had towards Butch, disappeared. His voice was much gentler, sounding as if it came from a totally different person. Still, Brick was the same person who had pointed out all of Butch's faults just a few minutes ago.

"I was about to go out and get some."

"Oh." She pursed her lips, contemplating for a second before speaking softly to Brick. "Do you want to go together? We could..." Blossom smiled faintly, full of uncertainty. "We could talk too."

Brick swallowed, nodding once, Butch's presence no longer existing to him.

"Yeah. I would like that."

Expectantly, there were no goodbyes exchanged between Brick and Butch. Brick, instead, went back to unlocking his truck's door again, slipping into his front seat and unlocking Blossom's side from the inside.

Blossom did share a small, friendly smile with Butch before getting into Brick's truck.

Butch returned the expression. Despite the lashing Brick had given him, Butch wanted for Brick to be happy, and Blossom gave Brick that feeling.

He watched the couple pull away and drive off into town, leaving Butch to go back to waiting for the next arrivals. His mind repeated the words of advice Brick had given him.

... Are you going to be proud of the man that's left?

Butch could answer that question now.

He did not feel proud of himself at all.

---

October 23rd

San Diego, California

One year ago…

It was a last-minute decision. He and Buttercup had been eating at Otto's the night before, discussing what they should do for his birthday tomorrow—which was today now. Butch mentioned wanting to do something outside of Townsville, and Buttercup suggested going out of state for the hell of it. How they decided on San Diego, Butch was not sure, but by the next morning, they were both packed and on the road for the spontaneous trip neither were truly prepared for.

They had spent over six hours on the road, with Butch driving the entire way since Buttercup lacked her driver's license. They had played the cliché road trip games, sang along horribly to a playlist Buttercup had made the night before, and ate too much junk food from a gas station than they should have.

Finding a hotel last minute at a cheap price had been the biggest struggle of the day, but since it was the off-season, they were lucky to find something after an hour of searching. Sure, the mattress of the bed was more bedsprings than anything, the room smelled like old lady perfume and mold, and it could have been dusted one more time, but Butch and Buttercup were happy to have a place to sleep for the next two nights. Plus, it was only a ten-minute walking distance from the beach.

Which was where they had decided to go after eating dinner. Using a woven beach blanket underneath them, Butch and Buttercup were both enjoying their first actual moment of relaxation for the day.

Butch had his long legs spread out, taking up the entire length of the blanket, pressing his weight on to his hands. Buttercup had her legs folded, resting her arms on top of her knee, laying her head on his shoulder.

The golden rays of the sun were beginning to expire for the night. The sky was dying off in bursts of yellow and vibrant orange, the calm waves of the ocean shimmered with a heavenly glow. A couple seabirds squeaked above them, and there were some families nearby going about their evening. A sandcastle had been abandoned in front of them, half washed away from the earlier high-tide, still sensitive to being ruined.

"Not bad for turning twenty, huh?"

Butch threw his head back, groaning a little. "Ugh, I still can't believe I'm twenty now."

Buttercup had let out a small laugh. "It's not that big of a deal, Butch."

"It is. I've been alive for two decades now and look how fast that all went by. I feel so old now."

"No, you're just dramatic," she said, shaking her head at his logic. Her eyes were tracing over his profile.

"Yeah," Butch smiled weakly. "Maybe I am."

"But I like how dramatic you are," Buttercup expressed. She got a grip of his chin, leaning closer to him, berating his right cheek and neck with kisses.

Butch laughed boisterously, becoming slightly ticklish from her touch, squirming a little away from her.

"Okay! Okay! I get it, you like me!" He gurgled.

"Like you?" Buttercup pulled back, flickering her eyes from his lips to his adoring gaze. "I love you."

Butch's chest ballooned from hearing those three words. For so long, he wanted to hear them come out of Buttercup's mouth, and now she was able to say it casually. It was everything Butch had wanted.

He tilted his head, smiling against her mouth. Their noses were mushed together, and Butch was intoxicated by the refreshing smell of the salty ocean and the scent of the coconut shampoo Buttercup uses.

Buttercup was smiling too as Butch kissed the soft curves of her lips.

He went for the corner of her mouth, the rise of her cheekbones. He kissed the tip of her nose, the crease between her brows. He kissed her eyelids, feeling the silky touch of her dark lashes on his lips.

Butch had to kiss Buttercup everywhere he could. He had to worship her and her smooth skin with his love.

"I love you too," Butch professed after finding his way back to her lips for one last, gentle kiss.

"Yeah." Buttercup pushed into his chest lightly, a broad grin framing her mouth. "I think that's pretty obvious."

"Hey, you'd started it."

"Well, if we're being technical," Buttercup considered, keeping her head angled to face Butch. She reached for his hand, weaving their fingers together. "You were the one who couldn't keep their mouth shut and told me that they loved me first. So, you were the one who actually started this."

Butch cringed at the brief remembrance of that night and the emotions wrapped up along with the memory. He avoided her gaze, focusing on the steady motions of the waves crashing onto the beach.

"And look at us now."

"I think we're the same as we used to be." Her thumb stroked along the ridges of his knuckle. "I missed us being like this."

Butch felt his body buzzing for an indescribable reason. There was a pit in his chest, but once it was cracked open, it would be found to be hollow and empty. It oddly made him anxious, and Butch could not pinpoint why he had this feeling.

He did not let it show, however.

Instead, Butch cracked a smile, letting a small laugh escape from his lips. "Is that why you'd changed your mind?"

"Changed my mind?"

"Yeah." Butch nodded his head once, swallowing down his nerves. "Is that why you'd changed your mind about me and our relationship?"

"I… I don't know," Buttercup muttered. She had stayed quiet for a long moment, and Butch was beginning to regret even asking the question. He felt Buttercup's eyes were on him. "I think the moment I knew I was in love with you was on my birthday last year."

Butch met her eyes, taken aback by hearing this detail.

Her last birthday, I had been with…

Butch quickly grabbed the shovel in his mind, burying away the memories of the previous year to make sure they were never unearthed again. He cleared his throat, squeezing Buttercup's hand to give himself a sense of comfort.

"Why then?"

Buttercup shrugged her shoulder. "I remember how Bubbles and Blossom had wanted to go to Phoenix, but I didn't want to. I've never cared enough to make my birthday a big deal and do shit like that, and when they were arguing over what to do, I just sat there thinking about how you would've known exactly what I'd wanted."

Buttercup returned Butch's gesture, squeezing his hand two times before continuing on with a shaky, bashful breath to her words. "You've always known what I've wanted, and you would be there to help me reach it. You've also always been so constant and there for me. I never realized how much I liked having you right there beside me until you weren't there. After that, I didn't ever want to let you go." She lowered her gaze down to his chest. "You know how to love me better than anyone else ever could…"

Butch lifted her chin back up, memorizing the light and colors of her eyes just right. A blanket of relief draped over him, no longer feeling the pit in his chest.

He flashed a toothy grin. "You got all of that from Blossom and Bubbles arguing?"

"You know better than anyone else that when they argue, it's more like two Sesame Street characters bantering with each other," Buttercup remarked flatly. "It's way too pleasant to even be worth paying any attention to."

"Bubbles does get a bit high pitch like Elmo when she's irritated," Butch mused along with a few chuckles.

"God, they're so annoying," Buttercup exhaled, shaking her head at the memory. "But I love them—" Buttercup frowned at her choice of words. "Well, I love one of them."

"Do you—"

"Today isn't about her," Buttercup interjected firmly. "I just want to focus on you and us, okay?"

Butch nodded, deciding to respect Buttercup's wishes.

Besides, talking about Blossom and their fall out would only uproot unpleasant emotions.

"... What about you?" Buttercup asked after a momentary silence between them. "When did you know?"

"Fuck," Butch exhaled, scratching at the back of his head when searching for the exact moment. "I'm pretty sure it was when we were eight, and we had that dumb ass fight over whether Froot Loops or Frosted Flakes were better—"

"Froot Loops are still superior, just so you know," Buttercup teased.

Butch shook his head with a grin. "We're not doing this again."

"Fine, okay," Buttercup laughed. She motioned for him to continue talking. "You were saying?"

"What I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted–" Buttercup pushed his shoulder playfully, and Butch had only chuckled off her attempt at retribution. "Was that after our stupid argument, we didn't talk for, like, two or three days, I think. And I remember it was then when I'd decided I never wanted to go a day without talking to you."

"You're so cheesy," Buttercup replied despite the broad smile on her lips.

"I was fucking eight, okay?" Butch defended, but there was no offense to his tone.

"Hey, eight-year-old you was onto something pretty sweet." Her free hand went to his eyebrow to smooth down his hair. Her own eyebrows were creased together from a heavy thought. "We've ended up being each other's first for a lot of things, you know?"

"First friend, first time, first love," Butch rattled off to confirm her notion.

"First real relationship," Buttercup added along with it, retreating her hand back to her side.

"Well—"

Butch quickly shut his mouth, chewing down on the inside of his cheek, stopping himself from objecting Buttercup's assumption.

She was not his first real relationship, but Buttercup did not need to know that.

It would vastly change everything between them if he did tell her. He and Buttercup were finally in a good place; they were finally able to enjoy being a couple, so why would Butch ruin it by opening his mouth?

It was easier to let Buttercup believe what she wanted about this matter.

Furthermore, Butch could make an argument towards Buttercup not being truthful either. She had plenty of relationships before him, some that could not merely be described as just being a fling.

Buttercup arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response out of him. "Well, what?"

"Well, um–" Butch ran a jittery hand through his hair. He was sure the hand Buttercup was holding onto was way sweatier than he would like it to be. "–you weren't my first kiss."

"Yeah, I know," Buttercup grumbled. "That bitch Kamila Patel was your first kiss."

"Babe, it was spin the bottle in the seventh grade," Butch acknowledged with amusement. "It wasn't like it was on purpose or even serious."

"Still." Buttercup narrowed her eyes a little. "And I, one hundred percent, still believe she stuffed her bra back then."

"You're delusional," Butch guffawed.

"No one's boobs are that big in the seventh grade," Buttercup stubbornly argued.

"Right." Butch nudged her teasingly. "And what about you and Cameron Goldman?"

Buttercup raised an objecting finger. "Okay, he'd kissed me without asking."

"Yeah, but the second and third time seemed pretty mutual," Butch pointed out.

"I–" Buttercup sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, growing flushed from Butch calling her out. She could not hold back her sheepish grin or nervous laughter. "I thought he was a good kisser."

"Oh, wow." Butch held a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded by her words. "That really hurts."

"Trust me, you're a thousand times better than he was."

"Is that so?"

Buttercup nodded. "You know not to shove your entire tongue down my throat. You'd be surprised by how many guys think that's the way to go."

"Guys do suck," Butch mused. He leaned closer to Buttercup, laying his head on her shoulder.

"They really do."

By now, the sun had settled in for the night. Streaks of light pink lingered on, waiting to be merged with the violet and sapphire sky. The waves were climbing higher on to the beach. A chilly breeze brushed over them, making Buttercup roll down the sleeves of her teal hoodie. Half of the others on the beach had retired for the night. A few couples would walk by on an evening stroll, but mostly, Buttercup and Butch were alone on the beach.

"We could do this," Buttercup said quietly.

"Do what?"

"Move here."

"Uh, not to burst your bubble, but San Diego isn't exactly cheap," Butch replied skeptically.

"It doesn't have to be San Diego, Butch," Buttercup cleared up. "It can be anywhere in California. We could move here if we really wanted to. It's so much better than being in Townsville."

Butch pondered over her words, accepting she did have a point. California was better than Townsville—at this point, anywhere was better than Townsville for him.

"You're right about that."

"I know I am," Buttercup accepted. "Just imagine it. We could get an apartment together. We could do whatever we want without anyone talking because who honestly gives a fuck in California who we are? Our parents would be a whole other state away from us. Everything would be fresh and new. It–" Buttercup had let out a hopeful sigh. "–It would be perfect, wouldn't it be?"

Butch tilted his head back on Buttercup's shoulder to get a view of her eyes. "I don't know. What about Fuzz—"

Buttercup clutched onto his arm with her free hand, interrupting his concern from being fully heard. "Come on, Butch. This is everything we could ever want."

Butch slanted his eyes at her, not entirely convinced. "How would we even do it? We're both incredibly broke and have poor impulse control with our spending—hence–" Butch gestured around them. "–Why we didn't question whether we should think more about coming here than we did."

"Ugh, you sound like Boomer," Buttercup groaned.

"He is my best friend."

"Yeah, but I don't want to date him or anything close to him," she countered with the corner of her mouth turned upward. Buttercup was met with disappointment when Butch did not share the same humor she felt towards the comment. "I don't get why you're getting upset about this."

"Because this is a huge decision," Butch argued with a little more heat than he wanted. "I don't want to make the wrong choice."

"It's not like we're going to do it right this minute, Butch."

"But—"

"Stop getting so sensitive," Buttercup retorted with an eye roll. "It's just an idea."

Butch lifted his head up, eyeing Buttercup with a critical stare.

This was not how he wanted their conversation to go. He was only trying to raise some concerns without rushing into things. That was the responsible thing to do, right? He was sure it was, but with how Buttercup was acting, it made Butch question if he should have even said anything at all.

She did have a valid point. It was not like they were going to immediately pack up a Uhaul and move out here. This was just a moment to prophesied their future. It was planning out the unforeseen and—God, Butch did not want to make the wrong choice.

If he moved to California, he would be leaving Fuzzy. He just got back from quitting the Navy a couple of months ago; Butch was far from wanting to leave Fuzzy and the bakery alone again. If he moved, Butch would be absolutely broke and scrambling for money. He would not be living rent and bill free as he did with Fuzzy. If he moved in with Buttercup, he would be…

Butch quickly buried away any of his negative notions.

We're not going to move right this moment, Butch convinced himself.

This should not be troubling him so much. Knowing what he wanted to do should not cause Butch to struggle so much.

The thing was, Butch was terrified of realizing what he truly wanted. Even when Butch did know what he did want, it constantly evolved to fit along with the other wants chattering around him. He did what was expected from him.

He would rather have his mind be foggy from the outside influence than to be enlightened to his truth. There was a path Butch should strictly follow, one with Buttercup guiding him, and he was doing such an excellent job at keeping pace with her. He could not fall off now.

Not when Butch was starting to figure out the puzzle to his life.

It grew easier for him to ignore how the ridges of the pieces could fit perfectly together, except for the fact they were all just a millimeter off from being firmly set in place, creating a tiny space between each and every piece. Butch was concentrating on the bigger picture rather than the finer details of the puzzle.

The bigger picture being that he was happy doing the right thing for everyone. Fuzzy, Buttercup, his friends. Everyone.

Well, except for…

Butch cleared his throat, softening his expression. "Let's be realistic for a moment. How can we do this?"

"Do you even want to?" Buttercup questioned with a bit of attitude that was employed to hide how hurt she truly was.

Butch was not phased by it, having grown accustomed to Buttercup's choice of a defense mechanism.

Butch leaned his head forward, tracing his eyes over her face in the dimming evening light. He was not sure what he wanted, but Butch was going to let his heart take the lead on this choice.

"Yeah, of course, I do."

His answer was well-received by Buttercup. Butch knew this from the dazzling smile she had for him. She could rival a star in the sky with how brightly Buttercup had become.

"Then, I think we could do it in about five years," Buttercup answered with a yearning. "I'm pretty sure we would need to get some type of degree—that way, we have a fighting chance at a job here."

Butch grimaced. "More school?"

"I know. It's complete bullshit, but–" Buttercup shrugged her shoulders. "–It's the quickest way we can make something out of nothing."

"So, what? We take classes at the community college?" Butch assumed. "What would we even study?"

Buttercup tilted her head to a degree, considering his question. "I could study political science. I did have that internship at City Hall, and I didn't completely hate it."

"You are terrifying and stubborn enough to make it in politics," Butch teased.

Buttercup elbowed him, rolling her eyes despite the corners of her mouth being pulled upward. "Yeah, whatever. I would kind of kick ass at it."

"Yes, you would."

"What about you? You have any ideas about what you would want to major in?"

Butch shook his head, frowning at the very idea of having to study for another exam he would not even care about.

"I would rather continue working at the bakery—"

"Aren't you tired of only knowing how to bake?" Buttercup interrupted.

Butch pressed his lips together into a firm line. "No, not really."

"Butch, come on," Buttercup puffed out with mild frustration. "You have to build up your resume. Working at your dad's bakery all your life isn't going to get you anywhere. It's just going to be an example of nepotism."

"I like working there," Butch pushed back. "I like what I'm doing—"

"But do you really want to be stuck in the same place your entire life? Don't you want to find what you love and let it consume you?"

"I…"

Butch hung his head, running his fingers through his hair.

He was content with his life, and Butch loved working at the bakery, but he was not sure if it was what he was truly meant to do. He could only find out if Butch did branch out and try out something new.

Buttercup's influence was gaining a firm grip on him to view things from a new perspective.

"I do want that."

Buttercup had let go of his hand, allowing their palms to breathe in the cool night air. The ocean roared gently in front of them. Bubbles of sea foam were scattered closer to them with each new rolling wave.

Her hand went to the back of his head. Her index finger curled around the hair at the nape of his neck. Butch glanced over at her, finding Buttercup was watching him with a tender gaze.

"Then we'll find it," Buttercup decided. "We'll find the right path for you, and then we could get closer to a future out here. Sounds good?"

Butch smiled softly. "Sounds perfect."

"Good," Buttercup breathed in relief. She leaned forward a little, trying to make out the rich shade of emerald in his eyes from the darkness canvassing the beach. "When we move out here, we could travel all the time too. All over the state, Washington and Oregon too. Maybe we could even go out of the country from time to time."

"I'm down for that," Butch agreed. "We should do all of it before we settle down."

Buttercup furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Settle down for what?"

Butch shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I don't know. Don't you want to have kids?"

"Kids are a hard pass," Buttercup confessed curtly.

Butch scrunched his nose at her response. "You don't want kids at all?"

"They're all snotty, whiny, and sticky. Why would anyone want to have kids?"

"It's kind of in our genetic makeup to want them," Butch argued without much effort.

He was still taken aback by the fact Buttercup did not want kids. He should have known this.

Why didn't I know this?

It was rightfully her choice to make; Butch, however, was not in the same boat as her. When Butch did decide to take glimpses into his future, he did see having children at some point. Unlike Buttercup, Butch had a soft spot for them.

"That's a romantic way of putting it," Buttercup deadpanned.

"Yeah, it's not." Butch had let out a weak laugh. The mist of the ocean sprayed his face, and Butch was drowning in the conflicting emotions inside him. "But, uh, about having kids—"

"Don't you think we're too young to even be talking about this?" Buttercup presented with an eyebrow raised. She did not ask it with malicious intent. Instead, Buttercup was genuinely curious about his opinion. "I just turned nineteen, and you only turned twenty today."

Butch folded his legs together, hugging his knees into his chest. "I don't know. I am twenty now, so I am getting pretty old," he quipped.

He had to let it go. The issue of kids was not something to worry about at the moment. It was not a present concern, and Butch was willing to move past it.

After all, Butch had no clue what the future could instill. Buttercup could change her mind, or he could change his mind. There was a chance one of them or both of them could not even have kids, so why would Butch want to make a problem out of it when it did not need to be?

Butch was not going to risk the smooth, paved out path he had for something so sensitive. He was not going to take a chance after being so sure about his last one…

Butch was just happy he was getting to enjoy being in love with Buttercup and having her openly feel the same way too.

"I did spot a gray hair you had today," Buttercup teased.

Butch blinked at her, his hand instinctively went to his head. "Are you fucking serious? Where?"

Buttercup held back a smile before letting out a belly laugh. "You're so vain."

"I'm not," Butch defended with his eyes narrowed. "It's just my hair is my best feature."

"Says who?"

Butch opened his mouth, but an answer could not be found. "A—A lot of people say that," he answered unconvincingly.

"Right," Buttercup remarked with heavy sarcasm. She brought her hand to his chin, turning his head to face her direction. Her eyes were drawn to his mouth. "Just so you know, your best feature is your lips."

Butch leaned forward, pressing the tips of their noses together. "I think you're just saying that because you want me to kiss you."

"It's possible," Buttercup smiled softly.

Butch tilted his head, moving to close the distance between them when he felt a splash of water sprinkle onto his foot.

"What the fuck?" He muttered.

Butch jerked back from Buttercup, reaching for his phone, turning on its flashlight. Upon using the bright light, Butch and Buttercup quickly discovered that the high tide had decided to greet them on a more personal level. A new wave was rushing up to meet their blanket and feet at a moderate pace.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" They both shouted out frantically.

Buttercup sprang to her feet, grabbing her stuff up from the blanket as Butch did the same. He pulled the blanket away before the bottom edge got soaked once again by the incoming wave.

Unfortunately, the sandcastle before them had been not so lucky, having melted when making contact with the water, washing away back into the roaring ocean.

"What the fuck was that?" Buttercup exclaimed.

"I think that's the ocean's way of saying get the fuck out," Butch joked, rolling up the beach blanket.

Buttercup rolled her eyes despite the smile on her lips. She flung on the straps of the backpack she had brought with her, and then read off the time on her phone to see it was only nine-thirty before reaching for Butch's hand.

"At least this gives me an excuse to give you the last part of your birthday present while it's still your birthday." She flashed a mischievous grin at him. "I'm sure your actual best feature will be happy about it."

Butch cocked his head to the side, peering at Buttercup with a half-lidded gaze and an adoring smile. "Maybe there are some perks to turning twenty after all."

---

November 24th

Townsville, Arizona

Present Day…

When the afternoon came around, so did the flurry of people to Brick's home.

Bubbles was the first to arrive, keeping a distance away from Butch. She also stayed by Boomer's side for the majority of the time that has passed since her arrival, giving Butch an indication as to why his silent treatment existed.

Brute and Princess were the next to show up. Princess was not entirely subdued with her actions to talk about Butch being there with Bubbles and Boomer. While Brute mainly sent daggers in his direction.

Berserk came twenty minutes after, relieving Butch from the isolation he received from the others. He had met her outside the house when she pulled up.

"Hey, baby—Oh," Berserk found herself saying as Butch threw his arms around her.

He went to hug her the moment Berserk had stepped out of the car and clicked on the fob in her hand to lock her mom's car.

His arms snaked around her torso, pressing Berserk tightly against him. He lifted Berserk up a little, making her stand on her tippy-toes. His head buried in the cove between her neck and right shoulder. The familiar scent of blood oranges and cinnamon overwhelmed Butch's senses, allowing him to feel safe for a moment.

He embraced her as if it was the last time Butch would ever be able to.

Berserk was initially caught off guard by Butch. After recovering, Berserk wrapped her arms around his neck. One of her hands grabbed a fist full of his dark curls, allowing for Butch to hold her for as long as he needed.

A minute had passed before Butch lifted his head up from her neck, gazing down at Berserk, silently telling her about his emotions.

Berserk used her hands to push back the hair in his face, keeping them at the top of his head to act as a headband. Her hot pink eyes watched him with concern and affection, her mind processing on how she wanted to approach Butch's feelings.

"How bad is it?" Berserk asked anxiously in a quiet voice.

"Uhhh..." Butch removed one hand from her hip to scratch at the back of his neck, going through a list in his head. "Let's see. Boomer hates me—like, I've never seen him this angry with anyone in my life. Princess won't stop gossiping about me with the others, Bubbles is giving me the silent treatment because of Boomer, and Brute won't stop glaring at me. Oh, and I got my ass chewed out by Brick today. He is also another person who isn't pleased with me at all…" Butch finished in defeat.

Berserk chewed on her bottom lip before a sigh escaped her. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.

Hearing an apology fall out of her mouth was still an adjustment to Butch, but it was a good one to have.

Berserk removed her hands from Butch's hair, dropping them to her sides. "This is all my fault. I should've said no—"

"This isn't your fault," Butch interjected, shaking his head defiantly. "I'm the reason why everyone isn't happy and can't trust me. I came up with the plan, and you'd warned me this would happen—"

"But, you did it to protect me!" Berserk pointed out in a whisper. "None of this would've happened if you'd just stayed away from me—"

"I'm glad I didn't stay away from you," Butch interrupted over her again. He reached for her hand, bringing it to his heart. "And you shouldn't be blaming yourself. I made the decision to "betray" them. Not you, not anyone else, but me. I need to be held accountable for what I've done. Okay?"

Berserk blinked at him, followed by nodding slowly, knowing this was not a time to challenge him. "Okay."

"Good," Butch smiled softly, moving her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss onto her knuckle before letting their hands fall between them, staying entangled. "Now, are you ready?"

Berserk glanced over to the front door of Brick's home, taking in a deep breath. Her chest hollowed out, the air escaping from her lungs was shaky.

"I'm ready as I'll ever be."

"Just speak from your heart," Butch advised.

Berserk snorted at the idea, muttering, "I'm pretty sure Brute doesn't think I have one."

"I, for one, know you do. And I know that your heart is a pretty powerful thing when you allow it to shine."

Berserk tucked a strand of orange hair behind her ear, looking away from Butch for a moment to hide a smile. "Thanks."

Butch gave her hand a squeeze. "I'll be right by your side the entire time."

"I know," Berserk remarked, her eyes expressing the real depth of gratitude she felt for him.

And then they went into Brick's home knowing no one wanted them to be there. Any conversations that were being held abruptly stopped, all attention was sent in Butch and Berserk's direction.

Boomer and Brute both had a chilling look in their eyes when Butch and Berserk entered the room.

Princess reached out, lacing her fingers with Brute's in a display of support, mirroring Butch and Berserk, who stood opposite from them.

Bubbles glanced over at Boomer, hesitating for a moment before clipping his shoulder, gesturing towards the front door. With one last glare sent towards Butch and Berserk, Boomer followed Bubbles outside.

"Brute," Berserk began quietly once the door had closed. "I—I think I should start by—"

"You can start by admitting this is just another ruse you and Butch have created to betray us again," Brute accused, turning her head away from Berserk.

Berserk recoiled from Brute's allegation. The wall Berserk had crumbled down to let her heart speak, was glued back together in an instant. Her familiar mask of apathy was placed back on her face.

Berserk blinked at Brute with indifference now, falling back to her old defense mechanism of keeping people at a distance.

"Still stubborn, I see," Berserk acknowledged dully. "How disappointing."

Brute shook her head, appearing to be biting her tongue, but anger was a powerful persuader. Furious hazel eyes dueled with Berserk's blank hot pink stare.

"Still a coldhearted bitch, I see," Brute countered venomously.

"There's no need for that," Butch stepped in, narrowing his eyes at Brute.

"She's not wrong," Princess pitched in to defend Brute, returning Butch's glare.

"There's no need to call her a bitch."

Brute rolled her eyes. "Gotta put on your cape for her again, Butch? How heroic of you," she snapped back sarcastically.

"Leave him out of this," Berserk warned.

"Oh, we're doing this again?" Brute snorted. "Once again, Butch has gotten himself involved. But I guess your "golden boy" can do no wrong in your eyes, Berserk."

"Are you kidding me? Butch does stupid shit all the time," Berserk pointed out. She quickly turned to him, speaking quietly, "No offense."

Butch held up his hands to signal no harm, shrugging his shoulders a little too.

Berserk went back to Brute, tilting her head to a degree, her voice soft and brimming with sincerity.

"But I also know there's a reason behind his mistakes. There's miscommunication, secrets, selfishness, and, sometimes, maybe they're just mistakes he has made. Those mistakes can hurt, but when you hear him out, they could've actually been made out of love. You just have to let him explain himself to understand the mistakes he has made."

Brute shifted her standing, the air around them dense with the weight of her next decision.

Princess cleared her throat, gazing at Brute's profile. "Maybe you should talk it out," Princess suggested diplomatically. "We could try having a civil conversation about everything."

Brute's eyelids fluttered into another eye-roll. "Fine," she groaned out exaggeratedly. She sounded like a teenager exasperating from being told what to do by an overly doting parent.

"Why don't we sit at the dining table?" Butch offered. No one agreed with him vocally, but the girls made their way over to the table.

Butch took the seat across from Princess and next to Berserk. He cupped his hand around Berserk's right thigh, glancing around the table in anticipation of either this working out or going sideways.

"I think Butch and I should stay out of this. Right?"

Princess narrowed her eyes slightly at him, letting Butch know this rule was implemented because of him. He nodded in agreement anyway.

"We'll only intervene if needed to. But other than that, we're just here for support. So…" Princess said, tapping her nails onto the wooden surface of the table. "Who wants to go first?"

"I suppose I have the most to get off my chest," Berserk spoke up, meeting Brute's gaze with intensity. The tight mask she wore had slid off of her face once again, her heart being forcibly displayed on her sleeve. "I'll go first."

"Whatever," Brute brushed off, removing her eyes from Berserk's stare as it was growing to be too much.

"I know you're upset with me, Brute, and maybe, you even hate me. I... I haven't been a good person to you for the past few months. I thought..." Berserk took a moment to inhale and exhale sharply. "I thought by creating a distance between us, it would only protect you. I ran away from our friendship because I was too proud to admit the damage I did by getting you and Brat involved with Him."

Berserk combed a hand through her shoulder-length hair, waiting for Brute to return her gaze, but Brute remained defiant and stubborn to do so.

"I'm an incredibly prideful person, I've always been," Berserk continued on. "I've never wanted to admit to needing someone or that I could be wrong. And I've never liked to apologize. But I've come to realize pride isn't worth the pain I've brought to those around me. After Brat, I…"

Berserk's breath hitched, her bottom lip quivered from the mention of their departed friend. Butch gave her thigh a squeeze, expressing his support silently. Berserk flashed a weak smile at him, swallowing down the marble lodged in her throat, pushing through.

"After Brat, I spent a week crying more than I possibly could've imagined. I spent a week wishing I could swap places with her and regretting all my mistakes. I spent a whole week knowing we should've been grieving together, Brute. We should've gone through the loss together instead of apart. And it was all my fault that we didn't."

"If I could've admitted my mistake in working with Him, or if I hadn't pushed you away, who knows what would have happened…"

Brute slowly lifted her gaze, nearly bringing herself to meet Berserk's eyes.

"From everything that has happened, I've learned what humility is. That I don't have to be right or run away from those who care about me the most. That there's nothing boring about doing the right thing instead of chasing the thrill of doing the wrong thing. And because of that, I'm able to say how much I am incredibly sorry for what I've put you through, Brute..."

Brute's body perked up in her chair. Her hazel eyes were widened with shock from Berserk's apology, just as Butch had been when Berserk apologized to him for the first time. She was finally able to meet Berserk's stare, wetness brimming in both of their eyes.

"I'm sorry for being an awful friend to you and Brat. I'm sorry for all the times I'd flaked out, and for the moments, it seemed like I didn't care. I'm sorry for not telling you how grateful I am for your friendship. I'm... I'm just so sorry for everything..."

Brute cleared her throat, blinking back her tears. She kept up a neutral expression, letting her small voice do all the emoting for her.

"... Did you really try to save her?"

Butch narrowed his eyes at Brute.

How dare Brute question such a thing?

It took all of Butch's strength to keep his mouth shut and not let his want to shield Berserk, spoil the progress Berserk appeared to be making with Brute. His leg shook rapidly, reading over Berserk's calm demeanor to distract himself.

"I did punch Ace that night," Berserk recalled with a weak, humorless laugh. "... And I was ready to sacrifice myself in exchange for her life. Things... they just didn't work out in that way…"

"Was… Was she in pain?" Brute cracked. A long-held back sob was caught in her throat, and tears stained her dark cheeks gracefully. "Did he… did he torture her?"

"She was unconscious before any of it," Berserk answered in a fragile whisper. "I don't think… I don't think she had suffered when it happened…"

Butch scooted his chair closer to Berserk, removing his hand from her thigh to wrap his arm around her. Her head found comfort on the flank of Butch's broad shoulder.

Across the table, despite her own tears too, Princess rubbed at Brute's back as she got through her breakdown over Brat's death.

"... It wasn't the first time," Berserk breathed. Brute's face contoured to display her confusion. "It wasn't the first time Ace has killed Brat. It wasn't the first time I wasn't able to save her..."

"It–It was inevitable," Brute hiccuped through her crying once she understood.

"In some ways, yes..." Berserk murmured. "And in this attempt of life we're currently on, yeah. That would mean I've lost my two best friends before. It's been in different ways, but the effect and mourning of our friendship had to have been the same for me." Berserk slid her hand across the table, daring to present her open palm to Brute in a naked way of asking for forgiveness. "I've lost one of my best friends in this timeline, I don't want to lose my other one too."

Brute sniffled, her eyes lingering on Berserk's hand. "... I've said some pretty nasty things to you."

Berserk lifted her head up from Butch's shoulder, shrugging. "It's not like I didn't deserve it."

"But that doesn't change what I've said. I'm so sorry for it. Especially that night. You're not a monster or a psychopath, Berserk." Her eyes flickered over to Butch for a brief moment. "You didn't ruin Butch. You were misguided, and you were hurt—and so was I. I–I guess hurt people hurt people," Brute babbled out.

She took in a deep breath, wiping a tear away with her left hand, bringing her right hand to clasp Berserk's palm stretched out across the table.

"But maybe I shouldn't cower away from what I feel, and what I'm feeling right now is that I really miss my best friend."

Berserk had let out a breath of relief at the same time a smile pulled at her lips. Her eyes lit up, and Butch found himself softly grinning at her genuine happiness.

"I miss you too," Berserk whispered, her voice faintly cracking.

Brute was crying again, but this time they were happy tears raining down on her skin. Her smile creased around her eyes, pushing her cheekbones even higher than they already were.

"Can we hug it out now, girl?"

"You know I don't do hugs, but–" Berserk stood up from her chair, letting Butch's arm fall back to his side. "–I'll make an exception."

"Good," Brute declared, making her way over to wrap her arms around Berserk.

They shared the type of hug that was breathtaking. A strong hug that poured out how deeply a person cared about another. One shared by two friends who had done nothing but miss the other for the longest period.

The sight of it made Butch proud of Berserk for being able to admit her wrongs and apologize. That she was able to speak from her heart despite how much it frightened her. That she was doing better, just as Berserk believed she was finally capable of doing.

Berserk, Butch has come to realize, was the exact opposite of Brick. Her tragedy, the loss of her best friend, brought her walls down more easily. It let Berserk grow and see how much she needed the others around her. To see the good that had been shrouded by the darkness in her.

Instead of hardening, it made her softer. It made her human.

"I love a happy ending," Princess cooed, wiping away a few joy filled tears she had shed during the girls' reconciliation.

Butch could not take his eyes off of Berserk and Brute. His mind wondered if this was the only happy ending they would be able to receive. He wanted to say this was no end, their friendship was not close to finishing.

And neither were they close to the end of all their troubles.

"Me too," Butch smiled pensively.

---

Blossom and Brick have been gone for at least two hours, and, from what Butch could gather, no one has heard from them either.

Berserk and Brute spent the time waiting by catching up over the events that have transpired over the past two months—Butch has overheard his name and Princess' affectionately used many times in the duration of their conversation. While Boomer and Bubbles had returned into the household, spending most of their time talking to Princess on the couch.

Butch, wanting to keep his mind occupied, decided to do what he knew best: baking.

Given the lack of milk and eggs, Butch prepared the only vegan recipe he knew from memory. It was a plain chocolate cake with a fudgy texture. He had learned it a couple years back for Bubbles' seventeenth birthday, and it happened to be a top seller at Batter Up too. At the bakery, a slice of the cake was called the Pat Neshek. While Butch preferred the traditional way of baking, he did have to admit his vegan chocolate cake was consistently one of his most tasty creations.

He had finished pouring the dark batter into two separately greased cake pans lined with parchment paper when Bubbles came into the kitchen for a glass of water. Her light blue eyes brighten with recognition when glancing at the filled cake pans.

"Is that the chocolate cake you usually make for my birthday?"

"Yeah, it is," Butch answered. He flashed a friendly smile, pleased to have gotten at least one question out of her. Butch held up the spatula he had used to mix the cake. "You want to lick the batter off?"

Bubbles debated over his offer, looking over to where Boomer sat, seeing he was too preoccupied chatting with Princess to notice.

What Boomer and Princess had in common to have an enthralling conversation about was beyond Butch.

"I do," she decided, taking the spatula from his hand and settling her glass of water down. Bubbles went over to the counter hidden from the living room, propping herself up and sitting on the surface. "Thank you," Bubbles said before licking away at the batter.

Butch moved along to place the cakes into the preheated oven, inputting the cooking time. Once done, he leaned back into the counter behind him, staring across the way to Bubbles. He folded his arms, speaking in a quiet tone.

"So I'm assuming you've been trying to avoid me too," he acknowledged, unable to prevent his eyes from narrowing at her.

Bubbles avoided his gaze. A smudge of cake batter sat on the right corner of her bottom lip.

"... It's been hard trying to get over what you did," Bubbles confessed. "You've hurt a lot of people with the choices you've made, Butch."

"Yeah," Butch huffed out, nodding his head once. "I'm aware."

Bubbles chewed down on her bottom lip, choosing her next words carefully. "I get why Blossom can forgive you, and I get why everyone else can't. For me... I don't want to be around you... but I don't hate you. I'm glad that you're on our side again. I just don't think you've approached everything with any thought or consideration."

"I may have unconditional love for you, Butch, but you don't have my respect anymore. You're just too complicated for me right now, which is partially why I've been frosty towards you."

Butch pointed his chin in Boomer's direction. His eyes were half-lidded with repentance.

"And the other reason is sitting in the living room." Her gaze was unreadable with too many conflicting emotions for Butch to decipher. "Am I wrong?"

"Boomer and I," Bubbles started off with a heavy breath. She furrowed her eyebrows in search of the right explanation. "We've gotten closer in the past few days, and he told me about how he has truly been feeling about everything while we were outside today."

"You hurt him, Butch," Bubbles continued on, finding the strength to meet Butch's eyes now. The back of her hand moved to her mouth, wiping away the batter that missed being consumed. "You've been hurting him for a long time now."

"Yeah," Butch exhaled with shame. He rubbed at the back of his neck, while his body surged from the poisonous feeling of guilt. "I can say this past month has been the longest in my entire life—"

"No, Butch," Bubbles interrupted, shaking her head. "Boomer knew. He has known this entire time."

Butch blinked at her, his perplexed mind working through what she could have meant. "He knew what?"

"At the Citiesville mall about two years ago, around the holidays, but it was for his dad's birthday present. He was trying to find the Pottery Barn, but instead, Boomer saw you and Berserk walking around, holding hands."

Butch's hand moved up to his hair, combing through his curls as the shock jolted through him. Boomer knew about Berserk and him, and Boomer never said a word about it.

"Why didn't he say anything?" Butch thought out loud with a weight of frustration being portrayed.

If his relationship with Berserk was such a problem, why did Boomer not speak up about it? How was this ounce of information connected to how nasty Boomer has been behaving?

"He'd wanted you to tell him. He'd waited for you to say something about Berserk but you didn't. Instead, you grew distant. You'd stopped caring about anyone else," Bubbles revealed. "That is until you didn't anymore. You went from infrequently speaking to Boomer for months, to abruptly wanting to act as nothing had happened."

A wave of guilt washed over her, and Butch assumed it came from her own obliviousness in the past. Neither of them had thought about Boomer and what he has gone through; they had not been good friends to him. As irresponsible as it was for Boomer to never speak up about the problem, and then build it into present resentment, Bubbles and Butch could both admit they should have noticed it too.

Bubbles, Butch, Boomer; none of them were irreproachable.

"... He's needed a best friend for a couple of years now, but instead, Boomer has dealt with losing you twice."

"I... didn't know..." Butch gathered together. His frustration quickly burnt out with the reality of his wrongdoing. "I never…"

Butch glanced over to Boomer.

He finally understood why Boomer had left the bakery without a word. It must have been too much. The infliction and remembrance of the wounds Butch had given him were plain to see, even then. And Butch missed them. Butch has failed to see how Boomer has been suffering from the collateral fallout of his decisions.

Boomer must have seen there was no point in saying anything. Butch has unknowingly given off the assumption he would not care for years now. Therefore, Boomer had to believe he was better off staying quiet about his hurt feelings.

Butch could not blame Boomer for leaving that day at the bakery.

However, he did wish Boomer would have just said something, anything, at some point before all of this.

"... I don't how I can fix this," Butch admitted, finally accepting there were no ways out of the corner he had backed himself into. "Everything is screwed up, and it's my fault–"

"It's impossible to go about life without hurting someone," Bubbles interrupted in a calm voice. There was a detectable ache in her tone that was too relatable and fresh. "That doesn't make this irredeemable, or that you're a bad person, Butch. You've made mistakes, but that doesn't define you."

Butch snorted, thinking back on Brick's verbal assault and how he had said the exact opposite to him. Butch's mistakes have defined him to be untrustworthy and despicable in Brick's eyes.

And it was not like Brick was the only one. Boomer looked at him in the same way, as did Buttercup.

"... Why can't we just acknowledge what happened, apologize and move on? We have much bigger things to focus on instead of fighting each other. And—And I just want it all to go away…"

"But it won't go away," Bubbles said after a beat. "Not until you take the time to apologize and give the other person a chance to decide on forgiveness—"

"And what if they don't?" Butch asked swiftly.

"You can't steamroll someone into forgiveness, Butch. If you want a genuine relationship, then they need to have the option to not be able to forgive you too."

"But the first step to fixing this is to communicate and apologize," Bubbles added. She pulled out her phone with her free hand, reading the time. "And Buttercup should be here in thirty minutes. That should be your first priority."

Butch nodded, his emerald eyes going over to the living room. "And what about Boomer?"

Bubbles shook her head, frowning deeply. "I... I don't think Boomer is in the place to hear an apology yet. Honestly, I don't think you should apologize until he approaches you."

"But what if that doesn't happen?" Butch questioned with his voice stricken by hopelessness.

Bubbles lowered her gaze to the, now clean, spatula in her hand, not sugar-coating her answer at all. "Then it might be time to accept your friendship with Boomer is over."

---

November 10th

Townsville, Arizona

Two weeks ago…

It's about your mom…

Butch could not have predicted the direction of Blossom's shared findings. Nor the hole in his chest from the wreckage of it.

After meeting the girls at the Citiesville Airport, Butch had finally gone home to his empty bedroom. His mind racked around Blossom's revelation, picking through his life and its vast effect on it; past, present, and future. A consuming and sudden haunting came over him.

He stared up at his ceiling fan, watching the mundane motion, trying to understand his complicated mind. It was then when Butch received a text message from Berserk. Knowing she was still up, Butch called her, asking if they could go for a drive.

That drive led them to the middle of a vacant back-road outside of Townsville. He had pulled over, and they found a familiar place of laying on the hood of his car.

His arm was tucked underneath her, and Berserk laid her head across his chest. They had silently watched the clouds swirling around the crescent moon before Butch had to relieve the weight in his heart.

"Butch..." Berserk breathed when Butch had finished telling her about his mom.

After telling Berserk that his mom had been involved with Him, and was, most likely, killed by Him.

She lifted her head up, her hand cupping his jaw. Her hot pink eyes read him intensely. "What are you thinking?"

"... I want to be angry. I–I should be crying, right?" Butch inquired, guilt shrouding in him. Most people would grow emotional upon learning their mom had been murdered.

"How you feel is how you feel," Berserk answered softly. "You don't have to cry just because you believe that's what you should be doing."

Butch ran his free hand through his hair, a frustrated huff left his lips.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"... The more I think about it, the more empty I feel," Butch confessed hollowly. "She was my mom. All she wanted to do was to be my mom. And–And she was murdered. I should be falling apart, I should be vengeful towards Him, I should be picking a fight with Him right now. But... But instead, I can't think. I can't feel. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do next..."

"That's normal, baby," Berserk consoled in a delicate whisper, her eyes were full of a tenderness no one else but Butch was allowed to properly see. "You've been motherless for what feels like the entirety of your life. You've made peace with your loss a long time ago. And while the grief doesn't go away, your life has gone on like it should because Fuzzy has ingrained into you that your mom would've wanted it that way."

"Knowing how she truly died, it isn't going to ease your mind because you've already known she's dead. It isn't going to make you cry because you've already come to terms with it. It's more so, you're realizing all of the what-ifs now. The moments you could've had, the life you were robbed of where your mom had lived. And the feeling of emptiness, it's from you questioning if you're better off how you've turned out or if you would've been made better with your mom being around..."

Berserk paused for a moment, her thumb gently tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You're stuck."

"Yeah, maybe so…" Butch breathed after some time.

A film roll sizzled through his mind, a viewing of the possible life Berserk had mentioned. One where Caroline Lumpkins had lived and got to do the one thing she wanted to do the most: to be his mom.

He imagined she had a Southern accent that was as thick and smooth as sweet molasses. A person who shared his jeweled tone eyes, loose ebony ringlets, and shine for life.

Butch saw visions of days of his youth spent singing and dancing in the kitchen along with her, smiles wide and free.

She would have read to him every night in his younger years. Butch would travel to different places with each story about pirates, dinosaurs, space, and whatever his mom could get her hands on to contain Butch's hungry imagination.

She would share her love for ballet with him. They would spend many bright summer afternoons outside, laying on the grass, taking in the smells of it being freshly cut.

One day, she would have achieved her dream and open up a bookstore in town—most likely next to Batter Up. Butch would help her run the place, dusting the shelves, reading to kids, recommending his favorite authors to customers, anything to help his mom out.

She would stand in the crowd at his graduation along with Fuzzy, beaming, and full of pride to see her son graduate. All the reading and her passage of adoration for books to her son would have helped push Butch to do well in school and get him to apply to colleges out of state. He would even get into an Honors program, working on a comparative literature degree.

It was all sweet. A sugar-coated, warm, and fuzzy feeling to think about the possibility. The picture-perfect life he could have had in another universe.

But the more he craved it, the more Butch noticed it had an artificial and bitter aftertaste. How it turned his stomach into an aching pain, and Butch was acutely aware of how his teeth were going to rot if he ate any more of it.

Butch saw the good life he could have led if Caroline Lumpkins had lived, but Butch was also stopped by the things he would have missed.

His friendship with Boomer and them bonding over just having dads. Fuzzy and him, and the depth of their father-son bond. Butch working at the bakery with Fuzzy and finding his passion for baking.

Would any of that would have been included in his other life if it existed?

In the supercut in his mind, Butch did not see any of it.

There was no Berserk in that other lifetime either. Butch would have never truly met her. He would have been away at college instead of wallowing in his buried emotions at Taipan the night Butch had saw her.

That other life, the one playing in his head, was for another person. Years back, Butch would have wanted to swap places in a heartbeat, but it was not the life he desired anymore.

There was no Boomer being his best friend. And with no Boomer, there definitely would have been no Brick to befriend. Fuzzy and him would not have grown to have an unbreakable bond that they have today. Butch would love reading instead of baking—an idea Butch found absolutely ludicrous. And there would be no Berserk.

If Butch had his mom, it would be all in vain for the things Butch loved the most in his current life.

That was why Butch was stuck. He missed his mom and wished he had gotten to know her, but Butch also knew his life would be drastically different if he had her.

The question was, was Butch better off now or if his mom had lived? Which life contained a happier version of him?

He was not sure. All Butch could collectively conceptualize, was how much he missed his mom. And how the slight seize in his chest that Butch has carried for his whole life was a bit more noticeable since talking to Blossom.

"You also miss her," Berserk added to fill in the silence Butch had left her in, reading his mind. She removed her hand from his face, moving it to lay flat on his chest.

"... I do. I miss her every day."

"Good. That's how you keep her memory alive." Berserk sucked in a shaky breath, choosing her words with much consideration. "... I've decided to share Brat's memory by focusing on the good her life brought to me, and that's how you should treat your mom's memory too."

"But that's the thing," Butch whispered. "I don't have memories of her like you do with Brat... How am I supposed to keep her memory alive if she was never here to give me any?"

Berserk kept to herself, a puff of air expelled from her lips in thought. Her nails filed against his chest a few times before she spoke again.

"You had given me stories about your mom when we were only fuck buddies," Berserk began with a hint of uncertainty, but she progressed on nonetheless. "You told me about this woman who thought with her heart first and was inexplicably kind. She was elegant, soft, and well-mannered. Never had a bad thing to say about anyone."

"I know all of this about your mom and what type of person Caroline Lumpkins was because you took the time to share those memories you were given to me." Berserk leaned a little forward, emphasizing her next words. "That's how you keep her memory alive. By sharing your knowledge of the good soul she had and not dwelling on how Him briefly tainted her life."

Butch gazed up at the stars, melding with Berserk's advice. The hole in his chest felt considerably smaller, making its slow way to healing itself.

Berserk had given Butch a goal to strive for. Something to keep him focused again, a way to understand the new tendency of his grief.

He would make sure his mother's death was not going to be remembered for what happened but for who she was. That was the memory Butch wanted, one he should share. It was the memory his mom deserved.

It was the right path Butch has been destined for.

Butch sat up a little, brushing his lips against Berserk's forehead before laying back down on the hood of his car. He rubbed his hand along her arm, his eyes shining for her.

"Thank you."

Berserk shared a soft smile with him, a glimmer of hope flashed across her face. "Of course."

"She would've loved you," Butch heard himself saying.

Despite having a vision of never stumbling into Berserk's life, if his mom lived, Butch stood by his comment. It was what he wanted to believe would happen if Caroline Lumpkins were to show up alive tomorrow and saw his relationship with Berserk.

"She would've tolerated me," Berserk responded back, avoiding his gaze. Her fingers played with the fabric of his tee-shirt. "I would've been the girlfriend she would know makes you happy, but she would question if there was anyone better out there for you."

"And then she would realize you are the person who is," Butch continued tenderly. "Then, my mom would've come to her senses and realize how much she loves her daughter-in-law."

Berserk jerked her head back a little. Her lips pouted in the full way it did when she was confused, dark eyebrows were furrowed together.

"Daughter-in-law?" Berserk repeated, deathly close to speaking in a whisper. "Why would…"

She did not finish her sentence, and Butch got the sense Berserk was too frightened to even vocalize what he was implying.

But Butch was not scared of the idea.

Butch has been more of the "live in the moment" type of person. Gratification was more heavily felt when in the present than ignoring it in the hopes of a future payoff. Plus, the future pertained way too many questions Butch could not settle down long enough to figure out.

Yet, with everything going on, Butch has given the direction of his life a little more thought than usual. Butch knew what he saw was meant for a later date—they were extremely occupied with other dire concerns, obviously—but it was something Butch has looked forward to.

It brought on another reason to put a fire up his ass to make sure he and Berserk got a full glimpse of the future Butch has begun to think about.

"If there's one thing I know for sure at this point in my life, it's how I feel about you." Butch reached for her hand laying on his chest, weaving their fingers together. "You're the one I want to be with." He smiled bashfully, moving his gaze from her to their hands. "I want it all with you, Viviana."

"... Are you sure that's what you want?" Berserk murmured, her stare having fallen to their hands too.

Butch traced his eyes along her face, taking in the timid way her expression contoured under the glow of the night stars. He felt a weight press into him, one that contributed from the spike of fear of being completely vulnerable with someone and not being received in the desired way.

"Yeah," Butch confessed in a shaky breath that was trying to mount up more confidence. "Like I've said, the one thing I'm sure about is us and how I feel about you. I want all I can get out of life with you."

He broke free from her hold, moving his hand to tuck a strand of orange hair behind her ear. Butch then caressed her cheek, stopping underneath her chin and lifting her head up, bringing her stare to him.

"If you let me, that is. If this is what you want too."

Berserk chewed on her bottom lip. Her eyes were bright, and Butch could see the spark of hope portrayed for him to read. A delicate breath was removed from her lips.

"... Growing up, getting married had never been an importance to me," Berserk revealed in a quiet tone. "I've always thought no one would want me to be their wife. When my mom used to talk about me having a wedding in the future or when Brat wanted to fantasize about what it would be like to be someone's wife, I wasn't interested in it because it never felt realistic for me."

Oh.

"Oh," was all Butch could even say out loud too.

Berserk inhaled sharply, a shy smile struck across her face as she exhaled in the same way. "But I–" She began with a nervous swing to her voice. "–I can say you're the first and only person who has brought up the idea of marriage to me, and it didn't disgust me."

"Disgust you?" Butch paraphrased, letting out a laugh. "That's not how it works, Viv."

"People get married and then end up hating the person they're with. They get stuck with each other." Berserk shook her head. "I don't want that type of life. And I guess... I think I know if it was with any person other than you, it will happen." She gently jabbed her index finger near his heart. "Baby, I want a future with you. In whatever way we get there, I know that I'll be happy. I know that given a chance, I would choose you and that life we'll lead on every time."

If Butch was susceptible to crying easily, he might have at this moment. Berserk had broken him down, leaving him in a rubble of feelings.

She had come into his life at a turbulent time, making Butch question aspects of his life, altering his reality.

In Butch's mind, there was a timeline marked by before and after Berserk had strutted her way into his life.

She revolutionized his world, but it had all been Butch's choice to allow her to.

Berserk grounded and reassured him, but she also pushes him to lasso his dreams and to feel every moment without feeling ashamed for doing so. After spending almost two years apart from her, it was not about what was right or wrong when concerning Berserk. The outside noise did not matter anymore to Butch. It was just them and the team they have become together.

It reminded Butch of why he had fallen for her in the first place. Berserk loved him with all she could. Passionately, unconditionally, and recklessly.

It was the same way Butch loved her.

"Is that a promise?" Butch offered with a dazed smile.

The corner of her mouth turned upward. "It's more than a promise."

"And what about kids?"

"Kids?" Berserk repeated with a slight amount of amusement to her tone. Her eyebrows were knitted together. "Is this your way of telling me that you want some?"

Butch felt an intricate knot being tied in his chest. "Yeah, I do eventually want some."

"Huh." Her expression became neutral upon hearing his response.

The knot in Butch's chest tightened more, going for a double lacing to increasingly constrict him.

She studied him, not giving Butch the slightest indication of what was on her mind. For Butch, it made him more self-conscious.

"Is this too much? Did I ruin the moment?" Butch panicked. He tried to sit up, but Berserk gently pushed him back down.

"Baby, you're fine," Berserk assured. She brushed her fingers along his jaw. "I just don't know what to say."

"If you don't want to, I understand," Butch replied. He swallowed at the nerves lodging in his throat. "I totally understand. We're too young to talk about this anyway—"

"I didn't say no," Berserk murmured to him.

Butch had closed his mouth, peering into Berserk's steady gaze. His chest felt slightly undone. The knot was hanging loosely, waiting for whether it should be looped securely around again or to be completely untied.

Butch took her hand, finding himself mindlessly playing with her fingers to ease his nerves. "What are you thinking then?"

Berserk stayed quiet for a long moment before answering him.

"... I don't know what to think," she confessed. "I've always told myself I wasn't going to have kids. I kept telling myself that I'm not a loving or warm enough person to take on a role that should be based on loving unconditionally. And–And I've never really thought anyone would be good enough for me to want kids with them."

Berserk sucked in a heavy breath, slowly letting it go. "But since being with you, things have changed for me. I'm not scared of letting people know how much I love them anymore, and I've found a kindness in me that I actually like."

"... I'm not in a definitive place like you are on this," Berserk continued delicately. "But I'm surprising even myself by saying that I'm not entirely opposed to the idea of having children. Maybe it's because I've changed or maybe it's because of the idea of having them with you. I... I guess this is me saying I want you to know its not a total no on kids for me."

"Okay," Butch breathed to relieve the tension in him. "... I like that answer."

"You do?"

Butch nodded. "Mmhhh."

Berserk scooted closer to him, pecking his cheek before fixating on his eyes. "I want you to know if we do have kids, I can't necessarily promise that I won't screw them up somehow."

"I'm sure you won't screw them up. It'll probably be me who does that," Butch admitted with a sheepish grin.

"No," Berserk countered with a warm smile. Her eyes gleamed with a luminous glow that Butch could melt from. "With how Fuzzy has raised you and the golden heart you have, I think you would be a phenomenal daddy."

Butch's eyes lit up from her belief, a lopsided grin took form on his mouth. He arched an eyebrow, holding back a snicker.

"I'm not too surprised to hear you say that."

"Why is that?"

"I mean, you've already called me daddy before," Butch remarked. He barely gave himself enough time to deliver his line before losing himself into the humor of it all.

He laughed boisterously as Berserk pushed him away in a halfhearted attempt. She rolled her eyes, but the smile putting up a good fight to stay on her lips told Butch no harm had been done.

"It was only a few times, Butch. I knew you would let that go to your head."

"It is an ego boost," Butch confessed through his subdued laughter.

"I swear if I didn't love you so much..." Berserk huffed, pinching at the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "Just count yourself blessed."

---

November 24th

Townsville, Arizona

Present Day...

"I'm sure you already know this, but people tend to use utensils instead of their hands to eat cake," Berserk stated, her eyebrows were raised when approaching Butch in the kitchen.

Butch was leaning over the counter, staring out of the window in Brick's kitchen. He did not bother to grab a fork or spoon to eat from one of the cake pans he prepared. Instead, Butch used his hand to pick out pieces.

He was nearly finished with one cake and it had only been out of the oven for ten minutes now. His side effect of endless eating told him to devour the cake, but Butch knew he was also eating his feelings.

Crumbs of the cake stuck onto his fingers, and the fudgy texture smudged and coated his sticky hand.

"I didn't find any," Butch told her after an extended period, trying to keep his face from portraying the agony he felt.

Berserk narrowed her eyes, opening the drawer next to them. It was filled with pristine and sparkling—Butch swore they were so clean that he saw it sparkle just a little—silverware.

"Is that so?"

"I didn't try finding any," Butch corrected sheepishly.

"I'm aware." Berserk crossed her arms, leaning her left hip against the counter. "I saw you were talking to Bubbles. What—"

"How did things go with Brute?" Butch interjected in an effort of avoidance. He wanted to move on. He wanted to have everything be okay, nothing negative or heavy. "You were talking for a while over there."

Berserk blinked at him. "It was nice," she revealed gradually. "We'd missed out on a lot and I'm glad we're trying to repair things now." The corner of her mouth turned upward. "I also think I may have convinced her to be a little nicer to you."

Despite how shitty he felt, Butch could not help smiling. "Aw, babe, that's so thoughtful of you," Butch teased affectionately.

She tapped one of her blood-red nails against his chest. "I'd figured I should be the one to call you out on your shit, not her."

Butch opened his mouth to reply with a line he felt was overly flirtatious, but Berserk beat him to it. Her nail dragged over to his neck, pressing the sharp tip of it into his skin delicately. Her hot pink eyes watched him with a certain alertness.

"What did you and Bubbles talk about?" Berserk tried again.

Butch shied away from the question, focusing on the cake pan to pick out another piece to eat instead. As he chewed, Butch forced himself to formulate an answer. With a swallow, Butch lifted his head back up to meet Berserk's gaze.

"We talked about how much of a dick I am," Butch confessed in a small voice. His cake covered hand gestured to the room next to them where the others sat. "I shouldn't be here trying or pretending like I'm a good person when today has proven I'm the exact opposite."

Berserk furrowed her eyebrows, obvious disagreement reflected off of her. "Baby, you know you're a good person—"

"I don't even know who I am!" Butch exclaimed in a whisper, his clean hand patting against his chest. Berserk jerked her head back, caught off guard by Butch's quiet outburst. "I've been living my life for others and I haven't figured out what I am without them. Maybe—" Butch brought his clean hand to his hair, looking for a way to calm his nerves, pulling on a few of his curls. "—Maybe on a surface level, I knew. I've known what's right and what's wrong and what I should be like, but I don't know what I am beyond the surface. I don't know who I am, Viv, but I'm not happy with who I'm becoming," Butch finished in a defeated tone.

There was a certain look. The look of someone watching their significant other go through a series of pain and all they could do was watch in frustration. Where they displayed the wish to swap places with the person they loved simply to take away their troubles, all in just the reflection of their eyes. A look of empathy to its fullest and the desire to have the secret of how to wash away whatever was hurting their loved one.

That was the look Berserk was giving him.

"Then change it," Berserk decided after collecting her thoughts. "If you're not happy, you have time to change where you're heading. You're only twenty-one, Butch. You don't need to have it all figured out. Hell-" Berserk's nail was back to jabbing into his chest with a soft repetition of pokes. "-I like to think I know who I am but there are certain things I'm working on to do better, to be better than I already am. So what?" She shook her head, leaning closer to Butch. "You don't know who you are, and that's okay. You should be focused on being happy with yourself more than anything."

"But Brick said—"

"Brick said what?" Berserk interrupted. Her jaw shifted and the finger that had been poking him folded back into her hand to form a fist to lay against his chest. "What did he have to say? Is that why you're sulking over here?"

"I wasn't sulking," Butch defended.

Berserk's eyes went down to the cake pan that had been shaped by his hand clawing through it. "Are you sure about that?"

"Fine, I am," Butch exhaled with exhaustion. "And I guess that's part of the reason why I am too. He said my problem is that I don't know myself. That I make my decisions based on others and when they aren't there to guide me, I can't make up my mind. He said he couldn't trust me because maybe I'll change my mind and go back to Him—"

"Really?" Berserk laughed humorlessly, catching Butch by surprise. "This is all coming from the same guy who was actually working with Him at the beginning of all this."

"But he had a reason for doing it—"

"And so did you," Berserk acknowledged. "He claimed to work with Him to protect the person he loves. How is that any different from what you did?"

Butch opened his mouth to reply, a rebuttal was formed but he quickly rejected.

It was dismissed because Berserk had a point. Brick and Butch, they were two sides of the same coin. Their decision was based on the same purpose.

The difference was, Butch faked being on Him's side, but Brick had not. Brick had worked for Him in every timeline. Manipulated or not, Brick had some type of allegiance with Him for a certain amount of time. If Butch was not trustworthy in Brick's eyes for pretending to work with Him, then what made Brick any different?

Was Brick truly someone they all could trust? Or has he been playing the role of a lifetime this entire time?

"It's not," Butch realized after a solid minute.

"Baby, let me ask you. If I'd never questioned Him or didn't want to change sides, would you've done what you did?" Berserk questioned, her voice faltering as she went on. "Would you've had actually switched sides for me?"

What would've I done?

Butch wanted to think over the question but the answer rushed into the forefront of his mind.

He would have not done it. No matter how much Butch loved Berserk, Butch could not sell his entire soul for her. He could not lose his heart to become something Butch hated.

And maybe Butch could say no because he had faith that Berserk would have eventually seen the error in her ways and turned on Him. That she would discover the person Butch has seen the entire time. The good, thoughtful, and warm person Berserk has kept away for too long.

"No, I wouldn't have," Butch whispered.

Berserk blinked at him. A tender yet proud smile gradually framed her lips. "Then you're on the right path."

"I don't really know about that," Butch doubted. If anything this day has shown him, it was that Butch has not been trudging in the right direction.

"You are," Berserk assured. "You have to trust yourself, though. I've always believed we are destined to certain things in life, but what we do in between those gaps, that's our decision to make. So here it is, this is the time for you to figure out what it is that you want to fill in those gaps with."

This is the time.

This was the time for Butch to correct his mistakes. To repair the damaged relationships he left in the aftermath of his brash decision-making. This was the time to show the love he had for them in spite of what has happened. This was the time for Butch to make peace with the harm he has done but to also understand the power of asking for forgiveness.

A smile broke through onto Butch's lips. He leaned down, bumping his forehead against Berserk's. "How can one person be so damn wise? It constantly blows my mind."

"I think it's more that I know you," Berserk said, looking up to him through her thick, mascara-covered eyelashes. "And I hate seeing you tear yourself down so easily. I just want to make your problems more simplified." Her hand caressed his cheek, stroking her thumb across his cheek affectionately. "You take care of me and I take care of you."

"You know how to do a fantastic job at it," Butch said softly.

"As do you, Butch."

In his ears, Butch could hear the intensity of electricity crackling. The lightning between them was smooth and calm, fizzling out into a pleasant warmth of safety and comfort.

Butch moved his hand to place it on Berserk's hip, but Berserk took a step back before he could, shaking her head.

"Yeah no, you're definitely not going to touch me when your hand is covered in cake," Berserk objected.

He faked a pout. "But I want to kiss you."

"You can kiss me without using your hand."

"I could," Butch extended. A playful grin took shape on his mouth, tilting his head to a degree, his eyes half-lidded. "But the way I want to kiss you isn't exactly rated PG."

Berserk reflected his expression, patting her hand against his right shoulder. "Then maybe you should wash your hand."

"That's a brilliant idea," Butch oozed with teasing sarcasm. "I hadn't thought of it—"

The sound of someone clearing their throat prevented Butch from finishing his sentence. The clouds of crackling electricity around Butch and Berserk parted, returning them back to Earth and their surroundings.

Butch's face fell the second he looked away from Berserk.

Buttercup stood four feet away from them.

Blossom and Brick had apparently returned from the grocery store and brought back one of the employees that worked there alongside the food.

Butch's stomach curdled, guilt puncturing his chest. His mouth turned downward, and Butch could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

He expected for Buttercup to be inflicted with rage. To sneer at the sight of Berserk and him together. She obviously caught them having a moment, yet…

She just looks sad. Plain and simple.

Maybe even dead-eyed. Like the girls in the comic books Boomer raged on about. Like Blossom had been at the Citiesville Airport. Any life that collected in Buttercup, it all appeared to be drained away.

Berserk tossed her eyes between the two, finally settling on Butch. She rubbed a hand along his arm, giving him an encouraging smile.

"Just speak from your heart," Berserk advised, echoing him from earlier in the day.

The corner of Butch's mouth flexed upward weakly, fading away the moment Berserk left to give him and Buttercup some space.

Their green eyes met, becoming one of the most dreadful experiences Butch has been through. To have someone he has loved, stand before him, behaving awkwardly and uncertainly as if they were strangers.

He placed his cake-stained hand under the faucet of the kitchen sink, turning it on and letting the hot water wash away the cake as Butch did not remove his eyes from Buttercup.

"We should, uh... We should talk."

Buttercup let out a huff of air, taking a long moment to nod her head once. "... Fine."

Butch glanced over to the crowded living room. Even if the others were involved in a conversation, Butch knew they would try to overhear what he and Buttercup had to say. This was a talk Butch needed to be between Buttercup and him only. No eavesdroppers or outside influences.

This is the time.

This was the time to finally apologize to Buttercup the right way.

When Butch had his hand cleaned completely, he turned off the sink. He dug into the pockets of his jeans, pulling out his car keys.

"Let's go for a drive then."

---

Butch had chosen to take a drive because it was easier. Buttercup would not have to look at him in the eyes, which made Butch hope it would help her be more comfortable to be vulnerable. It gave Butch something to do with his hands that had no idea what to make of his nerves. And it bubbled them into privacy away from the others.

His car felt stuffy from the lack of anything being said thus far. Butch could not help thinking about the last time he and Buttercup were in a car trying to navigate a shift in their relationship, they had lost their virginity to each other.

Back then, it had become the beginning of them.

Today, however, could be the exact opposite. They were possibly nearing towards the end.

Butch drove slowly along the vacant back-road to Citiesville, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "So—"

"I hate your car," Buttercup stated abruptly. Her arms were crossed, glancing around the Mustang he acquired from Brick two months ago—Butch was pretty sure Brick regretted that decision now. "It's different and weird, and it's not you. Your other car was better."

Butch furrowed his eyebrows, knowing she was not necessarily speaking about his car. "I miss my old car too."

"Huh," Buttercup said. She focused her line of vision to the window beside her, taking in the lifeless scenery of the dusty ground beside the road. "So... What now? Are you going to finally admit to cheating on me?"

"I didn't cheat on you."

"Yeah, right—"

"I may have done a lot of things wrong, but I didn't cheat on you, Buttercup," Butch said firmly over her. There was an edge to his tone, feeling this conversation was already a wash due to her early accusation. "So quit it with that shit."

Butch heard Buttercup grumble a few words under her breath, but nothing coherent enough for him to understand. He was thankful for that, actually. It prevented Butch from getting heated by something unsavory said by her. Because this was not the time for them to be arguing.

It was time for Butch to admit to those wrongs he just spoke of.

Butch glanced over to her, sucking in a tight breath, letting go of the tension from the moment before.

This is the time. It had to be.

"Buttercup, I..."

With his exhale, Butch wanted to chip away at the cement that solidified in his chest since their break up.

"... I'm incredibly sorry for how things happened between us. I should've been honest with you from the start. I should've told you the second I'd realized I still had feelings for Vi—Berserk," Butch corrected, feeling the usage of Berserk's real name was too intimate.

It felt like bragging to Buttercup about their relationship.

His voice faltered. "I should've told you that I was in love with her the night of your senior prom."

"... Why didn't you?" Buttercup inquired quietly after a minute passed. Her animosity from before had been undetectable in her question.

Butch winced at the memory of that particular night. From the toxic mixture of emotions, he had been feeling due to his abrupt break up with Berserk.

"I was heartbroken and a complete mess. I couldn't figure out where my head was at. All I'd wanted to do was get away from her and forget how much Berserk had hurt me," Butch confessed in a fragile, pain-stricken tone. "So I did whatever I could. I'd refocused my feelings onto you. I'd joined the Navy—"

"You'd joined the Navy because of her?" Buttercup repeated, scoffing a little, her mouth slacked with mild shock afterward. She read over his profile for a brief moment, her eyes narrowing with envious dislike towards the idea. "God, how whipped are you?"

"Buttercup," Butch warned, not taking too kindly to her snide question.

Buttercup rolled her eyes harshly, glancing out the window again to keep herself from looking at him any longer. "It must be nice to have that much power over a guy," Buttercup muttered tartly.

Butch tightened his jaw, pretending he did not hear her low blow.

He nodded once, redirecting the conversation to be back on track. "I did join the Navy because of her," Butch confirmed in a reserved manner.

A short-lived pathetic feeling washed over him, similar to the one Butch had felt back when he made the decision to leave.

His voice was quiet now when telling her the full truth. "Everything had reminded me of her, and I'd needed to get away from it. It… It was a stupid way of handling my feelings, but, then again, I've never been good at controlling them. They can be so manic sometimes, you know?"

Buttercup did not respond, and with the quick look he got of her mouth creasing downward, Butch was given an idea of what her answer would have been.

No, she didn't know.

"I can't…" Butch fumbled out, not knowing exactly where he was going, but it did not matter. His heart was speaking to Buttercup, and Butch trusted what it had to say.

"I can't say I didn't mean to hurt you. In a way, I had to have known where this would lead us. Eventually, I couldn't keep secrets from you anymore. I just..." Butch glanced over to her, taking his eyes off the road for a longer period than he should have. "I wish I didn't get resentful and feel entitled to something with you before things got out of hand. I wish I had realized it much sooner. I wish I didn't get you wrapped up in something that at the time, I wasn't sure was over with. And I wish I didn't take advantage of you and made you feel like what we had wasn't real."

Butch refocused his attention onto the road. His left hand draped the steering wheel, while his right hand tore through his hair.

"Because it was real to me. I did love you, Buttercup, and I still do love you. But I..." Butch inhaled sharply, physically hurting his chest from how poignantly he was breathing, exhaling in the same way. "I'm not in love with you the way I should've been. Like how I was the night of my junior prom. Or how I was when I'd turned twenty, and we drove five hours to San Diego for the hell of it—But please do know that I was in love with you when we were together for the past year—"

"If you were in love with me, then how could you've thrown our relationship away so easily?" Buttercup shook her head, not allowing Butch the chance to see her face. "You're just rewriting history to benefit yourself—"

"I'm just telling you what I'd felt," Butch objected, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "It's not rewriting—"

"You're only trying to save your ass—"

"Maybe if you would let me finish talking, then it would all make sense." Butch threw a glare in her direction. "Or are you going to keep interrupting me?"

Butch wanted to be done arguing with Buttercup, but there was something that has made them volatile.

They were an irresistible force. She was an unstoppable sword, and he was an unbreakable shield. Neither of them was going to budge, but the sparks when they collide were a sight to be seen. Their interactions were marked by undeniable sparks of two powerful forces that were bound and destined to clash. No matter how devastating or beautiful the aftermath would be.

Butch could just feel the eye-roll Buttercup had committed when facing away from him. "Fine, whatever," she puffed out in defeat. "Just go on with more bullshit—"

"I'm trying," Butch began in a weak voice over her. After everything he has been through in the past twenty-four hours, Butch was deathly close to hitting his breaking point. "I'm trying so hard right now. Why don't you want to see that?"

Buttercup snorted. "Because, Butch, you cheated—"

"I fucked up, okay? I fucked up," Butch shouted hoarsely and a bit desperately too.

If he did not need to use his hands to steer the car, Butch was sure he would be pulling clumps of hair out of his scalp.

"I fucked up by not telling you about Berserk and I. I fucked up by not being honest about my feelings. I fucked up our relationship." He patted his right hand against his chest. "I'm the arrogant asshole here, right? Isn't that what you want to hear? You want to hear about how much I hate myself for what I've done? Because I do. I hate myself so fucking much for how much I've hurt you, Buttercup. And—"

His lungs were on fire, not able to slow down the collapsing and rising of his chest. There were grains of emotions caught in his throat, immovable even with the bobbling of his Adam's apple. The view of the road in front of him grew blurry despite Butch's best attempt at blinking it away.

"—And I'm so unbelievably sorry for hurting you. I—Fuck, I don't know what more I could say? I'm just... I'm sorry. That's it."

His apology hung in the air.

Buttercup kept her head turned to face the window. Her legs were pointed towards the car-door, angled away from Butch in the furthest possible way allowed in the cramped space of his passenger seat. She did not give Butch any indication of wanting to say anything back.

Butch heaved in a fresh breath, relaying on Bubbles' advice. He could not steamroll his way to forgiveness. Butch had apologized, now it was Buttercup's time to decide what to make of it.

Butch saw they were approaching Citiesville's town limits. He drifted into the left lane, then whipping his car around into a u-turn, heading back towards Brick's house.

They had been driving back in silence for five minutes when Buttercup had let out a plaintive sigh.

"... I wasn't sure how I'd wanted today to go," Buttercup spoke, her voice barely audible, and the air conditioning blasting in Butch's car made her even harder to hear. "I want to hate you. I want to hate what you've done. And I have, trust me, I have," Buttercup laughed bitterly to herself. "But then Boomer and I had a talk about you a week or two ago. All I'd wanted to do was be mad at you, but when I'd mentioned you, I was only making myself unbearably sad."

"I've been so hurt by everything you've done, Butch," Buttercup confessed, her voice utterly raw, scratching at her throat.

Butch had to swallow the golf-ball of emotions that persisted on trying to choke him at the moment too.

"You were the one person I'd counted on for so long. Even when things were weird, you were there. But now... When I look back at us and our relationship, it feels tainted. I want to hate you. I want to hate her. I want to hate myself. I want to be mad at you, but it's so hard for me to stay angry at you because you're you. I just want to be pissed off about something because it's better than..." Buttercup paused, her voice cracking under pressure.

Butch did not even need to look over to know Buttercup was crying. His heart pinged with disgust for knowing he caused this.

Instinctively, Butch opened the middle console between them, handing Buttercup a tissue from a packet he kept in the compartment while keeping one hand on the steering wheel and half of his attention on the road.

From the brief glimpse Butch got, Buttercup's eyes were rimmed with redness, and her cheeks were far more drenched than they should have been if she had just started crying.

"... It's better than being sad and missing you," Buttercup lamented feebly.

Suddenly, the friction between them felt pointless.

This fracture did not need to exist. Not when Butch could recognize the unconditional love he held for Buttercup. That simple fact was more potent than the hurt emotions Butch had let dictate him. Despite the destructive arguments, maddening mistakes, and the harm they have caused one another, Butch wanted it. He has always wanted to have Buttercup in his life. Whether it be good or bad, Butch has wanted it. She was a constant Butch could not do without.

"I miss you too," Butch whispered delicately, roughly wiping at the corner of his eyes, faintly wetting the back of his hand. This was something he has not done in a long time.

"But you have her," Buttercup argued. There was no anger in her tone; instead, it was sorrowful.

Her hand held onto the tissue he had given her, dabbing at her face.

"That doesn't mean I don't miss you, Buttercup. It doesn't mean I've stopped caring about you, or I've forgotten what you mean to me."

Buttercup's hand played with the tear-stained tissue, crumbling up the paper into a ball, squeezing it.

"... I'd wanted to give you hell when I showed up today. I had this whole epic speech about how much of an asshole you are and how much of a bitch she is."

Butch narrowed his eyes at the road, biting down on his tongue to prevent his momentary want to defend Berserk be vocalized.

"I have every right to be vindictive right now. And I'd wanted to say how much she doesn't even care about you, that she'll never love you like I do." Her voice was cracking again, and Buttercup smiled spitefully at the unwanted irony of her life. "But instead, I saw the way she looks at you. I saw how much light you bring to her. I saw how deeply in love she is with you..."

"... And I saw how you look at her in the same way," Buttercup said after a moment, the sharp edges of her pain barbed each word. "It was the same way you used to look at me. I didn't realize it until I saw you and her. It was the way you'd looked at me back before anything happened between us. Before I had fucked with your head after your junior prom. Before you had her..." Buttercup trailed off, taking the tissue and wiping at her nose. "I've never fully gotten that look from you again."

"Buttercup," Butch found himself whispering, hoping to comfort her, but Butch had no clue what could possibly be said to make her feel better.

Buttercup shook her head, rejecting his concern. Instead, she pushed on with her words.

"I can pretend to have all this hatred and anger towards you. I can be as bitter as I want, but does it even matter anymore? How could it matter when all I can be now is so fucking sad?" Buttercup sniffled. "I'm not the one who gets that look from you anymore. I've completely lost you... And I have to be sad because I didn't see what I was doing wrong until after we broke up. I'll never get the chance to fix us."

Butch raised his eyebrows, his expression was soft and confused. "I'm the reason why we broke up. Don't blame yourself—"

"You were right," Buttercup interrupted.

Her light green eyes were focused on the balled up tissue held in her right hand.

"What you said at the lake on Halloween, every part of it was true. I–I didn't love you the way I should've. I knew you were safe, and I ran with it. I've barely known what you've done outside of me these past few years, Butch. I'd never cared about why you'd joined the Navy or not. I didn't find myself asking questions because I thought I didn't need to learn anything new after our time apart. I thought I knew you. And that was the person I fell in love with. It wasn't who you were after we'd stopped talking or who you are today. But the you that I knew before your junior prom."

"I did try to apologize," Buttercup revealed slowly. "At Princess' eighteenth birthday party, but you were too distracted by her. That night, I'd feared that you were too far from my reach, but eventually, you weren't anymore. You came back to me, and I had everything I wanted. I'd convinced myself to ignore the distance we had for the past year because it didn't matter anymore..."

"In my head, I thought I did everything right. I couldn't see what was wrong or off. I knew I'd caused some pain to you, but I figured you had forgiven me. I had no clue how much I had been continuously hurting you."

Butch opened his mouth to reply, but Buttercup continued on before he could.

"And she was right too," Buttercup grumbled a little, appearing as if it physically pained her to say such a thing.

Butch quickly understood Buttercup was referring to Berserk. He could not decide if whether he should be mildly annoyed or amused Buttercup has refused to say Berserk's name thus far.

Buttercup's fist squeezed her tissue even harder for a moment.

"I went along like your life had stopped the minute I'd rejected you, to the second we'd gotten together. Because to me, that was all that mattered. We were together, and I thought that was all you'd wanted too, so I didn't care to see if there was anything else you actually did want. I was so self-involved and saw everything in a stupid ass rose-colored view, to where I'd believed I was the only girl you could fall in love with. I was selfish with your love, Butch..."

"And… And I'm sorry," Buttercup finished in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I never fully loved you in the right way until it was too late."

Butch felt his shoulders loosen, a weight was lifted off of him. It was the chunk of him that had been filled with resentment and an underlying bitterness towards Buttercup after the things she had done.

And now it was gone.

Because Butch was willing to forgive Buttercup. Because he had already forgiven her in the bubble on Halloween. This was only the confirmation of it.

"Our timing has never been quite right, hasn't it?" Butch attempted to lighten the mood, snuffing loudly afterward. He flashed an uneasy smile at her, trying to read her profile with a brief glance.

Buttercup let the corner of her mouth tug upward a little. "It's been a total bitch if you ask me."

Butch let out a quick, small laugh. "Yeah, it has."

He pressed his lips together, rubbing his hands along the sides of the steering wheel anxiously. His heart was back in control of his mouth.

"But I'm glad that we happened, and that you were my first love. I'm glad you'll always have a special place in my life. Because—" Butch shrugged his shoulders to express how obvious it was. "—I'll always love you, Buttercup. And I hope one day we could be able to be friends again because I want you in my life."

Butch turned his car, pulling over in front of Brick's house, sliding in between Blossom's Beetle and Boomer's Prius.

"But only if that's what you want too."

Buttercup waited until Butch had fully parked the car and for them to unbuckle their seat belts to look in Butch's direction. Her light green eyes were cascaded by the dueling opposites of doubt and hope.

They had weathered storms together before. Massive and unrelenting storms. Somehow, Butch and Buttercup have made it through the torrential downpour and the darkness. Pieces have been broken off, and fractures could be found in their friendship, but they would still remain. They have always found a way back to each other.

The romantic layer of their relationship may have eroded away from the recent storm they have endured, but Butch had faith their friendship was malleable enough to survive. It was going to be a continuous cycle of newly defining where they would go from this. To get over the awkwardness, to understand their new roles in each other's life. To heal from the hurt they have each wounded the other with.

But it will be worth it.

Because to Butch, he felt that one day, their friendship would be cemented into being one of the most imperishable and beautiful relationships he could ever have. Which was why Butch had given Buttercup a clear idea of what he wanted.

"My answer is probably going to change daily, but as of now..." Buttercup's voice faltered into a murmur. "I want us to eventually be there one day too."

Butch did his best to suppress the gleeful smile trying to frame his face, giving her another read over.

"I know this doesn't fix everything between us," Butch acknowledged to prevent himself from getting a little too ahead of himself. "And I know this doesn't mean you've forgiven me."

Buttercup debated over it before nodding. "You're right." She watched him with sincerity. "But it's a step in the right direction."

---

"Brute wanted to make a bet with me that Buttercup was going to kick your ass while you were out," Berserk revealed to him with an amused grin.

They were sitting on Brick's couch, taking up the right corner. Butch was sandwiched between the armrest and Berserk, her left elbow was flexed into the back of the couch to prop her head up. His hands were fiddling around with the fingers of her hand lying on his right thigh.

Brute, Princess, and Buttercup were occupying the dining table. A hushed conversation was being carried on—Butch had the obvious nagging feeling it was about Buttercup and him.

Bubbles, Boomer, Blossom, and Brick were outside, discussing how to approach the topic of Him with the five left in the house.

"I thought you'd said she was going to be nicer?" Butch pointed out, his eyebrows raised.

"I got forty dollars out of it, so I'm definitely not upset with her for making the bet," Berserk said nonchalantly.

Butch chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "At least that tells me that you had faith in me not to fuck it up even more."

"I had a feeling she's been wanting to forgive you," Berserk replied quietly, her eyes fell to their hands. "And you do too. It's inevitable between you and her..." Berserk cleared her throat slightly, continuing on, "But I was nervous. If I'm going to do better, I've got to accept how important she is to you, and I... I just want things to work out for you in the way you want them to."

Butch ran his thumb along the back of her hand. "I, uh, know Buttercup and I being alone together makes you—"

"I didn't mean it in that way," Berserk interrupted wholeheartedly. She lifted her gaze, peering into his delicate stare. "I don't want to be insecure anymore. It's not fair to you or me. I care too much about you to ruin us again by not trusting you." A faint smile graced her lips. "And I do trust you."

"Thank you," Butch expressed with relief. "I don't know what I would've done without your support today."

"You would've pulled through," Berserk answered for him. "You have too big of a heart to give up so easily." The hand that was supporting her head went to brush along the hair behind his ear. "But things did go okay between you and Buttercup?"

Butch's eyes darted to Buttercup, then back to Berserk. "She hasn't forgiven me yet, but I didn't expect her to. It's something that needs to heal with time and from me giving her space."

"We just have to hope that time is on our side," Berserk muttered discouragingly, her thoughts clearly shrouded by the impending showdown with Him.

Butch did not have anything to encourage her with, he could not lie to her. Butch was just as uncertain as Berserk was.

So, Butch gave her hand a squeeze, hoping to himself whatever the four outside had planned, would be successful.

As if they could read his thoughts, the front door opened; Brick, Blossom, Bubbles, and Boomer had re-entered the home.

"I guess it's time we began discussing Him," Boomer announced after shutting the door behind him.

The conversation between Brute, Princess, and Buttercup was killed the moment the door opened. Five sets of eyes were darting between Boomer or Blossom, wondering who was taking command at the moment.

Brick and Blossom went to occupy their usual spot on the other side of the couch, mirroring Berserk and Butch's seating arrangement. Bubbles took the last free chair at the dining table, while Boomer stood before the fireplace, appearing as if he was about to give a TED Talk. A closed journal was clutched by his hands, and Boomer was taking in deep breaths to relieve his stage fright.

"Okay," Boomer breathed. His ocean blue eyes cast over to the dining table. "Before I start, I have to know if everyone is on board with fighting Him. I, uh, I know there have been some firm decisions made to stay out of it but, please reconsider," Boomer pleaded with a hint of desperation to his tone. "We need you. We can't fix this without all of us together."

Butch looked over to the table. Buttercup had her arms folded and did not appear interested in the subject. Brute avoided Boomer's eyes, focusing on the pair of hands lying in her lap. Princess chewed down on her bottom lip, the gears in her head turning furiously from giving the decision serious thought.

"You have Butch and me," Berserk acknowledged flatly. Her eyes were slanted into her menacing, blank stare to express her dislike towards Boomer continuing to ignore their added support. "That should be a plus to your concerns as a leader who desperately needs numbers."

Boomer grew flustered with blotchy patches of red staining his cheeks and neck. He barely gave Berserk a glance, unable to convey the same amount of outrage he was equipped with the night before towards her.

She was not Butch; Berserk was not someone who Boomer felt he could be vulnerable enough to lose his temper at. And Berserk knew this, using it to subtly get back at Boomer for how he spoke to Butch and Blossom the night before.

"That's good to know," Boomer said meekly, brushing past Berserk with the narrowest dodge he could.

"I think… I think I want to help," Princess announced quietly after an insufferable moment of silence and passive-aggressive tension.

"Princess!" Brute gasped. She furrowed her dark eyebrows, her face contoured by pure shock and a hint of betrayal. "I thought we agreed to stay out of this."

Princess reached for Brute's hands, gathering them together. "After Brat, I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. So I'd quit out of respect for you, Brute. I didn't feel right working to stop Him when you were hurting so terribly," Princess confessed delicately, in a moment that really should not have included seven other people.

"But before any of it happened, we'd agreed to not sit idly by while things went down. I've sat out and decided to stay ignorant way too many times in my life." Princess dropped her voice to a whisper. "I don't want this to be another one of those times."

Brute shook her head, stripping her hands from Princess' hold. She rubbed at the sides of her head, screwing her eyes shut. A heavy sigh of frustration escaped from her lips.

"Goddammit," Brute mumbled under her breath.

"Brute, I know this isn't what you want to hear—"

"Of course, it's not," Brute interjected.

She peeled her eyes open, meeting Princess' fragile dark eyes.

"I don't want to hear it because I know you're right. I told you that the best we could do was to not let shit go on in front of us. And–And I've been a gigantic hypocrite." Brute sniffled, blinking a bit harsher than usual. "I could say it's because of Brat or because I don't want to lose you or another person I care about, but truthfully, it's because I'm a coward..."

"Brute," Princess breathed.

"I can't do it anymore," Brute murmured to Princess first. Her hazel eyes then glanced over the room, acknowledging every other person before speaking again. "I can't be too afraid to make waves, and I can't be selfish."

She settled on Boomer, grabbing Princess' hand in a display of solidarity. Brute inhaled a shaky breath, letting go of it along with her buzzing nerves.

"I'm in too."

Boomer's mouth was slacked a little, unable to hide from the shock displaying on his face. He evidently had not expected this turn from Princess and Brute.

"Oh, uh..." Boomer rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, frantically trying to recover from his fumbled response to Brute's decision. It made Berserk snort and roll her eyes. "That's great! I'm so glad!"

Butch caught the way Boomer became jittery when peering at Buttercup. She was next in line to give an answer, and Butch knew whatever Buttercup had to say, it terrified Boomer.

But then the strangest thing happened. Boomer took a moment to breathe, he stood up straighter. A peculiar brand of clarity illuminated his ocean blue eyes. His chest moved in a calm, soothing pace. Boomer looked confident and in control, reminding Butch of Blossom commanding a room.

Boomer looked like a leader.

And it was not a sight Butch was used to seeing.

"Buttercup," Boomer eased out smoothly. His fingertips pressed into the outer fabric of the journal he held onto. "I know you've been the most vocal about not helping us, and I get why. Two weeks ago, I was in the same mindset, but I've chosen not to be scared anymore. I've chosen to let my hiccups come and go and to not be immobilized when I'm needed. What we're going through is scary and uncomfortable, but we need to make our way passed it instead of stopping in our tracks because of what could happen."

"I've never been one to challenge you. Truthfully, I've never had the strength to do it. And I've never wanted to push you or ask more out of you, but Buttercup, my hands are tied," Boomer continued on. "I need you to reconsider. I need you to stop being stubborn and to look around–" Boomer moved his hand around the room. "–And realize our destiny and everyone else's is being determined right in this very moment. We need you, and I need you. And I think you need us too."

Buttercup groaned loudly, fluttering her eyes back into an eye-roll. "God, Boom. That was the corniest shit you've ever said to me."

"Well, I—" Boomer blinked at her.

This was not a response he had braced himself for. In fact, everyone except for Berserk was giving Buttercup the same look of head-scratching confusion.

Berserk was actually peaked with mild amusement instead.

"Excuse me?"

"Is there something about becoming a leader that makes you contractually obligated to monologue about saving the world and the importance of friendship?" Buttercup questioned, an eyebrow raised.

"Uhhhhh—"

Buttercup chuckled to herself, shaking her head a little. An unreadable smirk tugged at her lips, but her eyes, Butch had significantly taken note of, were vacant.

They were dead-eyed.

"I'm good, by the way," she responded nonchalantly. "I'm in."

"But–but yesterday, you were–you didn't," Boomer stuttered. "Why so quick? How did you—"

"Maybe you're better at corny speeches than you'd expected," Buttercup quipped, but that same detached gleam was still in her eyes.

She looked beyond him, her face softening for a second to reveal the hidden, genuine emotions Buttercup held back.

"Or maybe you're right. Maybe we do need each other right now." Buttercup laughed a little—Butch, from the years he has known her, knew to his core that it was a fake laugh. "But, I'm going to admit to the first part instead."

"Are you sure—"

Buttercup shifted uncomfortably from the beginning of Boomer's questioning. The corner of her lip faltered, and panic livened her eyes.

"Everyone is on board," Berserk stated dully. She tilted her head to a degree, meeting Boomer's reluctant gaze. "And the longer the half of us are out of town, the more suspicious Him will get. So why don't you get on with your plan already?"

Boomer's cheeks were reddened from embarrassment and frustration. He opened his mouth, wanting to disagree with Berserk, but his shoulders slumped down in defeat.

"Right. I, um, didn't think about that. We, uh, we should move along then," Boomer replied awkwardly.

Boomer fumbled with the journal in his hands, breezing through the pages in search of a particular piece of writing.

Butch eyed Berserk and then Buttercup, taking in how the panic in Buttercup had subsided. He leaned close to Berserk's ear, speaking quickly and low, "Did you just prot—"

"She's obviously hiding something," Berserk dismissed in a quiet tone, keeping her eyes on Boomer. "It's not that big of a deal."

But they both knew it was.

Butch gleamed proudly at Berserk, knocking his shoulder into her gently to let her know.

Berserk pretended to not notice, but a faint smile tugged at her lips.

"Okay, I, uh, will tell you the two parts of my plan then," Boomer announced formally. His gaze shifted from Blossom before committing on Bubbles for support. "The first part, we kinda have kick-started already. We've asked for the town to be evacuated soon. Ms. Bellum—"

"Ms. Bellum?" Buttercup repeated skeptically, her eyebrows raised, "Are you sure about that?"

Boomer blanched. "Uhhhh—"

"Ms. Bellum has the most power to get it done," Bubbles answered for him, becoming tight-lipped afterward.

An index finger was pointed in Bubbles' direction from Boomer. "Correct. It's a gamble, but Ms. Bellum is our best bet at this point. And given Blossom's relation–" Boomer flicked his eyes back over to Blossom. "–To her, we may have a decent shot at it."

"How decent?" Brute questioned, narrowing her eyes.

Boomer grimaced, doing the math in his head. "I'm about forty-four percent sure it may work out," he admitted sheepishly.

"Huh. That's a lot better than what I thought it would be," Princess mused.

"We'd only asked yesterday. And my mom might need a little time to think it over," Blossom added in a soft voice, sounding as if she was trying not to draw too much attention to herself.

"Right because we have tons of time to waste here waiting for your mom," Buttercup added sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"We have to wait for her, Buttercup," Boomer jumped in. It was a mild act of shielding Blossom from Buttercup's prolonged distrust towards her. "We can't really do anything unless the town gets evacuated."

"And what if it doesn't?" Butch dared to ask.

The sound of his voice brought out another side of Boomer. He scowled at him, silently questioning how Butch even had the audacity to speak up with such a simple look.

"Like you—

"Then we have to move forward," Brick interrupted calmly, giving Boomer a warning glance to maintain the peace. "If we get too close to New Year's, we have to try something even if people are inhabiting the town."

Boomer grumbled out a few words hotly under his breath, before gathering himself together long enough to go back to ignoring Butch.

He then cleared his throat, returning back to business. "Brick is right, but that's for the worst-case scenario."

"So the best-case scenario is…?"

Boomer met Brute's eyes. "It's if Ms. Bellum gets the town evacuated a week or so before New Year's. Then we can make a move towards Him without worrying about other people getting hurt or seeing our powers."

"With the feedback given by Butch..." Boomer mumbled before going back to his standard octave, not willing to give Butch credit loudly. "We're going to make a move during the daytime, so Him doesn't have the advantage of masking behind the shadows. When we do make it into town, we'll have to split up."

"I've divided the town into quadrants." Boomer held up the journal in his hand, displaying the detailed overhead drawing he crafted of Townsville and the perfectly symmetrical lines cutting it into four different sections. "If we have someone working on distracting Him in each quadrant, we may have enough time for Blossom to sneak over to the center of the lake and stop the time loop."

"Him will probably send some shadows after us to fight, and then there's Ace who we'll have to be careful of. But, uh..." Boomer paused, his ocean blue eyes were clouded by a storm. "With Berserk and Butch's addition–"

He stated their names as if they were poison on his tongue. Butch caught onto how Berserk's leg was shaking in an unnatural, furious pace.

"–We'll have to stage at least two separate fights for Him's amusement."

Boomer's face hardened as he took a moment to fully look in Butch and Berserk's direction, speaking directly to them. "You'll have to make it look good, but both of you will throw the fight to one of us. It may tempt Him to show up physically even more to aid you."

"Fine," Berserk tossed out coldly.

"I can do that," Butch grinned forcibly despite how he was slowly growing annoyed with Boomer's unprofessional behavior.

He got it; Boomer was pissed. But it did not mean Boomer should be passive-aggressive about everything. Throwing rocks at a glasshouse was never a bright idea, but Boomer could not stop trying his luck.

"I'm pretty good at acting."

Boomer snorted vindictively, saying more under his breath while reading something from the journal in his hands. When he was done, Boomer turned to Blossom.

"With the fighting going on, Blossom will head towards the lake and try to fix the time loop. Once she, uh..." Boomer coughed to himself. His eyes were caught by the light in a bright, shiny manner, but it was unreadable. "Once Blossom gets the time loop to end, that's when part two of my plan kicks in, which is where we actually focus on attacking Him directly."

"Isn't Him just a shadow being at the moment?" Princess inquired with uncertainty, her eyebrows were knitted together. "How are we supposed to fight Him?"

Boomer turned to the next page in the journal, his tone was amp up by a bundle of anxieties. "Him wants chaos, so we're going to beat Him by doing the opposite of it."

Buttercup narrowed her eyes. "Which is?"

"Order," Boomer revealed.

"I don't think order is something we can harness or weaponize," Brute argued. "It's merely a concept, am I wrong?"

"In normal circumstances, I would agree with you," Boomer replied. "But Him wants us to bring out the worst in ourselves. It's how he'll be freed by getting the keys of chaos. Yet, if we don't divulge into the worst qualities of ourselves, and instead focus on the best we can be—"

"Then we bring about order," Buttercup finished, her eyes wide from the realization.

Brute did not appear totally convinced. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Look, I, uh, know this all sounds crazy, but we have powers," Boomer added to further persuade. "We were chosen for some weird freaking reason. There's something about the twelve of us that were at the lake that night in August that makes us different from the other groups before us. I don't know why or how we have our powers despite the others before us not showing signs of having any. But I do know Him needs us in a certain way, and if we don't follow what Him desires, then maybe that's the way to defeating him."

"Okay," Brute nodded. She stroked at her chin in thought, appearing to entertain the idea now. "But how do we know what's the worst of ourselves? Or even what's best?"

Boomer glanced down at the journal in his hands. "I… I'm not one hundred percent sure. Some are easy. Like with Ace, I believe greed brings out the worst in him. He takes too much and doesn't care about how he gets it. Then there's Berserk who—"

Boomer abruptly stopped mid-sentence. He had momentarily forgotten about Berserk being in the room when reading the shortlist he had created a week ago. His entire face was flushed, swallowing harshly, skittishly looking up at Berserk.

Other than the arching of one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows, Berserk kept up a neutral expression. "No, please, continue on. I want to know about the observations you've made about me, Boomer."

The way she said Boomer's name, it sent a chill down Butch's spine. He could only imagine how Boomer felt at this moment, being on the receiving end of Berserk's quiet wrath.

"Okay, I, er—" Boomer's Adam's apple bobbed along with his nerves. His hands were shaking, trying to hold onto the journal. "Berserk is apathetic, and her lack of regard for other humans makes her perfect for Him to cooperate with."

"Mmmhh," Berserk hummed with irritation.

Butch narrowed his eyes slightly at Boomer, never wanting to hear something negative about his girlfriend. Especially from someone who did not know anything about her true character.

"But–" Boomer let out a wavering breath, reading from his list still. "–Berserk has also shown to have empathy when given a chance. I'm not sure how strong it can be or how much effort it takes to reach it, but it's there. It–It might be the most powerful thing to her if Berserk let it shine through more..."

Boomer met her eyes, this time, he held up a firm stare. "That's what I've observed. If it's wrong, please let me know."

Berserk blinked at him, her eyebrow settling back down. "No. I believe that's justifiable."

"We should do some soul searching for the next couple of days," Blossom pitched in, interrupting the prolonged, awkward silence after Boomer and Berserk's interaction. "Just, like, to think over what things we do as individuals that are good and what we've done that are bad. And when we think we have the two figured out, we could discuss the accuracy of our choices," Blossom finished, flashing a trying yet guilty smile at Boomer. She added, "If that's a good idea?"

Butch eyed Blossom from across the couch, understanding why Blossom has stayed quiet for the majority of this conversation. She was avoiding the act of stepping on Boomer's toes. Blossom wanted Boomer to firmly believe he was the one in charge. Therefore, up until now, Blossom kept from explaining and consulting over any further planning.

Boomer softened from her question, remorse derived out of his critiques from the previous night was ever-present on his face.

"No, yeah. That's–that's a good idea to do," Boomer responded hesitantly, nodding a little. "It's, uh, it'll be our homework for the next couple of days."

"Ugh," Buttercup groaned, leaning back into her chair, rocking it a little on its two back legs. "If I'd known we'll have homework, I would've never rejoined."

"Buttercup!"

"I'm just joking, Bubs. Calm down."

"Is this all we're doing now?" Princess questioned for clarification. "Homework and then waiting for if Ms. Bellum makes a move?"

Boomer frowned. "Unfortunately, yeah."

"And say Ms. Bellum does get the town evacuated, what are we doing before that?" Brute added with curious eyes.

"That is a good question," Bubbles nodded. "What if our parents want us to evacuate with them?"

"Say that you're going with your friends instead," Butch offered with the first idea that struck him, beating Boomer to the suggestion. He ignored the dark blue daggers sent in his direction, continuing, "It's not a lie. And it's not like they've been keeping track of where we are or what we've been doing these past few months. This shouldn't be any different."

"But where do we go? We'll have to make it believable that we'd evacuated for Him's sake," Princess argued.

Boomer exchanged a nervous glance with Blossom. "I don't–I don't know. We will, uh, find somewhere to stay for the night, I guess?"

Buttercup scoffed at the suggestion. "Some of us don't have enough money to afford a hotel room. And I'm sure as hell not sleeping in anyone's car for the night."

"I think I have an idea," Bubbles pitched in with a grin. She continued when all eyes were on her. "We can all stay together in one place that's just on the outskirts of town and where we don't have to pay any money for it since we know the person that owns the house…"

Brick did not appear to take too kindly to her implied idea, shaking his head. "Absolutely not—"

"Come on, Brick. We don't have anywhere else to go," Boomer jumped in, swiftly supporting Bubbles' recommendation.

"This house isn't meant to sleep nine people—"

"It could if you think about it," Buttercup theorized, using her fingers to count it off. "You and Blossom have the bedroom." Blossom became a deep shade of red despite having slept in the room for almost a whole month now. "Someone could sleep on the couch—"

"The couch is a pull-out," Blossom informed, flashing a sheepish smile at Brick after making the knowledge public to the room.

"Even better," Buttercup smirked. "That allows two people to be able to sleep on it. Then there's enough space on the floor for two queen-sized air mattresses to fit in the living room. And a twin-sized mattress can fit in the kitchen or dining area."

Brick balked at the idea. "There's only one bathroom—"

Bubbles clasped her hands together. "It'll be like one huge slumber party!"

"You know, I've never slept on an air mattress before," Princess mused with mild excitement.

"Aw, babe." Brute wrapped her arm around Princess' shoulders, pulling Princess close to her, grinning widely. "You're gonna hate it."

"I haven't agreed to any of this," Brick said loudly enough to speak over the chatter happening around him.

Blossom tugged on the sleeve of his tee-shirt, gaining Brick's attention. "Brick, please. We don't have anywhere else to go."

They appeared to be silently communicating with each other before Brick let out a sigh, running a hand along the length of his face.

"Fine," he exhaled. "If—and only if—we get an evacuation date, we'll stay here for the night that everyone's supposed to leave."

"And then we'll head into town in the morning," Boomer finalized to himself. "We'll split up while Blossom will run to the lake. Hopefully, then the time loop will be over with, and then we'll defeat Him with order."

His face soured, growing hot again, but this time it was from his annoyance. "As long as none of this gets leaked to Him again, we'll be golden."

Butch blinked at Boomer, knowing it was a subtle dig towards him. Another chip away at Butch's state of being calm. A dent in the glasshouse from Boomer's continuous throwing of rocks.

"We didn't tell Him about your plan beforehand," Berserk pointed out curtly.

Butch nodded in confirmation, trying his best to keep his frustrations buried down. "Yeah, Him already knew about it."

"How is that even possible?" Princess questioned, squinting her eyes as if the answer would magically appear in thin air if she looked hard enough for it.

Butch scratched at his head, speaking his thoughts out loud. "It could've been Ace, but I don't know how he would've known. Then again, Ace does love to say he has eyes and ears all over town, but I'm pretty sure none of us talked about the plan in town."

Butch looked over the room, finding a guilt-struck Blossom.

She waved a finger between Brick and her. "Brick and I did talk about it a little at Otto's one day. But it was too vague for anyone to figure out what we were exactly speaking about. We only really talked about Brick not being able to swim."

"So then no one else knew about the plan outside of this room," Butch concluded. "There's a chance we've already done it in another timeline—"

"You haven't," Brick interjected flatly.

"Then I don't know," Butch shook his head. "This has been the biggest mystery for me. That and where that damn bright light that collapsed our bubble came from."

"Bright light?" Blossom repeated. "What bright light?"

"When we were underwater, there was this bright, white light that came towards us and hit the bubble. That's what punctured the hole in it. I don't think Him has the power to control light or anything, so I can't figure out who could've done it."

"In a vision I had when I'd touched Robin, I talked to her about being blinded by a bright light..." Blossom trailed off in recollection.

Blossom rubbed at the length of her chin, her mind at work to understand what Butch had presented. The others in the room looked just as confused as Butch was about the bright light he and, apparently, Blossom had seen.

All of them except for Brick.

"It's Robin," Brick gathered without a doubt.

Butch furrowed his eyebrows. "Robin turns invisible. She can't control light."

"It might not have been light," Brick said. "It might have been some other energy force she can control that appears like a light. After all, she was skittish when Bubbles asked if she had any other powers." Brick glanced at Blossom. "Didn't she lie about only being able to make herself invisible?"

"Yeah," Blossom murmured. Her eyes were widened by the dots connecting in her mind. "She was able to make me invisible in the vision I had, so Robin could've been lying to us about not knowing anything more about her powers. She also lied about what happened after the night at the lake..."

"It's always the quiet ones," Buttercup quipped, earning a few unimpressed looks. She then muttered, "Harsh crowd."

"Him hasn't talked about Robin before," Butch acknowledged. "And what would even be her motive for helping Him?"

"To be seen," Bubbles answered without skipping a beat.

"But she's done the exact opposite since we've gotten our powers," Butch pointed out despite Bubbles giving an incredibly valid answer. "She's been quiet throughout the majority of this. I've barely seen her around town anymore. She used to come by the bakery every Wednesday for shortbread cookies, but now, Robin doesn't. It's like she's disappeared."

"Well, she can turn herself invisible," Brute stated, with a shrug of her shoulders as if it was an obvious answer.

That was when it all clicked together for Butch.

"Holy shit!" Butch exclaimed. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at his roots. "Robin has been going into town, she's been doing it for the past couple of months. She's just been invisible this whole time."

Berserk picked up on what Butch was implying immediately, reading his exact thoughts, turning to Blossom, who sat beside her.

"She was listening to your conversation at Otto's. She had to be," Berserk assumed. "And then she told Him."

"No," Butch declared. "She told Ace. She's his eyes and ears!"

Berserk puffed out her lips in confusion, her eyebrows drawing together. The rest of the room looked at him in the same way, as if he was the craziest person alive.

"Are you okay, Butch?" Brute questioned.

"Robin telling Ace makes no sense at all," Boomer muttered under his breath.

"Butch…" Butch met Berserk's eyes, pleading with her to trust him on this. Her face softened. "Why do you think that?"

"Face it," Butch flickered his eyes in every direction of the room to convince the others. "Robin has a thing for lurking. How many times have we looked up and found Robin right there, pretending not to be listening to our conversations?"

"I hate to admit it, but he has a point," Brute mumbled to Princess, to which Princess nodded along.

"We didn't notice her when she wasn't even able to turn invisible. Who knows how many secrets she has overheard or witnessed without us paying any mind to it? She has to have some type of animosity towards the town. And what better way to channel that animosity than to tell the one person who liked to know every detail about what happens in Townsville, but can't be there all the time to see what's going on? I mean, Ace knew about Brick being the pyro before he worked for Him, and we all know Brick is pretty good at keeping secrets."

Butch swiftly drifted his eyes over to Brick.

"The pet store," Butch realized in astonishment as soon as the thought struck him. "It's right by the old candy factory. She must have seen Brick that night, and that's how Ace found out about it."

Butch chuckled to himself humorlessly, remembering the word choice Ace had used on the night of Halloween.

"A little birdie told me," Butch echoed. "That was what Ace told us when we'd asked how he knew about our plan for Halloween. He had been trolling us."

Butch held out his hand, counting down each observation with his fingers.

"Robin must have seen Brick burn down the factory after working at the pet store that night. She listened in on Blossom and Brick's conversation at Otto's. She told Ace about something going down on Halloween, and Ace immediately told Him about it," Butch listed off, brewing together a sobering thought. "And she helped at trying to drown us. She knew forcing us to swim would ruin everything. Especially when Robin had learned Brick couldn't swim."

The room grew quiet. A stuffy, inescapable sorrow filled the air. The truth becoming too harsh for them, as no one had expected Robin to turn on them.

It did not make sense until it did.

With the evidence stacked up together, it all made sense. That was why no one challenged Butch's theory.

"After all this time, it was actually Robin who had betrayed us," Bubbles murmured despondently.

"She wanted me to turn on Brick in my vision," Blossom confessed in a small voice. "She wanted me to distrust him. And now I know why..."

"She wouldn't," Boomer mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I thought we were friends…" Boomer lifted his gaze from the floor, settling his glassy eyes on Butch instinctively. "How could she do it?"

Butch opened his mouth, but he did not have an answer.

From his own experience, Butch did it out of love. He faked his twist in allegiance to protect someone, to help his friends out.

Robin, what she has done, it had no weight. It was just a selfish, unnecessary, and the worst way possible for Robin to be seen and known for once in her life.

"Brick was right," Buttercup grumbled. "Robin was never trustworthy."

"How do we—"

"Um, Blossom?" Bubbles interrupted over Princess, her face illuminated by the light of her phone. The color in her tan skin had drained away. "Why is your mom texting me?"

Blossom pursed her lips, furrowing her eyebrows, taken aback by the question. "It might be because I still have her blocked." Blossom, unable to let her curiosity get the better of her, followed with, "What did she say?"

"December 10th," Bubbles read before clicking her phone off.

She pushed it a few inches away from her, behaving as if the phone was going to physically harm her. Receiving a text message from Ms. Bellum had shaken Bubbles to her core, leaving her wishing it had never happened.

"That's it?"

Bubbles nodded. "That's all she said."

Blossom instantly met Boomer's wild-eyed gaze. "She did it," Blossom breathed in disbelief.

Boomer nodded once, swallowing his anxieties down harshly. His voice was not as confident or full of bravado as Boomer wanted it to be.

"Now, we just have to wait until December 10th to fight Him."

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Stay safe and thank you for reading!