Bubbly: Kinda a stupid chappy, kay? I'm soooo Sooorrrrryyy!!! I keep feeling like the quality of my chapters keep... getting worse and worse...Not so hyper... BUt, I got nice grades on those exams! Yes!

This chapter is the result of listening to Blue October's newest song on repeat for 2 hours.

Disclaimer: (smiles) Here we go!

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Chapter 5: What the fuck's Yellow?

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I stood against the crude brick wall, eyes closed, waiting for my heart to finally decay--right here-- him still inside, of course. Those glorious, brilliant blue eyes will begin to steadily wilt away, and his smile will die delicately upon the breeze. And I will forget.

But...it doesn't seem to happen that way. A honeyed voice drowns my disturbing thoughts in a gummy, sugary silence, but I disregard it completely. How could he do this to me?

He must be disgusted with me, repulsed, frustrated...I don't think I can suffer his hostility. I can hardly endure his smile.

Fuck all this angst. I just fuckin' kissed the boy of my dreams!--scratch that, it sounds gay. Hah, like I should be talking.

And then I realize that I really need to stop rambling.

There's no window for my dignity to fly out of, and so I lean over and heave it all up and onto the glittering snow, and tell it I'll be back later.

I walk a few feet down the sidewalk, and rest against another spot on the wall. I cast another agitated glance toward my discarded self-respect, before turning around and releasing a girlish squeal.

'Shit..' I mutter faintly, an idiotic smile etched onto my features. I'm obsessed. I smile to myself, pressing up against the wall once more and sighing in rapt delight. I'm fucked up. I'm a freak. I'm in love... The glacial breeze ripples sleepily, toying with my hair. I'm as useless as a five pound sac of wooden nickels, and yet I can still feel... elated? Euphoric, delighted, infatuated, smitten, head over heels in lo--Whoa, Kenny! What the fuck!?

I thump my chest in a way that will hopefully sustain a few ounces of my rapidly failing manhood.

I regain a 'masculine' stance, my hands slipping into my pockets, deadening fingertips tracing along the creases in the plastic of my cigarette pack.

'Maybe I should smoke?' I shake my head distastefully, and cast my bright orange lighter to the frozen, disdainful mounds of rime upon the cement.

I pause momentarily and consider my previous action, before casting a somnolent glance towards my lighter and picking it up again. I sigh jadedly and put it back in its rightful pocket.

"Now I know I'm fucked up," I joke lightheartedly.

The watery sunlight spans blindingly across the horizon, a brilliant white cord upon the startlingly blue sky. It bathes the emaciated brown leaves of the elms and the maples in divine delight.

I sigh distractedly, closing my eyes, waiting for the world to stagnate and rot away like old, yellowing lace.

After all this time that I had been waiting, like some latter-day Miss Havisham, for the one perfect person for whom to spoil and adore, while the cobwebs grew between my molars and my lacy white cake splintered away: I came to realize that I had had someone all along.

I hear footsteps. Time settles in dusty remains upon the fallen snow, and static tears across my vision.

"W-Why'd you leave?" I hear someone whisper quietly, regretfully.

I feel something, wet and velvety, kneading my lips in tactful, warm, feathery touches.

My mind cakes over silently with unstructured thought, and I lay there, a catalyst for this new found gratification.

Imagine, if you will, a worldwide conspiracy to deny the existence of the color yellow. And whenever you saw yellow, they told you, no that isn't yellow, what the fuck's yellow? Eventually, whenever you saw yellow, you would say: that isn't yellow, course it isn't, blue or green or purple, or...You'd say it, yes it is, it's yellow, and become increasingly hysterical, and then go quite mad.

Damnit, I hate it when I ramble like that.

My blue eyes open slowly, and I'm met with the flushed face of... Butters?

He's kissing me. He's kissing me. He's kissing me. My skin is suddenly raw, and I relax upon the wall, collapsing in a gratifying fit of ecstasy and reprieve.

My eyes close again, and I rest my willowy hands upon the graceful and slight curve of the small of his back, and pull him closer into me, his traveling hands feathering the golden hairs at the nape of my neck.

I'm kissing him. I'm kissing him. I'm kissing h--Fuck it!

Our dewy, hot lips work wordlessly, gratifyingly sweet. So different from kissing all of those girls, nothing but cherry flavored liquid plastic and bitter blue gum.

A sheer, mild breeze ripples dreamily between my temples.

I sense a light thump upon my shoulder blade, and feel him smile into the kiss.

"A-ah...Breathe...Ken..?"

Smoldering veins of thunder diffuse within my blood. He tugs his lips away steadily, his airy breaths slight upon my lips.

...it felt like liberation to me.

His sparkling, clear blue eyes gaze up at me with uncertainty and obvious bliss, and he bites his swollen, tender pink lip apprehensively, before breaking out into an innocent smile.

"Y-You forgot your lunch, K-Kenny."

He presses up against me, standing on the tips of his candy red converse. I bring my head down closer to his. Our lips meet again in a subtle, syrupy kiss. I love the chastity, resolve and blue eyes that is Butters.

He's smiling adorably up at me now, and we both turn our faces up to the graying heavens, watching as the once bleak and austere silence recedes, allowing the diluted winter daylight to hum along our warmed skin.

One more doting kiss to my temple confirms that everything'll be okay.

"Kenny, your h-hair smells l-like strawberry shampoo."

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(At Kenny's apartment, 10:00 p.m, same day, after school )

We're both in my room, and he's listening intently as I read him my verbose exam essay.

"Bathing seems like an exercise in futility, like making my bed or brushing my teeth or combing my hair. Clean the slate, and then lit get despoiled once more. Wipe it down, and wait for more filth. This inevitable pattern of progress and regress, which is really what life is all about, is too irrational for me to continue."

Butters looks up at me with much interest and curiosity, his head cocked to the side, blonde hair tousled and feathered adorably.

He's wearing one of my loose-fitting black t-shirts and boxers with ankle socks, and sitting cross-legged upon my bed.

"No more showers?"

I nod appropriately, and watch as he glances down momentarily, fingering the hem of my shirt, and looking back up at me inquiringly.

"N-No more strawberry shampoo?"

I suddenly feel almost...guilty. I sigh idly, and set my wordy exam paper on the desk beside me, and traipse across the room to the bed. I reach across the bed, and he sits up on his knees.

My lips brush affectionately across his cheek, his temple, and his forehead, and I make a satisfying, wet, smacking sound that makes him giggle.

The moment in The Bell Jar (we read it in class) when Esther Greenwood realizes after thirty days in the same black turtleneck that she never wants to wash her hair again, that the repeated necessity of the act is too much trouble, that she wants to do it once and be done with it, seems like the book's true epiphany. You know you've completely descended into madness when the matter of shampoo has ascended to philosophical heights. So as far as I'm concerned, I'll keep on bathing, thank you.

He regains his composure and gazes up at me intently, before mouthing a soft, quiet 'oh'.

"You don't like my exam?" I state tactlessly, and I cradle his face in my hands. He tries to shake his head, and I laugh quietly, despite trying to come off as upset.

Good thing he's so...oblivious to everything.

"Kenny? I-I'm sorry, I liked y-your exam, p-promise..." the latter of his explanation fades, and he notices the obvious, unrestrained lust swimming freely in my blue eyes.

I take his hand and lead him teasingly to the bathroom, casting a devious smirk behind my shoulder.

"B-but, Kenny, I already t-took a shower..."

I sit him down on the toilet, and stand over waiting water in the tub.

I nodded distractedly, dipping my hand into the bath, before turning to him, teasing smirk still in place.

I turned my back to him, and pulled my tight black t-shirt over my head. I began to naughtily undo the button of my jeans, quite aware of the blue eyes dancing across my form.

I almost laugh out loud when I spot the blush on his face, the light sprinkling of freckles shifting upon his pixie nose as he scrunches it, as though trying desperately to not be turned on.

I'm down to my boxers, now.

I watch amusedly as he tries to stifle a squeal, closing his eyes, his hand held over his mouth tightly.

SPLASH!!!!

I dove straight into the bath, boxers still on, soaking his blonde locks until he resembled an adorable, scruffy golden puppy.

He stares at me pointedly through his soppy blonde bangs, and pouts cutely, before walking over to me, and kneeling beside the tub.

I settled into the mild bath, delighting in the pleasurable warmth. Frothy, gloss topped hills floated in silence atop the water's surface. I bite at my lip, trying desperately to will myself to stop smiling like a maniac.

"Kenny! You're still w-wearing your b-boxers, ya know! Are you okay?" His blue eyes soften with concern, but I'm having too much fun with this to feel the guilt. He places his hand upon my brow, pushing my blonde locks back from my forehead, and I take my opportunity.

I take him under his arms, and pull him in over me, creating a balmy, mini tide to swell above our heads, and seep over the smooth porcelain walls of the tub.

He squeals, and it reminds me of Tweek the way his eyes are closed and he's buried in my chest like that.

He looks up at me, his brilliant, sugar-blue eyes glittering sublimely against the stark white of the bleak bathroom tile. I reach behind me and take the bottle of candy red strawberry shampoo in my hand, and squeeze a generous amount of it in a gummy pile atop his blonde head.

His blue eyes widen, and I liberate a blissful laugh and watch as it floats above us and into the velvety, misty air of the bathroom.

We lay there in the tub, clement waves lapping at the warmed skin of our legs tangled together, sticky with strawberry shampoo, and pleasantly soaked, clothes and all.

"There'll still be strawberry shampoo," I assure him, before closing my eyes and placing a loving kiss to his forehead. He breaks out into a sleepy smile, and my heart swells.

Yeah, everything'll be fine.

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Bubbly: How was that???!!! Review!! OH, for jumpinPoptart's question, in America, freshman are generally 14 to 15 years old. I'm 14, and I'll be 15 on April 18th as of next year!!! sorry! But I need to establish a 'healthy relationship' between Kenny and Butters, first, kay!? I need your reviews if I am to continue!!! clickit clickit!

REVIEW!!! We are Signing out!!!!