Bubbly: Short Chapter!! Sorry for the last, horrible!!!! chapter!!! but, this one is a little...off! The fluff ends!! Remember, this is my first SP fic! so go easy on me!!! only one way to find out! oh well, here we go!!!

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Chapter 6: Not Made For This

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There were tears in his eyes, glittering sublimely against the supple contour of his cheek. He locked his disturbing blue gaze upon me, an abrupt audacity possessing the previously distressed boy. "You're disgusting," he whispered faintly, jadedly, as though the hate in his eyes was all he could offer. He glanced briefly out at the wintry horizon, a trembling thread of silver beneath the moon's smoldering white ardor.

It was sickeningly apparent then how much I wanted him. My heart seemed to collapse in on itself, and I felt the revolting taste of bile. I tugged his chin upwards, and kissed him carefully, tactfully, intent on making him want me again. My frustration intensified as he did not respond. I kissed him roughly, bruising his swollen lips. They gave away pathetically, and my chest began to heave violently with pitiful breaths. "What the fuck? What the fuck do you mean!?" I moaned, and I felt him stand beside me. "What's wrong?" He cast a cordial gaze upon me; poised and unyielding, void of that coveted intimacy I had lusted after for all of my life. "What's wrong?" The words spilled from his mouth and onto the breeze, unrestrained and hysterical.

He ambled away, hands brought up to his mouth, his blue eyes pained and disoriented. I had hurt the one who seemed to understand me. "What's wrong?" My vision blurred, and the image of those luminous blue eyes collided painfully with the base of my skull.

The ascetic silence bit out at my pulsating temples, and the muted moonlight dripped into my eyes. I lay there in bed, harsh white linen smoothing over damp, unstable legs. I ran my fingers through my blonde mane resignedly, my mind wandering back to the dream that I had just awoken from.

"What's wrong?" I glanced up to meet the worried gaze of Butters. The blonde studied my pale face concernedly, and I lay there, a depressive of the catatonic kind, watching apathetically as he tucked the icy sheets around my trembling body.

"Just a dream, dude..." I choked out, feeling the words grate painfully against the raw skin of my throat.

He cast another doubtful glance my way, before smiling benignly. "O-Okay, Kenny..."

He rested his disheveled blonde head upon my chest and smoothed his thumb over my cold hand, before muttering a quiet 'good night'.

I'm not made for this.

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"Now, that was a t-terrible thing ta do, Mr. Tugboat!"

Ha. Early morning cartoons are always funny. I can't really feel nostalgic right now. Nothing good about my home to possibly remember.

My gaze coasted along the figure in front of me. Butters sat upon his knees at the foot of the bed, the dusty daylight rinsing his blonde locks in watery gold. His sparkling, clear blue eyes scanned the television screen with devoted attention.

His legs shifted beneath him distractedly, and his lips parted and stirred in a slight murmur.

"You're cute, Butters." I smirk in sheer amusement at the lack of a response. Maybe I'll wait until the commercial break. The last of the flickering pictures pass along the screen, and I cast my gaze to the wall behind me, smirking at the huge fuckin' hole my headboard has created there from past activities.

I wonder if Butters has even noticed it.

I turn my attention back to the blonde occupying my bed. "Butters?" No response. Oh, well. I'm an opportunist. I sit up on my knees and scoot over to him, crouching down like some golden cat. I allow my lips to grace the exposed flesh of his neck, before dipping my canines gently into the tender skin. He lets out a series of mewls, and my tongue sails along the smoldering and flushed skin.

"K-Kenny...Tugboat...Uhh..." I laugh quietly into his shoulder, subdued laughter elevating to a hysterical snort.

He turns to smile at me through lidded eyes, clouded with a childlike...lust?

I suddenly feel aggravated with myself, for letting myself become intimate with some...brat. I then feel callous and harsh because of my last thought. What the fuck!?

What is he doing here? What are we doing? This can't be happening--this thing, this fuckin' mix-up I thought was love. The truth is, I'm just some guy who fucks mindlessly, blissfully, like some Stepford Wife, and he's...he's perfect. He's innocent, and I've corrupted and tainted all the things I loved about him. Everything I wasn't.

He leans forward, those blue eyes shut, drowning me in solitude. I need those eyes, I need that smile. His lips meet mine, a subtle, feathery touch. There's no sentiment in that kiss. Not on my part.

Does it still feel right? I don't really know, right now.

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Butters leaned up against the back of the couch, watching me with mild interest as he ate his lunch of Spagettio's straight from the can. He donned a loose, bright orange t-shirt and tight (emo style!) jeans, and his usual red Converse All-Stars.

He smelled of honey and vanilla, and his glorious blue eyes regarded me with an air of satisfaction. He's a kid. A blue eyed, blonde haired, adorably freckle nosed kid. I think I'll call him Annie, today. Don't ask. I'm an enigma. And it kinda...suits him, I guess. I glance behind me, and give him a sleepy smile, before continuing to wash the dishes.

"Hey, Annie," I call, watching amusedly as his nose scrunches in confusion. "Your parents should be home tomorrow, right?" He dismisses the new name he's been given, and he answers: "Y-Yeah...".

I regard the disappointment in his voice as home-sickness.

"Annie, Annie, Annie," I croon teasingly, advancing across the floor to where he stands in the living room. He pouts when I take his spoon of pasta (A/N: is it really pasta?) into my mouth.

I feign hunger, running my fingers over his sides, and he turns away from me with a jerk and small smile.

There's a small vibration in my pants, and I thankfully realize that it's just my cell. I take it out and study the number on the screen. My mind draws a momentary blank, and I recognize that it's Bebe.

I flip open the phone and answer the call, breathing out a casual 'hey'. The synthetic sweetness of her voice coats me in bubble gum flavored liquid plastic and the scent of cheap perfume (it literally was toilet water), and I almost begin to choke into the speaker.

"Kenny?" She asked sweetly. I regained my composure and straightened my back. "Um, hey." There's a short pause on the other line, and I imagine her winding a golden lock of hair around her pinky finger.

"So," she drawls suggestively, "I thought maybe we could have a little fun this weekend. I'm free. And we had so much fun last time..." I hear a harsh giggle, and a breathless sigh.

I cast an anxious glance at Butters, who is now laying across the couch, studying the Spagettio can.

I walk a few feet towards the kitchen and rest up against the wall, my blue gaze sailing across the glossy wooden floors. A playful smirk graces my lips. "When?" I almost wince at the harsh, conspiring tone of my voice. Almost. But I need this. A woman. Curves, tits, the lips...I need it right now.

"I'll see you tonight. At my house. Around eight, yeah?" I nod, and breathe out an agreement, before flipping my cell shut.

I don't think it's working. Strawberry shampoo, sugar cookies, home made lunches...It has to stop.

I'm not made for this.

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Bubby: Sorry for the short chappy! oh, and don't hate kenny! but, thanks for the constructive criticism! and sorry about the diabetes inducing, COMPLETELY OOC chapter 5! I just... I couldn't help it!! Gaaah!

can you guys kind of be ... harsh a little? be critics!!! but don't make me cry!! I need to get the characters down PAT!! who's pat? we don't know!!! REVIEW!!!