A/N: This fourth and final chapter is dedicated to Angecael Gliorixx, because a) she hates "people who make good stories and then abandon them" (Yes, I did stalk your profile) and b) because she cared about this story enough to remind me that I had not finished it. Angecael, I hope this ending suits you. Thanks for your support.
Butters was worried. He sat in the diner, cocoa once again in hand, having given up on coffee. It had been a week since he'd seen Bradley at the diner. He wondered if maybe Bradley had lost interest in him, if he'd decided that Butters wasn't good or cool enough for him… if he'd eventually realized that Butters really was useless.
Even if he hasn't been here because he doesn't like me, Butters thought, I think I deserve some closure. Butters quickly downed his cocoa and paid the bill, and set off into the night.
If Butters had learned anything from the theater, it was how to pretend you were confident. He walked the street, imagining he was Hamlet, the greatest fencer in Elsinore, or John Proctor, strong in the face of anything. Nothing could hurt him, no one could get to him, and darned if he wasn't going to walk into the nearest gay bar and act like he owned the place.
"E-Excuse me," Butters stuttered over the bar to the eccentrically dressed bartender. "Is Bradley here?"
The burly man smiled at him. "Sorry, he's been out for the past week. He's in the hospital with pneumonia. Can I get you a drink? It's on the house."
"Um, no thanks. I, um, don't drink." Butters felt his stomach drop, and a clammy, gray uneasiness crept over him.
"Cute," the bartender chuckled, not noticing Butters's change of mood. "Do you want a virgin piña colada or something, then?"
"I'm seriously fine," Butters insisted. The bartender opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Butters interjected. "Do you know what the number for the hospital is?"
"So, what exactly is your relation to Mr. Knoll?" Asked the petulant secretary at the hospital. Her face was half-covered by two-toned hair, she looked to be about Butters' age.
"Um… brother?" Butters tried to incorporate some of Adler's thoughts on character creation to make his lie more believable.
"Your last names are different." She smacked her bubblegum loudly.
Hamburgers.
"Uh, we're, uh, half-brothers. Same dad, you know."
"Riiiighht." The secretary rolled her eyes. "He's in room 203."
"Thanks, ma'am!"
"Whatever, just don't fuck him too hard, he's still fragile."
Butters walked away, the girl's comment echoing in his ears.
Bradley looked awful. His face was so swollen his eyes were hardly visible. Nevertheless, Butters recognized the lanky boy immediately. "Bradley—" he choked on his words. He could feel his heart twisting in his chest, and there was a hard, painful lump in his throat.
Very slowly, Bradley rolled over. "Butters," he whispered. "Is… is it really you?"
"Oh my god, Bradley, what happened?"
"Conrad." The single name spoke volumes to Butters.
"Where is he now?"
"In jail, waiting for someone to bail him out. There's going to be a trial… I'm pretty sure the ruling's not going to be in his favor." He seemed reluctant to speak further on the matter.
"Um, let's not talk about that right now… I'm just glad you're safe, and that that no-good, filthy, um, drunken…bastard isn't on the loose."
Bradley smiled sadly. "Me too."
Butters could see that his friend was still hurting, and not only from his many cuts and bruises. "Well, shoot, Bradley," He said softly, lowering himself onto the side of the hospital bed. "Why didn't you call me when this happened? I am your 'accountabilibuddy,' after all."
Bradley chuckled. The sound made Butters's heart jump. All of a sudden, his stomach was full of butterflies; not the kind he usually got, before he went onstage, this was something entirely new… euphoria. Butters felt a soft, long-fingered hand wrap around his own. "You're right, Butters, I should have called you. I should have called you a long time ago."
Their eyes met. It wasn't long for their lips to follow suit. It was a soft kiss, barely even registering as a touch, yet its force nearly knocked Butters off his feet. He pulled away. "Brad," Butters whispered.
"Butters?"
Butters ran his fingers through Bradley's curly mop of hair. "I… I don't think I'm confused anymore."
-fin