"H-how's he doin', Mrs. Marsh?" Butters nervously bumped his knuckles together as he slunk through the hospital door, avoiding eye contact with her.
The frazzled woman glanced over at her son before turning to Butters.
Stan lie motionless in the hospital bed.
Multiple wires and hoses ran from the boy to various pieces of medical equipment.
The wires ran to a vital sign monitor beside the bed. One tube ran to an oxygen line behind the bed. Another tube ran from his right hand to a large bag of fluid on the opposite side of the bed. Multiple blankets were layered over him. His black hair draped over a thick bandage wrapped around his head.
"He's still not awake yet…," Sharon responded.
"Wul… It's been l-like six hours… He's gonna be okay, right?" Butters looked over at his friend.
Sharon sighed, "The doctors said his body temperature is close to normal. They've been giving him heated medicine," she pointed at the I.V. bag, "And he has a pretty bad concussion… He nearly drowned…," tears of worry welled in her eyes.
Butters was overcome with guilt.
"I – I…," he stuttered, nearly crying, "I didn't mean to hurt him… It was an accident…"
Kyle looked up at the small blonde boy from his bandaged hand; he was sitting next to Kenny on the other side of the room.
"I – I would never hurt Stan…," Butters continued, tears streaming down his face, "He's my f – friend… I'm sorry…," he nearly begged for forgiveness.
"I know it was an accident, honey…," Sharon pat him on the back and tried to smile.
Kenny scooted closer to Kyle on the small couch they were sitting on.
"Want to sit down, Butters?" Kenny patted the open spot beside him.
Butters hung his head low as he walked across the room to sit down.
The room was completely silent except for machines beeping and Butters sniffling every so often.
Kenny uneasily chewed his fingernails.
"You guys all probably hate me now… Especially Stan…," Butters whispered.
"We don't hate you, dude," Kenny reassured.
"Stan's not gonna hate you either…," Kyle coughed violently at the end of his sentence.
"It was an accident…," Butters whimpered, "I was just so focused on making that goal… I just swung the stick and I didn't even know how hard I did and -."
"Seriously, dude. We all know you didn't mean to hurt him. Just relax," Kenny interrupted.
"And it's not like – cough – you took a blowtorch to the ice to melt it under us or something…," Kyle commented.
Butters took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
Stan slowly cracked open his eyes.
Bright white hospital lights flooded his blurred vision, causing his head to pound.
"Ugh…," he shut his eyes and slowly moved his hands to cradle his head.
"Stan!" The room erupted in unison.
He opened eyes again to see four blurry figures hovering over him.
As the image sharpened he was able to see his mom, Kyle, Kenny, and Butters.
"Thank goodness you're awake, sweetie!" Sharon hugged her son tight, kissing him on the forehead about ten times.
"I'll go get a nurse and tell her you're awake!" She hurried out of the room.
"What…? What happened…? Where am I…?" Stan spoke weakly as he looked around.
"You're in the hospital, dude," Kyle put his hand on Stan's shoulder.
"We were out playing ice hockey and you hit your head pretty hard…," Kenny began, "We all rushed over to see if you were okay and then the ice on the pond started to crack around us… You fell in and we tried to get you out as fast as we could… By the time we got you out you weren't breathing… Kyle saved your life by doing CPR…"
"Well… If it wasn't for Kenny grabbing me after I slid back onto – cough – the ice to save you and Butters grabbing Kenny after that, we probably – cough – all would've ended up in the lake… Kenny went to get help too. I can't take all the credit for a team effort…," Kyle stated.
"Jesus Christ…," Stan dwelled on his own mortality for a moment, "Thanks guys… I owe you one. Big time…"
"Actually, you pretty much just owe Kyle. As much as he'd like to say we all contributed equally to saving you, he did most of the work. Right, Butters?" Kenny prompted.
The small blonde boy nodded.
"He's the one that slid out onto a breaking sheet of ice to grab you and he's the one who had to kiss you to do CPR," Kenny laughed, "He's even got a battle wound to show for it!" He pointed at Kyle's bandaged right hand.
Kyle held it up a little.
"What happened?" Stan's voice was filled with concern.
"I guess I cut it on the broken ice – cough – when I was trying to pull you out or something… I didn't even know until Kenny said something about my hand bleeding…"
"It's okay though?"
"Yeah… It doesn't hurt much... They had to put seven stitches in it, but that's about it."
"Seven stitches, huh? I bet that's gonna leave a pretty badass scar… Girls love scars…," Stan smiled slyly.
"Well you got like 15 in your head, dude… I guess that means you're a chick magnet now!" Kenny interjected.
"Like I wasn't before...?"
Everyone laughed except Butters.
"So… How did I hit my head again…?" Stan inquired.
"Well… You didn't really hit your head… You were kinda hit in the head," Kenny offered.
"Hit by what…?"
"I – I hit you with my stick really hard…," Butters spoke.
"Butters…?" Stan was thoroughly confused.
"It – it was an accident… I was just so focused on trying to get the last shot to win the game… I didn't even know you were that close… Or that I swung the stick up that high… I'm sorry… Please don't hate me, Stan!"
Stan looked curiously at Kyle and Kenny.
"I'll do whatever you want me to in order to make this up to you. I'll carry your books every day at school for the rest of the year… I'll give you my milk every day at lunch… Heck, I'd even let you hit me over the head with something – I deserve it. Anyth -."
"Butters!" Stan stated firmly.
The boy stopped talking immediately.
"First of all: calm down, dude," Stan looked at the nearly crying, clearly remorseful boy, "Second of all: I don't hate you and I don't want you to think you have to be my slave to make up for this. It was obviously an accident… Hell, even if you said you got pissed at me and smacked me over the head with something, I wouldn't believe you… You're Butters, for Christ's sake! You're like the nicest person we all know… You're not even capable of getting that mad… Remember that time when Cartman hit you in the face for no reason and gave you a nosebleed?"
"Yeah…?"
"Then I'm sure you remember how you hit him in the shoulder and then apologized to him after he hit you again?"
"Yeah…"
"I know you didn't hurt me on purpose, Butters… It's okay… Really…"
Kyle was struck with a violent coughing spell.
Stan eyed his best friend, "You don't look too well, dude…"
"I could say the same for you!" Kyle rebutted.
"Seriously…"
Kyle was paler than usual and shivering. He looked exhausted.
"Yeah… I kinda had a cold for the past couple days… I got all wet and cold trying to keep you warm. The doctor said I – cough – might have caught pneumonia. They want to take a chest X-ray tomorrow…"
Stan pawed at the stack blankets draped over him and weakly held one up to Kyle, "Have a blanket…?"
Kyle smiled as he gently pushed Stan's hand back down, "I'll be okay, thanks though."
"What happens if you have pneumonia…?"
"I don't know... Last time – cough – I had it they had to give me some stupid I.V. antibiotic or something… It sucked hardcore."
"Well… You could have a bed next to mine if you needa stay in the hospital…? That way we could keep each other company…?" Stan smiled.
"I'd prefer we just had – cough – a sleepover at my house but if we have to be here, that'd be pretty kickass, dude," Kyle smiled back at his super best friend.