Chapter 12: Can You Show Me Where It Hurts?
Stan and Kyle wait with Kenny through the night. They sit together and look through an outdated issue of Rolling Stone, so close together that their knees touch. Kenny dozes off a couple of times, and when he wakes up he can see them holding each other's hands, or talking low and close together.
Gone for three days and his best friends are all shacked up.
And holding hands and looking generally lovey-dovey.
Like… Kyle's doing this. Mr. I'm In A Relationship With My College Applications What Are Girls has his arm draped over Stan's shoulders and is playing with his hand, looking an odd mix of shell-shocked and content.
Kenny's been fucking around with Butters for months and he's still a total fucking ass.
The third time Kenny wakes up from a cat nap, he's being prodded awake by one of the nurses.
"Are you Kenny McCormick?" she asks, and Kenny nods. She looks relieved, and when Kenny looks over at Stan and Kyle pretzeled together he realizes she must not have wanted to bother them. "Leopold Stotch is awake. You can go on in and see him if you want."
"Oh," Kenny scrambles up a little ungracefully, apologizing when she jumps back to avoid getting hit. "How—how is he?"
The nurse (Janice, her nametag says) takes a breath and runs her hands over her bright floral scrubs. "He's doing fine, as far as we can tell. Won't talk to anyone, though."
Kenny wonders briefly how he'll be received. He knows Butters won't be angry or mad or anything like that, and even if he is he won't say anything. Kenny can't help but feel like he's a little responsible, like if he'd been here he wouldn't have given Butters the chance to hurt himself.
He lets Janice lead him back through this sterile labyrinth these people call a hallway and to Butters' room, one it appears he's sharing with an elderly woman who's completely enraptured by the soap opera she's watching.
Kenny stops in the doorway as soon as his eyes settle on Butters. His hair is cut close to his head, almost as short at the sides as it was when he was a kid; he's propped up on his pillow with a mostly uneaten breakfast in front of him and thick white bandages clapped over his forearms. Above anything else, though, the thing that gets to him most is the look on Butters' face—this listless, dead-behind-the-eyes look that is so uncharacteristic for this normally exuberant human being. It's so hard to look at that Kenny almost turns around and barrels back down the hallway.
But something propels him forward. Butters doesn't see him at first, also wrapped up in the melodrama on the TV, so Kenny just clears his throat and gives an all-impressive, "Hey."
Butters jumps slightly and looks over, bug-eyed and—god—it's the worst Kenny's ever seen him look, but Kenny can't see past the fact that he's alive and okay and looking at Kenny like he's seen a ghost, and that's the most beautiful thing Kenny could ever ask for.
It makes Kenny's throat close up in a most remarkable way.
"God, it is… really good to see you," he says, though he doesn't move to touch him or anything. He feels almost like Butters will run if he even so much as flinches too quickly. He pulls a chair right up to the edge of Butters' bed and sits, disheartened when Butters shifts away from him a little.
"I—I'm not gonna hurt you or anything," Kenny reassures him softly. "I'm just so fucking happy you're okay, dude. Seriously."
"What are you doing here?" Butters frowns, voice all thin and weak and mildly terrified, and Kenny feels not unlike he's been stabbed through the chest. He knows he didn't exactly shower Butters with affection or anything, but there's no way he could still think he just flat out just doesn't care about him, right?
"Butters, I—" his voice catches in his throat as the muscles in his neck constrict. Fuck.
Fuck, he's going to start crying, isn't he?
"I don't know, dude, like," he swallows back a lump. "Aside from the fucking obvious," he gestures toward Butters' arms.
"So I'm not hallucinatin' or nothin'?" Butters asks, sounding more pitiful than Kenny has ever heard, "I mean, they drugged me up pretty good for these." He holds up his arms, as though making a point.
"No, dude," Kenny shakes his head, more than a little relieved. "I'm real, I promise."
Butters gives him a nod, still looking a little frightened but at least like he believes Kenny nonetheless. He doesn't stop nodding, though, and just when Kenny's about to ask him what he's doing, Butters starts crying. Like, really crying. So much so that the old woman on the other side of the room clears her throat and turns up the TV just a bit. Kenny almost yells at her, but Butters is crying so hard that Kenny can't be fucked to bother with her right now. He just grabs Butters' hand in one of his, careful not to twist his arm or anything too much.
"I'm here," he says. "It's okay, I promise."
"I tried," is all Butters chokes out, and Kenny has to get very close to hear him. "God, I tried so hard, a-an' it turns out I can't e-even do this right."
"Oh, fuck," is what comes tumbling out of Kenny's mouth. Killing himself. He's fucking talking about being a failure at killing himself. "Butters, you're not a failure. Do you realize how fucking incredible it is that you're still here? From what I hear, you were in pretty bad shape."
Butters screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. "'m su-such a-an idi—idiot."
"You're not, though," Kenny mutters, so only Butters can hear. "You're everything but. You're kind, and sweet, and you just want everyone to be happy. I was scared shitless a few months ago, but you saw through all that." He strokes a hand over Butters' short, fuzzy hair and continues, "Remember when we'd play superheroes when we were kids, and you always played the villain?"
"Yeah, w-world's shittiest vi-villain," Butters stammers. "I heard all this from Eric."
"Dude, my point is that you've done this since we were little," Kenny says, still stroking softly over his hair. "You think you're bad or evil, but you're not. You're really good… the best, actually. You're so good that you can see the best parts of people, even when it's buried under a whole bunch of shit. That right there? That's a fucking superpower, okay? Have you seen the assholes we have to deal with in this fucking town?"
Butters whines at this and starts crying again. It's this that gets Kenny to unlace his boots and crawl up onto the tiny hospital bed with him. If the woman on the other side of the room wants to say anything, she fucking well can, but Kenny's not leaving this bed or this boy until someone forcibly drags him away. He pulls Butters against him carefully, so that his arms are cocooned between their chests, and presses a kiss to his forehead.
"I think I'm in love with you, Butters Stotch," he admits softly, mildly surprised even if it's all he's been thinking about all night. "And it's not because you're a fuckup or a failure. It's because you made me feel good again—like, you made me fearless again, dude. Fuckups can't do that kind of thing, and neither can cowards or failures or anything like that. You're so much stronger than you think."
Butters doesn't say anything, just cries into Kenny's neck and lets himself be held. Kenny is at a loss, unaware of how to proceed. He knows he can't just tell Butters to buck up and realize that he's amazing, but he seriously just does not know how to handle this.
Butters pipes up then, barely even a whisper, "You left me, though."
And it's just too perfect. Kenny puts a finger under Butters' chin and tips his face up so their eyes meet, "Hear this now: I will always come for you."
It takes Butters a moment, but then he screws up his face and asks, "Did you just drop The Princess Bride on me?"
"Shh," Kenny presses a finger to Butters' lips. "Death cannot stop true love."
And while it may not get Butters to smile, it does get him to shift and wrap his arms gingerly around Kenny's neck. The bandages are hot against Kenny's skin, hotter than the rest of Butters, his body already working overtime to heal.
Kenny strokes the backs of his fingers over Butters' cheek and sighs. "I'm so fucking lucky I have you, Butters," he says. "I should've told you that forever ago. I'm sorry."
Butters doesn't have time to reply before nurse Janice comes in again, this time with Stan and Kyle trailing close behind her.
"Oh, no," she shakes her head, moving to shoo Kenny off the bed. "No, no, absolutely not. That is unacceptable. You get off that bed immediately, young man. This is a hospital, not a cathouse!"
Kenny rolls off the bed and gathers his boots without any argument—he doesn't want to add to any stress Butters might be feeling, and judging by the look on Janice's face, she's about two seconds away from whipping her own shoe off and beating Kenny with it until he leaves the building. Stan and Kyle, meanwhile, are just watching this play out with looks of utter amusement on their faces.
"All right, you boys have five minutes," Janice says. "Then we have to move Leopold to another part of the hospital."
Janice exits once more and suddenly it's intensely awkward. The old woman is still pretending not to listen, and Butters looks a little overwhelmed to have so many bodies in the room at once. His eyes are fixed on Stan, still in the same clothes from the night before, all crusted over brownish red with—
"I-is that blood?" Butters rasps. Stan looks down and, like he's entirely forgotten last night, seems to catch himself off guard.
"Well, yeah…" he shrugs, trying to hide behind Kyle. "Maybe just a little bit."
Butters chokes up at this and puts his hands over his face in an attempt to hide his tears from Stan and Kyle. Kenny wants nothing more than to climb back into that bed and hold him close, but he gets the feeling nurse Janice will not hesitate to bar him from the hospital forever if she sees him do it again. So, Kenny sits on the edge of the bed and runs a hand over the fuzz on Butters' head again.
"I'm sorry," Butters chokes. "I'm such an idiot."
"Dude, no," Stan shakes his head. "You were acting really fucking weird last night. I shouldn't have let you leave alone—we shouldn't have let you leave alone." He looks over at Kyle, who just nods like that's all he's there to do. Kenny doesn't think he could talk right now even if he tried.
"If anything," Stan continues. "If anything we're sorry, and we're idiots. Y'know, for not seeing something was wrong."
Butters is crying full-on now, all choked up and leaning slightly into Kenny's touch. It's soon after this that Janice comes back into the room and exasperatedly tells them that it's time for them to go.
"Aw, don't let us leave him like this," Kenny groans as Janice shoos him away from the bed. Getting that he's going to be kicked out one way or another, he bends down to give Butters a kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you soon," he says. This gets Janice to start in on how inappropriate this is for hospital behavior, though Kenny's not sure how true that is. Butters is still hiccupping, but has stopped crying, so Kenny takes advantage of the opportunity.
"I love you, Butters Stotch," Kenny grins, even as Janice starts herding him, Stan, and Kyle towards the door. "Don't think I'm not gonna tell you every chance I get, either!" He manages to shout this last bit just as Janice shuts the door in their faces.
And just like that, Kenny feels a familiar lead ball settle in his gut. He doesn't like the thought of leaving Butters by himself, even if he's not actually alone. Stan and Kyle both look at him for a moment before each throwing an arm around his shoulders. They walk out to Kyle's car like that, Kenny holding his boots to his chest and not even caring that the ground is beyond cold.
They go back to Stan's, mostly so Stan can change, order some pizza, and watch Die Hard. Sharon appears to know what happened, why her boys aren't talking, why they all have a shocked sort of look on their faces… she even appears to understand why Kyle and Stan are sitting so close, and doesn't ask them about a damn thing
It appears the whole town knows about Butters too. Not that rumors and gossip are renowned for keeping contained in a small town like South Park, but every time he hears anyone talk about it, Kenny feels a little flare of rage lick at his stomach. What business do they have to talk about Butters? They're just as guilty as anyone, not recognizing the signs when they should have, not intervening and getting him the help that he needed.
Butters isn't crazy, and Kenny may punch the next person who says so.
It's been a long week, one filled with after Christmas clearance sales at Walmart (where Kenny and Karen get a lot of their nicer clothes for the coming year), helping Kevin repair the busted radiator in their truck, and not seeing Butters. He's been put in a special unit in the hospital where they monitor people they think might be a danger to themselves or others. Upon hearing this the first time, Kenny wanted to fly to Butters' defense, reassure everyone that he was fine.
Except even Kenny wasn't and isn't sure that Butters wouldn't try to hurt himself again. No matter how many times Kenny tried to go see him, he always got the same 'no visitors allowed' flack. He's spoken to Butters on the phone a few times, mostly since Butters has called him when the nurses allow.
"Thanks, Kenny," Butters says at the end of each conversation.
"For what?" Kenny asks, scanning through the chapters (acts, scenes, whatever) of Hamlet he's supposed to have finished by the time they start up school again.
"For treatin' me like I'm a person still," Butters' voice sounds tinny and hollow in Kenny's ears. "Everyone here treats me like I'm a moron or somethin'. And also no one reads Hamlet to me… 'specially that one part about him deciding whether or not to kill himself."
"Oh, fuck," Kenny smacks his forehead. "That's totally what 'to be or not to be' means, isn't it?"
"Yeah, they tend to stay away from that one here," Butters comes back, the sarcasm there but not quite in the same way. It's almost like talking to a computer—the words are right, but the tone is all off. It makes Kenny's chest ache, but every time he tries to edge his way into a visit, Butters insists with each phone call that this part of the hospital is very strict with the 'family only' visitor policy.
Kenny is determined today, though. It's New Year's Eve, a whole week after all of this started, and Kenny doesn't give a flying fuck about what any of those cocks at the hospital say. Kenny is going to see Butters today. Armed with nothing but an iron will and an impassioned speech about love (if need be) prepared for anyone who will listen.
Only he's told before he even states his purpose at the front desk that Leopold Stotch was checked out of the hospital this morning, thank you for playing, don't let the door hit you on the way out.
Well then.
Kenny thanks the woman at the desk and offers her a 'Happy New Year' before starting back out of the hospital. It's probably just as well—Kevin will piss himself if the truck is gone for too long. Not that the fucker will even use it, but he doesn't like it when Kenny uses it anymore…partly because they're both still unsure of how well they did on the radiator, but mostly because Kevin is a giant throbbing dick and likes pissing Kenny off.
He drives to Butters' house, happy to see that the Stotches' cars are in the driveway. Seeing Butters at home will be better than the hospital anyway. At least here they'll have a little privacy, right?
Kenny parks on the street and practically runs up to the door. He knocks a few times and tries to talk down the butterflies in his stomach. He can't help it—the thought of seeing Butters makes him fucking giddy.
Only the door opens and it's Mr. Stotch. Butters has shared stories about his dad before, and even if they're not enough to get Kenny shaking in his boots, they still render Mr. Stotch quite undesirable to be around.
"Hi, Mr. Stotch," Kenny says politely, even though all he wants to do is shove him aside and run to Butters as fast as he can. "I stopped by to see how Butters is doing."
Mr. Stotch's face immediately contorts into a frown as he shakes his head.
"I'm sorry, Kenny," he says. "Butters just got home from the hospital this morning… he's not really up to seeing anyone right now."
Kenny frowns back, "Please? I've been trying to see him all week. I won't be long, I just wanted to stop by—"
"Butters isn't allowed to have friends over right now," Mr. Stotch says firmly. "Right now his mother and I are only concerned with him getting better. Friends will only distract him from that. Now, I'm sorry you went to all this trouble, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Kenny's about to retort when he sees Butters come down the stairs behind Mr. Stotch. Kenny experiences a moment of unadulterated joy when Butters sees him too and stops mid-step. Kenny gives him an excited wave, which only gets Mr. Stotch to shut the door right in his face.
Okay, that really chaps Kenny's ass.
"Hey, what the fuck!" he shouts and kicks at the door, feeling all hot and itchy deep in his bones. "He's right there, just let me talk to him!"
"He's not feeling well, he can't come out and play," comes Mr. Stotch's response through the door. "Butters, go back upstairs."
"Why don't you let him tell me that himself?" Kenny shouts back, this time shoving his shoulder into the door. Mr. Stotch opens the curtains on the window to the left and scowls at Kenny.
"If you don't leave my property immediately, I will have the police come and arrest you, young man."
There's a knock on the window on the other side of the door, where Butters has pulled open the curtains and is now making a hasty cutting motion across his throat with his hands.
It's not unlike getting kicked in the stomach, seeing Butters look at him like that. Like he's annoyed or impatient or something. Kenny's been dying to get an emotional response out of him for the last week, and the first one he gets is 'irritated'. Smooth move, McCormick.
Kenny takes it, though. He gives Butters a cool nod and a detached sort of wave before turning right back around and heading for his truck. He just wants to see Butters, for fuck's sake, and doesn't know why everyone's denying him this. He drives back to his house in silence before joining Karen on the couch while she eats poptarts and watches Say Yes to the Dress.
"How'd your Butters quest go?" she asks.
"Shitty," Kenny replies. Karen nods and leaves it at that, offering instead of conversation a large portion of poptart. Kenny gratefully accepts this and settles in for a long haul of TV watching.
They get through about half an episode before they're interrupted. Kevin comes downstairs in a ratty old bathrobe he dug out of the church's donation bin and a pair of mismatched slippers and elegantly situates himself right between Kenny and Karen.
"What the fuck is this faggotry?" he asks, just as the flamboyant man in the suit comes in to tell a bride how pretty she looks.
"Randy's building up some self-esteems like a motherfucker, shut up and let me watch," Karen scowls. Kevin watches for about thirty seconds before he snorts and grabs the remote.
"They gonna fix her snaggletooth before she gets married?" he asks.
"You tell me, dead-tooth." Kenny comes back, without even thinking about it. Kevin's got a wonky dead tooth right in the front of his mouth that they've never had the money to fix. He claims it gets him pussy when he says it happened in a bar fight. Kenny thinks that's a crock of shit.
Kevin's only retaliation is to punch Kenny too close to the dick for comfort. He ends up changing the channel to wrestling, which makes Karen roll her eyes and leave the room altogether.
"You know this is, like, the gayest thing we could watch, right?" Kenny asks as he pulls his knees up to his chest. "Sweaty guys playing grab-ass and pinning each other to a mat…" It's actually getting Kenny a little turned on, thinking about it like that. Not that the guys on screen are doing it for him or anything, but the thought of wrestling Butters and pinning him to a mat and having his way with him—or, Kenny's mouth immediately goes dry, Butters pinning him and having his way with him—is making Kenny breathe just a little harder.
"'the fuck?" Kevin asks. "You got asthma or something?"
That snaps Kenny out of it. He grabs the remote from Kevin's hand and switches it to FX. There's a marathon of Two and a Half Men on, which Kevin goes apeshit for and makes Kenny want to shoot the TV, but it's better than popping a stiffy during wrestling.
They make it through a few excruciating hours before there's a knock on the door. Kevin makes Kenny answer it, even though Kenny's just so glad to get up from watching this stupid show that he would've done it anyway.
He feels his heart stop when he sees Butters standing on the other side of the door, all wrapped up in a thick, puffy jacket and still looking like he's about to freeze to death.
"What are you doing here?" Kenny asks before anything else decides to crop up in his brain, and Butters just looks right at him, through him almost.
"I came to see you," he says. "Is that all right?"
"Yeah, dude," Kenny nods and steps aside so that Butters can come in. He shuts the door just as Butters sees Kevin sitting on the couch and stills. Kevin sees him too, and gives Kenny this look that probably would have made him shit his pants a few months ago. Kenny's got bigger things to worry about right now.
"So, Butters and I are gonna hang out for a while," Kenny says and makes it a point not to grab Butters' hand as they head toward the stairs.
"Keep your cornhole covered," Kevin salutes as they walk by.
"Real witty there, Kev," Kenny rolls his eyes and grabs Butters by the sleeve as soon as they're out of sight. He doesn't know if his parents are home… he doesn't think they are. His mom's washing dishes at Bennigan's tonight, and his dad's probably at the bar in town. Or passed out in their room. Either way, Kenny doesn't have to worry about him right now.
He closes his door behind Butters and locks it, turning back to him and giving him a soft, reassuring smile. Butters returns it and sheds his coat; he's wearing an unnervingly form-fitted gray hooded pullover underneath, and if Kenny looks closely, he can see where his bandages puff up underneath the fabric.
"How'd you get out of your house, dude?" Kenny asks as Butters pulls off his boots.
"I waited 'til I ate dinner an' told my folks I was gonna turn in for the night," Butters replies a little formulaically and sits on the edge of Kenny's bed.
"What if they realize you're gone?" Kenny poses, still not having moved from his place by the door. Butters just shrugs.
"Then I suppose I'll wait 'til I hear my own missing person's report an' go back home," he says, and even if it's not meant to be a joke or sarcastic, Kenny laughs anyway. He sees Butters' lips quirk up slightly and figures it's probably the best he's going to get in the smile department. Seeing Butters sitting there on his bed, looking as clean-cut as he does, gets Kenny to start kicking at the dirty clothes on his floor.
"Uh, sorry it's not clean," he mutters. "If I'd known you were coming, I would've told you to brace yourself."
Butters shrugs again, "I like it."
Kenny grins and puts his hands on his hips. He's wanted to have Butters to himself for a whole week now, and now that he's got him, he has no idea what to do with it.
"Fuck, dude," Kenny laughs a little at his own stupidity and runs his hands through his hair. "Can I kiss you?"
Butters just looks at him with big, stunned eyes before nodding his head. "Yeah," he says. "What the heck're you asking for?"
"I don't know," Kenny shrugs and sits on the bed beside him. "Just figured I'd make sure." He leans forward and captures Butters' lips in his. It's incredible, how everything else feels like it falls into place when he kisses this boy. He loves how Butters is still so unabashed when he kisses, that he can smell Butters, like, all the way in the back of his brain and feel him all warm and firm against him.
He pulls back and grins stupidly at Butters, who is, by some strange miracle, grinning back. If that's all it takes to get him to smile, Kenny will happily keep kissing him forever. He runs his hands and fingers all over Butters' face and through his hair. It's retarded how happy he is that he has Butters back and kissing him and smiling, but he can't help it.
"C'mere," he says and flops back on the bed, stretching out his arms so Butters will get the hint and lie down beside him. Butters does, though he doesn't go into Kenny's arms so much as he just stretches out next to him. Their shoulders are touching, and Kenny moves so their fingers are interlocked too. Kenny looks over at Butters, a little concerned that Butters is just staring listlessly at the ceiling, and turns his head to peck him on the cheek.
"How're you doing?" he asks. Butters shrugs.
"Well, I'm not dead," he says, but doesn't really hint that that's a good or bad thing. Instead he just sifts, though he's careful not to detach his and Kenny's hands, and continues, "I know I'm supposed to be happy about it, but I don't know if I actually am or not."
The words actually make Kenny a little nauseous, and he gets to wondering whether or not it's moral or ethical to duct tape Butters to his bed.
Like he realizes this, Butters covers his eyes with his free hand and sighs, "Sorry, that's not really fair to say, is it?"
"Dude," Kenny frowns and turns his head so he can properly give Butters a look. "Say whatever the fuck you need to say to me. I know I'm not a doctor or a shrink or anything, so I can't tell you what to do or anything, but I don't need a PhD or a degree to listen to you. Are you—are they making you see a doctor?"
"I talked to someone a bunch while I was in the hospital," Butters nods.
"What'd they say?"
"Uh, it wasn't really them sayin' anything," Butters rubs at one of his eyes. "I was s'posed to talk an' based on what I said, they were s'posed to respond. I didn't talk much though, so it wasn't really all that helpful."
"Well, talk to me if you want," Kenny says. "I want to help you, and if that's what you need, then that's what you need."
Butters sighs and detaches their hands so he can turn on his side. Kenny mirrors him, moving so that they're huddled close and kisses Butters on the corner of his mouth.
"I left a n-note for my parents," Butters begins, letting his eyes slip shut. "Y'know, before I—yeah. Um, well, in it I t-told 'em… I wrote that I'm gay an' they found it."
"Oh, shit," Kenny frowns. "I'm guessing they didn't take it too well."
Butters shakes his head. "Obviously I didn't think I'd have to face 'em again," he says. "The worst is I can tell—" he hiccups "—I know they're happy I'm alive, but not as much as they wish I wasn't gay. Now I don't know if they're happy 'cause I'm alive or happy 'cause I'm alive. Does that make sense?"
He opens his eyes and looks at Kenny sort of pleadingly, and Kenny nods.
"Yeah," he whispers. "Yeah, that makes sense." He leans forward and kisses Butters again, holding him close in a staunch refusal to ever let him out of his sight or his arms ever again.
"Anyway," Butters sniffles when he pulls away. "Now they want me to see a therapist twice a week starting Tuesday."
"Well, that might not be so bad," Kenny suggests, "I mean, having someone who deals with people who're going through what you're going through might actually be a really good thing."
"I know," Butters sighs. "I just don't wanna sit there an' explain to someone why I did what I did or why I think I feel like I do. There's just all sorts of stuff that just makes me feel bad, a-an' I don't wanna think about it. That's why I don't."
Kenny doesn't respond to that right away, just runs the backs of his fingers along Butters' cheek and kisses his nose. He's starting to get the feeling that he's in way over his head here, but then again, so is Butters, right? That's why he—well.
"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" Kenny sighs, and Butters squishes his eyes shut, like he's about to start crying. "Baby, it's okay," Kenny pulls Butters in close to his chest.
"I didn't—" Butters hiccups again. "I d-didn't think it was bad. I thought I was doin' okay. It's not like I sat there an' p-planned it out."
"Isn't that how most people do it, though?" Kenny asks. "I mean, don't people plan on killing themselves at least a little in advance?"
"I don't know," Butters whines. "I don't even remember thinkin' it, just going home an' doin' it. Know what the worst part is?"
Butters looks back up at him and Kenny shakes his head.
"My g-grandma called earlier today to see how I was doin'," he says. "She said if I really wanted to do it, I woulda done it."
"Well," Kenny begins, running his fingers through Butters' soft hair—it's like puppy fur or something, Kenny can't stop touching it. "Your grandma's kind of a douche, right?"
"Said I shoulda done it, since it's what all faggots do, an' I'm only prolonging the inevitable," Butters adds, no emotion on his face.
"Wow," Kenny's eyebrows shoot up. "Forget douche, that's just fucking evil, dude."
"I know," Butters groans.
"Well, at least she'll be dead one of these days," Kenny offers, and Butters just looks up at him with this look on his face that Kenny can't quite identify. Obviously, this means Kenny should continue, right? "I mean, she's old. She's at the end of her life. You're just starting yours. And the best way to get revenge on people like that is to be happier than they've ever been."
Butters still has that look on his face when he flies forward and mashes his mouth against Kenny's. Kenny gets the feeling that they are absolutely done talking for the night and lets Butters climb on top of him. They kiss frantically, mouths seeking out parts of each other that they've so missed, relearning what they may have forgotten in the time it's been since they've had a proper make out. Butters rolls their hips together amid the fumbling of their hands, and soon his sweatshirt is off and tossed across the room, while Kenny rubs at the front of his jeans.
He's soft still—not that Kenny's complaining or anything, but he's already got a partial hard-on that's begging to be touched. Butters seems to realize this at the exact same second Kenny does and screws up his face, rolling off Kenny and sitting dejectedly with his face in his hands.
"I'm sorry, Ken," he mutters as Kenny sits up.
"Dude, don't be," Kenny shakes his head. "It's been a shitty week, it's understandable."
Butters whines and folds up into himself and Kenny can't help it—he laughs a little. He scoots over to him and rubs a hand over his back, tracing the ridges of Butters' spine with his fingertips and pressing kisses to his shoulder.
"You look like a hedgehog," he murmurs close to Butters' ear. Butters doesn't look up, just halfheartedly reaches up to bop him on the head, and Kenny grabs his wrist lightly in his hand. He ducks his head so he can kiss Butters as best he can, grinning when he sees Butters' lips twitch into a momentary smile.
"So," Kenny starts in. "These are some big-ass bandages, dude."
Butters looks at him, and even if his face doesn't tell Kenny he's an affable idiot, his eyes sure do. He bites his lip and looks down at the large white swathes.
"You wanna see 'em?" he asks then, looking up at Kenny with complete sincerity behind his eyes. It actually scares Kenny just a little bit.
"Um," he scratches the back of his neck. "Are you—you're sure?"
Butters nods, and before Kenny knows it he's peeling back the landing strip of medical tape and gauze pads.
"Holy fucking shit," Kenny breathes the moment the angry red marks meet his eyes. Butters really hadn't intended on coming out of this, had he? The marks look deep, and they're far from being just one long line down his arm, like Kenny thought they would be. They fork off in all sorts of directions, like Butters was making sure to optimize the use of every vein that he could.
"Do they hurt?" is the next wonderfully formed thought that falls out of Kenny's mouth.
"Yeah," Butters nods. "They gave me some stuff to take for it, but I forgot to before I left."
"I cannot fucking believe you're alive," Kenny shakes his head. Especially when he's died unintentionally from a lot less. That's the way it goes, though, right? Butters just hums and puts the bandages back in place.
"Neither can I," he says, and Kenny knows it's the truth.
Kenny wets his lips and pulls Butters back onto the bed with him, situating them so they're both spooned nicely against each other.
"I love you so much, Butters," he hums close to Butters' ear. Kenny can feel Butters' heart speed up where his hand rests over his chest, and it's the most soothing thing he's ever felt in his entire life.
"I love you too, Kenny," Butters replies softly then, and Kenny suddenly feels a little like he could cry. He holds Butters as firmly as he can and kisses the back of his neck, totally knocked off his feet by how good Butters feels, smells, sounds against him. He holds him close until they both doze off, each breathing deeply and falling into rhythm with the other.
Even when Butters wakes him a few hours later and says he has to go home, Kenny walks him to the door with this warm, cozy feeling in his chest that could only come from knowing the person you love is alive and breathing, and loves you back.
Hi all! Quick update this time. Thank you all for sticking with me and my erratic update schedule. You're all awesome, seriously.
Chapter title taken from Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb.
