[Butters]

As usual, Butters sat in his usual booth at Tweek Bros, laptop open before him, cursor blinking on a blank word document. It was a follow-up from his last piece. About Bebe, her new direction, those that ran the pages, what they really aimed for. If they would reach out to any existing platforms or if they were too different or too small for that.

He sighed, drumming his fingers lightly on the keys before typing the opening lies.
'While this is not an entirely new concept, it is a grassroots movement. Perhaps, in time, they will partner with other organizations who aim to do similar things, but for the moment, the focus is on locality. As previously mentioned, the death of a formerly close friend, has swung the project into motion prompting a closer look at the town they have all lived and worked in for the majority of their lives.'

He paused for a drink of his delicious coffee. He stared off into space a few minutes, trying to organize his thoughts on this piece. He had spoken to Bebe some, and utilized the group chat, but none of them really knew what they were doing. They were just a bunch of depressed people, some with deathwishes still, that had been involved in some way with Wendy before her death. But their organizational efforts couldn't seem fractured, it would ruin things. Wouldn't it? He paused, thinking over that term.

A flurry of typing on his phone, asking Bebe, how she felt about radical honesty. A term he had read about in a book he had read a long time ago. Being completely honest, not covering things up, being transparent with everyone. A risk, a gamble, but in this endeavor, in mental health, radical honesty is all people really have.
He sat, mildly anxious, waiting for her response. Unfortunately, it took over thirty minutes for her to respond.

He snatched his phone from the table when the reply buzzed in.
'That sounds really interesting. Can you elaborate on how you want to incorporate this in your writing?'

'I was thinking along the lines of, we don't really know what we want out of this but we're trying. these similar experiences and wendy all bind us together, but we arent the only ones who have experienced this stuff. you get it?'

Thankfully, her response this time was quick.

':) that sounds great!'

Butters replied with a smiley of his own and got back to work, typing furiously.

'Bebe herself, has advocated for the use of radical honesty, a term which may be new to some, but probably not those who have ever had some sort of counseling. Radical honesty is about complete transparency, about not covering up things that maybe be unpleasant or hard to hear, not even white lies are allowed. Surely, a difficult way to live, given how society is all about fake friendliness and things like "the customer is always right". Radical honesty challenges these concepts, forcing people to be their real selves in all realms of their life. It is the hope of Bebe and crew that through radical honesty and other coping skills, they can hold each other, and any others who want to be part of their group, accountable and honest within their lives before something like this happens again. Not that this concept should be thought of as a cure-all, far from it, it's merely another tool for people to use and realize they're not as alone as they may feel.'

He thought a few more minutes, added a few more details and tweaks, before titling the piece "Radical Honesty" and forwarding it to his team to get any left over feedback before it would be printed.

His coffee was disappointingly empty by this time, but he was also ready to go for a short walk. So, he packed his laptop in his bag and went for that walk.
As most walks in south park seem to, he found himself at Stark's Pond. To his surprise he saw Stan sitting on the bench, a bottle of alcohol in his hand as he gazed out at the half-frozen water.

"How's it going?" Butters ventured.

Stan jerked and glanced around, finally seeing Butters, he relaxed only a little.
"That obvious huh?" he laughed nervously, before looking away, back out at the pond.

"You can talk to us, you know, if you want to." Butters offered.

His hand holding the bottle tightened for a moment before relaxing again.
"That's what people always said to me. But I never believed them."

Butters waits for more, but it doesn't come, not right away.

As the silence stretches, Stan puts the bottle on the bench next to him and leans forward, elbows on his thighs.

"People would always say that, but they never actually wanted me to talk to them. Not about my depression, not about how I wanted to die, not about anything that mattered. It was always a fake, how was your day?, how are your grades? Dumb fucking bullshit."

Still, Butters didn't say anything, he too, gazed at the pond.

"But then..., well you know, what happened. And now..., here we are, hanging out, talking. All because no one actually spoke to her either."

His voice sounds choked, and Butters glances at him, not entirely surprised to see tears streaming down his face.

"Why was it her?"

Butters moves closer to him, standing about half a foot away.
Stan gazes up at the guy he no longer really knows, he doesn't look or act almost anything like the kid he grew up with.

Butters opens his arms and Stan, surprising even himself, dives into the embrace and hugs his old sort-of friend.
They embrace for a while and when they finally part, Stan's tears have dried on his face and he seems calmer.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

"Anytime," Butters smiles. "I know what you mean. And all of us, we're all here."

A long exhale, before he picks up his bottle again, screwing the lid on.
"Yeah..., yeah I guess so. It's... hard to fathom, you know?"

"Of course. Are you..., medicated or seeing a counselor?"

Stan grimaces, "No, not anymore."

"Do you want to again?"

"A counselor at least," he shrugs.

"Why not where I go? If we ca get an appointment on the same day, I could even drive you up there."

The shock that blossomed on Stan's face was quickly covered with a smile, "Denver right?"

"Yep."

"Sure, yeah, I still have the number, I'll set up something and let you know."

Butters beamed and turned to go, he had more work to do after all.

"Butters."

He stopped.

"Thanks man."

"Of course, that's what friends are for."

He started walking again and wound up back at Tweek Bros. He ordered another coffee and sat in his booth again, taking out his laptop to respond to emails and resume his edits. He worried about Stan, he really worried about all of them, himself included. But maybe, maybe Bebe's dream wasn't so farfetched.