Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.
We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—
Or rather—He passed us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground—
Since then—'tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity—
24.
Kenny held Butters close as the older slept, worn out from the ceremony, the parties, the hang outs, the drama. Trying to save his world. Not the world, but… Kenny. The perpetual fake smile that plastered on his face, the laughing and crying with friends and classmates he may never see again. He held on to the boy who had his heart so tightly in his grasp, and he hoped he would never let go. His hair felt like feathers in his hair, and he took these quiet hours to count the freckles and old pock marks, the stretch marks on his hips, to feel the ribs beneath Butters' flesh.
20.
Lying awake and enjoying the warmth, the love, the light of it all.
19.
Butters listened to the gentle beating of Kenny's heart. The rhythmic pulse, almost like a lullaby, a dance, a trance. One that he would listen to forever and never get bored. Kenny's cool fingers pressed against his ribs, not enough pressure to leave a mark by any means- just to let him know that yes, he was there. And he wasn't leaving.
Butters was damn determined to make sure that Kenny was never leaving again. Not until they were old and fat and wrinkled. Not until they were happy.
Was he asleep? He didn't know. His breathing was calm and even, slow and deep. His eyes were closed. He was resting. He was at peace.
17.
Kenny let the tears fall in silence as he listened to Butters' snores.
Already? So soon?
It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.
None of it.
He didn't ask for this.
16.
Butters tried to sleep. He really did. But it was hard when Kenny was crying and there was nothing he could say or do to help him. Nothing could be done to stop it. And the worst was that he wanted to face it on his own, his body turned away from Butters, his knees all but pulled to his chest.
So he let him cry alone, although he wasn't really alone. Not really. Butters was there… and he always would be. Silent and strong despite what everyone believed.
They would be okay. He'd make sure of it.
12.
Butters sang in the shower as Kenny made him brunch because brunch was significantly better than breakfast for some reason; a simple egg, cheese, and toast sandwich. Coffee that was more milk than coffee and enough sugar that Kenny's teeth itched. But it was what he liked. And he wanted to do whatever Butters liked for one more day.
Less than that, really.
If Butters wanted the world he would do whatever he could to give it to him.
11.
Kenny stared out the window as he watched the sun and the clouds. The warmth of it made his blue eyes glimmer with a childlike glow. As if it was the first sunny day he got to enjoy.
Or the last.
No. Butters shook his head. It wasn't the last. The sun wasn't going to suddenly get swallowed up and turned into a black hole.
And Kenny wasn't going to die. Not yet.
10.
9.
8.
Spending the day together. Loving, laughing. Being idiots. Doing nothing. As if time was on their side. As if it was just a normal Sunday.
7.
6.
Playing Call of Duty and Destiny with their friends. Eating chicken tenders and french fries and potato chips. Drinking a whole case of Dr. Pepper. Doing the dishes together. Singing with serving spoons and chasing each other trying to swat the other harder.
5.
Making love.
4.
Kenny's eyes focused on Butters. His boyfriend had a bored glaze to his eyes, and the sleep deprivation and worry lines under his eyes had faded slightly. His mouth was turned slightly to a frown.
Kenny didn't want the last time he ever saw the love of his life, his soul mate, best friend... to be a moment of boredom, of apathy. He wanted to be happy, to see the dimples in his cheeks and the crinkle in his eyes. To feel the warmth of his smile, and the slight weight of his body on his.
"Hey Lee?" Kenny asked quietly, scooting closer to Butters on the couch. They met eyes, and Butters gave a silent go ahead. "You wanna play Kingdom Hearts?"
There was a softness in Butters eyes that hadn't been there before. He was going back to what got them to be so close- a video game they played as nine year olds, when things were light and happy, but so very not. When they didn't know about death and Cthulhu, when they were just kids being kids.
Just two boys playing a video game together.
And that's what he wanted his last moment to be. Just kids being kids.
"That's a blast from the past," Butters said with a quiet smile. "Yeah, for sure."
Kenny grinned.
3.
He set up the console, Butters old PS2 that somehow still worked, and he gave Butters the remote. Most of the time Kenny just watched him play, but they had always discussed and debated choices and fight moves.
And that's what he did. He lay against Butters shoulder and turned his head to the side to watch him play; he was just as good as it as when they were kids.
He listened to Butters talk and gave quiet mumbles in response. His eyes were heavy, and he was enveloped in warmth and love. And he wanted to hold this moment in his heart, as it beat its swan song, slowly in his chest, killing him to sleep. A lullaby.
2.
"Ken, you wanna play?" Butters asked quietly. Kenny let out a low murmur of a response and Butters shook him gently. "Wake up, sleepyhead."
Kenny's bleary eyes opened and he smiled weakly up at his partner.
"Hey."
"Hi."
"I love you."
"I love you too, ya dork. Now answer my question."
"Hmm?" Kenny asked as he stretched. God, he hurt. His legs felt like lead and his arms felt like noodles.
"You wanna play?"
Kenny shook his head.
"Nah. Just like old times," Kenny mumbled. "Plus you're cute when you play. You stick out your tongue and get this look of concentrated goofiness on your face. It's hella adorable." Butters giggled and shoved him slightly.
His heart crashed in his chest and his eyes widened as a white-hot pain scorched through him. Butters' grin fell and he clutched Kenny's collar, looking deep into his eyes with worry set in his own brow.
"Kenny!"
He shook his head.
"Fuck you," Kenny teased, "I speak the truth. You're cute, sue me." Butters glared and rolled his eyes, allowing himself to slip into the comfort Kenny was covering him with.
"Are you really okay?"
"I'm with you, ain't I?"
Butters smiled softly and blushed as he felt his cracked lips kiss his jaw line.
1.
"When you walk away
You don't hear me say please
Oh baby, don't go,"
Butters sang quietly, running his hand through Kenny's hair as a cutscene player. Kenny's lips tugged ever so slightly, the soft caress just enough to allow him to relax, to let go. "Simple and clean is the way that you're making me feel tonight
It's hard to let it go..."
It was hard to let go. To let him go. Kenny fought so hard to stay awake, to look in his eyes one more time. But he couldn't.
He didn't want to.
He didn't want to go.
But he had to. To save his friends. His love. His family.
All he could do was just lay there, in Butters arms, as death sang him to sleep for the final time.
And so he walked away.
As if he had a choice in the matter.
0.
Butters woke up to the PlayStation logo bouncing on the screen. He rubbed his eyes and smiled sleepily as he felt Kenny still laying against him. He ran a hand through the blonde shaggy locks and allowed his hair to fall between his fingers.
Last night was nice. It had been so long since they had played Kingdom Hearts, let alone any video games together. And to have Kenny fall asleep on him, so gently and vulnerable... it had been everything Butters was missing.
It felt like things were back to normal. As if no time had passed. As if they were just two stupid kids doing stupid things.
And he had missed it so much. The feeling of Kenny against him, of them laughing and just living instead of fighting to survive. For the first time in years he felt everything would be okay; truly okay.
Until he took Kenny's hand in his. It was ice cold, and so was his chest, and his face. If he didn't know any better he'd say he was dead. But he would know, wouldn't he?
He promised, he said that it wouldn't happen again. He couldn't have...
"Kenny!" Butters cried, his hands shoving the still boy on him as hard as he could. "Kenneth Daniel! Wake up!" His voice was frantic, teetering on the edge of hysterical.
No. He couldn't be dead. Not now, not fucking now.
Butters turned his head, where it was pressed against his face, he couldn't have suffocated, sure he smothered him with love but he didn't actually smother him. He would have felt him flailing. He would have heard it. Right?
And he leapt back in surprise as a pair of yellow eyes stared up at him.
Yellow?
-1.
There was buzzing in his ears and thumping in his head. He felt so dizzy. So sick. The smell…
R'lyeh.
The red sky. The sharp grass. The razor sharp grass blacker than the darkest night.
"H' ah yar, ya gof'n."
It is time, my child.
"No," Kenny said to the voice that echoed in his skull. He felt a cold dread over him, a snake like finger on his back with a thick nail digging into his skin. The sound of rattling breath.
"Mg?" The voice asked in turn.
No?
"Yeah. What if I say no. And no, that wasn't a fucking question. And… fuck you," he hissed. "Just once. Just once I want to live. I don't give a flying fuck about your brother fucking sister. I don't give a fuck about it- I didn't CHOOSE THIS!"
"Mg, ymg' mgepah nafl. H' mgepah nafl ymg' choice. Ymg' gn'th'bthnk mgepah ya yaor ahhai ymg' mgepah hupa."
No, you did not. It was not your choice. Your blood was mine at the time of your birth.
"Someone's gotta teach you about fucking consent because no fucking means no, you stupid fucking octopus."
"Cahf ah llllw'nafh, gof'n."
That is enough, child.
"Oh, did I hit a nerve?!" Kenny seethed. "Try being fucking blown up! Try being run over! Or eaten by fucking chupacabras! You, The King In Yellow, or The King In Yellow's Daddy, whoever the fuck you fucking are, you have gnawed away at my EVERY last fucking nerve! Give. Me. Back. My. Life."
"Ymg' ah lloigazath. Cahf ah vulgtmnah. C' ahor ahuaaah lloigazath."
You are angry. That is good. We can use anger.
"How about no!"
There was rumbling in the ground. Whistling in the air. Kenny looked around and scowled.
"You took my life. You took my image that made me feel somewhat important and turned me into a monster. You made me push my fucking sister away, you kept me in fucking isolation when I wasn't fucking dead and you were possessing me. Because I didn't think I had a choice. But I do. And my choice is to tell you stupid octocunts NO!"
"Oh, child. You were always the monster," a deep voice growled. Kenny blinked. "Be not afraid of the monsters in the dark. You're only afraid of you."
"Fucking BULLSHIT!"
"Ahf' ymg' llll gotha ah nafl ahf' ymg' gotha, gof'n."
What you wish for is not what you want, child.
"Oh. REALLY?! Living isn't what I wish for?!"
"No."
"C' ah l' ah'gotha ymg' nnn."
We are trying to protect you.
Kenny scoffed.
"From what? Apparently the world needs protecting from me if I'm the fucking monster. So what is it?"
"Hup ahf' ymg' ahnythor ah."
From what you must do.
-2.
"Do it," Butters seethed. "If he doesn't live then I won't."
Henrietta furrowed her brows as she mixed the ingredients, a cluster of herbs and blood and other questionable things he didn't want to know. Firkle read the book and shook their head.
"This isn't going to work."
"Make it work!" Butters cried.
Pete grimaced as Henrietta placed the mortar beneath Kenny's rigid- dead- arm.
Dead.
He was dead.
No heart beat.
No blue eyes.
No… Kenny.
He said the next time he died was the last. They were supposed to have the rest of their lives. Graduate college. Wedding. Children. Mid life crises.
And it was stolen from him.
"Are you sure about this?" Henrietta asked softly. "I can't undo this."
"Do. It."
"Butters, it's not meant to be you," Michael said.
"Then who is it meant to be?!" he shouted as tears flooded his face. "Where life is, death follows."
"Where life is… death follows," Firkle repeated. "There may be hope yet." Butters turned to them.
"I can… bring him back? If I do this?" Pete shook his head.
"We don't know," he answered. "This isn't how it was foretold. This is completely wrong from the prophecy. It's meant to be…"
"Who," Butters growled. His eyes bore like daggers at them and even Firkle winced.
"The sister."
Butters gasped.
Karen.
Karen… was meant to be Cthylla?
"Well," he said sharply, "fuck that."
He yanked the knife from Henrietta and sliced his own arm before cutting into Kenny's. His stomach rolled as he saw viscous black ink ooze out from Kenny.
That… wasn't normal.
Kenny's blood was red. Before.
Was he too late?
Butters growled and pressed his forearm to Kenny's, smearing red and black blood together.
"There. We share blood. Arguably siblings now." Michael wrinkled his nose as Butters scraped his bleeding wound against the mortar. And then he squeezed Kenny's forearm, adding more blood. "It's done. Fuck the world, right?"
"You would kill yourself for him?" Henrietta asked.
"I would burn the world for him," Butters hissed. "This world. Heaven. Hell. R'lyeh. And any person, any god, any being that tried to stop me."
"Hardcore," Michael whispered. Butters rolled his eyes.
"Right. So hardcore. I'm ready," Butters said.
"Ri…" Firkle trailed off. Henrietta ground the pestle into the mortar.
"What's done is done," Henrietta said, "we can't undo this."
"Gn'th'bthnk ahnythor mgep gn'th'bthnk," she whispered.
Over and over she drilled it into their heads as she mixed the ingredients.
Butters felt a certain peace. A calm. One that he didn't expect.
They had a good day, didn't they? Just the two of them. Doing what they wanted.
Playing old video games and enjoying each other. It was worth it. A good memory.
Butters was just tired of being left behind.
And he knew good and well Karen would be better off.
Henrietta extended the mixture to him and he looked at it curiously. Was he supposed to drink it?
"You'll know what to do," she said.
Butters furrowed his brows. Ever helpful, they were.
So he scooped it in his hands and smeared it on their wounds. Closing or infesting, he didn't know. He didn't care. It was time.
And he was so… tired.
He took a mouthful and swallowed, sneering as the bitterness penetrated him. His throat itched. His chest burned. His hand shook as he reached to Kenny's mouth, stuck his hand in, smeared it on his tongue. And then his eyes.
And then his own.
He was tired.
So he lay down next to Kenny and took his hand in his.
He wanted to follow.
-1.
Screams.
Never ending screams.
A wail in the night so haunting that it woke Karen from her sleep. She looked around curiously. She was in the trailer… back at home. With her father?
Everything was such a blur. Bits and pieces came back to her… but it all felt like a dream.
Would the screaming ever stop?
And then she closed her mouth.
Just a ringing in her ears.
She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. She was clammy and cold and she couldn't stop shaking.
This was all wrong.
She opened her phone. 47 unread messages. All from Kenny… except one.
I love you.
I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.
Karen, please talk to me.
I promise, I didn't mean to hurt you.
Everything is going to work out, I promise.
I hope you know I will always love you.
What could he have possibly done? Last she remembered… Mysterion had been falsely accused. She had been taken from school.
And now she was back home.
What was home was now just a husk of what once may have been but never would be. Not that there had ever been much love there. But there had been enough. Their mother tried as best she could. But Kenny was the glue who held it all together.
Kenny had always saved her.
He had done nothing wrong. And he didn't deserve the world hating him.
She opened the text from Butters next.
He's dead.
No.
Not again.
Please…just this once.
0.
Kenny's yellow eyes opened.
The king in yellow rose.
Butter's white eyes opened.
The secret one rose.
They stared.
"False."
"Changed."
"Even death may die." Kenny's voice chuckled after He spoke.
"You killed my love."
"I had no choice."
"He was to be born again. Our love eternal."
"It ends here."
"And kill this sacrificial lamb?"
"To rid the world of your stain, I would burn it all."
Butters giggled. Kenny glared.
"I love when you talk that way. Such passion. Such desire. What we could have been. You know, my lamb said the very same thing to try to save his love. Perhaps you chose wrong."
"I had no choice."
"Must they both die?"
"No. Just you. Then my job is done and I may rest."
Butters scowled.
"Not if I kill you first."
At that, they both reached for the knife.
Butters gnashed his teeth as Kenny swiped the knife first, slashing at his neck. A low laugh rumbled in Butters' throat and he lunged at Kenny. His nails like claws, he dug them into Kenny's eyes.
Kenny screamed, an unholy fury sounding from him as he kicked Butters in the gut. Tears of blood ran down his face and he staggered as he loomed over Butters, who just laughed and laughed.
"You were always weaker!"
"Enough."
"A false god! A false king! A mission only set to fail-" Kenny's breath hitched as something sharp pierced his chest. His eyes flashed golden and Butters winced.
He raised his knife, poised, ready to strike into the head of his immortal enemy.
Life and Death.
Death and Life.
Chasing circles around each other. Never at peace. Always and only war.
Black ooze dripped from Kenny's chest and his eyes were alight with lightning and golden fury as his lip curled in hatred. And then-
"No."
Butters laughed a dark, hollow laugh, that- if it actually was Kenny in his body- would make his blood curdle. Such an unholy sound should have never come from a boy so pure, so gentle, so loving.
"No?"
The door to the home they created together burst open. The wind howled and the rain poured. The body was illuminated by moonlight alone, although unrecognizable with the hood and mask. Kenny looked past Butters, at the intruder, and his eyes widened.
"Don't."
Butters, lost in his maniacal laugh, was unaware of the presence of a third person. Silver glinted behind him and he dropped his knife, instead reaching out a hand.
"Not you."
"Not me? After eons of back and forth, after you finally succeeded in your war against Cthulhu, you don't want to hurt me? Or… oh! I get it, it's this… vessel is hardly a word fitting this pathetic body. Too soft, too weak, too pliant. This sponge, you care for it, don't you? The King in Yellow truly has a heart underneath the layers of utter-"
Butters gasped.
The tip of the blade ripped through the fabric of his shirt, a clean cut through the shoulder blades. Green infection bubbled out before the red blood.
"Not him," the quiet voice hissed. "You…" a gloved hand pointed at Kenny. "You have haunted my brother for years. You ruined his life. All he ever did was protect me and now… you've taken his life and his boyfriend. I won't let you have this win. You killed my brother… you killed her brother."
Butters let out a gurgled giggle as blood poured from his mouth. He spit the blood at Kenny- Hastur- and ripped the blade from his back.
"If only…" he managed. "She would have been the one to break you. You stole that… from us. All she will ever know is the taste of my vengeance. You can take my vessel from me… but the bitterness will still fester. You failed, broken king."
"Oh, shut the fuck up, and rot in hell you fucking incestual slug." Karen hissed as she grabbed something from her pocket.
With finality, she swung. The crack of bone against metal was heard as Karen crushed Butters' skull with a hammer. Her lip quivered as he fell, crumpled on the floor in a useless, empty heap.
The hammer fell from her grip and she took a step back. She looked to her hands, to the floor as the weight of reality hit her.
"I…" she trailed off as tears flooded her eyes. And then she glared at what had been her brother with vitriol. "You did this."
"Child, this was not your fight."
"This wasn't their fight! You made them!" she screamed. "Now… don't make me regret my choice. I know what you can do. They call you the great prince. The king in yellow. The unspeakable one. I know that in your fight to kill Cthulhu you… you learned to heal. You save people. So… save them."
Yellow eyes looked to the floor.
"What's done is done."
"No, you didn't kill Cthylla. I did. I did your job for you. Just like Kenny. The prophecy didn't go to plan but you can keep the glory or whatever you'll get from her death. Just… bring them back. Please."
Hastur's lip curled and he took a staggered step toward Karen, who braced herself. Instead, he reached for the hood, took off the mask.
"This was not your cross to bear."
He knelt down beside Butters and his face pinched as he put his hand to his head. His broken crown of flesh and bone.
A faint yellow shimmer emanated from his hand as he concentrated. He murmured something that Karen couldn't understand and she didn't need to know. The blood absorbed into the wood and splintered bone reformed before the tissue and flesh and hair healed over.
His hand moved to his chest, concentrating on the stab wound, closing the gaping hole in his chest and his back, although the fabric remained torn.
For just a moment Butters glittered. And then peace washed over him.
"He's alive."
Karen let out a sigh as she knelt beside Butters. Tears of anguish and fury and relief ran in rivers down her face as she cradled his head. And as her hands caressed through his hair she looked back up at Hastur, who watched her curiously.
"Now Kenny."
"Be careful what you wish for," he warned. Karen shook her head.
"Bring him back."
"Once dead he will not return."
"Oh, now the curse is broken?"
"He's played out his purpose." Karen laughed and shook her head.
"What's one more life going to hurt anything?" Karen asked. Hastur lowered his head and pulled out the knife in his chest.
"You think he will survive this?" Hastur asked. Karen's brow knitted.
"If you heal him, yes." Hastur laughed quietly and shook his head.
"Oh, little lamb. If only."
"Well… why not?" Karen managed.
"My gifts are not selfish. I cannot… heal myself. I am immortal, there is no need for me to have such gift."
"But… once you're out of Kenny-"
"Then I will be in R'lyeh."
"Fine," she spat. "Then I'll save him. Just… for once in his life, let him choose his own fate."
Hastur bowed his head.
"I will honor this request, as you have slain Cthylla and thus righted the wrongs of R'lyeh. But again, I warn you to be careful what you wish for."
"And I'll just tell you to shove it." He chuckled softly. "You don't know what I'm capable of."
"I hope you're right, lamb."
For a moment, Kenny's eyes were blinding. The earth rumbled, the sky roared. And then there was just the rain, the wind, and the sound of Kenny falling to the floor.
Black turned to red.
0.
Butters was surrounded in white. It was warm and peaceful. He was so tired.
"Wake up," he heard a voice, so distant. "Lee, wake up."
Lee.
Only one person called him Lee his entire life. His very short life, at that.
"Ken?"
"It's over, it's okay. You just have to wake up. Please, wake up."
"Butters!"
Karen?
He couldn't see them but he could hear them. And why did he want to wake up if Kenny wouldn't be there? He made his choice, he took on Cthylla to save Karen and… she was there anyway.
Had it all failed?
Had he somehow managed to fuck everything up yet again? He couldn't bear it.
Failing, losing Kenny, not saving Karen, not ridding the world of the elder gods from R'lyeh and all of their corruption.
"I don't want to do this alone," Butters whispered.
"You're not alone," Kenny replied. He sounded so far away but so close. "I'm right here."
"Where?" Butters asked. He heard a quiet laugh.
"Just open your eyes."
And so he did.
0.
"Kenny?"
His eyes opened, blue met hazel as Karen looked down at him and a sob tore from her throat. "Kenny, you're okay."
"K-K-" he managed.
How was he here? He wasn't meant to be here. He had died. That was his last death… wasn't it?
Her hand was firm on his chest.
"I called the police. An ambulance is on the way, just stay awake, Kenny. I'm… I'm here. And I'm going to save you. You've done it enough for me."
He smiled weakly and put his hand on top of hers.
"L-L-" he managed.
"Don't try to talk. Butters is… okay. I think. He's not dead. He's definitely not dead. Hastur and Cthylla… they're gone. It's over, Kenny. It's all over." she couldn't help but laugh, "it's done."
He blinked heavily and let out a raspy sigh.
"You're free."
Free? Kenny felt a sense of calm wash over him. There was no presence in the back of his mind, she was right. He felt in control.
But everything. Fucking. Hurt. And he wanted it to stop.
"Lee…" Kenny managed before letting out a gasp of pain. "Wak-k-ke up."
"Hey, no more talking," Karen said, smoothing his damp hair. "Just stay with me, okay?"
The door opened and he heard footsteps. Soft, gentle, quiet. He smelled an old perfume he hadn't smelled in years and he smiled softly.
"Kenny."
"I did it?" he asked.
"You did," she replied. "You did it." Tears dotted his eyes.
"Safe?" he asked.
"Everyone is safe. It's over."
"Kenny?" Karen asked. "Focus on me." He nodded and winced but his eyes looked above her.
"You're here."
"Of course I'm here," Karen said and laughed through her tears. "I'm saving you, idiot."
"Your fight is over," she said. "You've fought so much. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," Kenny whispered.
Karen's face fell.
"Kenny?"
"It's time to rest. I know you're so tired."
"I'm tired," he whispered.
Karen shook his shoulders.
"Nuh-uh. None of that. Stay with me."
"This is all my fault. But I want to make it right… I'm so sorry, baby."
"It's okay, mama."
Karen froze. She met Kenny's and realized he hadn't been looking at her at all. So she followed his gaze and saw nothing but the wall behind her. She looked back to him and shoved him.
"Don't listen to her!" Karen begged. "She's not here. She's not real. I'm here… Butters is here. Okay? You have to go to college, you have to… live."
"Kenny…?"
Kenny smiled at the sound of Butters' voice. Weak, too quiet. But he heard it. He was okay.
Carol McCormick smiled sadly and reached for her son.
He was alive and he was awake. Everything was going to be okay.
He made sure of it.
Carol ran her hand through his hair and Kenny shuddered. Years without his mother, years of blaming himself for her death…
"Shhh," she whispered. Her fingers traced his face, closed his eyes.
He sighed and couldn't stop his eyes from rolling back. Didn't want to.
He was tired.
0.
Red and blue lights illuminated the otherwise dark house. Sirens wailed outside. Butters opened his eyes and saw Karen, her face torn as she cradled Kenny in her hands. She was covered in blood and he tried to remember what happened.
But it was all a blur and his head ached. It was hard to keep his eyes open but he reached for Kenny's hand as best he could, only to recoil at the coolness.
"I'm sorry," Karen whispered, "I'm so sorry. I tried. I tried so hard."
But Kenny was just trying to wake him up. He heard him. He knew he did.
He felt arms on him, felt himself laying on a stretcher. He reached for Kenny.
Everything moved so slow, as if time itself stood still. Had it been minutes or hours?
He could stare at Kenny, at the peace on his face.
Until they covered him in white cloth.
Dead?
Kenny… was dead.
He remembered a voice. Someone, he couldn't recall who or why… but he knew. He knew with certainty that this was the last time. Kenny was dead. And he wasn't coming back.
He was never coming home.
"Even life may die," he whispered to himself. He saw the faceless paramedics as they carried him away, leaving Kenny behind. "Even life may die."
"Even life may die," Leopold whispered. "That's beautiful, Caroline."
The woman smiled and gave a solemn nod to her uncle. He lay tucked in his bed, his hair long since grey, time lined his face gracefully.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"What a beautiful story. Sad, though."
"It was, I'm sorry," she replied. He took her hand in his.
"Is that really how it ends?" he asked.
"I'm afraid so," Caroline replied. "Butters had extensive brain injuries and he never fully regained all of his memories. His friends cared for him very deeply. Karen and my-" she paused, "Kevin and Shelley remained by his side. Bebe too. They loved Butters through all of it and never once was he really alone."
He smiled at her and gave a nod.
"Love doesn't have to be romantic. And Kenny did tell him he wasn't alone."
"He did at the end. That kind of love just doesn't disappear, even when someone dies."
"Do you speak from experience?" Leopold asked. Caroline laughed and shook her head.
"Not firsthand," she replied. "Do you remember him, Uncle Leo?"
Leopold furrowed his brow and hummed softly.
"Remember who?" he asked. Caroline's face fell.
"Uncle Kenny."
Blue eyes, straw-colored hair. An impish smirk. Freckles like constellations. A face that melted his heart.
"I remember that boy, he was… you loved him, Caroline. He was sweeter than molasses." She laughed. "I wish you had known him. He was taken so young. Time heals all wounds, though, I suppose. Did you base your characters on us?"
"Something like that."
"I'm honored," Leopold said.
"Are you okay if I publish this?" Caroline asked.
"Of course! Just because they're named after us… it's just a story." Caroline grimaced.
"I suppose so." Leopold nodded.
"I'm very proud of you," he said.
"You're the first person to hear it."
"Even better!" He yawned and looked up at his niece, whose eyes glittered as she gazed at him.
"I love you, Uncle Leo. And… I'm so sorry."
"What ever for?"
"...just, everything."
"Golly, you've got nothing to apologize for. Maybe for how long it took to read-" he chuckled and she rolled her eyes, "but it was worth it."
"I hope so."
"I bet it'll be a bestseller." He yawned again.
"I should let you sleep," she said and stood up. "Do you need anything before you go to bed?" He shook his head.
"You've given me more than enough. I haven't thought about him in years, it seems. Thank you, Carrie."
"You're welcome, Uncle Leo. I love you."
"I love you too. Goodnight, dear heart."
She smiled tightly and kissed his forehead before she turned off the lamp. He heard a quiet thump as she set the book on his nightstand. And then the door closed.
Leopold let out a shuddered gasp as a spring of tears poured down his face. He didn't know why he was crying.
Kenny had died tragically so long long ago. What, it had to be 60 years now. An old, neglected wound opened and now he couldn't shutter it away. As if it had all been blocked from his memory, only to resurface.
He could barely remember Kenny. Just the way he looked, his smile, the freckles. Something about Taco Bell and… stargazing? Light nights at Stark's Pond. The sneaking around.
A typical teenaged love, taken away too soon. They had said he was sick. But he didn't remember Kenny being sick. Maybe he blocked it out from his memory. Kenny was always absent from class… he remembered that clearly.
He had never really been there, it seemed. Just a fragment of a boy, more of a ghost than anything. It was a fleeting love, but it had been so strong.
So strong that he never wanted to marry again. The closest he had was Bebe, who spent nearly every day with him. But she had her own life, her own family. Stan and Kyle, Cartman and Wendy. Craig and Tweak. He had friends. They all checked in on him as much as they could.
And he had Kenny's family. Karen had let him live with her. He didn't know why… maybe he and Kenny had been in an accident? He didn't remember. He just knew he couldn't live on his own.
And that was okay.
And then he was uncle Leo.
He watched his friends have children, and eventually grandchildren. And they all loved him. He was a delicate thing, he always had been, and they treated him as such. But he was beloved.
He lived a peaceful life. He had a garden, mostly sunflowers and daffodils. He was drawn to the color yellow. Always trying to capture the sunlight. He had a garden and he had art. He painted every day until arthritis gnarled his hands.
Maybe he should paint tomorrow, he decided as he closed his eyes. That was a great idea.
Leopold didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to sunlight and warmth. He opened his eyes and furrowed his brow; it was completely dark outside. It was 3 am. Why was it so… bright?
"Lee."
His head hurt. Oh, God his head hurt. Memories flooded his brain. Loving memories of embraces and late-night kisses. Horrible memories of blood and cold hands.
"Oh, Lee."
Leopold felt his blood run cold. His head pounded. He turned to the source of the noise. A man- no, a boy with legs so thin and long, an orange hoodie, messy straw hair. Freckles. Blue eyes.
"K-K-Kenny?"
The boy smiled.
"You're beautiful."
"You're so… bright. Why… how are you here?"
"I've been waiting for you," Kenny replied. "Just over there."
"This whole time?"
"I told you, I was gonna be with you. In this life and the next."
"The… next?" Kenny nodded.
"What do you say, Lee? Give it one more shot? One more time to get things right."
Leopold smiled softly. Felt a wave of calm rush over him. His head didn't hurt so much anymore.
"One more shot…" Kenny nodded and his face broke out into a grin. It lit up the room.
"You're… here. You're so bright."
"And I'd steal every star in the sky just so they could shine on you, darling," Kenny said.
"When… when would we start over?"
"Whenever you're ready. I'm happy to wait."
"Bullshit." Kenny cackled at that. "I think you've been waiting long enough, haven't you?"
"Forever is worth it if it means I'll have you at the end of it."
"Always the flatterer."
"Sue me."
Leopold sighed.
He looked around the room. How long had he been in here?
How long had he been waiting?
He was tired of it. Of waiting. Of mourning. Of not remembering.
And Kenny was here.
Finally, he came back.
"I'm ready," Leopold whispered. Kenny smiled and knelt by his bed.
"Ready or not," Kenny whispered and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll find you."
"Not if I find you first," Leopold murmured.
"I love you, Lee. In this life… and the next. Now. Close your eyes."
He did.
And he gasped as he felt lips press against his.
Epilogue:
"When you walk away
You don't hear me say,
'Please, oh baby, don't go…'"
Kenny sang as he added the finishing touches to the scenery for the North Ridge University's theatre department. It was a play adapted from HP Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos. A little ridiculous, if you asked him. Fucking bigot.
But he did his best to make the backdrop look as otherworldly as possible.
"Simple and clean is the way that you're making me feel tonight.
It's hard to let it goooooo-"
Kenny turned around and grinned as he saw Leopold enter in all his grand flamboyance, dancing and giving spirit fingers for flair as he floated to him in his yellow-cloaked costume.
"You are absolutely covered in paint," Leopold said as he raised an eyebrow at Kenny, who just stuck out his tongue.
"I'm a messy bitch, what can I say, Lee?" Kenny said with twinkling eyes.
"That you are."
"Hastur, please, oh please forgive me!" Kenny dramatically exclaimed, putting his hand on his forehead for emphasis, and smearing more paint on him in the process. Leopold giggled and ruffled his hair.
"You, sir, are ridiculous."
"You wouldn't have me any other way though, would you?" Kenny asked. Leopold blushed but pulled away as he leaned in for a kiss.
"Absolutely not, to both you and the kiss- you are not getting this costume dirty!"
"So take it off!" Leopold blushed even more.
"We have dress rehearsals!" Kenny just hummed and beamed up at his boyfriend, who flicked his nose. Leopold's face fell somewhat. "What?"
Kenny shrugged.
"Hi."
Leopold narrowed his eyes and made a face.
"Hey…?"
Kenny reached for his hand and took it, giving him a gentle squeeze.
"Just… hi." Butters rolled his eyes affectionately and shoved Kenny's head but crouched down and gave him a careful peck on the lips. "Yeah, there you are," Kenny murmured. Leopold blushed. "I've been looking for you forever."
End.
