Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

POV - Karen

“Hand it over, Turd.”  Karen McCormick looked up from her phone, a shitty repurposed thing that her brother had surprised her with last April — he was the only family member not drunk enough to forget that it was her birthday.  She stared up at the dirty-blonde bitch towering over her.  She really wasn’t in the mood to get into a fight today.  

Local bully, Shelly Marsh.  As a senior who was old enough to be in college already, Shelly was bitter.  It’s true her schoolyard bullying has really picked up this year, but especially, it seemed, when it came to Karen McCormick.  Karen didn’t know why Shelly picked on her.  I mean, Shelly picks on anybody who has something she wants, so maybe that’s why she found her today, but in general, Karen seemed to feel like she had a target on her back.  Ever since they were in middle school together (the year that Shelly had to repeat 8th grade, and Karen had jumped ahead to sixth grade) Shelly had singled out the shy sister of her brother’s poor friend and had taken a liking to stealing her free lunch, taking her notebooks, or vandalizing her homework.  Karen couldn’t afford a lock for her locker, so she often opened it to a nasty note hanging in front of her, and sounds of snickering to her left.  Shelly was a large part of the reason Karen decided mid-year to join back with her 5th grade class, and stay a whole building’s length away from Shelly — until now.  

Even without the rest of her posse -- a ragtag team of mean girls who were feared throughout the town -- Shelly was mean.  And what made her more mean was the realization that while her two friends got to move on, she was forced to stay in South Park and finish her senior year.  Usually, she was flanked by two equally bitchy girls who’s involvement in Shelly’s relentless targeting ran somewhere between boredom and a sick sort of entertainment.  

Karen had seen some of the run-ins between local South Park kids and Shelly’s gang; at the movies, on the street, at Stark’s pond… Karen has always been good at hiding, and was never even noticed by any of them until first day Freshman year when Shelly waved, smiled, and then spit at her walking through the front doors of the school.  Happy first day.  And Karen had been so excited too, then with the flip of a switch she was feeling beat down, stupid, and ugly when Shelly literally spewed hatred at her— just for existing!  Karen spent the beginning of her first class crying in the bathroom before she dusted herself off, wiped her face, put on a smile, and apologized to the teacher for ‘getting lost on her way to class’.    

And now here Shelly was, standing in front of her again, exactly a week since her first greeting, demanding the first good thing that has existed in Karen’s life in months — like hell; she wasn’t gonna just hand it over like it meant nothing!   

“No.”  Karen stood her ground.  Well, as best as one can ‘stand their ground’ while still not moving from her sitting position against the tree.  

“No?” Shelly scoffed incredulously.  

“No.” Karen repeated.  Although her voice sounded weaker, she hoped the expression on her face remained unmoved.  

 Shelly’s face melted into a scowl as she folded her arms and leaned down to get in Karen’s face.  

“Are you sure, turd?”  Shelly’s eyes bore into Karen’s soul, and she tried not to look away as she swallowed the fear rising up in her throat.  Rather than potentially risk her voice betraying her, Karen just nodded slowly.  

“Hm.  I see,” Shelly stood up before squatting down to Karen’s level.  “And what kind of phone is that, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m not sure,” Karen answered honestly.  

“Mhm.  Is that because you’re dirt poor family got it out of some rich loser’s garbage?”  Shelly smiled dangerously,  “Or maybe your alcoholic dad had to beg Best Buy for one of the rejects.” Karen’s gaze narrowed but she kept her cool, no sense fighting Shelly Marsh if she didn’t have to. 

“Or maybe,” Shelly smirked with evil invention, “your delinquent brother stole it.” 

“Don’t talk about my brother!”  Karen was standing now, towering over Shelly, fists shaking at her sides.  

“Oooooh,” Shelly hooted as she stood to full height, now towering over Karen.  “It seems we have a sore spot!  Remind me to thank Kenny for my new phone when I pry it out of your cold dead hands—,”  Shelly threatened maniacally. 

At the mention of her brother’s name, Karen clenched her fists to look threatening, though she was sure it just looked more like a dumb kid’s tantrum.    

Shelly’s eyes flickered to Karen’s fists them back to her face, feigning surprise as she advanced, eyes mean and voice menacing, “Are you gonna hit me, turd? That’s not such a good idea—”

“And I don’t think that’s such a good idea, you dumb bitch,” came a voice from behind the tree trunk.  As the owner of the voice rounded the corner, Karen laid eyes on her savior: died black hair spiked up in a cool bun, mesh T-shirt over a skimpy black crop top, black lipstick, and tight black jeans with studded boots.  This girl looked about ready to kick Shelly’s ass, and Karen could not be more grateful, if not a little frightened of her new protector.   

“Get out of here Henrietta, why don’t you go sleep with half the track team.”  Henrietta’s gaze remained cool and unfazed.  She tilted her head and rested one manicured, gloved hand against her plump hip.  

“Projecting again, Shelly, you cunt?!”  

“Oh, go sl*t your wr*sts, you emo bitch.”

“Who are you calling emo, bitch?”  A soothing male voice drifted over from where he smoothly pushed off from the tree he was leaning against and slinked over to the group.  His cigarette dangled lightly from his lips as he cocked his eyebrow and rounded on Shelly with arms crossed.  

It was clear she was outnumbered, but Shelly was never one to shy away from fighting boys.  Karen still remembered the time Clyde Donovan had accidentally spilled something on Shelly at a party last summer.  She wailed on him endlessly while he covered himself and cried like a baby until Craig came to save him.  

“Well?” The black-clad boy noncommittally demanded, “we’re waiting for apologies, skank”

“I don’t have to apologize to you,” Shelly spat. 

“Then get the fuck out of here, and leave the girl alone, she’s with us.” 

What?

Shelly scoffed sarcastically, “You mean you’re friends with this dweeb?  You’re lying.”

“No he’s not,” Henrietta drawled, “She’s coming to my house after school.  Come with if you want bitch, we’ll make it a threesome” Henrietta made an obscene gesture at Shelly that seemed to gross her out.  Karen tried not to think or say anything until this whole mind-numbing interaction was over.  She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been clutching her phone to her chest until her knuckles started to hurt.  

The boy sighed apathetically, “Get out of here Shelly, I’m not above defending my woman.”  The boy slung an arm around Henrietta and they made out with lewd enthusiasm before he pulled away with lipstick smeared all over his face.  He took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing smoke directly in Shelly’s face.  

She winced at the smell and recoiled back, “Whatever, you guys are fucking gross.  I’ll just take what’s mine and be on my way,” Shelly made a lunge for Karen’s phone, luckily Karen was quicker.  “Hey! Oh, bad move, turd—”

“Hey, what’s going on over here, Shelly delivering another riveting performance as the pathetic, drop-out, low-life?  Brava.  I'm transported.” A third teen had entered the scene, this one with a red patch of hair messily splatted in the middle of his bangs.  He emerged rolling his eyes and clapping sarcastically as he strolled over to the scene.  

What a weird comeback, and also where did he come from?  Karen suspected there was a whole group of them that had all been listening the whole time, getting involved only when their friends needed backup.  

Shelly clenched her teeth together “I didn’t drop out.” 

“I’m sorry my mistake, I tend to lump all the low-lifes I know together.”  This new boy chuckled meanly, “you’re a conformist freak, just like everyone else in this sad town, so I assume you’re life will go no where and you’ll be nothing after graduating your 5th or 6th year of High School, where you'll then drag your chewed up, spit out, washed up ass to your fancy new job pumping gas for all the other has-beens and wannabes who -- even you have to admit -- actually do have better lives than you do, because they were at least able to get out momentarily for college.  Unlike you, per the obvious direction your life seems to be heading right now. That’s all.”  He took a disinterested drag off of the other boy’s cigarette and chucked the butt at Shelly, who screamed and brushed it off of her now slightly burned shirt.  

“YOU TURD!” Shelly stepped towards this new boy who, remaining unfazed, merely cocked his head and stood unmoving.  Henrietta and her boyfriend, however, stepped forward menacingly, daring Shelly to take a swing at their friend.  

Shelly looked between all of them, then back to Karen.  She narrowed her eyes and shook with rage, “Fine!” She screamed, “Enjoy hanging around with dweebs, I don’t need her shitty stolen phone anyway!”  And stalked away to the front doors of the school.   

“Bye Shelly!” The three goth kids chimed in unenthusiastic unison before turning back to Karen.  

“You ok kid?” Henrietta asked quietly, her tone more empathetic than moments ago.  

“Yeah… I’m fine… for now.  Thanks.”  Karen smiled up at her saviors.  

“I’m Henrietta, this is Michael,”  Henrietta gestured to the tall, curly haired boy who was now lighting a new cigarette, he gave Karen a nod in greeting.  “And this is Pete,” Pete was now on his phone and walking away from them, but he did give a small ‘hey’ without looking Karen in the eyes.”

“Hey.” She waved shyly.  

“This is Firkle, weird name I know, but he’s a nice guy.  His real name is Georgie, but we reserve that for when we want to piss him off,” Henrietta winked at Karen.  She started waving someone over as she spoke,  “Hey, what grade are you in?  You guys seem to be about the same age.”  A third boy rounded the corner from the side of the building they must have been smoking behind… before they heard Karen was in trouble.

Firkle was small, with black hair covering one of his big eyes.  They all wore heavy amounts of eyeliner — even the guys — and Firkle’s light gray version seemed to accent his dark-almost-black irises even more.  They matched his clothes.  And everyone else’s for that matter.  He walked up with hands in his pockets and greeted “Hey.”  

“Hey.”  Karen responded. 

“Sit with us at lunch.”  Henrietta demanded as she took out a compact to reapply her black lipstick, “and come over to my house after school.  We can hang out.  Throw it in that bitch Shelly’s face,” she stated into her mirror.  

“Oh-Ok… what… what would we do?”  Karen asked nervously.  She had no idea who these people were.  Images of hardcore drug parties, or scary instances of peer pressure clouded her worried brain — but that could just be because that was an aspect of life she was already familiar with.  

Henrietta picked up on her tentativeness and laughed “Nothing bad!  Anything you want, I promise I don’t bite.” 

“No promises,” Michael smirked mischievously as he bent down to bite Henrietta’s neck.  Karen’s eyes widened at the strange PDA.  

“Lipstick!” Henrietta chided as she shoved him off of her, wiping her neck from the small black residue transferred from his still-smudged lips.  Karen was a little grossed out, but maybe this was just how older kids were.  As much as he tried to hide it from her and ‘lead by example’, she knew her brother and his friends were kinda pervy too.   

“But seriously, come over.  What’s your name, kid?”

“Karen.”  She’d always hated her first name, though not as much as her last.  

“Karen,” Henrietta parroted, taking a dainty drag on her slender cigarette holder.  Karen was thankful Henrietta had the curtesy to blow the smoke away from her direction.  “You’re one of us now, Karen, like it or not.  We’ve got your back.”  She smiled and clapped Karen’s back roughly, it reminded her of how macho/powerful men congratulate their constituents.  Henrietta was strange.     

The bell rang, and Karen was surprised to see the goth kids ‘conforming’ to the school’s rules and gathering their things right away. 

“Let’s roll!” Michael announced with a circular hand gesture.  He turned around with a bow to his new friend, Karen, and whipped back around with a flourish of his long coat.  He tossed his long, dangly crucifix earring over his shoulder and began walking to the school.  Karen noticed he walked with an elaborate black and silver cane, though she wasn’t sure he needed it.  Pete shot Karen a nod as he flung his backpack over his shoulder and flipped his hair with more enthusiasm than some of the preppy girls Karen had seen at North Park parties.  Firkle just speed walked ahead of all of them and shoved his way into the building, head down and hands never leaving his pockets.  

“Think about it at least, ok?”  Henrietta brushed Karen’s cheek affectionately then turned and walked through the doors, still smoking and not caring who asked her to stop.  Karen stared after her new friends incredulously, simultaneously perplexed and inspired by them.

“Karen!”  At the sound of that voice, she turned around with the biggest smile on her face. She sighed in relief as she walked towards the orange clad traffic cone that was her older brother, Kenny. He had Stan Marsh with him.  She waved at them, got no response from a stern Kenny, and an apologetic wave from Stan.  “Are you ok?  Shelly just came inside and yelled at me, for real!  She was like, ‘your sister is a turd!’ And like shoved me into the lockers!”  Karen laughed at her brother’s spot-on Shelly impersonation — right down to the lisp — but she couldn’t mask her disappointment when she heard that Shelly had actually pushed him.  No matter how light heartedly he’d chuckled afterwards, Karen didn’t like to hear about anybody pushing her brother, not Kenny.  

“I’m ok, Ken, really.”  She looked at him in what she hoped was a convincing manner, though by the look on Kenny’s face she knew she wasn’t succeeding.  

“What happened?” He demanded as he folded his skinny, bracelet clad arms over his chest.  

Karen sighed.  She wasn’t going to get out of this interrogation until she told the truth.  “Shelly came over — I guess she remembered me from when she picked on me for half a year in middle school—”  Kenny scoffed and rolled his eyes dramatically, he remembers those years when he wanted to kick some sense into Shelly for making Karen doubt herself, “and she wanted my cell phone, because I guess I’ve never had nice things before and it felt like an easy target… Then she insinuated that you stole it for me, which I know you didn’t!  And I… I just stood up to her a little, I don’t know, and now she probably hates me even more!”  Karen was starting to cry — a mixture of fear that Shelly might want revenge, frustration at the untrue gossip regarding her beloved brother, the stress of it all and the guilt of being targeted at all in the first place.  But mostly she cried over the realization that this is the first nice thing she’s ever been able to bring to school.  The melancholy memories of that special birthday flashed in her head and only made her cry harder.      

“She tried to take it from me and I didn’t let her, and I probably made it worse for myself, but I couldn’t let her take it!” Karen was full-on stress crying now and she didn’t relax until she saw orange obscure her blurry vision and felt warm arms around her.  

“And I couldn’t do it, even if it would have made everything better, because I felt bad! Because you had given it to me, and I know you used everything you had to get it for me, and I just couldn’t let her have it!  Shit, shit I think I made it worse!  She’ll kill me!”  Kenny shushed her as he tried to soothe her panic.  Karen took a deep breath, just like Kenny had taught her to do when their parents fought with each other at home. 

“Shit,” Karen looked up to see Stan Marsh looking helplessly apologetic as he kicked absently at the grass “I’m sorry Karen, my sister is a cunt.” 

“Hey!” Kenny chided, “don’t say ‘cunt’ in front of my sister.”  Karen rolled her eyes and Stan smiled at her attitude.  “Shelly kind of is a cunt though…” Kenny mused with a snort as he ruffled Karen’s hair briefly, before she pushed him away and attempted to smooth it back down.       

“Don’t fuck up my hair at school.”  She joked.  That was the double standard: Karen was grown up enough to hang with Kenny, but none of his friends were allowed to be vulgar in front of her, no matter how much she herself had adapted to swearing like a sailor.  Sometimes she did it just to piss him off, but mostly it only made him laugh harder, anyway.  

“Anyway, how’d you send Shelly away?  She was practically in tears when she was screaming at me.”  Kenny wondered.  

“Henrietta saved me, actually.  Her and her friends.”  Stan and Kenny reacted exactly how Karen expected them to, with raised eyebrows and dropped jaws.  

“Well… remind me to buy the goths a shitty carton of cigarettes then,” Kenny laughed incredulously.  

The second bell rang and they were all now late to first period, something neither of the three of them really cared about anyway, but they all shuffled towards the doors nonetheless.  

“Come on, let’s get you to class, we’ll deal with Shelly later,” Kenny promised as he clapped a hand around his sister’s shoulder.  Stan looked less than convinced at the idea of confronting his bully sister, who though no longer taller or stronger than him, was very much still meaner and more violent than him.

Once inside, Karen sat next to her best friend Ruby, who also had been late to first period as she was horrible at waking up in the mornings.  

“Hey! Just getting in?”  Karen joked with her.  Ruby — or Tricia, as all the teachers called her, since that was her real first name — responded with a half-hearted death glare and a sparkly black, manicured middle finger.  Karen smirked and kicked Ruby’s shoe under the desk, which sparked a slow smile to crack through the tough Ruby facade.   

“What did I miss?”  She whispered with a giggle, having little regard for the teacher at the front of the room.  

“I’ll tell you at lunch, but we might be moving tables.”  Ruby raised her eyebrow in interest. 

“Do tell!  Who would we be sitting with besides our badass loner selves?”  Ruby’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, no doubt picturing scenarios which included the prospect of sitting with some new boy, or maybe a cool new bunch of art kids.  Karen smiled, knowing Ruby was ill-prepared for her shocking response.   

“The goths.”    

Chapter Text

POV - Karen's Flashback

As Karen and Ruby successfully ignored their teacher and prevented getting caught talking in class, Karen recounted the events of that morning with the usual McCormick drama & flair.  

"Wait, why didn't you just give it to her? I'm sure Stan could have gotten it back for you once she'd gotten bored of it."  Karen shot Ruby a doubtful glance, and Ruby had to cover her mouth to muffle the snort that came out.  "You're right, but at the very least Kenny or Craig would have done it for you" she laughed quietly.  

Really, Karen just didn't want to give a bully like Shelly the satisfaction.  She had plenty of experience being picked on growing up, and she knew the more bullies got what they wanted, the worse it got down the line.  But it was also more than that.  In the moment, she felt like if she let this phone go, she would be letting go of one of the only good pieces of her life she had.  She knew it would have been easier then if she had just given Shelly what she wanted, but it was her phone and most importantly Kenny had given it to her.  She smiled to herself as the droning voice of her teacher was overrun by daydreaming memories; she remembered that night vividly.  

~~~

It was last April, and she had come home from school, not really expecting much of anything, but at least hoping her parents would be lucid enough to remember to wish her a happy birthday.  They weren’t. 

"Hey baby!"  Her mom had slurred from the couch, where both her parents were passed out in the middle of the day.  Karen motioned to her sleeping father,

"Did Dad go to work today?"

"What? No, he said he took a sick day I think."  Carol smiled at her daughter dopily, "You off to school?"  

Karen didn’t wait around any longer to delay getting her heart broken.

Around dinner time, she went downstairs to find her parents now completely gone from the house altogether, with no food or money for food left for her.  She had walked back upstairs despite her growling stomach and attempted to fall asleep before the tears could come.  

Around 8pm, she was woken by her drunk brother, Kevin, screaming and throwing things downstairs over the lack of food in this ‘damn house’, before he slammed the front door and left her alone again to her sobering miseries.  

It wasn’t until 11pm, when Kenny came home — still no sign of Carol, Stewart, or Kevin — that she didn’t feel so alone anymore. 

She was woken from yet another stress-nap by the smell of leftover food from the City Wok Kenny worked at.  Whenever he could swing it, he always managed to bring leftovers for her.  Sometimes he would share with their Mom, but only if their Dad wasn’t around to hog it all too.  

"Surprise!"  He’d cheered as he shoved crispy beef under her nose like smelling salts.  Karen sat up in partial disbelief — her birthday was already almost over!  She sat up in bed as Kenny prepared their midnight feast on her nightstand: crispy beef, steamed veggetables, and a slew of appetizers like egg rolls, dumplings, and rangoon.  Usually employees were only allowed to take the extra food that was close to expiration, but Mr. Kim has a special fondness for Kenny because of his work ethic, so he lets him take bigger portions; and whenever Kenny said the food was for Karen, Mr. Kim made sure to throw in some fresh appetizers free of charge.  She too had become a favorite of the City Wok owner.  He'd grown fond of her thanks to her polite manners and willingness to help close on the nights when she did her homework at the restaurant.  

"I don’t have a cake for you this year, BUT I told Mr. Kim that it was your birthday today and he threw in… like a million fortune cookies!” Kenny cheered as he dumped a bag full of crunchy sweet fortune cookies onto her bed, "and he said he wishes you a happy birthday, and he hopes your studies are going well," Kenny laughed. 

Karen looked around at everything and was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that it was all for her, on her birthday.  "No one else remembered…" She muttered in appreciation.  Kenny frowned and made a noise of disapproval.  "Thank you" she beamed at him.  

"Anytime!" He ruffled her hair.  Kenny had always felt like the father she wished she had, rather than just a big brother.  Her own father -- when fucked up -- would let her get hit by a car to save himself.  In fact she remembers one time when he did just that.  If Kenny hadn’t been there to yank her away in the nick of time, she wouldn’t be here right now.  

Kenny fidgeted with something behind his back.  "I did, however get you a really cool present, hence the lack of cake," Kenny grinned as he tried to hide his excitement, "close your eyes."  

Karen closed her eyes and waited for what felt like forever.  Suddenly, a ringing noise pierced the air.  "Your phone is ringing." She told him.  

"Nope!"  She could hear the smile in his voice.  "Open your eyes!"

She cracked open an eye to see Kenny’s phone held up to his ear, and another one in his hand.  The one that was ringing.  "Phone call for Karen McCormick!"  He called jokingly around the room,  "Pick it up, you’ll miss it!"  She looked at the screen.  

The picture ID had a dumb picture of Kenny’s smiling face flipping her the bird, and the caller ID said ‘Mysterion’ with a bunch of stupid and random emojis.  Her heart pounded in excitement as she slid her finger over to accept the call, "hello?"

"Hey, what’s shaking, babygirl?!  Heard you got a new phone!"

Karen squealed with excitement and threw her arms around her brother’s neck, thanking him profusely.  She stared down at the phone in bewilderment "This is really mine?"

"All yours! I put you on my cell phone plan so it’s only a few more bucks a month for me, no big deal, and you won’t have to worry about Stuart forgetting to pay for it or something like that."

Karen screamed and cried like a little kid on Christmas, she could not be more grateful.  "That’s amazing!  Thank you so much Kenny!  I know this must have set you back some, and I appreciate it so much, really!"

He shrugged humbly, "Well we may be eating City Wok exclusively for a few months, but to me it’s worth it."  He beamed at her.  

"Thank you, again.  A million ‘thank you’s’ for this, really," she smiled down at the first smart phone and first cell phone she’s ever owned.  In that moment, she felt spoiled for what was probably the first time in her life. 

"Well I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry!  Let’s eat!" Kenny declared as he pulled two forks from the plastic City Wok bag.  They watched some show Kenny was always torrenting for free on his phone, and joked and laughed together while they ate.  Then he showed her how to customize her new phone and logged her into Kyle’s Netflix account, assuring her that she had permission, and it was Kyle’s birthday gift to her.  She texted him the next day to thank him and he had no idea what she was talking about, but was totally cool with it.  He wished her a happy birthday, and told her to keep it and watch whatever she wanted anytime.  That warmed her heart. 

The next morning her mom walked up to her in tears.  

"My baby!  Karen, I’m so sorry I forgot your birthday!"  Karen suspected Kenny gave his parents a good talking to when they came home around 3am that day.  She could never stay mad at her mom for too long, so she wiped her mother’s tear stained cheeks and assured her that it was ok, even though it absolutely wasn’t.  "I know it’s a little late but I have something for you anyway,"  Carol turned around with a plate of syrup-drenched microwave pancakes with a lit birthday candle in the middle and sprinkles on top.  "It’s not a cake but I figured since it’s breakfast time anyway this is just as good…"

"It is Mom, thanks."  Karen blew out the candle and smiled at her mom. 

She handed the plate over to her daughter and turned around to grab something bundled up in an old scarf.  "I didn’t have time to wrap it, but I wanted to give you something."  

Karen put her plate on the table and unwrapped her mother’s gift.  It was a pair of emerald-colored earrings, and they looked real!  "Are these…?"

"They’re real, yes, the only asset from my grandmother’s will your father hasn’t pawned away yet," Karen frowned at that, "but yes, they’re real emeralds, and I just thought you would look gorgeous in them, they would look much more dainty on your sweet face than they would on me…" Carol trailed off.  She herself must have been pretty at one time, and her smile — though rare — was evidence of that.  But years of drugs and alcohol had withered her skin, and twisted her expression into one of pain and worry.  She absently ran a cigarette-stained hand across her pock-marked cheek and smiled lovingly at her daughter.  

"Thank you, mom"  Karen was breathless not only at the beauty of the jewelry, but also at the meaning behind the gesture.  

"You’re welcome, baby" Carol cupped her daughter’s cheek lovingly.  

"I’ve got to get to school," Karen kissed her mother on the cheek and gathered her backpack for the day,  "Where’s Dad?"

"At work." Carol smiled.  

"Best Birthday present he could have gotten me" Karen muttered to herself as she left to walk to school.    

That afternoon after getting home from school, Karen heard her brother, Kevin, stumble out of his room, a 50/50 toss up whether he was drunk or hungover.  He walked down the hallway rubbing his face  and went straight to the kitchen for a glass of water.  Hungover, thank goodness.  

Karen couldn't help but scowl at her brother, clearly just woken up at 3:30 on a Tuesday, dirty pajamas still on, still smelling of puke and strong alcohol.  If he never did anything else good for her, at least he steered her away from the desire to ever drink herself into obliteration.  

He noticed she was staring and finished his glass of water hastily.  "Oh, Happy Birthday," he told her flatly.  

Karen smiled at him before he turned around and walked back to his room without another word.  

Later that night when her father got home, he called "Babygirl!  Get in here!" and picked her up to swing her around like he used to do when she was younger, but not much smaller.  He gave her a few quick kisses on the top of her head and looked her in the eyes as he smoothed down her flyaways.  "Babygirl, I'm sorry.  I completely forgot your birthday yesterday, and it's all my fault, but I'll try to do better and I still love you very much." 

"I love you too," Karen muttered as her dad kissed her forehead lovingly.  If there was one thing you could say about Stewart McCormick it's that, for all his faults, he was honestly a good man who always owned up to his faults.  Whether he changed the behavior was another issue, but he always owned up and he always whole heartedly believed in the promises he made -- as evidenced by multiple good streaks in his life, in between periods of falling down the usual rabbit holes.  And Karen admired him for his heart.  His demons were one thing, but his intentions were always true.    

"I got KFC for dinner!"  He announced happily as he kissed his wife and went to go wake up their son.  KFC must have cost him a whole week's worth or bar tabs, and it really showed how much Karen truly means to him.  It slightly worried her that he would spend money at the bar anyway, and tonight's dinner would end up being more like the electric bill, but she wouldn't insult him by asking him that.  

Kenny had come home minutes later and she'd expressed this worry to him.  "Don't worry Kare bear, I always have extra money saved for emergencies like that.  Enjoy your birthday dinner!"  She didn't much appreciate being brushed off like that, and she didn't like the idea of her 16 year old brother always holding the family together, but he was.  And for now she was just grateful that someone was.  

Her loud family of 5 were sitting down to a real family dinner together for the first time in months, and everybody was in a good mood.  Karen decided to count that as a win.  

Despite the rollercoasters, this ended up being the best 2 days of Birthday she had ever had.   

Chapter Text

POV - Tweek

“Hand it over, turd!” Tweek looked to his right to where Shelly Marsh was bothering some poor kid outside the entrance of the school.  What a sad, loser bitch Shelly was.  He decided it was best to keep walking, so he did exactly that.  

Getting to school early was always Tweek’s thing.  He wished it would be Craig’s thing too, but he was a Tucker, and Tuckers were stubborn sleepers.  

Craig Tucker: sort-of-boyfriend/sort-of-best-friend to Tweek Tweak.  They started out as friends.  Then they became best friends.  They were so close in fact, that rumors started spreading about them, even as children.  They decided to give in — somewhat — and act like a couple… you know, as a joke.  

At least that’s what it was at first.  They would cuddle each other, and hold hands, and kiss each other on the cheek — and Craig would purr disgusting things in Tweek’s ear just to freak him out and then laugh about his reaction.  Tweek would never tell Craig the butterflies it gave him to hear him talk like that.  Or that Tweek’s favorite music was Craig’s laugh.  It was rare, but it was the most beautiful, innocent, obnoxiously loud and nasally laugh Tweek had ever heard.  Tweek could hear it forever.  He wanted to hear it forever… but that’s stupid because they’re not even dating. They’re not even sure if the other genuinely liked men since neither of them has been with anybody else.  It’s complicated.    

Taking a few rather large gulps of coffee from his thermos, Tweek tried to push these thoughts of Craig out of his mind.  ‘Try to think about something else’, he told himself.  

Tweek ran his thumb along the edge of the large sticker adorning his precious thermos.  

…Craig had given him this thermos.  It was a gift, from last Christmas.  It was a plain, shiny, chrome colored thing, but Craig had given it to him because it was the only travel thermos he found that could miraculously could hold 24 oz of liquid heartbeat vs the usual 16 oz.  Tweek was happy with it just the way it was, but when Craig said ‘turn it over’ he was greeted with a giant sticker of a rainbow pair of lips — which Craig had ‘customized’ in Sharpie with two lip rings on each side and a barbell right through the tongue — plus a large, black sticker with neon rainbow lettering that read ‘Fuck Off ‘Till I’ve Had My Coffee’.  All of a sudden this was the most important thermos Tweek had ever owned.  It wasn’t even because of the mind blowing 3 cups of coffee it allowed him to lug to school. 

Even though he would never let his wild and rebellious side leave the safety of his bedroom décor, Tweek had a flair for (hypothetical) teen angst.  His vandalized band posters and mean-looking ‘Go Away’ sign were evidence of that, but they were perfectly happy staying hidden in his room where they didn’t draw the attention of strangers, thank you very much.  The most rebellious thing about Tweek’s physical appearance — besides his untamable hair — was the black leather wrist strap he wore under the sleeves of his button downs so he could choose to hide it if need be.  Tweek was very particular about how he presented himself to the world, and he preferred to give the illusion that he was as ‘normal’ as possible.  Rather than who he really was.  

This sticker clad thermos from Craig represented who Tweek really was.  No, it represented that Craig saw who Tweek really was— Ah! Stop it!   

Pushing Craig out of his mind, for what felt like the millionth time, Tweek pushed open the doors to the cafeteria and found his usual seat with Token and (eventually) Clyde.  

Even if nobody else was hungry, it was a give-in that Clyde would be having second breakfast from the cafeteria, whether he ate breakfast at home already or not.  You could bet money on it, Tweek thought, but he probably never would.  

“Rough monring?” Token laughed at Tweek as he sat down next to him. 

“What?” Tweek smoothed down his hair.  It was part of a nervous tick that he’d been working on his whole life.  

Tweek used to pull his hair all the time, or scratch his neck until it was raw and sometimes bleeding if no one stopped him… or if it was finals week.  In an effort to stop his hands from being destructive, Craig suggested he tried to replace one action with another rather than climb the impossible mountain that was keeping Tweek Tweak still.  ‘I read it in a book’ he’d told him when explaining the process of identifying behaviors in order to change them.  It sounded nice in theory, but it definitely didn’t work at first.    

Craig used to just grab Tweek’s wrists to stop the movement, but that only made him mad.  Or cry.  Or spiral into a panic attack.  So one day, when Tweek reached for his hair, Craig ran his fingers through it so there was no room to pull on it.  The action made Tweek’s hands stop, but the feeling made his heart stop.  

From then on, whenever Tweek reached for his hair, Craig would shuffle his fingers through, detangling wild strands and gently massaging his scalp wherever Tweek was aiming for.  Eventually Tweek trained himself to become aware of the subconscious behavior, and now whenever he noticed his hand lifting towards his head, he just ran it through his hair instead.  

Token chuckled, bringing Tweek back to reality and out of his thoughts of Craig.  Again.

“Your shirt isn’t buttoned the right way.” 

“Oh.” 

Token reached over and re-buttoned the top section by his neck, where it was bunched up and wonky.  As Token’s fingertips accidentally brushed against Tweek’s skin it didn’t give him butterflies the way it did when Craig did this.  A few times in elementary school, Tweek even showed up with his collar mis-buttoned on purpose just so he could feel Craigs fingertips brush against the soft skin of his neck— GAH! He was thinking about Craig AGAIN!!  Why couldn’t he get him out of his head?? STUPID, Tweek, stupid! 

“Gah! hm” Tweek twitched to his side and let out an involuntary noise.  Something he rarely did anymore, but still couldn’t suppress when his brain started to go haywire.  Token looked at him worriedly, like he was skeptical of Tweek’s grip on reality.  He didn’t blame him.  

“Have you been taking your meds?”

“God! Yes, Mom.”  Tweek scoffed as he rolled his eyes.  

Token frowned, “I hate it when you guys call me that.” 

“Sorry Mom, jeez…” Tweek smirked and nudged Token with his shoulder. 

“And then!… she had, like, totally huge boobs?  But when he took her bra off, they were padded! They were fake!” 

“Lots of girls wear padded bras, Clyde, join the rest of the knowing society, would you?”  Tweek stilled and remained frozen at the sound of the approaching monotone voice with Clyde.  

“But like, don’t you think that’s weird?!  I mean her boobs are like, huge!  When she’s in class and stuff sometimes I look over and—”

“Clyde, really?  I can’t listen to you right now.  And I don’t think you should be believing gossip that one of your dumb jocks friends spreads about an ex-girlfriend anyway, he’s probably exaggerating to make her look worse.”

“Hm, maybe…”  Clyde looked off into the distance like he was lost in some serious, philosophical thought… about boobs.    

They were both sitting at the table now, next to Token and across from Tweek.  Normally Tweek didn’t blush around Craig anymore, but whenever he was unprepared for an interaction, Tweek couldn’t help but heat up a little bit.  

“You’re up early, what’s the occasion?”  Token gestured to Craig with his half eaten apple.  

Clyde stood up from his place at the head of the table, too excited by an impending joke to contain himself.   

“‘YOUR MOM’ kicked him out of bed this morning, that’s what!”  Clyde interrupted with a full mouth, spewing food and jokes from 2002 all over the table.  He waited with palms raised and smile agape for a high five that was never coming.  

Craig flipped him off, deadpan as he answered, “Ruby was still sleeping and I would have been late if I waited for her so it was either stick around for her fight with Mom or leave for school early, so… here I am.”  Craig shrugged and reached for one of Clyde’s hashbrowns. 

“He spit all over that.”  Tweek muttered disgustedly. 

“Chew with your mouth closed, Clyde.” Token chided.  

“Thanks, Mom.”  Clyde sassed, chewed food on display as he leaned on his elbow and rolled his eyes with all the sass of Cher Horowitz, Clyde’s favorite character from his favorite movie: ‘Clueless’.  You could usually get him to quote it at least once a week if you set it up right*.  

“Stop calling me, Mom!”  Token muttered under his breath, knowing that actually expressing dissatisfaction would only result in unrelenting amounts of teasing from all three of them for the rest of the week.  It was just easier to accept his fate as the Mom of the group.  His usual armory of snacks and band-aids definitely didn’t help him shake the label.   

“Hey Tweek.”  Craig called cooly from across the table.  

Thump thump.  “Hey.” Thump thump. 

“Did you guys hear what happened at North Park’s football game on Friday? There was this cheerleader, right?  And she was totally hot! and…” 

The sounds of Clyde gossiping were drowned out in Tweek’s head by his own loud thoughts.  He could feel his heartbeat in his chest, but he tried not to let it worry him.  It could just be the coffee, after all.  (Should that worry him more?)   

“…and she puked like all over the field!  It was so gross!” 

“Great story, Clyde.”  Craig drawled unenthusiastically. 

“I know!”  Clyde beamed, clearly not picking up on Craig’s tone of voice.  Practically everyone rolled their eyes.  

“But anyway, she was so hot!  I bet if I had asked her for her number she totally would have given it to me.”

“Gross, Clyde!  She was wasted, have some dignity,” Craig scolded.  “besides, realistically, if you had asked her she probably would have said ‘no’, skipped over you and went straight for Stan Marsh instead.”

“Ugh! As if!”  There it was*.  Perfect impression.    

“Clyde, it’s remarks like that that make me think you’re gayer than Tweek.” 

“Hey!”  Clyde and Tweek reprimanded simultaneously.  Craig’s smile widened as he winked at Tweek.  'My body just went numb, I can’t feel my feet.’  Tweek smiled nonchalantly and tried to hide any outwards evidence of his pounding heart.  

“Oh!  Did you guys hear?”  Token’s voice brought Tweek back to reality and sped time back up to normal speed  “They might not continue the art and music classes next year, they need to see more involvement this year to legitimize keeping them around.  Budget cuts and stuff.” Token took another bite of his apple, happy that he had something to contribute to the conversation, besides drunk cheerleaders at football games.   

“Noooo!  That’s not fair!  You guys have to join music with me!” Clyde pleaded with the table. 

“I’m already in art.”  Tweek protested as he tried to come up with an excuse not to join music.  

“I’ll do it.”  Craig declared.  Everyone stared at him in disbelief.  “What?  I like music.”

“Have you ever played anything?”  Token asked in shock. 

“No.”

“What would you do in music?”

“I like to sing.”

“You sing?  I’ve never heard you sing?”

“Well I don’t let you shower with me either, so maybe that’s why.”  Craig suppressed a chuckle as he sassed Token.  

“You don’t have to play anything yet!  You can learn!  There’s the choir class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the free ensemble band class on Wednesdays and Fridays!  There’s also the orchestra or jazz band the same time as those classes, but that’s for people who are, like, actually good, come join me pleeeeeease?!  We could be in the same group for our final!  It’s so cool!  We just dick around for an hour jamming whatever songs we feel like, and we only have to perform like twice a semester — do it with me!  Pleeeeease?” 

“Clyde, I said I would, you don’t have to keep convincing me.”

“YAY!”  Clyde wrapped his arms around his friend’s neck and rocked him like a baby as he cheered, ignoring his protests.  “This will be so FUN!  We’ll go to the counselor at lunch and switch you from study hall, this is so cool!  What about you guys?  Token?  Support the arts man, they may not be here much longer…?” 

“I’ll think about it.”  Token reasoned with Clyde.  

That seemed to pacify him because he clapped like a happy video game character and went back to focusing on second-breakfast.  Only Tweek caught Token’s defeated sigh at the mention of electives he knew he didn’t have the time to take.    

“Cool beans!”  

“Don’t say ‘cool beans’” Tweek and Craig muttered at the same time.  “JINX YOU OWE ME A SODA!”  Tweek screamed before Craig could.  Craig looked defeated with his mouth open, just about to say the word ‘soda’.  “Gotta be quicker than that, Craig!”  Tweek made a smug face at him, which was returned with a shrug and a lopsided smile.  

Oof!  

Tweek’s hand shot up to his hair but he caught himself.  Instead he tucked some flyaways behind his ear and quickly lowered his hand.

The first bell rang, and the group shuffled their way to the lockers.    

Once they got there, Clyde brought up the topic that had clearly been plaguing his thoughts for the whole two minutes it took to walk to their destination.  

“I’m smart, right guys?”  He looked at their blank faces in expectation.   

“You,” Token grabbed Clyde’s face, “are the pretty one of the group.” 

“Aw,” Clyde smiled, not hearing the diss in the compliment, “No, that’s you, Token!” 

“Um no, I’m the smart one.”  Token released his hands from Clyde’s face and walked away towards his own locker.  

“Which one am I?”  Tweek chirped up.  

“Over-caffinated.”  Craig quipped slyly over his shoulder.  Tweek tried not to smile as he pretended to look offended.  Craig burst out laughing, “Or bad at acting!” 

“Ohh, definitely that one!”  Clyde piped up.  

Craig bit his lip to stifle his smile.  Omg Staaaahp.    

“Huh-f*g!”  Eric Cartman coughed as he passed by the blushing Tweek and now fuming Craig.  If Kyle Broflovski hadn’t violently shoved the fat ass into the lockers for ‘being a dick’ Tweek was sure Craig was about to do way worse.  

“Come on, let’s go.”  Tweek gave Cartman a death glare as he rounded up his gang and walked to class.  Token ‘tsk’-ed, Clyde mumbled and name-called, and Craig gave a very pointed stare and two predictable middle fingers towards the piece-of-shit: Eric Cartman.   

As they walked to class, Tweek felt Craig slip his fingers around his and give him a squeeze.  “Let ‘em talk,” Craig shrugged and smiled at Tweek as they walked the halls, them against the world.  

Tweek still wasn’t sure exactly ‘what’ they were yet, but for now he liked it.  The danger would come later down the line, when he knew he would want more.  But for now, he smiled back at Craig, gave his shoulder a playful nudge, suppressed a twitch, and ran a nervous hand through his hair.    

Chapter Text

POV - Kyle

“Kyyyyyle” he heard from the other side of his open locker.  

“What.”  He tried to hide his smile as he answered shortly.  

“School suuuuucks.  Why won’t you ditch with me?”

“Because school is important.” 

“Why would we spend our day here when we could spend all day in my room!?”  The raven haired boy proposed with a sing-songy tune.  

Kyle frowned dramatically, “So you want to get out of this building, where we would spend all day inside… staring at the front of the room and doing nothing… so that we could go to your house, where we would spend all day inside… staring at the front of the room and doing nothing?”

“Playing video games and watching TV, yes.”  Stan clarified with a smile.  

The facade cracked.  With a twitch of his mouth, Kyle was suddenly laughing, “You’re hopeless, dude.” 

Stan smiled bashfully as he chuckled with Kyle.  His eyes darted somewhere behind Kyle’s head and he looked worriedly at someone he found there.  

“Crap!  It’s Mrs. ‘Joykill’” He whispered in a rush as he tried to keep eyes on her while not letting her see him. 

“It’s Ms.”  Kyle corrected. 

“That… makes sense.”  Stan chuckled as he watched her.  She was a nasty old thing, in her late 60s/early 70s, with short, artificial black hair and tits to the floor.  She reminded Kyle of their old teacher Ms. Choksondik.  

“Why are you hiding from her?”  Kyle half asked, half scolded.  

“Because!”  Stan stepped closer to Kyle in order to keep his voice down, “Dude, her class is so boring I’ve skipped it pretty much every day this whole week of school.” 

“What?”  Kyle hissed, they were only 8 days into the school year! “You need to be present in class, dude, its called ‘attendance’”

Stan rolled his eyes, “It’s called being bored out of my mind.”

“You need to pass this class, Stan.”

“But it’s boooooriiiing…” 

“Stan Marsh?!”  Ms. ‘Joykill’ barked from across the hallway where she stood scowling in annoyance, squinting over her beaded glasses and pointing a bony finger in Stan’s direction.  

“Hide me!”  Stan grabbed Kyle by the shoulders and shoved the tall redhead in front of him.  

“Stan we’re practically the same size.” 

“I’m crouching down, did she see me?”

“Um…”

Stan peeked his eyes over Kyle’s shoulder, so only raven locks, piercing blue eyes, and a red and blue beanie could be seen.  Long fingers sneakily crawling their way up Kyle’s shoulders so he could more easily peer over to the old witch staring directly at him.  

“I see you, Stan Marsh!  Detention today if you ditch my class one more time!”

“Ugh,” Stan groaned as he buried his face in Kyle’s back. 

“Uh, h-he’ll be there Ms. Joyk— I MEAN Joyville!”

“Hm.”  Ms.  ‘Joykill’ huffed as she turned up her nose and walked down the hallway, victorious.      

Stan groaned as he dragged his chin up Kyle’s back to rest lazily against his shoulder.  Kyle had to focus to keep his knees steady at the feeling of Stan Marsh’s hot breath against his skin.    

“Ugh.  Fuck.  Me.  Dude.”   Stan grumbled grumpily, accidentally doing so directly in Kyle’s ear.  Kyle swallowed thickly.  He pushed intrusive thoughts out of his mind with a chuckle, returning to re-organizing his locker for a distraction. 

“You should have gone to class dude!” 

“Yeah, whatever.  Off the record?  I kinda hope she gets hit by a bus.”

“Stan, that’s awful!”  

“Ow!”  Kyle had playfully bumped Stan in the chest.

Kyle repressed a smile, “Well, you shouldn’t say things like that.  You can go to jail just for saying that you know.” 

“No way, dude.  It’s not like I’d ever actually push her or anything.”

“No one would know,” Kyle flashed a smile, “they’d just know you threatened her one time, in 11th grade, in the hallways at school.  Let the record show that Stan Marsh—”

Stan covered Kyle’s mouth with his hand.  “Yeah yeah, get out of here with that bullcrap.”  They both smiled as Kyle brushed him away.   

“Go to class dude.”

“Unless I take U.S. History next year…”

“You have to take government next year.”

“Hey guys, what’s happening?”  The blinding smile of Kenny McCormick outshined even the shitty florescent lights of the high school hallway.  Someone had woken up on the right side of the bed.  

“The old ball-n-chain is making me go to class,” Stan joked, jerking a thumb in Kyle’s direction. 

Kenny laughed, “Stan, I’m not on your side on this one, you need to go to class!” 

Stan clicked his tongue in disappointment, “Aw, you’re never on my side.”  

“Good morning, Kenny?”  Kyle asked him knowingly.  Kenny’s eyes lit up and his smile stretched. 

“Yeah, just had a good breakfast of the finest school-supplied PB&J, said ‘hi’ to a few people… today’s been good.”  Kyle tried not to laugh at how easy Kenny was to read. 

“Day’s still not over.”  Stan quipped. 

Kenny chuckled, “Ouch, cynical much?” 

“Do you ever think before you speak?”  Kyle hissed at Stan.  “I’m seriously asking.”

“No.”  Stan answered honestly.  Kyle couldn’t fight his slow growing smile.  Stan could be adorably dumb sometimes.  

“I swear football has knocked all of your brain cells right out of your head.”  

Stan smiled sheepishly at his friend. 

“How are things with the missus?  And I don’t mean Kyle,” Kenny clarified.  

“Ok I guess.  She’s kinda been a bitch lately because of something stupid I did last weekend that I don’t remember.”  

Kyle frowned, Stan had a tendency to drink too much too often, and Kyle didn’t appreciate who it turned him into.

“What did you do?” Kyle asked accusingly.   

“…Drive home.”  Kenny and Kyle’s groans and scoldings could be heard down the hallway.

“Stan you could have killed someone!” 

Stan shrugged defiantly, “Well I didn’t!”

“You could have been arrested!” 

“Well I wasn’t!”  

Kenny warned, “She’s gonna leave you, dude.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell her you feel that way.”  Kyle retorted darkly.  

“Do it.  She’s getting on my nerves.”

“So leave her, dude!”  Kyle threw his hands up in frustration.

“Maybe I will.”

“Promise?”  Kenny muttered giving Kyle an annoyed glance out of the corner of his eye.  

There was a moment of silence when none of the three knew what to say anymore.  The current topic was… complicated.  

“Don’t actually tell her, please?”  Stan quietly begged Kyle.  

Feeling himself soften at the roundness of those icy blue eyes, Kyle sighed.

“Thanks dude,” Stan ran his hand down Kyle’s arm.  Kenny frowned as he watched it trail off.

Kyle’s arm sparked with electricity.  His skin tingled where Stan had touched him.  He brushed the spot on his arm with his fingertips absently as he listened to Stan chatter about something or other.  

“You’re going this Friday, right?”  Stan’s puppy dog eyes gave Sparky a run for his money.  He already knew the answer.  As much as Kyle hated sports, he would go for Stan.  

Stan was his oldest best friend, they grew up together.  Stan was there for all of Kyle’s poetry slams, and debate team championships — not to mention the unfortunate but brief period of mathletes competitions, before Kyle decided it was ‘social suicide’.  Thanks, Tina Fey.  

Stan always supported Kyle, and Kyle would always support Stan.  “Of course I’m going!” 

Stan cheered excitedly, “My favorite cheerleader!”  

Kyle chuckled shyly, catching Kenny’s eyes as he smirked at him.  Kyle tried his best to make rolling his eyes look more convincing.

Ever since he had finally admitted his feelings to himself, Kyle had to endure little mini heartbreaks multiple times a day.  He would get hopeful, clinging to something the other boy may have implied, only to find himself barely standing up against the heavy punch to the gut he felt whenever he saw him with her.  He sometimes read too much into the things Stan would say to him, but the the small moments of hope kept his fluttering heart from turning heavy and aching, rotting away in his chest.  Was it sad?  Yes.  But was it necessary?  Absolutely.  Especially since the reappearance of—

“Hey babe!”  That.

Wendy Testaburger.  Stan’s on-again off-again girlfriend since grade school.  She was his first love, she was his first kiss, and she was his first… you know. 

“Hey baby.”  Stan hummed to Wendy before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into a passionate kiss.  

Kyle felt like he had been kicked in the chest.  All the breath had left his body.  All the feeling had left his brain.  Kyle turned numb in an instant.  His mind went quiet but, instinctually everything hurt — pained with frayed nerves that were always too raw to protect.

Kyle clenched his jaw and flexed his hands, not sure what to do with himself and not wanting to keep staring at the hormonal display of PDA in front of him.

“Hey Kyle?”  He felt himself shudder out the breath he was holding as Kenny pulled his attention.  “I can’t seem to find Stan, is he behind this hideous monster of teenage puberty?”  Kenny shoved Kyle playfully as Stan (unmoving from Wendy) gave him the finger.  

Kenny positioned his open locker as a kind of shield between Kyle and the make-out party and whispered quietly “Hey, are you ok?” 

Kyle had confided in Kenny about his developing sexuality, as well as his feelings towards Stan, this summer when Kenny opened up to Kyle about some personal secrets of his own.  They really bonded over it. 

Not wanting to get into how not ok he was, Kyle just nodded, not looking up from the floor.  Kenny placed a knowing hand on Kyle’s arm to comfort him.  

“Ok break it up!” He jokingly laughed while squeezing his way between the couple.  That was the thing about Kenny: no one could ever really get mad at him, you always just ended up loving the guy.  Kyle wished he had the same effect on people…

“‘Sup douches, bitch.”  Eric Cartman belched as he strutted up to the group.  

“Are you gonna let him talk to me like that?”  Wendy slapped Stan across his bicep. 

“Dude, don’t call my girlfriend a bitch.”  He chastised half-heartedly while rubbing his arm absently.  

Instantly Wendy launched into a tirade that turned into an all-out fight with Cartman.

“So… what’d you guys do last weekend?”  Stan wondered, officially splitting the group into two.    

Their conversation was cut short when another shrill Marsh voice pierced the air around them.    

“McCormick!”  Shelly Marsh’s voice boomed over everything else and the hallway fell silent.  She marched over to where the group was standing, knocking unsuspecting freshmen over in the process.  Kyle promptly jumped out of her way, while the other four stood their ground.  Well, Stan may have backed up just a little bit, too, and he didn’t blame him.  Just because she was the older sister of his Super Best Friend did not make her any less scary to Kyle.  

“What’s shakin’ Shelly?”  Eric Cartman quipped disinterestedly as he picked at his nails.  Kyle had a feeling Fat-Ass knew that getting a rise out of her now would only make it worse for Kenny later.  

And she was ma-a-ad.  Shelly’s face was red, her fists were shaking, and she had tears glistening over her eyes.  She looked wildly between Kenny (her target) and Cartman (the pest).  

Kenny didn’t even flinch when she got right up in his face, “YOUR SISTER IS A TURD!” She screamed at him. 

Then she shoved him into the lockers with all of her might.  The sound reverberated throughout the hallway.  Kenny looked stunned, he winced as his head connected with the wall of metal behind him.  

“What the fuck, Shelly?!”  Stan reprimanded (albiet a little weaker than was probably intended).  

Everyone turned and stared as Shelly — angry beyond the point of comprehension anymore — just screamed and stalked her way out the back entrance of the school.  Kyle doubted she would walk back through these doors anytime today.  

“Are you ok dude?” Stan asked worriedly. 

“Who put sand in her vagina?”

“Cartman!”  Kyle warned, as Wendy went off on him yet again.  Her berating lecture escalating into a full-blown argument.  One that Cartman was never going to win, but he just kept opening his fat mouth anyway.  

“It’s not my fault Shelly has sand in her vagina!…”. Kyle mentally blocked out the feud as he checked on his friend.  

“Kenny, are you ok?”

“Yeah, man.  Damn.  I guess I’m lighter than I think.”  He tried to laugh while rubbing the back of his head.  

“Or Shelly is just that monstrous.”  Stan suggested gravely.  

“Kenny!”  Suddenly, all traces of pain on Kenny’s face had disappeared. His wincing expression had melted instantly into what had to be the dopiest smile Kyle had ever seen.  

Butters Stotch shuffled his way over to Kenny as fast as he could, shoes scuffling on the linoleum floors. 

“Kenny!  Are you ok?  I saw what that mean old Shelly did!  Are you hurt?”  Butters ran his hands all over Kenny, never really stopping anywhere as he checked on his patient.  

“I’m fine Butters, really!”  Kenny grabbed Butters’ hands, where they rested against his chest.

Butters fingers curled around Kenny’s as they stood there staring at each other.  

“A-are ya sure?”  Butters bounced around on his tiptoes as he looked up at Kenny. 

“Leo,” Kenny purred quietly “I’m ok, really.”

“Ok.”  Butters smiled.  

Kenny leaned forward slightly, but thought better of it and reversed the subtle motion.    

Butters looked conflicted too, biting his lip and looking up at Kenny apologetically.  “Well,” he looked down as he rubbed his knuckled together, “I’ll see you in Spanish then.”

“Adiós!”  Kenny yelled stiffly as he stepped back and waved at Butters.  Kyle was sure it was supposed to be nonchalant, but he imagined Kenny’s throat was damn near closing up with the way butters was looking at him so alluringly.  The thought made Kyle shudder.    

Kyle glanced quickly at Stan, who was watching the exchange with as much shock and surprise as Kyle had the first time he learned about Kenny and Butters.   

Well, what there was to tell.  Kyle was the only one who knew that Kenny had always had a crush on Butters and he was also the first to know that that Kenny had finally stepped up and asked Butters out on a date.  Apparently Butters technically initiated it, making moves and dropping hints everywhere, but Kenny ended up being the one to take the leap.  They had to keep it top secret though, even from strangers in the town.  Butters’ Dad had friends everywhere… 

“Oh my God, Karen!”  Kenny muttered to himself now that his blue-eyed distraction was away from him.  He gathered his things and walked out the front door where he saw Shelly enter from before.  

“I gotta go too.” Stan told Kyle apologetically.  

“Ok babe, see you at lunch!”  Wendy called over from where she was still getting in Cartman’s face about one thing or another.  

The first bell rang.  “Don’t be late!”  Kyle called after him. 

“I won’t!” he responded.  

Kyle watched the Raven haired athlete jog through the open doors after Kenny.  He sighed to himself and gathered his books to make the dreaded walk to first period without Stan.  Oh goody.  

“We will talk about this later!”  Wendy hissed in Cartman’s face.  If she meant it to be threatening, it wasn’t.  Cartman and Kyle both rolled their eyes as they watched her swing her purse over her shoulder and march off to class in a huff.  

“Women.”  Cartman exclaimed, without any real point.  

Kyle walked his least favorite friend to the class they shared together in silence, thinking about everything that had just transpired.  

Walking down the hall, Kyle noticed Tweek standing fairly close to Craig, biting his lip much like Butters had been doing moments ago with Kenny.  Kyle sighed.  Why couldn’t he have that?  Was it so hard to find a single guy, who was interested in guys, who also wasn’t his Super Best Friend?   

Yes, Kyle decided, that seemed impossible.  

“Huh-f*g!”  Kyle turned his red hot gaze on Cartman as he shoved him into the hallway lockers with all his might.  He was surprised he was able to get him to actually crash into them.  

“Shut up Cartman!  Stop being a DICK!” Kyle scolded as he shoved past him and walked to class without him.  He didn’t want to be associated with such hateful trash.  

Kyle heard the fat boy panting behind him as he jogged to keep up with Kyle.  

“Ow!”  Cartman huffed angrily as he caught up beside him.  

Don’t engage, Kyle thought to himself as he pulled open the door, making it a point to let it swing closed on Cartman behind him.  

“‘Eh!”  He heard from behind him as he marched to their usual seats.

Cartman took his usual seat in front of Kyle and turned around.  

“You’re lucky you sit behind me because I would put so much shit in your J*wy hair otherwise!” 

“Great.”  Kyle stated noncommittally.  The more he stared at the board instead of Cartman, the quicker he’d turn around.  On cue, Cartman mumbled something to himself and turned to face the front of the class.  

A few minutes after the second bell, Stan came waltzing in like he owned the place.  As the star of the football team, he practically did.  

“What did I miss?”  He smiled at Kyle as he made his way around to the chair next to his.  

Maybe a brain, some social awareness, general everyday deductive reasoning and logic? Kyle snarked in his head as he felt his face heat up.  How could Stan be so blind? 

Chapter Text

POV - Bebe

“Hey babe!”  Bebe Stevens peeked out over the side of her locker to see her girlfriend Red, standing there with a smile and half a breakfast sandwich in her hand.  

She held it out to Bebe, “Happy first day back!”  

Bebe had missed the first week of school because she had been in Costa Rica with her parents.  The trip had been planned long before she started dating Red over the summer, so she had to reluctantly leave her girlfriend behind, to hang out with her Mom and Dad and all the other old people at the resort with them.  Boring company aside, however, she had a great time! 

Now it was time to get back to reality.  Jump right back into the shark tank that was South Park High School, where being a pretty blonde girl with big boobs was equivalent to wearing a diving suit made of chum.  Bebe would rather swim with great whites. 

Red thrust the sandwich into Bebe’s hands as she kissed her on the cheek.  Red was one of the good ones.  She was sweet and thoughtful, and always made sure everybody else was taken care of.  Don’t let her nurturing soul fool you though, she’d beat the shit out of anyone who’d harmed the people she cared about.  Red was a fierce mama lion, and Bebe felt safe with her.  It was nice to feel safe.  

“Thanks babe.”  Bebe wrapped an arm around Red’s neck and returned her thanks with a kiss on her soft lips, ignoring the hooting and hollering from disgusting assholes walking by.  Men were pigs.    

When she was done glaring at the jerks who had cat-called them, Red turned her attention back to Bebe and laughed.  “Lipstick,”  She’d clarified with a giggle.  

“Oh.”  Red’s signature red lipstick must have rubbed off on Bebe’s lips.  Probably comically unevenly, considering Red’s plump lips overshot the size of Bebe’s small, bow-shaped mouth by about double.  

Bebe opened her locker to access her mirror.  It was wonky and cheap, but it did the job.  She laughed a little when she looked at herself; she did kind of look like a birthday party clown.  Either that or a really patient baby sitter who let a child play makeovers.  Bebe found the faint traces of red and wiped them away.  She glanced at the rest of her face in the plasticy-glass, feeling more like the observer and less like the owner of her reflection.  

She had stopped wearing makeup over the summer, just something she had given up on.  Her blue eyes looked more piercing than ever, set in a pale and colorless face and rimmed with dark purple bags above her high cheekbones.  Her favorite tiny mole above her lip was more prominent than ever without makeup on it, and her lips looked pale and dry.  The only reason she didn’t look dead was because she had gotten some sun when she wasn’t spending her vacation hiding out and reading books in her hotel room.  Bebe didn’t care.  She looked fine enough.  Her pale lashes were coated in some leftover mascara from the weekend, and the light freckles on her nose stood out as pale reminders of a summer away from this shitty town.  

She brushed one side of her hair behind her ear, and left the other side to fall in front of her face.  She could see some cleavage peeking out over the top of her sweatshirt and zipped it up.    

Satisfied and ready to go, Bebe closed her locker.  She immediately jumped and stood frozen.  Down the hallway, she thought she saw something.  She thought she saw someone.  Her face paled and she suddenly felt dizzy.  

“Babe?  Are you ok?”  Red’s voice puller her out of her head.  

When she looked back in the direction she was looking before, the person she thought she recognized had morphed back into a stranger.  Lately everybody seemed like a stranger.  

Bebe sighed, relieved that reality was more reliable than her exhausted brain.  “Just dizzy.”

“Well, go ahead and eat.  If you want more I can get you something else.”

Bebe smiled at her girlfriend lovingly.  Taking the sandwich out of her hand, she gave her a kiss, thanking her again for the breakfast.   

They walked to class together hand-in-hand.  Bebe shot a nod at Craig Tucker (fingers interlaced with Tweek Tweak’s) who returned the nod with the tiniest of smiles.  Craig had become a good friend of Bebe’s recently.  They had things in common, and they confided in each other.  Glancing at Tweek, Bebe gave him a small wave, which was returned with a sweet smile and a tiny ‘hi’.  Tweek was cute.  Craig must’ve thought so too because he gave him a small peck against his temple, making Tweek blush deeply.  

As Bebe walked down the hall eating her breakfast, she decided today was going to be a good day.  And if it wasn’t, she would focus on the positives.  

Life is too short to dwell on the past.    

Chapter Text

POV - Henrietta 

At lunchtime the goths sat at their usual table, adorned with the usual black table cloth and fake candles.  If they were a punch of pussies like the Vamp Kids they could be considered an easy target, with such a flamboyant display.  But Henrietta figured since it was actually kinda cool, no one bothered to pick on them.  It was either that, or the fact that they scared the shit out of everybody they ever met.  Eh, probably that one.  

Henrietta saw Karen walk slowly across the cafeteria.  She waved at an orange-clad boy, and grabbed the elbow of her other friend — who was leaning against the wall and staring absently into the center of the cafeteria, where the popular girls usually sat (Wendy and the rest of the pretty girls in their whole clique).  Henrietta’s clique was better, but she was always a little bitter that she was never invited into theirs.    

She looked back at the two freshmen.  They were walking over to the goth table together.  Great.  

Karen bounced over to their seats.  “Hey guys!  Um… this is my best friend, Ruby!  I usually sit with her so I brought her along.”  Henrietta looked up at the new addition’s new addition. 

Ruby’s name matched her aesthetic, with long, flowing red hair falling just past her elbows.  She tucked her hair behind her ears as she waved at the group, politely — if not also a little disinterestedly.  This girl may get along here just fine after all.  

Henrietta glanced down.  Ruby had black sparkly nail polish adorning her chewed nails.  “Badass.”  Henrietta complimented with a nod.  

“Thanks.  I like yours.”  Ruby complimented Henrietta’s purple acrylics as they sat down. 

Image was really important to Henrietta, hell, it was important to the whole world.  If the goth kids were ‘conforming’ to any one societal rule, it was that your image mattered.  The way Henrietta presented herself to the world warded off many potentially harmful interactions.  Her makeup was a shield; Henrietta liked to use it to scare away dirty teenagers and creepy old men.  She took a look at the freshman girls sitting next to her. 

These new additions to the group didn’t look very goth; Karen was wearing dark demin skinny jeans with a green army jacket and some giant men’s t-shit; while Ruby was wearing a red beanie and a buttoned-up, mint green flannel with tiny, red shorts that showed off her legs-for-days.  Both had pretty cool sneakers on though, and Ruby’s ripped tights were pretty edgy. 

‘Eh, grunge is lose enough to goth’, Henrietta decided, ‘at least she’s not a Vamp Kid’ and went back to her lunch.       

Henrietta looked across the table to where Firkle was eyeing them suspiciously.  His gaze kept shifting from Henreitta, to Karen, then lingering on Ruby.  When her green eyes met his, he slouched and focused his attention on his sandwich. 

Innnnterestingg.  

“So Ruby,” Henrietta started, “I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to everyone.  This is Michael,” Henrietta kissed the boyfriend sitting next to her, “off limits.  And that’s Pete over there,” Pete waved noncommittally and Ruby shot him a nod.  “And you’re sitting right in front of Firkle.  He’s your age.  And he’s in a band, really dark and brooding soul.”  Henrietta winked at Firkle, who’s stunned face looked back at her blankly.  

“Oh, that’s cool!  Our brothers were thinking of starting a band this year, too.  What’s your band like?”  Ruby’s perfect smile seemed to stun Firkle.  Pete kicked him under the table.  

“Good.”  He said shortly.  

“…Care to elaborate?”  Henrietta encouraged after a painful silence. 

“…It’s just music… I mean, obviously it’s ‘music' but I mean like real music… Not the shitty shit everybody our age listens to.  Our peers are just a bunch of Nazi conformist cheerleaders marching to their deaths, listening to pop music and watching Riverdale on their fucking iPhone X’s — Not insinuating that you listen to shit, you seem different — No offense, it’s a good thing! There also isn’t anything wrong with that if you like that stuff— because you seem cool, anyway — I write the songs — for the band, I mean, but I don’t sing them.  Michael sings them.  It’s all our band actually, I just started it — I don’t know why Henrietta keeps acting like it’s my thing, it’s all our thing!  I mean it’s a huge outlet for me, you should come to a rehearsal sometime…” The words kept tumbling out of Firkle’s mouth, getting faster the more he talked.  Damn, who knew Firkle even knew this many words?  

‘Henrietta to the rescue, I guess’.  “Yeah!  And we’re all in it, but it’s Firkle’s baby so, he’s the tortured artist.  Right Firkle?”

“I… I guess.”  He deflated.  Poor, awkward thing.     

“We’re called ‘Nevermore’.”  Michael told them.  That piqued both their interests. 

“Oh, like ‘The Raven’?”

“Edgar Allan Poe!” 

Firkle looked rapidly between the two girls.  “Yes.”  He cut off the conversation by pulling out his phone.  

“Well… That’s Firkle…” Henrietta chuckled. 

“Um, Karen?”  The table turned to glare at the new voice.  Who was this kid? 

“Hey, Ike.  What’s up?”  Karen smiled.  Henrietta glared daggers at this new boy wearing a douche-y pale blue button down shirt and tan khaki shorts.  Henrietta looked at the rest of the table, they all seemed fairly confused and on guard as well.  

“I know you’re busy right now, but u-um…”  he was stuttering now.  Cute.  “I was wondering if… tomorrow… maybe you’d like to have lunch with me?  I just don’t feel like I know anyone here and it’d be nice to see a friendly face.”  He turned to look back towards a table of boys pretending like they weren’t just staring at him awkwardly ask this girl to lunch.  One of them was the boy Karen had waved to earlier.  “It’s just kind of getting awkward only eating lunch with my brother, is all…”  He shrugged.  He was blushing now, right up to the tips of his ears.  Verrry interesting… 

“Ike’s brother is a friend of my brother’s,” Karen explained, “he doesn’t know anyone here because he didn’t go to middle school with the rest of us.  Why don’t you sit with us, Ike?  That’s ok, right guys?”  The whole table of goths just stared at Karen with dead expressions.  They didn’t know this new boy.  “It’s cool, Ike.” Karen glared at the teens, “sit.”  Well damn, she’s bossy.  Good for Karen McCormick.  

“Hi, I’m Ike Broflovski—”

“Don’t touch me.”  Firkle snapped as he recoiled away from Ike’s extended hand.  He settled on just waving at everyone from afar as Karen introduced them. 

“So Ike, why don’t you know anyone?  You some kind of pariah or something?”  Henrietta half-joked, half-taunted.

Ike laughed nervously, “Well, I’m originally from Canada — that’s where my family adopted me from—”

“Oh.”  Pete perked up, listening now. 

“Yeah, so my parents—”

“Did you ever meet your birth parents?” 

Henrietta kicked him under the table and threw a piece of bread at him, “Excuse him, he’s kind of a dick.” 

Ike looked around the table with wide eyes, “No, that’s ok.  Um, no I never have.  I hope to one day, though!”  Ike beamed hopefully

“Hm.”  Pete grunted in response.  

“Pete was adopted too.”  Michael clarified.  

“Oh, we have something in common!”  Ike grinned.  

“We’re nothing alike.”  Pete interrupted bluntly, eyes straight ahead, beyond Henrietta’s shoulder.  

“Oh… ok… anyway… Yeah, so in 4th grade I decided I wanted to go back.  I begged my parents for an entire year and by the time 6th grade came around, I was shipped off to Montreal.”  Even though nobody but Karen was listening (and she had already heard this story before), Ike was still politely telling his story to the whole table.  Maybe he’s not such a bad kid after all, even if he seems like a conformist.  If nothing else, he’s polite.

“Poor little rich kid got to go to boarding school… for middle school…” Michael drawled under his breath to Henrietta.  She snickered.       

Karen smiled excitedly at the noirette and grabbed his hand “You never told me those stories, Ike!  We have to catch up!” 

“Yeah, absolutely.”  Ike chuckled breathlessly,  face going red and smile spreading self-consciously across his face.  ‘It seems our young Karen has a secret admirer.  Poor thing is so blind’.    

They finished up their lunches, gradually breaking down the invisible barrier dividing the table.  Pete and Ike did eventually find out they had something in common, when Ike started talking about H.P. Lovecraft.  Turns out Broflovski has an entire works’ collector’s edition in his room at home, so he was immediately, tentatively welcomed to the clique.  Karen kept being her sweet and charming self and Ruby stayed stoically quiet.  She kept catching Firkle staring at her, but said nothing about it.  

As the bell rang and they all shuffled out of the cafeteria, Michael nudged Henrietta in the elbow.  

“Nice job sheltering the strays.”  He joked with her.   

“I do what I can.” Henrietta wrapped an arm around her boyfriend’s waist and walked him to class.  

Chapter Text

POV - Henrietta

As the last bell rang, Henrietta was already outside.  She’d ditched.  English was boring.  Why did she have to take a class in a language she already spoke?  She liked her poetry elective, but that was only because she got to slay her innermost demons in the most beautiful and raw way possible: nakedly vulnerable in front of everyone.  It was cathartic.  And a little erotic.  At least the way she did it.  

She took a long drag of her cigarette and shotgunned the wind, watching it drift off and disappear like a beautiful whisper.  Henrietta made it a point to recognize everyday poetic beauty, you know, since the world and the people in it were so ugly and fucked.  

She took blew a smoky breath and took in the quiet around her.  She’d already taken off her platform shoes, and the grass felt nice underneath her toes.  

She felt a wool-clad arm wrap around her torso and warm lips smirk against her neck.  

“If that’s Michael, he should know better than to sneak up on me.”  Henrietta chided gently. 

“Oh, then it’s not.”  Michael chuckled against her skin.  Henrietta elbowed him in the ribs (as lightly as possible) and turned around to face him. 

“Hey.”  She smirked. 

“Hey.”  He purred softly, tucking a lock of stray hair behind her ear.  He grabbed her face gently and kissed her sweetly.  “Come over today?”  Of course, he was horny.  Damn bastard. 

“No,” She pushed him away coldly, “I’m busy.”

“Ok.”  He accepted as he took a cigarette out of his pocket.  Henrietta held out her lighter and watched the end of his cancer stick spark to life as he inhaled.  He sighed smoke towards the sky like this was the first clear breath he’d taken all day.  

“Rough day?”  She asked him.  

He shook his head.  “Just tired.”

She passed her cigarette holder to him, and he took it without question.  His body relaxed against hers as she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder.  He tipped his head instinctually and she breathed in his scent of smoke and lavender essential oils.  He says it keeps him calm, but she thinks he knows it’s her favorite flower.  She kissed his hairline, grabbed her smoke, and leaned against the wall to face him again.

“Did you ditch English?”  He asked her. 

She winked at him mid-toke.  

“Delinquent.”  He growled at her.  

“Hey, when you guys are done eye-fucking each other I’d like a smoke please, I finished my pack this morning.” 

“Fuck off, buy your own shit.”  Michael deadpanned. 

“Come on!” Pete demanded, “What’s one cigarette, like 25 cents?  I’ll pay you!  Come on!”  

Michael flipped him off as he inhaled slowly from his own, rubbing it in Pete’s face.  

It took them a while to notice that Firkle had wordlessly joined the group and was now standing right behind Pete — who jumped when he finally realized.  

“Do you have any smokes, dude?” He asked the little one.   

“No, I can get you some later.”

“Firkle…” Henrietta warned. 

He blinked a few times with his big eyes, “I can buy you some later.”

“Proud of you.”  She called to him.  She's much rather the youngest of her boys pay some rando outside the 7/11 to buy them cigarettes, than watch him get in trouble for shoplifting from something as tricky as a locked cabinet behind the counter.  Not that he hadn't successfully done it once before, but there's only so many heart attacks a healthy teenage boy can fake before gullible cashiers stop running to the back to call 911.

Firkle rolled his eyes and sat on the grass to get started on his homework.  

“Who are you waiting for?”  Pete asked the other two, who remained standing.  

“Karen.”  Henrietta stated.  Pete nodded his approval.  Not that she needed it.  She’d hang out with whoever the fuck she wanted.  

“Speak of the devil.”  Michael tipped his head in the direction of the front of the building.

“More like ‘angel.’”  Firkle piped up from the grass.     

“Shut up, Firkle.”  She muttered as the put her shoes back on.  

“It’s a compliment!”  He defended himself.    

“Hey guys!”  Karen bounced towards the group.  

“Ready to go?”  Henrietta asked, taking one last drag her cigarette. 

“Yep!”  Karen replied excitedly, but fidgeted nervously.  She was a sweet girl, but she seemed small.  Like she desperately needs a group; someone to protect her at all times.  Eh, what’s one more to the brood?   

Henrietta passed her mostly finished cigarette to Pete, and lovingly smoothed Firkle’s hair down.  

She grabbed Michael by his shirt collar and caught his mouth in a passionate, tongue-y kiss.  The positioning was a little awkward today because she was wearing her giant spiked heels and had to crane her neck down a little to reach him.  She was used to always being much shorter than him.  

She smacked his ass, and turned to walk towards her car without another word. 

Without looking back, “Come on!” She called to Karen, who awkwardly still hadn’t moved.

“Bye, guys!”  She heard Karen squeak hastily as she ran to catch up with Henrietta.    

As they walked towards the parking lot they heard Ruby jogging up behind them.  

“Karen!  Wait!” Ruby caught up to her friend “I thought you were coming to my house after school?” 

“Shit!  I’m sorry! I’m supposed to go to Henrietta’s house…”   Karen apologized sadly.   

“Oh ok,” Ruby murmured.  

Henrietta was bored; she started walking to her car. 

“Wait!”  Karen called after her,  “Can Ruby come?”  Karen was pleading with her with wide eyes, clearly not wanting to leave her friend behind.  

Henrietta looked the redhead up and down.  “Tag along, shorty.”  

With that, Ruby (who was actually ironically tall) smiled and followed her oldest friend and their new friend to Henrietta’s black Jeep.  

“There… done!”  Henrietta gave Karen one more look-over “hm… maybe the lips are too much.”  Henrietta grabbed a makeup wipe from her stash on the vanity and carefully wiped purple lipstick from Karen’s lips.

“There! Now you look more approachable, but still badass.  You seem like you like people, so…”. Henrietta joked as she tossed the wipes in the trash.  “Plus, as hypocritical as it may seem, I think a young face such as yourself should showcase natural beauty rather than cover it up.  I’m the exception… I’m too cool.”  Henrietta took a drag from her fancy cigarette holder and swiveled the chair around so Karen could look at herself in the mirror.  

She didn’t do half bad.  The kid actually looked pretty cool now.  She had a swipe of black eyeliner accenting her top lid, coming to a point at the tip of a sharp wing.  Henrietta also filled in her eyebrows more, which no longer looked patchy, and actually made her look grown-up.  

On her own bottom lashes, Henrietta preferred the drama of a thick mass of light gray shadow framing her thick cat eyeliner.  But on such a small face like Karen’s, she opted for a thin line of light brown shadow instead.  Her lashes were coated in a thin layer of mascara, and voilà! 

Though she’d deny it, and probably punch anyone in the tit who dared call Henrietta a ‘makeup guru’, she kinda was.  She had always loved makeup and was really good at it.  She was considering going to beauty school after high school, but that was a secret she’d take to the grave if she never actually went through with it.  We’ll see. 

“What do you think?”  Henrietta drawled, accenting her guarded attitude with another puff of her cigarette. 

Karen stared at herself scrutinizingly, then admiringly, like she was looking at art.  Thanks to Henrietta, she pretty much was.

“Wow.”  She whispered as she brought a hand up to her face.  She gently rested her slender fingers against her cheek and tilted her head, taking in the change from all angles.  

“Good, right?” Henrietta smirked.  Karen looked like she didn’t believe what she was seeing.

“I look… cool.” 

“Yeah you do, kid.  You are cool.  Let your face be the window to your soul.”  Henrietta made a dramatic sweeping motion with her hands as she spoke.  

“Wow, Karen!  You look totally hot!”  Ruby exclaimed from where she was eating chips, sprawled out on Henrietta’s black and purpled draped bed behind them.  

Karen looked at her face one more time, then looked above her shoulder to Henrietta’s reflection.  “Thank you.  I do look…”

“Badass?” 

“Like total ‘babe’ material?”      

Karen didn’t answer.  She looked at herself sadly. 

“What’s the matter half-pint?  You don’t like it?”  Henrietta wondered.

“No! No, that’s not it at all, I love it!  It’s just…” Karen grabbed the little handheld mirror from the desk of the vanity and held it up to her face.  “Am I pretty?  Like honestly, not ‘do you think I’m pretty’, but… am I pretty?”  

Henrietta frowned.  “Beauty is a social construct, even the beautiful people will never obtain the media’s definition of ‘beautiful’.  It’s just a long-abused scheme to keep women hating themselves until they sleep with men or fasting until they’ve killed themselves.” 

“You are beautiful, Karen!”  Ruby piped up, clearly missing the point of Henrietta’s rant.  

“Not without all… this”  Karen whispered sadly, gesturing to her makeover-ed face.  Henrietta frowned.  This made her deeply upset.  As someone who has dealt with similar issues her whole life, she hated to see such a sweet girl like Karen McCormick beat herself down so badly.  

“Look at your face,”  Henrietta ordered.  “Give me one positive.”    

Karen looked at her hands before looking back up in the mirror. 

“Your eyes are pretty!”  Ruby piped up from behind them. 

“What do you like about your nose?”  Henrietta pushed.  

“I don’t know, it’s a nose.” 

Henrietta rolled her eyes and cocked her hip, “I can stay here all day until you tell me something positive.  Go.”  Henrietta knew how to be bossy when she needed to be.  

Karen took a deep breath.  “My nose is cute.  I like the freckle I have right next to my ugly scar.” 

“No, try again.” 

“My scar isn’t that noticeable.” 

“I’ll take it.” One step at a time, Henrietta reminded herself.  

Karen sighed. 

“Honey,”  Henrietta soothed as she placed a hand on Karen’s thin shoulder, “you look gorgeous with or without makeup.  This just gives it that extra little ‘umph’.  Trust me, you’ll turn heads if you come to school like this.  Besides,” Henrietta slung an arm around Karen and stared at her reflection in the mirror with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, “this may help you attract the attention of a specific little raven haired boy we were sitting with at lunch.” 

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiike!”  Ruby sing-songed. 

“You guys!” Karen blushed as she hid her face with her hands.  

“Relax, ‘Baby McCormick’, we’re just teasing you.” 

“You really do look pretty, Karen.”  

Karen tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, pulled some front pieces out and looked at herself scrutinizingly.  

Henrietta rolled her eyes, “‘In a society that profits from your self doubt, loving yourself is a rebellious act’.”  Ruby looked at her incredulously.  Henrietta took a self-conscious drag of her cigarette.  “What?” She snapped.

“That is… SO fucking right!  BAD-ASS!  I love it!  Who said that?”

Henrietta smirked, “some conformist.”  Really she’d seen the unnamed quote on the Instagram account she’d never admit she has.  But it sparked a fire in her, and she knew how much it had helped her on her own journey to love herself.  She just wanted to spread the message to a small and broken girl who reminded Henrietta so much of the fragile thing she used to be.  But that was a long time ago…  

Karen straightened her shoulders and looked at herself bravely.  “Ok.”  She conceded.  “Ok.”   

“If you want to take that eyeliner you can, I’ve got, like, six of that exact same kind in that exact same color.  Firkle went through a shoplifting phase a few years ago, but he’s sweet so he’d always only get stuff for other people.”  Henrietta glanced at Ruby as she took a slow drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out the open window.  

“Wow!  Seriously?  Thank you!”  Karen jumped excitedly.  

“You’re welcome, now get out of my chair.”  Karen happily jumped up with her new present and practically skipped over to the bed to take over hoarding the bag of chips.  

“My turn!”  Ruby jumped up. 

“What do you want?”  Henrietta asked cooly. 

“Make me look glamorous.  Like a trashy celebrity on a night out.”

“Mission accepted.”  Henrietta nodded and put out her cigarette.  She cracked her knuckles and got to work whoring-up Ruby.  

Henrietta had never had this much fun with other female classmates before.  Usually she automatically put herself in a separate category and that was it.  Walls went up, and nobody could get in, even if they wanted to.  Even though she was only protecting herself, she couldn’t help wonder what it was like to have a real sleepover.  Don’t get her wrong, she never wished she wasn’t friends with Michael, Pete, and Firkle.  She would never trade her boys for anything in the world, but it was nice to have some girl time.    

It was nice to have friends.  

Chapter Text

POV - Cartman/Eric

“Shut up, FATASS!  You’re NOT right!”  ‘The Jew’ was chewing him out over something or other, sometimes Cartman just stopped listening… and now was one of those times.  

He’d forgotten what he’d even said that was so wrong, but now he was being yelled at so nothing but white hot anger occupied his mind.  

“SHUT UP, KAHL, I DON’T NEED YOU TO TELL ME WHEN I AM AND AM NOT RIGHT!”  

“Guys, let’s just drop it, ok?”  Stan Marsh, always the voice of reason.  

“He can’t get away with saying that!  The Government did not cause 9/11!”  Kyle was pissed, man.  Get over it.  

“Keyel, get over it, you’re wrong, the end".  

“I’m not wrong!”  Kyle hissed, red-faced.  He was shaking with fury when Stan placed a hand on his shoulder.  He whispered something in his ear which seemed to calm the redhead down.  

“See you later, Cartman.”  Stan churned out ungracefully as he basically ignored both of them and steered Kyle away towards the parking lot.  

Cartman tried to ignore the weird sting present deep within his gut.  This always happened: he would say something true, that in hindsight may have been stupid, and ended up full-on fighting with someone over something he didn’t even care or sometimes remember, just because he refused to let things go.  

Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, Cartman attempted to take a clear breath and walk to his mom’s car.  ‘Damn Kyle getting everybody all riled up.’  

Eric Cartman walked towards the carpool line with a quickened pace.  He always tried to do this as quickly as possible, not wanting his other classmates to stumble upon ammunition to tease him with later.  He didn’t mind fighting so much, but he hated being teased.  And the simple fact was: Cartman’s mom was too poor to afford to get him a car.  It was either drive around with her or lose some of his necessities and luxuries, so he tried not to fight it.    

He power walked his way through the crowd with his head down, making a bee-line for the bee-yellow sedan that Liane drove. 

“Hello, poopykins.”  She sang.  

“Hi, Mommy.”  Cartman offered noncommittally as he focused on buckling his seatbelt.  

“Good day at school?”  ‘Deep breath, Cartman, she’s just trying to be nice’.

“What do you fucking think, Mom, it’s fucking school?”  He snapped at her instead.  

“Oh.”  She recoiled sadly.  Cartman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m so-rry.” He sing-songed, without much sincerity.  

“Oh, that’s ok sweetheart.  Ready to go?  Remember you have Dr. Mendoza today.”

“Fuuuuuuuck.”  Cartman groaned as he kicked the seat.  “I fucking hate Dr. Mendoza!”  That wasn’t necessarily true… 

“Until she stops helping you, you are going, mister!  End of discussion!”  Liane weakly demanded as she tried to be authoritative.     

Cartman grumbled to himself and cranked the radio, closing his eyes and losing his thoughts in the berating music.  The sheer volume of it seemed to clear his conscience and absolve him of any guilt from the day for at least the 30 mins it took to drive to Dr. Mendoza.  He tucked his heels up on the seat with him and leaned his head against the window.  

“Wake up, sweetie, we’re here.”  Liane chimed in her airy, little voice.  

Cartman groaned and sat up in his seat, wiping his mouth as he did so.  

He stared up at the corporate building in front of him and glared.  Huffing and mumbling to himself as he took his sweet time unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car.  He dragged his feet and groaned as he tipped his head back, dramatically taking in every last ounce of sunlight before he was locked in that musty building for an hour. 

“Come on,” Liane grabbed his elbow and lightly pulled him along.  Inside, she gave their names to reception and they took their seats in the waiting room.  Eric never suspected that he would run into someone he knew here, but he always tipped the rim of his yellow an blue baseball hat down over his eyes, and tried to hide his face with his jacked nonetheless.   

“Eric!  Nice to see you, shall we get started?”  Dr. Mendoza’s voice pierced the silence and snapped him to attention as he looked around the room paranoid for a second, to see if anyone he may know had heard him addressed by name.  Phew.  All good.    

“Alright let’s do this.”  Cartman stood up and stretched his back.  

“Right this way.”  Her syrupy-sweet and slightly raspy voice was kinda sexy, which was a lot of the whole reason Cartman liked to listen to her talk (that, and the fact that she was one of the only people in his life that truly called him out on his shit).  As Dr. Mendoza ushered another little boy out of her office and ushered Eric in, the two caught each other’s gazes.  Cartman never knew the name of this boy, and he didn’t care.  He always, without fail, sent him a paralyzing death stare as they passed each other… just in case.  

Dr. Mendoza turned around to shut her door and Eric had exactly 2.5 seconds to admire her tight ass.  She was wearing a pencil skirt that was snug tight against her hips, and clung to her slim frame all the way down to her knees, where there was a slutty little slit up the back.  

Eric smirked to himself wolfishly as he stared, softening his face into an innocent expression the moment she turned around.

“How are you doing today?”  She asked nicely as she gathered all her notes from their last session.  

“Hm.  Good.”  He stated flatly.  It always took him a few minutes to gather his wits, so she never expected anything but short answers from him right away.  They made a good team, Dr. Mendoza and he.  Though he’d never admit it, he enjoyed their time together.  If nothing else, he could listen to her artificial waterfall and smell her spiced apple air freshener until he calmed himself down.  Eric was used to taking care of himself.

“How are you, Dr. Mendoza?”  He offered unenthusiastically.  Eric always at least tried to make it a point to be polite to adults.  His mom tended to be the exception; no matter how badly Cartman felt after yelling at her, she really grated his nerves.

“I’m quite fine, a little exhausted at the end of the day.  Thank you for asking.”  He nodded gruffly.  

“Ok… so Eric.  Let’s start with how your day was at school, any improvements?  Slip-ups?  How did you get along with everyone?” 

“Just peachy, doc.”  Cartman crossed his leg over his knee and slouched in his chair, raising his arms  in a shrug.  “Don’t you know everyone fucking loves me?”  He flirted sarcastically with a crooked smile and a wink.  Dr. Mendoza was not amused.  

“Stop deflecting.”  She demanded.  Eric sat up straighter and gathered himself, mentally willing his ego to take a break.  He promised he would open himself up enough for Dr. Mendoza to at least see over his walls, if not break them down entirely.  “Now I’ll ask you again,” she stared at him pointedly, “how were your interactions with your peers today?”   

Cartman scoffed.  “Well the first person to piss me off today was Wendy Testaburger, she got in my face about something or other (I don’t even remember what), that bitchy whore—”

“No.”  She cut him off.  “Cut-it out, Eric.  Remember, when you here you are not gonna call people names.”  He groaned.  “You’ll never make progress if I keep enabling you, and then why am I here?  Do you want to improve?”  She asked him matter-of-factly.  He knew she was right.  

“…yes…” He admitted with a small voice.  

“Good.  Continue.”  She demanded with authority.     

He sighed.  “So Wendy yelled at me—”

“Do you remember why?”

Cartman paused, eyes blinking wide like a deer caught in headlights.  Oh yeah, he remembered why.  “Why… did she yell at me?”  He wondered innocently. 

“Yes.”  She knew he was stalling.  

“Well… I did call her a ‘bitch’…  And then later again because I said Shelly Marsh had sand in her vagina, which she did!”  Cartman tried to defend himself, though he knew he really wasn’t helping his case.   

Dr. Mendoza gave him a look, as she pursed her lips and cocked her brow.

“What else?”  She encouraged.  

Cartman continued, “Then Kahl pushed me because these two gaywads— I mean, kids — were practically making out in the hallway.”

“Why would that make Kyle push you?”

He paused.  Deciding whether or not to tell the truth.  He decided he should.  “Because I called them f*gs.” 

Dr. Mendoza groaned. 

"Well it's just a word!" Cartman argued.

"It's a slur," Dr. Mendoza corrected.  

Cartman blinked at her, numbly.  

“Do you see a pattern here, Eric?”  She drawled with a sigh.  

“… the other kids at my school are totally lame and sensitive?”  Eric offered innocently.  

“No, Eric, remember what we said?  ‘Victim mentality…’” She trailed off, asking him to complete the phrase.    

“Ugh, ’Perpetuates the problem’” He finished for her. 

“Good.  Now think about it another way and answer the question again.  What do you see as the common factor?” 

“… I don’t know.”  He smiled sweetly.  

“You, Eric.  You seem to seek out these fights daily, you use hateful language just for the shock value and attention, and you always claim you feel badly afterwards, but I never hear of any changed behavior.”

“I do feel bad!”  He insisted.  

“Bullshit.”  She stated plainly.  “Wishing it hadn’t ruined your morning or spoiled your joke is one thing, but if you were really sorry, and you really felt bad you would make at least some effort to change it.” 

Eric shot out of his seat, “Well how the fuck am I supposed to calm the fuck down when everyone keeps YELLING AT ME!”

“Lower your tone, Eric Cartman, or I will end our session right here.”  She threatened very plainly.  

He bit his tongue and sat back down.  

“Thank you, I appreciate your effort.”  She acknowledged.  That small recognition genuinely made him feel a little better.  Cartman thrived on praise.  

“So you got in some minor fights at school, anything else?”  

He thought for a minute.  “No.” 

“What about your anger, how have you succeeded or failed in controlling your rage when it bubbles up?” 

“I…” He really didn’t know how to answer that, “I don’t know.”

“Explain.”  She offered gently.

Eric started thinking, hard.  And he hated it when he starting thinking too hard.  He kept swallowing gulps of air as he warred with himself about whether or not it was okay to be honest with the doctor.      

“Can I get some water?”  He pleaded gently.  

“Sure.”  Getting her up out of her seat had only been a bonus; Eric really did need the water.  He stared at her ass again as she poured him some water from her desk.  “Here you go,” She soothed. 

“Thanks.”  He muttered as he took a few large gulps, and then many small sips, buying his time.  

“So, Eric, tell me about how you’ve been feeling on the daily.”  She poised her pen, ready to take more notes.  

He paused.  

Should he be honest?  Should he lie?  Eric decided to tell the truth, again. 

“Well,”  he began, “in a word: shitty.  I wake up fucking pissed off, I go to bed fucking pissed off, and I spend my whole God damn day fucking pissed off.”

“And what would you say are some factors that contribute to your… bad moods?”  Dr. Mendoza censored.  

“Well, for starters, whenever I go downstairs and see another disgusting creep eating breakfast with my mom, I want to throw them through a wall.  Then I want to throw her through the wall — but I’d never do that!  I swear.”  Dr. Mendoza nodded and encouraged Eric to continue.  

“And she keeps talking about finding my fucking deadbeat Dad, and it’s like, who the fuck cares?  He abandoned us, doesn’t she get that?”  He hissed, “He left us!”  Eric could feel himself getting heated, “and she keeps bringing up DNA kits, and Ancestry programs that I could try to find him with but I don’t fucking care!  And I hate that she cares!  He breaks her fucking heart every single day and he has the luxury of never actually having to see it.  He doesn’t even know us anymore!”  He tried to ignore the crack in his voice.  “It makes me so angry I think if I ever did meet him I’d just kill him… metaphorically of course…” He added for clarity. 

Dr. Mendoza nodded, “I understand your frustration, hell, I’d be angry too if I had reminders of that pain every day.”

“You don’t know the half of it, sister.”  Cartman chuckled darkly.  

“Then tell me.  If nothing else, it’ll make you feel better to get it off your chest.”  She encouraged with a smile.  

Eric took a deep breath.  “I just…” he trailed off.  This felt stupid.  He felt stupid. 

“Go on…” She urged. 

“I just… I wonder why… I wonder why he left and I wonder why we weren’t good enough.  I mean, I know I’m a piece of shit—” 

“No you’re not.” 

“—but how would he know?  I wasn’t even born yet!  And… and I wonder why she won’t accept that her life is perfectly fine the way it is… aren’t I enough?  Isn’t loving a son enough, why am I never enough?”  Eric looked out the window as he felt the familiar black hole in his chest expand, like it would swallow him whole.  “Why does she need to keep putting up with douchebag after douchebag, who treats us like shit?  It makes me so mad at her, and then I treat her like shit and… and.. I hate it, ok?  I hate it!  I know I talk a tough game but I hate to make my mother upset, there I said it.  Eric Cartman has feelings.”

“Of course you do, everyone has feelings,” the doctor flatly assured him as she finished taking some notes.   “I think this is amazing progress, I think the more we uncover the root of the problem, the easier it will be to rip it out to foster new growth.”  She crossed her legs and pondered with her chin resting against her palm, “Why did you say you were — in your words — a ‘piece of shit’?”

Eric scoffed.  “Well, aren’t I?  Everybody seems to hate me, and I don’t always really know why, so there must be something wrong with me… It sure feels that way… Sometimes when I get… the way I do… I black out and I straight up can’t remember what the fuck I’ve said or done to people.  It’s like some monstrous darkness takes over my whole body and I have no idea how to get rid of it.  So… everybody hates me… and I don’t blame them.”

“I don’t hate you Eric, I’m quite fond of you actually.”  The good doctor insisted. 

Eric frowned.  “Well, you should hate me more than anybody,” he looked down at his hands, playing with the frayed pieces of a rip at the bottom of his shirt.  He’d have to remember to throw this one away when he got home.  “You’re the only one I’ve ever opened up to this much, in my entire life.”

She laughed lightly, “I know, I remember how rough it was getting you to talk or even come in at all that first year we worked together.”

“Yeah,” he smiled fondly.  His smile faded as darkness overtook his thoughts.  “Then you should especially know: I’m not worth the fucking shit on the bottom of your fucking shoe.”  She didn’t say anything, so he got angry.  “And why not, are you some kinda stupid or something?”  He knew she wasn’t.   

“Because I know your heart Eric.  I think that’s the problem with your friends, you box them out, say hurtful things because it keeps everyone at bay, and then they never know you’re hurting inside.  You should open up to them more”

“Well what FUCKING good would that do?”  Cartman spat angrily as tears obscured his vision, “I should… open up to fucking Kyle?… and Stan?  So that I can get laughed at and made fun of for the rest of my life?”  Eric threw his hands up in frustration and roughly wiped tears from his face with shaking hands.

Dr. Mendoza passed Eric a box of tissues which he snatched out of her hands violently.  “No, so you can all start to heal… I think your friends would love to hear some apologies from you, and I think you will feel better afterwards yourself.”

Cartman scoffed, “Apologize?  Like a fucking pussy?” 

“No,” she corrected, “Like a human being.”  Dr. Mendoza stared into Cartman’s eyes, strong and unmoving, until he looked away, ashamed he was being outsmarted.  By a chick, no less.        

He took in a shaky breath “I don’t know…”. 

“One step at a time.”  She reminded him.  

“Ok.”  He conceded. 

“What about the rest?  Do you have anything else to report back to me?”  She switched topics like a pro.  

His face went white, “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”  He lied. 

“You do.”  She insisted gently.  “The eating?  How did lunch go today?  Breakfast?”  

“I don’t want to talk about it.”  He answered hastily.  

“That’s fine, we don’t have to dwell on it, but will you at least tell me whether or not you’ve eaten something today?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”  Eric was starting to feel like a caged animal; trapped in a conversation he didn’t want to be having. 

“Ok, I’m gonna take that as a ‘no’, is that safe to assume?”  Dr. Mendoza was a very good wild animal tamer.  ‘But’, Eric thought, ‘she seemed to be no good with monsters.’ 

He didn’t say anything, he was past the point of rage, he had starting going into shut-down mode.  His hands and feet tingled as he danced dangerously on the ledge between fight and flight.  

She pulled him out of his thoughts, “Eric,” he snapped his head up, “it’s ok.  You don’t need to be embarrassed.” 

“Oh,” he clapped sarcastically, “thanks Doctor Mendoza, I’m SOOOO glad that I don’t ‘have’ to be embarrassed!  I’ll just choose to feel like trash then, because I’ve developed a fucking eating disorder like some fat chick!”  The only reason she even knew about that is because his mom had ratted him out some time over the summer.  The bitch couldn’t just let him slowly kill himself in peace.  

“It’s ok, Eric, that’s why you’re here.  To get help.” 

“WELL I’m done wanting help!”  His voice cracked and the floodgates opened, “I… just… want to… be… better!  I’m… SICK… of being sick… and I… just want… to be… normal!”  Eric sobbed, bringing his knees up to his chest and covering his face with his hands.  “Why am I like this?  TELL ME WHY I’M LIKE THIS!”  He screamed as he pleaded with the worried looking woman in front of him.  “FIX ME!”  He begged the doctor.  

She looked at him sadly, “Eric, I’m here to help you.  I don’t want to say ‘fix’ because I don’t believe you’re broken right now, but”  Eric let out a sob.  “You feel out of control — of your life, of your emotions — and that is all perfectly understandable.  I’m here to help you come up with healthy ways of coping so you can get better.  And once we’re finished seeing each other, you’ll feel proud of yourself that YOU were the one able to pull yourself out.  YOU are going to be your best ally.”  She promised him.     

He chuckled cockily and spread his arms over the armrest, overcompensating for the wet tears still glistening on his face, “You mean I don’t get to see that sweet ass every Monday for the rest of my life?”  Cartman joked crassly.

“No, Eric, the goal is to leave, and actually move on.”  She strategically ignored the backwards compliment.  “So like right now, you’re clearly upset.”  Eric made an embarrassed noise.  “do you remember the exercises I taught you last time?”

Eric closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He counted the seconds as he slowed his breathing and quieted his mind.  4 seconds… 5 seconds… 6… 7… 8…   

“How do you feel now?”  The doctor’s voice pierced his thoughts and he opened his eyes.  He felt like he’d just woken up from a trance. 

“Better.”  He said honestly.  “Calm,”  He admitted. 

“Good.”  She replied.  She flipped to a clean sheet of her notebook.  “We’re about out of time today, but do you want to go over your goals for this week?”  He nodded.  “Ok, I would say number one would be to remember your breathing.  Number two will be apologize, when necessary.” Cartman rolled his eyes as he groaned, “You don’t have to go on making amends with enemies just yet, but just apologize, in the moment, when you know you’ve done wrong.”

He sighed in agreement, “Ok, next.” 

“I would say evaluate the situations in front of you with more objectivity before you lash out.”

“‘Evaluate before you retaliate’” He joked sarcastically. 

“Yes!  That’s very clever!  Hey, I’m gonna steal that!”  She giggled musically at him.  Cartman tried to hang on to the small sense of pride he felt at the recognition.  “And…” She looked at him sternly.  “Eat at least one solid meal a day.” 

Cartman fidgeted uncomfortably.  They had gotten deep into his eating disorder over the summer, talking about how he felt worthless and unloved, and how restricting made him feel numb and sometimes giddy with exhaustion.  He didn’t want to relieve those sessions.  He nodded silently. 

“I’m serious, Eric,” She warned, “if this dangerous behavior doesn’t improve, and I can’t help you anymore, I will be forced to refer you to a clinic that is full of doctors who specialize in this disease.”  

“I know.”  He whispered defeatedly.  

“Good.”  She ripped the page from her notepad and handed it to him.  “I’m very impressed with you Eric, it’s like I see a new, more mature young man in front of me every time you make a breakthrough.”  He tried to hide his smile. 

“I didn’t do any good today though, doc.”  He admitted with a sad laugh.  

“You did, Eric.  You came in.  And you opened your mouth.  That’s more than I got our first few sessions.”  She winked at him as he chuckled at the memory.  “Ok!  Very good, I will see you next week, and we will talk about improvements you’ve made from now until then.  Keep making me proud, Eric.”  She rubbed his arm gently as she escorted him out of the office.  

“All done, love-muffin?”  Liane questioned with her airy voice and distant eyes.  

“All done.”  He declared.  Mrs. Cartman gave a check to the receptionist, and Eric tried not to look at how much it was.  

They walked to the car in silence.  It gave Eric some time to reflect on what was said in the session.  ‘Breathe, Apologize, Evaluate, Eat,’ he reminded himself.  

“Mom?”  He stopped right beside their car. 

“What is it boogey-boy?”  He jerked a small step towards her, feeling the overwhelming urge to give his mom a hug.  He needed to give his mom a hug. 

…But when she looked at him expectantly, suddenly his ego wouldn’t let him acknowledge his weak knees, and he opened his car door instead. 
“Can we get ‘Colonel’ on the way home?”  He fudged poorly.   

“Of course, poopykins!”  

“Great.”  He damn-near slammed his head through the glass as he rested his forehead against it.  

She must have sensed his distress, because she grabbed his hand and squeezed it.  He didn’t even look at her.  It would have made him feel too guilty.  He snatched his hand back, and drifted off to sleep; hating himself for everything he was.  

As they entered the dark house, the meowing sounds of a hungry Mr. Kitty greeted them.  He walked up to Eric’s leg, and gave him a light scratch.  Stupid thing.  

“Go away, Mr. Kittay.”  Cartman grumbled as he kicked the cat off of his leg and sat down at the table.  

He sighed and rested his head in his hands as he closed his eyes and attempted to decompress from his draining afternoon.  He focused on the sounds of his mom feeding Mr. Kitty, and gathering plates for dinner.  The smell of the fried chicken was making his stomach growl, and he was glad — for the first time in a while — that he was able to eat guilt free, if only for his complete exhaustion and palpable hunger.  

He looked down at his fat stomach.  Eh.  He’d worry about pounds tomorrow, today he would focus on completing #4 on his list.  The pride that comes with feelings of impending accomplishment made him smile.   

As mother and son sat down to eat in silence, they heard keys jingle in the door.  Oh no.  In walked Mom’s Boyfriend #645.  A bleached asshole named ‘Tony’, with orange-tanned skin and bulging muscles that made him look like a tool.  The guy literally looked like a lumpy piece of shit, but it seemed like nobody but Eric could see that he was disgusting.  

“Hey, hey, family!”  He called from the front door. 

“Mom, what is he doing here?”  Cartman hissed. 

“Oh, well I thought we could all eat dinner together.”  She hummed in her spacey lilt. 

“You gave him a key?”  He whispered viciously.

“How’s my favorite family?”  
“You’re not.  Part of our family.”  The teenager barked.  Looking hurt, Tony waltzed over to Liane and gave her a kiss on the head.  Cartman twitched and winced.  He grit his teeth to keep himself from lashing out (#3, he reminded himself).  

“Ugh, fried food?” Tony complained. 

“Then don’t. eat. it.”  Cartman droned through a clenched jaw.  

“Eric, Tony can have some.  Tony, I can make you something else if you want to?”

Eric slammed his fists on the table.  “God dammit, no you won’t, Mom!  You will not lift a God damn finger for this asshole!”   

“Eric!”

“Son,—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I am NOT your fucking son!”  Breath burned like fire in his lungs.  His voice was scratchy against his throat. 

Tony laughed meanly, “I know that, you ungrateful shit.  And believe me, no one’s happier than me.  But as long as I am the authority figure in this house, you will talk to me with respect!” 

“Fuck you!”  Eric spat as Tony lifted up a fist threateningly.  Liane screamed and grabbed onto her boyfriend’s elbow, wanting desperately to protect her son.  

“Tony, please!  Let’s just all sit down and eat in peace!”  The two men in the room glared at each other as they sat at the table wearily.  

Tony reached for Cartman’s favorite piece of chicken, “Don’t you have a protein shake or something shitty you can eat instead?  You didn’t pay for this food, quit mooching off my mom!”  

“She’s my girlfriend I can do whatever I want!”  Tony shot back angrily, “And besides," he laughed, "it’s not like you’re gonna miss out on the extra calories from one extra piece of chicken.”  Tony chuckled as he picked off the skin and glared disapprovingly at the stripped meat he was looking at.  He shrugged and dumped it on his plate, clearly not even going to eat it!  

Cartman’s jaw dropped.  Tears filled his eyes.  He looked at the once comforting food that was his saving grace moments ago, now ugly and full of fat he didn’t want.  He looked down at his fat chest, his fat thighs and his bubbling stomach.  Some good fasting has done for him, he still looked like a fat tub of lard.  

It was hopeless.  He looked at his mom pleadingly.  

“Why don’t you take some chicken upstairs to your room?”  She suggested.  

He couldn’t believe the way he was feeling.  Everything was spiraling.  His head went dizzy, his ears rang and his vision tunneled.  She was doing it again.  She was doing it again!  She was picking someone else over him, just like she did every time!  He wasn’t enough, he was never enough!  He’d never be enough, and nobody would ever love him.  Not when there were walking fucktoys that took priority over him, even to his own mother.  He was a burden to his family, he just got in the way.   

Standing on shaky legs (partially from the fasting, partially from the panic) he picked up his plate.  He took one look at the food in front of him and felt his stomach twist in guilt and pain.  He looked back at his mom, begging her to ask him to sit down, to ask that asshole to leave, so do something!  She just looked at him blankly like she didn’t know what was wrong.  She didn’t know what was wrong.  

Cartman chucked his plate against the wall and watched it shatter to a million pieces.  He ignored the shouting as he stalked his way up to his room, and slammed the door. 

He slid the latch on the handmade lock he’d made as a kid — he never really knew who his mom would bring home.  

Backing away from the door shakily, he panted wildly until he couldn’t even stand anymore.  Something crinkled in his jacket pocket as he collapsed against his  bed frame.  He pulled it out. 

It was the list, now crumpled and broken.  Never to be pristine and unmarred again.  Eric read it over 50 times until he’d memorized it with tears blurring his vision, making it impossible to see.

Weekly Goals:

1. Remember your breathing 
2. Apologize when appropriate 
3. “Evaluate before you retaliate” — Good one! :)  
4. Eat one solid meal a day

Good Luck, you can do it!

 As hatred rose inside of him, he shook wildly like an addict.  His throat closed up, his head hurt, and his chest felt like it was about to burst open.  With a choke and a sob, Eric ripped up the doctor’s list and watched the shredded pieces fall to the floor.   

Suddenly feeling very guilty, he wailed sadly as he crumpled up the pieces into smaller bits so he wouldn’t have to read the hopeful words written there.  He tossed the remains in the trash and slammed off his light.  

He flopped onto his bed, jacket and shoes still on, and squeezed his eyes tight until he’d finally calmed down.  His eyes were sore, and he’d never felt more alone, but at least he was starting to drift off now, as he silently cried himself to sleep.     

He'd ditched school the next day.  Practically locked in his room the whole time, only stepping out once for a glass of water and to make himself a healthy lunch.  He ate (most of it) it outside, taking in the fresh air and clearing his mind.  

When his mom came home he collapsed against her and sobbed into her chest.  She wrapped her arms around him and promised him things will get better.  That night when Tony came around, Eric marched himself up to his room right away and avoided all contact with that douche.  By the time he flopped against his bed at the end of the night, he had smiled at the realization that he'd completed everything on his list.  

He got out of bed, and made a new list; one with a warning on the top: 'Do Not Rip'.  He placed it against his nightstand and turned off the light.  

'One step at a time', he reminded himself.   

Chapter Text

POV - Shelly

          "Oh Shelly," The beautifully dreamy voice of Tom Selleck drifted into Shelly's ears and cloaked her in a smooth blanket of velvet.

           "Yesth Ththom Sthelleckkk?" She spat. Ugh, even in her dreams her stupid headgear got in her way.

          "Run away with me, Shelly!" He picked her up and dipped her like one of those classic romance movies they were always watching in film class. "Run away with me and never look back!"

          "I will Thhhom Thelleckh" Shelly drooled as she ripped her headgear out of her mouth and swallowed her spit.

          "Mmmm, nice," Tom Selleck hummed as Shelly threw her headgear on the white sandy beach and stared into his eyes as they sparkled against the sunset. His magnificent mustache was glistening with sea water and his open Hawaiian shirt was billowing in the wind, revealing a tanned and oiled dad-bod that was also somehow very muscular.

          "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, so much hotter than Jaqueline Ray, and she's a supermodel!"

          "Wow, thankths Tom… and… I'm hotter than Courtney Cox?" She fluttered her lashes.

          "Baby," Tom Selleck dramatically lifted Shelly up and flipped her around, dipping her with his other arm. "She can't hold a candle to you!" He declared boldly.

          "Wow, and she's engaged to Johnny McDaid."

          "You bet your ass, she is." Tom Selleck kissed Shelly dramatically and looked deep into her eyes. "Shelly…"

          "Yes?"

          "Oh, Shelly!"

          "Yess?"

          "I….. aaaaa aaaaa aaaaa aaaaa!"

AAAA AAAA AAAA AAAA. Shelly slammed her hand down on her alarm clock and threw it across the room for interrupting her right when she was about to run away with Tom Selleck.

"Breakfast is in 30 minutes!" Her mom's voice floated up from the kitchen.

"Thanks, Sharon!" Shelly called, pissed off that she didn't even have time to get back to her sexy beach dream.

She stumbled out of bed and rubbed her eyes as she took her headgear out of her mouth. Luckily she only needed to wear it at night these days, but she had literally had it since sixth grade, and she was starting to think the whole thing was just a scam to get her parents to pay for the orthodontist's boat house in Miami.

"Move, twerp!" She shoved her brother, Stan, out of he way just as he was walking into the bathroom with his towel.

"Ugh, bitch." She heard him mutter as she passed him.

"What did you say?" She dared him to repeat himself.

"Hurry up… please." He 'repeated'. Shelly smiled to herself wickedly.

"That's what I thought you said." She shoved him back and slammed the door in his face. Shelly still took great pride in the fact that she could still control her little brother, who was actually more like her big brother, if you factored in height.

Shelly took a look at herself in the mirror.

She looked fine. Nothing special, nothing to scoff at. She brushed her mousey hair and washed her face, then penciled in her usual smudged eyeliner until it looked mean. She brushed her teeth and washed up, made sure she smelled ok, and turned to leave. But first… Shelly covered Stan's toothbrush in shaving cream. She threw the door open and sauntered back to her room to change.

"All yours." She declared.

Stan glared at her as he stood up from the hallway floor and shuffled into the bathroom "Oh, come on!" She heard him yell. Shelly snickered as she heard him run his toothbrush under the sink, and then gag when he attempted to put it back in his mouth too soon.

Shelly was already sitting at the breakfast table, enjoying her pancakes, when Stan stomped down the stairs and tattled on her.

"Mom! Shelly covered my toothbrush in shaving cream, it couldn't even use it!"

"Randy!" Sharon turned towards her husband, who was scrolling through news on his computer and sipping some coffee.

He paused, looking around like he didn't know what to do. "Yes, Sharon?"

"Discipline your daughter!" She demanded. This should be good.

Shelly turned towards her dad and folded her hands, waiting for her 'discipline'.

Randy Marsh cleared his throat and closed his computer. He gently set down his coffee to the right of his computer, picked it up, took another sip, then placed it on the left side. He then picked it up one more time to move it to the right again. Shelly arched her eyebrows as he cleared his throat.

"Shelly," he began. Silence. Nothing continued. Shelly didn't respond and Randy didn't elaborate. "Sheeeelly." He warned in a lower tone. "Shelly!" He barked. Waiting. "Shelly?—"

"Would you please just tell her this was wrong?! Shelly, this was very bad, you are not to cover Stan's toothbrush in shaving cream again!" Sharon yelled from where she stood watching incredulously from the stove.

"Young lady!" Randy added sternly for effect.

"Nice, Randy." Sharon rolled her eyes and handed Stan a pile of pancakes on a paper plate. "We'll get you a new toothbrush after school."

"Mom! You're just enabling her! Punish her!" Stan whined as he took his breakfast.

"Or what?" Shelly threatened. Stan narrowed his eyes and snatched his backpack from the banister.

"Whatever, I'm going to school."

"If you'd just wait five minutes I'll be ready to drive you!" Shelly snapped.

"I'D RATHER WALK!" Stan yelled as he slammed the front door.

Later on, as she was driving the slushy roads to school, Shelly spotted her brother. He was walking with his breakfast plate folded in his hands, he must've finished it. So, no harm done if that plate got a little wet, right?

Shelly rolled down her window and screamed "Hi, twerp!" Out her passenger window. As Stan turned around, Shelly gunned the engine towards the sidewalk, and splashed up all the slushy rain that was pooling in the gutters. Stan was soaked from his shoes to his hat, and it was the funniest thing Shelly had seen all day! She drove away laughing as he wiped his face and pulled out his phone, no doubt to tell on her. Little dweeb.

At the lunch line at school, Shelly was eyeing the last vanilla pudding when it was swiped by the asshole in front of her in line, the cripple: Jimmy Valmer.

"Hey I was watching that!" She yelled at him as he placed the pudding gingerly on his lunch tray.

"Well, g-gee, Sh-Shelly, I'm sorry b-but I was in l-li-line b-be-fore you so this p-pudding cup is rightfully m-m-mi-miiiiiii-mine." Shelly was getting angry just listening to the loser fail to put a sentence together. He punctuated his way-too-long-sentence with a cocky smile a tilt of his head. Is this asshole serious right now?

"Hand it over, or I'll take it from you." Shelly lowered her voice threateningly.

"Well, you-u see, th-that's not really f-f-fair, you see, because a-as I said: I was here f-first, Sh-Shelly, and I w-would like to k-keep this pudding cup that I got-t t-to first, very much."

"Are you shittin' me, twerp? I swear I'll take it and you won't like how, now give it to me!" She warned.

He opened his mouth in a shit-eating grin, "Over… my… d-dead… b-body."

The next thing Shelly knew she had kicked Jimmy's crutches out from under him and he was hitting the floor, hard. Screams and cries of fellow classmates filled the air around her and made her feel suffocated.

"What the f-fuck, bitch?!" He must've hit his face on the railings on the way down because his lip was bleeding heavily. Shelly didn't care. She'd gotten her feelings out.

Tweek Tweak, of all fucking people, shoved her violently against the cafeteria railings. "Are you out of your goddamned mind?" He screamed at her as his friends helped dust Jimmy off and walk him to the nurse's office.

"Back off, psycho, or I will get you in a lot more trouble than you will me!" She retaliated.

"No you won't." The giant, Craig Tucker, stepped in between them, daring her make a move.

"Are you threatening me, freak?" She raised up her tippytoes to square up to his height — she still didn't make it to his eye level.

He just stood there silently as his twitchy boyfriend grabbed onto the back of his sleeve, face still furious and demeanor no more scared of Shelly than the deadpan Godzilla in front of her.

Craig Tucker was probably the only kid in the school who did scare Shelly.

"Shelly Marsh!" 'Fuck' Shelly groaned. "Come to the principal's office immediately!" One of the lunch ladies must have called for backup. A bunch of assholes clapped as shelly was carted off to seal her fate.

"Shelly Marsh, we're ready for you now." Shelly groaned as she stood up from the hallway chairs and dragged her feet into the principal's office, where her parents were already waiting for her.

"Sit." The principal demanded.

"Shelly, what has gotten into you?" Her mother hissed from the chair next to her.

"Attacking a cripple?" Her father chided from his seat.

"Excuse me, Mr. Marsh, but we like to use different terminology at this school." Principal Strong Woman requested.

"I'm sorry, 'assaulting' a cripple, Shelly?!" Everyone rolled their eyes.

"This is a very serious offense, young lady, you are in so much trouble when you get home!" Her mother scolded.

"It is very serious, in fact with all the strikes on your record we have grounds to expel you, Shelly."

All three Marshes blanched and stared at Principal Woman.

"But… the only other school in the district is private… we can't afford that…"

"I know, Mrs. Marsh, that's why I'm doing everything I can to help keep Shelly in school. It's about time she graduates." Shelly clicked her tongue and ignored the shove her mother gave her to keep her in line. "So that's why I am proposing in-school suspension for the next three weeks. Now according to the board that's not enough, but three weeks is the maximum sentence to fit the crime, seeing as it wasn't a full on fight." Nothing this bitch said made any sense; what's the big deal, just send her to detention already! "So I have come up with a solution and it has already been approved." Principal Woman looked expectantly between the two parents. "It's a little unorthodox but… If Shelly is able to successfully complete the Anger Management course at the local Community Center, then she can return to school in either three weeks, or when she has completed the course, whichever comes first."

Shelly's parent's sighed in relief but Shelly dropped her jaw in disbelief. "Anger Management?"

"Yes, Shelly, this is a very good deal. I suggest you take it."

That was it, end of discussion. Shelly's parents begged with her until she agreed to take the deal, and she was carted off to an unoccupied room where she would hide out the rest of the afternoon for her in-school suspension. 'This blows'.

After school, Shelly was escorted from her classroom prison straight to her father's car.

"Hello, Shelly. Ready to go?" He greeted her.

"Bite me!" She responded.

"Okie dokie." He turned around and reversed out of the parking lot.

Randy tapped his fingers in the wheel awkwardly as Shelly fumed next to him.

He reached his hand toward the dial, "Would you like some radio?"

"No!" She snapped.

"Ok then." Randy Marsh recoiled his hand and they drove to the Community Center in silence.

"I'm not going in there," She demanded.

Randy rubbed his temples in frustration. "You have to, honey, if you don't go you will get suspended and then you'll never graduate high school."

She crossed her arms across her chest, "I'll get my GED." She reasoned.

He sneered, "No one with a decent job has a GED."

Shelly scoffed, "that's SO not true dad, that's such an old misconception."

He paused. "Go in the building, Shelly."

"No."

"Sheeeeeelly."

"Nooooooo."

"Shelly!"

"No!"

Next thing she knew her father was wrestling her out of her seatbelt and dragging her out of the car, kicking and screaming the whole way into the building.

She stopped throwing her tantrum when she realized she was now at the head of a giant group of people all staring at her.

"Hello, I'm here to drop off my daughter, Shelly, for Anger Management." Randy chirped happily, arms still holding Shelly up by the armpits.

"Please… have a seat." The perplexed group leader pointed to an open chair in the circle.

Shelly dead-weighted, forcing her dad to literally drag her to her seat, ignoring his protests of 'No, Shelly, Sheeeeeelly,' the whole way there.

Once she was in her seat, her dad waved to the group. "Bye guys, I'll pick you up later sweetie," and clumsily jogged away, embarrassed. She'd never seen him run that fast in his life.

The group leader blinked at the retreating figure for a moment, before introducing himself. "Ok… Well to all the new members, I'm Eugene, but you cal call me Gene. I'm actually a veteran of the program, so that's how I know it works. If you'll just give it time I promise you'll see results. Now, let's go around the room and introduce ourselves." The sound of heavy metal handles slamming into the nearby walls reverberated throughout the tiny building.

All eyes darted to the entrance of the building, where the doors had swung open to reveal a tall, finely chiseled boy in studded black boots, ripped black jeans, and a black denim vest draped casually over his maroon and black t-shirt. He stomped lazily over to the group as he ran his fingers through his slicked backed hair, shaved up one side with long pieces of bangs falling in front of his smoldering eyes. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a Johnny Depp wet-dream. Chains clinked gently against his hip as he strolled to the complimentary buffet and went straight for the coffee.

"Ah, Kevin, I was hoping we'd see you today." 'Kevin'.  Mid sip of coffee, the teen boy swirled around smoothly, and gave a dramatic bow, crossing his ankles and outstretching his arm. Shelly noticed a small tattoo in the inner part of his bicep, but she wasn't sure what it said.

"Please, take a seat, we're about to get started." Kevin strolled over to an empty seat, stopped, and make a bee-line for the empty seat next to Shelly instead. Damn, this boy seemed more cooly-unhinged than Craig Tucker.

Shelly felt Kevin slouch back into the seat next to her and begin to tap his foot like a jackhammer. She tried to ignore the tingling feeling of electricity shooting through her body at his close proximity to her. He reminded her so much of someone, but she couldn't quite put the pieces together just yet.  She felt irresistible urge, a need to look at him, she was almost convinced he had magnets in the back of his eyes.

She slowly turned her head to glance at him only to realize that he was already staring at her, head tilted and brow cocked. She stared back at him, eyes wide and lips slacked. He raised his coffee cup to cover his smirk, but Shelly could clearly see it dancing behind his eyes.

The moderator's voice pulled her attention and she looked away from this new mysterious boy sitting next to her.

He nudged her uncrossed leg, accidentally knocking her off balance. She turned to glare at him, only to see him smiling at her.

"Welcome to the group," he winked. Shelly sat paralyzed, as confusion and buzzing filled her head. He chuckled as he brought the coffee cup to his lips again and faced the front of the room, leaving Shelly to inwardly obsess about the strange boy next to her. She did not pay one second of attention to Anger Management.

As the meeting wrapped up, Shelly stood to gather her things. She had just finished shrugging her coat on when she heard a small clicking/whistling sound to her left. Kevin was holding her purse out for her, along with what appeared to be his cell phone number written on a napkin. When did he write this? Did he just carry these around in his pocket with him?

She stared at him skeptically as she took her purse and slung it over her shoulder. "Thanks, I guess." He nodded and walked towards the doors, leaving her behind. She was about to call him a jerk when she realized — way at the other end of the building — he was holding the door open for everyone, and waiting for her.

She looked around at the quickly emptying room to see if he could possibly be waiting for anybody else. "Marsh!" He called to her turned back. Her eyes went wide. How did he know her name? She whipped around to find him lazily waving her over. She took small but quick steps towards him, giving him a questioning look the whole way.

"What's the deal?" She asked when she reached him, still unsure what to make of this whole interaction.

"I wanted to walk you out." He smiled charmingly and gestured for her to leave through the doors. She didn't. More people filtered between them but Shelly stayed planted in the doorway. He frowned at her but stubbornly said nothing.

"Nice to see you, Kevin." Gene clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, turning off the lights and waiting for Shelly to exit so he could lock the doors.

"Well you can't stand there all night." Kevin mused with a lopsided smirk that made Shelly feel off-balance.

She wordlessly crossed the threshold to meet Kevin in the hallway. She trailed a little ways behind him as they walked out of the building towards the parking lot.

"You got a ride?" He wondered, finishing off the rest of his coffee from the meeting.

"My dad's coming to get me, she admitted." He nodded understandingly and tossed his cup in the trash.

He leaned against a nearby pillar to look at her, and she rested her weight against the opposite pillar she already had pressed against her back. He crossed his legs at the ankle and folded his arms across his chest.

"You've changed." He mused, looking her up and down. Shelly felt confusion and anger rising crimson up her neck.

"How do I know you?" She snapped defensively.

Kevin gestured to himself disbelievingly, "Wait, you really don't recognize me? I mean I know it's been a few years…" Wait.

"Mc-McCormick?" She couldn't believe it.

He smiled and spread his arms wide "In the flesh." Man, he'd matured. She did not even recognize him.  Shelly and Kevin had practically grown up together. They'd had a small secret fling together when she was in 7th grade and he was in 8th. She still remembers their first kiss, when his braces got tangled up in her headgear. It ended up being quite painful. That was 7 years ago. Then he went off to high school, and the following year Shelly had to repeat 8th grade, and then by his Junior year he had dropped out and she'd never seen or heard from him again. The memories of that first day Freshman year, wandering the school yard looking for him made her chest hurt.

"Wow." She looked him up and down with a grin, biting the corner of her lip nervously.

He tipped his head in a chuckle as soft locks of hair fell in front of his sharp face "Same old Shelly", he mused.

He fished in his vest pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He pulled a pinched-off, half-smoked one out of the box and attempted to re-light it. He nodded jerkily towards Shelly with eyebrows raised. "Want one?" He mumbled, teeth clenched around the cigarette as smoke poured out of the corner of his mouth. He tossed her the pack.

Damn. It had been a long time since she'd smoked a cigarette. 

She opened the pack. They smelled like him. He'd still smoked the same brand he used to steal from his mother in 8th grade — and he clearly chewed the same cinnamon gum as well since the whole pack smelled faintly of Big Red.

She stared at him as she took one out.  She stared at him as she walked up to him.  She watched him deliberately, half-sure that he would disappear again.  This was somehow a new and dangerous boy, but also the same old Kevin McCormick she used to know. It was exciting.

He pushed off the pillar and took a step closer to her, lighting her cigarette in one swift motion.  He stared down into her eyes intensely, and Shelly felt hypnotized as she took a sharp inhale.  In inexperience, she immediately lost herself in a coughing fit, and she could hear Kevin cracking up in front of her.

He wiped imaginary tears from his eyes 'always with the theatrics, this one' and breathed deeply, lips lazily wrapped around his cigarette.  

"Been a while?" He teased her.

"Yeah, 7 years."

She stared at him pointedly as she took a smaller drag, only coughing a little bit this time.

His smile started to drop off his face, but then he brought it back with a snicker. "Man, if I knew you were still rocking the metal I would have put on my old braces back on too." He smirked.

She shoved him in the arm, "Fucking dick."  She muttered.   "'Same old Kevin' I guess." She taunted.

"I guess." He admitted.

They stood in silence for a while.

"Are you sure your dad is coming?" He asked her.

"Yes." She replied shortly.

"Ok."  He paused to smoke a little.  

"...So..." inhale "...Shelly Marsh..." He gave her a slow, deliberate once-over.  Her heart fluttered dangerously under his wolfish gaze.  He grinned.  Exhale.  "...what are you in for?"

Shelly gulped, "What?"

"The Anger Management? Why are you here?" He asked her innocently.

She rolled her eyes, embarrassed, "My school made me come."

"You still go to school?" He questioned.

"Yes!" She shot back.

"No, I think that's cool!  I wish I'd had the guts to stick it out." He looked like he was being honest.

"Oh." She spoke softly. "Well, thanks I guess." He nodded and inhaled more of his poison. She did the same "Well, what about you?" She questioned. "What are you… you know, 'in for'?"

He exhaled.  "Court-ordered," he admitted flatly.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They smoked in silence.

"Hey, minnow?"  He offered gently.  

Her heart skipped.  Kevin's voice rang in her head:  'Because your headgear makes you look like a shark.'

"What, shark?"  'But I want to be the shark.'  

"I don't think you're dad's coming—"

"He's coming!" She cut him off.

Kevin walked over to the ledge of the concrete stairs and jumped up to sit on the edge. Shelly walked over as if there was an invisible string tethering him to herself. She didn't want to get too far away from him again.

"Hey," he called to her when she got close to him again. "Let's go out again sometime," he suggested nonchalantly, "catch up, hook up, whatever."

"Is that a joke?" She scoffed.

"Did I stutter?" He held her gaze sternly. Eyes and lips unmoving as his fingers curled nervously against the ledge. He puffed smoke out of his nose, and inhaled again through his mouth.  

Shelly's cell phone dinged. It was a message from her dad:

From Dad:  So sorry, Shelly, the game was on so I couldn't leave. You have bus fare, right honey?

Shelly whimpered angrily at her screen. "My dad's not coming." She admitted.

"I'll take you home." Kevin offered.

"Is there a bus around here?"  She wondered. 

"I'll take you home, Shelly."  He sighed.

"I'm fine, really, I'll just find out where the closest bus stop it is—"

"Marsh!"  Shelly looked up and lost herself in his crooked smile.  Kevin took his finished cigarette out of his mouth and stomped it against the concrete with the heel of his hand. "It's ok. I'll take you home, it's no big deal, honest."

Shelly looked at him apologetically, "Are you sure?" She bit her lip and stared up into warm hazel eyes.

"My 8th grade self would be so jealous if he could see me right now." Kevin joked.

Shelly bit her lip to hide her laugh. "Whatever."

"Do you want to get going?" He offered half-heartedly.

"No." She admitted honestly. She took another drag of her cigarette and shivered.

"Oh!  Hold on!" He called as he ran to his car. "Hold on!"

"Where are you going?" She asked him. He went into the back of his car, and pulled out a black sweatshirt. He inspected it, dusted something off of it, and jogged it over to her.

"If we're sticking around..."  He draped the warm jacket over her shoulders.  His breath was so close to her ear and his voice was so much lower than she remembered.  God help Shelly if Kevin said anything nice to her right now.  He smiled at her,  "...I don't want you to be cold."  Her knees almost gave out.  She smiled shyly at him.  Kevin's hand was still lingering on Shelly's shoulder.  It really felt like they went back in time.  Apparently that wasn't such a good thing.   

Kevin cleared his throat and took a step back from Shelly, and just like that their time machine had malfunctioned. He took a new cigarette from his pocket, and placed it between his teeth as he fished for his lighter.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Shelly wondered out loud.

Kevin froze, lighter flame inches away from the end of his cigarette as he stared into her eyes. He seemed to be searching for something but she wasn't sure what. After a beat of hesitation he clumsily chewed out "You've got huge tits."

...Shelly widened her eyes in shock. After a moment, Kevin's mask fell, and his awkward smile erupted into laugher.  That jerk!  

Then Shelly started laughing hysterically. "I'm sorry!" He laughed, "I'm sorry, it was a joke! Don't hate me, Shelly, please?" She punched him in the elbow and he only laughed harder.  

"You, asshole." She muttered.

"Yeah." He agreed. "They are..."  he bit his lip "not half bad though." He leaned forward with his elbows resting against his knees as he stared down at her smugly.  She rolled her eyes.

Shelly stepped closer, until she was standing mere inches away from him.  His body stiffened.  She reached around to the outer edge of his thigh and tapped her cigarette against the concrete. She pinched the ends together, and held it out in front of him. "Just take me home." She demanded.

He took the cigarette from her and put it back inside his pack. He saved his own mostly-new cigarette and put that one away too. Kevin McCormick was never one to waste things.

They walked to the car, and Shelly hung back a little bit. "Hey, McCormick." She called.  He turned around.  "Where did you go?"  He looked confused as he tried to come up with a fitting answer.

"I've been right here the whole time."

"No." She corrected. "Where did you go?"

Kevin sighed and walked up to her.  He wrapped an arm around around her tentatively and pulled her into an awkward hug. Shelly's arms twitched where they lay at her sides. Cautiously, she lifted them up and curled them underneath his broad shoulder blades. "I know." He whispered into her hair, "I know, I'm sorry." It was like they had transported through time and were right back to that night before high school; when they had made empty promises to each other underneath the stars.  The night they decided to be friends… until they'd meet again.

The drive home was fairly quiet, Shelly kept Kevin's sweatshirt on as they drove through town with the windows down. At a stop light, he offered her a stick of Big Red.  It felt just like old times.

When they pulled up in front of her house they turned to face each other.

"Well," he shrugged. "Here we are."

"Thanks for driving me home." She made started to shrug of the sweatshirt.

He put a hand on her shoulder to stop the movement. "Keep it," He told her. She stared at him. It had been a long time since they'd last even seen each other, let alone touched or kissed or held each other again. Kevin's thumb was rubbing against the thick fabric of his sweatshirt absently. "If you want it, I mean."

"Oh, I want it," Shelly purred as she leaned in and planted a small kiss to his mouth. He kissed her back tentatively, sweetly, innocently.  Shelly pulled back just as he started to get heated, and she felt her gaze burning into him, "and I always get what I want."  His jaw dropped.  She winked at him slyly as she slinked out of his car. Shelly turned and looked at him one last time with her hands clasped together under her chin. Kevin McCormick — all grown up. She flipped him the double birds, and smirked as she bent them into the shape of a heart with her thumbs.  Kevin's eyes sparkled as he laughed at the familiar gesture, and he playfully mirrored it back to her, in the reverse.

She waved goodbye to him as he drove off, fingers clutching tightly to the pen-stained napkin in her pocket.

Chapter Text

POV - Stan 

“Goooooooooooood Morning, South Park!”  The radio announcers shrill voices assaulted Stan’s ears at 7:00am.  It was too early.  “It’s ‘Mayhem in the Morning’ with the 7:00 show, up next we’ve got Ariana Grande with her new song—”

Stan shut off his alarm clock and sat up in bed.  He was sweating like a pig, cold and shaky.  ‘This is gonna be a shitty day,’ he thought to himself.  In preparation for his shitty day, Stan took the small bottle of Blackberry Brandy from his nightstand (something he’d swiped from a party a few weekends ago) and took a sip.  If nothing else, it would numb his pounding head.  Plus it tasted delicious.  Stan told himself that was the real reason he kept it around.  He wouldn’t tell himself any differently.       

He opened his phone to text Kyle to let him know he was sick, but saw that Kyle had beat him to it.  

From Kyle:  Hey Dude!  Ready for a Shelly-free day?   Followed by an emoji of ‘rock-and-roll-hands’, a winking face with it’s tongue out, and then a middle finger emoji.  

‘Oh yeah!’  Stan thought to himself, ‘Shelly will be locked up in in-school suspension all day!’  Suddenly spending the day at home didn’t sound as fun as being at school, with his Super Best Friend, making fun of his sister in her misery.  

To Kyle:  Yeah Dude! I can’t believe she beat up Jimmy.  He’s the nicest guy in our class!

From Kyle:  Yeah

From Kyle:  I’m sorry she made your morning shitty yesterday 

To Kyle:  Shelly always makes my mornings shitty 

From Kyle:  I’ll walk with you today if you want 

To Kyle:  Yes please 

From Kyle:  Kyle had send a GIF of Michelle from Full House, holding up her little thumbs and saying ‘You Got It Dude!’  Kyle was so dumb… 

Stan’s smile morphed into a frown as his phone gave another ‘ding!’

From Wendy:  Hey babe!  Don’t forget, we have a debate team dinner after school. 

Stan rolled his eyes.  He hated going to things with Wendy.  It was always ‘debate team this’ and ‘student body president that’, and never anything Stan wanted to do.  

She’d never even stayed for an entire football game of his.   

From Wendy:  Wear something nice. 

Stan groaned. 

To Wendy:  Do I have to go?  It’s just a stupid student-run dinner party at Bebe’s house, it’s not even official school business.  

Wendy was typing.  

To Wendy:  It’s not even on a weekend! 

From Wendy:  Yes.  You’re going.  End of discussion.  

Well, that was it I guess. Stan's head was still pounding but he was starting to feel better. He must've just been tired.  He took one more swig from his bottle and put it away again.

At least school wasn't going to suck as much.

Chapter Text

POV - Kenny

“You can’t laugh at me!”  Karen pleaded.  

“I won’t, unless it’s absolutely necessary.” 

…

Kenny could feel the burning glare, even with Karen turned around.  “Come on, this is silly.”  He told her.

Karen had come out of her room, and refused to let Kenny see her face.  She told him it was embarrassing, but that this was her new look now, and he just had to get used to it — like he would even care about what his baby sister wants to put on her face.  It’s her face!  Only she wouldn’t even let him see it.  He was honestly expecting clown makeup, the way she was overdramatizing it.    

“Whatever…”  She muttered.  “Don’t laugh!”  Kenny promised he wouldn’t. 

Karen turned around slowly.  She looked like she had been made up by Henrietta all right, but it didn’t look bad, it wasn’t even too much.  Karen always made such a big deal out of everything.    

“What’s with the makeup?”  Kenny asked her jokingly.  Bad move. 

She crossed her arms, “I like it, and I’m wearing it!”  Karen demanded defensively.  Kenny knew if he even so much as made a face in jest she would march right back inside and wash it off.  So he smiled.  

“I like it too, it looks cool!  Like you could kick someone’s ass and still be sweet about it.”  Karen rolled her eyes.  “Or that, that looks pretty cool rimmed in black too.”   She threw a couch pillow at him as she passed it on her way to the kitchen.

They sat down to share a packet of Pop Tarts as Kevin walked in from his room down the hall.  

“You’re up early.”  Kenny commented.  “Reasonable night in?”   

“I couldn’t sleep.”  He mumbled, a smile dancing on the corner of his lips.  “I’m gonna go to bed after coffee.”  Weird, but not necessarily unusual for sober Kevin.    

‘At least he’s not hungover.’  Kenny thought to himself.

"What's with the grin?  What'd you do last night?" Kenny questioned suggestively as he bit into his Pop Tart. .

“I went to… ‘class’,” Kevin always referred to his Anger Management course as some kind of a ‘class’ in front of Karen, as if she didn’t already know everything about this family.  She may be the baby, but she is hands down the smartest one.  

Kevin continued, “and it actually went pretty well.  I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in a long time.  We talked and—”  Kevin took one look at Karen and paused, cigarette poised in his mouth. 

“Why does she look like that?”  He chewed around his disgusting habit.  

“Don’t smoke in the house.”  Kenny growled as he ripped the vile thing from Kevin’s mouth. 

Kevin narrowed his eyes dubiously and gestured to all the cigarette butts and discarded beer cans lying around their crappy house.  ‘Well, he doesn’t have to contribute.’    

Karen looked down self-consciously, “Does it look bad?”  Her small voice filled the room.    

“No.”  Kenny told her, probably too quickly.                                          

“I’m asking Kevin.”  She snapped as she glared at him.  Kenny looked at his brother and mentally begged him to not be a jerk.  

Kevin stared at her critically, then at Kenny, then back to Karen.  “No.”  He told her simply.  

“Are you sure?”  She asked him again.  

“Yeah.”  He grinned the signature McCormick grin.  “Looks cute.”  He ruffled her hair on his way out of the kitchen.  Kenny was just thankful Kevin was actually in a good mood this morning.  

He turned to Karen smugly, “See?”  He told her.

“Whatever.”  She tried to hide her smile as she stood up from the table.

“Mom?”  Kenny knocked as he nudged his parents’ bedroom door open.  He noticed his mother still in bed.  She stirred when he entered the room.  

“Hey, baby.”  She greeted him with a smile. 

“We’re leaving for school.”  He sat on the edge of her bed.  “You gonna try and look for a job today?”  He asked her pointedly.  

“Yes, sweetie, your father and I will both go look today.”  Kenny hoped he was mishearing things.

“You and who?”  

Just then, his father walked out of the bathroom.  “Hey, son!”  He slurred.  “Off to school?”  

“Yes.”  Kenny clenched his teeth.  “Off to get a job, I hear?”  He tried to control his tone but it was really hard.  

“Yeah, I was fired from my last job ‘cause my boss had a stick up his ass f’r me takin’ too many sick days ‘r somethin’, but I’m gonna go out ’n' find a good one today, I promise!”  That was Stuart: always somebody else to blame, always empty promises to make.

Kenny wanted to scream, he wanted to throw things, he wanted to shake some sense into his fucking parents.  Instead, he took a deep breath; he did what he knew was the best for the situation.  

“Well, good luck today.  I hope you find something.”  He bid shortly and closed the door.          

“Do I really look ok?”  Karen fidgeted with her hair as Kenny walked her to school.  

“For the millionth time, yes, you look beautiful.”  Kenny tried to convince her. 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “You have to say that” she retorted. 

“Why are you so stressed?  Chill out.”  Kenny offered.  It was probably the wrong choice.  

“We can’t all be so happy to be wearing the same bright orange…fashion… train wreck day-in, day-out,” she hissed quietly.  It was as mean as she would ever be, sweet thing.  

“You look perfect, leave it alone or it will frizz out.”  He told her.  

That stopped her in her tracks.  Karen put her phone away and stopped looking into its camera.  She tucked one side behind her ear, pulled some front pieces out.  

“Good, now let’s go.”  

They’d just gotten to the front lawn of the school when Ike Broflovski stopped them in their tracks.  

“Hi, Karen.”  He looked at her nervously, like she was something daunting and intimidating.  ‘But why, it’s Karen?’

She smiled, “Hi, Ike!”  Karen hugged him warmly, while he blushed like a maniac.  Do maniacs blush?  Anyway, Ike blushed a lot.   

“You look nice.”  Ike offered over stumbled words and over-confident airs.  Karen looked down as she brushed the rest of her hair behind her ear. 

“Thanks.”  She smiled at him shyly.  He grinned at her stupidly.     

 “Oh!  Hi, Kenny,” he was offered, as an afterthought.

“Nice to see you Ike,”  Kenny laughed.   “Where’s Kyle?”  

“Oh he’s over there with Stan.”  Ike pointed.    

“Cool.  Later!”  He gave Karen a quick pat on the shoulder and made his way over to the front steps of the school.        

“Hey dude,”  Kenny nudged Kyle, “I think your brother is into my sister.”

“I’m sorry for your sister.”   Kyle chuckled sarcastically.  It was half-hearted.  Kyle was never much good at hiding his emotions.      

“You ok, man?”  Kenny asked lightly.  Kyle nodded towards where Stan was fighting with Wendy.  Of course.  

“He should break up with her.”  Kyle stated sadly. 

“He should.”  Kenny agreed. 

“And go out with me, instead.”  Kyle added quietly. 

“One thing at a time, buddy.”  Kenny patted Kyle’s back affectionately.   

“Heya fellas!”  Butters bounced up to Kyle and Kenny, brushing Kenny’s shoulder lightly as he passed him.  Kenny could almost feel butterflies rising up from his stomach and escaping through the gap in his teeth.      

“Heya, Butters!”  Kenny stiffened, “Where’s your dad?” 

Butters faked a smile, as he plastered on a show-y voice, “Right behind you, you betcha!  I’m lookin’ at him right now!”  Butters waved.    

Kenny frowned.  “Great,” He said flatly.  Butters stared up at him apologetically. 

Kenny didn’t know what to say.  There wasn’t much he could say with Butters’ dad watching from just a few feet away.  He wanted so badly to reach for him, to run his fingers through his hair or wrap him in an embrace, to touch him somehow—  “Hey, is that a new watch?”  Kenny pointed at Butters’ wrist.  

“Why, no, Kenny!”  He exclaimed, with all the grace of a bad actor, “It’s the same one I always wear.  You’ve never noticed it?  Why don’tcha check it out?”  Butters shoved his hand towards Kenny, who took it gently.  He tried not to be obvious as he softly traced his fingers over the back of Butters’ hand.  Butters sighed shakily as his eyebrows knitted together in conflict.  He refused to meet Kenny’s eyes. 

“It’s cool,”  Kenny said thickly.  He felt a thumb run along the inside of his wrist.   

Butters nodded nervously, “Yep!  It’s digital and everything!” he wrapped his tiny fingers around Kenny’s and squeezed, eyes never leaving his dad’s open passenger window.

Kenny leaned in sightly, “Want to come over after school?”  He murmured gently.  

Butters stepped closer to Kenny and spoke under his breath, “My dad is taking the late shift tonight, so he'll be there after school.  You can come over to my house.”  He paused before looking up at him and smiling slyly, “When he leaves we can have the whole place to ourselves.”

Kenny’s heart skipped a beat.  He knew the real reason they had to go to Butters’ was because his stupid father kept tabs on his 16 year old son like he was under house arrest.  But having the whole house, alone, all night, with his secret boyfriend… that was certainly reason enough in itself.  

Butters, still smiling, looked back over the taller boy’s shoulder.  His smile faded instantly as his face paled.  He cleared his throat nervously.      

Kenny stepped away from Butters and straightened his back.  “Kyle, look at Butters’ watch please.”  He begged quietly, eyes never leaving Butters’ absent face.  

“Oh…” Kyle grabbed Butters’ hand the way Kenny did.  “Um… it’s cool… I like the colors.”  Kyle suggested clumsily.  

“Thanks Kyle, you’re a real pal.”  Butters’ voice was blank, eyes still trained on his father’s car.  Kenny caught Butters’ hand again, giving his palm light squeeze, silently pleading, ‘look at me!’, but he only shook his head: ‘no.’ 

Kenny dropped Butters’ hand and sighed.  

“I know.”  He heard the lighter-blond murmur gently, mouth barely moving.

But when Kenny looked up he saw nothing but a stone cold statue.   

They stood in silence for a moment, before Butters’ shoulders relaxed and his gaze softened as his eyes followed the green car out of the parking lot.  He sighed in relief, “I believe I forgot to formally say ‘hello’ to you gentlemen this morning,” Butters observed casually.    

Desperately, Kenny grabbed Butters and instantly pulled him in, wrapping both arms tightly around the smaller boy.  Kenny himself was only 5’5”, and had always been the runt of the group.  But little Butters, who was only about 5’2”/5’3” or so, was even tinier, and a million times more fragile.  Leo was breakable.  Kenny vowed a long time ago that he would never break this smaller boy’s heart.  And though he knew this morning had done a number on him, there was nothing more he could do to make it better.  In a way, he felt that was worse. 

Kenny felt delicate hands tangling themselves in his messy hair.  “I miss you,” Butters whispered against his chest, in a voice that was barely audible, and completely earth shattering.  

Kenny’s heart sunk.  He rested his cheek against Butter’s soft hair and squeezed his eyes shut.  “Me too.”  He admitted vulnerably.  He wanted so badly to whisk him away, to hold him and keep him safe somewhere where he could never be hurt or worried again.  

Butters’ squeezed him tightly.  “I’m sorry.”  He choked out.  

“Don’t be.”  Kenny said simply.  He couldn’t say anything more.  He didn’t trust himself to say anything more… because…  

…They were still at school…  

Kenny opened his eyes, the spell was broken.  Kids were shuffling by, cars were cycling through the parking lot, and Kyle was still standing awkwardly off to the side with a sympathetic look on his face.  Time hadn’t stopped and the sky hadn’t fallen.  

Kenny sighed in defeat and put his hands on Butters’ shoulders to gently push him back.  He had to give it a few tries before Butters finally let go.         

“I’ll see you in Spanish.”  He said sadly as he walked away.  Kenny said nothing as he felt Butters’ hand slip from his own.    

Kenny stared after him, face twisted into what he was sure looked like a toss up between anguish, pain, and nausea.

Kenny felt Kyle rub his shoulder sympathetically.  

Kenny sighed as he tried to clear his head.  He didn’t like the way Kyle was looking at him: like someone had died.  It wasn’t that serious.    

Kenny shook off the darkness and plastered a smile on his face.  

“I’m fine Kyle, really.”  He tried to be convincing.  

Kyle frowned and looked at him skeptically.  “Are you sure?” 

Of course he was fine, “Yep!”  Kenny always was.  

At that moment, Stan walked over to the group loosening his tie and muttering to himself.  Wendy must’ve really gotten under his skin this time.

He grumbled, “Hey guys,” and threw his tie on the floor.      

“Hey— wow!  You like nice, Stan, what’s the occasion?”  Kenny mused as Kyle bent down to retrieve Stan’s discarded tie.  

Stan spoke as Kyle wordlessly placed it back around the brunette’s collar and straightened it out.  “Thanks, Kyle — Ugh, Wendy is being such a bitch!  We have this stupid, stupid student-run, no-faculty, basically-just-an-excuse-to-play-dinner-party ‘debate team’ dinner tonight — on a Wednesday night! — and she’s making me go, and did I mention it was stupid?!”  Kenny tried not to laugh at the domestic scene in front of him.  “She texted me before school, ‘wear something nice!’—”

“Wendy’s voice isn’t that screechy.”  Kenny snickered at Stan’s impression.  

“—and when I got here, she told me I wore the wrong color!  Like, what does she want from me?  I wore a stupid dress shirt, and I wore a stupid tie, does it really matter if it’s blue!?  Now she ‘can’t wear’ her purple dress because it won’t match and ‘we have to match, Stan!’ ‘Impressions matter, Stan!’”  Kenny and Kyle were both chuckling under their breath at this point.  Stan’s voice-cracking, falsetto, hacking, nails-on-a-chalkboard Wendy impression was (aside from the voice) way too accurate, cocked hip and everything.  Kenny supposed if anyone knew exactly what Wendy was like when she was mad, it was Stan.    

“And she’s all, ‘you never listen to me, Stan!  This is Sophomore Homecoming all over again!’ ‘How are people supposed to take us seriously as a couple when you undermine everything that I do?’  Like she doesn’t do that to me way more often…”

“Not helping your case bro.”  Kenny laughed.   

“Kyle,” Stan fell dramatically against Kyle, “Oh Kyle, Why do women suck so much?”

“You probably asked nicely.”  Kenny chuckled and braced himself for the shove that followed. 

“Shelly alert.”  Kyle changed the subject.  Just as well, the redhead was starting to blush now anyway.  

The three boys turned and watched Shelly Marsh stomp from her car inside the building, where she was picked up by a school counselor and most likely walked to her suspension room.  

“What’s she wearing?”  Stan wondered out loud.  Kenny felt like he’d seen that ugly, black, oversized, and hole-riddled sweatshirt before, but he couldn’t really think of where.

“That’s clearly a men’s sweatshirt.”  Kyle observed.     

“Hm.  Looks like Shelly hooked up with someone last night.”  Kenny joked.  

“At Anger Management?”  Stan chuckled disbelievingly.  

“Anger Management?”   Kyle and Kenny both questioned, jaws hitting the floor. 

“Yeah, the school made her go, it was like her fifth strike or something like that and it was either that or expulsion so…”  Stan trailed off.  

 “Anger management…” Kyle repeated incredulously.  

Oh.  My.  God.   

Kenny burst out laughing.   

Stan looked at him quizzically, “What?”   

“That’s Kevin’s sweatshirt, dude!”  He laughed. 

“Nuh-uh.”  Stan looked shocked. 

“She ran into Kevin at fucking Anger Management, and how she has his sweatshirt!”  Kenny guffawed.

“Ew, Kenny, I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”  Stan looked like he wanted to puke.    

“No wonder he looked so fucking smug this morning!”  Kenny was practically doubled over laughing by the time Kyle broke the tension and spoke up. 

“Come on Stan,” he tried to comfort him, “that’s a good thing!”  He snickered, “Maybe if Shelly gets laid, she’ll chill the fuck out!”  Kenny and Kyle were both howling and slapping each other by the time Eric Cartman walked up to the group.  

“Hey dudes, what’s going on?”  He asked with a smirk.    

“Shelly’s shacking up with Kevin.”  Kenny answered, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“She’s not ‘shacking up with him’,”  Stan argued.  “And ‘ew’, I don’t want to think about this, it’s gross.”  

“Yeah, she is pretty gross.”  Cartman agreed, clearly not reading the room. 

Kyle rolled his eyes.  Kenny facepalmed.  Stan shot Cartman the ugliest death glare you’ve ever seen.   

It was the last straw.  

“I meant the situation, fat-ass, not my sister.”  Stan clarified angrily.

To Kenny’s — and probably everyone’s — surprise, Cartman didn’t retaliate, he didn’t even yell; he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and spoke calmly, if not also a little condescendingly: “Please do-not call me fat, you whipped — I mean Stan — it-hurts-my-fee-lings.  It’s not my fault I am not a mind reader, and I thought you agreed that your bitch sister is gross because you are not fucking blind.  I… I apologize if I hurt your feelings in-an-y-way.”  Cartman raised his eyebrows and looked at Stan expectantly, like he was waiting for something. 

“I… accept your apology?”  Stan asked more than answered.  

“Great, now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to head off to class before one of you losers makes me lose my cool again.  Later, nerds!”  Cartman called as he walked away.  

Wow. 

“That was new.”  Stan commented. 

“That was pretty cool.”  Kyle agreed.  

The first bell rang and the trio made their way into the building for their first classes.                  

By the end of the day, Kenny practically ran to his last class, Spanish, excited to sit next to his ‘good pal’, Butters.

“Leo,” he drawled as he slumped into his chair.  “Man, it has been a day!  I’m so ready for it to be over!”    

Butters blushed lightly at the mention of his real name.  “Me too, Kenny, can’t wait for you to come over to my house later.”  

Kenny winked at him and the blush only deepened.  

Kenny loved making Butters shy. 

“Ready to go?”  Butters was practically bouncing on his toes as he was waiting for Kenny to pack up his things for the end of the day. 

“Just about.”  Kenny laughed. 

“How long has it been?”  Butters asked eagerly. 

Kenny didn’t even need to count.  

“Three weeks.”  

It had been three weeks since they’d last been alone together, if you don’t count stolen kisses when Kenny’s million family members’ backs were turned or the small moments they were spared supervision at Butters’ house.  Or Monday morning under the stairwell, but that was just stupid and risky.  It was Kenny’s favorite…       

Kenny loved Butters.  Like full-on, never felt this way, never needed to again, never need another man or woman, wholly satisfied kind of love.  He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but his most shameless fantasy involved packing up and moving Butters to a different town, or a different state even, and marrying him right then and there the minute they both turned eighteen.  Kenny would work tirelessly to give his husband the education he deserved, Butters would become successful, and return the favor so Kenny could eventually get a proper job of his own.  They’d start small and save money along the way, but eventually they would be able to afford a house with extra rooms and a swing set in the back.  And once they had a ‘stable home’ with two full-time working parents, they would adopt a little blond kid of their own, that most likely, coincidentally looked like the spitting image of Butters as a baby.  The baby’s Aunt Karen would move into town and practically live at their house, and when friends came to visit they would stay for weeks because of how freaking adorable their life together is.  

He knew this was a very specific type of dream, and he knew it was a long shot; you can’t control things that are so far ahead in the future.  But it was fun to think about while he was laying in bed at night and wishing he had a small warm body to hold on to and sing to sleep.  As long as Kenny spent every last moment alive with Leopold Stotch, he didn’t care what the future held for him.  

"Lead the way." 

As they walked to Butters’ house they passed a lot of people they knew.  They kept it casual and talked about the cover story they would use when Stephen interrogated Kenny later.  

Eventually though, they turned down a sparsely populated street and were finally somewhat alone.  Butters reached out with a tentative hand, and entwined their fingers together carefully.  Kenny smiled.  He tried not to worry about how impulsive it was to be holding hands a block away from Butters’ house.  All thoughts left his head completely when Butters started tracing his thumb up and down along Kenny’s hand.  Well, not all thoughts; some very dirty thoughts still remained.  

“My dad leaves at four.”  Butters was saying.  “His shift technically starts at five but he likes to get there early for some reason so he leaves at four.”  

“Sounds good.” 

Nobody talked about Butters’ mom.  About a year ago she was admitted to the hospital on mental health watch and never came out.  Rumors had it that Stephen was bribing the Hells Pass staff to keep her in there, but Kenny suspected the truth was that she just wasn’t doing so well.  Butters had been the one to call the police when she was in the middle of an episode; she had been painting over all of the family pictures as well as all over herself.  She was even eating some of it and had to have her stomach pumped.  That was a hard day for Butters… Stephen was sitting in the kitchen reading the paper not 20 ft away from it all and doing absolutely nothing.  

Kenny was snapped out of his thoughts by Butters pulling him in another direction.  

“Whoa, where are we going?”  He questioned with a laugh.    

“You’ll see.”  Butters giggled playfully. 

They came upon a field, part of a public park, that was chock full of wild growing daisies in full bloom.  Spring in South Park never usually came until at least July.

“Let’s stall a little.”  Butters smirked coyly over his shoulder.  Kenny agreed, grin widening with each step as Butters pulled him along.  

They walked to the middle of the field and sat down.  

“Is it like this every year?”  Kenny asked looking around. 

“Sometimes, it depends on the weather and stuff.  But I always like to hang out here for a little while when the flowers do bloom because it’s so pretty.”  As Butters spoke, he picked little flowers out of the ground and placed them gingerly in Kenny’s hair.  

Butters smiled affectionately, his fingertips lingering softly against Kenny’s temple.  The taller blond’s eyes fluttered closed as warm fingers gently tapped their way down across his jawline, the ghost of a caress from behind closed doors.  Kenny lifted a hand to tenderly capture the one now counting freckles along his cheekbone.  He wrapped his long, slender fingers around Butters’ small hand and turned his head to place a gentle kiss in his palm.

They stared at each other as a crunching sound behind Kenny made them jump. 

“Oh,” Kenny breathed, relieved, “it’s just a dog.”  The owner rounded the corner and stared at them critically.  

“Hi Mrs. Wilcox!”  Grouchy old ladies seem to always be named that.  “How are you today?”  Butters spoke quickly as he picked all the flowers from Kenny’s hair.  

“Hello, Leopold.  Leopold’s friend…”  Kenny didn’t like the way this lady was looking at him, with narrowed eyes and a permanent scowl as if she didn’t approve of the perfect, innocent ‘Leopold’ hanging around such obvious white trash.  Either that, or she didn’t approve of what Kenny hoped she’d be too near sighted to actually see…    

“We were just leaving!  Kenny, come on!”  Butters pulled Kenny to his feet and dragged him away from the daisies.  

They ran all the way back to Butters’ house.  Stopping only a few times so Butters could catch his breath before he hyperventilated. 

“She saw us!”  He worried out loud.  “She’ll tell on me, and I’ll be sent away again, I can’t do that again, Kenny, I can’t!”  He screamed.  Kenny reached forward to wrap his arms around the trembling blond in front of him, but given the current circumstances, he was (understandably) pushed away.  

“It’s ok, Leo, breathe,” He reminded him.  “She’s an old lady, she probably didn’t see anything, and even if she did, what we were doing was perfectly innocent.”  He tried to speak logically and reasonably, the only language Panicked-Butters understood.  “Her eyesight is probably shit, but she probably only saw us sitting together anyway because her old lady limbs don’t let her walk as fast as that slobbering dog she was with.  We didn’t do anything wrong, you’re not gonna get in trouble, and if you did I would protect you, I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you wouldn’t be in control of keeping.”  Butters pointed out with an edge.

Kenny felt a pang of powerlessness reverberate through his chest.  “…I would make it my life’s mission to protect you, I promise.”  And he would.  Kenny would never stop fighting for Butters, he would put his life on the line if that meant he could save him.  He only hoped the trembling boy in front of him believed as much.

Butters stared at his orange-clad angel wearily, before nodding slowly.  “Ok.”  Butters agreed.  

“Breathe.”  Kenny reminded him. 

He did.  

“I’m sorry.”  Butters laughed embarrassedly.  “You’re probably right, there’s nothing to worry about yet.  Let’s just enjoy tonight.”   

Something about Butters’ choice of words sent a chill up Kenny’s spine.  But he shook it off as they crossed the threshold into the Stotch house. 

“Heya, Dad!”  Butters called sunnily from where the two boys were taking off their shoes and coats at the front door. 

“Butters, it’s 3:40.  It only takes 10 minutes to walk from school.  What were you doing?”  Stephen barked as he began the interrogation.   

His son shrugged cooly and answered quickly.  “We had to stop at Kenny’s house to get his book because he forgot it at home.”  Butters lied like shit to everyone else except his dad.  It probably had to do with the fact that he had no respect for the man.  Kenny didn’t either.  

“Kenny’s house is 20 mins away, it would be 3:50 if that were the case.”  Stephen always thought he was so intimidating, the way he lowered his voice and crouched down to get in his son’s face.  Really he just looked like a coward who wasn’t man enough to speak to his own kid like an adult.  

“We walked fast.”  Butters offered with a shrug.  Damn he was convincing.  

Stephen stared into Butters’ eyes for a solid 45 seconds and Butters stared right back.  It was incredibly awkward for Kenny, who was just standing there silently and trying to pretend like he didn’t exist. 

“Ok,” Stephen finally decided.  “What are you boys studying today?” 

“Oh, w-we’re just gonna do—” 

“I’m asking Kenny.”  He sneered, thinking he’d caught them now.  Stephen never trusted the McCormick boy, and Butters was never allowed to have him over without asking permission first.  So at lunch, when Stephen’s son had called him to ask if Kenny could come over for a Spanish project, he had made Butters recite every inch of the project to compare with what Kenny would say later.   

Luckily Kenny was right there listening in on the conversation and taking notes.  “We have a Spanish project to do, it’s due on Friday.  We had to pair up and create a conversation using the new vocab words we just learned — touristy things like ‘bus’, ‘restaurant’, that sort of thing — and pay attention to proper grammar and conjugations and all that.  Then we have to rehearse and memorize it and perform it in front of the class for a grade.  We also have to hand in a hard copy of our transcript so the teacher can make sure we conjugated everything correctly.  Shouldn’t take us no more than 3, 4 hours tops,”  Kenny recited beautifully.

“Any.”  Stephen corrected. 

Kenny blinked at him.  “What?”    

“‘Shouldn’t take us any more than 3, 4 hours tops.’”  Stephen crossed his arms smugly.   

“Well, it’s not an English project, sir.”  

Kenny tried to hide his grin as Mr. Stotch’s face smoothed back down into his usual stern demeanor.

“Get to work, boys.”  He ordered as he walked back into his bedroom to get ready for work. 

Kenny looked at Butters, who was snickering, hand over mouth mouth, to try and hide his smile from his dad.  “‘It’s not an English project, sir.’” He mimicked with a giggle as he passed Kenny to get to the kitchen.  “Do you want a soda?”  

“Sure.”  Kenny grinned.  

The boys gathered their drinks and set their homework out on the table.  They made sure to speak really loudly every now and then, in case a certain shifty adult in the house was listening in. 

“It’s 4:15, is he leaving or what?”  Kenny whispered.  “¡Hola! Me…me llamo Kenny.”  He added clumsily as he pretended to shuffle papers.  

“He’s probably leaving any second…  Uh— ¡Hola! Kenny… me llamo Butters.”  

“Wow, this is the worst Spanish project ever…”  Kenny joked under his breath.  Butters giggled as he shushed him.  “I want him to leave,”  Kenny admitted as he stared at the boy sitting three feet away from him.  It felt like a mile.  “I want to kiss you.”  He cupped Butters’ cheek as he stared at him longingly.  

“He’ll probably leave any second.”  Butters whispered in a trance as he scooted closer to Kenny.  Butters was looking at him with that magnetizing expression, and Kenny couldn’t resist as he leaned in.  He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, it reverberated through his chest and pounded in his head.  Butters didn’t stop him, he inched closer.  They were just about to lock lips when they heard the master bedroom door click closed.  Butters gasped and pushed against Kenny’s chest, hard. 

Kenny fell backwards out of his chair and hit the floor with a thud.  

“Fuck!”  Butters yelped quietly as he scrambled to help Kenny get off the floor.  

“Boys, what was that noise?”  Mr. Stotch asked as he came stalking into the kitchen.  

“I dropped my textbook!”  Butters yelled as he held up the one in his hand for proof. 

“Why is Kenny on my floor?”  Stephen grumbled nastily.  

“He-he-he got it for me!”  Butters was stumbling over his words, never a good sign.

Stephen narrowed his eyes and glared between the two boys.  “Alright, don’t scuff up my floor, kids, or Butters will be grounded.”  He promised.  

“Ok.”  Both boys agreed hastily as Kenny scrambled into his seat.

“Good.  Well, I’m off to my shift.  See you later, boys!”  Stephen waved politely as he exited the house.  Butters quickly got up to go stand by the window and watch him leave.  

Kenny followed in a daze.   

“I think he’s gone.”  Butters announced.  By the time he turned around, Kenny was already tangling his slender fingers into sunshine hair, and tipping Butters’ chin up to meet his mouth.  Oh, it had been too long since Kenny had last felt these lips against his own.  Butters melted against him as he backed himself up against the door and pulled Kenny close to him.  

Kenny brushed his lips lightly against Butters’ jawline, and felt his small body tremble underneath him.  Butters wrapped his arms around Kenny tightly and pressed his small frame up against Kenny’s skinny body.

Kenny pulled away just slightly to look Butters in the eyes.  “Hey.”  Kenny’s voice was rough.   

“Hey.”  Butters breathed.

Kenny leaned forward to lightly brush his nose up against Butters’.  “I’ve missed you, Leo.”  He purred. 

“I’ve missed you too.”  Butters practically groaned as he grabbed Kenny’s face again and brought it down to his own roughly.         

Everything had been going great.  A+.  Kenny had pulled them over to the couch, where Butters now lay on top of him, his tongue slowly snaking it’s way into Kenny’s mouth.  ‘This must be what heaven is like’, Kenny wondered absently, his brain now completely useless to everything except the way Butters looked, and smelled, and tasted.  He could only comprehend the soft, sweet feeling of Butters on top of him, until… his stomach growled.  Perfect.  Way. To. Kill. The. Mood.   

Butters chuckled, “You’re hungry.” 

“No, I’m not.”  Kenny insisted.  “Hungry for your lips maybe.”  He joked.   

“That’s cheesy.”  ‘Mmm, cheese’.  Kenny’s stomach growled again.  “That’s it, mister.”  Butters stood up.  “We’re making dinner.”  Kenny groaned and grabbed Butters by the waist, making him lose his balance and fall right back into Kenny’s lap.  Kenny immediately went for the collarbone, kissing and sucking and biting it gently while his fingernails scraped lightly against the nape of his slender neck.  Butters shuddered and moaned.  

“Uh, Kenny?”  Butters asked distractedly.  Nuh-uh, he wasn’t getting away.  “Kenny, I—” Butters gasped when Kenny’s other hand ran up his leg.  “Fuck it, you can wait for dinner, right?”  He breathed huskily.   

“Oh, I’d much rather do this.”  Kenny promised. 

Butters giggled as he kissed him, “Great.”

It was about 6:15, and Kenny was sitting at the table, finishing some homework, while Butters got to work on boiling water. 

After a few minutes the smaller blond started biting his nails, humming to himself apprehensively. 

“What?”  Kenny laughed. 

“How… how do I know when it’s ready?”  Butters asked nervously.   

“Just taste it.”  Kenny offered as he was packing up his backpack.  

“It just tastes like macaroni.”  

Kenny got up and walked over to the stove.  Butters held out the spoon and blew on it before offering it to Kenny, who just ended up picking it up and eating it with his hands anyway.  He couldn’t help but think about the classic Normal Rockwell painting they must look like.  Or how much they probably looked like the exact antithesis of one.  

The pasta was just about done.  Kenny offered to drain it while Butters mixed the powered cheese.  After **literally** 15 seconds, sounds of acute distress sang over from Butters’ side of the kitchen again.   

“Um… how do I know if I did this right?”  Butters held up the mixing fork, with an entire glob of powdery cheese ball stuck to the end of it.  As if reading Kenny’s mind, Butters looked at the back of the box one more time and read it carefully.  “Tablespoon, not teaspoon…”  He muttered to himself as he measured out almost-a-tablespoon-minus-a-teaspoon’s worth of water to add to the mixture, tongue peeking out over his top lip in intense concentration as he made his precise measurements.   

“You’re cute.”  Kenny wrapped his arms around Butter’s waist and rested his chin on his slim shoulder.  “I love playing house with you.”  He joked (half seriously) into Butters’ ear.  Butters laughed and shrugged Kenny off of him.  

Then he did something unthinkable, unimaginable, unforgivable really: he reached up, with one orange and sticky hand, and smudged processed cheese right down the center of Kenny’s nose.  

“Blech.”  Kenny turned that right around and wiped it off on Butters’ cheek, who squealed in disgust.  

“Fucking gross.”  He grumbled. 

“You started it.”  Kenny pointed out.   

“You’re not seven.”  Butters sassed.   

“I’m six.”  He held up his hands in incorrect numbers “this many.”  Butters pretended not to be amused.  

“Whatever, set the table.”  

“Fancy or casual?”

“Always fancy.”   

Fancy it is.  Kenny grabbed the porcelain plates, cutlery, and napkins (which he had folded into pretty swans).  They lit a tiny tea candle from Butters’ room and drank water out of wine glasses.  They’d have to make sure to clean those later and put them back before Butters’ dad even knew they were missing.  Kenny dimmed the lights and put on music.  Nothing romantic, that shit bothered both of them.  Tonight he put on the ‘Soundtrack from the Motion Picture Almost Famous’, one of their favorite movies to watch together.

As the first few notes of ‘America’ by Simon and Garfunkel floated into the room, Butters hummed approvingly.  

“Good choice.  Wanna watch this after dinner?”

“You bet.”  They could read each other’s minds.      

Butters walked over balancing two plates of macaroni and a bowl of grapes for the table.  

“‘Let us be lovers, we’ll marry our fortunes together…’”. He sang quietly over Kenny’s shoulder as he placed his plate in front of him.

They ate dinner like normal, ‘adult’ human beings, only occasionally stopping to see how many grapes they could throw into each other’s mouths (Kenny beat Butters by 2 points).  Then they settled on the couch to watch their movie.  

“Ok,”  Butters looked at his watch, “the movie is approximately 2 hours long, and my dad gets home in three.  That should give us plenty of time to straighten up and get you home before then.”  

“Sounds like a plan.”  Kenny agreed as he laid out blankets and rearranged the throw pillows.  

“Hey, Leo.”  He stopped. 

“What?”  

Kenny loved the way Butters always blushed like that when he used his real name.  

He smirked, “Your birthday’s coming up.”  Butters looked at the ground sheepishly.  “What do you want to do?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “anything really.  I don’t know…” Butters was never one to make a fuss of his own birthday.  

Luckily, Kenny was not having it.  “Well we have to do something special!  It’s the most important day of the year!”  He nudged Butters with his shoulder as he sat down.  

“9/11?”  Butters retaliated with detached skepticism and raised eyebrows.

“Well… no,”  Kenny admitted, “the part where it’s also Leopold Stotch’s 17th birthday is more what I’m referring too.”  He quipped cheerfully. 

“I don’t know.  I mean, there’s nothing really that I can think of that would really be special.  If you have any ideas—”  Oh, he had ideas.  Kenny had been thinking about this since Butters’ last birthday (ironically, the first time Kenny had chickened out of asking him out on a real date).  The sandy-blond clapped with dramatic regality. 

“Say no more, I’ll take care of it!” He declared with enthusiasm and a cheshire grin.   

Butters smiled radiantly, “Ok.”  Then after a second thought, “Nothing dirty or inappropriate.  And tell everyone they don’t need to bring presents.  Don’t invite Eric Cartman.  Or Stan if that means Wendy is gonna come, they’ll just fight all night.  Invite Tweek, we have art together and he’s pretty cool.  His friends are pretty cool too.  And I don’t really like cake.  No drugs, drinking is ok, and if we go somewhere public it needs to be out of town.  Otherwise someone’s house but it cannot be mine.  I don’t want my dad fucking up my birthday.  Not when it’s ‘the most important day of the year’.”  Butters teased as he pressed play on their movie.  

“Yes, princess.”  Kenny bowed dramatically.   

“I was a paladin, you were the princess.”  Butters reminded him.  When they were younger, the whole neighborhood of kids used to dress up and play a Lord of The Rings style role playing game, with weapons, magic, alliances and betrayal.  It was taken pretty seriously.  Anyway, Kenny had decided to be a badass princess because he wanted to feel pretty and worshipped for once.  The only one who really fell for his princess act was Butters, who was always either saving the princess or being saved by the princess.  Cartman had called them out on not even playing the same game as everyone anymore.  They didn’t care, they liked their version better.

As the opening title sequence filled the screen, Kenny snuggled up next to a lounging Butters.  He sighed contentedly as he settled against the smaller one’s chest, draping a bracelet-clad arm over his soft middle.  He chuckled as Butters snapped the turquoise braided elastic he’d given Kenny over the summer (‘so that even when we’re were apart, you’ll never forget how much you mean to me’).  Butters rested one hand against Kenny’s messy mop of hair, and the other one rubbed his back absently.  They laughed, they sang along, and they quoted their favorite lines (‘don’t you have any regular friends?’, ‘I’m on druuugs!’, ‘what kind of beer?’).  They stayed like this in their own private world, content with the fact that this moment would be one to hold on to until dreams could suspend reality once again.  

…Kenny must have fallen asleep.  They both must have, because at 10pm, they were woken up by Stephen Stotch slamming the front door and flipping on all the lights in the house.  

Butters jumped awake and shoved Kenny off of him, sending him tumbling to the floor for the second time that night.

“Kenny.”  Stephen towered over both of them.  “Go home.”  Kenny wasted no time scrambling to his feet and grabbing his book bag on his way out the door.  He couldn’t even look at Butters.  He felt like a wimp for not being able to stand up to his boyfriend’s dad, he felt like a wuss for not being able to even admit that Butters was his boyfriend, he felt small for not being able to tell Stephen that there’s nothing he could do about it, and he felt like a traitor for abandoning Butters, leaving him alone in the house with that homophobic douchebag.  Kenny stayed and listened against the door for any sounds of distress.  The only thing he heard was the lock as it clicked into place.

Kenny walked home in a daze.  How could a moment so beautiful and calm be so literally ripped from his arms in a matter of seconds.  It was dizzying, it was sickening.  Most of all, it stirred a panic in his soul.  

Kenny looked at his phone again.  He tried to convince himself that it was no big deal, that Butters couldn’t text him because he was probably receiving a talking-to, an insulting lecture brought on by self-righteousness and arrogance.  He’d probably be grounded, and nothing more.  Kenny tried to push down the anxiety rising up in his chest.  He looked at his screen again, not knowing what he expected, but receiving no luck regardless.  He turned the volume up on his ringer and shoved it back in his pocket.  

Once he got home, Kenny texted Butters.`

To Butters:  Hey man, just got home.  I had a quick question about our presentation on Friday, but if I don’t hear from you I’ll just ask you at school tomorrow.  

It was always safer to text in code when it came to the Stotch household.  Butters never knew who was snooping on his phone. 

11:58 and still no message from Butters.  ‘Fuck’.  Kenny decided to put his phone away and not touch it until he had finished at least one episode of The Office.  

He made it half-way through one episode.  ‘Stupid Jim and Pam and their adorable, forbidden relationship…’  

To Butters:  Hey dude, just checking in, I wanted to make sure everything was ok… with our project I mean.  Let me know.  

Kenny threw his phone against his pillow and slumped face first into the bed.  What had Stephen seen?  And what did that mean for Butters?  ...What did that mean for their relationship?  A myriad of unsettling questions worried Kenny all night, plaguing him like an endless nightmare.   

At 1:45, he finally decided to just go to bed.  He turned his ringer volume all the way up and placed it under his pillow delicately, guarding it like a talisman.  He breathed a small wish as his eyes finally fluttered closed.  ‘Be ok.’    

At 3:05 his phone finally dinged.  

From Butters:  Kenny, my dad didn’t see anything, he just was mad that we watched a movie on a school night instead of doing our project and he was mad that you were still over so late.  I got grounded for both of those things and he took away my phone.  Everything is good, everything is fine, I promise.  You can breathe now, I can practically feel you holding your breath through the phone.  (he was).   Anyway, he stashed my phone in his closet, and I snuck in to send you this message.  Do not respond.  I’ll be deleting it as soon as it’s sent.  I’ll delete both of yours too if he hasn’t seen them yet.  Tonight was fun.  Get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow. 

From Butters:  I really did have a great time tonight… Looks like it’ll be a while before our next one.  

From Butters:  I’ll miss you.

Kenny didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or clench his teeth in frustration.  It was all so confusing and unfair. 

He stared at his messages from Butters all night (or morning, as it were).  Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he read and re-read the message over and over until his vision went blurry.  It was almost 4:00 when he finally couldn’t memorize it anymore, and regretfully pressed delete over the night’s conversation thread.  

His head was throbbing.  Kenny closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep, without much luck.  By the time he needed to get up for school, Kenny felt like he hadn’t slept in days.  He suspected Butters must be feeling about the same way right now.  Poor Butters.  Poor Kenny.  Pobrecito.           

Chapter Text

POV - Karen

“Ugh, dammit!  They don’t match!”  Karen threw her eyeliner pen against her carpet in frustration and watched the shiny, black ink tattoo the dingy, white nylon.  It didn’t matter, it would just join all the other tarnished stains that the McCormicks could never seem to get out of their house.

Karen sighed and picked it back up.  She tried once again to attempt to add a not-lumpy wing, to at least give the illusion of smoothing out this morning’s lazy line job.   

She glared at Ruby through the mirror, who seemed to be doing just fine filling in her water line since she’d smartly abandoned the cat-eye look completely and focused on rounding out her bottom lashes instead.  Karen wished she had big, blue, baby-doll eyes like Ruby.  Instead she had smaller, almond-shaped, hazel eyes that were really nothing special.  Her mother always told her she had the prettiest eyes in the family, but Karen never believed it.  Maybe if she could get this fucking eyeliner right…       

And it looks like a croissant.  Good.  That’s sexy.  Men prefer lumpy croissant eyes to sharp and dangerous cat eyes any day. 

“Where’s Henrietta when you need her?”  Karen grumbled as she grabbed a makeup wipe to start again.     

“I think she’s with the boys tonight,”  Ruby drawled lazily from Karen’s right, as they sat criss-crossed on the floor in front of the full-length, closet mirror. 

Karen’s line came out rounded again.  She grunted in frustration.  “Ugh!  Why is this so hard?"  She was just so nervous! 

Before school today, Ike had walked up to her and told her she looked pretty.  Actually, what he really said was she looked ‘nice’, but it was still a compliment nonetheless, and not necessarily one she was expecting, nor one she felt deserving of.  

Then at lunch, the goths left to smoke, leaving just the three of them at the table.  Then Ruby left to go to the bathroom and that left Karen and Ike alone to stare at each other awkwardly.  ‘Uh, Karen?’  He’d cleared his throat and sat up straightly, like what he was about to say was the most important thing anybody’s ever said.  ‘Will you want to come to the debate team dinner with me tonight?’  It wasn’t the most structurally sound sentence in the world, but it was sweet nonetheless.  Karen had answered cooly and casually, not even comprehending the conversation she’d just had.  Ike had been nervous, because he knew he meant it as a real date… and it was that realization that would later melt Karen down into her own puddle of nervous wreck — now with only 30 minutes to spare before Craig came to pick them up for Bebe’s house!

“Ah!  I hate this!”  Karen laughed disbelievingly, as she reached for her most recently discarded makeup wipe to make use of an unsullied corner.  

“Just take the other one off.”  Ruby suggested as she applied lip gloss and gave herself an approving wink in the mirror.  

“I like the other one, it’s just this eye that’s a problem.”  Karen took a comical deep breath and chanted positive mantras about straight lines and no streaks — much to Ruby’s uproarious amusement — as she prepared to tackle winged eyeliner once again.   

“Then just use your other hand.”  She suggested innocently.  Karen stared at Ruby like she’d just grown three heads.  “Or I’ll do it.”  She laughed. 

Karen handed the pen over to Ruby and turned to face her.  She wasn’t usually so uptight about things, especially not the way she looked.  But this was technically her first real date.  Not only that, but it was happening in a room full of people who were also all bringing dates to the same event.  It was nerve-racking!  She couldn’t even begin to fathom the amount of stress she was already stressing about before anything stressful had even stressed her out yet!  

You can’t blame her, Karen had never gotten attention from a boy before, let alone one she had always considered as a friend.  She wasn’t tall and slender, with Rapunzel hair and tan skin like Ruby was.  She’d never gotten half as much attention as Ruby had in her life!  And yet, somehow, she had actually charmed Ike.  He’d apparently had a crush on her all these years!  She must have accidentally put him under a spell of some kind and forgotten about it.  Yeah.  That seemed to be the most reasonable explanation to Karen.     

“There!  That looks acceptable!”  Ruby cheered.   

“I’ll take it.”  Karen smiled thankfully as she turned to look in the mirror.  “That actually looks really good!  My eyes match!”  She laughed lightly.  

“That’s because I’m left-handed.”  Ruby sang as she waved the eyeliner like a magic wand.  

“That’s the trick then: from now on, we finish each other’s cat eyes.”  Karen declared with a smile.  She held out her pinky for their secret handshake. 

“Deal.”  Ruby agreed.  She wrapped her pinky around Karen’s, and they made three circles with their joined hands, then slapped the backs of their hands together.  It was a silly thing they’d made up when they were five, but it had never failed to make each of them smile.  

“Come on, Craig’s gonna be here in 20 minutes and I still don’t know what I want to wear.”  Ruby jumped up and strolled over to her duffle bag, stuffed to the brim with at least seven possible outfit options for both Karen and herself to choose from.  

Ruby ended up going with a black, t-shirt dress and a long pendant necklace.  She had lent Karen a pretty, taupe wrap-dress with a ribbon-cinched waist and short, ribbon-trimmed sleeves.  Ruby brought out a couple of bobby pins to tuck some of Karen’s hair back away from her eyes.  She, quote: ‘didn’t want [her] flawless eyeliner work hidden by enormous curtains of hair.’  Karen had disagreed at first, but they'd compromised by pulling two slender tendrils of hair above her ears out from in front of the half-up look.  

The girls checked themselves in the mirror before they left.  

Karen thought Ruby looked like a bombshell, with long legs on display and her long hair parted off to the side to show off her slender neck.  The high top sneakers she was wearing only served to make her outfit look cooler.    

And Karen… whoa.  She barely recognized herself!  For a rare moment in her life, Karen actually thought she looked …beautiful.  Her smile only grew larger the longer she scrutinized her polished reflection.  

“Craig’s here.”  Ruby called as she grabbed her purse from her duffle bag and headed out the door.  

“Oh, wait!”  Karen spun around, about to leave, when she remembered something.  

Karen got down on her hands and knees, and dug in the back of her closet for a tiny, white capped Tic-Tacs box, with flower doodles penned into the top.  She opened the top and carefully tipped two, petite emerald earrings into her palm.  She smiled down at them, replaying precious memories of that special birthday behind her shining eyes.

She kissed the earrings in her palm, then worked quickly to switch out the cheap metal Kenny had pierced her with, to replace it with the sparkling sentiment.  She squeezed the backs of each one carefully, making sure they were tight.     

“We’re leaving!”  Karen called to no one in particular.  Kenny was gone, Kevin was nowhere to be found, and her dad was (hopefully) at his new job.

“Wait!  Wait!  Let me see!”  Carol’s voice fluttered over from the kitchen as she threw down her dish rag and quickly glided over to her daughter.  The graceful movement only further reminded Karen of the person her mother must have left behind to become the trash of the town she was known as now.  She’d heard stories — of how Carol had turned her back on her family and walked away from her old life of privilege and desire for an existence of want and necessity.  She’d also heard that it was more like committing to Stewart out of convenience and laziness for an addiction and a baby bump.  It depended on who you asked.  

Carol grabbed Karen’s hands and looked her over.  “Gorgeous.”  She praised.  Karen blushed and tried to shake off her mom.  

“I have to go.”  She whined as she turned to leave. 

“Oh!”  Carol gasped.  Karen turned around to see her mother’s shaking hand covering her sadly smiling mouth.  Tears filled her eyes as she pointed to Karen’s ears.  “The earrings.”  She tilted her head, lost in thought and memories of a time that never existed.  “You’re wearing the earrings.”  

Karen smiled.  “Yes, mom.  Thank you, I’m… I’m wearing the earrings.” 

“Beautiful.”  Carol admired as she grabbed Karen’s face to plant a kiss on her forehead.  “Now, go get him.”  She winked. 

“Mom,” Karen feigned annoyance, while simultaneously trying to hide her blush, “I’m just going to a student-run dinner.”

“I know.”  Carol tipped her chin up and smiled playfully at her daughter, “go get him.”  

Karen rolled her eyes and pretended she wasn’t smiling, herself.  “Bye, Mom.”  Carol nodded and waved on her way back into the kitchen.  She was wearing what appeared to be an Olive Garden t-shirt.  Karen hoped it represented some kind of a new job she had been to earlier that day.  

Karen glanced at herself one more time in the yard-sale mirror by the door, and shrugged at herself.  ‘Go get him’, she thought as she piled into the back of Craig’s van.        

Chapter Text

 POV - Craig

“Fucking be nice today, Karen is nervous.”  Ruby scolded before she’d even set both feet inside the car.    

Craig chomped around his breath mint.  “Hello.  When am I ever not nice to Karen?”  

“Just be nice.”  She warned.  

“Ok.” 

They waited a good minute or three before they saw Karen’s tiny person bob her way down the front steps and up to the curb.  She waved at Craig as she half-jogged the two steps it took to grab the door handle.  She was a funny little nervous thing.  Craig decided he liked her.   

She opened the back door to sit with Ruby.  “Fun, Taxi driver.”  Craig commented sarcastically to the lack of person in his passenger seat.   

“Be nice.”  Ruby hissed. 

“I am.”  Craig shot back.  

“Hi Craig!”  Karen called excitedly from the back.  

“Hey.”  He half-smiled and nodded towards her reflection in the rearview mirror.  He figured that was nice enough.  He threw the car in drive and set on course for Bebe’s house.  

As they drove along, Craig half listened to the girls chattering on about boys — Kyle’s brother and some other kid whose name he didn’t recognize — and half listened to Jimmy Eat World lightly blaring through the speakers at the front of the car. 

“Don’t say that, why would you freak me out like that!”  The little one took a deep breath to calm herself down.  “No, Ike definitely said people were supposed to bring ‘dates’, so I doubt he doesn’t think this is supposed to be a date.  Don’t jinx it!”  She hissed as she smacked Ruby in the arm.  She may be tightly wound, but baby McCormick is a feisty one, that’s for sure.  

“Wait— Craig?  Why are you bringing your sister if it’s supposed to be dates?”  Ruby whined as if he had done something to embarrass her for all eternity.  Teenage Drama Queen…  

“I wouldn’t subject anybody to this kind of torture.”  He answered honestly.  “No offense.”  He added at the end.  

“Taken.”  She deadpanned noncommittally.  

“Why didn’t you ask Tweek?”  Karen piped up innocently from the back.  

Craig wrung his hands over the steering wheel in apprehension. 

It was always uncomfortable when he dissected his relationship with Tweek, but it was even more uncomfortable when someone else did it.  To the public eye, they had a perfectly normal, uncomfortably awkward, baby-steps type of relationship.  A real one.  To inside eyes like Token and Clyde, their relationship was undefined, stagnant, and riddled with unanswered questions.  Behind a certain pair of icy blue eyes, or a certain ocean green, it was complicated.  Confusing.  It almost felt fraudulent. 

Sure, they loved to touch and joke and hold each other, but nothing had ever been defined.  They’d never even kissed each other in any sort of proper way; that breathtaking way you see in the movies.  As Anne Hathaway would say, ‘a real foot-poppin’ kiss’.  Ugh, Craig could just roll his eyes at himself for even thinking that.  Maybe he really was gay… ok, nah, that’s an ignorant comparison.  He just really, really loved ‘The Princess Diaries’, okay?  Plus, maybe he was gay, and so what?  He wasn’t really sure, and he’d never felt the need to define it.  All he knew was, to others he was with Tweek.  But to himself, he was sort of lonely. 

He longed to hold someone, and kiss someone, and make them feel like they were his whole world.  It just so happened that the very person he thought of every time those deep, gnawing desperations reared their ugly heads had never even wanted to go to first base with him.  But that’s ok.  Maybe Tweek just needed to wait.  For now, Craig was just happy being his friend.  His very-touchy friend.  His very-touchy friend with a very-giant crush on the twitchy boy with an easy blush.  Craig smiled to himself just thinking about him.  

Ok, so it wasn’t the relationship everyone thought it was, but it was a start.

He suddenly realized, as Karen’s question hung in the air, that she was still waiting for him to answer. 

"Earth to Craig!"  Ruby called obnoxiously from the back. 

"What."  

"Karen asked you a question..."

"I... I was just wondering why Tweek isn't coming with us tonight..."  Karen sounded incredibly uncomfortable, 'rightfully so', Craig agreed.  

“Are you kidding?”  He chuckled, lightening the tension, "Tweek hates these things".  

Not debate, for clarification, just the schmoozing.  

Tweek actually loved cheering Craig on whenever he got the chance.  He’d come to competitions in the past, and he always got super pumped whenever Craig shot back with quick wit and a stream of smartly worded arguments.  The first time his friends had come, Clyde and Tweek had embarrassingly brought signs that read ‘CRAIG TUCKER, DON’T DEBATE THAT FUCKER!’  They held them up and cheered silently anytime he took the podium, while Token slouched in his chair and pretended he didn’t know them.  Eventually, they were asked to leave and Tweek flipped off the opposing team as Clyde whooped and hollered ‘go South Park!’ the whole time they were being escorted out.  It was epic.       

It was more so the arrogance of the whole ‘debate team dinner’ scene that Tweek wasn’t a huge fan of.  He hated acting stuck up for other people, but so did Craig.  In fact, if he hadn’t been a part of the team, he would never come to one of these things in a million years.  He was actually kind of disappointed Tweek wasn’t coming.  Yeah he would have sulked and scoffed all night, but it wasn’t like that’s not exactly what Craig would be doing too.  They could have done it together.  Romance and stuff.  Baby-steps...   

He was brought out of his second Tweek-ward spiral by Karen acknowledging his earlier explanation.  “Oh, ok.” 

“Wendy’s gonna kill you.”  Ruby mockingly sing-songed.   

“That’s the fu-un.”  He sang right back.

Craig didn’t know why he couldn’t get Tweek off his mind tonight, but his brain just kept jumping back to him.  Stupid brain, cool off.  

…Actually, speaking of Tweek… 

Craig made an abrupt left turn after he almost missed the road that takes him to Tweak Bros.  

“Where are we going?”  Ruby questioned skeptically.    

“I promised Tweek I’d drive him home.”  Craig explained. 

“So we’re gonna be late too?”  She scoffed as she served him all the attitude she had in her giant, skinny body.   

“Yep.” 

“So Bebe is also gonna kill you?”  She smiled as she folded her arms.   

“Yes.” 

“Ok then.”  She smirked as she looked out the window.  

“Why are we driving Tweek home?”  Karen wondered.  

“He doesn’t have a car.”  Craig answered.  

“Can’t he walk?”  Ruby shot back.  

“It’s dark.”  Craig explained as he shot her a glare.  

“So?”  She whispered with an eye-roll.  

“He gets nervous walking alone at night.”  He smiled.   “He could get kidnapped, he’s very pretty.” 

“But he’s a boxer!”  Ruby laughed, malice gone at the sight of her brother’s goofy grin.   

“He’s a pacifist.”  Craig explained, as if that made any sense. 

They pulled up to Tweak Bros. and Craig honked obnoxiously, despite the fact the Tweek was already outside, and already pushing off the coffee shop’s wall to walk towards the car.  He smacked the window lightly before pulling the door open.  

“Is something wrong with you?!”  He scolded as he slapped Craig’s hands off the still-beeping steering wheel.  Craig could see a smile dancing behind his eyes and pulling at the corner of his lips.  Craig felt his own face surrender to a smile as he threw the car in drive and peeled away from the curb.  

“Hey guys!”  Tweek smiled politely at the girls behind him as he buckled his seatbelt. 

“Hi.”  They greeted in unison, Karen a little more nicely than Ruby.  

Tweek turned to look at Craig, in his navy blue slacks set that he’d just so happen to find in exactly his size at a thrift store near his house.  His white shirt was accented with a white-spotted green tie and sort-of-matching plain green pocket square.  Those he had to shop for, but it was worth it because he looked fucking sharp, and he knew it.  Or, at least he hoped he knew it.  He self-consciously ran a hand through his hatless hair and turned to look at Tweek.  

“See something you like?”  He joked.  Tweek turned red and looked away from him. 

“Why do you all look so nice?”  Tweek addressed the whole car.  

“We have the—”

“Oh my god.”  Tweek interrupted Karen’s explanation as he turned to Craig accusingly.  Whoops.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  I would have walked!  The dinner is tonight?  Oh— Am I making you guys late?”  Karen said nothing as Ruby nodded, mischievous twinkle in her eye.  Craig threw his arm back over the arm rest to smack the air around Ruby somewhere.  “I’m sorry.”  Tweek apologized.  

“It’s no big deal, you were on the way.”  He tried to assure the socially nervous blond in his passenger seat.  

“Craig!”  Tweek whined as he covered his face with his hands.

“It’s fine, we’re fine, right Ruby?”  Karen growled at her friend with impressive threatening implication.  Go Karen.  

She blinked blankly at her a few times.  “We probably won’t be very late.”  Ruby reasoned emotionlessly.  

“I’m sorry.”  Tweek repeated again.  Craig placed his hand on his knee as if to say ‘it’s ok, Tweek.’  Given the way he froze up, Craig instantly second guessed every millisecond his hand still remained against Tweek’s bony knee and withdrew it quickly.  His heart pounded mercilessly as he mentally kicked himself for potentially crossing a line.  Thump thump ‘fuck’ thump thump.  He hated himself right now.  He bit his lip for the rest of the drive — which was luckily only another minute or two.  

As they pulled up in front of the Tweak house, Tweek warmly thanked Craig for the ride and wished the girls luck on ‘putting up with Wendy all night’.  Craig snorted and Tweek giggled sweetly at the reaction.  They exchanged a look that even Craig wasn’t sure how to read, and suddenly… he was gone.             

“Alright.  Bye guys.”  Tweek turned his green eyes on Craig.  “Bye Craig,” he smiled.  Craig just watched, hypnotized, as Tweek rapidly left the car and jogged into his house without even so much as a brush to Craig’s shoulder.  It ached where he’d imagined it.  He sighed as he pulled away from Tweek’s house and rerouted to Bebe’s.                

“Aren’t… you guys dating?”  Karen asked carefully.  

“It’s best not to ask.”  Both siblings deadpanned simultaneously.  

Chapter Text

POV - Craig

“Ugh, she’s gonna hate me.  Let’s do this.”  Ruby shook her shoulders and flipped her hair as she stomped up Bebe’s front steps ahead of Craig.  She and Karen glared sympathetically at one another as Ruby grudgingly rang the doorbell.  It opened in an instant.  

“Wendy!  Hi, good to see you!”  Ruby cheered with fake enthusiasm as she went in for a hug and then pushed past her to get inside the house.  

“Hi Wendy.”  Karen waved and snuck past the judgmental glares Wendy was already shooting at her best friend.   

Craig was about to follow his sister into the house when a cold vice of fingers gripped themselves around his elbow.  

“Where’s Tweek?”  Wendy inquired politely.  Her smile looked fake and her head tilt looked hostile.  

“Didn’t wanna come.  Not his scene.”  Her expression stilled.  Craig hid the smile that crept up from his throat.  He could tell every word out of his mouth was pushing Wendy’s buttons, in the most neurotic way.  

“Your sister isn’t a date, Craig,” she whipped around to examine her surroundings and pulled Craig closer to her, “she’s wearing sneakers for Christ’s sake!”  She whispered urgently. 

“So am I.”  Craig smirked.  Wendy’s jaw dropped as she looked down and saw that yes, in fact Craig was wearing a very stylish pair of navy blue converse.  He mockingly popped his mouth into a shocked ‘o’ as he flipped her off and backed away from the door.  

He didn’t get completely out of her sight before in walked Kyle, in a really nice, light brown suit, with a dark green button up and a pair of trendy brown boat shoes.  His curly red hair was bobby pinned down on the sides to give the illusion of an actual, good haircut.  He didn’t look half bad.  He was fussing with his bangs a little when Wendy ambushed him. 

“And where is your date, Romeo?” 

He looked at her disgustedly, “Wendy, who would I even bring?” 

“Bring Annie!”  She folded her arms defiantly across her chest.  “She’s cute, she’s nice, and I suggested her to you when I told you to bring someone.”  

“Sorry to burst your perfect bubble Wendy, but I don’t even know Annie.  And I’m not gonna let you dictate whether I spend my night with my friends or with some girl who doesn’t even want to play this stuck-up charade.”  ‘Ooh, poetic words from Kyle.’

“She would be lucky to get an invitation to one of my parties!”  Wendy hissed, trying to keep her voice down.  

“Yes, great party Wendy.”  He clapped sarcastically.  “It’s the classic, uptight, bourgeois party of a bored housewife.”  ‘Ooh, ‘Bourgeois’, nice.’ 

Wendy was about to get in Kyle’s face when Token walked in the door.  

“Hey guys!  Sorry, Wendy, I came stag, hope that’s ok.”  

It wasn’t. 

“Does anybody understand what ‘formal dinner date’ means!”  Wendy huffed as she threw her arms in the air and walked away, leaving Token to awkwardly close the door behind himself.  

Craig pointed his thumb in her vanishing direction.  “You guys, she’s such a bad host, she just walked away from her dinner guests…”  Craig mused with a straight tone and a small smile.  He hoped she was in earshot.  She wasn’t, but at least it made the other two boys smile.    

“That’s Wendy.”  Token chuckled uncomfortably as he unwrapped his scarf and placed it in the closet with his London Fog peacoat.  Token looked by far the most casual of the group, but his outfit was most likely the most expensive.  He brushed his hands against his tailored dress jeans absently as he surveyed the room awkwardly.  “Am I underdressed?”  He asked, tugging at his wide-collar, black turtleneck sweater, folded down to reveal a white button down and a black tie underneath.  

“I’m wearing sneakers.”  Craig shrugged.  He turned away from his perfectionist friend and wandered into the kitchen.   

There were quite a bit of snacks lined up before the dinner would be served; various chips and dips, and a few cookies and brownies.  Plus a virgin sangria, which had to be by far the most sad thing in the house.  

“Hey.”  Craig nudged Ruby who was staring off into space somewhere, and offered the glass of punch in his hand.  “Drink every time Wendy does something to ruin her own party.” 

“No.”  She replied uninterestedly. 

“More fun for me.”  He mused.  

Craig took the time before the dinner-slash-beginning-of-the-year-stupid-fancy-meeting-time to survey the room.  

Karen had found her way over to Ike — he must be her date — and was now talking with him excitedly about something.  Token and Kyle were awkwardly bonding in the corner over being the only two guys who didn’t bring anyone.  Wendy was walking away from Stan in annoyance and he was rolling his eyes and strolling over to Kyle.  There was some other awkward kid who Craig didn’t really know, who was wearing all black, with his hair slicked back and pulled away from his face.  He seemed to be about as old as Ruby, but his face wasn’t really ringing any bells.    

Craig wandered his way into the dining room.  

There were place cards.  

Oh my god, there were place cards at the table.  Wendy took these things way too seriously…  *Drink*.  Craig took a moment to scan the table for his seat.  He was sitting near the head of the table, next to Stan and across from Red.  Bebe and Wendy sat the most to the front, with Wendy at the head, of course.  He noticed all the ‘newcomers’ and ‘potential recruits’ (as they were literally labeled underneath their names) were all lumped together at the end.  

Ike (newcomer) and Karen (guest) sat next to Kyle, while on the other side Ruby (guest) and Firkle (potential recruit) sat at the other end next to Token on Craig’s left.  At least Craig wouldn’t have to watch Ruby roll her eyes all night.  

Just for fun, Craig switched Wendy and Bebe’s place cards to see what would happen later.  He’d have to remember to be the first into the dining room.  

“Craig!”  He spun around and was engulfed in the warm and friendly arms of Bebe Stevens.  “Welcome to my house, glad you could make it!  Did you get any snacks?”  

Ah, Bebe.  The mom of all social situations.  She and Token should start a PTA. 

“Yeah, I got this… punch thing.”  He held up his biodegradable, paper cup. 

Bebe rolled her eyes, “Yeah, Wendy insisted that there be no alcohol tonight, not when there’s important meetings to be had.”  Craig nodded as took a sip of his *drink*. 

“Where is the Stepford Wife now?”  He asked loudly, to Bebe's horror.  Bebe looked around to see if anybody had heard him.  

“Don’t call her that!”  She whispered.  “But I think she’s talking to the new recruit.  When I came downstairs she yelled at me for leaving him alone, so talk to him if you can.” 

“Firkle.”  Craig kind of asked, what kind of a name is that? 

“Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be much for sticking around, but — you know how Wendy is graduating early so she's already in senior classes?” 

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting Wendy is half senior now.”  Craig had no idea why anybody in the world would want to put that much pressure on themselves.  The only other person he knew who was crazy enough to put themselves through that mess was Token, and he was barely holding it together these days.      

“Well, Wendy said he’s already in Poli Sci elective as a freshman because he tested out of the senior government class.  He’s like, wicked smart and apparently always arguing with the teacher and pulling up recent news articles and stuff so she invited him to come along.  I’m surprised he showed, but hopefully we can inspire him to stay.” 

“Then you better get him away from Wendy.”  Craig pointed towards the doorway. 

“Shit.  You’re right.”  Bebe spun around quickly and headed out the door.  Craig followed her back out into society. 

Wendy was in the kitchen fussing over dinner — which was really just unpacking to-go boxes — and Firkle was talking to Ruby in the corner of the room.  

Bebe straightened her back, flipped her hair behind her shoulders, and plastered on a genuine smile.  

“Hi!  I’m Bebe!”  She waved happily as she introduced herself with sparkling eyes and bubbly personality.  She nudged Craig with her elbow as the two walked up to the freshmen duo.  “This is Craig.”  

“Ruby’s my sister, she already knows me.”  Craig commented as Bebe turned her breathtaking smile on Ruby.  “You’re… Firkle, right?” 

“Yeah.”  The small boy answered, awkwardly gripping his punch cup tightly with both hands and looking between the older kids expectantly.  “Yes.”  He added seconds later, when the conversation hadn’t moved on.   

“Well, welcome to my house you guys!”  Bebe gestured around the room.  “Wendy’s hosting so it’s really all her party, but those are my embarrassing baby pictures on the wall.”  She joked with a toss of her curly hair.  

“Oh.”  Firkle offered with a bored expression.  “Were you like an ugly baby or something?”

Craig stared at him, trying really hard not to laugh inappropriately.  He and Ruby exchanged a silent look of amused shock.  

Firkle looked around wide-eyed, like he didn’t know what to do.

“It… was… supposed to be a joke.”  He admitted.  Bebe looked perplexed, then burst out laughing.

“Well I did have a terrible awkward phase in middle school so in a way, yes.”  She joked.  Firkle cracked a small smile, but it was gone moments later.  “So what do you think of the team so far?  I know we haven’t discussed any details yet, but how are you liking the vibe?” 

He shrugged.  “It’s a little military meets cheerleader.”  He answered honestly.  That was actually a pretty good description.  

“Oh, that’s Wendy’s fault.”  Bebe explained.  “If it were up to me it would be all military…”  Firkle blinked at her blankly.  “Kidding.”  She offered.  “That was my attempt at a joke.”  She giggled embarrassedly.  

Firkle smiled widely and tipped his head in a chuckle.  “That’s a good one.”  He muttered to himself.  

“Hey guys!”  Karen and Ike walked over and integrated themselves in the small group.  “Firkle, I like your hair, you look really nice!”  He awkwardly reached his hand up to touch it but said nothing to acknowledge her compliment.  

“So Ruby,”  Bebe turned to Craig’s sister, “I have to ask, where did you get that dress?  It’s so cute!”  

“Oh!”  Ruby flipped her lengthy, strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder and looked down at herself.  “I think I got it at H&M, actually.”  She tipped her head in her best impression of a popular girl.

“I love the necklace with it, that’s so cool.”  Ruby was pulled forward slightly as Bebe twirled the gold and turquoise pendant around in her palm.  “Don’t tell Wendy, but I hate this dress she picked out for me.  I’d much rather wear something fun and cute like what you and Karen are wearing.” 

Ruby laughed nervously and swallowed anxiously.  “Well, I like your dress.  I wish I had the guts…”  She admitted awkwardly.  Girls are weird.  

Bebe smoothed down her tight black dress with the criss-crossed, maroon, lace pattern on top as Karen agreed and commented how she only wished she could pull that off.  The girls chattered on happily while Craig, Ike, and Firkle stood around looking at each other awkwardly. 

...

“…Is that… new?”  Craig attempted, pointing at Ike’s baby pink tie. 

“No.”  He looked down at it.  He smoothed the silk down against his white, cotton button up.  Awkward pause.  “The pants are new,” Ike kicked a foot of tan slacks out in front of him to demonstrate. 

“Cool.”

…

“Hey, do you dye your hair?”  Firkle asked Craig blandly. 

“Uh… no.”

“Oh.”

…

Well, this was getting awkward fast...    

Just then, Bebe was ambushed as Red snuck up behind her and wrapped her arms around Bebe’s soft waist.  Bebe jumped and laughed out of surprise, claiming Red ‘scared the shit out of her’.

“Hey baby.”  Red greeted as she planted a kiss on Bebe’s cheek.  Bebe blushed and turned around to wrap Red in a hug. 

“You made it!”  She exclaimed before planting a quick kiss on her lips.  “You know everybody over there, and this is Firkle, he’s a new recruit, we’re trying to get him to join.” 

“Don’t!”  Red warned with a put-on voice and a comical laugh.  Firkle gave zero response to her bad joke.  

“And this is Kyle’s brother, Ike, and Kenny’s sister, Karen.”  Bebe gestured at the two and smiled at them adoringly.  Red waved politely.  

“And you know the Tuckers.”  

“Hey Red.”  Craig greeted her with a small hug.  Red was cool enough, but a little annoying.  Don’t get him wrong, Craig always ended up having fun with her, but she was one of those cousins that you always hoped wouldn’t show up to the family reunions.  Considering her dad was their dad’s only brother, it was a give-in that it wasn’t a reunion without her.

Ruby, on the other hand, really disliked their cousin.  She wasn’t mean to her or anything, she was just kind of annoying and bossy.  And being bossed around never goes over well with Ruby Tucker.  Red was a little older than Craig, by a few months at most, and always used that as her excuse to boss them around.  And since she was the boss, Ruby was always declared the prisoner, or the bartender, or some ancillary character in their games that didn’t require she really participate at all.  Red was nice at her core, but just a nuisance to those who grew up with her.           

“Craig Tucker without his hat!  That’s a first,”  Red mused, reaching forward to touch his exposed hair.   

“Haha yep.”  He laughed dryly as he dodged her hand.  God she was annoying.   

“What’s up toothpick?”  She joked in Ruby’s direction.  Ruby covered herself with her arms self consciously.  Karen’s eyebrows knitted together, as if deciding she didn’t much approve of the annoying redhead making her best friend feel self conscious.  Did Craig mention he liked Karen?  

“Rebecca.”  Ruby greeted, purposefully over-formal.  Red hated her real name.  The two rival Tuckers stared at each other judgmentally, no doubt tearing each other down separately, in their own heads.  

Bebe, oblivious to the tension, looked around and began, “Well, we’ll probably be eating soon—”

“Ok, LEAVE ME ALONE, WENDY!” 

Everything was disrupted as Kyle Broflovski’s voice pierced through the room.  Everyone turned to see Wendy staring at him in shock and Stan masking a straight face.  Token was wandering away from the tension, hoping to get as far from it as possible.  He slid up next to Craig and folded his arms uncomfortably. 

“What happened?”  Craig asked him in a whisper.  

“Wendy was bothering him about not bringing a date again, and then he got mad, and then she got mad, and then she asked him if he thought it hurt Stan’s public image always hanging around with someone who’s never had a girlfriend, ever.” 

“Ouch.”  Craig chuckled disbelievingly.  “‘Way harsh, Tai.’” 

“You hang out with Clyde too much.”  Token chuckled. 

“Shh, I’m watching the show.”  Craig smirked.  The two were both chuckling to themselves quietly when Craig felt Ruby smack him in the ribs, her eyes darting towards the argument, indicating ‘shut the fuck up, we’re trying to listen!’  *Drink*     

“I’m just saying!”  Wendy continued. 

“Well DON’T say.  I don’t care about anything Wendy Testaburger has to say about me.”  She rolled he eyes.  “You’re so lost in your own world you don’t live your life!  You’re a miserable, plastic mannequin of a person, and you make everyone around you miserable too!”  Kyle was very heated now.  Craig looked over at Ike, who was shaking his head embarrassedly and rubbing his temples furiously.  

“I am not!"  Wendy defended.  "I don’t do that, do I Stan?”  All eyes shifted to the brunette, who’s bored face suddenly sprung to life in panic.  

“I… I don’t wanna take sides.”  He offered clumsily. 

“It’s not taking sides, Stan,”  Wendy cocked her hip and folded her arms, “Just tell the truth.  I’m not some life sucking leach that makes people miserable, am I?”  Stan looked around the room frantically, searching for any way out.  Nobody could help him.  Finally, he sighed.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Wendy, you’re making everybody pretty miserable right now.”  

A small chorus of ‘ooh’s simmered their way around the room.  Craig had never seen so much joy on Firkle’s face in the whole hour he’s known the guy.  

Kyle stared at Stan intensely, a small smile creeping over his lips.  Stan tried to force his expression flat.  Wendy was LIVID. 

“FINE!”  She screamed.  “Then if you hate me sooooo much, why don’t you just leave?  Cool off, Kyle!  Maybe you should take a break from the team for a while.”  Wendy arched her eyebrows victoriously, as if she had him right where she wanted him.  

Kyle just laughed at her.  “You think you’re threatening me?  I would LOVE to get away from this Wendy-run cult.  It stopped being about debate the minute you stepped up as captain!” 

Her cockiness melted away, and was replaced with a shock and hurt.  “I’m not—”

“I’m done here!”  Wendy looked like she had just been slapped.  Kyle threw his arms up in the air and shrugged.  “I quit!”  Kyle turned towards Bebe.  “Thank you for hosting a wonderful party, I’m sorry I ruined it.” 

Wendy stepped towards him.  “Kyle—”

“And everybody else: it was fun hanging with you, maybe next year the team could be about debate again.  I’ll see you then.  And Ike,”  Kyle’s brother looked miserable, red-faced and mortified, “I’ll see you at home.”  

Firkle started clapping and whooping.  Craig heard Ruby clapping behind him a little bit as well.  Craig joined in with a few claps, earning him a disapproving head shake from Token.  

“Kyle!”  Everyone turned to see Stan Marsh standing in the middle of he room, halfway between his girlfriend and his best friend.  

“Stan.”  Kyle acknowledged politely.  Waiting, but not necessarily expectantly.  

“You’re not leaving, Stan!”  Wendy called shrilly from behind him.  He didn’t turn around.  He didn’t even flinch.  Instead, he sent Kyle a pleading look and shrugged his shoulders like there was nothing he could do.  

Kyle nodded coldly, and turned to walk out of the house.  “See you tomorrow, Stan.”  He muttered under his breath as the door closed behind him.  

The air was unmoving, the house was silent, and nobody dared move a muscle.  Slowly, all eyes migrated towards Stan, who was still standing in the middle of the room looking defeated.  Craig glanced at Wendy behind him.  

Her shoulders were squared, her head sat high above her shoulders, and the only indication that she was upset at all was the visible clench in her set jaw. 

Bebe took a step forward, wanting to comfort Wendy, but not sure if she should.  

“Well,”  Wendy announced, tossing her arms against her sides haphazardly.  “Who’s hungry for dinner?”  Slowly, everyone started wandering their way into the dining room.  

Craig watched as Wendy turned her back on the crowd and wiped her eyes hastily before gathering up trays of food.  Bebe scrambled over to help, resting a comforting hand against her friend’s shoulder.  It was not well received.  Wendy shrugged her off meanly and whispered something that appeared to be hostile, as Bebe woundedly grabbed another tray and followed Wendy into the dining room.  Suddenly Craig's little non-alcoholic drinking game didn't seem so fun anymore...   

The whole night was a disaster.  The void from Kyle’s empty seat seemed to reverberate around the room and the dark cloud above Stan’s head was so dark it was practically visible. 

Craig’s little place-card-switching prank had gone over like he expected, but now it just seemed unnecessary and mean.  Wendy glared at Bebe accusingly, pushed her out of her seat and switched the cards back.  Bebe shot Craig a knowing look and he apologized silently.  

Wendy painted on expressions of joy and lightness, but her voice was strained and tired.

"Does everybody have what they need?"  Wendy scanned the table for guests in need of a perfect host.  

"I don't have a napkin..."  Ruby admitted.  

Firkle loudly jumped up from the table and audibly smacked his knee against the vintage wooden dining set, on his quest to quickly snatch the one from in front of Kyle's seat and hand it to Ruby.

Wendy silently protested the fuss, while everybody else watched in amusement.  

Without saying a word, he held it out to her with a jerky motion, face expressionless.   

"Oh... thanks... Firkle's got it!"  Ruby announced with a stifled laugh.  

Bebe caught Craig's eye and wiggled her eyebrows at him inquisitively.  He shrugged his shoulders and looked down the table at Ruby, who was also smiling at Bebe and mouthing 'I don't know' in response to her own suggestively questioning look.  

"Great."  Wendy rolled her eyes.  "Let's get started."

As Wendy spoke about the various sushi rolls and appetizers laid out on the table, Craig heard Ruby grab Token's attention.  

"Pass this down to Craig."  She whispered.  Token inhaled sharply, then cleared his throat curtly to cover it up.

"Craig."  He tapped him on the shoulder.  Token snorted as he placed something white into Craig's hand.  

It was Ruby's original napkin.

Craig spit his water all over himself, choking in laughter while Token and Ruby struggled to hold their composures next to him.

Wendy glowered at him from the head of the table.  

"Sorry."  An uncharacteristically high pitched laughed escaped his throat and he felt Token stomp his foot in hysterics while trying really hard to suppress howling laughter beside him.  "Sorry," Craig cleared his throat.  "Really... funny text."  He chuckled one more time before taking a deep breath and covering his mouth to stifle any residual giggles.  

"No phones."  Wendy glared at him before sitting down.

"Yes ma'am."  Craig muttered.   

“Ok,”  She clapped from her place at the head of the table.  “Welcome to the first meeting and formal dinner of the Debate Team this year!”  Everybody clapped.  Wendy smiled self-indulgently.  “I’m pleased to announce that our first debate with our rival schools has been set!  October 3rd, at 6pm we will participate in our first ‘away game’, as Stan cutely calls them”, Stan gave a half-hearted smile of acknowledgment, “at North Park High!”

Across the table, Bebe’s fork clattered noisily against her plate.

Craig looked up at her and saw her face blanch and her expression frozen.  

“You good?”  Wendy asked her, slightly annoyed that she’d interrupted her big announcement. 

“You ok, babe?”  Red asked her lightly, rubbing her arm gently.  

Bebe cleared her throat, “Yeah, just choked a little, that’s all.”  She told them.  

They don’t know. 

Bebe glanced at Craig and he held her gaze.  ‘You ok?’ He asked her with a small gesture of his head.  She smiled at him lightly and nodded.  She took another bite of sushi and that was that.   

Dinner was awkward.  Everybody faked their way through the meeting and everybody left uncomfortable.  The only one who seemed to be relishing in the awkwardness was Firkle, as he and Ruby kept making cynical comments to each other under their breath.  It was at the end of the night, when Wendy was serving tea and coffee that everything went to shit all over again.  

“Oh, well, Stan and I just love that movie, don’t we Stan?”  Wendy asked sweetly as she rubbed Stan’s arm, mostly to get his attention again since he’d zoned out of the conversation for the millionth time.

“No, Wendy, you like that movie.”  He corrected as he pushed her hand off of his arm.

“What?”  She questioned, face frozen in Stepford stone. 

“You like that movie.  I hate it.”  He corrected as he stepped away from her again.

“Stan,” she warned with strategic manipulation, “you’re stressing everybody out.” 

“What?”  He looked at her incredulously, “My God, Wendy!  Kyle’s right, you are seriously delusional.”  The facade cracked.  Her face fell.  Wendy was fuming instantly as she stepped towards Stan and grabbed him tightly by his elbow.  

“Why are you acting like this?”  She hissed. 

“Because it’s true!”  He shook her off.  “You’re so wrapped up in yourself that you never think about other people.  What you said to Kyle today was really shitty, and honestly, Wendy, it was kind of a wakeup call for me.”

“Wakeup call?”  She scoffed.  “What do you mean?”  Her voice was innocent, but her eyes were fuming.  

“We’re done.”  Stan said plainly.  He shrugged apologetically and turned to walk out the door.  

"What!"  She was clearly angry now.  

"You're always saying how you want me to fight for you," he continued, as he turned around to face her again, "and fight for us because if I didn't, it meant I didn't care.  Well you're right."  Stan's voice went from harsh and aggravated to dangerously apathetic.  "I don't care, Wendy."  She dropped her hands to her sides in defeat.  "So here I am now, fighting for the end of us.  Enjoy the show."  Stan whipped around and stomped his way to the front door for a second time.   

“Stan, wait!”  Wendy called, tears glistening over her eyes.  She desperately followed him up to the front door.  

“Not again…”  Bebe groaned and rested her elbow on the counter exhaustedly.  

“I’m sorry, Wendy.”  Stan placed a hand on her shoulder.  “We’re done.  Forever.  Goodbye.” 

“Stan!”  She called as he opened the door.  Her voice was cracking, it was clear she was near tears.  Craig was having a hard time hearing her now as she pleaded with him over and over again.  'Stan, Stan, please!' 

“We can’t work this out, Wendy, it’s over.”  Craig heard him say. 

Wendy picked a nearby book off the coffee table near the entry way and hurled it at his head.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"  He screamed as he backed away from her.   

“This is your LAST CHANCE, STAN MARSH!"  She stepped closer to him, shoving him and screaming in his face.  “If you walk out out this door we’re finished!” 

“...Yep.”  Was all he said before he turned and walked out of her life forever.  

The crowd was stunned.  Seven teenagers stood frozen, eyes on the trembling girl in the doorway, unable to move or say anything.  They were all shocked at what they'd witnessed, though it wasn't necessarily unusual for Stan and Wendy to blow up like this.  Everybody saw this coming, especially with their on-again off-again record.  If this really was it, it was probably for the best.  

But that still didn’t change the fact that Wendy was now leaning against the door frame, crying, and even Bebe’s comforting words didn’t seem to be helping.  

“Ok guys, I think the party is over.”  Token announced gently as he rounded everyone up and out of the house.  “Thanks for having us over, Bebe.”  He nodded with a smile.  Wendy had already excused herself to the bathroom, and was no where to be found.  

Bebe hugged everyone goodbye, and apologized as she shut the door behind them.  

“Wow, that was a shit show.”  Firkle announced once they were clear of the house.  The others nodded in agreement.  

“Who needs a ride?”  Token asked the group.

Firkle wordlessly walked straight for Token’s car, which was obviously the nicest one in the driveway.

“I got the rest.”  Craig told him.  “Goodnight, man.” 

“‘Night.”  Token pulled Craig into a one-armed hug, and the teens walked off to their separate cars.  

The ride to Ike’s house was silent, save for the little Broflovski occasionally piping up to engage Karen in conversation.  When they got to his house, he politely bid everyone goodnight individually, and thanked Craig for the ride.  After asking permission, he sweetly kissed Karen on the cheek before exiting the car.  Karen blushed and smiled.  Ruby cheered.  It was cute.  

Craig conveniently neglected to point out Stan Marsh, letting himself into the Broflovski household just moments before.    

Chapter Text

POV - Kyle

Chapter Text

POV - Ruby

“Goodnight!” 

"'Night!"  Craig waited outside until the girls had safely made it inside the house.  Ruby waved her brother off, indicating that it was safe for him to leave.  He threw up a casual salute and sped off in the direction of home.  'This is a residential neighborhood', Ruby thought to herself, rolling her eyes as she closed the door.    

As they stepped into the living room, the girls realized they were not alone in the dark, messy house.  

Kenny was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, holding himself worriedly and chewing his thumbnail.  He was staring dazedly in the direction of a phone on the coffee table in front of him, eyes wide and unfocused.  He didn’t seem to notice them come in.  

“Ken, you ok?”  Karen asked her brother carefully.  

Kenny blinked.  “Yeah.”  He responded with an unreadable expression; eyes unmoving, still chewing on his nail. 

His foot started tapping rapidly.  “…Are you sure?”  Ruby questioned with concern.

Kenny sprang to life and jumped up from the couch.  He smiled at them thinly.  “Yeah.  Good night!”  He grabbed his phone off the coffee table, clicked the home screen, frowned, and walked off to his room.  

“He worries me.”  Karen half-joked as the two girls stared after him.  

“Do you think it’s girl troubles?”  Ruby asked, attempting to lighten the mood. 

“No.”  Karen replied matter-of-factly.  Whatever was bothering Kenny, there was a 95% chance that Karen had already figured it out by now.  

The front door opened, and the sounds of rustling grocery bags grabbed their attention.

“Hi, baby.”  Carol McCormick floated over to her daughter to give her a kiss on the top of her head.  “Ruby!  Hi, sweetie!”  Carol had to rise up on her tippy toes to kiss the side of Ruby’s temple and smooth down her hair.  

“Hey, momster.”  Ruby greeted.  Carol laughed lightheartedly.  

It had started as a joke, back when Karen and Ruby were kids, but the affectionate nickname warmed Mrs. McCormick’s heart and softened her tired eyes, so Ruby stuck with it.  The joke went: Carol was like a second mom to Ruby, but Ruby already had a mom, and regular ‘mom names’ were so boring.  Therefore: Carol’s new name would be ‘momster'.  'Like a monster that loves you!’.  Originally, Carol had pushed for something nicer like ‘mama’ or even ‘ma’, but the fact that she seemed to hate it only made Ruby love it more.  She and Karen had run around the house chanting ‘Momster!  Momster!  Momster!’ over and over again until they were all laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.  Now Mrs. McCormick wouldn’t stand to be addressed any other way.  The word had transformed into a cherished memory, so I guess it’s gotta stick.       

“I just got off the phone with your mom,” Carol continued as she unpacked, “she says ‘don’t stay up too late because it’s a school night’.”  It had been a fight to acquire permission to sleep at Karen’s at all on a Wednesday, but it helped that Carol and Laura were friends.  They had grown up together.  Laura was there when Carol had gotten unexpectedly pregnant with Kevin, and Carol was there was Laura’s mom died.  They had a history, and a bond that no amount of unforeseen tragedy or cancelled plans could distance.  They still went out jogging with each other once a week and gossiped about their kids’ and husbands’ lives.  Ruby imagined that would be her and Karen one day, only without certain minor details.  Jogging is for hamsters.  

“I got some snacks, in case you girls weren’t ready to go to bed just yet.”  Carol explained as she unpacked a can of Pringles, a store-brand bag of gummy worms, and a 12-pack of iced tea. 

“It’s like 10:30,”  Karen pointed out.  

“I know, but Walmart is open 24 hours.”  Carol reasoned.  Karen frowned at her mother skeptically.  “Besides,” the young mom popped open the gummy worms and settled daintily into the couch, “I want to hear about how tonight went.”

Karen groaned as Ruby’s smile grew mischievously wide.  

“Karen got a kiss tonight!”  Ruby blurted out, criss-crossing her legs under herself as she took a seat next to Carol on the couch.

“She did?!”  Carol swiveled her head to smile at her daughter disbelievingly. 

“Yup.”  Ruby confirmed, grabbing a handful of gummy worms as she did so.  “On the cheek.  Like a gentleman,”  Ruby clarified.  She looked across the room at her friend, who was begging her with a look that said ‘stop talking, oh my god’.  Ruby smirked, “He asked her if he could, it was so sweet.” 

“Oh my!”  Carol rested a hand over her chest and swooned dramatically.  Karen was not amused.  “Who is this lovely boy?”  

Karen had gone from waving her arms dramatically in a ‘no!’ motion, to now tackling Ruby to cover her mouth.  

“Ike!”  Ruby blurted from behind Karen’s hand. 

“This is so embarrassing!”  The smaller teen whined, covering her face with both of her hands.  Karen reminded Ruby a lot of Tweek sometimes.  

“Oh, Shiela’s boy!  Oh, how nice, he’s a nice boy!”  Carol complimented.  

“Yes!  Ok, he’s nice, can we please stop talking about it now?!”  Karen shot back with a glare at her mom.   

“Ok, fine.  I won’t bother you.”  Carol conceded calmly, if not also a little sadly.

“Thank you.”  Karen hugged her apologetically, already feeling bad for yelling at her mom.  

“Just tell me how this thing progresses, ok?”  Carol smiled.  Karen nodded, and Ruby gave a far more enthusiastic thumbs up behind Karen’s back.  Carol said good night and sauntered off to her bedroom, leaving the gummy worms on the table for her girls.  

Stewart came home moments later, and his greeting was much more simple.  He told Karen all about his new job and asked if she had a fun night, since he’d heard she had ‘some party or other’.  She confirmed that she had, and didn’t offer much more information than that.  

Everybody said goodnight, and the girls headed to Karen’s room.     

“I still can’t believe Ike kissed you tonight.”  Ruby schmoozed dramatically from across the room as she wiped off her makeup.  

“Does really it count as a kiss if it’s on the cheek?”  Karen wondered, failing to hide her blush as she took out her earrings in front of the mirror.  

“It counts even more because it was freakin’ adorable!”  Ruby exclaimed excitedly.

Karen spun around with a small smirk.  “It was kinda sweet, huh?”  She admitted with a grin.  

“Yes!”  Ruby threw a nearby pillow at Karen, hoping to knock some sense into that pretty little head of hers.  

Karen ducked.  “Rude!”  She scolded disingenuously, not one ounce of anger in that giggling body.  

Ruby flipped off her friend and Karen did the same.  “Seriously, Kare, it really was adorable.”  Ruby found herself somewhat lost in a daydream as she spoke.  “I don’t know if I’ll ever have something like that.  But I hope so… one day.”

“You will, Ruby.  You’ll see.”  Karen beamed with certainty.  

Ruby wasn't so sure...       

“So, you and Firkle appeared to be having fun together,”  Karen commented as she squeezed into her queen-sized bed, “you seemed to be the only reason he wasn’t wallowing in self pity all night.” 

“Yeah,”  Ruby continued, “he told me he didn’t want to come but Henrietta made him.  She said it was good for him to socialize.  How freakin’ cute is that?  I don’t think he’ll be joining the team after this, though.” 

Karen giggled.  “He really is adorable.” 

“Yeah.”  Ruby agreed.

“Do you think he likes you?”  Karen smirked.  

Ruby shrugged her shoulders as best as she could while lying down, "I think so. He tends to pay attention to me a lot."

"With the napkin…" Karen grinned.

"Oh my god, the napkin!" Ruby cackled.  Both girls broke out into fits of laughter.  "I feel so bad," Ruby panted, "I had my original napkin the whole time!"

"And when you sent it down the table to Craig?  His reaction made my night!” Karen wheezed.

"I thought Token was gonna pee his pants!"  Ruby was laughing so hard her stomach hurt.  It didn't help when Karen compared jokes to jazzercise and added in a few sit-ups for comedic effect.    

Eventually the laughter died down, both girls still chuckling as they calmed down.  "So funny..."  Karen giggled as she wiped her eyes.   

"Yeah…" Ruby hiccuped, "Kind of a disaster otherwise, though, huh?"  She winced, thinking about it.

“Yep.”  Karen grimaced.  “I feel so bad for Wendy!”  

“Me too… I would be so embarrassed if my personal drama was broadcast in a public setting like that.” 

“Yeah.”  Karen nodded solemnly.  "I hope she's ok."  

Ruby agreed.  

“...Anyway,”  Karen flipped the subject with a grin, “we’ve established that Firkle likes you, but what do you think about him?”  Karen propped herself up on her elbows in patient anticipation.  

Ruby felt her face fall.  “Oh… I don’t know…” 

“Come on!”  Karen pleaded, “tell me!”

“I… I don’t know what to say…”  She really didn't...

“Why not?  You said it yourself, he’s cute.  And he’s sweet, and he’s pretty funny, and you can’t tell me ‘funny’ isn’t exactly your type, plus…”  Karen continued to list all the reasons why Ruby should and would fall head-over-heels for the dorky boy with the black hair.  Ruby could only hear white noise whooshing through her ears.  Karen’s voice was wobbly and distorted, words barely registering at all as Ruby ran around in her own head.

“Karen, I lied to you.”  Ruby blurted out before she could stop herself.   

Karen blinked at Ruby, shocked, but willing to listen.  “Ok...” 

The pressure building in Ruby’s chest was too much, she felt like she couldn’t breathe.  She was doing this… was she really doing this?  Tears started to well in her eyes as she stared her best friend in the face. 

“Ruby, what is it?”  Karen scooched closer, and lowered her voice in anticipation.  “You can tell me.”  Ruby closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  

“Don’t hate me.”  Ruby whispered desperately.  

“I’d never hate—”

"—I don't like boys..."  Ruby spoke over Karen, who was now looking at her quizzically.  'No, no, no, no...'

"...W-what does—"

“I’m gay.”

Karen stopped mid-sentence, and the silence was deafening.  Ruby’s eyes widened as her heart beat painfully against her chest.  Oh no, ‘What did I just do?!’ 

Visions of her lifelong best friend, the only friend who ever understood her — getting angry, kicking her out, never speaking to her again, or worse: hating her, being disgusted by her — flickered across the young girl’s mind.  It made her wish she didn’t notice how audibly Karen’s breath had hitched.  Ruby’s hand flew to her mouth in a vain attempt to take back what had already been said.  Unspoken words lingered in the air as Karen blinked at her surprisedly; her soft hazel gaze suddenly feeling prying and intrusive.  Ruby flinched and shifted her focus to the floral patterns strewn across her pillow. 

“Saysomething.”  Ruby begged, refusing to look Karen in the eyes. 

“I’m just… surprised," Ruby couldn't read her expression, "you never hinted about anything before…” 

“I didn’t want anyone to know…”  She admitted, dutifully picking up where Karen’s voice had trailed off — her whisper barely audible in the silence.  Ruby winced as tears stung the corners of her eyes.  She picked at her nails apprehensively with shaking hands.  Waiting was the worst part… Ruby could do nothing else but lay there quietly, screaming at herself in her own head, while Karen processed this new information.  

The littler one tilted her head curiously, “But… why not?”  She wondered sweetly.  

Ruby rolled her eyes as a tear escaped and landed on her pillow.  She hoped Karen didn’t see.  

“Because…”  Why was she hiding this major part of herself?  “…Because I just didn’t want to worry anyone…  I didn’t want to stress anyone out and I didn’t want anyone to think any less of me… that it was weird, or whatever…” 

“Ruby, I would never think that.” Karen McCormick’s steady voice strongly shouldered the unease that had been weighing so heavily against Ruby’s shaking vocal cords.  Ruby released a tense breath that she was tired of holding, as she listened to that reassuring voice, “I don’t think anybody who loves you would care.”

“I don’t know.”  Ruby mumbled.

“I do.”  Karen assured with a smile.  Her certainty broke Ruby's heart even more than the words she was about to say.      

“My dad would care...”

Karen looked at Ruby sympathetically, patiently waiting for her to continue.  

Ruby lowed her gaze once again to focus on the comforting floral patterns below eye level.  

“When Craig first started hanging around Tweek, my dad made all these comments under his breath to my mom and me that were pretty judgmental.  When they started dating — or hooking up, or whatever the fuck — my dad lost his shit.  Saying: ‘what did I do wrong?’, ‘What did I do to make my son like this?’, ‘Why did this have to ‘happen' to my son?’, like it was some horrible curse.  It was upsetting!  Craig was so hurt, and it started a huge fight with my mom… I just remember the look he gave Craig: like he pitied him… I don’t know what I would do if my dad ever looked at me like that…”  Ruby’s voice cracked, eyes finally meeting Karen’s warm, hazel ones as tears began streaming down her aching face.  Karen reached out and held Ruby’s hand comfortingly.  It made the trembling girl jump.  She hadn’t really prepared for this, though she had lie awake many nights praying for this outcome: ‘Nothing had changed’.  After years of worrying, and putting it off, Karen genuinely didn't give a fuck.  The redhead stared down at her steadying hand.  Ruby’s number one fear was that Karen would not treat her the same way: that it would suddenly be weird when they touched or that Karen would be afraid to ‘give the wrong impression'.  

But Karen was fearless, and Ruby was still the same Ruby she always was.

There was no prejudice, and there were no conditions.

Their love was too strong.   

They would be ok.  

That did it.  

Ruby broke down, shaking, sweating, and sobbing uncontrollably.  Her best friend in the whole world accepted her unconditionally.  It was so freeing to be able to admit that she felt like she’d been lying by omission all these years...  And yet, in the dark corners of her mind, Ruby was not convinced she could not count on her own father to treat her the same way once he knew...  The man who’s supposed to love her more than any other man on Earth ever could, was not guaranteed to acknowlege her once she shared who she really was.  She wondered if he would even see her the same way as he did before...  It was scary.   

“Ruby…” Karen consoled.  She gestured for Ruby to sit up, and Karen wrapped her best friend in a secure hug.  Ruby's violent sobs sent tremors through Karen's little body, but she only held on tighter.  “I don’t think anyone, in my family or yours, will love you any less once you tell them.”  She promised.  

“What if they do?”  Ruby whispered, petrified, as she did her best to wipe her face from around Karen’s shoulder.      

“I’ll kick their asses.”  Karen stated matter-of-factly.  Ruby smiled and sat back on her heels.  Karen brushed a delicate finger against Ruby's hot cheek to wipe at the continuous cascade of tears pouring out of Ruby’s eyes.  “And your dad has accepted Craig and Tweek now, right?” 

Ruby sniffled.  “Oh, my dad may love Tweek more than his own son.”  She joked with a laugh.  “I just don’t think I can handle the period of judgement that could come before acceptance.  I can't break his heart.”  Ruby’s voice cracked again.  “He still calls me his little girl.”  She chuckled through tears. 

“Exactly!”  Karen gestured excitedly.  “You’re his little girl, he will love you no matter what.  He may have even softened up by now because of Craig.  I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about.”  Ruby thought about it.  ‘Karen does have a point…’ 

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense…”  Ruby hiccuped as she wiped her nose. 

“Yeah!  And my family is so liberal they won’t care who you’re with, as long as she treats you right.”  ‘She’.  Karen was already using ‘she’.  Ruby beamed.   

“Ok.”  Ruby smiled.  “Thanks, Kare.”  They hugged once more as Ruby attempted to calm her shaking breaths.

"Wow."  Ruby chuckled breathlessly as she fanned her face, sore eyes now spilling over with relief.  Karen sniffled as she tried to contain herself.  “I didn’t even mean to do this today.”  Ruby laughed through hiccups as she wiped her face. 

Karen laughed as her eyes instantly filled with tears.  Two empathetic souls in sync.  They were really something special.   

“Love you.”  Karen held out her pinky, tilting her head as tears fell.  Ruby smiled. 

“Love you too, Kare Bear.”  Ruby would never lose her best friend, or their dumb secret handshake.  

“So…” Karen mused, dabbing at her eyes dramatically as her head hit the pillow, “anything else to tell me?  Specific names, perhaps?”  She prodded with an ever-growing smile.  Sometimes Karen was the spitting image of her mother.  Now, quietly gossiping about prospective romance, was one of those times.    

Ruby’s smile, however, faded rapidly as one face in particular emerged, unsolicited, into her imagination.  

“Are you kidding?”  She scoffed, quickly saving face, “None of the girls in our grade are worth my time.”  Ruby flipped her hair for emphasis, making Karen roll her eyes jokingly.  “Maybe there will be a glow-up in a few years and I’ll start there.  For now I just kinda wanna stay in the closet a little longer.  Maybe I’ll try dating a few guys, see what’s so fun about that.”

Karen frowned, “No, Ruby, I don’t think that’s how that works—”

“No, I kind of want to.  I mean, Firkle’s fun.  He’s pretty attractive in an objective way.  We already have fun together, and I know he already has a crush on me.  Could be a good cover.  Maybe it will be fun to hang out with him alone, who knows.  Hey, maybe I’m bi.” 

“No, Ruby, don’t lie to yourself, if you don’t want to come out then just be single—”

“Don’t stress about it Karen, I’m not.”  Ruby looked at her skeptical friend pointedly.  “If I end up having fun hooking up with Firkle that’s fine, but I don’t want to waste my time waiting around.  I’ll experiment.”  She joked. 

Karen’s frowned deepened.  “Don’t put yourself in situations that will make you uncomfortable…”  She warned. 

"I won't." Ruby promised.

Karen looked at her skeptically. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Ruby confirmed. "I promise I will not let my heart get broken." Any more than it has…

"Protect yourself." Karen warned gravely.

"I will."

"Don't play with his heart either."  She commanded. 

"I won't!"

Karen pursed her lips as her eyebrows furrowed.

"I promise."  Ruby added.

Karen still looked at her suspiciously...

Ruby checked the clock.  It was now midnight.  “We should go to bed, we have school tomorrow.  Just… don’t tell anyone, please… I’m not ready yet.”  She confessed, eyes focused on a slow-drying spot where a tear had landed on her pillow.

Karen sighed and nodded.  “I promise.  And if you want to date Firkle as a cover, I won’t stop you… unless he hurts you, then I’m kicking his ass.”  And she was serious too.  Karen was the best. 

Ruby bid her goodnight again, rolled over, and closed her eyes.  

Sleep did not come easy that night for Ruby.  She kept replaying tonight’s scenes over and over in her head, grateful that she had someone like Karen on her side.  She kept dreaming up scenarios of confronting her family: how Craig would make some Star Wars joke about welcoming her to ‘the gay side’, how Tweek would embrace her with words of encouragement, and how her mom would just be happy for her one way or another.  It was when she dreamt of her dad that a million scenarios played out in her head; some beautiful, some horrifying.  If she was going to get any rest tonight, she had to put these fickle predictions behind her, and focus on the present.  

As her blue eyes fluttered closed, Ruby’s daydreams were taken over by fantasies of a warm embrace:  one with curly hair, honest eyes, and a welcoming smile with a tiny mole above her lip.              

Chapter Text

POV - Bebe

“Yeah, no duh, Bebe, I know how to put two ingredients into a glass, thanks.”  Wendy snapped, drunkenly struggling to open a new carton of orange juice.

“Maybe, she should stop, she’s had like four drinks.”  Red tried to whisper without Wendy hearing.  

“I haven’t had enough!”  Wendy yelled back, screech echoing through the house.  Bebe was lucky her parents were out of town this week.  Again. 

Bebe sighed and flipped the carton to show Wendy the easy-pull tab, rather than let her destroy a whole new carton of juice by opening it the wrong way.   

“I can do it.”  She mumbled.  “I’m an independent woman, now.”  She raised her voice.  “I don’t need… Stan to open this carton of juice.”  She pulled the tab too hard, tipping the full carton slightly, and spilling some all over the table and herself.  

“Why do bad things always happen to me?!”  Wendy whined as she slumped to the floor in a heaping mess of tears and liquor.     

“Wendy,” Bebe began cautiously, “why don’t we switch to water for a little bit, huh?”

“I hate water!  It’s boring!”  Wendy whined, throwing her body in the beginnings of a tantrum any child would be jealous of.

“How about some soda then?”  Bebe sighed as she attempted to bring the drunken brat to her feet. 

“But we finished all the vodka sodas!”  She began. 

“Not vodka soda, Wendy, just soda.”  Bebe shot Red an exhausted look, sympathized by the redhead with a shrug and a glance at the clock.  “We have some Coke left.”  She offered.  

“Bring me an iced tea!”  Wendy demanded.  Jesus Christ, Bebe thought there would never be a worse drunk in the world than a heartbroken Wendy Testaburger.  Whatever will get her to cheer up…

“Ok, sweetie, coming right up…”  Wendy grabbed Bebe by the shoulders and shouted in her face.

“Long Island!”  Wendy screamed at the top of her lungs.  ‘Right in my fucking ear!’    

“Ow!  No, Wendy!  Be quiet!  Now, no more alcohol do you understand?  We are going to get you some juice, and some tea, and then we are going to bed.  Remember you have school tomorrow?” 

Wendy’s face instantly scrunched up into an ugly, contorted expression of pain.  “Stan goes to our school!”   

Bebe tried to ignore Red’s aggravated ‘oh my god!’ as she threw her hands up in the air and walked away into the living room. 

“I know, Wendy,”  Bebe worked to smooth Wendy’s hair down, seeing as it had frizzed up all over the place after flailing her body against the kitchen cabinets.  “Let’s just get you some yummy juice, and go upstairs.” 

“Only if it’s a screwdriver.”  Wendy pouted. 

“Ok.”  She won’t be able to tell the difference at this point anyway.  Bebe filled a glass mostly with water, and topped it off with the o.j.  “Here.”  She thrust the glass at Wendy as gently as her patience would allow her.  

Wendy took one sip and turned her nose up at it, thrusting it back towards Bebe .  “It tastes weird.”  The brunette complained, steady voice dripping with privilege.  All tears had dissipated, and she was back to her usual prissy self.

“That’s because I put too much vodka.”  Bebe lied.  Wendy inspected her drink closely, scanning the container with narrow yes and scrunched nose.  Upon deciding she liked what she saw, the brunette shrugged and chugged the entire glass in one gulp before wordlessly shoving it into Bebe’s hands and strolling out of the kitchen without another sound.  Drunk Wendy was the worst. 

“Ok, Wendy, you’ll sleep here.”  Bebe laid out pillows and blankets across the chaise lounge in the corner of her room.  

“Where’s my drink?”  Wendy wondered, looking at her empty hand worriedly.  

“I can bring one upstairs, if you promise to go to sleep.”  Bebe bargained.  Wendy nodded, eyes already drifting closed as she was standing up.  Bebe guided her to the makeshift bed and went downstairs to fetch Wendy a big glass of water for the morning.  On second thought, she should really lock up the rest of her parents’ liquor too in case a certain someone snuck downstairs later — she really didn’t want to be holding Wendy’s hair back tomorrow morning over the toilet.

“Hey.”  

“Oh!”  Red’s voice startled Bebe.  

She spun around quickly, covering her fast-beating heart with her hand as she laughed.  

“You scared me!”  She panted.              

“Sorry.”  Red smirked her lopsided grin as she stepped closer.  “I thought maybe you needed some help cleaning up after Hurricane Wendy.”  Red leaned against the wall as she pointed towards the mess on the counter.  

“I got it.”  Bebe smiled sweetly.  Honestly she was just gonna leave it until the morning, but it probably was best to clean it up now.  Bebe stepped forward to reach for the paper towels near Red, but the chivalrous redhead got there first, awkwardly knocking the whole thing over as she ripped a sheet off for Bebe.  

“M’lady.”  She nerdily held the quilted square out dramatically for her girlfriend.  

“Ha— You appear to be a little tipsy too.”  Bebe chuckled, taking the towel and walking over to the spilled juice on the counter.  She heard Red’s footsteps follow behind her.  

“Well, we didn't let Wendy drink all by herself, after all.”  Red drawled lazily in Bebe’s ear as she wrapped her arms around the blonde affectionately.  

“That's true.”  Bebe giggled.  She turned around to face her girlfriend, and slinked her arms around the back of her neck.  “I guess I’m feeling a little loose myself.”  She purred, leaning in as she spoke.  

Bebe pressed her open mouth against Red’s soft lips in a deep kiss.  She felt pale hands grip her waist as she leaned lazily against the counter top.  Bebe skimmed her fingertips across Red's collarbone and down the middle of her chest as Red's hands shimmied up Bebe's ribcage.  She grasped fabric between her fingers and tugged the other girl towards her, hips pressing gradually against Red's the closer she stepped.  Red's fingers glided gently across the soft skin of Bebe's neck, the blonde's heart racing dangerously as she did so.  Bebe became distracted as the sound of Wendy's phone ringing pierced the silence of the house.  Upon remembering they were not alone, Bebe reluctantly realized they should probably stop…  Bebe held her girlfriend at a safe distance as she stepped back to admire her: red hair was tucked hastily behind her adorably giant ears, and her freckled face was flushed and grinning. 

God, she was beautiful.   

Bebe swallowed, what was her point again?  Oh yeah...  

“Wendy’s upstairs.”  Bebe breathed as she stepped closer, contradicting words she’d already forgotten she’d said.  Red shrugged and apologized with a lopsided smile, the one that she knew Bebe couldn’t resist.  Unfair...  Bebe sighed and dropped her arm.  ‘Come here’ she mouthed as she beckoned Red forward with a smirk.  They walked towards each other, meeting with a crash as their lips entwined, pressing their bodies closer with every step until they were flush against each other, the countertop digging into Bebe’s lower back.  She didn’t care. 

Red moved her lips down to Bebe’s neck.  Bebe moaned quietly as she ran her fingers through Red’s fiery mane.  Red dragged her tongue along the sensitive skin between Bebe’s collarbone and neck, and sucked at the raw skin greedily.  It made Bebe’s eyes roll back in her head until… something about it made her uneasy.  She tried to push it out of her head. 

Slowly, Red’s hands slinked down across Bebe’s back.  She felt Red smirk against her skin as her hands drifted around her body. 

*fingers unbuttoning, fabric sliding, a gruff voice in her ear* 

Vivid images flashed through Bebe’s mind as she felt Red’s hands slide lower…

*Panic, fear, rough hands gripped painfully around her wrists—*

“STOP!”  Bebe screamed as she pushed against Red’s chest, sending her flying back against the island behind her.  

“I’m sorry!”  Red apologized instantly.

The girls stared at each other, faces flushed, hearts racing, not moving and not saying a word.  Distance and confusion growing rapidly with every word that remained unsaid.  

Silence filled the room — the only sound was the steady ticking of the clock, and Bebe’s heartbeat in her ears.   

“It’s just… too fast.”  Bebe explained breathlessly. 

“Ok… ”  Red bit ner lip nervously.  Bebe could practically see the worst case scenarios Red was imagining in her worried head.    

“It's not you...”  Bebe stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her girlfriend’s neck.  She twirled red hair between her fingers as she spoke.  “I just… I don’t want to move too fast…”  She flinched with guilt. 

“I know.”  Red cooed, fingers brushing against Bebe’s jaw gently.  “I’m sorry.”  She repeated.  

“It’s not your fault…” Bebe answered honestly.

She stared into Red’s icy blue eyes and nearly melted at their softness and understanding.    

Bebe closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Red’s.  Red sighed and traced her fingers up and down Bebe’s arms soothingly.  They stood like that, unmoving, content in the innocence of this intense intimacy for what felt like hours.  Bebe brushed Red’s hair behind her broad shoulder, and cupped her freckled face in her hand.  Red leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering in anticipation.  Bebe leaned in slowly with a careful, deliberate kiss, lingering gently against Red's tender lips with delicate softness.  A barely-there touch; insect wings on flower petals. 

Bebe pulled back, “We should get some sleep.”

Red’s head nodded wordlessly as her arms fell limply against her sides.  Bebe grabbed the redhead by the hand, and guided her upstairs.  

Bebe placed a glass of water on the nightstand next to the chaise lounge, and bid Wendy goodnight.  

“Bebe?”  Wendy slurred, eyes closed, reaching out for the blonde girl in the darkness.

“Yes?”  

The heartbroken girl kept waving her hands, silently asking for something vague, and getting agitated in the process.  

“What is it?”  The Bebe whispered, inching closer to the inebriated mess as Wendy kept waving her over.  She wondered if maybe Wendy just wanted to thank her for the water, or for taking care of her tonight.

Nope.  Wendy’s eyes popped open and her eyebrows furrowed. “You guys aren’t gonna do it in here, with me in the room tonight, right?”  She rambled with a judgmental glare.

Bebe sighed.  “No, Wendy.  Go to sleep.”  She started to walk away.  “Maybe you’ll be tolerable in the morning.”  She muttered quietly. 

“Yeah, maybe…”  Wendy agreed absently, before rolling over, already snoring, and drooling on the spare pillow.  

“No, Bebe, there’s no way.  Draco had the dark mark, the end, that’s all, there was no bite mark.”

“No, the movie added that in, the books never once mentioned a mark specifically, so if you’re just going by book standards, yes, the theory makes sense.” 

“Explain it again.”  

The girls whispered and chatted as they brushed their teeth and gathered extra pillows from the hallway linen closet to get settled in for the night.  

By the time Bebe had convinced Red of her Harry Potter-werewolf-conspiracy theory, they were standing at the edge of Bebe’s bed. 

Bebe's hands fidgeted with the pillow awkwardly. 

“What is it?”  Red questioned, tone flat, lips quirking in a smile.  

“Do you… well, do you want to sleep in the bed with me?  Or is that too much pressure… I can sleep on the couch downstairs if you want me too… or you could sleep with me.”  As Bebe spoke, Red stepped forward, one foot in front of the other, until they were nose to nose.  

“What do you want to do?”  She almost dared Bebe, a small twinkle in her blue eyes.  

Bebe thought about it.  

Was it weird sharing a bed with a girl you’ve only been dating a few weeks, a month at most, and never really touched beyond kissing?  Maybe.   

Did she care? 

No. 

Bebe smirked back.  

“We can share the bed.”  Bebe lilted shyly as Red stepped back and opened her mouth in mock surprise.  Bebe nodded theatrically as she giggled, playing along with Red's little game.  That was one thing that really drew Red to Bebe, she turned everything into an opportunity to laugh; she made everyday life not quite so heavy.  Qualities Bebe had been afraid age and anguish would have tarnished from her own personality, she was rediscovering pieces of every day with Red.  

Bebe grabbed the redhead by the waist and pulled her over to the bed.    

“Luckily your parents are out of town, or you would be in so much trouble.”  Red joked. 

“Pfft.  Yeah, you think?”  Bebe rolled her eyes as she sat facing Red, logs criss-crossed in front of her.    

“I’d have to crawl in through your window.”  Red mused with a smirk, mirroring Bebe and crossing her legs the same way.  

“Only a couple weekends a month.”  Bebe reasoned. 

Red’s face smoothed out into a look of concern.  

“Wait, how often to they leave you alone in this giant house?”  She wondered incredulously. 

Bebe shrugged.  “Whenever they feel like it.”  At least that seemed to be their pattern.  “My dad retired early last year so they’ve kinda been exploring the world together with all the money made at his old company.  Apparently his pension is, like, really good, or whatever.”  

“Wow.”  Red nodded, wide eyed.  “Lucky him.  Do they take you a lot?”  She wondered. 

“No, usually it’s just the two of them.  Especially now that school’s started I probably won’t be going anywhere with them until at least Christmas, assuming they don’t move to Morocco and leave me behind.”  Bebe joked dryly.  

“Must be kinda cool having the house to yourself so often.”  Red mused.  

“Honestly, I hate sleeping here alone, it freaks me out.”  Bebe admitted.   

“Why?”  Red questioned.  

“I don’t know.  Burglars.  Ghosts.  That sort of thing.” 

“Those are two very different things.”  Red pointed out.  

“Whatever, it’s all scary, and I’m glad I don’t have to sleep alone tonight.”  Bebe nudged Red with her foot.  

“Me too.”  Red beamed.  

Bebe kissed Red goodnight, and lay her head down on the pillow.   

“Um…”  Red mumbled something under her breath.  

“What?”  Bebe rolled over and smiled up at her.  Sometimes she wondered if her own smile was even half as radiant as the finest spec of twinkle in Red’s icy eyes.   

“Can I hold you?”  Red asked gently.  

Bebe intertwined their fingers and pulled Red’s arm across her body as she rolled over.  Red scooted closer and buried her face in Bebe’s hair.  

“Goodnight.”  She whispered sweetly, heart-stopping smile audible in her gentle voice.  

Bebe smiled and held Red’s hand close to her chest.

“Goodnight.”  

The last thing Bebe remembered before she fell asleep, was the feeling of Red’s lips pressing gently against her bare shoulder.  

She had to have only been asleep for an hour or so before her eyes rolled back in her head, and visions of a maleficent kind clouded her subconscious like a dark storm. 

She was back at that party.  In North Park.  The one Wendy had begged her not to go to alone.  She figured she would hang with the small South Park crowd that was going, or maybe even meet some new people and hang out with them.  

She did shots with Clyde, chugged a beer with Stan, and beat Kenny at beer pong.  She even met some North Park girls on the dance floor who seemed pretty cool.

She had just been spinning around, jumping carelessly to the beat of the music when she slammed into the chest of a nearby boy, an older boy.  He smiled at her.  She smiled at him.  

“Care to dance?”  He grinned. 

She nodded.  

They danced. 

They drank.  

His friends kept handing her shots.  

She drank. 

They danced. 

He mixed her a drink.  

She drank.  

She fell down. 

She couldn’t walk. 

He whispered in her ear.  He grabbed her hand.        

He carried her upstairs.

He lay her on the bed.  He turned out the light.  She lay her head on the pillow. 

…And she was out moments later.

She woke up to the unmistakable rustle of buckles and zippers shifting around on top of her.       

Realization dawned on her as her ringing ears picked up whispering in the darkness above her: she wasn’t alone in this dark and dismal room.  Horror washed over her as she felt a hand graze over her exposed stomach.

“Um.”  She mumbled as she tried politely to push this boy off of her. 

“Shhhh, don’t be scared.”  He cooed with delicacy.  “I’ll be gentle.”  He chuckled  “I ‘member I was scared my first time too.”  He slurred, nearly falling on top of her.

“I—”  Bebe pushed against him as he dove at her lips.  “L-let’s go downstairs and dance again… I wanna dance!”  She lied.

He chuckled playfully, “Well don’t freak out on me now, you’re the one who followed me up here.”  But…what?  No…  

“But I didn’t—”

“Hey, hey.”  He ran his fingers lightly across Bebe’s cheek.  She shuddered, sickened by the spoiled innocence of this simple gesture.  

“You’ll like it, I promise.  Just relax.”  He drooled drunkenly as he dove at her neck.   Bebe felt her fingernails curl against the sweaty shirt clinging to his back.     

"Wait!" 

‘This isn’t happening’.    

‘This isn’t happening!’

'What do I do?!  WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!'   

Bebe lay panicked in stunned silence until she felt his hands skim low across her hips. 

Fuck politeness. 

Bebe fought back.  

She protested.  She said ‘no’, she begged him to stop.  She pushed, she kicked, she wiggled as much as her exhausted body would allow her.  But he was bigger than her, and he was stronger — and he had had much less to drink than her.  Logically, she knew she needed to keep fighting, and part of her still wanted to, but part of her had helplessly given up — remembering horror stories of tales she’d always distanced from herself so dismissively.  

'That will never be me...’

Bebe sobbed, choking on her naiveté, innocence bitterly strangled by the sweaty sheets now clutched tightly between her trembling fingers.

He grabbed her wrists painfully and pinned her down.   “Just relax.”   He hissed.   His knuckles whitened as his vice grip squeezed her harder and harder.   She could feel his nails digging into her, as he panted in her ear; she could feel her own nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists tightly.   Bebe’s vision blurred and she could have sworn the walls were closing in on her; as the dark room began shrinking, the world became an agonizing nightmare she knew she could not wake up from.

Bebe started calling — to anyone — as loudly as her frail vocal chords would allow.  She called for Kenny, she called for Stan… she realized with discouraged alarm that nobody would be able to hear her over the loud music blaring downstairs.  

Nobody would come for her.  

Bebe’s screams died down to whimpers as she felt fear stiffen her joints.  She kept feeling a salty, sweaty hand cover her mouth, muffling her cries until she felt like she couldn’t try any more.  She closed her eyes and grit her teeth.  Bebe fell silent, overcome with relief as she blacked out for a second time. 

Suddenly there was shouting: two male voices.  Bebe felt weightlessness overcome her as 180 lbs was ripped away from her sore body.  She was so relieved she started weeping.  

But relief quickly turned to dread once she processed what the second boy had said to the first:

“What are you doing, are you crazy?”  It wasn’t a friendly voice, it wasn’t even a familiar voice.  He was a stranger, they both were, and Bebe had never felt more like a stranger herself. 

“ We got to get you out of here, man, come on!  Look, she’s out cold, do you wanna get arrested?”

He wasn’t here to save her, no one was… 

That was it.  They were gone.  He had gotten away with it and Bebe would never even know his name…

Bebe opened her eyes as the door slammed shut, finally leaving her alone in the heavy darkness.         

Bebe curled up on her side and cried, her whimpers gradually exploding into agonizing screams as the door swung open once again.  Bebe squinted up into a blinding halo as the light from the hallway illuminated the figure of a gentle giant, one who rushed in a panic to kneel next to the side of the bed.  He cried silently as she told him what happened.   

Bebe thought she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“Bebe?”

Suddenly time had skipped again, she was safe.  She was sitting on the hood of Craig Tucker’s car, wrapped in a soft blanket, and sobbing against his shoulder as he held her shakily.      

He turned towards her to speak, but the voice was not completely his own.  

“Bebe!” 

“Red?”  Red’s voice swirled in the air her as Bebe’s vision started to go black.  

“Bebe, are you ok?”  The last thing Bebe saw before she woke up was the ceiling of that room again, the dizzying of alcohol again, and a black figure looming over her, grinning.  

“Bebe!” 

Bebe’s eyes shot open as she sat up in bed abruptly.  “What?  Wha— Um…”

“You were… whimpering in your sleep… I wanted to make sure everything was ok.”  Red’s face paled, knotted with concern.  

Bebe sighed, relieved, and panted as she wiped her sweaty forehead.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Just had a nightmare is all…”  She hoped her raspy voice conveyed more conviction than she felt.  

“Ok, it’s ok, you're ok now.”  Red consoled as she beckoned Bebe closer to her.  

Bebe collapsed against Red’s shoulder and tried to breathe deeply, focusing on the scent of green apple and mint toothpaste, rather than the gut wrenching nausea racking her shivering body.  Red rubbed Bebe’s back soothingly, as Bebe counted an even 8 seconds between each breath.  Finally, Bebe sat up straight and smiled at Red assuringly.     

“I’m ok, I was a little freaked out but I’m ok now.  Thanks, babe.”  Bebe kissed her girlfriend on her frowning forehead, and tried to ignore the worried look she was giving her. 

She’d tell Wendy and her eventually, but now was just not the time.   

Bebe rested her head against Red’s soft chest, and curled up against her tightly.  Red wrapped her arms around Bebe’s steady body, and mumbled “‘night, babe,” as she drifted off to sleep around her.  Bebe did not fall back asleep so easily; visions of what had transpired in her dream haunted her waking vision.  She could practically still see him in the corner of her eye everywhere she looked: lurking in the shadows, hovering over her, hurting her, as she tried to shut out the world and begged hopelessly to dream of something else.    

Tears pooled against the palm of Bebe’s hand, as she focused on the soft snoring accompanying the steady rise and fall of Red’s chest.  Bebe sobbed quietly, not making a sound, and not moving a muscle.  Bebe had learned to cry with a muzzle on, and a suit of spiked armor surrounding her body.  She cried herself to sleep, in the arms of someone who would never even know the difference.  She had put on a brave face, and swallowed her fears.  Bebe had done what she does best: survive.  

Chapter Text

POV - Wendy

Wendy was woken up by the sudden icy chill of Colorado air prickling her skin, as her blankets were ripped away from her suddenly.  

“Good morning, sunshine!  You look like hell.”  Bebe smirked as she crossed her arms over her chest.  Wendy glared up at her from where her face was half smooshed into the chaise lounge cushion.  “I brought you some Advil.”  Bebe grabbed Wendy’s hand and gingerly placed a small red pill into her sweaty palm.  Wendy’s unresponsive arm fell against the carpet with a thud as Bebe turned around to leave.  “Breakfast is in 15 minutes!”  Bebe called cheerfully as she bounced out of her room and down the stairs.

Wendy stared daggers at her retreating form until she could no longer see shiny hair bounce it’s way down the hallway.  She didn’t know how Bebe does it.  It was way too early to be this peppy, it was sick.  

Wendy supposed if Bebe hadn’t quit, she would have been head cheerleader this year, instead of Nichole Daniels.   

It was witnessing the horror of morning people like Bebe, in all their vomit-inducing cheerful glory, that reminded Wendy why she quit cheer in middle school.  She was far too serious to indulge in such childish airs.  

Wendy swung her legs over Bebe’s glorified couch, and pulled herself up, begrudgingly.  She winced audibly as a white hot pain shot through her skull.  Wendy pressed her hand against her throbbing head as she stared at the Advil in her other hand.  Thank god for Bebe…

Wendy shot the pill to the back of her throat and swallowed dryly.  It tasted bitter.  Wendy nearly threw up as she lunged at her water glass to urgently wash this taste out of her mouth.  

Wendy lowered the half drained glass and panted heavily.  Well, if she was gonna look like hell at least she felt like it too. 

Wendy shuffled her way past the mirror, carefully avoiding her own eye contact, and schlepped her way down the stairs to follow the scent of syrup and toast.  

Wendy walked into the kitchen to see Bebe (sort-of) slaving over a continuously growing pile of frozen waffles, and a slightly smaller stack of toast.  There was a carton of orange juice in the middle of the table next to the butter dish, butter knife, and syrup, and there were three, cute little place setting in front of three chairs complete with a fork, a knife, a triangle-folded napkin, and glasses with ice already in them.  Man, Bebe did not come to play with the breakfast game…

“Make sure you eat,” Bebe warned Wendy, “if you feel nauseous go slow but take in lots of carbs and drink lots of juice.”  Nurse Bebe was so annoying… 

“I’ve had a hangover before, Bebe.”  Wendy snapped with very little energy, and therefore much less attitude than she intended.  Even thinking too much hurt Wendy’s head.       

“Yes, but have you ever been able to get rid of it by lunch?”  Bebe gestured with a flourish as she placed the last waffle in the stack and brought the food plates to the table.  

Just then, Wendy’s brain rattlingly reverberated through her skull as some idiot let the front door slam closed with all its weight.  She turned to glare at the culprit, who was grinning happily, carrying the mail in one hand, and a tiny flower in the other.

“God, Bebe, you really are the best.”  Red chuckled breathlessly as she took in the spread.  

“It’s hangover food!”  Bebe cheered happily as she kissed Red on the cheek on her way to the table.  “How was your run?”  Bebe asked casually.  

“You ran this morning?”  Wendy scoffed, mouth full of food hanging open in disapproving disbelief.  

“I run every morning.”  Red answered with a shrug.  

“Weird.”  Wendy said, more to herself than to anyone else.  Bebe shot her a warning look and Red looked only slightly offended.  “Sorry.”  Wendy tacked on.  Bebe rolled her eyes.  Red just shrugged it off and walked over to place her offerings on the kitchen counter.         

“I got the mail, because I remember you said you forgot to get it yesterday.”  Bebe thanked her quietly.  “And I got this,” Red presented Bebe with the flower before carefully placing it in an empty shot glass and resting it down in the middle of the table, “just ‘cause.”  Red beamed with a dorky grin.  

“Babe!”  Bebe squealed.  Vom.  

“Shh!”  Wendy scolded.  “How are you guys so chipper this morning?”  She snapped.  If they had a secret, Wendy needed to learn ASAP.  

“Wends, we had significantly less to drink than you, and we’ve been up since 6:30.”  Bebe lightly patronized.  

“Don’t be a bitch.”  Wendy scoffed under her breath as she took a bite of toast.  

Bebe leaned forward.  “Stop being a nightmare and I’ll stop being a bitch.”  Bebe stared Wendy straight in her eyes, daring her to say more, as she rose to full alpha and put Wendy in her place.  Wendy knew she was being a nightmare, but only Bebe would have the guts to tell her so.  They got each other.  It was part of why they were so inseparable.  It was how they worked.

“Touché.”  Wendy muttered under her breath as she continued to eat.  

Once breakfast was over, Wendy and Red thanked Bebe for all her hard work before going upstairs to finish getting ready.  Red took over the guest bathroom, and Bebe welcomed Wendy to use anything she needed from her bathroom.  Seeing as how Wendy never planned on sleeping over, she hadn’t packed anything of her own.  

After much bartering with herself, her God, and Neutrogina, Wendy finally gathered the guts to look at herself in the mirror.

First things first, she had to take care of the lovely stripes of cried-off mascara that coated her cheeks.  She washed her face and removed the raccoon ring of old eyeliner that had somehow gotten all the way up into her eyebrows.  Her breath stunk, but she refused to borrow another person’s toothbrush.  Wendy decided three rounds of mouthwash would have to do for today.  She made use of Bebe’s massive arsenal of hair products, and borrowed some old mascara from her top drawer.  She snooped a little further and found a full collection, a plethora of makeup products, some barely used, some never even opened.  Wendy wondered why Bebe never really used this stuff anymore… 

She borrowed some blush to liven up her pale cheeks, and walked to the bedroom to get dressed.  She borrowed one of Bebe’s many pairs of fashionable sweatpants, and an old band t-shirt from middle school.  It wasn’t necessarily the cutest outfit in the world, but the Adidas were expensive, and the shirt was ripped in just the right way that an unsuspecting person would think she bought it — on purpose — from Urban Outfitters for $38.  Wendy threw on some newly white sneakers from Bebe’s closet, and cuffed the red pants to show them off.  She figured she looked pretty lazy-chic today; only Wendy could take what is essentially pajamas and make it look like a fashionable outfit.  She threw on a matching red headband and she was out the door.           

On their way into the building Wendy grabbed Bebe’s wrist. 

“Wait!”  Wendy took a deep breath in preparation for her impending vulnerability.  “Thank you.”  Wendy acknowledged gratefully.  

Bebe beamed genuinely.  “No problem, Wends.  You’re my best friend!  We always take care of each other.”  Bebe smiled at Wendy warmly.  It made Wendy smile, too.    

“I’m serious.”  Wendy insisted.  “For everything.  For the clothes, for breakfast, for letting me sleep over… for letting me talk about Stan,” Bebe snorted with laughter, “just… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”  Bebe whispered as the two girls hugged.  Wendy was really lucky to have a friend like Bebe, and the selfless blonde girl deserved to hear that sometimes.  

The bell rang and the girls departed for their first classes.    

At lunchtime, Wendy had an appointment with her guidance counselor.  It’s something that’s practically cemented into Wendy Testaburger’s file.  She’d never missed a beginning-of-the-semester meeting her entire high school career. 

Bebe told her she’d catch up with her later and walked to the cafeteria with Annie — leaving Wendy alone at her locker to gather her belongings, and attempt to block out the aggravating sounds of two buffoons making fools of themselves across the hall.  

“Stan.  Stan.” 

Wendy sighed as her ears picked up the hushed voices of Kyle Broflovski and Stan Marsh whispering about her, like they didn't think she would hear…  Looks like Wendy’s headache was about to get worse.  Such idiots…

“I have to go talk to her, Kyle!” 

“NO!”   

Wendy saw, out of the corner of her eye, Kyle grab Stan by the sleeve and yank him back into position from their spying corner of the lockers. 

“What happened to all that stuff you said last night?  About being done with her?” 

“How could I ever be done with Wendy?  She’s all I’ve known!  I feel so alone!”

“No.  Stop.  You are not reading her poetry.” 

Wendy heard the crinkling of paper as she imagined Stan balling up scribbled notebook paper and shoving it back in his pocket.  She pinched the bridge of her nose.  So infuriating… 

“Hey Wendy.”  She looked up and stared into sympathetic brown eyes. 

“Hi, Token.”  

“I just wanted to see how you were doing.  I’m sorry about what happened last night.  It almost seems worse that we were all there to witness it,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as Wendy waited for him to continue, “but since we were, I just wanted to offer my condolences and see if there’s anything I can do.”  Token smiled, concern visible on his handsome face.  She heard Stan make a small gasping/shrieking sound from across the way.  He must’ve noticed Token. 

“Well, Stan made his choice, and I’m not going back.  So yeah, I’m ok.  I’m fantastic.”  Wendy announced matter-of-factly.  Wendy tried not to smirk when she saw the mighty Stan practically fall to his knees, Kyle begging him to get back up and stop embarrassing himself.  

“Glad to hear that.”  Token’s perfect teeth shined brightly against his dark skin.  “Well I just wanted to make sure you were doing ok.”  Token rested his hand comfortingly against Wendy’s shoulder.  

“Ow, Stan!”  Wendy resisted the urge to look over and check on Kyle, who’s voice sounded muffled behind his hand.  Stupid, Stan… 

“Hey Wendy.”  Stan slid in between Token and herself, wincing as he banged into the lockers.  “How’re ya doing?”  He asked her as he attempted to lean casually against the metal walls and act like he didn’t just sprint into them.  

“I was just talking to Token.”  Wendy stretched out condescendingly.  Stan half-turned around to shoot token a nod.  Given Token is about a head taller than him, it became a very awkward head jerk in the tall boy’s direction instead.

“Oh yeah?  Cool, cool… so listen,” Stan lowered his voice in that sweet, seductive way Wendy always liked — only now it just sounded desperate, “I was wondering if you would be able to step outside with me for a minute and discuss what went down last night?  You know, I could apologize and all that…”  Stan raised his eyebrows in anticipation.  

Wendy shut her locker dangerously close to Stan’s face, he practically leapt into Token’s arms out of surprise. 

“No, thanks.”  She sighed disinterestedly.  “Token, wanna walk with me so we can discuss the logistics of running this afternoon’s meeting?”

“Um…”  Token looked uncomfortably between the severed couple, as Stan turned to glare at him not-very-threateningly.  “Sure, Wendy… You ok, Stan?”

Stan blinked at Token blankly before turning back to Wendy.  

“Please hear me out.”  He begged. 

“No, Stan.”  Wendy stood her ground.  The raven haired boy gaped at her in pained disbelief, like his heart had been ripped to a million pieces for the millionth time… where was that look last night when he embarrassed her in front of all their friends?  

“You said it yourself,” she crossed her arms defiantly at the memory, “‘we can’t work this out.’  It’s been one too many times and I don’t want to get back together with you just so we’ll break up again next week.  It’s over, Stan.  Goodbye.”

“Wendy…”. Stan began again.  

“I’m gonna be late for a meeting.”  She shot back. 

“With who?”  He questioned bitterly.

“My counselor.”  She spat, like he had any right to know anyway.  “Now get out of my way.”  She hissed as she pushed past him.   

“Wends!”  Stan grabbed her hand desperately as she turned to leave.  Wendy had never seen such urgent ambition and vulnerability on Stan Marsh’s face before.  Too bad it was just too late… 

Wendy turned to look at Token, who looked very calm and collected considering how awkward the situation was.  

She turned to look back at Stan again, face begging, eyes pleading, his outstretched hand still clutching her limp grasp in desperation.  Kyle had wandered over to him now, lip swollen where Stan must have accidentally hit him in his escape earlier.  She watched him carefully place a delicate hand on the stubborn boy’s shoulder, as he stared at him miserably.            

“Talk to me!”  Stan begged.  Wendy looked him square in the eye. 

“Talk to Kyle.”  She dismissed.

And she was gone.  

She turned around and walked away from Stan Marsh forever.  It felt good.  She was a free woman now!  She could date anybody she wants!  ‘Maybe even Token…’ she thought to herself as they walked down the hallway together.     

“Sorry about that.”  She breathed once they were out of Stan’s sight.  

“Yeah, that was rough.  I hope Stan’s gonna be ok.”  Token looked over his shoulder. 

“Don’t!”  She hissed, “Don’t look at him, make it look like we’re having a conversation.” 

“We are having a conversation…”  Token arched his brow in confusion.   

“Yeah!  That’s good!”  Wendy brushed a hand against his bicep.  Oh, correction: his strong bicep.   

He looked at her skeptically as she continued to admire his muscle.  

“Ok… so what did you want to talk about before today’s meeting?”  He shrugged her off gently.   

“What?  Oh, that… I just wanted Stan to see us walking away together.”  She admitted as she mentally compared her height to his.  She stood on her tippy toes slightly to imagine herself in heels next to him.     

Token raised his eyebrows.  “That seems kinda harsh, Wends…”   

Wendy rolled her eyes.  “Toke, don’t act like you don’t know how to play the game.” 

“I don’t.”  He insisted firmly.  

Wendy shrugged as they came upon the counseling office.  

“Well, anyway, this is my stop.  I’ll see you this afternoon.”  She waved him off, disinterestedly.        

Token waved politely.  “Ok, well, I’ll see you later, Wendy.  Glad to see you’re doing ok.”  He turned, shaking his head slightly as he walked away.  

Ok, so maybe not Token.  He was too goody-goody for Wendy anyway.  

Wendy tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned the door knob.  

“Wendy Testaburger?”  The receptionist called from her desk. 

“Yes?”  Wendy put down the book she was reading and stood up.  

“Your counselor is ready for you.”  Wendy smiled brightly as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and sauntered over to receive her praise. 

“Well, Wendy, these are some impressive marks!”  Ms. Bailey nodded as she scrolled through the screen, chewing on her pen absently as she did so.  

“Thanks, I know.”  Wendy beamed as she sat up straighter.

“I understand you’re shooting for valedictorian this year… you’ve certainly got the grades for it.”  Ms. Bailey nodded as she clicked through Wendy’s file.   

“Yes but, Ashley… may I call you Ashley?”  Wendy addressed the young woman across the desk.  

“Sure.”  She waved her hand, inviting Wendy to continue.

“Ashely,”  Wendy began, leaning forward to rest her folded hands neatly on top of the desk, “while valedictorian would be nice, and certainly something I intend to accept come my early graduation this spring, what I’m really focused on and interested in right now is college.  How do I get my foot in the door at the country’s most prestigious schools before applications are due in November?”  Wendy raised her eyebrows expectantly and rested her chin on her folded hands.

Ashely stared at Wendy carefully as she contemplated what to say next. 

“How… ambitious are these goals, Wendy?”  She asked delicately.  

“Ivy league.”  Wendy stated.  Ms. Bailey raised her eyebrows worriedly.  “Or really any good school in the country you think I’d have a shot at.”  Wendy added quickly to cover her tracks.  

“Ok.  Well, let’s take a look at everything.”  Ms. Bailey sat up straight as she clicked away on her little computer screen.  

Wendy’s back straightened at the sound.  

After a few minutes of ‘mmhmms’ and ‘okays’, the counselor finally addressed the tightly wound student in front of her.  

“Wendy, I’m going to be honest with you.”  Wendy’s heart sank.  “College is competitive—” 

“—I know that!”  She insisted nervously, “That’s why I’ve been working my butt off for 10 years!—”  Ashley raised her hand politely, motioning for Wendy to stop interrupting.  Wendy sunk back against her chair and bit her tongue as her brain soared a mile a minute.     

Ashley continued, “Wendy, college is competitive, and whether you know that or not there are certain things that colleges tend to look for that seem to be lacking from your current resume.”   

“No.”  Wendy felt like the sky had fallen.  “Like what?”  She snapped desperately.  

“Well, for instance, colleges want to see a well rounded student.  Your grades are excellent, you’ve covered all the core bases, and it is very impressive that you are able to graduate at an early age.”  Wendy relaxed, grinning smugly as she heard these impressive accolades recited back to her.  “But as a result of that, you’ve taken very few elective classes, and there are no after school activities you can put on your application.”

Wendy nearly facepalmed as she sunk low in her chair, ‘after school activities, of course!’    

Ashely continued, “Debate team is a really good step in the right direction, and it bodes really well for you that you made captain this year, but since it’s technically a “class”, and given the competitive nature of the schools of you’re choosing, I’m afraid it may not be enough.” 

“What do I need to do?”  Ashely jumped slightly as Wendy slammed both palms against the table over-enthusiastically.         

“Oh!  Well, why don’t we start with volunteer work?  You get a few places under your belt in a few months and colleges will see that you’re serious and ready to work hard and fast.” 

“Done.”  Wendy jumped out of her seat and threw open the door, ready to go do whatever needed to be done.  It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea where to start.  “Like what?”  She questioned as she spun around and dropped back into the chair.  

“Classic is a soup kitchen, homeless shelter, old folk’s home, something like that.”  Wendy turned her nose up at the sloppy suggestions.  “Or the local community college has a program I could refer you to that could get you in touch with some wonderful children’s programs in the area for music, sports, art, etc.  Maybe even tutoring, if you find the right program!”  Ugh.  Wendy doesn’t do children.  Ms. Bailey could clearly sense Wendy’s hesitation as she continued with her last suggestion, “Or you could try Hell’s Pass?  I know they’re always looking for Candy Stripers.” 

“They don’t do anything gross, do they?”  Wendy scrunched up her face as she pictured a disgusting rainbow of bedpans and colonoscopy bags.  

“No, I believe you’d just deliver meals, spend time with patients, read to them, things like that.”

“Hm… yeah, I could do that…”  Wendy considered. 

“That’s the spirit!  Now if you really wanna impress I would suggest volunteering at a few places simultaneously, but the most important thing would be that whatever you pick you must stick with — the last thing they want to see is an inability to commit.”

“Commit.  Got it.”  Wendy repeated to herself.  “Well,” she sighed gratefully, “I really do appreciate the help.  Glad to know I’m on the right path.”  Ashley nodded affirmatively.  “I’ll get started researching and applying for volunteer positions right away.  You’ve been so much help.  Thanks Ash.” 

“It’s just Ashley.”  The uncomfortable staff member corrected. 

“Ashley.”  Wendy nodded.  “I’ll see you.”  She promised as she strolled towards the door, at a much more relaxed pace than she had previously. 

“Yes, and keep me in the loop about how applications go as well!  This year’s college fair will feature a one-day resume writing workshop for SPH students in the Fall, I can get you the information next time I see you.” 

“That would be great, thanks!”  Wendy smiled thankfully as she opened the door.      

“And Wendy?” 

Wendy turned to look at Ms. Bailey.  

“When the time comes, I’d be more than happy to write a glowing letter of recommendation detailing your impressive work at South Park High.”

Pride swelled in her chest as visions of acceptance letters danced in her head.  

“Thanks, Ashley.”  Wendy smiled.      

Wendy strolled out of the counseling office feeling lighter than air.  Ashley’s hesitancy was concerning at first, but she was probably just being cautious.  Most likely she was concerned with the worst case scenario.  Those never troubled Wendy. 

She would work hard, make good choices, and when the time came she would cast a wide net.  

Wendy decided, with a bounce in her step, that her future was looking bright. 

Chapter Text

POV Clyde - get ready for a chain reaction

A bright piano, a steady rhythm and a snare drum.  

A faded radio announcement, an energizing crescendo, and happy, clapping hands.  

Clyde was woken up to the sweet sounds of a cheerful song.  The first one in his workout playlist, courtesy of Amazon Alexa and Spotify music.

‘Sun is shining in the sky, there ain’t a cloud in sight…’   

Clyde swung his feet over the bed and rubbed his sleepy eyes as ‘Mr. Blue Sky’ by ELO sang on in the background.  

He was about as grumpy in the mornings as any growing boy with sports fatigue and an overworked metabolism, but for what it was worth, Clyde preferred the peaceful stillness of an early morning; when the world was dark and quiet in a calm that could shatter like glass, Clyde could clear his head and meditate while his feet pounded steadily along the pavement underneath him.  

‘See how the sun shines brightly.  In the city, on the streets where once was pity Mr. Blue Sky is living here today-ay!’

Clyde yawned and stretched, tapping his foot along happily as he peed. 

‘Mr. Blue Sky please tell us why you had to hide for sooo long’ 

“So long!”  Clyde attempted in a gravely falsetto.  He cleared his throat to relieve the crack in his voice as he flushed the toilet.  

He stretched briefly before throwing on a sweatshirt, gloves, and a pair of shorts over warm jogging leggings.

He switched Alexa to his phone, and plugged in his earbuds — shutting out the world one plastic wire at a time.  

‘Hey you with the pretty face: welcome to the hu-man race!  A celebration, Mr. Blue Sky’s up there waiting and today is the day we’ve waited for-or!’    

Joyful lyrics about a perfect day continued to play on as Clyde jogged down the stairs and headed straight for the fridge.  

He grabbed his ankles and stretched his quads as he searched for his favorite banana protein shakes.  He placed one hand on his hip and lunged deeply as he sipped from the plastic bottle.    

Robotic voices from a vocoder sang through Clyde’s earbuds and prickled his skin in gooseflesh.  He was ready.  A chill bit his nose as he opened the front door.  He popped his hood up over is head and jogged down his front steps.  

‘Mr. Blue you did it right!  But soon comes Mr. Night, creepin’ over — now his hand is on your shoulder — never mind!  I’ll remember you this… I’ll remember you this way!’ 

Air pumped steadily in and out of Clyde’s nose and mouth, stinging his lungs in the most pleasant way as voices of an angelic choir electrified him, sending chilly goosebumps all over his bundled legs.  Or maybe that was just the cold.  

Strings — stretched out over a hard-hitting rock orchestra — floated above the pounding bass as Clyde pushed his pace faster and faster, no longer just warming up.  He waved to no one in particular as he passed his house again, looping his way around the first cluster of houses in his figure eight route.    

As he reached the crosswalk at the end of the block he checked his watch.  Time:  5:56.  Heart rate: 170 bpm.  Clyde smiled up at the rising sun, peeking up over the mountains in the distance, as the song came to a satisfying conclusion.  

Clyde cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, bouncing on his heels as he geared up for the first few notes of the next track.  He jumped in place to keep his blood flowing as he waited for the crosswalk light to change (he knew no one was out this early, but he always did it just in case).  Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he took off with a leaping start, raising the volume excitedly as ‘DNA’ by Kendrick Lamar lit a fire under his feet, bass beating him straight through the chest.     

Right on schedule, it was exactly 6:30 when Clyde had finally looped the long way back around to his front door.  He jumped and stretched in the cold air before wiping off his feet and entering the warm house.  He instantly felt his muscles relax, lunging his way across the house, one leg at a time into the kitchen for some water, which he gulped down gratefully.  He swiped a banana and rubbed his sore hamstrings as he schlepped his way up the stairs, being careful not to wake his dad.

Having showered and gotten himself ready, Clyde went over his hair with one more meticulous swipe of his hairbrush, that ended up leaving looking exactly the same.  Whatever.  It looked good, that’s all that matters.  

And he was off for school.  

To Craig:  Hey dude, driving yourself this morning?

From Craig:  I’ll be right there.  

Good old Craig.  He always knew what Clyde was thinking, sometimes even before Clyde knew.  

As the two brunette boys pulled into the school, Clyde could already smell the cafeteria’s breakfast special today: syrupy pancakes and hash browns.  Unsurprisingly, the two boys made a b-line for the maple scented room at the end of the hall. 

Craig saved their seats, greeting Tweek and Token each as they arrived to gather for their pre-stress social hour — before the boring torture of classes sucked all the fun out of their brains.     

The cafeteria was quiet this time of morning.  Another reason why Clyde enjoyed eating here versus at home.  Not only was he a social butterfly who needed to catch up with his friends before mind dulling math class, but he liked the quiet the cafeteria offered that the hallways just couldn’t compete with.  It was nice.  A growing boy could gather his thoughts and rag on his friends while chomping down on breakfast potatoes, and that was just the way Clyde liked it.     

“Hey, guys!”

Clyde looked up and saw a smiling — albeit very exhausted looking — Kenny McCormick grinning down at the table.

“Hey dude.”  Craig greeted in his usual monotone as he slid over so Kenny could sit down in between them.  Clyde wordlessly scooched his lunch tray over so Kenny could steal the piece of hash brown he was eyeing.  Clyde knew he probably needed it more…    

“How’s it going?”  Token nodded.  Tweek waved politely.  

“Good…  Oh, Thanks!”  Kenny acknowledged as he graciously swiped the potato from Clyde’s tray.  Kenny was in all of Clyde’s music classes and had been ever since freshman year — they’d actually become pretty good friends because of it.  Unlike Clyde’s awkward, bumbling, maybe-he’s-off-pitch-but-God-dammit-he’s-got-enthusiasm voice, Kenny had a genuinely sweet and resonant tenor voice.  He and Craig were supposed to start a band over the summer but never did.  Clyde wondered what instrument he would play when they finally got around to it?  

“Were you able to hold Tricia hostage and drag her to school on time or is she still passed out in Karen’s bed?”  Craig joked with a small smile. 

“Actually Karen cracked the whip and Ruby’s now sulking out back with the goths so, yeah.”  Kenny chuckled.  

“She’s gonna die from lung cancer before first period.”  Craig joked darkly.  For someone who would fit in so well with the goths, Craig never found a shortage of incredibly rude things to say about them behind their backs.

Clyde yanked the hat off Craig’s head and hit him in the back of the skull with it.  Ok, so, like, honestly, what was he thinking, but at the same time: it's Clyde!  Most normal people feared the wrath of Craig Tucker, but when you grew up as practically his brother you learned he was more bark than bite.  Craig lazily snatched the hat from Clyde’s hands and flipped him off with minimal effort.   

“Anyway,” Kenny continued, “I came here because I wanted to ask you guys something.”  He swallowed briskly, noticing Token’s obvious disgust with chewing while talking — a look Clyde knew well — and leaned in excitedly.  “Butters’ birthday is next week and I wanted to do something cool.”  Clyde wasn’t too engrossed in his pancakes to notice the way Kenny’s foot started bouncing like a jackhammer.  “It’s gonna be a surprise.”  The scrappy boy grinned ear to ear.

“Is the surprise that you don’t know what you’re doing?”  Craig asked dryly.  Tweek shot him a look that Craig pretended he was too engrossed in math homework to see.  His smirk gave him away.     

“I don’t know exactly what to do, no, but I have lots of ideas!”  Kenny admitted optimistically.  “Anyway, he wants me to invite all of you, so I was wondering if you guys wanna come?” 

“Yes!”  Clyde pumped his fists in the air excitedly.  

“Of course, Kenny!”  Tweek perked up from across the table.  "We'd love to!"  

“Sounds fun.”  Craig nodded.  

“Absolutely!”  Token agreed.  “So where will you be having it?”  He asked, folding his arms on top of the table.

“That’s the thing…” Kenny bit his lip, “I’m not really sure.  It can’t be at Butters’ house because his dad will ruin his birthday.  I guess it could be at mine but… I don’t think my house is good for parties.”  Kenny shrugged a little embarrassedly.  “I was thinking of maybe Stark’s Pond!  But… Butters really wanted it to be a small, private party so I’m not 100% sure… I’d have to get back to you on that.”     

“You can have it at my house.”  Token offered nonchalantly. 

“Dude!”  Clyde exclaimed, jumping up excitedly.  He continued, as Craig pulled him back down into his seat.  “Token’s house is perfect for parties, it’s huge!”

“Really?”  Kenny looked across the table in grateful disbelief.  “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!”  Token assured.  “I love hosting!  It’s no trouble, really, I’d be happy to.”  The wealthy boy nodded humbly.  

“That would be perfect!  Thank you!”  Kenny shot out of his seat to run around the table and give Token an awkward backwards hug.  

“Uh… No problem.”  Token chuckled.  

“Oh, um,”  Kenny rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he made his way back to his original seat, “my brother has a fake ID so I was gonna get him to buy alcohol for us… do you mind?  I can totally ask him not to if you mind!”  Kenny added in a rush.  Craig perked up, finally excited for this party.  Clyde couldn’t say he wasn’t also a little pumped to get wasted at Token’s house getting to know old friends! 

“Oh I don’t mind.”  Token assured with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “My parents know we drink, and they’re one of those parents that would rather we drink in the house than somewhere where we’d have to drive afterwards.  You guys can all crash if you’d like.”  Aw, yes! Clyde high-fived Craig behind Kenny’s back. 

“Token, my man, you are saving this birthday party, thank you.”  Kenny praised.  Clyde could practically see the awards show going on in Token’s head as he dismissed Kenny, humbly.    

“Don’t even worry about it.”  Token waved his hand with a smile.  “It’ll be really fun.  I’ve got video games, or movies we could watch, a stereo… yeah, bring whoever you want we’ll make a thing of it.”  Token almost went back to reading his book before he remembered something else.  Oh!”  He exclaimed,  “and I have a karaoke machine in the basement, if you want to make it a karaoke party?” 

“Oh!  Yes, yes, yes!”  Clyde cheered from his seat.  He stopped bouncing when he noticed Tweek eyeing him as if to say ‘it’s not your party, Clyde’.  Oh...  “Or… you know, what ever Butters would want…”    

Luckily Kenny didn’t seem to mind Clyde’s outburst.  “Yes!”  He cheered, “That’s perfect!  Oh, he’s gonna love it!  Can I bring him around, like, after dinner time or something?  I wanted to take him out separately first… I mean… I just wanna surprise him with something cool first… then we’ll head over.  Is that cool?”  

Token was hiding a smirk as he nodded.  Tweek shot a look at Craig.  Clyde looked over and noticed that Kenny was blushing a little.  Hm.  Did he miss something?   

Just then the bell rang, alerting the teens that they had about five minutes to get to their first class.  

Token, understandably, packed up his things lightning fast and scurried away to get a good seat.  Like everyone didn’t just sit in the same seats day after day…  

The others tended to dawdle a little bit more. 

“Oh, Shit!”  Tweek swore under his breath. 

“What’s up?”  Craig asked, rubbing Tweeks back absently.  

“I forgot!  I wanted to ask Chef to make coffee for me this morning because I forgot to pack some before I left, and… oh!  Maybe I’ll steal some from the teacher’s lounge!”  Tweek screeched in excitement as he scrambled to grab his things and ran out the door, on course for the teacher's lounge.  Craig, very obviously — in what was really only a half a joke — tilted his head to watch Tweek’s ass as he ran away.  Clyde snickered to himself.  Craig was a weird animal.      

“I’ll let you know more of the details when I figure them out.  Butters is gonna be really happy that you guys are coming.”  Kenny beamed as the three remaining hung around the table watching Clyde scarf down the last of his breakfast.

Clyde had just skillfully frisbee tossed his empty tray into the collection bin across the room when Craig nudged Kenny with his shoulder.  

“So, you and Butters, huh?”  Craig asked casually as he slung his backpack over his shoulder.  

Kenny’s face paled as he chuckled nervously.  “Um…yeah…I guess.”

“Cool.” 

“Wait!”  Kenny grabbed Craig’s sleeve just as he turned to leave.  “Just… don’t tell anyone, please?  We’re not exactly…” Kenny twirled his hand in the air thinking of the right words to say “out.  Yet.  So don’t tell, please?  Either of you?”  Kenny looked pleadingly between Craig and Clyde. 

“No problem, dude.”  Craig assured with a nod.  Clyde agreed with a smile.   

“But just so you know,”  Craig continued in a hushed voice, “if I figured it out, odds are Token had it figured out two weeks ago.  And Clyde will have it figured out tomorrow.”  What!  Rude! Craig ignored Clyde’s protests and continued.  “But I promise, you can trust us.  You can trust all of us.”  Clyde nodded with a reassuring smile.  “And I’ll make sure to tell Token not to tell anyone later.” 

Kenny sighed in relief.  “Thanks, man.” 

“And Tweek too.”  Craig added.

“Tweek doesn’t know.”  Kenny pointed out.  Craig snorted.   

“Oh, odds are if Craig knows something Tweek knows it too.”  Clyde explained.  Craig bowed his head in agreement.  “It’s just the way it is.”      

“It’s fine,” Kenny chuckled.  His eyes lit up as Clyde followed his gaze to where Butters had just appeared in the doorway, walking and talking excitedly with Tweek.  Kenny grinned as they watched Butters turn and adorably speed walk over to the lunch line to say hello to Chef.  “I understand.” 

“Obviously…”  Craig’s smirk morphed into a smile as he wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the freshly-caffeinated Tweek — who had just come back with a thermos full of illegal-teacher’s-lounge-coffee — and steered them both out of the cafeteria as the smaller one sipped away on his thermos, happily.

Clyde pulled Kenny aside quickly before Butters caught up to them.  

“…So you meant your, like, with Butters, like dating, right?”  Clyde clarified in a whisper. 

“Yes.”  Kenny blinked at him disbelievingly.     

“Just checking.  Yeah, I won’t tell.”  Clyde beamed excitedly and waved goodbye to Kenny as he walked to his first class.  

Lunchtime had rolled around again and Clyde was in his happy place:  the cafeteria.  

“Hey, f-fellas!”  Jimmy greeted.  Everyone bid Jimmy ‘hello’ as he took his his usual spot next to Tweek.  

“How come you don’t join us for breakfast?”  Clyde wondered of Jimmy.  

“I’ve got b-better things to d-do than m-m-make small talk and shhh-shove pop tarts in my f-face if I c-could be sleeping i-n.”  Jimmy joked with a smile.  His lip was still bruised and there was a little scab where it bled when Shelly Marsh had knocked his crutches out from under him, making him hit his face on the lunch tray railing.  Poor Jimmy.  Shelly had no right.  It made Clyde sad all over again just thinking about it.  

“That’s Craig’s excuse half the time too.”  Tweek piped up.  “Just watch as the semester goes on we’ll see him less and less.”  Tweek teased with a squeaky giggle.  Craig kissed his middle finger and shoved it right in Tweek’s still giggling face.  

“Hey, Jimmy, I’m having a party for Butters’ birthday at my house next weekend, you wanna join?”  Token asked 

Jimmy smirked slyly, “I would love to fellas, but I’m afraid I will be q-quite b-b-busy next weekend.”  His mouth dropped open smile as his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.  

“Oh, spending the weekend with Leslie?”  Token questioned with a quirk of his eyebrow.  

“Y-y-y-yep!”  Jimmy’s smile widened.  “Her p-parents invited me to go with them on her c-c-college tour in Boulder.”  Leslie is Jimmy’s girlfriend who he met at the local community improv group last year.  She goes to a private school in North Park, and she’s a senior.  So cool… 

“Well I’d definitely miss a birthday party for a girl.”  Clyde agreed.  He realized, with only a slight ache in his chest, that it was completely true. 

As the last bell rang after school, Clyde headed to his second favorite happy place:  the football field.  After changing in to his practice uniform with much enthusiasm, Coach was unsurprised to see that Clyde was one of the first ones out on the field.  Coach nodded at the boy gruffly.   

“We’re running drills today.”  He announced once everybody had arrived.  “Then we’re doing our beginning of the semester weigh ins.”   

Almost everyone groaned in response.  Quarterback Stan Marsh muttered under his breath, something about being ‘beaten up enough today as it is’.  Clyde had heard about his very public break up with Wendy and figured that’s probably what he was referring to.  He felt bad for him, but he also envied him.  As star quarterback since 7th grade, Stan Marsh could always be found with a girl on his arm — usually it was Wendy, but even when they were on a break it didn’t take long for some other girl to flock her way over to him.  Clyde was much more of a 'friend' type than a 'boyfriend' type, or so he’d been told many, many, many times before.  It sucked.  It confused him.  It was too much to dissect at this moment.  Clyde pushed his mystifying theories about women out of his head and focused on what mattered right now: football.  

Clyde was on his way out of the locker room when he got a text from Token.   

From Token:  Hey Clyde, would you mind going in my locker and bringing me my copy of Moby Dick?  I forgot it at school and I just wanted to double check something before I hand in my paper.  

To Token:  Sure thing!  Combo? 

From Token:  13-6-2.  We’re all at Tweak Bros.  Thanks.

To Token:  *thumbs up emoji* 

As Clyde was walking away, typing, he almost ran into the fullback, Eric Cartman, coming back from his weigh in.

“Fuck!”  Clyde jumped.  “Sorry man, I didn’t see you.” 

“Move.”  Eric muttered as he half-heartedly pushed Clyde out of the way.  Phew.  At least he wasn’t in one of his moods.  

“Hey!”  Clyde announced himself as he entered the familiar coffee shop.  “I brought the book.”  He held it up as proof.  

“Awesome!  Thank you, dude.”  Token took the book gratefully and plopped back down in his usual spot: first booth from the counter, in the seat facing the doors.  His laptop and class notes were spread all over the place, with only a small section cleared where his coffee cup was getting cold.  He flipped to a page at the end, skimmed a section where a post-it note peaked out of the side, and nodded his head, agreeing with himself as he typed and edited his essay.  Craig was stretched out across the other side of the booth, taking up three seats with his long-ass legs and scrolling through his phone.  Jimmy was stretched out at along the cushioned window seat across the room, leaning back on his elbows and taking in the fading sunlight from the bay window with his shades perched on his nose.

As usual, there were very few other customers.    

“Do you want something to eat, Clyde?”  Tweek smiled from the register.  Clyde took a glance at the pastry case and found something that particularly caught his eye.  

“You serve donuts now, no way!”  Clyde’s eyes widened excitedly.    

“Which one?”  Tweek asked as he grabbed the tongs from beside the glass display case. 

“Mm… how about a jelly one?”  Tweek grabbed the donut carefully with the metal arms, trying his best to steady his perpetually shaky hands to avoid squeezing the delicate pastry.  

“How much?”  Clyde asked, fishing in his picked for his wallet. 

“Don’t worry about it.”  He dismissed as he handed Clyde his donut.  

Clyde grabbed a chair from the middle of the room and dragged it to the little table in the center, closest to the register.  With his feet up on the opposite chair, Clyde tucked into his jelly donut.    

Jimmy lounging to his right, Tweek bustling behind the counter, and Token and Craig stretched out to his left.  Clyde was exactly where he wanted to be, he thought with a small smile.  

“You know I think I’ve read that book before, the cover looks familiar.”  Clyde mentioned as he took another bite of his dessert.  

“Really?”  All four boys stared down over their noses at Clyde disbelievingly.

“What… yeah… I think so… why, is it hard?”  

“Yeah.”  Tweek scoffed.  Dammit.  Now Clyde was second guessing himself, but he was pretty sure!  He thinks...  He at least knows he's seen it somewhere!

“Come on f-fellas.  Give the man some credit.  Clyde c-could have some s-secrets.”  Jimmy suggested, eyes still squinting at the settling sun.  

“Aw," Token picked up the maybe-not-familiar-book, "‘See how elastic our prejudices grow when once love comes to bend them.’”  Token smiled jokily and looked at Clyde. 

“What?”  Clyde tipped his head in confusion.  

Everybody stared at him disbelievingly, before they ALL started laughing like they knew something he didn’t.      

“It’s a quote from the book.”  Token rubbed his face.

“It is?”  Clyde scrunched his nose.  

“Clyde.”  Craig groaned.  

“He read it.”  Tweek squeaked with a chuckle.   

“You watched me read it while I said it…” Token pinched the bridge of his nose.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t notice!” 

“I was holding up the book, and watching it with my eyes… reading it as I said it…”  Token laughed. 

“And you said you’d read it before!”  Tweek tittered from behind the counter.

“It’s Moby Dick, right?”  Craig questioned disbelievingly, “yeah, Moby Dick,” nodding his head as Token flipped the book to show him proof. 

“It’s Moby Dick!”  Tweek howled in agreement.  

“It’s ok guys, he’ll p-pretend to read it ne-next year.”  Jimmy chuckled.  Ha ha, very funny, Clyde doesn’t like school, ha.      

“Well… it’s a lovely quote.”  Clyde praised as the laughter died down.  “What’s another one?”  Craig snatched the book and flipped to a random page, glancing down briefly before tossing it back down on the table.     

“Mm.  ‘Eskimo’.”  Craig replied blandly over a sip of his frap.  Tweek snorted a laugh through his nose at Craig’s well-timed ‘Heathers’ joke.  Craig’s smiling eyes flickered to the blond boy as he took another sip of his melting frap. 

“Well, I gotta get going.”  Token announced, checking his watch.  

“Yeah, don’t want to keep your l-lady w-waiting.”  Jimmy winked 

“Who, his mom?”  Clyde wondered aloud.  Mrs. Black usually wasn’t so strict but alright…

“No, not my mom.”  Token laughed as he packed up his things.  

“Then what?”  Clyde was confused.  ‘What lady?  Was Token tutoring today?’   

“Aw.  Sweet, baby, Clyde!”  Craig squeezed his cheeks patronizingly as he passed by, wandering over to lean against the pastries case.  Clyde swatted his hands away. 

“Token has a date tonight.”  Tweek clarified from behind the counter as he scrubbed away at a stubborn, spilled mocha stain.  

“What?!”  Clyde screeched.  “Does everyone in the world have a girlfriend except for me?!”   

“I don’t have a girlfriend, we’re going on one date.  A study date.”  Token clarified.  “Plus it may not even work out.”  Clyde scoffed.  Yeah right.  Like someone in their right mind would turn down Token.  If anything it would most definitely be the other way around — actually, the odds of that happening were almost certain.  

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”  Craig pointed out. 

“You don’t want one.”  Clyde corrected, not failing to notice the small look of panic on Tweek’s face.

“Damn straight.”  Craig’s eyes glowed mischievously as he jumped up and leaned over the counter to whisper something in Tweek’s ear that made the twitchy boy shove him off and blush deeply.  

Clyde walked home only sulking a little bit as he mulled over how he’d definitely die alone.  

Once he made it home, Clyde jogged up his front steps, all deep-seeded fears suddenly vanishing from his brain as he smelled the warm and spicy aroma of his favorite dish:  chicken motherfucking tacos.  

The kind his mom used to make.  

His dad could do a pretty good job too, don’t get him wrong.  But standing in the doorway, feeling the warmth of the house, hearing the clatter of pots and pans, and smelling those familiar and comforting spices, Clyde could almost imagine that his mom would be waiting for him at the end of the hall.  She’d be standing there, with her soft brown hair and sharp brown eyes.  She would smile at him, and remind him to wipe his shoes on the mat.  He would give her a hug, and she would kiss him on his forehead and comment on how tall he’s getting.  She’d push his hair behind his ears the way she used to, and laugh way she used to.  She’d look, and feel, and sound, and smell exactly the way she used to.  Then she’d straighten her apron and hum to herself quietly as she glided into the kitchen to serve her home cooked meal. 

Clyde could almost feel her arms around him as he opened his eyes and took in reality instead.  

She wasn’t here.

Clyde shrugged off his coat and hung it in the closet, avoiding eye contact with the hand-decorated frame that hung around the mirror in the door.  

“Hey, bud!”  His dad called from the kitchen.  

“Hey Dad!”  Clyde walked in and noticed something… off.  “You’re all dressed up.”  He pointed out, grabbing a tortilla chip from the bowl.  Usually by now his dad was home from work, and changing into sweatpants, not into nicer clothes than he left the house in. 

“Um… yeah, I kinda needed to talk to you about something, bud.”  

“Ok.”  Clyde sat down at the island stool opposite the stove.  “You got a big interview or something?”  That would be odd considering it was almost 6:00… 

“No..." Roger put down the spoon he'd been stirring with and glanced up at Clyde with beaming eyes.  "I’ve got a date.”  His dad shrugged, attempting to hide the wide smile that broke out on his face.

Clyde tried his best to hide his shock as a million thoughts raced through his head while Roger waited patiently for a response.     

Clyde swallowed dryly.  “Oh?”  What does he say to that?!

“Now I know I haven’t expressed any…interest…in dating before, and trust me I do not go into this lightly.”  Clyde nodded as his dad looked him in the eyes seriously.  “But…”  Clyde watched his dad’s eyes soften in a daydream that swept over his face like a sunrise.  “I just met this incredible woman, who makes me feel like I haven’t in years, and… do you understand?”  Roger Donovan looked at his son pleadingly, concern settling into the wrinkles framing his tired eyes. 

Clyde smiled forcefully, but truthfully, “yeah. Yeah, I get it.”  Roger sighed in relief.  

“Thanks, son.”  He ruffled the boy’s hair and went back to making dinner.  

Clyde was stunned.  He tried his best to engage in regular, lighthearted conversation — talking about school, and football practice, and the first home game of the school year tomorrow.

But his mind kept drifting back to her. 

He could practically see her standing in the kitchen, arms wrapped around her husband’s waist as she lightly criticized his choice of cayenne instead of paprika.  She’d kiss him on the cheek but he wouldn’t feel it.  He wouldn’t see her.  

She wasn’t there.  

It’s been 7 years since she died… 

Clyde and his dad got through dinner as easily as possible, mainly because Clyde wouldn’t dare let on about his apprehension.  He had to be happy for his dad.  He was happy for his dad.  He couldn’t expect him to be alone forever!  He didn't want that for his dad, who deserved the absolute WORLD after raising him all these years.  Roger was a good man, he deserved to be happy.  

Clyde smiled and took another bite of the most delicious tacos in the world.  

“Ok.”  Clyde turned around from the TV and faced his dad.  “How do I look?”  Roger asked nervously.  

Clyde nodded.  “Sharp!  I like what you did with your hair…” Clyde gestured at the over-gelled version of what used to be his dad’s hair.

Roger opened the closet door to grab his coat, and Clyde turned back to the tv, only briefly catching sight of the handmade mirror frame that hung in the door.

He was mindlessly flipping over the DVR options for the second time when his dad walked up behind him.      

“Thank you.”  Clyde felt shaky arms wrap around him as his dad whispered gratefully.  “I know how hard this is for you, just… thank you for understanding.”  

Roger kissed his son on the top of the head and walked back over to the mirror to look himself over one more time.  He watched his dad lovingly press a kissed hand against the purple frame, a goodbye ritual he'd taken a liking to ever since the warm and creative hands that had molded that ornament out of metal and glass were taken out of this world abruptly and unfairly. 

“Have fun.”  Clyde bid.  His father beamed brightly in return.  Clyde did too, hoping a smile would remind his brain that he was supposed to be happy.  He waved goodbye, fighting back the tears with a grin as he watched his dad walked out the door.  

Clyde sat there, mind either blank or on overdrive, he honestly couldn’t tell.  Suddenly it hit him all at once.  Everything.  What would she say, what would she think?  Would she approve?  Should he have not given his blessing, for her sake?  Would that be fair?  Was anything fair?! What was he supposed to DO?! 

Clyde slid to the floor, face frozen, limbs numb, tears finally falling down his face in hot streaks.  He took in a shaky breath as he tried to relax.   He tried to talk rationally to himself: tell himself that he was just shocked, his apprehension was normal and valid, his mom wouldn’t hate him if she knew he was supporting this… Clyde wrapped his arms around himself and tried to process everything.  

He needed to tell someone.  Craig.  

Clyde whipped out his phone.  

To Craig:  My dad just left for a date…

Clyde gripped the phone tightly as he waited for a response.  Finally, typing.  

From Craig:  Oof.  Do you wanna come over?  

From Craig:  I’ll let you watch that Handmaid’s Whatever  

Clyde laughed to himself.  Stupid Craig.  

You know… maybe Clyde was overthinking this... 

Yeah.  Clyde decided he felt better, even if ‘oof’ was the best thing his best friend could come up with.    

To Craig:  Tale*

To Craig:  But no, I think I’m fine now.  It did freak me out for a bit though…

From Craig:  Do you wanna talk about it?

Clyde smiled at the phone. 

To Craig:  Maybe tomorrow.  I’ll see you then.         

Clyde tossed his phone on the coffee table and grabbed the fluffiest blanket from the basket beside the couch.  He made himself some tea, flicked off the lights, and distracted himself in the poetically horrid world of Gilead.

Clyde would be ok. 

Perhaps more importantly, his dad would finally be happy again.  

And tomorrow would be a new day. 

Chapter Text

Boom!  POV - Tweek

From Craig:  Goodnight.  <3

It was a simple message, the one Tweek woke up to.  He’d fallen asleep on the phone with Craig last night, and woken up to find this waiting for him the next morning.  ‘<3’… who does he think he is?! 

Lately, Craig had been indulging more and more in the sick joy he got out of teasing Tweek about their ‘fake’ relationship.  Wait... is it still fake?  It must be, because even a stupid typed-out heart made Tweek’s stomach churn while his heart beat irrationally in his chest. 

It was a simple message, but it was confusing as Hell.     

And it was time to stop staring at it.  

Tweek pocketed the phone and stepped out his front door.  

It was actually a pretty nice day out.  The sun was shining, birds were singing, and — FUCK WHY IS CRAIG CALLING?! 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, dude, I slept in, can’t pick you up today.”   Tweek could hear rustling on the other side of the phone as Craig scrambled to get ready for school.  

“Oh, no problem, I can walk.”  Tweek assured. 

“See you soon.” 

“See ya.”  

Well.  

Looks like Tweek will have even more time to obsess over intentions and expectations, second guess himself, maybe bring up some old, embarrassing memories from middle school.  You know, the usual.  

Tweek twitched lightly and stepped off his porch to journey the fairly short trek to South Park High.  

As Tweek reached the outskirts of the school grounds, the soft humming in his headphones trilled a familiar tune that left him smiling like a dork, wondering if fluttering butterfly wings had replaced all his guts.  He’d have to remember to get that checked out. 

The gentle acoustics and ambient white noise cast a soft veil of warmth over Tweek, drowning his world in ‘A Lack of Color’.  Death Cab For Cutie’s steady swing and buzzing reverb ironically brightened the colors behind Tweek’s eyes and lit the world on fire.  

He walked past the small patch of flowers that decorated the grass below the ‘South Park High School’ sign.  Tweek people-watched from behind the calm distance of earbuds; the universal sign that he wasn’t really there.  Like a ghost.  He watched different social groups pass by as he floated along curiously.  

...The harmonies kicked in over the interlude — Tweek’s favorite part.  A smile tugged at his lips as he was transported back to the last time he heard this song.  

It was a rainy day.  Craig had run over after some kind of a fight with his family, and he was upset.  Tweek held him, swaddled in multiple towels to soak up his dripping hair while Craig sipped his cocoa calmly.  Tweek put on this song and they sat in silence.  Craig leaned his head back against Tweek’s chest and closed his eyes.  

“Tweek!”  Tweek plummeted back to reality, snapping his head in the direction of Kyle’s panicked voice.  “WHERE’S CLYDE?!” 

Tweek ripped his earbuds out and shoved his phone in his pocket. 

“I have no idea, is something wrong?”  Tweek tried not to panic or jump to conclusions about kidnappers or murderers when it was probably just a homework thing.   

“CARTMAN is looking for him!”  Fuck.  “Please tell me he’s not here yet!”  

“I don’t know.”  Tweek mumbled as he ran into the school, flinging both doors open with a bang.  

There was Clyde alright.  

Cartman had him pinned against the lockers with his forearm stretched across Clyde’s collarbone and leaning over him threateningly.  Clyde was cowering and shaking his head like whatever Cartman was sneering about just wasn’t true!  His hands were tangled up in the bully’s shirt in a feeble attempt to defend himself.    

FUCK.  NO. 

Tweek ran up to them.   

“What the FUCK, FATASS?!”  Tweek barked as he shoved Eric off of Clyde, a surprised look on both of their faces.  

“This isn’t your problem, Tweek!  Leave us alone!”  Cartman snarled angrily.  Too bad for him Tweek was twice as mad as him already.

His hands shook in rage, blood boiling; Tweek wouldn’t be surprised if he boiled so hot that steam came out of his ears.    

“IF YOU FUCK WITH MY FRIENDS, YOU F-FUCK WITH ME, SO IT IS MY PROBLEM NOW!”  Tweek shot back aggressively, getting in Cartman’s face, watching it grow redder by the second. 

Cartman sputtered incoherently with rage.  “WHAT — HOW WOULD I EVEN HIT YOU, TWITCH, YOU’RE A FUCKING MOVING TARGET WITH ALL THE FREAKY SHAKING!”  

Ah, fuck.  Tweek could feel it, but he was hoping Cartman couldn’t see it.  

“Gah!”  Tweek shrieked involuntarily, much to his own dismay.  

Cartman grinned evilly in response.  

“What are you scared?”  The talking cow cooed condescendingly.  Tweek folded his arms and suppressed a twitch as he stared him down.  “Do you need your fuckboy to come save you?”  Cartman shoved Tweek’s shoulder into the lockers.   

“Hey, if you’re problem’s with me then tell me, don’t involve Tweek in this.”  Clyde stepped in, bravely.      

Cartman looked between them disbelievingly like he was about ready to explode with idiocy.  

“WHA — HE INVOLVED HIMSELF, YOU FUCKING MORON!”  He screeched in incredulous frustration.  

“HEY!”  Tweek shoved him hard in the chest, diverting the attention back to himself.  He stepped in front of Clyde, nose to pig-nose with Eric Cartman. 

Tweek sneered meanly as he lashed out with all the force he could muster.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING CALL HIM THAT!  You BIG FAT PILE OF SHIT!”   

Tweek ducked just in time, right as Cartman took a swing, hitting the lockers behind Tweek’s head with full force.  Tweek backed out from against the wall and circled around in a defensive stance as Cartman grabbed his knuckles, wailing and whimpering in pain.  

“Fucking… BITCH!  You SPAZ, Tweek!  …Ow!…  You’re so dead!  I’m gonna KILL you, TWEEK!”  Tweek felt horror flood his senses as Cartman growled — literally fucking growled! — like a wild animal ready to attack.  “Grrr — FIGHT ME YOU PUSSY!” 

Like a lion pouncing on his prey, the angry bully lunged at the blond.  

He didn’t get far before Craig Tucker came out of fucking NOWHERE and pinned Cartman facedown against the lockers — bending Cartman’s arm painfully behind his back and jamming his knee into the back of Cartman’s knee — throwing all his weight against him, so that the impact rattled the lockers and startled the onlooking crowd that was forming.  Craig grabbed Eric by the hair and slammed the side of his face into the lockers one more time for emphasis.  

“Don’t ever do that again.”  Craig snarled as he let him go — more like threw him to the ground — just as Stan ran up to the scene, flanked tentatively by Kyle, and further back, Kenny and Butters.  

“Get up, man!  What the fuck are you doing fighting at school, what are you, 12?!”  Stan reprimanded as he picked Cartman up off the ground as best as he could before dragging him off to the cafeteria to separate themselves from Craig’s gang.      

“Why are there never any teachers at this school?”  Kyle wondered, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he followed after them. 

“You ok?”  Kenny asked, Butters looking worriedly between Tweek and Clyde.  They both nodded — Clyde with wide eyes and Tweek with narrowed ones.   

“Let’s go, Tweek.”  Craig grabbed Tweek by the back of his green hoodie and walked him in the other direction, right into the nearest boys’ bathroom.  

“Craig!”  Tweek whined as they stumbled through the swinging door.  “I almost had him!” 

“Cool off!”  Craig hissed as he let him go in front of the sink.  

“He was gonna hurt Clyde!”

“I don’t care!”  

Tweek stared at Craig through the mirror for a moment before turning on the squeaky tap and running his shaking wrists under the water.

"F-fuck!" Tweek stuttered as he felt a tick coming on.  Craig stormed over and grabbed the hand that Tweek was reaching towards the side of his head.  Tweek stubbornly clenched his fist so Craig had to pry his fingers open one by one.  He did so patiently, and delicately.  He brushed his long fingers down the palm of Tweek's hand before tenderly lacing their fingers together.  Tweek defiantly reached up with his other hand.  Craig blocked it by running his fingers gently through Tweek's hair.  Craig leaned down slightly and rested his forehead against Tweek's blond temple, closing his eyes serenely.  Tweek stared at him through the mirror, watched this gentle giant sooth his boiling anger until there was nothing left.  He watched himself; watched the rage dissolve from his own eyes gradually, as his light eyebrows slowly unknit themselves.  Tweek felt his breath deepen with each knot Craig unknowingly loosened in Tweek's tight chest.  He took in a shaky breath and exhaled sharply.

He felt Craig take another step closer to him.  Tweek turned his head slightly, eyelids heavy.  They both jumped when the door swung open loudly and Clyde stormed in, headed straight for a stall.  

Craig chased after him as Clyde slammed the chipped, plastic Laminate clicked the lock shut.  

“Clyde.”  Craig called.  Tweek could hear quiet sobbing from inside the stall.  Clyde didn’t answer.  Craig slid down to the floor and sat against the wall.  “You ok?”  He asked the green partition between them.  Tweek could see that Clyde was sitting on the floor, huddled against the door as well.  

“It’s wasn’t my fault.”  He whispered, muffled from inside the stall.  Craig looked at Tweek pleadingly.  But Tweek would be no help, in fact, Tweek had never felt so helpless.  He walked over and sat down on the other side of the stall, across from Craig.  He sat there and listened to Clyde cry all the way through first period.

By lunchtime, Clyde was ok.  He still wouldn’t talk about it, but he was feeling better — or at least appeared to.  He bounced happily in his seat as he scarfed down enough food to count for breakfast and lunch.  Tweek sipped his coffee slowly, he wasn’t very hungry.  Even if he was, anxiety was strangling him, and his throat was so tight he couldn’t swallow.

Tweek was feeling a little bit better, too, but not by much.  After everything had calmed down, Craig had pulled him aside again and lectured him about not getting into it with assholes.  It didn’t matter that Tweek hadn’t hit back, he knew his mouth was enough to get him in trouble twice as much, and that’s where he went wrong.  His ‘I don’t hit first’ rule didn’t mean shit, if he was still gonna jab and provoke.  Tweek knew he wounded Cartman before the first punch was even thrown, and he felt sorta bad for that.  He wasn’t angry anymore, but his guilt had kicked in full force.                     

Luckily, his last class of the day today was art.  And creating Zen-ed Tweek’s senses. 

The bell rang and everybody scattered in their separate directions.  

“I’ll see you in music class!”  Clyde called to Craig with a fatigued version of his usual chipper attitude.  “Will I see the rest of you guys at the game?”  He asked hopefully.  Everyone nodded.  Clyde smiled and walked out the door.  Token made sure to walk with him just in case anything crazy went down.   

“Fuck this day, dude, I’m so done with it.”  Craig grumbled from beside Tweek as they walked to the U.S. History class they shared together.  

Tweek nodded in whole-hearted agreement.  

After sitting in a class that he barely paid attention to, Tweek was relieved to get to art class.  

“See you later,” he waved at Craig briskly before opening the door.  The room smelled of clay, and paints, and old leather stools that always had one wobbly leg.  Tweek grinned in satisfaction as he put his stuff down in his usual seat and took his painting down from the drying rack.  

He stared down at his half-painted drawing.  

It was a portrait of sorts — though that was kind of a stretch — with each ‘item’ symbolizing a different friend.  It was based off of an old picture Tweek found from 4th grade, with Craig and Tweek on the end (Craig smiling while flipping off the camera, of course, while Tweek smiled dorkily next to him), Clyde pulling a funny, stretched out face to Craig’s right, Token smiling nicely next to him, giving Clyde ‘bunny ears’, and Jimmy smiling his bright metal smile, holding his crutched arm out, presenting himself grandly from where he lay across the floor in front of everyone.  It was especially special because Clyde’s mom had taken the picture at a sleepover at the Donovan house.  Clyde had printed 10 copies and given everybody each 2 the next Monday at school.  Tweek still had his second copy hanging on his wall at home.  

In Tweek’s version, Craig became graffiti of a disembodied middle finger, simply enough, with black nail polish, and bloodied knuckles.  It sat behind a backdrop: a wall of bricks, painted dark shades of purple and blue like the night sky on acid, with little white flecks of stars arranged into little patterns indicative of the real constellations Craig had drilled into Tweek’s little head as a child.  Tweek had become a to-go coffee cup, half spilled over onto a patch of sidewalk, that he planned to cover in tiny details of abstract graffiti with colorful markers.  Instead of Clyde sticking his tongue out and pulling on his cheeks like a monkey, Tweek had gone with a different approach and turned him into a little boy, with his back to the viewer, staring up at the graffitied wall in a gray t-shirt and jeans, with a black balloon in his hand.  He felt it suited him more.  A small bunny sat next to him in the grass, looking up at him with it’s light brown eyes and matching fur, it’s ear drooping from the heavy purple paint dripping off it’s poor little ears: Token.  Jimmy had become the boy’s shadow, laughing and dancing joyfully behind him as he stared up at the offensive mural curiously.

It was mostly finished, but Tweek still had to do the sky in the background and the grass in the foreground, some shading, little details here and there and voilà!  Despite the sad symbolism and dark palette, the painting made Tweek smile.  He thought about giving it to Clyde when he was finished with it.  Tweek grabbed some sponges for clouds and got to work.   

“Hello.”  Butters chimed happily as he sat down.  “Jesus, you’re already almost finished?!”  He panicked as he looked down at his own mostly empty page.  

“I work fast.”  Tweek shrugged, scribbling furiously to shade in the balloon with pointy, jagged streaks.  “Plus I’ve had this idea for months so I didn’t have to do any planning.”  He added casually.    

“Oh jeez…” Butters murmured, more to himself than to Tweek, starting at his empty page with concern.  “Oh — Heya, Kyle!”  

"Hey Butters." Kyle dropped his supplies to the table and sighed exhaustedly. "Look dude" he turned towards Tweek, "I just wanted you to know that I do not condone Cartman's actions at all, I think he's a fucking bully when he wants to be, and I don't know why, but he's my friend, so yeah.  I'm sorry on his behalf."  Kyle apologized awkwardly.

Tweek twitched.  “G— that’s ok, Kyle, I’m not judging you.  Some people used to think Craig was a bully because he fought all the time.”  Tweek shrugged understandingly.  Kyle nodded and sat down.  

Kyle looked over at Butters’ paper.  “The theme’s supposed to be ‘urban contrast’.”  He informed.  

“Well it’s not finished yet!”  Butters panicked, covering it with his forearms.  The small boy sighed, propping his elbow up on the table, leaning his head against his palm as he stuck out his tongue and sketched furiously.  So far, his page just included a small patch of green grass with a little golden sunflower standing tall, illuminated by a bright orange sun.  Half-finished, clumsily penciled sketches appeared to be a mountain of buildings.  It seemed to take place in some kind of a post-apocalyptic, shell-of-a-thriving-city that once was.  Butters was just finishing the biggest sketch on the page: a giant, looming church with peeling paint, broken windows, and one simple steeple.  The building was long and narrow, like you could run down one hallway forever.  It was dark and distorted like when you take a picture of a tall building from far away.  The giant cross above the entrance hung off the door diagonally in blasphemous neglect.  It was kinda chilling.  Tweek shivered.  He looked across the table.  

Kyle was furiously splattering his solid, burnt rust colored page with wild streaks of bright red, orange, and dark green.  He had pieces of painter’s tape down to cover up the places he’d already started drawing, eyebrows furrowing as he slashed at his canvas paper.  Tweek watched him curiously.  Once the paint was how he liked it, Kyle gingerly peeled back the tape to reveal strips of blues and reds, splattered carelessly in the same style as the surrounding oranges and greens.  It was really beautiful, actually, in a furious sort of way.    

“Looks angry.”  Tweek commented.

“It is.”  Kyle swiped his thumb in yellow and dragged it across the top in a blurry mess.  

“Well, Kyle… why did you get on my case for not following the theme if you were just gonna flat out ignore it?”  Butters wondered.  

Kyle shrugged.  “Just wanted to make sure you knew.” 

With only 5 minutes left until the end of class, Tweek decided to head out early so he could get to the music room in time to walk with Craig and Clyde.  Just in case.  Tweek grabbed his backpack and let the others know that he’d see them after school.  On his way out, he saluted the teacher, who was sitting at her desk, painstakingly adding faint, pale brush strokes in concentric patterns to a piece of pottery Tweek had watched her finish last week.  She waved at him as he exited.  By far, one of the top 10 coolest teachers at this school.  

Tweek walked down the hallway and checked his phone.  No messages, so that seemed to be a good sign.  Tweek just felt so bad for Clyde, he hoped he didn’t ruin his day by making it a whole scene. 

‘No,’ Tweek thought to himself as he started shoving his heavy textbooks back in his locker.  ‘no, I shouldn’t just blame myself, I’m not at fault here, at least not fully; it’s also Cartman’s fault.  Probably mostly his fault.  Stand up for yourself, Tweek, if anybody should be sorry, it’s him.’ 

Tweek had just closed his locker when his head connected with the metal painfully.  ‘What the fuck?’

Tweek winced as he felt his whole body shoved up against the lockers, much like how Craig had detained Cartman this morning.  

“Who’s here to fight your battles for you now?”  A voice snarled in Tweek’s ear before his face was painfully bashed into the lockers again, and he was thrown to the ground in the middle of the hallway. 

“Get up, brah, make it fun for me.”  Cartman mocked, an angry, wild look in his puffy eyes.  

Tweek stood up slowly, eyeing Cartman carefully. 

“Can’t hide anywhere now.  Unless you wanna run away like a pussy.”  Cartman spat angrily as he cracked his neck.  “Square up!”  He barked.  ‘God dammit…’ 

Tweek slowly brought his hands up in a fighting stance and Cartman sneered nastily.

“Ok.”  He lunged at Tweek. 

Luckily, Tweek was quicker.  He dodged under Cartman’s arm and jabbed him with one hard punch to his kidney. 

“Fuck.”  Cartman wheezed before he stood up, swinging harder and angrier than before.  Tweek was a good blocker, but he let one slip.  

Tweek’s cheek stung where Cartman landed a good one, in exactly the same spot where Tweek had taken a locker to the face moments before.  

Blood flied from Cartman’s mouth as Tweek retaliated, fists flying furiously as his double hit even harder the second time.  Cartman ducked and covered his mouth.  

Tweek took saw an opportunity. 

He grabbed Cartman by the shoulders and kneed him in the solar plexus.  He threw him against the lockers and backed off. 

“Come on, m-man, I don’t wanna keep doing this!”  Tweek pleaded, watching Cartman sputter, struggling to catch his breath.  “Seriously!  Let’s end this!”  Tweek held his hand out in a truce offering, that his opponent ignored, spitting blood on the floor instead.  Cartman narrowed his eyes like a lion zeroing on its pray.  It made Tweek’s blood run cold.  He retracted his hand slowly.  

“Oh, I intend to.”  The fat jock snarled as he lunged for Tweek.  ‘Oh shit’, turning his head just as Cartman thrust an uppercut, just missing and hitting the side of Tweek’s jaw instead.  It still hurt like all fuck but at least he didn’t break any teeth.  

“What the fuck, man!”  Tweek complained, grabbing his jaw.  Was this guy psycho?! 

Tweek instantly regretted his moment of weakness as a maniacal smile stretched across Cartman’s face.  Tweek ducked and rolled out of the way as Cartman attempted to tackle him recklessly.  What he wasn’t ready for, was the kick to his abdomen that sent him doubling over instinctively.  

Cartman was not a fair fighter.  That much was clear when he took that opportunity to grab the trembling blond boy by his pretty hair, and kick him right in the ear like it was a field goal.  

Tweek’s vision went black as a high pitched ringing stung his ears.  He could feel one of them bleeding.  

Tweek crawled along the floor just trying to get away when the cadences of muffled, indistinguishable threats loomed over him, just before he felt himself get dragged across the floor.  Tweek kicked and squirmed as best as he could, but it was hard to see where he needed to aim with his vision compromised.  Tweek swallowed the taste of vomit and blinked furiously until he could see some blurry spots in his black vision.  He kicked up behind him like a donkey and felt his heel hit bone.  Good.  He hoped it hurt.  

Tweek was able to stand up, though his knees were shaking and his stomach was queasy.  Despite all this, he went all out.  

It’s not like he hadn’t been in worse shape in the tournament ring before, granted it had been a few years.  

Tweek focused himself as he went after Cartman, slamming his small body into his as hard as he could, the lockers reverberating with a booming echo through the halls.  Tweek wailed on him mercilessly, as Cartman stood there, just trying to block his face.  Tweek was mostly hitting forearm at this point, but if he stopped now he was afraid he would pass out. 

So he just kept going.  Hitting and punching and kicking Cartman anywhere and everywhere while he still had him pinned down, until… Tweek messed up.  

There was a noise.  Both boys froze, fighting stopped mid-blow, distracted by the clatter of a hall pass hitting the floor.  There was a small gasp.  Tweek looked toward the sound.  Some freshman kid had come into the hallway and accidentally grabbed their attention.  Tweek stared a second too long as he watched the small face blanch and his big eyes widen even bigger before his little frame turned and ran back towards the direction of the classrooms.  

Tweek stood paused, fist poised in the air, staring after the kid with an annoyingly impulsive need to run after him and explain.  Cartman looked wildly between Tweek and the vanishing kid and made a much quicker decision.  The next thing he knew, Cartman had grabbed Tweek by the shoulders slammed him into the lockers again.  This time with full force, Tweek’s head knocked against the metal in a sharp, icy sting.

The last thing Tweek remembered before blacking out was the ring of the school bell, the murmur of a growing crowd, the sting of one good punch to the eye, and the shadow of a looming figure towering over the both of them.