Chapter Index

1. Butters 2. Kenny 3. Butters 4. Kenny 5. Butters 6. Kenny 7. Butters 8. Kenny

"Seriously, Butters?" Eric groaned out a greeting. I stood sheepishly at the door to Eric's mother's house, where Eric was still living while he was attending community college in Denver. I didn't know who else to turn to; Eric had been my best friend all throughout high school. He still he was my best friend, I liked to think. It didn't matter that we hadn't spoken face to face in two and a half years.

I knew that Eric would always be willing to support a friend in their time of need. Besides, as far as I was concerned he still owed me for all of the little bundles of cookies and pastries I'd been sending his way throughout my four years of culinary school.

I looked down at my watch. 9:30. Gosh darn it—I should have remembered that, if given the choice, Eric wasn't up before noon on a Sunday; some best friend I was. Even if we had lost touch for a few years, I still thought that I knew Eric better than that.

"What do you want?" Eric asked with a sigh, opening the door and practically pulling me into the toasty-warm house. Eric must have been in an especially cheerful mood this morning, or he was simply getting sick of standing in the cold. Either way, I was grateful.

After living in LA for nearly five years, the bone-chilling cold of the Rocky Mountains seemed even colder than I had recalled. It didn't help that I had outgrown my winter coat, and had subsequently been spending the week and a half since I'd been back living in a permanent state of frozen in my thin-but-entirely-stylish-for-life-in-LA jacket. I really needed to remember to pick up a new coat at the mall sometime this week.

Eric's mom's house hadn't changed much in the couple of years since I'd been gone. The walls were still that cheery yellow color and pictures of Eric's progression to adulthood hung on the wall above the TV, below which Eric's Xbox 360 and additional games were scattered about.

"Well, gee, Eric," I began cheerfully. "How'd ya know I didn't come over just to say hello?" I trailed after Eric who was heading into the kitchen, no doubt in order to make himself some breakfast.

"Because," Eric stopped, and I ran into his back. "If that were the case, I'd have to kick you in the balls for waking me up early, you fucking pansy. If you even have any balls." His eyes flickered to mine and I was glad to note that there was no trace of malice in Eric's dark brown eyes other than the mild irritation at having been woken up nearly three hours before his scheduled time.

So Eric had missed me! I could feel my chest constrict with emotion at the thought. Of course I knew that Eric cherished our friendship more than he would let on, but the constant skepticism of the rest of our friends was always causing me to second guess myself, and in turn Eric.

While I had been standing in the middle of the kitchen grinning to myself like an idiot at the discovery, Eric had been moving about and making himself a mediocre excuse for a breakfast. I was glad to see that Eric had finally learned to make himself a meal without his mother's help. Not that I would call cereal and toast a meal by any means. I should have offered to make Eric a welcome home breakfast, but it was a little too late for that.

Maybe I would do something special for dinner one of these nights, I thought as I followed Eric to the table with his food. I pulled out the chair across from Eric and sat down onto it, immediately resting my head in both of my hands.

"So Eric," I paused, waiting until I had all of Eric's attention before continuing. "I was thinkin'... maybe you'd be able to help me out with somethin'? I mean—you know; if you've got the time for it." Asking for favors from Eric had always made me nervous. I could see the wheels turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons of my request. "You're pretty much in the know about what's been happening around town, right?" I added for good measure. Mentioning how smart Eric was about a particular field of study—or at least pointing out how much smarter than you he was—practically guaranteed that he would listen to what you had to say.

Finally after a long moment of silence Eric put down his cereal spoon and laced his hands together on the tabletop. "First of all, Butters," Eric leaned across the table towards me, narrowing his eyes on the emphasis. "I do not pretty much know everything that's going on around here. While you were off having yourself a merry little fucking time in Los Angeles at your gay-ass culinary institute I was working my way up the ladder the hard way. Who else would have seen to it that the mayor was forced to step down? About time that bitch got put in her place, too." He took a large bite of cereal, wiping the milk that dribbled down his chin in the process. "But I suppose that for an old friend I might be willing to consider lending my assistance. What's got your panties in a bunch this time?"

I let out a sigh of relief. Eric was rarely this generous with his time. Unless he was pulling one of his scams where he would demand payment after he'd already helped you. No way to get around paying him that way. He had scammed me at least seven times that way in our senior year of high school alone.

It was for that reason that I hesitated before continuing, "Well, ya see, I found this ring last night and I was wondering if you might know who it belongs to." I held out my hand for him to examine the ring that had somehow attached itself to my finger.

My first weekend back, and already I was fighting to keep my sanity in this messed up town. I had almost decided not to come back—after all, what with my parents disowning me and all I didn't have much left here in South Park besides Eric to look after. And Dougie and Ike, but they were both pretty independent people and liked to spend more time alone than I was used to doing.

Somehow I had let Wendy convince me into escorting her to a welcome-home party last night—I guess most of the kids in our class who'd gone on to college were coming back into town about now—and things had gotten a little out of hand. But what else could you expect, coming from a town like South Park? I didn't have many friends in our grade, aside from Cartman and the girls, so most of my evening had been spent people watching from a nice comfy spot on Clyde Donovan's couch, just looking to see how much people had changed.

Wendy had taken off at the first chance she'd gotten—catching up with Stan, she'd said, as she took his offered hand. I let her go, of course; she deserved to have a little fun after all the hard work she'd put herself through lately.

I couldn't remember the exact moment it happened last night—but at some point, something changed. Something in the air, something inside me—I'm not really sure. But I can remember just sitting there and then all of a sudden—bam! Like something inside me snapped, I just stood up, my body moving on its own accord and leading me to this strange looking ring just lying in a darkened end of the Donovan's hallway.

I, of course, picked up the strange ring, and being the kind of guy I am, slipped it on casually as I examined the strange patterns etched into the metal. They were hieroglyphs—some kind I'd never seen before in my life. It didn't really look like anything anyone from our little town would be wearing on their finger, but then again, I hadn't actually been in South Park for years.

After all, it only takes a couple of seconds for people to change in, well, life-altering ways.

I'm thinking that last night might have been one of those times for me.

"Never seen it before," Eric told me as he squinted down at the ring. "It almost looks like something that stinky Jew-rat would wear." He added thoughtlessly with a shrug before polishing off the last of his cereal.

"You really think so? Thanks, Eric!" I responded cheerfully. If it really were Kyle's, maybe he'd know the secret to getting it off. It was probably as simple as one of those Chinese finger locks, once you knew the trick behind them.

For some reason or another, the darn ring on my finger just wouldn't come off. I had been trying everything I could think of—soaking it in water, oiling my finger and trying to tug it off, and just plain twisting it around. But none of my ideas were working in the least. Somehow the ring has decided that it'd like a permanent home, and my hand just happened to be the perfect fit, much to my despair.

With all the fretting I'd been doing lately, it took a minute or two for Eric's words to really settle into my mind. "Wait just a second. You keep track of what sort of jewelry Kyle wears?" I always knew that Eric was a little too obsessed with Kyle, but not quite to that extent.

"It—It's not—Jesus Christ, Butters," He stuttered. I haven't seen Eric so flustered in his life before, but then again, I suppose I haven't really asked him anything so strange before. I was just glad that he had already finished eating his cereal, because I didn't want to try and perform the Heimlich maneuver on someone as big boned as Eric. "It's not like there's a lot to do in this white trash town. When you left—I mean, fuck." He groaned, putting his head in both hands. "Don't make me say it, you black asshole." Eric peeked up at me through his fingers, giving me as much of an imploring look as I know I'd ever get from him.

I'm not going to lie—it was tempting to wait it out; to see how long it would take Eric to crack and reveal that he did, in fact, consider me one of his friends. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Regardless of how Eric was constantly treating his friends, I knew he was really a caring person deep down.

Really deep down.

But he'd probably been through enough as it was, I'd considered. Eric wasn't very trusting in general, so I knew that without me around for the past three years he'd probably been living most of his life in seclusion. Just the fact that he'd said as much as he had spoke volumes as to just how much he'd grown since I'd been gone.

"It's okay, Eric. I understand," I told him with a smile. And in that moment, I realized that I truly did understand. All this time I'd thought that it was me who needed to get out from under Eric's thumb, but maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe I had been hindering Eric's behavior all this time.

Eric just scowled back at me before standing up to take his dishes to the sink and proceeding to wash them. Another improvement, I noted. The Eric I left behind would have left the dishes for his mother to clean up.

"Don't go reading into things that aren't there, you hear me? The only ones that stuck around this shitty town are Kenny, Tweek, and Craig. That doesn't leave me any options in terms of finding people to do my bidding. Tweek just flips out the second anybody tries to fucking talk to him, and Kenny and Craig are both so god damn stubborn that they won't listen to a thing I say." Eric stopped in mid-rinse of the dishes, not bothering to stop the hot water from running down his chubby fingers as he glanced back at me.

"Say, Butters?" Eric asked, his voice raising a couple of octaves in the process. "You like helping out your friends, right? Especially your best friend?"

"Well sure, I suppose. I mean, you did just help me out with this ring and all. So whaddya need?" Eric smiled in that way that told me it might not be such a great idea to trust the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"I need you to talk to Wendy for me." Eric replied seriously. Now—I knew that regardless of the persona that Eric projected to the outside world, he was truly a self-conscious guy like the rest of us. But never before had he asked me to talk to a girl for him. I must've been making a pretty funny face, because he glared and stomped over, looking like he was getting ready to throw a fit. "You better knock it the fuck off and listen to me, Butters. I need you to win Wendy over for me—tell her what an upstanding and awesome guy I am—okay? We're going to need her on our side here in a few months, and you are already friends with the skanky bitch, therefore you need to talk to her."

He was making a logical argument. And although I was curious about what we'd need her for, I knew Eric would just throw another fit if I brought it up now.

"Yes sir!" I nodded. He seemed pleased at that, and pulled away from the table and out of my personal space, which he had been leaning into angrily.

"Good. Now get to work! And make sure you keep in touch with Ike; the kid's been talking about you nonstop. It's fucking annoying."

I always found it a little strange that someone like Kenny would choose to stick around South Park. He always seemed like the type of kid that wanted—well, out. I was the same way; it was one of the few things I'd assumed we'd had in common. That's why it had come as such a surprise to me when Eric had mentioned his name—and when I ran into him later, sitting on Stan and Kyle's raggedy old couch.

It hadn't been hard to find Stan and Kyle's little apartment with the directions Eric had given me. It was tucked away, hidden above one of the newer buildings they had built in South Park recently. As I walked slowly up the stairs leading to their floor, I couldn't help but fiddle with the ring that was stuck on my finger anxiously.

What if they couldn't help me? Stan and Kyle were the smartest people I knew, if neither of them could tell me anything about this weird ring... I shook my head, forcing the thoughts from my mind. I was at their door, anyway. No use standing outside worrying like an idiot. I was sure they would be able to help.

I knocked on the door, waiting patiently as I heard voices approaching; Stan's deep, playful tone, and Kyle's slightly higher and clipped one. The door swung open and Kyle stood at the door, blinking at me with his lips pursed.

He'd cut his hair. It was the first thing I noticed, of course, because all throughout our school years he'd been so darn self-conscious about it. I had always been jealous of his hair, to be honest—but I'd never tell him that, unless I wanted to get ranted at for a good half hour. Stan had never been shy about telling Kyle how much he loved his hair, though, and usually Kyle took his compliments with a weary acceptance. But it looked like Kyle hadn't taken Stan's opinions into consideration when he chopped his curls so short against his head that they hardly began to curl at all.

"Butters? When did you get home?"

"Jeez, Kyle! That's no way to greet a guest. Were you really so wasted last night that you don't remember seeing Butters?" Stan asked, appearing at Kyle's side. He opened the door wider, pulling Kyle aside and ushering me inside. "I'm sorry—he's still not house trained." Kyle huffed, crossing his arms and angling an irritated glance at Stan.

"I wouldn't have had to drink so much if someone would shut up for ten seconds about Wendy-fucking-Testaburger." Stan took Kyle's irritation in stride, laughing at his barb.

I knew that I couldn't even begin to understand the complex relationship that Stan and Kyle shared, but just seeing their interactions has always made me a little wistful. To be so close to someone else that literally had no censor; that you knew that no matter what they would always be there to help and support you if you needed it... I had always envied the relationship that they shared.

I wondered if everyone had that one person that they could connect to on some higher level that was beyond comprehension.

Kenny's dark eyes suddenly appeared in my vision—and I could've sworn the ring on my finger pulsed. He was there, sitting on the worn couch in the corner of the small living room, watching me with narrowed eyes. My stomach fluttered at the intense stare and I broke eye contact, turning my attention back to Stan and Kyle, who were still bickering as they made their way to stand beside me.

"So Butters—what can we do for you?" Kyle asked as he shrugged out of Stan's arm across his shoulder. Stan grinned at the action and moved on to my shoulders.

"I'm sure you didn't come by just to marvel at our totally awesome apartment—but while you're here," Stan drawled, "I'll give you the grand tour." Kyle scoffed, sitting on the couch next to Kenny. "Don't worry Kyle; I won't show him the massive collection of porn I saw you stashing in your bedroom closet."

"Are you holding out on me?" I heard Kenny murmur to Kyle—but it seemed almost forced to my ears. I wondered if he was still dead-set against not speaking to me, as he'd been throughout high school.

"Damn it, Stan! You know that's not true!" Kyle flushed. I couldn't fight the smile as I thought of the two of them living together, getting in each other's hair like this every day. Stan laughed again, as if Kyle's irritation was an everyday occurrence; and I'm sure it was, with the constant teasing Kyle had to put up with on Stan's part.

Stan took me around the house, only stopping briefly in each room before returning back to the living room. The pair had obviously just moved into the place; boxes were still piled high in the living room and from what Stan showed me in the kitchen and the rest of the house, they'd only unpacked the necessities so far. I had to remind myself to bring a batch of cookies next time I stopped by—I should've made some before coming over today.

"...go see that movie sometime next week—oh, Butters; what are you doing next week? The new Terrance and Philip movie is finally coming to South Park, are you in?"

"Oh, gosh, fellas. I didn't even know they were still makin' those old things. How long have those two been at it now? Nearly twenty years?" Kenny and Kyle looked at me like I was crazy, but really, who had time to watch TV these days? For fear of alienating myself even more than I was doing already, I quickly added, "But they sure are great, aren't they? Sure, I'll come along."

He nodded, but still seemed a bit put off by my first response. "Alright—but don't invite Cartman. I can't stand that douche bag. How you and Ike still manage to put up with that fat piece of shit is beyond—"

"Kyle," Stan cut in before Kyle could go on another of his endless rants about what a bad person Eric was, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry!" He said, more out of instinct than feeling, "Did you know he wrote me letters every single week that I was away? What kind of sick freak does that?"

"I wrote you almost every day, dude," Stan responded, looking a little bashful. Kyle paused only momentarily, studying Stan's face.

I sat down on the couch next to Kenny—and instantly regretted it. He turned his focus entirely to me, staring at me in a distinctly uncomfortable way. I fought the urge to meet his stare, watching Stan and Kyle with a determined interest.

"That's different, Stan. You and I are friends; Cartman was writing to tell me how much he hates my guts."

"Butters," Kenny prodded, tapping me hesitantly on the arm. It was something so out of character for a guy like Kenny; I couldn't help but glance over. His brows were knitted, and he was leaning closer now than he was before, as if he was searching for something.

"Whu—what is it?" I asked, leaning back a bit when he narrowed his eyes at me again and leaned even closer into my space.

"What are you doing here?" I know I'm not very good at hiding my emotions; my shock must have been evident judging by the face he was making back at me. It was just—what sort of question is that? I didn't believe he had any right to ask me that question, considering this wasn't his house either, but I answered him anyway.

"Oh, well, you know—" Jeez, it was so hard to concentrate with Kenny focusing on me so intently. Had I always been so conscious of him? I couldn't seem to remember. "Do you recognize this?" Flustered, I shoved my hand in Kenny's general direction. He looked at me with that same thoughtful expression, but didn't otherwise comment on my behavior. I could've sworn I'd seen some flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he denied it immediately.

"No..." He replied slowly. "Should I?" His tone must have caught Stan and Kyle's attention, because they both came over to take a look at the ring as well, curiosity apparent on their faces.

"The fuck? Are you trying to tell us you hooked up with some chick back in LA?" Stan asked as he tilted his head and squinted, trying to make out the patterns on the ring, I assumed.

"What? N-no!" His question shouldn't have had me as flustered as it did, but something had me feeling a little lightheaded all of a sudden. I couldn't concentrate on any one particular thing; I looked back and forth between all three of them before continuing. "I found the darn thing."

"Let me see it," Kenny glanced at both Stan and Kyle as if silently asking for permission before his eyes flickered back to mine. Why he would feel the need to ask them before approaching me was beyond me. It wasn't like I'd ever told him explicitly to stay away from me—he seemed to do a fine job of that all on his own.

Well, from there I'm not really sure what happened next. My breath hitched in nervous anticipation—of what, I wasn't sure. Kenny's fingertips brushed mine, pulling my hand, the ring, closer.

And then, the universe fell apart around us.

 

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