Chapter Text
Chapter 5 - Love That Brings obstacles to the run of Life
It was normal for Kenny to skip school
There were millions of reasons he could not show up. From looking after his siblings to being too hungover or even a simple “I can’t get out of my bed”.
But it made the empty seat next to Butters feel like a grave.
not to be dramatic or anything
For the past couple weeks, they had less time to spend together. Less of the night meetings, less of class glares, less cigarette buds being stepped on behind the school.
It made Butters’ heart ache.
Ache so bad he had to take it out one way or another.
His secret place grew significantly from the first day he found it.
A lot of desks, actual working lamps, wooden planks on the windows to decrease the amount of cold air from the outside. Even a little couch he found next to garbage.
He had moved all his plans in there as well, hanging them on the walls or just having them all over the floor. He didn’t care where they were, all he cared about was just having paper to vomit his ideas and anger on.
He couldn’t help but feel emptiness inside after throwing dozens of papers full of ink all over the floor.
It truly felt like vomiting. A strong unstoppable emotion that overtakes you, makes your body shake, your eyes sharpen, forget about the colours of the world around you.
But the aftertaste was rather awful.
Sick, empty, disgusting.
Sometimes Butters would let himself sob, because he couldn’t understand what he was supposed to do in this state.
He only had two choices.
The first one was seeking help, some warmth and rest.
He just walked the empty streets like a zombie. head down, his feet barely getting off the ground each step.
Straight to Kenny’s house he went.
A simple rock thrown at the familiar window was his question if he was allowed to come in.
And he was always welcome, of course.
He would sit on the floor at first, feeling guilty about troubling Kenny’s sleep. Then he would let go and finally let his little sob out.
And after that, it would depend on Kenny. Usually, cuddling him up in his bed, giving him the needed warmth. It was so relaxing it was intoxicating. Butters felt so safe in those arms. He would allow himself to be a little greedy and just consume the warmth like a parasite.
A disgusting, unwelcome parasite.
A thing that can only consume and cannot give back.
But the tight hug and synced breathing would calm him down. He would always lay fully awake a long time after Kenny would fall back asleep.
Wondering if that meant Kenny felt just as comfortable around him it would make him fast asleep. The thought always made his guts feel funny. He wanted to provide something to Kenny so much.
He would look the sleeping figure up and down. Kenny being warm both with and without his coat was a funny discovery. Touch skin to skin with their hands felt somewhat surreal. Illegal, even.
Sometimes he would go a bit up, sticking his face into Kenny’s neck. He felt guilty for it too. But he couldn’t help it. Kenny was asleep, which made his actions, that he had all the control on, absolutely disgusting. He wanted to breathe into Kenny’s thin skin layer. It made his brain go foggy.
Kenny never switched his position in his sleep, staying scarily still throughout the entire night. And Butters, as much as he loves to roll around in his bed on his own, never dared to move anything but his head in Kenny’s arms.
But what he also did to save himself from the numb pain inside his rib cage was destruction.
A simple way of getting rid of both types of pain, numb and booming agony.
He liked hearing the cries
He liked having things crumble underneath his feet
It only meant his plan was working
He will make this doomed city afraid of him.
He will take control.
He will save it from its own misery, he will make it better.
He will make it possible for love to exist here.
He would always have those vulnerable moments in front of his eyes while firing the guns.
A moment where he could hold Kenny’s hand just for a short minute, but without any reasons.
The moment when he melted into this simple touch.
A moment where he would just forget everything and let Kenny talk his ears out with his soft voice.
Even the years of smoking couldn’t beat its little charm, something special that made Butter’s legs tremble.
The moment when Kenny would light the cigarette in Butters’ mouth with his own.
A moment where they shared no words, but Butters couldn’t care less about the stupid tobacco thing in between his lips after that.
The moment where he would let it go cold on him when he was almost done with it just to get Kenny’s face this close to his again.
And oh, Kenny didn’t mind at all.
Their faces, an inch away, eyes half-open, staring into one another.
Or when Butters just let the dark room in the middle of the night get to him. He couldn’t help but get out of Kenny’s hugging grip, just to end up on top of him. He didn’t move close, no, but he just stared at his friend. One hand to support him, the other to pull his own hair behind his ear. Their eyes never looked away.
Kenny’s slightly longer hair looked so soft around his face. Butters couldn’t look away.
The screams were worth it.
The light up night from the fire was worth it.
Chaos was worth it.
And he will not stop until he’s good at it.
Until they recognize him.
Until they accept their loss and accept the charges he will provide.
Until they accept his love.
But not for them.
Chaos couldn’t care less about all of them,
all of these bland buildings,
similar looking schools,
stupidly tall office buildings,
loud malls full of teenagers.
Nothing matters.
Only Love.
Right?
Right?
He thinks as he gets even closer to Kenny’s sleeping figure. His hands around him like a shield. Kenny never asked, just protected.
And he should do the same, right?
For him.
His blue eyes go up to look into an innocent sleeping face. Kenny looked tired, too. They both were. Both tired of their own existence.
He holds his folded hands next to their chests, legs intertwined, hips almost touching. He leans to the top, passing the neck. Trying to reach his face.
His soft, a little freckled face. Slightly parted lips. Messy strawberry blonde hair.
Butters bit his lip, taking in the sigh in front of him. Of course he wouldn’t be brave enough to do anything. But what if he could?
Just has this little barrier of air between them been gone?
His sucks in some air before hiding himself in Kenny’s neck again. He got scared. Scared of imagining what it could feel like to have his friend so close. To breathe the same air.
He trembles into Kenny’s chest without realizing.
He noticed only after the tight squeeze from Kenny himself.
“Are you alright, buttercup?”
How could he sound so sweet even with his voice hoarse from sleep?
How could he make Butters’ chest feel like a bloom with just four words?
Oh, he was so gone.. so gone for Kenny.
His insides were on fire.
Kenny doesn’t push him to answer, just tightens the hug a little more, putting his head on top of Butters’. He was like a safety weightened blanket.
And he felt so weak. So fragile.
He hated the feeling of helplessness he was in way too often.
He would attack the next night again just to prove himself.
No plan, no thoughts.
Just pure Chaos.
He couldn’t care less about the possible outcomes.
This city was a gloom.
He hated it with his entire big heart.
“Chaos, huh?” - Kenny asks quietly, looking at the newspapers on the display.
Butters felt a shiver going through his entire body.
“He sure is a pro at making the said chaos.” - Kenny says without enthusiasm, abandoning the newspapers after reading a couple sentences from the front page.
“What do you mean by that?” - he asks innocently, following after his friend.
“Nothing.” - Kenny answers quickly before turning to Butters with a little smile. “ He’s probably teaching every cop what chaos actually is.”
Butters blinks at him. He wants to ask what Kenny’s opinion was on the new menace of this town. Did he enjoy the take down of the government? Did he judge him for all the destruction he has caused?
“I don’t think this Chaos dude will stand for much longer.” - Kenny suddenly says with some confidence.
“Huh? Why not?”
“This town is a fucking hell on Earth, but there for sure is someone who loves it here.”
“Like who?” - Butters can’t stop himself from asking.
Kenny shrugs, continues his walk without a single care. “Some damn idiot for sure.”
Butters can’t help but overthink those words that night.
Some “damn idiot” will show up and fight against him?
How funny.
No one with enough power to fight him loved this town.
All those people who enjoyed living here were nothing but followers of the never ending dark sky.
Nothing will help them at this point.
They’re a lost cause.
He left out a little chuckle while preparing to attack places full of those bastards.
He climbs up the rooftop of some skyscraper, looking down on the somewhat empty streets.
They have no idea he has a backpack full of explosives on his back.
Police patrols somewhere down there, too. Idiotic pricks.
They only pretend to do their job. They always do. Keep making their serious expressions and act tough. But as soon as they are needed, they are your enemies.
People who you shall trust are playing on the opposite team.
And he hated it.
Hated it enough to destroy their main building. Right this night.
His backpack falls to the ground without care. And he just keeps looking at all those shells of humans he hated with so much passion.
He would drop his backpack right on their head right now, but he made only so much explosives on his own.
His weekend was busy, you see. Full of love and time with an actual human.
He wondered what Kenny was doing right now.
Probably browsing the internet, maybe watching something he’s not supposed to. Or maybe watching a movie with Karen. Or smoking somewhere outside. Maybe doing some sketchy job once again.
He wanted to see him tonight, he decided.
So he has to get his job done.
He unpacks his backpack, connecting all the explosives together with an empty expression on his face.
The explosion will be a lot more beautiful than all the deeds the people in it did anyway.
He saves one aside, thinking it might be fun if he actually dropped it on the street underneath. Make a bright start to his attack, as he would say.
He gives the street a one last bored look.
The almost silent of something falling distracts him though.
He looks back to see a human figure.
But not a policeman or anything. He was too silent to be with police who love their show uselessly noisy and fussy.
“Can I help you with something?” - he asks without a care. As much as it was weird to have someone else walking around in some costume, he thought it was some sort of a fan. Dark coat, black mask hiding the face, hood on top.
Someone trying to hide their real self behind some fabric, just like him.
“The only thing you can do to help me is surrender.” - the deep voice cuts through the cold wind. “Unless you want to do it the hard way.”
His brows meet at his forehead.
Really now?
Surrender?
The hard way?
Oh please.
“You might as well go home early,” - he says, unimpressed. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“If you say so,” - the stranger says before pulling a gun at him. “The hard way it is. Your deed here is done, Chaos.”
A small laugh gets out from his lips.
“For you, stranger, it’s Professor Chaos.” - he rolls his eyes with a grin. “You think a gun would scare me away?”
The stranger continues to stay with a gun pointing at him. His coat behind him is playing in the wind.
“I think it will be easier for both of us if you raise your hands above your head and we will be done with all this.” - the stranger continues, his voice stable. He seemed tired, as if it wasn’t their first ever encounter.
“How much did they pay you?” - he asks, leaning on the half wall at the edge of the building. “Are you sure you want to get those corrupted bucks from their dirty hands? That’s pathetic.”
“No one’s paying. I have personal reasons to stop your bullshit.”
He laughs from the irony.
“Guess we’re more alike than I expected, stranger.”
“Its Mysterion for you.” - the other said, obviously getting to his limit. He took a couple slow steps forward with the gun still being held up with confidence.
And it pissed him off so bad.
“Mysterion.. it’s a bit too long for me to care, sorry,” he sighs before throwing the explosive at him.
And while it took Mysterion a second to catch up, Chaos was already on his way away from the rooftop. A nice glide down the fire staircase
And just a few seconds of running, he pushed the button to explode the entire rooftop.
He couldn’t help but get a little concussion himself, his head beaming from the loud noise. But he continued making his way out, slowly processing all the sirens behind him. He couldn’t stop himself from a nice loud laugh.
Poor new dude, really.
He didn’t have to point a gun at him and maybe he would be able to stay alive.
But oh well.
He stops for a little breather and looks back. Cold air scratching his hot lungs.
A couple of last floors of the main security office were covered in fire. A bunch of dust falling everywhere, even reaching him in chunks.
A beautiful view indeed.
He felt dominant, like a terror. They will soon crack under his authority.
Until he sees Mysterion running out of one of the dust waves, running straight to him.
What the fuck.
He doesn’t process it in time, too stunned to speak or even think.
And it gets him a solid punch with the gun right to his jaw.
“You damn fucker!” - Mysterion groans, grabbing Professor Chaos by the collar.
Well, shit.
As soon as his feet stopped feeling the ground underneath him, his brain started to work once again. The pain from his jaw spread up to his brain.
And he punched back, grabbing into Mysterion like an animal. Punch after punch after another. Getting hit himself when Mysterion rolled them around and dropped both of them onto the metal roof.
He rarely participated in fist fights, his main strength being gunpowder and the knowledge of making bombs from nowhere else but his weird childhood experiences and connections.
And damn he sucked at fist fights compared to Mysterion, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“You’re fucking dead,” - Mysterion grabbed his collar once again and slammed him into the ground. “I will fucking finish you right here.”
“You don’t have the guts,” - he spits out, coughing his own blood.
As much as he wanted to hold his image, he knew he was fucked.
Absolutely damn fucked.
Mysterion pulled his gun out once again, pushing it into Chaos’s protected forehead with force. “You’re done messing with this town. You’re done with your terrorism shit, you fucker.”
“Do you think you can just show up and ruin all my plans?...” - he choked out, tasting his own blood in his mouth.
He pulls his own gun, pressing it up to Mysterion’s unprotected stomach. “Checkmate, Mysti…”
Mysterion doesn’t move. His eyes widened a little just for a split second, but Chaos caught it.
“Pull the trigger then.” - he says, his voice is just as deep and a bit more hoarse after a fight.
He lets out a laugh.
“You think reverse psychology will work on me? Really?” - he spits, almost rolling his eyes.
The gun gets pushed into Mysterion’s guts. A noisy reminder of the danger.
“Then shoot. Shoot a normal citizen who dared to go against you.” - Mysterion whispers, his eyes never leaving Professor Chaos’s. “Because you wouldn’t dare. Your entire plan is to take over the city and not just kill whoever.”
“You leave quite a first impression, Mysti… didn’t know you were a fan of mine.”
“It is true, I want to take over the city, casualties among civilians who never fought back are an accident.”
“But if a civilian gets in my way, I couldn’t care less about their feelings.”
“Then shoot.” - Mysterion says, dropping his own gun. “Kill me. Pull the trigger.”
If he said it wasn’t confusing, he would be a sinner.
The burning confidence in Mysterion’s voice caught him off guard.
Was he this eager to die?
Was he really a fan of some sorts?
A crazy man?
did it matter, though?
He pulled the trigger, feeling the backfire go through his entire body.
He heard the cut of the flesh.
He saw Mysterion’s wide eyes.
And he saw him fall.
Continuing looking into his eyes and nowhere else.
“It wasn’t a pleasure,” - he says, standing up slowly. His head hurt so bad. He felt his guts forming bruises inside of his body. “but you asked for it.”
He walked away slowly, dragging his feet. His head was numb, his brain melting.
Did he just… kill a person?
He barely made it to his house after leaving his gear at his secret place. Butters tried to clean all the blood off himself, his own and not.
But he couldn’t look himself in the mirror.
He did it again.
He has killed.
But this time, it was intentional.
He looked Mysterion in the eyes while doing it. He knew he wasn’t together with the people he hated.
But he hated him too, right? He was against him.
But Butters wasn’t sure.
And he couldn’t stop himself from breaking down.
He was horrible.
He wasn’t worth living.
Not after this.
It will haunt him forever.
He abandoned his secret spot early and in a rush. Only one way out of this state. He runs on the familiar streets, he picks up a small rock from underneath the thin layer of fresh snow, and throws it.
But nobody opens.
Nobody was there to call him a person.