Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kenny McCormick wondered, not for the first time, how getting punched by minions on a routine basis had somehow become his life. It wasn’t that he regretted it necessarily, but he’d just taken a pretty hard blow to the gut and he could already feel the beginnings of a deep bruise that he was definitely not looking forward to dealing with tomorrow. Not to be outdone, Kenny grit his teeth through the pain and returned the favor to the man who had just punched him, knocking him back and into the crowd of minions pressing in on him. Kenny shook out his hand and swore under his breath.

Raucous laughter drifted down from the rooftops and Kenny scowled. “Well, Mysterion,” a smug voice taunted gleefully, “how are you finding my new and improved minions?”

Kenny shifted so he could look up at the rooftops from under the cowl of his hooded cape. Perched on the edge and watching him with a wild grin was the source of all of Kenny’s current problems: Professor Chaos.

They’d been playing this cat and mouse game with each other for months now. For whatever reason, Professor Chaos had become a lot more active than usual—in the past week alone they’d encountered each other and fought no less than three times, and each fight was bigger than the last. It wasn’t like he expected Professor Chaos to like him—far from it—but there was something about the way the name Mysterion rolled off of Chaos’ tongue that made Kenny shiver, like it meant so much more.

This was their fourth fight now, and somehow in the span of two days all of Chaos’ minions had been outfitted with some kind of reinforced armor that Kenny was getting really, really sick of trying to punch through. Still, he wasn’t about to share that information, so he fixed Chaos with his best glare instead.

Professor Chaos just laughed. “There’s nothing you can do,” he said, “Chaos is inevitable!”

“As is justice,” Kenny growled in the low, rough voice of Mysterion.

“How very typical of you,” Chaos sneered. He tilted his head up and paused, looking off somewhere in the distance with narrowed eyes, and then snapped his fingers. On cue, the minions tightened the circle around Kenny, ready for round two. He met Chaos’s gaze and saw his enemy shrug. “Better luck next time.”

Chaos turned away from the edge of the roof and walked away, out of sight. It was then that Kenny heard the distant wail of police sirens, and he knew the fight was coming to a close. The police were a far cry from competent, but they were definitely trigger-happy, and he’d learned from experience that vigilantes weren’t exempt from their generous aim.

Kenny scowled. He hated to leave the fight on this note—Chaos all but had him beat, as things stood—but dying again appealed to him even less. Getting shot hurt. He eyed one of the minions, a broad-shouldered man closing in on him with outstretched arms, and made a last-minute decision. He dropped low and tensed, waiting for him to take just the right amount of steps forward before he broke out into a full sprint, charging the minion head-on. The man froze, startled, and Kenny took the opportunity to launch himself into the air. He landed squarely on the minion’s shoulders, and then propelled himself forward and up to catch the ledge of the rooftop. He took a brief moment to glance down, smirking briefly at the dumbstruck look on the minions’ faces, before he hauled himself up over the ledge and out of view.

He caught up to Professor Chaos in no time. He clearly hadn’t expected Mysterion to chase after him, and was taken by surprise when Kenny tackled him to the ground and pinned him under his knees. It was unsettling to see such a wide-eyed, vulnerable expression on Chaos’s face, but it quickly melted back into his familiar, manic grin.

“Minions these days,” Chaos said conversationally, as if he was having polite conversation with a friendly co-worker.

Kenny pressed him down harder. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded, their faces dangerously close.

Chaos tilted his head, like a curious child, and stared back at Mysterion. He looked right into Kenny’s eyes, scanning his face like he was searching for something. Kenny had to force himself not to look away even as his skin crawled with unease.

“So that you—” Chaos chewed his lip, “everyone, knows what it’s like.”

“What?” Kenny growled. The sirens were loud in his ears now, the screeching of braking tires and the vivid bright flashes of blue and red lights. He knew he had to go, and soon, before the police inevitably found them, but he felt overwhelmed, desperate.

Chaos smiled and Kenny’s stomach dropped. “Helplessness. You feel it all the time, don’t you?”

 Kenny paused, his muscles tense. In that moment, Chaos pulled his legs in and dug into Kenny’s stomach with his knee, right into his developing bruise. Kenny muffled a grunt of pain and recoiled, allowing Chaos just enough space to pull himself free and make a break for it. Kenny let him go, hobbling somewhat unsteadily to his feet as he looked for his own escape route. He was definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

When Kenny arrived at Park County High School, he was one period late and walking just a little too gingerly to get away with it. He’d stayed out late last night, trying to track down Professor Chaos despite his better judgment. Whenever Chaos disappeared he was impossible to find, no matter how hard Kenny tried. It had been a terrible idea from the start, but something about his conversation with Chaos had left Kenny feeling so… uneven. And he hated it.

When the bell rang and everyone got out of their first period classes, Kenny tried to blend in and made his way down the hall to his own locker. He wasn’t avoiding anybody, of course. But there was almost definitely somebody looking for him who was not going to be happy with him, and some conversations were best had later—or never, ideally, but Kenny knew he wasn’t going to be that lucky. Didn’t mean he couldn’t try to put it off for as long as possible though.

When he reached his locker, Kenny buried his face in it and dug around for the algebra homework Kyle had forced him to do early last weekend. He hated to admit that it came in handy now, considering it was due next period and he certainly wouldn’t have had time to do it last night, but Kyle was definitely going to be insufferable about it. His fingers finally found the loose papers and he made a face as he stuffed it rather ungracefully into his bag.

Without warning, there was a hard tug on the back of Kenny’s jacket. His eyes widened as he stumbled back and attempted weakly to squirm out of the grip, but whoever it was had other ideas. They dragged him backwards and into the nearest bathroom, giving him one final pull before they finally let go.

In all honesty, Kenny had kind of been expecting this. Sure enough, when Kenny turned around, he was met with the piercing green gaze of a very pissed off red-head. Kyle had his arms crossed, with his tongue pressed between his teeth. Kenny tried for a friendly grin, but Kyle didn’t even blink. So much for putting things off.

“Let me see it,” Kyle demanded.

Kenny’s smile faltered. “Huh?”

Kyle glanced pointedly down at Kenny’s stomach in a way that left Kenny feeling defensive almost immediately. There was no way Kyle could know about that, unless—

“You were there last night?” Kenny hissed, his voice torn between shocked and furious.

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Yes, now let me see how bad—”

“Kyle! We had an agreement! You’re supposed to stay away from the fights. I come to you, not the other way around!” Kenny snapped.

Kyle scowled and replied in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Yeah, because you totally uphold that agreement. I was up waiting for you until 4 you dick.”

Kenny sighed. He knew Kyle was going to be mad about this. They’d made an arrangement years ago, when it was clear that Mysterion wasn’t going to be going away any time soon. Kyle, the only one who knew Mysterion’s true identity, agreed to keep helping him, but Kenny always had to come back and report to him whenever he went out. Kenny hated it at first, but Kyle threatened to reveal him if he didn’t. He’d figured out soon enough that Kyle never intended to do it in the first place: it was just his way of making sure Kenny was okay. In the long run, Kenny appreciated the back-up and having someone to talk to, but Kyle was always going to be Kyle and sometimes that was hard to deal with. Like now.

“Kyle,” Kenny groaned, “now’s really not the time for this.”

“Yeah, well, you lost the right to decide that after keeping me up all night,” Kyle answered back easily, and suddenly he was backing Kenny up into the bathroom wall. “Now let me see.”

Kyle’s fingers grasped at the hem of Kenny’s shirt and he tried to tug it up and over his head, but Kenny reached out and grabbed Kyle’s wrists to stop him.

“Kenny, I need to know how bad you’re hurt,” he said, the exasperation clear in his voice.

Kenny whined, “Aren’t you supposed to take me out to dinner or something first?”

Kyle gave him an unimpressed look with one eyebrow raised. “I know you’re still ticklish dude, don’t make me do it.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you play dirty?” Kenny asked through thinly veiled bitterness.

Kyle nodded. “You, multiple times. Now let me get on with it.”

Kenny sighed in resignation and released Kyle’s wrists with a dramatic flourish. Kyle wasted no time in yanking Kenny’s shirt and jacket up to get a good look at the angry dark purples and yellows that marred his pale skin. Kyle pressed one finger against it and Kenny flinched instantly, fixing Kyle with a glare of betrayal.

“Sorry,” Kyle mumbled, sounding honestly sincere. “Are you okay?”

Kenny grinned, elected not to mention the pain still thrumming raw under his skin, and batted his eyelashes. "Why Kyle, I’m touched,” he teased with a wink.

“Alright, asshole,” Kyle huffed, but Kenny noticed the way Kyle’s grip on him loosened anyways. The kid was still a softie under it all.

Suddenly, the bathroom door was pushed open and someone walked in. Both Kenny and Kyle snapped their heads to look as the new intruder came to a halt, staring at the two of them and taking in the sight of Kenny pressed against the wall with Kyle’s hands under his shirt.

“Oh, gee,” Butters stuttered, his whole face flushed bright red. “Sorry, you two!”

He turned on his heels and dashed out not a second later, even as Kenny struggled to regain control of his brain long enough to splutter, “Leo, wait!”

It was too late. Butters was gone, and Kyle was backing out of Kenny’s personal space with a poorly disguised guilty frown. Kenny took a moment to breathe.

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah,” Kyle echoed.

They exchanged another glance, silent, before Kenny was making a mad dash out of the bathroom and down the hall, scanning for the telltale mop of sunny yellow hair that was currently scurrying away from him. Kenny pushed a couple students aside as he gave chase.

“Leo!”

Butters gave a little jolt but his nervous pace slowed to a halt so Kenny could approach. Kenny gasped for air when he finally caught up, his whole body jittery with nerves.

“Leo, listen,” Kenny said when he finally found his voice.

Butters just smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Ken, I wasn’t plannin’ on tellin’ nobody.”

Kenny shook his head. “No, you got it wrong. Kyle and I aren’t—he was just being a mom, you know.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like somethin’ a mom would do,” Butters replied with a small frown. Kenny winced.

“You know how Kyle is,” he said, “his way or the highway and all that.”

Butters still looked thoroughly unconvinced, and Kenny made a noise of frustration in the back of his throat. Noticing his stricken expression, Butters’ frown wavered and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry Kenny,” he said, “I believe you. I’m just confused is all.”

“Don’t be,” Kenny smiled quickly, “I promise.”

“Well. All right,” Butters said. Overhead, the bell for second period rang and the halls began to disperse as students headed off for their next class. Kenny was in no rush to go, but he knew Butters hated to be late to class so he adjusted his bag and gave the other blond one last smile.

“See you at lunch?” Kenny asked.

“Of course,” Butters replied with furrowed brows, like he was confused at the question.

Kenny gave his shoulder a quick squeeze in farewell and then ran off for class, feeling like lunch was never going to come soon enough.

Chapter Text

When the bell for lunch rang, Kenny scrambled out of the classroom like his life depended on it. It had become a kind of tradition in recent years for him and Butters to have lunch together each day. He still remembered the first time, recalling the memory with a vividness bordering on surreal: Butters had all but accosted Cartman when he plopped himself down in the seat across from Kenny that Cartman usually occupied and started talking to him about the weather of all things. Nobody said a word about it, least of all Kenny, who had basked in the attention only to spend the rest of the day wondering if it meant anything when Butters had said that hopefully the clouds would clear up soon.

The cafeteria was crowded as usual as Kenny made his way to their table. A smile crept to his face when he saw that Butters was already there, but the second person sitting and talking with Butters was a surprise—Kyle was nodding along absentmindedly with whatever Butters was saying. Usually he went off god-knows-where with Stan.

Butters was still in the middle of his story as Kenny walked over. “Well, I saw him go in so I went and peaked through the window and he looked kind of upset. I don’t know why he was—oh, hi Ken!”

“Hey,” Kenny greeted easily as he slid into the seat next to Butters. Across the table, Kyle was pointedly avoiding his gaze. Interesting.

“I was just telling Kyle about how I saw Tweek at the principal’s office,” Butters said, a small frown tugging at his face. “I sure hope he doesn’t miss lunch.”

“Craig’s not gonna be happy,” Kenny commented lightly. His shoulder brushed against Butters’ as he slouched down to rest his head in one hand.

A new voice cut into the conversation: “Counterpoint, Craig’s never happy.”

Kenny glanced up to find the owner of the voice. Token Black stood at the table, smirking as Craig glowered behind him. Clyde stood off to the side, trying his best to stifle his own snickers.

“You don’t even know what they’re talking about, asshole,” Craig grumbled, which really wasn’t doing much to disprove Token’s point.

“Are you telling me I’m wrong?” Token replied, and quickly ducked out of the way before Craig’s palm could find the back of his head. He took a seat next to Kyle and the other boys followed suit.

“I hate you guys,” Craig announced flatly, but still took his usual seat next to Token. He took one glance at Kyle and rather unsubtly declared: “You look like shit, Broflovski.”

“Thanks, stayed up all night working,” Kyle said, not lifting his gaze from the table. Kenny eyed him cautiously.

“Dude, did you guys hear about what happened last night?” Clyde butt in.

There were several exasperated groans, most prominently from Craig, who sighed, “Not this again.”

“I read about it in the news,” Token replied, “About Chaos right? They said he practically has his own army now.”

Clyde nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I heard they nearly beat the shit out of Mysterion!”

Kenny’s eye twitched but he kept his mouth shut. This wasn’t a conversation he should get involved in, no matter how much it hurt his pride.

“Maybe now whoever it is will stop streaking around in his underwear and leave it to the cops,” Craig snorted. “You know, the people whose job it is to deal with this stuff.”

Clyde leaned a bit too far backwards to glare at Craig. After recovering from nearly falling off his seat, he snapped, “Dude, everyone knows the police aren’t doing shit.”

“Last time they tried to stop Chaos nobody could go into the station for a week,” Token noted, “I wouldn’t want to mess with that either.”

“That was just an over-glorified stink bomb,” Kyle interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“Still pretty gross,” Token replied.

Kyle shrugged. His gaze had drifted upwards, staring at something past Kenny’s shoulder. His features contorted—Kenny was sure he had never seen that look on Kyle’s face before—and stood up without another word. “I’ll see you guys later,” he muttered hastily and left, leaving an astonished table in his wake.

Craig whistled in the ensuing silence. “Did you piss him off, Token?”

“I don’t think so?”

Clyde rolled his eyes. “Anyways,” he continued, “screw the police! Mysterion can handle it, he’s a real hero.”

Kenny tried to contain his flinch when Butters snorted derisively beside him. It was easy to overlook in conversation when Butters was usually so quiet and polite, but it was well known throughout their group that Butters hated Mysterion. In fact, he was the only other kid besides Cartman who did, and Kenny had never figured out why. It was hard, though, to ignore the sting he felt knowing one of the sweetest, most wonderful guys he knew hated a part of him more than words could apparently describe. He’d trade a thousand of fans like Clyde just to know that Butters believed in him.

“Are we done talking about this now?” Craig asked, not even trying to disguise his annoyance. Clyde grumbled incredulously but let it happen, turning instead to poke at his lunch with a dramatic sigh.

“You guys just don’t get it,” he mumbled unhappily.

“Nope,” Craig agreed.

Kenny gave Clyde the smallest of sympathetic smiles. Not that he’d ever say, but he understood just fine.  A pair of wide eyes flashed in Kenny’s memory and he wondered if Professor Chaos ever sat around, listening to people talk about him as if he wasn’t there. At least Mysterion had fans. As far as he was aware, nobody liked Chaos—he was a villain after all, so why should they?

A couple days after the first time Butters inserted himself into Kenny's lunch circle, Kenny had decided to start a second tradition by inserting himself into Butters' after-school activities. And, just as with Butters, nobody had said a word. It just happened, a kind of natural progression that was new but comfortable. Now, Kenny was an almost permanent feature of the yearbook club. Not quite a member, granted, since he spent most of his time trying somewhat bleakly to do his homework—a mascot, the rest of the club liked to joke. Kenny was content to be anything so long as Butters was there.

 And he almost always was. Every day, right after classes, Kenny would walk to yearbook and Butters would be at the computer like he lived there, the first to arrive and the last to leave, ever since their first year. Kenny tried not to think about why, but it itched under his skin how quickly Butters had tried to make yearbook his home.

Today, Kenny arrived just in time to nearly get run over by the yearbook club's president. He dodged back just in time to avoid getting hit as Jimmy rushed out the door.

"Oh, h-hey Kenny," the boy smiled apologetically. "Sorry, s-state of emer—emergency."

"Yessir," Kenny grinned and bowed him past. Jimmy chuckled lightly and then carried down the hallway and out of sight.

Inside the club room, Butters was gathering up a pile of papers and photos that had scattered to the floor. He looked disconcerted, with a tight crease in his forehead, and Kenny bit his lip, imagining the feel of running his thumb over it. Shaking his head, he tossed his backpack unceremoniously onto his usual seat and dropped down next to the blond without a word. Collecting the remaining scattered papers, Kenny held them out for Butters to take, and the flutter of papers finally made him look up.

"Looking for these?" Kenny asked quietly, the faintest of smiles tugging on his lips. Butters' eyes glittered in the harsh fluorescent lighting and Kenny forgot about the rest of the classroom.

Butters mirrored his expression with a similarly soft smile as he took the papers from Kenny's hand. "Thanks Ken."

"State of emergency, huh?" Kenny asked, pushing himself back to his feet. He held out a hand for Butters and the blond took it without pause.

"There was some sorta mix-up with the club member photos," Butters said, and wrinkled his nose the way he always did whenever he was ever so slightly displeased. "Jimmy went to fix it up."

Kenny hummed. It was getting close to crunch time for the yearbook club and everybody was sure to be busy soon, Jimmy most of all. Kenny couldn’t recall a time he hadn’t seen Jimmy on the move. Between newspaper, yearbook, and comedy the kid was one of the busiest he knew.

Collapsing into the seat next to his backpack, Kenny let out a small sigh and dug around for a pencil and one of several new worksheets for homework. In all honesty, he never got much work done during yearbook, though he tried to pretend he did. He had other priorities while he was there, namely the blond who was currently sorting through all the scattered papers in the seat across from him. There wasn’t much Kenny felt like he could do for him, sometimes, other than try to be there for him as much as possible, brighten his day, that sort of thing.

Today, though, Kenny found that his eyes were refusing to stay open for more than a few seconds at a time. Whatever the worksheets said, he could honestly care less. They made for a decent place to rest his head, at least. The papers were cool against his cheek and his arms shielded his eyes from the majority of the bright lights overhead.

Kenny let out another deep breath. Maybe chasing Professor Chaos all last night hadn’t been the best idea after all.

Soft fingers brushed against his forearm and Kenny lifted his head lazily to stare up at Butters. The blond was frowning, a look torn between guilty and concerned. He withdrew his hand and curled his fingers together, fiddling with them for a moment before asking, “You ok today, Kenny?”

Kenny blinked. He didn’t like the sad expression on Butters’ face. “I’m fine,” he replied carefully, “why?”

Butters gave a little shrug. “You just look awful tired is all. You sleeping ok?”

“As much as any other high schooler does,” Kenny joked lightly. Butters didn’t look very amused, so Kenny continued, “I just had a lot of work to do last night. Don’t worry about me.”

Butters didn’t look very convinced, but his gaze dropped and he nodded. “Well, all right.”

Kenny squirmed in his seat. He hated to keep Butters in the dark, but what else was he supposed to say? That he’d been running around all last night chasing some crazy guy in a cape, fighting an army of minions? That he was the vigilante the blond hated so much? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice but to keep it a secret, even if the guilt still gnawed at him, so instead he decided to try a different approach.

“Hey, after you’re done here do you want to go and get something to eat?”

The question successfully recaptured the blond’s attention, but his tight smile betrayed his sparkling eyes. “Gee, I’d love to Ken. But my dad said I have to go straight home this whole week.”

Kenny’s stomach dropped. He was disappointed, sure, but mostly angry. “Again?” he asked, incredulous.

Butters nodded. “I talked back to him at dinner the other night.”

Kenny’s brow furrowed. “Well, what did you say?”

“I can’t really remember, to tell ya the truth,” Butters said. “It must’ve been bad though.”

“Leo…”

Butters’ smile was placating. “It’s all right, Kenny. Honest.”

Kenny chewed his lip, fingers curled in frustration. It would be a lie if he said he’d never considered threatening Butters’ family under the guise of Mysterion. He’d thought about it a lot, actually, especially since it seemed to work on his own parents. Still, he wasn’t sure how to do it in a way that didn’t completely give himself away. After all, why would Mysterion possibly care about the home life of one random high school student? Plus, there was no guarantee Butters wouldn’t get some kind of blowback for it. With his own parents, Kenny was willing to take the risk since he would deal with it himself. With Butters, he didn’t want to cause the kid any more problems than he already had. It pissed him off more than anything else. Mysterion was supposed to be about power, about doing the things Kenny couldn’t. But even Mysterion wasn’t good enough for this.

“Do you want me to stop by and visit sometime?” Kenny asked instead, trying to keep his voice light.

Butters shook his head. “That’s ok. It’s real nice of you to offer though.”

“At least let me walk you home then?” Kenny pushed. At the very least, Butters had to know that he wasn’t alone.

The blond looked flustered, if the sudden lack of eye contact was anything to go by. “Well, sure Kenny. If you want,” he said quietly.

“Of course I want to,” Kenny assured him. “I always love spending time with you.”

This time when Butters smiled at him it was genuine, and more brilliant than the sun.

Chapter Text

Kenny changed into his costume in one of the alleys near Butters’ house.

He’d walked Butters home after yearbook just like he promised and the blond had hummed for most of the way. Kenny didn’t mind—the gentleness of it was soothing, and Butters always smiled when he hummed in a little, private way that made Kenny feel warm. The kid probably didn’t even know he did it.

They’d said goodbye in front of Butters’ house and Kenny waited until the blond was safely inside before he turned on his heel and dug in his bag for the familiar, dark cloth.

The sun was sinking low in the sky and he had a lot of work to do tonight on patrol. Criminals took advantage of Chaos’ antics to get away with all kinds of things while the police were too busy to notice—or care. Still, Kenny decided that the first order of business would be to make his way to the train tracks and visit Kyle. He’d been on edge all day, and Kenny didn’t want to set him off any further by keeping him out of the loop.

He stuck to the side streets, dashing in between the shadows in the corners of people’s vision. Mysterion was no celebrity, and Kenny hated the attention anyways. He could do without the scrutiny, the gaudy praise, the expectations. It also meant he reduced the risk of being spotted by Professor Chaos or any of his minions. He couldn’t afford another grand encounter tonight, not when he was just barely staying on top of playing catch-up. Chaos was getting stronger every day, and he seemed more than keen to show it, to let people know what he was all about. Kenny, meanwhile, was just barely passing math.

Kyle’s house had gone mostly unchanged, even after all these years. A little worse for wear, granted, battered after years of snow and cold and one rather serious egging from Cartman, but the tacky green still stood out proudly, a mix of homely and in-your-face that Kenny thought suited the family perfectly. He crept across the front lawn as quietly as he could, making a beeline for the tree that would get him up the second story to Kyle’s window. It used to be hard, scrambling up the rough bark to reach the lowest branches—now he could do it all in a few quick swings. He leapt across to the house with ease and shuffled to the window, hoping Kyle’s family wasn’t having dinner. He was in a bit of a hurry tonight.

The appearance of two figures near the window made him pause. He ducked his head down and considered retreating for the time being, but the glimpse of a familiar head of black hair gave him pause, and curiosity got the best of him. Inching closer, Kenny got as close to the glass as he could without giving himself away.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to find Stan Marsh lurking around Kyle’s house. Kenny had lost track of the number of times he’d found the two boys sitting on the bed and doing something or another together—homework, video games, you name it. He’d had to develop his own special knock just to let Kyle know he was there, hanging from the windowsill and waiting to be let in. He considered using it for a moment, and then paused. He caught a glimpse of Kyle’s face and saw that same inexplicable expression from earlier in the day, and suddenly he felt guilty for watching.

Kyle had settled into his computer chair with his arms crossed, leaving Stan on his feet awkwardly in the middle of the room. They were talking, and Kenny could see the way Kyle’s shoulders tensed before he talked. He couldn’t make out the words, but whatever it was it made Stan shift around. It must have placated him though, because soon enough Stan was grabbing his backpack from the corner of the room and heading out the door. Kenny found himself scrambling to hide around the other side of the house as Stan stepped out the front door and took off down the street with his hands buried deep in his pockets, scrunched in on himself but still looking cold. Kenny slid back to Kyle’s window and tapped on the glass with his finger.

Three times, soft like bird’s wings.

When Kyle opened the window, he looked exhausted. Kenny pulled himself inside and stood politely next to it, thinking.

“So,” he began in an unsteady rasp.

Kyle’s eyes narrowed and Kenny closed his mouth. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it. There was a long beat of silence before Kyle relented with a sigh.

“Sorry for stripping you in front of Butters today.”

Kenny’s expression faltered behind his mask. He hadn’t been expecting that, of all things. “He understood,” he replied carefully.

“Right,” the redhead drawled, clearly not convinced. “Still. I know it doesn’t make things easier for you.”

Kenny shrugged.

Kyle sighed again. “Anyways, I have something you might be interested in.”

Kenny allowed the change of subject as Kyle filed through a couple of scattered papers on his desk and presented a small, folded sheet of paper to him with a flourish. He took it with one gloved hand and unfolded it to find an address written in Kyle’s neat handwriting. When they were younger Kenny used to tease him for how curly it was, just like his hair, but now he was just glad it was legible. More so than most he'd seen.

“I figured with an army as big as the one Chaos has, information’s bound to slip through the cracks, so I did some digging and found that. Not sure what’s there but I thought you’d probably find it useful.”

“Thanks,” Kenny said as he pocketed the sheet of paper.

Kyle hummed and crossed his arms. There was a small smirk on his face now, the same one he always got when he knew he’d found a good lead, but Kenny wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of praise tonight. Not when he was being difficult.

“I’ll fill you in on what I find tomorrow,” Kenny said instead.

“You better,” Kyle replied easily. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Kenny narrowed his eyes a fraction and made to climb back out the window. “I’d say the same to you but maybe I’m too late?” He said with a smirk, and then jumped out before Kyle could get out more than an indignant squawk and an enraged shout of “Kenny!”

He crossed the lawn and left the neighborhood, figuring he had a lot of work to do now that it was dark.

 The address itself was pretty easy to find, all things considered. He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or exasperated. Staring at the outside gates of the U-Stor-It facility, he was leaning more towards incredulous. What could Chaos possibly need with extra storage space?

The facility was much too large to feasibly investigate without some sort of plan. Breaking into each individual unit would take far too much time, and if by chance something really was going on, he didn’t want to charge in recklessly and get caught. He needed more information.

With a swift leap, Kenny climbed over the fence and launched himself onto a nearby roof. There weren’t many outside lights on the facility grounds, and it was dark enough outside that if he crouched down and wrapped his cape around himself, he would be very hard to spot. Unless someone was intentionally looking for him, of course. Kenny spent many a patrol just perched on rooftops, listening to passing conversations and keeping an eye on things. It was one of his favorite rituals, in a strange way—not quite relaxing, but the all-encompassing sense of focus was grounding in a way that few other things ever were.

For the longest time, it was eerily quiet. Kenny would have thought it abandoned if not for his faith in Kyle’s tip, and even then it was hard to imagine why anything of importance to Professor Chaos would be kept in a run-down storage box.

A flash of light caught his eye.

A couple rows down, the door to one of the units opened and a lone man stepped out. He seemed entirely unbothered as he meandered off towards the facility’s main office, and Kenny figured now was as good a time as any. Keeping low, he crossed the rooftops until he reached the unit and jumped down, landing quietly on his feet. The man—one of Chaos’ minions, if Kenny had to guess—had vanished entirely from sight. He’d even left the door ajar. Kenny would’ve thanked him if he could.

He approached cautiously with his breath held and listened for any sign of activity on the other side of the door: nothing, so far as he could tell. There was no way of telling when or if the guard would be coming back, so Kenny decided it was now or never. He needed all the information he could get. Carefully, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was… surprisingly ordinary inside the unit. Whatever he had been expecting, it definitely wasn’t this. Shelves lined the walls with various boxes and knick-knacks, and a large table was pushed against the back wall. Whatever was resting on it was covered by a long black cloth, but that was the only truly suspicious thing about the otherwise unremarkable inventory. Kenny chewed his lip. It was actually a bit unsettling.

Some of his concern faded when he approached the table and pulled off the black cloth. At the very least he now knew for certain that Kyle had been right to send him here, because resting on the table amidst heaps of scraps and a sizable collection of repair tools was a set of disassembled Chaos minion armor. The noticeable dent in the chest plate reminded him of the dull pain still throbbing in his hand. Definitely the right place.

Still, something about the situation wasn’t adding up. Of all the places for Chaos to have some kind of operation running, the U-Stor-It just didn’t make a lot of sense. It was unremarkable enough not to attract much attention, sure, but it was also a fairly open, public space, and from what Kenny had observed there was very little security—there weren’t even a lot of minions. So why set up a shoddy repair operation here?

Kenny’s gaze shifted to the several crammed shelves and he wondered if there was any chance he could find some kind of clue buried among the clutter. It felt… wrong somehow, like looking through someone’s private affairs. He frowned. It wasn’t like he never thought about who Professor Chaos could be behind the mask and the disguise. He thought about it a lot, actually. Hell, he even had Kyle build a whole profile on him. But everything on the shelves just looked so ordinary. And Chaos was anything but.

Kenny shook himself and approached the nearest shelf. He pulled down one of the many cardboard boxes and brought it to the table. It was heavy and felt like it was full of books—about what, Kenny had no idea. He peeled off the lid and in the dim lighting of the room attempted to pull one out and read the cover.

A voice drifted in through the ajar door and Kenny froze.

“I can’t believe five more just arrived,” the voice, gruff and male, was complaining. “They’re a pain in the ass to fix.”

“I heard there was a brawl with some police,” a second voice added, and Kenny cursed under his breath. Since when had there been more than one of them?

“Fuck,” the first voice sighed. “He better be paying well for this.”

The other voice snorted in agreement. They were right outside the door now, and Kenny was quickly realizing that there was no place to hide. He should have left sooner, while he still had the chance. Now he was going to have to fight his way out.

The two men stepped through the door and got one look at him before he was kicking the closest man in the chest, hard. It sent him staggering to the side, where he crashed into the unit’s walls and slid to the floor in a surprised daze.

“What the hell?!” The second man swore, and Kenny backed up before the man’s heavy punch could connect.

The first man was scrambling back onto his feet now, and together the two stood in front of the doorway, staring him down. Kenny watched them carefully; their eyes were wide, more determined than violent, but not quite scared enough to let him escape unscathed. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to move if the men so much as twitched.

“Shit, its Mysterion,” one of the men muttered, “What the hell is he doing here?”

“We need to grab him, or Chaos is gonna be pissed,” the other replied. Kenny didn’t like the sound of that.

When the first man lunged forward, Kenny ducked to the side and swatted him away with ease. The other was there to follow up, however, and it was already clear to see that he was being backed into a corner whether he liked it or not. He didn’t want to hurt them too bad, but it made breaking through their onslaught all the more difficult. When they closed in on him he retreated another step, but the wall pressed against his back.

“Don’t make this difficult,” one of the men said, inching forward. Kenny raised one eyebrow.

The next time the men lunged forward, Kenny was ready. He spun on his heel, jumped, and kicked hard at the wall behind him. The metal protested with a resounding clang, but held up just enough to propel him solidly forward and over their heads. The door was in sight, open and unguarded, and Kenny decided it was time to make a break for it.

His body twisted in air, preparing to dash off right after landing, when suddenly a hand grabbed at his cloak and pulled hard.

Kenny landed hard on the unit’s floor, winded and choking from the pressure on his throat. He coughed and spluttered, wrenching himself free from the man’s grasp. Faintly he registered the flutter of paper falling out from the inside lining of his jostled cloak, but he was too busy scrambling to his feet to grab for it. Luckily, it distracted the two minions just long enough for him to recover, and before they could react he shoved hard against the man who was angling himself to block the path to the door and burst out of the unit, into the open air. The men were shouting now, no doubt desperate to catch him, but Kenny was already running for the fence, launching himself up and over it with ease.

He didn’t stop running until he reached the park.

Pressing himself against the bathroom’s wall, he slid to the ground, breathing hard and rubbing gingerly at his throat. He winced at the tenderness. He’d been too complacent—Kyle would be pissed. It was far too late at night again and Kenny sighed, wishing his sufficient night’s sleep goodbye.

It hurt to swallow, and Kenny noted duly that tomorrow was definitely going to be a high-collar kind of day.

Chapter Text

Kenny showed up to school the next morning with his jacket zipped up as far as it could go. The bruising wasn't too noticeable and fortunately most of the tenderness had faded away overnight, but he didn't want to risk anyone seeing it. It wasn't the type of injury that was easy to explain away, after all, and he didn’t want anyone getting suspicious—or worried.

He had a lot to talk about with Kyle, that was for sure. Something about last night just wasn't sitting right with him. The redhead had definitely been right to send him to that address, at the very least, but he couldn’t figure out why. He'd also screwed up the infiltration a bit, but hopefully the little information he had managed to gather would be enough to come up with their next plan. They could talk about the details later, but Kenny felt obligated to at least let Kyle know that he'd survived the night without harm—minus his little slip-up with the cape—so he headed for Kyle’s locker.

When he got there, however, Kyle was nowhere in sight. Kenny wasn't particularly bothered—Kyle was almost as busy as Jimmy, after all, so it was no surprise—but it seemed he wasn't the only one looking for him.

Stan was leaning against Kyle's locker, arms crossed. Kenny could see the way the guy’s shoulders tensed when he got closer, but the moment Stan recognized him he seemed to deflate. Kenny tried his best at a lazy smile.

"Morning, Staniel!"

"Hey Kenny," Stan replied with a frown. "Isn't it like, 65 out?"

Kenny blinked. "Huh?" Stan gestured in the direction of Kenny's collar and Kenny gripped at it on reflex, defensive. "I guess I haven't noticed? I can't help when I feel cold."

Stan raised his eyebrow but said nothing more on the matter. The conversation lapsed into a brief, awkward silence.

Kenny had been around Stan for long enough to tell when the guy's mind was running too fast. He got this look on his face, all tight lips and wide eyes, like some mix between confused and alarmed; practically scared of his own thoughts. The poor guy never really knew what to do with himself.

Kenny had also been around Stan for long enough to tell that usually that scared face meant he was debating whether or not to say or do something. Most of the time, Kenny didn't mind waiting for him to figure it out. Stan was just one of those people that took longer to come around to things than others. It was hard to tell if Kyle had made him that way, as a necessity to balance out his penchant for impulsiveness, or if Stan’s slowness had caused the opposite to be true. They’d been a single unit for so long that it was hard to tell.

Stan chewed his lip, his usual last line of defense, before he finally seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. "Kenny?"

Kenny hummed and tilted his head. Finally.

"Have you seen Kyle today?"

He should have known. "Nope, I was just looking for him," he answered honestly.

Something in Stan's eyes flickered, but Kenny couldn't place it before he let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He looked tired—more so than usual—and Kenny couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards him. Stan had always been the softest out of all of them, and Kenny was always torn between wanting to preserve it or wanting to stamp it out for the kid’s own good.

“If you find him can you tell him I've been looking for him?" Stan asked, a bit timid. Like he was scared of Kenny actually going through with it—which was fair, Kenny thought mercifully. Kyle was one hell of a force when he wanted to be.

He elected not to comment on the fact that people usually asked Stan when they were looking for Kyle, not the other way around. Instead he replied with a simple, “Sure thing.”

“Thanks dude,” Stan smiled, a bit weak.

Kenny waved it off with his own grin. “No problem. See you in history?”

Stan made a face. “Unfortunately.”

Kenny chuckled, “Alright, Staniel.”

“See you, Kenneth.”

Kenny turned to leave, and his gaze drifted up just in time to catch a familiar flash of red hair disappear around the corner of the hallway. Stan hadn’t seemed to notice, so Kenny left without another word, making his way down the hall and out of sight. What a morning.

He found Kyle in the same bathroom he’d been dragged into just the day before, pacing back and forth.

“So,” Kenny drawled. Kyle stopped pacing to look up at him. “Stan’s looking for you, by the way.”

The look Kyle gave him screamed murder. “I know,” he hissed, and Kenny shrugged somewhat defensively.

Kyle didn’t seem to care to elaborate, so Kenny fixed him with his best, most patient stare. These two were practically impossible, even at the best of times.

“Shut up,” Kyle snapped.

“I didn’t even say anything dude.”

Kyle scowled, but his gaze had softened into something more palpable, and Kenny could see the flashes of fear in his green eyes.

“He had that look on his face,” Kenny said, “You know, the kicked puppy one.”

The puppy card always worked on him; Kyle could never handle the image of an upset Stan. His angry expression crumpled into something more forlorn. “I hate that look,” he mumbled. Kenny could detect the guilt behind it.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Kenny commented dryly, pleased to see a small albeit weak smile on Kyle’s face. Looks like he managed to get through. “So, what happened?”

Kyle took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said, clearly strained. “Everything was fine, but then a couple days ago Stan said he wanted to talk and I guess I… Panicked?”

“Talk?” Kenny echoed in confusion, and even just the word set Kyle on edge. He looked about ready to bolt.

“Exactly,” Kyle winced. “Fuck.”

“You know, before all this I never would’ve pegged you as the gay panic type,” Kenny mused. Kyle looked about ready to strangle him.

“ I’m not ,” he growled.

“You literally just said you were panicking,” Kenny pointed out. He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or just exasperated.

Kyle wilted somewhat, shrinking back with his arms crossed. He still didn’t look too pleased.

“Isn’t talking supposed to be a good thing?” Kenny pushed when it was clear Kyle had no retort. “You like him, I’m pretty sure by this point everyone in the school can tell he likes you too—we’ve talked about this, dude—why the hell don’t you want to talk?”

“It’s…” Kyle sighed and glared at the floor. “That’s not the problem.”

Kenny raised his eyes to the ceiling in a silent prayer. “Ok, I’m lost then,” he said, only somewhat impatiently.

Kyle made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “He’s my best friend , Kenny.”

“And? We’ve already established you aren’t going to fuck it up if you ask, he’s clearly interested too. You admitted you were sure he was. ”

“I was—am! But it’s not about fucking it up before,” Kyle said, his voice sinking. “It’s about fucking it up after .”

Kenny blinked. This was new.

Kyle’s face flushed red at Kenny’s expression but he finally decided to elaborate, “Fuck, dude. I don't even know how to hold hands with someone. And doing something like that with Stan scares the shit out of me.”

Kyle’s voice faltered but he set his jaw and pressed on.

“I’m like, the least romantic person ever; I know I’m going to mess it up a lot. A relationship with someone like me—who'd want that? I don't want him to get his hopes up only to find out I'm a fucking idiot.”

Kenny stared for a long while, taking in the way Kyle’s eyes shone with just a little bit too much moisture, how his knuckles had turned white from how tight they were squeezed in frustration. Finally, after a long stretch of silence,  Kenny spoke. “How are you so bad at this?”

Kyle’s reaction was immediate. “Fuck you, dude!” Kyle snapped, eyes flashing with betrayal.

Kenny rose his hands defensively. “I’m serious, Kyle. Just think about it. You and Stan have been basically attached at the hip since you were born . If he didn’t know you were an idiot by now I’d be genuinely concerned.”

“You aren’t supposed to call me an idiot, asshole!”

“ My point is he’s not gonna care! Kyle, I’m serious, you may be an idiot, but you’re his idiot… or something like that. Give him a little credit here, it's his choice too.”

Kyle’s mouth snapped shut.

“He knows like, everything about you,” Kenny pressed, “faults and all. He seems ok with it to me, so talk to him. And please don’t hurt me.”

Kyle was back to flustered now—god, how was he not exhausted by his own mood swings—and it seemed like he’d decided to back off. “Fine,” he breathed deeply, almost to himself. “Ok. Sure.”

“To which part?” Kenny asked, still somewhat nervous. Kyle wasn’t above violence and he’d been pretty pissed just a moment before.

“I won’t hurt you,” Kyle answered, rolling his eyes. “For now.”

“Good, that’s good,” Kenny replied, somewhat doubtful.

“And I’ll talk to him.”

Kenny grinned. “Now that’s good!”

Kyle gaze dropped to the floor and he kicked at it mindlessly. Kenny sensed that Kyle was done with talking for now and that his job was done, so he decided to head for the door.

As he pushed it open, Kyle mumbled from behind him, “Thanks Kenny.”

Kenny waved his hand. “My pleasure.”

When Kenny finally got to history class, he was exhausted. He’d left Kyle with a stern reminder to talk and then spent the rest of the morning worrying about how the redhead was going to fuck it up. Not that he didn’t have faith in Kyle—he probably trusted him the most out of everyone at school—but when it came to Stan, calling him a hot mess was putting it lightly.

Stan was already in the classroom when Kenny arrived. They made eye contact and Kenny gave him a quizzical stare that he just looked confused at, so Kenny merely shook his head and sat down as the bell ringed. Damnit, Kyle…

It was hard enough to pay attention to history lectures on a good day, but it was practically impossible today. His throat twinged in discomfort and he really just wanted to sleep, and he found himself staring at the back of Stan’s head and debating how bad it would be if he just told him directly about what was going on. It would most likely end up just fine, but he didn't want to break Kyle’s trust in him. It was the least he could do after Kyle had been helping him all these years. Still, he really wished there was something he could do.

The lecture droned on, and Kenny found himself increasingly distracted by the aggressive scribbling to his right, where Butters sat. He turned his head to watch, somewhat concerned.

It wasn’t rare for Butters to be taking notes like his life depended on it; he got into moods where he worried about forgetting even the simplest of facts, and Kenny would find him the next day with entire stacks of flashcards he’d spent the whole night making, delirious from sleep deprivation. This was different from that, though. Usually, if Kenny caught Butters in one of his note-taking moods, he could see the fear vividly in his widened blue eyes. This, though—Butters’ eyes were narrowed slits, and he was muttering something to himself in between the ghosts of his breath. It was actually kind of startling, and Kenny’s stomach churned with worry.

Carefully, Kenny tore a sheet of paper out of the back of his battered notebook and wrote out a quick message.

Hey buttercup :)

He folded the paper up into a little square and tossed it onto Butters’ desk when the teacher wasn’t looking—which was good, because Butters’ head snapped up immediately and he nearly sent everything on his desk flying from his panicked flailing. Kenny would have felt bad, but Butters’ eyes had returned to normal as he blinked owlishly down at the folded paper sitting on his desk. He hadn’t liked seeing that look on Butters’ face.

Butters unfolded the note gingerly and Kenny watched his face as he read it. He looked up at Kenny as soon as he was done, and Kenny smiled, waving lazily at him from below his desk. Butters returned the gesture and then scribbled something out on the paper. He folded it up and tossed it back.

Heya Kenny!

Kenny knew he was grinning too much as he read the message in Butters’ loopy handwriting. He glanced back up. Butters was watching him out of the corner of his eye, pretending to stare ahead at their teacher with the tip of his pencil eraser pressed to his lips, failing to look at all convincing.

Wanna see if I can hit Stan with a paper plane??

Kenny threw the paper back to Butters, who read it and immediately glanced up at Kenny with wide eyes. Hastily he scrawled his response and threw it back without even glancing in the teacher’s direction.

Isn’t that dangerous?

Kenny looked up and shrugged. There was a smirk playing on his face. Stan was all the way across the classroom, staring blankly ahead with his head resting on his hand. He was a perfect target—and Kenny didn’t want Butters returning to his angry scribbling any time soon.

;)

Kenny tossed the note back to Butters and then tore a second sheet of paper out of his notebook—it wasn’t like he was really using it for notes anyways. He used to love making paper airplanes, used to climb onto the roof of his house whenever his parents’ fighting got too bad and throw them as far as he could. It had been one of the proudest moments in his life when he had managed to hit Kyle’s window—Stan had been staying over, and was convinced something was trying to break into Kyle’s house for a whole week.

With deft fingers Kenny creased the paper until it resembled a nice, sturdy plane. He paused for a moment to consider it before he grabbed his pencil and scribbled a message across the inner fold of one of the wings. Finally pleased, he presented the craft to Butters, who observed it with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Kenny winked and waited for the teacher to turn back to the board before he held up his hand, three fingers raised in a countdown.

With a practiced flick of his wrist, the plane was sent flying, and soared right into the back of Stan’s head, it's pointed nose crumpling on impact.

Butters covered his mouth as they watched Stan startle to a fully upright position, one hand flashing to the back of his head. He turned around sharply and spotted the plane resting behind his back on the seat, and then raised his eyes to see Kenny waving smugly at him while Butters just barely contained his fit of giggles. He narrowed his eyes and snatched for the plane, shooting Kenny a betrayed glare. Kenny pressed his hands together in front of his face and mimed reading.

Stan raised one eyebrow and unfolded the paper plane underneath his desk. He skimmed the message quickly, and Kenny could tell the exact moment when Stan’s irritated expression melted into one of relief. He glanced back at Kenny somewhat bashfully and mouthed ‘ Thanks .’

A folded piece of paper landed in his lap.

You sure are handy, Kenny!

Kenny hoped the slight burn in his cheeks went unnoticed as he shook his head and wrote his reply.

It’s just a paper airplane.

Kenny watched carefully as Butters read the message. The blond frowned and his pencil hovered over the paper for a moment longer than usual before he started writing. This time Butters was careful to make sure no one saw when he returned the note.

But it's one of those things I think only you can do, Kenny. I’m sure you have lots of talents like that, you just don’t realize it.

Kenny stared at the message, not sure what to say. His throat felt tight and he was sure it had nothing to do with the dull ache of his bruise. He stared up at Butters, somewhat dazed, but all Butters did was smile and turn back to the teacher.

Kenny couldn’t think of anything other than that smile for the rest of class.

When the bell rang for dismissal, Kenny stood slowly, like waking from a trance.

“I’ll see you at lunch Kenny!” Butters called as he scurried out of the classroom. Kenny nodded even though Butters couldn’t see.

Stan walked up to him with the paper plane crumpled in his hands. “Dude, these are fuckin’ sharp,” he complained, but there was no bite in his voice.

“You’re welcome,” Kenny replied easily.

They were the last two in the classroom now, besides the teacher, so Kenny hastily shoved his things into his bag and slung it over one shoulder. They headed for the door together, and Kenny was just wondering how best to breach the subject of Kyle when Stan came to a sudden halt next to him. Kenny frowned and was just about to ask what was wrong when he noticed it too.

Kyle was standing out in the hall, hovering somewhat uncomfortably next to the door.

“Took you long enough,” Kyle grumbled, “I thought I was at the wrong classroom.”

“You had it right,” Stan replied immediately, completely unnecessarily, and Kenny kind of wanted to die. From Kyle’s tense body language, it seemed the redhead was feeling the same way.

“I’m gonna go grab something from my locker,” Kenny said, not at all meaning it, and left before Kyle imploded on the spot or Stan did something stupid like point out the fact that Kenny never needed to go to his locker after history class.

What a fucking morning.

Chapter Text

Kyle was nowhere to be found at lunch, and Kenny hoped with all his being that it was a good sign. He didn’t have any more classes with Stan that day either, just last period with Butters, and when that ended he followed the blond straight to yearbook as usual.

The fact neither Kyle nor Stan were calling him in a panic was good enough for him at this point, and Butters was actually insisting he do work for once, even offering to help him should the need arise—must have been a slow day for yearbook work—so Kenny was sufficiently distracted for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t until he’d walked Butters home and saw him through the door that he realized he still needed to talk to Kyle about what he’d found out last night.

He rushed home, dug out his costume, and slipped into it with practiced ease. It was late evening, the sun just clinging to its position in the sky, and Kenny made the quick trip to Kyle’s house feeling vaguely exposed.

Kyle seemed to have been expecting him, as the window was propped open when Kenny arrived. He let himself in and had just made himself comfortable perched on the edge of Kyle’s bed when the redhead entered the room, noticed him, and closed the door behind him with his foot. There were two plates of dinner balanced on both of his hands, and he set one wordlessly on the bed next to Kenny before taking a seat in his desk chair.

Kenny took a couple begrudging bites of food—they’d been through this routine too many times now for him to want to fight about it, and even just a couple bites usually assuaged Kyle just enough to let any leftovers go.

Kyle gave him a cursory glance as he booted up his computer and hummed, “So, what’s the story with the address?”

“It led to the U-Stor-It,” Kenny said, glad to get straight to business. Kyle wasn’t off the hook for this morning, not by a long shot, but Kenny could deal with that later. Right now, Chaos was more important.

“I guess it's a pretty quiet place to carry out an operation?” Kyle ventured.

Kenny shook his head. “I went into the unit they were working out of,” he explained, “and it just didn’t seem right .”

Kyle frowned. “What do you mean?”

Kenny chewed at his lip for a moment and sighed. “Most of the unit was completely unremarkable, except for a couple pieces of Chaos’s new armor. Otherwise it looked just like a normal civilian’s.”

Kyle raised one eyebrow and pointed out, “Chaos is a normal civilian, most likely. Just like you dude.”

Kenny bristled. “I know that,” he snapped.

Something in Kyle’s gaze hardened as he stared Kenny down. “So what’s the problem?” he demanded testily.

“Look,” Kenny sighed, “no matter his identity, my point is why there? Why use it when it could be a unit connected to his civilian identity, and why let his minions come and go in it as they please?”

“You think this could tell us who Chaos is?” The anger seeped out of Kyle’s voice as he caught on, and Kenny nodded.

“I couldn’t get a look at anything in there before the minions came back—I got away fine, don’t worry,” Kenny added when he saw Kyle’s mouth open in concern, “but whoever owns that unit is probably connected to Chaos.”

Kyle groaned. “Dude, that place is ancient,” he said, “any records they have are probably on paper. We’d have to go to the office and ask for them directly.”

Kenny shook his head. “We can’t be seen there, it's too dangerous.”

“You want to break in then?” Kyle rolled his eyes.

“It’s the safest way,” Kenny replied, somewhat defensive. Kyle always got prickly about the marginally legal aspects of Mysterion’s vigilante work. Kenny had always tended to believe, at least with Mysterion, that the ends justified the means—with Kyle, not so much.

“You call giving the police another excuse to want to shoot you safe ?” Kyle countered.

“I’d rather the police want to shoot Mysterion than Chaos try to come after you for snooping around about his identity, Kyle,” Kenny growled, rising to his feet so he stood over the redhead.

Kyle glared up at him, but Kenny knew they both thought he was right. With a displeased sigh, Kyle broke their eye contact and mumbled, “You’re impossible.”

Kenny smirked. “No,” he said, “ Mysterion’s impossible.”

“ Both of you are ,” Kyle hissed. “Now go break into a building or whatever before you drive me insane.”

“I’ll fill you in tomorrow,” Kenny replied lightly and made for the window.

Kenny arrived back at the U-Stor-It with a mounting sense of anxiety hanging over his head. After tonight, if he found what he was looking for, he’d be closer than ever before to finding out who Chaos was and taking him down for good.

It was surreal.

Chaos had been a part of the town for a long time now, and even if it was only recently that he’d grown into a problem too big to ignore, Chaos had been around for as long as Kenny had been taking to the streets. In  a way, the idea of Chaos coming to justice felt like an end. The end. Which was ridiculous, because Mysterion had no plans to stop after taking down Chaos, but it was unsettling to say the least.

Kenny wondered, not for the first time, what he’d be doing in a South Park without Chaos. There was a chance he’d finally find out, if tonight went well.

Kenny returned to the same spot he’d used to scout out the facility last night. The lights in the main office were out and the grounds were quiet, but there was no guarantee that the Chaos minions weren’t still lurking around somewhere, either in the unit or the office itself. There was a chance they wouldn’t be, having been scared off after Mysterion’s surprise visit last night, but Kenny found that unlikely. They’d been willing to fight him, after all, so they couldn’t be that scared—unfortunately for him.

He stood watch for an hour, waiting for any sign that he wasn’t alone on the facility’s grounds, but there was nothing. The lights remained off and nothing moved, so Kenny weighed his options. Perhaps it was too empty, and he should wait longer or come back another night. But this was Chaos’s identity on the line, the only real lead they’d gotten in months. If he lost the trail now or the information disappeared they’d be right back to square one, but with a much stronger Chaos than before, and at the rate he was going he’d be unstoppable within a year. There wasn’t time to waste.

Kenny really didn’t want to, he’d managed to avoid it for so long now, but he’d die for this information if he had to. Kyle kept records. It would probably be fine… There weren’t many other options anyways.

He leapt down from the roof with finality. Tonight would be the night after all; he’d deal with the consequences later.

The security for the office was nothing special. The bulk of the surveillance and alarms were dedicated to the units themselves, so the single camera trained on the office door was easy enough to disable. The door was locked, of course, but Kenny had picked enough locks in his time as Mysterion to get past it with relative ease. He didn’t boast the fact—and Kyle never outright asked how he’d ever gotten into some of the places they’d investigated—but it came in handy more often than not.

Picking his way through the darkness, Kenny made his way to the vague shape of a large desk in the back of the room. Illuminated only faintly by the moonlight trickling in through the door, Kenny could only guess that the file he was looking for would be in one of its drawers. He hoped it was. The stillness in the air was unsettling and he braced himself against the chilling sensation clawing at his exposed back, reminding him he was somewhere he shouldn’t be, still fresh and unnerving even after all these years trying to ignore the feeling.

When he reached the desk, he set to work searching. One by one, he pulled open the drawers and skimmed through the contents, looking for any files or papers that even remotely resembled some kind of record. The lower drawers were locked, but they were nothing compared to the door and Kenny bypassed them easily. His gloved fingers carded through folder after manila folder, pulling out their contents and piling them on the desk. Finances, maintenance, employee records—he was getting closer. Could Chaos be a U-Stor-It employee? Kenny shook his head. One thing at a time.

The last drawer had it. Pulling out one of the files, Kenny flipped it open and found records of the rental information of each unit, labeled by number. He sucked in a breath and combed through each file, looking for the one with the correct unit number written on it. It was tucked in the back, a couple of pristine white sheets of paper that could put an end to Professor Chaos at last. His fingers curled around the pages, knuckles almost white.

That was when he heard the laugh.

A shadow descended on the doorway and the office was plunged into pitch darkness. Kenny’s head snapped up and he saw a figure looming in the doorway, flanked by others, blocking his exit. Instinctively his body dove to crouch behind the desk and he swore.

“Fancy meeting you here, Mysterion!” Chaos called into the office, and Kenny knew there was nowhere he could hide. He’d been found out. He remained silent, and shifted on his feet so he could peak around the desk. There had to be some other way out, some weakness he could exploit to push past Chaos and his minions, something . He needed to get this information out.

Chaos tutted, as if dealing with a child.

“Ignoring me? I know you’re there.”

Kenny grit his teeth. He’d have to figure this out. Taking a deep breath, he stood and faced Chaos, the file still clutched tight in his hand.

“There he is!” Chaos laughed again, gleeful.

“Out of the way, Chaos,” Kenny growled, voice low.

“No can do,” Chaos replied evenly. “You have something of mine, I believe.”

Chaos’s gaze travelled down to the file in Kenny’s hands, and in response he tightened his grip.

“It’ll hurt less if you just hand it over,” Chaos said, something earnest in the way he spoke, like he was almost hoping for a peaceful resolution.

Kenny scoffed at the thought; he seriously doubted it. Besides, there was no way he’d just hand it over. It was too important to just give up on.

Kenny crouched low, preparing himself for the inevitable fight, and Chaos nodded. He understood what it meant.

Kenny’s plan was simple. Chaos wasn’t the real problem here. He was the leader, sure, but his minions were the real fighters, and they’d leap to Chaos’s defense the moment Kenny tried to target him. He needed to get past the minions, or take them down if he could. Then Chaos would back off and he could make his escape. He just had to be careful. By his count there were three of them, and in confined spaces he could easily get overwhelmed. He had to make sure to keep his eye on each of them, so there were no surprises.

One gesture from Chaos his minions entered the room. Chaos himself stayed in the doorway, watching carefully.

“Last chance,” Chaos offered.

Kenny spared him one glance before closing in on the nearest minion, delivering a solid kick to his chest. He crashed into the wall, there was a series of shouts, and then the fighting began.

The minions circled around him, trying to stay in his blind spots, arms outstretched. One of two of them would probably try to restrain him if the opportunity presented itself, so Kenny kept his movements tight, lashing out if one of them took a step towards him. If he could set one of them off-balance, he could throw them into each other and create an opening. One minion was larger than the others, and they’d have trouble recovering if he pushed that one into them. It was his best bet, otherwise he was just going to get worn down trying to keep them at bay.

The three minions took a simultaneous step forward, and Kenny prepared to grapple with the largest one, when there was a whistle from the doorway.

Kenny spun around and the three minions jumped backwards, leaving him alone in the middle of the room. His eyes fixed on Chaos, who had one arm raised, hand closed in a fist and pointed towards him. He was wearing something, Kenny couldn’t tell what, he’d never seen it before, but suddenly there was a loud sound, like a crack, and something sharp was digging into his thigh and shoulder, and the pain tore a scream from his throat.

He collapsed to the ground, frozen, and the file fell from his grasp, papers scattering. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get up, couldn’t reach out and grab the lead that was fluttering away from him and onto the floor, and panic gripped his heart.

Chaos shouted something and then the minions were on top of him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning him down, vulnerable and on his back. Another click and his frozen muscles all released at once, leaving him dazed and gasping in its wake.

Chaos knelt down in front of him.

“Did… Did you tase me?” Kenny asked, incredulous. He could vaguely feel one of the probes still stuck in his thigh, digging into the skin under his clothes.

Chaos raised his hand for Kenny to see. He was wearing some sort of glove, an intricate black device, and the wires connecting to the probe led back to a compartment built into its wrist.

“Neat, right?”

Kenny’s head fell back to the floor and he closed his eyes, trying to shake the fog that still clung to his thoughts, dulling his responses. Of all things...

“I figured it wasn’t fair to let my minions do all the fighting,” Chaos said. “Besides, now they don’t need to protect me all of the time.”

Kenny watched as Chaos got up and made his way to the file, scooping up the papers that had fallen to the ground. With a snap of his fingers, the third minion, the one not pinning him down, produced a lighter from his pocket and handed it to Chaos. Kenny’s eyes widened and he tried to struggle, but the minions forced him back down easily.

“I knew you’d be coming for this,” Chaos said and pulled a small piece of paper from his own pocket. Kenny recognized it as the paper he’d dropped last night, the one Kyle had given him. “My minions told me you’d showed up, and then they found this and I knew you’d probably try to keep digging around here. I’m surprised you even managed to find it!”

Chaos tucked the paper away and flipped the lighter on, holding it up to the files. The flames framed his face as the papers burned, and Kenny felt himself deflate. He’d really fucked up now.

“This isn’t going to stop me,” Kenny said. He wasn’t sure if it was meant for Chaos or for himself, but the words felt strong and begged to be spoken.

“I know,” Chaos shrugged, tossing the charred papers into the trash, where they fell to ash. “Heroes are usually persistent, aren’t they?”

Kenny recoiled at the nonchalance with which Chaos spoke. “I’m not a hero,” he growled, frustrated.

“Dressing up and trying to stop crime doesn’t make you a hero then?” Chaos asked.

“People call me that but it doesn’t make it true,” Kenny snapped back quickly, defensively.

Chaos stared down at him, frowning. “Doesn’t everybody want to be considered a hero?”

“Do you?”

Chaos laughed, sharp and dry. “No,” he said, “I sure don’t.”

Chaos snapped his fingers again and suddenly the minions released their hold on him. Kenny pulled the taser's probes out from his skin and scrambled to his feet quickly, knees still weak but desperate for any control he could take. Chaos continued to watch him, head tilted in mild interest, but made no other moves.

“You aren’t going to kill me?” Kenny asked, guarded. If Chaos knew he was going to keep coming after him, why not try to put a stop to him once and for all? He was a danger, a liability, and he hated to admit it, but he’d been as good as dead just a few moments before.

Chaos blinked and for a moment he looked appalled, in pain. “Of course not,” he all but shouted, and then seemed to draw himself back in. “I don’t do that.”

“You don’t kill?” Kenny asked, somewhat taken aback. He knew Chaos had never killed before, but he’d never thought about it as a conscious choice.

Chaos shook his head intently.

“Even if I’m going to be persistent?” Kenny pushed. His stomach was twisting strangely, his chest tight.

“You won’t have much fun being persistent,” Chaos replied, “but I won’t kill you.”

Kenny gulped and took a step towards the office door, but nobody made a move to stop him. The chills were back now, crawling under his skin, as he stepped through the door. He could hear Chaos and his minions following him.

He paused outside, looking around. Minions lined the entire courtyard, ready to close in on a moment’s notice.

Kenny glanced at Chaos out of the corner of his eye. Had he really been that worried?

“That information was important,” Chaos said with a shrug, sensing Kenny’s gaze on him. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Kenny tried not to linger on those words. He didn’t know what to say anymore, so he fell into silence, to the blankness of Mysterion, and took off running. He wanted to climb the fence, just to show that he could, but his legs shook under him with each stride and he decided not to, leaving instead out the open front gate. Sirens wailed in the distance—the army of minions must have attracted too much attention—but he knew Chaos would be long gone before the police ever arrived.

He tried his best to push down the smallest, quietest part of him that was glad about it.

Chapter Text

Kenny made it approximately two blocks before he ran into problems. Well, one problem.

A problem named Kyle Broflovski.

Kenny nearly tripped over his own feet as he skid to a sudden halt. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He hissed, grabbing Kyle by the shoulders and digging his fingers into his jacket.

Kyle didn’t seem too bothered, even though the police sirens were definitely getting closer now. He shrugged Kenny off and pushed him back with a firm hand against his chest, eyes scanning appraisingly over his figure.

“What are those?” Kyle asked suddenly, pointing at the two distinctly noticeable holes in his costume.

Kenny grimaced. “You don’t want to know,” he said, and shifted ever so slightly so that his cloak hid the wounds from sight.

Kyle fixed him with a withering glare and opened his mouth to fight about it, but the sirens were wailing even louder and he seemed to think better of it, at least for now. Instead, he grabbed Kenny’s cloak by the hood and tore it off him in one swift motion.

“Hey!” Kenny protested and tried to grab it back, but Kyle tossed it away before he could reach.

“Just go with it,” Kyle said as he started to unzip his jacket. He pulled it off and shoved it into Kenny’s hands without preamble before gathering up the cloak, folding it carefully and tucking it against his chest, mostly hidden by his now bare arms.

Kenny blinked.

“Put it on,” Kyle hissed, and suddenly Kenny got the idea. He shoved his arms into the jacket somewhat gracelessly, marveling at how it just barely fit, the arms a little bit too short and the seams a little bit too tight, and then Kyle was grabbing his arm, dragging him down the street and away from the wailing sirens.

They didn’t talk on the way, footsteps hurried and heads bowed. They probably looked like quite the duo, Kenny half-costumed, covered up by a bright jacket one size too small, stumbling over his shaking legs, and Kyle in nothing but an oversized shirt in the dead of night, keeping the pace by his grip on Kenny’s arm alone. Kenny should have known he was in trouble when Kyle practically dragged him back to his house instead of taking him home, but something inside him was twisted and on edge, still crackling with electricity, and he kind of wanted the fight. He wanted to be mad, needed it, even more so when he realized that he wasn’t.

He sat down on Kyle’s bed for the second time that night and peeled off his jacket, placing it gingerly on the mattress behind him. Kyle closed the door, took one look at him, and dumped a heavy blanket over his head.

“What happened?” Kyle asked, demanded, and Kenny recoiled almost immediately.

“Why were you there?” Kenny replied with his own question, voice bitter. “I’ve told you so many times—”

“Kenny,” Kyle hissed, “tell me what those holes are and why you’re stumbling around like a fucking newborn giraffe or I swear I’m going to beat the shit out of you myself.”

“Fuck dude, relax,” he snapped. “Chaos just had another new upgrade, ok? He’s discovered tasers now, apparently.”

“You got tased and you want me to relax?” Kyle asked, his voice raising in pitch, incredulous.

It grated Kenny the wrong way, because Kyle didn’t understand, couldn’t possibly understand, what it meant to get up from a fight with one of your greatest enemies, or how it felt to walk out. He wasn’t shaken from the electric shock, not really. He’d walked off worse before. What really scared him was the fact he was alive, and it hadn’t even been up to him.

The words stuck in his throat; it didn’t make sense. “It’s better than getting shot,” Kenny growled instead.

“That doesn’t make it ok, dumbass!” Kyle’s face had flushed red from pure rage.

Kenny had to look away. Mysterion had never been good with words, or feelings. He had learned it was best not to bother.

Kyle sighed. “Somebody said they spotted Chaos with an entire fucking army and I thought you were in trouble. I was worried, all right?”

“I know you were,” Kenny scoffed.

He pushed himself off the bed, letting the blanket fall off his shoulders and onto the floor, and headed for the closet. He found what he was looking for easily, tucked back in the corner: a small bag with a spare change of clothes. He tugged off his costume and stuffed it unceremoniously back in the bag before pulling on the shirt and cheap jeans. When he was done, he turned back to Kyle with a stern glare.

“We can talk,” he said, holding up the bag, “when I come back for this.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “You can just stay the night, dude, it’s not a big deal.”

“Nope,” Kenny replied, already heading for the window. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

“At midnight?” Kyle asked, unimpressed. When all Kenny did in response was open said window, Kyle huffed. “At least take the door for once like a normal person…”

Kenny made a show of jumping out the window in response. He closed it himself—he wasn’t a heathen—but leaving through the window, jumping down from the roof… he needed to know how it felt. The feeling was back, twisting inside him the moment his feet hit the ground, and Kenny didn’t like it. He was fine, and so what if he hadn’t been? The thought ached, and it scared him because it hadn’t ached in a long, long time.

Kenny went to the only place he could think of at midnight where he’d be welcome no matter what.

The red-brown walls of Butters’ house had always pissed Kenny off somehow. Butters’ parents called it homey, but when Kenny thought of Butters, all vivid blues and bright highlighter blond hair, the only word that came to mind was stifling.

Kenny debated how much it would freak Butters out if he climbed up and knocked on his window. He’d done it before, plenty of times, but Butters had never quite gotten used to it. Kenny wondered if the kid would ever really get used to going behind his parents’ backs, and some angry part of him swore that if nothing else, he’d make sure that he did.

The lights were off in Butters’ bedroom window and Kenny wondered if the blond was asleep. Maybe he was dreaming—he’d always wondered what Butters dreamed about. There was just something about the way he thought that was different than others, more visceral, true in the way that it made sense but you’d never be able to think of it on your own. He had a knack for digging deeper, for finding all of life’s weird glitches. Kenny had always wondered what someone like that dreamed about, how their mind worked. He’d always thought about what the world must be like through Butters’ eyes, but he felt like his imagination always fell short. There was something unfathomable about it, about him, that Kenny wanted to grab hold of and never let go.

The crunch of gravel underfoot stopped Kenny in his tracks.

“Kenny, is that you?”

He spun around, heart racing, and through the darkness saw a pair of wide blue eyes blinking back at him from the sidewalk. His thoughts ground to a halt, shocked.

“Leo?”

Butters smiled, sheepish, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I sure wasn’t expectin’ to see you here at this hour, Kenny,” he said.

“What are you doing outside?” Kenny asked, shocked. Do your parents know you’re out right now, he really wanted to ask, but held his tongue.

“Oh, you know,” Butters replied with a shrug. Too cheerful.

Kenny’s eyes narrowed. “Are you ok, Leo?”

Butters seemed startled by the question. Kenny watched him carefully, noticed the way his eyes darted around nervously, how his hands clasped together just a little too tight. “Gosh, I’m fine,” Butters answered, chewing his lip. “Just give me a second. Wait right here.”

Kenny nodded dumbly, somewhat confused by the command, and watched Butters run around to the back of his house and disappear. There was a long stretch of silence where Kenny just stared at the Stotch’s house, brows scrunched together, before he saw the light flicker on in Butters’ room. He thought maybe Butters was planning on opening the window for him and moved to find a way up to it when suddenly the light was off again and Kenny was left frozen, plunged back into the darkness of the night.

About a minute later, Butters came scurrying over from the backyard, something clutched tightly in his hands. He returned to Kenny and shoved it into his arms, almost panicky, before rushing off towards the sidewalk. Kenny unfurled the item now in his hands and blinked. It was an oversized neon green windbreaker.

“Come on, Ken,” Butters called to him quietly. “This way.”

Kenny slipped the jacket on quickly without bothering to zip it up; he had almost forgotten that he’d been walking around in just a shirt, but now he noticed the chill against his bare skin and was grateful for the extra protection.

He joined Butters on the sidewalk and followed after him as he set a hurried pace down the street. There was a part of him that wanted to stop Butters, to tell him it was dangerous and that the police were out in droves and who knows what Professor Chaos or any other number of criminals could be doing, but another part of him watched Butters with his back to his family’s house in the dead of night, walking with a purposeful albeit nervous stride, and thought that this was too important to stop. That whatever this was would shatter the moment he reached out his hand.

They ended up heading to the park.

Butters sat down on the bottom step of the playground’s pirate ship and Kenny joined him. The harsh orange glow of the street lamps made everything look eerie, unreal around the edges. He felt like if he blinked he’d realize that he’d been a ghost all along, viewing South Park through a dark, hazy lens.

He pressed his shoulder against Butters’ side, just to be sure.

“Were you lookin’ for me, Kenny?” Butters asked. If he was bothered by Kenny’s proximity he sure wasn’t showing it.

Kenny paused, his breath catching for a moment before he forced out a reply. “Yeah.”

Butters nodded as if it was some kind of explanation.

“Leo—”

“My parents don’t know I’m out,” Butters interrupted. “That’s why I ran back in. Dad’s been checkin’ recently.”
Kenny tried to angle his face away, but it did a miserable job of hiding his frown.

“I hope you weren’t waiting on me too long,” Butters said, his voice soft. Sincere. Kenny felt warmth slowly returning to his arms and pulled the windbreaker tighter around himself.

He shook his head. “Just got there.”

Butters hummed and toed at the sand, tracing meaningless shapes in the poor light. Kenny watched, imagined Butters’ thoughts transposing themselves in the movements, and wondered what it meant.

Butters’ leg came to a sudden halt. “Are you ok, Ken?” He asked suddenly, “I wasn’t expecting a visit—not that I’m upset by it, mind you.”

A hint of a smile pulled at Kenny’s lips at the stern way Butters corrected himself. It was sweet somehow, the small but fierce way he tried to make sure Kenny knew that he cared, that he was there for him. Gentle, but none the less for it.

The twisting was back again, angrier now. He had to close his eyes just to think past the sensation, coiling and uncoiling in waves.

People like Butters worried about him. People like Kyle. Good people.

Not people like Chaos.

Because the fact of the matter was that Kenny had realized Chaos valued Mysterion’s life more than he did.

He didn’t know what to make of the way Chaos’ voice had trembled with disgust at the very suggestion of killing, or how out of everything in this backwards mountain town Professor Chaos was less likely to kill him than anything else he’d ever encountered; that someone he’d thought was evil had his life in their hands and had actively chosen to keep him alive, at risk of important information regarding his identity, when Kenny had been ready and willing to accept death for it. Would have thrown himself at it, had he gotten the proper chance.

Who was Mysterion supposed to be when Chaos valued life more than him? And what did that make Chaos?

“I was just thinking,” Kenny finally spoke. His voice trailed off lamely, but Butters’ eyes were solely on him, a dark and blackened blue from the poor light. His lips were pressed together tight, nose scrunched ever so slightly, until Kenny wasn’t sure if it was terrifying or one of the kindest looks he’d ever received.

Butters pat his shoulder. “It happens,” he said, and flashed a smile. “Sometimes our brains get the best of us, and you just gotta give it what for.”

Kenny chuckled, skin tingling where the weight of Butters’ palm still rested. “What for, huh?”

Butters nodded firmly, and perhaps it would have been more intimidating had his puff of a hairstyle not bounced animatedly at the gesture.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

“I’m glad!”

Butters yawned then, and he hurried to cover it with his hand. Kenny missed the familiar weight on his shoulder but he was sure Butters was tired—he had no idea how long he’d been out before now, after all. He didn’t want to keep him out later than necessary.

When Kenny stood, Butters followed suit. He made to shrug off the jacket, but Butters grabbed him by the arm and shook his head.

“Keep it,” he insisted, “until you get home. You can always give it back later.”

Kenny bit the inside of his cheek and agreed, unsure what to say. Butters’ grip had been a lot firmer than he’d been expecting.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

Kenny nodded, and the light in Butters’ expression was brighter than the sun.

They parted ways, and Kenny made his way back home slowly, lost in thought.

Dying hurt. He’d always thought that, tried to avoid it if he could, but it had been years since he’d truly thought that dying was wrong. He knew, on some level, that people cared, but he’d forgotten why it mattered. For Chaos of all people to remind him…

Maybe it was time to rethink their whole strategy.

Chapter Text

As a general rule, Kyle hated rising before the sun, which was why his mood was rather low when he was up before the sunrise doing calculus homework.

He tried not to do it too often—or at all, if he could avoid it—but sometimes there was too much to do after school and too much to worry about at night that really, the only time to do his work in peace was the early morning, when the rest of his family was still in bed.

Sheila had tried to chew him out about it once, but Gerald was just resigned. It was practice for college, he said.

Kyle was just tapping out the next equation in his calculator when he heard his phone vibrate. He paused and looked up for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Part of him wanted to ignore it and keep working, but it vibrated again a moment later, so he reached for it with a sigh. Whoever it was that was texting him at a godforsaken hour in the morning, it was probably more important than math.

Stan: ur up right?

Stan: come open the door? :)

Kyle stared down at his phone and blinked. Part of him was in disbelief and wondering if maybe Stan had texted the wrong person by accident, but the other part already had him on his feet and heading downstairs.

Sure enough, when he pulled open the front door Stan was there, backpack slung over one shoulder and smiling like it wasn’t still mostly dark out.

“Hey dude,” he greeted easily, and despite the dozens of questions Kyle wanted to ask, all he did was step aside and nod, because that was what they always did.

Stan stepped inside and Kyle closed the door behind him. He watched, calculus homework forgotten, as Stan tossed his backpack onto the floor in the living room and made himself comfortable on the couch. The cushions creaked and the sound made his heart beat just a little bit faster.

It was enough to get him thinking.

He wondered when it was that Stan just being in his house had started to freak him out so much. It wasn’t necessarily in a bad way, but it was the kind of terrifying way where he thought Stan might find a single pillow out of place and wonder when Kyle had become such a mess.

Or worse.

He might ignore the pillow completely and make himself at home on the couch and stare at him with a grin in his blue eyes…

Like he was right now.

Kyle swallowed and instead asked, “How’d you know I was up?”

“Just a feeling,” Stan shrugged. “You’ve seemed stressed recently.”

“That’s fair.”

Kyle headed for the couch and flopped down onto it with a sigh. Stan shifted, twisting so he could face Kyle with his elbow propped on the back of the couch, head resting in his hand.

“I thought we could walk to school today,” Stan said, his voice just a bit too high. “It’s been pretty nice out, for South Park.”

Kyle tried his best to keep the expression on his face under control. “Sure,” he replied in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice.

Things were supposed to be simple.

Maybe that was why he could feel himself starting to freak out. Stan’s sudden invitation was a bit unusual, but not weird or out of the way enough that Kyle could definitively call it forward. It was just another little push, a brief note of difference that Kyle had been seeing more and more of, and yet he had no clue what to do with any of them.

It was supposed to be simple: sit down on the couch and lean in to rest on Stan’s open shoulder; reply I’d love to to even the smallest invitation. But he couldn’t. Not that he didn’t want to. Not even that Stan didn’t want him to. But that it wasn’t even a part of him he could express. That anything he did would always come out wrong.

“Are you ok, dude?”

Kyle nearly jumped at Stan’s voice, then sat frozen as Stan leaned in, eyes wide in concern.

“You look really tired.”

“I mean, I’ve been doing calc all morning,” Kyle replied. “Define ok.”

He thought for a moment about last night, how he stayed up just to drag Mysterion halfway across town, how the vigilante’s costume was still stashed in the back of his closet. He’d made peace with Kenny’s secret a long time ago, and wouldn’t betray his trust even if it cost his life, but with Stan the faint guilt of lying—or at the very least, withholding the truth—always stung more.

Stan held his gaze for a long moment and Kyle fought down the urge to look away. He never flinched from anyone.

“Well,” Stan breathed, “if you need anything you know I’m here.”

Kyle blinked, somewhat floored by the gravity of the statement.

“It’s just calc?” Kyle said, uncertain.

At that, Stan finally looked away and ran his hand through his hair. “Math can be pretty scary, dude,” he joked.

Kyle chuckled weakly. “You’re telling me,” he answered back, feeling distinctly like Stan hadn’t gotten the response he’d been hoping for but deciding to just let it go for now.

“Speaking of scary things,” Stan said, and Kyle raised one eyebrow. “Did you hear about the big Mysterion and Chaos confrontation last night?”

Kyle did his best to push down the guilt and make his voice light. “No?”

“It sounded pretty intense,” Stan continued, “apparently some people saw a ton of minions out by the U-Stor-It.”

Kyle hoped nobody saw him and tried for a hum of mild interest. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” Stan said. There was a pause, and then he added, “I hope Mysterion’s ok.”

Kyle gave him a sideways look. “I didn’t think you were that interested in him.”

“I’m just worried,” Stan replied with a frown. “There’s a person under that mask, you know. It must be tough.”

Kyle was no stranger to Stan’s sudden bouts of empathy, though they were usually reserved for animals rather than vigilantes. He almost wanted to point it out, but there was something sad in Stan’s expression and Kyle didn’t know what else to do other than say, “I’m sure he’s fine. He can handle it, dude.”

Stan didn’t look completely convinced, but he nodded anyways. Kyle almost considered telling him he was there and had seen Mysterion get out fine, if for no other reason than to help put Stan’s mind at ease, but that opened up avenues for too many questions, several of which Kyle had no desire to answer.

Stan looked like he wanted to say more, but it was at that moment that the two of them could hear footsteps coming downstairs. Several moments later, the bright purple bathrobe and unkempt hair of Kyle’s mom descended into view, tailed closely by his brother, who was staring blearily at his feet with a sharp frown.

When Sheila reached the bottom step and turned to head to the kitchen, she noticed Kyle and Stan sitting on the couch and paused.

“Oh, good morning Stanley,” she greeted, almost entirely unperturbed.

“Good morning,” Stan replied politely.

Ike scoffed. “Wow, what a surprise. Stan’s here again,” he grumbled. “Haven’t seen you in like, a day.”

“ Ike ,” Sheila scolded, before turning back to Stan. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Maybe another time,” Stan answered, smiling.

“Coffee,” Ike mumbled, and then he elbowed his way past Sheila and disappeared into the kitchen.

Sheila’s eyes flashed, and Kyle took the opportunity to stand, dragging Stan up with him. “We’re probably gonna head out now, Ma. We’re walking today.”

“All right, dear, make sure you take a jacket.”

“I will,” Kyle assured flushing slightly.

Sheila seemed satisfied with that answer and hurried after Ike and into the kitchen. The sound of clattering mugs, pots and pans followed shortly after, and Kyle took the opportunity to run upstairs and grab his bag before his dad got up too and tried to make small talk like he sometimes did.

“C’mon,” Kyle declared when he hit the bottom step, and Stan was just slinging his backpack over his shoulder when there was a knock at the door.

“Can you get that?” Sheila called from the kitchen.

Kyle was already doing just that. For the second time that morning he opened the door and found an unexpected guest, this time in the form of Kenny grinning at him from under the hood of his jacket.

“Hey,” Kenny greeted, “and before you yell at me I’m sorry about last night—”

“Hey Kenny,” Kyle cut him off sharply, and the lazy smile on Kenny’s face faltered into a tight, thin line. Kyle tried to point behind him with his eyes when Stan appeared next to him in the doorway.

“Oh, hey Kenny!”

Realization flickered in Kenny’s eyes and he gave Kyle an appraising glance before the easy smile was back. “Hey Stanny,” he greeted, “fancy meeting you here.”

Kyle, already dreading how this encounter was going, cut in again before Kenny could get any ideas. “Did you need something, dude?” Kyle asked, his voice coming out sharper than he intended.

Stan glanced between them and added, “We were just about to walk to school if you wanna join.”

“Oh yeah?” Kenny asked. The two were smiling at each other too much for Kyle’s liking and he got the distinct feeling Kenny was doing one of infuriating speaking-without-words tricks. All those years speaking very little made Kenny a master of conversations with eyes, and sometimes it was convenient but at times like these Kyle absolutely hated it.

“Yeah,” Kyle echoed for no other reason than to break up whatever subtle conversation Kenny was trying to have.

“I’ll pass,” Kenny finally declared. “I just needed to borrow something.”

Kenny’s eyes flickered to the stairs and Kyle realized that he probably wanted his costume back. He had to bite the inside of his cheek because that also meant Kenny was finally ready to talk.

And Kyle sure as hell had a lot to say.

“Help yourself,” Kyle said instead. “Just let my mom know your here before you head upstairs.”

“Good thinking,” Kenny nodded. “I really don’t feel like dying this morning.”

Stan snorted at the joke, and then his hand fell on Kyle’s shoulder. “You ready to go?”

Kyle nodded stiffly and allowed Kenny inside before adjusting his own backpack, Stan’s hand falling back to his side in the process.

“Oh,” Kenny paused, “by the way, Kyle, Leo wanted me to let you know he needs a new photo and list of corresponding names for the speech and debate club. There was a big mix-up and Jimmy’s been in a frenzy.”

“I’ll bet,” Kyle said, feeling a twinge of sympathy. “Tell him I’ll get it to him as soon as possible.”

“Will do,” Kenny said.

Kyle nodded and headed for the door.

“See you later, Kenny!” Stan called behind him as they left.

“Behave yourselves!” Kenny’s teasing voice followed them out the door until it shut with a final slam.

Stan jogged briefly to catch up with Kyle, who was already down the walkway and out on the sidewalk.

“I swear your mom gets more persistent every day,” Stan said as he finally fell into step next to Kyle.

“You get used to it,” Kyle replied, almost absently.

The more he thought about it, the more he wondered how the hell he was ever supposed to make something like walking to school romantic . He glanced down and noticed the way Stan’s stride matched his, easy as breathing. It was the only easy thing about this.

Stan, seeming to notice his agitation, gave his shoulder a little nudge and said with a smirk, “I think she likes me best.”

Kyle glanced at him incredulously and scoffed. “No way, dude.”

“Rude,” Stan declared, and he nudged Kyle again, hard enough to knock him off balance. Kyle almost squawked in outrage, bracing himself for the inevitable fall, but Stan caught him by the arm and pulled him back up just as quickly, still grinning.

“Admit I’m her favorite son,” he said.

Kyle thought about the way Stan’s fingers were still curled around his arm and replied, “You aren’t even her son.”

Stan finally let go and shrug. “I might as well be at this point.”

Kyle’s stomach fell out from under him and he forced himself to take a deep breath before he replied, in the most measured voice of his life, “Sure.”

If Stan thought any of this was strange, he didn’t say anything, and Kyle hated the fact that at this point he couldn’t tell if he was relieved or furious.

Or something else altogether.

Chapter Text

“Guys, I think Kenny fell asleep again.”

Kenny groaned from his seat at the table, head buried in his arms. “I‘m not sleeping,” he whined, voice muffled by his sleeves.

“Worst mascot ever,” Bebe snickered, and Kenny waved a dismissive hand in her general direction.

A warm palm pressed against his back, a light pressure between his shoulder blades, and Kenny rolled his head to the side so he could smile up at Butters, who was eyeing him with a small frown.

“You ok, Ken?” He asked softly, leaning down to whisper in his ear. It made Kenny feel like they were the only two in the room, and he found himself nodding in answer before he could even really think.

He’d joined Butters at yearbook as always, but it wasn’t until he’d sat down and finally allowed his mind to wander that he’d realized just how tired he was from everything that had happened last night. He was calm enough now to realize that he’d let his emotions get the best of him.

Kyle was right to be pissed, even if Kenny was right too and he shouldn’t have been out looking for him.

For that matter, Butters shouldn’t have been out last night either.

Kenny wasn’t really mad about that though. Surprised, sure, but seeing Butters out and about and acting on his own free will had made him happier than he knew what to do with. A part of him worried about the dangers of Butters being out so late, especially if he was on his own, but with the increased tensions between Mysterion and Professor Chaos petty crime had almost entirely faded from South Park, and Chaos had never been much interested in innocent civilians anyways. And, if worse came to worst, at least Kenny knew now to keep an eye out.

He let out another breath and leaned up into the feeling of Butters rubbing small, smoothing circles on his back.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the yearbook room’s door.

Kenny glanced up just in time to see a familiar head of red hair as Kyle let himself in. He noted, with a slight smirk to himself, that Stan was following right behind him.

“Hi Kyle,” Butters greeted happily, “hi Stan.”

“Hey guys,” Kenny said, his vision sideways as he rested his head against the table. Kyle gave him a pointed look that he promptly ignored in favor of stretching out further in front of him.

“I have the photo you asked for,” Kyle said, holding it up so Kenny could just catch a glimpse of his cramped but neat handwriting labeling each of the club members.

“Thanks,” Butters took the photo from Kyle with a warm smile. “I’m sure Jimmy will be awfully glad you were so fast about it.”

Kyle shrugged. “I didn’t have anything else to do, really.”

Stan gave him a sideways look and scoffed. “You were working like crazy all through lunch today.”

Kyle frowned. “No I wasn’t.”

“I literally had to force you to eat, dude, you know you shouldn’t skip lunch.”

Kenny pictured the scene in his mind and snorted. “Oh Stanley, bless your soul.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Butters agreed.

Kyle had never been very good at hiding his blush and this case was no exception. He forced the photo into Butters’ hands and grumbled, “Just make sure Jimmy gets this, all right?”

“Will do,” Butters replied, his voice taking on a hard edge of determination. Kenny had always found it cute, how earnestly he could take something even as simple as yearbook work.

“So are you guys almost done for today?” Stan asked, leveling his gaze at Kenny from his place just past Kyle’s shoulder.

It was hard for him to ignore the way Butters tensed next to him. It wasn’t particularly noticeable, not by a long shot, but Kenny had come to learn that Butters had a habit of curling his fingers when there were things he didn’t want to think about.

“Define done,” Kenny replied, keeping his voice light. Some of the tension melted from Butters’ stance. “Why’re you asking?”

“Just wondering if you wanted to get something to eat,” Stan said. “Since I’m dragging Kyle there after this anyways.”

“Who said that?” Kyle challenged, turning around to fix Stan with an unimpressed glare.

Stan tilted his head, obviously unfazed.

“I did,” he answered, “just now.”

Kenny hid his grin in the crook of his arm and snickered quietly, just loud enough for only Butters to hear.

“What if I’m busy?”

Kenny marveled, not for the first time, at how incredibly patient Stan could be when he was so inclined. Seriously, the guy didn’t even so much as twitch. With Kyle, that was a rare talent.

“I said I was dragging you,” Stan pointed out, “I will actually do that if I have to.”

Kyle looked like he wanted to say more, but surprisingly it was Butters who cut in instead.

“I think you should listen to Stan,” he said, “It’d be no good if you got sick.”

Stan flashed a wide smile and nodded. “My point exactly!”

“Fine,” Kyle grumbled. He glanced back at Butters and Kenny and asked, “So, you coming?”

“You two go ahead,” Kenny shrugged. They both fixed him with a skeptical glance, but he simply smiled in return. “I was just getting settled in for a nap.”

“I get that,” Stan said, nodding sagely.

Kyle didn’t look quite as convinced but luckily he let it slide. “We’ll see you guys later then,” he offered instead, and Kenny gave them both a lazy wave as they headed out the door.

“Poor Kyle,” Butters said when the door was closed. “He sure seems stressed lately.”

“He hasn’t been sleeping much,” Kenny said, trying his best to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt at the half-truth. Kyle’s stress was partially his fault, after all—though he blamed Stan too—and he also hated to lie to Butters, even if it was for good reason.

Butters gave a little whine of sympathy and continued, “It’s good Stan’s looking out for him, then.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey Kenny?”

Kenny hummed.

“You haven’t been sleeping much either, have you?”

Kenny lifted his head off his arms to look Butters properly in the eyes.

“Me?” he asked, and the slight curve of Butters’ lips was all the answer he needed to feel something inside him flutter with warmth. “You don’t need to worry about me, Leo. I’m alright.”

Butters’ lips pressed together, not quite a frown but definitely not happy either. He looked like he wanted to press the subject but didn’t know how—it was an expression he’d seen on Butters’ face too often recently. There was hesitance in it, uncertainty.

Distance.

Kenny knew it was his fault, too. He was always a few words too vague, quick to dismiss concerns. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Butters—far from it, he’d give his whole heart to him if he could—but it felt wrong to keep secrets from him, especially ones he knew Butters wouldn’t like. With distance, he didn’t have to lie, didn’t have to feel like he was tricking him into liking the one person in town he actually hated.

He didn’t have to ask for things he had no right to.

Kenny was spared Butters’ inevitable next question when the door to the club room opened again and Jimmy came rushing in, a mess of flailing limbs and winded breaths.

“S-sorry I’m late, fellas,” he apologized quickly, throwing himself into the nearest seat and shrugging off his backpack in one swift movement.

“I kept them in check while you were gone,” Kenny joked easily, earning a round of chuckles from the club members who had paused at the sudden commotion.

“Kyle brought the photo you wanted,” Butters said.

He handed it over. and Jimmy took it with a sigh of relief, adding it to his folder of clubs that needed to be relabelled.

“With any—any luck, I can finish this by the end of the—end of the week.”

Kenny eyed the thick folder warily and wondered if maybe Jimmy was being a little too optimistic. As far as he knew, Jimmy had been running around nonstop for the past couple days. He was honestly shocked Jimmy didn’t look more tired.

Jimmy didn’t pay any mind to the concern on both Kenny and Butters’ faces as he set about sorting through his folder, jotting down the names scribbled on the back of each photo with a singular focus Kenny wasn’t sure whether to call admirable or concerning.

Butters took a seat next to Kenny and murmured, “I think I’ll start packing up soon.”

Kenny turned to him, surprised by the declaration. Butters wanted to leave early? It wasn’t likely he was planning to join Stan and Kyle, but the only other option that left was going home, and Kenny didn’t understand why he’d suddenly want to do something like that. A sudden rush of protectiveness raced through him.

Trying his best to keep the confusion out of his voice, Kenny replied with a simple, “Ok.”

He still intended to walk Butters home.

If Butters wanted to say more about his decision, Kenny couldn’t tell. They fell into silence and every so often he’d catch Butters with his lips caught between his teeth, staring firmly at nothing in particular, like he was angry with nothing in particular to be angry at. It was a strange look to find on Butters’ face, and Kenny didn’t know what to do with it yet.

As Butters was finally packing up his things, there was another loud noise out in the hallway.

Kenny looked up at the door, one eyebrow raised. It wasn’t like the yearbook club never got visitors, but they usually weren’t so… frenzied.

The noise out in the hall came to a sudden stop when the door to the yearbook room was pushed open once more, though this time with far too much force. The club members, once again, collectively paused their work to glance up at the sudden intrusion, but at the sight of the familiar couple in the doorway their shoulders sagged in relief and they went back to work.

Kenny figured he shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Tweek was the first to shoulder his way in and his eyes darted from face to face, a restless energy that made him tired just from watching.

“Where’s Jimmy?” he practically demanded, as Craig made his way to stand beside him.

Butters, with wide eyes, gestured behind him to where Jimmy was sitting, momentarily paused in his task of scribbling down endless notes. Tweek’s gaze locked on him, and Kenny wouldn’t have labeled Jimmy a nervous type of person until he saw for himself the expression of alarmed guilt that flashed across his face.

“You’re fucked, dude,” Craig said flatly, and that was all the warning Jimmy got before Tweek was stomping his way over to his desk, a look of fury in his eyes.

“H-hey,” Jimmy tried for a friendly smile, “what s-seems to be—be the problem?”

“You!” Tweek snapped in a strangled sort of cry. He looked about ready to pull his hair out.

“He heard you’d been skipping out on lunch  the past couple days,” Craig explained more helpfully.

Tweek grabbed one of Jimmy’s arms and practically hauled him out of his chair. “Food. Now,” he hissed, his grip just slightly too tight to be comfortable.

“W-wait a second!” Jimmy protested, still too surprised to properly resist.

It didn’t seem like Tweek was going to give him the chance to recover.

“Get his backpack, Craig,” Tweek commanded, and Craig obliged with a small shrug of his shoulders. Jimmy looked between the two of them, torn between alarm and betrayal, as Tweek began to march him towards the door. Craig seemed perfectly content to watch from a safe distance and, probably wisely, refrained from commenting further.

“Butters!” Jimmy called over his shoulder, “Look after the f-folder!”

Butters jumped to his feet and nodded vigorously. “I’ll work on it, don’t worry!”

Tweek gave Jimmy one final shove out the door, and Craig fixed them all with one last stare before he nodded in farewell and closed the door behind them.

Kenny blinked, unsure what to say, as Butters gathered up the scattered contents of the open folder left on the table.

“He probably deserved it,” Bebe commented dryly, and just like that the club’s activities resumed once more.

It wasn’t like anyone really disagreed.

Eventually Butters had gathered everything into his backpack and stood next to Kenny, fidgeting with his fingers and trying his best to look casual.

“Ready?” he asked as he rested his hand briefly on Kenny’s shoulder, nodding towards the door himself.

Kenny got up and followed him out, suddenly nervous. Something in the way Butters was carrying himself as he walked made him pause. It was too tight, too firm. Not scared, but something else entirely. Something heavy.

“You sure you don’t want to get something to eat?” Kenny asked as they exited school. “Seems like it’ll be pretty exciting there, doesn’t it?”

Butters didn’t respond to the joke the way Kenny hoped he would.

He followed Butters down the street in silence, figuring Butters would speak when he was ready to. They were taking a different route to his house than usual one, winding down the streets in a way that would have felt aimless if Butters hadn’t been walking with such swift purpose.

They were near the park when Butters finally slowed down and turned to face him.

“Can I ask you something, Ken?”

Kenny’s heart leapt in his throat. “Anything.”

He was definitely worried now, his mind cycling through all sorts of situations he didn’t know if he was ready for. Had his dad set up some new sort of rule? Decided to pull him out of school entirely? Or maybe Butters was finally tired of him, tired of the distance—it was all Kenny’s fault, he knew—and wanted answers that Kenny just didn’t know how to give him. Maybe he was angry, or hurt, or in need of help, and Kenny was the only one he could turn to.

It was a whole different kind of pressure than the kind he felt whenever he put on his mask.

“What do you think of Mysterion?”

Kenny felt it the moment his heart stopped beating altogether. He didn’t want to panic, didn’t want to think Butters knew , or had found out somehow, but it was so unexpected Kenny couldn’t possibly think of any other reason why he’d brought up Mysterion at all.

Kenny took a deep breath, calmed himself, and asked, “What?”

Butters’ eyebrows were scrunched together and he looked uncomfortable. “You never say anything about him,” he said finally.

Kenny wasn’t sure how to proceed. Was Butters trying to corner him?

“I don’t have much to say,” he replied carefully.

Butters frowned.

“Besides, I know you don’t like talking about him,” Kenny added.

“I don’t,” Butters agreed. He still didn’t look happy.

Kenny paused and waited for Butters to continue, but he didn’t speak. It wasn’t like him to be so uncooperative, and it left Kenny staggering under the weight of the familiar feeling of needing to do something.

“I don’t mind either opinion of him,” Kenny decided to offer when the silence stretched on too long.

Butters’ gaze remained fixed on him. “But?”

Kenny ended up having to look away first.

“I think he’s trying to do the right thing,” he admitted.

He heard Butters inhale a sharp breath, a gut reaction like a sudden shock to his system. Kenny cringed and wondered if this was it—this was how he finally ruined things.

“I agree.”

Kenny stared, not even bothering to hide his surprise this time. Butters’ face was red—not anger, but embarrassment, and suddenly Kenny felt so much lighter than he had a moment before—and he seemed anxious on his feet, shifting his weight back and forth.

“You… do?” Kenny asked timidly.

Butters exhaled and nodded. “He’s trying to,” he echoed.

“Yeah,” Kenny said, not sure what else there was to add anymore.

“Listen, Kenny,” Butters said, his fingers curling, and Kenny wanted to take Butters’ hands in his own, smooth out his fingers in his palms. Kiss his knuckles, tell him it was all right.

“I think,” Butters hesitated, “I wanted to know your opinion. Because I didn’t know it before.”

“It’s not that big a deal to me,” Kenny assured him quickly, wondering if Butters felt guilty for being too passionate in his dislike for the vigilante. He didn’t want Butters to feel bad about that.

“No,” Butters said, “but I knew everyone else’s except yours. It didn’t seem right.”

“Leo, it doesn’t really matter what I—”

“It does,” Butters interrupted him. “To me it does.”

Kenny closed his mouth and wondered how it was possible that Butters couldn’t hear his heart beating, or see the way his own hands trembled from the nerves.

“Ken, I think you matter the most in this town,” Butters continued, and his eyes were searching his and Kenny thought in that moment that whatever Butters might find, he wouldn’t be able to hide it from him even if he tried.

Whatever it was, it made him uncurl his fingers.

“I just thought you ought to know,” he said, with a full force of finality that meant there was no room for dispute.

Kenny knew and there would be no room for denial, no taking it back.

Kenny watched him with an overwhelming fondness pushing at his chest. “Buttercup…”

Butters finally broke eye contact and flushed, suddenly nervous—back to normal, Kenny realized with relief.

“Sorry if I scared you, Kenny,” he babbled uncertainly, “I just didn’t know how to bring it up but you’ve been tired and said you had things on your mind and I just wanted to—”

“Thanks, Leo,” Kenny interrupted him before he could talk himself into a panic. “Seriously. This town wouldn’t be nearly as great without you.”

Butters’ lips twitched up before he could duck his head to hide and Kenny thought to himself that all the trouble in his life was suddenly worth it, even just for something as simple as this.

Chapter Text

“Hey Leo,” Kenny asked carefully, “do you think I could stay over a bit today?”

He knew, even before he had asked, that he was pushing it. But after walking him home, Kenny had never wanted to leave Butters less.

It just didn’t seem right, to leave the boy that made him feel so ridiculously warm, alone in a house that was so unjustly cold.

Butters paused next to him on the sidewalk.

“You know I’d love for you to, but…”

“I know,” Kenny said, not wanting Butters to have to finish that thought, “I have an idea.”

Butters glanced between Kenny and his own house nervously. He looked like he wanted to refuse, and if he did Kenny honestly wouldn’t blame him, but he still wanted to try and help somehow.

“Leo—”

Butters tore his gaze away from the house and took a small, quiet breath. “Ok.”

“You’re sure?” Kenny asked. He only wanted to do it if Butters was absolutely all right with it too.

Butters nodded. “I trust you, Ken.”

Kenny opened his mouth to reply, but he wasn’t even sure what to say. What could he say, when Butters was being so open and honest with him?

Did he even deserve it?

As if sensing his surprise, Butters reached out and wrapped one hand around Kenny’s wrist. He was gentle as he led Kenny up the walkway to his front door, giving him a little sideways smile, a silent but nonetheless present question to make sure they were both on the same page for this. Kenny nodded in response, trying to calm his nerves, as Butters let go of his wrist and opened the front door.

“I’m home, dad!” Butters called into the quiet house.

Kenny followed in behind him and closed the door as carefully as he could. The living room was clean, bordering on too clinically neat to believe anyone actually used it. They probably didn’t, at least not Butters, who Kenny knew spent all of his time up in his room—willingly or not.

“Butters! You’re early, I hope you’re not slacking off today,” Kenny heard Mr. Stotch’s voice from the adjacent kitchen.

“No sir,” Butters replied quickly.

His father finally emerged, dressed as neatly and professionally as Kenny remembered him, with a familiar sharp frown on his face. His gaze locked on Kenny, standing behind Butters’ shoulder.

“What’s the McCormick’s kid doing here?” he asked, and Kenny recognized the tone well. It was the one laced with just enough distaste to make him feel ashamed—if he actually cared about Stephen’s opinion, that was.

“Um,” Butters began hesitantly.

Kenny curled his fingers into the back of Butters’ shirt for the briefest of moments, just to remind him that he was there, and stepped forward so he could address Stephen himself.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” he said politely, pushing down the anger already clawing its way into his heart. He knew he had to acknowledge how unwelcome he was in the Stotch’s house, though it didn’t mean he had to like it.

“The teachers asked if your son would tutor me today,” Kenny continued, putting on a bashful smile, “He’s the top of our class in math and they thought I could really use the help.”

Butters tensed minutely beside him, wary of the lie, and Stephen’s eyes narrowed.

“Butters isn’t supposed to have guests over at this hour.”

“I work a part-time job so now’s the only time I really have,” Kenny said, wanting to divert Stephen’s attention back to him. “I’m sorry for the trouble, but the school insisted I can’t fail math again.”

“They really did,” Butters added, coming to stand right beside him.

For a moment, Kenny was worried that Butters was going to give them away, but then he remembered how easy it had been for him to sneak out last night. Kenny had always known Butters to have a talent for acting, but the thought of Butters being a good liar still surprised him. Though, Kenny thought, it was a talent used for a perfectly justifiable reason.

For one long, painful moment, Kenny was sure Stephen was going to refuse. He didn’t look happy, glancing back and forth between the two of them, but Kenny knew he was backed into a corner by their story.

Eventually, Stephen sighed and crossed his arms. “Fine,” he sniffed, “but he needs to leave before dinner.”

“You got it, sir,” Butters said, and suddenly he was ushering Kenny up the staircase with urgent little pushes.

“And you better be working!”

Kenny decided it was probably best to keep his mouth closed, and he did so until they were safely in Butters’ room and the door was shut behind them. He set down his backpack in relief and toed off his old sneakers before settling down on the carpet.

Butters sat down in front of him with a visible twitch.

“You’ve never failed math,” he whispered, his gaze fixed rather pointedly at a spot on the floor between them.

Kenny chuckled dryly and said, “It’s pretty convincing though, isn’t it?”

Butters didn’t laugh. In fact, Kenny jerked his head up when he heard the faintest of sniffles, and saw him with tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

Butters dabbed at them and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Kenny.”

Panicked, Kenny sat up on his knees and leaned forward, reaching out to rest his fingers softly against one of Butters’ elbows.

“Don’t be,” he said.

Butters swallowed and shook his head. “He shouldn’t treat you that way.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kenny assured him. He ran his thumb in small circles, hoping the soothing gesture might help distract Butters from his thoughts.

Finally, Butters looked up at him again. “He’s wrong about you,” he said quietly, and Kenny could feel the tension in his arm when Butters clenched his fists.

Kenny caught his eyes and smiled.

“I don’t care what he thinks, if it means I get to be here with you.”

Butters stuttered on his next breath, but returned the smile with a watery one of his own. Slowly, Kenny drew Butters’ arms down and pulled him into a loose hug. He felt Butters’ forehead press against his shoulder and leaned his own against it, feeling the soft brush of his shockingly blond hair against his cheek.

They sat in silence for a long moment, until Kenny could feel how Butters’ breaths evened out, and then he could feel the low rumble against his chest when Butters next spoke, somewhat muffled against his shoulder.

“We should work.”

“Sure,” Kenny said, “as long as it’s not math.”

His heart swelled at the soft chuckle that earned, and he continued to feel warm even as he felt Butters slowly pulling out of his arms.

Staying had been a good decision after all.

They ended up working for a little over an hour, and with Butters’ help Kenny was pleased to say he’d actually finished all the homework he needed to for tomorrow before sundown. Butters, having finished most of his own work earlier, had pulled out Jimmy’s folder of relabelled club photos and was slowly working through them, listing out each name so they could type it all up later.

As the sun sank in the sky, Kenny tossed down his pencil and stood up to stretch.

Wandering over to where Butters was slowly working at his desk, Kenny rested his head on his shoulder and glanced down.

“It still surprises me how small Kyle’s handwriting is,” he commented idly as Butters gave him a sideways glance. “It doesn’t really suit his usual rage.”

“He’s not always angry, Kenny.”

“Maybe not at you.”

Butters laughed, a pleasant tinkling sound, and tucked the speech and debate club photo away. Glancing at the window, he chewed his lip for a moment and said, “Dinner’s soon.”

“I figured,” Kenny replied.

He went to gather up his supplies and grab his backpack, and Butters stood up with him.

“I should probably announce I’m leaving?”

Butters nodded. Kenny really had no desire to interact with Mr. Stotch again, but if it made sure Butters was in the clear of course he would.

“All right,” Kenny said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I can deal with that.”

Butters shifted on his feet for a few moments before finally rushing forward and giving Kenny one last hug.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kenny,” Butters said, and just as quickly he pulled away, his face the faintest tint of red.

Kenny was sure he looked the same.

“Of course, Buttercup,” he said.

He flashed one last smile before leaving Butters’ room and heading for the staircase. Mr. Stotch was setting the dining table when Kenny reached the last step, and Kenny made sure that Mr. Stotch could see before he headed to the front door with a curt nod.

“Apologies again for the inconvenience,” he said, not at all meaning it.

Stephen shrugged and replied, “Just don’t make it a habit.”

“Of course not,” Kenny assured, and left through the door before he could say anything more. Being alone in a room with Butters’ father was not a situation that left him feeling very in control of himself, so it was probably best to leave before something went wrong.

He carried on for about a block before he ducked out of view. The sun was completely set now, and he had a lot of work to do if he wanted to make any progress regarding his new plans for Professor Chaos. He hadn’t spoken to Kyle about it yet, and while he did feel a little guilty about that he also wasn’t sure if he had the time—or the energy—to get into an argument about it at the moment.

Dealing with Chaos was something Mysterion had to decide for himself how to handle. And Kenny, despite his concerns, couldn’t help but feel that the choice he was making was right.

He snuck into a random neighbor’s backyard in order to change into his costume, careful to keep an eye on the windows just in case, though it seemed like the owners of the house were away for the time being. He made a quick detour to drop off his backpack somewhere he could hide it and come back for later, and then set off in the direction of downtown.

He needed to talk to Chaos.

He’d been looking everywhere for over two hours before he finally found him. Returning from a quick trip to check out the U-Stor-It, Kenny decided to cut through the park and start a new search near the pond, but a sudden, painfully familiar flash of silver caught his eye and he paused.

It was too obvious, too intentional, and if Kenny had learned anything it was never to underestimate Professor Chaos.

The rooftop he found himself heading towards was above an apartment complex just adjacent to the police station. Chaos was bold, but this just seemed downright reckless. But nevertheless, as Kenny landed on top of the building, Chaos was there, facing him with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“You were looking for me,” Chaos said, not a question but an accusation.

Kenny didn’t even bother to deny it. He stepped off the ledge and tried to close the distance.

Chaos had his weapon trained on him within moments.

“I just want to talk,” Kenny said, raising his hands in surrender.

Chaos didn’t relax and simply continued to watch him.

“Why?” he asked.

Kenny resisted the urge to chew his lip. He didn’t mean to fight, at least not tonight, but he didn’t want to show any further weakness either. He drew his cloak tighter around himself, took a slow breath, and answered, “You spared my life.”

He hadn’t been expecting Chaos to laugh. The sound startled him, like a sharp crack against his ears.

“Sorry,” Chaos said unapologetically, one hand on his chest as if to steady himself. “What, do you owe me a favor now? Come to pledge your loyalty to the dark side?”

“No,” Kenny growled.

He was quickly growing impatient with the way Chaos was making fun of him. It was like this wasn’t important to him in the slightest, and Kenny couldn’t understand it.

He was offering something here, by wanting to talk. In all their fights before, Chaos had been nothing more to him than an enemy, a hurdle to get over or a force to stop. But now Kenny didn’t just want to stop him. He wanted to understand him. He was acknowledging something—but Chaos didn’t seem to care.

Chaos smiled crookedly and asked, “So why, then?”

Kenny paused.

Chaos didn’t seem to care, but then why would he have let Mysterion close in the first place? Chaos, for all his talk of it, left very few things up to chance, if he could help it. Kenny recalled fleeting moments—wide, surprised eyes, vague words, a frozen look of shock at the suggestion of murder—and thought that Chaos had to have meant something by it. He was looking for something, from Mysterion or even just the world at large, and Kenny needed to know what.

He couldn’t decide until he knew what it was.

Kenny decided to risk the chance that he was wrong and finally replied, “You want to talk too.”

Chaos stared at him, so Kenny stared back.

He had to want something, Kenny was sure of it. Villains always did—everyone did. Even if it was just chaos it was still something, and there had to be a reason why. Kenny had decided last night that he’d find out what it was.

Something flickered in Chaos’s expression, and he ended up turning his back to Kenny completely. Kenny gazed over his shoulder at the police station and bit his lip. He wanted to know what Chaos was planning, knew that it had to be happening soon and that he should be working harder to stop him.

But he couldn’t do that without knowing why.

“Not really,” Chaos finally said, his voice unnaturally flat. “There’s nothing we really need to talk about.”

Kenny tried not to flinch, decided it was too soon to doubt himself.

“You want someone who will listen,” Kenny pressed further.

He saw the way Chaos’s cloak twitched, drawing a tense line to his upturned shoulders. Kenny’s breath caught but he tried to stay calm, because Mysterion was simply stating facts. Kenny was the only one who needed the truth behind them.

Chaos didn’t speak, but Kenny knew he couldn’t give it up that easily.

“Is that why you do this?”

Chaos’s clenched fist sparked suddenly and Kenny tensed. There was no doubt in his mind now that he’d guessed right, but the idea that Chaos would want to hear these words from Mysterion of all people—that, Kenny still doubted.

“Are you tryin’ to psychoanalyze me or something?” Chaos asked, his voice low. There was an unmistakable challenge to it, yet more melancholic than a dare.

“You told me so yourself,” Kenny answered quickly, before Chaos could try to steer the conversation away. He decided to clarify, “About helplessness. You’ve brought that up before. Nobody listens, so you’re this.”

Chaos glanced over his shoulder at him, and Kenny was surprised by how hard the look in his eyes was. He’d never seen Chaos so serious, so guarded, in any of their previous exchanges before.

“As far as I’m concerned,” Chaos began, and it was slow, painfully careful, “there’s only one person who deserves good things in this dumb town. The rest, well, they listen to Chaos better—or they will.”

“They won’t,” Kenny retorted, “you can’t.”

“Don’t tell me that!” Chaos snapped, whirling on him in an instant. The sparks on his glove were back and Kenny took a careful step backwards to prepare himself should Chaos decide to move.

“Nobody can tell Chaos that.”

Kenny needed to choose his next words carefully. Refusing to be intimidated so easily, he drew himself up to his full height and said, “You don’t have to be a villain, Chaos. You can be good, you can—”

“You mean I can choose justice like you,” Chaos interrupted, not at all bothered by Kenny’s greater height. “I can choose a lie and pretend to be a hero and be justice’s bitch—the police shoot at you too, you know. Where’s the justice in that?”

Kenny growled, “That’s their justice, not mine.”

Chaos scoffed. “As if there’s a difference. Justice may as well be chaos too, for how little I’ve ever experienced it.”

“You’ll experience mine,” Kenny promised, frustrated at the way the conversation had gone. He’d wanted to give Chaos a chance, he’d wanted the opportunity to understand why—and he did now, at least somewhat—but it hadn’t gotten him any closer to stopping Chaos, not like he’d hoped it would.

It had only made him more confused.

“And what is that, then?” Chaos asked, sarcasm and hostility rampant in his tone.

“That,” Kenny decided, “depends on you.”

Kenny knew that his talk with Chaos had come to a close. He’d tried to do things this way, wanted desperately to find some answers to help explain why Chaos made so little sense, why he couldn’t just fight him like any other criminal and move on from it. He still wasn’t sure about the answers he’d found, yet somehow he felt like he’d gotten closer to knowing Chaos than he ever had chasing after dead end upon dead end of clues as to his identity. Surely that had to mean something.

There weren’t any more words that he felt needed to be said, so Kenny stepped to the edge of the roof and jumped. Chaos didn’t pursue him and so he disappeared down the street, ducking into the shadows.

He’d made a lot of decisions tonight. The conversation kept playing through in his mind, full of questions and doubts, challenges and resolutions. This wasn’t about who Chaos was anymore, but who he would be.

And he still needed to talk to Kyle.

Chapter Text

The fastest way to Kyle’s house was through the park, and Kenny took the shortcut through it as his mind swirled with thoughts.

It was hard, reconciling Chaos with the idea of helplessness, but in the end Kenny realized there was still a lot about the villain he didn’t know. Chaos himself wasn’t helpless—he was the furthest thing from it—but there had to be a reason he thought that way. Something he was working towards, or trying to destroy.

Suddenly, something reached out and grabbed him by the back of his cloak.

With a grunt, Kenny stumbled to a halt and spun to face whoever it was that had pulled him, ready for a fight.

Kyle took a step back and raised his hands up in surrender.

“I didn’t want to call your name,” he said in explanation. “Are you finally ready to talk now?”

Kenny blinked, his neck still sore. Kyle had pulled them behind the nearest tree but was still glancing around every so often, checking to make sure nobody was nearby.

“Technically I was ready this morning,” Kenny replied with a smirk. “You were the one who was busy.”

Kyle frowned, clearly not amused. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“What are you even doing out here at this hour?” Kenny asked instead. He had hoped Kyle knew better than to go wandering out at night by himself, especially after the stunt he pulled at the U-Stor-It. There was no way to be sure Chaos or one of his minions hadn’t seen him.

“That’s not important,” Kyle grumbled, glancing away.

“Uh,” Kenny said, “yes it is. I’ve told you before—”

Kyle groaned. “I’m with Stan, ok? So don’t lecture me.”

Kenny definitely grinned then. “Still don’t want to hear it?” he asked, snickering at the way Kyle’s face turned red despite his best attempts to look mad.

“I’m going to punch you,” he threatened, and Kenny smiled wider.

“I dare you to try.”

Kyle scowled. “You know, you’re always giving me shit about Stan, but what about you and Butters dude?”

Kenny tried his best to keep the smile on his face, but he could feel the way the joy slipped out of his eyes. “What about it?” he asked carefully.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” Kyle pointed a finger at him, “telling me to get over myself when you won’t even do the same.”

“It’s not like that.”

“So you’re denying it?”

“I’m not denying it,” Kenny snapped. Despite the costume and the surrounding darkness he was suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, and something in Kyle’s tone was just grating enough to hurt. “I’m telling you it’s different.”

“Hardly,” Kyle scoffed. “You’re crazy about him, and have you seen the way he looks at you? Like you painted the whole damn universe? If anyone needs to hear it, it’s you.”

“Why?” Kenny growled. “So he can be with the one person in this town whose guts he actually fucking hates?”

Some of the irritation melted out of Kyle’s eyes and he frowned. Kenny recoiled and tried to recollect himself before continuing.

“He doesn’t need that, especially not right now, when he already has so much other shit to deal with.”

“Kenny,” Kyle sighed, “you’re not just something to deal with.”

“You know what his family’s like,” Kenny ignored him, “If I can be somebody for him where everything’s just simple, isn’t that enough?”

Kyle shook his head, and Kenny hated to see the way Kyle so easily gave voice to the doubts he’d been pushing down for so long.  

“You should at least let him give Mysterion a chance,” Kyle said, and Kenny’s heart twisted.

“He doesn’t need one,” Kenny replied.

“Kenny.”

“Can we talk now?” he asked, hoping to change the subject. Kyle was giving him a rather pointed look and he really wasn’t in the mood for it.

Kyle pressed his lips together. “Fine,” he said, though he clearly wasn’t pleased.

Kenny rocked on his heels, practically feeling Kyle’s patience evaporating in front of him.

Eventually, Kyle sighed. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”

Kenny braced himself for the worst and said, “I don’t want you digging around about Chaos’s identity anymore.”

For a brief, quiet moment, Kenny thought maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought, that Kyle might understand better than he’d been expecting him to, but then Kyle opened his mouth and—

“What?”

Kenny shrugged.

“Seriously,” Kyle said, his voice tight, “what the fuck?”

“I can explain,” he offered.

Kyle ran a hand through his hair and groaned, “I’m sure you can.”

“I just need more time,” Kenny said. He needed to figure this out, needed to sort out why all of a sudden things just weren’t making sense. He just didn’t know how to make Kyle understand that.

“Time?” Kyle hissed, “We don’t have time, dude! Chaos is planning something, and whatever it is it’s happening soon. What the fuck do you need time for?”

Kenny tensed, not sure how to explain the feeling he had, that something was just wrong.

“Kyle,” he said, trying and failing not to sound desperate, “he could have killed me last night.”

Kyle’s eyes widened.

“He could have,” Kenny repeated, “but he didn’t.”

Kyle looked unsure, suddenly tentative in the way he only got when Kenny talked about dying.

“So?” he asked eventually, still doubtful but fortunately less angry.

“He said it was wrong,” Kenny said. “It was… weird.”

Something sparked in Kyle’s eyes. When he next spoke, it was gentle, almost uncharacteristically so. “Not everything wants you dead, you know.”

Kenny chuckled, hollow and unconvinced. “I went to go find him tonight,” he said, almost amused by the emotional whiplash on Kyle’s face. “Just to talk. I’m not ready to take him down yet.”

“I can’t believe it,” Kyle muttered, “You want to help him don’t you.”

It was an accusation more than a question, and Kenny paused. Was that really what he wanted? Part of him wanted to deny it. The part that had been fighting Chaos for the better part of the past several months wanted nothing more than to end Chaos for good and be done with it all, but Mysterion was about justice—and he was beginning to suspect Chaos wanted that too, in his own misguided way.

“I want to try,” he decided.

Kyle took a deep breath and said, “If you say so.”

Kenny blinked.

“I trust Mysterion’s judgement,” Kyle grumbled, like he was angry at his own admission. “And I can’t stop you anyways. But you can’t forget who he is, Kenny. You can’t always help everyone.”

Tear-stained blue eyes flashed in Kenny’s mind and he clenched his teeth.

“I know,” he said quietly.

“Then go figure this out,” Kyle huffed in exasperation. “And let me know if you need anything.”

Kenny nodded, not liking the weight of the trust in Kyle’s eyes. This was all on him now.

“Has anyone told you you’d make a great sidekick?”

The familiar scowl was back on Kyle’s face. “Still going to punch you,” he said.

Kenny laughed and left the park without another word.

He was halfway back to his house when he realized he’d left his backpack in Butters’ neighborhood. He could feel the exhaustion settling in on him, and debated just returning home anyways, but he didn’t want to risk anyone finding his backpack abandoned in a random backyard and questioning him about it.

Retracing his steps from earlier in the night, he made his way back down the streets and found the backyard he had hidden his backpack in, but paused when he noticed movement further down the road. It was Butters, looking around carefully before sneaking around the side of his own house. Kenny watched him with a sudden tightness in his chest.

When he saw the lights flash on suddenly, and heard the distant yelling, he was running in an instant.

The light shined harshly through Butters’ bedroom window, and from his position just underneath it Kenny could easily make out the angry voice of Butters’ father. The second story window would be hard to reach, but at that moment he couldn’t care less.

The loud voice of Butters’ father echoed in his ears.

“You’ve been sneaking out, haven’t you!”

“No, sir,” he heard Butters reply meekly.

“You have, don’t lie!”

“I know I’m no good,” Butters said, “but that just means I’m not smart enough to sneak out. I’m too clumsy for it.”

Kenny seethed. Even if it was to placate his father, he hated to hear Butters talk about himself that way.

“That’s right,” his father nodded sharply. “You can’t put anything past me.”

“No, sir,” Butters agreed, “You keep me right in line.”

“I do,” his father continued, his voice lowering and taking on a pleased tone. Kenny hated to imagine how practiced Butters must be at this.

“I’ll be sure to come home earlier from now on,” Butters offered, “To make up for the trouble I caused.”

“Good,” his father said. “Now that that’s sorted, good night Butters.”

“Good night,” Butters replied politely, and stood completely still as his father marched to the bedroom door and shut it firmly behind him.

Kenny watched as Butters heaved a deep sigh of relief and sagged down onto his desk chair. His heart raced when he saw the small tremors in Butters’ frame, but he was sure to wait until he was absolutely positive that his father had left for good. He still wasn’t sure if this was the right decision to make, but the thought of leaving Butters alone hurt more than he could bear.

Maybe this was finally the time for Mysterion to prove himself.

Before he could doubt himself, he reached out for the window and lifted it open.

Butters was on his feet in moments, eyes wide in panic.

“Mysterion!?”

Carefully, Kenny lifted himself through the windowsill and landed on the floor in silence. He drew his cloak around himself, not wanting to look imposing, but Butters still looked terrified of him, like he was ready to bolt if Kenny even so much as twitched.

“W-what are you doing here?” Butters asked, his eyes darting between Kenny and the window in shock.

Kenny didn’t have a decent answer, considering he was still asking himself the same question. The thought just kept coming back to him—Butters alone, sneaking through the dark, afraid—and he thought he had to do something, anything, to change it.

“I’ve seen you sneaking out a couple times,” Kenny replied, keeping his voice one pitch lower than usual, just in case.

Butters’ expression contorted into something horrible and Kenny’s heart stopped. He knew Butters didn’t like Mysterion, but he didn’t think he’d be so scared either. Was he just making things worse?

“It’s dangerous outside these days,” he decided to add, in as friendly of a voice as he could, “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Of course I’m safe,” Butters snapped immediately, and Kenny was taken aback.

Butters seemed surprised as well, if his widened eyes were anything to go by. “Sorry,” he said, “I don’t mean to be snippy, I just mean, well—”

Kenny raised one hand to stop him.

“You don’t trust me,” he offered. “That’s fine.”

Butters’ mouth closed and he glanced at the window again, chewing his lower lip. Kenny watched him and weighed his options, wondering if it was best to just leave.

“I trust you,” Butters spoke suddenly, snapping Kenny out of his thoughts.

Kenny snorted.

“You don’t have to lie,” he said, “I won’t hurt you.”

Butters crossed his arms and huffed, “I’m not lying.”

Kenny raised one eyebrow, only belatedly realizing his hood and mask would obscure the expression. Still, Butters seemed to interpret his silent correctly, because he grew more annoyed.

“I don’t have to like you to be able to count on you,” he said, more heatedly. “You’re predictable.”

“I prefer reliable,” Kenny grumbled unhappily. Being insulted by Butters didn’t sit well with him, even if he was disguised.

Butters laughed then, low and hollow. “Sure,” he said.

Kenny frowned. “Are you ok?” he asked.

Butters’ expression fell back to a carefully guarded neutral. “Why?”

Kenny cursed himself and for the briefest of moments he wondered if taking off the mask would get Butters to answer him honestly—then he remembered how betrayed Butters would feel and pushed the thought as far from his mind as possible.

“I told you,” he said instead, “I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kenny allowed his gaze to travel pointedly to the door, and Butters’ cold stance faltered.

“It’s fine,” he grumbled.

“I could help,” Kenny offered.

“It’s under control,” Butters insisted.

Kenny sucked in a tight breath. He couldn’t give away how frustrated he was. He had to remind himself that Mysterion didn’t know this kid, couldn’t possibly care so much about the quiet, small-town boy that deserved worlds more than what he had. A small voice in his head argued back that regardless, it wasn’t right, wasn’t just , and Kenny didn’t know how to deny that.

It wasn’t fair.

That was the only thought that compelled him forward. He swept his cloak aside and in two long strides crossed the room to where Butters was standing. Butters shrunk back, clearly alarmed at Mysterion’s sudden movements, but in that moment Kenny didn’t care. Butters needed to know.

Reaching one arm out, he rested his hand against Butters’ shoulder and squeezed. “You’re better than all this,” he said, earnestly and with force. Desperate, because surely Butters understood that. He had to.

Butters yanked back sharply and Kenny let go. Their eyes met and the wildness of Butters’ gaze startled him.

“You are,” Kenny croaked, afraid his voice might crack.

Butters didn’t speak, and Kenny knew that now he had gone too far. There was something shattering in the air around them and so, before it could break completely, Kenny turned around and slipped out the window, and as he ran for the street he refused to look back.

He thought of tear-streaked blue eyes, and the voice of Chaos calling him helpless too, and for once he truly allowed himself to believe that maybe Chaos was right.

Butters stared at his bedroom window for what felt like hours after Mysterion had left. His heart refused to stop racing, and he felt frozen to the spot, not trusting himself to move, wondering on repeat if Mysterion might come back, might see more than he needed to, might know .

There was no way Mysterion could know.

He’d always been careful to keep Chaos separate from himself. He’d moved out the costume long ago, kept it stored across town, made sure his minions did all the work that could possibly be traced back to him. He’d been more careful with this than anything before in his life.

Because his life depended on it.

A life in the future, a life of freedom.

A life worth living.

There was no way Mysterion knew. Checking up on him, asking if he was ok, wanting to help—it was too kind. No, Mysterion couldn’t know.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t close to finding out.

At first, ignoring Mysterion had been easy. They ran into each other, they fought, they parted ways. Sometimes they exchanged words, cliché ones, because Professor Chaos was a villain and Butters had to make sure he stayed that way, because a hero was a tool and he never wanted to be used again.

But then Mysterion had gone digging, started to needle him, vowed to take him down for good. The U-Stor-It had been a very near thing, and Butters still shuddered to think of it. He’d thought his family’s old storage unit might be the closest Mysterion would ever come to encountering the true identity behind Chaos, but now apparently he’d been watching him come and go at night and they’d spoken face to face. He’d felt sick from the dread.

Butters collapsed onto his desk chair and took deep breaths, still coming down from the rush of sheer panic that had gripped his heart when he saw that dark shadow slide in through his window. If Mysterion found out it was all over, and Butters couldn’t let that happen.

Professor Chaos was his only way out. Without him—Butters squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

And still, as close as Mysterion had come to finding out who he was, Butters wasn’t able to stay the same. He’d spent hours pouring over everything he knew about the masked vigilante—it wasn’t much, he always noted with frustration—but despite the combined force of all his minions the supposed hero was just as mysterious as his namesake made him out to be.

A horrible darkness swirled in his heart at the very thought—that Mysterion might actually win. He didn’t know what he’d do if that happened. If it did, he’d have nothing left to turn to. Mysterion would claim the victory as justice , as if damning him forever could ever be just. And supposedly it all depended on him . The words still hurt.

He sniffled, tried to bring his breathing under control. It wasn’t at that point yet. He’d make sure it never reached that point.

A quiet buzz caught him off guard, and he looked up, startled, to the phone on the edge of his desk. There was only one person who ever messaged him, and he fumbled to reach for it immediately.

Kenny: u still doing ok?

Through his stray tears, Butters couldn’t help but smile. Kenny rarely texted—his phone plan hardly allowed for it. But still… Even that small sacrifice meant more than enough to him.

Leo: yeah. Thanks ken <3

Flustered, Butters set his phone back down on the desk and stared at his hands. He wasn’t expecting Kenny to reply, but he wanted to know how much he appreciated the gesture. Even with all his own troubles, Kenny always made sure to look out for him, made sure Butters knew that he cared. Butters was sure he was the only person in town who did. For the world to treat Kenny of all people unfairly, Butters was sure there was no such thing as justice. Kenny deserved more too.

Rubbing his eyes and wiping the last of the tear stains from his face, Butters took one last breath before exhaling sharply. Talking to Kenny, even if it was just for a moment, had calmed him, and he realized tiredly that he still had work to do before he could go to sleep. He’d promised Jimmy to help with the club photos after all.

He pulled the folder out of his backpack and opened it, mindlessly pulling out a small stack to go through. Plucking the first photo off the stack, he looked down and saw the faces of the debate team looking back at him from the photo Kyle had delivered earlier that day.

Idly, Butters thought of Kyle. He’d been busy recently. Even without Stan’s comments on Kyle’s poor self-care, Butters could see the exhaustion that lined his eyes—the kid might’ve been sleeping less than even Kenny did.

And that was saying something.

There was another quiet buzz and Butters paused to glance over at his phone.

Kenny: <3 <3

Hastily, he set down his phone and ran one hand over his face. One text had been more than enough—was he supposed to make something of this second one? He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to. In truth, there was nothing that could make him happier. But Kenny deserved better than a kid with hangups and secrets. Kenny believed in Mysterion, after all. There was no way he’d be ok with who he was—or what he was planning to do.

He didn’t think he could live with himself if he ever saw the same look of disappointment in Kenny’s eyes as he saw everywhere else.

The ache in his chest was threatening to well up again, so before it could he quickly turned back to the club photos and glared down at them with renewed determination. He was sick of worrying tonight.

Flipping over the debate club photo, he scanned over the cramped but neat letters, admiring the way the loops still curved elegantly despite the lack of space. Kyle’s handwriting was surprisingly beautiful, and he couldn’t help but continue to stare at it.

It gave him chills.

He stared down at the letters, the way the words curled along the page, and a familiar dread settled itself in the pit of his stomach. Distantly, as if his body was numb, he stood and drifted to his closet, digging out a small, lonesome folder from under a carefully stacked pile of clothes. There wasn’t much inside, only small things he’d felt the need to keep around, just in case, and he found what he was looking for immediately.

He pulled it out and returned to the desk, laying the wrinkled paper side by side next to the photo.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

In eerily beautiful loops the scrawled out address of his family’s U-Stor-It stared back at him. It was exactly the same.

A shiver wracked his spine and he felt like the world was falling out from under him. All this time, and they’d been so close . Behind the shadows and the mask and the bravado, the one thing standing in the way of a life worth living…

Was Kyle Broflovski.

Chapter Text

Kenny had a hard time sleeping that night. In the darkness of his room he clutched his phone and stared at the harsh glowing light of its screen, left open on his brief exchange with Butters. Guilt gnawed at him as he stared at the words, picturing soft blue eyes wide with panic.

He had been too naive to think Mysterion could have done any good. The terror, the hostility—he should have known to expect it, but somehow it had still managed to catch him off-guard. Butters had thanked him, but in reality it was Kenny who had been stressing him out in the first place. What had he done?

There was a reason why he never thought of Mysterion as a hero.

It kept him up all night, tossing and turning, and the morning sun had just risen in the sky before Kenny gave up on getting any real sleep and headed outside. It was a cold morning but he hardly noticed, stumbling over his exhausted limbs to rush to Butters’ house. He needed to make sure Leo was ok.

When he finally arrived, Mr. Stotch answered the door.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said flatly, his eyes drifting over him in distaste.

Kenny forced a smile and kept his hands buried in his pockets. “Can I talk to Leo?”

Mr. Stotch scowled and and replied with disdain, “Butters isn’t here right now.”

His heart froze in his chest and his polite expression faltered. “Where is he?” He asked, trying not to sound too urgent.

“He must’ve left early for school,” Mr. Stotch scoffed. “You have class with him, don’t you?”

Kenny nodded once, stiffly.

“Great. When you see him, tell him he’s grounded for another week.”

And with that, Mr. Stotch turned and closed the door in Kenny’s face. Kenny stood there, staring at the fading wood as he heard the lock click back in place, his hands curling into fists inside his pockets.

“Tell him yourself, asshole,” he growled eventually, shoulders still tense. Part of him was alarmed at how deep it came out, so accidentally but unmistakably Mysterion—he never slipped like that.

How could Butters’ tyrant of a father not know where he was?

Kenny drifted back down the front walkway and paused by the mailbox. The neighborhood was starting to wake up now, and he caught someone staring at him across the street as they walked their dog. He tried to ignore them as he kept his gaze fixed on the Stotch house. Maybe his father was lying to him—he’d watch a few minutes longer, just in case.

***

Eventually, Kenny had to leave before Mr. Stotch left the house for work and spotted him still lurking outside. He ran all the way to school, breathless and agitated, hoping despite his doubts that Butters would be there.

He looked up and down the halls, poked his head into the empty yearbook room, even went and called his name in the gym, but he couldn’t find Butters no matter where he looked. Starting to get desperate, Kenny pulled out his phone, bid the rest of his precious few messages for the month goodbye, and sent Butters text after text, asking him where he was.

Still nothing.

He was just making his third loop around the halls near Butters’ locker when he heard someone calling his name.

“Kenny!”

Kenny’s footsteps faltered, and for a brief moment he wondered if he should ignore whoever it was calling him. He still hadn’t found Butters, and there was no reply on his phone yet either. The nerves were starting to get to him. He was worried . Where could Butters possibly be? But he recognized that voice, the upwards lilt that he’d learned to recognize over the years as shy desperation, a plea for help.

He’d never been very good at ignoring people that needed help.

He came to a stop at the end of the hallway and turned to wait, catching sight of Stan approaching. He waved so Kenny waved back, swallowing down his exasperation and smiling instead. He loved his friends, he really did, but sometimes he couldn’t help but suspect if they timed their crises to happen at all the least convenient times humanly possible.

“Hey dude,” Stan said, slightly breathless when he finally managed to catch up. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“I’m actually kind of in a hurry right now,” Kenny said, gaze drifting to glance over Stan’s shoulder. There wasn’t a single strand of familiar blond hair in sight.

Stan’s smile faltered somewhat. “Can I just ask you something really quick?”

Kenny bit his lip. “Is it about Kyle?”

Stan shrugged, looking sheepish. That was all the answer Kenny needed, but he tried to keep himself from looking exasperated. He thought he’d made his advice to Stan pretty clear, so unless something had happened last night—and he doubted it, knowing Kyle—he didn’t see what Stan could possibly be unsure about now.

“To be honest,” Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m worried about him.”

Kenny snorted. “You and me both, Stanny.”

Stan’s eyes widened and immediately Kenny regretted opening his mouth. He waved one hand frantically and said, “I was kidding, dude.”

“Oh,” Stan said, visibly deflating, and Kenny shook his head.

“I just meant he needs to relax sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

Kenny sighed. “What were you worried about?”

Stan glanced away for a second, looking like he was debating something, before he shrugged and replied, “He’s just… doing too much.”

Kenny raised one eyebrow. That wasn’t exactly new information—Kyle kept himself busy since grade school. “Ok?” He prompted, wishing Stan knew how to just get to the point.

“Do you think I should talk to him about it?” He asked, clearly nervous.

Kenny frowned and made a face. “Isn’t that a little bit—”

“Patronizing?” Stan offered. He’d clearly already thought about it.

Kenny’s mouth twitched in amusement and he replied teasingly, “I was going to say motherly.”

Stan just groaned.

“Relax,” Kenny gripped his shoulder and squeezed, “If you’re that freaked out about it I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Stan eyed him, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “Are you sure?”

“Just, you know, don’t push it too far,” Kenny added as he gestured vaguely. He also took the opportunity to sneak another glance over Stan’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Anyways I really have to go, but I’ll totally have your back if you need it.”

He gave Stan one last pat on the shoulder for good measure.

“Thanks Kenny,” Stan said, breathing out a sigh. There was a small but earnest smile on his face and for a moment Kenny felt bad giving him some generic advice he wasn’t even sure would work, but getting into a more serious conversation with him could take up the rest of his free time before class—time he really needed to spend looking for Butters.

At some point, he just had to step away and make the call.

Kenny smiled briefly, pushing the guilt back down. “Yeah dude, sure.”

He turned the corner and chased the thoughts of his mind. He had to refocus on what was really important: finding Butters. The idea still nagged at the back of his mind, that maybe his father wasn’t letting him leave the house—it wouldn’t be the first time. But even back then he had answered Kenny’s texts. Unlike today.

It was making him far too antsy to concentrate. He wondered if after Mysterion’s sudden appearance Butters had snuck outside. What if something had happened to him? Chaos was up to something, and Kenny knew he’d just managed to agitate him last night with the confrontation. Chaos had never attacked innocent civilians before, and if Kenny understood him correctly he doubted he ever would, but maybe last night had finally pushed him over the edge.

The fear was back, fast and sudden, and it made his heart race.

The temptation to skip school to look for Butters overwhelmed him, but his attendance record had been less than ideal and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could get away with it before the school started to call him out. He checked his phone desperately one last time before the bell rang for class, and he made his way there lethargically, glancing behind his shoulder every few seconds in the hopes of catching a glimpse of blond hair, safe and sound at school.

He made it to class just barely, and took his seat as the bell rang once more. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the empty desk next to him for the rest of class.

***

Kyle was taken by surprise when a pair of hands gripped his arms firmly and dragged him off to the side of the hall after the last class of the day.

“What the hell?” He asked, annoyed, as he came face to face with a pair of wide and intense blue eyes. He blinked and shifted in the hold, the anger draining out of him at the expression. “Kenny?”

“I need your help,” Kenny said, sharp and to the point. There was a roughness to his words, gravely and raw, and Kyle slapped a hand over Kenny’s mouth before he could say anything more.

“Dude,” he hissed, “watch the voice.”

Kenny was scowling when he pushed Kyle’s hand off of him.

“I need your help now .”

“With what?” Kyle pressed, torn between concern and disapproval. Kenny never usually freaked out like this.

“It’s Leo.”

Kyle paused, taken aback. “What about him?”

“He’s missing,” Kenny hissed, like the very fact itself was painful.

Kenny’s eyes glinted, full of something cold and hard and shockingly dangerous. Kyle didn’t like it, didn’t like the panic that slipped through Kenny’s usually calm veneer, and he bit his lip, wondering how to bring things back under control.

“He’s been absent before,” he pointed out slowly, not at all surprised that Butters’ father might be pulling another stunt.

Kenny shook his head. “It’s not like before,” he said, and Kyle couldn’t make out even a single trace of doubt in such a vehement declaration. He wasn’t completely convinced, but it was clear Kenny was desperate, and he didn’t like the thought of not making sure.

He pressed his lips together for a moment before he asked, “What can I do?”

Something in Kenny’s face cracked, like a thick layer of frost falling away, and Kyle recognized the same flicker in those eyes as had been there years ago, the first time Kenny had ever asked him for help. It was relief, plain and simple and bright as day, and Kyle couldn’t help but roll his eyes. As if he really would’ve said no.

“I need you to go see if he’s home,” Kenny said, “I can’t since I was already there this morning.”

“How did that go?”

Kenny’s eyes narrowed. “His dad and I don’t really get along.”

This wasn’t news to Kyle either. The last time Butters missed school because of his dad Kenny was pissed, and Mysterion had disappeared for an entire weekend. When he finally came back his costume was in tatters, but there wasn’t a single scratch on him. Kyle had made a note of it just in case, after Kenny had refused to talk about what happened.

He was hoping to avoid going through a situation like that again.

“All right,” Kyle sighed, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Kenny nodded. “Good.”

With his jaw set, Kenny turned on his heels and started to sprint down the hallway. Baffled, Kyle watched him go and called out to him.

“Where are you going!?”

“To look for him!”

If he’d been closer Kyle would’ve grabbed him and told him to calm down. As it was, Kenny was nearly out the front doors of the school, and it was all he could do to cup his hands around his mouth and shout, “Meet me at my place in a couple hours!”

Kenny flashed him a quick thumbs up over his back and bolted out the doors, backpack clutched tightly in one hand. Kyle watched him go, torn between exasperated and resigned, and hoisted his own backpack over his shoulders. If he hurried he could get to Butters’ house in just a few minutes, leaving him enough time later to hopefully come up with a decent back-up plan. He had a feeling they might be needing one.

As he made to follow Kenny out the doors, someone’s soft grip caught him just above his elbow and squeezed. The surprising familiarity of it made his heart stutter in his chest.

Stan smiled at him when he turned around.

“Hey dude.”

“Hey,” he breathed, trying not to think too hard about the press of fingers against his arm. He reminded himself that Kenny needed his help, that there was probably going to be a lot of searching to do, that now really wasn’t a good time.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Stan said, finally letting go of Kyle’s arm so he could adjust the position of his hat. Kyle chewed his lip, feeling nerves and guilt churn around in his stomach. He had work to do.

“Now’s really not a good time, sorry,” he said, wincing even as the words came out of his mouth.

Stan frowned and his head tilted ever so slightly to the side in a way Kyle really couldn’t stand to look at right now. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at the exit.

“I kind of have an emergency situation to deal with right now.”

Stan’s eyes widened and Kyle took a step backwards, angling for the doors.

“But—”

“We can talk later,” Kyle interrupted him, “all right? Later!”

He made his own break for the door, suddenly feeling too jittery and too impatient. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted. He had to focus on helping Kenny.

***

The sight of Mysterion creeping into his open window at any hour before dusk always made Kyle scoff a little at how strange it looked. Part of the whole mystery behind the vigilante was the way he stuck to the shadows and came out at nightfall—to see him hoist himself through the windowsill in broad daylight simply spoiled the whole aesthetic. Still, times were desperate and it was clear that at the moment Kenny couldn't care less about keeping up appearances.

His costume was torn in a couple different places and he looked absolutely haggard, out of breath but with wide eyes that promised he would keep pushing, no matter the cost. His chest heaved to bring in enough oxygen and he slumped down against the wall to rest. Kyle watched him with concern, slipping out for a few moments to get him some water, but Kenny swatted the offering away with a single-minded glare. Kyle set it down nearby just in case.

“Well?”

Kenny’s growl of a voice was tense, raw with an edge of barely caged emotion. It was unsettling in a way that Kyle usually never experienced, and it didn’t bode well.

He shook his head. “He wasn’t at his house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he huffed, “I managed to get inside but there was no sign of him.”

“You got inside?”

Kyle made a face. “Don’t make me talk about it, I had to pull the honor student card and everything.”

He knew things were definitely wrong when Kenny didn’t even laugh—he always loved to tease him about the way some parents swooned over his report cards. Normally he wouldn’t give Kenny any fuel to add to the fire to tease him with. Now was the obvious exception, and the lack of any real response was disconcerting.

“How about you?” He asked when Kenny remained silent.

In response, Kenny hissed, “Nothing.”

“Fuck,” Kyle breathed, not sure what else he could say. “Where’d you look?”

Kenny brought his head to rest between his hands and began listing off, “The park, the train tracks, the farm, the pond, the church, I even went into the fucking movie theater—”

“Jesus Kenny,” Kyle said, dropping down on the floor in front of him, “You need to calm down.”

Kenny’s attention snapped up to Kyle suddenly. He looked absolutely furious.

“I don’t need to calm down,” he growled, “I need to find him .”

“We will! I swear we will,” Kyle promised, raising up his hands in surrender. “I have a plan. But you really need to calm down and work with me, ok?”

Kenny stared at him for a long moment before he relaxed back against the wall and asked, “What plan?”

Kyle allowed a brief smile, thankful that Kenny was willing to listen, before he stood up and headed over to his desk. He’d had enough time to think after getting back from Butters’ house about how to best go about things and what their options were. It wasn’t perfect, and the more he thought about it the less things made sense, but with any luck they could talk it out and come up with some sort of—

The doorbell rang and Kyle nearly jumped out of his skin.

He risked an apologetic glance at Kenny, who was glaring in the direction of the front door like he was getting ready to jump out and fight whoever it was that had inadvertently interrupted. Kyle was perfectly willing to let it go and carry about, but a few moments later his phone began to vibrate, and with a sign he grabbed it off the edge of the desk.

When he saw the name of the caller, he swore.

“What the fuck?” He muttered, rushing to the window to try and get a good view out of it.

“What?” Kenny’s voice cut in sharply, clearly displeased.

Kyle took a deep breath. “It’s Stan.”

Kenny was on his feet in moments, sweeping towards Kyle’s closed bedroom door like a phantom. Kyle rushed to block him, managing to get one leg out in front before Kenny could leave.

“Where are you going?” He snapped, feeling the last vibration from his phone fade away.

“I don’t have time for this,” Kenny replied, “Leo doesn’t have time.”

“You don’t know that,” Kyle accused, but it was clear that Kenny wasn’t going to listen. His phone started to vibrate again and he made the mistake of glancing back down at it. Kenny pushed him aside and opened the door in one swift motion, heading down the stairs.

“I’m going out the back,” he declared as Kyle rushed to follow him down. “I’ll let you know when I find him.”

“Kenny,” Kyle snapped, “wait!”

Of course, Kenny didn’t listen. He practically sprinted out the back door and took off over the neighbor’s fence, a stand-out smear of black against the neatly trimmed lawns. Kyle cried out in frustration as he watched him go, blinded and reckless and bound to run himself into the ground. What the fuck was the point of asking for help if he wasn’t even going to take it?

If he hurried, there was still a chance he could catch up and get Kenny back on track. He shot an apprehensive look at the front door and bit the side of his cheek. It was going to suck, he could already tell, but Kenny being stupid and getting himself hurt was even worse. He’d just have to deal with it.

He swung open the front door just as Stan was reaching for the doorbell a second time.

“Oh,” Stan faltered, clearly surprised, “I wasn’t sure if you were home.”

“Yeah,” Kyle grimaced. All he had to do was push past Stan now and apologize later, but for some reason it was hard to move. He wasn’t sure if he could do it.

Kyle opened his mouth and began, “Listen—”

Stan must have noticed how much he was fidgeting, because his gaze took on a sudden, guarded expression and he frowned. “We really need to talk.”

“I know,” Kyle said, trying to keep his frustration down by reminding himself that Stan didn’t know . It wasn’t helping much. “I swear we will, but its an emergency and I really have to go, ok?”

Stan crossed his arms and glared. “I think I’ve been patient enough, Kyle.”

The accusation burned and Kyle felt himself recoiling from the sudden burst of emotion in his chest. It was technically true, but it pissed him off and every second he wasted standing here Kenny was getting further and further away, off to who-knows-where trying to mindlessly find a needle in one massive haystack.

He squared himself up and took a step towards Stan.

“This is important, Stan. You shouldn’t be trying to stop me,” he said, hating the way it came out like an ultimatum but just desperate enough to leave it be and let the words sink in.

“I’m not—” Stan looked shocked for a second before the stonewall was back. “I’m worried about you!”

“You’re worried but you’re not letting me go deal with it!” Kyle snapped, taking another step forward. Just a little bit more.

“That’s not the point!” Stan exclaimed, spreading his arms wide.

Kyle was completely out the door when he snapped back, “Then what is?”

Stan seemed to reach some sort of breaking point, dragging his hands down across his face and exhaling one deep, long breath. Kyle watched him, his heart racing with nerves, and wondered if now was his chance to make a break for it. He was just about to, when Stan peaked his eyes out and grumbled, “I know you’re Mysterion, ok?”

The silence dragged on for centuries.

Kyle wasn’t even sure what to say. His thoughts all stuttered to one great halt and he stared, disbelieving as Stan shook himself from the shock first and smiled. Empty, self-deprecating… sad.

“I saw him leaving your window the other day,” he explained, and the words felt like they were sinking right into the earth. Stan paused for another moment, running a hand through his hair, before he fixed Kyle was another desperate look and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were him?”

Finally, Kyle pulled himself from his stupor and managed to reply, “I’m not.”

Stan looked like he was staring at a stranger, and the very thought hurt. Somewhat nervously Kyle added, “He just comes to me for help.”

"Since when?"

"Six years ago?"

"Do you know who he is?"

Kyle couldn't look Stan in the eyes anymore. He turned his head away and nodded, wincing at how Stan breathed sharply at the response.

"Kyle," Stan said, but Kyle kept his gaze fixed on the distance. One hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Kyle could feel the way Stan's fingers curled when he repeated, more desperately, " Kyle ."

Kyle just shook his head.

"Do you know how dangerous this is?" Stan tried.

"He's not dangerous," Kyle snapped instantly. Stan could think whatever he wanted, as long as it wasn't that.

Stan frowned. "Do I know him?"

Kyle paused. This wasn't going how he wanted it to at all. If Stan knew Kenny was behind Mysterion's mask, he'd probably back off. But he'd made a promise to Kenny to keep it a secret, and he never intended to break it… even if it was Stan.

"I trust him," Kyle answered instead.

Stan let go of Kyle's shoulder. He was surprised, at first, but then he saw the raw look in Stan's eyes and something in his stomach sank. He could already tell it had been the wrong answer.

"But you don’t trust me?" Stan asked. His voice had faded to a whisper, and that hurt all the more.

Kyle shook his head, not quite believing the words. “I never said that!”

“You don’t need to,” Stan mumbled. “ Fuck .”

“Stan,” Kyle said, watching the way Stan was quickly deflating and not liking it one bit. It wasn’t about trust … was it?

Stan fixed him with one final look, indecipherable through all the emotion, before he hunched in on himself, shoved his hands in his pockets, and said, “Nevermind.”

He turned around and rushed to head back down the street, leaving Kyle stunned in his wake.

“Stan!” Kyle called out to him, following him down the driveway to the sidewalk, but Stan didn’t even acknowledge that he had heard. And he definitely wasn’t looking back.

Kyle swore again as his best friend disappeared down the street. He felt panicked, frustrated, and so incredibly hollow he couldn’t even think beyond the overwhelming realization that this time, he might have fucked up for good.

And what if Kenny was going to be pissed at him now too?

Kyle stared down the street, wondering if he should run after Stan and try to make things right. But the thought of Kenny reminded him that bigger things were happening—Kenny’s safety, and the safety of Butters, meant more than the status of his personal relationships. If he had to make the choice… he needed to find Kenny. He promised to help, and right now, that promise was all he had left.

He made his own way down the street, in the opposite direction of Stan, thinking that Kenny might have gone to check for Butters in the forest, where it was all too easy to get lost. If he could just find Kenny they could sort everything out—and he’d deal with Stan later.

He pulled out his phone, thinking that on the off-chance it might work he should give both Kenny and Butters a call. Kenny didn’t answer—of course—and Kyle swore Kenny was going to face the full extent of his wrath after all of this was done.

When he called Butters, he only had a few seconds to realize the sound of a phone ringing wasn’t his own before something crashed into him from behind and the world went black.

Chapter Text

Stan was tired.

It was too cold outside and he hated it. The air bit at his exposed skin and he hunched in on himself, scowling. It felt like he couldn’t walk fast enough. He didn’t want to be outside, he didn’t want to be cold; he just didn’t want to feel anymore.

But the guilt refused to go away.

A couple blocks away and Stan could admit he’d overreacted. The past couple weeks had him coiled tighter than a spring, anxiety choking out the joy like thorns. It’d been on his mind from sunrise to sunset, his skin practically crawled with it. Sometimes he could hardly breathe from it, because what was Kyle going to think?

He knew Kyle felt the same way. That wasn’t what bothered him, what kept him up at night worrying, staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep. He knew Kyle. And that was just it—Kyle was, well, Kyle. And that meant that when it came to feelings, to talking about feelings, it was about as productive as talking to a brick wall. He thought he’d been prepared for it. He’d been willing to tough it out, to push when Kyle’s reflexes kicked in to pull away, to be as patient as Kyle clearly needed him to be. But fuck if it didn’t still hurt.

He’d given up, and he hated himself for it.

He tried not to think about what it might mean, that Kyle hadn’t bothered to come after him. Was he mad, or had he… had he given up on him? The fear wrapped itself around his heart, slid down his spine and pooled into dread. Losing Kyle, losing his best friend—was there something wrong with him, to have earned this? Nothing was simple, like he wanted it to be. He’d missed things, big things, or they’d been kept from him. Maybe that was his fault too.

Kyle had pushed him away, and he hadn’t fallen with grace, like he probably should have. Maybe it was time to take the hint. He should keep walking, and never turn back.

But, he didn’t want to leave things like this.

There was a part of him, fragile and wounded and hidden away, that didn’t even want to try. That if he walked away it was his choice, so he wouldn’t be losing. But he’d done that before, hadn’t he? And somehow, it had almost felt worse. Maybe he was stuck like that. Stuck simply feeling worse, a deep, enduring part of himself, no matter what he tried.

Or, maybe he didn’t have to be.

He came to a halt, slowly, at the end of the sidewalk. The thought came to him, suddenly, in a flash of memory. He’d almost forgotten about it, but maybe now he understood.

He turned on his heel and marched down the road, back the way he came. Back to Kyle’s house.

He finally knew what he wanted to say.

“Kyle!”

Stan called out the moment he turned back onto Kyle’s block, his footsteps falling one after the other until he broke out into an uneasy sprint. The cold air burned his lungs, but he found he no longer cared, and his gaze was fixed on the dull yellow glow peeking through Kyle’s bedroom window. It was something warm, something just within reach, and there wasn’t going to be anywhere to hide anymore. Maybe that was why he felt so light.

He skidded to a halt on the cracked sidewalk and sucked in one last deep breath. He squared his shoulders, took a single step forwards—and drew up short.

The front door of Kyle’s house was still wide open.

Stan frowned and tried to ignore the unsteady rhythm of his heart. Had Kyle forgotten to close it? It wasn’t really like him but—Kyle had probably been stressed, right? He never thought straight when he was mad.

His heartbeat refused to slow down.

“Kyle?”

Stan knocked on the front door tentatively, pulling his hand away as if the wood might burn. There was no response, and nobody in the living room. He knocked again, harder, and glanced at the stairs. The house stood silent.

Stan bit his lip and made his way inside. Nobody called out to him, or came out to greet him, and he felt unwelcome, like he was intruding. It felt wrong.

He made his way up the stairs, wincing as they creaked beneath his feet, and his eyes travelled almost immediately to Kyle’s bedroom door, stood ajar in an empty hallway.

“Kyle, dude—”

Stan pushed open the bedroom door, only to falter under the doorway. The lights were on but Kyle’s room was empty. The gentle whir of Kyle’s computer fan cut filled the room with noise, but not enough—Kyle never left his computer on if he was going to be away from it for long. It was one of those habits they always gave each other shit about, when they were bored and just wanted to tease, and Stan always told him to fuck off while he quietly admired the way Kyle’s lips moved in a smirk.

This—everything was wrong.

He was outside Kyle’s room and taking the stairs two at a time, his hands fumbling in his pockets to grab his phone. Kyle had mentioned something, during their fight, about some kind of emergency. Was that why he was gone? And if so, what was it about—was it really urgent enough that he forgot to close his own front door?

He needed to call Kyle, get all of this sorted out. Their own problems could wait; all he knew was that if he could, he needed to help. He pressed his phone to his ear and prayed that Kyle wouldn’t be mad enough to ignore his call. But, if he was…

A light flickered on in the front yard. It was small, and faint, half buried in the uncut grass, but Stan spotted in instantly. The dial tone continued to ring in his ear, but the object in the yard sang with the same tone and dread settled deep in his gut.

Dropping his hand, leaving the phone to ring, Stan made his way over and picked the object up and out of the dirt. His contact info stared back at him, and, almost numb, he thumbed the screen to end the call. Kyle’s phone weighed heavily in his palm.

This was more than an emergency, now. Stan squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lip until he tasted blood. The thought cut through him, and everything ached: if he hadn’t walked away, would Kyle have been okay? Was this his fault too?

Stan wasn’t sure what to do, or how to fix this. He didn’t know what Kyle had been leaving to go and do, or why. Only, he suspected, if probably had something to do with Mysterion. He still didn’t like the thought, that some masked stranger had pulled Kyle into a mess of secrets and crime, of hiding from the police and going up against the people the law couldn’t touch. Everything going on recently, with Chaos—how deeply was Kyle involved? And why?

Stan shook his head, and swiped quickly through Kyle’s phone. None of that mattered, not now, when Kyle was obviously in danger. All that really mattered was finding him. And if Mysterion was involved, even if Stan hated it, Mysterion was the best bet for saving him too.

Stan cursed when he reached the end of Kyle’s contact list. There was nobody in there under any name remotely related to Mysterion—no strange nicknames, no unnamed numbers, nothing. It made sense, if Kyle was trying to protect his identity, but it left Stan with very few options. Still, there was only one thing he could do.

He had to find Mysterion.

*

Kenny was useless.

He’d checked Leo’s house, the woods, the pond—he’d patrolled downtown twice, well on his way to his third, with nothing to show for it. He couldn’t find him anywhere. The hope, the fear, the desperation—all of it had faded away, and had left a horrible darkness in their wake. He felt it in the tightness behind his eyes, the void deep in his chest. It swelled inside him with denial and sharp, bitter failure.

Not for the first time, he wondered if Mysterion was nothing more than a delusion. A fantasy of some ideal he’d lost sight of long ago.

The street lights flickered on around him and Kenny settled on the edge of a rooftop, overlooking the alley that cut through to the mall. He’d checked it before—inside the dumpsters too—but Leo wasn’t there. It was as if he’d simply vanished. A tragic afterthought of a backwater mountain town. Forgotten, as if Kenny was supposed to forget about him too. As if he could.

Kenny shifted and drew his cloak around himself. The tightness was back, clawing at his throat. He stared ahead, at the skyline washed in pale, faded blue. Who was he, to pretend like he could help people? Had he ever?

A sharp pain in his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts.

Kenny was on his feet in seconds, whirling around at the sound of clattering rock. His shoulder blade stung where a rock had obviously hit him, and he spotted a figure standing in the alley, looking up at him with an arm still outstretched.

He landed in the alley with ease and pushed the stranger up against the wall, hard.

“Jesus, fuck!”

Stan’s wide eyes stared back at him, his mouth twisted into a pained grimace as he scrambled to try, unsuccessfully, to pry off Kenny’s grip. Kenny blinked, stunned, and loosened his hold.

“You threw a rock at me,” Kenny said, voice flat.

Stan pushed away, trying to create some space, and rubbed the back of his head where he’d hit the wall.

“Well you didn’t hear me when I called,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want to draw attention.”

Kenny stared at him in disbelief. Disgruntled, Stan shuffled his feet and glanced away.

“Well,” Kenny said, “what do you want?”

Maybe he’d said something wrong, because Stan’s eyes flashed with rage. For a moment, Kenny worried if Stan had found out about him. He didn’t have time for this.

“You—” Stan shook himself, once, and continued, “My friend, Kyle. He’s been helping you.”

Shit. Maybe this was going to be a problem.

“What?” Kenny asked instead.

“He told me,” Stan snapped. “Don’t try to lie to me.”

“I’m not,” Kenny growled. “Just—what the fuck do you want?”

“Kyle,” Stan replied, and Kenny had a moment to think Fucking hell, not this right now before Stan continued, “Kyle is missing. He’s in danger because he was trying to help you, so you need to find him. Now.”

Kenny was hit by a fresh wave of fear. It came to him suddenly, in one horrible, chilling sweep of clarity, what was going on. He’d visited Leo as Mysterion just last night, and then the next day he was gone. He’d visited Kyle just over an hour ago, as Mysterion… and now he was gone too.

Kyle had said Chaos was planning something. He’d thought, if anything, it would be against the town, against the police. But now…

There was no mistaking it. Whatever was happening, it was all because of Mysterion.

Through the pain of the thought, the terrible truth of the realization, Kenny felt like he could have laughed. He was so far away from helping people—and he should have known.

“Do you know where he was going?” Kenny asked, letting the sharp growl of Mysterion cut through the pain threatening to choke him.

Stan’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said, “I thought you would.”

Kenny cursed himself. It was all his fault. If he had listened to Kyle’s plan, just an hour ago, he could have prevented this. If he hadn’t rushed ahead, hadn’t let all his feelings get the best of him, Kyle would be safe. And maybe, they would have found Leo too. He was such an idiot.

“He didn’t tell me,” Kenny said, and felt another stab of guilt at the way Stan deflated. He’d been too worked up before, but he could see it now—Stan wasn’t okay either, and why would he be? Just how many people had his delusion of justice hurt?

“You must have some idea,” Stan pushed, though his voice was raw, and weaker than it should be.

Kenny grit his teeth. He did have an idea. But they’d never come close to figuring out if Chaos had some sort of hiding spot, or hub—evil lair, Kyle had said jokingly once. But Kenny didn’t find it funny anymore.

Kenny sighed. “Listen, kid—”

“Oh fuck off,” Stan growled, “My best friend, your—partner, or whatever the hell—is missing, so you had better—”

Stan didn’t get the chance to finish his thought. In the quiet, lazy evening of a quiet, forsaken town, an explosion tore through the air, and Kenny’s breath caught in his throat.

Stan was racing after him as he sprinted out of the alley, in time to see the thick, black smoke billowing in the distance, on the other side of city hall. Kenny threw out an arm to stop Stan from rushing out into the street, and pushed him back with a bit more force than necessary.

“I’ll handle this,” he said.

Stan stared at him, shock written all over his face, and Kenny took that moment to leave him behind. Regardless of his failures, regardless of justice, or some fantasy of who he was supposed to be—he was going to fix this, and put an end to it, no matter what.

Whatever Chaos had been planning… it was happening now.

Chapter Text

When Kyle woke up, he was pissed.

Wherever he was, it was dark. He could tell he was inside, somewhere—the wall dug into his back where he was leaned against it, and he could see the vague shape of the front of the room from the bright light filtering in under the door. It was really weird place to wake up in, all things considered, and uncomfortable as hell. The ropes cutting into his wrists were not helping things at all.

Twisting around, he discovered after a few minutes, was getting him nowhere. His head hurt like crazy, but he doubted he could just sit around and do nothing. He needed to get out, find out what was going on, and find Kenny. There was something wrong with this, with all of it, and he had to warn him before he did something he’d regret. He just had to get the damn ropes off first.

Bracing himself against the wall, he pushed himself to his feet. He breathed deep through the sudden pain and closed his eyes as the room blurred. If there was something in the room he could use to free himself, he needed to find it sooner rather than later. The small light from under the door wasn’t much to go on, but it was better than nothing. He kept himself pressed to the wall and shuffled deeper into the room, further from the door. He kicked out carefully with one foot, feeling for any kind of furniture, but only managed to swing through empty air.

Suddenly, his shoulder hit against something—like a wall, but cold. It echoed with a loud clang, like metal, and Kyle winced.

Then he heard footsteps.

The door to the room swung open with a bang, and two policemen hurried inside. The sudden light from the hallway outside hurt his eyes, and Kyle had to flinch away and squeeze his eyes shut against the sudden pain, even as the sparse furnishings of the room finally revealed themselves: a couple of metal lockers lined against the walls, and some cheap plastic chairs. Not exactly useful.

The two policemen had their hands resting on their batons, and Kyle wondered what about the sight of him—hands tied behind his back and pressed against the side of one of the lockers—could possibly make them so nervous. They stared at him but didn’t speak, and Kyle would have yelled at them to untie him had the sight of them, all twitchy and itching for violence, been less unsettling. He stared back at them through narrowed eyes, still hazed over with pain.

Then Professor Chaos walked in, and Kyle realized this was going to be a problem.

“Hello, Kyle,” Chaos said. He was wearing a pair of some kind of strange metal gloves. And they were sparking.

Definitely a problem.

“What do you want, Chaos?” He asked.

Chaos stared at him for a moment, quietly. Something about his gaze was strange. A lot less evil than Kyle had been expecting, honestly. He didn’t know what to make of it, but it was kind of freaking him out.

“I would have thought it was obvious,” Chaos finally replied.

Kyle stared at him but didn’t speak. Eventually, Chaos sighed.

“I need you out of the way.”

Kyle froze. His gaze darted to the doorway, and to the two policemen guarding it. There was no way he could make it out fast enough.

Chaos stepped forward, and Kyle felt the panic racing under his skin.

“Why me?” He asked. Maybe he could stall.

“You’re so predictable,” Chaos smiled, something twisted and bitter. “You would have tried to get in my way.”

Kyle scowled and hunched in on himself. “So you’re going to kill me?”

Chaos was on him in a heartbeat, one gloved hand fisted in his shirt. He pushed him up against the locker—Kyle could feel the cold metal biting against the skin of his exposed back—and growled.

“I told you, I don’t kill.”

“Bullshit,” Kyle gasped, and tried to twist out of Chaos’s grip. He didn’t know what was going on, because Kyle was sure he had never talked to Chaos before in his life.

“I should have known your kindness was too good to be true,” Chaos hissed. “I thought you might even have actually cared. But Kyle Broflovski would never care—isn’t that right, Kyle? Because Mysterion only ever cares about your precious justice. ”

Oh, Kyle realized. Shit. This was so much worse than just a problem. Kenny was going to kill him about this—if he even managed to survive.

“Chaos,” Kyle tried, even as the villain’s grip continued to tighten against him. “I’m not him.”

Chaos paused. Kyle could hear the hum of electricity in the air, from Chaos’s gloves, and closed his eyes. Getting electrocuted sounded painful.

“You’re lying.”

Kyle shook his head—fuck, it still hurt. “I’m not. I help him, sometimes, but I swear. I’m not Mysterion.”

Chaos let go.

“You’re not,” he echoed, and it was strange to hear a villain sound so hollow. Or maybe he was just relieved.

Kyle sagged against the wall, and Chaos took another step away.

“Where is he?” Chaos asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Who is he?”

Kyle tensed. “I don’t know.”

“What is he planning?”

Kyle pushed himself upright again, and forced himself to look into Chaos’s eyes. He took a breath.

“He doesn’t want to fight you.”

Chaos’s eyes were blue. It was a strange thought, but it put Kyle on edge. Chaos was a person—a person who thought Mysterion cared. It was true, as much as Kyle still worried it was wrong. Chaos was, well, Chaos. He just didn’t want Kenny to have any regrets. But maybe…

Chaos nodded to the two policemen, and fixed Kyle with one last look.

“Soon enough,” Chaos said, “he will.”

With that, Chaos left, and the guards followed out after him. The door slammed behind them and Kyle heard the click of the lock. Back in the darkness, still pressed up against the locker, Kyle wasn’t convinced.

Instead, he thought.

*

“Mysterion, wait!”

Kenny growled, but the sound of someone running behind him was unmistakable. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Stan following him, keeping pace. He looked determined.

“I told you I’d handle it!” Kenny shouted back at him, but Stan merely shook his head.

“I’m coming with you,” he replied, and picked up speed until they were running almost side by side. Christ, Kyle was a bad influence on him.

“Just stay out of my way,” Kenny snapped, though it lacked any real heat. At this point, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore—what could Stan possibly get in the way of?

A couple blocks away, a small crowd was gathering in a loose circle around the police station. The windows on the first floor were blown out, shattered glass covering the street, and the remains of the black smoke from earlier curled out in wisps from somewhere inside. The Park County sign was splintered and hanging off the building, half-blocking the shattered front doors. There were no officers in sight.

“What happened?” Stan asked when they drew close, eyes wide in fear.

“Chaos is making his move,” Kenny replied gruffly.

The explosion had been loud, but the police station was still mostly intact. Most of the damage was cosmetic, and there was no way a blast like that could have incapacitated everyone in the station. But then where were the officers? And why target the police station, if Chaos hadn’t planned to destroy it?

“I need to get inside.”

Stan grabbed his arm before he could move. “Are you insane? A bomb just went off in there!”

“I need to look for survivors,” Kenny said, though it was more so the strange lack of survivors that unnerved him, “Maybe figure out what happened. Stay here, talk to the crowd. Help anyone that comes out.”

He pulled his arm out of Stan’s grasp and ran for the front door. Sliding under the fallen sign, he jumped through the broken front doors and into the station, which was still hazy with smoke. The inside was a mess of upturned desks and chairs, loose papers and shattered glass all over the floor. It looked destroyed, but not in the right way. Kenny scoured the first floor, but couldn’t even find a single body.

He headed upstairs carefully.

The second floor was much of the same: a complete mess, everywhere he checked. But as cautious as he was, the floor beneath him didn’t feel unstable, didn’t once give. The building itself was fine. But he still had the third floor to check.

The third floor was the least damaged of the three, though most of the furniture was still in disarray. He picked his way through the debris of the office space to the back hallway. There were still no bodies—living or dead—so the station must have been evacuated beforehand. But why? And where had everyone gone?

Suddenly, there was a loud slam from somewhere down the hallway. Kenny glanced sharply down the dim corridor and made his way towards one of the doors. He pressed one ear against it and could just about make out the sound of muffled cursing from someone inside. So, without wasting any more time, Kenny pushed the door open and rushed inside.

He had a second to register the darkness—and unexpected emptiness—of the room before something hit him in the shoulder, hard. It sent him stumbling into the wall as something clipped against his head, and he only just managed to push the encroaching body of his attacker away before he hit the ground, dazed. He tried to stagger back to his feet, as his attacker was quickly preparing for another strike, when—

“Kenny?”

Kenny saw the attacker’s posture slacken as they approached and reached out for him.

“Shit, sorry dude,” they said, and with their offered support Kenny finally pulled himself up to find Kyle standing over him, more or less unharmed but still looking grim.

Kenny grabbed onto him.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Chaos?”

Kyle grimaced. “Not sure. He was here, then he left and the whole building was shaking like—”

“He set off a bomb on the first floor,” Kenny said. “Fuck. You could have died!”

“Actually,” Kyle said, his voice drawn out and unsure. “I think you were right, before. About Chaos.”

“He attacked you!” Kenny snapped. “Whatever I thought, I was wrong. He attacked you, and I’m pretty sure he’s attacked Leo too, because of Mysterion, so whatever I thought doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Kenny, I don’t think you understand—”

“I get it! Don’t fucking say that I don’t. I get it now. I should’ve never tried to help him—”

“But he was looking for Mysterion—”

“Because Mysterion just puts everyone in danger, Kyle, including you, and—”

“He knew me, Kenny. He knew who I was—”

“Then that’s all the more reason he needs to be stopped, I can’t—”

“He already knew, Kenny! That’s what you don’t get! Not just from this. He knew me.”

Kenny growled. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t want to know who he was,” Kyle said, urgently, “but that’s just it, Kenny, I think he’s—”

Whatever Kyle had been saying, it was cut off by the sound of screaming from outside. Kyle’s mouth snapped shut and they both exchanged a glance.

“Get out,” Kenny told him, “find somewhere safe. And for fuck’s sake, stay out of the way. ”

He didn’t wait for Kyle to acknowledge the command before he was sprinting out of the room, down the hallway to the far window. He threw himself at it, shoulder first, and felt the sharp glass tear through his cape and part of the costume as it gave out around him. If he was bleeding, he didn’t care.

The street below was more crowded than before. The onlookers from before had gathered on the sidewalks, jostling and shoving each other out of the way as they tried to retreat from the larger group now filling the streets. Chaos minions blocked every lane of traffic and were advancing down the block, rapidly closing in on the station. Nearly half of them were adorned in the strange new armor from before, and almost all of them had some device—it looked almost like a club—hanging from their waist.

Leading the group, and sparking mad with electricity, was Professor Chaos himself.

“Mysterion!” Chaos called, and the crowd of minions came to a halt behind him. “Did I finally get your attention?”

“What are you planning, Chaos?” Kenny yelled back. There was no way he could fight all these minions on his own and survive. But, if he didn’t do it, who else would? He had to.

“You know that this has been coming for a long time,” Chaos said. “You can’t stop it!”

“You don’t have to do this!”

“No, Mysterion,” Chaos replied quietly, “I really do.”

Then Chaos turned to his minions and shouted, “You know what the plan is! Don’t let me down. I’ll deal with Mysterion.”

Kenny lowered himself into a crouch and watched through narrowed eyes as Chaos turned back to him. Slowly, Chaos raised one gloved hand, and Kenny saw the way sparks danced between his fingers, and across his palms.

Then, he thrust his hand forward, and electricity arched towards him like lightning.

Kenny pushed hard to leap out of the way, but his skin still tingled as if he’d been slapped.

“It was always supposed to be this way,” Chaos called out to him. Kenny could see his other hand, sparking like he was charging for another blast.

Kenny stood tall, and faced him down. “I think you’re wrong.”

“Most people do.”

There was another blast of electricity, then, and Kenny realized he was going to have to brace for a long, hard fight.

*

When Kyle ran out of the police station, half-blind with fury that Kenny had thrown himself out a window, he was stopped in his tracks by a pair of arms wrapping around him from behind.

“Kyle!”

Kyle twisted in the sudden, tight grip until he managed a glimpse of Stan’s worried pout and dangerously sparkling eyes. Guilt washed through him, chased closely by concern, and he kept squirming until Stan finally let him go.

“What the hell were you doing in there?” Stan demanded, bewildered, and Kyle grimaced.

“Turns out you weren’t the only one who thought I was Mysterion.”

Stan’s eyes widened. “Are you ok?” He asked, and reached out again.

Kyle took a step back, almost on instinct, and regretted it immediately. He could see the way Stan’s emotions shuttered closed almost instantly.

“Where’s Mysterion?” He asked instead.

Stan gestured down the street. Half a block away, Mysterion and Professor Chaos were tangled together, Mysterion’s fists buried in Chaos’s collar as electricity continued to spark from his gloves. Every so often a bolt hit Mysterion in the side, but Kenny didn’t even seem to react.

“We need to help him,” Kyle said, already stepping forward to go interfere.

This time Stan didn’t hesitate to grab him.

“What the hell, Kyle! That’s way too dangerous!”

“I’m not just going to do nothing, Stan! He needs our help!”

Kyle wrenched his arm out of Stan’s grip and turned on his heel to leave, but Stan hurried to stand in front of him, eyes still wide and too damn bright.

“I know, dude,” he said, “I get it, ok? But you can’t just throw yourself in the way.”

“I have to help him, Stan, I’m not going to watch!”

“Kyle, listen,” Stan pressed, “Chaos has a plan, and right now I think he’s just a distraction. We need to figure out what’s really going on.”

Kyle paused. “What’s your plan?”

Stan bit his lip. “I have an idea, but… You have to trust me, ok? I—I know that’s not easy right now, but—”

“Stan,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “It was never about trust.”

Stan blinked. He stared, and for a moment Kyle was worried he’d said something wrong, but then Stan smiled, and held out his hand.

Kyle took it.

“Come on,” Stan said, “Follow me.”

*

The electricity hurt like a bitch.

Kenny wheezed through another breath as Chaos dug a fist deeper into his side and let the sparks fly. The fight was not going well. Chaos wasn’t a particularly experienced fighter, nor was he particularly skilled, but those gloves hurt, and he knew just how to pick out the bruises and weak spots and make them hurt even worse.

“It’s not too late to stop,” Kenny ground out through clenched teeth when Chaos caught him by the elbow.

Chaos growled and dug in harder. “You think I want this? That I asked for all this? All I ever asked for was—was something fair. But this town doesn’t even understanding the meaning of that word!”

“So attacking it is fair?” Kenny bit back, as he tasted blood on his tongue.

“I’m not attacking it,” Chaos hissed, “I’m changing it! I’ve waited for long enough!”

Chaos twisted, and Kenny saw the moment he exposed his own side. Seizing the chance, he ignored the next spark of electric pain to close in and deliver a hard blow, sending Chaos staggering to his knee. He pushed the advantage and tackled Chaos down, reaching to pin down the weaponized gloves. Chaos thrashed beneath him, and brought one knee underneath him to push up into Kenny’s exposed stomach. Kenny’s vision fuzzed out for a moment, and his grip faltered. Chaos was out from under him in an instant, fighting his way on top instead.

“You don’t get it!” Chaos yelled, and this close Kenny could see the way his mouth twisted in agony, how his blue eyes shimmered too bright with tears. “No one—no one makes it better, and he—I—people deserve more! This is something only I can do, and you aren’t going to stop me!”

Kenny meant to attack, meant to escape while he could, but the words wrapped around his head and something in his heart squeezed and suddenly, in a rush all at once, pain seized through him and he collapsed against the ground, unconscious.

Chaos rose slowly, and stood over him.

“I know I’m no good,” he mumbled, even as his eyes burned with tears. “But I—I just have to be.”

Chapter Text

Kenny woke later in a body that felt as heavy as lead. He groaned and opened his eyes: on the road, still in costume, smelling smoke. He hadn’t died, somehow. His body also wasn’t responding to him very well, and that—well, that could be a problem, actually—but it was somewhat of a novelty too.

Shakily, Kenny pushed himself to his feet. In the distance, people were running down the block, scattering down alleys and side streets. It was loud, and strangely disorienting. But, in the distance, he could finally make out the flash of red and blue lights, and the telltale sound of sirens wailing. Kenny sagged.

The police helping with Chaos and his minions was a relief. The town needed to be protected, and Kenny knew now that he couldn’t do it on his own. If he relied on them—it would be easier, wouldn’t it? He’d failed, hadn’t he? And somebody had to pick up the pieces.

The thought burned. He could admit it to himself now, even if he didn’t want to: he’d trusted Chaos. He’d tried to understand, tried to reach out to whoever it was. He’d seen Chaos as somebody in pain; he wasn’t cruel, but desperate. And Kenny had thought—or he’d wanted to believe—that if Chaos could just see that what he was doing was wrong, that he might change his mind. Might stop.

But he had been wrong.

Kenny had lost himself in the idea that Chaos had cared about him. He understood how stupid that hope had been, now. Chaos had spared his life and Kenny had lost sight of himself. He’d lost track of reality in the haze of disbelief, that even to just one person his life had been actively worth preserving. He’d wanted to see the best in Chaos, to try and make sense of how that act could mean something.

But it didn’t.

Chaos wasn’t going to change. Kenny couldn’t make him change. And now, barely standing, alone outside the police station with the town falling apart around him, Kenny decided: he didn’t want to.

Chaos really was a villain after all.

His legs shook underneath him as he pulled himself up to stand tall. Sirens continued to wail from somewhere a couple blocks away, and Kenny was sure Chaos would be there, in the middle of the action, trying to finish what he’d started.

If that was the case, then of course, Kenny had to stop him. He was going to stop him, no matter what.

His legs still shook, but Kenny ignored it and took off running.

*

“This was a terrible idea.”

“Come on! It was the only one I had that didn’t involve us getting shot.”

“We wouldn’t have been shot!”

“Yes, dude, we would have! Dude, look, I love you, but you are a complete fucking idiot and your plan sucked ass.”

“Hey! My—wait, what—”

“Kyle, I swear, if you—”

“Dude! Shut up! It was your fucking plan, so we have to be quiet!”

“That’s convenient.”

“Stan! Now is really not the time for—”

“No! Not that! Look over there!”

“What—oh. That’s convenient.”

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Well… you said you love me, apparently. So… deal with it?”

“Trust me, I am.”

“Well then do it faster.”

“Punching someone is not that easy!”

“It is if—oh shit!”

“Kyle!”

*

Kenny found them at city hall.

By them he meant: the police, an entire horde of Chaos minions, and Professor Chaos himself.

They circled city hall in two rings, one group facing the other. As far as Kenny could tell, the faceoff was at a standstill. And then there was Chaos, presiding over the brewing showdown from the top of the building, looming over the edge. Kenny scowled up at him from below, the pain of betrayal coursing deep in his veins. It hurt, far more than it should.

“Chaos!” He all but screamed, and the crowd all turned towards him.

The police and the Chaos minions all stared. His costume had seen better days, there were too many minions, Chaos had all but won against him already—but he didn’t care. The disappointment burned, and he had to make things right.

If nothing else—he’d do it for no other reason than to keep this useless town safe. For Kyle, for Stan, and for everyone he loved.

For Leo.

In the silence of the crowd, Chaos sneered.

“Mysterion.”

“Chaos,” Kenny growled. “This ends now.”

Chaos’s responding laugh echoed in his ears. From above, his gloves sparked back to life, and highlighted the wicked glint of his wild blue eyes. All this time, always leading to this. “What do you think you can do, Mysterion?” Chaos called out. “This was inevitable. Chaos is always inevitable.”

Kenny clenched his teeth. “And I told you,” he hissed, “Justice is too.”

The minions shifted in response to his threat, but one raised hand from Chaos and they fell back into stillness, watching.

Chaos called down to him once again: “This ends now, Mysterion. We’ve delayed long enough.”

“Gladly,” Kenny replied.

The minions parted in front of him, and the police let him through. Chaos waited, on the edge of the roof, and nodded when Kenny was close.

Chaos was inviting him up to the roof, so Kenny readily agreed. He climbed, and it hurt. But part of him was numb, just waiting for the end, as if this had all been a given.

“I’ll end you myself,” Chaos said, when Kenny finally reached.

Kenny didn’t laugh, though it felt like he should. Up close, Chaos didn’t look any different. There was no reason it should hurt as much as it did, and yet here he was. He curled his hands into fists and breathed out a sigh.

“You and everyone else,” he said, dull, because this—it had always remained unchanged.

He stood tall as he faced Chaos, and then, finally, the villain lashed out.

The first strike was fast, but this time Kenny was ready. He stepped back and away, and stayed far as Chaos lost his balance and twisted for a second swing. Electricity hissed through the air, close, but Kenny was still numb. He waited, waited just one moment more, until finally Chaos was too far past him to twist back for a third. He stepped in once, hard, and landed a firm blow. He heard the way Chaos’s breath caught in his lungs, and Kenny’s lips twisted up, but it wasn’t a grin.

Chaos’s cape billowed around him as he spun, and Kenny swore he could hear the villain’s rampaging heartbeat just through the look in his eyes. This—too wild, too reckless, so clearly desperate —this was who Chaos really was. The thought still ached.

“You’re no better than him, ” Chaos screamed. “Always pushing me down, always right in the way! You think I’d ever listen to a monster like you, when you’d all rather I just disappear! You think, after all that, that I’d trust someone like you!?”

Chaos stepped in again, and this time Kenny stayed close when Chaos tried to swing wide. Chaos’s cape lashed against his chest, rasped against his own tattered cloak, and Chaos pulled back as if to elbow him but Kenny caught it easily, and squeezed tight.

Chaos pushed him off, all raw, all desperate strength.

“This town is nothing! Full of worthless, hopeless, pathetic people! It’d take the one good thing around and crush it into the dirt, as much as it could, and you’d—you’d stand by and let it! And I can’t—I won’t let you!” Chaos’s voice broke, at the end, and he finally managed to catch Kenny with the tips of a few fingers.

The jolt hurt and seized up his sore, battered muscles. But it wasn’t enough. Kenny grabbed him by his one outstretched wrist and held tight.

“Let me go!” Chaos howled, and thrashed. His other hand caught Kenny in the side and it burned, but Kenny couldn’t let go. “You’re a monster, not a hero! You’d let me—let this—let him —but I won’t! I can’t stay in a town like this! I’d rather die —”

Kenny caught hold of his other wrist, and finally, finally, caught Chaos by one leg, bringing him down hard to the ground. Chaos thrashed beneath him, kicked out with all his strength, and screamed, but above him Kenny remained unmoved and still. Eventually, he began to tire out, and Kenny simply pressed down harder.

“I’d rather die! Minions!” Chaos gasped. Up close, his throat was raw, and his eyes were an angry red. There was a dark, black pit swirling deep in Kenny’s stomach, and he felt sick.

He could hear, all around him, the sound of cocking guns. Chaos minions didn’t carry guns, but the police did, and Kenny glanced up as he belatedly realized how Chaos had been right. How justice had been a sham, all along. How he was going to die for it—and for what?

Had there ever really been a point? Or had he been hopeless all along, too.

It felt like his mind had slipped, and he began to fall into a haze. He thought about all the guns, all pointed at him, and how he’d failed, and how soon he’d have to wake up.

He turned back to Chaos, forced himself down, and leaned in close.

“I never claimed to be a hero,” Kenny growled—deep, too deep, and painfully sharp—as he stared at Chaos’s throat, “So maybe I’d rather you died too.”

He felt Chaos tense, and it was wrong, but maybe, maybe—

There was a bang, suddenly, from the doorway to the stairwell inside, and two Chaos minions stumbled out. One ran forward, halfway across the roof, as the other screamed.

“Kyle! Wait!”

“Kenny, stop!”

Above Chaos, Kenny froze. The haze around him blurred, and everything felt slow. He looked back, over his shoulder, at the redheaded Chaos minion staring at him in horror.

“Kenny,” Kyle breathed.

Kenny blinked at him. The haze cleared, and he felt hollow, empty, blank—what had he been about to do? Beneath him, Chaos went limp, and maybe it was over, it could finally be over, even as he heard Stan gasping from the stairwell, but maybe he could just die and Stan would forget—

A weak voice, barely a whisper underneath him, and Kenny’s heart stopped.

“...Kenny?”

Kenny looked down, at the figure still pinned in his grip, and saw a pair of tear-streaked blue eyes gazing up at him. Oh—no.

“Kenny,” Kyle said, though he sounded so far away, “Chaos, he’s—”

Kenny stared down, at those wide, pained eyes, and breathed, “Leo. It’s—it’s you.”

Chaos—Leo—he blinked, terror written all over his face, and suddenly Kenny recoiled as if he’d been burned. He pulled his arms back and stood up, staggering and unsteady, and drew away. All this time…

He’d never been a hero, after all.

Leo pulled himself up too, but his gaze never left Kenny’s, and the tears never stopped falling. He looked small suddenly, in the costume of Professor Chaos, but maybe Leo, whatever they had been together, whatever he’d been to him—was any of it true.

“Kenny?” Leo said again, quietly, even as his voice threatened to shake with tears.

“Leo,” Kenny said. What else was there to say but this?

“Kenny,” Leo mumbled. “You’re—you’ve always been—did you really mean it?”

The question hurt.

“Mean what? Leo, I never—”

Suddenly, Leo tensed, and pressed one hand to his ear. Kenny heard something, faintly, like the crackle of static, as Leo spun around to look out over the roof’s edge. Kenny saw the police, with their guns still trained on him, and realized too late that he’d never been safe. He’d come here to die.

“Minions, no! Don’t kill—”

A gunshot echoed outside city hall.

Kenny had died before, and he knew he was bound to die again. It didn’t bother him—he hated it, but it was just part of Mysterion, and just a part of being him—but the look of pure anguish on Leo’s face made him regret this death most of all. Everything hung suspended in time for one long, quiet moment, just long enough for Kenny to memorize all the details of Leo’s face, so close in front of him, so he could remember all the pain in that horrible, twisted expression as he passed away—

The moment snapped, and Kenny stumbled over nothing, while Leo collapsed against him. There was blood, warm and sticky between them, but nothing hurt, nothing weakened as he held Leo up against his chest, until he finally looked down and saw.

Leo, stood in front of him, face frozen in a mask of pain, bleeding through his clothes.

Leo sagged, even weaker against him.

In one great roar of noise, the crowds around city hall—the minions, the police, everyone—scattered. Their plan failed and their leader dead, for the sake of the hero —there was nothing left for any of them but to run. Kenny lowered Leo to the ground amidst the chaos, and traced the faint twitching of Leo’s lips despite the noise.

Someone rushed up behind him—Kyle, maybe, or Stan—but Kenny couldn’t tear his gaze away from Leo’s pale skin or his wide, fearful eyes. There was so much blood.

Something pulled at him, tugged against his shoulder, but Kenny kept his eyes on Leo. If this was inevitable, if this was justice—he didn’t want it. He didn’t want any of it. Without Leo, this town didn’t have a sun, and there was nothing, could never be anything, more precious than that.

So, Kenny gathered Leo in his arms.

And he ran.

Chapter Text

“I seriously can’t believe they actually bought the story you came up with, dude,” Stan said.

They were standing outside the hospital, shivering slightly in the early morning cold, and Kyle kind of wanted to strangle him.

Kenny pulled in on himself, retreating deeper into his hood like he hadn’t in years. Kyle glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and sighed. There wasn’t much he could say, and definitely not anything he could do, to get through to Kenny like this.

He’d been quiet, practically silent, ever since he’d brought Butters to the hospital five days ago. He pretty much hadn’t left the building since—though he’d never been in to see Butters, even after he’d mostly recovered from surgery. He mostly waited outside, kept watch, probably thought.

It was painful to watch.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Kyle asked, electing to ignore Stan’s comment completely. Butters was getting released today. Kenny had decided to see him for it.

Kenny just glanced at him, and shook his head.

“We’ll be right here,” he assured him anyways, and stepped aside.

Kenny drifted inside without a word.

When he was gone, Kyle turned to Stan and slapped him in the arm. Hard.

“What the hell was that!?” He hissed, annoyed, as Stan jumped and cradled his arm protectively.

“I’m just saying!” Stan whined. “I know it was in a rush and all but seriously, caught in the crossfire? Crossfire of what, exactly!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Kyle snapped.

“I’m just worried, ok? If anyone—”

“They won’t,” Kyle interrupted him. “Just relax. Kenny and I have been dealing with shit like this for a while.”

Stan coughed quietly and mumbled, “Not quite like this.”

Kyle ignored him.

Stan coughed again.

“You know,” he said, “For a while I thought you kinda had the hots for Mysterion…”

Kyle promptly choked on air. He could feel his face burning, even with the cold, and managed to squeeze out: “What the fuck!?”

“I thought it might’ve been the voice!”

Kyle gaped at him. “Is that why you talked funny for like a week straight a few months ago!?”

Stan paled instantly.

Kyle gasped. “It was!”

“Shut up, dude!” Stan hissed. “You’re the worst! I just—I thought you liked him because you could, like, rely on him or something.”

Kyle flinched. He didn’t want to, but this conversation was obviously happening now, whether he wanted it to or not.

“Stan,” Kyle sighed, “I told you, it was never about that. It’s just that—I hate feelings, ok? I don’t know what to do with them. And nobody needs something like that. I’m just not good at it, you know?”

Stan raised one eyebrow and stared. “I know.”

“What?”

“God, Kyle,” Stan huffed, “of course I know that! You’re the worst at shit like that!”

“Thanks,” Kyle grumbled.

Stan rolled his eyes.

“Kyle,” he said, “I don’t care about all that shit anyways. I’m not interested because I think you’ll be any good at it! I’m interested because it’s you . And I like you.”

Kyle glanced away. He didn’t know what to say, and wasn’t that already enough of an indication of how bad he was going to fuck this up? What was he even supposed to say in response to something like that? With Stan staring at him like that?

Stan decided for him, and took his hand.

There was a lot Kyle felt like he should say—things he wanted to say, at least some day down the line.

But for now, he could just learn how to hold Stan’s hand.

*

Kenny stood outside Leo’s room in the hospital, apprehension coiled tight in his gut.

He shouldn’t be here.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to see Leo. It might be hard, but that wasn’t the reason why.

It was because he had failed.

He hadn’t defended the town, or saved Chaos, or protected Leo. He’d done none of it. He’d turned a blind eye and ran in circles. He’d handled everything wrong.

Instead, he’d let everyone down.

Leo had been in so much pain. How hadn’t he seen it earlier? How could he have ignored it, even when Leo cried? What had he done—what had Mysterion ever done, for those who truly needed it?

He hadn’t even died, to make up for it. Because Leo had protected him instead.

He couldn’t help but hope that maybe, somehow, that meant something. He had no right to hope, no room to chase shattered dreams, but Leo was just beyond this door. And he had no right to hope, but still he had to know.

But, when he pushed open the door, the room was empty.

There was a nurse, setting things aside and gathering up the empty sheets, who looked startled when Kenny barged in.

“Leo?” He heard himself ask, though his voice was small.

The nurse smiled kindly, but Kenny could hardly stand to look at it.

“Discharged earlier this morning,” the nurse said. “Sorry.”

Kenny turned on his heels and ran.

*

The playground was quiet this early in the morning, and nobody else was around.

Kenny could hardly catch his breath. His throat screamed in pain, dry and cold and raw from dragging in so much chilled air. He was exhausted, and his body still ached from the fight. He swayed and choked back a sob.

“Kenny...?”

Kenny spun wildly, before his eyes finally landed on who he was looking for. There, beyond the pirate ship, alone on a far bench, sat Leo.

Kenny ran to him without thinking. He pulled him into a hug, a desperate grasp so tight he wasn’t sure he could let go. He wanted to cry, wanted to hold on for as long as he could.

But Leo tensed against him, and Kenny snapped back at once, horrified.

“Shit, I didn’t hurt you, did I? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I forgot—Leo?”

Leo’s shoulders were shaking. Kenny pulled away so he could catch his eye, and found Leo watching him, crying.

“Leo!”

Kenny leaned in again, wanting to comfort him, but suddenly there were hands on his chest pushing him away.

“Get away from me!”

Kenny froze and watched, helpless, as Leo cried harder.

“I’m sorry,” Kenny said, “Leo, I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“But I hurt you!”

The choked-off scream echoed in the empty playground, and Kenny’s eyes widened in shock as Leo stared at him.

“I hurt you,” Leo repeated, softer.

Kenny swallowed, his throat suddenly thick.

“I’m ok,” he said, and Leo shook his head. “Honestly.”

“All those things I did, I can’t—”

“You saved my life, ” Kenny said, breathed out in a rush before Leo could say any more, could carry on in pain.

“All those things I said, Kenny—”

“I said things too,” Kenny said, and clenched his jaw.

“Kenny…”

Kenny blinked. His eyes felt wet.

“You meant it, didn’t you?” Leo asked.

“What?”

“About me,” he said. “About—about being better. You really meant it?”

“Of course,” Kenny said, sharp.

Leo nodded. “I didn’t know,” he said, “If I ever could be. But you—if you think I can, I think I want to be. I want to try.”

Kenny frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The minions,” Leo said. “They disbanded, but—I promised them a lot, but we all wanted change, in the end. I don’t think that’s going to stop just because they think Chaos is dead. There’s others who could take my place. And the police—”

“You want to fix things,” Kenny realized.

Leo winced, but still nodded. “To try to make up for what I’ve done. I know it’s a lot, but—”

“I’ll help you,” Kenny said. “Mysterion will.”

It was Leo’s turn to look surprised, and he startled as if the offer had scared him.

“I—I don’t know, Kenny,” Leo stammered. “I need to make up for things, I can’t—”

“I’m helping you,” Kenny repeated, more firm this time. “From now on, no matter what, you aren’t going to be alone, in anything. I mean it.”

Leo’s hands trembled by his sides, and he was biting his lip so hard it looked like it really hurt. There was something in his eyes, scared but firm, determined, and for a moment he looked so upset that Kenny stepped forward once again, unsure.

“Leo? I—”

But then those trembling hands were fisted in the front of his jacket, and Leo was pressed hard against him, kissing him again and again and again.

Kenny could hardly think, could taste how Leo had bitten his bottom lip raw, and his hands twisted into Leo’s hair of their own accord, like they belonged there, to pull him back in each time. It was a lot—everything, really—and Kenny let out a noise as something cracked in his chest, unbearably warm and bright and beautiful, all at once. Leo kissed every noise right out of him, and kept going even beyond that.

When he finally pulled back, he looked just as dazed as Kenny felt. But his smile was brilliant, brighter than the sun. “This town will finally be worth it,” he said, “Since its for you.”

Kenny held him close, and couldn’t help but agree: this is what it had all been for.