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There's so much blood.
He stares at the bloodied sidewalk where Mysterion's body lies. The superhero's limbs are contorted into funny little angles, bones snapped, tendons torn. He lies still and unmoving, blood rapidly pooling out from underneath him. It's so much, and it keeps spreading, it's touching his shoes now, and it just won't stop-
Butters stares, and he stares, and he stares, eyes opened wide in terror. Mysterion's body sits unmoving, unnaturally still upon the concrete. Butters can't do anything but stand there, breath gone from his lungs, body unable to move.
"M-Mysterion?" It comes out as a choked whisper, throat burning. He collapses to his knees, red seeping into the fabric of his jeans. "H-Hey, hey, don't do this, d-don't-"
He's used to kids making fun of him. They pull pranks on him all the time. Poor, innocent Butters. He'll believe anything. He's heard a lot of sick jokes, but this is the cruelest. If it's a joke, it's not a funny one at that. Any moment here, Eric Cartman will pop out, video camera in hand, screaming about how he got Butters good.
But it doesn't happen. He sits, and he waits, and Cartman never comes. The blood grows tacky on his jeans, and Mysterion's still, mangled and bloody. There's no rise and fall to his chest, no sudden laughter proving it's a joke. There's nothing. Mysterion's dead.
Butters screams.
_____________
He gets grounded a lot. An unreasonable amount. It's not even his fault either. He'll just breathe and his father will ground him for the next two weeks. He'll never voice his concern to his parents, though. They know best. We're just doing what's best for you, Butters. Can't you see that?
So he listens to them. He sits in his room, and he waits, and waits, and waits. His Lego sets have been constructed and deconstructed and constructed all over again countless times. He doesn't even think he needs the instructions anymore. The books on his shelf have all been read, pages lightly torn and dog-eared. The board games in his closet aren't so fun when he's the only one playing.
It's not all bad, though. Mysterion visits a lot. The hero would somehow manage to sneak up to his room, and they'd sit and talk all night. When he'd wake up, Mysterion would be gone, not a clue left behind of him ever being there.
The first few times he visited, Butters was scared. He was paranoid that at any time, one of his parents might walk in on the two together. They'd start to get ideas, and Butters would be grounded again , only this time, he wouldn't come out again. It never happened, but it didn't stop him from being paranoid.
Mysterion's nice to him. He doesn't talk much, but he sure as hell lets Butters ramble on and on about his day. He talks in hushed tones until his voice gets dry, and smothers his laughter in pillows before it wakes his parents up. Mysterion's a good listener, and he's got the nicest gap-toothed smile that he's only ever seen used around him.
But now Mysterion's gone. The only person who's ever listened to him, who's ever felt what it's like to be ignored , is dead. Butters had saw him that night, bleeding out on the concrete. The paramedics couldn't do anything, and his parents ushered the silent blond home, not saying a word. Mysterion was dead, and Butters was alone.
The worst part of it is, no one seems to be mourning the hero. He wakes up the next day and it's like Mysterion's death never happened at all. People are still smiling and laughing like they didn't just lose the only fucking person who cared about them-
And maybe they didn't.
After all, Mysterion's smiles were reserved for him, no one else. Nobody got to hear Mysterion's laugh but Butters, no one got to lay next to him at night, spreading gossip that only children could conceive. His only friend was gone now. There was no changing that.
He tries to sleep, but it's futile. He's left tossing and turning in bed, sheets being kicked up into the air by a restless body. It's storming outside, and every now and then, a flash of lightning illuminates his room. He groans, pulling a pillow over his head. He just wants to sleep, but he can't because everytime he closes his eyes, all he can picture is Mysterion's mangled body just lying there, helpless.
Butters rolls over, and the next flash of lighting reveals a silhouette at his window. He shrieks before letting his hands fly up to cover his mouth. His dad will be mad if he wakes up to him screaming. And then he'll be grounded for another week.
The blond sits frozen in shock. His eyes are locked on the window, and he draws his sheets to cover his nose. It's a childish action, but he'd always believed the monsters couldn't get to you if you were covered.
He squeezes his eyes and tries to will the image away. It was probably just a tree branch and nothing more. He is safe . Just his mind playing tricks on him. Your son has a very overactive imagination, Mr. Stotch. It's about time he grew up.
But then another flash of lightning goes off, and the figure is still there. Only this time, its knuckles rap against the window in a funny little pattern that he's only ever heard one person use before. It couldn't be-
The knuckles rap again, and Butters practically lunges for the window. His fingers scramble to unhitch the lock. As soon as he does, he throws the window open, eyes blown wide at the intruder.
Butters is breathless. "It's you."
Mysterion gives him a quizzical look, face scrunched up in confusion. "Of course it's me, dumbass. Now move over, I'm soaked." He shoves past the blond, plopping down beside him on the bed. His clothes make a wet squelching sound, waterlogged from the rain. The hero shuts the window, latching the lock, before turning to look at Butters.
He sits frozen in fear. His hands have gone paper white from where they're gripping at his sheets. His face is devoid of all color, eyes wide and jaw clenched. His sheets are probably getting soaked from where Mysterion's sitting, but he can't bring himself to say anything.
The superhero narrows his eyes suspiciously. "The hell's going on with you, Leo?"
And his breath hitches in his throat because that's him. It is Mysterion - there's no denying it. No one else calls him by that name, not even his parents. A sob escapes his throat, and then he throws his arms around the hero, sending them both flopping backwards onto the bed.
" What-" Mysterion begins from where he's pinned to the mattress by Butters' weight.
"You died. "
Mysterion tenses up. He's silent as Butters sobs and sobs into his shoulder. Butters' body trembles with sobs. His throat burns, and he heaves against the hero, hot tears streaming down his face.
"You died," Butters repeats with a hiss, chest heaving up and down. "You died, a-and I couldn't do anything b-but just stand there !... And there was so much blood, so much blood- "
Underneath him, Mysterion is silent. He looks at the boy laying across him. His hands awkwardly hover over the boy's body before reciprocating the hug. "You…" Mysterion swallows. "You remember?"
Butters pulls back, quickly sitting up. His spine goes ramrod straight. "O-Of course I remember! You don't just forget about something like that!... Oh, God, it was a joke, wasn't it? What kind of sick joke-"
"Butters-" Mysterion stops him before pushing himself up to sit on his heels. He holds the blond by his shoulders. His blue eyes are wide and watery. "You remember… you remembered-"
"Why wouldn't I-" Butters pauses, voice catching in his throat. He stares at the hero, realization dawning upon him.
When they were younger, they used to pretend to heroes. Playing pretend was acceptable at that age. All the neighborhood kids would join in, coming up with superpowers and costumes based off items they found around the house. He vaguely remembers masquerading as the villain (but Eric Cartman was always the true villain). He had powers, fantasized about controlling lightning and bringing chaos in his wake. It was all pretend. But in this moment, with the wide, frantic eyes of Mysterion staring back at him, he starts to think it wasn't.
"You weren't lyin'." The blond's jaw drops, staring at his friend in horror. "Oh, God, you really did die! How-... How many times ?!"
The hero shrugs. "I… it doesn't matter… but you remember. You remember! You're the only one who knows -"
Butters is the only one who knows a lot of things. He's the only one that knows the hero has a small dimple that caves in on his left cheek when he smiles. He knows that under the mask, the hero's blond. He knows the hero has a little sister out there somewhere that he'd do anything to protect. He knows Mysterion.
"I won't forget," Butters says, shaking his head. "Not now, not tomorrow, not ever."
Mysterion throws his arms around him and sobs.