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“We should play spin the bottle,” Nelly giggled, twirling a strand of her hair.
“We should do whatever Clyde wants to do because it’s his birthday. Right, Clyde?” Bebe spoke up, laying her head on the birthday boy’s shoulder.
Clyde shook her off, leaving to grab another drink. Before he reached the kitchen, however, he said, “Someone find a bottle, okay?”
Bebe started giggling uncontrollably. Clyde rolled his eyes, wondering how she still behaved like an elementary schooler even in her senior year.
Clyde reached for a cherry coke in the back of his fridge, bumping into Kyle in the process.
“Oh, hey Clyde! I was wondering when I was going to see you at your own party.” Kyle smiled. Clyde nodded.
“Yeah. I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting this many people. I think Craig must’ve told Tweek, who told Kenny, who told Stan, who told Wendy, who told literally everyone else in our grade, so…that’s fun.”
“…Alright, then.” Kyle frowned and walked away, turning to Stan and Kenny.
Clyde laughed, returning to the circle of people in his living room. He sat with his knees to his chest, silently watching as Brian Gueermo chugged the rest of his beer and tossed the bottle in the middle.
Nobody offered to go first until Stan, Kenny, and Kyle joined the circle, with Wendy speaking up immediately.
“I’ll go first!” She smiled, crawling to the center and pausing with her hand over the neck of the bottle.
Red rolled her eyes. “Hurry up, Wendy! We know you wanna kiss Stan, just spin the damn thing!”
Wendy huffed and spun it, praying to herself silently until it landed on Stan. She cheered, walking over to kiss him.
He threw up and retreated to Clyde’s bathroom.
Bebe rubbed Wendy’s shoulder, trying to console her.
Clyde hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol but felt like he was hung over. His head pounded and the bass of the stupid music Craig put on made him feel like he was going crazy.
“Clyde, I think you should go next!” Bebe smirked, tucking her curls behind her ear.
The brunette, not really there, said yes, thinking to himself that this night could not get any worse. He spun the bottle, and waited for it to land.
Bebe cried out. Millie giggled.
“O-oh, g-geez! I guess it’s me!” A small voice sheepishly mumbled.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Clyde looked up to be met with Butters Stotch sitting across from him, his face pink.
“Clyde, you don’t have to kiss Butters if you don’t want to,” Nelly said. “You can always kiss Bebe if you wanted!”
“Bebe hasn’t matured since fourth grade. I think I’ll pass. Plus is it fair to do that to Butters?”
“…I guess it’s not fair. I-it doesn’t count, it’s spin the bottle!” Nelly awkwardly laughed.
At this point in time, Clyde really could not give a shit what everybody else thought of him. Or thought of Butters. He thought about Marjorine in fourth grade, how he thought she was pretty but told himself that it wasn’t right.
He thought about how freshman year, Butters had grown at least 3 inches and had gotten an actually good haircut. How he thought that Butters looked good, but laughed when Stan said he looked gay.
Well fuck Stan, fuck Bebe, and fuck everyone else. It was Clyde’s birthday, and he could do whatever he wanted.
So he kissed Butters. And he liked it. Butters tasted like cinnamon and vanilla, with smooth lips that combatted Clyde’s chapped lips.
“Happy birthday, Clyde,” Butters smiled, being the one to pull away.
Clyde leaned in to whisper in Butters’ ear, saying, “Stay after the party. I think you’re the only person I care about here.”
Nobody really talked to Clyde for the rest of the night besides Craig and Tweek. Most likely because Clyde had outed himself as gay, or bi, or…something, and they were the only open queer guys his age in town.
After everyone, save for Butters, had left, Clyde grabbed the cuff of his teal button down and dragged him up the stairs.
Butters was quiet sitting on the foot of Clyde’s bed, gazing at the decorations and posters scattered around the room.
“I’m sorry…uh…that what happened, y’know, happened.” Clyde sucked in a breath, looking over at the blonde.
“Gee, Clyde. I-I mean, I didn’t think it was so bad.” Butters smiled. He stretched his hand over towards the middle of where the two boys sat.
Clyde scootched his pink to touch the back of Butters’ hand.
Butters looked up.
Clyde kissed him again.
And again.
…And again.
Butters began giggling as Clyde chastely peppered his face with kisses, arms wrapped around the shorter boy’s neck.
After the kisses ceased, Clyde layed on his back, Butters doing the same. Clyde turned his head to look at the other boy.
“I think yer’ sweet,” Butters said.
“What?”
“Well, I-I think yer’ just a sweet person. You always act…er, pardon, but…like yer’ better than everyone. N-not like Cartman, though!”
“I think you’re sweet too. You notice things, I guess. I don’t think I could’ve told you that about myself. Eighteen trips around the sun and I don’t know any better.”
“Th-that’s alright, Clyde. Yer’ just figurin’ yourself out.”
“Thanks, Butters.”
“Happy birthday, Clyde.”