Chapter Text
Butters Stotch has always known he didn’t fit in.
He didn’t fit in with his family. His father criticized everything he did. Things he didn’t do. It didn’t really matter what he did. So groundings and the occasional beatings were the norm. His mother was distant. She let her father do anything he wanted with no complaints. It was like they were stuck in the fifties and Butters was a whole different decade entirely.
But that’s parents, right?
Sure.
It was that way at school too. Yeah, technically, he had friends. Lots of them. But they were always on different pages than he was. Eric Cartman didn’t say it anymore, but it showed in his actions and occasional words many years ago: “You’re such a dumbass, Butters.”
He always tried to live life by the golden rule. Treat others like how you would want to be treated. Simple. Easy.
Except it wasn’t.
The anger felt like it was constantly coursing through his veins. But instead of confronting that feeling he’d smile and say, “Hey fellas.”
Ninth grade was when things changed. Stan Marsh was always more quiet since Kyle Broflovski, his best friend, moved away.
He always liked the boy. Stan was never super nice to him but he wasn’t mean either. He just kind of coasted through life with the energy of a relaxed boy. He was an All- American teenage boy.
Stan was talking to Craig Tucker, Clyde Donavon, Jimmy Valmer, and Kenny McCormick. “So I’m thinking of starting up Crimson Dawn again. Like. No bullshit. Committing this time.” he told the boys.
Butters blinked.
That band name sounds familiar. Was it some kind of rock band? The blonde boy sat with the boys to hear more.
“T-that would be dope, Stan. Same people or different people?” asked Jimmy. He was smiling widely.
Stan shrugged. “I don’t care, dude. I just want to see who plays the best. If I just let people in because they are my buddies we are missing out who could make our band be something.”
“What type of band?” asked Butters. All the boys looked over at him. Stan blinked briefly. He must have never noticed him sitting down.
“Punk,” said Stan. He smirked, absently ruffling his hair before frowning at it.
Butters immediately deflated. There’s no way his parents would go for that. They have gotten even more strict since he reached high school.
“I don’t want to hear about you going into the office this year. You need to get a 4.0 GPA, focus on getting into activities that have you meet a nice girl.” said Stephen.
His dad forbade him from hanging out with Eric Cartman and Kenny McCormick after one incident in the seventh grade. The blonde boy can’t even remember what happened.
“Oh, like Wendy Testaburger girl. She’s very pretty. Smart too, isn’t she? Oh, Butters, that’s the type of girl you need to marry.” added Linda.
Butters doesn’t like Wendy Testaburger. She’s pretty, sure. Smart? Always has been. But the blonde thinks she’s too high strung. He doesn’t want that energy in his relationships.
Besides everyone knows Stan and Wendy have been together forever. Pretty much the only thing that’s going to separate them is a zombie apocalypse.
“I’m down,” said Jimmy. He had his signature toothy grin.
Clyde and Craig exchanged looks. “Not for us man. But good luck.” said Clyde.
Kenny stretched. The blonde always admired how easygoing he was. Nothing ever fazed him. “Why the fuck not? Not like I don’t have anything else to do.”
Stan looked at him. “What about you dude? You seemed like you really felt the music before. Wanna try?” he asked curiously.
Feel the music? How could Butters possibly relate to punk? It was so angry and he was so….not. “Sorry, Stan. My parents wouldn’t let me.” he said apologetically.
Craig snorted. “Don’t you get tired of doing what your parents want all the time?” he criticized.
Butters fought the urge to glare at the stoic boy. Craig wouldn’t get it. Not only was he blessed with a normal family who lets him do what he wants but the brunette boy has been defying any sort of authority since they were at least five years old. Respect was practically a foreign language to him.
He stayed quiet.
“Craig, lay off him. Just because you don’t give a shit about anything doesn’t mean everybody else has to.” retorted the hooded boy.
Kenny smiled at him.
Butters gave a bright smile back. He avoided thoughts coming inside his head like lightning. He still had Kenny on his side. Sort of.
Lunch ended. Butters went through his classes with the bright optimism of an ingenue. Sometimes he thought he could see blue eyes looking at him out of curiosity. The blonde ignored it.
Days went by. It was almost Friday. He was in American History. Eric was behind him shooting paper balls in the back of his head. He bit his cheek.
“Nerd.” snickered the bigger boy. The once fat boy bulked up over the last year and now he thought he was God's gift to women.
Butters ignored him. He looked at the board and wrote down his notes as fast as possible. How far should he study? If his parents wanted Princeton he needed to focus.
Another ball came at his head. “When are you going to grow some balls, Stotch?” whispered his classmate.
Shut.
Up.
The same blue eyes kept looking at him. Butters didn’t notice. He breathed. Focus.
Class ended with constant throw paper balls, predictable insults, and then Eric leaving the room with a satisfied smirk on his face.
Asshole.
No, Butters. He told himself. That’s not a nice thing to say. Eric is just being a teenager. Going through a different phase of being difficult.
Despite knowing these things Butters ran into the bathroom anyway. He was breathing heavily. “What’s wrong with you?” he screamed in the mirror.
Tears fell through his eyes. He kept himself from punching the mirrors but it was difficult. Why is nothing he does ever enough?
Stan went inside the bathroom. His eyes widened. “Dude, what’s wrong?” he asked. He went down on the floor with the blonde.
“Why can’t I be more like you? Everybody likes you!” he said in frustration. Stan looked at him with concerned eyes. Why was he so worried? Clearly he’s fine, fine, fine!
Stan chuckled. “You’re kidding, right? Most of my friends don’t even hang out with me much anymore. I’m liked, I guess, but not like that. Not anymore.” he said.
What?
But Stan had Kyle. The scariest boy in school on his side. He had Kenny. Eric Cartman even respected him. Not to mention the others who flocked to him occasionally in and out of their circle.
Stan smiled. “Look at you. You are annoyingly perfect. Melvin ultimate. You’ll probably leave this place with the perfect life.” he said.
Butters sniffled. “I don’t want to be a fucking Melvin. That’s what my parents want.” he admitted.
The brunette boy blinked. He stood back up and held out his hand. “Let’s get out of here and do something crazy,” he suggested.
Butters looked at his hand. Crazy? “But….why?” he questioned. Did Stan hit his head? Why would the All-American boy and the class dork do that?
The brunette boy lightly grabbed the beanie he had on his head. He looked at it distastefully and threw it in the trash. “Because I’m tired of being angry. You seem to feel the same. Let’s fucking do something about it.” he said with a smirk.
Stan’s angry? Butters kept staring at the boy as memories came. Toothy grin Stan with his best friend playing games. Stan and Kyle grinning at each other. Eric, Kenny, Stan, and Kyle laughing as the way they messed with someone succeeded.
Then Kyle moved away in fourth grade. His parents moved to the farm outside of town. The boy’s smile dimmed. The blonde remembered Stan looking at his phone. He seemed anxious. No. It couldn’t. Could it?
Stan was looking at him with an amused expression. “So what’s it going to be? Are you going to sit here and mope or are we going to do something?” he asked.
If the All-American perfect boy could be angry and could do something. Why couldn’t Butters?
“Sure,” he said, taking his hand.
What’s the worst that can happen?