AN: Hit by a major wave of inspriation, so haha. Here's a five + one fanfic, finally. I've never actually done one of these before!
Five Times Butters Was There For Someone Else
One Time Someone Was There for Butters
He didn't really know why he was doing it; he guessed because he was just that sort of guy. Butters never really did like seeing anyone upset and, well...this was a someone he'd known forever. A someone who was just as much of a no one as he was.
He supposed it was because he knew what it was like, being stuck in the background. Being just...a part of the scenary. He was a bit afraid of being yelled at, was more afraid of being hit, but mostly he was afraid that the other boy would say no and that he'd walk home alone.
Kenny sure looked awful lonely those days.
Butters strengthened his resolve and strode towards the boy with the blackened eye, bloody lip. He was quiet for a long minute, before finally offering up a soft, "Wanna come get some ice cream at my place? We got strawberry, it's my favorite."
Kenny had stared, silent and unreadable. Without talking, he nodded. He never took off his hood, and Butters wondered how he ate that way. After watching the boy shovel a bowl of ice cream down in less than three minutes, Butters wondered if Kenny being so skinny and hungry had anything to do with his family being poor, or the fact that half his food ended up on his hood.
He didn't ask though, and instead settled down into his chair, slipped his own bowl of ice cream ove to Kenny. Mom never let him have more than one bowl in a day, so he pulled Kenny's towards him so the other boy didn't get in trouble.
He had ice cream all the time...Kenny probably never did.
And if his dad came home and thought he had made a pig of himself, well that was okay because Kenny was smiling and skipping when he left.
They were thirteen when Butters noticed Kyle was starting to act strange. The boy spent less time staring at Bebe's breasts, and more time watching football, and that was kind of weird seeing as Kyle sort of hated football.
He never said anything, and no one else seemed to notice...it was just, that one day. He had gone out the back doors of the school in an attempt to avoid Eric - not that he usually did, Eric was his best friend but it was one of those days - and nearly fell over Kyle.
Before he could apologize, worried green eyes turned his way, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough that he bled. He didn't ask, he just plopped himself down beside Kyle on the steps. It was quiet and tense until after the tardy bell ring, and neither of them moved.
"I think I'm gay." Kyle had said. He sounded calm, but his posture screamed worry, and Butters watched people enough to know the signs of how they felt. When you were invisible it was easy to see.
"Yeah." Kyle flicked a rock away from his hip, eyes downcast. He was chewing on his own lip, fingers twitching about aggitatedly.
"Well, that's okay. I'm bike curious." Butters offered softly. There was a pause, a chuckle, and then Kyle was standing.
Before he could say you're welcome, Kyle was gone, and he was alone. He got to the class first though, and the teacher was so busy chewing him out she never noticed Kyle slip in. And, well, that was okay, because Kyle had a reputation to uphold and if he had made one person smile that day, he was happy with life.
She was really pretty, even crying and with mascara dripping down her face. He had always thought Wendy was pretty, in looks sure, but mostly in personality. She was always strong and confident, outspoken, everything Butters wasn't.
It made him feel sick, seeing her cry. It was prom and Stan hadn't shown up, he was drinking with the guys the ones who didn't have dates and Oh God Butters how could he?
Butters didn't know how Stan could, but he walked twenty minutes to the closest store, and bought Wendy some new mascara. The snowballs that pelted him as he left - from younger kids no less - nasty words that start with f and ended in hate didn't bother him, because the look on Wendy's face when he handed her the little tube - how could she ever think he left her, for good? when she was sad no less - made it all worth while.
He escorted her from the boys bathroom - she had been hiding from Bebe, beautiful, blond, and with a date - to the doors of the gym. He took his picture with her, then disapeared, her whispered thank you burning into his ear from where her lips had touched him.
He watched from a distance as Stan showed up with the others, as Wendy went to him, more than willingly. He had been Wendy's "date" to prom, but she never once asked him to dance. And that was okay, because her and Stan made a great couple and he'd never ever dream of taking Stan's girl.
Two weeks after prom and Clyde was sitting beside Butters, broken arm held in a solid cast. The brown haired boy look frustrated, angry, and mostly hurt. Not even physically, but emotionally.
Clyde had always been a little slow, but trying to keep up with the classes, using his left hand rather than his right was killing him. He was certain he'd fail the exams. You almost couldn't read what he wrote anyway.
Butters had a pink pencil, and the eraser was Hello Kitty's head, and he knew Clyde hated Hello Kitty, but he still silently stole the other boys sheet of paper. It was a fill in the blankes, and as Clyde stared on, Butters completed both sheets in time with the teachers voice.
By the end of class, his hand was sore, but Clyde would have notes to study from, and that was good. That was really good, because if Clyde failed the exam, he'd fail the class, and they'd keep him back a year. There was no summer school anymore, not for this.
Clyde threw an ice ball at him and lunch, and yeah, okay, that kinda hurt, but the boy also gave him a thumbs up which was...kind of really cool. Clyde played football, and that made him cool. If he approved of Butters...
Well, then that made it all okay.
He didn't know much about Stan's sister, other than that she was evil. It was the summer just after his final year, and Shelly was home from college but...she looked sad. There was something about Kevin, Kenny's older brother - he was sure it had to do with jail, but wasn't sure - and Shelly was alone.
It was her birthday.
Butters knew what it was like to be alone on your birthday, so despite the cruddy weather he sloshed through the mud all the way to the store. He knew Shelly wouldn't know his name anyway, but he kept the letter anonymous.
When Shelly woke up that morning, there was a small bouqet of flowers, and a single white rose on the door step, addressed to her. She had almost cried, and Butters would never tell Stan, but Butters just smiled because he had done a good thing, making a girl happy like that.
He skipped home, without the milk his father had sent him to get, because shucks, roses cost a bit more than regular flowers. He got hollered at, and grounded, but it was cool. He was kind of sad, but there was a lonely girl not feeling so lonely, and that was because of him.
He wasn't even in South Park, he had just started driving, had to get away, get out. Then he was at a bar, and after two drinks he was on his ass in the snow, and his nose was bleeding and Jesus fucking Christ, I'm feminine lookin' that don't mean I'm gay!
Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, but Butters was actually, honestly straight, and he didn't want to be put in the hospital because he had doe-eyes and soft skin. That was just...well, it was bullshit!
He knew at the same time, that he'd never be able to fight anyone off. So Butters sat there, took a few hits, and nearly cried when someone with a rich, deep voice snarled for the bullies to go away. They scattered and he looked up, meeting a familiar face.
"Eric." He stuttered, eyes widening as he stared at a boy he hadn't seen for over two years.
"Butters." The voice was gruff, low, deep, refreshing. It was safety in a crowd of hate, because Eric'd never actually hurt him.
He took the hand that was offered to him, and let Eric drive him home, handing the keys to his moms car over willingly.
He didn't see Eric again, not for years, but that day something inside of him had changed; Butters knew what it was like to recieve, rather than give.