Good Things Come Out Of Alcohol

Drowning

( Stan's POV )

I asked both Kyle and Wendy if they wanted to accompany me to the party, yet they both said no. They're both dating Bebe in an open relationship. What are the chances?

I sigh wistfully, recalling all the good things we've been through in middle school and how that's changed over the years. We're all teenagers now, old enough to move out of our parents' homes and start families. Relationships have changed. People are growing apart. Even though I still have friends, this is just another worry begging me to patch the hole it's ripped in my heart. Not with love, but with alcohol, my best friend right now.

I enter the party and, as usual, lazily plop myself down on a stool by the bar. Kenny, the bartender of the night, grins at me before sliding over a full bottle of plain vodka. I gulp it down and order another. Of course, I get it and am off to drink it somewhere unbelievably isolated.

As I sit below the stairs where spiders strive, I can't help but to notice a crowd. A crowd forming around one person, that is.

With the alcohol's side effects blurring up my vision, I squint my eyes to see none other than Butters Stotch, the center of attention. He's fighting with his douchebag vampire boyfriend, Mike. They're getting physical, both being drunken, but genuine.

Although it's none of my business, I quietly stand up and slowly shuffle my way to the front of the crowd. "Don't fucking hit me like that," Butters hisses in pain. Mike smirks, strutting over and kissing him. The poor blonde whines desperately, a call for help, but to no avail. Nobody helps him.

"Mine," Mike growls, biting his bare chest. It seems Butters was trying to escape from something sexual. Rape? No. He doesn't deserve that. Nobody would victimize such a sweet and innocent soul, right? The fake vampire's next move proves me wrong.

He grabs his partner's wrist and forcefully yanks him in the direction of a spare bedroom. I know he hears the desperate pleads and cries for it to "not happen tonight", but ignores it like a total jerk.

I watch as the bedroom door locks behind them and the crowd disperses. I must be getting sick because the next thought that pops into my head isn't just a request—It's a demand. Save Leopold. Leopold "Butters" Stotch must be saved.