Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beavis hummed happily to himself. He loved this game. He was sitting in Butthead's lap on the couch. Legs on either side of his friends body. His arms wrapped around Butthead's shoulders. Butthead's were hugging him, running his hands up and down along his ribs and back. 

They sat in the glow of the TV, as Butthead bit and sucked along the soft skin of Beavis' neck.

They were playing truth or dare, as they so often did, and Beavis had dared Butthead to give him a hickey (which he had recently heard about on an episode of Beverly Hills 90210). Butthead was giving him a lot more than one though.

"Hehehe. That feels, like, really cool...." Beavis breathed out. His eyes half lidded. He could sit here in Butthead's arms all night. And sometimes, he did.

"I can see all the marks on you, dude." Butthead said once he'd pulled away. Amused by his own work.

"Hehehe. The kids at school are gonna think I scored."

"Haha, settle down, Beavis. I, like, dare you to uhh..." He paused to think for a moment. "....I dare you to french kiss me."

"Mehehe!" Beavis grinned. "No problem!"

"Wait. Uhh, you brushed your teeth today, right dude?"

"Umm... Yeah..." He lied.

"Okay." Butthead smiled and closed his eyes. 

Beavis leaned in and kissed the other boy. His tongue freely exploring Butthead's mouth.

Butthead let out a low hum, as he pulled Beavis closer to him. Kissing Beavis felt so right. Even though Butthead knew it was just a game. Beavis would never want to kiss him for real. 

Beavis could feel Butthead's heart beating as he held him, bodies pressed close together. Everything was so perfect. He forgot they were in their dingy living room. It felt like him and Butthead were the only two people in the entire world. Nobody else existed in this divine moment. It was just him, and Butthead. The swelling in his heart, and the butterflies in his stomach. All of the confusing thoughts slipped right out of his head. He didn't want to think about how Butthead really felt about doing this, or if he himself liked boys or girls or if Butthead was secretly thinking about stupid jerk-face Todd. And so, he didn't.

All he thought about was how amazing this felt right here, right now. 

"Beavis I-"

SLAM!

Both of them jumped. Beavis felt his heart skip a beat. 

It was the front door slamming shut. Their mothers had come home early. And here they were. Beavis on Butthead's lap, in his arms. 

"What the hell is going on in here...!?" Beavis' mother demanded. It was obvious both women were drunk. Which only made Beavis more scared than he normally would be.

"Nothing...." Butthead said, shoving Beavis off of him, onto the couch.

"Doesn't look like nothing...." Butthead's mom sneered. She crossed her arms, looking down at the pair.

"It's, uh, not what it looks like." Beavis tried.

"Don't you lie to me!" Shirley screamed. 

"Butthead! Why the fuck were you kissing him!?"

"I-I-I dunno...." He stammered, visibly shaking.

"You are fucking disgusting!" 

"Where'd you learn thisshit!? I didn't raiseaqueer, Beavis!" She kept screaming, slurring her words, getting closer and closer to his face.

Beavis covered his ears with his hands. She was still yelling, and he couldn't even understand what she was saying anymore. It was loud, and frightening, and it was getting all jumbled in his head. 

"Listen to me when I'm talking to you!" She roughly pulled Beavis's hands away, and held his arms tight, down by his sides.

"That hurts...." he whined, trying not to let himself start crying. It would only make her more angry.

"I don't give a shit!"

"We really weren't doing anything!" Butthead tried again.

"I will beat your ass if you lie to me...!" Butthead's mother, Misty, warned. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him to his feet. She looked him up and down before she spoke again. "...You make me sick...." She shoved him back onto the couch. "I'm gonna have to think of a real good punishment for you!"

And boy, did she ever.... 

Beavis and Butthead had hoped maybe their moms would be so drunk, they wouldn't remember any of this in the morning. But, no such luck. 

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It wasn't until about noon that a groggy Beavis finally rolled out of bed. He rubbed his eyes, and wandered into the living room. It was empty. That was odd...He wandered into the kitchen and found his mom. That was even stranger. She was never home during the day.

She was sitting on the old chrome kitchen chair, legs tucked underneath her on the seat. She was smoking what was definitely not her first cigarette of the day, based on the overflowing ash-tray on the table. 

"Umm, where's Butthead?" he asked. 

"Beavis... Sit down, sweetheart. We need to have a talk."

"Uh, are you still, like, mad?"

"Come here, Beavis..." she said again. She put her cigarette between her lips and held it there, patting her lap and motioning him to come over.

Hesitantly, Beavis did. She pulled him down and sat the teenager on her lap. Taking her cigarette from her mouth, and placing it in the ash tray.

"Sweetie. I'm sorry for yellin' at ya' last night. I shouldn't'a done that."

"Umm... It's okay..." Beavis replied, just wanting this conversation to be over.

"But ya' have'ta understand. What you were doing is wrong."

"It didn't feel wrong...."

"Of course not. But that was the devil puttin' those good feelings in you."

"It was?"

"Yes. He was tempting you with sin. Beavis, you could go to hell."

"Hell!? Really!?"

"Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna help you. We're gonna make all those bad thoughts you been having go away."

"But... What about Butthead? Where is he?"

"We thought it'd be better if you and Butthead didn't see each other this Summer."

"Huh-But-What?" Beavis frowned. He and Butthead had been inseparable for as long as he could remember. "Well, where is he?"

"On his way to Ackerly. T'stay with his Uncle Huck."

"Uncle Huck?" Beavis repeated. "No way! You can't make Butthead stay there! That guy's a dillhole!"

"Beavis, just forget about it. We need to focus on you."

"But-"

"Beavis! Shh...Shh...."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Butthead bit the inside of his cheek as they passed a sign that read; Ackerly 10 Miles. 

Only a few hours ago, he'd been playing truth or dare with Beavis. Feeling his soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips. Now, he was almost in Ackerly. Dreading the rest of his summer. Uncle Huck...

When his mother said the name, it conjured up an ancient memory of some long ago Christmas. Sitting on the floor with Beavis. Crying. Bawling his eyes out. Uncle Huck swaying back and forth above them, in a drunken stupor.

He felt there was more to the memory, but his mind couldn't hold onto it. The beginning and the end slipped away whenever he got close. Only a fragmented piece that no longer made sense remained.

Even though he couldn't remember too much about his uncles, he knew not to let himself get stuck in Ackerly with no money of his own. He'd called his manager at Burger World and had himself transferred to a location here for the summer. Before his mother dragged him out of the house.

She said he needed male influences in his life, or he'd turn into a pansy.

Butthead just stared out the window with a scowl. Chin propped up on his fist. He was going to miss out on so many fireworks explosions. Beach trips. Late night Maxi-Mart runs, vending machine robberies... Beavis better not even think about having fun without him. 

"You suck...." he murmured. "Me n' Beavis were, like, just playing a game...."

His mom didn't respond. Instead, she just turned up the radio. 'What a bitch...' he thought.

When they eventually got to his uncle's place, Butthead was less than impressed. Not that he was really expecting much, but he supposed he was expecting more than this....

It was a run-down double-wide trailer. The paint was all peeling, and one of the windows was boarded up. It was surrounded by over-grown grass and bramble and.... That's pretty much it. It wasn't in a trailer park, or even really in the town. It was sort of just off on it's own. A little ways down a dirt road off the main highway. The afternoon sun blazed down, reflecting off the tin roof.

His mom didn't bother to say goodbye, just grunting a "go on." He got out of the car, and she had driven off before he had even finished slumping his backpack over his shoulder. 

As he made his way up the walkway, he took notice of everything littering the yard. A pipe wrench, a bicycle, some old copper pipe. All of it rusted. He didn't bother knocking.

"Uncle Huck?" he called, the light-weight door slamming behind him. Nearly getting caught on the breeze.

"He aint here, boy..." a voice said. Stepping into the kitchen (which the front door lead into), was a young man holding a can of beer in one hand. He was soon followed by another. Both baring a striking resemblance to Butthead himself, though both were much taller. 

Unlike Uncle Huck, Butthead was actually semi-familiar with them. They came into Highland every once in a blue moon. They were uncles too, he was pretty sure. Cooper was about 26, Darryl more like 22.

Cooper put his beer can down on the kitchen counter, and gave Butthead a look-over. "They still call you Butthead?"

"Uh, yeah. What else would they call me, dumbass?" 

The two snickered to each other, like they knew something he didn't. Butthead scowled. "What!?"

"Nothin'....Nothin'...."

"Boy, you're gonna have one hell of a time."

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll find out..."

Butthead raised an eyebrow. "Uhh, okay. Where can I like, put my stuff? Which rooms mine?"

"Look around, dummy. It look like we got a guest room? You can sleep on the couch in the living room."

Great. No privacy. "This sucks..." He stepped into the living room and tossed his backpack on the couch. Everything was so cramped. All they had room for in there besides the sofa, was a TV that looked like it was from the 1960's, and an old armchair, torn with stuffing coming out of it. "Where's the can?" he asked.

Darryl pointed to one of the doors, and Butthead went inside.

He had to piss so bad. Of course his bitch mother wouldn't pull over and let him go on the side of the road, or even at a gas station. He pulled himself from his shorts and let out a sigh as he was finally able to relieve himself. 

When he was finished, he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was getting too long, and would obnoxiously hang in his eyes. He wet his fingertips in the sink and used them to comb his hair back. Then, he wet his palms and half-heartedly washed underneath his armpits. He was sweating like a pig, and he'd only been here a few minutes.

As he opened the door, he saw his uncles in the living room. The contents of his bag spilled out all over the floor. Clothes, and some pencils and notebooks from school he never bothered to take out. They were both stuffing the few coins that'd been at the bottom of his backpack into their pockets.

"Hey! Get outta there, butthole!"

"What the hell's an asst mang?" Cooper asked, Butthead's Burger World name tag in his hand. 

"Assistant Manager, dumbass!" He stomped over to them, and started gathering up his stuff.

"Ooh, Assistant Manager. Real impressive," he said, tossing it away. Butthead picked it up from where it'd landed on the floor, and added it to the pile on his lap.

"Well! Who's this?" Darryl grinned. He turned the photo to his brother, and Butthead's stomach dropped. It was a glossy print-out of him and Beavis showing off their Gwar concert shirts. Daria had taken it for her fashion section in the school paper. "This your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Yer mama told us everything," Cooper laughed. "Yer a little fairy boy!"

"No I'm not! Give that back!" He reached out to grab the picture, but of course Darryl yanked it back. Holding it just out of his reach.

"God, the two'a you sure are ugly."

"Just gimme the picture, Asswipe!"

"Fine!" he laughed, crushing the photo between his fingers. He tossed the crumpled ball over his nephew's head, and it landed behind him on the floor. 

Butthead clenched his fists, nearly growling in anger. The two of them ignored him, walking right passed him and out the front door. Butthead was at least a little relieved when he heard their truck pull away.

He picked the photo up off the ground, trying his best to flatten it out. Of course, it was still creased all over. He sighed in defeat, stuffing it back in his bag, along with the rest of his stuff. 

He picked the phone up off the coffee table and dialed home. It rung and rung and rung. No answer.

"Ugh!" he slammed the phone down on the receiver, a 'ding' ringing out through the trailer.  

This was going to be a long summer...

Chapter Text

RIIIING RIIIING

"Ugh...." Beavis stirred. Without opening his eyes, he groggily answered the phone on the bedside table. "Hello...?" he answered, voice horse from sleep.

"Beavis! Where the hell were you yesterday?"

"Ugh...Mom...Being weird..." he rubbed his eyes and sat up on the bed. As tired as he was, he wanted to know what was going on with Butthead. For the first time, he noticed he was in Butthead's bed. He went in here yesterday to look for something, and ended up lying on the bed, utterly depressed for hours. He must have fallen asleep.

"Your mom's being weird? My mom, like, drove me to Ackerly!"

"Ohh yeah...." Now it was all coming back. "Are you with your uncle Huck?"

"No. I haven't seen him yet."

"I hate that guy. He's a butthole!"

"I don't even remember him, dude."

"Don't you remember what he did to us?"

"Uhh...No...."

Beavis said nothing. He was way too tired to open up that can of worms.

"My other stupid, bunghole uncles live here too. They dumped a glass of water on my head to wake me up. Then they gave me this stupid list of chores! They said they'll kick my ass if I don't do em'. This sucks, Beavis!"

"You should, like, just come back to Highland."

"I'm trying!" Butthead exclaimed. Pacing back and forth in the living room, the base of the phone dragging behind him by the cord as he did so. "I'm gonna do some shifts at the Burger World here so I can, like, try and buy a bus ticket or something. But I don't know how I'll have time with these butt-goblins making me bust my ass for them!"

"Eh, that sucks, Butthead... My mom's making me go to some church thing today."

"What the hell? What church thing?"

"I don't know. It's like, a class or something. It's supposed to, um, make me better."

"Better?" Butthead raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. So I don't, like, go to hell or whatever."

"Why would you go to hell for playing truth or dare? That's stupid."

"It sucks! I don't wanna go to class in Summer!"

"It's better than what I'm doing."

"What's on your chore list?"

"Uhhh...." Butthead picked up the list, reading it for the first time. Holding it closer to his face as he did so. "Mmm....Mm owe....Oh. Mow the grass....Clean the ba....Bat....Bathroom.... Do the dishes... Ugh! There's like 50 things on this list!" In reality, there were about 6. 

"Oh crap...." Beavis whispered.

"What?"

"I think my mom's up... I'm not supposed to be talking to you..."

"Fine. I'll call you tonight when she's passed out."

"Heh heh, okay...." 

As Beavis heard footsteps from the hallway approaching, he quietly hung the phone up, and acted like he was putting on his socks. Though, he'd actually slept in his clothes.

"Beavis..." Shirley said, pushing open the bedroom door. The strap of her nightgown hanging off of one shoulder. Makeup from the night before smeared on her face. "Don't you have anything nicer to wear?"

"Umm...No..." What did she mean, like dress clothes? He hadn't owned dress clothes since he was a little kid. He bought his own clothes now, which meant he owned one pair of shorts and a couple of band t-shirts.

"Don't you even have a pair of blue jeans?"

"Umm, yeah, but, like, they have the Burger World logo on the back pocket. Hehe."

Shirley frowned. "Yer gonna look like a slob in church. Whatever. Just get in the car."

When Shirley dropped her son off in front of the church, he was hesitant to even climb the steps. It was so unfamiliar to him.

Sure, he'd been here for a few holiday's as a kid, and was even a choir boy when he was little (before being kicked out after a day and a half.) But now, the building was just that. A building. It blended into the background. A familiar landmark in Highland he and Butthead had no use for whatsoever. A place he passed by without giving it a second thought. 

He pushed open the heavy door. The building was empty and dimly lit. 

"Uhh, anybody here?" he called. His voice echoed through the room. He stepped further into the church, hearing the door slam behind him, which made him jump a little. As he walked towards the back of the church, he noticed a sign on the wall. Red construction paper with the words 'Youth Support Group' written on it, and an arrow pointing down. 

Beavis followed the arrow with his eyes, seeing a door. Opening the door revealed a set of stairs. Cautiously, he made his way to the church basement. Part of him wondered why he was even doing this. He could just leave... But mom hardly ever asked him to do anything. He didn't want to disappoint her.

The church basement was brightly lit, the floor covered in orange shag carpeting. In the centre of the room were some plastic green chairs, arranged in a circle. 

"Oh thank goodness...." Somebody mumbled as they saw Beavis approaching. He knew him. It was that PAT kid from school.

"Uh, hey, how's it going...?" Beavis mumbled, taking a seat. This would be so much easier if Butthead was with him.... It was so strange to do anything without him. Then again, this entire situation was strange. 

In front of him was a young man, maybe about 24, with a sort of surfer hair cut and thick, square glasses. He was wearing a cross necklace and a white t-shirt with red rings around the collar and sleeves. An image of a lake and some trees, with the words Highland Bible Camp printed across it.

"I see we have a new face in our support group," he said, looking directly at Beavis. "I'm youth pastor Max. Everyone here is struggling with the same thoughts you are. Some have even acted on it. There's no judgement here," he smiled. "We can all be free to talk honestly about our experiences. What's your name, young one?"

"Uhh... Beavis...."

"Welcome, Beavis."

Beavis cocked an eyebrow. Max sort of reminded him of Mr. Van Driessen. But he was also different somehow.... Looking around, he didn't recognize anybody else. They probably went to different schools. 

Beavis looked over at his classmate. He was nervously playing with his hands.

"Anthony," Max addressed him, "Why don't you continue with what you were sharing?"

"Umm... Okay..." he bit his lip, glancing at Beavis for a moment. Perhaps comforted by the fact that someone he knew was struggling like he was. "I... Well, I..."

"The first step is admitting it," Max said.

"I.... I like boys..." he croaked out. "I try not to. I pray and I try to think about other things, but... It doesn't work."

"Don't worry, young one. It will work. What about you, Beavis?"

"Um, what?"

"Why are you here?"

"Well, I guess cause my mom made me..."

Max blinked. "And she did that, why...?"

"Oh. Um, well. Me and my friend were playing truth or dare. And we started daring each other to, like, touch each other, and kiss and stuff. And, I got these cool hickies, check it out," Beavis pulled at his shirt collar, displaying the marks on his neck. "Hehe. Um, anyways, my mom, like, caught me and Butthead kissing."

"I see... You were engaged in sinful acts, not just sinful thoughts."

"Well....I guess so.... Hey, Anthony? Um, didn't Buzzcut, like, say it was okay?"

"Buzzcut?" Max asked.

"Yeah. He's like, our health teacher."

"And is he a man of God, Beavis?"

"Um, I don't know...." he admitted.

"Beavis. People are flawed. We all have original sin. God is the only one who knows the truth of the universe, and he is the only one we can trust."

"I just don't understand what's so wrong.... We didn't hurt anyone. Like, really."

"You don't have to understand why it's wrong. You just have to not to do it."

"Oh...." Beavis frowned. This was even more confusing than school. 

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"Ugh!" Butthead grunted, trying to get the push-mower over a particularly rough patch. The yard seemed like it hadn't been mowed in months, and just like everything else on the property, the mower was rusty. 

Sweat was forming on his brow. He wanted something to drink, but the tap water was brown and tasted absolutely repugnant. And all that was in the fridge was beer. He would never admit it in front of anyone else, but he hated the taste of beer. 

As he continued to struggle, he turned his head as he heard something. Coming up the road, he saw a blue 1950's Ford pickup truck. It turned, and parked itself just a few inches from Butthead. 

"Cousin Richie!" he tossed down the mower and ran up to the truck, like an excited puppy.

"Hahaha. Hey!" his cousin said, getting out of his vehicle. "Long time no see, Butterscotch!" 

Butthead grinned as Richie ruffled his hair. His cousin was a tall, lanky young man, with long, unwashed hair, and two missing teeth. But he had a warm personality Butthead had always gravitated towards. Totally different than the rest of the Head's.

"My mom sent me here as punishment. Cooper and Darryl are Buttholes!"

"Yeah, I know..." Richie gave him a re-assuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry too much. You're a lot smarter than the two of them."

"Can you take me for lunch? I'm freaking starving."

"I"m just here to grab something, Butter-Biscuit." Richie said, walking with purpose up to the trailer. He swung open the door, but Butthead stopped him.

"Hey! Don't! Take your shoes off!"

"Why do you care?"

"I just, like, mopped that whole stupid floor! I don't wanna have to do it again."

"Damn, little cuz. What're you bustin' your britches for? This place hasn't been clean the whole time they've had it."

"I told you. Cooper and Darryl are buttholes. They're making me do all this crap!"

"So, tell em to screw off."

Butthead frowned. Giving his cousin a look that told him he wasn't going to do that. He knew the kid would never say as much to him, but he could tell. He was scared. Shit, Richie knew what the brothers were like. Butthead's assessment wasn't wrong. 

Richie kicked off his work boots before entering the trailer. By the time he came back out with a pipe wrench, Butthead was attempting to use the mower again. 

"Ugh! Stupid piece of crap!" he grunted, trying to force it forward. 

"Okay, this is just painful to watch," Richie tossed the wrench in the back seat of his truck before taking the push-mower from Butthead. Butthead followed him to the shed, where he laid it down on the workbench. Using some CLR and a rag, he wiped away the rust spots from the blade. Then he greased the gears with a can of wd40. "That'll work much better now."

"Huhu, thanks Richie. You're, like, smart and stuff."

"Yeah, well, you know, this stuff aint just for huffing."

"Hey, I don't even do that anymore. I mean, not that much...."

"Yeah...Yeah...Look. You still hungry?"

"Uh, yeah. And thirsty."

"Okay. Get in the truck. I'll get ya' something."

"Cool!"

"Well, who knows when those useless turds'll be back."

Butthead felt his stomach grumble. Last time he'd eaten, he'd still been in Highland. 

His cousin drove him into town. Although Butthead was disappointed when he stopped at the local supermarket. He hated grocery store food...

"What's all this healthy crap?" Butthead complained, as he trailed behind his cousin down the aisle. 

"You can't live off of maxi mart nachos and frozen burritos. You'll croak before you're thirty."

Butthead crinkled his nose. "Who the hell wants to live past thirty anyways?"

"Yeah, yeah. You won't think that way when you've got a wife and kids to worry about."

"Pfft. Yeah right."

"What?" he asked, placing a case of bottled water in the cart.

"Chicks don't even like me..." he admitted. "I don't want water. I just want some coke."

"You have to drink water if you're working out in the sun. Don't be stupid."

"I'm not stupid!" he shot back defensively. 

"Whoa. Chill out."

'Well, I'm just saying...." he mumbled."Hey, can I at least have some Yoohoo?"

"Yeah, sure...."

Once they were back in the car, Butthead tore into the pre-made deli sandwich instantly. His bites were so big, it was hard for him to swallow them.

"Slow down...."

gulp. "Sorry..."

"So... Are ya' gonna tell me what you got in trouble for? Must have been pretty bad to be sent to this dump."

"Nothing."

"Come on."

"Well. Just playing some stupid game with Beavis. We weren't doing anything...."

"You're still friends with Beavis?"

"Uhh, yeah. Of course I am."

"Ah, jeez. I remember when the two of you were in diapers. You were hell on wheels back then... Can't imagine what you guys get up to now."

"Huhu. Yeah... Smashing mail boxes and egging cars and stuff. We're pretty cool."

"So, is that the game you were playing?"

Butthead shook his head. "We were just, like, sitting at home."

"Right..." Richie could tell he was lying, but decided not to press the issue.

"You eating enough?"

"That's what my english teacher always asks me."

"Are you hungry at school?"

"Why're you asking me all this stuff?"

"Guess I just worry. I remember when you were a baby, when the family'd be together. You'd cry and cry and cry, n' everybody just ignored you. Never really got any better. I remember when all the aunts and uncles would be sitting around the table, drinking. You would come up and try to say something, and every time you opened your mouth, your mama would smack you across the face."

"Oh...." Was all Butthead could say.

"That reminds me. Piece of advice when stayin' with Huck and them. Make yourself scarce. Just do what they tell ya', and try and make em' forget you're even there."

"Uhh... Okay. I'll try."

Chapter Text

"And you, shook me aaalll niiight looong!" 

Butthead sang along to the tinny little radio in the kitchen. He was just finishing up the last of the dishes. Although, at the moment, what he was actually doing was singing into a spoon while the water ran.

"Yeah you! Shook me aaalll niiight loooong!" 

He shifted the spoon in his hand, and began drumming with it on the edge of the sink.

"Working double time on the somethin' line
She's one of a kind, and she's mine, all mine..."

When he heard the front door swing open, hitting the wall of the trailer with force, he dropped the spoon. It clattered in the sink. His face turned bright red. God, he hoped they hadn't heard him.

He went back to the task at hand, his uncles chattering behind him. Maybe they'd just leave him alone....

Butthead finished up, putting the last few pieces of cutlery on the drying rack. When he turned around, he immediately noticed that his two uncles had their shoes on. 

"Augh!! You butt-pipes!"

"Huhu. What's your problem?"

"You're wearing your shoes! I spent all day cleaning this crappy trailer!"

"Oh, well, I guess yer gonna have to do it again tomorrow," Darryl smirked.

"You guys suck!"

"Eh, shut up before I shut you up..." Coop said, but it didn't sound very threatening. 

"And, like, where the hell is Uncle Huck anyways?" Not that Butthead wanted to see him, but now he was really wondering what was going on.

"He works late."

"That reminds me. He'll be hungry as hell. You better have dinner ready when he gets here."

"Uh, no way! I'm not cooking for you asswipes..."

"Don't ya' know how, Mister Assistant Manager?"

"'Course I do! But I only cook for people I like. And there's almost nobody that I like... And I sure as hell don't like any of you!"

"You've gotta do what we tell you, remember?"

"Screw that..."

"Yer being punished, dumbass." Darryl smirked.

"Why're you making me do stuff like this? I'm not a chick you know!"

"Well, you sure bitch like one!" Coop shot back.

"Shut up!"

"If you ever wanna see Highland again, you'll start listening..."

"Why don't you guys, like, get a wife? And then she can do this crap for you...."

"Why don't you go change your tampon?"

"I don't have one, dumbass."

"Butthead, just shut up. You're not gonna win."

"I did all the stupid crap you wanted me to to do all day! I'm not doing anything else."

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up?" Coop asked.

"I know how to shut him up," Darryl took a couple of steps towards his nephew, swiftly backhanding him across the face.

Butthead stood in stunned silence. His eyes wide. He hadn't expected that. He remembered being smacked in the mouth all the time as a child. He gave up on trying to talk to adults. Especially his mother. Even if he and Beavis were talking to each other. If it got too loud, someone would come into the room and hit them. If they kept talking to each other, eventually it would escalate into a full-blown beating. And he didn't exactly feel like getting his shit kicked in by his two drunken, hick uncles right now.

"See? Told you..." He heard his uncle smirk.

Butthead felt something dripping from his lips. He wiped it away, thinking it was spit. His fingertips however came back covered in blood. When Darryl hit him, he cut the inside of his mouth on his braces.

Butthead let out a sharp breath, slinking away to the kitchen sink to wash it off. It took everything in him not to cry. He did not want to cry in front of these buttholes.

Butthead hated being told what to do. Who was he? Cinder-Butt? Forced to serve his evil, bumpkin family? He wished Cousin Richie would come over again. He would stick up for him...

Looking through the cupboards, it wasn't too surprising to find them mostly empty. Didn't anyone in his stupid, useless family, ever buy anything besides beer? His stupid mom was no different. Butthead decided to make the couple of boxes of off-brand mac and cheese. He at least knew how to make that... He made sure to spit a huge loogie into the pot as he stirred in the powdered cheese.

Dinner was awkward. Firstly, because Butthead couldn't even remember the last time he actually sat at a table to eat dinner. If he ever even had. And secondly, because his Uncle Huck was there. The man both Beavis and Richie had vaguely warned him about (although they both failed to provide any kind of useful detail.)

Butthead's uncle was an overweight man, with grey hair. He looked to be in his mid 50's, but in reality, he was only a few years older than Butthead's mom. He had a huge, disgusting mole on the back of his hand, which Butthead tried not to look at while he ate. He snorted when he talked, when he ate, and even sometimes when he breathed. 

"So..." he said, between shovelling fork-fulls of mac and cheese into his mouth. "How old are you now? Thirteen?"

"Fifteen...."

Butthead felt the cut on his inner lip sting every time he took a bite.

"You look younger than fifteen."

"Uhh... Okay...?"

"You the one that cut the grass out front."

"Yeah."

"Gotta be careful out there alone."

"Uh, Richie, like fixed the mower, dude."

"That son of a bitch was over here?"

Butthead just nodded, chewing another mouthful.

"Still. Shouldn't be out in the yard all by yerself."

"Uhh, what's the big deal?"

"There's a bigfoot 'round these parts."

"Bigfoot? I thought bigfoots were, uh, maple leaf."

"What?" Coop asked flatly.

"You know, like, pretend."

"Oh, they're real. Seen this one out there more than once. Skinny kid like you... He could just carry you right off."

"What the hell would a bigfoot want with me?"

"You don't wanna know."

Butthead brought his fork to his mouth, hissing in pain when he accidentally scraped his braces along the cut while trying to take a bite. He dropped the fork on the table and clutched his mouth with his hand. 

"What's wrong boy? Don't you know how to eat?"

"Yes!" Butthead shot back in annoyance. "He cut my lip!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at Daryl. "He hit me!'

"Butthead, you gotta behave in this household. Or ya' get hit. That's called a consequence.  That's yer whole damn problem. Yer mama doesn't give you no consequences. Well, you sure as hell are gonna get em' here."

Butthead just screwed up his face, opting to eat in silence for the rest of the meal. Doing his best to tune out his uncles' inane banter. No consequences? Shows what he knows.

That night Butthead found himself back on the couch. It was uncomfortable. It was hard, and the polyester was scratchy. He wished he was back on his own couch. It was worn out, but it was soft and warm.

It was so strange. He felt so alone. He couldn't remember a time he'd gone to sleep without Beavis next to him. The entire concept was so alien. He looked over at the coffee table. Laid out flat was the now creased photo of him and Beavis. He picked it up and brought it closer. Beavis smiled wide back at him from within the glossy paper. With a sigh, he placed it under his pillow. As if that would somehow make him feel like Beavis was here. And maybe he could fall asleep.

It wasn't that he needed Beavis of course. Only a wussy would feel that way. He figured it was only because it was all he'd ever known. He'd been attached to the hip with Beavis since forever, and when they were apart, it never felt quite right.

And on top of that, it was strange to have anyone but Beavis in the house. Of course their moms were around sometimes, but more often than not they were left alone. Beavis and Butthead had depended on each other just to get by for so long. So of course he felt strange without him. That was the reason.

Hell, Beavis was the reason he learned how to make Mac and Cheese in the first place.

When they were little, they'd be left alone for days and days. Beavis would start crying.

"I'm hungry, Butthead! Feed me! Feed me!"

And Butthead would make him Mac and Cheese, or a microwave burrito, or whatever was in the house. If there was anything. Sometimes they'd have to eat peanut butter straight out of the jar. Sometimes they went looking around in the neighbours trash cans. But that was only if they got really desperate. 

So yeah, this was all pretty different. It was different, and that was really the only reason he couldn't fall asleep. 

The next day he woke up around 12:30. He had a shift at the local Burger World at 2:00, which he was oddly looking forward to. Well, more just looking forward to getting out of this trailer, and earning some money. He was hoping to get enough to buy a bus ticket out of this hell hole, though he didn't actually know how much one cost.

With no other way to get there, Butthead rode the rusty old bike he'd found in the yard. He remembered which way Richie had drove him yesterday. Though by the time he got there he was sweating like a pig, and felt like he was going to collapse.

He was panting heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead as he walked through the front door. He'd missed the lunch rush, so the place was empty. Then again, it was Ackerly. How big could the lunch rush be?

Wiping sweat from his face with his hand, he struggled to catch his breath.

"What'd you do, run here?" asked a young woman. The regular assistant manager, according to her name tag. 

"Sue Ellen...." Butthead said out loud. He was never good at reading in his head.

"You can read. That's good to know," she quipped. She looked to be about 18. Her hair was dark and greasy, and clung to her forehead. She had acne and overgrown eyebrows. But Butthead thought she could be pretty if she cleaned up a little. The irony of that thought lost on him.

"Rode my... Stupid bike..."

"Jeez..." 

Butthead adjusted his visor and made his way to behind the counter. When he got there, Sue-Ellen handed him a cup of water, which he quickly gulped down.

"Guess you should take the register. Wouldn't want yer sweat dripping into the food."

"Huhuh. That'd be cool...."

"Whatever..." She leaned in a little to read his name tag. "...Butthead? Is that your real name?"

Butthead shrugged. "I think so, dude."

"Hm."

"Huhuh. Hey, uh, Sue-Ellen? You ever like, take the fly paper down and throw it in the fryer? That's pretty cool."

"Eugh, gross. That's not even funny."

Butthead frowned. "Yeah it is...."

It was a quiet day, and without Beavis to screw around with, the time ticked by ever so slowly. Every once in a while Butthead took an order, and Sue-Ellen made it. Then he handed it to a customer. God. Working for real was horrible. How could anyone stand to do this?

"Ugh. This sucks...." He mumbled to himself. He would've walked out if he didn't need the money. 'Why? To get back to Beavis?' a voice asked him. 'Do you really miss Beavis this much? You wish he was here now, don't you?' well, yeah, i do, he answered himself. And so what?

Customers came and went. Moms with their kids, old people ordered coffee, teenagers with their friends. Butthead felt a jealous rage flair up in his stomach as he watched them talk and laugh with each other....

"So, what's it like in Highland?" Sue-Ellen asked. They made small talk in between working. Small talk sucked too.

"Uh... Like this but bigger I guess."

She shrugged. "Yeah, that makes sense. You have a girlfriend?"

"Uh, are you like, hitting on me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed, letting out a snort. "No! I was just wondering. I'm married."

"Whoa. Really? You, like, don't even look old enough to be married."

"I got married as soon as I finished high school."

"Uh, why?"

"What do you mean, why? Because I met someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. One day you'll meet someone like that, then I guess you'll understand. You're still young," she shrugged.

He already knew someone like that. He always pictured his future with Beavis. But did that mean he wanted to marry him? He really didn't know how he felt about Beavis. He made out with him. More than once. So that probably meant something. But he didn't really know what yet.

"Nobody in my family's married. 'Sept my cousin Richie."

"You never know."

Well, he sure didn't. Everything seemed so strange lately. He thought he knew what he was all about, but he was starting to realize that he didn't. He thought about Beavis, and Gina, and Pamela Anderson, and Todd. All of the thoughts and feelings he'd had about them. He didn't know what to make of it. Why did he picture Gina without her top on in class, only to go home and melt into Beavis' gentle touch and warm lips? Why did he spank his monkey to girly magazines, but jump at the opportunity to play truth or dare with his best friend? Truth or dare really just being code for 'let's kiss and touch each other without having to admit we want to.'

Why did his palms sweat, and his knees turn to jello whenever Todd so much as looked his way? Why did his insults and bullying make Butthead feel so good? That one was so confusing, he actually asked Buzzcut about it once. Not directly, of course.

During health class Buzzcut had this box with a slit in the top, where people could write down questions anonymously and he'd answer them in class. 

It was pretty embarrassing when Buzzcut answered it, because it was obvious he thought a girl had written it. Besides, Buzzcut's answer made no sense to him.

He was saying something about how it was unhealthy. Or, like, that people who were abused as kids end up in abusive relationships because they think it's normal, or they don't think they deserve to be treated good...Or was it, they think being mean is like love? Something like that... He couldn't remember. And he didn't understand the answer anyways. 

Around 5:00, while Sue-Ellen was taking out the garbage, Butthead was stuffing a couple of dollar bills from the cash register into his pocket.

He quickly closed the register when he noticed a customer walk in.

He was tall, dressed in cowboy boots, jeans and a leather vest. His arms were covered in colourful tattoos, and he had chains hanging from his pants and vest. 

Butthead could see his vehicle in the parking lot through the glass doors. A beat up jeep with no doors. Huge tractor tires and a sloppy green paint job.

He felt his stomach do a somersault. 

"I'll have a number two with fries," the man said in a gruff voice. 

"Uhh... Okay..." Butthead struggled to punch in the order.

What was wrong with him? God, he was such a freak. Why did he get this way around cool dudes? 

The man handed him a 20. Butthead took it, handing the man back four 5's.

The guy kind of chuckled, taking the cash from him without question. As he did so, he ran the tips of his fingers along Butthead's knuckles. 

"I never seen you in town before..."

"I'm like, from somewhere else..." Butthead answered, trying not to trip over his tongue. 

"You like it here?"

"Uhh, I don't know..." He could feel himself getting hard, hoping to God the guy didn't notice. 

It wasn't his fault. It was because he was being touched.

He now had Butthead's entire hand in his enormous one. He was pushing and kneading his huge thumb into Butthead's palm. Butthead didn't know what to make of this. He just stared back at him with wide eyes. Mouth agape.

He was saying something else, but he wasn't listening. Butthead was distracted by the strange, nagging urge to tear his own clothes off. But maybe that was because his wiener was pressed uncomfortably against the seem of his pants.

He felt his heart pounding in his chest. Head buzzing a million miles a minute. But the excitement in his stomach was turning to uneasiness. He didn't know what to make of any of this, so he just said;

"You're cool...."

"You seem like a cool dude yourself."

"Uh, I mean, like, you're car is cool..." He could feel his face burning red. He could swear for just a second, the dude stole a glance at his crotch. God, he could tell... 

The man chuckled. "maybe I'll pick you up some time and take you for a ride."

"Cool..."

The guy finally let go of him, and Butthead kept his arm extended for a moment before awkwardly taking it back. Sue-Ellen was probably still outside flattening boxes, so Butthead made the order himself. The best he could remember how.

Once the guy had left, Butthead found himself in the bathroom, splashing water on to his face.

He stared at himself in the mirror. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked himself.

He wished he could make sense of his own thoughts or feelings. 

'So, I thought he was cool. So what?' he asked himself. 'That's all.'

But that whole encounter was strange, wasn't it? Maybe he just thought Butthead was cool too....Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe it was normal. Or maybe it was really weird. Maybe he was attracted to cool older dudes. He ran his hands through his hair. He had felt a twinge of excitement over that encounter, he couldn't deny it.  

He didn't tell Sue-Ellen what had happened. He didn't want to, and couldn't have put it into words if he had wanted to.

"I'm heading home," she told him a couple hours later. "You close up, okay?"

"Uh, okay."

Of course, Butthead had no intention of doing so. He watched her leave and waited a few minutes until he could be sure she was far enough away. Rather than wait until closing time, he just shut it down now. He locked the register, turned off the lights and locked the doors. As if he was actually going to wait around here by himself. Screw that. It was already dark out.

As he walked across the parking lot towards the rusted old bike, he saw a sudden flash of light out of the corner of his eye. He whipped his head around, seeing a car across the lot with it's headlights on. Was it Sue-Ellen? As he looked closer he noticed it was in fact the run down green jeep.

He felt a sense of pride well up inside him. That dude came back, or maybe even waited around for him. 'He must think I'm, like, really cool.'

However, he soon felt a sharp fear wash over himself. He couldn't explain it. Like when you hear a loud noise in the middle of the night. He continued standing there, holding his bike.

He suddenly felt very small, and very helpless. He also had an odd sense of deja vu. He felt this exact feeling before, but he didn't have a clue when or where. 

Without giving it any thought, he jumped on his bike and started peddling as fast as he could. It was like an animalistic instinct, telling him he needed to get away. Far away from here. He road along the road, further and further into darkness. Even as he continued down the highway, away from town, far from the illumination of the street lights, he still looked back occasionally.

He didn't even know why he was so scared, but he was. All he could think was that he needed to get back to the trailer. Behind the protection of four walls. 

'He's just some cool redneck dude. Why are you being such a wussy?' he asked himself. 'I don't know,' he answered. 'I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. But I'm scared. I'm scared and I wanna go home. To my real home. I wanna watch TV with Beavis and eat his marshmallow crackers and forget I ever had this feeling.'

'You wussy!' he chastised himself. 'You are so pathetic.'

'It's not my fault!' he argued. 'Feelings suck... I hate them.' 

Chapter Text

A few weeks had gone by, and Beavis had fallen into a consistent pattern. Of course, every week he had to go to the stupid church class and listen to Max tell him how bad he was. Which Beavis still didn't really understand what he'd done wrong. But he was starting to feel guilty.

But not as guilty as Anthony, the PAT kid. He would shake and practically pull his hair out as he ran his hands though it.

"I try so hard...!" he told Max. "I don't want to be like this! But I keep having these thoughts. I pray and pray. Every night. God, please! Just make me normal! I wanna be normal! Why doesn't God help me?"

"God is helping you, Anthony," Max said. "But the devil is putting those thoughts in your head. You have to fight it."

"I'm trying..."

"Something that helped me. When you have those sinful thoughts, try and associate it with something disgusting. Think of maggots or human waste."

Beavis saw Anthony gag a little, but Beavis thought it was the first cool thing he'd heard Max say.

As if these classes, or whatever this was supposed to be, weren't bad enough, Beavis also had to make his way though a crowd of people with signs. He guessed they didn't like what was going on.

This particular day, as he was leaving the church, he noticed a familiar face in the crowd.

"Heh heheh. Hey Mr. Van Driessen!" 

"Beavis? Don't tell me you've been attending that awful conversion therapy?"

"Umm. It's a class to make me better or something. My mom makes me go."

"Oh Beavis..." His teacher looked down at him empathetically. "You don't need to be cured."

"Um. That's not what they said...."

David frowned. "You seem confused, Beavis."

"I am," he admitted.

"Maybe we should have a little talk about this...."

Beavis shrugged. Why not? Without Butthead, he had nothing to fill his days with anyways. 

He walked with his english teacher over to his house. Van Driessen's place was always like stepping into the 1960's. He had all of those weird old, big black CD's of bands Beavis had never heard of. The bean bag chair and lava lamp were kind of cool, though.

Van Driessen poured them some tea, and they sat down at the kitchen table.

"So, Beavis. What's going on?" David asked.

"Umm, I don't know. My mom makes me go to that church thing."

"So, Shirley's back? Haven't heard you mention her in a long time."

"Yeah..." Beavis muttered. "She's always around, I guess..." he said, staring into his mug. "She, like, comes in and out...."

"Where's Butthead?"

"Gone."

"Gone?"

"His mom sent him away... To his family in Ackerly."

David frowned. "For how long?"

Beavis shrugged. "Until school starts I guess... I don't know..."

"You must be lonely. You guys are practically joined at the hip."

"Hehe. That would be cool."

"Beavis, I'm not going to pry. You don't have to tell me why your mother is making you attend conversion. But I do want you to know something. Something very important. It doesn't matter if you love men or women. There's nothing wrong with you. It's perfectly normal."

"Um, are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"Can everyone tell?"

"Tell...?"

"There's something wrong with me..."

"But there isn't anything wrong with you."

"Uhh, I don't know Mr. Van Driessen.... I think there is.... Or something...."

"What do you mean? Why do you think that?"

"Umm.... I feel like people know something about me. And that's why, like, well. A lot of sort of, bad stuff has happened.... And I was sort of wondering if it keeps happening to me because i'm doing something wrong."

"Beavis.... I'm not sure I know what you're trying to say...."

"Like.... Like I'm doing something that makes people think I'm.... I don't know...."

"I know you and Butthead get picked on a lot. But that isn't your fault, either. Bullies bully to feel powerful, especially if they are being hurt themselves. You aren't doing anything to instigate it."

Beavis ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Umm... That's not what I meant.... Well, last year.... That grief councillor. He, like, invited me to his house. I shouldn't have gone...."

"What happened...?" David asked. His voice sounded weak. It didn't give Beavis much confidence, but now that he'd opened the gate on this subject, he felt compelled to continue. 

"I don't know.... I woke up, and everything was hurting.... He said nobody would believe me.... But Butthead did.... Well, not at first... But then he did. And he told me I probably got.... Umm, you know...." he brought the mug to his lips and spoke the next word into it. "....Raped..." his face turned red as he said it. "Butthead's pretty smart about that stuff.... Usually...."

David looked uncomfortable. He probably hadn't expected the conversation to take such a turn. "It's not your fault, Beavis...." He said automatically. He knew it was important Beavis know that.

The young man groaned. "Then why does it keep happening!?" He practically screamed. "I feel like there's, there's a big sign on my face telling people to.... To hurt me! I-I-I don't know what to do! And Butthead.... He pisses me off!"

David was silent.

"He acts like he doesn't remember anything! I try to talk about stuff that's happened to us, and he acts like he doesn't know what I'm talking about! I can't talk to anyone! And then I have to, I have to see that gross old woman around the neighbourhood. I have to listen to Butthead talk about how cool Todd and Earl are! How can he even say that!? It makes me so mad!" he shouted, slamming his fist against the table.

"Oh, Beavis..." 

Beavis looked over at his teacher and noticed he was crying. His eyes were wet with tears. He looked like a pathetic mess. "My mom says only weak men cry," he said bluntly.

"Then I guess.... I'm weak...." David replied. He took his glasses off momentarily to wipe his eyes. "You can talk to me, Beavis. If I knew this was happening I would have done something. I wouldn't have kept you in class with someone who had done that to you..." David was conflicted. He felt guilty. He felt heartbroken, knowing his students had been victims of something so awful. And worse, that one of the perpetrators was one of his own students. He was a failure.

"Don't cry, Mr. Van D. It, you know, didn't happen to you."

"You poor child..." Hasn't anyone every shown him compassion? 

David eventually found his composure. He wanted to at least help Beavis stop blaming himself. He did his best to explain. It wasn't anything Beavis was doing. That people were taking advantage of him because they knew he was vulnerable. "I suppose when everyone in town knows you have nobody looking out for you...."

"Butthead is supposed to be looking out for me!"

"Butthead is only a kid himself."

"I don't care!" Beavis folded his arms. "Ever since we were little, our moms said Butthead was supposed to look after me! But he's not!"

"What can he do?"

"He could talk to me at least! He always pretends he forgot everything! I tell him, Todd isn't cool. Don't you remember what he did to you? Don't you remember what your uncle did? But he always says stuff like, 'what are you talking about?' I can't take it! It makes me feel crazy or something! Like I imagined that stuff, but I know I didn't!"

"Beavis...." David placed a hand over the blond's trembling one. "You aren't crazy. I believe you."

"Why does he say that stuff?" he asked, finally looking at his teachers face. His warmth was somewhat comforting.

"Maybe...." David exhaled. "Maybe, he really doesn't remember."

"That's impossible."

"I know to you it must seem that way. But sometimes, especially with young people, their mind blocks things out. Certain memories get locked away, because they're too much for the person to deal with. They can't handle what happened, and so they forget. It's a defence mechanism. The brain trying to protect the person from something they aren't ready to face."

"Really? He could really just forget...."

"It happens a lot more than you might think."

"Well, he's lucky then...." Beavis grumbled.

"Maybe not...."

"What do you mean?"

"The memory isn't gone forever. One day it'll come back to him. Then, he'll have to confront it. When people remember things like that, it can be devastating. But you do know what happened. You can deal with it. One day you might even overcome it."

"Ehh... Yeah, right...."

"I know you can, Beavis. You're a survivor."

"No, I'm not...." Beavis shook his head. "I'm just a loser...." His voice began to break. "That's why everyone hates me so much...." As if a switch had flipped, he switched in an instant from being angry, to sobbing. "I was so scared....!" he whaled. "I was scared....! And it hurt...!" 

He threw himself at Mr. Vandriessen. Burying his face into his chest, his fingers digging into the fabric of the man's t-shirt. David wrapped his arms around his student, sensing his need for comforting.

"I...I thought it was, like, a bad dream..." he sobbed. Snot dripping from his nose. "I was so scared.... Chained to that wall.... It hurt.... It hurt so bad....I was screaming...and-and-and Butthead was crying-Butthead never cries!" His breathing was becoming erratic. It was hard to catch his breath, but rather than stop talking, he just gripped the fabric tighter. "And she just laughed-she liked hurting me! But I-I-I...."

"Shh... Shh... I know, Beavis. It's alright." David whispered, stroking Beavis' hair. "Breathe Beavis. Deep breaths.....Deep breaths..."

Beavis took several erratic, quick breaths. Tears streaming down his pale face. He was still in a panic. He felt like he was feeling everything he'd felt in those moments, all at once. "Th-they acted like they didn't know it was us! They knew it was us! They knew it! They knew it! You know who I am Earl, you son of a bitch! You know! You know! They just knew we'd never tell! That's why they did it!" 

"Beavis, Beavis! You've gotta breathe. You've gotta breathe.... Come on. Deep breaths, Beavis...."

Beavis finally started to obey, breathing in short breaths at first, but eventually he was able to inhale deep, and then exhale. Especially when David started doing it with him. He was right. It was helping him calm down. But as he became less wound up, his heart only became heavier. He felt sadder and sadder and more down the more his heart rate regulated.

Now, he was just crying softly into his teacher's chest. It was honestly such a relief to be able to get it out. He'd been bottling up all of his sadness and anger and fear for so long.

"You can talk to me whenever you need to," David told him. 

Beavis nodded, but didn't say anything more. 

"I know you've had your trust betrayed. I understand if you can't trust me."

Beavis just squeezed him tighter. He did trust him. Maybe it was stupid to, but Beavis knew Van Driessen really did care about him.

-------------------------------------------------------

Butthead's stomach grumbled. He was walking the rusted out bike up the sidewalk of downtown Ackerly. He'd just gone into Burger World to pick up his pay. He wanted to get some nachos at the gas station, so he stopped and took the envelope from his pocket and opened it.

"Dammit...." It was a check. An actual, physical check. Back home, him and Beavis were always paid in cash, since they didn't have bank accounts. What the hell was he supposed to do with this?

As he kept walking, he came to a pawn shop. As luck would have it, In the window was a sign reading We Cash Checks. 

"Cool..."

He leaned his bike up against the building, and went inside. The bell on the door ringing out as he opened it. 

He was momentarily distracted from the task at hand. The shop was full of some pretty neat things. Guitars, stereos, video game systems, paintings and posters, a rack of leather jackets. There was even a huge traffic light on a stand. 

"What can I do ya for?" asked the man behind the counter. The guy was a little on the short side, but muscular. He was bald, had three earrings on his right ear, and was wearing a suede jacket with fringes along the sleeves.

"Uhh... Oh yeah. I need to like, cash a check...." He walked over and placed the check on the counter. Butthead thought this guy looked pretty cool, yet he felt no confusing feelings over him. Which was a relief, because the encounter at Burger World a few weeks back was not something he wanted to experience again any time soon. 

"Ya' got some ID?"

Butthead unclipped his employee ID card from his jeans and placed it on the counter. The dude seemed satisfied, and went ahead and cashed the check. 

The teenager happily pocketed the money. "You've got, like, a lot of cool stuff in here."

"Sure do."

Butthead knelt down, pressing his nose up against the glass of the counter display case, looking at everything inside. "Where'd you get all this stuff?"

"People come in and sell it. Been open 30 years. Built up quite a collection."

"Whoa! What's that?"

"Butterfly knife."

"How does it work on butterflies?"

"That's just what it's called kid. On a count of how it opens. Got nothing to do with actual butterflies."

"Oh.... What're all these rings in here?"

"Those are mostly fraternity rings. That one there is Knights of Columbus ring, and that one there is a Free Mason one," he said, pointing to them.

"Cool.... What about that one?" he asked, pointing to a large silver ring in the shape of a pentagram. It had small red stones at each of the stars points.

"That's more of a novelty item. The stones aint real or nothing. It's, I believe, from a member of the Satanic temple."

Butthead's eyes lit up. "That's cool!  Can I see it?"

"Sure thing." The man opened up the display case and got the ring out, placing it on the counter. 

Butthead picked it up and examined it, Turning it over in his hands several times. "I never seen a ring that was so cool before. Where'd it come from?"

"I think my partners the one who bought it."

"How much is it?"

"Fifty."

"Fifty dollars?" Butthead sighed. "That sucks.... I'm trying to save up for a bus ticket. But, like, this ring is really cool. I wanna buy it for my friend, Beavis. Since I'm gonna, like, miss his birthday and stuff."

"Well.... Michael knows more about the jewelry and stuff then me. Lemme get em', and I'll see what we can do. Okay?"

"Okay..." Butthead replied, trying the ring on one of his fingers. He knew if Beavis were here, he'd just love it. He'd never been away from him for this long before, he was really starting to miss him....

The guy returned shortly with who Butthead assumed was Michael. He was a tall, skinny man with a long ponytail and a silk button-up. 

"That stupid thing? Oh. Tell you what. You can have it for 20."

"Really? Thanks," Butthead grinned and handed over a 20 dollar bill. As Michael took it, Butthead noticed the ring on the man's own hand. It was shaped like a snake, wrapped around his finger. "Hey. That's pretty cool," he said pointing to it. "Do you have any more like that?" 

Michael chuckled. "Oh no. We had these custom made. They're a very unique set, made to my own specifications,"

They both held their ring fingers up, revealing the matching snakes. When they put them together, the tails intertwined with each other.

"That kicks ass! I have a best friend too. That's who I'm, like, buying this for."

"Best friend? That's cute."

"Huhu. Don't make fun of me. You guys are the ones who got matching ones."

"Yes, but we're a little more than best friends...." To demonstrate his point, Michael embraced the other man from behind and gave him a quick kiss.

Butthead's mouth hung open. "You guys are like...." he blinked a few times. "I didn't know cool guys could be.... Uhh... You know..."

"Gay?"

Well, he knew some other, much less flattering words for it. Curtesy of his family. But he just simply nodded. 

"You'd be surprised..." The bald man shrugged.

"My mom said they're all pansy's. That's why she sent me here to learn to be a man. I mean-!" Butthead felt his face heat up, realizing what he'd just said. "Not me...! I mean, uhh....Well... Like, not because...I...! I didn't mean it like that....!" 

"Whoa, kid. Don't have an aneurism."

Butthead covered his mouth with his hand. He knew his face was beat red now. He didn't want to let that slip! But he also didn't want to insult these guys. He really did think they were cool. "I don't think you're pansy's. That's just what my mom said," he clarified. 

"It's okay."

"...About me... She said it about me...Really....I was just playing truth or dare....."

"Sounds like you're trying to figure yourself out," Michael said.

"Well... Maybe.... I don't know..." Butthead took his money and his ring and put them in his bag. "Um, thanks for the stuff..." he said awkwardly as he left. 

He hoped those guys didn't think he was gay. But... They were gay. So, they wouldn't care, right? So why did he care? Maybe his mom had more influence over him than he thought. Or maybe it was because everyone was such an asshole about it.

Butthead grabbed his bike and hopped on as soon as he was out of the store. He wondered if those snake rings were wedding rings. He didn't think a guy could marry another guy, but then again, there were a lot of things he didn't know. If him and Beavis grew up and owned a cool store like that, and dressed cool like those guys.... That would be cool.... Butthead grinned to himself. 

He wanted to go home and call Beavis. He hadn't talked to him in so long. Maybe hearing the little butt-munch's voice again would help him figure things out. Or maybe it would just make him feel normal again.

The sidewalk Butthead was riding on started to curve. Going downhill, giving the bike more momentum. He was coming to a busy intersection, but when he went to use the breaks by peddling backward the bike didn't stop. The peddle didn't hit the break, it just kept going, all the way around. He tried using his feet to stop, but the bike was too tall for him. Meaning his feet didn't actually reach the ground. "Shit!"

He tried to turn, to avoid the street, but it was too late. The bike sped into the intersection. He panicked. Vehicles blew their horns, skidding to a stop. Slamming on their breaks. His front wheel hit a pot hole, and he was sent flying off of his bike, onto the hard pavement below.

He cried out in pain, the only response he heard were drivers screaming at him. Calling him names. But he was hardly even paying attention. He felt dizzy, and disconnected. Like his mind had to catch up to what his body had just experienced.

He looked around. Someone was getting out of their truck. Shaking his fist and pointing at him as he ranted. Normally, Butthead would just run away. But he didn't. He just kept lying on the pavement. 

"Get outta the road! What the hell's the matter with you!?"

Butthead just stared at him. His ears were ringing. The man began advancing towards him, but someone else ran up and stopped him.

It was his cousin. Richie. 

"Hey, hey. That's my cousin. I'll take care of this, okay?"

Butthead watched them exchange words for a moment, before Richie made his way over to him. Richie took Butthead by one hand, and placed his other hand on the small of Butthead's back, helping him stand up.

"Owe!" Butthead winced. 

"It's okay. I got ya'."

"My chain broke...." his voice was weak.

Richie just walked him over to his blue truck, and helped him into the passenger seat. He watched as he retrieved the shitty old bike, as well as Butthead's backpack from the road. He tossed the bike in the box of the truck and then got in, handing Butthead his bag.

"Are you okay? Did you get hit?"

"No... I just fell." He held his hands up, showing Richie they'd been scraped. His left palm was bleeding pretty bad. 

"Here...." Richie reached into the back seat and tossed Butthead a roll of paper towels. His backseat was absolutely filled with junk and tools. Butthead tore off a paper towel and held it to the cut. "Press..." Richie reminded him. Butthead did, applying pressure to the wound.

Richie began driving again. "What on Earth were you thinking!? Riding around on that old piece a' crap!"

"I had to get to work, Richie! It was, like, the only way I could!"

"You could have been killed, Butthead..."

"So what?"

"Don't! Ever! Say! That!" Richie chastised him, in a way that made Butthead's stomach drop. He could tell by his tone he was being very serious.

"Sorry..." he muttered. He forgot. His cousin actually cared if he lived or died. "I didn't mean that..." He really didn't. It was just his automatic, edgy response. 

"For a second, I thought I was runnin' over to yer dead body!"

"I'm fine."

"Can you move your legs?"

Butthead checked. "Yeah."

"Toes? Fingers?"

Again, Butthead checked if he could. "Yes. But, like, everything hurts..."

"I know, Butter-Tart..." his cousin said empathetically. "I saw the whole thing."

"I just wish I was back in Highland."

"Highland's not so great."

"Yeah, I know. I just miss my friends is all..... Well, friend...." Crap. That reminded him. He opened up his backpack and took out the ring to check on it. Luckily, it hadn't been damaged. At least not in any way Butthead could see. 

"What's that?"

"Just something I bought... For myself...." He stuffed it back in his bag, underneath his notebooks. "Can you, uhh, not take me to Huck's?"

"That's where your staying, aint it?"

"Yeah. But it sucks, they're mean to me."

"Well, I got half a mind not to lay into those guys for lettin' you ride around on that death trap! None of their useless asses coulda given you a ride into town? But even still. They's family. And that's where yer mama wanted you to stay."

"Please, Richie! Come on! Huck's gonna make me be the Bigfoot bait again!"

Richie laughed. "Well, you can come over for a little I suppose."

"Huhu, cool. They're never gonna find that stupid Bigfoot," he laughed.

"Bigfoot's are illusive, but you don't wanna be there when they do come around."

"Come on, you really believe that crap?"

"Trust me, Butterscotch. Bigfoots exist."

"Uhh....Okay..."

"Just make sure you behave yourself at my place. You can't stress out my wife."

"Why not?" 

"She's pregnant."

"Huhuhu. You guys did it!" he laughed, pointing his finger at his cousin.

"Haha, shut up! You better not say nothing like that in front of Betty-Lou."

"I'll be, like, on my best behaviour or something." Normally, that wouldn't exactly be a promise he could reliably make, but he really didn't want to go back to his uncle's. "Richie... Can I, like, uhh.... Talk to you about something...?"

"What is it?"

"Uhh... Well...." Butthead fidgeted nervously. "I really miss Beavis.... I, umm.... I like him a lot...."

"I know you do."

"I think I'm... Well.... I think I...." Butthead bit his lip. "Uhh.... Never mind..." he quickly turned away. 

"What? What were ya' gonna say?"

"Uhh.... I think I'm..." he couldn't say it. "I'm not eating enough," he quickly said instead. Remembering something Richie had asked him about before.

"I knew it."

Richie started going on and on about how sickly Butthead looked and how much he should eat and when. Butthead only half listened, just nodding his head periodically. He couldn't believe what he'd almost told Richie!

His older cousin took Butthead to his place. Which was a small house in town. The decor clearly hadn't been updated since the 70's. When they opened the door, the entire house was filled with steam from the kitchen. 

Butthead dropped his backpack at the front entrance, as Richie went over and greeted his wife. Kissing her on the cheek. Butthead made a face and sat down at the small kitchen table. 

Betty-Lou was a petite blonde, wearing jeans and a white tank top. "Who's this?"

"My little cousin. He's in town for the summer. We got enough for him, don't we?"

"Ugh. I guess so...."

"I'm gonna go change out of my work clothes," he told them, disappearing down the hall. 

"Hope you like peach cobbler, kid." 

"Uhhh... I don't know. Hey, are you pregnant?"

"Yeah," she answered, sounding annoyed. 

"Can I, like, feel the baby?" 

"No way."

Butthead frowned, hurt by her immediate rejection. "Why not?"

"Cause yer hand is bleeding."

Butthead looked down at the paper towel he still had pressed to his palm. It was almost entirely red now. It still stung, but it wasn't so bad. 

"What if I wasn't bleeding?"

"Still no."

"Pfft... Fine. Can I like, use your phone then?"

"Fine. If you put a band-aid on."

Butthead dragged himself out of the chair to the bathroom, where he washed his cut and put a large band-aid over the palm of his hand. He really wanted to talk to Beavis. He wanted to tell him about the guys at the pawn shop, and see what his reaction was. And maybe he also just wanted to hear his voice... You know, if he were a wussy that is.

He went to the living room and picked up the phone, dialing Beavis' number. It rang and rang and rang. But no answer. Butthead glared as he hung up. Where the hell was that Butt-munch? He better not be hanging out with someone else....

He'd try him again tomorrow. And if he played his cards right, maybe he could stay with Richie from now on. 

Chapter Text

Butthead woke up on cousin Richie's couch, The last thing he remembered was watching some weird movie on TV about a chick who was an alien or something. His face felt sticky against the leather due to sweat and drool. He used his arm to try and cover his eyes from the sun beaming into the window. Disturbing his peaceful sleep.

"I said get up!"

Ugh... So it wasn't the sun disturbing his sleep. It was that shrill voice. He opened his eyes just a crack, seeing Betty-Lou standing in front of him. Her arms were crossed, and she looked pissed.

God damn. He wasn't even awake yet. What could he have done!?

"What....?" he grumbled.

"Cooper's on his way to get you."

"What!? Why!?" Butthead demanded, shooting upright.

"Cause I called him."

"What'd you do that for!?"

"I'm pregnant. And havin' you here is stressing me out. It aint good for the baby."

"But Richie said...."

"Richie cares about our baby. Not you."

Butthead glared at her. "He cares about me...." he grumbled. "What did I even do to you?"

"You smell real bad, and I hate the sound of your voice."

Guess he shouldn't have asked... 

"And you kept looking at my tits last night."

"Uhh, no I wasn't!" he argued.

"Yeah. And what was all that 'can I feel the baby' crap? You're a gross little pervert."

Well, he couldn't deny that he was. And he probably would ask a pregnant lady to feel the baby just as a ploy to touch her, but not Betty-Lou! She was practically his family. "I just wanted to feel my little cousin kicking. I thought it'd be cool..."

"It'd be your second cousin, dumbass."

"Well, so what? What's the difference?"

"Just get your shit together. Cooper'll be here any minute."

"This sucks..." he grumbled. All his stuff was in his bag by the door, there wasn't really anything he had to get together. But he did have to pee. 

He went to the bathroom and lingered there as long as possible. Washing has hands and face (which he almost never did), combing his hair. God, he needed a haircut. He even started picking food out of his braces. Anything to prolong the inevitable. 

Eventually he heard the front door open and close. 

Damn it. His money and ring. He figured he'd better get over to his backpack, in case one of these buttholes decided to swipe anything from him. 

Cooper and Betty-Lou were talking in the living room. Butthead ignored them and went over to his bag, checking to see if everything was still in there, while also holding it close to himself, as to keep those ass-munches from seeing inside.

"You couldn't even handle him for a day," he heard Coop say.

"I just can't have him here."

"I know. He really pisses me off too."

"He was trying to feel me up. Pretending he wanted to feel the baby..."

Butthead's ears pricked up at this, and he looked at both of them with gritted teeth. "No I wasn't!"

Cooper chuckled. "Nah, he wasn't," Cooper told her.

"Sure he was."

"No. He's a little faggot."

Betty-Lou made a sour face. "Really? How do you know?"

"Maybelle told me she caught him with some guy's tongue in his mouth."

"Oh my god! That is disgusting!"

Butthead clenched his fists. 

"You sure as hell aint ever coming near this baby!"

"Richie will let me!"

"Not after I tell him you're a little queer!"

"Yeah well... Shut up...!"

"God! You are sick! There's something wrong with you!"

He wanted to beat the shit out of her! He pictured it. Pouncing on her and beating her face to a bloody pulp. Grabbing a kitchen chair and bludgeoning her over and over until she was no longer moving. Squashing her like a bug. But of course, he couldn't. He didn't have the strength, and besides, she was growing his cousin in her stomach. 

So all he could do was stand there. And all that rage building inside his small little body had nowhere to go, so it just started bubbling over, seeping out in the form of hot stress tears. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, hoping nobody had noticed. But of course they had. They were both staring down at him, right into his face.

"Knock it off, Ass-Face," Coop rolled his eyes.

"It's Butt-Head!" 

"Whatever." Coop grabbed him by the forarm and dragged him out of the house, practically tossing him into the back seat of the rusted out old Ford. 

Butthead was silent the entire way back to the trailer, stewing in his own misery. His uncle lecturing him over trying to get out of his chores. Reminding him of his threats to kick his ass. Coop stopped at the end of the long gravel driveway and ordered Butthead out before skidding away. 

Butthead was pissed at Coop, and he was pissed at Betty-Lou. Fuck this. He decided to go back to sleep.

He awoke a few hours later feeling refreshed, and almost forgetting where he was..... Oh yeah... He sighed, remembering all the stupid chores he'd have to do if he didn't wanna get his ass beat. Not to mention what had happened that morning.

He was so embarrassed. He couldn't believe what they'd said to him. He wanted to die. Or he wanted them to die. He just wanted someone to die! He felt his face heat up as he thought about it.

He picked up the broom which was leaning against the wall, beginning to work, absentmindedly.

He felt a sense of shame, thinking about how Betty-Lou had reacted. Of course, Coop had been trying to make him sound gross on purpose. But still. Betty-Lou acted like it was the most disgusting thing she'd ever heard. 

Would Richie say the same thing? Would he let him meet his cousin? No... Richie liked him. He wasn't like those butt-holes. He'd still love him....

He had to. After all, Richie was the only one in his entire family who liked him. There was something wrong with them. Yeah. That was it. There was something wrong with them.

It was so weird being all alone with his thoughts. He'd always had Beavis chirping in his ear. But now, as he swept and mopped the stupid little trailer, his mind began to wander.

He imagined he was Cinderella. That was how he felt. Worked and yelled at all day...That scene where she's washing the floor, and then the cat comes in and leaves footprints everywhere? That was just what his stupid uncles always did. 

"Butthead," he said to himself in a dramatic voice. Putting his hands on his hips. "We're all going to the Ball, and you can't come!"

"Pfft! Like I wanna go to some wussy ball.... Huhu, ball.... I'd kick that butt-munch Cooper right in his balls. Huhuhu!"

He remembered Beavis used to watch that movie when they were little. He had it on VHS. He loved all those wussy movies. Butthead thought they were stupid. He used to make fun of Beavis for liking all those dumb fairy tales. 

They're so stupid anyways! Everyone in fairytales always got a happy ending. Everyone always had their one true love. Like Snow White. True loves first kiss. Butthead stuck his tongue out at the thought of it. 

If this were a fairytale, he'd get away from his evil family and ride off on a white horse with a handsome prince or a beautiful princess. Instead, he was gonna go home to Beavis picking his nose, probably not even realizing Butthead was in love with him. If he was in love with him.... Which he's not.

Sure, he bought him a ring. But come on! It's not a wedding ring or something....

Butthead finished up with the broom, leaning it against the wall. He went and got the ring out of his backpack, just to look at it again.

See? It was a cool ring. Not a wedding ring. Huhu. But if it was a wedding ring, it'd be the kind he wanted. Not some wussy diamond one. He slipped it onto his ring finger.

"Sorry ladies, I'm, like, taken," he giggled to himself.

Married to Beavis? What would that be like? Would it be like a Disney movie, or more like his cousin. Or maybe like Sue-Ellen. She seemed happy. And she wasn't a total bitch.

Butthead considered this as he grabbed a bucket and filled it with warm water from the sink. 

They wouldn't live in a crappy little trailer, that was for sure. No. It'd be a big, fancy house. He imagined himself mopping an enormous kitchen floor, instead of the little cracked tiles he actually was cleaning. With sparkling marble floors. The fridge and cupboards would always have loads of food in them, and the walls would be covered in blacklight posters.

"Hehe, honey, I'm home!" Beavis would call as he walked through the front door. He worked all day as a monster truck driver and a Playboy photographer. 

Meanwhile Butthead had been slaving away at home all day. "Ass-munch.... When I married you, you like, said it wouldn't be like this."

"Throw that mop away, Butthead! Throw it! Throw it!" Beavis declared, taking the mop and doing just that. "No wife of mine is gonna have to do this crap!" He took him by the hands and pulled him closer. "We're gonna get a maid, and you're gonna sit around all day watching TV."

"Huhu, yeah! That's what I- Hey! Wait a minute, butt-wagon! I'm your husband, not your wife!"

"Hehe. This is your fantasy, fart-knocker."

"Uhh... Oh yeah...."

"You need to stop doing all this work crap so you can grow a big butt!" Beavis declared, as he smacked Buttheads rear.

Butthead laughed. "I'm like, pretty hot, huh?"

"Yeah! Yeah! The models at work all say they wish they looked like you."

Butthead smiled at that. 

"They always wanna do it with me, but they, like, understand why I turn em' down hehehe."

"You'd turn down doing it with a Playmate for me?"

"Yeah. I like, do every day. Really." Beavis pulled him in closer. Pressing the brunettes body against his own, he slowly ran his hands down the small of Butthead's back.

Butthead rested his hands on Beavis' shoulders and played with his blond hair a little with two of his fingers. 

"Yeah... The pool boy is, like, always trying to do it with me. And I'm always like, 'uhh, shut the hell up and clean my pool. dumbass.' "

"Hehe. That's cool. Does he like, try to look at your butt and stuff when you're in your swim suit?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"I'll kick him in the nads."

"Cool!"

Beavis moved his hands to the back of Butthead's neck, looking him in the eyes.

"Kiss me, Butthead."

"Huhu, do you dare me to?"

"I'm not, like, daring you. i'm telling you."

"Huhuhu." Butthead felt his face heat up, and a familiar sensation in his shorts.

Beavis pulled him into a forceful kiss, which Butthead immediately melted into. 

Beavis pulled away with a deep breath, half lidded eyes staring back at Butthead. "Hehehe. What if I did you on the counter?"

"Huhu. I don't know... What if you did...?"

Beavis took Butthead by the hips, and lifted him up onto the kitchen counter. (He guessed Beavis was stronger in the future). He continued to make out with him, Butthead wrapped his legs around his waist, pulling him closer towards him. 

"Oh, Beavis! Oh, Beavis I-"

SLAM

The front door. 

Butthead's cheeks burned red as his uncles walked in, noticing only now that he had the mop handle between his legs, lips pressed against the wood. He quickly got out of this position, acting like he'd been mopping the entire time. He would never live it down if he'd been caught dry humping the damn mop!

'Do me on the counter?' Thank god nobody could read his thoughts! Besides, Beavis would never say something as romantic as that. His stupid daydream was just that. A daydream.

--------------------------------------------------

When Beavis arrived at church that morning, there was some kind of a commotion outside. The crowd that had been there last time was even larger, and they seemed even angrier. Which was pretty cool. Van Driessen and Max were yelling at each other. Beavis smiled. It was utter chaos. Too bad it was chaos at a dumb church.

"Oh no... What's going on?" Someone asked.

Beavis turned, seeing the voice had been Anthony, the PAT kid.

"Hehe. I don't know. It's pretty cool though."

"But... I need to go to therapy today... I had a horrible sinful dream last night."

"No way. Therapy sucks," Beavis frowned. He was sick of being told how to feel and think about stuff. 

"But Beavis..."

"Hehehe. Butt.... Come on, Anthony. Let's go and get some nachos." He took the Christian kid by the arm and began leading him away, down the sidewalk. Even if Anthony was lame, he liked the idea of having someone his own age to hang out with again. The summer was getting far too lonely, and although Van Driessen had been nice to him, the encounter was far more emotionally intense than Beavis could handle most days.

"Well... It doesn't seem like Max will be doing much counselling today anyways...." he reasoned, glancing at the youth minister, who was currently in a screaming match with their english teacher.

Beavis lead Anthony down to the Maxi-Mart. As he watched the familiar store come into sight, he felt a twinge of sadness. God, did he miss Butthead... But what could he do? Butthead was, like, a hundred miles away or something. 

"Me and Butthead always come here for breakfast...."

"Nachos for breakfast? That's kind of gross."

"No way! Nachos aren't gross."

"Where is Butthead anyways?"

"His mom sent him to Ackerly. It really sucks. I've never, you know, been away from him for this long before..."

The little bell on the door rang as they entered the convenience store. Beavis went straight for the nachos, showing Anthony how to douse them in pump cheese. "See? You can use as much cheese as you want."

"Oh, I don't think I need quite as much as you," he laughed. Beavis' nachos were just drowning in the bright yellow liquid. Anthony opted for only a little on the side. 

They paid for their snacks, and Beavis took his new companion to his usual spot of the curb out front. Anthony was less than impressed though, and instead took Beavis to a nearby spot of his own. A bench in the park where he liked to come and feed birds.

"So..." Anthony began, tentatively dipping a chip in cheese. "Do you and Butthead... Umm..."

"Do it?"

"Yeah...."

"Hehe, no. We've never done it. But, uh, well, we've kissed and stuff."

Anthony looked at him for a moment, before crossing himself and muttering something under his breath.

"Um, what the hell are you doing?"

"Just praying for you guys."

"We're fine."

"No you aren't. You're nice, Beavis. I don't want you to go to hell. Even if Butthead is kind of a jerk, I don't want him to be tortured for all of eternity."

"Tortured?"

"Sure. That's what happens in hell. Haven't you been paying attention?"

"Uh, not really..."

Anthony sighed. "In hell, Satan and his demons torture the souls of the damned for all time."

"Hehe. Cool."

"It's not cool, Beavis. It's the most excruciating pain you could imagine. Worse than anything you'd experience here on Earth."

"Oh, no. That sucks."

"And the worst part is, you feel that pain for the rest of all time! That's why we have to listen to Max, and stop sinning."

"But I thought God, you know, like, loved us. Or whatever." Van Driessen had told Beavis there was nothing wrong with him. He knew Van Driessen wouldn't lie to him. And he also knew that he was a lot smarter than Max or Anthony. He was a teacher after all. Teachers had to be smart. Anthony was just a kid, so he couldn't know much... But he seemed so upset. Beavis felt bad for him.

"Hey guys!" 

Their conversation was cut off by none other than Stewart Stevenson. 

"I had no idea the two of you were friends."

"Um, we're not," Beavis replied quickly. 

"Oh. Okay," Stewart didn't seem convinced. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I don't know what you did, Beavis, to get Anthony to start telling you about hell, but I can tell you he's completely misinformed."

"What are you talking about, Stewart?" Anthony asked.

"You said Hell is for the rest of all time, and that's not true."

"What do you mean? Of course it is. When you die, you go to Heaven, or Hell. Forever."

"No. That's a modern misinterpretation of the Bible. Jesus said, he would be back."

"Yeah. The second coming. I know about that."

"Yeah, then you should also know that when Jesus comes back, everyone will be resurrected. And everyone who was in Hell will be forgiven. And then, he will make the earth as it is in Heaven. So, we won't even need Heaven anymore."

"Well... That's not what I heard..."

"Well, then you heard wrong."

"I think my dad would know more about it than you."

"Oh boy..." Beavis muttered to himself.

Stewart just rolled his eyes. "What did you guys do to get you thinking you're going to Hell, anyways?"

"Don't tell him, Beavis...."

"Don't tell him what? That you're gay? It's okay, Anthony. I mean, I am too. I think. Hehe."

Anthony groaned.

"Oh, Jeez," Stewart replied nonchalantly, with a wave of his hand. "I had no idea you guys were homosexuals. That's surprising. But you can both relax. You don't go to hell for that."

"Of course you do...!" Anthony said, sounding anguished.

"Jesus never said anything bad about homosexuals. It's fine."

"What about Leviticus, dude?"

"That's the old testament. Jesus said himself, his teachings are to replace the old testament."

"No he didn't. The old testament still matters, Stewart. And Leviticus makes it pretty clear."

"Oh yeah? And that polyester blend you're wearing?"

"I didn't make the shirt."

"Come on, Anthony. If God cared that much he would at least put it in the ten commandments."

"Yeah, and I saw on this show that like, this serial killer found God and stuff. So, if God can forgive him I'm sure he'll forgive you," Beavis said. He really did want to make him feel better. He felt bad for him. He certainly knew what guilt felt like, and it wasn't fun. "Hey. I have an idea. Let's, like, um, do something else."

Beavis wanted Anthony to feel better, and sitting here worrying about hell and god didn't seem to be helping much in that regard.

"Well..." Stewart started, " I was just going over to the video store to rent a movie. Why don't you guys come along?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind taking my mind off things," Anthony agreed, though he still sounded unsure. 

"Yeah, movies are cool," Beavis agreed. "How do you, like, know all that stuff Stewart?"

"Oh, you know. I've got some good books on the subject."

"Huh. I thought you were, like, a dumbass."

"Oh, Beavis. You kidder."

The three boys walked to the video store. Anthony insisting they discuss anything other than religion and sexual orientation. Complaining that the subjects were making his stomach ache.

Beavis didn't think that was possible, figuring it was probably the nachos. But, he couldn't help but agree that they certainly were confusing subjects. And it seemed every time someone like Max, Anthony, Van Driessen, Stewart, his mom... Tried to explain it to him, it only got more and more confusing. Nobody seemed to know for sure what it was that God really wanted out of people. So he was glad Anthony insisted on not talking about it.

"Hehe, let's get this one!" Beavis shouted, practically vibrating in excitement as they browsed the video store shelves.

He held up a video tape, the cover was a detailed painting of a hand holding a severed head by the hair. The title; Chopping Mall; written in bloody font across the top.

"Ew!"

"Gross!" Stewart stuck out his tongue. "I was thinking something a little more sophisticated."

"How about a classic?" Anthony asked, pointing to a section with a sign that read just that; Classic Cinema.

"Oh, God..." Beavis muttered to himself as he trailed behind them.

Stewart and Anthony browsed tapes with boring black and white images on the covers. The only one Beavis thought looked kind of cool was King Kong, because it had a big angry gorilla on it. He wished he was really big and could climb buildings and break stuff. That'd be cool.

Eventually, the two boys settled on the 1968 version of Romeo and Juliet. It looked just as boring as the rest, but Beavis was slightly intrigued by the rated R sticker on the front of the box. 

They paid for their tape and headed over to Stewart's.

"Hello boys!" His mother beamed at them. "I was just on my way out to my yoga class. Have fun with your little friends, Stew!"

"I will, mom."

Beavis was about to nudge Butthead and point at Mrs. Stevenson's butt in her spandex as she walked passed them, before remembering he wasn't there. He frowned. Watching some 100 year old movie with Stewart and Anthony... This was his weekend....

It certainly wasn't the most interesting movie in the world. He didn't understand how the other two boys were getting so into it. Beavis couldn't even understand what anyone was saying. That, combined with the fact that he'd had to get up so early this morning, it was no wonder he kept falling asleep. As he dozed off again, the film still blasting in his ears, he began to dream.

"Beavis? Beavis? Where for art thou Beavis?" Butthead called up to him, dressed like an idiot.

"I'm up here... Butthole...." Beavis called back, dressed just as stupid. 

People were stupid in olden times.

"Butthead? Up here!" Beavis called again, leaning over the railing of his balcony to try and see the boy below him. Leaning a little too far it would seem.

Beavis tumbled forward, over the railing, and towards the ground.

"Ahhh!: He screamed. Luckily, Butthead caught him. He landed in his arms with an "oof". Followed by a; "Hey, how's it going?"

"Pretty good. Now that I, like, found you."

"What are you doing here? Our moms said we're like, not supposed to be together."

"What's Beavis? It is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man."

"Um, like the wiener?"

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would, like, smell as sweet. So Beavis would — were he not Beavis called —
Retain that dear perfection which he, like, owes. Without that title. Beavis, uhhh, get rid of thy name, and for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself, and stuff."

"Heheh. What the hell are you talking about, Butthead?"

"I'm talking about, like, uhuhu, would a rose by any other name smell as sweet?"

"What do smelly roses have to do with anything?"

"You dumbass. I'm saying, like, what's in a name?"

"Umm... Letters?"

"Beavis...."

"What?"

"Don't you, like, get it?"

"Why are you talking like a butthole? I don't know what the hell you're saying."

"We, like, took Romeo and Juliet in Van Driessen's class last year. Remember?"

"No."

"I'm telling you I, like, don't care. I don't care what our moms say. I, like, wanna be with you anyways."

"That's what all those words mean? How'd you know that?"

"Uhh, you knew it."

"Huh?"

"This is your dream, monkey-spank. You must, like, remember Van Driessen explaining this part.... Or something."

"Oh. Cool. I'm pretty smart. Hehe."

"Yeah. And other stuff."

"What other stuff?"

"You know... Huhuhu..."

"Oh yeah... Hehehe... Um, Butthead? Does this mean, like, everything's all good now?"

"All this is but a dream. Too flattering sweet to be substantial."

"Heheh. What?"

"You're dreaming, dumbass. Remember?"

"Oh yeah."

"So, wake up."

"Uhh..."

"Wake up!"

"Wake up, Beavis. The movie's over."

"Huh? Oh... Sorry about that..." Beavis mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

"You really found it that boring, huh?" Stewart asked.

Beavis ignored the question, still thinking about the dream he'd just had. "I think I, like, figured something out..."

"What?" Anthony asked.

"I don't care!"

"Hey. No need to be rude."

"Hehe, no. I mean. I don't care. I don't care, you know, what anyone thinks of me. I don't care what my mom thinks, or anybody else. Even God. If he doesn't, you know, like that I like Butthead, well, um, too bad. Cause I don't care."

"But what about-" Anthony started, but Beavis cut him off. Jumping up off the couch as he spoke.

"I don't care!" he repeated, clenching his fists. "It's my life, dammit! If I wanna start fires and break stuff then I will! And if I wanna do stuff with another guy, I will! Or I won't, if I, you know, like, don't feel like it and stuff. I'm just gonna do what I want to."

"Beavis," Stewart said, "You can't just go around doing whatever you want. If people did that, we wouldn't have a functioning society."

"Hehe, yeah well, um, I don't care!" Beavis grinned. What a breakthrough! He hadn't felt this free all summer. It was like his troubles were melting away.  "You guys should really try not caring. It's, um, it's pretty great."

Could it be possible? The solution to his problems, really this easy? Were things actually going to work out for once?

Or was it all just too good to be true?

Chapter Text

Things were finally going pretty good for Beavis. The therapy group had been shut down, and he was able to escape the house most days by hanging out with Stewart and Anthony. It wasn't nearly as fun as hanging out with Butthead, but they were growing on him. And Anthony hadn't even talked about Hell in over a week. 

"See you later, Beavis!" Stewart waved to him with a smile as Beavis left his house. Walking down the sidewalk, heading home. Beavis was about ready to curl up on the couch and fall asleep to some late night TV.

What he didn't expect however, was to find Butthead's mom home. And not just home, but in his spot. She was watching TV, and smoking a cigarette. A bottle of Whisky beside her on the end table, as well as a sticky plastic glass.

"Where the hell have you been?" She asked.

"Um, I was just with my friends."

"Ha. That's a laugh. You don't have any friends."

"Yeah I do," Beavis answered matter-of-factly. 

"Whatever..." She muttered, taking a drag on her smoke.

Beavis wasn't sure what to do, Maybell being in his spot and all. He supposed he'd have to go to his bedroom, but there was no TV in there, and Beavis found it almost impossible to fall asleep without TV.

"Umm... What're you watching?" Beavis asked.

She shrugged. "There's nothing on." She turned the TV off with a click of the remote. Beavis hoped this meant she would go away so he could have his spot back. But instead, she opened the whisky bottle and began pouring herself another glass. "Come sit with me," she said.

"Umm... Okay..." Awkwardly, and a little stiff, Beavis sat down on the couch. As close to the opposite arm rest as he could get. 

"I never see you boys anymore."

"Well, you never really saw us that much before, either...."

"Yeah... Guess that's true."

"Where's my mom?"

"Working."

"Oh."

"Where's Butthead at anyways?"

"Um, you sent him away, remember? You, like, drove him..." Beavis rocked a little in place, uncomfortably. He had a feeling Butthead's mom had taken more than just whisky. He hated being alone with this woman. She was so strange, and unpredictable. She could go into a blind rage at the drop of a hat, for seemingly no reason. Especially when they were younger.

Beavis had been so scared of her, he'd cry whenever his mom was leaving and beg her not to go. 

"Oh, right," she said as if it was completely normal for her to forget such a thing. "Tell me, Beavis. What do you do all day?"

"Well... Not that much..." Without Butthead... "Sometimes I, you know, go to work and stuff."

"You have a job?"

"Yeah... We both work at Burger World. Umm...Butthead's an assistant manager. Didn't you know that?"

"Jeez..." Maybelle said. Sounding almost thoughtful. "Butthead? really?"

Beavis nodded.

"Huh. Maybe he's not as stupid as I thought he was."

Beavis knew better than to say anything. She was always calling Butthead stupid. Beavis knew she wasn't the only person who did, but it just seemed wrong for his own mom to say it. Besides, he didn't think Butthead was stupid. Butthead had taught him things, like how to tie his shoes and how to use the microwave. They would have starved as kids without that microwave. Just cause Butthead wasn't smart at school stuff, so what? School sucked anyways.

"God. You two grew up so fast..." Maybelle mused. More to herself than anyone else. "Seems like you were just babies yesterday..."

"Really?"

"Sure... I remember, every Christmas, my family'd come over. And you and Butthead.... Eh, well, you were somewhere...." She trailed off, taking another drag of her cigarette. "My brother'd dress up like Santa Claus. Heh. You kids loved it."

Beavis didn't say anything. How could she have such fond memories of Christmas? Christmas was always one of the worst times of the year when they were little. Of course, she was drunk through a lot of it, so that probably skewed her memories. Not Beavis though...

He remembered being dragged to the mall around Christmas time with Butthead and his mom. 

He was sitting at a table in the crowded food court, across from them. Butthead was eating some chicken nuggets while his mother gently stroked his hair. Admiring the photo with Santa they'd just got taken. She had told Beavis he couldn't be in the picture because that would ruin it.

"Oh, you look so cute!" Butthead's mom fawned. "I'm so glad we went with the candy cane sweater instead of the reindeer one. You are such a cute little thing! You're mommy's little baby!" She cooed.

Butthead smiled at her as he took another bite of chicken nugget. His mom patted him on the cheek, before gently wiping away a few crumbs in the corner of his mouth. 

"Who's my precious little boy?"

"I am," Butthead smiled.

Beavis just sulked. He was eating an order of cheese fries with his bare hands. He was angry at the scene playing out in front of him. He didn't know it at the time, but he was jealous. His own mother was always working. She left before he got up, and she never got back until he was asleep. He hardly spent time with her at all anymore, and when she did he was usually being criticized or punished.

"God dammit, Beavis!" Butthead's mom scowled. Looking over at him for the first time. "Were you raised in a barn!?" She got up and walked over to his side of the table. Then, she grabbed a few napkins and began rubbing the cheese from Beavis' hand and face. Hard. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" She asked. Her aggressive tone matching her actions.

"Owe!" Beavis cried out. The sensitive skin on his face being rubbed raw. "Hurting! Hurting!"

"Quiet!" She hissed. Looking around, as if worried attention was being drawn to them.

"No!" Beavis shouted back defiantly. He'd already been angry, and she'd only just made it worse. "Hurts!"

"Fine..." And with that Maybelle swiftly shoved her few belongings, including the photo, into her purse and lead both boys out of the mall by their arms. Completely ignoring them, and their cries of protest until they got to the car.

"I am never taking you anywhere again!" he remembered her screaming on the ride home. "Why'd you have to make such a scene!? You want someone to call the cops on me!? Is that what you want!?"

"But mom, I wanted to stay!" Butthead whined.

"Shut the hell up, and listen to me!"

"But mom-"

"God damn it, Butthead! You open that mouth one more time, and I will smack the shit out of you when we get home!"

"No more yelling..." Beavis pleaded.

"It's my car, I'll yell if I want to! I wish I left you in Highland park for the wolves to eat!"

Beavis frowned. Yeah, what a great memory... That was the problem with Butthead's mom. She was unpredictable. But so was Butthead's entire family. Christmas day was much of the same. The morning started off nice. Normal, even. Beavis and Butthead woke up early and opened presents in the living room as their moms watched.

By the afternoon, Butthead's family had arrived. And the atmosphere had changed from sugared cereal and opening presents, to clouds of smoke, and glasses being slammed on tables. 

Cigarette butts and empty cans and bottles littered the carpet, as Butthead's family and Beavis' mom carried on loudly. 

Beavis remembered sitting in the (now filthy) living room, still trying to play with his toys. He knew better than to try and interrupt the adults. He had just watched Butthead earn a smack across the mouth for attempting to to talk to them.

He gingerly ran a finger over the face of his new Jem and the Holograms doll. She had vibrant purple hair, and an angry look on her face. She was one of the bad guys. She was cool. 

"You got a Barbie for Christmas?" One of Butthead's uncles snickered. He was about 12, maybe. Beavis wasn't quite sure.

"It's not a Barbie..." Beavis muttered. "She's Clash. She's really mean and cool."

"She doesn't look cool."

"Well, she is." 

"Let me see it."

"No way!" Beavis clutched the purple-haired doll to his chest.

But Butthead's uncle was much bigger, and was easily able to wrestle it away.

"Give it back, ass-wipe!" 

"Don't you know dolls are for little girls?"  

"No! My mom said that's not true!"

"Yeah it is. So that makes you a little girl!"

"No! No it doesn't!" Beavis screeched, starting to get flustered. "Give me back my Clash! Give her back!"

But Darryl held her out of Beavis' reach. When he grew bored with watching Beavis try in vain to reach his toy, he quickly pulled it away and ran down the hall, causing  Beavis to fall flat on his face.

He quickly picked himself up though, angrier than ever. He ran after Darryl, into the bathroom. Letting out a primal, incomprehensible scream of frustration as he did.

He pushed open the door, and there was Butthead's uncle. Standing in the bathroom, the doll in his hands. "Maybe she wants to go for a little swim," he taunted. 

"No!" Beavis replied sharply, balling up his little fists and holding them out in front of himself.

"She wants to take a ride down the toilet pipes!"

"No!" Beavis cried again, this time sounding terrified. He didn't know much about the toilet, but he knew whatever got flushed down was never seen again. In fact, he was more than a little scared of the toilet. He didn't like to flush, but if he had to, like when his or Butthead's mom was home, he'd run out of the bathroom as fast as he could after doing so. "Don't! Don't flush her!"

Darryl gave him a mischievous grin before dropping the doll into the toilet and pulling the handle.

"NO!!!" Beavis screamed, clutching his face in his hands.

Darryl laughed. "Wussy..." he muttered, before leaving the bathroom.

Beavis ran over to the toilet, fearing his new doll was gone forever. Luckily, she was too big to be flushed, it seemed. 

Beavis peered into the bowl, as her feet stuck out from the hole. He tugged. Having to pull a few times to dislodge her. Finally, she popped out. "Mehehe... You okay Clash...?" he asked her. He turned on the sink and ran her under the water. She needed a shower. He cleaned her off with some hand soap, the best he could manage. As he was washing her hair, he noticed a chunk of it had been ripped out from her bangs. 

It wasn't fair. Beavis hardly ever got Christmas presents. And mom had actually got him something he'd asked for. She was trying harder this year, ever since that social lady had visited. 

The little blond boy began to cry, clutching the purple-haired doll to his chest. Not even caring that she was getting his shirt wet. Why did everyone have to be so mean to him? He never did anything to anyone. He remembered Butthead's mom yelling at the mall the other day.

She said she wished wolves would get him. That night he'd had a nightmare about being chased by a pack of wolves. He started crying even harder. He hugged the doll, trying to comfort himself. He wished Clash was his mom. Maybe she would love him. But probably not. She was too cool to love anyone.

Defeated, he brought his doll back to his bedroom, content to spend the rest of Christmas day there. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there before being interrupted again. 

"Go away!" he heard Butthead. "Leave me alone!" His best friend opened the door to their bedroom, and when he did Beavis could see who he was trying to get away from. Another one of his uncles. It was Huck.

Beavis' mom had told him Huck was just a drunk old bastard. She also told him he shouldn't go anywhere alone with him. He wondered if he should leave. But he didn't want anything else to happen to Clash. And besides, Butthead was here, so he wasn't alone.

Huck was stumbling after Butthead, laughing like something was really funny. But Beavis didn't think anything was. He was wearing a ratty old Santa suit. Nothing like the nice one from the mall. The beard had what looked like dried vomit in it, and all the white hair looked brown.

Beavis sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling. Doll in his hands. Instinctively, he tightened his grip on it. 

"Come on, Butthead!" Huck slurred.

Beavis let out a grunt as he felt Butthead jump up onto the bed, the mattress bouncing as he did.

"I don't like this game...!" Butthead sounded mad, but not like when he was normally mad. Cause he also sounded tired. 

Huck stumbled over to them, hands extended. "Santa'z gota present foryu..." he slurred. 

He started tickling Butthead's stomach, causing Butthead to laugh and flail. "No!" Butthead pleaded.

"Yer smiling!" His uncle teased.

Butthead tried to kick him away, but it was no use. There was a cruel irony as Butthead pleaded for him to stop. Eyes watering, face red, but with that involuntary smile spred across his lips. He began to choke, running out of breath. But still, it didn't stop. His uncle too drunk, or selfish, or stupid to let it end.

Beavis, not wanting to be next, just left the room.

"I always, like, hated Christmas..." Beavis finally said.

"Don't be ungrateful, you little shit... Your mama tried her best. Just cause she didn't always have a present for you. Shit. Christmas aint about presents. It's supposed to be about family."

"Well, I never even hardly saw you guys on Christmas... I mean, we hardly saw you guys at all."

"What the hell are you trying to say?"

"I'm just saying, you were never around."

"We have lives outside our kids, Jesus..."

"Well, why'd you have kids then anyways?"

"It was an accident. I never wanted a god damn baby," she said casually. Although, a hint of disgust was detectible as she said it. "I was only sixteen for god's sake!"

Beavis felt his stomach drop. He always knew Butthead's mom was young, but he never really thought about it. That was only a year older than himself. He couldn't imagine trying to raise a kid right now. But, then again, he didn't have a kid. He didn't want one, so he didn't have one. "Why'd you keep him then?"

"God..." She started, taking a drag of her cigarette. "Every time I looked at him, I felt sick. I mean, he was a cute baby and all. A lot cuter than you.... But the idea that I actually had a stupid baby to take care of. It was too much. Me and Shirley were supposed to be getting our lives together. And then that happens... Thought about adoption, but I didn't want no social worker involved in my life. And besides, I'd never convince Shirley. 

This one day, though, she was out working. And I was at home with two crying little brats. It was like a waking nightmare. And I just wanted it to be over. I took them to Highland park...

Nobody was around. There was this park bench. Well, like, you know, a picnic table. I just put the babies on the table, and I walked away. I knew there were wolves and coyotes in the park. 

But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't leave without them. 

Shirley tried to abandon you when you were older. Tried leaving you at Ikea. I fucking told her it wouldn't work. You have to do it before they know how to talk. And she had plenty of time before you finally did."

Beavis wanted to get angry. To tell her to shut up about his mom, or to ask why the hell she was telling him this. But he didn't. He knew if he got angry, she'd just get angrier, and he did not want to get into a fight with Butthead's mom right now. He'd known her for many years, and he knew the best thing to do around her was to avoid upsetting her. 

Besides, he wasn't even mad at her. She was a bitch, sure. But she wasn't his mom. He had a mom. It was useless to get angry at Maybelle. No. He was going to get angry at his real mother. 

--------------------------------------------------

Butthead sat on his uncles' scratchy, polyester couch. Leaning his cheek against his fist, elbow on the arm-rest. He was zoning out in front of the TV. It was some sort of bad, made-for-TV movie about a farming family. 

Butthead was only half paying attention. 

He had been working in the yard all day. He supposed he could kind of relate to the farmers. He'd been mowing, pulling weeds, and taking all of those rusty tools that littered the yard to the shed. He hated to admit it, but Cousin Richie had made a good call on that bottled water. 

He wished Beavis were here. Back home, yard work was actually fun with him. He didn't even notice as a dopey smile crossed his face. Everything was better with Beavis. He couldn't deny it.

"What the hell are you smiling at?"

Butthead's smile instantly faded as he heard Darryl's voice. "Nothing..."

"I don't remember putting 'watch TV' on your chores list."

"I was doing the list all day."

"Well, the yard looks like crap." his uncle stated, placing a case of beer on the kitchen table with a loud thump.

"Uh, okay. I don't care."

"Pick your lazy ass up off the sofa."

Butthead ignored him, still refusing to even look at him.

In response, Darryl went into the living room and grabbed Butthead by the arm. Pulling the pouting teen to his feet, and pulling him across the trailer. "Get in the kitchen and do these dishes, you little ass-licker!"And with that, he shoved him onto the kitchen tile.

"Okay, okay..." Butthead grumbled, rubbing his arm. "You suck..."

Still refusing to look in his direction, Butthead heard his uncle grab the case of beer, walk across the trailer and head outside. The flimsy screen door slamming back against it's frame as he did so.

Butthead scowled as he turned on the water. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being treated like dirt. In fact, he was pretty used to it. It was like a never ending cycle.

He was born to his mother, who spent his younger years confusing him. Going from sweet to enraged at the drop of a hat, leaving Butthead on edge, while simultaneously desperate for the small amounts of positive attention that came his way. As the years passed, though, she made it increasingly clear she'd never wanted him, and often took to simply pretending he didn't exist at all. 

Then, he was given to the school. Where the teachers hated him. Where he was sent to a dozen different school psychologists and counsellors, who all seemed to have a different diagnosis for him. They all had their own theories as to why Butthead was so awful. But the truth was, none of them really knew anything about him at all, because Butthead would never dare tell any of them what was really going on in his head, or what had really happened to him in his life.

Nobody in Highland seemed to like him, but nobody in Highland really knew him. Beyond the burnout in the back of the classroom, or the kid who got their order wrong at the drive-thru. 

The only person in Highland who liked him was Beavis. And, as it happened, Beavis was also the only person in Highland who really knew Butthead at all. 

And having Beavis by his side made everything else bearable. 

But without him, he could only take it all head on, or retreat into his own mind. Neither of which were very attractive options.

Butthead could hear his uncles voices float through the air, into the trailer. Getting louder and more slurred as time passed.

He had learned that every Saturday they sat out on the front porch, drinking beer until they passed out. Often not even making it inside. 

The sound of the three of them carrying on, becoming a dull background noise. His head had been in the clouds all day, and this was no different. 

Eventually he heard a vehicle start up, and the crunching of the gravel in the driveway. Off to get more beer, he presumed. 

Butthead was putting a plate on the dish-rack when he heard what sounded like someone calling his name. He paused. Wondering if he had really heard it or not. 

"Butthead..." he heard again. More clear this time. Or maybe he was just paying more attention.

"What?" he asked.

Nothing.

"What!?" he called louder.

"Come 'ere!'" 

Butthead rolled his eyes. What the hell did he want now? He turned the water off and dried his hands on his shirt. He heard him call again, less coherent this time. "I'm coming, I'm coming..." Butthead muttered under his breath.

Just as he put his hand on the door-knob, the front door slammed open with such force he was knocked to the ground.

His drunk, barely conscience uncle, like a freshly cut tree, falling on top of him.

Butthead wheezed as he felt himself being crushed under the weight. His arms lying beside him on the floor. Hands near his head. "Get off!"

"Butthead..." his uncle mumbled again, and then he said something he couldn't quite make out. 

"Get your fat ass off me!"

"Don' you speak that waytome!" he slurred. "I tol' ya' you'd getta CONsequence!"

Butthead opened his mouth to speak back, but was stopped by a crushing pain in the side of his face. His ears rang, he was disoriented for a moment before he realized what had happened. His uncle had punched him in the side of his face. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to call him a drunk fucking asshole! But he couldn't. Instead, he just choked on his own breath. Tears screwing up his vision. He let out a pathetic whimper, which he didn't mean to. His uncle was talking again, but he couldn't understand any of it. If that was from the ringing in his ears or his slurring, he didn't know.

He felt his uncles huge hands on his thin wrists. Painfully pressing them against the hard floor. As if to pin him there. This sensation in his wrist. The weight of someone much bigger on top of him. He had felt this before. But where?

Butthead squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear someones voice. Vaguely, far away. at the edge of his mind, not quite close enough to grasp. It wasn't his uncle. It was someone else. Someone he knew.

He opened his eyes. His vision was no longer blurry. But he wasn't in the trailer. 

He saw pine trees. The moon through a window. Big, plush dice. It wasn't a window. It was a windshield.

He was in a car. He knew this car. The green, plaid interior. The smell of marijuana and cigarettes. This was Todd's car. Why was he in Todd's car? How did he get here?

He stared at the fuzzy dice, swinging back and forth from the rear view mirror. There was a sharp, burning pain throughout his body. What was happening? 

He saw Todd above him. His face red, covered in large beads of sweat. He was saying something, but all Butthead heard was a vague, unintelligible voice. He looked terrifying. Demonic. Evil. Nothing like the image of a cool older guy Butthead was used to. 

This was nothing like he was used to. He was scared. He felt the way he did in the parking lot at the beginning of the summer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run. But nothing happened.

It was then he realized he was holding his breath. He should be screaming at the top of his lungs, but instead he was fighting to keep even the slightest sound from escaping. But why? He shook his head. He didn't understand.

Why was he here? Why was he seeing this? Was this a dream? Was this a memory? Did this really happen? Or was it happening right now? 

He began to sob loudly, shaking his head more and more violently. As if to shake the thoughts right out of his mind and onto the floor beside him. 

No. He was in Ackerly. He was in his families trailer. He wasn't in Highland. Todd was miles and miles away, he told himself. 

But it felt so real. But it wasn't. It couldn't be.

There was still a crushing weight on top of him. Huck. Why was he still on top of him?

Was he the one who was hurting him? Was it really his face he saw? He had to get this son of a bitch off of him!

He wanted to fight back! He wanted to kick and flail, and bite and scratch and scream as loud as he could!

But, nothing happened.

His body wouldn't listen. No matter what he told it to do, he just lied there. Limp, useless and pathetic.

Crying, like a little child. He felt snot dripping from his nose, across his lips. It itched, and yet his arms wouldn't even move to wipe it away. Something was wrong with him, and he didn't know what. This scared him even more. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest.

He didn't even know how much time had passed. But eventually he heard a car pulling into the driveway. 

"I'lldealwithyoulater..." His uncle slurred, getting up to meet his younger brothers back outside.

Butthead's head was swimming. He felt trapped within a thick layer of fog. But the door slamming shut was enough to snap him out of it.

He picked himself up off the ground, not even realizing he could move again until he was standing on his own two shaky feet.

He clutched his head. Something was really wrong with him. He was going crazy! 

He wiped the tears and snot from his face with the back of his hands. He needed to talk to someone. His heart was still racing, and he felt a sickness in his stomach. Not the normal kind of sickness either, like when he had two Big Gulps in a row. It was a dirty, uncomfortable kind of sickness. And it was threatening to spread to his entire body. It might have already spread to his brain. Which still felt foggy and confused.

He heard a laugh, which made him jump. Whipping his head around like a startled animal. It was just from outside...

With a shaking hand,he grabbed the phone from the wall in the kitchen and locked himself in the bathroom.

He set the phone down on the back of the toilet tank, blowing his nose with some toilet paper. He tossed it into the trash, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He quickly turned away, running a hand through his overgrown hair.

Putting the toilet seat down, he sat on top of it. Pulling his knees up to his chest.

There were only two people in the entire world he could tell any of this to.

He went to dial his cousin Richie, but quickly stopped himself.

What if Betty-Lou answered? He couldn't handle that right now. She already thought he was disgusting. Her voice rang through his head; 

"God! You are sick! There's something wrong with you!"

He choked on a sob. What if she was right?

No, No, No.

He needed Beavis. He was the only one who could understand. He was the only one who wouldn't judge him. Even if Butthead really was disgusting, Beavis didn't mind disgusting things anyways.

He dialed his home phone number with a sniffle, and then held the phone to his ear. Trembling as he listened to it ring.

"Hello...?" He felt relieved to hear Beavis' voice. Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Beavis..." he practically whispered. 

"Butthead? Mehehe, man, you're sure lucky your mom's asleep."

"Beavis..." he sniffed.

"Um, is something wrong?"

Butthead nodded, before realizing Beavis couldn't see that. "I, uhh... I need to ask you, like.... A question. It's important..."

"Oh, um... I should go in another room..."

"Okay," Butthead bit his lip. He heard some shuffling through the speaker."Shit..." he muttered to himself, noticing blood dripping down his arm. 

"What is it?" he finally heard Beavis say.

"Uhh..." He wasn't sure how to ask this. 

"Hey... Are you crying?"

"Yeah..." Butthead admitted. 

"W-what happened?"

Butthead let out a sharp breath. He didn't know how to answer that. So, he didn't.

"Butthead?"

"Beavis...."

"Yeah?"

"Uhh... I had a weird thought..."

"What do you mean?"

"Beavis... Did something ever...Like... happen to me... Uh, in..." he bit his lip. "In Todd's car..." he mumbled, barely audible.

"Oh..."

"What?"

"Did you remember something? Or something?"

"I don't know. I just, like, had this thought or, uh," sniff, "Memory or something. Like something really bad happened there."

"I don't think you really wanna know, Butthead..."

"I have to know! Please, tell me. What happened? What did he do to me?"

"Umm...."

"Beavis?"

"...He raped you..."

Butthead's mouth fell open. The word echoed through his mind briefly, before being replaced by a sudden flash of images. More pieces to the memory. He couldn't even register it all. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grew more intense. 

How could he have forgotten something like that!? 

He already felt dirty, and now a wave of shame and humiliation washed over him. As he remembered his crush on Todd. Following him around, trying to get his attention. Telling him he was cool! He wanted to tear his own skin off just thinking about it! 

Todd must think he's pathetic. He pictured him laughing with his friends. Telling them what he did to him, and that he was still lovesick over him! Treating him like some kind of God. He might even think Butthead liked it! 

He didn't like it! He didn't! He felt his fist clench. He didn't even have a clue when it happened! He worshipped a monster! Todd could spit in his face, and he'd thank him for it! He sobbed into the phone. Todd was nothing but a sick freak, who got his kicks by hurting him. And Butthead had just kept going back for more and more abuse. 

But he didn't want to be hurt! He wanted to be loved.... 

"How could you let me go back?" 

"Butthead, don't cry," he heard Beavis' voice break as he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

"I didn't know you forgot! I thought you were pretending!"

"I didn't like it, Beavis! I didn't want it! I don't want people to hurt me! I don't like it! I don't!"

"I know you didn't want it..." Beavis replied, voice wavering. Butthead could hear he was crying now too. Or at the least on the verge of it. 

"How could I forget something like that? What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing... Van Driessen told me people, like, forget stuff like that sometimes. Their brain is trying to protect them from knowing about something really bad."

"Well, I hate my stupid brain. It's not protecting me! People can just do anything to me, and I'll forget! Like it never even happened... I bet they all laugh about it... Like my uncle."

"Your uncle?" Beavis sounded concerned. "W-what happened, Butthead?"

"I don't kno-o-o-o-ow....!" He wept. "I can't remember! It's all a blur!" He tried desperately to remember, but the memory was slipping away. Like sand through his fingers. He had only a few short snapshots. The details were already impossible for him to recall. 

"Did he beat you up?"

"I think so.... I'm hurt and stuff... But i can't remember, and it's... It's scary, Beavis..."

"Well, where are you?"

"In the bathroom."

"And where is he?"

"Outside. They're all drinking on the porch."

"You should like, lock yourself in your room or something... You know, just to be safe."

"I don't even have a room here," Butthead sniffled. "I just sleep on the stupid couch."

"Oh..."

"I just wanna go home, Beavis. I lo-....I miss you..."

"I miss you too. Are you, like, sure you're safe?"

"No. I don't know."

"Maybe you should go to your cousins house."

Butthead shook his head. "I can't. His dumb wife hates me. She thinks I'm gross. She won't even let me meet their baby when it's born! She'll tell Richie I'm a homo, and he won't like me anymore."

"No way, Butthead. He wouldn't do that."

"Sure he would..."

"I was talking to Mr. Van Driessen..."

"Oh, just shut up about Van Driessen! I don't care about that stupid wuss! You're not allowed to tell him anything about me! I don't want him to know any of that stuff! Especially when I didn't even know it!"

"Butthead, he was really nice to me."

Butthead felt bad when he heard the emotion in Beavis' voice. He wasn't even mad at him. He was mad at himself for forgetting. "Uh, sorry..."

"It's okay..."

"You're such a good friend to me, Beavis. I, like, don't know what I'd do without you."

They talked for a few more minutes, but Butthead was getting tired from crying so much. He said goodbye to Beavis, even though Beavis wanted him to stay on the phone. Butthead just couldn't anymore.

He crept back into the kitchen to put the phone away. His family members still outside. Butthead, feeling afraid, locked the front door so they wouldn't be able to get inside. He would probably get in trouble for it later, but he didn't care. He had to sleep, and he knew he wouldn't be able to otherwise.

His head pounding, and his eyelids heavy, it didn't take long for Butthead to pass out.  

Chapter Text

Butthead was scheduled to work at Burger World all day. He'd been dreading it, but now he was thankful because all he wanted to do was get out of the house. He stuffed his uniform in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He'd change at work. He just wanted to get out of here.

Carefully, he opened the front door. His uncles were still passed out, fast asleep in the lawn chairs they'd spent last night in.  He stepped lightly, trying to avoid the creaking of the wooden porch. Holding his breath. Anything he could do to creep past them without waking them up.

With no other option, he began walking down the shoulder of the highway, into town. It would take a while, but he didn't even care.

He shivered from the morning air, wrapping his arms around himself. His mind kept going back to last night. He hated himself for not being able to remember what happened. He felt like an idiot. What kind of a person can't even remember something that just happened!? 

He'd finally remembered what Todd did, and he didn't even know how long ago it was. He was so stupid, he should have asked Beavis... So how long until he remembered last night? If he ever even would... 

How much else had he completely forgotten? What other events were simply wiped from his mind, as if they never even happened at all? 

It was truly terrifying. Not being able to trust your own memory. Having no idea who around you was safe and who wasn't. Anyone could get away with doing anything they wanted.

He was brought back to reality when he heard the sound of a car slowing down. He turned to look and saw it was a police car. He froze. Was he doing something wrong? Was he about to get arrested? He couldn't go to jail!

He bit his lip watching in silence as the Sheriff rolled down his window.

"You alright there, son?" he asked.

Butthead just nodded.

"You should always walk against traffic when you walk down the highway."

Butthead cocked his head in confusion. 

"So you can see what's coming," he explained. But Butthead still didn't understand what he meant by 'against traffic.' "On the other side of the road," the Sheriff clarified, pointing.

"Oh..." Butthead took a small step off of the shoulder, but quickly stepped back when a truck whizzed past in the other lane. Blowing Butthead's hair in the process. No way. He wasn't going to walk across that highway. He wasn't that stupid. Even if everybody thought he was.

The Sheriff put on his hazards and got out of his squad car and took Butthead by the arm. He held his breath, afraid and unsure of what was about to happen.

The cop lead Butthead across the highway, and onto the opposite shoulder. "You sure you're alright?" he asked again, looking the boy in the face.

Butthead just nodded again, watching with wide eyes as he nodded at him, walked back to his vehicle and drove away. 

Finally, he exhaled.  He just helped him cross the street. He normally had bad experiences with cops. He'd been beaten by them. Todd's fault...!

They never believed him, even when he was telling the truth. Maybe if somebody believed him, Todd would have gone to prison a long time ago, and wouldn't have been around to... Ugh... He felt sick just thinking about it.

He clutched his head, continuing his walk into town.

What about in Washington? That chick cop had taken him to the back of that van. He felt a chill run through his body. He didn't remember much of that incident either. Just feeling afraid and humiliated. And hurt. Why did everyone want to hurt him? He hadn't done anything wrong. He felt a tear roll down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away. At least he remembered it happened at all, even if the details were fuzzy. 

"Does sex hurt?"

he remembered asking once in Buzzcut's class. Everyone had laughed at him. Even Buzzcut. Why? Clearly it did. Maybe it was a good thing he never scored. He was sure he wouldn't like it as much as he once thought he would.

He remembered being so pissed off when the cops had busted that porn set. He'd wanted to score with those chicks. It was all he was thinking about. But now he was relieved. He didn't want to be naked on video, one that just anyone could rent. 

He remembered him and Beavis had to talk to this social worker after that. She kept asking them if they were okay and how they met those people. She told him they couldn't hurt him anymore. That she'd keep them safe, and did they have somewhere to go? Butthead hadn't really appreciated it at the time. Although, he did break down when Beavis left the room and she hugged him and rubbed his back. He wasn't used to being touched by a grown up in that way. She didn't want anything in return. She didn't suddenly become enraged. She didn't lure him in with affection only to betray his trust. Where was she now? He could use someone like that...

No... Even that had been a lie. She didn't care about him. She was just doing her job. 

He wrapped his arms around himself once more. This time, not from a chill in the air, but from the painful lump in his chest. He wanted his cousin. Richie loved him. And unlike Beavis, Richie could protect him. He just wanted his big cousin to scoop him up and tell him it would all be okay. If Richie said it, that might mean it were true... Richie was smart.

Butthead kept on walking at a rather slow pace, lost in his own thoughts. Eventually making it into town. Burger World was pretty much the first thing there, which he guessed was good, but he would probably need a better way to get here from now on. 

"Butthead, you're late..." Sue-Ellen said in a sing-songy voice as he walked through the door. She was cleaning tables. 

"I know, I know..." Butthead mumbled. "Lemme change..." He headed to the mens room.

It was pretty unusual for him to change at work, but obviously he hadn't thought of that this morning. 

When he got to the bathroom, he was taken aback by his own reflection. The entire left side of his face was bruised. Dark black and purple, from his temple to his jaw, spreading over onto his lip and chin. He brought his hand up, gingerly touching the bruise. Shit.... No wonder that cop had asked him if he was okay. He looked terrible.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to straighten it out the best he could. There were puncture wounds on the tops of his wrists. They were from someone digging their nails into his skin. He recognized that. Beavis used to do that when they were little. Butthead would sit on him, and Beavis would dig his claws into him, wherever he could get a grip.

He peeled off his t-shirt and slipped out of his shorts, stuffing them in his bag. He pulled on his work jeans, with the Burger World logo stitched onto the back pocket. As he pulled his shirt over his head, he suddenly felt a wave of fear and terror wash over him. He quickly pulled it over his chest shaking his head. Not this again! 

He splashed some cold water onto his face, as if it would wash away his emotions. Gripping the sides of the sink, he brought his gaze to the mirror. "Knock it off, butt-hole!" he chastised himself. "Quit having feelings!"

He stuffed the rest of his clothes into his backpack, and tossed it into the break room before heading to work.

Sue-Ellen put him on drive-thru duty. He spent the morning taking orders and putting re-heated breakfast sausages onto english muffins. If Beavis were here, he knew he'd be laughing about the word 'sausage', but his heart just wasn't in it. 

"Uhh... Hello... Can I take your order?" he asked sullenly into the headset. Staring with wide, open eyes at the wall. Wishing he was nuzzled into Beavis' lap in front of the TV. A house of their own, with no chance of anyone else ever walking through the front door.

"Welcome to Burger World...." he said with a sad sigh. Staring blankly at his shoes. Wishing cousin Richie had his arms around him, promising to take him somewhere far away where nobody could find him. 

He was working extremely slowly. Every movement felt like a chore. His heart was heavy in his chest, eyes sad and underlined by dark circles. As he was working the grill, a tear rolled down his cheek and landed there with a sizzle.

"Butthead," Sue-Ellen said as she entered the kitchen. "I need you to re-stock the condiment station." 

She handed him a key, and without a word, Butthead took it. 

Like a zombie, he walked over to the station. It was up against the left wall of the restaurant, which was really just a massive window. 

On the front of the station was the locked cabinet which held the extra supplies. He used the key to open it up and got what he needed.

He opened up the ketchup pump and threw away the empty bag, replacing it with a new one. He put out more salt packets, mayo packets, cream and stir sticks. 

The straw dispenser was empty too. He knelt down and dug a box of straws out from the back of the cupboard. Getting the stupid dispensers open was kind of difficult, but finally he managed.

He was grabbing straws from the box and dropping them into the top of the plastic dispenser, when suddenly a hand grabbed his wrist!

He dropped the straws in his hand and froze. He was facing the window, not daring to look over.

"Hey..." A deep voice whispered in his ear. "I still owe you a ride."

Then he saw it. Through the window. There, in the parking lot. The green jeep.

"I promise. You'll have a real good time."

Butthead turned his head. It was that guy who'd come in here before and made him feel all weird. 

"I'm, like, tryina' work..." Butthead whispered.

"Don't be scared," he chuckled. "I'll show ya' around the city." He leaned in even closer to Butthead's ear. "Then we can have a little fun."

Fun!? Is that what he called it!? Butthead's fist clenched and his brow furrowed in anger. No! No! This was not going to happen to him again! He wasn't going to let this piece of shit hurt him!

"I'm only fifteen years old, you pervert!"

he shouted at the top of his lungs. Pulling his hand away and taking several steps back. His face was red, and he looked like a bull. Ready to charge. 

The few customers that were in turned to look at the commotion, but Butthead didn't care. How dare this son of a bitch come up to him and try to sweet talk him into going off with him! How dare he try and charm him, just so he could do some disgusting shit to him later! 

"Don't come near me! Don't look at me! Get out of here!" his voice was breaking he was yelling so loud. His breath laboured.

"What the hell is going on over here?" It was Sue-Ellen.

"He's a sicko! He's a creep!"

"I didn't know he was a kid!"

"You didn't know?" Sue-Ellen asked, "Please! He's got braces the size of chiclets! Now, get the hell outta here before I call the sheriffs department!" 

"Oh, fuck off..." The guy muttered, waving the two of them away with his hand as he left.

"God... What the hell was that all about?" Sue-Ellen asked.

"I don't know...." Butthead mumbled. He already felt embarrassed all of this had happened publicly. He quickly disappeared into the back. 

Sue-Ellen must have felt awkward too. Or maybe she just didn't want to make a scene in front of customers. Either way, she didn't speak to Butthead again (besides typical work communication) until closing time.

"How ya' doin' kid?" she asked him as they locked up.

"Uhh... Not that good..."

"Need a ride home?"

"Yeah."

Sue-Ellen finished locking up, and then she took Butthead out to her car. He threw his bag in the back seat and got in the passenger side. 

"You're staying with family, right?"

"Yeah... They don't really like me."

She shrugged. "I'm sure they like you. All families fight."

"I guess...."

"Where am I going?"

"Just down that road," Butthead pointed. 

"Out of town?"

"A little..."

Sue-Ellen continued to drive, as the street lights passed in golden streaks of light over them. 

"Sorry about what happened with that guy earlier. Boy, that was sure weird."

"Uhh, yeah. It creeped me out..." he admitted.

"Why?"

"Uhh, I don't know... He just made me feel gross..." he admitted, looking down at his shoes.

"He's just a loser. Don't worry about it."

"I know he's a loser," Butthead stuck out his tongue. "But I was worried. He was all perving on me."

"Oh, please," she laughed. She laughed! Butthead couldn't believe it. "He wasn't perving on you."

"Yeah, he was! He wanted me to go in his car with him."

"I don't think so. I've seen him around a lot. He was trying to sell you weed."

Butthead's mouth hung open. Was that true...? "He came in before..." Butthead tried again, in a smaller voice. "He was, like, touching my hands and stuff. He wanted to, like, show me around town or something...."

"Yeah. Show you a doobie."

"He scared me....!"

Sue-Ellen's features softened. "I know. That's what pissed me off."

Butthead looked at her with wide, inquisitive eyes. Did she actually... Care about him? Was it possible?

Butthead suddenly wished she would ask him about the bruises on his face.

If she had asked, Butthead would have told her everything. He would have spilled his guts to her. 

She drove up to the double-wide in silence. Into the driveway. The gravel crunching under the tires.

"See ya' tomorrow," was all she said.

Butthead didn't know what else to do, so he got out of the car. She handed him his backpack, and then drove away.

She never asked. She never asked about his face. He wanted to tell her! And she didn't ask!

His sadness turned to anger once again. He kicked at the gravel as hard as he could, sending a few pieces flying across the yard.

He hated chicks! He hated them! They were all bitches! Every last one of them.... 

And now he was back here! Sue-Ellen brought him back to this awful place! Cousin Richie wouldn't take him, because he went and married a stupid bitch!

Hot, frustrated tears began streaming down Butthead's face. What was he going to do!?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jeez, Beavis. You don't look so good," Stewart said as Beavis approached him and Anthony at the park. "Did you just wake up?"

"Mmm... Yeah..." he admitted, rubbing his tired eyes. "Didn't sleep til late...." He muttered.

"Why? What happened?" asked Anthony.

"Well..." He began, letting out some Beavis-noises. "Butthead's mom wouldn't shut up. She, like, wanted to bond... Or something..."

"Like, how?"

"Like, by telling me she tried to kill me and Butthead when we were, like, babies and stuff."

"...Really...?" Stewart asked in disbelief. "How?"

"She wanted to leave us outside so wolves would eat us. But, umm, I guess she chickened out."

"Thank god she did..."

"Sounds like Jesus was protecting you that time," Anthony added.

"Mmhm, Yeah. Maybe. Then, like, Butthead called. And he was all crying and stuff, so I had to try and help him."

"Butthead crying?" it sounded unbelievable to Stewart. "Something really bad must have happened then..." he concluded. He'd known Beavis and Butthead since kindergarten, and he'd never once seen, or even heard of Butthead crying.

Beavis nodded, but didn't say any more on the matter. He wasn't going to spill Butthead's secrets to anyone. Or his own for that matter. "But, you know, we can, like, talk about something else..."

"Okay, sure."

Beavis and his new friends spent most of the day together. Just hanging out. It made Beavis feel normal for once.

A while later, they were sitting on the grass, talking. There was a group of girls not far from where they were, around their age. One of them, a cute brunette with chin-length hair and freckles, kept looking over at Beavis.

"Oh, I think she likes you," Stewart giggled.

"Huh? Hehehe, no way. She likes you."

"No, I'm pretty sure she's looking at you."

"She doesn't know we swing the other way," Anthony joked.

"Well, not me." Stewart clarified. "Ohh boy, looks like she's coming over to talk to you."

Beavis looked over and saw the girls two friends pointing, and encouraging her to go over. Finally, with a nervous smile, she approached them.

Beavis frowned, not sure what to make of this. Normally he would be giddy over a chick showing any interest at all. But without Butthead there to show off to, he failed to see any reason to get excited. 

"Umm, hey...." she said to him awkwardly.

"Hey...."

"My friends kind of, made me come over here," she said, taking a seat on the ground next to him. "I'm Kira."

"Umm, hehe, my name's Beavis."

"Beavis? Oh, that's an interesting name."

Beavis didn't say anything, which caused the girl to look around, unsure of what to do. Eventually, she moved in a little closer to Beavis, and lowered her voice slightly.

"Beavis.... I was kind of wondering if you'd wanna, maybe, hang out sometime?"

"And, like, do what?"

"Well, sort of, go on a date...?"

"Um, no thank you," he said right away. She looked kind of hurt, so he decided to add "I'm kind of, like, dating someone."

"You are?"

"Yeah." It wasn't really a lie, was it? He was sort of dating Butthead. Emphasis on the 'sort of'. What else would you call it when you spend 24 hours a day with someone, and make out with them on occasion. In fact, it was getting more and more frequent. 

"Oh...."

"Umm, hey, like, don't be sad."

"No, it's okay. It's not your fault. It's just, you know, my friends go on lots of dates and guys never ask me out... And when I do, they always so no," she said, looking deflated. 

Beavis frowned. He could definitely relate. He remembered how it felt to feel like you were never gonna score. It was enough to drive a person crazy.

"Hey, umm, you know, like, my friend there," he said, pointing to Stewart with his thumb. "He's cool. And really nice. You should, like, ask him out. Hehe, yeah."

"Ohh... Well, he's not really my.... Hey! Wait! Is that a Winger shirt?" she asked, scooting closer to Stewart.

A huge smile grew across Stewart's face, and he nodded.

"They are my all time favourite band!" she exclaimed.

"Really? Mine too."

"I cannot believe their second album flopped. They deserve to be so much bigger than they are!"

"Haha, I know, right? And that second album was great, if you ask me. I listen to it all the time."

"Oh, me too! It's my favourite!"

Beavis smiled. Maybe he'd just brought two deserving people together. Or maybe they'd be nothing more than friends. Either way, he felt he did a good deed. And that made him feel good.

As the day turned to evening, his friends eventually went home. Beavis, though, did not exactly feel like going back to his house. He continued to wander the streets of Highland. Which is what he would normally be doing with Butthead, but today he was simply doing it alone.

He stopped at Maxi-Mart and bought a cherry slushie. As he was filling his cup at the machine, he felt empty inside. Looking over at the empty blue raspberry dispenser next to him. He sighed, sadly. He wished Butthead were here next to him. It was summer. Normally they would be spending all of their time together, not having to worry about school. But their moms had to go and take that all away from them...

He remembered hearing Butthead crying on the phone last night. Stewart was right. It was unusual for his best friend to cry. But not unheard of. Unlike Stewart (or anyone else for that matter), Beavis had seen Butthead cry on several occasions. But Beavis usually didn't know what to do in those situations. After all, Butthead was the leader. He'd sort of taken care of Beavis since they were young, so Beavis was lost when trying to be the parental one. But, Van Driessen had certainly helped him with that emotion crap. He felt he'd helped Butthead yesterday, at least slightly, which he wouldn't have been able to do if he hadn't had that talk with his English teacher. Maybe he should go see him again....

Beavis paid for his slushie, and then left the store. Heading for home, he guessed. He didn't have anywhere else to be. And maybe Butthead would call again once their moms were asleep or gone for the night.

As he walked away from the Maxi-Mart, a sinister voice rang in his ear from behind.

"Well, if it isn't the little girl."

Beavis turned around, coming face to face with Todd. His fist clenched, and his face became a scowl at the sight of him. "Ehh, what do you want...?" he asked.

"Well, a slushie sounds nice," he smirked and swiped the drink from Beavis' hand, gulping it down and throwing the cup over his shoulder in one fell swoop. 

"What'd you do that for!?"

"I don't know. Guess I got thirsty. So, where's your little girlfriend?"

"He's not here. And he's a boy. And I'm a boy too, you know that!"

"I don't know, you look like a couple of little girls to me."

Beavis crossed his arms.

"Aww, you upset, Beaver?"

"My name is Beavis!" 

"Tell me something, Beaver," Todd took a number of steps closer to him, getting right up in his face. "Do you do him up the ass? Or does he do you?"

Beavis' face was starting to turn red. How dare this butthole say something like that! What gave him the right!?

"Or, I guess you're a couple of lesbians, huh? You know, cause you're girls."

"You know we aren't girls, asswipe!" Beavis spat. "You knew we weren't girls the whole time! You knew it! You knew it! You knew it when you took us in yer car! With Earl! You both knew! You knew who I was! You knew what you were doing!" Beavis shouted so loud, his voice began to break. He was so angry! He wanted to kill him! He wanted to kill him with his bare hands! 

He balled up his tiny fist and hit Todd as hard as he could. Unfortunately for Beavis, he was angrier than he was strong.

Todd hit him back, much harder, knocking him to the ground. Before Beavis could get up, Todd was on top of him. Knee on his chest, hands gripping his wrists and pushing them down into the rough concrete. He leaned in, getting as close to Beavis' face as he could without touching it.

"You better not ever put you're hands on me again, you little turd!"

Beavis glared up at him. "Get off!"

"No."

"Get off me, butthole!"

"Why should I?" He laughed.

"Cause I'll, like,  tell everyone what you did, you sick creep!"

Todd just laughed again. "Go right ahead. Nobody will even listen to you."

"Yeah, they will...."

"No, they won't," he sneered. "Who? Your whore mom?"

"Shut up!"

"She doesn't care about you."

Beavis' lip quivered. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to keep from crying, because he knew it was true. She didn't care about him. 

 "You're just a little pussy. And you're a loser! You'll always be a loser. The only person who can stand you is your ugly little boyfriend, and he'll probably get sick of you too."

Beavis gritted his teeth. Who the hell was Todd to call him a loser!?

"I'm not a loser! You're a loser, Todd!" he screeched. "You suck! Yer disgusting! You pick on little kids! All you do is go to jail and then, like, come out, and then go back to jail! I hate you! I hate you! Yer not cool! I hate you! Cause yer gross! Yer-yer sick!! I wish you would go to jail and never come back for what you did!"

But Todd didn't even care what Beavis was saying. He just kept laughing. "No, Beaver. You're the loser." he leaned in even closer. "Maybe when your faggot boyfriend gets back, I'll take you both for another little car ride."

Beavis grit his teeth, practically growling. He had never been so angry in his life. He lunged his head forward and bit Todd, right on his stupid face! He freaked out and started hitting him, trying to get him off, but Beavis started biting his hand. He latched on, sinking his teeth in until he drew blood. Todd punched him in the side of the head, which caused Beavis to let go, and fall to the ground. Todd got away.

"Owe..." Beavis rubbed the side of his head. He pushed himself up off the concrete. He was still hyperventilating. It wasn't until he started walking that he realized just how badly his head hurt. 

He started to cry quietly to himself as he walked. Stupid Todd! Why couldn't he just die!? It wasn't fair. Him and Butthead had never done anything but try and be his friend. They worshipped that son of a bitch. They would have done anything for him. Beavis hated himself for that. 

Finally, he arrived home. Just as his mother was leaving for work. She was all done up. Just about to grab her coat as Beavis came in the door. 

"Beavis? Where the hell were you?"

Beavis just grumbled something incomprehensible in response.

"Beavis. Answer me."

Beavis turned on his heel and looked right at her. What right did she have to ask him something like that!? "None of yer business! Mehehe!"

"Beavis, what the hell has gotten into you?"

"I don't wanna talk to you! Y-you don't care about me!"

"Beavis, don't start a fight. I'm about to leave for work. Just tell me where the hell you were all day."

Beavis was silent for a moment before finally answering. "No." Defiantly, he crossed his arms over his chest. Then, he turned away until she finally left.

He thought about yelling at her, too. Telling her he knew all about her trying to abandon him. But he didn't feel like even putting in the effort. She wasn't worth yelling at, she'd just deny it. Besides, he didn't need to get beaten up twice today. 

For the first time in his life, he just hoped summer would end soon.

Chapter Text

RIIIIING  RIIIIING  RIIIING

No answer. Beavis slammed the phone down on the receiver. It was his third time trying to call Butthead. Where the hell was he!?

He sighed and rubbed his temples, slumping back onto the couch. All he wanted to do was talk to Butthead. Why was it so difficult? Where was he? Was he okay? Before he could spiral into imagining everything bad that could have possibly happened to him, a familiar voice pulled him back to the present.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" It was Butthead's mom.

"Umm, mehehe, I live here..." Beavis glared at her.

"I don't care!" She growled, a wine cooler clutched in her hand. "Go clean yer room, it's fucking disgusting."

"You're not my mom! I-I don't gotta listen to you!" he argued.

She snorted. "You looking to get yer ass beat? Just go."

"Fine..." Beavis grumbled. There was no point in arguing. He shuffled off to his bedroom and slammed the door.

The room was a mess, there was no doubt she was right about that. But Beavis had never really been one for cleaning.

He just sat on the floor, staring at the wall. Lost in his own thoughts. He wished he could talk to Butthead. His heart ached horribly. The most important person in his life was missing. Gone. What if Butthead's evil bitch mom never went to pick him up? He might never see him again!

He half heartedly moved a few stray items around on the floor, as if it somehow counted as cleaning. It was mostly food wrappers, pieces of school work or supplies and little bits from their childhood. A bouncy ball, a broken yo-yo, some doll shoes. 

As he was going through it all, something caught his eye. A black journal with his own name messily scrawled across the front. Beavis picked it up with delicate fingers, as if it would break. 

He remembered these. They were from a few years ago. Him and Butthead had been forced to see the school councillor once a week for a whole semester. Something about them being too disruptive in class. She'd made them keep these journals. She said it would help get their emotions out.

Beavis opened it and flipped to a random page. Since he'd never been too good at writing, it was mostly filled with doodles.

The page he'd opened happened to have a drawing of himself, holding a chainsaw and standing on a pile of dead stick figures. Most people would probably assume Beavis had ignored her instructions and just drawn something he thought was cool. But seeing the drawing again, Beavis remembered exactly what he'd been feeling that day.  

His mom had stumbled in drunk, waking him up just as he'd finally fallen asleep. Then, at school his first class was gym. He wasn't athletic at the best of times, but on nearly zero sleep, it was a nightmare. A nightmare only made worse by Buzzcut screaming at him in front of the whole class. Saying he throws like a girl, and then asking if he needed some beauty sleep! 

A girl he tried to talk to at lunch gagged and told him he smelled disgusting, and her boyfriend threatened to kick his ass. And then, later, he did. 

After school, he just wanted to grab a cherry fruity whip with Butthead. But of course, when they came out of the store, Todd was waiting for them to steal their drinks and kick their asses. Second beating in one day. 

At work that night, a group of kids came in and ordered a crap ton of food. Turns out, Kimberly was having a party and had invited their entire class. Even Stewart and Cassandra. Only the two of them had been left out. It felt bad serving them food, with his bruised face, knowing he'd been excluded on purpose.

He'd gone home so angry, he'd just wanted to kill everyone. He was glad he didn't feel that way anymore. Now, thinking about it only made him sad, not infuriated. 

He flipped to another page. It was just a picture of himself, surrounded by dark, rough scribbles. So hard, some of them had torn the page. Beavis slammed the notebook shut. He didn't want to think about that page.

He tossed the notebook away. He kept on pretending to clean the room, and eventually came across Butthead's journal. He picked it up and looked at it with wide eyes. He'd never actually looked inside it before. Should he?

He thought about respecting Butthead's privacy, but he just couldn't resist. He opened the notebook to a random page. Unlike Beavis', Butthead's was all words. His penmanship was messy and there were a lot of spelling mistakes (not that Beavis would notice those.)

I M SAD TODAY

STUFF SUX. STUFF SUXED LOTS WHEN I WAZ LITTLE BUTTHEAD.

HE WAZ SAD EVREE DAY. I WISH I CUDDA HELPT HIM BUT HES ME SO YEAH

To most people, that page would feel like a pretty thoughtless entry, but Beavis could see the emotion behind those words. Butthead must have been really upset that day to bring up Little Butthead... That was what he called his younger self. Beavis figured it was Butthead's own way of understanding what had happened to him back then. He frowned. 

He flipped to another page. 

TODD HURT ME

was all it said. Beavis got a sinking feeling in his stomach. That page could really refer to anything. But he wondered.... Did Butthead journal about it before he forgot? He wasn't sure. Todd hurt them all the time...

He chose another page.

BEAVIS DRANK LOTS OF COKE AT WERK TODAY.

HE WENT CRAZY AND THRU STUFF ALL OVER.

IT WAS SO FUNNY!

Beavis smiled. He didn't exactly remember what Butthead was referring to, but he loved that it was about him. And that he'd made Butthead laugh. He held the notebook to his chest, letting out a happy sigh. Maybe there was more about him. He flipped through, looking for his name. Here was one. 

TODAY ME AND BEAVIS WON THE SKRACH CARD.

WE BOT A LAWN MOOER. IT WAS RILLY FUN.

A 4 ANERKEY !

Beavis laughed. This he did remember! One of his many treasured memories with his best friend. And maybe one day, he'd be more than a best friend. But if not, Beavis would still be happy. He loved Butthead, and he loved hanging out with him.

Then, Beavis flipped to an earlier page. Rage overtook him instantly.

It was one of the first few pages of the notebook. The entire page was filled with doodles of hearts. Each one had the name "TODD" written in it.

Beavis' hands clenched in fists of rage. He tore the page out and ripped it into a million pieces. How could Butthead like Todd!? How could Todd do that to them when Butthead liked him so much!? Ugh! 

Beavis was so angry, he threw the notebook across the room and it hit the wall with a loud thud, before falling to the floor.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Huhu, thanks guys!" Butthead was just leaving the pawn shop after getting another paycheck cashed. He stuffed the money into his bag. He had 700 dollars now. More than enough for a bus ticket home. As soon as he got the chance, he was going to get down to the bus station and buy one. He just had to figure out a good time to dit. Where nobody would suspect anything. He rode home on his bike (which his cousin had fixed).

He still didn't like living in the trailer, but, since that one night nothing more had happened. So he was starting to feel like maybe it was okay again. Right now all he cared about was getting  to the bus station, and getting a hold of Beavis. He knew now he was in love with his best friend, but he wanted to tell him!

He rode down the highway to his family's trailer, which was empty this time of day.

He dropped his bag like a sack of potatoes at the front door and went straight to the phone in the living room. He dialed home, the buttons making a loud clicking sound as he pushed them.

"Hello?" Came the voice on the other end of the phone. 

"Beavis!" At last.

"Hey, how's it going?" Beavis asked him.

"Uhh... Not too good... But, like, better than last time we talked," he answered. He took the phone into the bathroom in order to get a little more privacy.

Butthead filled Beavis in on everything that had been going on with him. But there was something very important he wanted to tell Beavis. Something he'd discovered about himself. And him.

"Beavisth.... I been, like, doing a lot of thinking and stuff..." Butthead stammered. This was not easy to say. He took a deep breath. "And...Uhh... Well..."

"What is it, Butthead?" Beavis asked. He sounded concerned.

"Well....Uhh...The thing is.... About, uhh...."

"About what?"

"Well about.... You.... and me...."

"Umm... Is everything good? Are you, like, mad at me or anything?"

"What? No way! Of course not! Beavis, I love you!" he finally blurted out.

"Whoa! Really...?"

Butthead was silent. He had planned on saying that more carefully. Oh god. He hoped he hadn't scared Beavis off....

"Is that...Uhh....Okay....?"

"Okay!?" Beavis giggled. "I love you too!" He shouted. "I love you! I love you so much, Butthead! Yer all I think about! I wanna be with you again! I wanna, mehehehe, kiss you again!"

Butthead was grinning. He could hardly believe his ears. "Oh, Beavisth!! Me too! I wanna.... I wanna be yer boyfriend!" 

Beavis audibly gasped. "Mehehehehe!! Me too!! Me too!! I had a dream about it and everything!"

"Really? So did I!"

"Oh, Butthead! When is summer gonna be over so you can come home?"

"I'm trying to come home soon, Beavisth. And, uhh, I have a present for you too!"

"Mehehe, really? For me? Umm, should I get you something too?"

"Uhh huhu, you don't have to."

"Hehe, I want to!"

"Okay!"

Beavis and Butthead were so happy. It was like they were living in a dream. They continued their conversation for a few minutes. Giddy and in love and both feeling oh so good. Forgetting about all their problems for just a little while.

"Bye, Beavisth! I'll see you soon!" Butthead said, in a sickeningly sweet voice. 

"Hehe, byeeee, Butthead!" Beavis said, just as mushy.

With a dreamy sigh, Butthead hung up the phone. He opened the bathroom door, still feeling like he was on a cloud. But he quickly fell down to earth.

His uncles were sat at the kitchen table, the kitchen phone between them as they laughed. Oh no. They had been listening in to his entire conversation! 

The looked right at Butthead, laughing like hyenas. 

"I loooove yoooou!" Darryl mocked. 

"You're such a faggot!" Cooper spat, dropping the phone down on the table. 

Butthead felt sick to his stomach. Humilated, afraid, angry. All these emotions overwhelmed him, and he couldn't do anything about it. He just stood there, clenching his tiny fists.

"What gay ass little present did you get him, huh?" Darryl asked.

"Just leave me alone..." Butthead begged. 

"Aww, what? Are you gonna cry?" He asked.

Cooper had already grabbed Butthead's bag off the couch. "Bet it's in here!"

"No! Stop it, butthole! Give that back!"

Butthead lunged for his bag, but his cousin held it above his head, out of reach. "Huhu, dumbass!" Cooper taunted. He tossed the bag over Butthead, to his brother, Darryl caught it and started digging through it's contents.

"Stop! Stop it, asswipes! Stop! Stop!" he begged.

Of course, his older cousin immediately found the money. "Holy shit! You been holding out on us!" he laughed as he flipped through the cash.

Butthead could do nothing but watch in disbelief. How could this be happening?? "That's my money! Just give it back!"

"Sorry Butt-breath, you owe us."

"For what!?"

"Faggot tax." They both laughed at that.

Butthead stamped his foot. "Give it back!!" He leaped at his cousin, desperately trying to claw the money away, but it was just out of reach. 

"Fuck off!" Cooper pushed him away, causing Butthead to land on his back with a thud. He watched, powerless, as his two asshole cousins stuffed his hard earned cash into their pockets. 

"Wonder if he's got anything else good," Darryl said, digging deeper into the bag. 

"Just stop!" Butthead pounded his fist against the ground. "You got it all! Just go away!"

"What the hell's this?" Darryl snickered, pulling out the ring Butthead had bought at the pawn shop.

"It's just a ring I bought, just give it back!" Butthead leapt to his feet and tried to wrestle the ring away. He bought that for Beavis! And there was no way he'd be able to get another one!

"So now yer wearing jewellery too?" His cousin laughed like a donkey, and tossed the ring to his brother.

But Cooper fumbled, and the ring landed in the kitchen sink with a loud 

CLINK!

Butthead scrambled over, trying to get to it before they could. He reached for it, but is stupid clumsy hands let it slip.

The brace-faced teen watched helplessly as the ring fell down the drain.

"God damn it, no!!" He cried out, kicking the cupboard underneath the sink in frustration. He groaned loudly, putting his head down on the counter as he started to cry hot, frustrated tears. 

His cousins of course, mocked him even more over this. But he was too upset to even care. 

They both left the trailer, probably to get more beer.

After the door closed, Butthead started pounding on it with all his might. For no other reason then to simply let out his emotions. 

"I HAAATE YOOOU!!!! I HAAATEE YOUUU!!" He screamed and sobbed. He whaled and beat his little fists on anything he could find until he eventually tired himself out. 

At the end of it all, his throat hurt and he felt exausted. And still very very heartbroken. All of his hard earned money, and his gift for Beavis. Gone. He thought he was finally free.

--------------------------------------------

"Butter-Tart.... What the hell happened to you?" Cousin Richie asked the second he saw Butthead's bruised up face.

Butthead looked away in embarrassment. It was bad enough that it happened. He didn't need to be reminded of it. "I don't wanna talk about it..."

"It's okay...." Richie rubbed his arm, trying to comfort him. Butthead leaned into it without even realizing.

"I hate it here so much. Why can't those buttholes just leave me alone?"

Richie shrugged. "Their lives'r empty. It aint yer fault," Richie set down his tool box and knelt down, starting to open up the pipe to retrieve Butthead's ring. "Why didn't ya' call me sooner? They can't hurt you like this!"

"It doesn't matter....."

"Yeah, it does. Don't say that, dammit."

Butthead just sighed. He was used to being hurt and abused. He couldn't change it. It would always be this way. "If I was at home it'd be mom or Todd or someone...." 

"Who the hell is Todd?"

"Just some creep...." Butthead spat. "You woulda' been proud of me the other day at Burger World, you know."

"Oh really... Huh! Bingo!" Richie pulled out the ring and handed it to Butthead. He took it in his open palms, closing them tight around it. 

"Thanks...." Richie would never know how much this ring meant to him.

"So...?"

"Huh?"

"Burger World?" Richie reiterated, putting the pipe back together again.

"Oh... Just some pervert came in. I yelled at him! It was cool." He'd felt powerful then. For a second. He still hadn't left him alone until Sue-Ellen threatened him. If he'd been working alone, he knew something bad would have happened. Without realizing it, he began to tear up. "Everything's like... Really hard..." He said, voice breaking.

His cousin stood up and wiped his brow.

"Butterscotch...." He said empathetically as he noticed Butthead crying. He pulled him into a tight hug. 

"Everyone hurts me...." He cried into his chest. "Why does everyone hate me...? They all wanna hurt me... I can't do nothing about it...." Butthead rambled between choked sobs.

"It aint yer fault...."

Butthead wrapped his arms around his cousin and buried his nose into his shirt. "I just wanna be left alooooonnneee!" he whaled. "I wanna go home! I want Beavisth! I wanna go home!" he didn't care that he sounded like a baby. He needed to. He had to let this out! Sue-Ellen hadn't listened, and Beavis was just as much a victim as himself. He wasn't any help.

"Yer okay, now. Yer okay...." Richie rubbed his back in small circles.

"Riichiiieee.... I... I l-love you....."

"I know.... I love you too... Yer a good kid, ya' don't deserve none of this.

"They took my money..." He cried, clutching the fabric of Richie's dirty t-shirt tight between his fists. "I s-saved up all this money to get a bus ticket and they took it... They just took it...!"

"Is that how your face got all bruised up...?"

Butthead shook his head. "...Uncle Huck..." was all he could manage to say, and even that was barely audible.

"I knew they'd give you a hard time..." he sighed. He wished Butthead had told him how bad things really were earlier. "You can't stay here. Come on. You're staying with me."

Butthead frowned. He'd tried that before. "But what about your wife....?"

"Don't worry. I'll talk to her."

"She doesn't like me...."

"Well, too bad. Get your stuff."

Butthead was hesitant. But he couldn't deny, it was better than where he was. Maybe it would be okay, as long as he never told either of them what had really happened to him that night. 

Chapter Text

Butthead was nervous to step back inside his cousins house. He gripped tight to the strap of his backpack as he entered the hazy little house. He looked around, holding his breath and hoping Betty-Lou was nowhere to be found....

Richie assured him everything would be fine, and lead him to the spare bedroom. They were in the middle of converting it into the babies room. Butthead smiled at that. 

"Can I, like, meet your baby when it's born?" Butthead asked hopefully.

"Of course, Butter-Milk! Why wouldn't you?"

"Uhh, well...." Butthead sat down on the bed and dropped his backpack off his shoulder. "Yer wife, like, said I couldn't..."

"What? Are you sure? Why would she say that?"

Butthead bit his lip nervously.

"Cause she said I'm gross.... Cause Daryl told her.... Never mind...."

"Oh, come on. You know you can tell me anything..." Richie sat down next to him. 

Butthead hesitated. His body tensed as he contemplated telling Richie. Would he understand? Would he hate him too? Would he kick him out of his house? "Promise you won't... Uhh.....Hate me?"

"I could never hate you," Richie said sincerely. Although, he couldn't help but wonder what Butthead had done. It almost sounded like he was about to confess a murder or something.

"I... I, uhh.... I think.... I think I'm gay...." he finally said. As soon as he did, his face turned completely red. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he hadn't said it. Bracing for the worst.

Instead, he felt Richie's arm around him. He squeezed him against his side, and Butthead opened his eyes. His mouth hanging open in a surprised 'O'. 

"It's okay...." he said.

"I-it...It is...?"

"'Course. Yer still you, aint ya? And I love you no matter what."

Butthead's lip quivered. "I love you too...."

"How did Daryl find out?"

"My stupid mom told them. That's why she sent me up here! She caught me with.... Beavis....."

"Beavis, huh? Huhu, yeah. I can see that."

"Richie....!" he whined. 

Richie just rubbed his arm up and down playfully. 

"Well, that's why those buttholes are so mean to me! And yer wife was too!"

"What do ya' mean? What happened?"

Butthead was silent. It was too embarrassing to go over everything. All the names he'd been called and all the teasing. Finally, after several moments of silence he just mumbled. "That's why she doesn't want me to, uhh, meet the baby...."

"You're gonna meet the baby," Richie assured him again.

Butthead liked it in his cousins arms. it felt so wonderful to be comforted by someone who loved him. Someone who felt safe.

The next day was awkward. Richie went to work, and Betty-Lou mostly just sat in the living room watching TV. Butthead wanted to watch TV, but he didn't want to go in there with her. So, instead, he listened to the radio. He kept switching between music and talk radio. There was no rock station in this dumpy town though, which pissed him off. Instead, there were two country stations. One of them was horrible. But the other one, that played older music, was kind of cool. Butthead liked how the songs all told different stories. If he closed his eyes and imagined what the words were saying, it was almost like watching a movie.

It was unbearably hot inside Richie's house. There was no AC. All Butthead could do to escape the heat was open the window, but that didn't really help. He was covered in a layer of sticky sweat. 

Even the bed was too hot to lay on. Even without the blankets. Finally, he could take it no more. He needed some cold water. He slowly opened the bedroom door and crept into the kitchen. He hoped Betty-Lou wouldn't notice, but how could she not? The kitchen was basically attached to the living room. 

"You should be ashamed of yerself...." She chided.

Butthead tried to ignore her.

"Yer uncle's a good man. I known him fer years. He would never do none of that crap yer saying he done..." 

Butthead said nothing. He did everything he said he did and more. But why argue?

Betty-Lou didn't like being ignored. She turned around to face him now, trying to get a response. "I bet yew wanted it real bad though, you little faggot."

Butthead just took his water glass back to his room, and slammed the door. He gulped it down.

But as much as he wanted to ignore her, he couldn't. He heard everything she said to him, and it pissed him off!

He wanted to beat her to death. But he couldn't. Cause she was growing his cousin.

Stupid bitch!! What about his uncle was good!?? His uncle was a piece of shit! Some of his earliest memories were of being tortured by Huck. He wondered if there were things he could no longer remember... Ever since he learned about his dumbass brain trying to protect him, he doubted everything in his life. Every bad memory must have some even worse part he wasn't allowed access to.

He slammed the empty glass down on the dresser, looking at himself in the mirror. What did other people see when they looked at him? What was he doing wrong!? There was something about him... There had to be. Something that made everyone just know they could get away with it. He would keep their secrets. He wouldn't even remember. Maybe some part of him really did like it... Why else would he get into Todd's car?

He had adored Todd. He wanted him to think he was cool. He was jealous of Todd's friends. He was even jealous of his girlfriends. He would have followed him anywhere. It wasn't hard to see how he ended up in his car. And besides, being invited into the front seat instead of the trunk. It was an honor in his naive, adoring eyes. 

He liked that part... He liked that Todd was giving him attention. He felt special. He felt worthy. He felt liked. Todd was driving and talking. In his memory, his mouth moves to silence. He couldn't remember a word he said. But he remembered whatever it was, he liked it. It put him at ease, and it made him feel good about himself. 

He liked all of that. Until suddenly, he stopped liking it. 

Butthead's heart raced, and he sat totally still on the bed, reliving this new part of the memory.

His smile faded, and Todd is suddenly naked from the waste down. Butthead was scared. But being scared was lame. 

Butthead gasped for air. No! Get me out of this memory! He shook his head and looked around the room. He was at Richie's... He was at Richie's....

God, he hated himself. He had liked the attention... He had liked Todd... Maybe it really was his fault. After all, he put himself in that situation. Could he really complain when that happened? Could he really complain about his uncle? Or the guy at burger world? Or the old woman? Wait... Old woman...? Oh no. A whole host of memories suddenly hit him like a ten car pile up. Well, they weren't really memories, they were more like pieces of memories. Moms boyfriend... He started sobbing. He thought about his orthodontist.  No new memory came (thank God), but he just had this really sick feeling wash over him when he thought about him. 

All the other kids went to get their braces worked on with their moms. He was alone. It was scary enough as it is, but his orthodontist really seemed to hate him. He looked at him with utter disgust and contempt as he roughly worked on his sensitive mouth. Butthead covered his poor mouth, crying uncontrollably. What was wrong with him!? Something about him made these things happen, and he didn't know what it was. 

He just wanted to exist without anyone noticing him. When people noticed him, bad things happened. 

"I bet yew wanted it real bad...!" Betty-Lou's southern drawl echoed in his head.

"He was just trying to sell you weed!"

"He's not a credible witness, your honour!"

"He wouldn't do that!"

"Quit yer lying!"

Butthead felt completely stupid and worthless. Which, he guessed he was. Nobody took him seriously. He knew he was stupid. Everyone told him that. And he guessed he must be worthless too. He guessed it was okay that these things happened to him. He didn't matter. Maybe that was what everyone saw. What everyone saw that made them know it was okay to do whatever they wanted to him. He didn't matter. 

He turned away from the mirror. He couldn't stand to look at himself. He wanted to die. He wanted to die so badly.  

He turned the radio back on and tried to focus on it. he couldn't stand the music. He switched to talk radio. He tried to focus on their voices, even though he didn't really understand what they were talking about. It didn't matter. Besides. He was so stupid anyways. It was probably something really simple that everyone else could understand. Maybe that was it. Maybe everyone hurt him because he was just so dumb he wouldn't understand what they did. Maybe Van Driessen was wrong. His brain wasn't protecting him, it was just really really dumb.

He closed his eyes, trying not to think. Trying to only hear the radio. His whole body felt tense. His forehead hurt. His throat hurt. Everything hurt.

The heat was overwhelming. He saw blackness. And then he saw colors, and then shapes.

He was in Highland. Where was Beavis? Beavis was always next to him, but not now...

Fear gripped him. He started running. He had to get away from something. Or someone. He ran and ran until he saw his house. He bolted inside and slammed the door behind him, locking it. 

The house was totally dark. Beavis wasn't here. Slowly, he crept throughout the house. Beavis must be here somewhere. 

When he got to his own bedroom door, he heard something. It was so soft and quiet, he wasn't even really sure if he heard it at all. 

The door creaked as he opened it, and his heart nearly stopped at what he saw. It was him! Well, sort of... It was him... A long time ago...

The little boy version of himself sat on his filthy rug, hugging himself. As if he were trying to comfort himself. It's not like he has anyone else to do it... Butthead thought. 

Little Butthead noticed him, and looked up at him with huge eyes. Butthead's heart sank. He had a huge black bruise across one side of his face. His arms were scratched up, and he had puncture wounds on the tops of his hands. But they were too big to be from Beavis. What happened to his poor little self?

"Who r' you...?" he asked in a small voice. Butthead was shocked to see a pair of huge braces on his little teeth. Did he really wear braces all the way back then...?

Little Butthead brought a hand to his mouth. "Owe...."

Suddenly, Butthead was reminded of the ever-present pain of his own mouth. "Owe...." He brought his hand to his mouth also.

"Huhuhu...." Butthead laughed nervously, taking his hand awawy, "I'm Butthead..."

"Huhuhu..." Little Butthead laughed nervously. "That's my name too...."

Butthead was so used to his own name. It was just what he was called. But he realized now how cruel it was to give a mean name like that to such a small, helpless little creature.

Cautiously, he entered the room. Little Butthead tensed up. Butthead knew why. 

"I won't hurt you...."

Little Butthead didn't seem convinced. 

Butthead knew Little Butthead was expecting something bad to happen. But how could anyone hurt him? It didn't make sense to him. He knelt down beside his younger self.

Poor Little Butthead. He had nobody to even look after him. The room was filthy and stank like old beer and mold. Little Butthead had to look after himself, and Beavis. But of course he couldn't really do either of those things. He was too small. 

"I'll, uhh, protect you...." He promised. He hoped it was a promise he could keep. He gave his younger self a hug. He immediately clung to him tightly. 

Little Butthead didn't ask for this life. He didn't deserve to be treated like this. He deserved to be loved and protected...

"Protecting our inner child is one step on the path to healing...."

The voice on the radio said.

Butthead opened his eyes. Everything came back into focus. Little Butthead was gone... But at the same time... He wasn't... It still felt like he was here with him. He looked over at the dreaded mirror. He still had a big black bruise over one side of his face. His arms were scratched up. He had puncture wounds on his hands.