Chapter Text
454 days before the beginning…
The Resentful
When you shuffle off this mortal coil, your senses will likely take their leave one by one. Kenny doesn't know how it is for everyone else, but for him—his hearing always goes last.
The final spark in Kenny’s awareness was his friends screaming in panic and horror. This time, a chandelier had fallen on him and crushed him flat. Kenny felt guilty for a moment, his friends shouldn’t have to witness it happen, but then remembered that they won’t remember when morning comes anyways, and the guilt is no more. It dissipates like it was never there in the first place.
After he escapes from hell, a process that took a full day, he wakes up in his bed brand new. The tattoo he had gotten a month ago is now gone, and so are the piercings in his ears and the scar on his leg he received from crashing into the bleachers at his game. Every time he is reborn, he receives the exact same body in a new condition.
For an odd reason he couldn’t name that day, he loses it. Everything is suddenly all too much and not enough at once. He’s knocking down lamps and trashing everything in his room, making it look worse than before, and breaking things he shouldn’t. When Karen rushes in, her little body trembling and her expression horrified, he wraps her up in his arms and cries.
For how long could he live like this? With the shadow of death following him at every waking and non-waking moment? At every step with every corner and turn?
When will he lose his mind before his body?
378 days before the beginning…
The Judgement
There are some things on this earth you couldn’t escape from, and for Butters, his evening walk with his mother is one.
They’re always silent at first, never a word spoken outright as they listen to the sound of sprinklers hissing and churning, the dogs barking in the distance. Butters picks up on children laughing behind the fence next door, and the faintest chime of a bicycle bell rings out just a few blocks onward.
After they pass by a handful of familiar abodes, his mother points over at a home on the corner.
“That’s new, seems like growing those roses are going great for Mrs. Cane, despite what she was saying last week.”
Butters nods to show that he was listening.
His mom would never say it, but in a way, these walks were mandatory. Butters didn’t dare to tell her no the same way he couldn’t fathom not suffering the consequences for it. She sees it as a ritual, a little moment for them to connect in ways directly spoken and otherwise. Bonding, she insisted.
They continued onward, strolling up the next lane as it curves and sweeps around a large hill. This section of the route is a little more forested than the rest, trees stretching out over the road and a modest creek trickling parallel to cracked pavement. His mom continues to make little comments about the objects they pass, the people they see.
As she does so, there’s always a hint of judgement in her eyes. An entitlement in her tone. Butters ignores all of that, counting and estimating the minutes of when this would come to end.
A little past the train tracks, another home can be seen standing on its own. Butters heart speeds up because he knows exactly who lives there, despite not visiting it for years.
"I love this place," his mother announces, then grimaces. "But I would love it much more if that eyesore weren’t there.”
Linda Stotch is a warm, beaming member of the community, a blond haired, blue eyed beacon of light at every church function and a consistent host of book clubs and women's prayer groups. Her nasty comments are said only in whispers between housewives and whatever she lets slip out by accident. Butters wonders if his silence made her feel comfortable enough to admit such a thing she would never in the presence of other people.
In the yard, Butters recognizes two people. It’s Kenny and someone else, someone older, most likely Kevin—and they’re both leaned over the open hood of a car. From this distance, Butters cannot distinguish the face either are making, or hear their voices—but they are joyful. Butters could tell by their posture alone, entirely different from the tense, stiff one he naturally goes in when put next to his mother.
“Don’t you go near that family, sweetheart.” His mother whispered in a low voice. “I cannot remember the last time I’ve seen them at church.”
Butters doesn’t tell her that if he had the choice, he too wouldn’t step foot in the house of god. If he had the courage, he’d tell her that religious belief did not determine if a person was irrefutably good or bad. Take them, for example. They were bad people dressing up as good, their disguise so great they even fooled themselves.
“Tell me you understand, Butters.” She looks at him in the eyes, her stern face leaving no room for any other answer then—
“Yes, mom.”
288 days before the beginning…
The Proprietorial
"It's dead," Kevin said, crouching to peer at the bird in the grass. It was beautiful and small: jewel-blue feathers and a snow-white belly, though the white was streaked with mud. A tree swallow.
It lay there, one dark eye turned toward them.
”Must've gotten attacked by something, or flown into a tree."
"No." Kenny crouched beside it. "It's still alive."
The way it lay, half-covered in dirt, made it look discarded. He willed it to live.
As if it heard Kenny’s thoughts, the bird's head swiveled. It opened its small beak in a weak cry.
"I told you.” Kenny breathed in relief, when he said it, he wasn’t actually sure.
"All right, all right. I think its wing is damaged, though." Gently, Kevin lifted the bird and made a dark, cool basket of his T-shirt, placing the swallow inside. "She needs some medical attention.”
At this time of the year, there are many injured animals who need help. Birds, especially, are the most common aside from rabbits. Kevin looks at him, bird cupped in his shirt.
“Try touching it.”
Kenny swallows, reaching his hand out for the bird. Slow, so it knew he was coming, and yet the moment it did, the bird began to thrash in Kevin’s shirt. Kenny didn’t even know how it mustered the energy to do that. Adrenaline, maybe. The will to survive.
“…You keep holding onto her. I’ll find her a box we can keep her safe in for now.” With that, Kenny turned away and headed towards the direction of their house.
Kenny loves animals, always had, but they never felt the same for him. He couldn’t name one creature that liked him upon first glance, unlike Kevin and Karen, who were born animal whisperers. That, however, never stopped Kenny from trying to win their affection.
It wasn’t Kenny’s first time caring for a bird, so he went right into his closet and pulled out an old boot box, shook out the contents, and stuffed it with towels, wrapping one around a hot water bottle. After poking holes in the lid, Kevin laid the swallow inside, taking care not to touch her more than necessary. It seemed counterintuitive to close her up in a box like a tomb, but he knew the birds needed it so they didn't go into shock. Too much stimulation could make her tiny heart give out from fright.
From that day on, Kenny kept a watchful eye on the bird. Tracking her progress as she got better with each day. Soon, she’ll be good enough to fly. Soon, she will leave him.
They’ve gotten close, he supposes. She no longer fights for her life every time he approaches, but she doesn’t exactly coddle up to him, either. She’s between that fine line where she’ll tolerate him if he’s near, and probably chirp happily when he’s gone.
One morning, Kenny opens his eyes to discover her perched on his window sill, ready to leave. All she’s waiting for is for him to open it, so she can once again take flight. The way it should have always been. Birds weren’t meant to be cooped up in one place. They were supposed to be free, able to go anywhere and everywhere.
For a sick, twisted second, Kenny ponders on the idea of keeping her here. She didn’t like him, couldn’t even pretend to. It’ll be too easy to capture her in his hands, break her wings and nurse her back to health all over again. He’s gentle enough to do that. Crack her enough just so it hurt but never enough to make it permanent.
Leaving his bed, he walks over to her. Her blank eyes stare at him. It’s the first time she doesn’t flinch. He reaches his hand out, slow and sure the way he did when he first found her…
And then, he opens his window.
The breeze rushes in all at once. He’s sure she could feel it, smell it. The place where she truly belongs. But instead of soaring out like he expected her to, the bird stays still and continues to gaze at him, practically frozen.
“What?” He asked her, his voice barely audible even to himself. “Don’t you want to leave? Go.”
She still doesn’t move. It’s making Kenny confused.
“I won’t stop you. Hurry.” He assured her.
Nothing. He sighs, dragging his hand across his face. “What do you want from me? What will it take for you to—?”
The next time he opens his eyes, she’s gone. In her place is a single, sky blue feather. The only piece of her he’d probably see again.
At breakfast, when he mentions to Kevin about the birds recovery, his brother stops mid bite and cocks his head. “What bird?”
Kenny never mentions her again.
143 days before the beginning…
The Desirous
Butters has a nightly routine, only common to himself.
After his parents head to bed, the lights turned off and the moon out—Butters takes out his phone. What he should be really doing is sleeping, but he tells himself he wouldn’t be able to unless he does this. It’s part of his bedtime routine now. There would be no rest, otherwise.
The first app he taps on is Snapchat, always Snapchat, as it runs on limited time and Butters was deathly afraid of missing a potential picture or video. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he clicks on instagram next. Social media has never been something he’s literate at, so those were the only two apps he went back and forth on. Searching.
Refreshing his feed, multiple photos from today pop up. Then he sees it. Exactly what he was looking for. Or, to be more precise, who.
Kenny.
Its timestamp reads 9:34 p.m., posted by Clyde. The photo consisted of multiple people sitting on a couch, all smiles as they each posed for the camera. But Butters wasn’t focused on them, no, he was staring at the left side of the picture, where Kenny was captured.
His grin is wide, hair slightly mussed up, but he’s handsome. Always handsome. There’s Mason who has a casual arm around him on one side, and a girl who’s leaning her head towards Kenny on the other.
Butters heard that Meghan was hosting her birthday party a week earlier with her parents being gone, so this must be it. Sure enough, Butters is proven right once he read the caption. ‘Give it up for the b-day girl’, followed by a line of emojis.
There. That should’ve been enough. But as it has been often lately, it’s not.
Butters dives even deeper, his fingers gaining a mind of their own as he scrolls and hunts down images. Images he knew Kenny would be in. Not just from today, but back in time, dating from a month ago to a year. The time is irrelevant as long as Butters knew Kenny would be there.
It’s a distasteful hobby, and Butters knows it’s creepy. He knows it’s wrong, and icky, and all the words that could possibly describe something being bad. He’s had his gripes about it in the past, but Butters had accepted it by now. He didn’t mind being all those things if he could continue doing what he was doing.
There seemed to be a million photos. Kenny had always been popular, and at times like this, Butters truly appreciated that fact. There were pictures of Kenny at his games and afterward, ones of him at parties and school events. Butters even found one of him lounging in Kyle’s bed in his pajamas, the rest of his friend group gathered around him. That one in particular, Butters had developed a great jealousy of.
After a while of scrolling, Butters stops at a photo of a strangely innocuous moment, a portrait Kenny appears clueless to. He’s sitting on a bed with a PS5 controller in his hand, Token’s house, no doubt, and his expression is one of frustration and concentration.
The next slide, he’s midlaugh and pumping his fist in victory. The last, he’s making a silly face—a face that would probably be unflattering on anyone else—but his expression slips right between Butters’ ribs like a perfectly placed spear to the heart.
Inhaling deep, Butters places his phone flat on his chest as he listens to the thumping of his heart. He hears nothing else, not the humidifier of his room, or the wind that blew outside. It was simply just him, and his very much beating heart, saying, “Okay. I’m satisfied.”
A small smile stretches on his face. He knew sleep would come to him, now.
68 days before the beginning…
The Envious
“You know what you need to do? Get laid. And—no, don’t give me that look. Getting fucked by someone who actually knows what they’re doing is life changing, seriously.”
It seemed that when you were quiet, you were also invisible. The group of girls sitting not far from Butters in English certainly appeared to believe so.
“No, Kate’s right. You know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Someone like…Hael. I heard he broke up with Lila recently, which means he’s now officially free! Just like you!” A blonde said, Carla.
Her friend Kate hums, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Or…you could try Kenny.”
The name cuts through the murmur of talk around Butters, like it's somehow amplified. Like he’s wearing headphones and it's being piped right into his ears. Everything focuses very sharply. Now, Butters is paying full attention.
"Oh, he’s so hot," Carla said, speaking at a rather loud volume. "In a one time, get-the-bad-boy-out-of-your-system kind of way. I've moved on to the sweeter ones, but every girl has to go through it. Rite of passage."
“I can vouch.” Kate nodded. “He’s the guy who proved me wrong. Apparently, men do have the ability to make you cum, and find your clit. I promise you, you won’t even remember who Travis is by the time he’s done with you.”
“Kate! Oh my god!” Ava, the girl they were trying to comfort, exclaims. The three friends then burst out into laughter, and Butters leans back into his seat.
He imagines that being a possibility for him, touching Kenny. Having it be acceptable. But he’s a boy and they’re worlds apart, and Butters cannot picture for the life of him how he could ever come close. Such a thing is only possible in his daydreams, or fantasies conjured up in the dead of night within the privacy of his own bedroom.
A month from then, Butters sees Ava gazing adoringly at Kenny. She talks about seeing him again, about what she would do to spend another night between the sheets with him. Butters listens to it all, as if he was part of the conversation, too. And he pretends for another day that his heart wasn’t practically glowing green from envy.
31 days before the beginning…
The Admirable
Butters believes that he knows Kenny’s greatness the best.
It’s a bold statement, he gets it, but that was how confident he was. And Butters was usually anything but that.
For the third time tonight, Kenny scores a goal. The crowd goes wild once the soccer ball passes the goalie and hits the net, cheers and claps ringing loud at the benches. Kenny pumps his fists up, before taking a few steps back and readying himself to score once again. The girls like this, everybody likes it, and it wasn’t long before they started chanting Kenny’s name like a prayer.
During their sophomore year of high school, Kenny joined the soccer team. He’s been on it ever since, skipping JV to go right to Varsity. And Butters, who prided himself on being at all of Kenny’s games, has never seen him sit on the bench except to rest. Kenny was no bench warmer. No, that was Mason Brown.
“Let’s go Kenny!” One girl cheered, louder than the rest. It was impressive, considering that basically everyone was screaming their lungs out. Butters nearly had to plug his ears.
Kenny was talented, the coach knows it, the crowd, even Butters himself. That was an impressive stat only once you consider how much Butters knew about soccer, which was not at all.
The jersey number 24 is Kenny’s. He’s in his soccer uniform, consisting of royal blue and white, the colors of their school. It’s the few instances where Kenny’s orange parka is nowhere in sight, and Butters couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy it. Kenny’s handsome face is out to be seen, his body is sweaty and uncovered, gleaming muscles and sandy tossed hair—what was there not to like? Butters thinks he looks like a beach model, the one that models specifically for magazines advertising the blue waters.
“Kenny’s killing it.” Kyle comments, and Butters was so enchanted by the boy out on the field that he forgot he wasn’t alone. “That’s like, his second goal, right?”
“Third.” Butters corrected.
“Third.” Stan parroted, handing Kyle his Coca-Cola back. Sometimes when Stan and Kyle are free, they join Butters to watch Kenny’s games. It’s rare to a point, because Stan is the quarterback of the football team, and Kyle is busy getting A’s in all his classes. Butters on the other hand, is never too busy for Kenny. As for Cartman…
Well, he simply doesn’t care enough to be here.
“He’s on a roll today.” Kyle praised, leaning against Stan. “No wonder why so many schools are after him…”
“They are?” Butters sits up straighter, tearing his eyes away from Kenny to look at Kyle who nodded.
“Yeah. He received an offer to play for Anderson University last week. People are saying it’s only time until he gets offers from D1 colleges.”
Butters didn’t know that, because he wasn’t close enough with Kenny to find out. Though, it didn’t shock him one bit.
Stan whistles, impressed. “That’s a great thing. I’m glad he found something he’s good at and likes.”
The only way to find out what was going on with Kenny was through Kyle and Stan, because Butters didn’t have enough courage to talk to his crush. Or make eye contact. Or be around him. Or…anything.
But he’s used to loving from a distance, so he was okay.
“I know, I’m proud of him.”
Butters was proud too, not that he could ever tell Kenny that.
By the end of the night, the score was 2-8, South Park taking yet another win. Butters watches as Kenny’s teammates pat his back and surround him, celebrating their victory on the open field. When it was time to head home, Stan and Kyle left the benches to congratulate Kenny.
As always, Butters leaves, taking only an extra second to appreciate the smile on Kenny’s face. It takes a considerable amount of effort not to focus on the approaching girls that swarmed Kenny.
He wishes he was a girl too, because at least then, maybe he would’ve been able to join that crowd.
Maybe he could’ve stood a chance.
The Beginning.
It was too sudden, and much too out of the blue when Butters’ teacher told him, “Tomorrow, I’m assigning the class a project. It’s a partner required one, so Butters,” Mr. Rowan puts both his hands on Butters shoulders, squeezing and looking him dead in the eyes. “I want you to be Kenny McCormick’s partner.”
Mr Rowan was short, balding, and rotund. His was the physique of a man who spent his time sitting or eating, often both. His eyes, however, displayed uncanny intelligence and care that made Butters liked him more than the rest of his teachers.
So when he asked Butters to stay a few minutes after class, Butters didn’t hesitate. Maybe he wanted to discuss the previous test that Butters may or may not have studied less for then usual. Or maybe it was the paper he accidentally wrote the date on the left hand corner rather than the right. Either way, Butters had his expectations, and Mr Rowan had single handedly destroyed them with a single demand.
“I…” As if sensing what Butters was about to say, a firm—no, I can’t—Mr Rowan tightens his hold.
“It must be you, Butters. You have the highest grade in this class.” Gulping, Butters tries not to make a face of disbelief. “Thing is, Kenny has the lowest. If he were to choose his own partner, he’d probably pick one of the girls or his close friends—and god knows he won’t get anything done if that was the case.”
That…that’s true. Butters couldn’t exactly refute that. His teacher continues. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but if he doesn’t get his grade up in this class, he won’t be able to play in the next home game. He’s in soccer, did you know that? Coach Baker really needs him.”
Alarms ring in Butters head. Kenny won’t be able to play in the next game?
“I’ve already warned the boy that he needs to bring his grades up, but it seems he just isn’t trying. Or maybe he is, and he… well, just isn’t where he needs to be yet.”
Between soccer, Kenny’s social life, and everything going on at home, Butters imagines it must be difficult to keep up with school on top of it all. If Kenny was struggling, who could really blame him?
“So, I beg of you. Or, well, Coach begged me, so now I’m begging you. Please help Kenny with this project. You can do it, Butters. You’re a smart, good kid.”
Mr. Rowan said it with such conviction that it almost seemed as though he truly believed Butters was the only one capable of saving Kenny’s grades.
“This project should be enough to raise his grade to a C. So… will you do it, Butters?”
There are moments in everyone’s life that are bigger than we know at the time. When you look back, you say, that was one of those life-changing, fork-in-the-road moments. Years from now, when he’s much older and just a tiny bit wiser, Butters future self would say that this was his moment. The moment that gave him a decision that changed it all.
“Yes. We’ll ace this project, Mr Rowan sir.”
And that was how Butters found himself here, trying to talk to Kenny.
Walking through the halls, the first place Butters searched was the back of the school. Then he tried Kyle’s and Stan’s locker, and when he was desperate—Eric’s. No matter where he looked, Butters couldn’t seem to find Kenny anywhere. Or that was the case until his eyes followed the sound of a high pitched, girly giggle. Butters comes to a halt at the scene in front of him.
Calling Kenny handsome was like calling the sun bright; while technically true, the word failed to encompass the sheer splendor of its subject. They could’ve made murals of him, wax poems and dedicate lifetimes to capture his allure on canvas. If Butters had the talent, he would’ve. It is easy to imagine Kenny as a statue who people come to worship, enthralled just by his beauty alone.
Kenny is standing at the front of his locker, which, stupid, Butters tells himself, should’ve been the place he looked at first. But Kenny is not alone.
Bebe Stevens, a girl he hasn’t talked to since middle school, was touching Kenny’s arms in a way that Butters could only describe as flirting. He couldn’t see the face Kenny was making right now, but Butters could clearly see Bebe’s. She’s batting her eyelashes and pursing her lips, and even Butters knows what that means.
Butters remembers what Eric told him one time, or uh, ranted, about Bebe’s crush (very understandable) on Kenny.
“She keeps saying it’s because of his personality but the bitch is fucking lying Butters,” said Eric one evening, a night at Butters house. “It’s because she heard that he’s some sort of sex god and she finds the kid hot. So far Kenny hasn’t fallen for it yet but when he does, and I bet you he will, I’m going to spend the next weeks giving him shit for it.“
If Butters were to be honest, he would’ve told Eric that his brain had shut off the moment he started talking about Kenny and other girls. It’s a sore, but often brought up topic that Butters didn’t like to hear about. He doesn’t want to know where his crush has been, about how many times he’s come in a girl during one night or how many people clung to Kenny at parties. But the mention of Bebe’s name kept his attention long enough for Butters to know that yes—Eric was right. Bebe definitely likes Kenny. He’s seeing it with his own two eyes right now.
Somehow, someway, Kenny turns around and meets Butters’ gaze. Butters didn’t know how Kenny knew he was there, standing frozen awkwardly in the middle of the hall, but he did.
In all honesty, Butters didn’t have a plan. Of course he didn’t. This was the last thing he expected to happen today. Life changing moments don’t exactly come with a warning, it certainly didn’t for Butters. No, instead, it came in the form of him walking straight into an open locker.
“Ow—!” Butters exclaims, dropping his books to clutch at his nose. Right immediately after the pain settled into a dull ache, embarrassment floods him. Oh hamburgers.
A shadow falls over him, Butters looks up and his eyes widen at who he sees.
Kenny.
“You’d think people would know better then to leave their lockers open like this,” The blonde began, closing the locker door properly. The very same one Butters crashed into, “But there must be more idiots in this school then I thought. Are you okay, Butters?”
“More then okay.” His reply is breathless. Kenny, being the sweetheart he was, begins to pick up all the books Butters dropped on the floor. Distantly behind him, Butters can see the scrunched up face of one Bebe Stevens, before she turns her head and stomps away.
“No Barbie this time?”
Heat trickles up Butters skin. He remembers that? “N-No, why, I learned my lesson the first time.” Butters mumbles, wincing at his stutter right afterwards. His nerves were choking him.
“Where’s all this going?” Kenny asked, talking about the books hes now holding. Before he left, Mr. Rowan also asked Butters to drop off these three heavy textbooks to Miss Russel.
“Oh-Uh—that’s okay! I can do it myself. I’m tougher than I look.”
Kenny’s pale, baby blue eyes twinkled with something. Something like amusement. “I know you can. I’m just offering.”
Nobody needed to point out that Butters was blushing. He was probably red before Kenny even started talking to him. It wouldn’t surprise Butters, not at all. That’s what an 8-year unrequited crush does to you. If Kenny ever smiled Butters way, why, he’s worried that he’ll die of a cardiac arrest.
“T-Thank you, Kenny. You’re a real sweetheart.”
Though he couldn’t see the entirety of Kenny’s face, his eyes did crinkle, the way it would when someone smiles. “Not any sweeter than you, Butters.”
They walk towards Miss Russel’s classroom, which is right next to Butters calculus class. He doesn’t know what Kenny’s next class is, but he worries that since he’s helping Butters, he’d be late for it.
Just before he could ask, Kenny beats him to it with a shocking question. “So, what did you need me for?”
Stumbling from surprise, Butters glances up at him. Kenny is tall, real tall, exactly 6’0 if Butters had to guess. “How did you know?”
“This is the first time you kept eye contact with me in years. You’re also never usually at this part of the hall either.”
Kenny was grinning, Butters didn’t have to see his face to know it. He felt like he was being teased, but it was different from the way other people teased him. Cartman was all vulgar words that he may or may not mean, while Kenny’s was lighthearted. It made him blush from being called out like that.
“Ah, uh. R-Right.” Twiddling his thumbs, a nervous habit of Butters (his dad has been telling him to stop), he blurts out the question. “Actually, I found out that Mr Rowan is going to assign us a real big project tomorrow. And I guess I was just wondering, um…will you be my partner?”
Kenny whips his head down to properly look at Butters, stopping in the hall. “Are you being serious?”
Heart dropping into his stomach with a thunk, Butters knew he’d made a mistake.
“Y-Yes.”
Kenny was going to reject him. No doubt Mr. Rowan hadn’t prepared for that. The ace striker of the soccer team—Kenny McCormick himself—wasn’t going to partner up with lame little ol’ Butters—
“If you’d have me, fuck yeah.”
Butters blinks. “…Huh?”
Kenny shifts all the books to one hand, and uses the other to pull Butters closer so he didn’t run into an approaching student. Butters was so busy staring up at Kenny that he forgot about looking ahead.
“I mean, I’m shit at Greek Myth. So I don’t know how much I can help, but…I’ll definitely try, Butters. Thanks.”
Who knows what Kenny was thanking him for? Butters didn’t. He doesn’t know anything at all when Kenny pulls down his hood and smiles at him, blue eyes and tousled hair and all. So no, Butters didn’t go into cardiac arrest like he suspected, but it felt pretty darn close. It was as if somebody took out Butters brain and only left his heart there to do the thinking for him. A dangerous, dangerous thing.
Yet, as Kenny drops both the textbooks and Butters to class, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. When Kenny turned away and left, walking the now deserted halls because everybody was already in class—Butters watched. He watched until the bright orange parka disappeared, Kenny vanishing behind a corner.
Not once did Kenny turn around and look back, but Butters was glad he didn’t. If anybody saw the face Butters made while he watched Kenny leave, they would’ve figured out his maybe not so well kept secret.
He knew it then, like the air was gaining shape and the colors had mouths—that something was changing.
That something was beginning.