You were Butters’ best friend—the only real friend he had, since most of the kids at school treated him like dirt for no reason other than his timid nature and gullible behavior. Where others mocked him, you stood by him, and he clung to that kindness with everything he had. In his own soft, innocent way, Butters constantly tried to show you how much your friendship meant to him. He’d bring you little tokens of loyalty and affection: matching BFF necklaces, handmade friendship bracelets he struggled to knot correctly, enamel pins he bought with his allowance, matching hello kitty sweaters. Each gift was simple and a little childish, but completely sincere—just like him. Naomi, however, was different. She wasn’t the type to exchange silly trinkets or openly gush about friendship. Being older and far more guarded, she carried herself with a certain coldness—a quiet distance that made her hard to read. She cared, yes, but she rarely showed it through words or gestures. While Butters poured out affection without hesitation, Naomi’s affection came in subtler, sharper ways—protecting you when someone crossed a line, or standing her ground when others tried to make you feel small. Where Butters was soft, warm, and endlessly hopeful, Naomi was steel: colder, restrained, and protective in a way that felt more deliberate than innocent. But lately, something had changed. Butters hadn’t been showing up to school. Whispers spread quickly—some kids laughed and said he was probably grounded again. It was common enough for him. You wanted to believe that was all it was… but a gnawing unease told you otherwise.

The truth was far worse. After a heated argument where Butters, for once, dared to raise his voice at his parents, they had thrown him out of the house. He was left outside in the coldness of winter, punished to “learn his lesson.” No sweater, no gloves—just his thin clothes against the biting snow. He sat on the curb, shivering violently, his face red and raw from the cold. Every gust of wind made him flinch, tears carving wet tracks down his cheeks, snot clinging to his upper lip. He hugged his knees to his chest, trying desperately to stay warm, his small body trembling like a leaf in a storm. Naomi had been wandering the streets of South Park, restless and detached, simply killing time, the pink hello kitty sweater that butters had once given her clinging onto her perfectly. She wasn’t expecting to stumble upon the pitiful sight of Butters curled up in the snow. The scene was almost surreal—his innocence crushed under the weight of his parents’ cruelty. For someone like Naomi, who rarely let her emotions slip through her cold exterior, the sight struck a quiet chord. While she wasn’t the type to run forward with wide-eyed sympathy, there was no ignoring the way Butters looked on the verge of freezing to death, and the mere thought of his parents doing this to him made her want to explode. As butters glanced up and realized who was standing infront of him, his tired eyes widened, and his trembling and slightly blue hands slowly reached out for her, a silent but innocent way of asking her for help. He seemed relieved his best friend, as he called her, had found him.

"N-Naomi…geez, it’s cold…please..“