He sat on my bedroom floor again, staring at a random poster, his music blared in his ears and he made faces that matched whatever he was feeling in that moment. A grin to a frown, a scowl to glare. A smirk back to a grin and back to a frown again. I sat facing him, waiting for a jumble of words to spill from his mouth, and then him to return to his staring. He laughed, then scoffed, then took an earphone out and looked at me.
"You know, some people think they're so great. Like they can do whatever the fuck they want."
How ironic for him to say. He's been on an emotional roller coaster this entire week, and with no school to distract him, decided to basically move in for the weekend. I don't particularly have a problem with it, better than him locking himself in his room with no one sensible to talk to. He might do something rash in that situation, like cut his hair or go on a rant and initially get kicked out of the house for the rest of the weekend anyway. It's happened.
"Stan, you're literally on your period."
"Kyle, fuck, shut up with shit like that."
"I'm only being real. That's the type of shit he says, right."
He smiled. A weak but genuine smile. He's been listening to 'Aubrey Graham,' the guy that everyone knows as Drake. He calls him by his name because he's so "real" with "feelings" and fuck, he's just like Stan. Whiny but somehow cool. Stan only listens to the completely depressing songs of course. I can hear the music screaming from his earphone on the floor.
I can tell that you've been practicing. All those other men were practice. They were practice. Yeah. For me.
The fuck is that? That's possibly the saddest shit I've heard teenagers walking around singing ever. Then again, I've been around the same people for as long as I can remember, I guess I'm not a valuable source.
"You've been emotionally... unstable for a while now, and you won't tell anyone why. I don't even know."
You a fine motherfucker, won't you back that ass up? Call me big daddy-
"And can you turn that shit off please so we can have a conversation."
He reached for his iPod and paused the song, then, not being able to handle the absence of a song, found another and turned it down. I watched him until he finally turned to face me.
"You're looking at me. Don't look behind me, or at your iPod. If you don't like the song, change it now. You're looking at me, and telling me the best way that you possibly can what the fuck the problem is."
"I don't... Kyle, we tried this before. I-"
"I know. Just talk."
He sighed and looked at me without saying anything. I'm guessing it's because I told him not to look anywhere else. He tried to gather his thoughts, but I know he lost them every time he shook his head.
"Are you happy?" he finally started, looking up into my eyes. Am I happy. He started as if it was going to be one of those discussions where he completely breaks down and says stuff he's embarrassed about later. I was excited.
"I think so. I have no reason to not be."
"But don't you? Aren't you tired of being alone? Putting aside selflessness and all the other amazing shit about you, aren't you lonely?"
"Stan, how could I be lonely. You've been at my house since Friday and you're still here like there's no school tomorrow. Why, are you lonely?"
"I mean, I guess. Yeah. I am. I shouldn't be, but I am. After not having anyone for a while, and being used to having someone all the time, I'm pretty lonely."
"You're talking about a relationship. Do you want Wendy back?"
"No. Dude, fuck that."
List of things that make me happy; Stan, doing basically anything, but mostly degrading Wendy and his' relationship. It's a confusing topic; how you could be with someone for so long and have no attachment to them afterward. I've never understood how people can have a wonderful relationship and then never talk again afterward, and never want to.
"You want someone. Do you just miss the affections?"
"I do. Yeah, I'm tired of her being the last. She's the last person to kiss me deeply and to supposedly love me unconditionally and I'm tired of that. You know? Does that make sense?"
"Sure, of course."
"But she doesn't matter so much anymore, so it's frustrating. Like, she matters, of course she matters, I don't hate her or wish anything on her, but she doesn't mean so much. For someone that doesn't mean so much anymore to hold so much of me. It's stupid. Fuck knows she's moved on and cleared all slots that were ever held by me, but I haven't."
"Do it then."
He frowned and cocked an eyebrow.
"With fucking who?"
"I'm down. That's like something Audrey would say, right? Or am I off."
He grinned.
"It's Aubrey. Dude, you're hilarious."
"I'm serious, Stan. This past week, you've been treating me like I'm not your Super Best Friend. Like I'm not the kid that's always stuck by you, that always is there to fix your problems, or at least listen to them. Truthfully, I'm tired of that. I'm over it. Let's get intimate, like we've pretty much always been. Are you down?"
He stared at my face. I couldn't tell where he was looking, but it wasn't my eyes. His lips turned up and he spoke.
"You have nice freckles."
And he said something stupid, but better than what he's been saying. Nice freckles. That sounds like an insult. Freckles are freckles, not nice, not anything. He meant good by it though. I'm sure he did. He always does.
"Thank you, Stan. You have nice teeth."
He laughed.
"Okay, I'm down. Les'go. Yolo. Come at me, bro."
"Yeah, that's beyond unattractive." I leaned forward and put my hand on his thigh. He met me the rest of the way, and we kissed. It lingered, but was nothing special to normal standards.
"Okay, one slot refilled. How's it feel?"
He pulled me back to him and slipped in a "good" before kissing me again. I should've realized he'd be needy. I let him do whatever he needed to do to feel 'good.' He bit at my lip, held me in place by my chin, moved his tongue wherever he could. I shivered and moaned and took it all in. Though this wouldn't be our first kiss, it's a rare occasion, and always one worthy of remembrance.
He let me go. If I didn't keep my composure, things could've happened that would fuck up years of friendship, so I'm not allowed to get caught up in moments. I've made this clear to myself since the first and only awkward moment years ago that lead us to not talk for days.
"That must've been about three different slots, Stan."
"Yeah, something like that."
"Before you do anything else, tell me how you feel."
I could see the desperation in his eyes. Or lust. Either way, he wasn't done yet. He held his fingers in his hand and clenched and loosened his grip repetitively.
"I feel like I want more."
"You look like you're having withdrawals." I moved to his lap. "I'm just taking guesses. Lead me in the right direction." I put my arms over his shoulders and leaned into his lips. He locked his hands onto my waist and brought me back with him. I moved my body against his and his hands moved behind my neck to try to bring my face even closer than it already was. I consciously held no boundaries, withheld no sounds, refused to stop any instinct. Stan needed to know he's wanted, he's needed, he's loved.
We parted and he opened his eyes a bit to look into mine. We were both breathing heavy. It'd been so long. For me, at least. He gave me a weak smile.
"You're enthusiastic."
"I'm therapeutic. Do you want this or not."
"I want in your slot til' I hit the jackpot."
"Is that Drake or some trash you told Wendy? Or both."
"That's for you only." he winked. I couldn't help my smile. I laughed for a moment, and he pulled me into one more kiss, short and sweet.
"I feel better now. Thanks, Kye."
"Anytime. I can't deal with your sexual frustration if this is how it's gonna be."
"Well now I know where to come and what to do. Promise!"
"Are you going home or what."
"Nah, there's still some slots I'm thinking about refilling. We'll walk to school together if we decide to go."
"You're not keeping me home, Stanley. I've got shit I need to do tomorrow."
"Awwh, no fun. I wanted you to be the best I ever had."
"The fuck does that mean?"
"I think I'm a little bit in love with you."
"You're just quoting shit now. I'm done."
"How'd you know it was a quote!?"
I'm always thinking extra when I'm with Stan, but it's always worth it in the end.
The end! Augh, I love Drake. I do. I'm so guilty. His songs are (sometimes) full of so much emotion. Bluh. Okay. This happened. Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are welcomed. I eat opinions. Yum. Kay, done. less than three. ~