In the midst of the night, Stan lay awake in bed trying his hardest to drown out the seemingly never-ending buzzing in his head.
It started about a month ago, when his parents began arguing more and, one day, slipped the word "divorce" into a not-so-quiet conversation. Little did they know, Stan was still awake, staring at his computer screen while trying to finish up a last-minute assignment for school and unfortunately in earshot of the whole dispute.
The idea of divorce freaked him out. His family was dysfunctional, sure, but he loved it nonetheless. He didn't think he would ever be able to choose between parents. What if he had to move out of South Park? Deal with all the messy visitation bullshit? Leave his friends? Leave… Kyle? The thoughts rushed through his brain all at once and he could feel tears welling up in his eyes as he tensed his facial muscles and pinched the bridge of his noise. Two tears eventually made their way down his flushed cheeks.
He hadn't been able to sleep well since.
He now looked over to his alarm clock which read 3:05 am. It was Monday now, and although school was out for the summer, he had to get up early to do his paper route. Goddammit, he thought to himself and rolled over onto his other side to look out the window. The moon was full and the sky was clear. The snow had finally melted in South Park, and the temperature had been getting warmer. But that didn't matter to Stan, for the dreariness in his heart extended to every external matter in his life. He felt like he was walking under rain clouds all day and night as he continued to sink into a depression. Not only were his parents still talking about divorce, but Wendy had broken up with him two weeks ago without so much a reason other than "I think we should see other people." Stan felt alone, if anything. At fourteen years of age, just hitting puberty and subsequently a ball full of emotions, his state of mind only amplified his teenage angst, and he knew it to be dangerous. He just couldn't find it in himself to do anything about it. So he willingly continued getting rained on. Umbrellas are for conformists, he'd typically defend to himself. The time he spent with the Goth Kids years previous seemed to have rubbed off on him.
Stan closed his eyes, hoping for the best, although cynicism had the better of him lately. He finally fell asleep, however, only to be awoken by the startling sound of his alarm clock at precisely 5:45 am.
Stan sat up in his bed and rubbed his tired eyes. "Hmmph," he grumbled to himself, stepped down from his bed, grabbed his brown sweater and headed out to deliver the papers.
He inhaled the morning breeze, although too tired to fully appreciate the freshness of it. In the distance, birds were chirping their morning tunes as Stan clumsily went door-to-door to place the newspapers in the mailboxes of his neighbors.
An hour and a half went by and, placing the last newspaper in its mailbox, he heard "Good morning, Stanley!" as he neared his best friend Kyle's house. "How are you this morning?" inquired Sheila Broflovski. "Kyle's upstairs. Would you go wake him up for me? I'm just fixing up some breakfast."
Stan had been going to Kyle's for breakfast every morning since he started his paper route. Because school was out, the two boys didn't get to see each other as much as they did during the school year. But that never stopped them from trying. Best friends since they were in kindergarten and Super Best Friends since they were only 8 years old, Stan and Kyle were practically inseparable. And that's how they liked it. Although Kyle was slightly more busy during the week with family outings and such, something Sheila insisted on to keep her family as closely-knit as possible, he always made time for Stan and hardly went a day without seeing him at least once. They loved each other, they both were sure, but in fear of sounding ridiculous, neither of the boys actually voiced the words to one another. They could just sense it, and that was good enough.
"Morning, Mrs. Broflovski," he replied with a smile and enough enthusiasm to hide his state of mind. He stepped inside and quickly ran upstairs to Kyle's room.
Kyle seemed to be the only thing that made Stan somewhat happy. When everything else around him was falling apart, he could turn to Kyle and immediately feel okay about it all. So when he slowly turned the door handle, he realized he had a genuine smile on his face, and quietly crept inside.
Kyle was still asleep, his back turned to Stan. He could see his messy red locks of hair protruding from the blankets that covered most of Kyle's body up to his chin. Taking in the image of his friend, he took a deep breath, walked over to his bedside and sat down beside him.
"Hey Kyle," he gently nudged him. Kyle stirred and, being the light sleeper he is, started to open his eyes and draw back his blankets. "Your mom's making breakfast. She wanted me to wake you up."
Kyle yawned then looked at Stan with a smile, happy to see his best friend. "Hey dude. How was the paper route?" he asked while propping himself up against his headboard.
"Same ol' crap," he replied, rolling his eyes. "How was your sleep?"
Kyle rubbed his eyes and yawned again before answering. "Pretty good, actually. But I could use some more. Lie down with me for five minutes," he invited Stan while rubbing the spot next to him in a jokingly seductive manner. Stan laughed and did as he was told, climbing under the blankets to face Kyle.
After a moment of silence, Stan spoke up. "Dude…" he started with a solemn tone of voice, "My parents have been talking about getting a divorce."
"What? No way, dude," Kyle's eyes widened in shock as he spoke. "Are you for real?"
"Yeah… All they do is bitch at each other lately. I can't stand it!"
"Wow, Stan. I'm sorry to hear that. You know I'm here for you, though." Kyle gave Stan a warm half smile and put his hand out to rub his arm. "We'll get through it together."
Stan felt a sense of relief from the kind words. "Thanks, dude. I've been feeling really depressed lately and…" Stan paused midway through his sentence and reflected on the events of the past month. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, he had to hold back the tears he could feel were coming. "I-don't know what I'd do without my best friend," he finally managed to choke out.
Kyle immediately wrapped his arms around the trembling boy and they both lay there, side by side, Kyle softly hushing Stan through his sobs.
Five minutes had passed and the sun was brightly shining in through the window. Kyle looked over at his alarm clock which read 8:01 am and spoke up to Stan. "You ready for some breakfast? I think I smell veggie bacon," he chimed. Stan looked up with bloodshot eyes but managed to smile again.
And with that they headed downstairs to eat, Stan feeling content at least for the time being.