Another Style fic :D A bit more angst this time, but I still hope you all like it I'm taking a break from 'I love you Stan Marsh' ^-^
Anyway R&R!
I sat impatiently in the clean waiting room. I never liked waiting rooms, they always caused my anxiety to rile up. My mom sat next to me, her usually tidy red bun now messy and out of place. It was 2.00am, and I had had another panic attack during the night; ever since my mom and dad got divorced, my health had been deteriorating slowly. It wasn't as hard for Ike since he had me, but who did I have to look out for me?
"Kyle Broflovski," the announcer called from the speaker in the corner of the white room, echoing through the empty space. My mom didn't look at me. She just told me to go into the room alone. I didn't want to go alone and even put up a fight, but I knew she wouldn't support me through this. Not even Dad would. I got up and headed into the cramped, dull room the doctor called his office.
"Have a seat," he gestured in his monotone voice, never once looking at me. I had noticed that people recently avoided eye contact with me-strange, huh? I took a seat and twiddled my thumbs nervously. It was like going to the dentist, that unnerving feeling you get in the pit of your stomach.
"So, you can't sleep? Correct?" he mused, taking invisible notes on his board, my eyes following every slight movement he made. I nodded and explained how I was also suffering from depression and was already on pills for that.
"And you suffer from depression?" he carried on, the tone in his voice pissing me off slightly. Why couldn't he show a little sympathy or compassion, something I needed? The doctor soon sent me back home with Mom, telling me to take some sleeping tablets and that it was just probably anxiety. Not that Mom believed that.
The ride home was thick with an awkward aura. Mom never said a word, and tension bloomed around us. I watched the scenery blur past us in the dark, though some street lights were still on. As we arrived home, there were still some crowds of worried people around. They had heard the commotion from the house and gathered. Even Stan was still there. I watched as his face lit up, waiting for us to pull up into the snowy driveway.
"No. You're going inside." She grabbed my arm as I tried to get out of the car to see Stan. I tried to shrug her off but knew that it would upset her more if I couldn't even listen to her anymore. I took one last glance at Stan before heading inside, leaving him to worry until school tomorrow.
When I reached my bedroom, I locked it, not wanting to be disturbed by anyone. I saw my mom talking to the crowd outside, probably asking them to leave. Stan was looking up at me, his eyes wondering. I needed to show him I was okay; I gave him a winning smile and waved at him. Thankfully, he looked a lot less worried and smiled back up at me, soon being dragged off by his angry parents.
I didn't get any sleep that night. Bags under my eyes hung low as I got up for school. I decided that a nice warm shower would help. Taking off my clothes, I stepped into the cubicle and felt the warmth of the steam hit my soft skin. It made me relax and close my eyes as the droplets fell along my skin. I ran a hand through my now wet locks, feeling the curls turn almost straight.
I hadn't realized my state; I was drifting to sleep, loosing my footing and hitting my head hard. That was enough to wake me up for sure.
"Fuck!" I hissed, laying a hand over the spot I had hit. It stung like a bitch, but I kept my composure and finished up my wash. After a few moments, I took a look at the cut that formed on the right side of my forehead, blood trickling down the side of my pale skin.
"IKE! Get up!" I heard my mom screech like a banshee; her moods had really decreased since the break up. Ike's groan was loud as the floorboards creaked, showing signs of him awakening from his pit.
It was colder than usual today. Snowflakes fell delightfully from the sky, the cold air caressing my once warm cheeks with its flames of ice. I enjoyed the snow much more than the sun, maybe because it made me reflect on all the good times. I held a hand out into the air, catching a flake, which soon melted from the heat radiating from my palm-though my hands were freezing.
It was Saturday, and my mom had no clue of my whereabouts. I didn't feel like upsetting her even more. My feet took me straight to Stark's pond; the pond was now a natural ice skating rink which a few couples were using. I took a seat on the park bench, glancing at the pure scenery.
"Hey, Ky." Stan stood above me, his expression vague, eyes glazed over. I had texted him earlier since I didn't get to see him last night, though my body ached was sleep-deprived. I thought he needed an explanation of why I had caused so much havoc last night.
"Hey, Stan," I replied, standing up, only standing a few inches shorter than him. We both stood in silence as the back noises took over our conversations, his pale skin almost blending in with the snow around us. I never really noticed how pale he was before; most jocks at school are tanned and have a glow. But Stan...he was different: he was pale like a sheet of ice.
"I'm so sorry…I-I…" I began, my voice cracking slightly. I had caused too much trouble last night. Anxiety was stupid. Why did I have to be so defective? No wonder no one wanted me. I was a pain. I felt his arms wrap gently around my waist, warming me up with his body heat. My heart began to race, and I could feel my nerves kicking in and anxiety taking over again.
"I'm glad you're okay," He mumbled into the crook of my neck, his breath tickling my creamy skin. His soft raven locks were now entangled with my long fingers, running smoothly through them. His hat had fallen to the ground, already being covered in a thin blanket of snow. We stood in the comfort of our arms for what seemed like hours before we felt enough compassion and emotion for one day.
Stan invited me back to his house for cocoa and a warm bath. As we walked, my hands ran down his clothed arm, needing to feel his energy and comfort. Before I knew it, our fingers were tangled together, locking tightly like when we were younger.
Stan's mom was the only one home, and she greeted me in like her own. "Hey, Stanley...Kyle..." Her warm smile melted my heart; I wished my mom was happy like her.
"I'll make you boys some drinks." Yelling from the kitchen, Stan replied with thanks. My gaze turned to Stan, his bangs almost covering his eyes completely. I missed seeing his bright azure eyes shining. All I saw now was darkness and emotions.
We headed to Stan's bedroom, where I sat on the bed as he ran a bath for me, never saying a word. I could hear the water hitting the porcelain tub, the sound echoing through the rooms. Stan came back into the room once it began to fill, telling me I could go first.
"Stan…Could you pretend…?" I asked, not making much sense right now. He gave me a puzzled look.
"Pretend we were normal…just for a little bit?" I smiled with teeth, trying to show him that I was okay, that it was okay to talk and ask about last night. It was like everyone knew something about myself that I didn't. He hovered over me, pushing me down onto his bed. My heart began to race wildly again.
"Kyle, I can't pretend…" He spoke gently, his face inching closer to mine; I knew what he was doing. He was acting like he was in the past, on the night Stan came around to comfort me when I was going through so much.I never thought too much on it, but I knew we had something. Maybe it would help.
His lips, chapped and dry, were so close to my own. In reach. His lips soon curled into a smile, showing his amazingly straight teeth.
"Please…I just...I need some closure," I groaned, pleading for him to help me for at least one moment, to make me feel at least a little happier. His eyes peered straight into mine, quickly averting to the large cut on my forehead. His hand reached up, fingers running over the raw cut. It hurt like mad and was really deep, but the pain soothed over the awkward silence that loomed between us.
"Fucking hell, Stan…all I want is..." My words were silenced by Stan's lips over mine. I had missed the feeling of his taste, though the first time he tasted like cigarettes and alcohol. I savored his now sweet flavor, my tongue running across his lips. When we parted, some tears rolled down my cheeks, feeling the relief of tension.
"Shit…" Stan cussed and sat up, his hands covering his lips. Did he regret it?
"Stan?" I watched as he walked back into the bathroom, his back tense and his voice muffled. I was a nuisance. Why did I have to get him to kiss me? I'm so selfish…
So the chapters short because I want to know if people like the start? Do you? Or not? Because I don't want to carry on if it's not liked at all XD
Anyway just tell me and I'll update ^-^
Edited version punctuation and grammar fixed