7 Reason Why Today Was the Worst Day Ever
1. Despite being the assistant manager at your job, working at a grocery store is still a suck-ass job.
2. Your car broke down half-way to your apartment, and your cell phone is dead.
3. Now you're limping the rest of the way home in the cold, because for some reason you thought it was a good idea to kick your car.
4. When you finally manage to your apartment, you realize in your frustration you left your keys in the car.
5. After waiting three hours for your fiancé to get home, decide to walk to your best friend's house.
6. You remember your best friend hates you.
7. Just when you thank your lucky stars you remembered there was a spare key under your door mat, you find that your fiancé has taken all of her stuff and the only thing greeting you when you get home is a note.
These are the things Stan Marsh listed off in his head as he stared at the folded note across from him. He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been staring at the piece of paper in front of him. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the table, almost wishing the note would burst into flames and he'd wake up from whatever shitty dream he was having.
He tapped his foot against the floor, his whole leg shaking as he tried to gather the courage to read it. There was a deep, churning feeling in his stomach, threatening to make him enjoy the tuna sandwich he'd had for lunch all over again. Guilt had a nasty way of expressing itself.
There were only a few things that note could contain, and Stan was pretty sure he knew what it said. Maybe not word for word, but enough to know that this wasn't going to be a temporary split. Wendy had made up her mind. Nothing of hers was left, not even dirty clothes.
Stan closed his eyes and imagined her going through the house. She wasn't one for hysterics, she probably moved through the apartment as if she were doing the simplest of chores. Maybe every once in a while she stopped to look at a picture of him, or of them together, before shaking her head and continuing to pack. He wondered if when she'd gathered up all her stuff, that she realized she really didn't have that much to pack. She was always commuting to different towns for school and work, it was easier for her to just have the bare minimum.
A tight, wrenching feeling on Stan's heart made him close his eyes. Images of Wendy went across his vision under his eyelids, her every feature etched out so well she could have been right in front of him. He imagined that she sat across from him, folding the note perfectly in half, placing it down gently. Perhaps she had a moment of hesitation, where her breath caught and tears threatened to fall down her beautiful, soft face. But he knew Wendy better than that, she would clench her teeth, take a big breath, and walk out without giving the apartment another glance.
Biting back any guilt or fear he held, he grabbed the note and opened it. After all that he had done, he knew he deserved the crushing guilt he was feeling. His eyes went over words, and for a moment he was confused. The first part didn't look like Wendy's handwriting, it was sloppy and in cursive. He couldn't place where he'd seen it before, but knew he had. The familiar handwriting titled and listed "7 reasons not to accept a marriage proposal".
Kenny. It was unmistakable now. No one else would be that straight-forward to Wendy. Anger rose up in him as he finished looking over the list. When did Kenny decide to stop being neutral to everything and start taking sides? Stan Kicked the leg of the table, only to hiss in pain as he remembered too late he'd already hurt his foot when he kicked his car. He really needed to learn a different way to curb his anger. He rubbed his foot, and as the pain subsided, so did his anger. Of course, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. If there was one thing Kenny hated, it was drama. He also did go out of his way to give Stan fair warning.
"I'm not giving you a choice, Stan. You either sort your shit out and pick one of them, or I'm going to do it for you." Those were the words that came out of Kenny's mouth two weeks ago when he'd found out about what had happened between Stan and Kyle before the latter proposed to Wendy. He couldn't believe Kenny actually went through with his word. He sighed and moved to the writing under the list, definitely Wendy's penmanship.
Maybe I'm not as mad as I should be. Maybe I should fight for you, force you to never see Kyle again. But I can't force you to stay, and I want us both to stop pretending.
Wendy.
Stan shook his head and laid the note down on the table. The fucked up thing about it all was that he really did love Wendy. She had this way of inspiring him to be a stronger person. While she was off doing internships and going to college he was managing a grocery store. How could he compare to someone so put-together and made for great things? He knew he couldn't, that his life would probably be lived out in South Park, but he was happy with that. Then Kyle started to come back into his life.
The red-headed young man who'd been Stan's best friend for as long as he could remember was something else entirely. While he was with Wendy, he felt she was always on a pedestal, making him feel useless more often than not. It wasn't necessarily her successes that made him feel that way, but more over his sacrifices. Kyle started to mention to Stan how Wendy never seemed to appreciate the things the man had done for her. His words were, "Who gives up a sports scholarship for the well respected position of grocery manager?"
Probably the thing that Stan loved Kyle for was his ability to pick Stan back up when he was depressed. Wendy seemed to just ignore him, almost as if he was a kid throwing a fit. Kyle was always there, even though Stan had hurt him so badly.
Taking a deep breath, Stan stood from the table and walked to the living room, sitting on the couch to watch a blank television screen. Of course, he was sad he lost Wendy, but at the same time, he felt broken over the whole situation. He didn't know if he was gay or bi or whatever, but he did love Kyle. It wasn't really a romantic kind of thing, they were pretty boring when it came to that stuff.
The thought brought a smile to his face. He remembered the first time they had kissed. They were sitting in Stan's room, playing video games and ignoring their homework. Normally Kyle forced Stan to do homework with him for hours when he came over, but he remembered that his best friend had been more lenient on him after all that had been going on. Though first-person shooters were usually Stan's favorite, that he felt like he couldn't concentrate on anything. Kyle, on the other hand, was doing victory dances every time his sniper had gotten head shots on Stan's character. After what seemed like a hundred rounds of it, however, even his friend seemed to lose interest. So instead it was only logical to be responsible and do their homework.
Not that Stan liked to brag, but he hadn't been so bad at creative writing. Of course, his grammar had been horrible, and it was only thanks to spell check that any of the big words were spelled right. He had just started on new meds so his focus was shit and his brain fuzzy, but when he wrote he found he could focus. It also took his mind away from any less than pleasant thoughts.
Stan had been lost in his current writing for what had seemed like at least two hours when he felt eyes on him. He had been laying on his floor, gnawing on his pencil in thought as Kyle sat cross-legged adjacent to him surrounded by books. He looked up and gave the other a small smile. Having the others eyes on him when he was writing made him feel self-conscious, and when Kyle didn't respond to the gesture, Stan grew a little anxious.
As he sat remembering all the thoughts that had started to race through his head, Stan chuckled. It seemed like it had been eons ago, but in reality it had only been a few years. He could still feel that tension that had seemed to become so thick around them in those days. So, like a couple of retards, they sat their staring at each other for probably a good five minutes. When Stan finally realized how awkward they were being, he grinned at the other a little. It still felt awkward, so he figured he might start a conversation.
"What?" He asked, setting his pen down onto his notebook. Kyle shrugged and moved his own notebook from his lap and sat back on his hands.
"You look, uhm, kind of different when you're concentrating." Kyle replied, moving his eyes from Stan to the now blank television. "I've been noticing all these little things about you and I'm not sure it's a good thing, you know? Kind of gay."
At this, Stan had laughed and ran a hand through his hair. He had wanted to cut it, he remembered, he usually only cut it when Wendy told him to, so at the time it was kind of his lame way of rebelling. Kyle looked back at him at the motion, and rolled his eyes.
"How is that funny? I'm professing my gay love towards you. You're supposed to shun me dramatically after a huge fight about something faggy I did in the past to traumatize you into homophobia forever." Even though he had started out looking angry, Kyle gave Stan a smile, who gave one in turn.
"Well, honestly, Kyle, we're pretty gay with each other already. I don't even think I'd mind it if you kissed me." Of course, in retrospect, Stan realized those words were his undoing. Mostly because he remembered the confused look that had replaced Kyle's smile. It wasn't the first time one of them had pushed the issue, and that day had been the breaking point.
Kyle Broflovski had pretty big balls that particular moment. Most people would have just laughed it off or just ignored the comment altogether, but he took it as an invitation. Stan wasn't so sure it hadn't been. He remembered Kyle leaning over, his face getting closer, and then contact. Not that Stan never got a quickened heart rate when he'd kissed Wendy, but Kyle's lips seemed to send sparks through him. It had been embarrassing for Stan to feel so much in just a simple kiss. He felt his face get red, and a large grin erupted on his face.
"I wouldn't mind it if you gave me a handjob, either." The remark had been too good to pass up. They had both started to laugh, though, and Kyle had pulled away.
"I wouldn't mind it if you did your own math homework for once either, but I don't see either happening in the near future." Kyle said, revealing he was not then, or now, a very good fortune teller.
After Stan had finished reminiscing, however, he did feel a bit better. He found the energy to get up off of the couch, take a shower, and make himself something to eat. It was only when he decided to lay down that he started to feel depressed again. Thinking about what he had with Kyle when they were younger, and how he had lost everything that Kyle and him had built up through years of friendship over a girl. A girl that was now leaving him because he was still in love with his best friend more than he could ever of been with her.
Stan got up and went to the phone. He dialed Kyle's number, and let it ring for a while. It was somewhat surprising when the other did answer.
"Hello?" Kyle mumbled lowly on the other end.
"Did I wake you up?" Stan asked, leaning against the wall where the phone was propped up. He hadn't heard Kyle's voice in a while, and felt some of the built-up tightness in his chest leave.
"No. I haven't slept that good lately." The others voice was still low. It didn't seem as if he were annoyed, more so he was deep in thought. At the words, however, Stan immediately felt responsible. Then he shook his head, thinking that the other losing sleep over him was maybe too conceited.
"I know that, uh, you didn't want to talk to me really for a while. That I needed to sort shit out or just give it up." Stan sighed and rested his head against the wall. He didn't give the other a chance to reply before he continued. "I wanted to let you know that Wendy left me. I'm not asking anything from you. I just…. I just wanted to hear your voice."
The the other was quiet, save for the shuffling around Stan could hear. It sounded like Kyle was in the kitchen fumbling around the cupboards. Stan knew his friend had the habit of looking aimlessly around the kitchen when he had nothing better to do.
"I talked to Kenny." Kyle finally said, the noises on his end of the line stopping. He let out a drawn out sigh before a dry laugh sounded from his throat. "What the hell have we been doing? This is all like a horribly drawn out soap opera. How fucking annoying is that?"
Stan's brows furrowed but he found his own laughter answer back. It was all completely idiotic when he thought about it. The years of hurt, of hiding, of being stuck in that "I should break it off with Wendy but it'd break her heart" line of thinking. Honestly, who thought like that except a crazy person?
"I don't know, Kyle." Stan found he couldn't stop his odd chuckling, letting himself slump against the wall and slide down to sit on the ground. "I've fucked with so many people's lives, haven't I?"
Again, he felt he was the reason for everything that happened between Wendy, Kenny, Kyle, and himself. And he felt more full of himself for thinking it. It all made him hate himself more than he was starting to.
"Fuck, Stan. Don't say that." Kyle's voice cracked somewhat as he scolded the other.
"Dude, lets just… you need to sleep. Go to fucking sleep and stop thinking, okay?" Of course, Stan didn't want to get off the phone. He'd rather complain and talk some more so he could listen to the other talk. This time, though, he knew he couldn't be the "old" Stan. He'd have to do this on his own. Kyle deserved at least that. His stomach churned a little as he heard the other belt out some genuine laughter. Stan hadn't heard that in a long time.
"Yeah," Kyle paused, then sighed, "yeah, I guess you're right."
"I-I'll talk to you sometime. Maybe we can do it face to face one day." Stan gave a small smile the other one couldn't see.
"I'd like that." Kyle's voice grew soft and airy with those words, which gave Stan at least some kind of hope. It was better than nothing.
"Yeah. Well, uhm, bye. Goodnight. Uh, yeah. Bye." Stan finished awkwardly, squeezing his eyes shut and hitting his head against the wall. He always managed to somehow behave like an idiot at the worst times.
"Goodnight, Stan." Kyle murmured before Stan heard a soft click. He clicked his phone off and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling too tired to care about anything else that night. He couldn't even remember picking himself up and walking back to the bed, or even setting his alarm. That night he fell asleep hugging one of his pillows close (Wendy had taken hers), hoping it would fill the emptiness that seemed to grow in his chest.
Decided to make this a multichapter thing. Though now that I look at, its more like a few drabbles stringed together.