AN: Let's see…4 months huh? Ouch. Sorry guys, we know, we know! It's been so long since we last updated! Life for us both really is crazy, and to be perfectly honest I don't think either of us see it slowing down anytime soon. Rest assured though, we are still writing, we're still friends and we're not going to go MIA on you guys or each other. So with that said, please enjoy the newest chapter.
Parauni
Chapter 3 – Of Rainbows and Pumpkinbear
"Hello?"
"Mrs. M, hey its Kenny," I announce as I listen for Kyle. He just walked into the bathroom, and he says he's ready to visit Stan. And I've been racking my brain on how to let him do that without him setting off a can of worms that could destroy him…so Mrs. Marsh is my best bet.
"Kenny, what can I help you with?" Her words are kind and warm. They soothe my nerves for the time being. Keeping Kyle away from the hospital has been hell. But I'm starting to miss Stan myself, so I agreed we should go. I just don't think it's a good idea to go alone.
"Well, I was wondering if you were planning on heading up to see Stan today," I tell her, anxiously scratching my neck and eyeing the bathroom door like a hawk.
"Actually, yes, Randy and I were going to leave in about an hour." Her voice changes to concern. "Why, would you like some alone time with him today?"
"No!" I blurt immediately. "I mean…I think it would be best for you guys to be there when we go. You know, in case Stan needs help remembering some things."
That is the lamest excuse I've ever made on the fly, I don't even buy it. But she doesn't question me. "Well, alright, we could do that. Do you need a ride?"
"No thank you, I'm driving Kyle here in a few minutes."
"Oh, okay then. We'll see you there."
I hear the toilet flush. "Hey Mrs. M, would you be able to come sooner than an hour? It'd be nice to all walk in at the same time."
"…Okay, Kenny. I'll see what I can do. Either way, we'll see you there, okay? Hang in there," she says, and the line goes dead just as Kyle strolls out of the bathroom.
Wiping his hands on his jeans, he looks around before seeing me. I quickly place his phone onto its receiver and stare at him innocently.
"Who'd you call?" he asks curiously.
"No one important."
He eyes me suspiciously and walks over to the phone I just hung up. "I could just star 69 your ass, you know."
Kyle's mood has been significantly lifted since our first visit to Stan that I don't want it to end. "Go ahead," I challenge. "Then you'll have to tell the police what you were doing last night during the hours of 10pm-12am."
He scoffs. "No thanks. So, are you ready to go?"
I need to stall him. Mrs. M didn't sound very promising on getting to the hospital ASAP, and I won't risk it. I can't have Kyle and Stan alone in the same room. But how do I distract him yet again? This is starting to annoy me.
"Oh yeah, but hey you know what we should do before we go?" I ask, wondering the same thing to myself.
He looks at me curiously and I start to feel myself panic. Just what should we do?! I berate myself. "We should uh…" OH! "We should bring over some pictures and crap."
The second I say that, I see Kyle's eyes twinkle. Yes!
"That's probably a good idea," he mutters. "It could help him out."
"Definitely," I nod in agreement. "And it's still pretty early, we could drive back to your place and pick up a couple of things."
"You don't think pictures would be too much too soon?" He wonders.
"Photos? No way, stuff like that is supposed to help smooth the process. He can look at them when we're not around too. It might help him to study them when he doesn't feel like we're all hovering over him, hoping he'll remember something."
"That's true…" Kyle glances down my hallway thoughtfully. "But we're already closer to the hospital than my place so we can bring those next time."
"But the sooner the better right?"
"Well I guess…" he bites his lip in concentration and I can tell he's actually fighting with himself over the thought of visiting Stan even a few minutes later.
"Kyle, it won't take long. We'll just grab an album and head straight to the hospital from your house."
He drops his shoulders in defeat. "Fine."
Trying to ease his mind with this new brilliant idea of mine, I clasp his shoulder with my hand. "Anything to help jog Stan's memory, right?"
He takes a deep breath and forces himself to perk up at this statement. Yes! I'm so good at convincing people to do things; I should make it my job. Instead of a negotiator, I'm the convince…inator. Yeah. And I'll convince girls to go out with me. And the town to love me. And worship me. And…
"Well let's get going then!" Kyle demands, pushing me down the hallway and the stairs in front of him. "We're wasting time."
Exactly my plan, dear Kyle. "Sorry," I mumble, reaching out to the old crate we use as a table beside our front door. I fish out my keys out of the plastic bowl and check myself out in the rust-speckled mirror. Kyle does the same, straightening himself up to look presentable for his man before grabbing my arm and pulling me out the front door.
I pretend to fumble with my keys for a bit, giving Kyle the impression that I'm a dumbass and don't know which key belongs to my house. I only have two on my chain. He frowns at me and I inwardly scold myself. Come on, Ken. You're not supposed to act drunk.
I give Kyle a half-smile. "Sorry. Our lock breaks sometimes." This much is true.
He of course looks at me in shame. His poor, poor friend. Without another word, I lock the house, walk over to my car, and get in. Kyle does the same, and we drive over to his house in the same silence. He practically propels the car forward by jumping up and down on his seat nervously and shaking every limb he's got. This boy is so excited to see the one he thinks loves him the way he used to…sooner or later he's gonna find out things aren't the same anymore.
But, as it's best to not think of these things when I don't have to. Instead, I focus on the current situation. When we arrive at Kyle's place he bolts into his house, barely even letting me turn off my car. I slowly follow behind him and let myself in since he's left the door hanging open.
I don't see him as I glance around his living room, but I can hear the heavy steps above my head. No doubt he's tearing apart his bedroom to find something. I can't let him just choose anything though, and I'm quick to run up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
What I see when I enter his room almost makes me want to laugh. I don't know why I thought that Kyle—Kyle of all people—would just pick the first group of pictures he found. He's sitting on his floor surrounded by pictures and memorabilia of him and Stan, Stan and me, and the three of us together, frowning at it all.
"What do you think I should take?" he questions, looking up at me. I crouch down and pick up the first picture my hand finds. It's of one from a few years back of Stan and Kyle grinning like the buffoons they tend to be around each other.
"Hm," I answer. "What's this one from?" I ask, holding up the picture for Kyle to see.
"That's from when Stan went to that math meet I had back in sophomore year. It was the championships. I invited you too, but you said you'd rather watch the paint in your house mold over than attend a math meet."
"Oh yeah," I say, vaguely remembering that.
Kyle's giving me a half smile as he glances around him again. "Do you think…" he pauses to stand up and walk over to his desk. I watch as he rummages around the bottom drawer, digging for something that is obviously meant to be hidden. When he turns around to sit back down he gives me an awkward look.
"What?" I ask.
Without a sound he hands me the couple pictures in his hand he must have grabbed from his desk. I take them and try not to cringe. It's not that I've got anything against my friends being gay for each other, but there's no way I can allow Stan to see these pictures. Pictures of him and Kyle, clearly out on some sort of date that must have taken place in North Park. In one it's just them smiling, but that's where all the innocence goes. There's another of them kissing with Stan holding out the camera, and another of them looking so painfully in love that I shove the pictures back at Kyle.
"I think that'll be a bit much Kyle," I mutter to him.
"But that was our first real date," he says, while not looking at me. "He's gotta remember that, don't you think?"
Fuck. Why did I think this was a good idea again?
"Let's…let's not bombard him with major memories right now," I stammer, crouching back down to the ground and sorting through some insignificant-looking pictures.
Kyle bends down beside me. "Wouldn't those be the best to help him remember? I mean…times that meant the most to him should be kept in a lock box somewhere deep inside his brain. I bet we just need to figure out how to unlock it, then maybe everything will come back to him."
His words are so hopeful, it crushes me that what he's saying couldn't be further from the truth. I sigh, looking down at a picture of us three as kids in our baseball uniforms. We hated baseball when we were younger. Yet somehow Stan fell in love with the sport later on in life.
"What about this one?" I ask, desperately trying to change subjects. "Its just us playing the sport we loved the most."
"Ken, we hated playing baseball," Kyle corrects me, obviously not picking up on my sarcasm. "Wouldn't that sort of memory confuse him?"
I slowly nod. "Yeah okay." I sift through them and hold up a picture of the three of us at Funland. I reach for another one with the three of us at Stark's Pond in junior high. "What about these? They're pretty generic memories…I can't think of anything major that happened at either of those places."
Kyle sighs. "Our first kiss was at Stark's Pond."
"Damn, you boys left your mark everywhere," I reply, looking for something a bit less suggestive. Not that Stan would remember that. But if he did—if that was the first memory triggered at the thought of Stark's Pond—we'd probably damage him more. "Where are some places you haven't…uh…done stuff at?"
Kyle huffs at me. "Are you trying to keep those memories from Stan? What's your deal, Ken?"
"I just think it'd be better if…if we started out with something more neutral. Something from the younger years. Move chronologically. That way…we could build the story up for him if he had any questions."
He brightens up to this idea. "That might be a good idea. That way we could fill in any holes as we go along. Yeah, that sounds good!" He agrees with me quicker than I thought he would. I was sure I'd have to pull out some more excuses from my ass before the day was through. But this might actually work. If we're working with pictures, and we're moving from child to adult…Kyle might not even mention their activities in later life as a couple. I might've just saved the day!
It takes us entirely too long to pick out a few photos, and when we have, it's been two hours since I called Mrs. M. If she and Mr. M aren't there now, I'll be extremely pissed off. Once we've gathered everything Kyle is suddenly that much more excited to see Stan. On the drive to the hospital he keeps telling me what a good idea it was to think to bring pictures. I graciously accept his thanks. There's really no point in telling him it was a stalling tactic thought up on the fly.
Because the pictures we did choose, really WILL help Stan. Or at least I hope they do.
After we've parked and walked into the familiar waiting room area of the hospital, we're gestured toward Stan's room without so much of glance from the receptionist. I don't know if that's because she recognizes us or if it's because the Marsh's told her to expect us. As we near his room I hear the distinct sounds of a door opening and watch as both Stan's parents exit his room together.
"Hey there boys," Mr. Marsh says as he notices us. I give them a confused look as I glance back and forth at the two of them.
"Hey…" I mutter, while Kyle says it a little more enthusiastically.
"We came to visit," Kyle states the obvious. "And," he holds up the envelope we stuffed with pictures. "We brought pictures thinking it might help."
"Well that's a good idea," Mrs. Marsh says, smiling warmly at him.
"Are you two grabbing something to eat from the cafeteria?" I try to sound casual, but I have a feeling, a bad one, that they're not going anywhere near the damn cafeteria.
"Actually we're going home for the day," Mrs. Marsh replies apologetically. "Stan got a little…tired, and thought it was best to let him sleep."
"He's asleep?" Both Kyle and I ask. But while Kyle sounds disappointed, I sound way too happy.
"Not yet," Mr. Marsh informs us, much to my dismay. He thinks he's trying to be helpful. "Perhaps you can rejuvenate him with the pictures. He might be up for that." They nod to each other and both smile at Kyle, then me. Then they continue walking, away from Stan's room.
"Uh…Mrs. M!" I call out, panicked. Kyle has already begun walking into the room, but I doubt he's going to try to "rejuvenate" Stan with a kiss, so I've got a little bit of time.
"Yes, Kenny?" she answers, her eyes suddenly looking weary and stressed.
"Well, I was kind of hoping you would be in here with us as we visit. You know, for…support?"
She laughs in a way that insults me, though she has no intention of doing so. "You'll be fine. Its tough, trying to get Stan to react. But you've got Kyle. I know you two will help each other out."
"I'm just not sure he wants us in there alone, I mean…isn't it better if his family is there?"
She places a caring hand on my shoulder and looks deep into my eye. "Kenny, you and Kyle are family. Stan will love having you there. He hasn't forgotten who his friends are."
"Sharon, we need to get going," Mr. Marsh tells his wife, looking at his watch. She looks over to him and nods. Before they head out, he adds, "hopefully you have more luck with him than we did."
As I watch the Marshes walk away from me, I feel a strange warming sensation envelope my body. I've never had someone call me family before. Unless they were, you know…family. And when it's them, its not meant to be a compliment. Its always a way of attaching some sort of responsibility to me. "Kenny, you have to pay your dad's bail. He's family."
If it's not to make me feel guilty, then it's to offend me. "So you're dirt poor too? Well, what'd you expect? You're part of this family."
It's never been a term of endearment. I hardly know how to react.
"Hey you," Kyle coos, and my thoughts suddenly zone back into the present. I twist my neck in the direction of the doorway and see Kyle fluffing Stan's pillow, their faces dangerously close together.
"Stan!" I yell, unsure of how to distract, but aware that I have to do something. I run into the room so that it appears I'm excited to see my friend. I slow down the pace as I near his bed, and stop immediately when I catch Kyle's glare. He's probably mad at me for ruining their "moment."
Well tough luck! I seriously need to print out some pages for him about amnesia patients!
Kyle may look annoyed, but Stan's face looks a bit pale. Yeah, he can thank me later for that one. "So good to see you!" I add, approaching his bed and planting myself on the other side.
"Ken, hi!" He says it with such relieved enthusiasm that I want to laugh. It still doesn't really sound like him, but it's his face, and that smile he's giving me is him. "I was wondering where you were," he adds and I cock my head to the side.
"Just talking with the 'rents. You sound…" Normal is what I don't say. "Like your usual self today."
"Mhm," he answers. If you can call a 'mhm' an answer.
"Stan you,-"
"Your parents seemed ready to bolt man, what'd you do?" I interrupt Kyle. I don't mean to be a prick, but it's occurring to me that I just can't trust a word that slips from his mouth. Everything he says, everything he does has this touch of intimacy that Stan just doesn't remember. And I can't let him freak out the guy more than he already has.
Stan doesn't even look over at Kyle. I don't know if it's because he can't meet his gaze, or if he just didn't hear him. I hadn't given Kyle much room to speak.
"They talked about a family reunion and were mentioning a lot of people…I couldn't remember most of them. They got frustrated I guess, told me it was okay though, and to rest. I'm tired of resting."
I nod my head understandably. So it's not exactly what Mrs. M was saying. It's not that she and Mr. M thought Stan was tired. It's that they were tired of trying to get him to remember events he didn't feel ever took place. Guess that kinda thing would be hard on parents…
"Suppose you won't be wanting our pictures then," I ask him. "Kyle and I brought over some stuff that might help, but if you're feeling overwhelmed we can do that shit some other time."
"Pictures?" he asks curiously, and even takes a second to glance at Kyle. Kyle, who's looking down at his hands quietly.
"Yeah," I say slowly. "It was Kyle's idea."
At that, Kyle snaps his head up to look at me bewilderedly. "Right dude?" I push. He nods hesitantly while he picks the envelope up from where he must have tossed it earlier. He hands Stan the package and I wince when their hands meet.
I watch as something flashes in Stan's eyes, but its not recognition, it's panic. I instantly reach over to grab the envelope, causing their hands to be bumped apart.
"We got some really good ones," I say cheerfully, trying to act like I didn't just purposely push my way between them. I reach out and pull out the first picture I find. It's of me, Stan, Kyle, and Cartman back in kindergarten.
"These, these were the good years," I muse, showing Stan and handing him the picture. He glances over it. It doesn't look like he's registering anything, but he points at Cartman.
"Who is…?"
I snort and almost burst out laughing. "Of all the people in the world to forget, you're better off not remembering him. That's Cartman and all of us back in the kinder years."
Stan only looks lost. "Are you sure he's in kindergarten? He's so fat."
At that I can't help but to laugh out loud, all while smacking Stan on the shoulder and trying to hold myself upright.
"I thought you weren't supposed to touch-"
"And this is us at the South Park carnival when we all first rode the Tilt-a-Whirl," I continue, ignoring Kyle's very observant statement. The difference between my touch and his is that Stan doesn't shrink back in confusion when I show my friend-ly affections.
"Why are you crying, Kyle?" Stan asks curiously about the picture.
Kyle laughs to himself. "Because you threw up on me minutes before this picture was taken."
I point to Kyle's jacket. "That's not a tye-dye jacket he's wearing," I say, indicating that the pink, red, purple, and green splotches aren't part of the material.
"Jesus Christ, what did I eat that morning? A rainbow?"
"Fruit Loops," Kyle quietly adds.
"Why would anyone take a picture of this!? You look miserable!" Stan cries out, his energy surprising me. Clearly the reunion talk wasn't the key to getting him back. Pictures of barf-covered Kyle was.
"Kyle's mom has a twisted sense of humor," I explain, moving on to the next photo. It's a picture of just Stan and Kyle, laying on the ground and playing with Sparky.
"Sparky!" Stan's eyes light up, and it makes me smile to know that he remembers his childhood pup. I glance at Kyle to see how he's holding up through this all, but I can tell he's getting frustrated. After all, I'm the one holding the pictures, I'm the one now on the edge of Stan's bed, and I'm the one Stan's looking at. The one he's sharing with.
"I bet you can't bring dogs in here, can you?" Stan asks, his eyes pasted on the doggy picture.
"I don't know," I reply honestly.
"I'd really like to see Sparky. He's probably wondering where I'm at."
I look at Kyle when he says this. How do we tell Stan that his dog died two years ago and he refused to let him go so he had him cremated and put in an urn, which is now in his bedroom?
"I'm sure he misses you," Kyle says softly.
Kyle's itching to touch him, I can feel it. Before Stan realizes this, I grab a hold of his shoulder which forces him to look at me.
"Sparky died awhile back dude," I tell him.
"W-what?" He chokes out.
"Kenny!" Kyle says my name harshly.
"Look," I say to both of them. "We want you to someday get all your memories back. We can't do that if we sugar coat facts like that for you. What good would it do to tell you about him, getting your hopes up in thinking you could see him again? I'm sorry Stan," I add quietly.
"Oh," he says and the picture falls from his hand. "It's okay…maybe I knew that? I'm not sure actually…"
Stan falls into silence and I know it's as if he's re-mourning the death of Sparky all over again. A death he can't remember, which must suck more than I can imagine. Pain is written all over his face, and I'm not sure if he's trying to hold back tears or not. Kyle must think so because he leans over and to my slight amusement and dismay kisses Stan on the forehead.
"Oh honey I'm so sorry," he mutters before pulling back.
Any pain Stan had in his eyes has long vanished and is replaced with absolute horror. Thinking of the best possible idea, I too lean forehead and kiss Stan on the forehead as well. He gives me an equal look of disbelief, but I'm quick to save myself and defend my action.
"'T's alright, pumpkin bear," I say with the most conviction I can manage.
Stan's look turns to one of confusion as he looks back and forth at Kyle and I. I, on the other hand, keep my eyes glued on him. There's no need for me to meet Kyle's face of pure anger. I can feel him shooting bullets into me as it is.
"We'd constantly rag on each other when we got too over sentimental about things," I supply to Stan, lying through my teeth. "You know how guys rag on each other when they get emotional."
"Ah," he nods at this and seems a little better at what just happened. "But pumpkin bear?" He asks and I shrug while grinning.
"First term of endearment that came to mind."
For the first time since the accident, I watch in relief as Stan busts out laughing. I laugh along forcibly, refusing to meet Kyle's intense glare. When the laughter dies down, Stan looks to me for the next round of pictures, but I'm just so out of my element that I hesitate one second too long.
"Its so nice to see you smile, Stan," Kyle muses, his hand unknowingly reaching up to brush an ebony hair behind Stan's ear. "I've missed your laughter."
A crease forms in the middle of Stan's forehead, and Kyle's half-smile melts right off his face.
As if shaken from a trance, I talk well above the needed volume for the room. "Thanks Kyle! That hair was bugging me too. It looked all…matted…to Stan's face. Stan, are you hot? It seems kind of hot in here. Don't you think?"
Stan looks over at me like I've lost my marbles, and Kyle grits his teeth and gives me the look of death. He tousles Stan's hair one last time before reaching into his back pocket and turning his attention to his clueless boyfriend. "I forgot to put this picture in the envelope before we left the house. Its just something to remember me by…"
My eyes widen in horror as he pulls out the glossy print into plain view. As quickly as humanly possible, I lunge over Stan's legs and yank the picture right out of his hand. "NO!" I scream, pulling it back to safety, away from Stan's eyes.
"Wha-" Stan begins, reaching for the picture. He leans up off his bed extremely well and almost grabs it. Without having time to think, I stuff it down the front of my jeans, feeling the crisp corners scrape my skin along the way.
Stan witnesses the whole debacle before raising his eyebrows at me.
I shrug. "Uh…first sushi experience. I mistook the wasabi for guacamole. Very embarrassing."
And with that, Kyle jerks his arm to the bed and hits the metal railing with one forceful push before storming out of the room.
I hesitate momentarily, feeling the photo slip down to uncalled for territories. "…Be right back."
Without giving Stan time to absorb the strange incidents happening before him, I take off in a mad dash to catch up to Kyle. I see him down the hallway by the time I exit the room.
"Kyle!" I hiss out harshly. I'd call out his name, but it IS a hospital and I've probably already broken a few rules by yelling in Stan's room.
Of course he doesn't listen to me, and he walks so far away from me that he makes it past the receptionist area and the waiting room before I begin to catch up to him. I spy him frantically pushing the elevator button and immediately grab his arm to pull him so that he's facing me.
"Kyle! Dude, come on!"
"You!" He shoves a finger against my chest. "Are a prick!"
"I-"
"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Kissing Stan, touching him in ways you never dared do before! And for what?! To stop me from doing so!"
"I-"
"Why didn't you just TELL me he doesn't remember Kenny?!" He looks so hurt that it doesn't even phase me that he's realized what I've been doing and why I've been doing it.
"Wh…what?" I ask, acting as dumbfounded as someone can when they have just heard something they've known for a while now. "Why would you say that?"
"Because it's the truth and you fucking know it. Your…charade…this pathetic excuse for a cover up isn't too smooth, Kenny. Stan doesn't remember who I am to him and you didn't have the balls to tell me this!"
"When did you figure that out?"
"What do you mean when?!" he snaps. "How about when you called him pumpkin bear, or when you shoved a picture down your PANTS, thinking I'd brought the one of me and Stan from our North Park date."
"Automatic reaction," I say in my defense.
"Stupidity is what it is! That was just Ike's school picture!"
"Wha?" I say dumbfounded and turn slightly to reach down my pants and pull out the offending paper. Looking back at me is a 16 year old Ike beaming at me in a casual yearbook photo pose. "Shit," I mutter to myself. "I was going to tell you Kyle…eventually. I just wasn't sure how to break it to you. You were already upset enough over Stan's condition. I wasn't sure how to tell you that while he remembered you, he didn't remember what you two were."
"It's pretty obvious now," he tells me. "The way he'd always flinch when I came near him…he didn't do that with you. He fucking looked at you like you were his goddamn savior every time you did something idiotic to intercept me."
"…I'm sorry."
"You should've at least…warned me. Or told me that showing Stan my feelings might be too much for him."
"I tried!" I exclaim.
"Yeah well not hard enough. I made a complete ass out of myself in there and now Stan hates me," he growls, pushing the button again.
"Excuse me? You made an ass out of yourself? Dude, Stan thinks I'm a total quack for what I did! I'm sure he won't remember anything when we go back in there. We just…have to act natural."
Kyle sighs, heartbroken. "That was me being natural. You're asking me to be someone I'm not." The elevator dings and the door opens up. "You may be able to lie to Stan about this, but I can't. I'm going home until I can figure out what the hell to do."
And like that, the doors close, and I'm left on the floor by myself. Left to explain to Stan what just happened.
Great. I turn around slowly, but eventually pick up my pace when I realize Kyle and I totally bolted on Stan in a really weird way. Before walking back into his room, I peek my head in and see him sitting upright practically twiddling his thumbs. Poor guy. He must be wondering what sort of friends he befriended.
"Yo," I say casually as I walk back in. Stan looks up alert and I see a part of the real him, before it fades away.
"You came back," he states.
"Well, yeah," I respond and plant myself in the chair by his bed, rather than the bed itself.
"Kyle?" He questions, which causes me to suck in my breath.
"Kyle," I start and trail off.
Kyle what? Kyle left because he was pissed and frustrated because he has a major boner for you and isn't allowed to show it?
"Kyle's got stuff to do," I finish lamely.
"You both were acting very…funny," he tells me and I snort in agreement.
"No need to be so nice about it. Just say it like it was. We were acting insane."
Stan smiles at this, nodding while he does so. "But I'm happy it was you who stayed…Kyle's…he's…"
"Pushing the platonic envelope? I know, and dude he's just…he's really worried, you know? So maybe he's going a tad overboard. It's just because he cares." Which is the truth to an extent. "But it makes you uncomfortable," I say, reading the expression on his face. "I'll make sure he backs off the next time we're in."
He nods, "when is next time?"
"Hm," I think carefully. "Finals are coming up. You picked an awesome time to get amnesia. But I can swing around in a couple days."
"Tomorrow?"
"Don't you have to like…rest and shit?"
"I rest at night, and maybe I can remember some stuff from the textbooks," he points out, and at this I shrug.
"If you want, and if you don't mind me pretending to study in your room."
"No, and then come everyday right after classes, okay?"
"Every day dude?" I ask bewildered. "I don't mind, but are you sure you wont get sick of me? Maybe your mind's too scrambled to remember, but I did know how to get on your last nerve. It was a specialty of mine."
"Maybe if you piss me off enough, I'll start remembering times when I couldn't stand you then," he answers with a smirk.
I chuckle out loud. Its good to see he still has some humor, even if it is completely off-the-wall from what he used to be. Come to think of it, Stan never was too funny. Maybe this conk to the head turned him into the Albert fucking Einstein of the comedy world. Then he would travel the globe with the most unique set of jokes that he couldn't remember.
I give him my best fake salute and stand up. "I'll try my best not to let you down, general."
Stan seems a bit thrown off by my comment, but laughs it off. "Thanks."
"So I'll see you tomorrow then," I sum up, heading out of the door as I do so.
"Sounds good." I all but exit the room before he continues. "Oh, and Kenny? Would you mind it if it was just you? I think I'd like to take a break from Kyle's…welcoming."
Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. But he can't see me. "Sure thing," I say before leaving him in peace.
Shit. Fuck shit damn! What the hell—how the hell—am I supposed to do something like that? How am I supposed to keep Kyle from seeing Stan? Shit, he knows that Stan doesn't remember them, so he probably wants to try his best to get the memory train on the right track again. But he can't do that without making frequent visits. And Stan doesn't want frequent visits. Stan doesn't want any visits.
Fuck. Better start conjuring up bogus reasons why Kyle can't come to the hospital. Maybe I can tell him the hospital burned down and Stan was shipped somewhere secluded to recover? He doesn't watch the news every day…
But damn! He would if I pulled that lie on him. And no, forget the news, he'd run over here as fast as his legs could carry him. Which means I've gotta think of something else, something secure, something believable…and the only thing that's both of those is the God-awful truth.
I'm still racking my brain on what I ought to do all the way out of the hospital and into the parking lot. I only stop when I see Kyle leaning against my car, arms crossed, and head lifted up toward the sky. I stop a few feet away from him and he brings his head down to look at me.
"You drove," he says simply.
"Ah," I nod. "Right…did you…head back up to Stan's room by any chance?" I ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. While inside I'm having a mini freak out over the idea that he overheard what Stan and I were just talking about.
"No," he responds. I let him in the car before letting myself in and we crouch in at the same time. "Maybe I should give him a bit of space for awhile," he mumbles, but I hear every word. It's like a giant weight lifts off me.
"Wouldn't hurt," I tell him, giving Kyle a soft smile.
"Yeah," he leans into the passenger seat as I start the car and turn onto the main road.
We don't say much else as I drive and drop him off at home. Frankly, I'm too relieved. Kyle deciding to back off for awhile gives me a few days to think of a reason why he shouldn't visit Stan at all until he gives me the go ahead.
In the meantime, I'm crossing my fingers that Stan's memory in history is still as awesome as ever. Because that final I have coming up is gonna be painful…and he was supposed to be my tutor.
- IBB & FG
Oh. And on a side note (one IBB has no idea I'm writing) do you remember 'Fighting the Truth'? Yes? Thought so because you loved it as much as I did. Been to IBB's page lately? Notice anything? It's gone. Deleted. That's right. You can never read the SP version again. Shame. Wait, no. Why? Because it's being PUBLISHED. Seriously. But rest assured, just because you read that version does not mean you don't need to read and buy the new one. The boys have new names, the plots deeper, and once you've finished you won't even remember where the plot was originally taken from. Look into it come December. Titles the same by Tara Leigh. Ep. Hopefully she never reads this. XD