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Ch 19

Stan arrived at Kyle's house. He knocked on the door, and Mrs. Broflovski answered.

"Hello, Stan. Come on in, hon."

"Hi, Mrs. Broflovski."

Stan made his way up to Kyle's room. He rapped on the door softly, and Kyle moved off of his bed, putting down the book he was reading.

"Stan." Kyle smiled. Stan walked in and Kyle shut the door behind him.

"How was your therapy session?" Kyle asked.

"You already asked me, remember?"

"Oh. I forgot."

"Kyle," Stan started, sitting at the foot of the bed. "Did you… uh…" Stan couldn't finish his sentence.

"Did I what, Stan?"

"Did you kiss me?" he drew out the sentence.

"You… you don't remember?"

"No."

Kyle frowned. "O-oh… you have retro-grade amnesia. From when you-"

Stan cut him off. "Yes. I know that."

"Stan, you seem a little uneasy. Is everything alright?"

"No."

"Tell me. I'm here to listen." Kyle grabbed Stan's hand. Stan pulled away slightly.

"I don't want to talk."

"A-alright. When you're ready." Kyle picked up his book from his bed and started to read again.

"What are you reading?" Stan asked.

"The Shining."

"Oh. Is it any good?"

"It's interesting." Kyle turned a page, not taking his eyes off of the book.

"What page are you on?" Stan asked. Kyle looked like he was pretty far in the book.

"Page 532."

Stan shifted slightly. Kyle flipped another page. The silence was deafening.

"Ready to talk yet?" Kyle asked after ten agonizing minutes, flipping another page. He still wouldn't take his eyes off of the book.

"Sure." Stan answered.

"What did you have to talk about in therapy that made you so uneasy?"

"U-uh…"

Kyle shut his book. "I'm listening."

"Just, things."

"Things?"

"Things that have been happening the last few days, and the last couple of weeks."

"Mhhm."

"I talked about you, Kyle. And then I talked about how I got this bruise… he wouldn't get off of my back until I told him the truth."

Kyle said nothing, and willed Stan to continue.

"And then the fucking therapist told my mom about my feelings toward you, and that's when I found out about you kissing me."

Still nothing from Kyle.

"Can you say something, please?" Stan said after a few agonizing moments.

"I don't know what to say, Stan."

Stan sighed, exasperated. "Alright."

A few moments passed. "Why did you kiss me, Kyle?"

Kyle hesitated. "You weren't listening to me."

"So it wasn't a real feeling."

Kyle swallowed. "Not at the time."

"Are you doing this because I was near death?"

"N-no, Stan. I'm not. I really do like you in the same way." Kyle stammered, and Stan thought he heard uncertainty in his voice.

"Is it because you want to see me safe, and not hurting myself? Is that it, Kyle?"

"Part of it, Stan. But not all."

Stan crossed his arms. "It fucking feels like that's the only reason."

Kyle reached for Stan's hand, but Stan pulled away. "Don't touch me."

"Are you feeding in to what Cartman is telling you, Stan? You know he's trying to pull us apart."

"I was trying to protect you when I got punched by Cartman. I don't give a fuck about myself."

"…You let yourself get hurt because of me. Why, Stan?!"

"Because I love you, Kyle. I care about you and your safety."

"Care about yourself for once, Stan! Stand up for yourself!"

"I don't care what happens to me."

Kyle got up from the bed and walked to his desk, sighing. He slammed his fist down on the desk, making it rattle. Stan jumped. "I am so fucking angry, Stan. I'm fucking angry at this whole situation. I'm angry at you, honestly."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Yes, you!" Kyle slammed his fist into the desk again. "Fuck, Stan! Stand up for your fucking self!"

Kyle huffed, trying to catch his breath, his back turned to Stan, his hands upon the surface of the desk. Stan had never seen Kyle this angry before. He was usually angry at Cartman, but this was different. Stan swallowed.

"K-Kyle…"

"What, Stan."

"I'm sorry."

"Why."

"Because I've caused this. If I would have never told you my feelings, none of this would have happened."

Kyle said nothing.

"Just… leave. Please." Kyle finally said, his voice barely a whisper. "Leave, Stan."

Stan began to say something, he felt tears well in his eyes. "Oh. Alright." was all he could bring himself to say.

Stan left, walking back to his house with his hands in his jacket pockets. His side ached, but the oxycodone had dulled some of the pain, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to dull the pain of what Kyle had said.

Leave, Stan.

The tears finally came when Stan got back to his room. With every sob, his body shook painfully. "F-fuck…" Stan cursed, clutching his side, pain radiating through his body. "Stop fucking crying… it's not that bad." But now the tears were from the physical pain he was feeling. Stan tried to take a few quick breaths, but it only made the pain worse.

There was a knock at the door. Stan hastily wiped the tears from his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Stanley, are you alright? I thought I heard you crying." His mother's voice was heard from beyond the door.

"Fine, mom."

The door opened.

"I said I'm fin-" pain surged through Stan's body, and he groaned.

Mrs. Marsh rushed to her son. "You don't sound fine. What's wrong, dear?"

"It just hurts, that's all." Stan huffed, trying to catch his breath again.

"I'll get you an icepack." Stan's mother moved out of the room and returned with an icepack moments later. She had some Advil and a glass of water with her in the other hand.

"Here, Stanley."

Stan took the Advil from his mother with shaking hands. Four tablets. This won't help. He swallowed them anyway. Taking the icepack, Stan pressed it to his side, the cold of it dulling the pain slightly.

"Now, rest, Stanley."

Stan just wanted to sleep for an eternity. He wanted to forget about Kyle for a while and what he had said. The oxycodone was making him feel wonderfully numb. And Stan liked the feeling. "Yes." He answered. "Can I stay home again tomorrow? It's Friday."

"Yes, honey. You need your rest. And this weekend I want you to rest too."

Fine with me.

Stan thought it would be best if Kyle was left alone.

Friday. Kyle walked up to the bus stop, Kenny and Cartman standing in their usual places. Cartman threw a look at Kyle from across the way. The bus rolled into view and the three boarded the vehicle. Kyle rushed to the back of the bus and to the very last seat, which could only occupy one person. Cartman and Kenny sat together at the front of the bus.

"Hey, Kyle. Where's Stan?" Wendy asked as she sat across from him in the other one-seater seat.

"Uuh…" Kyle started, looking down, fooling with a loose string on his coat. "Resting, I guess."

"What happened? Is he sick?"

"Kind of."

"Oh."

"Haven't talked to him since yesterday." Kyle replied. He felt a lump in his throat, guilt.

Stan asked for another oxycodone.

"No, Stanley. Go rest. I'll bring you one tonight." His mother replied.

The pain was throbbing in his side.

"When's dad going to be back from his business trip?"

"Tomorrow, sweetie."

"Oh."

"I'll call you down for dinner in an hour. Now, get back up those stairs and sleep until then."

Stan unwillingly obliged. He made his way upstairs and into his room, lowering himself carefully into the bed. His phone dinged from his bedside table. Stan groaned in protest. "What the fuck do you want…?" Stan reached for his phone, unable to pick it up off of the table. He gave up after a minute of trying.

An hour passed, Stan softly snoring in his bed.

"Stanley, come down for dinner!" his mother called.

Stan groaned. "No." he said to himself. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted to sleep. There was a soft knock at his door.

"Stanley, dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat."

"I feel like I might throw up if I do."

"I'll bring you something up, then."

Mrs. Marsh came up from downstairs holding a small cup of soup. The smell of it made Stan feel sick. Food in general made him want to vomit. Maybe it was the effect of the meds. He sat up carefully, taking the soup from his mother. "Thanks."

"I'm not leaving until you take a few sips, then I'll leave you alone."

Stan did as he was told. He felt the bile rise in his throat immediately. "I-I can't…" Stan covered his mouth. "No more, please. I'll eat later."

Mrs. Marsh was hesitant, frowning. "Alright, Stanley."

Stan lowered himself back into the bed, wincing.

"I'll get you another icepack, Stanley."

"Thanks, mom."

Kyle sat at his desk, scribbling answers on his homework sheet. He tapped his pencil on his chin, thinking of the correct answer to the next question. He sighed. Kyle glanced at his phone on the desk. Still no text back. "Why did I even fucking text him… he needs to be left alone." I'm still angry with him. He risked his safety because of me.

Kyle was second guessing his feelings for Stan again. Maybe he was just doing this because he was worried Stan would go off of the deep end again? He wasn't so sure anymore. He rested his face in his arms, laying his head on the desk. Kyle balled his hands into fists. God fucking damn it!

A sudden anger overcame Kyle. He swept everything that was on his desk off onto the floor, pencils flying and a porcelain cup falling to the ground, shattering. "Fuck!" he hopped up off of the chair, picking up the pieces of the cup, the shards cutting his fingers. Blood seeped from the wounds. Kyle's hands were shaking. "Goddamn it, Stan!" Kyle shouted.

There was a knock at the door. "Bubbie, are you alright?"

"Fine, mom!"

The door opened. Kyle sat on the floor, his hands trembling, smeared with blood. "Just fine."

"Oh, Bubbie what happened? I heard a crashing from downstairs and I-"

"Just a little mishap and I dropped a cup, it's fine." Kyle continued to pick up the pieces.

It was ten o'clock PM and Mrs. Marsh entered her son's room. He was sleeping soundly, the sheets kicked off of him. She turned on Stan's Denver Broncos lamp on his nightstand and Stan blinked his eyes open. "Huh…?"

"Here, sweetie. I've come to give you your meds and then you can go back to bed."

"Oh." Stan sat up and took the pill from her hand and washed it down with water. "Thanks." He said groggily.

"And here's another icepack." Mrs. Marsh handed him the icepack and Stan pressed it to his side. She took the melted one with her and closed the door. Stan sighed and carefully lowered himself back into the bed. The door opened again.

"Don't forget that you have therapy tomorrow morning."

Goddamn it.

"Alright, mom."

Kyle had bandaged up his hands after washing the blood off of them. Still no text from Stan.

I should have never texted him.

Kyle sighed and plopped down on his bed, grabbing his book. His fingers stung.

Guess I deserve it after what I said to Stan.

Kyle's phone screen flickered on. Kyle grabbed it quickly and looked at the home screen, where a text was displayed.

"Can't sleep. Side hurts a lot." It was from Stan, who had answered Kyle's text of "How are you?"

"I'm not mad at you, Stan." Kyle responded.

"That's not what you said earlier."

"I know. I am… angry. I just, I don't know."

"Well, make up your god damn mind then, Kyle."

Kyle tossed his phone across the room, it landing on the floor face down.

"Fuck you too, Stan." Kyle hissed angrily through gritted teeth. Kyle's anger ebbed away slowly. The real emotions began to show themselves. It was a mix of guilt and anger, tears welling in his eyes. "Stan, goddamn it… I care about you too much to leave you alone or to be angry with you for too long."