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The first time it happened was about a month ago. It was a cold Tuesday afternoon and Kyle was sitting on the floor in his room. He was blankly staring at the wall in silence. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. He could feel nothing but guilt and shame.
That afternoon he had received an assignment back that he had failed. Failed. Kyle Brovoloski never failed assignments. He worked very hard to keep all his grades perfect. Often skipping hanging out with his friends to study. He maintained these grades to keep his parents happy.
They expected nothing but perfection from him. Now he knew he had let them down and all he could think about was his grade dropping. How it might affect his GPA. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to tell them. Just thinking of how his mother would look at him, disappointment written all over her face. Asking him how he could’ve failed, saying how she expected more from him. Giving him a look that would make him feel guilty and want to disappear.
He didn’t want to disappoint his parents. He couldn’t tell them, he’d just have to do better. Work harder, study more and make sure to be perfect, no more mistakes. In his head the solution made sense but it didn’t change the way he was currently feeling. He still felt terribly angry at himself. He slowly got up from his spot on the floor, wiping the nearly dried tears from his cheeks.
He walked into the hallway towards the bathroom. He washed his face in an effort to wash away the day's previous events. He looked in the mirror and was met with a person he did not want to see. He averted his eyes, unable to face the person in the mirror. That’s when he saw it. The red color caught his attention.
It was some kind of tool that contained small scissors, a file and a small knife. The knife is what peaked his interest, he knew it was there. He found himself grabbing it before he realized it. He didn’t know exactly why he decided this was the answer but he felt like he had to punish himself. He had to pay a price for failing and this was the answer. So with his gaze fixated on himself in the mirror he rolled up his left sleeve and pressed down, running the small blade across his lower arm.
The knife wasn’t very sharp. So he had to press down pretty hard to break any skin. He sliced it once watching the small line turn red. He repeated this a few more times until he was satisfied. He could still see the red lines in contrast to his pale skin. He stared at it for a moment, almost marveling at what he had done. Watching the drops of red run down his forearm, a couple drops falling into the sink, staining the white bowl crimson.
Ater snapping out of his trance he wiped the wet blood off with a tissue and left the bathroom. He didn’t bother to clean them. He didn’t deserve them cleaned anyway. He felt a bit better knowing he had suffered for his mistake. Like he had gotten the punishment he deserved.
It was a while before he did it again. He didn’t want this to become a habit. At first he only wanted to do it when he made big mistakes. Soon however it started becoming more frequent. He went from doing it rarely, to once or twice a week, to three or four times a week, then it became almost everyday. That’s when he had to admit to himself that this was a problem. When he found himself rushing to get home from school so he could go into his bathroom and slice open his skin. When his arm became covered in fresh cuts, over healing cuts, over scars.
At some point he had found a pocket knife around his house which made it easier. He began to cut deeper and more frequently. Before he knew it he was doing it for any mistake he made like he was searching for a reason to slice his skin. He started to rely on it, he was stressed about a test cut, he said the wrong thing cut, he just felt upset, cut. He knew he should stop but he didn’t know how.
He couldn’t go to his parents, just imagining the look of shame and disappointment on their faces when they would see what he’s done was too much. The way they would look at him hurt with guilt in their eyes. How had they not noticed their “perfect” son was doing something so imperfect. He knew they wouldn’t understand, giving him frightened looks unsure of what to say as if they were talking to a wild animal. He couldn’t let them find out about this.
He didn’t want to tell Stan because he knew Stan had his own issues. Issues that were more serious than his. He didn’t want to bother him with his problems, they seemed so small in comparison. Cartman was obviously out of the question. Kenny had his own issues and they didn’t have that kind of relationship. That was it, he had no one else to go to.
He also really didn’t want any of them to find out. He imagined the guilt he would feel looking at the hurt faces of the people he cared about. He didn’t think he could handle it. Even though he wanted the help he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone finding out. He was worried that they would. His brain was constantly coming up with ways people would find out his secret. He became increasingly paranoid from having to keep this secret.
Sometimes he felt like his sleeves were transparent. That everyone knew his secret. That they could all see it, like it was on display. He imagined people pulling up his sleeve just a bit too much or him just being a bit too careless. Then everyone would see it, they would know. Just the thought filled him with anxiety.
Usually the person who would find out was Stan. Kyle would never admit it but there was a part of him that wanted Stan to notice. To see them and tell him everything would be okay. To hold him tightly in his arms and comfort him.
Even though he wanted it he knew he couldn’t let that happen. He would do anything to make sure no one found out.
Sometimes he didn’t know what he wanted.
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Stan couldn’t help but smile to himself as he glanced over at Kyle. He had that look on his face that Stan knew meant he was focused. They were playing video games at Stan's house at one of their still frequent sleepovers. Even though they were in high school they still had sleepovers all the time, and still Stan found himself staring at Kyle.
He couldn’t help it, his eyes just gravitated towards the red haired boy. He saw Kyle, still focused, not noticing Stan's obvious staring. He was slightly moving his controller up everytime he made the character jump. Stan noticed he always played like that, moving the controller the direction he wanted the character to move while pressing the buttons like that would help in some way. He found it cute, well he found everything Kyle did cute. Dang he was really down bad.
He has had a crush on Kyle for years but has been too worried about getting rejected to say anything about it. He would rather have Kyle as a super best friend than not at all. He was starting to get hot, when they finished the round he took his hoodie off. Looking back at Kyle he could see Kyle was sweating a bit.
“Dude, aren’t you hot?” he asked, looking over at Kyle.
“Nah, not really,” He said, averting Stan's gaze.
Stan nodded, honestly not really sure why he asked in the first place.
Before they knew it, it was getting late and Stan suggested they put on their pajamas. Now Kyle didn’t know what to do. Usually it was cold during their sleepovers so he just used that as an excuse to not change out of his hoodie. Recently it had started getting warmer and he had a long sleeve shirt that was lighter in his bag.
Both of them had always changed in the same room so it would be weird if he didn’t change in the same room this time. He already thought Stan was suspicious of him after his question earlier. However he was saved by Stan mumbling something about needing to grab something from downstairs. The second Kyle saw the door close he took off his hoodie as fast as possible to change his shirt. Of course just his luck now he couldn’t fucking find his shirt.
“You know I forgot what I was going to get” he heard Stan laugh then suddenly stop and freeze in his spot in the doorway.
Kyle was praying he hadn’t seen it, hiding his arm behind his back and trying to look normal while looking for his shirt. Meanwhile he was internally panicking. He finally dared to look up at Stan and knew immediately by the look on his face that he saw them. The only thing going through Kyle's mind was: shit. he knows. He knows the secret, just that thought made his heartbeat race even faster as he continued to panic.
He felt like he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t know what to do. Only vaguely registering Stan walking over to him and sitting in front of him. Kyle finally tore his gaze from the floor to look into his eyes even though he didn’t want to. He immediately regretted it after seeing the sadness and worry in his friend's eyes. He could see Stan was trying to hide it. Shit. Now he had made his best friend feel guilty for something he had done. Why did he alway have to mess everything up?
He wanted nothing more than to disappear. He didn’t want to face what he had done to himself. He wanted to cry. He felt his shoulders hunch up as if he was trying to make himself shrink.
“I’m sorry” he said, choking back a sob unable to look at his best friend.
Stan's eyes softened.
“Hey, it’s ok you have nothing to be sorry about” he said pulling him in for a hug letting him sob softly on him as he rubbed circles on his back, whispering consoling words to him.
Stan had sensed something was off since earlier that day but couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. He definitely hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected that his super best friend had been cutting himself. He couldn’t help but look at Kyle’s arm, there were so many cuts.
He could see by the variety of scars, scabs and fresh cuts that this had been going on for a while. Which made his heart hurt. How had he not noticed? Kyle had always been there for him, no matter what. He could always tell when Stan was upset but Stan hadn’t done the same. Was he really that bad of a friend? He had looked at Kyle so many times but never noticed something was wrong.
He tried to hide his shock quickly in an effort to not make Kyle feel bad. He knew Kyle saw it though, he always could. He could feel Kyle starting to calm down and his sobs turned into just an occasional sniffle. He made no effort to move from Stan’s embrace. Stan wondered when the last time he comforted Kyle was, how long he had been suffering alone in silence. He didn’t like the answer.
He slowly pulled away to look into Kyle’s eyes, knowing he had to say something. His beautiful green eyes were red and puffy from crying. He decided that he didn’t like seeing him like this.
Stan honestly didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say something that would make Kyle never slice his beautiful skin again. Something to make him understand that this wasn’t the answer to whatever the problem was. He didn’t know what that was. All he could muster up was
“Why?” It was more of a plea than a question he hoped it didn’t sound accusatory. He saw Kyle look startled by the sudden question.
“I- um” he started seemingly trying to figure out how to respond.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to go to Ky. I just want to help you and something has obviously been causing you to do this.” He said calmly holding Kyles hands in an effort to show he was here for him
Kyle nodded warily, pausing for a moment before talking “I-It’s just that I feel like I’m not good enough. That I’m always making mistakes and it makes me mad at myself. Like I have to punish myself and this is how I … do that I guess. Honestly, it’s pathetic, I’m sorry.” He tried to explain.
Stan just nodded, showing he was listening. He knew that this must be hard for Kyle to put into words and he assumed Kyle hadn’t talked to anyone else about this.
“You are not pathetic and you have nothing to be sorry about dude. It’s also okay to make mistakes no one is perfect an it’s not healthy to be so hard on yourself” Stan said gently squeezing his hands “I know it’s not easy but I want you to tell me if your ever feeling this way again”
“I’ll try, I just feel bad bothering you about problems when there not really a big deal” Kyle said looking away again
“Kyle, you’re not bothering me with your problems. I really care about you dude and I want you to be safe. You can always talk to me no matter what, okay?”
Kyle looked back at him a small smile on his face “Okay i’ll try, Thank you Stan”
“Of course dude, I’ll always be here for you” Stan responded
Kyle smiled at him again as Stan gave his hands another gentle squeeze. Stan’s eyes gravitated back to Kyle’s arm as he wondered how he could show Kyle that he was there for him. That he cared about him and wouldn’t leave his side no matter what. So without thinking, in the silence he let go of Kyle’s hands, pulling Kyle’s arm towards him. He could feel Kyle looking at him, probably confused and slightly worried.
Stan carefully placed his lips on one of the scars, he could feel Kyle tense up for a second under his lips in surprise. He wondered if he was doing the right thing but now he already did so there was no turning back. He continued to go around his arm trying to kiss them all while avoiding the fresh one’s. He hoped this would get the point across, that he would always be here.
He sat back up looking into Kyle’s eyes, which were wide. His face was nearly as red as his hair. He seemed to not know what to say after the sudden action. Stan realized that he might have fucked up by overstepped and that it probably was a weird gesture. He opened his mouth to offer an explanation when Kyle interrupted him by giving him a hug.
“T-thanks man” Kyle whispered
He could feel Kyle’s breath against his neck, which made the hairs on his neck stand up. Then Kyle pulled away leaving Stan to be the one blushing this time. Kyle was now looking for his shirt. By now it was pretty late and they both climbed into Stan’s bed.
When Stan pulled Kyle close to him Kyle realized for the first time in a while he truly felt okay. He knew his problems wouldn’t disappear but now he knew he always had Stan to help him through them