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“Hey, Wends, I’m here!”
Stan had received a text from Wendy exactly 7 minutes before, and now he was ringing the doorbell. Even if he had long outgrown his childhood crush, they were still friends, and she was still his best girl.
The door opened and a tear stained, broken looking Wendy Testaburger was there in front of him.
“It was unlocked.”
Stan frowned, scrunching his forehead. “Hey, you okay? Your text said you needed help.”
She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just… just come upstairs. Please.”
Closing the front door behind him, Stan tightened his grip on his backpack straps and followed his friend up to her room. She obviously wasn’t doing well. He hated to see anyone upset, especially the beautiful, intelligent, perfect seventeen year old girl he had the honor of being friends with.
She settled in front of the mirror, and he placed a tentative hand on her back.
“Hey. Wendy. What’s wrong?”
“…Everything looks WRONG!”
Stan set his bag down, carefully wrapping his arms around her from behind. “What do you mean, Wends? You always looks great.”
He truly meant it. Wendy Testaburger was the definition of perfection. Perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect grades, perfect personality. Why didn’t she see that? He had a moment of internal panic when she started sobbing.
“Everything looks AWFUL! Bebe’s picking me up in an hour and she’s going to be all immaculate blonde curls and tight red dress and perfect cherry lip gloss and I look like THIS!”
Wendy pulled at her baggy purple peplum top and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Nothing FUCKING FITS ME!”
Oh. That was it. Stan moved himself in front of her, blocking her reflection. He put his hands on her shoulders, staring her dead in the eyes.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. But, Wendy. Have you been eating?”
She looked down at herself, and Stan followed her gaze. Her clothes were practically hanging off her body, pants sagging and shirt doing the same. He had seen this before.
Wendy looked defiantly up at him. “You sound like my dad! Yes, okay?”
Without thinking, Stan pulled off his sweatshirt and handed it to his friend.
“Here. Change into this, and whatever you’re comfortable in. I’m calling Kyle.”
She stilled, obviously seeing his intentions. “Don’t. I don’t want to trigger him.”
“You won’t, he’s okay. It’s been years. He can help.”
Wendy studied his face for a second, before nodding and heading into the bathroom to change. Stan pulled his phone out, quickly pulling up his boyfriend’s contact. Kyle picked up after the second ring.
“Hey, dude! What’s up?”
“Can you come to Wendy’s? And…” he didn’t know how to ask his next question. Shit. “How are you with your… eating stuff?”
He heard Kyle pause on his way out the door. “I’m… I’m okay. Is she…?”
“I don’t really know. Can you just come?”
“On my way.”
The call ended and Wendy emerged from the bathroom, now clad in Stan’s hoodie and a pair of leggings. She had obviously been crying again. Stan moved her to sit at the edge of her bed.
“Here. Kyle’s coming. He can help.”
Wendy sniffled, and Stan dug through his bag for a second before his fingers closed around what he was looking for. A bottle of orange juice. He always had some on hand for when Kyle’s sugar got low, and now he figured Wendy could use it.
“I don’t want-“
“Yeah, you do.”
He handed her the bottle, which she sipped from reluctantly.
“Wendy. Why?”
She sighed, looking to anywhere but his eyes.
“…and when?”
Finally she met his gaze, looking tired and even a little afraid.
“I… everything is a lot, okay?”
Stan knew what she meant. Junior year was a lot academically for everyone. He stayed silent, though, and let her continue.
“It was just easier, you know? If I didn’t eat. One less thing to worry about.”
Stan didn’t know. But Kyle would. Speak of the devil, the downstairs door opened.
“”Wendy? Stan? I’m here if that’s cool.”
Stan knew he visibly brightened at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, but he also knew Wendy wouldn’t make fun of him for it. She was good in that way. She was good in every way.
“We’re up here!” He called back, looking to Wendy, who just sipped her juice again, looking disconnected from everything.
When Kyle appeared in the doorway, it was like the entire world lit up. He was the physical embodiment of passion, just like Wendy was the embodiment of light. How Stan gad gotten lucky enough to have them both in his life, he would never know.
“Hey, man. Thanks for coming so fast.”
Kyle’s smile faltered as he took in the sight before him. Stan, backpack at his side, Wendy, blue hoodie hanging off her shoulders, juice in one hand and the other swiping at her cheeks. He could see things were bad. And Stan watched him for any signs of discomfort.
None showed, though, even when Kyle knelt in front of their friend. He watched as his lifelong best friend (and now boyfriend) placed a hesitant hand on Wendy’s knee.
“Wendy. Tell me.”
Watery brown eyes met Kyle’s green ones, and Wendy’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I didn’t realize it had gotten this bad.”
Stan could only watch as Kyle nodded.
“It’s okay. What are you feeling? Like, right now, what comes to mind?”
Wendy sighed, relaxing a little as she gripped Kyle’s hand. “I’m so scared. I didn’t mean to start…” She looked to Stan now, and he wordlessly urged her to continue.
“…starving myself. I just… I was trying to get ready for my date with Bebe, and nothing fits, so I freaked out and texted Stan, I don’t know why I thought that would do anything, but I look like a fucking ZOMBIE and I didn’t mean to do this and I-“
Kyle took both her tiny, perfectly manicured hands now into one of his long freckled ones. “Wendy. When did this start?”
A tear traced down her right cheek, and Stan fought the urge to reach over and wipe it away. She and Kyle were having a moment, connecting in a way that he didn’t totally get, and he didn’t want to come in the middle of that.
“I’m not sure.” Her tone was sincere. “Maybe last month?”
Kyle shifted his position, bad knee probably bothering him, but he didn’t let go of her hands as he moved to sit cross legged.
“Do you think you can tell me why?”
Wendy took a deep, shaky breath before she spoke. Here were Stan’s two favorite people in the world, Kyle looking thoughtful and concerned as always, that little wrinkle on his forehead, and Wendy, broken and fragile, swaddled in his favorite sweatshirt.
“I need to tell Bebe I won’t be coming on our date.”
Stan quickly stood. “I’ll text her!”
Kyle shook his head. “I will. She’ll take it better from me.”
That was true enough. If Stan, whose childhood crush on Bebe’s girlfriend was known far and wide, had told the blonde that Wendy wouldn’t be showing, it would be seen as suspicious. Kyle was universally the diplomat, the peacekeeper, and plus had better communication skills. He pulled his phone from his back pocket, dictating his typing to Wendy.
“Hey, Bebe, it’s Kyle, Wendy isn’t feeling well so she has to skip your date. She can call you later, sorry for the timing.” He turned the phone to Wendy, who nodded, and Kyle sent the message.
Wendy gave a small smile now. “Thanks. I’m sorry if any of this is freaking you out.”
Frowning, Kyle took a deep breath. “It’s okay, Wendy. It’s been a few years since I went to treatment. Do… do you think you can tell me what’s going on?”
God, Stan was so in love with this guy he thought he might explode. Kyle was always so thoughtful, so caring, even when someone was going through something potentially triggering for him. He remembered the day Kyle told him about his troubles with eating. It was scarily similar to what Wendy had said, that he didn’t know when things had gotten so bad, that nothing fit him and he was scared, that everything, the pressure himself and his parents put on him was too much and he had turned to the only thing he felt he had control over.
Their freshman year of high school, Kyle had stopped eating and had passed out after basketball practice.
Of course, Stan was terrified as his super best friend begged him not to tell anyone, but type one diabetes and anorexia aren’t a good combination and Kyle was medically unwell, so Stan, who told his mother everything, of course spilled to Sharon, and Sharon had told Sheila, and Kyle missed almost a month of school for outpatient eating disorder therapy.
It’s been two years, Stan told himself. He was starting to regret calling Kyle about Wendy’s breakdown, but he hadn’t known who else to turn to. But what if this triggered a relapse? Stan would never forgive himself. Suddenly, Wendy spoke.
“I’m okay. I promise. Sorry I scared you guys. I’m not sure when I started with this but I’m going to stop.”
Stan looked at Kyle, who met his gaze. He put a hand to Wendy’s back.
“You sure? We can stay, if you want.”
She gave that beautiful soft smile of hers. “I’m sure. My mom will be home soon. I’ll talk to her. And I’ll call Bebe in a while, so she knows I’m okay.”
“Okay.” Kyle got up with a small groan that only Stan caught, and both made their way to the door.
“Wait!” Wendy called. “Your hoodie!”
Stan smiled. “It’s okay. It’s cute on you.”
Kyle laced his fingers through Stan’s on the short walk down their street.
Looking over at him, Stan smiled. “Your place, or mine?”
It was a Friday, and Friday’s were sleepover days, as long as they could remember.
“Mmm, depends.” Kyle tilted his head to the side, his bright auburn hair glowing in the waning sunlight. Gorgeous. “What bullshit is Randy up to?”
Stan grinned. God, he loved his beautiful, caring, sometimes aggressive boyfriend.
“The usual. Mostly out of the way, just don’t want him bursting into my room with another drunken “get rich quick” plan if we wind up going to the farm.”
Kyle snorted. “If he’s passed out, at least it’s better than my place. Ike discovered GTA RP. He’s loud as shit on that.”
“My place it is.” Stan grinned, before stopping and turning to his boyfriend. “Hey. Thank you. For helping with Wendy, I mean.”
Kyle pulled him into a hug, which Stan was eternally grateful for. “I’m just glad I could help. I promise I’m good. I’m sorry Wendy’s going through that, but I’m glad I’ve been there and can help her.”
Stan gave a quick squeeze to Kyle’s chest, pulling a smile out of him.
“I love you. Let’s order a pizza, okay?”
Kyle chuckled as they walked up the steps to Stan’s mom’s house to grab his keys before driving out to Tegrity. “Definitely. And I love you too.”