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Kyle walked into his and Stan's apartment and immediately collapsed onto the couch, hardly even taking the time to put his bags down. Stan looked through the open door from the other room.
"You're home early, you alright?" he asked, looking at Kyle's slumped body.
"Shoot me in the head." His voice was muffled by the couch cushions, but Stan was able to understand him.
"I'm going to assume that's a no."
Kyle was laying on the couch, his body down but his head turned to the side so he didn't suffocate in the cushions. Contrary to his initial statement, he did enjoy breathing.
Stan stopped folding the laundry he had been working on and walked into the living room. He leaned down next to Kyle's face and pressed a kiss to his head.
"What's up with you, sunshine?" he said sarcastically, standing up straight.
Kyle mumbled something inaudible.
"I may need a little more detail than that."
Stan sat down next to him. Kyle lifted his head into his lap, rubbing his temples. He tangled his hands in Kyle's hair. His other hand rested on his side.
"I have a migraine," Kyle said at last, face twisting in pain as he faced the lights in their apartment.
Stan softened his voice, knowing loud sounds bothered him when he got his migraines. "Again? You've been getting them all week," he said, concern staining his voice.
Kyle hummed. He shut his eyes tightly, leaning into Stan's touch until the look of pure pain melted into an only partially pained look.
Stan wracked his brain for reasons Kyle had been getting so many migraines recently. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, careful to avoid bothering the sleeping figure on his lap. He quickly googled migraine causes, being sure to mute his phone first.
The first result read, "Migraine symptoms can often include stress, weather changes, lack of sleep, schedule changes, dehydration, hunger, certain foods, and strong smells. Stress is often the cause of migraines in people without migraine-inducing illnesses."
Stan chewed his lip. He often wondered if Kyle got stressed out, as he was in law school and had a habit of worrying about assignments. He decided to ask to make sure.
"Ky, babe," he said gently, shaking his shoulder.
"Mmm, what?" Kyle lifted his head from Stan's lap but didn't open his eyes.
"Is class stressing you out?" He said, getting right to the point.
Kyle looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Sort of," he said groggily. "It's not that big of a deal, though. It's just semester tests are coming up."
Stan pushed his hair out of his face again, as it had tumbled into his eyes when he sat up. "I think you're getting worked up about class. Remember that time when we were in high school and you had to skip a basketball game because you got so in your head about it that you gave yourself a migraine? It was so bad you threw up a couple times and had to take a few days off school."
Kyle scrunched his nose, face contorting in pain again. "I know, I just-" he faltered. "I have so many tests coming up and I don't feel ready for any of them."
Stan listened carefully as Kyle listed off the many tests and assignments he had due in the next week. He never cared as much about his grades as Kyle and had no plans to start, but he still took care to pay close attention.
Kyle finished his tangent and let Stan tangle his hand in his hair again, much like a cat just allowing someone to pet it. "I'll help you study later," Stan said, "We'll make flashcards or whatever it is you nerds do. But for now, you should go lay down in our room. I'll grab some medicine and come in to shut the blinds and stuff like you like."
Kyle reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I don't think you've ever said something more romantic." He stood, wobbly at first then regaining his ability to stand. He walked down the hall to their bedroom, leaving Stan to scavenge through their cabinets for the bottle of Tylenol Kyle usually took pills from.
He found it and shook out two pills before getting a water bottle from the fridge. His feet hit the floor lightly as he walked to the bedroom. He pushed open the door that was left ajar, only to find Kyle wasn't there.
He looked down the hall, seeing the bathroom door was open and the light was on. His mind worked quickly at figuring out Kyle had thrown up, and he sat the items down on the nightstand before rushing to the bathroom.
"Are you ok?" he asked, ducking into the bathroom.
Kyle hung his head over the toilet, legs folded underneath him. His arms shielded his face from view, but he heaved enough to tell Stan he was diffidently not okay.
Stan walked over to him and gently took a seat on the floor next to him, he pulled his hair out of the way softly and waited for Kyle to be done throwing up whatever he ate for breakfast. Stan was not particularly fond of listening to people throw up, but over their years of attending high school parties together, Kyle had watched Stan throw up enough for Stan to think he deserved a payback.
Kyle lifted his head. he sunk down on the floor by the bathtub and leaned his head on the edge of it. Sweat glistened on his skin. Tears bordered on his eyelids, but they didn't fall.
Stan rubbed his back silently, his hand falling from his hair. Kyle pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his stomach, ragged breaths slowly steadying. Thoughts raced behind his eyes. Stan could see the gears turning in his head, but he didn't speak.
Stan picked him over with his eyes as he felt him shaking under his palm. He was pale as snow—well, paler than he usually was—all color drained from his face. His eyes stared up at the ceiling before he hung his head, resting his forehead on his knees.
"I hate this," Kyle said simply, voice straining at the effort.
"I know, I'm sorry, babe." Stan pressed a kiss to his head before standing and helping him up.
They walked to their bedroom together, Stan carefully watching Kyle to ensure he was alright with every step. Kyle lay down while Stan went to get a trashcan for his side of the bed. When he came back, Kyle had taken the pills he had laid out earlier and was sipping on the water.
He settled into bed after Stan closed the blinds and turned off the lights. The only thing illuminating the room was the light from the living room shining under the crack in the door.
Stan turned on his heel to leave Kyle to get some rest, but Kyle's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Stay," was all he said, but it was direct enough to perfectly get his point across. Stan turned back around and laid down next to him in bed, letting the blankets envelop him.
Kyle moved closer to him, pressing his side into Stan's body heat. Stan raised his eyebrows, as Kyle usually didn't like him to be close while he slept.
He took it as a sign and tangled his hand in Kyle's hair as he had on the couch earlier. He put his other hand on Kyle's stomach and rubbed small circles. Kyle leaned into the touch, proving it was wanted.
They lay like that for a while, comfortable in each others' presence. Stan watched the pain melt off of Kyle's face. When Stan was certain Kyle was asleep, he got up to make dinner.
He slipped out of bed carefully, untangling himself from Kyle as gently as he could. The cold wood floor was a cruel jolt as his feet hit the ground. He walked over to the door and opened it gingerly, looking over his shoulder to ensure he hadn't woken Kyle up.
He walked to their tiny kitchen, which was less of a kitchen and more of a refrigerator, stove, sink, and a single cabinet. Still, he plucked a box of macaroni and cheese off the counter and followed the instructions. Seeing as Kyle usually cooked and Stan was a famously horrible chef, he decided it would have to do.
After a while, the noodles were done cooking. Stan carefully strained the water and started putting the cheese and milk in the pot. While he was stirring, he heard the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing. He listened as Kyle's familiar soft footsteps came toward him.
He felt two warm arms snake around his torso as Kyle leaned his head into his shoulder. Stan reached a hand up to ruffle his hair.
"You ok?" Stan asked, softening his voice as much as he could.
"Mhm."
"You're very affectionate today."
"I'm dying let me have this."
Stan laughed as he finished making their meal. Kyle released him to put their food into two bowls.
When he sat them on the table and turned around, Kyle pulled him into a hug.
"Man, did those pills fuck with your head?" Stan said sarcastically, hugging him back.
"Shut the fuck up. I love you."
Stan laughed. "I love you too."