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Although lengthy, and kinda pricey, the bus ride wasn’t a bad experience. The other passengers seemed to keep to themselves, doing just about the same thing Stan was doing — watching out the window and wearing headphones to deter conversation with strangers. The scenery was lovely. Stan sometimes let himself get too swept up in other things, forgetting how pretty the world could be if you just took a moment to watch.
The only problem was that it was also very, incredibly easy to get lost in his head, in a situation like this. He was going home. He hadn’t been home at all in a year, and the last time he had been home was just to clear out his things and move away. He hadn’t lived there for two years. Stan wasn’t sure what he could expect. And when he had lengthy bus rides, paired with pretty scenery and good music, he found himself expecting.
Maybe he’d get there last. Maybe the bus would pull up right at their old bus stop, and he’d trudge his way over to Cartman’s house (was that where they were supposed to meet?) and everyone would already be there. Cartman, Kenny, Kyle. And it’s been two years, so maybe they all looked completely different. Maybe they were all successful, in various forms of the word that made sense for them, and he clearly wasn’t. They’d all think he was stupid, and they would have known how bad his alcoholism had gotten but not that he had gotten sober, and they’d talk down to him like he was a little kid because the alcohol had gotten to his brain and rotted him to the core.
Or maybe he’d get there before Kyle. Maybe it would be just Cartman and Kenny. Stan knew that Kenny hadn’t ever even left South Park, let alone Colorado, so maybe he really hadn’t changed all that much. Cartman… maybe he hadn’t changed that much, too. He always had these big ideas, ideas that he claimed he’d never give up on, ideas that he’d do horrible shit to get to, but they often fizzled out and were forgotten by the end of the week. Maybe that was what happened with his supposed-to-be business degree. Maybe that was why he was back. Maybe Stan would get there, and it would be like nothing had changed at all. And when Kyle showed up, maybe it would be okay, too. Or maybe Kyle would show up and wouldn’t talk to him. Maybe he was still mad, still frustrated, still whatever it was.
Or maybe…
The bus screeched to a halt at the Denver airport. That meant Stan had to get off, and rush his way to the other side to catch the other bus. He slipped his backpack on his shoulders and bounded down the stairs, not once taking off his headphones. He was in the airport, he didn’t want to talk to anyone here. Or hear anyone here talk to anyone else here. With his head bowed, Stan awkwardly navigated the bustling area, managing to not knock into anyone on his way to make the switch.
The bus departing the airport was a little busier. Stan still managed to squeeze through and worm his way into the back seat, but the seats were quickly starting to fill up. He decided it’d be best to just scoot on over anyway, and already assume the pose of staring out the window.
And then it came. Someone standing near the bench seat. Even turned away, Stan could feel their anxious fidgeting.
“…Could I sit here? The other seats are taken.”
Fuck.
Stan turned, looking up at the culprit, lips parting to answer—
Fuck.
“Oh- Stan?”
“Um. Yeah. Hi,” Stan mumbled, slowly pulling his headphones to rest around his shoulders. “Obv- Obviously you can sit here, dude. I don’t mind.”
Fuck.
Kyle sat, slow and tentative. Stan’s backpack put space in between them, as he’d intended to not sit uncomfortably close with a stranger. As much as he hated it, by now, Kyle kind of felt like a stranger, too. But he didn’t look it.
He looked older. He’d cut his hair some, but he seemed to have grown into the curls. He had new glasses. He wasn’t dressed all fancy, like what Stan expected out of someone who went to fucking Harvard Law School, but he was dressed similarly to how he used to in high school. Jeans, a t-shirt, a flannel. In fact, Stan thought he’d seen that very same flannel before.
“…You look good, Stan,” Kyle said quietly.
Stan couldn’t believe that was true. He was in a band t-shirt and holey jeans, an old jacket he’d own for upwards of forever. He hadn’t even really brushed his hair that morning. But then he remembered.
The last time he talked to Kyle, he was a drunk. He was an alcoholic, he was no better than Randy. Every word out of his mouth at all times was slurred, and he’d go back and forth between being sweet and sobbing and screaming. That was what Kyle had last seen of him. They hadn’t talked since then. Stan immediately felt guilt crawl up his throat.
“I– Thanks,” he mumbled. “I, um. I’m sorry. About everything. When- When you told me off, I think it finally… flipped a switch.”
Kyle’s eyes softened. He seemed to relax, if just a bit. “Oh,” he mouthed.
“Yeah. Rehab. Um- Shelley got me in.”
“Oh,” Kyle breathed. “Oh. Stan, I’m– I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t do more.”
Stan smiled sheepishly. “You… You did plenty, dude. You put up with me for so long. If you hadn’t dropped me, I wouldn’t have looked for help, anyway.”
Kyle fidgeted, his gaze locked on the dirty bus floor. The silence felt like it stretched on for eons. “…Well, I’m proud of you, anyway. Regardless of how or why it happened, it happened. And that’s really important. And- and you look healthier than I’ve seen you, in… well, ever, I think.”
That was probably true. Stan hadn’t been fully sober since middle school. Back then, it came and went. It started turning into a real problem near the end of high school. Kyle and Kenny were always suggesting he get help, offering to help him themselves. Even Cartman, in his own inadvertent way, expressed concern. But he always swore he was fine. He knew what he was doing, and he could stop any time he wanted to.
Obviously, that wasn’t true. Painfully untrue. Everyone except for Stan had known it at the time.
The bus jolted, pulling Stan out of his head. They had approximately an hour and a half before they’d make it to South Park. He glanced out the window, then back up at Kyle. Kyle gave him a little smile.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.