Work Text:
Kenny's bad at sleeping.
There's a phrase that goes "I'll sleep when I'm dead." For Kenny, it's true. The most amount of sleep he gets is when he's dead.
This is why on this particular morning, he finds himself staring at the boy next to him.
He'd crashed at Stan's last night after Kevin got brought home by the police. Karen had already had a sleepover scheduled with her friends, and Kenny didn't want to be around for when shit hit the fan.
He and Stan had fallen asleep watching some television, and it's still on. He'd tried to turn it off, but Stan insisted on sleeping with it on. It's his room, so Kenny doesn't say anything.
He look over at Stan. He sleeps with his mouth open, drool falling out of it. There's dark circles under his eyes that don't seem to go away despite him getting rest.
His eyelashes are long, they've always been long. Stan's face is ordinary, not particularly stunning but nowhere near ugly. He's just himself. It's nice. He's ordinary. He's safe. That's what Kenny likes.
Likes. He doesn't know why he's getting butterflies. Likes. That's how he feels about girls.
Whatever. He turns on his side and stares at the wall until sleep eventually takes him.