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Lights flashed wildly, music blasted at full volume, people were practically fucking in the middle of the crowd, and the smell of alcohol mixed with sweat and weed made Stan's mind even hazier, completely intoxicated by the lightheaded feeling that had him grinning like an idiot at the ceiling.
- Dude, it’s time to go. -*Kenny walked over to Stan, who was sprawled across the couch.*
- Hm? -*Stan looked at him crookedly.*
- Home. C’mon. -*gave him a light shove.*
- Hm, no wan’. -*flopped back down.*- Go ‘lone’y.
- Get. Up. I’ve got shit tomorrow, I can’t leave you here.
- Y’can. -*Stan sat up straight.*- I’m fine, tell Bilu. -*said it to absolutely nothing.*
- Who?
- The fuck, hahah. -*gets slapped*- Ow, that hu’t~
- That’s the point.
Kenny was clearly running out of patience by that point. He had important things to do in the morning, and the only reason he had agreed to come out with Marsh in the first place was to make sure he at least made it home alive with some dignity.
-...How many did you have? -*he asked, glancing at the overflowing ashtray.
- Uh…like this. -*Stan held up eight fingers.*- I think, hehe~
- Jesus…c’mon, get up. -*tried to pull him to his feet.*
- Nah, Kenny~
It was a struggle, but McCormick eventually managed to drag Marsh through the entire party, with Stan loudly screaming about being kidnapped and having his organs sold...something everyone around them seemed disturbingly willing to ignore.
Once they were outside, Kenneth dropped Stan onto the pavement.
- Listen to me. -*held Stan's face between his hands.*- I’m gonna run to the convenience store for a minute. See if you’re still here when I get back, okay?
Without waiting for an answer, Kenny walked away, leaving Stanley sitting on the curb.
The cool breeze slowly cleared the fog from Stan's mind. His body still felt heavy yet strangely light, and thoughts that had been buried beneath the alcohol and drugs began to surface. And with them came that horrible weight in his chest.
Why was he there? Why did he always ruin everything? Why couldn't he be happy without needing alcohol and drugs?
Why? Why?! WHY?!
Was he really that bad? Was he a problem? Was he really that worthless?
Did he deserve this? What if he did?
What if he deserved the shitty life he had because he wasn't good enough? Because he never took the help people offered him? Because he hurt people?
Hurt his mother.
Hurt Wendy.
Hurt...him.
Suddenly, Stan desperately searched for his phone. He might not have been thinking clearly, but eventually, he managed to call the only person he'd ever truly been happy with.
The only person who had ever really cared about him.
- Hello?
- Kyleee~ hi. -*smile stupidly.*
- Stan? the fuck, do you know what time it is?
- Uuuh…dark?
-...
- Ky?
- Stan. Where’s Kenny?
- I dunno...-*tilted his head, then quickly straightened up.*- Fuck, they kill him?!
- What? No! Seriously, he was supposed to be with you.
- Bu’ I just wan’ you~
- Stan. -*Kyle's voice was tired.*
- Hi~
- Why do you only call me when you're high?
- What?
Marsh frozen.
Dizzy.
Confused.
It was as if those words had suddenly dragged buried memories back to the surface. Memories he'd spent a long time trying to ignore.
- Stan?
- Hm-yeah. Look, sorry, I/
- (Honey, who is it?) -*a voice asked from the background.*
-...Did I interrupt something?
- It's just David.
- Rodriguez? -*he faltered.*
- Yeah.
- So…you’re together?
- For a few months now.
- Ah/but…I-I love you. -*his voice cracked for a second, and his eyes began to sting.*
- No, you don't, Stan. -*his response was firm.*- We broke up a long time ago. I don't love you anymore, you don't love me anymore either…you never did.
- I do! I really love you, Kyle. I always have!
- That wasn't love, then. So stop making things more complicated.
- Love I/
- I’m hanging up.
- But/
- ***
The call ended.
And in the silence that followed, Marsh's entire world came crashing down.
Dazed, staring blankly into nothing, heavy tears rolled down his empty expression. Every breath tore at his throat and burned his lungs as he struggled to breathe.
Fragments of memories...moments just like this one flashed through his unfocused mind, each one leaving him more confused as he tried to understand what was happening.
- Hey, I brought some water and...ah, shit.
Kenny's voice trailed off as soon as he saw Stan's condition. He knew that look. This wasn't the first time he'd ended up sitting on the side of the road like this.
- I really fucked everything up, didn't I? -*Stan slowly looked at his friend.*- He don't love me anymore?
McCormick didn't answer. He simply sat down beside him on the curb and pulled him into a hug.
His silence was answer enough.
Stan finally let himself cry properly against Kenny's shoulder, no longer caring who saw or heard him.
So it was real? He had lost everything because of his own choices? Was he really the piece of shit he'd always thought he was? Would he never see the person he'd loved most ever again? Death seemed easier than staying alive in a reality where he had lost him.
- I don'’ wanna go... -*sniffled, voice trembling.*- I don't wanna go home and not see him there, Ken.
- Stanley/
- Please...I can't do this anymore. -*He pulled back, looking straight into Kenny's eyes.*- Why do I keep ruining everything I love? -*he asked, desperately trying to hold back his tears.*
-...I don't know.
His crying only grew heavier.
Memories continued rushing through his mind, and the pain didn't get any easier. He knew this wasn't the first time he'd ended up like this. And he knew it probably wouldn't be the last.
Stan grabbed onto Kenny again, burying his face against his shoulder as McCormick held him close, quietly comforting him.
Later, the two were back at Kenneth's house. Kenny helped Stan change into something more comfortable, gave him some water, and eventually, they both went to bed.
Stanley finally seemed calmer as Kenny gently stroked his hair.
But his mind still wouldn't stop.
It kept going over the same painful memories again and again, circling back to one thought.
”...Sorry for loving you, Kyle…”
—THE END—