STAN AND KYLE 🔥
BOTH 17 🔥🔥🔥🔥
STARTED IN APRIL 2023. FINISHED ON JULY 4TH 2023 ‼️‼️‼️
TW: self harm (graphic description of the marks and blood but not the act), blade, blood, panic/anxiety attack? Idk, talk of argument, mental breakdowns, lotsa crying, kissing between homies
enjoy this one bc I do so you should
----
Stan knocked on Kyle's bedroom door. It reminded him of roughly ten years ago, when they were still little eight year olds; they used to argue often, even though it never really meant anything, and Kyle would always go hide in his room afterward until Stan got him to come out (after a good ten to twenty minutes of convincing). "Kyle, open the door, please? It's been two hours, why haven't you come out yet?" he asked through the locked door, hoping to at least get a response, to no avail.
What Stan didn't know at all was what had been happening behind that door.
Kyle was sitting in the smallest corner of his room he could find, his knees passed against his chest. His arms were awkwardly positioned on either side of himself, not making contact with anything other than the air. They were covered in several small but relatively deep wounds alongside some small scratches. There were blood trails along his arms and hands, but he made sure to wipe them before they were able to drip onto his carpet. He had a pack of wipes on his left side, and next to the container was a small bag, one you would buy crystals in; a small, red fabric bag with strings to close it. On top of it lay a small blade the redhead had dissected from a shaving razor simply for the purpose of cutting himself. He looked at his arms and listened to Stan's soft pleas as tears rolled down his face. He was shaking and breathing quickly, but his mind was a little clearer now that he'd gotten some of this stress out. Although, he still wanted to bleed more, wanted to keep... He resisted the urge and reached over, grabbing a wipe. He sighed shakily as he began gently tapping the excess blood away, soaking it in and effectively cleaning the marks.
As he did this, he heard another knock on the door. Stan was still there, and he was starting to get worried, scared. Kyle had never told him about his habit, but the ravenette knew the other had never, ever taken this long after they argued to just open the door. "Dude," he said, trying to sound flat and serious, although the way his voice cracked gave away his anxiety. "Please, at least talk to me?" he asked nervously, trying the knob again, to no avail.
Kyle hated hearing Stan like that, so worried. He decided to finally try and talk. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "I- I'm fine," he said, his voice noticeably trembling and weak and soaked in a shade of blue that Stan didn't even know existed.
The shorter of the two's heart sank. He had NEVER heard his best friend so upset. He sounded *hurt* and Stan couldn't handle it, not in the slightest. He wanted in. He knew the door was locked, but he tried the knob once more anyhow. "Kyle, please, please open the door -- you sound... Really not okay," he begged, feeling tears well up in his eyes.
God, if Kyle could let him in, he swears the noirette would lose his shit... But he was starting to think he might need him to know. He couldn't help but notice that every time he cuts, he goes a little deeper, it hurts a little more. He thinks worse thoughts. He wants to go deeper. He wants more.
He knew he needed Stan to know. He needed *someone* to know, just in case it got really bad one day. What if one day he almost kills himself and he needs someone, but nobody knows, so he cant call for help? What if he died from this?
Kyle was certain Stan would kill himself if he did, whether it be on accident or on purpose. The redhead took a shaky breath. "S- Stan?" he asked softly, only loud enough for the boy outside of his door to hear.
