Drown in my love (Stan x Kyle) (Style) (ZOMBIE AU)

Better half

You know what I just realised? I imagined the inside of Kyles parents house in this story completely different from how it was in the show. XD LOL

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Stans pov:

It was pitch black, with only soft light peering in through the creaks of the bordered windows—the moon's subtle glow. They were all put in a big, empty room, and everybody was now sleeping soundly. Except for Stan. He was lying on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling above.

He couldn't switch it off. His mind, that is. It'd been keeping him up since everybody went quiet. He'd tossed and turned in the comfort of his sleeping bag (provided by Kyle), and he was starting to get irritated.

His mind swirled with thoughts. Fleeting images of blood and gore from previous nights buzzed in his brain. If he went to bed now, he was certain a nightmare was ready and waiting to scare the shit outta him till he woke up in a state of sweat and panicked breathing.

He let out a long sigh and sat up, pushing the sleeping bag down to his hips. He wanted to sleep. He desperately did. His eyelids felt like weights, and he battled to keep up. But he knew he'd regret it. He usually did.

Most nights, the nightmares snuck up on him, but there were some nights where he could feel them coming on. Tonight was one of those nights.

As silently as he could, he pushed off his sleeping bag completely and got to his feet.

Alright.

So sleeping wasn't an option for now. He needed something to get his mind off all the screams. And then maybe—just maybe—he can shut his eyes for a second.

He shuffled towards the door, carefully stepping over the jittery blonde and the black-haired douchebag that were snuggled up together in the process.

Quietly, he pulled the doorknob and slid out the door, leaving the darkness and coming into the dimly lit main room.

As soon as he shut the door behind him as lightly as possible, an arm was smacked on his chest, his back was pushed against the wall, and the tip of something thin and cold was felt against his neck.

He gasped, looking into the sharp eyes of a provoked Kyle.

"It's just me! It's just me!" Stan whispered, putting his hands up in a defensive manner. Kyle had a knife up to his neck.

Kyle's gaze softened, and he frowned. "Stan?" He asked quietly. He slowly took the knife from his neck.

Kyle looked tired. Big, black bags were shadowed under his eyes. They'd been there since he first met Kyle. But never before have they looked so prominent. His eyelids were droopy, unlike Stan's eyes, which were wide with shock.

Having a knife against your throat certainly wakes you up.

"Jesus. Sorry. I nicked you." Kyle said faintly, pointing to a fresh little cut on Stan's neck, a drop of blood running down to his collarbone. "I thought you might have been something dangerous."

"Oh. Dude, it's fine." He said this, gently waving his hands to reassure Kyle. The cut stung. But Stan was too tired to feign any sort of resentment.

Kyle stared at the injury, disappointed in himself. He sighed and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "Come." He said. "I'll fix you off."

Kyle started to head towards the kitchen, stopping when he realised Stan wasn't following suit.

"No, seriously. It doesn't even hurt." Stan started. "It's only small. Reall-"