Even if games weren't my specialty, I was pretty damn good. Maybe they are? When I and Kyle were 9, we played Guitar Hero and beat one million points and unlocked Superstardom, but the game just called us fags.
Hopefully, this time will be different. I wasn't dressed yet, and figured Kyle had started walking over so I slid on a black hoodie quickly with some sweatpants, socks, and of course, some blue and grey earmuffs to keep my ears from freezing.
The arcade he was referring to was Gattiland, it had a lot to offer. Me and my dad went once, but he kept gambling on the slot machines to win 500 tickets, let's just say it didn't work. There was shooting games, racing games, kid games, etc. but what interested me the most, was Guitar Hero, which I suppose reminded me of Kyle. Those were the days.
My thoughts were cut off by the sound of the doorbell. "Stanley, go get the door!" My dad says, he was obviously high. I quickly rush to the door, It was Kyle. The door opened, creaking faintly.
KYLE POV
I hear footsteps, I adjust my glasses like a nerd. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the door opens to a familiar face. "Hey dude!!" I exclaim. "Hey, Come on in!" He says with a welcoming, warm, cute smile on his face. I love how his hair looks now, his black roots growing through his previously blonde hair, how his hair touches the back of his neck. It makes him... best friend worthy, right?
I shake my head, clearing my thoughts as I walk into his slightly trashed house. Being at his house gives me comfort. Maybe it's the vibe? Or maybe it's because his dad don't bother us and hangs out with a uh, towel instead. I look around the familiar living room, its very plain. I suppose his mom did all the decorating.
The only photos up on the walls were of his dad and him. I Look on the side table, a younger picture of Stan, he looked 12 years old, he was holding a fish he'd caught. I remember when he told me about it, he was really excited and kept ranting about how long it took but how it was worth it.
The house had no upstairs, only an attic where Stan and I had practiced our guitars. I had an electric one, he had a plain, wood guitar decorated with race car stickers and some old, 'hippie' ones. Walking through the small hallway, he opens his wooden door with a sign on it, 'Do not disturb!' And I suppose his dad listens.
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It was a crowded, small room. All he had was his bed and his computer set up which had empty Red Bull cans scattered all over the surface, and across from that, his closet with a baseball bat and his guitar propped up on the inside. The TV was on the wall above the short door, the XBOX on the floor next to it. He had some band posters in his room, his floor crowded with dirty clothes. I don't know what it is, but as you get older, I suppose your room gets more dirty. Mine is, that's for sure. But Stan's was pretty bad.
Stan sits down on his bed, signaling for me to sit next to him, I smile warmly, my gap tooth showing. I've always been insecure about it, but Stan told me it made me unique and without it, I'd be plain. Besides, he said it looked good on me. It helped a lot. I finally sit next to him. "So what do you want to do?" He says, starting a small conversation.
"Hmm," I think to myself. I'm feeling nostalgic today.. like revisiting my childhood. "What about we go to Stark's pond? Just like we're in the 5th grade again." I rethink what I just said. Stan froze for a moment, "I mean, we don't have to if you don't w-" I get cut off by his raspy voice, "No, no no no no no!" he exclaimed fastly. "I mean, I'd love to! Sorry, I'm uh, awkward." I knew he was, classic Stan. His words made me smile widely, but I quickly closed it so as to not seem too flattered.
"Let me grab something real quick." He grabs his cigarettes, stuffing it in his pocket. It made me upset a bit, but I learned to deal with it sometimes. "Alright, let's go." He says, sighing in relief. He pisses me off sometimes, but he's still cute... god why do I think like this? He's cute but I can't like him, ahahaha... I always knew I was bisexual or something but I don't think I have a crush on Stan... that'd be wrong.
We walk out the door, Stan puts his hood up over his earmuffs and slides on his snow boots. I already had my shoes on, so I didn't have to bother. He looks at my hands, "You don't have gloves?" He said, grabbing his from his pocket. "Oh, I must have forgot!" He hands me a glove, putting it on my hand. "Dude, wont your hands get cold?" I say, worried. "I have pockets, I'll be fine." He smiles. I help him get my gloves on as my stomach flutters. It's like the moment was in slow motion. My face turns red quickly, but I learn to control it.
Stan opens the door, looking back at me, making sure I was there. I follow him, closing the door tightly.
