Take a break. (Style angst.)

Chapter Two.

(I don't ship Stan x Michael, this is just for the sake of lore.)

"Ugh. My head is spinning. I just want to get out of here." he mumbled, now moving his hands away from his face.

"Then let's get out of here," Michael mumbled. "We can get some coffee. It'll help you sober up."

"I can't.." He replied sluggishly. "There's no point. Everyone hates me now. Wendy hates me, she left me for Tolkien. Kyle hates me, probably because I'm an alcoholic. Everyone."

"I don't hate you Stan." Michael's voice returned to its monotone self.

"How can you not? Seriously, I'm fucking everything up."

He pressed his back against the wall, sliding down it till he reached the floor. Keeping his head down. Michael soon moved to sit next to him.

"I don't hate you Stan. Genuinely. I think you're just going through a hard time." Michael takes out another cigarette. Honestly, he couldn't give two shits that he's in a school.

"Stop lying. I'm being terrible. I made you deal with my problems, over and over again. I suck." He mumbled, shutting his eyes.

"Stan. Listen to me. Really, I don't hate you." Michael looked at him, just wanting him to listen.

"How could you say that..?" He returned the gaze. "How could you say that after all the selfish shit I'm doing?" He raised his voice, tears welling up in his eyes. "Prove it. Prove that you don't hate me, because I can't believe it."

Michael sighed.

He could see Kyle approaching them from behind him. Maybe to apologize, maybe to yell at him even more.

Michael scooted closer to him, causing them to be inches apart. Kyle's facial expression changed as he stopped in his tracks. Assumingly confused.

Michael pressed his lips against his. His eyes widened in shock. His mind began to ramble, not knowing how to react.

Kyle took a sharp inhale, continuing to hold his breath as he watched them. He took a few steps back, then left the area entirely. He seemed upset, maybe even furious.

This pained him. He didn't want to hurt Kyle, but he doesn't even see why it would. Why would he care?

As the kiss continued he could only think of Kyle. The face he made. His face. His eyes, even just his lips.

Without even thinking, he kissed back. Cupping Michael's face in his hands as he did so. He didn't want this, he didn't want any of this, but it took the pain away.

He didn't like Michael. He didn't feel right. None of this felt right, but it was an escape for him. The longer they kissed the more he didn't have to feel. He didn't feel nauseous, or angry, or happy.

He didn't feel anything.

Michael didn't make him feel anything.

As he pulled away, he gasped for a breath. Maybe even feeling worse than he did before the kiss.

He didn't have anything to say, nor did Michael. The whole situation seemed off. Incorrect.

He continued to take deep breaths. Staring at Michael in disbelief, he wasn't even sure if he was upset or not.

He grabbed the collar of Michael's shirt, forcing their lips onto each other again. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was selfishness. But either way he didn't care.

The intimacy was a distraction. Keeping him from overthinking, or even breaking down.

Michael kissed back for a moment, deepening it. As he did so, Stan's breaths started to become shaky, his movements more hesitant.