You Don't Mean It ||Staig||

||Part Five||

TW: Cursing, Self Harm, Hospitals, Smoking

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"I guess it's just a waiting game now."

Wendy bit her bottom lip as she glanced away from the two boys she was sitting with. Stan was holding her hand with a gentle look on his face... and Craig was passed out against Stan's shoulder. 

He was snoring loudly. His pockets bulged out quite a lot due to the cigarette packs. Wendy thought it looked like he had just robbed a bank and stuffed the stack of money into his jeans instead of a bag. 

Wendy sighed and leaned her head against Stan's other shoulder. She felt his arm wrapping around her, in a friendly sort of way. Wendy stared over at the glass doors. Where Red had disappeared. They hadn't let Wendy back there because they needed to do some medical procedures. 

The nurses had yelled at her, saying how the fist thing she should have done was to preform CPR. Wendy let out another sigh, it was quieter this time. She called her parents earlier, giving them a less personal explanation of what happened, and that she would be staying at the hospital with company.

"Yeah..." She said quietly, finally responding to Stan's observation. Stan hoped sincerely that Red would make it out alive, she barely did the last time. He should have know, he should have acted. 

He should have got on Wendy and told her to never leave her side... and to check up on her everyday. Stan knew that if one of his friends were doing that, he'd never leave them alone again. Stan felt his body stiffen up as Craig nudged him in his sleep. His head was practically buried against Stan's neck, his hand lying against Stan's jittery thigh. 

He knew that Craig would kill him if he found out what was happening. And that Stan hadn't pushed him away. Stan really enjoyed the moment though, for some reason. Wendy stood up from the bench they were all sitting against. 

"You okay...?" Stan asked her as his hand gently fell back against the bench. Wendy started to sniffle a little bit. She buried her face into her hands as she took in deep breaths. 

"I need to see her Stan, I need to." She said, glancing over at the glass doors again. Stan furrowed his eyebrows. He knew that there was no way the nurses were going to let her back there. Stan opened his mouth to say something along the lines of his thoughts, but he stopped himself. 

Wendy had started to cry softly into her hands. Stan gently peeled Craig off him and stood up, pulling Wendy back into his arms. Craig groaned and turned the other way, curling up against the bench. 

Wendy wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to keep her crying silent. Their hug was interrupted by a tall man emerging from the glass doors Wendy often stared at. 

She quickly ran up to him, hoping that he would bless her with some good news. The man stared down at her, seeing her red and puffy eyes. His gaze softened and he spoke up. 

"Your friend is alive. Though... the drugs did mess with her brain quite a bit." He explained, pulling out a few printed off papers of the CT scan he did earlier. Stan wandered up to the two of them as Wendy ran to the doctor, snatching the papers up into her hands. 

She wasn't a nurse or a doctor, so of course she had no idea what all of the colors meant. "I will allow you to see her, she's not awake though so please be careful." The doctor said as he stood back, holding the glass doors open. 

Stan took a step forward, expecting to go with Wendy, but she stopped him. 

"Can I see her alone...?" She asked nervously, her hands shaking as she grasped the sheets of paper. Stan was a little bit surprised, but he understood. Stan stood back and watched as Wendy left with the tall man.