You Don't Mean It ||Staig||

||Part Ten||

TW: Hospitals, Cursing, Cigarettes, Smoking, Mention of vomit, Drugs, Needles, Blood, Abuse 

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"Oh, Stan," Wendy smiled widely. She quickly ran to Stan, her face beaming with relief. "I never thought I'd see you again!" She exclaimed once she made it over to Stan's bed. Wendy watched him slowly lean up, a smile still showing against her face. 

Wendy didn't know if she should cry and or hug onto him for dear life. She had missed him so, so much. Stan felt his mind freeing of the lingering thoughts of trauma as he glanced over at Wendy. He wasn't expecting on seeing her. He thought that Craig visiting was just a fluke, or a dream; and that no one really came to see him. 

He guessed he was wrong. 

"Hey, W-Wendy. What are you... doing here?" He asked slowly and softly. He tried to make everything seem gentle as possible, as not to scare Wendy away if she really was a figment of his imagination. 

"To see you!" She said. Wendy couldn't help herself any longer. She leaned down and embraced Stan in a longing hug. Stan almost shrunk back and yelled out; he froze up instead. The contact was too much for him. 

His hands hovered at her sides, shaking noticeably. He could feel his breath catching against his throat as the girl hugged him. Wendy seemed to notice the lack of arms around her so she quickly pulled away. 

"Oh, Stan, I'm so sorry!" She gasped. Stan bit against his tongue. His trembling hands soon fell against the bed as he tried to cope with his feelings. His chest felt heavy, his mind heavier. He knew Wendy meant him no harm, but he couldn't ignore the sensation. 

"It's not your... Wendy... I..." He tried to form up a sentence before he soon came to tears. Stan could feel the heavy tears rolling down his cheeks as he pressed his hands up against his face. Wendy cupped her hands over her mouth as she stared in bewilderment. 

She felt extremely guilty. He must have gone through so much more than she'd imagined. 

When Craig hugged him, it felt different. He was out of his mind; they both sort of were. He couldn't handle someone else touching him now. Everything reminded him of the room... or the harsh hands against him. 

The hospital room kept silent for a little while as Stan's quiet tears soon stopped. He quickly apologized to Wendy and let out a defeated sigh. Wendy felt the need to hug him again and tell him that nothing was his fault. But she didn't. 

"Stan... Craig is here too, if you'd feel better seeing him." She uttered. It wasn't that she wasn't confident that Stan wanted to see her. She just thought that maybe seeing another person who cared for him would cheer him up a little bit. 

Stan hesitated before he looked up at her. His cheeks were still wet, but he wore a small smile. 

"Yeah... okay." He said. He wanted to tell Wendy how grateful he was for her, but he figured he would do it another time. Wendy nodded to him and gave him a gentle smile before slipping out of the room. She slowly closed the door behind her and made her way to where she last saw Craig. 

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Craig crushed a beer can beneath his shoe and kicked it as he walked around the front of the hospital. He wasn't mad. He didn't know what he was feeling. Nervous maybe...? All he knew was that the smoke in his lungs felt fucking amazing.  

He had probably blown past three packs in the last couple of days. He wasn't sure how he wasn't dead already. Craig sighed softly to himself as he huffed out the smoke from his lungs. He tossed the withering cigarette away. Watching it land against the concrete before crushing it.