86 Feelings (Stan x Kenny)[Completed]

14

(Day 452)

Stan may have spent the rest of Sunday getting hammered with Craig, but he still tagged along with the rest of the guys to game night. He'd gotten so drunk that night, he hadn't managed to recover enough to even think about the conversations he had with Craig.

Although at work Craig had come out in the worst mood possible, once they were about five shots deep, they actually had a lot of fun together. Stan hazily remembered a point where they had a serious talk, yet every time he tried to remember, his mind would just ache. Eventually, he would figure it out.

But, everything was surprisingly normal at Clyde's. The only thing that could've been considered off about the night was that Kenny hadn't shown up, yet. Stan tried not to think about it.

He also fought to not look up when the door opened too, only to fail miserably within three seconds; Stan spotted Tammy trailing in behind Kenny, her arms wrapped around her waist like this was the worst possible place he could've taken her. She scowled at him with such a disdain that Stan nearly choked on his shot.

Over the music, and Clyde's obnoxious yelling, he couldn't hear what Tammy was saying to Kenny. She was berating him, and he stood there, as still as a statue, staring down at her with an emptiness settled in his eyes.

Stan took a step back as he observed this from across the room. This is much more complicated than I know. Maybe.. it's just none of my business. The words echoed in his mind for another moment before he turned back around towards the countertop, and took the next shot Kyle poured for him. Usually the ginger didn't condone his destructive behavior, but he was getting a bit drunk himself.

Since game nights were becoming a larger gathering the longer they worked at the restaurant, Stan noticed some new people there. David was finally invited, but he chose to sit at the small dining room table under a single, dull yellow light. Stan waved over at him, his drunken eyes swaying to the next area in the room before the action could be reciprocated.

And, there was Kenny again. Except, this time, he was alone on the large chair in the living room, chugging a pint of whiskey as he stared at Stan. Or in his general direction, Stan couldn't tell exactly where he was looking.

It's so much easier staring at him when I'm drunk.. Doesn't hurt as bad. Stan sent a lazy wave, sipping his Dr. Pepper as he tried to move onto something else. If the room had Kenny in it, however, he found it damn-near impossible to move on - especially when intense eyes were carving out a piece of his soul, still.

The acknowledgment was met by a disconnection of their eyes. Kenny stared at the floor for a moment, his lips pressed in a thin line before he slipped out the patio door. Tammy must've upset him, Stan figured, but this was one of those moments where it was essential for him to stay glued to his spot. Right?

Craig nudged him from the other side of the counter: "Marsh, this is what I was talking about the other night. It'll be fine, you won't die."

Somehow, his legs moved without his brain telling them to. Even inebriated, Stan didn't lose sight of where Kenny went, and just Kenny. He played it on a loop now as he grabbed the handle; his hands began to perspire, the gravity of what could happen if he went out there weighed on him.

When he opened the door enough to see Kenny, leaned over the railing as he smoked a cigarette, everything else fell away. Sweaty hands didn't exist anymore. His feelings didn't even exist anymore, it was just the moment, that irreplaceable time where he got to be in Kenny's presence.

"Hey." He began with a drunken mutter, cringing immediately as he registered how off it was. Stan took a large breath out, and touched the cool metal of the railing. It grounded him. "Y-You good, Ken?"