86 Feelings (Stan x Kenny)[Completed]

30

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this far!! <3

(Day 537)

"You have to go to work, Stan!"

Stan narrowed his eyes at his sober best friend, only lifting the joint to him in response.

Kyle was about to lose his shit though, he'd been patient enough the last few days: "Dude! Seriously! Pull yourself together, and get fucking dressed!"

There was a part of him that knew Kyle was right, but that part of him was also out of fucks to give. So, Stan continued getting stoned. He didn't care if Kenny was scheduled that day or not, he needed the crutch.

The crutch was smart, too, because as soon as Stan stepped foot inside the small restaurant, everyone flocked around him like he'd been gone for months. Kenny wasn't among them, and he was able to breathe with ease when he noticed. Thank fucking god!

But, of course, that wasn't the end of his problems. Kelly was glaring daggers at him from across the kitchen, popping her gum obnoxiously so he would notice. He didn't know what she wanted from him, nor did he care - the slight growl she dared to give him made him smile, though. Stan was itching for a fight, whether it was physical or verbal, he needed to rip someone apart. If she wasn't careful, she would be the one to get the full force, even though Stan didn't think she necessarily deserved that.

The countless joints he smoked beforehand kept him locked in his spot. Mostly everyone had taken the hint that he didn't want to talk - except Craig, but that was most likely on purpose. By the snarky grin he held on his face, Stan was right.

"Marsh," Craig started cheekily, too high himself to maintain his stoic nature. "Where've you been?" Stan declined to answer, instead he tried to walk around him, only for a strong grip to hold him back. Apparently, Craig lost the small amount of patience he had: "No, didn't say you could walk away. You have to talk to someone eventually, Stan."

He scowled at the ugly floor. Do I?

Facing Craig again, this time making the effort to hold eye contact, Stan decided to let someone in. "Talking to you about this shit was at the bottom of my list, but I think that you have a point. And, I hate it." He ignored the smug head nod. Dick. "After work? Gotta get fucked up for this."

"Okay, but McCormick better not get in my face about it again."

Craig walked back towards the line before Stan could question that new piece of information. It held him to the floor like invincible glue, unrelenting against his pulls to forget that it was uttered. He couldn't forget it, though. What was he talking about? And, knowing Craig, he figured that he left him with that for a reason. Stan didn't want to let go of his anger, he just wasn't ready to move on from the absolute destruction that Kenny left him with.

Since Kenny was off that day, it was easy for Stan to continue on acting as if nothing was bothering him. In reality, he'd nearly gnawed the inside of his cheek to complete destruction from the plague of thoughts unrelenting in their plot to devour him. If only he decided to work somewhere else, none of this would've ever happened. Is that what he really wanted, though? To never have met Kenny in the first place had seemed like such a curse for a long time, Stan wondered if it was actually the opposite. Maybe, it was purely an accident that their paths crossed.

Naturally, with everything possible on Stan's mind, the restaurant was basically dead. There was no distracting him with endless orders, and rude customers tonight, just his loud, obnoxious thoughts. Stupid, bitch ass Kenny. Stan scrubbed the table top viciously, picturing the face of the goofy blonde that'd ripped his heart out. It wasn't making him feel any better, but at least it was a good workout, and it distracted him plenty; until the moment he caught the sight of that familiar blonde hair entering the restaurant.