♡~Style/Stan x Kyle||We'll get through this together~♡

Chapter 2

Kyle's POV:
This day was already off to a bad start and I can't help but feel awful for everything that's happened. I looked over at Kenny, eyeing the teacher for a second to make sure they weren't looking and when I was confident I wasn't going to be caught, balled up a jolly rancher wrapper in my hand and threw it onto his desk to grab his attention. He gave me a look of 'What do you want?' and I put my index finger up to say 'One sec!' and ripped a piece of paper out of my book and started to write a note. After I'd finished writing and making sure the teacher was still distracted, I tossed it over to his desk.

Did you see Stan this morning?

Kenny read the note and then looked back at me and scribbled his answer down underneath mine.

Do you mean when he walked past us this morning at the bus stop and didn't even acknowledge us?

My heart ached a little reading the note, and I started to write down my reply, the lump in my throat thick.

Yeah. Do you think he hates us?

I looked down at my feet waiting for Kenny to write a note back. Just the thought of seeing the words 'Yes he probably does, especially you.' Was making my stomach hurt, and I could suddenly relate to Stan in the department of randomly wanting to throw up; it was taking everything in me not to be sick from nerves right now. I started to go deep into my thoughts until I felt something hit the back of my head. I quickly grabbed Kenny's note and read it.

Honestly dude, hate is a very strong word. I think he just might be very angry at us...

Okay, that's better than what I thought was coming. I'm not surprised that he's mad at us. I mean, if they all did that to me I'd be pretty pissed off too. I feel so guilty, and though I have my reasons, it doesn't change the fact that I felt like a failure in not being able to help.

I'm about to go back into my thoughts again until the second bell rings, my stomach lurching from the sudden sound and making me hyperaware of everything around me. I quietly sigh, watching three or four people pile into the classroom, and as they do, I look at Kenny, writing down another note; a certain someone's absence worrying me.

Where's Stan?

Kenny threw his note back and gave me a quizzical look.

I don't know dude.

Just as I'm about to write something back, the classroom door swings open and a miserable looking Stan enters the room. He slowly closed the door behind him and took his seat beside me. Even though I wanted to I just couldn't look away from him, I wanted to see what was going on in his head, in his eyes—I used to be so good at reading it. He looked tired, but unfortunately that wasn't new. His cheek was propped against his hand, and I could see his hair poking out from underneath his hat, slightly curly. It looked cute.

While everything else seemed to be normal, thinking my ex best friend's hair looked cute was not normal, and now I was wondering what the fuck was going on, my cheeks heating up under my skin. In the midst of this internal crisis, Stan suddenly turned his head to look at me and our eyes locked, making my cheeks darken even further, because now I feel like I've been caught in the act; whatever that act is.

Even though he was depressed and miserable, he still had the most beautiful eyes that I'd ever seen; ocean strong and fathoms deep, fathoms that I once knew almost better than breathing. I knew I was properly staring now, and I knew we weren't friends anymore so I shouldn't be looking in the first place, but those familiar, tired eyes that were still laced with warmth were pulling me in like a magnetic field, and I had to wonder: What is this feeling? Before I could even begin to start figuring it out, Stan suddenly breaks our eye contact and looks down at his desk, emotions clouding over.

Guilt washed over me, but I tried to remind myself that I did what I did for a reason, and if I could just explain my side of the story to him, then maybe he'd understand. Leaving him was the last thing I ever wanted to do, but I needed to, not just for me but for him, and though it's only been a couple of weeks, to me it feels like years.

Going from having a person by your side since you were a baby to not having them at all? It makes an impact, and I wish it all didn't happen the way it did. I wish he didn't tell me he loved me with such ease because for some reason it makes my stomach tie into individual knots and at different times they all get pulled at once, making me want to dry heave. I wish I understood it all, and I wish I could just stop thinking about it.

FLASHBACK / KYLE'S POV:

"Come on Kyle this is about you and me remember?!"

I looked at him, my heart hurting and my world crashing down on me because I knew what I had to do. "Look dude, things around here have changed... sometimes, the only way to keep going is to make a left turn." I said. All I really wanted was to just cuddle him and tell him that I'm sorry but I knew that wasn't going to cut it anymore, he needed to get himself out of this pit and even though he isn't aware of it yet, he's the only one who can truly help himself.

"FUCK YOU KYLE YOU'RE A PIECE OF SHIT!" Stan half shouted as he stuck his middle finger up at me. It hurt, but I also knew he didn't mean it, he was all over the place, he was hurting too—but I can't be there if it's going to eventually drag me down to the point of no return. Turning around and making him realise he needs to pull his shit together is the best thing to do.

"Kyle, I love you!" I stopped dead in my tracks, his words slicing through me like a knife. He's drunk, remember? He's trying to get you to come back, to repeat the cycle. He needs to fucking realise that this isn't going to help, that he needs to change his act up. I turn back around, not really knowing what I was doing, maybe I was going to smack him across the face and tell him to please pull it together because he's amazing and deserves to be so happy and—Please Stan get help, please, I can't stand seeing you like this.

"YOU'RE A PIECE OF SHIT THOUGH FUCK YOU!" I sighed, turning back around and away from him. Saying all of this while he's drunk is only going to cause more problems, he'll feel like I'm ganging up on him. I heard him mutter a small, "I love you," over my shoulder, and as much as I wanted to say, "I love you too, that's why I'm doing this." I couldn't bring myself to, not when he was like this—so I continued to walk, head down and heart indefinitely broken.

END OF FLASHBACK

That was the day our lifelong friendship seemingly came to an end. I hate myself for walking away like I did but I also know my reasoning for it, and with Stan in the state of mind he's in right now, he won't see it as me wanting him to get help, he'll see it as an excuse for me to get away from him when in reality that's the last thing I'd ever want. I still don't even understand the feelings that rise in my chest whenever I think about him let alone look at him, and trying to figure that out on it's own is a fucking challenge, but if I could just talk to him and explain things little by little, he'd start to understand why this had to happen. I'm just feeling this way because he was my best friend and I'm missing him a lot, right? It has to be.

There couldn't possibly be another reason.

No way. Absolutely not.
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Edited version of Chapter 2 is done and I'm feeling so much better about it aah! If you're a new reader or an old one, I hope you're liking it <3