changing my major

~ • ∆ two ∆ • ~

“Dude, you keep spacing out,” Kyle murmured, “is everything good?”

“YEa- yeah. Yeah dude, I’m okay,” Stan fumbled, trying to ignore that horrendous voice crack as Kyle tossed him the keys. The taller man unlocked the Jeep as Kyle walked to the other side, and the two of them climbed in. Stan plopped down heavily on the leather seats, stuffing the keys into the ignition and turning them while Kyle continued to try to get situated.

“Can you turn the GPS on?” Stan asked. No matter how much he needed that damn GPS, he wasn’t going to look at his phone while driving, since he was absolutely awful at multitasking. Kyle obliged as he picked up his own phone and plugged it into the AUX, opening the Maps app and looking for the address of the place they were headed. Stan adjusted his grip on the steering wheel while he pulled out of the parking lot, trying not to hit any trees or traffic cones like he was so infamous for in his senior year of high school. His mom always joked that he had his dad’s driving skills.

The drive, much like the elevator ride, was uneventful and bland. Kyle put a few songs they both liked - Getting Naked, Playing With Guns by AJJ, Worried by Atlas, and 40oz On Repeat by FIDLAR - on, tapping his leg to the rhythm of the music while Stan drove. He didn’t allow himself to become lost in thought this time, because he knew he needed to focus on the road even if it was only a few miles away and there wasn’t really much to worry about. It gave him a chance to not think about Kyle and how much of a date this all seemed to be. He followed the GPS’s instructions, making a turn every few blocks. They lived in the city, unfortunately, and he could almost hear Kyle starting to get pissed off at the awful driving skills of everyone around them. If Stan had his dad’s driving skills, Kyle definitely had his mother’s road rage to the point where it was kinda unbearable at times.

As buildings passed by and cars blasted their horns, Stan’s thoughts began to race. And eventually, to his horror, cars started to slow down around him. The two of them were stuck in traffic, which meant he didn’t have to think about driving, and that stupid GPS kept saying its annoying “proceed to the route” which just seemed to make Kyle more frustrated. Stan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, moving just an inch every minute or so.

“God, I have such a fucking headache,” Stan complained. He did not, in fact, have a headache, but he wasn’t sure how to break the silence. His thoughts only made him feel more tense, and their current situation wasn’t helping. Usually, Stan was pretty damn good at making conversation, but he didn’t want to talk about the aquarium and he didn’t really want to say something that Kyle would just get pissed off at. In all honesty, though, Stan tried to avoid enraging Kyle at all costs.

“You always have a headache,” Kyle challenged. “That’s a side effect of drinking so much, you know.”

Stan just rolled his eyes as traffic started to move again. “Spare me the details,” he sighed.

And after a second, Kyle sighed too. Neither of them seemed to want to talk about this, and Stan was relieved that those feelings were at least mutual. Traffic was moving at a steady 15 miles per hour, and Stan was so fucking thankful that, by some miracle, they weren’t really going to talk about Stan’s drinking habits in slow moving traffic.

“What should we do first, when we get there?” Kyle inquired. Stan audibly sighed, and out of the corner of his eye he could see a very concerned expression on the redhead’s face.

“I’ll leave it up to you to decide. It was your idea,” Stan shrugged, making a turn off of the road that had become flooded with traffic. The GPS rerouted their journey as he did this, letting them know that they were on the fastest available route. Stan was relieved as all hell to be privy to the information that, soon, they’d be able to get out of this car and go see some fish.

“You’re the fish expert. I wouldn’t really know what to go to first. Any particular fish you really wanna see?” Kyle pressured.

“I wanna see the sharks, I guess. I think they’re cute,” Stan shrugged again, running a hand through his messy black hair. The songs were already over, so Kyle unplugged his phone from the AUX and turned on the radio. Nothing was on that either of them really cared to listen to, but Kyle still fiddled with the dials anyways, in a fruitless endeavor for music they’d both listen to. To their equal dismay, clouds were starting to form overhead. What once was a lively, sunny day felt dreary and bleak. Kyle’s red curls sticking out of his ushanka felt like the only bit of color in the car as rain started to patter against the window. Stan flicked on the windshield wiper, trying his damn hardest to focus on the road - and failing. Miserably. Two random guys droned on about the news on the radio - new shows, the traffic, the weather. Nothing Stan really cared about. He felt impatient, being so crammed in the Jeep, but having Kyle there made it feel okay.

He tried to shake the thought that just the mere proximity of his best friend of, like, over ten years could improve his mood just like that. It wasn’t like Kyle was one of those overly optimistic people, either - he was more of a realist, if anything. Harsh and snappy with the shortest temper Stan has ever seen - but he refused to make decisions without fact, and that was something Stan could admire, being the biggest softie he knew aside from Clyde Donovan and Bella Faucheux, the girl in his French class sophomore year of high school.

Maybe that was why his head was spinning. He had a soft spot for Kyle - he always did anyways. Maybe he just felt that, but just a little more. It wasn’t completely uncommon. Sometimes he’d wake up and just feel more things than usual. His mother explained it was hormones when he was around 15, but - at twenty-one years old?

God, he was a mess.

Stan shook away the thought as he made his final turn into the parking garage.