Stan X Kyle
Angst and Fluff
⚠️Trigger warning⚠️
Mentions of suicide
and self harm
Written in Stan's POV
I stand at the edge of the frozen pond, staring out across the glistening surface. My mind is filled with the thought of what I'm about to do.
I take a deep breath and place one foot tentatively on the ice, knowing it isn't frozen enough to bear my full weight. It's only October, two days after my eighteenth birthday in fact.
As I push down with my foot, testing the ice, I think about everything that has led me to this point.
Moving to that stupid weed farm, away from my friends.
My dad's chronic alcoholism and marijuana addiction.
My sister running off at 17, leaving me behind.
My dad making me drop out of school at 16.
My mom withdrawing from it all.
When she did get involved it was usually to placate my dad.
She pretty much ignored us otherwise.
Almost as if she forgot she had a husband and son.
And then there was me. The alcohol I stole from my dad. The cutting. The constant emptiness that couldn't be filled, no matter how hard I tried.
I take a step, both feet now on the ice. It's holding for now, but I know if I go just a bit farther it'll start to crack. I take a few more steps toward the center of the pond. Before I can go any further, I hear someone yell behind me.
"Stan!?"
I spin around at the familiar voice, losing my footing on the slick surface. I fall on my ass, hard.
I sigh in relief as the ice seems to hold. But then a loud resounding crack fills the air.
A loud, panicky voice is yelling my name as I sink into the cold, black water.
I have a brief feeling of peace as the cold numbs my body.
Then I feel a hand grab the back of my jacket, and I'm being pulled upwards. My head breaks the surface of the water and I cough, my lungs struggling with the icy chill of the air and water.
I feel myself being tugged out of the water, onto the surface of the pond. I crawl carefully forward, praying for the ice to hold. It was one thing for my life to end, I wouldn't put someone else's in danger.
I made it to the grass, collapsing on my stomach, exhausted. I turned my head at the sound of someone sitting heavily beside me. I'm greeted by the sight of the last person I expect to see at Stark's Pond at two in the morning.
"What the hell were you thinking!?"
Kyle's voice is angry and his face is flushed.
I shrug tiredly and sit up.
"How'd you even get here?"
He looks at me questioningly.
I gesture vaguely to my dad's truck, parked over by a tree.
Kyle looks to where I gestured, then looks back to me.
"You're soaking wet, you're gonna freeze to death."
He stands up then reaches down and grabs my arm, hauling me to my feet.
We walk in silence to my dad's truck.
Kyle opens the passenger door and gestures for me to get in.
I climb in and lean back against the seat. Kyle walks around to the driver's side and gets in. He finds the keys in the ignition and starts the truck, turning the heater on.
"So are you going to tell me what the fuck you were doing out there?" His voice is calmer, but still laced with anger.
I shrug, unable to meet his eyes.
"Damnit Stan, you could've died!"
"That was kinda the point." I say quietly.
"Wh-what?!" His voice is filled with disbelief. "You were gonna kill yourself!?"
I look up and Kyle's expression is one of pain, his eyes filled with unshed tears.
I feel my own eyes sting and shame washes over me. Stupid selfish Stan, never thinking about the people around me.
Kyle's expression changes to one of alarm as I start to shake, tears spilling over and streaming down my face.
He slides over on the bench seat and pulls me into his arms despite my wet clothes.
"Shh it's okay, shh." His voice is soft and soothing, and he rocks us gently as I cry against his chest.
My lungs are struggling to take in enough air, but I can't stop.
Kyle pulls away slightly, looking at me worriedly.
"Breathe, Stan. Come on, deep breath."
I suck in a lungful of air, and start coughing. My throat burns from the cold and my eyes sting. Kyle pulls me back against him and starts rubbing my back vigorously, trying to warm me up. I can't stop shaking. I can't tell if it's from the cold or the emotional outburst, maybe both.
Kyle pulls away again, looking at me with concern.
"We should probably get you home."
"No!" My shaking intensifies and I grab the front of his jacket, clinging to him. "Please don't make me go back there."
I whisper.
Kyle nods and reaches for the steering wheel. I grab his arm stopping him. "We can't take the truck. I don't want any of this coming back on you."
"Stan, you can't walk in wet clothes. It's freezing."
I shrug and get out of the truck. Kyle does the same and waits for me to walk around to his side. He looks at me and sighs, shaking his head. I follow him as he starts walking in the direction of his house.
The walk to Kyle's house is spent in silence. At some point Kyle grabs my hand and squeezes lightly, as if he's checking to see if I'm still there.
I don't pull away, enjoying the warmth of his hand against my cold skin.
When we reach his house, the front door opens just as he reaches for the doorknob.
His mom stands in the doorway, expression beyond angry.
"Kyle, what do you think you're doing out at this time of night!?"
I step around Kyle and her eyes widen when she sees me. "Stanley!? You're soaking wet! You better come inside before you freeze to death."
We follow Kyle's mom into the house and she turns to look at us. "What on earth happened?"
She looks at us expectantly, waiting for an answer.
Kyle started talking before I could say anything. "I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk. I ran into Stan at Stark's Pond."
I cut in. "I needed to get out of the house so I drove to Stark's Pond. I was messing around on the ice and fell through it. Kyle pulled me out. He probably saved my life." I put extra emphasis on the last part, hoping Kyle got the hint.
Kyle's mom smiles at him proudly. "You're such a good boy Kyle."
His face turns red with embarrassment, but I agree with her.
"Well you better get out of those wet clothes Stanley. And you should probably stay here tonight. Kyle take your friend upstairs and find him some dry clothes. Then straight to bed, both of you."
We tell her goodnight and head upstairs.
Kyle opens the door to his room and waits for me to go first, closing the door behind us.
I start to shiver again as I watch him pull clothes out of his dresser. He hands me a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
For the first time I realize he's in his pajamas under his coat.
He turns around to give me privacy and I peel off my wet clothes as quickly as possible.
I pull on the sweatpants fairly easily, despite the fact I'm shaking again. When it comes to the t-shirt though, I struggle to get it over my head.
Suddenly I feel Kyle's hands grab the bottom of the shirt and tug it down.
I look at him gratefully, shaking so hard my teeth start to chatter.
Kyle shrugs out of his jacket and throws it on the floor, before nudging me towards the bed.
I crawl onto the bed, noticing it's bigger than the last time I slept over. Probably a good thing since he's like 6 feet tall or something now. And I'm not that much shorter.
Kyle crawls on the bed and sits next to me, grabbing his blanket from behind us. He scoots closer and pulls the blanket around us tightly. Without thinking about it I lay my head on his shoulder. I feel him wrap his arm around my shoulder and I lean into him more, his body heat warming me quickly.
We sit like this quietly for a few minutes before I hear him whisper to me.
"Were you really gonna do it?"
I nod, face hot with shame.
He pulls away and looks at me.
"Why?" He asks in a quiet, hurt filled voice.
I sigh and rub my hands over my face. "Because I'm tired of feeling like this. If I'm not angry, I'm numb. I feel empty. The cutting and the alcohol don't help anymore either. I'm just...tired."
Kyle looks at me, horrified. "I didn't know you cut yourself."
Oops. I forgot he didn't know about that. He grabs my wrist and flips it over, fingers tracing the scars there. He slides his finger along the one that goes down my wrist vertically.
"This isn't the first time you've tried, is it?"
I shake my head, avoiding his eyes.
I hear an odd choking noise and I jerk my head up to look at him.
His lower lip trembles and his eyes are angry and wet.
"You'd really leave me here? Without you?" His voice breaks and tears drip down his face.
And now I'm the one comforting him, pulling him into my arms and whispering soothing words.
"Shh, I'm sorry Ky. I'm so sorry."
His pain slices through me like a physical feeling and I hate myself for making him feel this way.
He clings to me, face buried against my shoulder, body trembling. I reach up and run my hand through his hair, petting the soft curls. The sound of him crying is making my chest ache.
I continue stroking his hair and I feel him relax against me. I don't think he's crying anymore, but he doesn't let go.
As I continue to hold him, I start to realize I like it. I like the comfort of his body pressed against mine, warm and real in my arms, the feeling grounding me here.
The simple feel of physical touch, something I hadn't realized I've been missing.
My heart beats faster as I realize I feel something besides crippling depression for the first time in years.
I look down at the boy I hold in my arms and I smile softly. A real smile.
I bury my face against his hair, slightly confused at my change of mood. It's been so long since I've felt anything besides anger or apathy.
Kyle sighs against my shoulder.
"Is it weird if I like this?"
I laugh quietly. "I was just thinking the same thing."
Kyle sits up and looks at me curiously. "Really?"
I nod, feeling my face heat up.
He reaches down and grabs my hand. "Promise me the next time it gets this bad, you'll talk to me."
I nod and squeeze his hand.
"I promise."
I'm surprised to realize I mean it.
He smiles tiredly at me. We both need to sleep. I lay down, pulling him down next to me and cover us with the blanket. I turn on my side, getting comfortable. Kyle does the same, facing me, and pulls me against his chest.
I don't resist as his arms wrap around me, instead I snuggle against him, pressing my face against his chest.
I feel him run his hand up and down my back and wonder briefly if he's trying to comfort me or himself.
"I love you Stan."
My breathing hitches at his words. I can't even remember the last time someone said they loved me.
I smiled against his chest.
"Love you too Ky."
He hums contentedly and I hear his breathing even out.
I listen to his breathing as I fall asleep, the sound comforting.
And for the first time in years I sleep peacefully.
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Just so everyone knows this is now posted as a four-part short story
Hey everyone, let me know if anyone is interested in a part two 😊
Happy Pride Month y'all!