𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

stan winces in pain, his left hand flying to his head in an attempt to ease his peircing headache- which he has been constantly complaining about for the last hour.

"..and yeah. i don't know. i just hope i don't have any classes with fucking cartman." i continue talking, but his pained expression tells me he wasn't listening anyways. "dude. please don't yell right now." he slightly shakes his head, but immediately stops and slinks further down into the couch in distress.

"i wasn't." he's starting to piss me off with this stupid migraine shit. "why don't you go take an advil or something?" i suggest. he's been moaning about how much pain he's in, but i've yet to see him try to do anything about it. "cause they don't help, kyle." he seethes through his teeth. how is he getting fed up with me!

he's the one that comes into the living room in the first place, a public area where he can clearly see i've occupied, only to lay there and writhe whenever i speak. also, he made me turn down the television, dim the lights, and close all the curtains- which is a daunting task considering they're fucking fourteen feet tall- all to accommodate him! "whatever, dude." i get up from my seat, speedwalking away from stan and into the kitchen.

he calls out to me, his voice weary and strained. "where are you going?" i ignore him. "can you get me a water?" he shouts louder. is he joking? it's a minute long exertion to get a water from the fridge himself. he's like a toddler. or a leech. a parasite. in any case, he's being fucking annoying.

maybe he's sick. then what if he gets me sick? i don't think i should be around him. but who else is going to nurse his whiny ass back to health? it's most likely just allergies. unless he has a hangover? he's supposed to be sober. i haven't seen him drink recently though.

i'll get him an advil and a glass of water. to be safe.

"here you go, princess." i drop the small tablet into his shaky palm, and set the glass on the side table nearest to him. he mumbles a short thanks, and despite his previous protests, takes the pill. i return to my original spot like a prisoner coming back from lunch break. begrudgingly.

instead of perusing an activity i actually wanted to do, like watching a movie or talking with my best friend: i mindlessly scroll through tiktok. i give up on trying to make conversation with stan; he is too ill to withstand my voice apparently. and currently, i don't necessarily want to listen to his either.

he takes a deep breath, drawing it out dramatically. "what, stan." i tilt my head back in exhaustion. he looks over at me, his dark eyes glossy and slightly bloodshot. i guess, staring at him now, he really does look sick. he's dressed extremely warm for the weather, a heavy grey sweatshirt and long blue pajama pants is too much for the temperatures lately. his ridiculous blonde hair is ruffled and unkempt.

he constantly appears and sounds on the verge of tears. or passing out. now i feel bad for being pissed with him. i drop my gaze from him and relax, noticing my tense shoulders. "nothing, nothing." he curls back into himself on the other side of the couch, occasionally unfurling to sip on his water and vocalize his complaints.

the matter of his thoughts are pressing enough to get him to finish his sentence minutes later, "when's the last time you heard from y/n?" he rolls over to look at me as he speaks. i've noticed stan often wonders his thoughts aloud, oblivious to if anyone actually wants to hear them.

this is one of those 'no one wants to hear them' times.

stan knows full well that y/n and i rarely talk. he also knows that i've liked her for a year, so i don't see why recently he's been insisting on fucking with me by hanging out with her and bringing her up all the time. before it used to just be off-hand comments during his drunk tangents about everyone in school, but now it seems he can't talk about anything else. and having her over for hours- alone? what the fuck?

"why are you asking me? i thought you were her best friend." he rolls his eyes at me, then slowly slides himself upwards until he's sitting up in a sloppy disguise of consciousness. "don't do that bro. i was just wondering."

"aren't you always?" previously, he designated himself my personal 'wingman', so i don't see why now he's acting like a dick. "what's that supposed to mean." i could handle kenny's advances towards y/n, but stan is just doing this solely to infuriate me. "don't act stupid right now. all you talk about is y/n."

"what the hell are you talking about?" he stares at me in a space between confusion and irritation, his furrowed dark brow the sole reminder of his natural hair color. "yesterday you talked to me for half an hour about how much fun you two had on thursday. i didn't even know you two were cool with eachother until a week ago!" i was always under the impression they mutually disliked eachother. stan went quiet everytime y/n was around and kept that approach towards her for years, every single time they had to be near eachother.

he groans, "oh my god. are you being serious right now?"

"yes! i don't want to hear about all the shit you did together. ever. why do you even want to hangout with her?" they don't have anything in common, so i struggle to see what they could even talk about. unless they don't do much talking together.

"why does it even matter to you?" he has to be joking with me. he can't try to seem all reserved now- not when he was boasting about how he "can't even remember how long we spent together," and i've heard worse accounts from other people.

tolkien told me stan forced y/n into the water with him that time they went out for dinner, and that he carried her in and out of the ocean, clinging onto her like a lost kitten. "because you don't need to be friends with y/n. i don't like how you interact with her."

"oh yeah? and how do i 'interact' with her, kyle?"

"like you want to fuck her!" i couldn't stand the way he looked at me like a dog on thursday. guilty; but with that glimmer of smugness in his eyes that comes with the universally acknowledged reality that he'll never be found with anything other than 'innocent intentions' in his wrongdoing, because it's nothing but a beast's inherent nature to fulfil it's desires.

even if the bird he wishes to feast on is a woman instead of murdered prey.

"so.. what- i can't be friends with a girl now without wanting to have sex with her? you need to be fucking medicated." and better a prescription than a bottle, isn't it?

"dude. i just don't want you around her anymore."

"why is this such a big deal to you!" he borders on shouting, but his weak little voice limits his range. i don't know why he's acting so clueless though, i've never heard of any allergies causing dementia. but a performance of a lifetime here nonetheless! "you know why."

"if i did, why would i bother asking?" he rubs his eye aggressively, no doubt another one of his exaggerated headaches. maybe he's faking them to avoid talking to me? his plan isn't working very well.

looking at him now, in all his sickly state, pisses me off more than before. "because you're an asshole focused on fucking with me by trying to fuck the girl i've been in love with for a year!"

"stop saying fuck!- jesus christ!"

"you're unbelievable."

"..i'm unbelievable? you're kidding."

"whatever stan. just stay the fu.." i trail off, recognizing my mildly-childish usage of saying fuck all the time. i'll give him that. "stay away from her. please?"

"sure," he nods his head. "and how about you grow the fuck up."

"oh my god," i exhale in exhaustion.

"just cause i'm friends with a girl doesn't mean i'm in love with her." stan continues to attempt to aimlessly defend himself to me, refusing to listen to my side of it all. i don't want her around him. how simpler can i outline my request to him? this shit is so tiring.

"please, dude. please." i cover my face with my hands, my words becoming muffled. at this point i'm just wasting my breath. i probably was earlier too, and now i give up. it doesn't even matter. stan isn't listening now matter how hard i annunciate my words. and my volume doesn't even matter either- he thinks everything is yelling no matter how softly i speak to him.

stupid, whiny, dick.

he pauses, "you don't own her, or me, kyle. what the hell is wrong with you today?" i cannot physically argue any longer; maybe his sickness actually is contagious. standing up, i retrieve my phone from it's deserted position to my left. i'm just going to let this whole thing cool off for awhile.

"i'm not doing this right now." i take deeper breaths as i step away, counting the seconds in between each aspiration. keeping my focus straight ahead to my escape (the front door), i avoid looking at stan. at least through my main line of sight.

"our arguments over already. retard," he calls out to me. i make it his final remark directed towards me as i shut the door behind me, looking outward onto the world infront of me.

it's significantly warmer out here than inside, the houses in the distance appearing as wavy mirages through the abundance of the sun's unblocked rays.

maybe i'll crash at tolkien's for the night. i kind of was before too? it's hard to phrase exactly how personal each of our living spaces are here. it's all tolkien's, no matter what. but either way- my home or his- i'm not going to stay at tolkien's house which i currently inhabit for the night. not with stan there at least, but where else is his hobo ass supposed to reside?

he doesn't have much of a support system right now. maybe wendy was right, scrambling out from underneath him.

no- that's not a nice thing to think. well neither is imagining him lusting over y/n. i've heard the way he talked about wendy, and he's definitively an asshole.

i swear to god though, if i find out he's pining for y/n, i'll lose my shit. if he doesn't actually like her though, then i am the stupid, whiny, dick. and i'll look like a fool.

hey, that first part kind of rhymed.

anyways. tolkien's.

there's no sense in texting him to ask for permission at this point, i'll just explain everything to him when i arrive. he won't care. it's not like i'm sleeping in his bed. i'll just camp out on an eighth of his massive couch for a day or two until everything is semi-normal again.

this is ridiculous. why did i even start yelling with him- stan didn't actually do anything wrong. him and y/n were probably just hanging out platonically, like he said. and i'm not even sure she likes me anyways.

unless he hasn't told me something.

i need to talk to y/n.

i could take a short detour to her house right now- it's just a three minute walk. but that might be kind of weird. and truthfully, if she does like stan, i don't necessarily know if i want to hear that right now. even if it proves me right.

and i'd embarrass myself. i'd rather not have four of our mutual friends watch as i get rejected, and laugh as i'll probably cry in response.

i'll just text her.

typing as i continue walking, i have to search her name in messages for our chats to pop up. we don't talk online that often i guess. my fingers hover over the keys as i lull over how to phrase my question: 'is stan in love with you and is it mutual?'

i'm trying to word it so i don't sound like a cuck. or a weirdo.

is it odd if i don't start with a greeting to break our two week radio-silence? maybe i should. but should i not just get to the point?

why am i even worrying about this shit? i know she likes me. we kissed (basically twice!) already. and there was that time we danced under the stars together.

this is pathetic.

'hey y/n. you do like me- right?' sounds like i'm a pussy.

'you aren't in love with stan, are you?' sounds creepy.

'i've been in love with you for over a year now and i just want you know that i'm serious about you, and i was wondering if we could go out again sometime? and also you didn't make out with stan, right?' too honest. and insecure.

k: Hey Y/n. Sorry for the random message, but I'm just texting you to tell you that I really do like you, and I hope you aren't interested in Stan. Or anyone else for that matter. Which you're not, right?

i stare at my sent messages for awhile, but when she doesn't respond i close my phone and shove it deep into my pockets. i think maybe i was doomed to embarass myself no matter what route i went down. why do i sound so desperate? ugh.

the sound of my heart beating rings in my ears, and i can feel my body start to warm. but i can't tell if it's from the hot afternoon sun or my rather strange-ly worded confession. i can't believe i said all that. why did i even need to text her? what's wrong with me!

the adrenaline coursing through my veins makes me want to run but i don't want to be seen right now, and i feel like running is an extremely attention grabbing action, so i calmly walk down the path and attempt to control my rising nerves like a normal person would.

ignoring them, probably.

my thoughts drift back to the empty house i'm leaving behind. stan is the sole resident now. i haven't seen kenny and clyde at the house in awhile, but i guess clyde might be at wendy's now. i have no leads to where kenny might be staying, but at least he still makes the occasional stop through the house. yesterday he went out to the mainland for something- but i don't remember what was so important to him. maybe he never said. i don't really care where either of them go though; especially clyde.

now, he's a real asshole.

tolkien's roofed porch provides much welcomed shade as i step underneath of it, and before i can knock on the door my phone dings. y/n?

it's y/n. my heart drops as i read the preview of the message that pops up on my screen.

y: i want to be honest, so i can't confidently tell you anything about how i feel with anyone. i thought it was kind of causal with you too- you know? just a summer thing?
y: i'm sorry kyle, it's not anything with you it's just all too new
y: i still would like to go out with you again sometime?

but you kissed me fifteen minutes into our first official date? while we were drunk at a house party you begged me to dance with you? you smiled at me after your friend said "you guys are so cute together"? we talked around midnight on the same beach we kissed at and you asked me if i remembered while smiling? you told me you love talking with me more than anyone? you asked me to be your 'informal' date to homecoming?

and you thought it was casual with 'me too'?