You Wouldn't Understand [Stan and Kyle]

Chapter 4

My eyelids fluttered open slowly. Bright sunbeams came in through the window, shining down onto my face. I felt as if I had washed up on shore from a shipwreck, my body pale yet warm. I rise up from the bed slowly, confused as to where I was for a moment before I remembered immediately. I'm in Kyle's room, and he's in the hospital...

I'm in Kyle's room, and he's in the hospital.

That's right, I need to go see him! I was able to get to his house fine without anybody batting an eye at me, so I'm sure I could do it again.

I quickly strip myself of his pajamas and replace them with the outfit I wore yesterday. My stupid brown shirt that I hate, a pair of jeans, my jacket, and of course my red and blue puffball beanie.

Everything else I left behind, throwing the front door open and closed it behind me as I ran.

The cold air that I was breathing into my lungs stung slightly, but again, I could care less. I didn't stop running until I reached the hospital, nearly exhausting myself. It didn't help that awful nauseous feeling welled up in my throat again. Nervously, I approached the receptionist at the first desk.

"Kyle... Broflovski...," I panted, looking towards the receptionist while I tried to catch my breath. "His room number, please...," I could really use some water right now. Geez... I can't even remember the last time I drank water.

"...Oh? Let me take a look, sweetie," I can hear the clicking of her mouse as she scrolls through her computer files. "Hm... Oh! Here we are. He is in room 4E," She smiles to me, but I can tell it's forced. It's that kind of smile that you know they're doing it just to make sure you feel secure.

Expect I don't. I feel terrible at the moment, but yet again, when do I not? I'm sad. I don't want to be sad, I want and need to make a change but I don't know how I can possibly do that. I run as fast as I can to room 4E and open the door carefully, yet with shaky hands...

The first thing that I took notice of wasn't even my super best friend's condition, but the horrified looks on Gerald and Sheila's faces.

"Stan..," The redheaded woman is furious, I can see it in her eyes. She wants nothing to do with me.

As for Gerald, he didn't even want to say my name. He took one look at me and then back at his son, the two of them both holding one of Kyle's hands tightly. Sheila was holding his left, and Gerald was holding his right.

I cannot cry here. But I'm feeling a different kind of pain now. An empathetic, guilt filled pain. The guilt of knowing that it's my fault this happened to Kyle. A few tears leave my eyes, but I shift them to the side and try to convince myself that I simply cannot cry anymore.

But deep down in my heart, I know that I can. My tears seem to be endless as of late.

I cannot escape the fact that sometimes what you think in your head and tell yourself isn't really what you're feeling like. Sometimes your conscience lies to you, but you'll have to learn to live with yourself. No matter how hard you try, you can't escape yourself. Whether that is a good or bad thing, you'll always be the one person that knows you the best. Every single step that you take, you're taking yourself with you. That's just how it is.

I take in a hard swallow as I look towards his parents, my body trembling from either the alcohol or just everything I have been through these past few months. It's probably a mix of both. I stand in front of the hospital bed, the beeping sound of his heart ringing throughout my ears. With a shaky voice I... "I'm... I'm sorry," I sniffle, trying not to cry in front of them. I've caused more than enough trouble for this poor family that they deserve, and that's a fact.

"My son...! Look at the pain he's going through!" The redheaded woman finally starts crying, sobbing into Kyle's pillow. "We shouldn't have left you home alone, oh I'm so sorry...!" She cries, squeezing his hand tightly.

His eyes are halfway closed, though those beautiful emerald eyes are staring right at me. He doesn't say anything, but the way that he's looking at me... I can almost hear his voice.

'It's okay, Stan. You didn't mean to.'

I make my way past his father and hold him in a tight hug, being careful to not injure Kyle any further. "I'm so sorry... You were just trying to help me and my emotions got the best of me. It's not your fault. It's not your fault at all," I shake my head and run a hand throughout his curls.

And then quietly, only loud enough for me to hear, he shifts his head towards me and a small smile comes upon his lips. "It's okay, Stan... It's okay. You're not completely at fault here, either. I shouldn't have treated you the way I have. I got myself into this predicament just as much as you did," And with that, he passed out and fell asleep right in front of me.

I bring my lips close to his ear and whisper...

"Kyle, I'm sorry. I really am...," Soon afterwards, I barge my way out of the hospital and wander the streets alone. I have nowhere to go now, no where expect for that stupid farm that I live on. The smell of it makes me sick. It's as if my dad is blinded from what's going on with me, and my mom is too afraid to say anything. But I wish that she'd say something...

I'm sad. I need to crawl out of this hole, but even if I did, where would I go...?

Warm tears roll down my face and fall onto the white snow.