Distilled, yet not aware.

[15]Weepoooopoo

(THERE IS A CHANGE IN WRITING STYLE)

Kyle slumped over on Stans head, eyes flickering in a desperate attempt to stay awake. He failed and soft snores came from his throat.

It wasn't before long he started to dream of labyrinths. Ones that had no exit, but could be manipulated. His dreams had his fears. Lack of true control.

He wanted to control his feelings. He knew he loved the boy he had in his arms. He hated that, so fucking much.

He was aware he was dreaming, but didn't have the strength to wake up.

However, another person could. Stan opened their eyes, completely distraught. Where the hell was he? His eyes came into partial focus and he realized the boy who was on top of him. Being hit with the events of the last.. 2 hours maybe? Made him want to die. He felt like his insides and throat were being squeezed.

He refused to let himself cry by breathing heavily, with lack of breath regulation, it made him a bit dizzy.

He whined a bit involuntarily, he was angry. Why the fuck do happy or neutral moments always end like this?

He didn't want to disturb the red haired boy... Wait. Disturbed? He did a double take, and realized how different this made the situation. He had still trusted him enough to fall asleep on him. Felt comfortable enough. Does this mean he.. still liked him? He didn't want to abandon him? Stories always have enemies fall asleep on eachother. But it's unrealistic. If your intelligence is like Kyles, not falling asleep in dangerous places doesn't require much effort. Which means, even subconsciously, he still trusted him enough in a room full of weapons.

He wanted to smile, but he was overcome with immense guilt. Kyle had seen him cry like this before, but was this situation too hard to unravel without ripping?

Stan didn't know if that made any sense; but the analogy worked all the same.

He didn't want to move at this point anymore. He felt so fucking fatigued, more mentally than physically, but he wanted to escape the guilt, and anxiety.

He closes his eyes and attempted to match his shaky breathing to Kyles more shallow attempts.

This time, Stan dreamed.

he dreams about things that have happened in the past, nothing was a kinder created product of his mind.

It was when he got his Aspergers diagnosis. Or rather Autism.. now he knows the correct terms and information.

He wasn't treated as if he was there. Which further incapacitated his ability to not disassociate. He was already going through depression (and he most definitely still was) and was not getting helped along any.

His own father, on live television, humiliated him to his face. He couldn't say how he felt about his father, but he couldn't bring himself to forgive him for this.

He could remember clearly, he was a mentally incapacitated freak, who's self loathing. He wasn't "his son" anymore in his eyes.

Thousands of people saw that. Agreed with him. Stan was too focused on disassociation to ease the pain rather than saying anything.

He knew his father was stupid in general, and believed what he was told, yet he still managed to keep himself as ignorant as possible.

He was angry, even now. He still had to live the direct effects. He knows he wasn't even Autistic, and probably stigmatized Autistic people even more than they already were in media. Now the fact he is the furthest into dreaming you can get, he can't daydream in a actual dream, so he had to live through the moment fully. More than a mere memory.

He remembers the doctors shaming him, being tricked by those group of.. bastards.. with an addiction that will probably follow him for years. Mr. Mackey, getting mad at the depressed kid  reaching out for help for being too empty inside which led to severe sadness (Debby downer in his case).

He did try reaching out for help, but he accidentally grabbed the tail of the snake he was trying to back away from.

He remembered.. something? he couldn't make out. He knew something happened there.. He's pretty sure he saw somebody die..

Honestly, he could remember. He just didn't want to admit it to himself. It was a dead body. It had heroin needles hanging from its arms. Which is what he gets by going to a denver he guesses.

It was just.. too casual for anybody to take him seriously..

He wondered if that would be him one day. His family already has a substance abuse problem. His mom is one of the only ones who can do it in moderation.

Shelly vapes.. His dad drinked, and smoked, and probably did something else on the side.. He drank.

He felt so much guilt. The guilt from drinking drove him to do it more. He heard weed can cause memory problems. He honestly would have done that if he didn't swear to himself he wouldn't.

Stan could remember watching the dolphins skulls get crushed against the walls of the shallow pools. The brains foaming up to the surface, the blood spraying on his lifejacket.

Stan could remember getting shot. His arm bleeding. The damage done to his nerves. Awkwardly sitting there as his parents took their sweet time.

He shot his eyes open when he noticed Kyle wriggling out of the position. He grabbed a sheet of paper of the floor, dusting it off, he read it.

Kyle looked over at Stan, surprised to see him awake.

"uh.. hey stan.. are you better now..?" he asked hesitantly.

"I.." He hesitated, "yeah. I'm fine," He said quietly.

Stan stood up slowly and walked over to where Kyle stood.

The paper was in Jimbos handwriting.. f uhhhh k.

'Hey kids, I saw you fellows fell asleep so I let ya, I called your mothers as well. :)'

Kyle stifled a chuckle at the fact he added a smiley face as well. Specifically one that would be written in text, especially considering Jimbo was a Vietnam veteran.

Stan smiled shyly, he didn't know if he could, or he was supposed to.

Kyle opened the weighted door, Stan stepped back with how bright it was.

The gun store was empty. Ned was probably cleaning today. Oh the puke..

Stan excused himself before running to the back, he cleaned it up, feeling disgusted at himself.

He had to sanitize the place, double checking to see if they had grabbed their weapons.

Dropping a hundred on the counter, Stan left with Kyle.

The clock tower slowly ticked as they slowly walked by. Not a word was spoken, yet they positioned their chests as so.

They glanced at each other, each tick adding onto the haze in the air. The yellow musk of daybreak covered the ground.

Their boots and sneakers hitting the concrete in a non-rythmic pattern.

They didn't know what may await them. They were scared.

_________\\\\\\\________\\[_[______

Guys I am so sorry for not updating for like a fucking year, I started an Ao3 account :) I'm writing a much more serious fanfiction called Sever with a rarepair (Stan and Butters) and i think I just forgot. I also started struggling to write this fic because i realized all the "Unexplained behaviors!" I projected onto Stan and Kyle in this fic was just me having Autism (I was NOT aware of this while writing) I'm gonna have to reread this entire thing and reevaluate how I originally wrote these characters to continue writing lol. I think I've improved my writing a lot :) Thank You all for staying patient with me. Ich Bin Lorde!!