Chapter Text
It was 6:00 PM on a winter night and a blizzard was forming outside. That meant Kyle, who was home alone on winter break, had to figure out how to make his own dinner. His mother had left him money to have food delivered to him, but every restaurant was closed due to the storm. He was growing increasingly frustrated by the second; He wasn’t skilled enough to prepare a proper meal despite having all the right ingredients, and there were no snacks he could munch on to at least attempt to hold him over until the storm ended.
Eventually, he gave up. A bowl of cereal would have to do, as he did not have much of another choice. His parents asked him to do the dishes while they were gone; but he was, of course, procrastinating. So he had to grab a dirty bowl from the sink and rinse it off to reuse. He poured Cap’n Crunch into his bowl and made his way to the refrigerator in order to grab the milk, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
Kyle jumped at the sound. His parents shouldn't be home until Monday evening, Ike was staying at a friend's house, and he certainly wasn't expecting anyone; especially in this weather. He left his cereal behind in favor of checking who could possibly be at his front door at this hour. His head was filled with all kinds of possibilities. It could be his parents home early, perhaps they got an alert about the weather and came home from their date to take care of him. That’d be great, then he wouldn't have to eat cereal for the rest of the weekend. Then again, he worried that someone might come to tell him that something horrible had happened to them. Or god forbid: Ike. A car crash, a robbery, some horrible accident. In these conditions, he couldn't rule anything out.
When he finally made it to the front door, took a deep breath and pulled it open. He was immediately blasted with cold air, which blew into his eyes and through his hair, surrounding his entire body in a flurry of snow. When he opened his eyes, he was shocked to see his friend Stan on the other side of the doorway. His face was unmistakable, though at the same time hardly recognizable through the harsh white winds.
“Jesus Christ Stan, is that you?” Kyle asked, his voice a subtle mix of worry and relief. Stan moved his eyes up to meet Kyle’s gaze, though hesitantly, and nodded silently.
“Yes.” he replied simply, his voice strained and tired. Something felt off about his tone as well, but through the loud blowing of the wind Kyle couldn’t fully make out what exactly that was.
“Are you okay dude? You sound like hell.” Kyle finally spoke up after staring for probably way too long. Stan seemed hesitant to respond, but eventually did.
“I haven’t slept, Kyle. I didn’t get a second of sleep last night and I’ve been trying to sleep all day but I just… I can’t.” Each word he spoke sounded as if it were a desperate plea for relief. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind I guess, with finals and everything.”
“Stan,” Kyle interjected, “Winter break isn’t for worrying about school. It's for… well, literally the opposite.”
“I know, I know,” Stan sighed, “I just have so much going on inside my head and… can I just come inside? Please?”
Kyle stepped out of the way of the door, letting his friend through. There was always a second home for Stan inside this house, they’d been best friends since Kindergarten. He knew the living room all too well, and not just because of the cookie-cutter housing that plagued South Park. They’d spent most of their junior high years here together; after their friend group broke down and split apart they found peace in each other's company. Hours were spent playing on the latest Gamesphere, watching shitty tv shows they’ve now grown out of, and on the rarest of occasions, actually doing what they told their parents they were doing: studying.
Now that they were both inside and the door was closed, Kyle could finally get a good look at Stan. Seeing him in such a state, if not overwhelmed by shock, would have broken his heart. His typically rosy, soft skin was now pale and cold. His blue eyes were bloodshot, tears staining his cheeks. His hair, messy from being blown by the wind, had a texture only achievable by being unable to shower for what must have been days.
“Stan, dude, you look dead!” Kyle sputtered, taking a seat on the couch which Stan had already made himself comfortable on. “Seriously, what happened to you?”
“I told you,” Stan replied, “I’ve been stressed about finals.”
“We took finals already, what are you talking about?” Kyle doubted, pushing for more information.
“Well, yeah. I just mean that I’m scared I failed. I'm stressed about getting my scores. Y’know?”
“Okay, maybe. But just now, at the door, you said you had ‘a lot on your mind.’ Final scores- mid-term finals at that- shouldn’t make you lose sleep.” Kyle pushed further.
“I just don’t want to bother you with my feelings right now man. There is a lot going on but that shouldn't be your problem.” Stan spilled, his weary stare faltering.
“Im always here for you, you know that.” Kyle insisted. “If anyone can handle your feelings, it's me.”
“Kyle, enough.” Stan huffed, lowering his head. “Now’s not a good time, okay? That’s all. I’m too tired and hungry to deal with this.”
Kyle was hurt by the sudden aggression. He can tell there is something deeper, something Stan is hiding, but it isn't his place to pry. He won’t get anything out of prying anyway.
“Have you not eaten?” he inquired, given Stan's demeanor and knowing he gets angry when he’s hungry.
“No, not since… I don’t know. Not since before I slept.”
“Okay, I don’t really have any food here but I can get you a bowl of cereal if you want. You really should eat something.”
“Cereal is fine, yeah.” Stan smiled weakly.
Kyle silently nodded, then got up off the couch and made his way back to the kitchen. His bowl of dry cereal was still waiting for him, and the more he thought about it the less he wanted it for himself. He could pour two bowls, but for some reason he can’t explain, Cap’n Crunch and Cocoa Puffs have made him feel nauseous since around the fourth grade.
He opened the fridge to grab the milk, only to find that there was none. Of course, because why should anything go right for him tonight. He sighed, rolled his eyes, kicked the fridge door closed, and brought the cereal back to the living room where Stan was waiting for him.
“Hey, so, we don't have any milk so you're just gonna have to-” Kyle started, but he stopped talking and froze in place when he noticed something. Stan had his head in his hands, shaking like a scared puppy and crying just barely audibly. Kyle immediately set the cereal down on the coffee table, and without hesitation sat next to him on the couch. “It’s okay dude” he whispered, pulling him into a hug. Stan relaxed into him, still crying but a lot less tense. “Who cares if you failed, you’ve got the rest of the year to fix it.”
He didn't push any further. He knew there was more to the story, but he didn’t care. All that mattered now was making sure Stan was okay. Letting him cry as much as he needed to feel better. So that’s what he did.