Thank you my reviewers,
Spice of Life: Yeah, Stan's just a little too preoccupied at the fear of being alone to take people's feelings into consideration. Even Kyle's! But maybe some isolation would give him time to reflect... Well, we'll see! Thanks for the review!
total misanthrope: Guns n' Roses! Whooo! Heh, yeah, that was kinda done on purpose I just couldn't resist, the title was too appealing. Well, thank you for the review and please continue reading!
Deidre Sage: Thank you, I'm quite proud of myself. Please continue reading the next additions and thanks again for the review!
Stone Eyes; Kyle's POV
Those eyes; those cold, lifeless, dull-tinged eyes. Stone eyes...
How could someone who had once been full of life suddenly become nothing more than a limp doll? One with clouded, tone eyes, ghostly pale skin, and no regard of life whatsoever. It struck me speechless.
My tongue was heavy, thick, and unable to allow my voice to pass my lips. Everything grew blurry and all the sound seemed to be sucked away. Murmurs could be heard, but my attention was focused upon the still body of my best friend. The one I had pushed away.
Guilt was the heaviest emotion I felt, burdening me with such force that I could almost feel the pain seep in from it. I should've noticed the signs when they worsened. It shouldn't have come to this. Why hadn't I stayed with him? How could I have allowed such an even to take place? Anger, fear, misery, guilt, and anxiety coursed through my body now, filling each of my senses as I was yanked back into reality. The pale blue eyes of Kenny met with concern, his body was being carted away.
I wanted to scream out 'No!', but it came out a whisper. Kenny wrapped his arms around me in an attempt to me as well as himself, then led me from the room of my best friend, the one I had never seen until that day. A grim realization dawned on me as I gazed back at Stan's house; his was much worse then Kenny's. Although they looked exactly the same, the feeling that was emitted from it was far worse than anyone could hope to imagine.
I don't remember much of the ambulence ride, but there were questions and Kenny answered most of them. Out of the two of us, he was the most sane and stable at the moment. I found myself nodding occasionally, not really sure what I was agreeing to, but I did answer one question. The one on why Stan attempted suicide. Honestly... I wasn't entirely sure myself, so that's how I answered.
Ha, attempted suicide... what a reasurring way of saying that my best friend had wanted to kill himself, tried to kill himself, and might've succeeded in killing himself. It was also a way saying there was still hope. Deep down, I wanted to believe that...
I played with the colored bandaid on my arm, I can't remember what color mine was exactly... but Kenny's was red, bright red like the blood that now drenched the bed of Stan Marsh. We had been blood donors for him, a pint from both of us for him.
When Stan's mom entered, I had been sitting on a chair and staring at my bandaid, my mind replaying the events of that day over and over again. Where had I gone wrong? Kenny had been pacing, he did that when he was nervous. For a brief moment, I hated Kenny. He had been so calm once I arrived and had been the one to find Stan and get him help. He had also been with Stan when Cartman and I fought. What if Stan had told Kenny what he had been planning? What if he had been an accomplice in this act? What if Kenny had killed Stan? Okay... now I was getting irrational. I still hated him for being here, Stan wasn't his best friend. He had no right.
I couldn't sleep, eat, or go home no matter how much Mrs. Marsh begged me to, I demanded to stay to know what was going to happen to him. I think my determination inspired her and a ghost of a smile flickered onto her face as she pulled me into a comforting embrace. Out of the corner of my eyes, I had seen Kenny look on happily... yet worry still evident in his features.
We didn't recieve news on Stan's condition until well after midnight, I had lost track of the time, but I was never more relieved in my life to here those two words...
"He's stabalized."
I wanted to laugh, cry, cheer, yell, scream, sob, but more importantly... see my best friend. At the moment, only relief and warmth flooded my features, melting the iced look I knew I held. Mrs. Marsh cried more, but also out of relief. Kenny beamed, his hood down and laughter ringing in his eyes. His gaze met mine and he hugged me once more. I felt the hatred I felt for him moments ago vanish, he was once again my friend and I cared for him again. It wasn't until I felt his body shake with sobs that I completely melted into my old self. My own tears joined with the two others here, releasing me from my prison of ice.
He didn't show signs of improvement for four days, Stan had stabalized but was still in a coma. I wasn't allowed to see him either which pissed both me and Kenny off. Despite that, we both showed up in the waiting room everyday, recieving information from Mrs. Marsh every hour on how Stan was.
My parents had been mad at me for not coming that night, but when Mrs. Marsh explained, they apologized to me profusely and tried to make me as comfortable as possible. This included me going to the hospital every afternoon after school and coming home at curfue. Kenny managed to simply avoid his parents altogether.
On the fourth night, they began attempting on bringing Stan back. "They've tried three times," Mrs. Marsh told us sadly, "But he keeps slipping away..."
It was a Friday night, so my parents had allowed me to stay as late as I could, which was all night thanks to Mrs. Marsh. Kenny too. We stayed up talking, reading, drinking coffee, and just thinking, but Kenny fell asleep around two in the morning. Around three, Mrs. Marsh had ran into the waiting room, looking out of breath and frazzled.
"Mrs. Marsh!" I exclaimed, jumping up, "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"
She nodded wildly, "He's coming around, but he keeps slipping back into unconsciousness. I think he's aware of his surroundings now, though. He's calling for you."
My surprised expression didn't get past her, soon I found myself being dragged down the hall with her rambling about having permission from the doctors. As we got closer, I could hear Stan agonized screams and sobs and they tore me apart. He sounded so scared and weak, not anything like the Stan I knew.
When I entered, I was instructed to hold his hand and reassure him that everything was alright. I did so. I knelt beside his bed, taking in his tear-stained face which now had color once again, flushed from the the effort and pain. I clasped his trembling hand in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"Stan... Stan, it's okay. I'm here. It's okay." I murmured comfortingly, hoping to soothe him.
His wild thrashing seemed to calm down, his breathing trying to become even once more. "Kyle...?"
"Yeah... it's me, Kyle." I smiled sadly, "I'm right here."
Stan became calm, his eyelids fluttering, but still closed. His heart rate slowed considerably, his breathing as well. Tears continued to stream from his closed lids, his lower lip trembling, his face resuming a normal tone. Suddenly, his eyes flashed open, his pupils dialating to the sudden coming of light. More crying ensued.
"Keep your eyes open, Stanley." one doctor commanded, the navy-eyed boy doing so, but began thrashing.
A second doctor glared at me, "Continue to calm him down!"
"Please Kyle," Mrs. Marsh begged, "Let him know you're here."
I turned to Stan again, who was whimpering, "Don't leave me!" was all I made out.
"Shhh..." I began speaking again, "It's okay, I won't leave you. I promise. You don't have to be alone."
Soon, he ceased his thrashing and reacted as a small child would to comfort, he released a content sigh. His eyes stayed open, but were unfocused. It shocked me at how something as simple as my saying "It's okay." would make this much of a difference.
"Alright, Stanley," a doctor spoke now, "You can go back to sleep now."
A relieved sigh escaped his lips this time and I watched sadly as my best friend returned to the darkness waiting for him. Once he was asleep, the doctors informed me that I could leave. However, everytime I tried, Stan would cry out and cling to my withdrawing hand. So it was decided that I stay with him until further testing was required. Satisfied with their decision, I fell prey to sleep soon after.
I didn't get much sleep that night, someone had ushered me out of the room, waking me up in the process. Once awake I couldn't return to my dream haven, only recieving around four hours of sleep and leaving me irritable. Kenny had already been awake when I returned to the waiting room.
"Dude," he tilted his head o the side in curiosity, "Where were you?"
I yawned, "Stan's room... apparently I was needed for something, kept me there all night."
"You look tired, what exactly did they do?" he inquired.
Another yawn escaped me, "Hell yeah, I'm tired. They needed me to provide Stan with reassurence. They got him to wake up from his coma."
"Really? That's awesome! Lets go visit him!" Kenny was clearly excited by this news.
"I'm sorry boys, but you can't yet."
The two of us, turned to face the owner of the voice. It was Mrs. Marsh, who was smiling slightly yet with her forehead creased in worry. Kenny inquired as to why and I would've too, if I hadn't been yawning at the time.
She replied, "Stan's still in Critical Condition, no visitors except immdiate family are permitted. Kyle was an unusual exception last night. But, if he progresses well, you two should be able to see him again in a few days."
Thus beginning my three day wait on seeing my best friend's face with him staring back.
We had no school on Monday, the day Stan was allowed visitors, so Kenny and I wasted no time in getting to the hospital. We hadn't been since Saturday morning, Mrs. Marsh promising to call us if Stan's condition changed, for better or worse. She had already been talking with Stan and sitting with it, so when he was allowed visitors I was first to go.
Excitement and hesitation filled me as the doctor led me down the hall and into Stan's room. He was sitting up in bed, propped up by three pillows. Dark circles were under his eyes which had a shine to them, though his skin had paled considerably once again. His ebony tinged hair was carelessly tossed this way and that, his blue and red toque was on the nightstand beside his bed. He was a mess, both physically and emotionally.
Apparently, he's shocked at the sight of me, so I break the ice. "Hey, dude." I tried to sound casual.
I heard the door close behind me and footsteps down the hall, Stan stared at me, taking in my form. "K-kyle."
His voice was so hoarse and raspy, it reminded me of why I had been pissed off at Kenny when he called abut Stan. I had assumed it was a prank call...
"Hello?" I answered the phone, still regretting on how I treated Stan.
A voice unknown to me replied, "K-kyle?"
It scared me, I didn't know this person, I glared at the phone before replying, "Who is this?"
"Kyle!" The voice began sobbing, it was hysterical, so I immediately hung up. It was probably a gay prank call from Cartman... yeah, that's what it was.
"Stan... that..." I didn't know what to say, that voice was too familiar, "That was you? O-on the phone?"
Before he got out the answer, I was in tears, already aware of the answer and beating myself up about it. How could i have done something like that? How! I hung up on my best friend right before he tried to kill himself! How was that supposed to make him feel!
"Dude..." I choked out through my tears, shaking uncontrolably, "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't know... I... I thought it was a prank call, or a wrong number. Why'd you call? When? Please tell me."
"I called because I was going to die... and I couldn't stop it."
His emotionless answer brings me even closer to losing control and allowing my sobs to take over. I'm hurting him by crying, but right now I can only hate myself. Some best friend I am.
"I'm sorry I told you to go away. I'm sorry I hung up on you. I-I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you! But, I am now, and Kenny too. You don't have to be alone." I whispered, edging closer to his bed, where I had been a few nights ago. I wanted to help him.
The look on his face tells me he doesn't believe me. His eyes are cold once more, his lip quivering, he was deep in thought. The conflicted emotions spread on his face reveal an inner debate. Soon a fake smile replaces it. "Thank you, Kyle." I don't believe him now, but I won't tell him that. I don't have the heart.
Instead I smile back, my tears slowly stopping as I gain control. "No problem. Hey, you'll be outta here soon, so how about we go to Casa Bonita to celebrate and then have a sleepover at my place once you're better? Just me, you, and Kenny."
"Yeah, okay... Sounds good." he replies, looking more like the old Stan again.
We chat a while longer, though it's awkward in the beginning, we gradually become comfortable with each other. I inform him on school, life, and fatass. He laughs and comments on various things. We manage to crack a few lame jokes before it's Kenny's turn, I don't want to leave him though.
Fear enters his eyes at the mention of me leaving, "I don't wanna be alone." he whispers distantly, only I'm close enough to hear him.
"It's okay dude." I gave him a reassuring embrace before leaving, "I'll come back soon, I promise!"
He nods slightly, still clutching my jacket before his eyes are drawn to my arm, then he asked me concerned, "Why do you have a bandaid?"
I glanced down at it, "Oh, just a blood donation, no problem. Well, I'll be seeing you later Stan!"
"Bye Kyle."
I passed by Kenny, giving him a wave and nod before returning to the waiting room. Once I'm there, I inspect the bandaid closer. It's color it clear to me now. It's stone gray, like his eyes that night...
Shaking my head, ridding myself of the thought, I waited for Kenny's return. He was given an hour as I was, but the time seemed to just drag on. He returned, looking half concerned and half happy. Stan's behavior had puzzled him as well. We compared our visits, and were halfway through Kenny's when a scream echoed through the halls. It was Stan.
We both leapt up and sped down the hall. The room was entered just in time to see Stan screaming and sobbing hysterically, a sedative being pressed into his arm to calm him down.
"I don't wanna be alone!" he sobbed, thrashing angrily, "I don't wanna be alone! I don't wanna be alone..."
His fit quieted as the sedative took effect. Someone muttered about getting us out of the room, another about the phsychiatric ward. It then clicked. Stan's new room would be in the phsyciatric ward for corrective isolation. That's what he meant about being alone.
"No! You can't do that to him!" I shouted, Kenny protesting along with me. "It'll only make things worse!"
"Sorry kids." a male nurse told us, ushering us away from the quiet cries of my best friend as he was wheeled down the hall to the place he feared most. And I could do nothing to stop it...