Chapter 36 - Then He Woke Up

Kyles Pov:

I woke up from yet another nightmare (I hope), struggling to catch my breath, sweating, my heart racing, staring wide eyed into the distance, except I couldn't see anything. I didn't remember what happened, or where the fuck I was, or if that nightmare was real, but I felt myself panicking.

In the nightmare I remember; Stan came back to my house, telling me he had fucked up really bad. When I let him in, I saw blood streaming down from his body, he had a wound in his stomach, and I remember screaming but he was telling me to be quiet, like it was no big deal. I cried and cried for him asking why he didn't care, but he didn't say anything, he just held me while all his blood got on my shirt and pants. Eventually, somehow his wound transferred itself onto my stomach as well, and I realized I was bleeding out. I looked down and screamed, panicking as I ran around the house to look for a phone, but none. When I came back, Stan was gone. I tried to run out the house, but all the doors and windows were locked. I finally got too weak to move, and slumped down on the floor, crying at how I was just alone, once again. Until it became too much for my body to imagine, and I woke up.

Now that I'm sitting here in this dark rook I have no idea if I'm dead, or where i'm even at. Or where Stan is. Then, I remember everything. I remember Stan breaking into my house. I remember me cutting him with a fucking knife, god what the fuck was wrong with me. I remember having one of the worst panic attacks I've ever had, and.. dying? Oh fuck. I'm fucking dead. I start panicking, my breathing increases again, as I try to move. I can feel i'm in a bed, its soft under my body and there is something drapped over me that feels like a blanket. Hm. I try to get up, but am immediately struck by a sharp pain in the crease of my arm. What the fuck. "Hello?" I started saying repeatedly, as my voice gets louder with desperation. "Hello? Please?!" I say nearly crying by this point. Suddenly, I hear a movement a few feet away on the side of me. "Hello?!!!?" I say fearing for my life at this point, even though I don't think there's much to fear if you're dead. "Whaaaat." I hear a feminine voice mumble. "Hello? Who's there? Where are you?" I say not being able to recognize where it's coming from. "Dude i'm over here." the voice says in an irritated tone. "Who are you?" I say thinking maybe some god is talking to me. "Dude.. are you serious. It's fucking Wendy. I'm tired go to sleep." .. Wendy? Why is Wendy here, and why can't I see her? "You died..?" I say extremely confused as to what's even going on. "Oh my god Ky what the fuck are you talking about." I hear her bark at me as a small lamp turns on beside her. I get a good look at her, it's definitely Wendy. She's looking at me with one eye closed, on some sort of uncomfortable looking couch, with a blanket that doesn't even fully cover her body. Wait.. where the fuck am I. I begin looking around, I finally see my body in an all white robe, with white blankets and white walls, filled with syringe drop offs and a pain scale from 1-10. I look at the right side of me and see a giant IV bag with a tube connected to my arm with fluids running through. How did I get to the hospital?

I look back over at Wendy who's pretty much half asleep already. God does she really not care that I almost died..? "Wendy, what happened? Why am I here?" "Dude, you had some panic attack." She said slurring her words. "Okay but why am I not dead..?" I said rolling my eyes at her sleepiness when I was wide awake. "You can't die from panic attacks dumbass." She said rolling over on the uncomfy couch. I threw my body back in the bed, so confused and mad at the situation, but knowing there was nothing I could do about it. I looked at the clock and tried to read it. 4:53 AM. Jesus. Poor Wendy. I don't know what she had to do with it, but I'm guessing she's the one who brought me here. I looked over at her, she was already quietly snoring, I felt so much guilt thinking how she'd still save my life, even after everything thats happened. I remembered how back when Stan left for the first time, she said she'd always be there for me no matter what, and how she'd never just abandon me like him. And I realized, she kept her word.

I quietly got up, pulling my IV with me like those corny ass patients in hospital shows do, I grabbed my blanket and went around my bed until I reached Wendy's body. I stared at her for a second, her long black hair being used almost like a sleep mask, her soft skin, her hands holding herself as if to mimic someone else was holding her, damn. I put my hospital bed blanket over her, this time it actually covered her whole body. I walked back to my bed, shivering from the cold air circulating throughout the whole hospital. I laid in bed, listening to all the machines beeping on and off, the silence being deafening, and just thought about everything. Mostly about Stan of course, because it seems like I can never go a few fucking minutes without thinking about Stan. As I kept thinking about him I realized I couldn't sleep. I couldn't close my eyes without seeing him, and thinking back to everything we've gone through together that lead to this. I couldn't stop obsessing over how this was all my fault, and how stupid it was of me to do that. But also, it wasn't my fault, I was in a state of panic, and Stan knew that, yet, he wanted to leave. He wanted this. He would've stayed if he really cared. I know I would've. I wouldn't have left his side until it was all over, no matter what he did to me. No matter how many times he hurt me, and no matter how much he hated me. He knew that. He knew that I couldn't stay mad at him forever, and that we'd probably be back together in a few days. God.. we're becoming just like him and Wendy were. Maybe thats why. He didn't want to do it again. He didn't want to go through what he went through with her, with me. I felt so disgusting that I let that happen. I wanted to be the person who changed that toxic shit for him, not made it worse.

I found myself craving Stan's presence more than anything. I just wanted to see him one more time. I wanted to hear his voice say my name, and the only three words that had any meaning to me anymore. I got back up and circled around my bed, looking for Wendy's phone. The sun was already coming up because the blinds covering the window were now a bit lit up. I looked down and saw her phone on the small counter with the lamp, and picked it up, still remembering her password from all these years. Once I got in, I went to her messages to find if she still had Stans contact, I felt so gross for sneaking through her stuff like this but I couldn't stop myself. Once I finally founds Stan's contact, I realized she had already sent him dozens of messages.

It made me sick to my stomach realizing his last messages to her. I know Stan. I know what this means. I started panicking as I clicked the call button and held the phone up to my ear. Straight to voicemail. I called again, and again, and again.. all straight to voicemail. The feeling in my stomach started churning, causing my physical pain as I thought about where Stan could be right now, but there was nothing I could do about it until I got out of this hospital. I got so much anger than I nearly slammed Wendy's phone on the ground right there, but I knew I couldn't. I just walked back over to my bed, shaking all night, waiting for when the doctor came back to dismiss me. 5 grueling hours passed as I stared at the ceiling until hearing a knock on the door that woke Wendy up.

A doctor walked in with a nurse, smiling as he walked to shake my hand. "Hello Kyle, I'm Doctor Ian." I shook his hand and nodded but didn't say anything. "I was informed that you had an extreme episode of an anxiety attack and wanted to ask you a few questions before I let you go." Oh god. Stan told me about these "questions" they ask you many times, aka their excuse to label you as a crazy person and put you on meds and in therapy. I looked at him, shaking my head for every question that had anything to do with it being something I struggled with a-lot, knowing that it was. "Well Mr Broflovski, it seems you've been booked for the same episodes quite a few times, it seems like its a pretty common occurrence for you.. There's no need to lie, it's very normal, and many people like yourself also deal with it." I felt so embarrassed. People like myself.. just get it over with dude. "So what are you saying." I said in a half annoyed tone just wanting to get this shit over with so I could find Stan. "I'm suggesting that it seems you have very clear symptoms of Panic Disorder, and to help you I want to get you booked with one of our best psychiatrists, and possibly a prescription to help with you episodes. I let out a sigh knowing that the last thing I needed was to go on meds. "As long as it's not today.", I said knowing I already had everything planned out in my head. After nearly arguing with him for a few more minutes, he finally agreed that it would be done a week later, and. discharged me from the hospital an hour later.

As me and Wendy walked out, it was quiet. Until I realized my truck wasn't here, and Wendy was the one who took me here. I silently walked behind her, knowing I couldn't escape it. As we made it to her car and got it, she turned on the ignition and sat there for a bit. We sat in silence with only the air blowing making any noise. "I saw you called Stan." I looked over at her awaiting a pissed off face, but instead, she stared into the horizon of the parking garage. "You could've just asked." she said still staring off as I looked down in embarrassment at my feet. We stayed quiet for a bit more. "I'm sorry." I finally got the courage to say, which was only followed up with 2 more minutes of silence. "I know how much he means to you... and to be honest.. I think he loves you more than me." I nearly choked on my spit at her saying this, Wendy would never admit Stan could love anyone else more than her, it made my hands start sweating. "Did you know that?" she said quietly, as she looked over at me. I looked over to her as well with a confused face, pretending like I didn't know what she was talking about. "Did you.. like.. know that he loved you? Like.. really loved you?" she said glaring me in my eyes, with sadness in hers. I knew I couldn't play dumb, there was clearly a reason she was asking. I nodded, looking back down at my feet. In the corner of my eye I saw her look out the window. "Damn it." she said under her breath. I thought of all the things I could say, what I could do to explain myself, explain why he had feelings for me, until she did it for me. "When did you know?" she said, still looking out the window. I stayed quiet for a bit, knowing I knew the exact day, where we were, hell, even the exact time it was. "He wanted to help me practice kissing you." I looked at her still looking out the window in silence, I knew she knew that wasn't the whole story, so I gave in. "And.. it wasn't just like, a normal kiss. I felt something way different.. than I ever had with anyone else. And, I guess he felt the same, because.. he like.. pulled me in for more I guess. Like.. a lot more." I said, a bit embarrassed about explaining how me and her boyfriend literally fell in love. We stayed quiet again, I heard her sniffling a bit and couldn't help but feel bad. I knew Wendy loved him more than anything, more than herself. But I guess she was finally realizing something she never wanted to; thats exactly how Stan felt about me.

"That's why he always talked about you when he was drunk. And why he always accidentally called me your name. And why he'd always want to spend time with you, and not me." she said quietly. I stayed quiet, feeling nothing but guilt, knowing I shouldn't because it wasn't my fault Stan loved me, but not being able to get the feeling out. "That's what you meant. When you said you imagined Stan too.... Why was I so stupid?" she said to herself slamming her head on the steering wheel. I flinched at the bang. "...Wendy.. can you please take me home." I said, feeling too much guilt to let her continue this exstitential crisis in the hospital parking lot. She sighed, before putting the car into drive, and leaving. On the way home, I thought about Wendys words. I wondered if Stan really did all that. If he really thought about me so much that he would make even his own girlfriend realize who he truly loved. I thought about my own thoughts in the hospital bed, how if he really loved me, he would've never left me. I couldn't leave him either, no matter what he did to me. I realized what I had to do.