Cravings (STYLE)

8 POV: Kyle

(i hope you guys don't mind the frequent daily posts, i have a lot of free time so a bunch of these chapters are written and completed in my drafts and i'm impatient as fuck so i want to post them quite quickly to give you guys something to read)

TWs, mention of sex (again), slurs (Cartman)

I look out the doorframe into the hallway, unimaginably bored.

Stan still hadn't returned yet, even though it had been about ten minutes since he and some girl called Bebe were called into the principals office. Both of their seats remain empty.

I blink a few times as my sight lies directly on the outside of the classroom, until I spy some blonde running down the hallways. She's visibly upset, distressed, even. Before I could realise, she had already passed out of sight.

Weird.

I glance at the clock, then at the teacher at the front of class. He's pointing to more illegible shit on the chalk-board, with a really poor drawing of what I assume to be some towers.

Rolling my eyes, my gaze lingers back towards the doorframe, peering out into the hallway. I'm still curious about that girl. She seemed really quite sad, for whatever reason.

Suddenly, Stan walks past. I raise an eyebrow at the sight - he seems more solemn, and almost as if he's in shock.

What confuses me more, is how he walks right past the classroom without batting an eye.

Huh?? I think to myself. Did he forget his class is in here? Idiot. Smiling lightly, I glance back to the front of the class.

My hand shoots up. "Mr Garrison, can I go to the bathroom?"

The teacher sighs, shaking his head in visible disappointment. "Fine, whatever."

Without hesitation, I get up and leave the classroom, before darting down the hallway, following Stan's steps.

Reaching the end of a hallway, I glance left and right, my face lighting up at the sight of Stan near the exit.

"Stan!" I call out, running down the left hallway to catch up.

He turns in surprise, his expression softening slightly at the sight of me. "Oh, Kyle."

"Where're you going?" I raise an eyebrow, stopping infront of the boy.

Stan goes quiet for a moment. "Home."

"Is..." I think for a moment. "Is something wrong?"

"No." he responds quickly, looking down.

I follow his eyesight, staring at the floor too. What is he doing? There's nothing interesting on the floor. Is he just avoiding eye contact? I sigh silently. Humans weird me out sometimes.

"Are you sure, dude? You can tell me if something's wrong, I want to help-"

My eyebrows raise in surprise, as a tear drops from Stan's cheek.

"Stan?"

The boy starts crying quietly, and I stand there in confusion, unsure on what to do. On what I can do.

"Hey, uh, don't cry." I say, my voice dropping a few levels of volume, to just louder than a whisper.

I freeze for another moment as he continues silently crying, looking down at the floor as tears spill off his face.

Then, I pull Stan into a hug, wrapping my arms around the shorter boy in an attempt to make him feel somewhat safer, and maybe even more comfortable to open up about why he felt sad.