Chapter Text
Every time he dared to close his eyes, Stan found himself standing at Stark's Pond.
Above him, the night sky was awfully dark. The moon doesn't seem to be really doing her job, and Stan wondered if it was tired too.
It was just Stan and the moon. The usual thousands of bright stars were nowhere to be seen, almost like they didn't want to be a part of whatever was going to happen. Stan couldn't really blame them, he sure as hell didn't want to be either. If only he could vanish too.
But no matter how hard he tried, Stan couldn't escape from his own head.
No matter how much he ran, the woods just led him to the frozen lake again. No matter how hard he hit, the ice just wouldn't break. No matter how long he held his breath, his body just wouldn't give him the satisfaction of passing out. His head must really like to torture him.
So, Stan didn't try to run away. Nor did he try to pass out. Instead, he started approaching the frozen water — one step at a time, stopping a foot away.
He could hear the wind blowing through the trees, unforgivingly cold. But the cold wasn't the responsible for Stan's uncontrollable shaking. Not at all. To be honest, he didn't even pay it any mind, all too familiar with it.
He doesn't look down at the water. Not yet. But Stan knows that he is there, just like he knows that the sky is blue. It's a matter of fact, and all that's left to do is accept.
So, he just kept staring at the nothing, unfazed. Accepting.
And then, he heard it.
A small thud, almost timid, coming from under the thin layer of ice. Just loud enough for him to hear it.
At this, Stan's hands closed into fists at each side of his body, clenching so hard that his knuckles went white. Still, he didn't look down. The wind blew harder.
He heard another one. Louder this time.
Stan closed his eyes shut, wishing he could just hide with the stars. He knew that he was being a coward, but what could he do when the mere thought of looking down was enough to freak him out?
Another thud, even louder — demanding his attention, and it vibrated through all his bones. The wind was now so strong that he felt it would carry him away if his feet hadn't been firmly planted on the ground.
He really didn't want to look down. It was the last thing he wanted to do. But there wasn't really another option, was there? Stan knew that he deserved it; so he should just get this over with. So, with an incredible amount of effort, he managed to open his eyes and forced his head to look down.
Suddenly, Stan couldn't breathe anymore, because there, under the ice, was Kyle — just like Stan knew he would be.
Kyle, whom he had known his entire life. Kyle, who is his super best friend. Kyle, whose red curls looked so beautiful under the water. Kyle, who was looking at Stan with those big, pretty green eyes.
Stan's eyes burned, and he was so grateful that the ice blurred most of Kyle's face. Otherwise, he surely wouldn't be able to make it. God, he didn't even stand a chance to begin with, did he?
But it didn't matter now. Kyle was trapped under the water, without breathing. This realization made Stan snap out of it, and he started to completely panic.
Kyle, on the other hand, didn't seem to be struggling at all. He just kept staring at Stan, his face completely blank under the ice.
Stan knew for a fact that this wasn't real; that this was just his head being an asshole to him. Logically speaking, Kyle was probably on the safety of his own bed now, sleeping or maybe reading. Stan really didn't need to freak out.
But all the logic evaded Stan's mind as his foot hit the ice with force. Even though it seemed thin, he knew that it wouldn't break — seeing as he tried to do so before. He just couldn't bear it; the view of Kyle trapped, drowning. It killed him that he couldn't do absolutely nothing to get Kyle out of there, even more because it was his own fault to begin with.
So, Stan didn't stop hitting, and Kyle didn't stop staring at him — not a single trace of emotion passing on his face. Anger was now flooding Stan's limbs; not towards Kyle, but at himself. He felt like a petulant child, throwing a tantrum because he didn't get what he wanted. In a certain way, it was true, though. But it felt really good to release all that tension from his body.
Abruptly stopping, Stan noticed there was a pressure taking over his chest, which was really aching. His hand flew to his chest as he fell on his knees, coughing hard. His vision was darkening, and the panic took over again.
He couldn't breath; and Kyle was still trapped. Stan honestly couldn't tell which one was worse. But he didn't have time to think. Suddenly, the ground disappeared, and Stan was falling.
It was a bottomless pit. Stan kept falling and falling — sinking deeper, becoming one with his own sorrow.