Chapter Text
Kyle probably shouldn't be driving in his current state, but he honestly couldn't care less. It was absolutely freezing outside, and it's not like he'll be getting sleep anytime soon. His car heater isn't the best (read: nonfunctional), so it isn't even that much warmer inside- it was still something, though, and the way the teen's eyes and cheeks stung hotly with fresh tears helped provide at least a small bit of warmth.
Never mind that he can't really see through the endless cascade of salty tears filling pale-green eyes before spilling over, something that is probably (definitely) a hazard, especially since he was driving at night- their small town never really had the best lighting. The teen didn't necessarily mind the danger- in fact, it gave him a bit of a thrill when his vision blurred badly enough that he could barely make out anything, eventually forcing him to blink the wetness away.
Kyle's complete apathy towards the possibility of getting into a fatal crash should be something that concerns him. That he could potentially die and wouldn't really mind.
It doesn't scare him, though. Actually, it's strangely comforting. That is the thought that finally manages to startle the redhead, because he isn't suicidal, he's not, but it sounds suicidal. It's not like Kyle is actively seeking out his own death- he just wouldn't do anything if an opportunity happened to present itself.
A feeling of exhaustion washes over him at the continued spew of thoughts filling his head, so he turns on his radio in an attempt to drown it all out. It becomes quickly apparent that wasn't a good idea, though, the barely-there sound of static present in all radios grating on his already frayed nerves, settling in as the heavy pressure of a headache resting up behind green eyes glossy with tears.
Eventually, time stops being a thing, each passing moment blurring with the next as Kyle drives and drives and drives, going somewhere and nowhere and at some point Kyle stops existing. The steering wheel under his trembling hands doesn't feel real, the tear tracks staining freckled cheeks don't feel real, the open road in front of him doesn't feel real. He doesn't feel real.
Nothing feels real, and Kyle doesn't really mind it. If he could feel right now, he'd probably feel relieved because right now? He doesn't feel anything, a much-needed break from the chaos of his mind.
Unfortunately, though, the chill of the air starts to get to him, stinging the tips of his ears and nose, seeping into his bones and leaving the redhead shivering and snapping back into his body much too quickly. The tips of his fingers and toes are numb, and not from dissociation this time.
Part of him wonders if he could get hypothermia out here, and the thought of it isn't necessarily unwelcome. It's just another means to an end, right?
The teen shakes his head at the thought, as if the movement could make the thought disappear like it would if you shook an etch-a-sketch. It doesn't work, which isn't all that surprising. Instead, though, that train of thought is interrupted by the sudden, harsh melody of Stan's ringtone.
Kyle startles at the booming drums and charged strumming of a guitar, loud and abrasive and of rather poor quality, both because of the shitty phone speaker the song was playing through and the fact that the ringtone had been pirated. Once the momentary panic passes, Kyle quickly scrambles to answer, pressing the cool screen of the device up against his ear.
"Stan?" Kyle's voice is laced with concern, shaking fingers curled around the plastic of his phone case as he listens closely for a response. Nothing comes across, and Kyle holds his breath.
"Wen'y broke up w'me," Comes Stan's distraught voice, finally, and the redhead releases the breath he had been holding as a soft sigh. "I'll- I'll be over in a sec, yeah?" Kyle states, his voice soft and caring and a little shaky as another shiver wracks his body. "She didn' even call, jus' tes'ed," Stan slurs.
"I'm on my way, okay? I'll be there before you know it, and you can tell me all about it, yeah?" Kyle hums reassuringly into his phone, green eyes darting around the area surrounding his car to try and gain a general sense of where he was, blinking a few times in an attempt to fully re-immerse himself into the moment because Stan needs him, and Kyle will always show up.
"I love'ou,"
The teen's heart flutters in his chest at the slurred words of his best friend, lips parting to reply before his breath catches in his throat. It's just platonic, he reminds himself, before stuttering out an awkward "You- you too, bro."