Dreaming With a Broken Heart
sung by John Mayer
"Oh God. Oh fucking God, dude, I'm gonna puke!" Stan's cheeks promptly puff up, before he gulps the vomit back down, panting.
"Dude." I hold him up as he leans against me. I ignore the incessant drumming in my chest, like I always have. "Dude, calm down."
He shakes his head. "I can't feel my legs. I can't feel my legs, Kyle! Oh Jesus Christ, what if I don't remember my vows? What if Wendy doesn't show up? Oh God. Oh fucking Go-"
"STAN!" I shout, and finally catch his attention. I push him away. "You need to chill. Look, Wendy.. She loves you… And- and you love her." – I add, just to remind myself that it's not me he's about to marry, not me he's in love with- "I doubt Wendy would ever leave you on the altar. I mean, she said yes for a reason, right?"
I watch with lidded eyes as his lips stretch in an enlightened smile and his eyes light up in relief. "Yeah.. Yeah, you're right. I've got nothing to worry about." He chuckles a bit, and I feel my heart break a little since there's really nothing left of it to break.
Before an awkward silence can settle between us, Kenny's head pops in, sans hoodie. "You guys ready?"
Stan's face quickly resumes its greenish color and I have to snort in response. "We'll be right out, Ken." Kenny nods before disappearing out the door. I turn to Stan, my face blank. "It's now or never, dude. You ready?"
It's when his piercing blue eyes bear into mine that I feel like I just want to kiss him, just once, just to know how it feels like, before he's tied down by marital responsibilities, before the 'I do's. He looks at me with worry and anxiety and fear. I drain all emotions from my face, because otherwise, I'll only look sad. I can't look happy. I haven't trained myself to look happy yet.
"Dude, you'll do fine. Don't worry so much." I console him for the hundredth time that day. He cracks a smile.
"Thanks Kyle." Next thing I know, he's hugging me. His scent is surrounding me and his warmth is touching mine, rendering me breathless. Fuck, Stan. Why the fuck do you keep doing this? I'm already completely broken, damn it. I don't immediately hug back. I just stand there, in shock. He squeezes a bit tighter, and I find myself back in the small room, back in his arms. I quickly wrap my arms around his huge frame awkwardly.
"Yeah.. No problem."
"Do you, Stan Marsh, take Wendy Testaburger as your lovely wedded wife?"
I bite my lip to stop from screaming, to hold back the tears threatening to fall. My chest twists unbearably, painfully, encouraging those tears even more.
My jaw clenches and my whole body stiffens. I should've never agreed to be the best man.. I could've saved all this heartbreak.
"And do you, Wendy Testaburger, take Stan Marsh to be your lovely wedded husband?"
I don't immediately realize that I'm not breathing. It takes a gentle nudge from Kenny, who is sitting beside me, to once again bring me back to reality. He gives me a worried look, whispers if I'm okay. I tell him I'm fine. Obviously, he doesn't buy it.
I promptly stand up, my breathing ragged and tears already rolling down my cheeks. I feel my heart twisting painfully in my chest, being crushed, being squeezed and I can't think of anything but the pain. My hand instinctively flies to my chest, clutching it, willing to wrench it out just to stop the pain.
I bare my teeth and squeeze my eyes close, focusing on the ache. I gulp down the huge lump on my throat and breathe. But then images of them flood my head once more, and I find myself rolling out of bed and falling ungracefully on the floor. I'm on all fours, sobbing, letting the tears soak the carpeted floor.
It's never hurt this much. Why now? Why now?
I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I'm desperately gasping for air as the pain overwhelms me once more.
'Kyle..' His voice. It's his voice again.
'Kyle, we're moving.' Stop.
'Wendy says it'll be better for the kids, you know?' Stop it.
'I'm gonna miss you, Kyle..' STOP IT!
I'm lying on my side, crying hysterically and hoping to God that I just fall asleep now because I'm exhausted and I'm sick of the pain.. I've done this so many times that I'm surprised I'm not numb to the pain yet. I want to be.
'Are you sure you want to go?'
'I don't wanna go. But Wendy's making me.. You know you could move with us.' So I can have my heart broken even more?
'No thanks. Good luck to you and Wendy though.'
By then, my sobs have subsided. I'm still on the floor. I'm too tired to stand. My eyes are red and puffy, my nose is clogged and my breathing is ragged. My chest still hurts, but I use it to lull myself to sleep.
As my eyes flutter close and my mind slowly drifts into unconsciousness, I pray to God I don't have the same nightmares.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart, the waking up is the hardest part.
A/N: I LOVE John Mayer. First SP fic. Woot! REVIEW :)