Your lips, my lips, apocalypse

                                    

                                          
I woke up on my floor still wearing my clothes and soaked in sweat. I sat up ignoring the searing pain in my head and looked around my room, squinting my eyes at how bright my room was. I could feel the dried tears down my cheeks and my eyes felt crusty and still puffy from crying. My mom wasn't coming back and my chest still hurt. The pain from last night was still rampant throughout my body. It was a heavy aching pain that was deep in my chest. My stomach turned and I started to regret the rapid alcohol consumption. I laid back down flat on my back, covering my face with my hands, and slightly dug my nails into my temples, like I was trying to rip out the pain behind my eyes. I just wanted Kyle right now.
 I remembered I called Kyle last night crying.  Hearing his voice made everything hurt less, it made me feel like the world wasn't as bad as is was because as much as it hurt me there was his sweet voice to tell me it was okay and pick up the pieces. I wanted him to hold me and I wanted him to comfort me right now because it still hurt. I looked around on my floor for my phone and it was tossed slightly aside. I rolled over on my side, reaching my arm out struggling to pull my phone closer with my fingertips that barely reached. I wanted to hear his voice again, last night just his 'hey' made everything feel better. His voice was like a drug something that sent an instant wave of relief across my body.  I unlocked my phone and stared at my home screen, a picture I had taken of Kyle sleeping. He was curled up on my chest and looking more than perfect. His beautiful red hair with curls sticking out at odd angles, his arms wrapped around me and I just wanted to remember how perfect he looked, how perfectly sweet and innocent. Kyle's contact picture was less adorable but still perfect for him. I knew his contact picture for me was a picture of me getting hit in the face by a frisbee so in retaliation I got a picture from one of Kyle's games where he was red and sweaty, out of breath, and looking terrible all around. As terrible as he looked mid-game it was still kind of attractive. I called him again listing to the dial tone as it rang over and over. I got no response and was greeted with his voicemail message, 'You've reached Kyle Brovfloski, I couldn't make it to the phone so leave your name and a message along with a good number to reach you at.' I laughed a little at how professional his voicemail message was.
"Hey Ky, uh it's Stan you probably know that though because like caller ID and whatnot. I just wanted to hear your voice again, I had a bad night and I just want you right now because you make me feel better I guess. Sorry I know you are probably still sleeping, I actually have no idea what time it is but I woke up and you were my first thought, and- and- I just love you Ky and I need you, dude. Call me back or come over or something and if you don't know my phone number by now I think you have some issues," I ended my messages with s deep breath, still lying on the floor.  Why did everything have to suck except for Kyle? Everything sucked and everything hurt, my head throbbed and my chest ached, and the aching reached all over my body down my arms and legs. It was six a.m. 
The early summer sun was messing up my sleep schedule. The curtains in my room were blackout curtains but I had left them open letting in the golden rays. Any amount of light change in my room was enough to wake me up and I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. It was something obnoxious that I hated about myself that I couldn't help. I sat upright and began to remove my damp shirt and jeans feeling the intense heat in my room. The air was so heavy and dragged everything down all the time. I was so tired of my hair constantly sticking to the back of my neck. I cut my hair hoping to be able to cool myself down and keep the hair from sticking to my neck too badly. 
I loved Kyle's house for so many reasons but being back in my room reminded me of what I loved the most, his air-conditioned room. Kyle's house was welcoming his parents loved each other and loved their sons, they had family dinners and talked to each other, but Kyle loved to sleep in the cold. His parents had several air conditioners around their house but Kyle's room was freezing. I missed him more than ever. I missed not only him but his room. His room was cold and comforting.  His room was light and cold, the opposite of mine, dark and hot. Kyle's room was painted a light green and his walls were a little bare. He had some fairy lights hanging around his bed and a couple of posters, Terreance and Phillp and, a couple of anime posters from middle school. He had some shelves with a couple of academic awards and the accomplishment he was most proud of; the medal he got for winning the championship game.