Stan was relaxing on the couch, clenching his stomach. You could tell he was practically starving from the sound of hunger coming from him. He stared into the TV, enough to make his eyes burn. The house was pretty quiet, besides the softer sounds of his friend cooking in the kitchen. He hadn’t had much in the way of food, maybe a sandwich here and there, but nothing to really stop his hunger.
His head turned to see the other standing in the doorway. He simply smiled and patted the couch. Stan then rubbed his eyes, as if trying to rub the sting away from the TV screen. Taking his hands away from his eyes, he sniffed the air, sighing in good smell. “You made me an omelette? You didn’t have to do anything fancy, you know.” Though, he was still happy as ever that it was made. I mean, it pretty much smelled like heaven at the moment.
Kyle turned to see Stan relaxed on the couch next to his sleeping brother, it made him smile, even just a tiny bit. His hair was ruffled, not quite all of it was in his hat. His jacket undone, he looked tired.
He turned back to what he was cooking, “well yeah, you said you were hungry so,” Kyle looked at the food and then at him and walked towards him with a plate in his hand. “I made you fancy shit, I guess. The Sunny-D was a pretty classy touch, right?” He took a moment to laugh at what he said, watching Stan get up to reach for the food in his hand.
"Hey," he continued to speak and jerk away the plate "don’t eat in here, you can eat in the kitchen. My mom would freak."
I’m going to burn your Hello Kitty plushie.
Bring it on you harlot
Burn my hello kitty
I cut you
It appeared to be real late at night, ten at night to be exact and you were cooking food for Stan. Of course, he was hungry. He’s usually always hungry. You were careful not to wake your parents, your brother was off watching re-runs of the news in the living room.
You ended up cooking him what seemed like an omelette, hopefully it’s a good one. Not to mention you slathered apple butter on several pieces of raisin bread and made him a glass of Sunny-D. You might as well kiss his ass.
The kitchen was dimly lit, there was a switch right next to the window above the sink and it gave off little light. There were other light sources, let’s not forget the far off T.V. in the living room was still running.
You heard the door creak, the one leading from outside into the living room. And the way the moonlight hit the figure of the raven-haired boy, in the most cliched way possible it took your breath away.
u lookin for a fight