I stare at Stan as he sits at the desk.

There's so many things I want to say.

There's nothing I want to say.

I can't say anything.

I can say anything.

Oh god.

"So, Kyle."

"Stan."

Silence.

Great.

"What did you come over for?" I ask hesitantly and quickly at the same time.

"To talk."

Then talk, you idiot.

"Okay."

"I want to know why."

"Why?" I ask, "You want to know why?"

"Why'd you do it?" He asks, making eye contact with me for the first time.

Why did I did do it? He thinks it's my fault.

"You think it's my fault?"

Stan looks away, "...yeah..." He pauses again, "I do."

"You... You think it's all my fault?"

Stan nods slightly, confirming it again.

"I can't believe you."

"I can't believe you either, Kyle."

I open my mouth, but close it again.

"Look, Kyle, if you're not going to try and explain, then don't even bother."

"What do you mean?"

"If you're just going to do... This, then-"

"Stan."

"What?"

"Are you even going to listen to me?"

"...."

I stare down at my feet.

"...I don't know."