South Park Shorts

Depression [AO3 Request]

GUESS WHOS BIRTHDAY IS TOMORROW?? Totally not mine 🙈

Warnings: drinking implied!!

3 missed calls from Princess <3
5 missed calls from Sweetpea <3

You have 30 missed messages from Princess <3 and Sweetpea <3

You have 25 missed messages from the group chat: 1 Bitch & 2 Dicks 🧍‍♀️

Stan stared at his phone, his eyes red and dry tears stained his face. He wasn't talked to anyone in almost two weeks. He doesn't remember the last time he got out of bed. He hasn't ate or drank anything besides whatever snacks and pop he had in his mini fridge on his nightstand. His hair was greasy, greasier than normal with old, dirty clothes that smelled like dirty bedsheets and smoke.

He thought about answering the messages or returning a phone call. But he didn't, he sat there with the only light in his room being his phone screen. He felt dead, like a rotting corpse in the morgue. He opens his nightstand drawer, taking out a rolled up joint and putting it up to his lips, grabbing the lighter and lighting it. It's the only thing he's been doing since he locked himself in his bedroom.

Sharon knocks on the door, Stan knows it's her from the way she knocked. It was calming, relaxing even, it was never aggressive or rough or anything to make him scared. It was just his mom.

"Stan, sweetie, Kyle called. He says he's worried." She stated.

"Tell him I'm fine, I just need time to myself."
Stan replied, his voice cracking as he felt himself tear up again; taking the joint away from his cracked lips.

"When are you going to come out of that room of yours? This is the first time he talked in a few days, I miss seeing your sweet face everyday."
Sharon said.

"I don't know. I just want to be alone and I don't really want to see anyone. I'm fine, mom."
He responded, his voice more quiet than before.

"Are you depressed, honey? Do you have Asperger's again?"
The woman asked.

"No. I'm fine, mom."
Stan repeated.

"Are you sure? You know you can tell me and I'll do anything I can to get you help."

"I said I'm fine mom! What don't you get? I'm not depressed, I don't have Asperger's again! I'm fine. Didn't think there was anything wrong with wanting to be alone and wanting space!"
He exclaimed, his voice loud and stern. He was annoyed, no, more than annoyed. He was angry, feeling pestered, almost bothered by Sharon. He hated that feeling.

Once he heard her footsteps disappear, her shadow gone from below the door, he angrily sighed, rolling his eyes and the joint suddenly pressed against his lips again. When did he start smoking? He's always hated marijuana for as long as he could remember. Why did he start this? God, he was such a mess!

Stan can't recall when he fell asleep, but he knows he had the joint in his mouth when he did. When he woke up, the joint was still there, sitting on his bedside table with only half of it left. He also realized it was day out, his curtains all the way open, not like how they were last night. How long was he asleep for? And who the fuck was in his room?

His door was wide open, the light turned on. It wasn't his mom, he knew that for a fact. And it wasn't his dad, Randy or Shelley either, they didn't care enough to even check up on him. In fact, Shelley was out of the house for the week, looking at dorm rooms for college, and Sharon was sitting go with her. Stan also knew Randy was out and about on the farm for the summer. He doesn't remember the last time he's seen that guy.