starpower ━ [south park]

12. the bad, the good and the weird

12:10 pm, monday, 2007

"god, you look like shit." Y/n comments, a short chortle leaving her lips to accompany her disrespectful words.

her & Stan pick up their clean, unused lunch trays & begin to make their way towards the kitchen's entrance. Stan's exhausted demeanor straightens almost completely at the sound of Y/n's remark. although, the straightening of his sore back doesn't make her words all the more helpful. his face twists into a scowl, & a deep eye roll highlights the purple-ish hue of his eyebags.

"geez, thanks." he sighs, watching as Y/n serves him a shrug with the slightest of amused grins, meaning to be a sort of 'you're welcome' he didn't appreciate in the slightest. "i didn't sleep well."

Y/n nods her head. "uh yeah, I can tell." she states, walking further into the lunch area & glancing over each moderately unappetizing option presented to her.

today was a monday, & that meant dry meatloaf with nearly frozen tomato sauce or yogurt & fruit. Y/n picks the ladder, the least plausible option to make her ill.

"what were you up doing? you knew classes started today." she inquires, lifting a cup of fruit & yogurt along with granola from the canteen & placing it on her tray.

Stan thinks for a moment.
he didn't really want to tell her that he walked in on the aftermath of what he could accurately assume was one of his parent's big fights. he didn't want to explain in detail how he picked up shards of glass all night, & that's why his fingers ached a little today. he didn't want to explain to her that he slept on his floor, because he was just too sad & exhausted to lift himself from the ground. he didn't want to explain how badly he misses his sister. & he definitely didn't want to mention that he thought about her last night, though briefly, she was still on his mind.

so, he doesn't. instead, he says—

"i played video games." such a dumb yet believable excuse. he kind of hated how believable it was; he almost wanted Y/n to see through his low effort guise.

& for a moment, it seemed like she did. she glanced over his attire— his brown leather jacket wrapped around his sluggish shoulders. his pants sagged only slightly, draped over his filthy converse but doing nothing to hide how he didn't even care to tie them. he was wearing a black Joy Division T shirt, tattered & adorning the smallest bleach stains. his hair looked unruly, maybe because he didn't bother to even comb it before leaving the house or because of his lengthy nap during second period. he wasn't even wearing his signature beanie; that's how much he seemed to not care.

at least, that's what Y/n was gathering from his appearance. she noticed his cut up hands as well, but just the sight of him made her feel apologetic. she doesn't question him any longer & concludes maybe he had a truly horrible night. but, to keep a sense of normalcy prevalent in their conversation, she acts as if she doesn't notice any of it at all.