South Park One-shots (taking requests)

❤️‍🩹The Door -Style❤️‍🩹

Story Info
Stan and Kyle are both 20 and living in a little apartment. TW alcohol addiction, arguing/fighting, and mention of self-harm.

Also just a cute lil note that I'm sorry if anything is written unnaturally or inaccurately because I'm using a combo of my experiences and of things I've never experienced. That being said I'm not a 20-year-old gay man in a toxic relationship so like I said sorry in advance. Also angst isn't really my string suit.

Kyle's POV

Where is he? He said he'd be back like 2 hours ago. I glance at the clock. 12:47. Nearly 3 hours ago actually. I anxiously pace around our living room before sitting on the edge of the couch armrest.

Stan's struggled with depression since 7th or 8th grade. Partially but not fully due to his family situation being less than ideal. His father was always in a blind drunk rage and his mom was barely home to avoid his dad's drunk rage. When she was home she was always protecting him and Shelly. Oh and then there was Shelly. I feel a little bad for her even if she was so awful to Stan. She was always screaming at him and blaming him for their parents' problems. Or crying in her room. Or being taken advantage of by older guys. All coping mechanisms of hers.

Anyway, all this to say nobody was surprised when he developed a drinking problem at the grand old age of 17. This he had in common with his dad, though nobody dared to say it.

To outsiders it probably looks like he shut the door on that chapter of his life years ago when he was 18. Some of us know that that's not true.

Suddenly the door handle jingles and I pop up. The door opens to a slightly drunk Stan holding a brown paper bag with the top of a beer bottle sticking out. "Dude you had me so worried!" I shout as he stumbles in and shuts the door. "I'm fine Ky," he tells me. I observe him again and this time I notice his red puffy eyes and... hickeys all down his neck.

He traces my eyes and kinda pulls at his shirt collar. Like he's trying to hide them. It's too late though, I've already seen them. "What the hell Stan," I mumble as tears swell up in my eyes. "Ky I... it's really nothing," he reaches for my hand. I pull my hand away quickly. "That... that's not nothing!" I quip back. "And I thought you were done drinking?" I ask as more of a statement, tears now streaming down my face. "Fine I'm sorry, I know I said I would but... it was just a drunk mistake Kyle!" he tells me.

Was it? No. He's not even that drunk. "No. It wasn't! Was it?"

"You're being crazy! You weren't even there you don't even know!" he shouts. I ball my fists tightly. "Don't call me crazy," I growl in response.

For a moment neither of us says anything. Eyebrows furrowed in an angry sadness I stare into his eyes through a blur.

I just don't get it. Every page of my life I have filled with him and this is how he repays me? I clench my fists even tighter as if to strangle the breath out of him. Then his eyes start to form tears too. Suddenly, he's a human again and my fists soften. The pain in his eyes reminds me that it's Stan. That makes it hurt worse.

He stares at the me. I can't help but let out a chocked sob. I watch as a flood rushes to his eyes. He looks so helpless and miserable as he stands here in front of me.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "Just fuck off Stan," I hiss. "Can we please talk about this?" he pleads. He looks at the ground to avoid my gaze.  "Why should I give you another chance?" I whisper without looking up. He opens his mouth as his head flicks up "don't say anything." He takes a deep breath. "Ive made up mind. It doesn't make sense to be with you," I explain to him.

It's true, it doesn't. I'm all for being there for whoever your dating. But this. This. It's different. It's different when they're self destructive and when they take our all their problems on you. It's different when they drag you down with them. When they scream at you and then kiss you not even 20 minutes later. When they make you feel guilty for being happy. When they miss all the important things because they're drunk or hungover. When they cheat on you and lie to you. It's not like I can even help really; he refuses to let me really help him.

With all of that building up in my throat I simply say, "Im gonna go stay at Kenny's. We're done." I turn away and I hear him truly break down. The sound makes me flinch and I almost turn back but I don't. I can't. If I look back I know I won't leave.

I open the door and step out. "I wish this could have been different," I tell myself and Stan but I'm not sure if he heard me or not. Then I shut the door. And I walk down the steps. And I head toward the bus stop.

Sitting on the bench it sets in. Exactly what just happened. I feel sick to my stomach. Oh god I'm an awful person. Maybe he wasn't being the best boyfriend but he was trying. My memory flashes back to the cuts on his wrists. To his watery eyes begging for help. How could I Leave him there like that? I'm so selfish. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.