South Park: One Shots

This isn't You

Stan × Kyle

Starting off with my favourite ship, let's go and try not to mess it up.

Warning: Mentions of bullying and alcoholism are prevalent in this shot. If you are sensitive to these topics, reader discretion is advised.

He wrapped the clean bandages around his arms, covering the bruising that covered most of his arms. He was a fool to try and reason with Cartman. He knew it would only end in a fight. Luckily, he had won but the other boy put up a good fight. His raven hair fell into his eyes. He took off the blue beanie and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. His hair was greasy and uncombed. It was simply another chore that he couldn't bring himself to do.

Stan walked down the carpeted steps. His parents were out with Shelley and his grandpa for dinner. They left Stan alone. It's not like he wanted to go anyways.

It was his birthday the day before. He had turned 16, it was supposed to be a good day. He was looking forward to something for once. And once more,  he had been let down.

He reached for his phone, debating whether to call another of his friends. But, would they even show up? It wasn't likely.

A foreboding feeling sat in the pit of his stomach.

Stan went to the basement, to a small cardboard box where bottles stood tall. He hadn't touched this for a while, but it seemed too familiar and all too comforting.

He chose two bottles, one of vodka and one of wine. He wasn't really one to make fancy drinks.

Grabbing his rucksack, he put the bottles in. He opened then closed the door, and took the route to Starks Pond. It was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves on the near bare trees. The tall grass reached to his calves, the pond reflecting the rays of sun. Dark clouds were setting in, the sky turning a gloomy grey. 'Pathetic fallacy as it were,' Stan thought. He sat on a log, brushing the snow from it. He stared at the setting sun, twisting open both caps. How had it gotten to this? This familiar feeling, this monotonous routine. It was frustrating to say the least. Stan never wanted to be like his dad, yet here he was.

Gulping down half of the first bottle, he checked his phone. He had neglected messages from a few days ago, and he knew in his gut that none would bode well. He even skipped school for fear of being an outcast. Three chains of conversations were unread. Wendy, Kyle and Cartman .

He winced as the contusions of green and yellow twisted beneath his brown jacket. That fat bastard had really done a number on the slender boy.

He clicked on Wendy's message first.

Hey. So, this has been a long time coming. I really, really hate to do this but we should see other people. I'm just not happy anymore. We've had some great times together, but I can't lie to you. I do love you Stan, but I can't be with you. I'm sorry.

Maybe Kyle could offer some support.

Dude
Hello??
You've been awol for days now. Where've you been?
Stan?
Dude.
Talk to me when you get this message, we need to talk.

That didn't exactly sound the most uplifting situation.

That left only one more thread of messages. Cartman. Taking a large gulp of the bitter substance, he opened it.

Fag.
You know Wendy only pitys you. She doesn't actually care about you.
LOL HEARD SHE DUMPED YOU HAHA!!!
Stan, I was joking dude.
It's been a day now. You haven't even replied to Kyle. Where are you?
Happy Birthday Stan, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean to hurt you?
Whatever, gay fuck. We all know it. Stop lying and own up.
Your mom's a whore.
Stan
Stan?
No one likes you.
You'd be better off dead
I didn't mean that. Can't you take a joke?
Stan?  We're all worried. No one's seen you since last week, we can't even get to your parents. At least text Kyle, he's really worried about you.
Please?