“Are you dead? Sometimes I think I’m dead” - Home, Cavetown

On good days, it was gray most of the time but sometimes if he really squinted, Stan could see a sliver of color. It was almost always after his friends had given him support, or had backed him up on something. The color hurt his eyes even if it was barely there, like he had been staring at the sun rather than a tiny speck of happiness on the far horizon. A place he simply couldn’t reach and sometimes didn’t want to.

When he looked around on the bad days, everything looked like shit. He could feel the coiling fingers of depression wrap around his throat on those days, and often he couldn’t even crawl out of bed. It was like the world’s weight had dropped onto his thin shoulders, heavy and oppressive. His parents would sometimes come up to stand in his doorway, worry plastered on their faces. He wanted to curl up more and be swallowed by the covers to avoid their stares. His sister had stopped picking on him as much, probably wasn’t as much fun when he wouldn’t fight back anymore.

It took a lot more prompting to hang out with his friends, and the guilt inside him would spew out at night in the form of sobs. Stan would sometimes lay awake at night and simply stare out the window at the sleepy little town outside. He was tempted to jump when he thought about how many ‘fun’ things he had missed out on over the summer just to lay in bed all day. Cartman had called him a little bitch but still accepted his moods, Kyle had frowned and patted his back in sympathy, and Kenny had once hung around his room just to keep him company on a lazy afternoon.

God, he thought as he stood to get ready for the first day back at school. He was a wreck, his hair wild and grow out more than the last time he looked in the mirror and his eyes had deep, purple bruises under them. He bit his lip to avoid the tears he could feel building up and instead reached for a brush. He didn’t care that he had to yank hard to run the brush through his hair, and he was almost happy that the pain was there to distract from his pale skin and nearly gaunt face. When was the last time he ate? He shrugged to himself when the answer wasn’t clear.

With a sigh, Stan shuffled his way downstairs to the table. He plopped down next to Karen, who only side-eyed him warily before returning to her breakfast. Sharon had a watery smile on her face as she placed a bowl of cereal in front of her son and walked back to the counter for her own food. Another sigh escaped him as he pushed his food around in circles, hunger still not present.

It was another fifteen minutes before he was able to leave the awkward silence of the kitchen for the annoyingly loud bus. Stan threw his bag haphazardly onto the seat next to him before throwing his own body down, making sure to curl into a hunched position against the window.

He wasn’t excited for school, just anxious and guilt-ridden. This would be a terrible year, he was sure of it.
The bus ride was okay until they reached Craig’s house. It wasn’t that surprising to see Tweek be picked up along with his boyfriend, but it still sent the bus into a frenzy anytime they entered the bus with their hands together. ‘God, we aren’t in fourth grade anymore’, Stan heard a voice in his head grumble, scarily similar to Kyle’s. The noise reached a peak before lowering back down once Craig and Tweek had sat down in the back together, the blonde’s head leaning on the black haired boy’s shoulder contently. Craig simply hummed and pulled out his phone.

Stan briefly wondered if he could of had something like that with Wendy if he hadn’t been such a gross coward. It was clear now that she had liked him, and perhaps still did, but she had moved on to other potential partners. He understood, she couldn’t put her love life on hold to wait for him to pull himself back together enough to even look at her. He would still get sick if he was close to her, but now it was laced with dread and guilt as he watched her hold another guy’s hand and giggle at a joke he had whispered to her. God, the nauseous was back. He should have stayed home.

He inhaled deeply and held his breath for as long as he could. It came rushing out when both Kyle and Kenny slammed into his side. He turned to look over at them with something akin to annoyance, but stopped when he saw that they were still wrestling for the seat next to him. There was another open seat right behind them, which Cartman had gladly taken. Why were they so intent on sitting next to him?

“Kenny, I swear to god I’m going to kick your ass if you don’t move!” Kyle shouted, pushing hard against Kenny who had sat on top of his friend while using his hands to hold the seat ahead of them.

“Mmpph mmph mph mmmpphh!” Kenny shouted back. If it was possible, Kyle’s face got as red as his hair.

“McCormick, if you ever say that about my mom again I will personally end you.” The boy hissed out, eyes narrowed to send a harsh glare at the parka-wearing asshat in front of him.

Cartman laughed, pushing upwards to hang over the edge of the three others’ seat. He snickered harder at the position Kyle and Kenny had gotten themselves into, before he stage whispered over to Stan, “It’s totally true though. Kyle’s mom is a bitch.”

“Shut up, fatass!”

“ I’m not fat! I’m big boned!”

Stan felt his lips tick upwards an inch, and a tiny shimmer of that color returned around him. He could barely see it, but at least everything wasn’t shit anymore. He schooched over to allow both of his friends a tight squeeze and pulled out his cellphone. His smile disappeared when the reminder for his AA meeting popped up on his screen. God dammit.
“That’s the same excuse you’ve been using since fourth grade, Cartman.” Kyle sneered at the bigger boy, pushing his hands off his head where they were tangled in his curls. “Come up with something more original!”

Cartman sniffed, his nose in the air as he withdrew his hands to cross his arms. He side-eyed Stan, his scrunched face a clear sign that something had upset him. It was really his only tell.

“Hey, what’s up dude? Got another invite to those emo kids’ club?” He jeered, laughing at his own joke.

Before he could receive an answer, the bus had arrived at the high school. Stan sighed in relief as he pushed his way out from the seat. “I’ll see you guys later, okay?”, he muttered, not looking back to the faces of his childhood friends.