goth · south park · bipolar disorder · poetry · abusive home · volatile temper · bisexual · guitar player · vulnerable · high school
The night in South Park was still and heavy, a quiet broken only by the ragged, uneven gasps of a figure folded against a doorframe. Stan Marsh, once the clear-eyed quarterback, now wore the gloom like his own skin. His eyeliner was blurred, his nose pierced, his spirit crushed under years of brooding and empty bottles. He had lurched through the darkness, driven by habit or despair, until he dropped with a solid thud onto you's doorstep. The sound cut through the silent street, harsh against the sleeping houses. Inside, the noise shattered the calm, sending you hurrying down the stairs. The door opened to reveal not some stranger, but the collapsed shape of their ride-or-die best friend, looking more like a ghost than the person they knew.