One More Year

Yeah, Craig was totally just helping a brother out. No homo or whatever, not that he really kept his sexual preference a secret he was just glad Stan was being so cool about it. Even if it did give him mixed signals about what he was allowed to pursue with him. Well, he wouldn’t get his hopes up, after all he wasn’t about taking advantage of the guy neither or nothing.

“Thats̴ what I like to hear,” He coos, letting some of his tenderness make an appearance.

Somehow they make to his doorstep, and Craig does some digging to retrieve his keys to let them in. They do their best to move quietly up the stairs, easier said than done with Stan’s clunky guitar and stumbling. He shushes him once more as they tumble into his room, biting back idiot giggles.

“S̴hut the fuck up dude,” He warns, even though he’s half the problem. “Ju̴s̴t get the fuck in here and ̴s̴it down.”

Stan snickered quickly, shoving Craig playfully before shrugging his guitar off and setting it down next to the door with a surprising gentleness considering how the thing had been slung around for the past 30 minutes. He straightens himself and looks around the room, a fond smile surfacing on his features as his eyes flit from thing to thing, lingering for a while on the glow in the dark stars and even longer on the notes hung up around the windows. He looked down with an odd smile tugging on his lips, one that he seemed to want to hide from the other at least for a moment. 

By the time he looked up, that particular emotion was gone and a much more casual smile reappearing. “Just like old times.” He said with another laugh before talking a few more steps into the room and flopping onto Craig’s bed over-dramatically. He then went about trying to kick off his sneakers while his face was still buried in the blankets. 

He looked up at Craig with a look of absolute shock before he stared laughing again. What a night.

Stans warm blankets him, a pillow of scent wafting up Craig’s beak of a nose. Alcohol. Cigarettes, and a hint of pine. Stan smelt like the aftermath of a Starks Pond party and there was something grossly charming about that. Not as charming as his cocky stumbling backward. Craig actually considers picking up the pace just to be closer to that hot mess, Stan pulling him in like gravity.

Then he does it, eats shit- or more, feels the pavement his ass and Craig is way ahead of him, laughing at Stan’s misfortune before he can make it appropriate. Something they never really grew out of- finding humor in the misfortune of their friends. When his guts stop throwing themselves around in the heaving of his belly Craig closes the distance, offers the grounded man a helping hand and hauls him to his feet.

“Careful dumbas̴s̴“ He teases, taking it upon himself to brush Stans ass off (you dont spend ten years babysitting Clyde and not develop some habits). “Don’t get too ex̴c̴ited, not much has̴ changed.” He still had glow in the dark stars, now faded and barely functional stuck to the roof, the same old charts on the walls and solar systems on his desk. He exchanged the toys for electronics like most kids and his book collection had matured and also began to incorporate some philosophical themes. His pride and joy was the telescope he kept locked up in its case for the most part, his window lined with drawings, calculations and notes. Obsessed scribbling that llooked more like Tweek’s handiwork than Craigs.

“But, its̴ got its̴ charm I gues̴s̴.” A shrug and he wraps an arm around Stan, ignoring an unfamiliar stirring in his guts. “Jus̴t try not to fuckin die before we get there.”

Stan was still laughing as Craig helped him to his feet, standing still and allowing the other to fuss over him for a moment. He slugged his arm over the other’s shoulders, leaning into him a little as they walked. Walking like this almost made him feel more drunk than he actually was, but it was nice to be supported like this. 

“All of our rooms have stayed the same... After all these years they barely change.” He laughed again, shaking his head. Maybe it was because they were all afraid of change - Stan definitely was. That’s why he was so scared of what was going to happen over the next year - everyone was going to leave. The town... No, his life would have to shift and adapt to fill in the holes and voids that would be created by people he’d known since he was in diapers just up and disappearing. He clenched his teeth a little, staring forward as they walked before a shiver ran through his body and he was able to bring his focus back to the present. 

@onelastfool Stan’s singing for Kyle one way or another.

It is somewhere in-between helping Stan in correcting his algebra assignments, when Kyle is leaning back his weight onto the palm of his hands and watching the frustrated young man sprawl his limbs upon his bedroom floor in a total proclamation of defeat, that he at last finds the courage to give voice to the question which has been at the tip of his tongue for the better part of that week. Perhaps it is the way that the tangerine hue of the afternoon sun dances alongside the contours of the other’s features and falls into his impossibly blue eyes; perhaps it is the few defiant, ebon locks of hair which have fallen onto Stan’s forehead and thus perfecting his crystalline image of vulnerability that steer the words onto his lips.

 ❝——Dude, you never told me you had a YouTube channel.❞ In the end, it is hardly a question, and not nearly what he has been meaning to ask, but it will have to do.

Stan froze at the question, his mind pushing itself into an absolute panic. When did Kyle find out? What all had he posted on there? Shit, there were songs ABOUT Kyle on that stupid fucking youtube channel. He regretted ever making the stupid thing very suddenly. His name and face weren’t even ATTACHED to his channel - But Kyle was good with computers and Stan KNEW that, but he just thought... He though Kyle wouldn’t have a reason to look into anything enough to find it.

“I-Uh... Youtube?” He thought about lying - But it was hard to lie to Kyle when he was sober. When he could look into Kyle’s eyes and process the emotions that lived there... He felt compelled to tell the truth and give the redhead anything he could possibly desire.

That was it. Craig wasn’t just looking at Stan now but watching. It was like total eclipse of the heart or something and he felt a sudden surge with the peak of his laughter. A sense of pride- he did that, he sure as fuck did. He barely hears him, just mutters out an agreement because theres no way Stan would be wrong about anything, ever.

And then Stan’s eyes are on him, and something gets real tight in his chest, almost makes him gag. Weird but Craig doesn’t have time to make sense of anything happening inside him right now because those eyes are leaving him and Stan is getting up. Craig chases him to his feet, leaving his drink chilling in the snow and resisting the urge to touch Stan again.

“Yeah- whole town s̴ucks̴ as̴s̴” His eyes linger on the tips of his fingers, numb and stiff but he barely feels it with the weird heat in his face. “I- uh, I’m actually getting kinda cold though,” He casts a wayward glance toward the other, reluctant to ask but more reluctant to leave. “Wanna,, come over to my pla̴̴c̴e..?”

Stan blinked a bit, looking at Craig for a long moment before he shrugged off his thin jacket and tossed it over the other’s shoulders. He smiled at him and turned to start back off toward Craig’s house. “It’s not like I have anywhere better to be.” He said, turning to walk backwards with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing short sleeves, but it didn’t really seem like the ever so gently falling snow was affecting him. The joys being a drunkard came in small doses. 

“I don’t think I’ve been to you house since we were kids.” He said, another warm chuckle bubbling up from his chest. It was amazing that he was somehow managing not to trip or run into anything while walking backwards. The alcohol must be starting to wear off. 

Stan wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling right then. There was definitely a warm feeling bouncing around in his chest like a pinball, but he couldn’t quite put a label on it. He closed his eyes for a minute as he thought about it - and his luck ran out. He tripped on a rock and fell backwards on his ass, thankfully not crushing his guitar in the process. 

“You need... Service hours?” Stan asked, quirking a brow and shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. He stared up at the sky for a moment, running over what Cartman had just requested of him in his mind. Sure, they all needed a certain amount of service hours to graduate high school... Stan had gotten all his done and more ages ago, but that’s why happens when you work extra hours at an animal shelter. Honestly though, he’d just assumed Cartman would talk his way out of it or forge a soup kitchen’s signature on the form or something. 

“I mean, yeah. You can come work a shift or two with me at the animal shelter but...” But you don’t really like animals. He wanted to verbalize that last bit, but decided to hold his tongue for his own sanity’s sake. “You like cats, right dude?” 

@onelastfool and the puppy on the run : The sound of someone yelling after here made her jump up, startled as she whirled around and the words registered in her mind along with the rest of the situation. A pitbull coming right for her and Stan following after. Grab him. She immediately knelt down, opening her arms wide to scoop up the excited pit. Running right into her hold, she grinned as she wrapped him in her hold to hug and kiss at his cute face. “There you go, that’s what you wanted right?” She cooed, smiling at the adorable doggy as she smooshed his face. Her gaze would shift up to Stan once he finally reached them, smile still in place as she let go and stood up to greet him. “You’re lucky I love a cute dog, Stan. Anyone else might have had a bone to pick with you over this.” She giggles at her own pun, “Be more careful, okay?”

Stan laughed warmly, taking a minute to catch his breath with his hands on his knees once he made her way over to her, his other dog follow close behind but staying loyally by his side. He stood up straight and smiled, reaching out to take Tabasco from her and holding him on his hip like a toddler while the dog licked his face excitedly. 

“I try my best, really. But he’s a handful who refuses to learn how to listen.” He bounced the dog a bit and it yipped excitedly like he knew he was being talked about. “Thanks a ton though, I really didn’t want to have to chase him all around town.” He put Tabasco back down on the ground, holding his collar by two fingers to the dog couldn’t bolt off again but could still walk up to Heidi to DEMAND more pets. 

continued x

 ❝——When have you ever seen me try to be one of the ‘cool kids’?❞ His words chase after the scoff that slips past the stem of the cigarette which is already cushioned between his lips. The transient brush of the mountainous air against his crimson locks of hair tosses them back from his cold kissed features as he guides the tip of the cigarette towards the fluttering flame of the proffered lighter. Once a particularly esurient inhale sends the nicotine rushing through his veins and calming his nerves, he risks a glance in the other’s direction. ❝——This isn’t a…routine. Not that you would have any place to judge either way.❞

Long fingers dig into the ridge of his nose. He doesn’t mean to seem so abrasive , especially not to Stan, of all people. ❝——It’s only when I’m stressed out.❞

Stan pulled the lighter back once Kyle’s cigarette was lit and shoved it deep into his pants pocket, hoping he wouldn’t have to pull it out again while they were together. Any time Kyle’s voice picked up that harsh, defensive tone it chipped away little pieces of Stan’s heart. He did his best to be open with his best friend, and to be as kind and caring as he could... He didn’t always pull through and he fucked up plenty of times, sure, but he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong yet. 

It’s unexpected but he feels lighter, like this was what he needed. Noted, though he’s not sure what to do with that note besides tuck it in his back pocket. Its just such a relief to know not everyone has their shit together- hell he really thought he was screwed when he heard even Kenny planned on going to college.

The whole thing seems to be bothering Stan just as much though, and Craig wasn’t good at sharing his feelings, but he was good at one thing.

“You know, its̴ no big deal dude.” He hopes he sounds more convincing than he feels. “Theres̴ no real hurry and- s̴chool isn’t for everyone.” A shrug and his hand defies even himself to lay itself on Stan’s shoulder.

“Kyle’s̴… Way too fuckin’ s̴mart for his̴ own good. Dude makes̴ everyone feel inadequate but… He’s̴ only got like, a fraction of what matters̴. You’ve got-” Shit he thought he’d have something by this point.

“Mus̴ic..?” He tries. God it was so much easier comforting Clyde. “You’re not bad with that thing and- theres̴ no point dropping a bunch of money on tuition if you don’t even know what you wanna do. For all you know Kyle is̴ gunna hate whatever hes̴ taking and he’ll be wondering how Stan Marsh was̴ so damn s̴mart to hold off on the college thing.”

He’s reassuring himself as much as the other, feeling better the more he rationalizes it. “We should team up- you know I could, I could- Play drums̴ or s̴omething and we can get famous̴ and s̴how all those as̴s̴holes.” Theres a laugh he didn’t even have to force, spreading his cheeks wide and suddenly he does feel the cold, comparing it to the warmth leaking off of Stan as he gives his shoulder a squeeze.

Stan stared at him for a long moment before he let out a warm, genuine laugh. It felt like the first time he had made that sound in months really - And it made him realize just how many other laughs he’d been faking. He leaned into Craig’s touch just ever so slightly and shook his head. “Yeah, whatever.” He said, looking out at the street lamp’s light ever so gently reflecting off the snow and he sighed. 

“We’ll be the South Park Deadbeats, shittiest band in Colorado.” He chuckled again, shaking his head and starting to strum his guitar again. The strumming was a good sign at least, showed that he was less caught up in his own head. “I’ll figure something out, and so will you.” He turned his head toward Craig and gave him a soft, heartfelt smile. For the first time this evening, Stan’s stormy blue eyes held some kind of life in them. 

He absorbed more than anything. Felt the cold bleed through his pants and sank not much further. Stan’s song orbiting the cotton of his toque as he cracks the beer he doesn’t really feel like drinking. Baby sips between his listening.

He shouldn’t know the difference between a cheap beer and a nice bourbon- once upon a time he’d have drank anything without complaint. Back when it was badass, back when he cared about being cool. Now the smell and the taste made him cringe, if that wasn’t bad enough there was always the hangovers and puking that made him question why his friends indulged at all.

Unfortunately with Stan it was obvious. Guy had a hole he needed filling, and Craig couldn’t blame him. Being empty just sucked, and Stan wasn’t the only one feeding voids.

“Yeah,” He shrugs, half lying. He didn’t really feel it much anyways, though he was willing to bet his fingers were chilled. He was just beyond frostbite at this point, a real Elsa, the cold never bothered him anyway. “You going to college?”

It seemed appropriate to ask, even if a little cliche and lame. He didn’t know why but he just felt like keeping tabs- who was leaving state, who was undecided. He knew more about everyone elses futures than his own, part of him just wanted someone to admit they were just as lost as he was- not that he was sure he could handle it. What good would it do? If it turned out everyone was as clueless as he suspected. He’d just lose more faith in humanity.

Stan’s fingers stilled at the question, leaving the pair in the silent streets of South Park at night. He closed his eyes for a minute, trying to swallow the ever growing fear of his future in under thirty seconds. When his eyes opened again it was like he had sobered up a little, and he sighed. 

He turned to look at Craig, offering him the most pitiful kind of smiles. It was a smile that firmly displayed that Stan was somewhere very close to giving up. “I didn’t get in anywhere.” He laughed softly, looking back out at the streets. “My grades are absolute ass, and I just didn’t care enough to really TRY on the applications.” He was quiet for a long second after that, looking back down at his old, beaten guitar and running his thumb over the spot where Kyle’s name was carved. 

“Don’t tell Kyle... I... Have figured out how to tell him yet...” 

A shiver ran through his body and he picked up the beer can from where it was resting on the ground next to his foot. He chugged in in a smooth, practiced motion. Somehow that was sadder than his smiles. 

Send ¡ for a random starter!

Stan wiped the grease off his hands and slammed Peggy’s hood shut. It was just some routine maintenance - Or well, routine maintenance for a shit piece of car that barely wanted to drive anymore. He sighed and leaned on the car while looking over his front yard for his dogs. He’d brought two strays home from the shelter a little over a year ago, much to his mom’s chagrin, but they’d been on death row so she couldn’t just tell him to take them back. She also let one of them sleep on her bed every night, so she couldn’t be that mad anymore. 

Cont from Here

Highschool felt like yesterday but time had always been a little strange for Craig, never really moving along in a straight line and so it was but it wasn’t surprising that he found himself wandering around aimlessly too early late in the morning night.

He didn’t really process the sounds he was following, just the soundtrack to his life he supposed. A gentle hum in the dark, the call of the cosmos or something. But then Stan speaks to him and he remembers he’s a person- relevant. Lucky for him they’re both out of it, and he has time to gather his senses, shuffling over to the other and planting himself next to him.

Hands draw out of his pockets, bare and searching for the cold, palms looking up with his eyes. These days felt wrong, he got that much. They were grown up- young adults, starting the rest of their lives. That should have been exciting but everything sort of paled in comparison to the old days. He felt like he’d lived several lifetimes already and he was about ready to call it a day.

“I’m actually a little thirs̴ty.”

Stan always wrecked like alcohol, chances were the guy had a flask of something on him. Sappy he knows, but anything to get alcohol out of the kid’s hands.

“Hah, you’re in luck.” Stan replied, pulling the other unopened can of beer out of his jacket pocket and holding it out to the other as he took another sip of his own. He did always smell strongly of alcohol - though during the day he tried to mask it with a cologne that convinced most of the people who only knew him on a day-time basis. Anyone who saw him like this could smell it on him though - The smell of beer and whiskey clung to his clothes like a small child begging their mother not to go to work. 

“Don’t got anything stronger on me right now... Didn’t have the money.” It was kind of sad that Stan’s voice barely slurred even when he was drunk enough he couldn’t feel his jaw. It was just years of experiencing these things again and again made him well practiced. His grammar still sucked though, so there was something people could make fun of him for. 

He pat the spot on the bench next to him before looking out at the snow covered terrain in front of them and started strumming away on his guitar again. It was always a slow, sad melody. Those were his favorite kind of songs to play, probably because it made him feel something deep in his core that he was always trying to push down. 

Send ☹ for a sad starter!

It was always late at night when Stan found himself wandering through the empty streets of South Park. It was also late at night when Stan decided to drink his insecurities and sadness away - wandering and drinking where a married pair for him at this point. That’s how he ended up making his way down the snowy sidewalk with his old, beaten acoustic guitar strapped to his back and a can of beer shoved in both pockets of his thin, not quite weather appropriate jacket. He stumbled a bit as he walked, evidence of a few long hours of drinking alone, but he wasn’t done yet. 

His body decided it was time to stop when he came across a bench; Stan flopped down and cracked open one of the cans of beer before turning his guitar to the front and strumming on it mindlessly. His eyes looked down at the scratched surface of the guitar, seeing Kyle and Kenny’s name still firmly scratched into the front face of the instrument - reminders of the day he got it. His mind wandered as he played, considering how things could never stay the way they once were. It felt like him and his friends were becoming more and more distant with each passing day. and it made his heart ache. Somehow he always managed to blame himself. 

He could play the perfect high school senior for as long as everyone wanted him to, but that didn’t make it true. 

He looked up and sighed, watching his breath float up into the clear night sky before a shape caught his eye - a form illuminated by the street lamps. He turned his head to the side and slowed his strumming, offering a weak, forced smile to the person.