𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾.

𝖮𝖭𝖤.

STAN LOVED your company, he just really wished Cartman would shut up about "bringing a girl into the friend group". You were chill, there was nothing Stan could see that was wrong with you. In fact, every day you gave him more reasons to like you.

Wendy had brutally broken up with him, yet again, but this time, he was sure she was being serious. Wendy had ripped off Stan's hoodie he gave her and threw it at his face. "Don't ever contact me again, you- you absolute trainwreck! How could you do this to me, Stan? After all I've done for you? I was there for you through everything, and this is the thanks I get?" She screamed, eyes stained blood-red.

Stan stood up and cautiously approached Wendy and her shaky figure. He reached out to her, but she slapped his hand away quickly. "Don't fucking touch me." Wendy hissed weakly. "Babe, Wendy, please. It was all a misunderstanding, you gotta listen to me. I didn't mean what I did, what I said, please just let me explain everything and-" She cut Stan off before he could finish, walking out of his room and slamming the door behind her.

Stan shook his head while squeezing the bridge of his nose. "You've got to be kidding me." He dragged his weight to the mini refrigerator and let his knees fall to the floor in front of it. Stan opened the fridge's door, "I should've expected this shit a long time ago. I could tell how utterly miserable she was with me." He recklessly pulled out a long neck, chucking the toxic liquid down his throat. Stan chuckled, the alcohol's buzz already kicking into his system. "Wendy's so right. I am a fucking train wreck. I'm an asshole, a huge, gaping asshole." He burped loudly. Stan stared expressionless at the bottle. "Maybe I'm just unlovable. Maybe I'm just such a dick that nobody likes me."

He crawled onto his sheetless bed, mattress stained with vomit. "Well, other than Kyle and Kenny. Not Cartman, pretty sure he hates everyone other than himself." Stan took another swig of his beer and picked up his phone. He scanned through his contacts and dialed Kyle's number. Stan sluggishly held his phone with his shoulder, his back laid onto the headboard of his bedframe.

"Come on man... Pick up, I really need you right now." It went straight to voice-mail. He hung up, "There's goes for being my 'best friend'. Thanks Kyle, for jack shit." Stan was chugging his beer so fast, he almost choked as he scrolled through his other contacts. He would've called Kenny next, but the poor guy still couldn't afford a cellphone. Stan's eyes shot open as he saw a name he hadn't seen in a long time.
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"(Name)." The name tag read. Last called 3 months ago, at 1:20 PM. He stared at his phone in confusion, "(Name)? I haven't seen her since she moved schools. I can't believe I still have her number. Unless she changed it." He tapped on the telephone icon out of curiosity, and you surprisingly picked up within the first beep.

"Hello?" replied a monotonous voice. "Uh, hey. It's Stan, your friend since... elementary?" He tried nervously. Stan was honestly kinda scared that you weren't gonna recognize him. You were quiet, and the silence was unbearable for him. He'd prefer if you just cussed him out or something.

Suddenly, he heard a small chuckle from the other line. "Stan? Like the Stan? Stan Marsh? Wow, dude, you sound groggy as hell." He rolled his eyes. "I'm wasted like a motherfucker." "I can tell, it's not like I didn't watch you crash many times before I moved out of the district. You haven't changed a bit." Stan put his bottle onto his nightstand and laid back, groaning. "Thanks." He said sarcastically.

"Well? What did you need? You don't just ghost one of your friends for three months and then call them out of the blue." Stan grimaced. He gripped at his stomach, swallowing his acid reflexes. "I- I need to vent. Nobody answered but you." You verbally scoffed. "Nice catching up with you too, Stan." His volume raised louder than he intended as Stan cursed, "Goddammit, just-" You quickly silenced yourself at his outburst; Stan sighed in discontent. "I know this is probably not a good time, and you probably don't wanna hear about my problems but..." He paused, the pain in his stomach growing stronger by the second.

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Wendy broke up with you for real this time, didn't she?" Just to have to hear her name being uttered out of your mouth caused Stan to hurl. He quickly yanked the trash can next to his bed off the ground and choked out his morning's breakfast of egg and waffles. He set his phone down on his nightstand and put it on speaker, the trash can stood close to his aching stomach.

Stan wiped the vomit off the corners of his mouth with some of the toliet paper he kept in his room as you called anxiously, "Hello? Stan, you still there?" He cleared his throat before responding, "Yeah. And yes, she did. She called me a 'trainwreck'." You puffed out a gust of air. Stan raised his eyebrow. "What?" Suddenly, Stan was startled with the sound of your hysterical laughter. "She's not even wrong, Stan! Don't be a dumbass if you aren't prepared to get called out on it!" Maybe it was just the buzz, but a small grin crept against his lips.

He rolled his eyes, "Oh shut up. (Name), I called you for you to comfort me, not to make fun of me! If I wanted that, I would've called Cartman." Stan heard you slam a door shut. "You're still friends with him? Personally, I wouldn't do that to myself, but it's your mental health, I guess." He spat out and bursted into cackles at your comment. Through chokes of laughter, he replied, "I do it out of pity! Literally nobody likes him!" You clicked your tongue. "That's why you invite him over to your house to hang out." Stan cringed and shuffled around his bed. Then he heard some water running on the other line.

His eyebrow instinctively raised. "What are you doing?" "About to take a shower. I suggest you hurry and say what you gotta say before I hang up, unless you wanna join me." Stan's cheeks flashed a dark red at the thought. "Hey, I'm not a perv, unlike Kenny!" He stuttered. It was silent for a moment, "You put that image in your head, not me. Also, good luck trying, you don't even know where my new house is." He gasped, "Guh-" You made a quick "goodbye" and hung up on him, leaving Stan speechless.

Stan flopped across his bed and stared at his ceiling. The last thing he wanted was to have weird thoughts about another chick when he just got broken up with the one he's been in love with for years. Wendy had him wrapped around her finger since day one, yet Stan always found a way to fuck their relationship completely over. Sometimes he felt like a black cat, wherever he went, bad luck followed. And now, karma's finally coming back for blood.
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Everything Stan's ever done, every regret, every achievement, has led to this moment. He wished he could just go back in time and prevent all of the stupid mistakes he's made in the past from even happening in the first place. Yet something inside of him, maybe a gut feeling, knew that it was supposed to happen. Maybe if he didn't call you, something bad would've happened to him. Stan could've died from alcohol poisoning or something.

Whatever the case, thinking about it too much would just stress him out. Stan tossed himself to the side and shut his eyes. "I need to sleep. Hopefully I'll feel better in the morning." Stan threw his covers onto his already burning up body and drifted off to sleep.