South Park Stories (One Shots)

Lifesaver

Stan X Kyle
Angst and Fluff

⚠️Trigger warning⚠️
Mentions of suicide
and self harm

Written in Stan's POV

I stand at the edge of the frozen pond, staring out across the glistening surface. My mind is filled with the thought of what I'm about to do.
I take a deep breath and place one foot tentatively on the ice, knowing it isn't frozen enough to bear my full weight. It's only October, two days after my eighteenth birthday in fact.
As I push down with my foot, testing the ice, I think about everything that has led me to this point.
Moving to that stupid weed farm, away from my friends.
My dad's chronic alcoholism and marijuana addiction.
My sister running off at 17, leaving me behind.
My dad making me drop out of school at 16.
My mom withdrawing from it all.
When she did get involved it was usually to placate my dad.
She pretty much ignored us otherwise.
Almost as if she forgot she had a husband and son.
And then there was me. The alcohol I stole from my dad. The cutting. The constant emptiness that couldn't be filled, no matter how hard I tried.

I take a step, both feet now on the ice. It's holding for now, but I know if I go just a bit farther it'll start to crack. I take a few more steps toward the center of the pond. Before I can go any further, I hear someone yell behind me.
"Stan!?"
I spin around at the familiar voice, losing my footing on the slick surface. I fall on my ass, hard.
I sigh in relief as the ice seems to hold. But then a loud resounding crack fills the air.
A loud, panicky voice is yelling my name as I sink into the cold, black water.
I have a brief feeling of peace as the cold numbs my body.
Then I feel a hand grab the back of my jacket, and I'm being pulled upwards. My head breaks the surface of the water and I cough, my lungs struggling with the icy chill of the air and water.
I feel myself being tugged out of the water, onto the surface of the pond. I crawl carefully forward, praying for the ice to hold. It was one thing for my life to end, I wouldn't put someone else's in danger.

I made it to the grass, collapsing on my stomach, exhausted. I turned my head at the sound of someone sitting heavily beside me. I'm greeted by the sight of the last person I expect to see at Stark's Pond at two in the morning.
"What the hell were you thinking!?"
Kyle's voice is angry and his face is flushed.
I shrug tiredly and sit up.
"How'd you even get here?"
He looks at me questioningly.
I gesture vaguely to my dad's truck, parked over by a tree.
Kyle looks to where I gestured, then looks back to me.
"You're soaking wet, you're gonna freeze to death."
He stands up then reaches down and grabs my arm, hauling me to my feet.
We walk in silence to my dad's truck.
Kyle opens the passenger door and gestures for me to get in.
I climb in and lean back against the seat. Kyle walks around to the driver's side and gets in. He finds the keys in the ignition and starts the truck, turning the heater on.
"So are you going to tell me what the fuck you were doing out there?" His voice is calmer, but still laced with anger.
I shrug, unable to meet his eyes.
"Damnit Stan, you could've died!"
"That was kinda the point." I say quietly.
"Wh-what?!" His voice is filled with disbelief. "You were gonna kill yourself!?"
I look up and Kyle's expression is one of pain, his eyes filled with unshed tears.
I feel my own eyes sting and shame washes over me. Stupid selfish Stan, never thinking about the people around me.

Kyle's expression changes to one of alarm as I start to shake, tears spilling over and streaming down my face.
He slides over on the bench seat and pulls me into his arms despite my wet clothes.
"Shh it's okay, shh." His voice is soft and soothing, and he rocks us gently as I cry against his chest.
My lungs are struggling to take in enough air, but I can't stop.
Kyle pulls away slightly, looking at me worriedly.
"Breathe, Stan. Come on, deep breath."
I suck in a lungful of air, and start coughing. My throat burns from the cold and my eyes sting. Kyle pulls me back against him and starts rubbing my back vigorously, trying to warm me up. I can't stop shaking. I can't tell if it's from the cold or the emotional outburst, maybe both.
Kyle pulls away again, looking at me with concern.
"We should probably get you home."
"No!" My shaking intensifies and I grab the front of his jacket, clinging to him. "Please don't make me go back there."
I whisper.
Kyle nods and reaches for the steering wheel. I grab his arm stopping him. "We can't take the truck. I don't want any of this coming back on you."
"Stan, you can't walk in wet clothes. It's freezing."
I shrug and get out of the truck. Kyle does the same and waits for me to walk around to his side. He looks at me and sighs, shaking his head. I follow him as he starts walking in the direction of his house.