are you mine? - a south park style fanfic

Chapter 45 - I Love You.

Tw: EXTREME SELF HARM TW, Heavy Mentions of Blood, Drug abuse, Violence.

Kyle Pov:

The next few days were as close to hell as you could get. I realized I had hundreds of texts from everyone I had ever talked to asking where me and Stan had been. My mom, Wendy, old friends who didn't even care about me, Stan's old friends, blah blah blah. I deleted all their messages, not feeling like explaining myself to anyone. Stan stayed glued to the news channel, continuously drinking as he watched all the news channels in the area were talking about a new death caused by stabbing. I couldn't even comprehend how this was happening. I couldn't let myself accept the fact that Stan was literally a serial murderer. I don't even think he really felt guilt either, besides for his own self pity. It made me feel scared, like he wasn't himself anymore. Or maybe, it was just a part of him that I had always ignored, to keep the perfect image I had of him in my head safe. Regardless, I couldn't help myself from obsessing over the thoughts of Stan being taken away from me, being locked away for ever, and me probably having to testify against him in court or something, having to watch my best friends life be stripped away from him. I noticed Stan was spiraling out of control. His drug and alcohol use age began getting concerning, but every time I tried to tell him anything about it he'd go off on me.

"You're acting like your fucking dad." I told him as I watched him crush up another pill on the counter and line it up.
"Shut the fuck up Kyle. You don't understand dude." He snapped back.
"I understand that you aren't doing anything but fucking up your body. What are you even gaining from this bro?" I said getting close to him as he avoided eye contact.
"Will to live." He said coldly, looking me in the eyes as silence filled the room, before leaning over and snorting the lines off the counter.
He grabbed his bottle and his gun and walked out into the forest like he did everyday when he was pissed off, he hunted until the sun came down, usually returning crossfaded and in a way better mood.

The only time Stan ever loved me anymore was when he was high. He'd avoid me and my attempts at affection all day, but as soon as he had drugs in his system he acted like I was the most important thing to him in the world. It was so confusing and frustrating not being able to decipher his emotions. I was so overwhelmed with my confused state of mind that I found myself indulging in self destructive habits as well. When me and Stan would fight, I'd lock myself in the bathroom with any sharp object I could find, and by the time I realized what I was doing, I'd be bleeding from whatever part of my body I decided to choose that day. When Stan would get drunk and see them he'd cry, and tell me how sorry he was. He'd kiss my scars or lick them, and it would eventually turn into more as predicted, and I couldn't help but feel loved, just for a second. But of course, when he was sober, if he even was anymore, he'd just act like nothing was wrong. Eventually, I stopped being able to eat, every time I did I'd end up throwing up because of just how sick I felt thinking about everything. I'd find myself smoking the weed that Stan once hid from me just to help myself gain an appetite , which Stan would usually join in on. It was the only time me and him really felt normal again, in terms of something that we did normally before everything went to shit. We'd just sit on the dock and let the high calm us, usually watching the sunset together, sometimes even making out, before of course Stan ended up pushing me away. I never got it. I didn't understand why Stan would pull me in, then push me away. I knew he wanted me, but he was trying to convince himself he didn't. I couldn't understand him, I felt so helpless. Like I was trapped in a toxic cycle of trying to protect his emotions by letting him treat me however he wanted, while destroying my own mental health. But I couldn't just leave. I always had taken care of Stan, and no matter what he did, or how much I wanted to just walk out and never see him again, everything in my body and heart never let me. I just sat beside him, watching him drink and do drugs all day, getting pushed away by him, locking myself in the bathroom, coming out to him drunk and loving, going to sleep, repeating the cycle. It lasted about a week, until we found out the thing that would ruin us forever.