Second oneshot book

Hopeful~Style (South Park.)

I apologise. I really do. I want to make happy things. I want to make good stories but I don't have enough. This story is erm... I do think this sometimes. Think about it as a sort of left brain, right brain thingy. I feel like shit most of my life but there are times I actually try to make myself feel better.
Warnings: Cursing and I would say quite depressing. But hey... ain't that all I'm good for?
Ages: 17 for Stan and 18 for Kyle.
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Stan's POV.

Looking at what I should be... I don't even know what that is. I'm just here, I don't have a purpose. If anything, I'm out of place completely. Everyone else can be so determined, know where they're going, know what makes them happy... I can't even remember what happy is. All the times I was have sort of... faded away. Everyone around me is laughing, I don't even know which ones are fake... two things I used to see the difference between immediately.

"Hey," Kyle says.

He sits next to me, smiling. I nod, smiling back out of pure politeness.

"Do you want to do something?" He asks.

I shake my head.

"I'm fine sitting here," I say.

There's something so ironic about the summer. It's green, lively... yet I've never been worse. And every time someone looks, they try to help or say I'm better. Sure, help is nice... when someone isn't trying their best in the wrong way. It's threatening, terrifying. I'm scared of human contact enough already... the fact people try to point out how something should go doesn't help.

"Stan, I'm here for you," Kyle says.

I nod.

"Thanks Ky," I say.

There is nothing better than hearing someone say something like that. Sure, it sounds like sympathy... and I hate sympathy. It's just... you can be empathetic in a wrong way, it hurts more than it helps. I'm sure the people mean well, I'm actually certain they mean well. It just doesn't help and feels like shit.

"Is it okay that I'm here?" He asks.

I nod, staring ahead.

"I'll just... talk. If that's okay with you?" He asks.

"You don't have to be on your toes around me," I say.

He shakes his head.

"It's not that! I didn't mean-," he says.

"Don't lie to me. You think I'm fragile," I say.

He laughs.

"Sorry! Look, Stan, everyone is a bit fragile," he says.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"Nobody is perfect, we all can break. Because in the end, we're not made to be happy with everything in our lives.... we're not meant to hold it all together all the damn time. Nobody is perfect, we can only understand that we're enough. That's all that's possible," Kyle says.

He smiles.

"In the end, trying to reach something nobody can is incredibly stupid. So yes, Stan, I think you're fragile. So am I, So is everyone born on this damn planet," Kyle says.

He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"But you know what? You need to work with whatcha got. You can't do more than your best and it's my firm believe that that is what we're meant to do. We are in here to start something someone else will continue or continue for someone else. You need to accept that society is a part of your life because humans are social creatures! You need serious help, you're depressed!" Kyle says.

I nod.

"I'm getting it now," I say.

"Is it the right person to help you?" Kyle asks.

I nod.

"She is," I say.

Kyle sighs.

"Look, I can't promise a quick release or even a release at all because I'm me and you're you, we're like each other but we're not the same fucking person," Kyle says.

That's literally some of the best things someone can say.

"We're all pretty much pieces of paper," Kyle says.

He takes a piece of paper from his bag. It's a practice test that people could either take home or trash.

"Because when you do this to a paper," Kyle says.

He makes it into a small ball before opening it.

"It's fringed! And just like that, a bad time will always stay with you on a level or another," he says.

"I thought you were trying to be positive," I say.

He tells me to stay silent for a few more moments.

"But this paper here. Hey, maybe it isn't completely straight or new but it still matters. For someone to open it, it must matter. And everyone on this fucking planet matters to somebody. You matter to me! A lot! If nobody else actually shows that, at least I want to," he says.

I roll my eyes.

"Thank you," I say.

He takes my hand.

"I want to hear it, okay? I want you to remember how damn much you matter to people around you," he says.

I nod yet again.

"I actually love you," he says.

I straighten my back.

"No... I don't mean it as I would be able to fix you. I never could. You need proper help, which you're getting apparently. Just... when you get better... come back to this if it doesn't hurt too much," he says.

I kiss him.

"I'm grateful. But Ky, even if I'm not okay at the moment, I know what I felt before everything went numb and if you are ready to actually handle the idea of being together with someone with depression... I don't think I will be cured in a long long time, just based on what depression is," I say.

He nods.

"If you tell me how to handle it," he says.

"You're doing just fine already, you're so hopeful, it's nice," I say.

He kisses me this time. I roll my eyes before we both break apart.

"Thank you," I say.

Kyle laughs and takes my hand, dragging me up.

"I know you're an angsty teen but it's still kinda cold. Wanna come to mine?" Kyle asks

I nod.