Chapter Text
Stan stood over the ice-cold water of Stark’s Pond. The only noise to be heard was the sound of his own heart beating in his chest. He took slow breaths, closed his eyes, and tried everything to make his throbbing headache cease. Nothing he attempted worked. If anything, everything he tried made it worse. His head felt like it was spinning and was blinded by the light whenever he opened his eyes. He tried to cover his eyes but nothing could save him from the hell he inflicted on himself.
He tried to face his reflection in the water. He hated that he saw himself. He hated himself. He hated it all. His mind was clouded with one idea; he could jump into the water and how he did this to himself would end it all. He could make all the pain and suffering he had inflicted on himself disappear in an instant. He could finally take control of his life and end it all. It wasn’t like anyone would miss him, not for long anyway. His mom would be sad for a while but Stan knew she would move on. If anything, she’d be better off not dealing with Stan and his issues. His sister wouldn’t even notice he was gone and if she did, she wouldn’t be sad. The only way she’d miss Stan is when she needed someone to beat up on. His dad, well, Randy never cared. Chances are, he never will, even if Stan killed himself right now. If anything, he’d find a way to profit from it. To make his family’s life worse than it already was.
He didn’t have any friends either, not anymore at least. He lost them a long time ago. His friends, all of them, were cut out from his life. It was for the better anyway. It was when he cut off his friends he realized everyone would be better off without him. It was freshman year he started to realize this. He noticed how his friends would just seem different when he was around. He’d observe them when they weren’t hanging out with them and they all just seemed happier. He didn’t want to be a burden so at the start of sophomore year, he cut them out. He stopped responding to their texts, never ate lunch with them, and would full-out ignore their existence. And sure, they tried to stay in contact with them but eventually gave up. They realized Stan was a lost cause and that no matter what he would just spiral till he reached rock bottom.
Now, he finally hit it. He was finally at his lowest of lows. Here he was now: 16, drunk beyond belief, and contemplating committing suicide by drowning in the lake. He had no one and nothing to run to. He couldn’t burden anyone anymore so this was it. The mismatched thoughts in his head all pointed to the same answer. Stan Marsh was going to end his life. He would jump into Stark’s Pond, sink to the bottom, and never resurface. He would finally be freed from his miserable life. He stood at the very edge of the dock, gazing into the abyss of water. Soon, he’d be at the bottom of the pond and serve as fish food. When he went, he decided he wouldn’t leave a note or anything to signal his last words. What would he even have to say? His life was meaningless, there was nothing to give closure to. Before he ended it all, he took a final look at his surroundings, taking it all in. He swore he saw something moving in the shadows but what did it matter? Stan chalked it up to him seeing things from the alcohol. It wouldn’t be the first time it caused him to feel paranoid about things that didn’t really happen. He held his eyes shut and took a deep breath. It would hurt but just for a moment. He took a step forward and let his body plunge into the water.
The frigid water enveloped him and he felt his body get pulled to the bottom of the pond. He felt his body and limbs grow numb as his body adjusted to the freezing temperature. He involuntarily opened his mouth in a futile attempt to breathe. The water seeped into his mouth as he was hit with the cruel realization. He was going to die. Yes, it was what he wanted but his survival instincts had kicked him. He thrashed in the icy water to no avail. He was drowning and he would die soon. Once again, Stan Marsh had inflicted his cruel fate on himself. He had the choice to do something with his life and he chose this. He continued thrashing until his body was completely numb, too weak to do anything but accept his end. He couldn’t change the inevitable. He did this to himself. His entire life flashed before him as he lost consciousness in the water. Before he was knocked out, he realized something. Someone had dived in after him. He heard water splashing around him before it all went black.
When Stan regained consciousness, he felt a shooting pain throughout his body. He felt like he was lying on a bed of needles. His lungs were burning and he was gasping for air. Unlike when he was in the pond, he was actually able to breathe. The raven-haired boy began to calm down once he realized he was alive and at the very least, somewhat safe. He opened his eyes partly and found himself lying on the wooden dock. He looked to his left and instantly shot up from his position on the pier, causing a piercing ache in his body. He wasn’t expecting to see someone kneeling next to him but it made sense, someone had to have saved him. What he wasn’t expecting to see was Mysterion.
Mysterion was the town’s prized hero or well was. Mysterion had long been gone from the public eye. He still did his hero work but was far more secretive about it, not wanting the attention he had gotten long ago. The last time Stan or anyone had seen Mysterion in action was two or so years before. It was about the time they all entered high school, Mysterion included. He figured that Mysterion disappeared from the front lines to preserve his secret identity. Ever since the hooded vigilante went awol.
“What the hell were you thinking? Jumping into a fucking frozen lake?” Mysterion asked, his voice as cold as the water Stan had just tried to drown himself in. Stan opened his mouth to answer the vigilante but was cut off “It was rhetorical.” Mysterion glared at Stan before moving his gloved hand to Stan’s wrist to check his vitals. Stan quickly pulled his arm away despite the dull ache it caused.
“I’m alive, you don’t have to fucking check my heart.” Stan hissed, still woozy from the alcohol and the almost dying part. Mysterion offered him a cold glare before grabbing his wrist and pulling it down so he could check his pulse. Stan didn’t have the energy to pull away so he just gave in. Stan watched the vigilante’s face scrunch up as he finally found the pulse. “Is it bad?”
“Is it bad? I just pulled you out of a pond where you almost drowned, of course, it’s bad!” Mysterion snapped and Stan winced at him raising his voice. His headache was even more than it was before. He sighed as he let go of the drunken boy’s wrist. He looked at the pond, specifically the spot Stan jumped into, before looking back at Stan. “I know what you were doing, why?” Mysterion asked, a small ounce of dread present in his voice.
“What does it matter to you?” Stan pulled his legs to his chest, sitting upright despite the pain. He didn’t want to come across like he needed the hero’s help. He was fine by himself, who did Mysterion think he was? He wasn’t some weakling, he chose to do this to himself. It wasn’t like he was forced into the lake, he made that decision by himself. No one could save him, not even himself.
“Stan Marsh, answer me. Why?” The hooded man repeated, his voice firm but clearly laced with genuine concern. He looked at Stan’s hand, longing to grab them, to Stan’s face. He gazed into Stan’s dull eyes. Stan searched what was visible from Mysterion’s hood for any trace of mockery and found none. What he did find was a look of worry, one that made him feel immense guilt. Yet again, Stan burdened everyone around him. No matter what he did, he would end up dragging someone into his problems. It was his life, he was responsible for it, not anyone else. But for once, he was in such a vulnerable state that he finally decided to give in.
“I have nothing and nobody. There is nothing in my life to live for. I just cause trouble for my family and my friends, well when I had friends.” The boy sighed. He hated being this open about his life but what else did have to lose? He knew that once he started explaining himself, it would just come out like word vomit. “I lost everything. No one cares about me and whenever someone does, I just disappoint them. They feel responsible for me but I’m not worth it. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You saw a teen about to kill himself and you felt responsible for him. You had to save him because he couldn’t save himself. Did I hit the mark?” Stan looked away, breaking eye contact with the vigilante.
“I-” Mysterion began to say but closed his mouth. He didn’t know how to respond. Stan was right, Mysterion did feel responsible for Stan but it was also something else.
“You can’t say anything ‘cause you know I’m right.” Stan breathed out, wiping at the little tears welling up in his eyes.
“I did feel responsible for you but I also felt bad for you. I know you’ve probably gone through hell and back, I know I did.” He let out a short breathy laugh despite the grim situation. “You’re drunk, not in your right mind. What kind of ‘hero’ would I be if I just let an innocent teen commit suicide? What about your fami- mom? I know you said you had no one but that isn’t true isn’t it?” He kept his gaze fixed on Stan’s face. He placed his gloved hand on top of Stan’s. Stan wanted to pull away but didn’t. “I know it seems like no one cares but they do. There are so many people out there who would be willing to help you. What about your old friends?”
Stan laughed at that thought, “I can’t go running back to them now. I fucking left them, I blocked them out of my life. I’d be surprised if any of them would even talk to me now.”
“You’d be shocked.”
“I messed up everything, Mysterion. My life is fucking over.” Stan allowed his gaze to meet Mysterion “I ruined my whole life. I cut off all my friends and I have no one. This is probably the longest conversation I’ve had with someone my age in the last year.” Stan laughed at how tragic it all was. The first real conversation outside his family was with the guy who stopped him from ending his life.
“You can’t be sure it’s ruined if you don’t try fixing it,” Mysterion stated the tone in his voice was unreadable.
“Where would I even start?”
“You can start by not killing yourself,” Mysterion responded bluntly. “You should also start by going home and cleaning up your act. Go home, Marsh. You have a good mom, she’s probably worried about you.” Mysterion stood up and dusted himself off. Stan shuddered at the loss of the warmth of Mysterion’s hands. He attempted to stand himself up but found his body was too weak to do so. He groaned as he felt arms loop under him, hoisting him up to his feet. “I’ll take you home, I don’t trust you getting home on your own. No offense.”
Stan huffed before murmuring “None taken, asshole.” He tried to walk forward but his body was unresponsive. Shockingly, being drunk and having been submerged in cold water was not a good blend for the teen. Thankfully, Mysterion was there to aid. The vigilante looked the drunk teen over before letting out a heavy sigh. He hoisted the other teen over his shoulder, getting a yelp as a response from Stan. Stan didn’t expect the other to be strong enough to carry him but why would he be shocked, Mysterion was a hero for god’s sake! Stan wanted to fight back and prove that he didn’t need help but he knew it would be futile. He needed help getting home, as embarrassing as it was. He wouldn’t admit it and just hoped no one besides Mysterion would see him in this state. He let himself be carried for what seemed to be forever. He felt bad for the man that had to carry all his dead weight. He was forced to wonder how strong Mysterion really was as he never faltered under Stan’s weight.
Stan was surprised by how comfortable he felt in the other’s arms. He allowed himself to get lulled into a long-needed sleep as he was carried to his mother’s house. It didn’t matter that he was supposed to be at Randy’s that night. Randy wouldn’t even notice he was gone. Ever since his parents got divorced and split custody, Randy had completely become absent in Stan’s life. It wasn’t like he was that present before but now it was worse. Sure, every other week Stan would have to stay at the farm but it wasn’t like he interacted with his father. Whenever he was forced to be at Randy’s house, Randy never bothered to make conversation. The only time Stan would hear a word from his dad was when he needed help on the farm. Both Stan and Mysterion knew that Sharon would gladly let Stan stay with her given the certain circumstances.
The next time Stan opened his eyes, he wasn’t being held by Mysterion. He realized he was outside of his mother’s house. He looked over to see Mysterion opening up what looked like Stan’s bedroom window. He seemed to be struggling to open it up but eventually got it. Stan tried to stifle a laugh at the hero’s struggle and failed. Mysterion turned back to Stan with a small grin on his face. He swatted at the curtains blocking the window, clearing an entrance.
“You wouldn’t be laughing if you were the one struggling to open a damn window,” Mysterion muttered, trying to suppress his own laugh. He walked back over to Stan and helped him stand on both his legs. The other teen was obviously in a better state and was capable of walking now. His legs were wobbly, but he didn’t need to be carried. Mysterion still offered him assistance, holding him up as they walked over to the open window. The vigilante entered the room first, landing on the bed. He turned to the open window and helped the other get in. He pulled Stan up and into his room. Stan landed on his bed next to Mysterion and lay down. He felt like he was lying on a cloud. What once seemed firm and uncomfortable was now soft and Stan couldn’t get enough of it. In contrast to the cold, wooden dock that he was lying on earlier and probably got splinters from, Stan’s bed was basically heaven. Mysterion sat on the bed next to Stan and observed the teen. The relief of the feeling of Stan’s bed made him realize how grateful he was to Mysterion. He watched as the vigilante began to exit through his window and reached to close it for Stan. Before he did, Stan murmured a soft yet well-heard “thank you… for everything.” as he went over and closed the window for himself. Stan watched Mysterion smile through the window. His smile looked like one long overdue. He watched as the hooded figure disappeared into the darkness. He turned to face his door, the light shining from the cracks indicated that his mom was home and very well awake. But Stan didn’t want to face her, not yet. It wouldn’t be the first time he had come home through the window, much to his mother’s dismay. He could deal with her constant disappointed face later, right now he just needed to rest. He lay on his bed, he didn’t care that he was wearing sopping wet clothes or the fact his shoes were on the bed. He didn’t have the energy to deal with all that. Nothing else mattered as Stan closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off.
When Stan woke up hours later he had a raging headache. It felt even worse than the one he had earlier, most likely to the fact he was sober now. He was sure that the events of the night before were just a dream. He doubted the idea that he would attempt to end his own life and that a hero that disappeared years ago would be there to his rescue. But he soon realized, it was reality. He felt his clothes, the same as last night. They were not as soaked as before but still damp. The cloth clung to his skin as he sat up in his bed. He inspected the room around him. He was definitely not at the farm with Randy. He looked to the window next to his bed, the dark blue curtains were to the side and the outside was on full display. That’s when it clicked, every single thing that occurred the previous night was real, not just his drunken mind creating falsehoods. Despite his throbbing head, he forced himself to stand up. He looked at his bedside clock, it was nine forty-five in the morning. He was far too late for school but couldn’t bring himself to care. He heard shuffling outside the door and decided it was the best time to make his presence known to his mom. He turned the doorknob and unintentionally threw it open. He saw his mother at the end of the hallway jump at this.
“Shit!” Sharon shrieked before turning to face the door, “Stanley? You nearly scared me to death!” She grasped at her short brunette hair. Her eyes looked her disheveled son up and down and she swiftly made her way towards him. “Stanley, you’re supposed to be at Randy’s, what are you doing here? What happened to you, you look-” Sharon cut herself off as she realized what was going on. She let out a long sigh as she murmured, “You were drunk last night.” It wasn’t a question, Stan was predictable, and no matter what Sharon did he would end up like his dad. Stan never wanted to admit it but he and his father had more in common than he liked. They both ran from their problems with alcohol and weed and someone else would have to come pick up the broken pieces for them. Stan didn’t want to be this way but he felt that no matter what, it’d never get. He was stuck in a self-imposed labyrinth that he could never escape on his own. He was trapped and someone else would always have to lead him out. That someone had changed over the years, from Kyle to Sharon.
“I’m sorry mom,” Stan whispered as he stared at the floor. He couldn’t bear to look his mother in the eyes. He knew she was figuring out what to say to him. He hated that he had gotten so bad that his own mother didn’t know what to say to him. He was so lost this time that not even she could help him get up.
“Stanley,” She began to speak but paused to collect her thoughts. “Go wash up and I’ll call you out from school. When you’re in a better condition we’ll talk.” She started before heading into her room. Stan nodded despite her not being in the room and headed to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and scrunched up his face as he glared at his reflection. His hair was tangled and greasy, his eyes were crusty and had eyebags worse than ever before. He felt embarrassed to be the man he saw in the mirror. He knew he was just a burden to his mother. She’d always have to care for him and he offered nothing in return. He couldn’t even be honest with his own parents about his issues. Stan just said he was fine, he wanted to be fine.