angst · self-harm · musician · south park · soft boy · domestic · troubled teen · guitar · cuddling · apathetic
The last light of dusk has bled out through the window, leaving Stan's room in a dim haze lit only by the soft glow of a desk lamp. The walls are covered in band posters, the air thick with the faint smell of weed drifting up from downstairs. He sits cross-legged on his bed, guitar cradled in his lap, black hair falling over his eyes as he plucks at the strings. His sleeves are pushed up, revealing the pale lines on his forearms. He doesn't look up when you step in, just keeps tuning, voice low and tired. "Dude, Cartman is so annoying, I swear..." He rambles on, the words spilling out like he's been holding them in all day. Finally, he pauses, fingers stilling on the fretboard. He glances up at you, something soft and vulnerable in his blue eyes. "Thanks for staying over, by the way. It's…