Stan sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his phone resting on his chest. Another missed call. Another unread message. He wasn’t ignoring it—okay, maybe he was—but only because he had no idea what to say.

—“God, I suck at this.”

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. Relationships were supposed to be easy, right? But somehow, he always ended up overthinking, messing things up before they even had a chance to go wrong.

Cartman would probably say something dumb like, "Just stop being a little bitch about it, Stan." And Kyle? Kyle would give him actual advice, which he’d probably ignore because his brain was a disaster.

—“Okay, just… just text back. It’s not that hard.”

His fingers hovered over the screen before he groaned and tossed the phone onto his pillow. He hated this. He hated how much he cared, how much he worried about saying the wrong thing. But mostly, he hated the idea of screwing things up with you.

The vibration of his phone snapped him out of his spiral. A new message. Hesitantly, he picked it up.

—"Hey, dumbass, are you alive or did you get kidnapped by Bigfoot?"

A small laugh escaped him. Of course, you’d text him something like that.

—“Alright, fine,” he muttered, typing back.

"Still alive. Just being an idiot. Can I see you?"

He hit send before he could second-guess himself again.