golden boy : stozier

twelve

"so? the parentals absolutely ruin your life for skipping one class?" richie was scratching his nails, lying on his bed, his phone beside him. his phone was on speaker, knowing his mom could hardly hear him downstairs. his backpack was on the ground, paper spilling out onto his floor.

stanley sighed, "well, i'm talking to you on the phone, aren't i?" he sounded exasperated, and richie found that it felt like a completely different person than the boy who'd wanted to try a cigarette. stanley was confusing like that; he seemed to switch up who he was. like he wasn't sure which personality was the right one.

"i guess that's true. how'd it go?" richie didn't know much of stanley's parents other than the few times they'd met at socializing events. he'd never liked them very much, but that went for most adults. stanley was careful talking about them, generally.

it was something richie'd seen beverly do as well. she avoided the topic, or answered in the most vague way possible. sometimes he wished he had that skill, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure that either of them knew they were doing it.

"the usual." and richie could wait for stanley to elaborate, but he knew stanley wouldn't say anymore without prompting.

"tell me about it," richie started peeling one of his nails off, a yawn escaping him. he glanced up at his ceiling, the poster staring down at him.

"you're not applying yourself, if your grades drop we'll take your shit away, you know," stanley sounded like he wasn't telling richie the entire truth, but richie ignored it. he was used to being able to tell when bill or beverly were lying to him, and he could hear a sliver of their tone in stanley's voice.

richie tutted, "that sucks. hope you're alright." he drummed his fingers. his eyes passed by all the posters in his room again, looking from eyes to eyes.

"always am at the end of the day." stanley sounded far away. richie let himself get caught in an illusion, daydreaming that him and stanley were talking, maybe in the arctic somewhere. stanley was at the edge of a cave, while richie lay inside like a polar bear in hibernation. he blinked back into the present. stanley sounded sad. maybe the personality he'd had on had fallen off.

or maybe he'd let go of it.

richie tutted, "how sweet. and surprisingly optimistic, coming from mr. uris himself," he laughed, picturing stanley rolling his eyes. he was tapping his hands on the bed beside to him, keeping his phone now on his chest. he glanced over to the acoustic guitar in the corner of his room. he'd come back to it every now and then, but could never seem to stay interested enough to really care.

"ah, shut up." stanley said, and richie bit his tongue. beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep—richie cleared his throat. he looked up at the ceiling again. he met bruce springsteen's eyes.

"you ever listen to bruce springsteen, stanny?" richie asked, kicking his feet now as he rolled over onto his stomach. god, it was true, you never stop fucking moving, do you? richie scratched at one of his knuckles.

"i'm not sure i listen to much at all." stanley replied, and richie gasped in a faux-dramatic way.

"oh, you're not telling me you're a music hater? because if you are, we may have to fist fight. complete truth be told, i once almost strangled bill after he told me bruce springsteen sucked. the thing is like, i just don't think he's actually even fucking listened to him, dude, but you're telling me you don't listen to any music?" richie went on, stanley staying silent to let richie finish. richie appreciated that stanley did that; beverly would always interrupt him at some point.

"no, i've listened to music. but my parents are the kind to turn the radio off when they get in the car. or listen to those podcasts." stanley said, sounding a little disappointed.

"that sounds awful."

"yeah."

richie clicked his tongue, "when i get a car, i'll introduce you to all the good music in the world. i don't have a cd player that's my own, yet, but i'll have on in my car and i'll show you the good stuff. i think i'm in love with bruce springsteen." he liked the image, stanley in the passenger seat in his car watching him sing along to music. stanley would smile, and richie would smile back.

stanley cleared his throat, "musically? or you... or do you think he's hot?" the way he posed the question made him sound nervous. richie felt his own nerves kick in.

"um, both, i guess. do you think there's something wrong with that?" he drummed his fingers on his thighs.

"no. i just kinda wonder what he looks like." stanley replied. richie nearly let out a sigh of relief.

"oh, well you probably wouldn't agree. beverly doesn't. but i think he's got charm in the same way jim morrison sorta does." richie glanced to another poster on his wall, jim morrison smiling at him.

"mmh. i don't know who that is either." stanley was good at showing interest without having to state it, richie was noticing. it was his tone. he was so good at tone.

"oh, the doors, god you're going to love it."

"if you say so. i trust you." stanley mumbled, like it was instinctual. richie nearly blushed through the phone.