golden boy : stozier

twenty two

"have you updated the progress list yet?" was how andrea greeted stanley as he walked into his house, putting his backpack down to shuffle off his shoes. the balls of his feet ached for some reason and he looked up to her with a tight feeling in his throat.

"uh, no let me do that right now," stanley said, leaving his backpack by the door as he walked over to a whiteboard, where he had tracked each of his important assignments and how close he was to finished. he moved around the extended essay and the english essay (he'd started it while giving the extended essay a break). after making some other minor changes, he went back to grab his backpack.

"hmm," andrea looked over the list, narrowing her eyes, "don't you think you should have at least a rough draft for the english essay by now? don't you want a month for revising and peer editing?" she asked, and he stopped on his path up the stairs.

"yeah, that's what i'm focusing on now. it'll be done by the end of the week. i was just making sure my extended essay was ready for my teacher to read over. we're also starting the tok exhibition, so i'm preparing that too." he replied, aware of how monotone he sounded. he hadn't seen his dad before but he noticed him now, sitting on the end of the couch looking over at the list as well.

"you didn't put tok exhibition on there," donald said, and sighing lightly, stanley put down his backpack to walk back over there. "don't get huffy and puffy with me," donald warned, and stanley blinked a couple times as he wrote down the words under outline.

"sorry, i'm just a little tired." stanley replied, and realized as he clicked the marker back into place that that was the wrong answer.

"don't you think you're tired from constantly seeing ben and eddie? i wouldn't want their parents to tell me they've been falling behind because you keep distracting them with your weekends out." andrea had her eyebrows raised, as if challenging stanley to say anything different.

"you're probably right. i'll make sure to focus more on my work, sorry. and they aren't falling behind, i was studying with eddie at lunch today," it was half of a lie, but she'd never know that. he wondered if they really thought he only ever told them the truth.

"stanley, if there's one thing we've tried to teach you, it's been that a good career is important. it's crucial to living well in this world, you know that. and for a good career, education has to come first. not your stupid phone, or bitching about with your friends. it has to be school. don't you want to get into a good university?" donald spoke, and stanley felt himself shrinking into his shoulders. there was always something about his dad's tone that made him feel worthless.

and i mean, you are. you'll never get into a good school when all you can think about is richie tozier. you know you're throwing away everything they've given you.

"i do. and i will, dad. i'm on track, my chemistry teacher has been giving me extra assignments because i finish all the ones in class early, i promise i'm doing well." stanley said, really feeling the ache in his feet spread to his ankles. standing felt like a chore.

"and what about clubs? a club looks useless on a resume unless you have a position to be proud of. isn't leadership now looking for council members? have you applied?" andrea added, and the ache was now in his shins. stanley nodded.

"yes, i was talking to that teacher and he said that i was a shoe-in to be in that. he said i didn't need to apply, so i told him i wanted to join and he wrote me down. and-and my other clubs are good too, i'm vice president in the un club." stanley spoke carefully, watching their expressions. he could feel his nerves in his chest as it expanded and compressed.

"you're not going to get every position just because someone likes you. we didn't work this hard for you to get to thrive on nepotism. you should write an application anyway to show your motivation." donald spoke, somehow finding a way to find something wrong with what stanley had said. it was impressive, honestly.

"okay. i will." stanley obeyed. "i'm seriously ahead of schedule on almost everything."

"we'll see about that." andrea said, and stanley walked back to the stairs, dejected. as he reached for his bag, his stomach grumbled. he didn't even feel hungry. still, he turned to face them one more time.

"are we having dinner tonight?" stanley asked, and donald furrowed his eyebrows at him.

"do you think you deserve it?" donald asked. stanley nodded hesitantly. "we'll think about it."

stanley turned around and headed up the stairs. his feet were killing him and as he got into his room, he had never been more thankful to see his bed. he lied down, sighing loudly as his backpack lied beside him.

i should actually do that english essay, he thought. pulling his laptop out, he lied down on his stomach as he opened the outline and beginning of the rough draft he'd made. begrudgingly, mostly wondering what richie was up to right now, he began to work.

after it had hit four, stanley had had to leave the library, and the rest of them had stayed, working on their separate things. richie had rubbed his hand over stanley's back before he'd got up, in a moment when stanley had reached for his backpack.

stanley couldn't stop thinking about it. his stupid, obnoxiously large hands were so warm on his back. he couldn't stop thinking about when richie's hand had been on his neck, in the bathroom, perfectly sober. he hated to admit it, but he wanted richie's stupid hands all over him.

god, it was distracting him from school. he tried to focus on his essay again, ignoring that his phone was buzzing in his pocket. after richie had added him to their groupchat, they texted all the time, even if it was just mike and richie and occasionally bill talking about biology, or something.

he got a paragraph written before putting his head into his blankets, groaning softly.

ironically, he thought he would work better with richie there. if richie was there, stanley couldn't possibly get caught thinking about what he was currently thinking about, so he'd have to do his english essay.

nevertheless, he tried anyway. about twenty minutes later, the door opened behind him, his mom standing in the doorway.

"why aren't you sitting at your desk? you'll mess up your spine and neck like that, and then we'll have to spend your university fund on a hospital trip," andrea said, and stanley thought to himself that that would be a joke richie would make. but he knew, even before he turned around, that she wasn't joking.

"sorry, my legs are aching." he said, picking his laptop up and carrying it over to the desk. she entered his room, sitting down on the edge of his bed. she looked at his laptop, as though she was trying to read what he had written from two metres away.

"i don't understand, stanley. is this really the hardest you can try?" she asked, and stanley turned to her in confusion. he sat sideways on his chair to look at her.

"sorry?" he offered.

"i mean, we're working very hard to give you what we wanted when we were kids. we want you to be well supported, and that requires a good job. i just don't really think you're taking ib all that seriously. a lot of kids take ib every year, just because you're in an ib class at a school with normal classes doesn't make you special. you have to stand out, stanley. i want you to try your best. otherwise it's a waste of money," she explained, and stanley gulped. it didn't matter how nice her tone ever was, he could hear what she was saying.

you're not enough. is that all you have within you? a little boy that just can't be enough?

"i-i'll try harder, mom. i'm gonna get a forty five. i promise." stanley said, praying for his voice not to crack.

"when i got pregnant, you know, we prayed for a little girl. a nice, little girl who would grow up and smarten up and go on to do incredible things. i could braid her hair, and dress her up, and your dad could take her out to fancy dinners, and... i just want you to snap out of this and do better." she said. she stood up, and stanley looked to the ground. when she left the room, she left the door open.

stanley batted at the door with his arm uselessly, it only closing an inch or so more. he couldn't help the tidal wave crashing over him as he started to cry. the door was open, leaking noise downstairs to the silent living room, but stanley didn't care. let them hear. let them feel bad.

he'd never felt more lost and alone in his own home.