golden boy : stozier

thirty

"what did i fucking tell you? no wonder you've been prioritizing fucking about with people, jesus, stanley! you really think richard tozier is going to help you get where you want to go?" there was a slam as donald smacked his hand onto the wooden table, andrea looking to the ground next to him. stanley gulped, standing in front of him.

stanley's parents had never truly hit him, and he knew that, but it didn't keep him from tensing at the idea of the glass near his father being thrown in his direction. he was trying to picture richie, talking to him about something to calm the fear coursing through stanley.

richie would tell him not to give in. he refused to bite back his words, "he's smart, and so what if he doesn't help me get anywhere? i-i can have a friend or two that i don't use like a ladder!" as stanley's voice rose, so did his mother's head. she narrowed her eyes, looking at him.

he could feel the hole of shame burning into his heart. richie's voice was gone. good, stan thought cruelly, this is all because of you anyhow.

"this is not about friends. the people you spend time with influence you, stanley, and it's clear that he's had a bad influence, just like we warned you. what, you want to be a rebellious teenager, with all we've done for you?" andrea said, stanley feeling guilt rise in his chest. he wasn't even sure how his parents had found out, but all of his body felt awful, like it was rejecting their cruelty.

stanley blinked away tears, "no, i'm not-i'm doing fine in school!" he wanted to look away, but he didn't. better to know what was coming. better to read his father's eyes before he spoke. the pages of the book reflected in his father's eyes was lighting aflame, the binding of the book ripping apart.

his dad shook his head violently, "do you think fine lives up to what we want for you? everything we've done has been for you, and still it's not enough, hm? what, you want free time to smoke pot and lose braincells, and find yourself in jail?" he'd stood up, getting close enough to stanley for stanley to feel uncomfortable. he could feel his father's breath for a moment before he backed up, as if anticipating stanley wanted to reply.

stanley swallowed again, "dad, i don't smoke weed, i've never drank, and richie isn't going to change that. he doesn't do either, anyhow." his voice was on the edge of cracking, and he wiped his nose quickly, it stinging from how badly he needed to cry. his father sat back down, gripping the glass violently. stanley's eyes inadvertently flickered to it and back.

"do not lie to me, stanley. i know his type. i knew a bunch of richard tozier's in high school, okay? do you think they got anywhere? most of them didn't even graduate high school. that's the kind of person you want to be associated with?" donald's voice echoed in stanley's head, though he shook it to rid the sound. he looked to his mom, whose look of shame was still burning to glance at.

"he's smart, he's going to graduate high school, i-i-" stanley felt his eyes watering again, and he hated himself for being so easy to reduce to tears. he couldn't be anything but a picture perfect child, any mistake and he was bubbling over like a soft drink.

"i'll be surprised if he makes it to twenty without a criminal record." andrea scoffed.

"mom!" pain was evident in his yell at his mother, unsure why it hurt him so much that his parents didn't believe in richie. stanley was learning that he didn't need to care if his parents didn't believe in him anymore; they were biased, it was different. but for them not to believe in richie infuriated stanley. they didn't know richie. it caused the tears to roll out of his eyes.

donald rose to his feet again, "do not raise your voice at your mother like that! listen, because this is the last time i'm saying this. parents don't owe their children every last sacrifice, okay? we didn't need to give you everything we have, but we did, because we wanted good things for you. and i'm so sorry if you just wanted to fuck around and work at some fast food restaurant until you die, but forgive me for wanting something better for my only child." as he finished, he shook his head, almost in disbelief. stan gulped. his dad was right. they knew better. stanley was having an episode again.

he'd gone and forgotten how important it was for him to do well in school. why would anything else matter? even if that something else was the prettiest boy he'd ever come to know. even if that something else was the best thing to ever happen to him.

he spoke quietly, dejected, "i'm sorry, okay? but..." he trailed off. stanley looked to his feet, putting his head in his hands as he desperately wiped at his tears.

"i don't get it..." andrea's voice filled the room, stanley wanting to shrink to the size of an ant, just to get away. she seemed to sniffle, "did i do something wrong?" he could hear her hurt in the sentence, and he saw his fathers feet move to comfort her. they were the nicest to each other when they were being the cruelest to stanley. there's always a silver lining, he guessed.

"andrea, don't place this on yourself. we did everything we could for him. he just didn't want it. it's time he faces the real world and learns his lesson." his father cooed, comfort to her as he hugged her. she continued to cry into his arms. stanley watched, wondering why he was so incapable of doing anything right for them.

donald refused to look at him, his eyes shut over the shoulder over andrea. stanley swallowed again, hearing his ears crackle in his head. he blinked out a couple more tears, stepping back to grab his backpack. god, he'd never even got upstairs.

he turned around, rushing up the stairs to his bedroom. he couldn't break the nightmare already written in his head about having to go to school tomorrow; to see richie knowing he could not let himself get distracted by him again. his parents had done too much for him for it to get this far.

he shut his door, crying with his forehead against the wood for a moment. he then backed up to his bed, sitting down and begrudgingly wiped fresh tears. he had to stop letting himself get into these positions he thought.

he thought of richie, holding him as he had cried into his arms so many times before. he gulped, feeling like there was a rock in his throat made of phlegm, keeping him from breathing right.

"no," he said quietly, trying his hardest to push the idea of richie from his head, "fuck you."