golden boy : stozier

thirty one

"something wrong, stan?" richie asked, narrowing his eyes at stanley as he shook his head. "t'was a mostly rhetorical question. you look like shit." richie was right, of course, stanley's slumped posture, like he was sleeping on the cafeteria table, mixed with how greasy his hair looked was not a good combination.

stanley still didn't reply, burying his head further into his arms.

"maybe he's just tired. too much studying?" mike offered, richie looking over at him like he'd interrupted a moment the two of them had been having.

since the beginning of this week, stanley had been ignoring him again. well, all of them, really, but it was mostly richie. sure, he sat with them at lunch, but he didn't speak, burying his head in his hands the whole time. afterwards, he scurried off to ben to go to class with.

richie would've given anything to know why. to know how stanley made the choices he did. he had a feeling that, like the time before this, stanley was acting out of childlike guilt.

richie tapped stanley's leg under the table, only to get a kick in the shin as a reply. wincing, richie turned away.

"are england and b-br-britain not the same thing?" bill was asking beverly on this side of the table, his head in his hands. beverly looked to mike for help explaining, and he laughed gently.

"it's complicated, bill." he replied sweetly, and bill looked up at him through his fingers. if it weren't for beverly's arm around bill's shoulders, richie would've sworn bill and mike were talking with just their eyes.

"wh-whatever. i'm not british, that'll b-buh-be my excuse." bill sat back, sighing at his papers in front of him.

"well you're not a nazi either, but you have to learn about world war two," richie said, bill looking to him, a little perturbed.

it had been awkward between them. richie had had to track down bill, begging him to listen to him. if richie cried like a normal person did, he was sure he would have been sobbing. instead, he stood there, his hand around bill's wrist, his lip shaking.

"i'm sorry. i didn't mean to... if i went through what you did, and someone said that to me, i think i'd kill them myself, so... i'm sorry. i want to be a good friend, i'm... i just don't think i know how. i'll do anything to make it up. i'm sorry."

bill had accepted his apology, but he wasn't so sure on forgiving him.

as richie broke their eye contact, he was reminded of that, and how kind stanley had been that day. only stanley could have pulled an apology out of him. looking to the boy now, he wondered where he really was.

"aaaanyway," mike broke the silence, "what are we doing for the last day of school?" he looked around the table, bill shrugging. richie said nothing, his eyes still stuck on motionless stanley.

"we could have another movie night with eddie and ben," beverly suggested. bill perked up at this, nodding. mike glanced to richie and stanley, but he knew neither of them would have answers.

"okay, we can do that," mike said, pulling his phone out to text the other boys. "day of? you guys good with that?"

"yeah, bill and i are free," beverly spoke on his behalf, leaning into him. bill nodded, clearly lost in other thought like always. mike turned his head to richie, who was staring at him blankly.

"yea, sorry, i can do that." richie mumbled, and then scratched the back of his neck. he turned back to stanley, as they all did. richie tried kicking him lightly under the table.

"stanley? are you good with that?" beverly asked, her sweet voice causing stanley to lift his head ever so slightly. he shuffled around a bit. richie wasn't sure if he'd even heard the question.

"i'll see," he mumbled, his first words in richie's presence in days. he turned his head back in.

when lunch ended, and stanley avoided richie's watching eyes as he put his backpack on, richie followed behind him just as quickly as he sped to ben.

it wasn't like anyone else at the table really wanted richie to walk to class with them anyway, so he trailed behind stanley as he zig-zagged through the rush of students.

"stan, staniel, stan the man, stanth—" richie was cut off as stanley turned around, grabbing richie's arm, his fingers tightly clenched around richie's wrist.

"richie, jesus," he said, exasperated. richie narrowed his eyes, bringing his other hand up closer to stanley's face. there was a relatively new cut healing on the edge of his cheek, like he'd been hit with broken glass.

"what's this?" richie asked, tenderly placing his finger upon stanley's cheek. stanley swatted it away.

"can't you take a hint?" stanley demanded, gritting his teeth. richie bit his tongue for a moment.

"no. i can't. that was a part of my diagnosis, actually," richie paused, glancing down at stanley's weakened grip on his arm. "but, uh, no. and in this case, i refuse to."

stanley fully let go of his arm. "i have to get to class," he muttered, turning around again. the cafeteria had nearly entirely emptied itself, but richie grasped the back of stanley's backpack, pulling him back.

"no. no, 'cause clearly something is going on at home, and i-i mean i thought i hurt people, but clearly whatever they're doing to you is a million times worse. so you're going to tell me. and-and i want to help. if i can." richie kept shaking his head, and stanley's eyes appeared to be watering.

"fuck, i hate crying," stanley spit out. richie pulled him into a hug, and stanley coughed sobs over his shoulder.

"i know, stan." richie murmured, a comfort, over and over again.

once stanley had calmed down, richie had made him sit at a table, threatening to handcuff him (he didn't have handcuffs) until he told richie what was wrong. stanley had been quiet a long time, but he'd stayed. that was worth something.

"i really do think you taught me how to live," stanley finally uttered, his knee bouncing recklessly. richie looked up, raising his eyebrows. stanley swallowed, then continued, "um, like i feel more like a person, now. when i'm with you, anyway. i... i have a personality, i guess. one that isn't... parent pleasing bullshit." stanley was scratching at his hands.

richie kept silent.

"um, anyway, they just... don't like that, all too much." stanley eventually said. his scratching stopped, now analyzing how much he had reddened his hands.

"well... i mean, that's okay. they don't have to love everything you do." richie was watching stanley's knee bounce relentlessly still, and stanley put his head into his arms on the table.

"don't i owe them, though? i mean, they gave me literally everything i have..." stanley's voice was muffled by his sleeves, and richie put his head on the table too, chin resting on the cold metal.

"doesn't mean you shouldn't be allowed to, like, live." richie was speaking quieter than normal, but stanley still heard him, lifting his head to place it sideways on his arm.

"richie, i... i'm sorry for saying this but, it's just. you don't get it." stanley mumbled, not able to keep the eye contact. richie chewed on his lip.

"s'okay. you're right." he thought for a little longer. swallowing any pride he'd ever had, he went on, "but i know someone who does. promise me you'll talk to her?"