golden boy : stozier

thirty seven

stanley wasn't sure his neck had ever ached this much in his life. he was sitting straight, a plate with two pieces of cheese and a cracker on it, in the chair in his living room. his neck had been killing him for hours, ever since he'd sat up from richie's lap.

he could see ben and eddie, in a corner by the food, ben loading his plate as eddie talked, clearly irritated by something. he looked down to his own plate, not really that hungry as he put cheese on one half of his cracker and took a bite.

he'd spent the first hour by his parents side, obeying their every wish and command. but now, lying in his chair, he was completely exhausted, robbed of any energy he'd had earlier in the day. maybe it was heat exhaustion.

"stan, you look sick," was the first thing eddie said after walking by, so maybe he really did have sunstroke. ben jabbed him in the side, then taking a small pickle off of his place and popping it in his mouth.

"thanks, eddie. always a help," stanley replied, noting in his head just how much he felt like richie. god, he wished richie was here. things would be that much more bearable if he was just—

good god, knock it off.

"i try." eddie gave him a grin, and ben sat down next to stanley in a chair. "is it the cheese? because i told ben not to grab any because it looks kinda, well, really suspicious, but he did anyway, so," eddie kept going on, scratching his head as the words sped out of his mouth.

"i think," ben started, a cracker still in the side of his mouth, "i think the cheese is fine."

"it's not the cheese, eddie." stanley laughed, almost, at the absurdity of it all. ben put his plate down for a second, scratching at his nose as he looked at stanley. ben seemed to be thinking about what to say as eddie filled the silence in between.

"if it's not the cheese, then maybe you just need to sleep more, stanley. i wasn't going to say anything, but you don't look the most well rested." eddie was still nattering on when ben interrupted.

"stanley, beverly was telling me about your, um—your parents, and..." ben's sentence seemed to reset whatever eddie had been talking about. stanley furrowed his eyebrows. "and i know i'm probably not who you take advice from, but i wanted to weigh in anyway."

stanley scratched his shoulder, watching as eddie narrowed his eyes at ben's plate, then taking a cracker off of it and eating it.

"i'm not sure what you mean," stanley could hear his own uncertainty in his voice, and he curbed the urge to keep scratching all the different itches he could feel growing. he wasn't sure he'd been this anxious, the way he felt with his parents around, in months, and he wished more than anything that richie could have been next to him.

richie, who made anything funny. richie, whose stupid glasses were far too big for his face, and who could say anything dumb without looking stupid.

"look, just because you... you like to spend time, with, um, people they don't really approve of—or, or you choose to do things they don't like, it doesn't make you, less of... less of a person, you know?" ben was talking with his hands, the way he did when he got nervous talking to beverly. eddie sighed, rolling his eyes.

"what ben here is trying to say, is that just because you're dating richie tozier doesn't mean they can be assholes to you." eddie ate another cracker, stanley feeling his face burn bright red.

he immediately starting sputtering, "no, jesus—richie and i aren't dating!" he spoke a little too loud, clapping a hand over his mouth. for some reason, he felt tears in his eyes. the way that richie made him feel made him want to cry. he felt stupid.

"oh." ben looked at eddie, and eddie was quiet for a moment. stanley put his head in his hands.

maybe all of this had been terrible. maybe it had all been a mistake. he felt like a small child. he had loved richie tozier by accident, and simply the mere act of loving him was reducing him to an embarrassing amount of tears. a hurt child.

"sorry, stanley. i didn't, um..." eddie trailed off, ben putting a hand on stanley's back. the touch gave stanley chills, and he swore the entire world was watching him.

stanley stayed silent, mourning in his own sensitivities. he wanted to wish he'd never met richie. but he knew better than to wish against the best thing he'd ever known. 

"it's fine," stanley murmured, from in between the waves of shame crashing over him. he'd never felt so stupid, wiping the tears from his waterline as he cleared his throat. 

god, this is what love does to you? this is what a boy does to you?

"stanley, can i talk to you for a moment?" stanley's head snapped up, seeing his father standing over him. quickly, eddie moved aside and stanley stood up, his body moving without his permission. stanley nodded, and he felt his mind at war as he followed behind his father leaving the room.

he glanced back at eddie and ben to see the two sharing a worried look. stanley gulped. he could take care of himself, he thought, turning back to his father's footsteps as he wiped at his eyes.

he shook the thoughts of richie. he'd survived this long by himself. 

"what—" his father began talking, shutting the door behind him as the two found a private room. stanley was quite familiar with this study; before he'd had permission to study in his room, his days had passed in here like the days of the cavemen. 

"i don't care what you think." stanley's voice broke, not exactly the confidence he wanted to portray. still, he stood his ground. he could feel his chest shaking as he inhaled, but he didn't bite his tongue. 

his father's eyebrows furrowed, "what did you say to me?" his voice filled the pages of the books around them, and stanley wondered if it was audible through the door to the main area. yelling was okay; stanley could take that. 

"i don't care. you can't change what-what i want and what i'm going to do. i'm friends with richie tozier, okay? who fucking cares." stanley didn't know where the words were coming from, but he couldn't stop now. he wasn't sure he was in his own body at all, and he swore he was looking at himself from a perspective of a mug on the desk. his eye was twitching.

his dad was nearly fuming actual smoke out of his ears. "who the fuck do you think you're talking to, stanley?" stanley had never really liked his parents. he'd never understood the idea of being best friends with the person who needed to discipline you growing up. he didn't know much about family, but he knew now it wasn't supposed to be like this.

"you can starve me and lock me up all you want, but i'm going to do this anyway. because i'm smart, and i know what i'm doing, and you've never cared about me being happy. so-so i'm going to grow up, and i'm going to be successful, and i hope you never hear about it, because you don't deserve to know that your son did well." stanley's breath was even more uneven, his inhales audible as he spoke. 

"we gave you everything, stanley. everything you have, is because of us, you ungrateful brat. richard will never accomplish anything in his life. you're throwing everything away so that you can feel rebellious like a teenager, is that it?" donald took a calmer tone, shaking his head now in disappointment. for the first time, stanley bit his tongue. donald continued, "we just wanted you to do better than we ever got. don't you think we did enough? this isn't enough for you? no, you need to be irresponsible so you can fit in with your stupid friends. that's it. i get it. you don't care about us."

stanley felt like his mouth was cemented shut. 

"you aren't going to grow up and be successful like this. you've needed us to push you your entire life. if you want to give up now, fine. be my guest, stanley. be selfish." donald said, stanley only traveling further and further from his body. he wanted to throw up.

stanley sniffled. "find a new son," he turned around, grasping a book and throwing it at the ground. "i don't need you."

"throw your tantrum, stanley." 

stanley was opening the door and throwing it shut behind him, still not fully conscious as he held the attention of everyone in the room, silent as they watched him pull his shoes on and leave. 

he wanted to see richie. he fumbled around in his pockets, looking for his phone.