Far Too Perfect (Losers Club x Reader)

Stanthony not Stanathan

Lately I Haven't Been Sleeping ~Spirit Club

■
If I never see you again

I will always carry you
inside
outside

on my fingertips
and at brain edges

and in centers
centers
of what I am of
what remains.

~Charles Bukowski

■

Stan sits silently, observing the birds all around the park. He feels her stare at the side of his face as if she's waiting for him to talk. No such plans so far.

(Y/n) has always been good at detecting his bullshit, she knows why they're here today. Stan didn't call her just to innocently birdwatch. No, he has a reason and she knows it.

It's simple, from the way he hasn't said more than two sentences, to how his body language is rigid and his facial features inpenetrable. So, Stan sits in wait for when she finally asks him about it. They both know the game by now - Stan pouts and (y/n) observes until she decides it's enough and actually asks him about it. And Stan can never help but spill all his beans (as always, of the metaphorical kind).

"So, what happened? We both know you didn't just call me to look at birds, "and the game is over, "tell me, what happened?"

Stan slowly lowers the binoculars from his face and turns to look at her. His features are set in a bland look, contemplating his problems. (Y/n) is only vaguely aware of how his posture has slackened a bit.

A sigh, he is picking at the blanket, "As always, by no surprise to anyone, it's my dad...again."

She urges for him to continue, "Well, you know how I'm gonna have my Bar Mitzvah this year? And I've told you how much he's been pestering me about it. He wants it to be absolutely perfect, otherwise he fears I might sabotage his reputation amongst the townspeople of Derry..."

He falls lightly to lay on his back and gaze at the canopy of trees above them, keeping the two out of the blinding rays of the Sun. (Y/n) moves to sit closer, looking at him and analysing his body language for any signs that she should be seriously worrying.

"...and I'm so stressed about it cause I know I'll mess up somehow - no, don't say I won't! He's got me reading the Torah day in and day out...and everytime I stutter on a word he makes me go back to the beginning and do it all over again..." Stan trails off, a silent wind brushes by them.

(Y/n) holds his hand, squeezing it as a sign that she's listening. Stanley lifts it to his hair and she recognizes that he wants her to brush her fingers through his hair. He seems to have an affinity for it.

"...I'm so tired, (y/n)...I just wanna be a kid, to spend all my free time from school with my friends doing dumb shit...and he doesn't seem to notice...or maybe he just doesn't care..." he's gotten very quiet, almost as if he didn't want his currently non-present father to hear his complaints

She doesn't offer him much in the way of words, knowing how she likely won't change his mind, nor say anything of value. The best that (y/n) could give him was her physical presence. It seemed enough because Stan was becoming less agitated and strained.

"Is that why you called me here - to relax? To escape for a bit?" (Y/n) asked in a small voice, her hands never ceasing their soothing motion in his hair.

Stanley hummed a little sound as a way of affirmation. She then said an okay and let him just rest his head in her lap and seek some steady solace.