golden boy : stozier

five

"listen, stanley, there's something you need to know." stanley's dad was driving and glancing at him through the rear view mirror. stanley felt like a child, in the backseat. every time he went anywhere with his parents together, he felt twelve years old again.

stanley glanced up to make eye contact, meeting the cold eyes in the mirror.

"there's a boy that's going to be there tonight, and he's not a good kid. this isn't the kind of friend you want in your life. wentworth and margaret are incredibly lovely, and god knows how they ended up with a son like that." his father broke the eye contact to look back out at the road. stanley nodded.

"i thought the tozier's only had a daughter?" he asked, his head slightly aching. his mother crossed one leg over another.

"pj is wonderful. a beautiful, respectful daughter," his mother's tone felt targeted. stanley knew what she meant. she continued, "but their boy... good god. his name is richard, so just be aware of who you befriend tonight."

"okay." stanley nodded, trying not to think about the ache pulsing in his head. he ran his hands through his hair, squeezing his temples with his fingertips.

stanley recognized the tozier's from other gatherings they'd been to, but their son was nowhere in sight. past the front door was wentworth, margaret, and pj, their daughter. pj always seemed to unnerve stanley a little, the same way eddie did, by being a perfect child.

"oh stanley, it's so wonderful to see you! how have you been doing?" margaret asked, though stanley knew better than to answer truthfully. he smiled brightly as his parents responded, and he lightly shook pj's hand. he scanned the room around them, looking for somewhere to go sit.

with another couple of awkward sentences to the parents, stanley saw eddie and approached him. eddie was sat next to another boy, stanley didn't really recognize. he figured maybe that was the bill he'd been talking about.

the boy's hair reached his shoulders in untamed waves, jet black, and he wore a dumb grin. pointing at eddie, he cackled, and eddie rolled his eyes. glancing around, missing stanley, eddie flicked the boy on the head and walked off as stanley approached.

stanley watched eddie go approach someone else stanley didn't recognize, so rather than feeling like a lost dog, stanley continued to approach the boy. he sat down in the chair eddie had been in before storming off. the boy was still laughing.

stanley got a better look out of the corner of his eye; his hair was actually dark brown, not that it mattered. but stanley felt like he wanted to know that, for the future, he guessed. the boy's tag on the back of his shirt was sticking out. he could tell, just from hearing his laugh, that the boy had probably been telling a dirty joke. stanley had gotten good at reading people.

he realized quickly that this probably wasn't bill. after all, he couldn't imagine a dirty joke being very funny if the person was a stutterer.

"you look like you belong here," the boy noted, pointing at stanley's shirt. stanley glanced down back at it and looked back up. the boy's finger waggled, "your shirt's all pressed, not to mention you're wearing a fuckin' button up shirt. fancy ass," the boy said.

stanley laughed softly through his nose, "shut up." the grin on the other boy's face spread. it was if he liked that stanley was being mean. stanley's eyebrow nearly twitched, "like you aren't dressed like you're an edgy teenager," he spat back, and the boy's teeth showed behind his lips as his smile brightened even further.

stanley couldn't help his smile grow a little too, and he decided people-pleasing wasn't that tiring. the boy reached his hand out, as if to shake stanley's. stanley felt his hand gravitating to the boy's.

"i'm richie." stanley's brain went through all seven stages of grief.

not all richie's are short for richard, some are short for richie!

you're fucking kidding, the only fucking person i like, and he's the one no one likes?

maybe i can just not worry about it, i'll probably never see him again.

i can't believe he's the one i'm not supposed to talk to. i'm going to go hide in the car and shrivel up and die.

i just won't tell my parents. i hope they don't notice.

"i'm stanley," stanley replied, and richie shook his hand with joy. "you're the other tozier?" he asked, and watched richie as he started scratching his nails as he retracted his hand. stanley gulped, he hadn't meant for richie to feel bad.

"uh, yeah. i'm that famous?" richie replied, now distracted by his phone in his hand. stanley wasn't offended–clearly richie had half a brain–but stanley sorta liked it.

"oh, no, but my parents were giving the whole 'shpeel' about not being friends with you. a bad influence, i've heard." stanley watched richie return to some sense of comfortable. apparently richie liked hearing what others said about him. stanley couldn't stop staring at a red dot on richie's cheek. it wasn't obnoxious, it blended in with the rouge of his cheeks, stanley just couldn't stop looking at it. there was a dimple right next to it.

"oh, i get it, i'm the bad boy. i like that, i'll take it. so what's the verdict, stan? we friends or not?" richie raised an eyebrow and stanley bit his tongue.

"uh..." truth be told, stanley was recovering from richie calling him stan. he'd never been stan to anyone, not even his parents. he blinked a couple times, the soft pressure of his eyelashes waking him from his trance. "yeah. we are."

"cool. one thing i will have to warn you, and any of my friends will tell you this—not that i have many—i have problems shutting up, so if you want me to stop talking ever, just, like, let me know! it's really no worry at all. i just sorta can't help myself from talking. it's probably a psychopsymatic thing by now but i'm not a genius so i couldn't tell you that. is psychopsymatic even a fucking word? um, i can't remember. anyway, i—" richie cut himself off, his mouth hanging open from the beginning of his sentence. he gulped, "like that. i can't shut up. sorry."

"no it's, it's cool. don't apologize. keep talking." stanley said, half because he knew richie wanted to hear it, and half because he meant it. there was something simple about richie's voice. stanley wasn't sure what was so bad about richie.

richie might as well have blushed. instead, though, he looked away at his lap and fiddled with his fingers, letting out a meek, "thanks."

"anytime." stanley replied, watching richie's hands relax as he continued talking.