More Than Friends

Back to Town

Stan

Stan jerked awake, heart racing and coated in sweat. Another damn nightmare. He glanced at the clock, eyes focusing on the blurry red numbers. 5:00 am. Might as well get up. He rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. Grabbing some clothes from his dresser, he headed to the bathroom to shower. Turning the shower on to warm up, Stan slowly stripped off his pajamas, lost in thought. Two months ago his dad went to jail. Everyone in town had finally had enough of Randy's bullshit. Stan knew his mom had finally had enough too. Last month she filed for divorce. They had just gotten the letter that it was final last week. Stan stuck his hand in the shower testing the water. Satisfied with the temperature, he stepped in, letting the water wash away all the sweat from his skin. As he stood under the warm spray, he thought about what the divorce might mean. Maybe we'll move back to town. Then I could see my friends again. If they don't hate me. Stan hadn't seen his friends since the summer after fifth grade.

*Six years ago*

Stan and Shelly stood in front of their dad, bewildered looks on their faces. "God! I hate you!" Shelly screamed, stomping off to her room. Stan stood there, still in shock. "What do you mean, pulling us out of school?" Stan asked incredulously. "I need you guys here to help out more. So you're gonna do online school." His dad shrugged nonchalantly, and walked away. Stan didn't know what to do. How could his dad do this to him?! And on the morning of the last day of school before summer. Stan went through the rest of the morning in a daze. At lunch he finally told his friends what his dad said. They had all yelled, and protested, and Kyle had started crying. They had all promised to visit and stay in touch, but it hadn't lasted long. As summer wore on, everyone in town got tired of his dad. Soon Stan's friends stopped visiting, and even Tolkien's family got tired of Randy, selling their farm and moving back to town. Stan and Shelly ended up isolated and alone. They spent most of their time working the farm while their dad "supervised" which consisted of him yelling at them while stoned. Their mom spent all her time being angry, and drinking wine when no one was around. As time went on they all found their own self-destructive ways to cope, until soon it wasn't a family living in the big farmhouse any more, but a group of angry strangers.

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*Present time*

Stan shook his head, clearing his thoughts, as he absently traced faint scars on his forearm with his fingers. He grabbed his shampoo, and finished his shower quickly. Stepping out, he toweled off and gazed at himself in the mirror. He had dark circles under his stormy blue eyes and his black hair was shaggy and in need of a trim. God I look like shit. Stan sighed and pulled his clothes on before heading back to his room. Maybe I can fall back asleep for a few hours. Stan flopped back on his bed, exhausted, but sleep eluded him. Instead his thoughts drifted to his old friends, more specifically Kyle. Stan wondered what his former best friend looked like now. Was he taller or shorter than Stan now? Did he still wear his hair short? Did his green eyes still sparkle when he was mad? Dude what the hell? Why did he just think that? Stan felt his heart start racing as he thought about Kyle's red curly hair and green eyes. What is wrong with me? He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to clear his thoughts. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, hoping for sleep to take him. He laid there in vain for a while before sighing and getting up. He padded quietly to the kitchen, only to find his mom at the table with a cup of coffee. "Stanley? What are you doing up?" She asked in surprise. "Can't sleep." He mumbled, sitting in the chair across from her, and laying his head on his arms. He felt her reach over and brush his hair back. "Are you ok hun?" He glanced up to see her looking at him, her expression concerned. "I'm ok mom, just another nightmare." He patted her hand in reassurance. She smiled, and slid her cup over to him. He chugged half the cup, before handing it back to her. She shook her head, amused and got up to fix another cup. Stirring in cream and sugar, she looked back at him. "When your sister gets up, I need to talk to you both." Stan eyed her nervously. "Okay." He laid his head back down, stomach in knots. Stan hated talks. In his experience, they never ended in his favor. Maybe it's good news this time. He groaned to himself, his fingers slipping under his sleeve to trace the scars on his arm. He found himself doing this a lot lately, whenever he was stressed.