Summer Child [Stenbrough]

1.1

• In which this story comes to an end •

"We heard everything, Stan." The words that came from Eddie scared Stan. Now everyone was going to start worrying about him unnecessarily. "I-I'm fine. I just wanna be alone for a bit, okay?" Eddie shook his head. "No, Stan, you're not fine. You've been cutting yourself? I mean, why?" Stan put up his guitar without answering. "I'm going home. Bye." Richie stopped him with his arm. "Stan the Man, you don't seem fine. We're your friends, we're supposed to be here for you."

Stan pushed past Richie's arm silently. Ben stopped him this time. "Listen man, you can't avoid us forever. Might as well spill everything now." Stan felt the rage course through his body. "Guys, please just leave me alone, I don't wanna talk to anyone right now." Bev scoffed. "Well, here's some advice. DON'T KISS MY FUCKING BOYFRIEND." Stan turned around, his stomach dropping. He looked at Bill, who turned away from him. "I'm sorry, Bev. Now can everybody please let me go?" Eddie rolled his eyes and whispered something very audible to Richie.

"No wonder he cut himself, he's desperate for Bill's attention."

Richie snickered. Stan heard him and just couldn't cry. He had run out of tears. "Goodbye, everyone." He walked off, guitar case in hand. He felt their words strike him in the back, the things they yelled at him that were unrepeatable. It all hit him in the back, the head, the heart most of all. He walked home, came in the door, his parents weren't home. Good.

He grabbed a knife this time, as well as a pencil and a couple pieces of paper. He wrote three letters, one to his parents, another to the Losers, and one to Bill. He signed them with teardrops, but he was smiling. This was for the best.

Remember the sunshine-like boy in Chapter One? The one with starlight in his eyes but moonlight in his soul? The night of his 18th birthday, the night he sang of heartbreak and lost love, he didn't blow out candles and sign thank you cards.

Instead, he blew out the candle symbolizing his life and signed his skin with a knife. Nobody did listen to him after all. Nobody really cared enough to listen. If only they knew that..

He was just a summer child who acted like all he felt was mild.