𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫

✩ 𝚒 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 ~ 𝚜.𝚞. ✩

pairing: stanley uris x (fem)reader

warnings: mild cursing

word count: 1789

song preference: something to cry about, tai verdes

requested? [yes] [no]

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ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀ loser.

The five words played over and over again in Stanley's head like a song lyric, a mantra he was forever chanting. It was a lot harder to forget because it was the truth; I am such a loser, I am such a loser, I am such a loser.

And he was proud of his title. Loser, yes, but not a fool. Not a dimwit, not an ignorant piece of shit. No, Stanley Uris was just a loser. And he was okay with that.

Stan kept his books clutched tight to his chest, not daring to allow for anyone to bring their arm down to knock them from his hands. It had happened before, and the mantra played again. It was only the first day of the eighth grade, but Stan wasn't taking any risks. He passed a cluster of kids in his grade and they snickered, noticing his nerdy figure and how tightly he pressed his books to his chest like they were what was keeping him steady in this unbalanced world. The laughter, concealed, played with the mantra now, like a beat to a catchy song that would never leave his head.

When Stan tried to explain to his mother what this melody was, she sent him to counseling. But Stan didn't need counseling, because his mantra wasn't negative self talk. It was something to remember when things were getting crazy or overwhelming. As weird as it may sound, Stan found comfort in the somewhat degrading chant, but it meant nothing more to him than the snickers that he had left behind a minute ago.

Stan turned left and entered the dim class that was his English period. His teacher, Mr. Anderson, stood at the board patiently, a few words written in his neat handwriting across the blackboard. Stan took his seat next to Ben Hanscom, a boy whom he had grown closer to over the summer. The two exchanged smiles and then turned to face the front again, reading the words to themselves; "Poetry in Motion." Stan almost let out a groan of annoyance. Poetry was not at all what he excelled at. He was much better at analyzing texts and reading for hours on end. The shrill bell rang and everyone stilled as Mr. Anderson smiled at his students.

"Welcome back to Derry Junior High," Mr. Anderson greeted, his young face shining with pride at his students. "Or, welcome to Derry."

He had turned his attention to the front corner of the room, where someone that Stan had never seen before sat shyly, her hair covering her face. Mr. Anderson nodded to her and, grinning, gestured for her to stand and come to the front of the class. She did as told and stood before the class, her eyes drifting over the room and quickly analyzing everyone in the period.

Stan felt pink grace his cheeks and a pit formed in his stomach. He had never really had a crush before, but this girl looked really pretty, with her [color] hair and [color] eyes. Her confident stance and upturned chin gave Stan the impression this girl wasn't someone to mess around with, and he didn't mind that at all. She looked strong and independent.

"I know you guys are all new to me, but since you've been going to this school for two years already, I assume you know me well enough. However, our new student [Name] here isn't as familiar with the school and I would really appreciate it if you treat her with respect. [Name], why don't you tell us a few things about yourself."