stanley watched out the window as the snow fell against the road. he sighed, cigarette smoke escaping his lips. richie had slept over again the night before, giving stan the loveless contact he desired so badly. it was toxic, the way richie and stanley used each other for rough, ugly sex. there was no love, the both of them knew that. only lust.
richie had left his cigarettes in stanley's bed, so the curly haired boy was taking full advantage of that. stan watched the snowfall get harder, a blizzard forming outside his window.
what stanley would give to have the courage to kill himself. to walk out his front door and lay down in the snow and let frostbite take him all the way to a six foot grave. to take the anxiety pills in his bathroom cabinet and lay on the cool tiles until his vision turned black.
he couldn't, though. his feelings for the people and places around him had him tied down to the earth like a tree. he felt immobilized whenever he went. he had feelings for a boy who would never love him back and it felt like he was burning inside every time he thought about it. a slow, painful burn.
he knew bill wasn't straight, and he knew bill once had feelings for him, but stan was too nervous to act on it at the time, and now it was too late. he watched as intricate snowflakes fell on his window and slowly clumped together. he jammed his window open, feeling the crisp, cool air hitting his face. he blew smoke out the window and sighed, thinking.
he wished richie was there to make him feel something for once, but even then he felt numb.
everything was numb.
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