Stenbrough one shots

Donald

Tw:abuse,ED, uh sad stanlonbrough requested by Els_Bisexual_Eggos

Stan walked into school wearing a large hoodie his boyfriend left at his house.
He wouldnt normally be this informal, buthe couldnt bear to see his body today and mikes sweatshirt was big enough to hide him.

He kept his hood up to try and cover his face, which had a bruise covering his neck and left cheek.

He looked down and found his boyfriends standing in their usual meeting spot.

"Hey stanley."

He waved and walked to bill and mike, the former wrapped his arms around his taller boyfriend.
Mike and Bill have noticed that theres been less to hug and hes always been really quiet but usually around mike and stan he was more open and loud but hes been very quiet and closed off lately.

Bill looked up at him, and moved the hood off his face. He gently held his chin in his hands and examined the bruises.

"Stuh-stan, what hap-happen-ppened?"

"Nothing. Im alright." His voice was quiet and almost emotionless.

"Stanley, why are you all bruised?"

"I just fell, im fine."

"Yo-you don-dont se-seem fi-fin-fine."

Stanley slouched down into the hoodie and just shook his head silently.

"Lets just get to class."

Mike grabbed his hand and bill grabbed his other.

They spent the next three hours trying to get stan to tell them why he was bruised, but he always said the same answer.
"Its nothing, im fine."

Once they finally got to lunch and the rest of the losers saw the bruise they were all asking him and yelling and he just covered his ears and laid his head down, softly crying.

"You piece of shit f@gg•t, i thought i told you to fucking clean the kitchen, and you know the flicking of lights are annoying yet you continue! I wish i had a different son like that Henry Bowers, and not this piece crap i got stuck with."

He slapped his face before slamming his left side of his head into the wall, making his face ache.

He let a few tears fall, before his father had pushed him down the stairs to the basement, where his room was.

He got to his room and curled up next to the bed.

It wasnt his fault. Yet somehow it was.

It was HIS fault he had terrible OCD
It was HIS fault he was depressed
It was HIS fault he has anxiety
It was HIS fault he was gay
It was HIS fault he was fat
It was HIS fault his mother drank
It was HIS fault his father his hit
It was HIS fault he was bullied
It was ALWAYS HIS fault, because he was a disgrace and disappointment and a failure and his own mother hated him.

He fell asleep that way, face still aching, mind still racing, his dads yells echoing throughout his head.

The Losers had gone silent as stan sat at the table covering his ears shaking.