A/n: special credits to @stanxenosandwich for expiring me to write this series. Here are the two fic I took inspiration from - They-know - A knock at the door -
Each chapter will have different warning so make sure to look at the warnings. After I post this I will be taking a break, but the next chapter should be posted by the end of this mouth.
Summary જ⁀➴ From 7th to 9th grade you had moved to a plural of different schools because of your unforgivable behavior. Finally will your sophomore year be the year you give into your parents or continue to explore and be yourself.
Warnings: Toxic parents, swearing, mention of smoking/cigarettes.
Moving from school to school was no one’s choice but only an action of your behavior. Your parents didn’t like how openly you expressed yourself.
With each different school came a new problem for your parents. They soon weaponized their authority as parents over you.
That’s when you learned to be careful of what you say. But by the time you hit high school, everything seems to subside. It's like they trusted that you’ve changed for the best.
You began to believe that you did change, or at least thought you did, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.
You've been at this high school for about a year now, and you’ve learned that words spread fast and rumors even faster. One would think those rules would only apply to high schoolers, but it seems to fester outside of school.
Your parents decided on this small town to move to. Surprisingly, to them, you didn’t complain; you actually liked the thought of a small town. Not many people to bother you, less drama, and maybe nicer people.
Though that thought didn’t stick. Honestly, you couldn’t believe how many people knew about one thing in such a small window of time. But hey, the people were nice, right? Nope, not even a bit. If you didn’t have a click of sorts, you were deemed weird and one weird hobby, you were totally fucked then.
You had the luck of finding a small friend group pretty fast, and with that, you guys became tight-knit in such a short time. They helped make the school day feel less boring, cheered you up after a rough talking stage with a guy that you fell headfirst for.
Dahlia had asked a favor of you. Being the nice friend you are, you agreed, which then prompted you to go to a classroom you haven’t been to yet, in an unexplored part of the school for you.
Thinking you were in front of the right classroom door, you opened the door and walked in; you even had the liberty to close the door behind you.
Big mistake by the way. Not only had you gone to the wrong room, but it seems you’ve interrupted someone’s lunch, or more like two people's lunch?
“I’m beginning to think this isn’t Mrs. Vos’s classroom.” You nervously laugh from your spot by the door. You felt extremely out of place, even though they were just eating lunch together. Alone. With the door shut.
“Well, this is an unused classroom after all?” The guy said as if stating a fact.
“Yeah, uh, thanks, I gathered that.” You said, looking around once more. The only indicators for the room being unused were the lack of supplies and that the door had been closed.
“You're looking for Mrs. Vos’s class, right?” The guy with blonde hair who sat next to the other guy asked. You nodded to confirm his question.
“If you go back the way you came and stop at the first corridor to then turn left, her class should be down there.” He said, giving you instructions for the classroom.
You thanked him and then left. The whole thing was kinda awkward, not wanting to dwell on it too much. You focused on getting your friend's notebook to then got back to them to have lunch together.
Once in the cafeteria, you scouted for the table your friend group sat at today. You weave past crowded lunch tables to get to where your friends sat, waiting for their missing member.
“Sorry for taking too long.” You sighed, sitting down in an empty spot, as your friend pushed a lunch tray in your direction.
“Did you get lost or something?” Dahlia asked, grabbing the notebook from my hands when I was passing it over.
“Yeah, you could say that.” You contemplate whether to actually tell them about how you went into the wrong room where two guys were eating together.
“What don’t tell me, you ran into that guy that you fell for.” Faye, your friend who sat right next to you, asked with concern.
“Hm? What, no, I had gone into the wrong classroom. An unused one, to be more specific, where two guys were eating lunch together.” You murmured as you picked around your plate in thought.
“Oh, that’s not nearly as bad as I thought it was.” Maxine raised a brow in confusion.
“I didn’t say it was bad?” You snorted at Maxine’s overexaggeration of the situation.
“Enough about that, I’m curious about who was in the classroom?” Vorii asked, leaning in as if we were discussing something in a top-secret file.
“I don’t know? A guy with blonde hair. He wore our school's football jacket, and the other guy had pale hair.” You said. Confused about how to explain their appearance.
Vorii and Dahlia started to go on a tangent on who fitted the description; every now and then, names would be dropped until they came to the conclusion that it had to be Stanley and Xeno.
Vorii then continued to rant on about how Stanley came from rich parents; well, both Stanley and Xeno had fairly well-off parents.
Been best friends since elementary.
Stanley’s on the football team.
Mindless facts about those two that Vorii knows.
“Vi enough about those two, I’m sure all of us could care less about them,” Maxine stated, rolling her eyes at the mindless jibbering.
“A little harsh, don’t you think, Maxine?” Faye said, feeling pity for her friend. Maxine just gave Faye the you know I’m right face.
I mean, it wasn’t far-fetched either. If you did let her rant on, it could last for a whole day.
The lunch bell rang, marking the end of conversations you could have had. The lunch room slowly cleared out. Walking in the halls was torture; some shoved and pushed, like they were running out of time to get to their next class.
While some walked slowly and sluggishly, wishing they had skipped school entirely.
You had split from your group a while ago. Two of your friends had lockers by you, but after that, you all had to take different routes.
Each class got more boring by the time it hit the end of the day. Like usual, your group of friends had gathered by your locker waiting for you to put your book back and grab your backpack.
You dragged your feet to your locker. You murmured a hey as you put your locker code in. Vi had been chatting about how a guy was caught kissing someone’s girlfriend by their best friend.
You were barely listening when Vorii had said Stanley’s name.
“Huh, what did Stanley do?” You asked, looking over your locker door at the group by you.
“He got caught smoking by a teacher.” Vorii hummed, repeating herself for you. You closed your locker, slinging your backpack over your shoulders.
“Yikes, I can’t imagine him being let off the hook this time.” Dahlia croaked, chills running up her spine.
“I think he has less to worry about from the school, His parents though…” Maxine said, Sorry for the trouble he’s about to face.
“His parents can’t be that bad… right?” You asked. How much trouble could you really get in? You should’ve known the answer; you yourself have strict parents.
Conversations flowed easily on the walk home with your friend group. A crisp breeze glided past every now and again, as if a warning for fall that was fast approaching.
Your walk with your group came to an end once you stepped on the patio to your house. You regretted walking into the house.
It wasn’t unusual to come home to yelling, especially from your dad, but it was always short; he would finish the sentence he had started to then go silent and sip on the drink that he had forgotten in his hand.
You wouldn’t say much to your parents when they were like this; it was best to ignore them. The longest time you went without talking to them was three days.
Those silent days would boil over to redirected anger towards you. But it wasn’t your dad doing the yelling now, it was mom.
Most of the fighting now was you and Mom. The few times you fought with dad turned bad, like throwing glasses bad, but other than that, he would refuse to yell in your presence.
You had hesitated on whether to say your home or not, you came to the conclusion to just go to your room, in fear that you’ll just make it worse.
You slung your backpack to the ground by your desk. Pulling your chair back, you spun in it, hoping the pressure of your parents would spin off of you.
You gave yourself one last good spine before grabbing your desk to bring you back in. Stopping you took in your appearance with the mirror that was connected to the desk. You questioned who you really were, whether you lived your life for you or for your parents.
“You do know why most car crashes happen, because the driver was not paying attention?” Xeno had muttered, stating a simple fact about driving.
“I’m not going to crash us,” Stanley reassured, confident in his driving skills. The Singh of Xeno’s neighborhood came into sight.
That means Stanley would have to make an appearance to his family. He knew for a fact that the school called his parents, whether they picked up the phone or not, is still unknown.
He pulled into Xeno’s parent's driveway. As much as he wanted to ask to stay over for the night, he needed to face his parents; there was no other option for him.
His passenger car door opened and shut, and he rolled the window down to say bye to his friend.
“If you need to stay over, you can,” Xeno asked, but he knew Stanley was the type to face it first before coming back around to recollect everything.
“Xeno, you know I can’t.” Stanley hummed, wishing he could. He just didn’t need to dig himself a bigger hole that had already started.
Figuring that was all to be said, Stanley pulled out of the driveway to go back the way he came in. The way home was filled with the heavy cigarette smoke that would linger.
Stanley hesitated, sitting in his car. He'd parked it in the driveway ten minutes earlier; the time he took in the car was to clear his mind. He snuffed out the cigarette he had started, but didn’t even have the courage to finish it.
“Stanley. Come into the dining room.” Stanley wouldn’t call himself a wuss; he wasn’t easily scared, if ever. Not even his Father scared him; he’s seen it all. The yelling, the calm before the storm. All of that didn’t faze him now.
The thing that tore him the most was how it affected his Mother. Once his Father saw that his arguing and empty threats didn’t affect him, he moved his yelling to his mother.
Stanley just wished it hadn’t gone further than that.
“So when did you think drugs were an okay thing to do?” Stanley’s father glared over at him in the corridor of the dining room.
Food lay out, probably cold and unappetizing at this point. His spot had a plate on it, untouched, like how his parent's plates looked.
“Never thought it was ok to do,” Stanley said through clenched teeth, gripping his backpack strap on his shoulder.
“HOW! Many more packs do you have!?” Stanley's father shouted, throwing a nearly empty pack onto the dining table.
“I only had that one and the one that got confiscated.” Stanley said, wavering with anger trying to stay calm.
“Yeah, right, give me your backpack now.” Stanley’s father demanded, holding his hand out, expecting the bag. Stanley didn’t say anything, just shoved the backpack over.
The clank of his stuff hit the ground, sprawling everywhere, with no sight of a lighter or cigarette pack. His father shoved his backpack to the ground. Angrily getting up from his chair, ordering his wife to clean up the mess, and sending Stanley to his room.
Stanley’s mother looked disappointed in him; it wasn’t the first time she looked at him like that, nor would it be the last.
His father pushed past him as he left the dining room, leaving his mother to collect the plates off the table, as Stanley quietly put his things back in his bag.
His father had run off to god knows where. Once Stanley dragged himself to his room, he discarded his bag at the end of his bed. Xeno will most likely nag him for not doing the homework.
Sighing, he looked down at his bag. Maybe doing his homework will clear his mind. Darn that crazied scientist for actually making him like doing homework.
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