some West Stanton thoughts for the class
[tw: mentions of violence, s/h, angst, and overall terribleness]
West Stanton is not a good man, and he knows it. He drinks too much. He gets into fights. He hurts people intentionally. And he's not sorry for it... most of the time. After all, no one really cares about him. So why should he care about them? Everyone is just wandering through everyone elses life. There's no need to try to be worth anything to anyone.
The fighting is a means of coping. If he can beat his body into submission, if he can just win against the next bastard and the next, if he can pour his anger out into something physical, then maybe—just maybe—he might be free of the bitterness that haunts his heart. It is, even if he won't say, a form of s/h. He doesn't see it as weakness to be beat up by other men, just a consequence of his inability to he better. He deserves it, of course. He is terrible after all...
He can not hold his liquor. A few shots in, he's feeling sick. After two beers, he knows he should stop. For a man who drinks and drinks and drinks, he will be sick for hours after. Throwing up behind the saloon, passing out in some alley or stable... West should not drink. But he does because it numbs the anger.
He is a surprisingly gentle lover. Yes, he fucks and he fucks hard. He fucks whatever working girl will have him. He's big. He's heavy. He's got way too much energy. But the sex isn't just for release for himself... No. Because it's never about him. If it was, that would make him vulnerable. It's about being good enough to make the other person feel good, like it isn't just a transaction. He is a practiced man, one who knows every trick in every book. He's come to learn that rough ≠ good. So he takes his time. He teases. He says sweet words and handles his partner gently. He's slow and deliberate. He tries to be what he knows he will never have... what he will never deserve.
In everything else, he isn't gentle or slow. West Stanton is a brash man. He runs on adrenaline; he craves it. Mainly because he's gotten so used to it. But also because it hides how terrified he is. His hands shake. His legs bounce. He flinches in his sleep. If he stops, if he rests, if he slows down even for a moment, someone will see. And he can't have that. He is a broken man. He is still a boy, wondering if his father will ever come home, hoping that if he does, his namesake will be kind this time. He will always be that boy, no matter how much he tries to run from it. But he can't let anyone see. It's not his way to let people in.
No matter how hard he tries, he will never outrun his father. Frank Stanton has cursed all his children with his blood. Old anger is entwined in their souls. The need for violence and chaos is something they cannot deny. Especially West. He looks like his father. He sounds like his father. He vowed as a young man to be better at everything than Frank had been... and by better, he did not mean good. West has to be a better shot. West has to be a better charmer. West has to be a bigger name. If he's not, then what is he? Stuck in the shadow of his father? And if he does succeed, he's still only defined by being better than Frank Stanton was... Is that really any better?
He will die alone. He is sure of it. His little brother is dead. His older brother doesn't speak to him. His mother has disowned him. The woman he loved was taken from him. West Stanton will die alone because he is a stubborn fool. He thinks he knows what is good for him and what is safe for others. West Stanton must die alone. Because he has no one to even die with.
