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The worst part is he doesn’t remember it.
He remembers coming to the party, one last rager before their last high school finals (provided everyone passed) with Wendy. It was supposed to smooth things over between them— the topic of what they’re supposed to do after graduation has been hanging heavy over their heads and Stan won’t, can’t talk to her about it.
Wendy landed a full ride at Duke for law and he swears to god he’s so proud of her it makes his chest hurt, but he’s also fucking terrified. It’s far away, and there’s a baseball scholarship offer in the bottom of his drawer that would make it even farther. She keeps trying to talk to him about it, he can tell how hard she’s trying to be gentle or straightforward or vague, anything to get the ball rolling, but he clams up and changes the subject every time.
She noticed. Obviously.
But the furthest apart they’ve ever been in their entire lives is the two weeks out of every year when Wendy goes to Washington to see her grandparents, and even that has him picking at scabs near the end. He can’t talk about it.
That’s probably what happened, she probably tried to bring it up again and it probably went badly, but he doesn’t know.
The last thing he remembers clearly is his fourth shot of the night. He remembers Kenny’s arm thrown over his shoulders and Wendy doing, really, a pretty good job not looking uncomfortable with that. He remembers thinking he should ask her to come home with him after.
It’s blurry after that.
The next thing he remembers is a tight, burning feeling in his chest. He remembers calling her controlling, which he’s thought before but never really meant.
He also remembers her calling him an immature asshole, which he’s sure she’s thought before but hopes to god she doesn’t mean.
He definitely doesn’t remember breaking up with her, and according to Kyle it was pretty bad.
People saw. A lot of people, based on the looks he’s been getting around school. Not that he really cares, he’s too busy trying to find Wendy in one place long enough that he can actually talk to her, but he can’t tell if she’s actually so busy that he can’t seem to catch her alone or if she’s pretending to be so she can avoid him. Seriously, it’s been almost a week (six days, who’s counting) and it’s a surprise if he catches more than a glimpse of her leaving whatever room he happened to walk into.
Lunch should by all accounts be an easy in, half the time one of them ends up sitting with the other’s friends anyway, but with the way Bebe’s been glaring at him at every possible opportunity he doesn’t think that would go over very well.
It’s not like he doesn’t understand the urge to be protective over Wendy, but Bebe can be vicious. So much so that he thinks she might be missing more important things. Like how pale Wendy looks right now.
Wendy’s always talking about how he has to treat himself better, but he doesn’t miss the way she pushes her food around when they’re apart. It kind of makes him understand how she feels about his drinking.
They’ve never blocked each other, even when it gets really bad, but he feels the absence of her good mornings and goodnights a lot more than he’d admit to anyone. It’s hard to fall asleep and harder to get out of bed without them, and every day feels more and more exhausting.
He finally finds her at her locker another day later after cheer practice, which ran a whole half an hour long. (He waited around, so what?)
She looks nice today. She also looks distracted. And immediately upset when she notices him approaching. He braces himself.
“Are you avoiding me?”
He can tell she’s trying to look tough and mean, but he knows hurt Wendy when he sees her. She only looks up for a second before she keeps trying to stuff too many books into her bag. Her back is gonna hurt by the time she gets to her car.
“Why, did you wanna tell me more about how I need to leave you alone because thinking about a future with me makes you sick?”
He winces. Jesus, did he say that?
“I didn’t mean that.”
Her eyebrows tense as she stares down into her backpack.
“You get honest when you’re drunk, Stan, not the other way around.”
For just a second, even though it stings, he has to appreciate how well she knows him.
“I didn’t mean it like that, I—“ She finally looks up and holds his stare, and even now that can still steal the air out of his lungs. It’s almost like she can tell, cause her face softens up a little bit.
He could really use a Wendy hug right now.
“I probably said it wrong, I don’t remember what I said, but I mean,” He looks down and catches himself picking at a scab on his knuckle. It’s this or nothing. He takes a deep breath and tries to force the words out as fast as he can so he can’t back out.
“I’m scared. Of what’s gonna happen when you go, that’s what’s making me feel sick— and I mean really, physically sick, I can’t think about you leaving without wanting to throw up.” He can tell he’s rambling. It’s hard not to, finally getting to talk to her.
And just like that, the front is gone. She frowns like she can’t tell if she wants to cry or hold his face in her hands. Or maybe he’s projecting.
“Stan.” Or maybe not, she kind of does sound like she might cry.
“I’m sorry.” Now his eyes are starting to sting. She takes his hand in both of hers and it feels like sticking his hands in his pockets with warm packs when it’s freezing out. She’s looking over the scabs on his knuckles carefully, like they’ll open back up if she’s too quick. Like he wasn’t opening one himself a minute ago.
“I’m scared too.” She says it quietly, not looking up from his hand while she turns it over.
“You are?”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it, it’s,” She’s rubbing her thumbs into his palm. He didn’t even know he was tense there. “I wanna make it work.”
He barely gives her time to finish before he rushes out a “Me too. Me too, I don’t know why I did that.”
It’s kind of true. He knows it’s a pattern of theirs, for some stupid reason they can’t just fight without breaking up, but he doesn’t really know why. He’s always thought taking breaks kinda sounded like bullshit, but he’d gladly take that over this.
She’s nodding, thank god.
“We just,” She pauses, worrying at her lip. “I really need us to be able to talk about it so it can work.”
He looks away and tries to breathe through the pit that put in his stomach, but in the same second her hands are on his face, turning him to look at her.
“But you don’t have to be scared of that. Talking about it isn’t gonna make me decide I don’t wanna be with you.”
He didn’t realize it before, but that’s exactly what he’s been needing to hear all year. Before he knows it he’s tearing up and burying his face in her neck. She doesn’t hesitate to hug him back, and when he feels her hands delicately petting over his hair something in him feels whole again.
They do talk about it, about visits and phone calls and even letters, which is so patently Wendy it kind of makes him want to cry again. She’s curled up against his side with her head on his shoulder when he orders the biggest pack of envelopes he can find online.
It’s like that, once they’ve settled in his bed and found a pocket of quiet that he feels, suddenly calm, that he can tell her.
“There’s something else.”
“Yeah?”
He can feel her head moving to look up at him from his shoulder, but he keeps his eyes on their hands.
“A couple games ago there was this recruiter guy. For Oregon State.” He can feel the effort it’s taking for her not to react before he’s done. “I didn’t really think anything was gonna come of it, but we talked and I was trying to explain to him, like, my family doesn’t have a lot of money and I don’t wanna go into debt for some—“ He realizes in that moment that he hasn’t given himself a single second to really think about it. Wendy squeezes his hand. “He said if I let him he’d see what he could do, and now,” He takes a deep breath.
“If i want it, I could go play for them and they’d cover school and everything else.” It sits in the air for a second, which would normally make him really nervous but he’s too busy marveling at how fucking good it feels to have off his chest. His mom doesn’t even know. Mostly because he wasn’t planning on going through with it at all, but now that it’s out it actually sounds pretty fucking great.
Until he hears Wendy sniffling and his heart stops.
For a guy dating someone who cries as often as Wendy does, he never gets used to it.
She’s an emotional person, that’s something he loves about her. She cries when she’s happy and sad and angry and when she gets really bad headaches, but every single time it makes his chest seize up and his mouth run.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up, please don’t cry.” He’s trying to look at her and she straightens up, shaking her head.
“No, no, Stan,” She wipes at her eyes and she’s smiling, thank fucking god. She moves to face him on his lap and he’s happier than anything to help, even if seeing her tears head on is even harder, her weight on him is comforting. She puts her hands on his face again.
“I am so, so proud of you.” He can feel his face warm looking up at her like this. She probably can too.
“You are?”
She laughs, a little watery, and kisses him. First on the lips. Then his cheek, the other one, and at least five more times all over his face before he loses count and starts laughing too.
“Wendy.” A couple more and she finally pulls back. She has this look on her face, he’s seen it lots of times but he never quite gets used to it, he swears her eyes really sparkle sometimes.
“You,” She says, “Are gonna be amazing.”
He doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t think he’d be able to say anything without getting choked up, actually, so he pulls her close and plants his face in her chest. She’s warm and she always smells so nice, but getting to feel her laugh through her chest and her fingers wind into his hair makes it even better.
He loses track of time like that for a bit. He thinks he could probably fall asleep sitting up if it goes on long enough, but he gets interrupted.
“You are gonna have to let go eventually.” That just makes him tighten his arms around her.
“No, why?”
“Just for a second,” He can hear the smile in her voice. “I have a jersey to buy.”