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"Rick?"
"What's up, Summer?"
"Why'd you drop out of school?"
"I-I told you this already."
"Did you?"
"Yeah, I did. I-I-I was too smart for it."
"Bullshit."
"It wasn't right for someone as smart as me! Th-that's it!"
She quirked a disbelieving eyebrow.
"It's a shitty system aimed at a specific type of person and he--" he cut himself off. "W-we weren't made for that."
She stood in the doorway looking suspicious, before deciding she wasn't going to get an answer from her grandfather and leaving with a sigh and a "whatever."
Rick lay his head down on his desk. He sighed. He hadn't expected anyone to actually ask. Maybe he should tell her. Maybe she'd understand. But the whole story was a little more personal (personal meaning sappy) than he was comfortable with sharing.
He didn't regret any of it, though.
——
It was late, but Rick wasn't asleep yet. Especially now that there was a pounding at his front door, strong and loud and insistent.
He went running down the stairs, partially curious and partially just wanting to appease whoever was trying so hard to make sure he answered the door.
He threw it open to see his boyfriend, hand raised to knock and face red (were those tears?).
He was glad his parents were away.
"Lee?"
"I came to tell you that I'm going. I thought you deserved to know."
"Going? Wh-what the fuck do you mean by 'going'?"
"I'm leaving. Skipping town. I'm going."
"So you're just driving off?"
"Pretty much."
"Wh-where?"
He shrugged. "Away."
"What the fuck, Stanley?"
The boy wouldn't meet his eyes. He'd definitely been crying. Rick's face softened to one of pained concern.
"Why?" His voice shook.
"My pa, he... I can't stay here, Rick."
"If that motherfucker laid a hand on you I-I swear to god—"
“No! No, he didn’t, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
He didn’t look fine.
Rick reached out and took one of Stan’s hands to stop him fidgeting.
“Wh-why do you have to go, Lee?”
“I can’t go home.”
“Why?“
“Pa kicked me out.”
The words were whispered, regretful and pained and holding so much emotion.
“So you’re just gonna go? Wh-where?”
“I don’t know!” He was crying again. “I don’t know. I was just gonna drive. Out of town. Away. I don’t know.”
“What about school?”
“I was never gonna get anywhere good anyway. I’m never gonna be smart, what’s the point?”
Rick bit his lip. “Y-y-you can still get places without school. Fuck school.”
A tiny smile lifted the corner of Stan’s lip. It quickly fell. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“I’m sorry that I have to leave you.”
It was then that Rick realised what the other boy had meant by this. Stanley hadn’t intended for Rick to come with him. This was goodbye. He was coming to say goodbye. Stan thought that Rick was just going to let him drive off alone.
“Fuck that! Get inside.” He stepped aside, watching his boyfriend hesitate before slipping in.
“What about you parents?”
“Th-they’re out. Don’t worry about it.”
Stan dropped down onto the couch. Rick went to the kitchen, returning a bit later with two mugs of hot chocolate. He sat himself in Stan’s lap, curling close in a way that would comfort both of them. It was quiet between them.
“I have to leave town, Rick. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I ran into Ma or Ford or…” Stan cleared his throat. “I have to leave.”
“Y-y-you wouldn’t do a damn thing to yourself! You made a mistake, that’s fucking it.” Rick sighed as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again he met Stan’s own.“If you feel like y-you have to leave, if that’s what’s best for you, I know I can’t stop you. But you didn’t do a single fucking thing wrong, I-I-I want… I want you to remember that.” Stanley didn’t know how to respond, instead just pulling Rick closer.
Rick suggested Stan stay the night, arguing that he didn’t want to hear about his car being found crushed against a tree because he was too tired to drive. Stan, worn out from the wave of emotions he’d been crushed under that night, agreed with little additional convincing. The taller boy held Stan close. When he heard the soft breathing indicating he was asleep, he whispered into his ear.
“I’m coming with you. I-I can’t let you go, not now. I’m sitting in that car with y-y-you, no matter where we go, and I’m gonna do all I can to reverse the hurt those dicks caused you.”
Rick placed a soft kiss to the other’s cheek, worries of being too mushy dismissed by the fact that his boyfriend was asleep.
His head resting on a broad shoulder, Rick let himself doze off.
——
Rick smiled at the memory. He remembered waking up, throwing the important things into a bag, but knowing the most important part of his life was beside him. Stan had tried to tell him not to give his life up, telling him he wasn’t worth it, but Rick had seen the glimmer of hope in his eyes. The hope, the realisation, that someone actually cared about him enough to pack up his life and go, and that was reason enough for Rick to ignore the words.
He was listening to what Stan wanted, what his eyes were saying, because his mouth was only pushing out the lies he’d been fed. He remembered the feeling that twisted in his gut at the thought of extinguishing that glimmer.
Now, Rick remembered seeing that same glimmer - still fighting, still shining, even after everything he’d just been through - fading, disappearing, drifting away when Stan heard the words 'I’m married’ slip past the scientist’s lips. He remembered the horror ripping through his heart, the feeling that he could just die from that flicker of hopelessness. Stan had finally lost the one thing he thought he could rely on, and maybe that was the first time Rick really thought he’d made the wrong decision in who he’d married.
He’d loved his wife, but it had been different. He’d been through so much with Stan. They’d known each other for so much longer. Looking back, he wondered how he’d ever made the wrong decision. It seemed so clear now. It seemed so obvious.
Maybe he’d look back in a few more years (hopefully not as many this time) and wonder why he ever hesitated going back to Stan. Maybe he’d think it should’ve been clear. Maybe he’d think it was obvious. Maybe he’d think he should’ve gone back sooner, hopefully while curled up in Stan’s arms again.
“Fuck it,” he muttered. He didn’t know whether to be pissed at Summer or glad that she’d brought this up. Maybe he’d know soon. He opened the garage door again. “If anyone's listening, I’m going somewhere that’s none of your fucking business,” he yelled into the house. “I’ll-I’ll be back whenever the hell I feel like it.”
Rick shot a portal at the wall, breathed in deep, and hoped for the best.
——
Summer walked down the stairs, a small, smug smile on her face as she dropped an old photo onto Rick’s bench. The two men in the photo stood with their arms slung around each other, smiling wide, holding up a few bundles of money. One was her grandfather, she knew that, but she didn’t recognise the other man. It landed face down, the white back covered in Rick’s messy scrawl.
"I was right, Lee. We never needed school.”