by the time they finish working, stanley is pretty sure it's dark outside, based on the time alone. richie cheers in success, the two of them only having finishing touches to work on the following week. richie leans back and yawns, and stanley watches him.
stanley has had to wash his hands three times in the last two hours, and richie has said nothing every time. it's kinder than stanley is used to, and it weirds him out a little. richie has definitely noticed stanley's raw knuckles, and he asked if stanley wanted a band-aid when another one of the bumps on stanley's arm started bleeding.
"so how far do you live?" richie asks as stanley packs papers neatly into his backpack. stanley looks up, a little confused, at richie. "from the campus," richie clarifies, and stanley nods softly.
"just about a 20 minute bus ride. it's doable, i guess." stanley says, his hand stinging as it brushes against the zipper of his backpack. he pulls his cardigan tighter around his waist as he puts the backpack on his back, standing up. richie stands up too, which makes stanley blink a couple times.
"well, i can at least walk you to your bus stop. i'm a real gentleman, y'know," richie says sweetly, and stanley shakes his head immediately. not in the darkness. he can't be at fault for anything happening to richie. he imagines a car pulling over the curb and ramming right into richie, and it makes him shiver as he shakes his head.
"no, no, it's okay, really," stanley replies, waving his hands as he says so. richie raises an eyebrow, and for the first time refuses to take stanley's answer, pulling a jean jacket over his shoulders.
"it's cold out, stan! what if you freeze to death! c'mon, it'll be fine," richie pleads, and stanley feels a knot in his throat. a loud bell rings in his head, and he shuts his eyes tightly. when he opens them, richie is still standing there, with the same look on his face, and the ringing slowly subsides. richie cracks his knuckles, and stanley sighs.
stanley takes a step towards richie and takes his hands, cracking the knuckles that richie missed. "sorry," he mumbles, unsure why he's doing this, really. he steps away from richie and exhales through his nose, "alright, walk me to the bus stop." richie pumps his fists (of which stanley has let go of) and shouts in excitement. a small smile appears on stanley's face.
"alright!" richie pauses a moment just before reaching for his doorknob, seeing stanley rub his knuckles, "do you want to wash your hands first?"
stanley wonders how observant richie really is. in such a small amount of time, richie has observed (and adapted to) so many of stanley's habits, most of which took his parents years to acclimate to. stanley nods, a little ashamed. richie smiles warmly, and stanley goes to the bathroom, hanging his head low.
coming out a couple minutes later, richie has put a hat on. there's a single strand of hair sticking out of his toque, and stanley decides not to look at it. he looks downwards and richie opens the door, now wearing his lanyard around his neck. stanley follows richie out of the door, and admires the way richie now takes his time to fit the key into the slot properly.
"alright, lead the way, stan the man!" richie chuckles, stanley rolling his eyes gently and beginning to walk. there's almost nobody in the hallway, and the two travel down a small set of stairs silently. at the bottom of the stairs, richie finally speaks again, a little desperate to fill the silence, "so what's your family like?" he asks, the two reaching a small courtyard. stanley wonders if richie really locked his door or not. this thought makes him nervous, but he answers richie's question anyway.
"they're alright, it's just me and my parents," did stanley turn off the tap? did richie lock the door? stanley tries to review the memories in his head but they're fuzzy, they're fuzzy and stanley can't tell if he remembered to turn off the tap or not. he supposed richie expected more of an answer, because he stayed quiet. "i moved out a while ago, but i see them every weekend. i enjoy being by myself." he hopes that is enough for richie.
it is enough for richie, "could not be me, i am the most uncomfortably extroverted motherfucker the world has ever seen. i mean, i assume you can tell, but y'know. i just never stop talking? it's a little bit of an issue, but i'll worry about it in the future. maybe i'll go into public speaking. that could be fun, but i hate strangers judging me, so maybe not." richie says, essentially speaking his thought process aloud. stanley's okay with it, because he doesn't really like talking anyway.
as they walk through the courtyard, stanley observes the people around them. there's a couple enamoured with each other sitting at a bench, talking about something in a book they're reading. there's two guys reading the same textbook next to each other sitting on the concrete, and there's a girl with far too many jackets on looking at something on her phone. stanley can hear a bird chirping above him, and he looks for it, but fails to find it.
"thanks for saying yes, by the way." richie says, his tone softening as stanley looks over. "to work on the project, i mean." stanley watches as richie fumbles with his fingers for the first time, and stanley bites his tongue consciously.
"for sure, richie. it wasn't like i was going to ask anyone else, so i appreciate you asking." they finally step out into the cold air of off campus, on the street. richie nods gently, putting his hands back in his pockets.
suddenly, a car drives down the street aggressively fast, turning the corner at such a rate that it shocks stanley, freezing him for a moment. richie keeps walking for a moment only to realize stanley isn't, and he turns around to look at him. stanley seems to be zoned out a little, as if imagining something.
"you okay?" richie asks quietly, and stanley blinks and looks up. stanley nods, and steps a little quicker to catch up with richie. richie decides not to comment on it.
they approach the bus stop, and stanley tucks his cardigan into the sides of his chest like a middle-aged mother. richie looks over in a little bit of concern. stanley really regrets not bringing more than a cardigan today, and he wishes he had just missed his bus that morning to go back and get a jacket. because stanley's arms are crossed holding his cardigan closed, he doesn't stop himself from scratching his forearms.
richie breaks the silence again, "does hand sanitizer help?" he asks, stanley once again confused as all hell. richie has to clarify for the third time that hour, "with the hand washing, i mean. the germs and all? does hand sanitizer help or do you have to wash them?"
stanley wonders again if richie is this observant around everyone. stanley wonders how this boy, who seemed to adapt to so much, managed to collide into him that morning. he wonders if it was an accident. his mind wanders back through everything that had happened that day, and he goes back to worrying about the state of richie's door and tap.
"no. no, i hate hand sanitizer. it leaves a weird residue on my hands, and then i have to wash them again. plus, it smells like shit. not to mention i have such annoying fucking eczema that it hurts like a bitch." stanley puts his hands out to show richie, and richie inspects them lightly, looking at how red and raw the palms of his hands are. all up his fingers, the skin is split.
"oh, okay. eddie's always preaching about hand sanitizer, but personally i think it smells like shit too. i think eddie huffed too much of it as a kid and it stunted his growth, the kid is tiny." richie jokes, and stanley lets out a little laugh.
"did you lock your door?" stanley wonders aloud, and richie looks back out to the street.
"yeah, i did." he says so simply.
what if he's lying? stanley swallows the knot of doubt. he looks to richie, and then back out to the street.
he trusts richie. for some dumb fucking reason, he trusts richie.
the bus then billows down the street, and stanley adjusts his backpack. richie sees it and turns to stanley, unsure how to wish him goodbye. they make eye contact for a moment, and it lingers. stanley blinks a couple times, and then looks down.
"see you around, stan." richie wants to place a hand on stanley's shoulder, but he decides against it. stanley decides he likes the way richie says stan.
stan. stan. stan. stan. stan. stan.
"stan," stanley repeats. he looks back up to richie. "stay safe, rich..." stanley waited a moment and then whispered under his breath, "ie." richie smiles a little at stanley's small gesture of friendship, and he nods at stanley as the bus pulls up next to them. richie begins to walk away, and stanley gazes at him a little before stepping onto the bus.
