~ Stan ~

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The floor of the bathroom in cabin eight was cold. It was made of marble and was cold, despite the warm weather outside. This was an observation that Stan wished he didn't have to make. He felt the cold of the marble as he sat on the chilly tile, facing a standing Richie. He focused on the feel of the marble, it grounded him. He needed to feel and notice something that was real, something that was where he was. It distracted him from the scary made up scenarios in his head. He pictured Richie making fun of him, it wasn't off-brand for him. He pushed that image out of his head, attempting to replace it with the feeling of the cool floor, but it wasn't working that well. He saw ridicule and he saw the end of the longest friendship he'd ever had. What he didn't see was Richie...crying?
"Rich...?" Stan asked, barely a question and barely a statement. He didn't know what to say, mostly because he didn't know what was happening, why Richie was crying. He didn't like the feeling of not knowing what's happening.
"Am I a bad friend?"
    "What?" Stan almost laughed, though it wasn't funny. Sure Richie wasn't the most serious person he knew, but that isn't always what you need. Rich could always make Stan smile when it mattered most. The idea even that he could be a bad friend, it was ridiculous.
    "I feel like you do so much for me, like with my coming out and my parents and shit, and I'm never here for you. Like you couldn't even fucking tell me about..." Richie awkwardly gestured to his arms "And I would have told you in a heartbeat. "
"No, you wouldn't have."
"Yes, I would have."
"Richie, why didn't you tell me about you being gay right away? You had been dating Eddie for a while before you told me." Stan asked
"I don't know. I was ashamed I guess? I love you but you never know. I thought it was a bad thing, still kinda do." Richie let out a humourless chuckle "Guess I thought you'd think less of me."
"It's the same with this Richie. It's not you personally, I just feel so ashamed. I know I shouldn't, it's been years and I was in pain. I shouldn't blame my younger self for not knowing how to deal with serious shit. But I do, and I have to work on that, and one day I hope that I will get get to a point where I don't have to hide it from people. But I'm not at that point yet Richie. Please understand that it's not you, you are my best friend Richie. You do more than you know man." Stan needed Richie to know that it wasn't him. Stan knew Richie, and he was never going to fully believe Stan, but he had to try. Anything to make sure that Richie didn't blame himself for something he had no part in, as he too often did.
    Richie didn't seem so convinced. "Do you feel like you can talk to me?"
    "I don't feel like I can talk to anyone." Stan practically whispered. He tried to infuse his words with a light tone, though he wasn't joking. Maybe if it sounded more like a punchline it would be better. His words were true, he didn't really feel like he could talk to anyone, but ironically, telling Richie that was the most honest he'd been in ages. He now understood why Richie couldn't look him in the eye when he came out, it was the same reason that Stan felt the need to make his feelings a joke. Being honest is like a weight off your shoulders, but the weight only moves above your head. It doesn't rest on your back but it hovers like a warning, ready to drop at any moment.
    "I'd like it if you would talk to me." Richie sniffled.
    "I'd like to talk to you. I just... I can't." Stan felt tears ready to fall, he felt no need to hold them back. He didn't have the energy.
    "What do you mean?"
    "I don't know, it's...." Stan searched for the right words, or really just words that make sense in any way, but his extensive vocabulary failed him. "I can't. Every time I want to be honest with someone, I end up just catering to what I think they want to hear. Even the actual truth ends up being rephrased."
"You don't have to do that with me."
"I know. But I still do it."
"Huh."
    "Do you ever do that?" Stan asked.
    "Not really, I feel more the opposite. Like no matter what I say, it's never what someone wants to hear. Guess I'm just too advanced for the average human." Richie awkwardly answered, clearly uncomfortable with his honesty, yet still more honest than Stan. Stan had often thought of Richie as more of a joker. Honestly, though he felt bad about it, he did think he was more mature than Richie was. But when it came to talking about your feelings, Richie did it more than Stan. Stan could recall dozens of secrets that Richie told him about, Stan couldn't say the same for himself. Richie may attach a mom joke or something vulgar to his sentences, but vulnerability was evident beneath that. Stan wished he could talk about himself like Richie. Even now when Stan was literally talking about filtering his words for others approval, he was still filtering his words slightly. He'd rather be gross and honest than tame and on the edge of lying.
    "I love the way you talk. Sometimes, it can be too much. That's true for anyone, so don't worry about it too much. The way your words come out so honestly, even when you don't mean them to, I wish that were me." Stan tried his best not to filter himself, he tried to be like Richie. He still felt his words changing as his thoughts went from his brain out into the world, but the same sentiment remained. It was a start.
    "I hate it. But I don't know, hearing you like it does help me I guess. You're still a loser though." Richie teased, though a sweet comment nonetheless.
"Thank you." Stan laughed a little, a welcome feeling. "You're pretty good at this comforting but not depressing talking thing you know, maybe you should be a comedian or something."
"Nah, I could never."
"Okay. Guess you can just like work at Denny's or something." Stan joked.
"Bitch."
"Is that anyway to speak to a future customer?"
"Shut the fuck up" Richie reached out to lightly slap his arm "If you come to my Denny's job, I'm poisoning your waffles."
"Then I'll not get the waffles."
"Then I'll poison your coffee."
"Then I'll get tea."
"Then I'll poison your tea."
"Then I'll get orange juice."
"Then I'll just like stab you or something, much more effective." Richie said.
"All my future breakfasts will be at IHOP but I wish you luck." Stan smiled.
"Thank you." Richie smiled back "We should probably get back in there before those losers think we're fucking."
"Beep, Beep Richie"
"Yeah like you could get this anyways." They shared a little laugh before splashing water into their faces and heading back into the main room.
"Hey..." Bill said as Richie and Stan entered the room. Bill's expression was comforting, Beverly's head on his shoulder even more. They would encounter someone who didn't support them one day, but thank god that day was not today.
    "Hey." Stan disliked how his voice came out hoarse, he wasn't sad anymore, his body shouldn't suggest he was.
    "How are you?" Bill asked a simple question, yet it was nice. Stan didn't want to give him the paragraph rundown right away. Maybe he could have a break.
    "I'm okay." Stan smiled, it was the first time in a while he said 'I'm Okay' genuinely. "You?"
    "I'm g-g-good."
    "As much as I would love to stay, Ben will kill me if I don't pick up my kids on time." Beverly said as she stood back onto her feet.
"He could try." Richie's familiar joking demeanour wasn't as easygoing as it typically was, but more comfortable then when they'd started talking, and Stan knew Richie well enough to know that he wasn't faking his happier demeanour.
"See you Trashmouth."
"See you Stan The Man."
"Bye." Bill said as Bev and Richie both left the cabin. "Hey Stan?"
"Yeah?"
"Can we t-t-talk?"
"Tomorrow?" Stan wanted to hear what Bill was going to say, he really did. But he was tired, and he had reached new heights in vulnerability. He needed another deep talk like he needed a bullet in his head. They would talk, just not today.
"T-T-Tomorrow."

//
Human Resources (Big Mouth spin-off on Netflix) just came out and I am obsessed with it! What's your favourite show right now?

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