festival of lights : stozier

14

"god, i can't thank you enough," stanley said, blowing smoke out of his mouth as he spoke. he smiled weakly at richie. it was all he could really muster, and he could feel his fingers freezing in the bitter chill of the cold.

"anytime," richie said, leaning in to kiss stanley on the cheek. the sensation warmed stanley ever so slightly, and he tried to focus on the warmth.

relax. know god is there. please. let god be there. be still.

he repeated his mantra in his head, the two walking in mostly silence back to the house. he rubbed at his eyes, freezing the cold water on his eyelashes into ice on his skin. it was okay. he deserved it for making richie worry.

his fingers were raw, and they were freezing, and richie would not stop looking at him with pity in his eyes. stanley was swallowing his anger like chunks of vomit, and he had to relight his cigarette for the third time. he stopped in his tracks, richie turning to wait for him like always.

"stan, i know you don't want to, and that's-that's okay, but when you do... i want you to talk to me. like, i really want you to spill your guts." richie spoke, steam leaving his mouth as he stood, a foot or so away from stanley. stan nodded, vaguely, and kept smoking. he continued walking, and richie followed after him, clearly upset by stanley's lack of answer.

still, he tried to care for stanley. he looped his arm through stanley's again, kissing him on the cheek again. stanley felt sick, and he felt even sicker to know that the cigarette wasn't helping. it wasn't enough.

nothing is ever enough for you, isn't it? you can't just trust. you can't be still.

"thank you," stanley managed to spit out, against all the nerves in his body. they were shooting, sending pain down into his shins. white, hot, splintering pain was causing his legs to buckle, and he feared he might pass out in the snow. god, this head-rush was not doing its job.

"hey, listen," richie began, pausing. as they got to richie's front porch, stanley's legs ready to collapse under him, richie pulled him close, against the front door. stanley smiled weakly once again. cautiously, richie kissed him sweetly.

they broke away, and stanley decided that he would do anything to rid the pain festering in his calves. he kissed richie again, more feverishly, the cigarette forgotten on the table next to the front door in the ashtray, and his hands on richie's face. richie hummed happily, and stanley felt relief fight against the searing hurt.

stanley kept kissing richie, with each moment they were apart stanley afraid he might fall to the ground, his hands now onto richie's neck pulling it towards him. richie's hands were gently on stanley's waist, always gently.

like richie knew stanley was fragile.

"stan, i mean," richie mumbled for a moment, against stanley's lips. the pain took over, and stanley found himself involuntarily yelping, his knees buckling as he had to detach his hands from richie to catch himself on the ground. richie immediately followed stanley to the ground, "jesus! what's goin' on?"

stanley looked up at him, whimpering in pain. "i can't walk," he muttered, between cries. richie looked to stanley's legs, confused. stanley understood, he'd be confused too. what was wrong with him? stanley couldn't tell at this point, his entire body betraying him, leaving him to turn into dust.

and he deserved this pain, didn't he? he sure as hell didn't deserve richie, holding him so tenderly.

"do you need pain medication? the hospital? how—i mean what even—jesus, what's wrong?" richie sounded pained, and stanley wished he could've told richie it was all okay. that he was fine, that this was just some twisted joke.