made up things we'll never really say : stozier

1

stan

the beginning of a day in winter is always darker than you expect. it's not, however, stanley uris' least favourite thing in the world. in fact, you can often find stanley (stan, if you choose to disrespect the sanctity of naming in the favour of nicknames) on his balcony, wrapped in a blanket one of his best friends bought him in eleventh grade.

and anyway, richie doesn't get out of bed until ten, and doesn't get back in until midnight, so it's the most peaceful part of the day for stan. and he is, stan, when richie's around.

in a domestic sort of way, stanley only half stays outside for so long in the cold winter chill because he knows richie will bring him a cup of tea. and that's exactly what he does, every morning.

today is no different.

"sooo, are we hosting a little hanukah get-together, or what?" richie yawns as he hands stan the mug, the door shut quickly behind him to prevent the draft from freezing the apartment. heating a two bedroom in maine isn't exactly cheap if you're a college student.

"none of you are jewish," stan replies before taking a sip of tea. richie sits next to him, pretending like his feet aren't absolutely freezing. but he told eddie a week ago that his slippers were stupid, and so he's dedicating to freezing his toes right off in the name of masculinity.

that is, he was dedicated to that, until stan looks over and kicks off his own slippers in richie's direction. richie slips them on like he's done it all his life. stan tucks his feet up onto the plastic chair with him.

the winter is freezing stan's nose the same way its freezing the branches of the trees across the street from their balcony. the balcony isn't anything to write home about, the black railing stretching around the edge covered in dust and dew. the ground that stan saved richie's feet from experiencing is only concrete, smudged in cigarette ash and dirt from stan's failed attempt at gardening.

"so? you are. and i don't see any passionate christians in our friend group, do you?" richie says, his own coffee mug keeping his hands warm. stan likes to entertain the idea that there's intimacy in boiling one kettle of water for both his tea and richie's coffee.

there isn't really anything to entertain, but he tries anyway. he always has, unfortunately.

"you make a good point." stan decides that it's too bright now. the light of a winter fog has finally arrived, blinding him over the edge of the other apartments, and reflecting off the railing. he gets up to go back inside, feeling the chill that richie experienced on his bare feet. still, when richie opens the door for him, it feels worth it.

"yuuuuup! we still on for the climb tonight?" richie asks, letting stanley trail ahead to start making toast. you guessed it, every morning stan makes toast for the two of them, habitually, honey on his and honey, butter, and jam for richie.

stanley pretends it's habitual because of their lifelong friendship, and that it isn't a result of of his want to pretend like their roommate agreement meant something else.

he stays silent for a moment, his brain failing to register what richie said while he puts the bread in the toaster. richie stares at him with his eyebrows raised, like he's used to waiting.

"the-hm? oh! the bar, yeah, absolutely." stan stares, a little zoned out, at the toaster that is ticking. he takes another sip of his tea.

"beautiful. bev's coming, but i think bill might've texted me to cancel. i'm not really sure. he texted me this morning, but i didn't have my glasses on, so—and i still haven't checked it. i guess i could do that now, but in complete honesty i don't really want to." richie rambles on, stanley laughing gently beneath his breath.