made up things we'll never really say : stozier

3

stan

stanley wakes up somewhere between grief and love, knowing without opening his eyes that richie is not beside him in his bed. the thought exhausts him within seconds of waking up: not his bed but richie's, and yet he is the one waking up alone.

he dreamt of richie, unsurprisingly. they were fourteen again, before living together or loving together were ever really real concepts, at jewish summer camp meant for only private school kids. richie hadn't gone, but in the dream he was there, and they were kayaking. richie flipped the kayak over and stanley tried to drown him in response, the kerfuffle ending in the two of them in hysterics by the side of the water, with a very upset camp leader nearby. waking up now feels akin to losing a childhood in a second.

the light blinding him when he finally opens his eyes point him to the tea—warm but nowhere near steaming—on the nightstand. as he sips it, he feels the overwhelming urge to shatter the mug, knowing he has spent up his luck on the one thing he always wished for in selfishness. to feel richie's touch, stanley has been waiting years. an embarrassingly long amount of years. and now, he has woken up, and richie is not beside him.

stan knows what this means.

still, he gets up, and he trails into the kitchen to make toast. maybe he can save this day from ruin with routine. he nearly laughs aloud like a lunatic. his eyes are blinking slowly, and his walk feels more like him actively dragging his body across the floor. as he gets the bread into the toaster, midway through a yawn, he finally looks over to see richie on the couch. he looks away, quickly.

the silence does not go unnoticed by either of them. this is not like the silence that accompanies richie lying on stan's floor when he does essays, or the silence that stanley brings when he gets home from work. this silence is palpable, and stan turns to meet richie's gaze.

"morning," richie acknowledges him with a slight nod of the head, then turning back to his laptop. stan watches him a little longer, watching him squint at his screen without his glasses.

"good morning. how're you doing?" stanley asks the question before he can ask himself whether or not he should. he drinks from his tea, his fingers tingling at the warmth of the mug.

"little hungover. i dunno." richie says, really typing away at whatever he's looking at. stanley's a little convinced he's not typing any real words, just sort of pressing the buttons to look busy. stanley sorta understands. he's a little too busy remembering his fingers in richie's hair last night to really think of anything to say to make fun of him for it.

"and coffee will solve that?" stanley can hear himself, and he sounds like an annoying, nagging housewife. it makes him want to sprint and hop over the balcony, but instead he just keeps looking at richie.

"um, this is my morning routine thank you very much, i keep a strict morning routine, and if i wasn't drinking my coffee right now, i'd be dead, so. don't fuck with the morning routine, man." richie puts on a voice, and stanley nearly lets out a relaxed sigh at how the tension in the room has cleared, instead laughing at richie's bit. richie doesn't really have to be funny for stan to laugh.

"okay, i see how it is. stay stuck in your ways." stanley takes another sip of tea.

"c'mere," richie gestures, and stan picks up his mug and obeys. "how are you doin?" richie asks, stan sitting down a healthy amount of distance from richie on the couch. stan contemplates how to answer, and he glances over to see that richie is in fact typing real words, a file open on his laptop.

"i'm okay. i'm still tired."  the toast pops out of the toaster, a ding pausing stanley mid sentence. still, he doesn't get up, leaning into the couch further. richie squints his eyes at him.

"yeah, i bet." richie grabs a blanket from next to him and tosses it to stan, who just narrowly gets the tea out of the way in time. he shuffles around, draping it over him. he watches richie, who then clears his throat, "i dunno if i've ever seen you sleep past the sun."

stan laughs dryly, "you forget my time spent as an all-nighter student." it's almost like now, coming up on two years living together, it would be easy to forget they've known each other for more time than they haven't.

"lord, right." richie sighs, and his gaze turns back to his laptop. he clears his throat again, while stanley is considering actually getting up before the toast gets cold. "stan, that was just, like, a one time thing, right?"

"no. i did all-nighters like all the time," stan severely misunderstands what richie is asking. he's actually too focused on remembering a night that he spent, hopped up on adderall (curse richie's easy access to medication), studying while richie had fallen asleep in stan's lap watching him study. 

"no, like last night." stanley's heart drops to his actual ass. 

"oh, you mean—yeah, um, yeah absolutely." unfortunately, after half a decade of being in love with richie, stan has studied him enough to know how he works. for the most part, anyway. while stan's sure his own face is turning a most amusing shade of scarlet, he can tell richie is just as embarrassed.

it almost amazes stan that richie's even bringing it up.

"alright. would—i mean, would you do it again, though? ever?" richie says, still not making eye contact, and it makes sense suddenly. he's bringing it up because he wants something, otherwise he'd avoid it like the plague.

the thought of richie asking him, 'hey, wanna hook up again sometime?' would normally struggle to make it all the way through stan's head on a good day, so the reality is worse. stanley does not know what to say. he does what he knows best, and retorts.

"are you trying to get me to compliment you, or something?" stanley puts the cup on the coffee table, shuffling in his blanket. 

richie laughs gently, looking back at stan, and it's alright again. "maybe a man just wants to hear he's good in bed, okay?" richie shrugs, pulling his laptop closer to him. stan rolls his eyes.

"jesus," stan says, instead of telling him that he is, in fact, stan's dream guy. and it was probably better than anything stan could've dreamed up anyway. suddenly, stan remembers what richie was asking, and he rubs at his ear with a finger. 

the answer isn't no, that much is true. 

stan gulps, and words leave his mouth before he's really formed the thought, "i would, probably."

richie hums, like it's an important piece of business information that he's just received. it almost makes stan laugh. "but like, casually, yeah?"

stanley wants to scream. yeah, no, of course casually. what else could it be? it's not like stanley wants richie to spend the rest of his life with him, and whether or not they ever hook up again could matter less as long as they stay side by side. 

stan gulps. "i can't believe we're talking about this, but yeah, casually. don't get your hopes up, rich, i'm not head over heels for you." he lies, because there really isn't anything else to do. 

richie adjusts his glasses, side-eyeing stan, "if you say so..."

"oh shut up." stan kicks him with his foot.