made up things we'll never really say : stozier

7

richie

richie hates thinking about stanley like this. it feels wrong, like a secret he has to keep in his back pocket, but it's weighing him down. richie can't stop missing him, and it's the most co-dependent he's felt since they were thirteen and slept over at richie's house for a week.

he feels foolishly overprotective of stan. yesterday, when stan had come home from work, he'd told him about a customer who had been furious with stan for a stupid reason. it had made richie angry, so much so that stan had began to laugh. it embarrassed richie, the fact that stanley could see he'd developed a sudden obsession with him.

maybe this is what he is afraid of. he's tiptoeing the line, thinking i love you every time stanley's around, and he can't stop himself anymore. it's awful.

richie's not particularly a religious guy, but there's always been something about praying he's found interesting. the way he thinks to and of stan when he's around him reminds him of shitty sunday mass growing up. it wasn't pleasant, not the way loving stan is (and no matter how much it hurts him, loving stan is a pleasant thing), but rather an ordeal.

there's something in him that doesn't believe anyone really truly believes in god. stanley once described it to him as a blind trust in something that will most likely fail you.

and yet, despite all of that, he's sat in the living room on the couch, talking to god.

"i hate this shit, okay? if i didn't have to love him, i wouldn't, but i do, 'cause... who wouldn't? fuck!" like a personal therapy session, richie is talking to himself on the couch, pretending god is listening on the other end.

stan is off doing an exam, so there's nothing to worry about there. still, richie anxiously checks his watch over and over again.

"okay listen. do me a favour. whether you, god, are jewish or not, i don't care. but please just... if he... god, i don't know, if there's any part of him that feels the same way, can you just, like, send me a sign? like make him say something? i guess you can't possess people. fuck."

richie turns on his stomach and buries his face in the couch. it's useless.

there's a thought brewing in the depths of richie's mind, one he really doesn't want to confront, but it's too loud for him to ignore anymore. he's not sure he's ever felt love like this for anyone. sure, he's dated, but it feels pathetic in comparison.

the smallest part of richie—coincidentally the loudest part as well—wants this time to be different. maybe this time he won't have to lose to heartbreak. maybe this time stan knows enough about him to not be surprised by anything that stands in their way.

maybe he'll stay.

richie catches him like a deer in headlights the moment he walks through the front door, "welcome home, staniel." he spins on the kitchen bar stool, it squeaking beneath him. he thinks first that stanley looks so cute before noticing the fatigue in his face.

"thanks." he actually looks very little like a deer in headlights, his eyes heavy and lids drooping as he pulls at the backpack he's wearing. stan always overworks himself during exam season. richie has seen it before, the way he loses his sense of self in exchange for an academic worth.

richie knows why he does it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't make his heart ache for stan. it always has.

"how was your exam?" richie tries to stay cheery.

"it was okay. i don't think i failed, so that's a good sign." stan scratches at his head, his hair clearly greasy as he then stares at his hand in disgust.  richie's surprised stan even heard him.