[ discontinued ]
[ stozier, kaspbrough ]
in which the seven losers live in new york and face some life troubles.
all characters belong to stephen king.
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chapter summary ; richie has enough. bill comes back from florida.
warnings: fight fight fight fight
...
nearly a month later.
"so?" stan asks, hopeful, his hands pressed together in excitement.
"so what?" eddie gets some orange juice from the fridge and pours it in a glass (number 42.)
"bill comes home today! are you going to meet him at the airport?!"
"i don't know yet!" and then eddie storms off into his room for some unknown reason.
"eddie! you really shouldn't drink juice in there!" stan sighs, shaking his head.
"he'll never learn." he adds.
richie sits on the couch, minding his own business.
last time richie was alone in this room with stan, on this couch, they had nearly made out.
stanley went on the date he was so prepped for.
according to him, it went great.
(richie had said "oh good." stan thought he was being sarcastic [he was] but richie denied it.)
"what's a four letter word for color?" richie asks.
stan scoffs.
"are you stupid? blue."
richie rolls his eyes, as if he's not phased by being called stupid, but if you looked hard, you could tell he was.
...
"hey, spaghetti man, where ya going?" richie asked (from his same spot on the couch.)
"to go find bill." eddie smiles a little, confident.
richie smiles too.
...
"why the fuck is it so fucking hot?" stan comes out of his bedroom.
richie assumes he is talking to him, considering nobody else is in the apartment.
"why the fuck are you asking me? i don't fucking live here." richie replies, all sassy.
"when did you turn into eddie?" stan mumbles, going to lower the temperature on the thermometer.
then, richie snaps.
he stands up from the couch, throwing his newspaper down.
"what the hell is wrong with you?" stan genuinely looks scared.
"i can't fucking do this anymore, stan. i kiss you and you like it. but then you pretend it never happened, as if i have no feelings."
"well-"
"i'm not fucking done, stanley. you call me stupid all the fucking time and i'm sick of it. i don't fucking care if you think it's funny or if i used to think it's funny. it's not anymore. and also, i'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure that i'm in love with you." richie shrugs and then leaves before stan can say anything.
and he has a lot to say.
...
"hey eds! how'd it go? did you guys confess your love for each-"
"hi guys!" bill comes through the door.
"ayyyyyyy!" everyone in the apartment (except richie and eddie) cheer.
someone's behind bill.
"this is jason, guys." bill blushes just talking about this jason guy, and eddie looks so mad it's ridiculous. (richie thinks it's funny because short people 'always get so angry-but it's cute!')
jason waves.
"we met at the writing expo. we're dating!" bill happily says.
the losers all give each other a look.
"..."
"well.. we're still a little jet lagged, so we're going to go. see you guys." both men wave and shut the door behind them.
everyone looks sadly at eddie, who looks about ready to cry, but he shrugs and goes into his bedroom, slamming the door. stan winces, but (for once) doesn't scold eddie for slamming the door.
"rich, can we talk?" richie feels a hand on his forearm, and he knows who's hand it is, (everytime this person touches anywhere on richie, he gets a tingly feeling) but he pulls his arm away, and leaves the apartment. bev, mike, and ben all look confused. stan goes into his bedroom.
"so eddie and bill love each other and those two are having a lover's spat?" mike asks. ben nods.
"they're gonna fuck." bev smiles, giggling softly, as if this is the funniest thing.
ben raises an eyebrow. "who is?"
"bill and eddie, and stan and richie."
mike nods, drinking some of his beer.
...
"i'm going to work. see you, rich." mike leaves the apartment before richie can wave.
he's sitting in a recliner, eating chocolate and watching an old sitcom.
somebody knocks on the door. richie ignores it.
"richie, open up, its me, eds!" stan says in a (very bad) eddie voice.
richie rolls his eyes.
"go away stanley, i don't want to talk to you."
"please rich? i'll do anything."
"anything?"
"anything!"
"okay! leave me alone." richie says dryly, turning the tv volume up.
and stanley doesn't knock again (to richie's relief.)
