5AM// Stanlon

0.1

THE START•

There's a very distinct line that determines when a home becomes a house. A story can be easily told by peering inside the confinement of where a couple lives, it's like you can tell when things are going downhill, when things are off.

On the outside, everything looks perfect. A facade for the public to see and tell them that everything was fine and to mind their own business. A fake smile, and a forced laugh around friends and family to make them believe the spark is still there when it isn't.

Yet, in the end, it's not about the public but instead the feelings the significant others are facing. A crumbling relationship can cause pain like no other, abuse one's soul without a single word said or finger lifted. What hurts the most is when they both know it's getting harder to stay in the same room together without feeling the suffocating tension.

Mike may have noticed it first, the distance that was growing between him and Stan. He felt it before it became visible, but little by little, day by agonizing day, he saw it too. He took note of the lack of eye contact, Stan's brown eyes landing anywhere but Mike's.

Cans of beer, drained bottles of vodka between them, but never wine or champagne. Take out and TV dinners, which Michael knew Stan hated, eaten at the table that was silent where there was once laughter and conversation. Now there was only a creaky wooden table and two grown men on either side, both of which had nothing to say.

They were both slowly but surely taking extra shifts at work, avoiding that dreaded house that was once a home, avoiding each other's vacant yet pleading looks. Mike and Stan's relationship was hanging by a fraying thread.

•••

It was Saturday and Mike was closing up the library as it was now about eight in the afternoon. He decided to come home early. Stan was home, he finally got a day off from work.
There was no telling if this really was the right time but Mike wouldn't sit by and let his relationship with the love of his life go down the drain. There had to be a way to fix this, fix them.

"Until death do us part...," he breathed as he stepped through the doors of a pharmacy.

He clasped his hands together in an attempt to warm them up. It was late winter now in Derry, Maine. As Mike ventured further into the almost empty building that smelled of mildew and rain water, he tucked his hands into the deep pockets of his trench coat.

The man walked until he was standing in the middle of the candy aisle, already reaching for the gummy worms, Stan's favorite. He would even go as far as saying they were the male's guilty pleasure. He wasn't a fan of the sour ones, but the sweet ones were like gold to Stanley, especially when drunk.

Mike smiled at the thought and moved over to the next aisle, holding the candy close to his chest, feeling as if Stan was right there with him, trying to persuade him for another stupid bag of gummy worms.
-
"Mike, think about it," a giggly Stan had said. He was pushed flush against Mike's side, nose and cheeks rosy from too much to drink, "three bags of gummy worms last longer."

Mike had hummed softly and brushed one of Stan's golden curls from his forehead before kissing him there.

"Sorry to break it to you, bird boy, but you would end up eating them all yourself in one night."
-
Mike chuckled to himself at the memory, back when things weren't going downward. He often wondered when things had gotten the way they were, at what point had Mike and Stan started to push away from each other.

They had been perfect for each other before, their personalities had always clicked and they were just about the cutest most intellectual couple in Derry.
As well as the most hated. Mike never let the hate get to him and neither did Stan.

The negativity came from all directions. Whether it was Stan's parents that stayed on his case for not marrying another Jew, or Derry casting nasty looks and degrading slurs about them being gay and an interracial couple. Yet, even through all that, the couple continued to show their affection for each other no matter where they were and whom they were with because at the end of the day they still had a group of friends who loved them to pieces, the losers.

Mike hated lying to them though, telling them that him and Stan were okay when really they weren't, they both knew they weren't but neither really wanted to admit it out loud.

Were they falling out of love?

Mike pushed on to the counter of the drug store now with the candy, setting them on the counter and pulling out his wallet.

"The refill for Stanley Uris please..," he had answered the pharmacist.

Stanley had been on anti-depressants since IT.
They left him more anxious than normal and a boarder line insomniac. Mike hated seeing the pastel purple bags that hung under Stan's eyes but he needed the medicine, the little pink pills that left him almost in a high state. He took two pills at night, every other night.

When Mike finally entered the house it was almost nine and the sun had long gone down. He kicked off his shoes at the door, hung up his coat on the rack, sat the bags on the table, Mike was home.

It was silent but he knew Stan was here. He wanted to make a joke, lighten the mood and yell 'honey, I'm home!' but decided against it.

"Mike! Is that you?" Stan's voice floated through the house like warm honey, washing over Mike in the most comforting way. He really was in love with this man and it sucked that they were going through a rough patch, but why?

"Yeah. Just me...," Mike was hoping there was some type of good news to hear. He had always been a positive person.

Stan walked down the stairs wearing Mike's sweater and a pair of cotton shorts. His hair was all over the place as if he had just woken up and Mike was in awe. They looked at each other and Mike went to say something but found that nothing came out.

"What? Is there something on my-"

"No- no, you look beautiful that's all," Mike answered as Stan started to reach up to touch his face. He pulled Stan's wrists into his hands and kissed both of them, something that used to make Stan blush but now there was nothing there.

Mike cleared his throat, "I brought your favorite candy and your refill."

"Thanks.." Stan's eyes looked away from him now as he went to pick up the bags on the table, there was always something in Stan's eyes, dark and far away.

"We could watch a movie, we don't have to but if you want..we could." Michael swallowed down the rest of his rambling when Stan's eyes landed back on his, his eyes held darker circles now.

"I have work in the morning."

"Stanley, please. Just watch a movie with me."
He was on the verge of begging the other one, getting down on one knee as if proposing again and just grabbing Stan's hand and pleading.

He just wanted time with him, all time was good time even through the tension.

In the end, Stan gave in and they watched the movie, both on separate ends of the couch neither one really interested. Mike would sometimes inch closer but Stan would tense up and he would retreat to his end of the couch. Somewhere through the movie, Stan fell asleep.

Mike turned off the movie.

Stan was the definition of breathtaking. His skin was a pale ivory and his hair was a golden mess of curls. The man was mumbling in his sleep and Mike listened softly as Stan named birds. He was mumbling them so forcefully it started to scare Mike a bit but he stayed put next to Stan, next to his lover.