Beams of afternoon sunlight shone through Stan's bedroom window, giving the pristine, white walls a pleasant glow. The feeling in the room was peaceful as Stan and Richie studied for their upcoming biology test.
Stan sat poised at his neatly organized desk, black pen in hand as he carefully printed out his notes, highlighting key sections. He copied out various diagrams of animals in great detail, down to the most miniscule nerves. It was important for Stan to ace this test, just as it was for any assignment, quiz or examination.
Richie was sprawled across Stan's bed, staring up at the ceiling and twirling a pencil between his long fingers, papers distributed across the room in seemingly random piles, much to Stan's distaste. Richie didn't care for studying and he knew that he didn't really need to. He was well aware that he'd do well on the test without review, just as he always did.
Hours passed with minimal conversation between the two boys, but neither of them minded. As best friends, they were completely comfortable in eachother's company. The only sounds to fill the room were the constant scribbles of Stan's pen on notepad and the occasional chirp of a bird through the open window.
Near the three-hour mark, Stan set down his pen with a heavy sigh, resting his head in his hands.
"You alright there, Stanny?" Richie asked absentmindedly as he shuffled some of his papers with no real purpose.
Stan let out a groan. Stressed was all he said in response, not bothering to look up.
"You're gonna do fine." The other boy said confidently as he sat up to face Stan. "You always do fine."
Stan looked up at Richie, rolling his eyes. "Not always." He closed his notebook and clipped it into its appropriate binder.
"Pretty much always." Richie replied, taking cues from his friend to pack up, grabbing whatever random papers were in sight and stuffing them into his backpack. "It'll probably be an easy test anyway, it's like the third week of school."
As he slid his pens and highlighters into their correct spots in his desk, Stan shot a glare in Richie's direction. "Easy enough for you to say. It's not like any of this is hard for you."
Richie threw his hands up defensively with a grin. "It's not my fault I was blessed with the brain of a genius."
Stan scoffed. "No offense Rich, but you're nowhere near genius."
The taller boy tossed his backpack towards the door and pushed up his obscenely large glasses, face displaying a pout. "Now that stings."
"Oh shut up." Stan quipped, pivoting his chair to face Richie, who was perched on the end of the bed.
"Say what you want about my photographic memory but it came in handy last night when I walked in on your mom-"
"One more word, Trashmouth, and you'll be sorry you ever existed." Stan threatened, cutting the other boy off.
Richie burst out laughing, throwing himself back onto the bed and wiping tears from his eyes. "Stan my man, you crack me up."
Stan couldn't help but smile and let out a small laugh in return. Despite the constant stress and anxiety he felt, he knew he'd always have Richie Tozier to make him feel better. He thanked his lucky stars every day that he'd met his best friend back in elementary school, otherwise he didn't knew where he'd be.
He glanced at his watch, happy to see that his parents wouldn't be home for another couple hours. With a content sigh, Stan slid out of his chair and onto the clean, carpeted floor, laying down on his back. He interlocked his fingers and rested his hands on his chest, closing his eyes. He smiled when he felt Richie's body relax on the ground beside him.
The two boys lay there for quite some time, just basking in the warmth of the sun. After a while, Stan opened his eyes, watching as Richie twiddled his thumbs nimbly, unable to keep still.
When they were children, Stan would get easily annoyed with Richie's jokes and constant movements. Now, he simply adored the other boy's quirks; they were what made Richie so unique. On the opposite end, Stan was well aware that Richie accepted and understood his obsessive habits. No one could make Stan as comfortable as Richie. They were a match made in heaven.
"Hey, Rich?" Stan said suddenly, breaking the silence.
The taller boy hummed in response, thumbs continuing their motions.
"Can I tell you something?" He asked tentatively, pondering a thought that had been crossing his mind almost every day for three months. He was scared, and nervous, but it seemed a good a time as any to lift a serious weight off of his shoulders.
"'Course you can."
Stan thought over his words carefully, wondering if it was the appropriate time to speak his mind. Another couple minutes passed before he took a deep breath, deciding to seize his opportunity, and keep it as straight-to-the-point as possible. He was a straight-to-the-point guy.
"I'm gay," he stated simply.
Richie sat up abruptly, glasses nearly flying off his face. Readjusting them quickly, he searched Stan's face frantically, looking for signs of deceit, but finding none. Stan was dead serious. "Really?" He asked excitedly.
"Really." Stan replied, propping himself up on his elbow for support, chewing his bottom lip nervously. He had no idea what Richie's response would be. He couldn't figure out if this reaction was good or bad.
Richie immediately pulled the other boy into a hug, wrapping his arms around Stan tightly. The shocked boy raised his eyebrows before returning the favour. "Oh my God, this is amazing," Richie said, gripping Stan as if his life depended on it. "Me too," he whispered into Stan's shoulder.
Stan pulled back, absolutely bewildered, holding onto Richie's shoulders tightly, looking deep into his chocolate brown eyes. "Are you serious?"
"One hundred percent," he grinned, letting out a classic Richie laugh. Then he furrowed his brows. "Actually, scratch that. I'm not gay, I'm bisexual."
Stan couldn't contain his joy as he wrapped his arms around Richie once again. The reaction he received from the other boy was so much better than he could've anticipated. Not only did Richie accept him for being gay, but he was also in a similar situation.
"How did you know?" Richie asked, breaking their embrace once again.
Stan shrugged his shoulders. "I like a boy, I guess." Then he shook his head, golden curls bouncing. "I've always liked boys."
Richie's face lit up instantly, eyes wide and bright. "Who is it?"
Stan blushed and ducked his head, avoiding Richie's gaze as he chanted tell me, tell me, tell me...
Stan looked at his best friend's eager face, rolling his eyes, and taking a shaky breath.
"Bill Denbrough."
