"Hey, Stan!" Richie called, waving to the boy as he entered the cafeteria.
Stan quickly scurried through the tables and chairs and threw himself down next to his friend, putting his head down in his hands, breathing heavy.
"Woah," Richie said, placing his hand on Stan's back and rubbing it affectionately. "What's up with you?"
"Nothing," Stan groaned, his face still rosy from his experience with Bill just a few minutes earlier.
"Li-ar," he said in a sing-song voice, pulling his hand away and playfully punched at the other boy's shoulder until he looked up with a glare.
"Stop it," he replied, a heavy sigh. He would be lying if he said that he wished, at times, for a friend who was much less pushy than the obnoxious boy next to him. Not that he'd ever give up Richie. "I just," he started, voice caught in a mumble. "Had a run in with, well, you know..."
Richie's face broke out into that stupidly consistent grin, and clapped Stan on the back rather aggressively. "Well I'll be!" he practically shouted, not aiding in the disappearance of Stan's embarrassment in the slightest. "He's stepped up his game!"
Stan shrugged his friend's hand off his shoulder, radiating his only emotion nowadays, annoyance. "It wasn't like that, Rich," he replied, pulling his previously haphazardly thrown books into a neat stack. He wouldn't be staying in the lunch room much longer, he had just decided. "He only wanted me to help him with a history paper."
Richie noticed the habit of Stan's and knocked the pile back over, not ready to have him get up and leave just yet. Where Stan would only admit to being able to handle Richie for small portions of time, Richie would gladly scream from the rooftops - or better yet, the cafeteria table, which he had already done in the past - that he would like to spend time with his best friend forever and ever. "Well, did you?"
Stan slapped Richie's arm, stacking the books again, and putting an arm up to barricade the idiot from knocking them over again, although he did let a small smile grace his face at the gesture. "Did I what?"
"Help him with the paper," Richie clarified, taking off his glasses and beginning to clean them on Stan's neatly pressed shirt. He was not impressed, but allowed him to do it anyway because he knew the other boy would simply overpower him and further embarrass him if he even tried to stop him. So was the way with Richie Tozier.
"'Course I did," Stan shrugged. "I've 'got it bad', remember?"
That sent Richie into a fit of laughter. They both knew it was true. Stan could tell from those stupid butterflies in his stomach and Richie could tell from the colour that crept over the other boy's pale skin at the mention of anything even vaguely related to the stuttering baseball player. "Oh yeah, I forgot," he joked with a shake of his head, curly hair messed in every direction.
Speaking of which, loud voices could suddenly be heard from the table across the room where, sure enough, the boy of the hour was lounging with his equally as attractive and popular friends. Stan didn't miss the way Richie rolled his eyes at the volume of their antics.
"And that," Stan muttered, picking up his things. "Is my cue to leave." He stood up, gathering his books in his arms and turned to make for the door before Richie could stop him. The other boy knew that Stan would be too shook up from his third period experience to stick around anyway.
So with that, Stan made his way across the cafeteria in a similar fashion to how he had entered; quickly and efficiently. He figured he would just go and get a head start on that nights homework in the library - a much more appealing option than sticking around in the lunch room where his crippling social anxiety would inevitably consumed him.
As it turned out, it didn't matter whether he stayed in the cafeteria or not; he would be met with anxiety nonetheless.
Just as he had pushed through the doors into the student-filled hallway, intents of studying quickly replacing distracted thoughts of Bill Denbrough and the way his hands shook when handing his papers over that morning, one of those very same hands made a grab for his arm. Not aggressively, but it halted his trek across the school nonetheless.
Stan, unaware of the exact person who had gotten in his way, was quick to snap at the stranger. "Hey, watch it," he said, turning around, absolutely shocked to be met with the stunning blue eyes of Bill Denbrough. He immediately bit his tongue, and tried his best to stutter out an apology. "Sorry, I-"
Bill put up his hands in a defensive manner, a friendly light radiating from his face. "It's all good," he replied, putting a stop to Stan's apology, as well as his heartbeat. He gestured down the hall, to the bottom of the staircase, where the corridor was much less crowded. "Can I t-talk to you for a minute?"
Stan swallowed hard, still not entirely sure if he was dreaming. "Sure," he whispered, weakly, and felt a strong urge to pinch himself but resisted. Instead, he followed the taller boy down the hallway to the corner, books still clutched in his white-knuckled hands.
The jock leaned against the wall in a way that could only be described as 'fuckboy-esque' but Bill somehow made look attractive and endearing in a way that Stan wished it wouldn't. "So," he started, a genuine smile on his face. "The t-team is having a party at Mike's this Friday and I was w-wondering if you maybe wanted to c-come."
Stan blacked out. Bill Denbrough was asking him, Stanley Uris, to a party. He saw stars and wished he had an iron deficiency to blame it on, but he knew that he was only lightheaded out of the pure euphoria he felt. However, he also felt incredibly anxious and dumbstruck.
"Um," he started, seemingly choking on his own words. He didn't even know what to say. Not even in his wild imagination had a scenario like this even seemed like a possibility. He wasn't entirely sure how to cope. It didn't help that that stupidly blinding smile was still directed at him. Alone. Under the staircase. Stan almost laughed to himself, wondering what Richie's reaction to this whole situation would be. He'd probably think it was hilarious. "Yeah," he finished. Lame. "I'd love to." Better.
Bill stood up straighter and ran a hand through his hair. Lovely. "C-cool," he said, starting his departure from the quiet space. "I'll t-talk to you tomorrow?" he added, making it sound like a question but not waiting for the answer, turning his back on Stan with a final smile. He probably had his friends to get back to.
And in a blink of an eye, just as Stan had begun to feel that elation his chest that he knew he had been missing for months, everything was completely shattered. His world came crashing down once more.
"Oh, and bring your b-boyfriend," Bill called over his shoulder. "Y'know, Tozier."
• • •
lol, hi guys, i know it's been eight months but save your anger because i have no idea how many more of these updates i can sustain anyways. and yeah, i know it's a stozier book... we'll (hopefully) get there. love you all anyway, and thanks for reading this piece of sh*t regardless.
- c
