new kid - stozier

5. Waking Up the Neighborhood

Bill Denbrough's basement was damp, dark, and downright fucking terrifying. Some evil demonic creature was stirring in there, Bill knew it, but everyone he's ever talked to about it never understood. They laughed it off, either nervously or hysterically. The only person who believed him was Richie. Richie was a sensible person to an extent. He knew how to sniff out anyone's lies, and Billy sure wasn't lying on this one.

Bill's a storyteller, a damn good one. The way he pieces words together on the spot makes it seem like he's rehearsed these words to someday use them. A habit of his is to add things to stories. He doesn't call it lying, rather stretching the truth. It works, most times. Especially when he tries to make up a reason why he's late to class but takes too much of the teachers time that they brush it off. All adults and children brush it off. Usually too awkward to wait for Bill to form a coherent sentence through his stutter. Eddie never did though, neither did the losers. So, now, sitting in Bill's living room, the losers enjoy his story about God knows whatever pops into his mind at the moment.

All were content with one another while a movie played as background noise. Bev laying her head on Richie's thigh as the rest of her body was draped on the couch. Rich carding his long fingers through her delicate, untamed hair. Stanley drawing in his journal, Ben and Mike watching Bill intently, and Eddie lying in between Bill's thighs while occasionally reaching up to softly caress his cheek whenever his stutter gets a little too out of hand.

Richie looks down and sees the girl's eyes shut and mouth slightly agape. Soft, delicately woven breaths escaped and created a soft whistle. Richie smiled to himself and carefully maneuvered Beverly's head out of his lap and onto a pillow.

"I'm gonna go outside and smoke a cigarette," Richie bent down, "You're welcome to keep me company, bird boy." His breath tickled Stanley's ear and made him feel bubbly, like a can of soda. A blush crept up Stan's chest and made its way into his cheeks. Luckily, Richie was far out of sight.

"Go keep him company," Mike smirked while softly punching Stan's shoulder.

"I... I don't know. I mean wh-what if I bother him?"

"Stanley, if he didn't want you to keep him company, he wouldn't have offered," Mike said, his eyes soft and his voice even softer, but the encouragement was slowly dripping off his words like honey. It stuck to Stanley and, as if in a trance, he slowly uncrossed his legs and got up, gave a warm smile to Mike, and took hesitant steps toward the sliding glass door.

Looking through the door, he saw a dark shadow sitting on the steps and smoke dancing in the air. He dragged the door open, just enough to get his skinny figure out the house, and walked towards Richie. He muttered a quick "hey" before Richie whipped his head up and smiled.

"Hey Stanthony, glad you could come."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Dick," Stan replied with a slight smirk.

Richie glanced up at Stan and placed his hand over his heart in fake hurt. His facial expression stunned, yet there was a sparkle in his eyes that showed it was just him being him.

"That hurt," Richie said with his eyebrows tightly knitted together, but a slight smirk made its way to the corner of his loud mouth. His hand made its way from his chest to his mouth as he took an exceptionally long drag from his cigarette. He tilted his head back, enough for his curls to bounce away from his forehead. At that moment, the only word Stanley could use to describe this boy was

Ethereal

"Hm?" Richie raised his eyebrows and directed his attention, all his attention, to Stan.

"Um...N-nothing," Stanley stammered. Shit, I said that out loud. A nervous blush made its home in his cheeks and a sly smile enveloped in Richie's dumb face. Richie's beautiful dumb face.

"Come," Richie waved to Stan. "I didn't invite you out here to stand and gawk at me."

"I am not gawking at you!" Stan rolled his eyes as he took reluctant measures towards the step Richie was sitting on."

"Yeah, yeah. Tell Stan Jr. that."

In response, Stan looked down to only look up again with a ruby red face and Richie laughing his ass off. With the sight unfolding in front of him, Stanley couldn't help but giggle. He sat down next to Richie.

"Chill out, you're going to wake the whole neighborhood."

"Shit, you're right Stan," Richie said in between giggles. "I'd rather wake them up when you're screaming my name."

Stanley watched blankly as Richie took one last hit before putting out his cigarette. Then, the realization hit him faster than he could punch the other.

"Richie! you are so dead!"

At that moment, Richie leaped up and ran through the opening Stan left in the sliding glass door. Stanley, close behind, was met with an unhappy Bill Denbrough and a smug-looking Richie.

"D-do you g-guys want to wake the whole f-f-fucking neighborhood? Keep the clownery to a minimum, p-please?"

Richie glanced at his watch and his eyes widened with surprise. By this time, everybody was in the living room passed out in their sleeping bags.

"Fuck, Stan. It's almost 5 am."

"What?!"

"Shh dipshit, you're going to wake everyone."

"Sorry. What?!" Stanley half-whispered. Then, his expression softened and out of nowhere a smile crept its way on his face. Before he knew it, he was stifling a giggle.

"What's so funny?" Richie asked with his eyebrows raised and his stupid smirk.

"It's just... I'm always the first to pass out," Stanley replied through giggles," and here I am at 4 am with you, Trashnouth Tozier, of all people."

"Is that a personal attack?" Richie drew his eyebrows together and made a pout as he looked at his feet.

"What? No!" Stanley cautiously made his way to Richie. "I didn't mean it that way, I-"

Richie's head snapped up so Stanley was face to face with a wide, toothy grin.

"Jee, Stanny Boy, I didn't expect an apology. Jus' a wee ol' smack on the shoulder shoulda done the trick."

"You are the definition of an idiot, you know that Rich?" Stan said flatly, walking to his sleeping bag.

Sorry, Staniel. No hard feelings, eh?" Richie turned and extended his arms as if he was welcoming a hug from a fucking ghost, but instead, he was greeted with Stan flipping him off from under his sleeping bag.

"No hard feelings," Richie muttered under his breath, barely even audible for him, and smiled. Genuinely smiled.

-

AHHHH IM BACK. sort of. HELLO, I MISSED THIS SO MUCH AND I WISH I COULD SAY I WAS DOING SOMETHING FUN DURING MY SUMMER INSTEAD OF WRITING BUT NAHHHH. I just caught the case of summer depression. smh. ANYWAYS IM GETTING ACTUAL HELP AND I HOPE MY MENTAL HEALTH IS GONNA BE FINE SO I CAN UPDATE MORE AHAH. Also, schools starting and that a nono from me. I hope I didn't lose any readers hehe :')

in the meantime, you can follow me on instagram ;) @ toxiic.toziier

word count: 1237