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Ok, so it should be noted that at this point in time that Stan was unsure how to tell a well-structured story when his life was completely and utterly fucked in chaos.
At this point Stan felt like his life was a shitty low budget show on Netflix, and he was on like season five where the writers were making up dumb shit to keep the plot interesting...but it didn't make any sense to anyone, especially not to Stan. His very own Riverdale...Standale.
"Why the fuck....how the fuck...what the fuck..." Stan panicked, pacing up and down Richie's room, where Bev, Mike, Eddie and Ben had also joined him and Richie in this Losers club emergency. Stan did feel bad that he ditched Bill...litterally, he ran in that moment Richie called him.
But this was an emergency, and Stan was in panic mode, aka, self-destruct mode. "We can only answer one at a time Stan...and we need you to breathe" Richie tried to calm him down and Stan glared at him.
"Ok, ok" Stan muttered, placing his hands behind his head in an attempt to calm himself down. "Why, let's go with why?"
Richie sighed, looking over to Bev, as if he was too tired to go through this emotional trauma more than once. "We talked to Rue, apparently, to no one's surprised whatsoever, Bowers is fucked deep in drugs" She said "They talk apparently, something to do with his relationship with his dad"
"Ok, old news the guy's fucked up in more ways than that, it doesn't mean shit" Stan said, gnawing the sleeves of his hoodie as he panicked.
Mike gabe him a sympathetic look, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Richie says he was one of the people who won a bear off him..."
"And after a few eavesdropping sessions and minor offences of breaking into the English staffroom..." Eddie said, the tone in his voice suggesting that no, no it was not minor for him and yes, yes he did panic as if he was set on fire.
"We found that he's been writing English essay's in his spare time...we got Bill to read them...the kid's an ultimate nerd, certificate by the expert himself" Ben said, and Stan felt his entire body drown in itself.
"No, no, no" Stan muttered to himself. "So what? They all line up, that doesn't mean shit, it doesn't...it can't, don't you think I would've known-"
"How Stan?" Richie asked. "How would've you known? No one is blaming you, don't worry"
Stan sighed, leaning against the wall and sinking to the floor, holding his head in his hands. Richie sat down next to him, wrapping arms around his shoulders before Stan sunk into him resting his head on his lap. "What the fuck do I do know?" He asked.
"What we've done everytime there's a new suspect, try to prove it isn't them" Richie said, running his finger through Stan's hair, in a rhythmic pattern that wouldn't disupt anything in his head, no internal consequences.
Stan sat up, giving him a small smile. "Momentary truce?"Richie suggested "We'll work together this time?"
Stan's smile grew, "The world better watch out though...when we're a team...everyone loses" He said, before they participated in an improvised, awkward handshake...which we'll pretend was as cool as Stan's life, for the sake of both of their self-esteems.
