timing : stozier

43

august 15/16

tw: suicide mention !!

richie swallowed his doubt. he had to do this. getting up, he took a sip of water from the bottle on his nightstand. his mouth felt incredibly dry. he somehow knew his breath probably stank. he wandered to his bedroom door and sighed to himself.

once outside the house, it wasn't a very long walk, around 20 seconds, and he knocked on stanley's front door. the door swung open, stanley's father standing there. richie froze.

"uh... hello... sir," richie said meekly, always a little afraid of him.

"hello richie. were you wondering if stan was free?" stan's dad asked the question for richie, all he had to do was nod. he straightened his back a little. "i'll ask." stan's dad then walked away, leaving richie standing alone at a closed door.

"hi, rich. you could've texted," stan opened the door soon after, slipping his shoes on and stepping out the door. richie, silent, shook his head. they walked down the sidewalk, richie leading him somewhere.

"my parents took my phone, i won't have it 'till september." richie said, stanley humming an "oh" sort of noise. richie didn't sound like himself. 

they made their way down to a path silently, and stan began to clue into where richie was taking him. 

"richie? are you okay?" stan finally took richie's hand, out of sight of any houses. on that path, there in the forest, there weren't any to be seen.

"i want to tell you something." richie's fingers slowly closed on stan's. his voice was hardly audible over the noise of rushing water.

"okay." stanley replied, watching as richie stepped onto the bridge they had been to so long ago. he stepped onto it behind richie, taking bigger steps to catch up.

once richie reached the middle of the bridge, he sat down. their interconnected hands brought stan down with him. richie mumbled for a while to himself, stanley looking confused. richie cleared his throat. 

"i know, that for a long time, i said it was fine, and that nothing was happening. but—well—i lied." richie said, letting go of stan's hand. stan's eyebrows twisted upwards in concern.

"what are you talking about?" stanley asked.

"just, let me finish." richie said, stan nodding.

"i lied, because i didn't want you to worry about me, because you didn't deserve that burden. and-and because i thought that nobody cared enough to ever ask. but-but i owe you the truth. it's not fine. it hasn't been fine since i was really little." richie was speaking quickly, and stanley struggled to understand him. richie's eyes were watering.

"i am afraid to go home most days, stan. i don't think he'll ever really do anything bad, but hasn't he? and she does nothing to leave him, an-and i don't fucking get why! i-i've been hit with bottles, and cups, and his fucking fists. i hate talking about this, i sound so fucking pitiful," richie spat as he talked, screeching a little. stanley then knew what he was talking about.

"i hate him! i fucking hate him! but i don't, really, because he fucking left me, and for some fucked up reason, i wanted him to come home again. i wanted to be hit again. i asked for it. i fucking deserved it." richie was half-shouting, very clear over the rushing water.

"hey, you did not deserve that. i'll say it until you get it, okay? you do not deserve to be treated any less because you're attached to your father. that's normal, richie. he's your dad. you don't deserve to be hit." stanley cut richie off, shaking his head.

"don't i, though?" richie's internal dam broke, and soon enough his tears were rushing waters of his own, pouring out rapidly. "when did i ever do anything right? when have i ever been enough?" richie took off his glasses and attempted to throw them across the bridge, but stan caught them in his hand. he put them on the collar of his own shirt.

"richie... you're more than enough. you make so many people happy so much just by existing. you've always been far more than enough, rich." stanley assured richie, who shook his head rapidly. stan felt so nervous, not sure he was saying the right things. 

"i-i can't give you what you want! how is that enough?" richie exclaimed.

"what do you mean?" stanley cocked his head.

"sex! i-i'm scared, an-and not ready, and i'm sorry! i don't know what's wrong with me, stan! i wish i fucking did. i really wish i did..." richie trailed off, looking out at the water.

"woah, richie, i don't just want sex. i'll wait for you. i'd be perfectly happy just sit and look at you for the rest of my life. i never want to pressure you into sex, or anything for that matter, alright?" stan cautioned, reaching a hand out for richie to take. richie ignored it and stood up, instead.

"and-and i know this sounds fucking pitiful, okay, but about five months ago, i sat on this railing. it was really fucking windy, and i kept hoping some big breeze would come, and take me off the bridge. i know it sounds stupid, okay, but-but i didn't wanna be here an-anymore," an unfortunate habit richie had picked up from somewhere (probably bill) was stammering when he spoke while crying, and he couldn't stop hiccuping, either.

"richie, i'm so glad it didn't work. there are so many people who care for you, and love you, okay? we'll help you get out of your house, okay? we'll get you the help you need." stanley stood up too, his eyes watering a little too.

"and right now, my brain can't stop telling me to just do it." richie whispered, stan shaking his head, "i'm not going to. but god, stan, i want to." richie's hands were shaking uncontrollably, and he shoved them into stanley's, who took them in his own.

"richie... what can i do for you right now?" stanley asked, richie's lip quivering. taking stan by surprise, richie kissed him briefly, and then shut his eyes. he fell into stan's arms, who wrapped them around richie tightly.

"i love you," stanley murmured into richie's ear.

"i'm in love with you," richie muttered back, "i'm sorry you got stuck with me."