Summer of '93 - Stozier

46

After Stan had ran around searching for Richie, he'd driven his new car over to Bills house, feeling as if he was the only one who could help him at the moment.

"-And then he left! And I don't know what to do!"

"W-woah! Stan! S-Slow dow-down!" Bill stuttered out, grabbing his pacing friends shoulders. "What hah-happened?" He asked, gently guiding Stan over to sit on the bed.

"Im a fucking idiot!" Stan yelled.

"What did you d-do?"

"Everything was fine! Peachy! Just fucking dandy! And then Richie said something about my dad kicking me out— long story, i'll explain later— and I tried to change the subject so i turned the conversation on him, accused him of liking Eddie and then he told me he's been in love with me for four years! And then he ran off and probably won't talk to me now!" Stan explained, suddenly bursting into sobs near the end of his sentence.

Bill just sat quietly for a few seconds, unsure of what to say first as he watched his sobbing friend.

"Im a little sur-suh-surprih-hised it took him this loh-ho-long to admit it." Bill shrugged.

Stan sniffled a little, looking over at Bill with his eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or anger. "You knew?!" maybe it was both.

"We all d-di-did."

"Wh..?" Stan breathed, sniffling again. "How?!"

"How did you n-not? Its not as ih-hif he's good at h-hi-hiding it."

Stan sat quietly fiddling with his hands for a good few minutes.

"Do you like him back?" Bill asked slowly. "I get that you're still fi-figuring things out but-"

"Maybe." Stanley replied, barely above a whisper. "I don't know. Its all just so confusing.."

"Whats the confusing p-part?"

"Everything?" Stan shrugged.

"In what w-way?"

"Um.. i- i'm not sure..?" Stan sniffled, looking over at Bill once again.

"Try and ex-explaih-hain your feelings, it m-might help.. I used a journal." Bill shrugged again. "It hel-helped me, i g-guess.. Writing down my fuh-feelings, i m-mean."

"Oh.." Stan whispered. "Thats why you're always writing in that thing."

"Well?"

"Um.. okay, i guess." Stan sighed. "I- I dunno! Its stupid! I-.. you'll laugh!"

"I won't! I s-swear!" Bill stuttered.

Stanley sighed again, looking down at his hands. "I guess um..- okay so, my feelings..- ugh! I- Bill! you know i'm bad at taking about my feelings!"

"Write it then." Bill shrugged.

Stanley scoffed. "As if that helps.."

"It d-does.."

"..Fine!" Stan huffed.

Stan hadn't actually started writing until later that night. First he'd explained to Bill what had happened at home and how he had stayed at Richies the night before. Bill had offered for him to stay at his house until he felt comfortable talking to Richie again, to which Stan had hesitantly accepted after making him swear that he wouldn't tell the rest of the losers about his situation.

Bill was a good friend, but Stan still felt like a burden.
He wasn't doing well, to say the least.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Richie wasn't doing well either, he'd ran straight home after the incident and locked himself in his room.

He'd panicked at his own stupidity, as dumb as that sounds, his cheeks were tear stained from his panic attacks, which every time he'd feel like he was calming down from, another panicking thought squirmed its way into his mind, setting him off again.

He'd thought about calling Bev, perhaps Stan was right, one cigarette really can lead to two and eventually a relapse of a nicotine addiction. But he didn't do that. He didn't want to bother her, or any of his friends for that matter.

Richie had ignored his mothers questions on his way up the stairs, the questions being something along the lines of 'Why were you out so late?' 'Wheres Stanley?' 'Where have you been?' 'Are you okay?'.

She'd stayed outside his door for a half hour, continuously knocking and asking him if he was okay. She eventually left, deciding Richie would talk to her when he was ready.

Her leaving had set Richie off again, because Well fucking done, Tozier! You've upset your mom! Again! honestly why does she even put up with you? annoying prick!

It was at least 3am by the time Richie had almost fully calmed down, now just sitting crossed legged on his bed, his mind blank as he started in front of him. It was a little blurry, since he'd thrown his glasses on the floor and was now unable to find them in the dark, but he didn't mind.

He was finally broken out of his trance by the phone on his bedside table ringing loudly, causing him to snap his head towards the direction of the noise.

After the fifth ring, he answered, unable to find his voice even to say a simple 'Hello?'

The person on the other line seemed to be feeling the same, unable to speak.

It was odd, two completely silent people just breathing into a phone for a while, until eventually the person on the other line hung up.

Richie may be stupid, but he's not dumb. He could tell who it was by the repetitive tapping on the phone receiver, and the breathing pattern he'd memorised from the many quiet nights just enjoying the silence and company of one another.

of course it was Stan. Who else would it be?

The thought if it being Stanley on the other line comforted him and scared him at the same time. He wanted to erase that whole day and start again, but of course, that would be impossible, so now he'd just have to get on with his life with the constant thought that he'd ruined the best friendship that he'd ever had because he couldn't keep his damn motor mouth shut.

Maybe it wasn't such a gift after all.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•

heys its 1am and idk if i have the energy to take on the world or if im actually just tired as fuck and need sleep

n e ways

goodnight to everyone who ships stozier
to everyone else,,
*crickets*
keep that shit to urself its embarrassing