ethereal : it oneshots

four day week

pairing: none but good supportive platonic stozier

tw: suicide attempts !! the way that i can't stop writing vent one shots i'm sorry

day one ! seizure

stanley woke up, feeling rather sick, if he was to be honest. hungover was almost the right way to describe it, considering the alcohol and all, but that wasn't really the main problem.

the main problem? stanley had woken up.

he was lying on his side, although he was sure he did not go to sleep like that. he spit out the gross taste in his mouth into the newborn bowl on the ground, and he wasn't quite sure where that was from either. he was afraid to think about it.

soon enough, he found out why.

"how could you do that? do you want me and your mother to fucking die of a heart attack? "

"you piece of shit, you take everything we do for you for granted! "

he showed up to school with a black eye, which, to be fair, was not that bizarre or rare for him. it went undetected by most people, anyway, because he had sunglasses on. once again, not very rare for him. as rare as it seemed, he called it, "fashionable" to anyone who questioned him.

maybe richie had been rubbing off on him.

speak of the devil, richie was the first one of his friends to approach stanley. stan looked up from his locker only to see richie bounding towards him, putting his hand on the top of the locker and accidentally shutting it. it caught stan's attention.

richie opened his mouth to say hello, but his eyes finally took note of the sunglasses, and his face softened. "oh, shit..." richie partially removed stanley's glasses, checking the bruise, and sliding them back onto his nose.

stanley was used to richie handling him gently like he was fine china to be broken. he would've rolled his eyes at richie being so soft, except with three bruises framing one of his eyes, it hurt a little.

"what did he do? " richie asked quietly, and stanley decided not to answer. especially because--and stanley could've been wrong but--richie most likely knew the smell of drunk vomit, and stan didn't want to take any chances. he had brushed his teeth, but it didn't especially matter. it would come through, he knew that.

"okay, well, if you do want to talk about it, i'm--hey!" richie cut himself off, leaning now against the locker next to stanley's. stan followed richie's line of vision to bill, who waved them good morning as he approached. stanley opened his locker and continued what he had been doing.

day two ! cast

stanley found himself at the hospital this time, which, honestly, was not wanted. 

he hated the hospital in every way, shape, or form. he never used to dislike it, but with more and more frequent visits, he came to hate it. he no longer blamed eddie for hating the hospital. 

he lied in his bed, which he thought entirely useless, it wasn't like he was paralysed. instead, he had two casts, one on each arm, and he sat up against the wall. in the chair next to him was richie, twiddling with his thumbs as he looked up to stan.

"what? " stanley muttered, knowing richie was staring at him.

"you know what i want to ask."

"why?"

"why."

it was stanley's turn to twiddle with his thumbs, where he hummed an incomprehensible answer.