Summer of '93 - Stozier

57

im so unmotivated sorry this took forever i really dont have the energy to write much anymore so ama just try and get this book finished as fast as i could

anyways merry christmas or if u dont celebrate christmas, i hope ur having a good day/night

also i may not be COMPLETELY SOBER writing this but stephen king was high while writing his book so ican do this
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It was finally the day of the Canal Days Festival, and most of the losers were all ready and excited to go. Of course, it didn't actually start until later that night, so the eight teens decided they'd play boardgames and hang out in Bills basement.

Eddie and Bill had made it official that they were dating a few days before, and obviously everyone was very happy for them. The two of them, including Mike, Ben and Jenny were all playing monopoly in the middle of the room. Eddie was currently winning, and he wasn't being very modest about it either.

Bev was sitting next to Ben with a magazine open in her lap, lazily flicking through the pages. Stan was laying in a blue beanbag chair, writing in his journal. He'd occasionally look up to make sure that no one could be reading it, but other than that it was all he was focused on.

Richie had been acting odd all week. He was being unusually quiet, and kept zoning out, like he was right now. Everyone knew it was unusual for Richie to be quiet and sit still for a long period of time, but whenever they'd try to check on him, he'd suddenly get a burst of energy and start being 'normal Richie'. It was obvious that he was faking it, trying not to worry the others, but there was no use in pushing him to admit anything because he just wasn't like that.

Stan peeked up from his journal at the sound of Eddie yelling, but Richie caught his attention instead. Stan had been the most concerned for Richie, because he wouldn't even talk to him, which was the weirdest part of it. Richie never kept things from Stan and Stan never kept things from Richie— or— almost never.. it was just how their friendship worked.

Richie was staring into space again, seemingly lost in his thoughts, sitting quietly on the floor with his legs crossed like a child in preschool, until Stan kicked his arm gently with his socked foot to grab his attention.

Richies head snapped in the direction of Stan, a little startled by the sudden action. He gave him a weak smile, but Stan just looked at him with  a concerned expression until Richie sighed, shuffling over to Stans beanbag chair on his knees. He sat back down on the floor with his back against the chair and rested his head on Stans side.

Stanley closed his journal quickly, tucking it into his backpack he'd left on the floor and gazed down the tired looking teen at his side. He silently raked his fingers through Richies mop of dark hair, watching his eyes flutter open and look up at Stan.

"You okay, bug?" The nickname was accidental, but it made both of them blush a dark red.

Richie pretended not to notice it and nodded slowly. "Tired." He replied simply. His voice was quiet and barely audible.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"No."

"Whats wrong then?"

Richie hesitated for a moment, opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. "Nothing." He shrugged. "Just tired."

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