ethereal : it oneshots

bloodied petals

pairing: stozier

a/n: this was originally a prologue for a hanahaki au i was going to write BUT I NEVER DID WHO IS SURPRISED... anyway. i have written a lot of introduction chapters for books that i will never make more of so let me know if you want me to post those here.

tw: disordered eating behaviours due to the hanahaki vomiting 

 "you dirty little rascal, you! " he insulted me, and yet i was smiling. smiling slyly, of course, but a smile nonetheless. he smacked me lightly on the shoulder, and i rolled my eyes and turned to bill. i snacked on the fry i had stolen from richie, and i started a new conversation.

"you been up to much, bill?" i asked, smacking my lips loudly (richie hates that noise) to make sure he heard it. bill laughed quietly, knowing what i was doing.

"i m-u-muh-mean i just suffered in french for an hour, so th-there's that." bill answered my question anyway, pointing to the worksheets he had spread across the table. i nodded, god french was a fucking bore. i already knew most of it, anyway. the only reason it was worth it was because of--

richie was now talking to eddie, who had just sat down at the table. i got the terrible misfortune of turning around right as richie placed a sloppy kiss on eddie's lips, who giggled and smiled. ideally, i would not have seen that, but i was simply that unfortunate. i don't have great luck.

suddenly, my throat grew itchy. i knew what this meant, i was no amateur to my own feelings. i patted bill on the shoulder and got up quickly, mouthing and signing "bathroom" before rushing out of the cafeteria. bill watched me go but didn't come with, i think he's caught on. i haven't explicitly told him, but he's not as ignorant as richie or eddie.

my tongue felt bitter, and i made it into a stall in time, a cough building. i heaved, and my insides dyed violet escaped me, and i gagged at the tangible object growing in my throat. i had to reach into my mouth a little to pull it out, but it's not like i wasn't used to that.

i realized around this point that there was someone in the stall next to me, but that wasn't my greatest worry. moreover, i was worried about the stuff i was picking out of my mouth, trying not to excessively bleed. i tasted nothing but iron. it's not a good taste, i won't lie to you.

after i finished my session, one of many in a day, i leaned against the stall door. inside, i knew it was gross, god knows whose piss, shit, and jizz is on the inside of a stall door in a school bathroom. either way, i found myself thinking about richie.

i mean, of course i was thinking about richie. his dumb fucking grimace, and his loud laugh, his ugly glasses. honestly, have you ever seen uglier glasses? i'm thankful for them though, if he wore attractive glasses? i would be vomiting every goddamn day. psh, like i'm not anyway.

not the point. sorry.

so i got up and went back to the cafeteria, because i don't think most people shit for longer than five minutes unless they've got some kind of issue going on. he didn't even notice i was gone. of course he didn't. instead, he was holding eddie's hand, and he was laughing (loudly) at something eddie had said.

"stan! i need your help," mike said, like i could help him, "what is conditionnel for french?" i'm basically my friend's saving grace when it comes to french, i'm not sure why. i guess i excel in languages? i find that all my friends excel in something, and mine happens to be languages. richie's is public interaction. who is surprised there?

richie. fucking richie. he's something special, you know. never before have i heard of someone who is so loved and yet so hated at the same time. people love to hate other people, right? anyway,

"it's... it's would, and could and should and stuff like that, y'know?" i've told mike this several times, enough that i knew his next question.

"but... how do i conjugate it?" mike asked his next question meekly and i rolled my eyes and pulled out my binder. i'm sort of used to this kind of thing by now.

i like schedules, and i find that my friends work on a schedule too. mike needs french help every lunch, richie talks to me until eddie shows up, in which he shuts me out, bill yearns for mike from a distance (tell me, who's surprised?), beverly and ben just... kind of... sit there. they're a little awkward around each other, honestly. i think ben might have confessed. not sure there. and eddie? uh... i don't know. eddie scoffs at richie's jokes and yet he huffs and crosses his arms when richie isn't around. when he's not acting like cruella de vil, he's giggly and good-natured with richie.

and as for myself... i watch richie and eddie, and i cough up the bushes worth of brambles in my belly. i know why. i have known why for a long time. they say i have approximately one year left. until death, duh. i graduate in about one year. fun little grad present for all my friends, granted i still have them. i haven't told anyone (though as i mentioned, bill might know), and they all believe i have an extremely small bladder. better that than the truth though, i suppose.

and i'm not getting that dumb surgery. i will die like this, because i would rather die at the hands of richard wentworth tozier than not want for him to look at me the way he looks at eddie. i will cough and cough until i have no voice left to tell richie how i feel. i know that it wouldn't matter, even if i could say it. it's not like he could do anything about it. oh well.

"stan, for me and eddie, how do you eat cake. with a fork or a spoon?" richie asked, and i turned my head away from mike, looking to the oh-so-happy couple. honestly, it's like richie wants me to die quicker.

"a fork," i mumbled, turning back to mike. i heard richie rejoice, followed by what i assumed were kisses in revenge, or something. see, if i do not witness it, i've gotten pretty good at pretending it's not richie. still, makes life hard.

"i told you, baby! " richie said, eddie whining in response. i almost smacked my head into the table. instead, i told mike the vous conjugation for conditionnel (for er verbs, that is. iez, if you cared) and brushed hair out of my face.

mike seemed to be holding his breath as i talked, and i realized my breath probably stank of vomit, and other fun things. you would not believe how fast i grabbed a mint from my bag, and i saw mike's shoulders relax. my bad, mike.

the mint tasted a little bloody, still, but that's okay. that's normal, i suppose. i wonder if he could tell what the smell was. i hope not. either way, he relaxed. i continued to teach him conditionnel until i was tired and lunch was almost over. by the end of lunch, i was almost asleep.

"you're so nice, stan, thank you," and yet, mike, not nice enough. not nice enough for him. of who just kissed eddie goodbye. i found it weird that he didn't walk eddie to his class. i've only ever been in one (shitty, doesn't really count) relationship, but that feels like something you do in high school.

and this was a part of richie's schedule. yet, he hadn't walked eddie anyway. perhaps today was an anomaly. under that belief, i packed everything up into my bag as i got up. richie walked over to me and smacked his hands down on the table in front of me. i widened my eyes dramatically while i looked up to him.

"what?" i asked, swinging my backpack around my shoulder.

"staniel, do you want to hang out after school today?" and there was a small prick in my throat. i cleared it. i put my backpack on properly and nodded.

"sure, rich."