ethereal : it oneshots

holy blessed lover

pairing: stozier

a/n: short little religious thing. sorry. maybe one day i'll make a whole story about it.

it was a saturday morning when stanley fell in love with richie.

unfortunate timing, as it was at shabbat. the morning was new and bright, and it had held good hopes for stanley. it was the kind of morning where music sounded right, and every chair was comfortable. 

it had been richie, donning all white (stanley did not know why) and adjusting stanley's tallit that caused stanley to realize.

richie looked holy. he laughed at his own joke, and as his teeth shone like precious crystals, stanley couldn't help but want to cry. he wanted to weep for angels until they forgave him, he'd put out their fire with his sobs if he had to. he wanted to drip tears the way a broken car drips oil, onto the street, on his last legs, begging to change. he hadn't wanted to like a boy, let alone richie.

the morning changed. the pews turned to stone like a victim of medusa, and stanley was sure that if he looked the rabbi in the eye, he might turn to stone too. the prayer book in his hand felt so much heavier.

but he didn't cry, of course, richie would have thought he was insane. instead, stanley rolled his eyes.

the prayer book slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor. he'd never felt shame so strongly as in the moment he heard it hit the floor, like a fully lit menorah setting a tablecloth aflame. richie's expression shifted ever so slightly.

in one fell swoop, stanley picked up the book and kissed it, feeling the stare of the rabbi on his back. if only he knew, stanley thought. then, horrifically, maybe he does. richie placed a hand tenderly on stanley's shoulder. 

"are you okay?" richie's voice felt melodic, as had his laugh, and stanley felt as though he'd been blind his whole life. richie was his prayer book. stanley wanted to kiss him. he wanted his hands on 

but he didn't kiss him, of course, richie would have thought he was insane. 

"yeah, i just lost grip," stanley stayed perfectly still, hoping richie's hand on his shoulder would stay forever. yet richie brought it back to his side, crumbling any of sense of hope stanley had the same way lot's wife had.

richie mouthed "oh-kay" obnoxiously, and stanley let a smile creep onto his face.

stanley also let it drop from his face as he remembered the place he'd put himself in. if he smiled too long, richie would notice, he just knew it. stanley felt claustrophobic, despite the fact the room was large and sparse of people. richie's smile had boxed stanley into a corner.

he felt as though no amount of prayer could make up for this morning, this dreadful, beautiful morning. if angels were warriors, would they fight stanley? could any prophetic vision stop stanley from loving richie the way he did?

he gripped his prayer book the way a boxer grips his glove.

not that it would do him any good.

stanley, on an instinct, turned his heel and his head to look behind him, and found the rabbi watching him with an intent he'd never seen before. stanley indeed felt like stone.