"oh you haven't gone home, good," richie said, rolling into stanley as he woke up. stanley groaned in response, his head hurting. richie, his eyes still closed, just kinda reached his arms out, and they smacked into stanley's chest.
stanley's fingers folded over richie's hand and kept it on his chest.
richie's eyes opened, and he had a realization upon his eyes focusing. well, not really focusing, everything was extremely fuzzy still, but that was to be expected without his glasses on. nevertheless--back to the point--richie noticed dots of colour along stanley's neck.
"wh..." richie let out, half in concern and half in confusion.
"what?"
"you-huh-you're, uh, you've got some hickeys, bright ones," richie coughed, smacking his and stanley's hands against stan's chest.
"oh, shit, what?"
"who-uh-who gave you those?" richie asked, stanley's face shading pink as he appeared to think about it. he scratched the side of his head. richie yawned.
"i-" stanley then yawned as well, "i don't know,"
"h-how do you not know?"
either tell me you know or make something up
"i just don't remember."
"well, they look worse than the ones betty gave you," at this, stanley looked to richie like a wounded puppy, and richie bit his tongue. while stan had said he wasn't affected by him and betty breaking up, there was a solid chance he was. it was sorta like stanley to lie. "sorry. didn't mean to bring her up."
"no, no, it's fine, i don't really care," see? it was like stanley to lie.
"you know, it's okay if you do, uh, care." richie said, ignoring that his hand was still in stanley's, on stanley's bare chest.
"thanks, rich, but it's... i don't know it's stupid. it was nice to be wanted." stanley let go of richie's hand to his dismay, and richie's fingers felt so cold without them.
"i get that." richie chewed on the inside of his lip.
"i know we're only teenagers, and it wasn't like i loved her, nothing close but--"
"it was nice to imagine you could've."
"yeah." stanley chewed on his cheek. "how'd you know that?"
"i sorta feel like that with greta. i know she only wants me for my massive horsecock," stanley snickered a little, and richie's fingers felt warmer, "but if i was straight, you know, maybe we could be happy. stupid, but happy," richie said.
"oh."
"but yeah, it would be nice to be wanted. especially by the right person." richie's voice almost sounded bitter, but it went undetected by stanley.
stanley yawned again.
"do you have coffee?" stanley asked, richie nodding as he rolled his feet over the edge of the bed. stanley got up on the other side while richie stared at the ground, gritting his teeth.
"it's in the kitchen. i'll be there in a second. and, uh, you can borrow that sweater, to cover them up, if you want."
"okay. thanks rich,"
richie wandered to the bathroom, taking a shirt with him. he looked into the mirror and nearly choked. anything he had said about stanley's measly one or two hickeys was nothing compared to what richie was looking at.
"fuck," richie muttered, fitting the shirt over his head and grabbing a comb, tugging it through his hair violently. why hadn't stanley said anything about those? they were kinda impossible not to notice. did he fucking remember or not?
"so, i've decided on instant coffee, because quite simply i'm too lazy to make actual coffee," stanley remarked upon richie's entrance into the kitchen.
"well, stanley, maybe you just need to learn that instant coffee isn't that much worse than french press anyway, and you just think it is because you're pretentious."
"how fucking dare you-"
"oh, go home if you're so offended," richie scoffed mockingly, stanley exhaling through his nose and continuing to use the instant coffee machine.
"not a chance."
"how lucky we are to host you in our home." richie took down two mugs, the two that they always used when they were together at richie's house. richie's was a gift from stanley, it was quite frankly the ugliest mug he'd ever seen. stanley's was one with an engraving from the gift shop at portland head lighthouse. stanley just liked that it was the only matte mug.
"shut up," stanley took richie's mug out of his hands and put it under the machine's tap, then leaning against the counter. "so, how's your situation?" stanley gestured to the neck.
"oh, so you did notice those," richie said, stanley giving him a weird look. shit. "yeah, i..." he couldn't even use greta as an excuse, stanley knew he was gay. fuck. "i don't know if i should out the guy who gave them to me, he's like... really closeted."
"oh, but you know who it was?"
"yeah, i was drunk as fuck, but not bad enough to not remember who, unlike you, apparently," richie hadn't meant for it to come out as mean as he said it.
"ouch." stanley handed him the mug back, now full 3/4 (richie liked milk) with coffee.
"sorry, i... did not mean for it to come out like that."
"nah, it's okay. as long as i didn't accidentally get another girlfriend while drunk, i think i'm okay with not knowing who these came from." stanley said, focusing on the coffee machine. he avoided richie's gaze.
girlfriend. right.
"um... anyway they," richie motioned to his chest, "are bright as hell, but i figure it'll be alright, 'cause they're pretty low down." he thought for a moment, "and you, staniel, are turning into quite the manwhore."
"it was one girl, dude,"
"how do you know that?"
"oh fuck off,"
