ethereal : it oneshots

i don't forgive you

pairing: stozier

tw: grief

i'm sorry. i don't want to get up. you told me in your stupid letter that you wanted me to move on, but like, stan, shut up.

i'm not getting up. i'm not leaving my bed. i'm just going to keep lying down for a little while. just a little while. i hate you. no i don't. i love you. i'm sorry. i didn't mean that. 

stop sending your stupid birds after me. bill keeps telling me to stop yelling at birds. but your fucking birds never stop whistling and i can't sleep. i don't care if you're trying to send a sign, please stan, let me sleep. 

not like i could sleep in the first place. sleeping means waking up, and every night i see you in my dreams. i don't want to wake up anymore. 

in my dreams, we're young again. we're never old. we're always eighteen again, learning how to love. i'm learning how to love. you always knew. you were always so sure of fucking everything. so confident and never scared of anything going wrong. it's like you knew you had no chance. you'd end up there. i'd end up here. 

my dreams never end normally. there's no conclusion, or scary jump-inducing threat to wake me. no, instead, it's random. sometimes, the dreams last months, and once it lasted two minutes (in dream time, of course). i get no choice. 

i had no choice. did you get a choice? i sorta hope you didn't. it would be all the more devastating to find out you had a choice to stay here and you didn't choose it.

it's fine. eddie will drag me out of bed, and force food down my throat until i'm conscious. and once eddie's gone, trusting i'm going to sleep, i'll find my way to the toilet and vomit until i feel as starved as a dead body.

your dead body. sorry. not to desecrate you, or disrespect the dead, or whatever.

see, here's the problem. i could get out of bed, but the grief fills my chest like i'm being waterboarded, and i don't want to fight against it. i don't know how to swim, stan. and i know that if you were here, you'd give me cpr and i'd wake up one night sputtering water out of my mouth, learning once more how to breathe. 

if i could see you just one more time, i'd learn how to breathe again. 

and the most fucked up part is, i don't think i want to learn how to breathe without you. that way, at least i know you were real. you were real, because now you're gone and you took away every will i had to keep going. i think i'll just feel a little sad for the rest of my life to prove you were real.

i think i'll miss you for the rest of my life. i know i'll miss you for the rest of my life.

in the depths of this tragedy, our friends have found love. it brought both ben and beverly together as well as bill and mike. and me? i lost mine. i hate you for that. i don't forgive you, but i still love you. i'll always love you.

i'm thinking of becoming a religious man. i'll just lie here in my bed, get on my knees if i feel so compelled, and pray all day. the idea is compelling, that i'll get to see you after i die. then again, you weren't christian, so i don't know if it all works the same. is there a jewish heaven, stan? will i see you there?

i'm just gonna lie here for a little bit.

the other day, bill told me some bullshit. i think you would've found it as funny as i did. okay, funny isn't the right word. he told me that on the days you can't see the stars, that doesn't mean they're not still there. i almost laughed for the first time in weeks. you understood how dumb that shit is. none of them did. it was even funnier because he stuttered on can't, and i totally thought he was going to say cunt. 

sorry, that was too crude. you never liked that.

fuck, i hate writing in past tense.

i'll get out of bed tomorrow.