ethereal : it oneshots

let's get married when we wake up

pairing: stozier

richie pov

i fucking hate weddings. and no, that's not just because we're broken up and i'm suffering from the breakup blues, okay? it's more than that. the food sucks most of the time, and the bar has a limit. i mean, for gods sakes, if you're going to make me watch two people snog, at least let me get plastered afterwards.

okay, maybe it's mostly because we're broken up. it's my aunt's wedding, by the way, if you couldn't figure it out. the one i invited you to six months ago. oh well, it's fine. now i'm here, alone at a seven person table. i'll just make friends with the dj, or something. 

i keep going to the bathroom to cry. pathetic, i know, but everywhere i look there's a happy couple. god, this even makes my parents look like they're in love. i hate crying in suits. there's no breathing room. and i'm afraid to get my tears on the fabric. fuck. that could have been us, stan.

well, i'll just have to find a way around that drinking limit, won't i? well, good thing i'm alone at a table of seven with pre-filled champagne glasses. don't ask me where the other six are. i don't fucking know. having sex, maybe. all together, nice and good. sorry, i'm in a weird mood. i miss you. 

anyway, they don't seem to be missing their glasses. so i'll take them. 

that, plus 3 or 4 of the strongest drinks the bar can give me, i should be good.

i can handle this. i just have to not think about you. which i'm sure will be easy, considering my internal monologue is dedicated to you. talking to you, thinking about you, you name it. 

i really don't want to be here. it's also the worst temperature in here. i miss your apartment. literally the only apartment i've been in that has never been a bad temperature. and you know me, stan! i'm very observant of temperatures!

jesus, just thinking of your apartment makes me want to cry. i still have your address memorized. and your phone number. god! fuck this, stan! i just want to be happy again. with you. 

i've got to get out of here. i've had all my drinks. i feel as drunk as i'm ever going to be. it's almost midnight, anyway. you'd just be getting to bed now. i've got to leave. i'll say goodbye to my aunt, and i'm getting the fuck out of here.

i want to see you. did you know my grandma asked about you earlier? she asked where you were and why you didn't come? what the fuck was i supposed to say? oh, well, it didn't work out, and my heart is completely shattered. i think yours is too, but i'd never tell my grandma that. i told her you were busy. 

anyway, i want you. oops! i mean, i want to see you. fuck it, why not. i know your fucking address. i'm getting in a cab, i'm coming. just gotta wait for a yellow little car to pull up, and i'm going to see you.

what if you're sleeping? i don't care, i don't care, i need to see if you're alright. if you're fine. i know this is selfish, but i don't want you to be fine. 

i'm in the cab. god, i'm tired. it's cold out. these dress pants are fine, but this jacket and shirt is going to kill me. will you even let me in?

shit-balls, i'm here. jesus, it's fucking cold! okay, whatever, my balls will survive, it's fine. okay. i'm gonna knock. three, two, one... okay so i didn't knock. i'm gonna knock! it's fine. i'm going to knock. three, oh fuck it.

...

i'm going to knock again. oh, nope! you've opened your door, and you somehow look stunning mid-sleep. you're wearing a bathrobe over your pajama pants. are you hiding your bare chest from me? what, i don't get to see your man boobs because we're broken up? heartbreaking.