ethereal : it oneshots

this is me trying

pairing: stozier

a/n: and today in what song am i listening to on repeat while making this. anyway stanley's pov :)

his bathroom was blue. i don't know if i ever include that when i talk about that day. his bathroom was entirely blue. the tiles on the floor and the tub and the shower, they were all blue. the toilet was a dark blue, and the tiling on the top of the counter was blue too. i'm not sure why. 

i think his dad had an affinity for blue, probably, based on the way he dressed. nine out of ten times, if i came over for dinner, richie's dad would be wearing a blue shirt. i guess he liked looking greek. he had one of those greek faces, structured jaws, the kind you could picture in a modern day troy movie. that feature passed down to richie. 

so you can't blame me. i mean, he was basically my hercules.

anyway, back to the story. august 25th. he was having a summer party, the way we all had back then. his parents were out, god help me if i remember where, and he'd invited practically every teenager he knew. naturally, his tiny little house in the suburbs was flooded with people.

richie and i had inadvertently matched that day; i was wearing a brown top and black pants, whereas he had a black shirt on with brown pants. i can't say he didn't look good, i am a sucker for a man (one man, richie tozier) in a t-shirt any day. he had his little blue necklace on, the one he always wore, that thinking back on it, i'm sure was his dad's. 

it was a little silver chain with a blue whale on the end. looked like something they always have at the thrift stores, where you don't really want to get it, but you wonder what it once meant to someone. i never did ask the right question to find out.

we were dancing, absolutely hammered as we tended to be (we had some unhealthy coping mechanisms), and i truly couldn't tell you what we had been dancing to. i guess beverly was in charge of that. either way, we were dancing, trying not to bump into anything, and i couldn't stop laughing.

i felt freer than i'd felt in a couple of months. it had been a rough time for me. i won't get into the nitty gritty, but i'd come to terms with who i was and, more importantly, who i loved. which was, obviously, richie tozier. i would love him in any form.

but especially in this form: happy, weightless, hair flying about, teeth glimmering, shirt flipping up to reveal just a strip of stomach and the top of his boxers, and looking right at me.

while the idea of kissing him right there crossed my mind, i knew better. i'd thought about it too often in the last few months. 

five minutes later, when i was getting another drink that i would come to regret in the morning, richie came up to me. 

"let's go smoke in the bathroom." he said, simply. he was playing with the charm around his neck, and he slung an arm over my shoulder. there was hardly any room with the people shoved into the house for him to be far from me, so he was nice close and personal.

"why not outside?" i asked, though i secretly wanted to go to the bathroom with him anyway. it was more private, and you're allowed to make fun of me for this, but it was more romantic. smoking in the bathroom at a party. how cliche.

"there's a chick throwing up out front. c'mon, you can't stand a little alone time with me?" richie joked. he was joking. but his hand, resting flat on my back, gave me a little hope. 

"yeah, alright," he cheered and gave me a slap on the back, then he disappeared into the crowd. i watched him reach for his back pocket as he vanished. i tried to follow directly, but pretty much immediately lost him. 

i knew his house, though, so i wasn't particularly worried. easily, i found it and he let me in, softly closing the door behind me. i heard the lock click, and watched in the mirror as my face blushed a little pink. richie didn't seem to notice.

"you havin' a good time, uris?" he'd started calling me uris at the beginning of eleventh grade. i found it sort of endearing, so i let him do it. if i knew anything about richie, though, it wouldn't have mattered, he'd have called me it anyway.

"i'm trying, rich." he knew i'd been going through something, but i was refusing to tell him what. you can guess why. but i was having fun. "i mean, i am. i feel.. good." i watched him fiddle with the cap of the smoke pack. 

he flipped it open, finally, and took one out. "i'm glad, man." he pushed the window open with one hand, and i sat down on the blue toilet. i was looking at the toothbrush cup his family had. it was one of those separators, with two holes for two toothbrushes. i thought it was weird that it wasn't just a cup, because only richie's toothbrush was in there. 

i guess there wasn't a second toothbrush meant to be in there. anyway, richie lit the cigarette. the both of us had developed nicotine addictions in grade ten, and had been stealing our parents cigarettes since then.

the light made him glow blue, maybe with love, maybe with sadness. even with hindsight, i couldn't tell you which it was. the shadow underneath his jaw was extremely defined, and i'd be lying if i said that didn't contribute to what happened.

i wonder what he thought of me. 

"richie," i took the cigarette from his hands when he turned around. i made sure to drag it out extra long, mostly because i was drunk and time isn't real when you're drunk, but also for dramatic effect. "i love you more than life." i laughed afterwards, like i'd told a funny joke. he just stared at me. 

i held the smoke out for him, and he took it back between his fingers. looking out the window, he scratched his head with his free hand. i could've sworn he gulped. 

"i..." he apparently wanted just as much dramatic effect as i did. "stan," he had said my name the way one lover says to their lover when they're depressed. i've never been able to put my finger on how he said it other than that. an act of comfort. a hand on the back. their head, buried in their lovers hair. he hadn't called me uris. my heart bobbed in my throat. "i'm not gay."

how devastating. we still finished the split cigarette, but with the finality of knowing we would most likely never see each other like this again. 

"that's alright." i said back, not entirely aware of what was coming out of my mouth. that was the effect of that last drink, a red solo cup now sitting on the blue tile of the bathroom. i hadn't realized i'd brought it until then. i don't know how i didn't notice; a speck of red standing out in a crowd of blue.

oh well, at least i tried. 

he got with eddie a year later.

i didn't say anything, and he never brought it up. i just wasn't good enough, i get that. i used to torture myself, thinking about that toothbrush holder. richie moved out with eddie. did they take it with them? did they keep their toothbrushes next to each other? was it thoughtless, or did richie feel the weight of what he was doing?

i don't really tend to think about it. they broke up after four years. i don't know what went wrong, richie and i don't really talk anymore. i knew that would come. 

i don't think richie ever told eddie that i loved him. though, personally, i think it was clear. i have to give richie credit. he kept my secret. 

i wasted my potential that day, in the blue bathroom with the white grout and the sea-smelling shampoos and conditioners. i haven't loved anyone that way since. i'm not sure i ever will. 

at least i'm trying. 

and to richie, if he's listening, i'm still here. if you ever need me.