ethereal : it oneshots

loved in the shadows

pairing: stozier

1. a birthday card

when i was... i think seven? years old? i went to school with nothing but a sleeve of crackers for lunch. i'm sure it was for a purpose, but now that i'm thinking about it, i really can't remember why. probably a shitty joke. anyway, it was me, you, eddie, and mike at our table eating lunch. bill, bev, and ben were in a different class (i say that like you don't know that). 

anyway, me and my crackers were not full and content. my mouth was so dry, i swear that the sahara desert would have started sweating in there. camels would have dropped dead in the heat. and no, before you make a fucking joke, it's not because i can't handle spice and salt was too spicy for me, it's because eating a lot of crackers at one time without any liquid in june is a bad sensory experience! 

you, of course, were making fun of me. so was eddie. i rolled my eyes at you, though, because you came to school every day with the same fucking lunch. the stupid fucking metal lunch kit, snapping open to reveal a kosher juice box, apple slices, and carrots. i mean, you're fucking kidding me! 

you were drinking the damn juice box, sipping out of it like an annoying newborn, and it nearly came out your nose as i complained for the fourtieth time. but hey, when you pushed the juice box towards me, i took it with glee. 

the funny part is i'm pretty sure you had a waterbottle, too. but you gave me the fucking kosher apple & eve brand strawberry kiwi juice box. 

then, when eddie scrunched his nose, you looked at him in confusion, and he motioned to me, drinking out of the juice box. "your lips touched the straw, that's gross," he said, and i put the box down. my mouth was still dry, but it was in a different way. to this day, i'm still not sure if he meant that it was gross because he was a hypochondriac or he meant that because it was gay.

okay, moving on, this is a long way of saying that now that we are fourteen, i wanted to get you something extremely fucking stupid for your birthday. and i think i did it. 

happy birthday to you, stan. enjoy the juice boxes. sorry that it's a sixty pack, i would have gotten you a smaller amount (or a bigger amount, if that's what you wanted) but they did not sell them in literally any quantity other than sixty. okay. that's all. happy birthday.

2. a postcard

sometimes, i wonder how your relationship to god survives all the stupid shit we do. two weeks ago, when we got caught smoking, i was saying a sweet prayer or two to the big g man himself that he wouldn't let mr. james call my mother. and listen, it fucking worked!

but i think that's more because mr. james has given up on me. you, though, he called your mom, so what does that say about your potential? gee oh dee did not come through for you. 

i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable while we were smoking, by the way. i don't really think that holding your cig for you is 'fucking gay', but bill seemed to think so. i forgot to tell you. when you were off, with mr. james, bill and i were sitting out on the curb waiting for you.

"just 'cause stan's never smuh-smoked doesn't mean you h-huh-huh-have to be all fucking gay with him, you know." bill had said, just offhandedly, like i was a fucking fairy. "you held his cig l-luh-like he was a chick," he explained. like that fucking meant something.

i flipped him off, because i'm not fucking gay. we got in a bit of an argument, so if you noticed bill being a bit of a twit to me recently, that's why. 

BACK TO GOD! what's the point of being dedicated to jewishism if he's not going to let you get away with a smoke once in a while? i'm so serious, like, how did i get away with it?! i don't know. anyway, i'm curious whatcha think.