golden boy : stozier

thirty nine

i would do anything for you, stanley thought, watching richie fill a glass with water for him, two ice cubes like he always preferred. richie turned, the glass nearly full to the point of spilling over. stanley took it carefully, sipping from the top.

"thank you," he said between sips, richie giving him a thumbs up.

"yessir." richie suddenly turned his head to his stairway, where his mother stood, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "hi mom. need something?"

she blinked a couple times. "you two are friends?"

"hi mrs. tozier," stanley cleared his throat, wondering whether she knew about the dinner that was currently taking place at his house. she gave him a friendly smile, breaking her frozen stance to walk towards them.

richie narrowed his eyes at her, "yes...? he has literally come over before. like.. so often." he was using his hands to show his confusion, and she adjusted her purse on her shoulder as she got to the table where the two sat.

"well, i'm glad to see it. you need some good friends like stanley. smart friends. maybe it'll help you, hmm?" she gave richie a playful smack over the top of his hair, him blowing raspberries at her in return.

stanley glanced between the two, the most conversation he'd ever gotten to see between richie and his parents. he'd made small talk with them at dinners prior, when only pj had been allowed to come, and they'd asked his parents about him. still, there was something strange about the way she talked to richie. for parents who had apparently given up on richie, they still seemed to love him.

"ooooookay, you can go now," richie said, rolling his eyes at his mother. she did the same, mocking him.

"i'll be back late tonight, you boys be good!" she began to leave, her hand on the doorknob by the time she ended her sentence. richie gave her a lazy thumbs up. she adjusted her purse on her shoulder and promptly left, the door swinging closed behind her.

"hilarious that she knows who you are but not that we're friends."

stanley could hear the key locking the door from the other side. he nodded at richie, sipping more of his water. as an afterthought, he rubbed at his eyes.

"so, do you wanna stay over like sleep here or just... party the night away and return home afterwards?" richie was scratching at his head, and stanley was thinking about sweet he looked, his nose scrunched slightly in the way an itch caused. for a moment, stanley felt the emotions he had about richie letting him stay here—gratitude, regret, love, guilt—crash into him, him gulping as he wiped at his top lip.

"i..." stanley thought about richie's simple freckles, and sweet disposition, and soft hair, and generosity, and just how goddamn pretty richie looked right now. he blinked a couple times to make sure he wasn't falling asleep. "i probably shouldn't stay the night."

richie's face seemed to fall, but he nodded in understanding. "guess that's fair," he hummed, "so i guess you won't be coming to bill's house this week?" stanley noted how richie started to pick at his fingers, like he was disappointed.

"well," stanley nearly laughed, in disbelief, "it was a big fight. i'm trying to get them so mad that they just leave me to fail. so, if i did it right, i can come to bill's whenever." it was partially true: something between pj's talk with him and eddie's assumption had pushed him to say what he had to his father. in the small chance, the tiniest possibility that they would give up.

"perfecting the ol' richie tozier technique, hey?"

"shut up," stanley moved richie's hands from the vogue pose he was doing, pushing them back down to the table. richie laughed, apologizing quietly.

god, the idea definitely couldn't leave him now; stanley was caught up imagining what richie's hands did when he kissed people, where he grabbed them, whether he smiled or if he was serious, the way he'd look when they'd break away.

it was bad.

stanley wanted to ask him: did you mean to kiss me that night? that night, in the bathroom as richie's hand lied gently upon stanley's neck, richie's voice low and nervous. what else could richie have meant to do? the thought of not having said anything, of not breaking richie out of his trance, letting him follow through with whatever he'd been thinking, it haunted stanley at night.

so he didn't say anything, only staring quietly at richie's lips in his kitchen as his mind tossed and turned with thoughts.

richie had picked up his phone; it had buzzed a couple times and he didn't notice stanley's longing gaze as he furrowed his eyebrows at the notification on the screen. he snorted quietly, flipping his phone back over and turning it off without responding.

"sorry there isn't actually much to do here, by the way," richie was suddenly getting up, grabbing his water off the table and changing stanley's view. stanley knocked himself out of his trance and looked up at richie. "c'mon, let's go listen to something," richie said, walking to the stairs to his bedroom.

"oh, it's okay. my place is worse. you know that." stanley had meant it in the sense of his house being more boring, but richie's glance back, concerned, made stanley realize how he'd sounded. he nearly paused in the stairwell to sigh exhaustedly, but decided richie would probably worry about that too.

"well you are undoubtedly welcome here anytime, my good sir." richie opened his door, kicking a few clothes to the side. stanley followed in, sitting down on the edge of richie's bed. richie took a moment to put in a cd, letting music play into his room. then he lied down beside stanley.

"thanks," stanley breathed out, lying down as well. much more comfortable than the concrete outside, the duvet's cold surface cooled the back of stanley's neck. 

the album started playing, and he decided right then he wanted to decorate his room like richie did his: with personality. what could his room possibly say about him in the way that it was now? that he was lifeless? someone who kept quiet, whose every word haunted him once it was out of his mouth, whose eyes watered when he reviewed everything he'd done wrong throughout the day. 

but he wasn't that person anymore. he was growing, and the piece of richie in his heart had whispered to his brain that it was okay to live. he had friends. he wanted to get better. he could really feel something—he was finally capable of it, looking over at richie's stupidly perfect face. if he wasn't so afraid, he would've kissed richie's stupidly perfect face. until they couldn't breathe; until the album was done; until they fell asleep; until his mother came home; forever. if he'd known what he knew now when he'd met richie, he would've leaned over the table between their chairs and hugged him until the world died out.

"thinking hard?" richie turned until there was only a sliver of space between them, yet stanley could not help wanting him closer. 

"no, zoned out." 

"fair. i do that a lot." richie turned back. it was okay. stanley would wait for richie. he would wait forever. wait until he turned back closer. until he gave him that stupid tozier smile.

stanley was still stuck in his own head, his thoughts swirling about hours later, when he was saying goodbye. preparing his walk home, he was listening to richie talk about something while he got his shoes on. when he stood up, richie stopped him before he went to grab the doorknob. 

"hey, um, text me when you get home, alright? and tell me—um—like, what it's like. if you're okay. if you're not, y'know, you can come back here. mom wouldn't mind." richie's hand was grasping stanley's shoulder, and stanley nodded. he was a little nervous that maybe the small smile on his face was going to make richie think he was insane, but richie smiled a little too. "huh, you're too cool, stan." 

"thanks." stanley kept richie's gaze for what was maybe a little too long.