golden boy : stozier

forty one

"r-richie?" bill didn't need to do the corny snap in front of him, richie thought with a huff, but it didn't stop bill from doing it. richie pushed his glasses up his face, raising his eyebrows at the boy across the table.

"what?" richie could admit that it sounded more like a bark than a question. he brought his right arm up onto the table, leaning his head against it. his knee couldn't stop bouncing underneath the table, and he wished his cuticles weren't so messed up. he could've picked at them, but not now, they'd only start bleeding. then beverly would force him to sit through another manicure, and he couldn't handle that. he didn't take enough medication for that.

"just making s-sh-sure you're alive, sue m-me," bill raised his hands in defense, then going back to his glass of water. he turned his head at the sound of mike's voice from the other room, but mike was only talking to ben. mike just had one of those voices.

"sorry." richie pulled at his jacket with one hand, fidgeting as he looked away. 

"s'okay," bill mumbled, out of what seemed like habit. richie wondered why he hadn't yet gone back to the other room. no, he'd sat down with richie at the kitchen table. richie had been tracing the wood grain with his finger, and bill had sat down silently. bill cleared his throat, "i'm sure he's c-cuh-coming."

"he-i-it's fine-yeah. he said he was just dropping off his books first, right, so, yeah, i'm sure too." richie couldn't help himself stammering. how embarrassing that bill knew what he was thinking about. if bill could see it, then anyone could.

"yup." bill popped the p, but richie wasn't sure it was purposeful. he went back to drinking his water quietly as richie moped. how comedically foolish it all was; to wilt like a flower without sun when stanley wasn't by his side.

he looked up for a moment, just to catch bill's eye to see if he could read his mind. bill was someone he couldn't ever really figure out (not that he could figure out anyone else), and ever since richie had said that awful thing to him and apologized, it was almost as if bill had come more alive. he'd been nicer to richie. it confused him.

jesus, maybe richie was always confused. how come getting f's on a test meant more attention than an a? how come being mean meant bill stood by his side more often? as he glanced, he saw bill looking right at him, his eyebrows a little furrowed. richie found it funny, whenever bill wrinkled his forehead, because it seemed to foreshadow an elderly bill, forehead lines indented as if they'd always been there. richie looked back down.

"do, uh..." richie spoke before his head finished the thought. but bill was looking at him now, and he couldn't just say nevermind. "this is gonna come out awful. do you think i'm mean?"

bill shrugged, "a little, y-yeah." he seemed more nonchalant about it then richie thought possible. richie tried not to look at bill's arms, because he knew it would lead to bill grabbing at his short sleeves, but richie was more enamoured with the muscles than the memories of grade eight. bill tugged at his sleeves anyway.

richie sighed. "i don't want to be. i mean, it's not like i want to be an ass. i just... i can't help it, sometimes." he didn't really have reason for it, did he? he hadn't lived the most angering life, but he found himself filled with this urge to just rip apart his finger nails until he bled. something was wrong with him.

"i know." bill's strangely understanding demeanour made richie tense more, clenching his nails into his palms instead of his cuticles.

"i don't know why i start shit. fuck." richie grit his teeth, looking anywhere but at bill. 

"it's okay. you know, i th-thuh-thought you were just an asshole buh-before you met stanley. b-buh-buh-but you were alw-wuh-ways nice to him." bill shrugged, bringing his water up to his lips. richie finally looked up at him, trying to read the thoughts in bill's eyes. richie had never thought bill was a particularly observant person. he wanted to argue with bill, tell him that he wasn't always nice to stanley—he'd been cruel, unable to stop himself from wanting stanley to hurt. but he bit his tongue, because what good would it do?