Feelings are Cliche

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It was fair to say that I had a tendency to overthink. Overthink small touches that probably meant nothing, or a little glimmer in someone's eyes could be mistaken as someone being excited to see me. And tonight's lucky contestant that infected my mind was my good friend, Stan Uris, whom had been one of my closest friend since second grade when I complimented his Thunder Cats lunch box.
My mind raced over how things seemed to change, yet stay the same between us over the past few years. We both had grown mentally and physically, puberty both changing us into adults. In this time, Stan and I's friendship also became stronger, especially with the events of two summers ago, and I found myself becoming flustered at the thought of my curly-headed friend. Sure he was cute, acted gentlemanly, and knew how to make me laugh; but falling for my best friend, that was just to cliche. And that's what Stan and I both equally hated, cliche stories, especially cliche love stories.
I was trapped in my daze until the tapping of glass echoed through my room, breaking my little trance. Outside my window was Stan, himself, crouching down ready to crawl in. Quickly, I hustled over to my window, throwing it open, "fuck you scared me! Is there a reason you're crawling through my window?"
"Sorry, I just needed to talk and wanted to do it in person and it couldn't wait till tomorrow," Stan replied, pushing his overgrown, curly locks away from his face. In one of his hands, he held another jacket that technically belonged to him but he had gifted it to me on one of our late night adventures, "plus you left this at my house and it's gonna be chilly in the morning."
"Thanks, Stan," I smiled and set the jacket at the foot of my bed, "Do you want anything to drink or eat or do you just want to talk?"
"Uh... can we just talk?" He answered with a question before sitting at the edge of my bed.
"Of course," I took my place next to him, my hand resting on top of his.
Stan turned to look at me the same time I turned to look at him. He seemed to be examining me like one of the birds he paid careful attention to in the nature preserve not to far from my house. In the little moment of silence, I began to take in Stan and notice things that had shifted slightly from when we were kids.
His hair was much longer since he decided to start growing it out and his eyes seemed to glow more copper than bronze now. His jaw had become more defined and he had also grown taller. His goofy grin was now the cute smirk he seemed to have plastered on his face whenever I told a terrible joke. Stan had morphed from my very boyish best friend to an attractive young man.
We kept observing until I felt his eyes trail down lower, which was much farther down than I liked them, "yes i have breasts, can we move on?"
"Sorry, it's just that... it's funny to see how far we've come since second grade," he chuckled softly.
"Well that's how puberty works, dummie," I giggled in response and punched his arm lightly.
"Yeah, that;s true," he shoved me back playfully, "but the differences are amusing to me. You've stopped wearing frilly dress and bows. I've started to ease back on my stress. Yet, we've always been constant. And i think it means something."
"Because we're bestfriends, we'll always be close," I spoke quickly and stumbled over my words because I was excited but scared for whatever Stan would say next.
"Yes, but (Y/N), I barely see you as the girl I met in second grade who was always babbling off about how much she loved outer space. Now you're (Y/N), the girl who constantly puts a smile on my face, the girl who i trust the most, and-" he suddenly stopped, "this is quickly becoming to cliche. First I climbed into your window, then our little moment, and now I'm confess- shit" he stopped again.
"Stan, just blurt it out. No matter how cliche it may be," I took his hands in mine and rubbed my thumb across the soft skin of his back hand.
"For some reason I'm attracted to you", he spoke softly at first, "I realized while biking home with you, that I've slowly been falling in love with you since probably fifth grade when you yelled of Bowers who taking my bird book."
I smiled in response and hugged him tightly, "oh thank god! I couldn't stand these butterflies in my stomach or overthinking the chance that you shared my feelings anymore even if this all is too cliche for our tastes."
"God, (Y/N), I love you so much," Stan pulled me in closer to him.
"This is still to cliche," I pulled back before pecking his lips softly.
He pressed his lips against mine again before quickly pulling away, "and to make it worse, Richie might start calling us love birds."

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