"okay, okay, you know what this means!" beverly cheered, pointing at the spot stanley had landed on the board.
the board was something mike had made last year for a project, it was a diy board game with things to do on each square. richie, however, had revamped it to turn it into a bit of a drinking game, with more and more risqué (at least for teenagers) things to do.
"are you fucking kidding me?" stanley, unfortunately, had landed on the "kiss!" square. what that meant was he'd spin the bottle, and whoever it landed on, he'd have to go into the closet and kiss them. it was a strange dare, and it had resulted in lots of kisses shared between the group, which never seemed to make it awkward. richie did love holding the fact that he had kissed all of them (except stanley and bill) over their heads.
"fuck!" mike exclaimed, getting hit in the head by a plastic bottle richie threw into the middle. richie laughed, then apologizing.
"spin that shit, stan," richie settled into his spot and stanley, still groaning, stared at the bottle with distaste.
hesitantly, he reached a hand forward and spun it, the bottle uneven and shaky.
to his misfortune, the bottle bounced around a bit before pointing at richie. stanley blinked a couple times. he was dreaming. there was no way.
richie looked the same way. deeply nervous. that was strange for stanley to see, richie was never nervous.
"alright, staniel," and there was richie's collected visage, standing up and putting a hand out for stanley. it was then that stanley realized everyone around them was talking, figuring they'd wait out the two of them.
they walked into the closet and stanley became aware of how dark it was. he heard richie laugh softly. stanley furled his eyebrows, "what?" he whispered.
"this is our first kiss, stan," he joked, stanley rolling his eyes.
"shut up," stanley crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. he could barely see richie's eyes, but he knew richie was winking.
"first of many," richie mumbled, stanley scoffing. stanley cleared his throat, cracking his knuckles.
"fine, just come here already," stanley leaned forward off the wall and reached a hand, blindly grasping richie's shirt. he heard richie gasp.
"no, wait, stan, i was joking," richie replied, pushing stanley back with a hand. stanley's fist let go of richie's shirt, shocked.
stanley's face was on literal fire (metaphorically). he had come this close to kissing richie tozier, something that had crossed his mind far too often recently, and richie didn't want to.
oh my god, richie didn't want to. stanley was going to vomit.
suddenly, richie's hand, lying flat on stanley's chest, just separated by one single shirt, felt like a white blaze.
"what?"
"i-i don't want to kiss you. not like this." the words sped out of richie's mouth, and he bit his tongue on the word like. from outside the closet, there was a loud bump noise, but it didn't deter either of the boys from staring at each other.
"not like--what?" stanley asked, hesitantly. he had never heard his heart beat so loudly. he was a little afraid richie could hear it too.
not like this? was this worse? did richie want to kiss him? why would that matter? why did stanley care so bad?
"nothing. i meant nothing, i.. i, you just broke up with betty, i don't want you to feel forced, i wasn't--i'm not-don't.... look i-" richie rambled, going back and forth between staring at stanley and staring at the floor.
stanley was a little in shock. just a little.
he had no time to think about this, though, because the closet door swung open, and mike was standing right there, "i think beverly broke her leg?"
mike didn't seem affected by stanley's look of confusion, or richie's gaze down at the floor, sadly. he looked behind him, and stanley's eyes followed to see beverly groaning in pain.
"oh, that's not good."
