29

445 15 7
                                    

"sorry? why on god's green earth are you sorry?" richie was pulling stanley into his window, richie whispering rampantly. he put a hand on the back of stanley's head and helped him onto the carpet. stanley was crying silently in his arms.

"you have nothing to be sorry for, stan, i'm sorry, what the fuck?" richie kept whispering, stanley grasping at the back of his shirt desperately. if richie didn't know better, he'd say stanley was acting as though richie was going to disappear if he didn't hold on to him so tightly. 

"i need a cigarette," stanley hissed out in between sobs, richie keeping one hand on stanley's head while using the other to grab a pack of cigarettes. stanley's voice was hardly a voice at all, and richie was afraid a cigarette would make it worse. nonetheless, he obeyed. 

asking for a cigarette was a very rare occasion for stanley. he didn't exactly smoke, except when having panic attacks or when he was so incredibly stressed his hands couldn't stop shaking. richie wasn't entirely sure, but he figured both of those things were happening to stanley right now. 

richie released stanley from his grip and stanley sat down on richie's bed. he put his head in his hands and leaned over his knees. 

richie opened a drawer and nicked a lighter out of it, flipping the cap open to light the cigarette. the flame, ablaze, danced from either side of the cigarette before lighting it, and he passed it to stanley, who sat up to put it in his mouth.

"i'm glad you came over. i'm sorry about what happened with bill. he wouldn't mean that if he knew. i'm sorry. i don't know what to do." richie muttered, keeping a hand on stanley's back. 

"i love you. i'm sure of it." stanley's voice writhed up out of his throat again as he exhaled the smoke. taking another drag, his hands continued to shake. richie flipped the cap on and off of the lighter nervously. "i'm just not quite sure why loving has to be so painful."

"i don't know either, stan. i love you too." richie was looking out the window, trying to give stanley some space while he smoked. he was wiping tears off of his face violently, fighting them as best he could.

soon, though, richie heard a sizzle, and he turned his head, watching as stanley pushed the burning bit of the cigarette into the back of his hand. richie acted quickly, pulling stanley's hand off, yelping out loud.

"hey, what the fuck?!" richie said, trying to be quiet, as he snatched the cigarette out of stanley's hand. 

"i'm sorry, i don't know what's wrong with me." stanley inhaled shakily, richie waiting for him to say more. something incredible between the two was the ability to tell when the other person wanted to speak. richie himself took a drag from the cigarette, leaving space for stanley to talk. "it's just, i've never really felt sure about fucking anything, and the moment i do, i feel sure that i love you and-and i don't even fucking get that."

richie didn't really have anything to say. 

"did you sneak out?" richie asked. stanley nodded shamefully, keeping a sarcastic no, i asked if i could go over to my ex boyfriend's inside his head. he shuffled up onto richie's bed, lying down with his head facing the opposite way from richie.  

richie reached a hand back, taking another drag of their shared cigarette with his other hand. he took stanley's hand in his own. stanley's fingers slowly closed around richie's. stanley was crying again.

why was this so miserable? why did this have to be so miserable for them?

stanley's voice was slightly less scratchy after having talked a little, but the cigarette hadn't helped. "i want to come out. i'm already fucked, why not be fucked and myself. i still want to be with you." stanley squeezed tight onto richie's hand. 

richie put the cigarette out despite the fact half of it was still perfectly good. normally, he'd never want to waste a cigarette, but if stanley uris was asking for his presence, he was pretty sure he'd do anything. he turned around and grabbed onto stanley with his other hand. stanley turned around to curl into richie.

"i'll tell the losers. promise. i just want to sleep here first." stanley said, pulling richie's shirt with his hand. his head found a place in the crook of richie's neck and richie hummed affectionately.

"go to sleep, stan. it's okay. you're safe here." richie mumbled, tired enough himself. he placed his hand in stanley's hair on the back of his head. stanley shifted a little, and richie felt a tear or two on his neck. he didn't mind.

in the morning, after stanley left for the long walk back to his house, richie would find five minutes later that his pack of cigarettes had disappeared.




point proven : stozierWhere stories live. Discover now