"pass me a pancake," bill motioned, ben passing the plate down the kitchen table.
"when do you have to be home?" richie asked, scarfing down a forkful of his own pancake. stanley cut into his pancake civilly, though his expression made it clear he had a headache.
"um, i'm not really worrying about it. i'm gonna get shit for it either way." stanley took a sip of his water, and richie placed a hand on his back. the touch was nice, but stanley knew it wasn't enough. nothing was.
"okay, i'll drive you home soon, though, so they don't call the cops." richie said, his voice low to avoid the others hearing. stanley nodded, though he opened his mouth to interrupt.
"it's just her. my dad's being really nice to me, actually." stanley mindlessly continued nodding his head, staring down at the pancake on his plate. pancakes were his least favourite breakfast food, but beverly had kindly offered to make breakfast, so he couldn't complain.
"really?" richie ate the last piece of his pancake and observed that stanley's pancake had hardly been touched. stanley rubbed his eyes.
stanley was on his upward slope, as far as recovering from all that was plaguing him, but somewhere in his head, he knew it would come crashing down soon. it always did. so when he looked up to richie, whose eyes were full of hope, stanley didn't find himself reflecting that same emotion.
he cleared his throat, "yeah, it's sorta weird. anyway, yeah you can drive me home soon. thanks, rich." stanley said, taking a small bite of the pancake before pushing the plate forward. richie glanced at it, then to stanley. richie moved his hand to stanley's leg.
"anytime, beautiful," richie squeezed stanley's leg. stanley felt a glimpse of life for a moment. then it was gone. the slight hangover was not helping his feelings, either. he'd felt best yesterday, drunk.
woah, nelly, stanley caught himself, we don't need to add alcoholic to the list.
suddenly, beverly pulled a chair out from the table and sat down at it, leaving her post at the frying pan. she stabbed a fork into two pancakes and took both of them, ben laughing at her attempt to get it off the fork.
"okay, i'm done making 'em, everyone say thank you bev," beverly announced, spreading margarine over the pancakes.
a chorus of "thank you bev"'s sounded throughout the kitchen.
twenty minutes later, both of their bags in hand, the two were standing at the edge of bill's house, saying goodbye. as they walked to richie's truck, stanley played with his fingers. richie noticed. stanley was upset; yesterday had been good, why did today have to suck? couldn't he have two nice days in a row?
"i love you. thank you." stanley bit his tongue. he opened the door and got in, richie watching with his door suspended open.
"anytime, sweetheart. you were very sweet last night, you know," richie said, reaching his hand out to stanley's stanley took it loosely. stanley was so cold.
"hmm?" stanley finally looked over to richie. richie kissed stanley's hand.
he snickered, "oh yeah, telling me you love me, holding onto my arm for dear life, it was very cute." he raised his eyebrows in a dramatic fashion. stanley looked back down.
"oh. thanks, that's a little embarrassing." he answered a little shyly.
"no, not at all." richie used his hand to pull the choke of his car and then turn the key. he kept his other hand resting over stanley's fingers.
"richie?"
"yeah?"
"i wish i was normal."
richie waited, in silence, for stanley to continue. but he didn't, instead staring blankly out the window. stanley felt the cogs in his head clunking around irregularly. he felt like he'd just spilt all of his guts onto richie's dashboard by accident. richie began driving. richie glanced at him several times before speaking up, "what do you mean?"
"something's... something's wrong in my head, and i can't even fucking eat food normally, and my mother fucking hates me, and i've never wanted to get out of this town more, but the love of my life is here, and my best friends are here, and i...i just wish i was normal."
it was the most stanley had ever let richie see into him. he'd done it during a turn-heavy part of the drive, so that richie couldn't glance over to see him (richie did anyway). stanley wanted to cry.
"i'm sorry."
"it's fine, i'm just complaining it's... fine." his voice was hoarse. richie wanted to pull over and just hold him.
"it's not fine. you don't deserve any of that, stan." richie said, thought he knew stanley wasn't listening.
"yeah, thanks." stanley's reply was dismissive, and he turned his head back to the window.
"i love you too, by the way."
"i know." stanley shuffled around. richie pretended not to notice stanley take a box of cigarettes from his bag to put in his coat pocket.
