golden boy : stozier

fourteen

"no. i mean, do you... like him?" mike nudged stanley's shoe with his own, and stanley realized what he meant. without saying a thing, stanley could feel himself burning up from head to toe bright red. he wasn't even entirely sure why.

"oh, no. i-i-uh-i don't-not like that, no." stanley couldn't help the way his brain tripped over the words on the way out. stanley had spent so much of his life trying to be other people that now he wasn't sure he knew what a lie felt like, and he really could not tell if that was one.

richie blurred the line between a truth and lie, in more ways than one.

"alright, no stress, i was just curious." mike's expression said something stanley couldn't quite grasp. mike took another drink, stanley standing in the silence they'd made. the music from the party was blaring, but stanley thought that if mike had even so much as mouthed something, stanley would've heard it.

stanley cleared his throat, looking down at the ground, and mike looked over at him cautiously.

"um, i'm gonna go find bill, or something. i don't really know how parties work. i'll see you around though," mike said awkwardly, stanley nodding as mike went back inside.

stanley wanted to slide down to the ground, and he let himself, dragging until he hit the concrete, sitting with his knees bent upwards. he watched the other people in the backyard.

smoking out of what stanley thought was a bong were a group a girls, he was pretty sure some of them were greta's friends and some definitely weren't. he watched as, laughing, one of the girls started to make out with another, the rest of them cheering them on. stanley looked back down to the ground.

"there you are! mike said you were outside but i didn't think he meant you were ass-on-pebbles outside," richie's voice was a sudden comfort, richie sitting down next to him, a coke in his hand as well.

noticing stanley's coke, he tapped the cans together, a moment of joint sobriety.

"sorry if i dragged you into this. you don't, um, look like you're having that much fun. parties aren't really my scene either. i hate alcohol." richie leaned his head against stanley's, who was staring at the ground still.

maybe there was some truth to what mike had said.

stanley cleared his throat, "mike said alcoholism runs in your family." he wasn't sure why he'd said it, but he couldn't stop the words before they made it out of his mouth.

"yeah. and it doesn't really mix with the mediciation i take. so... i try not to purposefully kill myself most of the time." richie sighed.

"i'm glad to hear that," stanley replied, thinking, "are you gay?"

the weight of the question sank richie, his head raising from stanley's shoulder if only for a second so he could completely lie on the ground.

"i don't know." richie replied. stanley had a feeling it was the only completely honest answer richie had ever given to that question.

"okay. it's okay, like i don't mind, you'd still be you. i was just wondering." stanley looked down at richie's face for the first time, and he noticed a new cut on richie's face. "what happened?" he traced around the cut and the blood with his finger instinctively. it stained his fingertip.

"what? oh i don't know, i think i hit my head on a wall by accident. or like, a stovetop. it was like, hours ago." richie yawned, like it was no big deal. stanley shook his head, unable to detach his finger from richie's face. it just felt so nice.

"no, this is new, richie, it's still bleeding," stanley finally took his finger off richie's face to look at it closer. there wasn't enough light out there.

"oh. i don't know, then," richie shrugged, stanley getting to his feet.

"hold on, get up, let's go clean it out." stanley offered a hand out to him. richie raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"stan, no way in hell—"

"get up." stanley forcefully grabbed richie by the shirt, lifting him upwards until he scrambled to his feet

"yessir, getting up sir," richie mumbled, then snickering, said, "getting up more like getting it up, am i right?"

"no, you're wrong, c'mon," stanley dragged him into the house by his shirt, richie eventually catching up enough to not need the force. when stanley let go of richie's shirt, he found he missed having his hand clenched around it.

"there's a bathroom there," richie motioned, and he opened it, neglecting to knock. risky business, stanley thought, but it was empty after all.

"okay, look, that's clearly new, right?" stanley said, closing the door behind him. he wasn't quite sure why he locked it, but he did.

richie leaned over the counter and squinted his eyes at it, before remembering he could take his glasses off. he nodded, turning back to stanley, "you are indeed correct, sir."

stanley began to wash his hands, the cokes sitting on the counter. after his hands were clean, he took a finger, wet it under the running tap and began to smear it over richie's cut.

"this cannot be the most clean way to clean this out," richie said, though his face was pinker than it had been. stanley, focused intently on his face, his finger gently running back and forth over the cut.

"do i look like a doctor?" stanley muttered, grabbing a piece of toilet paper, examining it suspiciously, and dabbing at richie's face with it.

"no, but you could be a nurse. i bet some girl would kill to see you in a sexy nurse outfit," richie said, and stanley had to look in richie's eyes to see he was serious.

stanley let out a laugh of disbelief, "hah! yeah fucking right. i do not have abs to pull off a sexy nurse." he was listening to the words he was saying, and god, stanley wasn't sure who he had become. he liked it, as long as he was with richie.

"really? you think you need abs for that? i think you would be fine just as is, you're a skinny white dude. what are they gonna do, say no?" richie replied, hissing every now and then as stanley pulled a tiny pebble out of his cheek.

"i don't really want girls thirsting over me because of sexy nurse attire. and anyway, i've got awhile until halloween, don't i?" stanley finally decided he was done with the surgery, and he turned to wash his hands a second time.  "do you want a bandaid for it?"

"no, i think i'm fine," richie replied, and when stanley turned around, he found richie was a lot closer than he had been before. stanley could feel his lower back against the counter, cornered by richie's look. "thank you," richie whispered, his hands on either side of the counter.

stanley gulped, drying his hands on his pants. he tried his best to keep his vision trained on richie's eyes. richie looked nervous, and as he lifted one of his hands, it seemed hesitant.

"anytime," stanley replied, richie placing a hand on the nape of his neck. stanley felt goosebumps rise on his arms, and he tried to breathe steadily. he quirked an eyebrow and whispered, "richie?"

richie blinked a couple times, then he let go of stanley, grabbing his glasses and putting them back on his face, "sorry." he fumbled with the door for a second, not realizing stanley had locked it, and then left the bathroom.

stanley stood, alone in the bathroom, confused.