golden boy : stozier

twenty nine

"i-bill-we-i... i don't know. i don't know what i'm doing. i just know i'm doing it wrong." richie found that for the first time in a long time, his lip was quivering. he didn't feel like he was going to cry, but his body was sending him through so many emotions that he wasn't sure what to do.

"let's go outside, okay? and then you'll tell me what happened?" stanley gave him a weak pat on the back, and richie briefly wondered how stanley was being so calm at richie smashing his head into his locker. nevertheless, richie walked with him, swallowing all of the words that he was afraid to say.

stanley pushed open the door, the bell ringing to signify lunch was over. stanley hardly seemed to notice. richie sat down on the grass, pulling his knees to his chest. he felt like a little kid again. he felt like he'd fucked everything up again.

"what happened, richie?" stanley sat down next to richie, digging through his bag. he pulled out a napkin as richie thought about what to say. he felt blood trickle down to his eyebrow and wiped at it.

"i-i don't know. bill was-he was being so annoying and cold—you saw him! i-he-i don't know, i said something about georgie." richie admitted the last part with shame, putting his head between his knees.

"oh, oh no," stanley said softly, lifting richie's head up to hold the napkin to his head. richie, ashamed at how stanley was tending to him, took the napkin out of his hands, holding it himself and leaning back over. stanley let him. "what did you say?"

"i don't know, he wasn't really answering bev, and i-i got angry and said he looked as dead as his brother." richie's ears were ringing so badly. he lied down, hoping it would ease the high pitched screaming. "i-i didn't mean to—beverly yelled at me, and i lied, and i think bill started crying, and i think i've fucked everything up again."

stanley turned to sit towards him. "i'm sure if you apologize he'll realize you didn't mean it," he said, though richie could hear how unsure he was. and so he should be: he'd never hurt anyone like richie hurt people.

"no, i do this shit too much." richie took the napkin off his face. the ground had helped; the squealing was subsiding. still, he sighed. "they put up with me because i make them feel like they have friends, but now they have actual friends, like eddie and ben and... and you. they don't need me."

"richie, they are your friends. you made a mistake, a-a big one, but bill will come around, hey?" stanley was still so unsure. richie rolled to his side, looking at stanley. stanley was staring at richie's forehead, bruised as the open wound had stopped bleeding.

"no, i... i'm not stupid. they don't need me to feel better about themselves anymore. they don't... you don't have to put up with the shit i say anymore," richie squinted through his glasses, stanley's face conflicted.

"that doesn't mean you can't apologize and hope for the best." stanley suggested, richie shutting his eyes.

just run away while you can, stan.

it was almost as if richie had forgotten who he was, meeting stanley. that long time ago, which felt now like both a week and eons ago, richie had fooled himself into thinking he was someone he wasn't. someone kind. someone willing to walk people home.

he wasn't like that. he hurt people. he found out what made people cry and he said it to them until they did. he remembered being young and chasing girls with spiders in his hand, knowing they hated bugs. he'd always been cruel; he'd just gotten better at it.

stanley had helped him get better at hiding it. but he knew who he was.

"but i can't change," richie said, a confession. he kept his eyes closed. he didn't want to see stanley's face. he couldn't handle that right now.

"if you want to, you can," stanley replied. richie shook his head. he'd been in therapy as a kid: clearly it hadn't worked. they'd asked him questions about his parents divorce, something he didn't really give a shit about at the time. he dreamed about the therapist blowing up in her chair.

"no, i-i'm no good a friend. not for long, anyway." richie said, finally opening his eyes to see stanley still there, looking down at him. he brushed richie's hair out of his face again.

"that's not true. you're the best frie—" stanley began.

"that's 'cause i'm the only real friend you've ever had." richie replied, sitting up again. his head ached. stanley narrowed his eyes at him.

"doesn't that say something?" stanley's voice felt like a plea. a beg for richie to agree with him. richie shook his head, no it didn't say anything.

"about you, maybe. poor taste in friends," richie mumbled, knowing it would hurt stanley. it was good, this way, stanley would leave, and richie could feel better about never talking to him again. he couldn't let stanley get any closer, not when he was this capable of hurting him.

stanley laughed through his nose. richie wrinkled his face, a surge of pain shooting through his forehead.

"what?" he asked, stanley still laughing softly.

"so what if i have poor taste in friends?" stanley had a smile on his face, against all odds. richie was digging at the thing stanley hated the most about himself, and stanley was laughing. in a contradicting thought, richie silently begged the sweet noise of his laughter to continue. stanley spoke again, "i like being friends with you. that's all i need. who gives a fuck if that's poor taste?"

richie bit his tongue. was stanley on drugs? in what world did stanley find this funny? "no, stan, what if i just up and left you one day? what then?" richie said, unable to help how he was digging up stanley's insecurity.

stanley still smiled, "then i'd be lucky to have you for as long as i have."

"what is wrong with you? why-why don't you hate me?" richie couldn't help but ask the question as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

"i couldn't. and i bet bill couldn't either. you're going to say you're sorry, and you're going to mean it," stanley said, putting a hand lightly on richie's back. richie felt hot at the touch. he hadn't realized how much stanley had grown in the time he'd known him. he nearly let out a laugh himself in disbelief.

stanley uris was missing class to put his hand on richie's back and laugh at his cruelty.

richie nodded. stanley smoothed his hand up and down richie's back.

"i really can't miss all of philosophy, though, we're talking about orals for next year," stanley said suddenly, standing up. richie looked up. he knew he looked upset at the idea of stanley going. it made him want to cringe, how much he needed stanley.

"where will i find you afterwards?" he hated how needy his voice was. he hated that he was still holding the blood soaked napkin stanley had given him. he hated that he wanted to reach out for stanley's hand.

"bus stop. start drafting that apology, okay?" stanley said, and richie still didn't understand how there was a smile on his face. "and go to the nurse's office, or else that's going to seriously look awful."

"okay." richie said meekly.