sick [ stozier ]

09 || what about...

" i literally despise you with every blood cell in my goddamn body. "
—

richie shuffled out of the room, a sinister grin plastered on his face. he made his way downstairs, and hid in a closet. (ahem (; gay jokes)
after what felt like hours, stan woke up in pain. he held onto his head and looked around, kind of confused.
"why am i- where is ri-..... richie? hello- ah fuck!" he mumbled and stood, wobbling out of the room. richie snapped awake at the mutters and shifted, the same grin appeared.
he stumbled around and checked almost every room, barely making it down the stairs.

"hello? ri-"
richie saw that stan was closer than he needed and opened the closet door slightly,

before lunging out and tackling stan, screaming into his ears.
what a wonderful way to be greeted.
stan screeched and, by instinct, kicked and punched and shoved, only to realize it was the one, the only, trashmouth tozier. they both stood, stan grabbed onto richie's shoulders and shook him as violently as he could.

"why, why, why. my head hurts like someone dropped an anvil on it and you do this? i literally despise you with every blood cell in my goddamn body. anyways, what the hell happened?"
"about that-" richie blinked, shaking his head.
"we didn't- f-"
"no dumbass, we didn't calm down."
stan exhaled with a slight grin. "then what happened?"
"i mean just a kiss but-"
stan almost instantly ran to the kitchen and ripped a paper towel off of a torn roll, wiping his mouth aggressively.
"aw, c'mon!"
"i still don't have an answer and now this?! great, now you're just- aawjwjsj." he mumbled gibberish, throwing the paper towel away, slowly walking back.
"do you have any-"
"-thing to help with the pain? yes, yes i do."
stan made his movements as slow and gentle as possible, staggering back over to the bedroom. exhausted and still in pain, he laid down.

he suddenly remembered something, mumbling to himself,
"what about... bill?"