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In hindsight, Stan probably shouldn’t have tried to carry all of the books he needed to return in one trip. He was haphazardly balancing about six textbooks on top of each other, which perhaps wasn’t the best idea he’s had all week but, hey, the library’s only one corridor over.
Just when Stan thinks it’s all about to be over and he watches the hardcover text about the French Revolution slide from the top of the pile, two hands shoot out from seemingly nowhere and stop the inevitable from happening. Stan looks up sharply to identify his savior when he’s met with a wide, charming grin and a pair of twinkling dark eyes.
Mike.
Of course, it was Mike. When wasn’t Mike there to save the day? To keep Stan together when he was falling apart? To keep all of them together when they were falling apart.
As Stan waxed poetry about Mike’s heroism in his head, said boy was piling Stan’s books into his own arms, taking each and every one of them and balancing them with much more grace and ease that Stan could ever dream of. Mike shot him another smile.
“You could have just texted one of us to help you, you know?” He said, taking off in the direction of the library as Stan huffed, pretending to be put out. He wasn’t put out at all.
“I may not look it, but I am capable of carrying books all by myself,” Stan retorted, falling into step beside Mike, who just chuckled softly. He never was offended by Stan’s snark.
“That’s not what it looked like, Stanley. And I believe the words you’re looking for are Thank you”, Mike quipped back. He greeted the librarian with his signature winning smile and she practically melted behind the desk. Stan rolled his eyes, but it’s not like he didn’t relate to her.
“Thank you, Michael. My hero. What ever would I do without you,” Stan deadpanned, taking the books from Mike and piling them onto the returns trolley. Mike laughed heartily, knocking his shoulder against Stan's. Stan felt like his skin was burning beneath the fabric of his shirt.
“Suffer a slow, painful death, probably. Anyway, are you still going to Bill’s thing tonight?”
After discovering that neither Bev nor Mike had ever seen Back to the Future, Bill had volunteered his house to, in Richie’s words, “show these uncultured fuckers what a real movie looks like”, and that was that. Stan doubted he could get out of going even if he wanted to.
“Yeah. You’re coming too, right? I have a feeling Richie would drag you there kicking and screaming even if you say no.”
Mike grinned, shaking his head slightly as if picturing it in his mind. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. Did you want a ride to Bill’s after your session?”
Mike, as well as the other Losers knew that Stan had his session with his psychologist every second Friday at four in the afternoon. How Mike knew that it was the week he went to his appointment Stan didn’t know. He decided not to dwell on it.
Stan had been seeing Dr Raquel for nearly two years now to work on his anxiety and OCD. Their sessions were now a great comfort to Stan, who saw them as an opportunity to talk about his problems out loud without fear of judgement.
Before his first session, when he was fourteen, Mike had accompanied Stan and his mother to the appointment after Stan had confided in him his fears of talking to a stranger about everything that was wrong with him. Mike had sat beside him in the unfamiliar waiting room and squeezed his hand tightly, making sure Stan knew he was there.
The session had gone well, and he was greeted with a gentle but immediately comforting hug from Mike when he had stepped out into the waiting room, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. Stan had been happily going to his sessions ever since.
“No, that’s alright. Her office isn’t even on your way,” Stan reminded him, setting off in the direction of his homeroom. Mike scoffed jokingly.
“Since when has that ever been a problem?” He asked, putting up a hand when Stan opened his mouth to argue. “I’ll be waiting outside at five, okay?”
It was impossible to be annoyed when Mike was being so sweet. When Mike was doing anything, really.
“Fine. See you at lunch?”
“Yeah, Stan the Man, see you at lunch,” Mike said, patting Stan on the shoulder softly before heading into his class, making the corners of his lips turn up in a reluctant smile.
The smile remained on his face until third period.
-
“Where the fuck have you been?” Were the words Stan was greeted with when he made it to their designated lunch table outside. The other Losers were all already there, spread out in various manners around the table. Stan rolled his eyes at Richie, who said this to him with a mouth full of mac and cheese. Beside him, Eddie grimaced.
Stan swung his legs over the bench and squeezed into the space between Ben and Mike, the latter greeting him with a quick flash of a smile.
“I stayed back to ask about the History paper. Why, miss me, Rich?” Stan teased. Richie reached over Eddie to squeeze Stan’s cheeks, making kissing noises before Stan pushed him away roughly.
“I always miss you, Stanley. Your hair, your eyes, your di- Ow! Eddie, what the fuck?”
“Beep beep, asshole,” Eddie grumbled, “I’m trying to enjoy my lunch.”
Richie, ever predictable, shot something back about Eddie being an old lady and Stan turned away from them, excluding himself from their poorly disguised flirting. Suddenly, a hand appeared in front of his face. A hand holding food.
“You know I brought my own lunch, right?” Stan says, but he still takes the veggie wrap Mike is waving in his face. Both Stan and Mike were vegetarian.
Mike simply shrugged at Stan’s comment, biting into his own wrap. “Mom made me extra,” he said, and Stan’s chest suddenly felt warm.
“That’s simply adorable, Mikey boy! Eds, why don’t you ever bring me delicious homemade meals for lunch?” Richie butted in, draping his skinny arm over Eddie’s shoulder and picking at the grapes he was eating. Eddie promptly elbowed him in the chest, causing Richie to inhale sharply.
“Because I saw the signs saying ‘Please do not feed the wildlife’ and I figure you fit right into that category, you fucking-“
“-Hey Stan, you wanna ride with us to Bill’s place tonight? We were gonna stop and grab some snacks on the way,” Bev cut in, speaking loudly to block out Richie and Eddie who were still bickering. Stan felt his face heat up.
“That’s okay, I have my appointment today and Mike offered to pick me up after,” Stan answered, trying to sound nonchalant but realising he’d failed when he met Beverly’s gaze and saw the wicked grin on her face. He glared at her.
“Oh, right, sure. Well, I’m going to have a smoke. Trashmouth?”
Richie eyed the cigarette Beverly was holding out to him and glanced quickly at Eddie beside him before huffing a sigh. “Gonna have to pass on that one, Red. I’ve decided to quit.”
Eddie looked bewildered and blinked dumbly at Richie, who refused to meet anyone’s eyes and was fidgeting with his phone. Stan had to refrain from scoffing at the awed look on Eddie’s face and shared a knowing look with Bill across the table.
“Suit yourself. See you losers later,” Beverly said, shrugging her bag over her shoulder and taking off in the direction of the football field. Both Bill and Ben’s eyes followed her as she walked away.
God, they were all so pathetic.
As the conversation began to flow again, Mike leaned in close to Stan, who became immediately hyper aware of his presence. “After we leave Bill’s tomorrow, did you wanna come back to the farm? Mom keeps asking when she’s gonna see you again.”
Stan felt a grin pull at his lips. He loved spending time at the Hanlon’s farm. Mike’s parents were wonderful- honest, warm people who loved their son more than anything in the world. Despite the amount of work always going on in the fields, the entire place just made Stan feel safe.
“Sure, I’d love to,” Stan answered, and Mike smiled at him happily, always one to display his emotions so blatantly on his face. His beautiful, beautiful face.
The bell rang signaling the end of lunch, saving Stan from allowing himself to get lost in his thoughts about how attractive he found Mike. Get it together, Stanley, he told himself, shaking his head like it would get rid of his thoughts and followed Eddie and Ben to their next class.
-
The first thing Stan did when he stepped outside of the doctor’s office later that afternoon and collected his bike from the designated rack was look around for Mike’s car. He spotted the familiar faded red pickup across the street and took off in its direction, ignoring his heart beginning to beat faster against his ribs at the thought of seeing Mike.
When he got closer to the car the driver’s side window rolled down and Mike hung his arm out, grinning at Stan impishly. “Hey baby, you goin’ my way?” He asked, and Stan felt his face flush hot red. Baby.
He rolled his eyes at the comment to keep up appearances and said, “You spend too much time around Richie,” which made Mike chuckle as he hopped out to help Stan load his bike into the bed of the truck.
When they had both settled into their seats Mike handed Stan his phone which was connected to the stereo. As was their tradition, Stan scrolled through Mike’s spotify until he found an adequate playlist for their ride. Queen began to play from the speakers as Mike pulled out into the street and he hummed along cheerfully, tapping his hands to the beat on the steering wheel. Damn it, Stan was so endeared.
They pulled up to Bill’s house twenty minutes later, seeing Eddie’s and Ben’s cars already parked in the driveway. They let themselves in to the house as they always did and were greeted with the sight of Richie and Beverly sprawled across the couch, sipping from beer cans. The coffee table had been pushed against the far wall and two mattresses strewn with blankets and cushions were set up on the floor for sleeping purposes. Stan shared a look with Mike.
“Micycle! Stanthony! My boys, you made it!” Richie shouted, evidently already a bit tipsy. Bev winced slightly at his volume but continued to sip her drink.
“Seriously, Rich? It’s basically still the afternoon,” Stan remarked, dumping his bag on the floor and toeing off his sneakers, lining them up neatly, laces tucked in and toes pressed against the wall. Mike headed off into the kitchen where they could hear Eddie and Bill talking, ruffling both Bev and Richie’s hair affectionately as he passed them. Richie smiled pleasantly.
“Don’t be such a square, Uris,” Richie snarked. Bev kicked at his arm as he was taking a sip, causing Richie to miss his mouth and dribble beer down his shirt. Stan snorted.
“Pizza’s on its way,” Bill announced as he entered the room, holding a beer can of his own. Stan raised a judgmental eyebrow at him. Bill shrugged but looked sufficiently chastised as he took a seat beside Bev on the couch. Eddie settled in beside Richie leaving Ben, Stan and Mike get comfortable on the mattresses in front of them.
While Eddie and Bill argued over setting up the Apple tv, Stan stacked a few cushions behind him, leaning up against the couch where Bev’s legs would have been if they weren’t resting across Richie’s lap. Mike dug around for a knitted throw blanket and draped it over the both of them, giving Stan a small smile and settling down beside him, the length of their legs pressing together. Stan felt like he was on fire and willed himself not to do anything stupid. It was just Mike, for fucks sake. He needed to get a grip.
“Alright motherfuckers, who’s ready to watch one of the best movies of all time?” Richie bellowed, causing Eddie to shush him loudly and Bill to reach over and smack him on the head. He pressed play on the screen. Stan felt Mike shuffle beside him slightly, settling even closer to Stan than before, allowing their shoulders to rest together. Lord give him strength.
Not even ten minutes into the movie Stan felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out discreetly and was greeted with a new message.
[ 9:12 pm ]
Trashmouth: u comfy there boyo????
It was accompanied by a selection of suggestive emojis, which Stan scowled at. He sent back a simple, Fuck you, which he heard Richie snicker at on the couch behind him. They’d talk about this later.
After their pizza had been delivered (and subsequently devoured) and they were well into Back to the Future Part II, Beverly began to card her fingers through Stan’s curls, causing him to hum softly and lean back into her hand. He saw Ben watching them out of the corner of his eye, obviously trying to be covert, but Stan noticed. He wished he could just say, ‘DON’T WORRY!!!! I’M GAY AS HELL!!!!!’ to ease Ben’s anguish, but he figured it wasn’t the right time. One day.
Before the second movie had even ended Stan heard Bill and Richie snoring loudly. Bev chuckled and slid carefully onto the mattress on the floor, Eddie following her less gracefully.
Behind him Bill and Richie had snuggled up on opposite sides of the couch, their legs tangled in the middle. Eddie stood up and tossed a blanket over the both of them before gently removing Richie’s glasses from his face and setting them down on the side table. They all must have been wearing the same lewd expressions on their face, because when Eddie turned back around he grimaced at them and simply said, “Shut up,” before finding his own corner to curl up in.
It must have been after midnight when Stan began to feel his eyelids flutter shut. Eddie had long passed out in a ball at the end of one of the mattresses while Ben and Bev had been down for the count for about half an hour. Stan yawned and shuffled into a laying down position, rolling onto his side to face Mike who had been on the edge of sleep for a while now. Mike turned his head to meet his gaze.
“Night Stanley,” he murmured, his voice low. Stan reached out to pat his chest affectionately, and then didn’t have the energy to move his arm back. He rested his hand on Mike.
“Night, Mikey.”
-
Stan was woken up what felt like only minutes after he’d fallen asleep to the sound of an alarm going off somewhere close to his head. A chorus of groans emitted from the others and a pillow was even tossed in their direction courtesy of Eddie. He felt the warm body beside him sit up and immediately the ringing noise shut off. Stan blinked awake and saw Mike roll off of the mattress, gathering his belongings. Stifling a yawn Stan sat up as well, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and looking at his watch. 6:00.
Mike spun around at the sound of the blankets jostling and smiled sheepishly at Stan.
“Sorry. I’m heading back home to help my dad this morning. If you still wanna come over later, I’ll pick you up.”
Stan shook his head, reluctantly sliding the warm blanket off of his body and standing up off the floor. “Don’t be dumb, I’ll come with you now.”
“Stan, it’s-“
“It’s fine, I want to! Let’s go.” Without leaving room for argument Stan slid on his shoes and jacket, already making his way out the door as Mike grabbed their bags. The sun was barely rising outside, but Stan wasn’t feeling awake enough to truly appreciate it. As soon as Mike started up his truck, he fell back into a fitful sleep.
Stan awoke to the sound of Mike’s brakes squeaking to a halt and reluctantly opened his eyes for the second time that morning. Mike looked over at him from the driver’s side.
“You can go nap in my room if you want. I promised dad I’d help load the deliveries this morning, that’s all. I won’t be long.”
Stan shook his head, yawning again into the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m good. I might take a shower, though.”
They traipsed up to the house together, morning dew making the ground slick. Stan could already see a few workers out in the far fields where the cows were situated and smiled. God, he loved it here.
When Mike unlocked the front door, the house was silent. His dad was definitely already out in the fields somewhere, harvesting crops before the weather got too warm. Mike’s mom often helped with the animals in the mornings, so she was nowhere to be found either. Mike tossed their bags onto his bed and met Stan’s eyes.
“I’ve just gotta help dad load up the trucks and then he’s given me the rest of the day off. You gonna be okay?”
Stan nodded sleepily, smiling at him. Mike reached forward and patted his shoulder before turning into the corridor. “Borrow some clothes if you want to. You know where they are!”
Stan’s skin felt hot all over at the thought of wearing Mike’s clothes, but he quickly shook it off. You wouldn’t feel weird about borrowing Bill’s or Richie’s clothes… stop making it weird.
Stan pulled a thin pair of sweatpants out of Mike’s drawers, knowing they would be too big but hoping the drawstring would work in his favour. He then went digging through Mike’s closet in search of a hoodie to wear, finding it difficult to choose which of the familiar items he liked the most when seeing them on Mike. He found himself arranging the clothes by length and colour almost on auto-pilot before he had to physically stop himself and get back to the task at hand.
Stan finally decided on a grey hoodie with ‘NYC’ across the chest, knowing it was one of Mike’s favourites and relishing in the fact that he would probably drown in it when he put it on. Stan retrieved his toothbrush from his bag and stopped by the linen closet for a fresh towel before heading to the bathroom he knew Mike used. He locked and unlocked the door seven times behind him before he felt like he could breathe properly again.
He took a fairly long time in the shower, trying not to think about how the body wash he was using smelt like Mike, before jumping out and changing into the sweats. As he suspected, they were too big on him, but Stan found a strange comfort in the way the sleeves of Mike’s hoodie hung down over his fingers. It also smelt like him. Fuck
By this time it was almost nine o’clock and Stan could hear seventies music coming from an old crackly radio down stairs. He followed the sound into the kitchen and found Jessica Hanlon at the stove, cracking eggs into a frying pan and humming along to the music. She was wearing work boots and jeans with an old flannel, having clearly just come in from doing work. Her hair was wrapped up but she was glowing, a soft smile on her face as she focused on cooking.
Stan knocked twice on the door frame as he stepped in, not wanting to startle her, and at the sound Jessica turned around and grinned. Mike looked at lot like his father but there was no denying where he got his bright, enamoring smile from.
“Stanley! It’s so good to see you!” She left her place at the stove for a quick moment to wrap him up in a tight hug, which Stanley returned. When he’d first started coming to Mike’s house, he was a bit awkward about how comfortable his parents were with affection, but it had grown on him over time. Jessica pulled back and cupped his cheek. “How are you, honey?”
“Not bad,” Stan told her, “And you?”
“I’d be better if that damn husband of mine would hurry up and finish loading those trucks before breakfast gets cold,” She joked lightly, scraping the now cooked eggs into a larger bowl and placing it on the table where an array of fruit, waffles and bacon already sat. Stan’s stomach grumbled.
“How long have they been out there?”
Jessica sighed. “We all got up a little earlier this morning, but one of the farm hands couldn’t make it, so we were down a man. Delivery days are always a bit crazy, but Mikey went on out to help ‘em.”
Mike’s family supplied an array of produce to the local supermarkets that had to be delivered every Saturday, which often left Mike busy helping on the farm on those mornings. Stan knew Mike didn’t mind though- he loved the farm, and he loved helping his parents, even if it meant giving up his weekends or never getting to sleep in. That’s just the kind of person he was.
“Well, what do you say we go find our boys, hmm?” Jessica asked, pulling Stan from his thoughts and making his cheeks burn at her words. She looped her arm through his and led them out onto the porch where they could see Mike, his dad, and some of the farm hands loading crates of fresh food into the back of the last truck.
Mike was lifting box after box and handing them up to another guy standing in the truck, his arm muscles straining under the effort. He had since removed his jacket from earlier and his skin was glistening in the sun. Stan watched as Mike lifted up the bottom of his t-shirt and wiped at his forehead, revealing the firm, muscular skin underneath. Stan tried very hard to remain calm, but he had a feeling that sight wouldn’t be leaving his mind any time soon.
Stan could feel Jessica looking at him, but he refused to meet her gaze, afraid of its implications. They watched together as the men finished loading all the crates and the trucks drove off. Mike’s father said goodbye to the farm hands and together they made their way back to the house. When Mike looked up and saw Stan standing there watching him his face split into an intoxicating grin which Stan had to return.
“I’m gonna go shower,” Mike said when he’d made it to the porch, and Stan pretended to be grossed out.
“Good, you stink,” He teased, and Mike shoved him playfully before taking off into the house. Will Hanlon joined them and reached out to shake Stan’s hand, firm and kind.
“Nice to see you again, Stanley. How was your little movie night?”
“Pretty good,” Stan replied pleasantly, “Sorry we kept Mike away from you this morning.”
Will waved him off, smiling. “No harm done, I told him he didn’t have to come back so early, we’d have managed. But he’s a good boy.”
Stan couldn’t help but smile softly, nodding his head, “Yeah, he is.”
Will clapped Stan on the back and headed inside to clean up while Stan helped Jessica set out the plates and cutlery. Both Hanlon men came down the stairs together not long after, looking fresh and happy. Mike was wearing a pair of loose basketball shirts and a red Adidas hoodie which was one of Stan’s personal favourites on him. His hair was still a little wet, but he looked so soft and Stan ached at the sight of him.
“Looks good, Ma,” Mike said, coming around to kiss his mom on the cheek before sitting down beside Stan at the table. He looked at Stan properly for the first time all morning and tugged affectionately on his hoodie string.
“Nice hoodie. A bit big though.”
Stan blushed, lightly smacking Mike on the shoulder. “We can’t all have big, strong farmer muscles, okay?”
Mike smirked and Stan averted his gaze back to the table.
He began to load up both their plates, endearing Stan with his knowledge of what he liked. Mike made sure to give Stan plenty of strawberries since he knew they were his favourite, and only one waffle since he knew too many carbs in the morning made Stan feel sick. He ensured none of Stan’s food was touching and even poured him a glass of juice before moving onto his own plate with a smile.
They chatted idly while they ate, Stan feeling totally comfortable among Mike’s family and listening as they talked about the farm and their friends and how school was going. When they were done Mike and Stan offered to clean up, standing at the sink side by side while Stan washed and Mike dried.
It was so domestic that it made Stan feel sick, standing there in Mike’s family home, wearing Mike’s clothes and bumping hips as they washed dishes after breakfast. Stan’s thoughts were entering dangerous territory, so he decided to put a stop to that immediately and began to distract himself with talking to Mike about their English project.
Turns out they both really needed to get a move on with it, so they cooped themselves up together in Mike’s room and began to draft out their stories, bouncing ideas off of each other and taking breaks to watch stupid videos on each other’s phones.
While they were both deep in concentration and scribbling into their notebooks, Stan felt his phone vibrate against his leg. Richie had replied to the Snapchats he had sent them all earlier, one of the farm in the morning sun, the other a picture of Mike hanging upside down off his bed looking completely and utterly done with the assignment. He opened Richie’s response, which was just a blurry photo of what looked like his bedroom.
Dickboi_6969: “so thats where u snuck off too so early this morning ;) tell mikey we say hi”
Stan rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify that with a response. A second Snapchat came in only seconds later, a video of Richie throwing gummy bears at Eddie, who was sprawled across his floor reading comics. Stan showed it to Mike who chuckled fondly, shaking his head and taking Stan’s phone from his hand.
He flipped the camera around and leant into Stan, tilting their heads close together and smiling. Stan smiled too, and Mike snapped the picture, saving it to Stan’s camera roll and sending it off to Richie with the caption, some of us are trying to study.
Mike went back to his notebook and Stan opened the saved version of the photo. They both looked so soft and cosy, curled up together on Mike’s bed, their cheeks rosy and pressed together. It was obvious that Stan was wearing one of Mike’s hoodies, and he knew Richie was going to give him so much shit for it.
A minute later, a text came in from Richie himself.
[ 12:37 am ]
Trashmouth: hey can u come over later ? wanna talk about smthn
Trashmouth: dw im not dying or anything
Damn, Stan sent back, but agreed to meet up with Richie in the evening. A thousand different things ran through Stan’s mind about what Richie wanted to talk to him about, but it could be literally anything.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Mike asked, startling Stan out of his reverie. He looked relaxed and totally non-judgmental, and he wondered… could he broach the subject? Stan decided to start off easy.
“Do you ever…. Do you ever feel, like, left out? Of our group, I mean?” He asked, stumbling over his words a bit. It’s not what he meant to say, but he hopes Mike will let him elaborate.
Mike frowned slightly and sat up, contemplating. “Not really. I mean, maybe when I first met you guys, but not so much anymore. Why?”
Stan sighed. “It’s just… the whole Ben, Bev, Bill thing. Like, obviously they both like her. And she knows it, and they know it, we all know it. And it just makes things a bit awkward, you know? And then there’s-“
“Eddie and Richie,” Mike supplies, looking out into the distance of the farm through his window. Stan blinked.
“…Yeah. You see it, too?”
Mike snorted then, turning back to face Stan. “I think a blind, deaf space alien could see that they’re clearly flirting with each other under all that fighting.”
Stan nodded, his thoughts racing.
“What about you, huh? Got your eye on anyone special?” Mike teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Stan felt a lump rise in his throat.
“Uh n-no! Not at the moment. No.”
Mike nodded, taking this in, never one to push. “Cool. Well at least you and I can stick together while the other’s all pine over each other, right?”
Stan shivered, trying not to let it show on his face that he felt like his chest was concaving.
“Yeah,” he agreed, trying to shoot Mike a genuine smile, but it fell flat. “Right.”
-
Stan left Mike’s house just before dinner, giving both Will and Jessica hugs before he left. Mike had walked him out to help get his bike from his truck, tugging on Stan’s sleeve and giving him one last hug before he left. Stan thought about the feeling of Mike’s arms holding him close to his body the whole way to Richie’s house.
He texted Richie when he got there, but ultimately let himself in, assuming his parents weren’t home due to the lack of cars in the driveway. He knocked on Richie’s door thrice before pushing it open, finding his best friend laying on his bed with the curtains drawn and a pair of headphones on, eyes closed. Stan picked up one of Richie’s Vans from the floor and tossed it at him, laughing as Richie startled, nearly tumbling off the bed. He scowled at Stan, removing his headphones and sitting up.
“Nice to see you too, Mr Hanlon. How’s the husband?” Richie quipped.
It was Stan’s turn to scowl.
“Shut the fuck up. What did you wanna talk about?”
Richie sighed, shuffling to sit on the edge of his bed and began to pick at the skin around his nails. Stan, recognising this as one of Richie’s nervous tics, took a cautious seat beside him.
“You know how I- fuck. You know how I always joke about… Fuck, Stanley, I can’t even say it.”
Richie ran an angry hand through his wayward curls, tugging at them slightly in frustration. He wasn’t looking at Stan but staring straight ahead at a poster on his wall. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes. Shit. Stan put a tentative hand on his knee.
“It’s okay, Rich. Take your time.”
Richie exhaled shakily, blinking the tears out of his eyes. “Alright. Okay. I guess what I wanted to tell you is I… I like someone.”
Stan felt his eyebrows raise unintentionally. That hadn’t been exactly where he thought this was going, but okay.
“Alright. And?”
Richie had to steel himself again, this time turning slightly to look Stan in the eye before returning his gaze back to the wall. Stan felt his heart clench at the sight of his usually carefree best friend obviously struggling so much to tell him this. Stan squeezed his knee again.
“It’s… Eddie. I like Eddie.”
There it was.
Richie was unnervingly still after he said this, as if braced for a negative reaction. It’s not like Stan didn’t know already, but obviously it was all a bit more serious than he had originally thought. Richie was really cut up over this. He realised that what he said next had to be carefully calculated, since Richie looked ready to break down at any given moment.
“Stanley, please say something,” Richie whimpered, his voice thick. Stan scooted forward and wrapped his best friend in a hug, holding him tightly and trying to convey all his thoughts and feelings through his actions. Stan heard Richie sniffle against his shoulder and rubbed a hand up and down his back.
“I love you Rich, okay? I’m really proud of you,” Stan murmured as Richie pulled back, rubbing aggressively at his eyes under his glasses.
“Did you know? That I’m- that I like boys?” He said the word like it stung in his mouth and Stan tried not to wince.
“I didn’t know, exactly. I had a feeling… about Eddie, I guess. But I didn’t know it was- that it was this… much.” Stan finished lamely, tripping over his words. He still wasn’t totally sure how to navigate a coming out, since he hadn’t done it himself yet.
Richie scoffed a laugh, but it sounded bitter. “Yeah. It’s a lot. Fuck, Stan. I just came out. I've been wanting to tell someone for ages.”
Stan grinned, shoving at Richie gently. “Hell yeah, you did. How’s it feel?”
“Terrifying,” Richie answered almost immediately, “But a relief, I guess. I- It’s been on my mind for a while. Like, nearly four years.”
“Same,” Stan said without thinking, and then froze. Fuck.
He didn’t want to make this about him. Richie had just come out and it was obviously really hard for him. He hoped it might fly over Richie’s head but one glance in his direction revealed his friend staring at him with wide, dumb-struck eyes.
“Uh… Stanley? Got something to share with the class, buddy?”
Stan swallowed and figured, well, here goes nothing. It was too late to back out now.
“I’m uh- I’m gay. I’m gay, Richie.”
Stan barely had time to think before Richie was launching himself at him, taking them both down on the bed and wrestling/hugging him aggressively, causing Stan to burst into a fit of laughter despite his better judgement.
“Get the fuck off me, asswipe,” He grumbled, but he wasn’t angry. Richie rolled onto his side next to him and shook his shoulders.
“Look at us, Staniel! A couple o’ homos, just gay-ing around. Who would have thunk it, huh?”
Stan scowled, sitting up and straightening out his clothes. “You can’t say that shit, Richie.”
“Sure I can!” Richie argued, “Because I am. A homo, I mean. A big, fat queer. Hear that, Stanley? I’m gay as fuck!”
Stan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile stretching across his face. He was glad Richie could say it. He was glad he had someone else who knew how he was feeling. The pair sat in silence for a few more moment before Richie nudged Stan with his knee, grinning wickedly.
“So, Mike, huh?”
Stan felt his face flush hot and red, and smacked Richie hard on the thigh. He didn’t seem phased, and simply wiggled his eyebrows at him.
“Cmon Stan, we can talk about this shit now! You like him, right? Our big, strong, cowboy friend? Tall, dark and handsome? Probably has a really huge-“
“-Okay, fuck, alright. I like him. So what? I’ve got no chance anyway.” Stan mumbled, tucking his feet up beneath him and suddenly feeling very vulnerable. He saw Richie frown out of the corner of his eye but didn’t look up.
“Why d’ya say that?”
Stan levelled him with a stony look. “He’s like, the straightest guy I’ve ever met in my life.”
Richie scoffed. “Well, Bill exists but I see what you’re saying,” He sighed, sliding closer to Stan and attempting to catch his eye.
“Look, don’t be so stereotypical, Uris! You don’t know how Mikey wants it, okay? He’s never said he doesn’t like cock, so.” Stan rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. He’d been through all this torture in his own head already, but clearly Richie wasn’t done.
“Come on, Stanley! He drives you everywhere and always lets you choose the music and where we go to eat and what movies we see. He brings you food every day and you practically live at his house. And correct me if I’m fucking wrong, but aren’t you wearing his clothes right now?”
Richie was trying to convince Stan of something he’d long ago written off ever happening. Stan refused to get his hopes up when it was highly unlikely Mike had anything but platonic feelings for him. He needed to change the subject before he had, like, a breakdown.
“He’s just being nice. He’s nice to everyone. Can we please stop talking about it?”
Richie held up both his hands, surrendering. “Alright, alright, whatever you say, Señor.”
A few beats of silence went by before Stan piped up again.
“So, Eddie, huh?”
Richie groaned dramatically and thumped back on his bed, pulling a pillow over his face. Stan rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be such a drama queen. How long?”
“I don’t know,” Richie said, voice muffled by the pillow, “Since we were, like, thirteen?”
“Jesus.”
Richie pulled the pillow from his face and huffed, unamused. “Yeah. Jesus.”
“So all that… bickering and flirting, pulling his pigtails-“, Richie rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were turning red, “- It’s because you like him? You’re not just being an asshole?”
“Oh, I’m definitely being an asshole.” Richie clarified, “But yeah. It’s because… I don’t know, I just want to have his attention all the time. Be near him. I don’t know, it’s stupid.”
“Sounds pretty gay.” Stan deadpanned, and Richie whacked him with the pillow, but he was grinning.
“Stan the man gets off on a good one!”
Stan chuckled, tossing the pillow back at him. “So, it’s serious, huh? You really like him?”
Richie sighed, his eyes glassy. “Yeah. I’ve never liked anyone but him. It’s like… It’s all I think about, ever. It’s so hard not to think about it. Him. I carved our initials into the kissing bridge, like, three summers ago.” He admitted this quietly, shrugging his shoulders and looking down.
Stan had no idea how to respond to that, so he just repeated, “Jesus.”
Richie just shrugged, his turned down in a grimace. “It’s fine. I’ve accepted it, ya know? Eds isn’t gay and even if he was, he wouldn’t be into me. C’est la vie, as they say.”
Stan could tell Richie was trying to play it off, but nothing could disguise the hurt in his voice. Stan gave him a pat on the shoulder and decided that was enough deep and meaningful confessions for one day.
“Between you, me and Ben, we could start some kind of unrequited love support group. ‘A safe space for guys who have an unrelenting crush on their best friends.'”
Richie chuckled at this, but his eyes were still glassy. “We sure could, Stanley, we sure fuckin’ could.”
-
It’s a few weeks later and they’re spending their afternoon at the quarry, taking advantage of the rare Derry sunshine. They’d spent most of their day splashing around in the cool water and sun baking on the rocks, enjoying the weekend and each other’s company.
It’s late afternoon when Beverly pulls out an enormous bottle of vodka and a bottle of lukewarm orange juice, waggling her eyebrows at the rest of them. Stan hears Eddie sigh dramatically when Richie whoops and allows Bev to pour him a generous serving into one of the plastic cups she brought.
“You do know underage drinking slows brain development, right? There’s a reason the legal age is twenty-one,” Eddie says, and Beverly snorts.
“Richie’s brain was never going to fully develop anyway, so he’s got nothing to worry about. Ben?”
They all end up in a circle on one of the large flat rocks beside the water, nursing their own plastic cups. Mike’s and Eddie’s contain only juice, while the others are filled with the forbidden vodka. Stan figures he might as well get in on the fun, even if he only has less than half a shot in his.
“I propose a game! Never have I ever!” Richie exclaims, and is met with groans from pretty much all of them.
“Cmon, assholes, this is the teenage experience! Take a drink every time you’ve done something, okay? I’ll go first,” He looks around group, eyes narrowed before stating, “Never have I ever broken a bone.”
“Fuck off, Tozier,” Eddie grumbled, taking a sip from his juice while Eddie snickered. Mike also took a sip.
“Okay, never have I ever… watched porn,” Bev said, smirking. They all shot fleeting looks around the group, each of them awkwardly taking a sip from their cups. Richie winked and took a huge gulp of his confidently. Bev laughed.
“Y-you’ve never w-w-watched it, Bev?” Bill asked, eyebrow raised doubtfully. Bev smirked.
“Oh no, I have. I just wanted to see you all squirm, you pervs,” She snickered, waving off their protests, “Your turn, Eddie.”
Eddie, who was scrolling through an article on his phone titled 100 Never Have I Ever Questions paused and looked up, biting his lip. “Never have I ever kissed someone,” He mumbled, embarrassed.
Bev took a sip. Bill took a sip. Richie took a sip. Stan took a sip.
“Hang on one fucking second!” Bev exclaimed, pointing between Stan and Richie, “I didn’t know you two had your first kiss? What the fuck!”
“What can I say, Bev? Stanley just couldn’t resist all o’ this,” Richie said, pretending to flip his hair theatrically. Most of them chuckled, but Stan saw that Eddie’s mouth was pressed into a hard line. Interesting.
“Beep beep, Trashmouth,” Stan said, kicking at his foot. Ben, forever the diffuser of awkward moments, swiftly moved the game along with another question.
Stan watched as Richie tried to crack jokes to make Eddie laugh and winced as they all fell flat. Richie glanced over at him, confused, and Stan mouthed, “What the fuck?”at him. He still looked puzzled.
The game eventually ran its course when they couldn’t think of any more questions. It wasn’t long before Eddie, who was still noticeably pissed off, muttered he needed to get home and took off in the direction of their cars without so much as a goodbye. Richie frowned, clumsily getting to his feet and taking off after him.
“Wait, Eds, you’re my ride!”
Bill rolled his eyes and stood too, helping Bev to her feet. Ben offered to drive them home and they bid Mike and Stan goodbye, Bev kissing them both on the cheek and taking a second to give Stan a meaningful look before she traipsed off with the others. Stan sighed.
“Wanna get out of here too?” Mike asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them since they were left alone. Stan nodded and together they headed back to Mike’s truck, settling in as Mike started the engine.
They drove in silence, the radio playing faintly because Mike hadn’t plugged in his phone and handed it to Stan like he usually did. The sun had just set and the street lights were turning on when Mike pulled up in front of Stan’s house, putting the truck in park but not dropping his hands from the wheel. Neither of them moved.
Stan fidgeted awkwardly, not quite sure what had happened to make things feel so… weird between them. It was rarely like this with Mike, and Stan was clueless about where to go from here. He cleared his throat sheepishly.
“Is everything… okay?”
Mike turned to look at him, blinking, as if he had been lost in his own thoughts. “Yeah, uh… yeah. Hey, can I ask you something?”
Stan nodded, heart beating wildly in his chest as his mind rushed through all the possibilities of what Mike was about to say. The other boy huffed and turned to look back out the windscreen, avoiding Stan’s gaze again.
“Are you and Richie… did you guys kiss? Are you together?”
Stan couldn’t hold in the breathy laughed that was startled out of him. “What? No way! Richie was just being an asshole tonight, we’ve never- I’ve never kissed him. Disgusting.”
Mike looked at him out of the corner of his eye, wearily. “Are you sure? You can tell me. It’s just tonight he was saying all this stuff, and you guys are always together and I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me-“
“Mike.” Stan said, halting Mike’s rambling and placing his hand on his arm. “It’s never been like that between me and Richie. My first kiss was with some girl I didn’t even know at my cousins Bat Mitzvah when I was fourteen. It lasted, like, two seconds. I didn’t think it was important to tell anyone about.”
Mike’s posture visibly relaxed and he sighed, closing his eyes briefly and shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at Stan now, “I just thought you two had been together all this time and you never told me. I felt like an idiot. Sorry.”
Mike rarely ever sounded this bashful, and it made Stan’s heart clench uncomfortably. He squeezed his hand where it was still resting on Mike’s arm.
“Don’t be sorry. I would tell you if anything like that happened. But Richie’s like my gross, annoying brother. Emphasis on gross. And annoying.”
Mike chuckled, “Alright. Point made.”
They grinned at each other and Stan moved his hand back into his lap. Now would be the perfect time to say it. He knew Mike would be fine with it, and he wanted to tell him. He reallywanted to tell him. He just couldn’t manage to get the words out. Come on, Stanley, now or never.
Stan grasped his hands together tightly to stop them shaking and quietly said, “Mike?”
Mike looked at him with dark, shining eyes, full of sincerity and openness and Stan had never loved him so much.
“I just wanted to tell you that I never liked Richie but I do… I do like boys. That kiss back then, it was a dare and it helped me realise that I- yeah. I like boys. I’m gay, Mike.”
Stan screwed his eyes shut and refused to look at Mike’s reaction, listening to his pulse beating wildly in his ears as his mind ran on a repetitive reel of fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
“Stanley.” Mike’s voice was gentle and kind, which gave Stan the confidence to open his eyes and look over at him.
Mike had a soft smile on his face and all of Stan’s worries melted away at the sight of that smile. God, Mike Hanlon was an enigma. He reached out and took both of Stan’s hands in his, holding them together tightly.
“You didn’t have to tell me just because you thought you owed me, or something. But I’m glad you did. I’ll always be here for you, Stan, you know that right?"
Stan hadn’t cried when he came out to Richie, because, well, it was an accident. This was the first time he had ever really worked up the courage to tell someone he was gay, and a wave of emotions hit him all at once. Without warning a steady stream of tears began to pour down Stan’s cheeks and he let out a pathetic sounding sob which Mike muffled in his jacket as he pulled Stan into a tight, affirming hug.
Mike held him, albeit slightly awkwardly as he was leaning over the console and let him ride out the waves of his tears, rubbing his back. When Stan finally pulled back feeling considerably disgusting, Mike only brushed a stray tear from his cheek and gave him that soft smile again, the one that always made Stan feel like he was safe.
“Sorry for being such a mess. I’ve never really done that before. Guess that was, like, years of repression all pouring out at once,” Stan sniffled and glanced down at his phone, which pinged with a message from his mother asking where he was. “Thank you, for listening. And for being so great.”
Mike only nodded, his smile remaining. “Of course, Stan the man. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”
Stan smiled in response and opened his door, rounding the truck and heading for his front door, feeling both incredibly heavy and totally weightless and the same time. Before he even made it to his letterbox he heard a car door open and Mike call his name. He spun around, confused, when he saw Mike jogging towards him.
Mike didn’t say anything, only wrapped Stan up in another warm hug, swaying them from side to side when Stan chuckled, but refusing to let go. Stan could happily stay like this for hours, days, years. They would have to get food and water eventually, but, like, priorities.
Then, Mike pressed a firm kiss to the top of his hair, and Stan’s head spun, trying to remember if he’d ever done that before. Mike pulled back, holding on the Stan’s shoulders and looking deeply into his eyes, looking suddenly very serious.
“You’re the bravest person I know, Stanley Uris. And I love you, yeah? Thank you for trusting me.”
Stan knew, he knew what Mike meant, but hearing those words come from his mouth tilted his whole world on its axis, and suddenly Stan forgot everything that had just happened because Mike loved him. Platonically. The key word was platonically.
Stan grinned, his eyes getting teary again as he said, “I love you, too, Mike."
And with that Mike turned away to get back into his truck. He waited for Stan to unlock his door and get inside safely, like he always did, and Stan watched him drive off through the window, his heart pounding. Did that just happen?
Later, after showering and settling into bed, Stan finally checked his phone to find an array of messages from his friends.
[ 6:52 pm ]
Bev: you and mikey all good? the tension tonight was killing me, dude
Stan rolled his eyes but sent back a thumbs up emoji, refusing to elaborate no matter what Beverly already thought she knew. Next was a multitude of texts from Richie.
[ 6:46 pm ]
Trashmouth: do u know y is eddie angry pls help i am Dumb
Trashmouth: hes so mad stan help
Trashmouth: ok… so apparently hes pissed bc I didnt tell him about kissing someone ?
Trashmouth: and he thot u and i were fucking which what the FUCK
Trashmouth: i made a joke about his mom and he tried to smother me w a pillow so I guess we all g now
Stan groaned out loud at Richie’s grammar and told him they were both idiots before checking his last message which he only received three minutes ago.
It was from Mike, and he had just sent him a whole bunch of rainbow flag emojis along with a variety of hearts, which made Stan blush even in the darkness of his bedroom. He grinned, sending back a heart of his own and fell asleep easily, feeling the most content he has in a while.
-
The next morning Stan was perusing Instagram when he paused on a post announcing it was ‘National Coming Out Day’. Well.
Stan considered it for all of two minutes before he decided, fuck it, and opened up his group chat with the others.
He typed out a message, proof reading and editing it several times before steeling himself and pressing send. The second he saw it had been delivered Stan locked his phone and tossed it across the room onto his rug. So, that’d happened.
Despite it being only nine am, he heard his phone begin to buzz incessantly from the floor and decided he’d better check the responses. He knew, deep down, that his friends would be supportive. But it still felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done to send that message.
Stan couldn’t bring himself to check his phone right away and instead spent a few minutes checking and rearranging his book shelf, trying to use his therapists grounding techniques at the same time to help himself calm down. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore and he retrieved his phone to check the chat.
The Losers Club
[ 9:12 am ]
Stan the Man: So today is National Coming Out Day and I just wanted to tell you guys that I’m gay. Some of you already know and I’m finally ready to just be out with it.
Benny Boy: Thanks for telling us Stan :) we love you
Big Bill: Stan!!! so proud of you buddy!!
Bev: FUCKIN LOVE YOU STAN
Bev: thank u for trusting us xxxxxxx
Mikey: We love you Stan!
Stan’s chest felt like it might explode with how much love he was feeling in that moment. He truly did have the best friends in the whole world. It was weird, though, that Eddie hadn’t responded. He’d seen the message and Stan really didn’t think he’d be the kind of person to have a problem with it. A few seconds later, his phone buzzed again.
Rich: fucking hell stan u beat me to it
Rich: anwyays guys im also A Gay woo WOOOO
More and more messages rolled in after that, some of them disbelieving of Richie, because, well, he was Richie, while mostly Bev and Mike sent their congratulations. Stan watched the messages pour in full of support for both him and Rich, and he felt like his heart could actually explode from his chest. It’s not like he ever thought the other Loser’s wouldn’t accept him, but the sheer amount of love he felt from all of them was enough to almost bring him to tears.
Bev: lets meet up for lunch @ the diner to celebrate!!!!! 12?
It didn’t take long for everyone to send their confirmations, but Stan couldn’t help but notice Eddie’s lack of response. He could see he’d read their messages, but he hadn’t replied to any of them, making something in Stan’s stomach sink.
[ 9:50 am ]
Mikey: Hey want me to pick you up on my way to the diner?
Suddenly, nothing else mattered.
-
Mike gave Stan another bear hug as soon as he got into the truck, telling Stan again how proud he was of him and grinning like a maniac. Stanley just blushed and waved him off, checking his seat belt was clicked in properly three times before they set off towards their favourite dingy diner on the outskirts of town. The whole way there Mike sang along to Stan’s music choices loudly, causing Stan to chuckle and even join in sometimes. Mike was the only person in the whole world who could get Stan to sing (except occasionally Beverly).
When they arrived they found their friends strewn across one of the booths, the loudest patrons in the place as usual. Stan rolled his eyes when Richie called out to them both loudly, attracting the attention of everyone around them. Mike just chuckled and lead them over to the booth, squeezing in beside Bill while Stan took the last spot next to Bev. She immediately threw an arm around his shoulders and kissed him firmly on the cheek, making a loud mwah sound and making Stan shove her away playfully.
Stan was unbelievably relieved to see Eddie there, squashed between Ben and Bill. He shot Stan a small smile, but he seemed off. It made Stan’s pulse quicken and his stomach turn.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today!” Richie announced, standing up awkwardly between the table and the leather seat of the booth and holding up a plastic glass of coke like he was making a toast. “Let it be known to all in this shit-hole town that I, am in fact, gay as fuck.”
“WHOOP WHOOP!”, Beverly cheered loudly as Bill thumped on the table, grinning. Stan was sure they were about a minute away from being kicked out.
“And also, that one Stanley Uris is gay as fuck too!” Richie proclaimed solemnly, and the Loser’s all cheered again which caused Stan’s cheeks to burn magnificently red.
“I understand that today marks a very tragic loss for the female population-“
“Beep beep Richie-“
“But, a real gain for all the boys, amirite?” Richie winked at Stan who groaned and hid a smile behind his hand when he felt Mike nudge his foot under the table.
“To Richie and Stan,” Ben declared, raising his own cup in the air. The Loser’s all repeated his words and knocked their own drinks together, and Stan met Richie’s gaze across the table. Together they shared a true, genuine smile which made Stan’s chest feel like it could burst. He was so lucky to have them all.
The conversation carried on as it always did, with teasing back-and-forth and discussions of family and school, like nothing had really changed. Stan appreciated this immensely, since the last thing he wanted was for any of them to start acting awkward all of a sudden, for the vibe to change.
Well.
Richie was cracking jokes easily as he always did, saying something about wanting to ‘order the sausages but that might be too on the nose’ and nudging Eddie across the table when the latter snapped, turning to his friend with a fiery look in his eye.
“Shut the fuck up already, would you? We get it, you’re fucking gay, God.” Eddie snarled, venom in his voice. Everyone’s conversations died immediately as they all stared at Eddie, shocked. Richie was sitting there with his mouth hanging agape and with an obvious look of hurt on his face. It was painfully silent.
“Hey, I-“, Beverly began indignantly before Eddie stood up, muttering about needing some air and taking off out of the diner door. They all stared after him, stunned.
Mike made a move to stand up but Stan beat him to it. “I’ll go,” he said, leaving no room for argument and ignoring his friends looks of concern before following Eddie out the door.
It went against everything in him to go after someone who had pretty much revealed their distaste for gay people right in front of his face, but Stan had known Eddie for years and he was positive there was more to it than that. He found Eddie just outside the diner, slumped forward on a bench and staring out at the road. Stan approached him, hesitant, but the angry fire burning in the pit of his stomach won out as he stomped over to him righteously.
“Can I sit here, or are you afraid you’ll catch my gay disease?” Stan practically spat, his words bitter. Eddie sobbed out a breath, and it was clear he’d been crying. Stanley only felt a little bad for him.
“I’m so sorry,” Eddie choked into his hand, shaking his head back and forth, “I didn’t mean to say that. I- I don’t know what I was thinking,” and he began to cry again, the real ugly kind of crying with snot and hiccupping and a red face. Stan sighed and sat beside him, placing a hand on his trembling shoulder.
“Then why did you say it?” Stan asked, not letting him off easy. Eddie sniffled, shaking his head again.
“I-I don’t know. I don’t know,” he shrugged, not meeting his friends’ eye. Stan scoffed.
“Bullshit, you do know. Why the fuck would you say something like that to him? I know he annoys you all the time, but does it really bother you that he’s making jokes about being gay? You know that’s how he copes with things, Eddie.”
Eddie stifled another sob. “I know. I know, okay? I don’t know why I said it. Just ever since you guys came out I’ve been… feeling weird. Not about you two-“ He hurried to clarify when Stan huffed, “-just, in general. I think… I think it’s made me think about things I haven’t really let myself think about.”
A wave of understanding washed over Stan immediately. Oh. He placed a comforting hand on Eddie’s knee.
“Well, I guess I can see why you’re acting all fucked up. But Eddie, you’ve seriously upset him, you know? He’s not as tough as he pretends he is, and your opinion has always mattered the most to him.”
Stan couldn’t help but feel protective of Richie. They’d been best friends since they were practically toddlers, and despite how much he thoroughly pissed him off every second of every day, Stan felt inexplicably fond of Richie. Especially since he was well aware of how he felt for Eddie.
“I know,” Eddie sniffled, his voice quiet. Stan sighed.
“You don’t have to tell him why, but… you have to apologise to him. The look on his face- I’ve never seen him so heart broken.”
Eddie nodded, a stray tear leaking from his eye. He swiped it away. “I know, I will. Could- could you send him out? I want to talk to him.”
Stan nodded and made to leave when he felt Eddie’s hand tug on his wrist. He turned to face him, taking note of the look of devastation on his friends’ face. Eddie sighed.
“I’m sorry, Stan. I didn’t mean to act like I don’t accept you. I do, it’s just… it’s brought stuff up for me. I’m sorry. And I love you.”
Stan tried hard to keep a stony look on his face but couldn’t stop the side of his mouth turning up in a tiny grin. “I love you too. And I know you love him. So you need to show it,” Stan said, pushing down a chuckle as Eddie’s face burned crimson and turned to head back into the diner.
Richie was trying to carry on with business as usual, but Stan could see that his heart just wasn’t really in it. As he approached they all turned to look at him expectantly.
“He wants to talk to you. To apologise,” Stan said, looking at Richie and hoping to convey all he wanted to say with a look. Richie nodded dumbly and scooted out of the booth, taking off in the direction of Eddie with his hands in his pockets. Stan exhaled loudly and took his seat beside Beverly again.
“So?” Bill asked, waiting for an explanation.
“It’s not my place to say why Eddie reacted the way he did,” Stan said, shrugging, “But I know he didn’t mean it. He’s going through his own shit and he just snapped. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
Bill hummed but didn’t push it. Ben pulled him into a discussion about their English teacher just as Stan felt a foot nudge against his gently.
Mike was looking at him attentively, eyebrows raised as if asking 'are you okay?'.
Stan gave him a small nod, smiling genuinely when Mike didn’t look immediately convinced. When he was satisfied with Stan’s response Mike pushed the remains of his strawberry milkshake towards him across the table, offering. Stan immediately took a sip, pushing his foot against Mike’s in thanks.
Stan could feel Beverly’s gaze searing into the side of his face but pointedly ignored her, catching sight of Eddie and Richie outside threaded together in a tight embrace, not looking like they were letting go anytime soon.
“That’s our cue, I think,” Stan announced, standing up from to booth and directing everyone’s attention to the pair outside. Bev smiled wryly.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said, pulling Ben with her off of the seat and heading towards the counter to pay. Mike fell into step with Stan as they walked and their knuckled brushed against each other ever so slightly. Neither of them pulled away.
-
More than a week after the whole diner debacle and Stan was feeling pretty damn good.
The Loser’s had reconvened the next day at Mike’s farm and it was like nothing had even happened. They joked around the way they always had, and things just felt so inexplicably easy. Stan carried this newfound confidence home with him that night and over dinner he decided it would be a good time to come out to his parents.
Donald and Andrea Uris were not known to be particularly emotional people. So, Stan told them plainly and frankly that he was gay, that he’d known for a while, that he hoped this didn’t change anything.
His mother had simply smiled gently and said, “Oh, honey,” and placed her hand over his, giving it a squeeze. His father had nodded and mentioned something about keeping his door open when his friends were over. Stan had flushed slightly at that but nodded, and that was that. They told him they loved him. He was out.
And it was okay.
One day that week he and Mike are walking home from school together, planning to go to Stan’s place to study but both knowing they would likely end up watching ghost hunting shows or playing Mario Kart.
They were walking leisurely side by side as Stan rambled about an uncommon species of finch that had apparently been spotted nearby. Mike always listened attentively to Stan talk about his bird watching hobby, even asking questions when the moment was right. Stan appreciated it immensely, since he knew Mike didn’t really care, but he was the only person he knew who he could talk to about birds. It made a pleasant feeling sprout in his chest.
There was a natural lull in the conversation and they continued to walk in silence. Stan glanced over at Mike shyly and saw that the other boys’ forehead was wrinkled in thought. He fought the urge to reach forward and smooth out the lines with his thumb, instead saying:
“I can hear the cogs turning in that head of yours, Hanlon.”
Mike glanced at him, smiling, and hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulder. Eddie always warned them they’d get back problems by not wearing both their bag straps, but he wasn’t here right now to lecture them.
“I’m just thinkin’,” Mike answered, looking down to where their sneakers were scuffing along the sidewalk together- Mike’s, a worn pair of black Converse; Stan’s, a pair of clean white Adidas.
“About?” Stan pushed, an eyebrow quirked in Mike’s direction.
“After graduation.”
Stan immediately came to a halt. Mike, not expecting this, turned around from where he had kept on walking and looked back at Stan with a frown.
“I just- sorry. You caught me off guard. I haven’t ever really heard you talk about…that.”
Mike shrugged, not meeting Stan’s eyes. “Next year is our senior year. Everyone’s applying for college, it’s about time I thought about it too.”
Stan could see that Mike wasn’t feeling too hot about this looming conversation, and simply pulled him along by his wrist down the block until they reached Stan’s house. No one was home, so he led them around the back to the porch and sat Mike down on the steps, taking his spot beside him.
“Okay, talk. What’s on your mind?”
Mike huffed, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket uneasily. “Bill, Rich and Eddie are all going to New York. Ben and Bev are looking at schools in Chicago. You’re applying for IvyLeague colleges, Stanley. Where does that leave me?”
Stan frowned and placed his hand on Mike’s knee, squeezing. “Well, what do you want to do?”
Mike scoffed, but not unkindly. He ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t know. All my life I thought I was gonna stay here and help with the farm, take over when my parents died. Then my ma tells me out of nowhere that- that they’ve had a college fund for me since I was little. And that they want me to get the hell out of Derry.”
Stan raises his eyebrows, surprised. That is definitely not where he thought Mike was going with this.
“Okay. So I’ll ask you again, Mike- what do you wanna do?”
“I want to get the hell out of Derry,” Mike said with a thick laugh, shaking his head. Stan couldn’t hold back the fond smile tugging at his mouth. God.
“Then do it! You thought all this time you’d be stuck in this shit hole, and now you have the chance to get out! Go to school, take a gap year, get a job somewhere, it doesn’t matter, Mike. You can do literally anything.”
Mike was looking at him with those big, brown puppy eyes that melted Stan to the core. Stan had to look away; it was like staring directly into the sun.
“I guess you’re right, Stanley. I think… I’ve always wanted to go to college and do something like history, or literature. Something useless,” Mike said with a wry smile. Stan shoved him.
“Art majors aren’t useless, Michael,” he scolded gently, and Mike snorted.
“Well it’s no accounting degree, that’s for sure.”
Stan rolled his eyes playfully and let the silence fall between them. He felt Mike scoot closer beside him but refused to look his way.
“Stan?”
Mike’s voice was soft, vulnerable. It sounded completely different than it had a few moments ago. Stan felt something in his stomach drop.
“Yeah?”
“You know how a while ago I said I wanted to go to Florida, and Richie joked saying you should come with me?”
Stan nodded slightly, confused. He still wasn’t looking at Mike, and he was pretty sure Mike wasn’t looking at him either. “Yeah. Why?”
He heard Mike take a shaky breath as if steeling himself for something. At this point Stan’s pulse was ringing in his ears. It was like the atmosphere had changed between them completely, but he didn’t know why.
“Would you wanna? Come with me, I mean?”
For all intents and purposes, it was a simple question.
But the way Mike had said it, the way he was still avoiding Stan’s eyes made the whole thing feel so much heavier. Stan had to remind himself to breathe when he realised he had been holding his breath for a solid ten seconds. He gaped at Mike, lost for words.
“I-I don’t… Mike, what are you saying?”
Mike finally turned to face him, an indistinguishable look on his face. At least, Stan couldn’t distinguish it at that moment in time. All of a sudden, he reached forward and held both of Stan’s shaking hands in his. Stan tracked the movement with his eyes, still gaping like an idiot. He looked back up to meet Mike’s gaze, which now looked determined.
“I don’t want to assume that you return my feelings because you like guys, but- I like you, Stan. A lot. And I really would like t-to be with you. For us to leave this place together.”
Stan’s backyard could have quite frankly burst into flames right in front of them and he probably wouldn’t pay it any mind. Every word in the English language had disappeared from Stan’s head the second Mike said I like you and it was like his brain had turned to complete mush.
There’s no way this was happening.
He had to say something.
“Um-I- what?”
Mike didn’t quite let go of his hands, but it was a near thing. Stan had never seen him like this. Anxious.
“I’m sorry, okay? I thought maybe- I don’t know what I thought. I just had to say something, it’s like it was suffocating me, I had to know-“
“Mike...”
“-And now I’ve made you uncomfortable and you probably hate me, and everything’s gonna be weird now-“
“Mike.”
“-I just thought maybe you might feel the same way but obviously I had it all wrong and-“
“Mike!”
He was snapped out of his babbling monologue at the abrupt sound of his name coming from Stan’s lips and looked openly shocked at the position they were in. Stan had shuffled closer and had one of his hands resting on Mike’s jaw, turning his face towards himself. He felt Mike swallow nervously beneath his fingers.
It scared Stan to see him like this. Mike was always the one who had it together, who kept the rest of them in line. Now he was looking at Stan, tender and exposed, as if expecting a harsher rejection to come his way.
“Mike?” Stan breathed, mustering every ounce of courage in his being and locking his eyes on Mike’s, searching. For what, he didn't know.
“Yeah?”
Stan shook his head, smiling softly. “You didn’t have it all wrong.”
He barely caught a glance of the absolutely stupefied look on Mike’s face before he pulled him closer, connecting their lips.
It was only a few seconds and there was no fireworksor explosionsor electricity. But Stan didn’t and couldn’t care about anything except how Mike’s lips felt on his in that moment.
When he pulled back Mike still had his eye closed, breathing shallowly. Stan’s hand was shaking where it was still resting on his face.
“Did that… did that just happen?” Mike said, barely a whisper. Stan smiled.
“Yeah, it did.”
Mike opened his eyes then, and fuck if Stan thought he was blinded before, the look on Mike’s face now was practically gleaming.
“I really thought you were gonna let me down easy there, Stan,” he said, voice still incredibly soft. It made Stan want to melt into a puddle.
“You didn’t really give me a chance to talk,” Stan retorted, stroking his thumb over Mike’s cheekbone. He was practically an Adonis, and Stan was going to realistically die.
“Sorry about that. I’m, uh, glad you stopped me. I kind of spiraled.”
Stan grinned, finally pulling his hand away from Mike’s face. “I noticed. So how long have you…?”
Mike looked sheepish. “A while? I’m not sure exactly when. But how many bros do you think pick up their other bros from their appointments? Walk them home? Carry their books?”
A surprised laugh erupted from Stan’s chest. “I mean. I hoped but… I just thought you were being nice. You’re just so nice.”
“It’s one of my biggest flaws.”
“Only you would have their biggest flaw be ‘too nice’.”
Mike grinned and took Stan’s hands in his again. Yeah, Stan could get used to this.
“How about you? How long?”
Stan shrugged. “A year, maybe. I was still figuring shit out.”
Mike looked pleased with this answer and let go of one of Stan’s hands to tug playfully on one of his curls. Stan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
“I really want to kiss you again, Stanley.”
“So do it.”
Mike leant forward and kissed him, gently, but with fervor. Stan may be biased but he thinks Mike might be the best kisser in, like, the whole world.
They kiss for longer this time, sneaking in quick pecks when neither of them wants to really pull away. They eventually part after God knows how long, both smiling stupidly. Stan loves it.
“I’m sure there’s some really good schools for accounting in Florida.” Stan says, resting his forehead on Mike’s. He never wants to let him go in case this turns out to be some sort of fucked up dream.
He feels Mike’s grin against his mouth when he leans in for another kiss.
“I’m sure there is.”