Chapter Text
Griffin sits down on the floor of his old bedroom. It seems that when he died, so did the connection Griffin had to the basement. He hadn't passed on yet for God knows why but he wasn't complaining. He heard a familiar knock on his door. The person didn't need to knock anymore as they were in the same predicament as Griffin found himself in.
"Papes!" He exclaimed as the Paperboy who he used to know as Billy Showalter entered his room.
"Griff, you got mail." He said, holding out an envelope addressed to a Griffin Stagg. He hit Paperboy on the arm and laughed.
"Even in death you're still delivering my papers!" He ripped open the envelope and began to scan the letter inside. It was short, shorter than any letter Griffin's aunts and uncles ever sent him.
"We didn't know each other and I'm not going to make it seem like we did. The short interaction we had in the basement was one that I'll never forget. You had a nice voice. Fuck, that sounds weird but I mean it. You sounded childish like you should've and hearing you laugh was a pleasant sound." Griffin stared at the paragraph he had just read. He had a nice voice? He'd thank Finney but the comment seemed a little off-putting. The thought itself was nice. It made him smile as he thought about Finney fumbling with his pencil, searching for the words to say.
Paperboy looked over at Griffin's letter. Griffin snatched it and pulled it closer to his chest. Paperboy laughed and shook his head. Griffin took the letter away from his chest and continued reading.
"Hey Papes?" He asked. Paperboy looked over at him and cocked his head to the side.
"Do I have a nice voice? Finney says I do." He chuckled. Paperboy smiled at him.
"Of course you have a nice voice, wouldn't be talking to you if you didn't." Griffin elbowed him in the side and continued reading.
“
My therapist tells me I'm "too morbid" at times. Can you believe it? If she even heard the shit that Vance and Billy said she'd be taking back her words. Sometimes I sit and wish that I had gotten to know you, you seemed like a nice
eno
kid. Your life was cut short and I'm sorry.
My sorry won't undo what happened or even bring you back to life but for what it's worth I'm sorry. ” Griffin huffed. He hated it but he couldn't be mad at Finney for what happened to him, it wasn't even his fault. Paperboy peaked at Griffin's letter.
"You okay?" He asked. Griffin so desperately wanted to tell him yes, to lie. He'd been doing it for years, what's so different now? Paperboy was his friend, he shouldn't lie to him.
"Yeah, just caught off guard a little." He smiled. He fucking smiled. Griffin wanted to punch himself. Paperboy wouldn't be mad at him for not being okay, would he? Maybe that's why he lied to him, for protection. Out of fear of rejection
"You were obsessed with time in our phone call and, now that you're dead you have all the time in the world." God he's corny. Griffin snorted. Even he could've done so much better than that. No matter how corny it might've seemed, it was the thought that counted.
"My letter ended." He complained. Paperboy laughed.
"That's what letter do Griff, they end." Griffin sighed. But it was so short, he couldn't do any better?
"But Papes!" Paperboy fell back on Griffin's bed and groaned.
"Write him one back then." Griffin perked up. He wasn't good at many thing but writing was something his mom told him he was the best at. He would write Finney the best response letter he'd ever seen, one that would make his "grief letter" or whatever seem like nothing.
"I will write him a letter! Thanks Papes!" He shot off his bed and ran out the door. Paperboy sat up on the bed confused at to why Griffin seemed so whatever about letters. They're stupid letters for goodness sake. He looked down at the crumbled envelope in his hand marked "To Paperboy" and tore it open.