Work Text:
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
can’t forget, my english love affair 🎙️
stanley didn’t deem himself adventurous, there was a couple things he’d done that were out of the ordinary for a boy of his nature but he mostly preferred to keep things on a tight routine. he had fun, plenty of it - but usually when he’d set time aside for it in his weekly planner. it wasn’t that he hated fun, or partying or any particularly excruciating experience, his views of fun were just different than most of his friends.
his best friend mike hanlon, an environmental science major, always loved feeding ducks - bringing stan along whenever he could to spend time with the boy. his father back home in maine had a guilty pleasure of trying brunch spots with his wife, finding anything to fill their time while stanley was away at school. his suite-mate on campus enjoyed drinking, playing loud music and pissing stan off.
fun was really a spectrum for every single person it encountered but one of the most fun things stan had ever done was take an apprenticeship in england, working alongside some senior accountants who’d chosen him from a program he’d done at UPENN. it opened a multitude of opportunities for him, helping him be trained over some of the most skilled workers in his field while also building a clientele before even graduating.
it wasn’t all work though.
stanley uris always made time to play. the day had been filled with long streams of numbers, scrolling on computers through files and helping with clients but now, this was his time. he’d been able to change his work slacks for a pair of deep tan cargos, brushing slight waves of gel he’d used in his hair to keep his curls concealed - letting his blond coils fall free.
the pub was dark and bright at the same time, the chill of manchester as stanley adjusted his sweater that had been plastered over the white polo to keep him warm. stanley crossed his arms at the disco lights blaring through the bar - low hum of a bass guitar starting the opening notes to a song.
british flags were streamers through the bar, antique pictures covering the oak walls - draft beer in almost every attendant's hand. girls he’d seen referred to online as “chavs” dancing with their friends while some indie band played on the stage. it had been a long day and ending up at this pub was the last thing he’d expected but, his fellow interns had recommended it numerous times and told him he couldn’t go back home without visiting.
stanley didn’t believe that but he decided to give it a chance anyways, wanting to get the most out of this trip especially with how hard it was to get his passport validated and go on educational leave for half the last semester of his senior year at UPENN. so here he was, drifting through the crowd of people that filled the room. it wasn’t any song stanley had been familiar with so he assumed it was an original from them, while everyone in the pub still seemed to know half the words - slurring on them drunkenly while sipping from their glass.
when stan finally did make his way to the edge of the crowd, having to slip between guys spilling beer and couples grinding together - looking up to catch a glimpse of the man whose voice had been filling the room - the song slowed to a pulsing end.
deep brown eyes met stanley’s curious glare, fingers gripping the mic stand as the other hand held the microphone up to his mouth - lips so close you could see the pink plush nearly touching the metal. heavy pants echoed as the keyboard soloist pounded on to create a dynamic sound, the singer's chest rising and falling as he made eye contact with stan.
with that song ending, another one starts up - a shorter man coming up to the microphone next to the man from earlier and the curly haired wonder from before stepping aside and swinging his guitar from his back to his hands, ripping chords vibrantly. thin fingers working over the electric strings, every pluck drawing stanley in. the man’s eyes moved over the crowd until they met stan’s again, a slight smirk dripping from his lips before averting his gaze.
the stage lights flashed over his pale skin, highlighting the constellation of freckles covering his face. his nose was sharp, a perfect match for that jaw and those cheekbones - shaped like something out of stan’s wildest, and he means wildest, dreams. a drop of sweat pooled at the end of that perfect nose, elbow reaching to wipe it away before going back to moving those fingers across the guitar.
a silent exchange with the way the blond kept his eyes trained on those hands, taking small breaks only to look at the face that belonged to them. as music blasted through the pub, stanley inched closer and closer to the edge of the stage - his body being pulled there by a deep gutting churn in his lower belly. something full of need, and want, something he’d never felt before from just looking at someone.
sure, stanley had boyfriends before.
during high school he dated his doubles partner, taylor, on the tennis team, relationship mostly built by their passion playing together but eventually ending when they realized the only thing they had in common was tennis and stan was leaving that all behind for college in pennsylvania. then there was laurence and he was something different, very different from taylor in fact. so different that stan found the exact same problem, nothing in common with him. that lasted half a semester before stanley decided to leave dating alone until he was ready to look deeper into the men he offered his companionship to. giving him 3 years of dry spells to fuel his desire to finish school.
stanley’s hands made their way from his sides to cross over his chest, head tilted up to keep his eyes trained on the thin figure in front of him - chest rising up and down as he chewed his bottom lip, attempting to focus on his skilled guitar work. the guitarist was dressed in a blue and white striped button down, tucked into some dark jeans with an annoyingly clashing red tie.
the song slowed to something more keyboard centered, a girl in the back with ginger hair humming softly into the microphone set up next to her as she worked smoothly over the keys. it was a tell that their set was coming to a slowing stop, the guitarist leaning over and speaking into the microphone. “this is the last song for tonight, you’ve been a treat manchester.” the crowd clapped for them, cheering happily as the ending of the song played through the pub and couples danced around to the whimsical melody.
as the crowd surrounding him were dancing around, stanley stood there - eyes still wandering over the guitarist as he continued playing slowly. and all stanley could think was, if he didn’t do something now - he’d never see him again. there wasn’t a barricade keeping them away from the small stage, meaning stanley was at the edge right next to where the man stood. as he thought of what to do, he kept a steady gaze on him - their eyes meeting again.
the song slowed to a stop, everyone cheering before the crowd broke up, some moving to the bar, some taking a seat. stan grinned, a generic club playlist starting up from the speakers while the band gathered their equipment, packing up. there was still ringing in stan’s ears from the reverberation of the sound that played so strikingly through his head. he waited at the edge of the stage, patient and collected but burning up inside - contrasting the feeling of being frozen in place by those brown eyes he could only describe as pure ice.
moving his guitar onto his back and squatting down to be at stan’s level, he spoke gently, “did you like the show?” his voice was sharper than stan expected. he’d heard it while he was performing but he’d known there’d always be a difference between speaking voice and singing.
stanley nodded. “it was good, you have an incredible band.”
“and what about me?” the man pouted, his sharp jaw breaking into a laugh quickly after as stan shook his head in faux annoyance. sweat drips down from his dark curls, a droplet sliding down the sharp expansion of his nose - reaching up to swipe at it with the cuff of his shirt.
“i preferred your keyboardist. her musicality is impeccable.” stanley said, the dimple in his cheek making itself apparent in this moment - a grin tugging at his pale lips. and in that moment, the guitarist couldn’t help that, like the strings of his guitar, his heart strings were also being pulled viciously.
“that’s bev for you.” he agreed. he turned his head to look over at the ginger packing up her keyboard, laughing softly with the shorter brunette boy who was trying to shove a long extension chord into a duffle bag. “and that’s eddie, he does vocals and helps with sound.”
stanley chewed his lip before asking. “and you are?” he held eye contact for a moment too long, looking back down at his hands.
richie noticed the way he averted his gaze, following his face by leaning down to grab his attention again - like he could ever lose it. “richard wentworth tozier to the government, richie to most and-”
“trashmouth!” beverly called over at him, mouth slightly open as she motioned with her eyebrows to come over and help them - rolling her blue eyes before continuing. “talk to your british fucking groupies later.”
stanley scoffed at that, looking from her back to richie and dropping his arms. he watched as richie ignored her and continued. “do you normally hang around stages or am i special?”
“you’d like to think that, wouldn’t you.” stan snapped, his feet tapped against the sticky bar floor, white converse laced up tightly before he left his hotel room to hit the streets of manchester. he smoothed his blond curls, “richard-”
“richie.” he corrected. “and your name is?” his voice was deep and reluctant, a hint of nerves intertwined between every word he spoke - covered with bits of humor like cheap cologne. his slim frame slid off the edge of the stage, making him stand there before stan. richie was tall, taller than him but nothing outrageous. most of the other guys in his field were taller than stan, all being douchebag “finance bros” who reeked of axe body spray and zero sugar gatorade.
“stanley.”
“stanley?” richie tested out, letting it roll around in his mouth - tasting it on his tongue and deciding he loved the way it made him feel to utter that name for the first time. the distant buzzing of everyone around them seemed to disappear in that moment, when richie was so close to stan that he could feel their slow breaths syncing up.
“it’s a family name.” he explained, “look, i understand if you have to go.”
richie quickly shook his head. “i don’t have to be anywhere.” then he paused, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the time. “for the next 8 minutes.” he gave a sheepish smile, sliding up on his homescreen and scrolling over to contacts - flipping the screen to stan.
“you want my phone number.” stan stated, looking down at the glowing screen - a small crack across the bottom and a clear phone case over the back, spiderman stickers, fortunes from cookies and small polaroids covering the inside. memories carried in your back pocket. stanley began typing, “but you should know, i will only be in manchester for a couple more days.”
richie just shrugged. “it’s fine. i’m leaving in a day, we’re playing in wilmslow next.” and when richie said that, it really occurred to him. when speaking to most people at the bar, they all shared one thing that stan didn’t. an english accent. his words were stretched and bent with an accent richie had well associated with his parents, “you’re from the old pine tree state aren’t you?” he teased, doing a terrible british accent that thankfully nobody else in the bar could hear.
stanley raised an eyebrow in surprise. “how’d you know i was from maine?”
“so my ears don’t deceive me?” richie teased before explaining, “i’m from derry.”
there was a moment of confusion laced in stan’s face. he’d lived in derry for 18 years, and it was the tiniest town he could have ever imagined but somehow richie was from there and he’d never seen him. vague hindering followed stan when he tried to remember his childhood and those he chose to surround himself with, it didn’t help that it all seemed distant and foggy but he’d know if richie was there. it also didn’t help that stanley was homeschooled his entire life until attending a private, all boys high school to have an easier time applying to UPENN. his father claimed private school would be better for softer boys like him, keeping him surrounded with preppy boys whose main focus was college and which team was winning on TV that night.
“so am i.” stanley replied. “but i went to stillwater academy for secondary school.”
richie snorted at that. “you’re an old private school princess.” he nodded at that, like it made perfect sense, like he already knew stanley from this miniscule interaction they shared.
the jingle of the door brought stan back to himself, turning to watch as a group of university students came buzzing in already obviously tipsy off some cheap vodka. stanley turned back to him, closing his eyes and shaking his head to let his mouth catch up to the racing thoughts in his mind. he peaked down at his wrist, a white apple watch on that showed him the time, 1:39am.
“it’s late, richie.”
“what brings you to manchester?” he disregards stan’s words, wanting to just keep talking to him - wanting to learn everything about him. “it’s pretty far from derry.”
“i moved to pennsylvania for college, and i took up an internship here to train under some higher status accountants.” he hadn’t been planning on staying in town much longer, his apprenticeship coming to an end yesterday and school starting next week for his friends still over at university back in philadelphia. “i took an academic leave.”
“you took a break from school to do an internship, and then you’re going back to school?” well, when he said it like that it didn’t seem as fun.
stanley shrugged, “it’s important to me.”
and that was enough to shut richie up.
“they’re closing soon.” the blond looked around the pub, the clink of glasses being cleaned up and people starting to stumble out. “and you should probably-”
“how long until you go back?” he didn’t want stan to tell him to leave again, he didn’t want stanley to leave either. he wanted to stand here in this bar with him.
“richard.” stan pestered on. “your mates are waiting for you.”
richie laughed sharply. “my mates?” he tossed a look back to beverly before sitting on the edge of the stage. “i can walk you out to your car.”
“i’m staying at the hilton, i walked.”
“i’ll walk you there.” he insisted. plush lips with freckles marking the corners, most of richie’s face was covered in the little specks but stan’s eyes were focused on the soft pink being tugged between his front teeth.
“and how do i know this isn’t a ploy to kill me?”
richie shrugged. “that’s the best part. you don’t.”
that’s how stanley ended up freezing, walking the sidewalk of downtown manchester back to his hotel. the air was sharp with an early spring breeze, remnants of the freezing february they’d had before this, still edging into the march season. they’d been walking quietly, making slight small talk as they wandered side by side.
until richie broke the unbearable silence, with the click or his lighter setting a small flame and burning the end of his cigarette. he brought it to his lips and took a deep inhale, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out. the buzz between their fingers as they nearly touched with every step, knuckles grazing each other. “i’m sorry about bev, she doesn’t normally bite strangers.” he joked, foot kicking a pebble.
stanley shook his head, “how long have you guys been touring?”
“wouldn’t call it touring, we’re playing here and then a shit club in wilmslow, we were in indiana a fucking week ago.” he laughed softly to himself. “my aunt let us crash in her basement while we tried a small gig out there.” a hand ruffling through his curls as he looked over at stanley, hands adjusting his sweater sleeves.
“what’re you doing here then?” his pale nose had a warm pink combating the cold. richie quickly shed his green puffer jacket, holding it out to stan.
stanley accepted with a thankful nod, watching richie shrug in response. he stretched his neck, sighing. “i don’t know man, is fucking around a reasonable answer?” but richie assumed not when he saw the look on the blonds face. “i like making music, i mean- i’m no rockstar but- i can’t live without the stage.”
it was true, ever since richie was young he had always demanded attention. from waking his parents up by jumping into their bed every morning to performing in every school talent show throughout his youth. though, his mother hated being awoken from her slumber abruptly - she loved her son, driving him to every lesson he asked to take, coming to every recital he had and snapping pictures from the crowd. maggie tozier would sit in the living room every single thursday and listen to whatever richie learned from his guitar lesson that day, and then again friday after his piano lesson. his christmas list could range anywhere from a drum set to a ukelele and wentworth happily swiped his credit card if it kept a smile on their boys face.
“and you play guitar?” stanley continued, leaning slightly into him - now letting their hands brush on purpose.
“that, piano, drums, violin..” he smirked, thinking fondly. “i even had a clarinet phase.” richie rubbed the base of his neck, fidgeting with the fabric of his tie. fingers flipping his collar up and down, needing something to do with his hands to keep him from grabbing stan. “where do you go to school, i know in pennsylvania, but where?”
“i got to UPENN in philadelphia.” stan admitted, already feeling the slight embarrassment burning into him from the way richie froze, tossing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. “what?”
“you go to an ivy league school.” richie stated, looking down at stan in awe. the other boy just stared back like it meant nothing, like going to one of the most prestigious schools, especially for his major, wasn't an insane achievement. when richie told his parents he wasn’t going to college and wanted to travel with his idiot band, playing around the world - they weren’t surprised.
stanley scoffed at that. “you act like it’s yale.” that’s when it happens again, richie dropping his hand down again and their hands linger for a beat too long to be an accident, digits pressed together. richie took the hand in his, letting his thumb brush over the back of stanley’s knuckles. he didn’t fully take his hand, wanting to give stan the option to pull away, but that moment never came. all stan did was turn to face him, soft hazel eyes lingering on his own deep brown before moving south of his face - back to his mouth. it was so innocent, the way stanley looked at him over the past two hours was something he’d never known.
“you are so beautiful, richie.”
and he was defenseless. richie was a goner. stan could chew him up, spit him out and kick him to the curb. he’d take it all, anything the boy would be willing to give him at this point. stanley reached up, hands moving to his face - so close, almost cupping his cheeks until taking hold of his glasses. he held the frames, taking the fabric of his sweater and wiping them clean before placing right back on richie’s sharp nose.
there was a beat where nothing happened, stan’s hands settling on his face with warm palms cupping his cheeks. then it was everything, happening all at once - the drag of stan to him as he pressed their lips together. a deep swishing in richie’s stomach as he could finally taste the faint whisper of guinness on his tongue. he’s tentative, letting their breathing sync and fingers intertwine where they laid on richie’s face.
stanley moved his wrists to bunch at the stiff fabric of richie’s button up, wanting to bring him impossibly closer - even just a centimeter to feel him there, here, everywhere. it was foul. the way stanley needed him in this very moment, standing in the middle of manchester - a block away from the hilton, the glowing sign in the distance. when he pulled away, he watched the way richie leaned into him - big eyes so sad and desperate behind those frames.
“i didn’t know if you liked boys.” richie admitted, feeling those freckled cheeks flush.
“i don’t.” stanley said, no inflection in his tone until he let a little smile slip at the way richie’s face fell flat in confusion. he laughed softly, taking richie’s hand in his and leading them down the street to the hilton - ending the night wrapped in his hotel room together.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
it had been weeks since the night richie stayed over and it wasn’t something stanley was proud of, he’d been desperate and hungry, shedding every inch of clothing off himself before taking richie on the bed. making sure to mark every inch of him, not wanting him to forgot what it felt like to have stan as his. but that was it, stanley wasn’t his. that next morning, stanley woke up in a daze - richie curled into his side and holding him close. the memory of him waking the musician up to get dressed and get back to his band before they sent a search out for him, a promise to call richie which stanley didn’t keep.
it was now the first week of april, legs crossed in the passenger seat or mike’s truck as he drove them back down to maine for spring break. he’d been keeping it all in, trying his very best not to let it spill to his best friend but with an 8 hour roadtrip ahead of them - stanley had to say something.
“mike, i have something to tell you.” he said abruptly, already 2 hours into their drive.
mike looked over at him, deep skin glowing from the beaming sun shining through the windows - hands switching to the volume dial on his truck to hear stan clearly. “what is it, stan?” he hummed softly. eyes flickering from the road to him, then back to the road.
the blond took a deep breath, wiping the palm of his hands on his pants before continuing. “when i was in manchester.. i met someone.”
a red light flashing green saved them as mike didn’t know if he’d be able to stop, he cleared his throat before tossing a confused look to stan and then proceeded to think for a moment. he was always so thoughtful with his words, spending time pondering everything he said in a way that he knew would be meaningful.
“and this boy?” mike asked. he always asked, letting stan say everything he needed before offering any advice. “i mean, he has to be special if you’re telling me.” that was true. stanley could barely tell mike anything about the boys he’d dated in high school, there hadn’t been anything really to tell.
“it’s not a big deal.” stanley shook his head, knowing that wouldn’t work with mike. “okay, it was like a medium deal.” hands trained in the middle of his lap, apple watch strap being adjusted between his fingers as he spoke.
it was a gentle grin, soft and reassuring - hand moving to stan’s shoulder, rubbing soothingly there. “you know i’m always here fo you, stanley?”
stan nodded at that, letting out a shaky breath. “it wasn’t a guy, he was a.. musician.” and that word made him feel so embarrassed. it was the main reason he didn’t want to say anything. when stanley got back home, he couldn’t believe he let himself be another conquest taken by a guitarist like he was some groupie in a rock song. he let fancy words and cheap beer fool him into thinking he was anything other than a quick hit in the addiction of lust guys like richie had, chasing the high and then coming down to find a junior accountant tied into it.
“a musician?” mike repeated, nodding slowly, taking it all in. “anyone i’d know?”
a scoff left stan’s lips as he shook his head. “i was at a pub in manchester and, he played in this band.” he could recall the night like he was still there, the feeling of sticky beer clinging to the bottom of his shoes, the smell of cigarettes, the sound of speakers blaring. “he walked me back to my hotel, he came inside.”
mike was so mature, way more mature than stanley because he didn’t even try to crack at that joke. but it was obvious they were both thinking it, with the way mike’s eyebrows shifted and the way stan chewed his lip.
“and then you left?”
“and then i left.” stanley confirmed. “we can’t, mike.” he said it as if was trying to convince himself, keeping his glare burned into his lap as he froze his fingers to keep from messing with his watch again.
“but you want to?” mike asked, leaning into the turn as he pulled over at a gas station - searching for a diesel pump and stopping in front of it. there was a kindness in those brown eyes as he searched for stan’s face, turning his body to face him. “i know, it’s hard to talk to me about boys, but i always have an open ear.”
“you’re the easiest person alive to talk to.” stan sighed, looking up at mike. “for the first time, it felt like i didn’t have to be so much.”
so much, because growing up he’d always felt not enough. throughout school he struggled so much, not just with his jewish identity but also with school, and his hobbies. there was too much to do but not enough stanley to go around for all of it. working tirelessly to keep perfect grades for UPENN, doing after school activities to build up his academic career for his transcript, tennis practice everyday and games every week - shabbat every friday and saturday with his parents.
it was all he worked for until he actually got to school, then he joined programs aligning with his major, clubs to attempt and meet people with similar interests as him, study, apply, apply for internships for the breaks between classes– stanley never felt like just being himself was enough.
who was he without the academia high ground that weighed over him at every corner of his mind, without the constant need to be perfect in everything or he’d lose it all at the drop of a hat. he wanted this, he did but losing himself inside all of it had been less of a nightmare and more of a reality.
“i’m a smart boy, i’ve been told that my whole life, i think and.. i plan everything perfectly-“ he paused for a moment, hazel eyes having a soft green lining the iris to show tears were soon to come. “-i knew better, and i still let him.”
stanley wouldn’t take that night back, he just wished he would have taken his time, let himself see who richie truly was before giving everything up to him in one night. he wasn’t a virgin, not at all but he felt like some piece of him had been left in that hotel room.
“it’s not a crime, stan, to want things.”
there was a pause between them, and mike had feared he’d gone too far with what he said, scared he’d pushed stan too far and now they were in th middle of long island with a 6 hour drive still ahead of them.
but stanley just looked back down, then out the window at the gas station across from them. “i think i’m gonna grab a drink, do you want anything?”
mike shrunk back into his seat with a sigh, shaking his head. “be safe, we don’t know this town well.”
stan nodded and climbed out the car, making his way in the small gas station and looking through the shelves. he’d been wearing ugg slippers, not wanting to wear his sneakers - knowing that he’d probably want to take off his shoes while in the car eventually. mike had told him to dress comfy, knowing how long the drive ahead of them would be. he wore his navy, harry potter pajama pants and a UPENN branded sweatshirt. as he moved through the isles he listened to the buzz of the crappy radio playing in the corner of the shop, some radio station that played “the trending beats of the long island triangle.”
stanley stood in the cooler section, scanning through the different brands of energy drinks he knew mike would need near the middle of his trip.
that’s when a man with a thick new york accent began speaking rapidly, “alright! wrapping up some ‘in my room’ by julia wolf, and this next song has been recently blowing up all over social media - a small town band growing popular from a special song, for a special someone.” stanley snorted at that, how corny? he shuffled through the shelf, deciding between different packages of pretzels until the music began playing. the voice of the radio host fading away, “and this is ‘english love affair’ by the deadlights.”
the blond paused at that. the band name, how could he ever forget? the logo was printed on the back of beverly’s jacket, on eddie’s t-shirt, and on the banner above the stage that night. the song began with a thumping drum beat, and stanley knew richie wasn’t a main vocalist for the band - usually behind the instruments and structure of the song but when the lyrics began, stan knew it was him.
at that moment, stanley genuinely thought he was going to be sick. the song continued but he stood frozen. hands paused on a bag, the decision between salty or cinnamon sugar soon forgotten. the lyrics were so deep and personal, intimate things he would never tell anyone and they were broadcasting live in a convenience store. lines about how stanley burnt inside his brain, the kiss they shared - the memory of them living forever in that night. stanley shook his head, dropping the pretzels back onto the shelf and storming back out to the truck.
mike looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed as he closed the gas cap. “you alright, stanley?”
“let’s go.” stanley huffed, climbing into the passenger seat.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
tennis trophies lined the shelves on stanley’s childhood bedroom, framed photos of him with medals, and his high school cap and gown still hanging up outside his closet. he and mike had finished the drive, taking another break around vermont before finally pushing through to maine. they stopped at the farm first, mike helping settle in with his grandparents before dropping stanley off at his parents house.
andrea uris was downstairs, long brunette hair pulled back into a fishtail braid as she worked tirelessly in the kitchen to prepare for the first night of passover. his father had been rushed onto his third trip to the store, getting a mouthful from his wife when he returned with the wrong ingredients for dinner. stanley offered to help them but had just been sent upstairs to his room, like he was still a child, to relax.
relaxing had been the last thing stanley was able to do. he sat in bed with tensed shoulders, phone steady in front of his face while his fingers moved quickly over the screen. the bright screen showed hundreds of videos, all of richie’s band playing their new song at pubs all across the east coast. his nose twitched at every clip, the skin of his lips going raw as he chewed them - hand moving to his nightstand and grabbing vaseline to soothe them. every feeling of humiliation and regret about being just another fuck under the guitarists belt had been amplified ten times after hearing this song.
richie’s pale skin was flushed under stage lights, his old navy blue guitar that stan saw him with had been traded in for a bright red, electric guitar that was being shredded while he sang. there was another boy, now on drums - one he hadn’t seen that night. straight brown hair, fluffy eyebrows and a deep dimple. his frame was light like richie’s but he wasn’t as tall, might not even be as tall as stanley himself. other videos he had seen of the band had taught him that it was bill.
when stanley found himself on richie’s instagram there hadn’t been much to go off of. there was some blurry picture of instruments sprawled across some studio, images of him and some of his bandmates laughing happily in the downtown streets of derry under streetlights, action shots of him on stage performing. nothing personal from his own page, not even his story or highlights. that’s when he checked the tagged images, scrolling through the posts to see that despite richie’s avoidance of social media, bill was very active. an orange and magenta circle spiraled bill’s profile picture and stanley couldn’t help but check.
nothing out of the ordinary, just some picture of a matcha, the next slide of bill at some old record shop. it has all seemed normal, as normal as a microcelebrity, boy band member could be on instagram. it was until the last story, a brunch late with richie tagged in the corner - the other boy sitting across from him. richie’s plate with a stack of pancakes and a smile drawn on top, bill’s plate filled with french toast and fresh fruit. he tagged the location, not like stan needed it. he knewthis restaurant, mike's grandparents worked in produce supplying for them and they’d treated stanley and mike to lunch here multiple times. this meant richie was in town, richie was home and most likely going to be home the entire time stanley was on spring break.
stanley can’t help it. scrolling through different videos on beverly’s account and pausing just to see a glimpse of richie in the background, replaying an audio of them on tiktok over and over again just to listen to that sharp laugh, scrolling through twitter threads just to see what richie could possibly be up to, when he’d play again, where he’d play again. he hated letting himself do this, sit and think, replay and pause, rewind every since frame just to watch that boy again. it wasn’t like he couldn’t find him. he’s so reachable it makes stanley sick. his contact had still been in his phone, “richard” earning him a groan from the man as he saved the number - shoving the phone back into his pocket and kissing him again.
if it bothered him this much he could just text him. stanley took a deep breath, swiping over to richie’s contact and pressing the message bubble.
i’m not even english.
stanley typed it out. deleted it. typed it again. then sent it.
he threw the phone back down, sitting up from bed and shaking his head. no, he didn’t. there was a voice screaming inside his head to please say he didn't send that. stanley was sensible, he was responsible and careful, he thought things through - he thought everything through. this man, this boy, this.. musician was making him something he wasn’t. something he never let himself be, compulsive.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
richie didn’t think much of the phone buzzing on his desk. where he sat criss crossed on the carpet of his bedroom floor, guitar in his lap and notebook paper sprawled around him. the band had come over to his place to have another writing session, sharing scribbles of lyrics they’d compiled over the past couple days and coming together. last time they were all together like this, richie showed them ‘english love affair’ the messily written out words stashed in his notebook. he didn’t do much writing when it came to the band, he usually left that to bill or beverly, he just enjoyed playing any and everything.
it lit a fire inside of him. watching the internet love this song, love a piece of him that he felt almost naked to share with the world. the band loved it too, seeing this side of him - fingers nearly aching with how fast he’d play when bill began the first beats on the drum. here they sat now, in front of him with a certain silence looming over them.
well, silent until eddie happened. “you’re really not gonna tell us what happened between you and that guy?” he asked, head tilted in annoyance. “i mean, it’s obvious, we all know it’s about him.” he laughed and looked back at beverly, seeing she wasn’t laughing and zipped his lips.
richie leaned back with a sigh, letting his acoustic guitar shift in his lap. “a magician shall never reveal his secrets.” he teased, earning scoff from eddie. “listen ed’s, i know your pure heart couldn’t take the real nasty details, so i have decided to spare you.”
“how kind of you.” bev stated sarcastically.
“i mean, i am curious too.” bill spoke, sweet eyes sparking up.
richie didn’t talk. well, that’s actually all he did. he just talked. he made fun, he joked, he laughed and he talked but he never shared. he could make a million jokes about eddie’s mom and by the end of the conversation you still wouldn’t know a single true thought running through his head. his words weren’t his own and his mouth lived to perform. every second spent trying to amuse those around him, even if they were upset with him for a second - he could attempt to fix it with a quick joke.
that’s why it hurt so badly when stan never messaged him.
richie tried the being open thing, he’d opened himself up completely - a side of himself he never really let anyone see. there had been boys before stan, girls before him too but nobody richie wanted that badly. nobody he needed. he wanted them, sure. he liked quickies in the car or shower sex but with stanley, they did something completely new, completely unexpected. they didn’t fuck, they didn’t bone or crack or anything. they made love.
and sure, it sounded corny when he thought back on it. it was rushed at first, the stripping of his own jacket off stanley - fast hands moving over the button up the blond wore but stan took his hands, held them in his and kissed his knuckles. he told him to take his time, fall apart with him in a way that richie didn’t know to put himself back together in. it was gentle, it was slow, it was kind. then it was nothing again. that’s what he felt like, nothing. nothing now, nothing then and never anything to stanley.
“we just.. did stuff, it doesn’t matter.” his eyes dart up to the scoff eddie let out, pulling his knees close to his chest and sitting his guitar to the side.
eddie leaned closer. “mattered enough to write a song about.”
richie’s nostrils flared, frustration evident on his face. “i’m getting water, do you losers want anything?” he asked, shooting up from his spot on the floor and grabbing his once abandoned phone from his desk. once everyone shook their heads, richie made his way downstairs to the kitchen. he scanned the kitchen for his parents, praying they were nowhere close as he just needed a moment. a second to gather his thoughts before he exploded every word that burned inside of him all over his band, his friends. he shook his head, opening his phone and nearly throwing up on the spot.
“you’ve gotta be fucking with me.” he said aloud to himself, eyes scanning over the message.
when he wrote ‘english love affair’ he never imagined stanley to hear it, or even know the song existed. he imagined it would stay in their small circle, a couple fans knowing the words at their small gigs and humming along but once it started getting more noise online - the idea that stanley would hear it became a vacant fear in richie’s mind.
stan the man: i’m not even english.
richie snorted at that. of course that’s what stanley decided to focus on.
devastated. deleting it now.
stan the man: too late. every gas station attendant on the east coast has heard it by now.
gas station music? you wound me stanley!
it was a while, richie walking and forth in his kitchen as he waited for a response. not even a read receipt to soften the blow as he sifted through the bottles of water, head pressed against the shelf of the fridge. he checked the time on his phone, noticing 15 minutes had gone by since he said he’d be back. with his head tilted down, staring at his phone - his glasses slid off his nose and on the floor. he frowned at that, squatting down to grab them before shoving the back onto his face.
“rich?” a gentle voice called out behind him, immediately recognizable as bill. the taller boy turned around quickly to face him, the chill from the fridge fogging his frames. “you’ve been down here for awhile.”
“it’s my house billiam, i can’t enjoy it?” richie joked, closing the fridge behind him and cracking the seal on the water bottle - tossing it back to take a sip.
bill ran a hand through his blond hair, the hair that beverly had convinced him to bleach after a drunken night on the bathroom floor - the four of them laughing over a bottle of fireball and too many beers. he stepped closer with a hesitant smile, “look, i know i wasn’t there that night but i get it, i know what it’s like-”
“really?” richie sported an arched brow. “you know what it’s like?” his shoulders are tensed, nearly up to his ears with frustration. “what, with your pining after beverly, and your love songs.”
bill knew he only said it because he was pissed, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “don’t do this.” he said softly, a frown flickering on his lips that disappeared faster than it came.
out of their friend group, bill had known richie the longest. finding him outside at the playground - swinging by himself while reading some comic book, glasses strapped around his head and big brown eyes somehow even bigger than now. bill took a seat on the swing next to him, spider-man picture book in his hands to combat richie’s hulk. ever since that day they’d been attached at the hip, spending everyday after school at each others houses - riding bikes around to the park, then to comic book shops and then once they reached high school, to record stores.
eddie joined them around 4th grade, his mother not able to homeschool him anymore. bill and richie having to go to the nurses office after bill skinned his knee and finding eddie nearly gagging at the sight of the peeled skin on the nurses bench, richie asked him to play, eddie said no but followed them anyways.
they’d grown up together, grown into each other and their backstories overlapped like the roots of a tree. bill knew richie. bill knew richie like he knew himself, he knew when richie got like this it wasn’t because he wanted to be super. it’s because he wanted to put up that wall, perform for him again. it was either put up as a performance for the people to love or show the real him and get shot down, time and time again.
“i’m sorry, man.” richie murmured, shaking his head. “i’m being a dick, guess the nickname makes sense now.” bill shrugged at that, coming closer and pulling the glasses off his face - wiping the fridge fog off of them.
“he’s got you bad, doesn’t he?” bill knew. he knew the way richie had been with past relationships, slipping into hotels late at night, meeting up with different boys whenever they’d been playing in new cities. of all the 17 years he knew richie, he’d never seen him hung up with anyone this long. mostly because he’d never let anyone see him, the real richie that usually only bill got the privilege to see.
richie just groaned, looking down at bill with a frown plastered on his face. “he has these huge eyes, and they just look at me.” which sounds insane coming from richie, giant brown saucers only being magnified by his glasses as he watches bill take in every word. “and i can’t help but need him, bill.”
“so you wrote about him?”
richie shrugged, “i don’t normally write, and i guess it’s because i never really had anything to write about but when i couldn’t talk to him, or see him again - i guess writing made it feel like i still had him there with me.”
bill’s jaw tightened, choosing to continue listening instead of speaking up.
“and now, all i wanna do is write about him- i can’t stop writing about him but everyone’s gonna know all my songs are about him.” richie frowned as he nodded his head up the stairs, to where beverly and eddie were waiting in his room.
“what they think about your music doesn’t matter, you write for yourself and nobody else, rich.”
richie tozier took that to heart. he went back upstairs, sitting down in front of the group without a sound and baring his soul. composition notebook filled with pages of lyrics, all unforgettable and about stanley. his acoustic guitar being strummed quickly as he had bill turn the pages for him, showing the group what he’d written.
and they soon had another hit.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
it was humid outside, mike dressed in a plain white tee shirt and overalls as he convinced stan to calm down in the truck. “we’re just popping in, stanley, he probably won’t even see us.” mike found out through social media that ‘the deadlights’ would be doing a show in derry that week, playing a club that night.
stanley’s body tensed, arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head, not able to believe he’d let mike convince him to come here. “this is humiliating.” and stan hated being embarrassed. he didn’t like losing or, being seen as beneath anyone. so, coming here was something of his worst nightmares.
“you’re acting like he’s gonna publicly shame you.” mike turned the truck off, shoving the key into his pocket as he adjusted his straps.
stanley threw a glare over at him, rolling his eyes. “he doesn’t have to tonight, he’s done enough.”
mike just hummed softly. “i thought you liked him?”
the blond rolled his eyes. “do you like every girl you have sex with?” and that was low for two reasons. the first was because stanley actually did really like richie, he more than liked him - he missed him so much. even after just one night together and a couple quick messages. the second reason being, mike wasn’t the type to have sex with a girl for fun - he wined and dined, not even kissing until the third date like a fist class gentleman. “of course you do.” stanley responded when mike shrugged.
“we can leave anytime you want.” mike offered. he knew not to dig too deeply into stan, the blond quick to jump up and run when he got scared off. “it’s your call. we can go back to the farm, dig through my grandma's candy jar and watch tv all night - your choice.”
“those things are disgusting. i don’t see how you eat them.”
mike gasped. “i don’t see how you don’t!”
stanley shook his head with a grin, eyes closing and breath deepening as he steadied himself. “i’m okay, we can go in.”
the clubbing derry weren’t anything like manchester, the lights weren’t tuned down for the atmosphere - they were red and bright, flashing over the crowd as the sound of electric guitar ripping through the speakers played. stanley stood at the back of the crowd that surrounded the stage, mike behind him at all times as he watched the performance.
the deadlights had been playing another song of theirs, beverly taking center stage as she sang - her keyboard being taken over by eddie as her feminine vocals carried over bill’s lower harmony. it was gorgeous, the two of them performing together - the way he watched her so intensely with ever contrasting note they moved through. stanley had seen this one performed online, a video on one of their social media accounts of beverly and bill doing this as an acoustic duet dating back to months before stanley had even met richie. mike seemed enthralled, gorgeous brown eyes taken over by the two.
“that’s him?” mike leaned down to whisper into stan’s ear but failing as even being this close to him didn’t matter with the loud noise of the club. he repeated himself, louder this time and nodded towards richie.
stanley nodded, humming a response. when that song ended, another quickly picked up. the boy on drums clearing his throat as beverly went back to her spot at the keys, the two exchanging a glance. another song ‘suck it and see’ began playing - drums and guitar picking up in speed as eddie sang.
richie hadn’t been focused on much other than playing, eyes trained mostly to his strings as he swayed along to the music, giving the occasional look over to eddie where he stood at the mic - smiling as he played. it’s not like when he put on a show to stanley that first night they’d met, fingers moving over the strings - eyes only in the blond as he’d stood at the edge of the stage and bent down to make eye contact.
the memory burned inside of stanley, sending a shiver up his spine. maybe mike was wrong about all of this. maybe he shouldn’t have come here, and maybe richie didn’t see him as anything other than a quick hit for his band's album. there hadn’t been even a hint that richie missed him in that song, and stanley listened - he listened so much he was afraid the deadlights would be his top artist that year.
when the lights go out, he’s all i ever think about.
it could mean anything. that richie wanted him that night, in the darkness of a hotel room, fumbling around in bed with stan. that richie thinks of him at the most intimate times, and that he wants him only hidden by the moonlight. does he even like stan? how could he, they barely knew each other and it had only been one night. what does a couple messages after sex mean to richie?
once the song came to an end, a familiar upbeat drumming began and the crowd began exclaiming with excitement at the music playing. mike felt stan tensing under his hands, head swiveling around to face him with widened eyes. “this is it, the song, he’s playing the song.” stanley rambled, moving slightly closer to the stage to get a better view. mike followed closely behind, keeping a steady hand on stan to not lose track of him in the absorbing crowd.
“he’s not what i expected.” mike said, leaning down to his ear once again.
stanley chuckled at that. “yeah, he’s not what i expected either.”
when richie starts strumming along with his guitar, he’s keeping his eyes trained on the microphone - a vein in his neck showing how nervous he’d been. most likely wasn’t used to being the one with his voice on display for an audience, usually preferring to be playing while eddie sang his little heart out or supporting beverly with her keyboard solos.
the entire time, he’s in his head - until he gets to the second verse and gains the courage to look out to the audience. time stopped when his deep brown eyes meet stanley’s burning gaze, fingers fumbling slightly over a chord before shaking it off and continuing. he can feel the glares of not just the audience but also his band members behind him, eddie catches the like of his sight and notices stan as well - cheeks sparking up into a smirk.
richie couldn’t do this, he couldn’t stand before the man who this was all for and sing this song - sing any of the songs he’d written about him. his eyes averted, sifting through the crowd for a comforting face but ultimately landing on nothing but stan. he tried looking away, tried to keep going without letting it get to him and imagining everyone in their underwear didn’t seem to be working. his voice was shaky and his hands were going tense on the string as he took deep breaths between the lyrics, watching stanley as he continued.
stanley just watched in awe, barely acknowledging the mistakes the musician made as their eyes locked - his freckled face flushed under the stage lights, looking closer to stan. mike let stan move closer to the stage, watching from afar as stanley became allured by the music and moved to the edge. hazel eyes watching the performance through thick lashes, mouth lip syncing the lyrics to himself as the song continued
the club lights are burning into his porcelain skin, heating him up and causing sweat to drip from his golden curls. the boom of the speakers is hurting his head, matching the pounding bass of his heart as he could barely breathe with the smell of house vodka and sticky club soda. the room feels so small, and the words are so big. it’s all too much.
stan doesn’t wait for the song to finish. not before he’s pushing through the crowd and making his way outside the club. mike follows quickly after him, finding him outside with hands on his knees and taking quick pants of the fresh spring air. “i thought i could take it, but i can’t.” stanley said immediately, not even looking at mike as the man pushed through the front doors. “he’s- i’m just someone’s fucking muse.”
“stanley-“ mike attempted.
“i’m just a quick fuck who got a song written about him.” stanley shook his head, hands going up to his face and trying to clear his mind. he couldn’t breathe, face going pale at the tears caught in his throat - the wind leaving his as he panicked. mike placed both hands on stan’s shoulders, going quiet and just breathing, taking a deep breath in and nodding at stan to follow his lead. one hand moved over stan’s chest, feeling it rise slowly under his grip and then sink as stanley released the breath. they continued like that, guiding stan’s breathing underneath the ever glowing moonlight.
mike helps him onto the ground, placing his jacket down for stanley to sit on instead of the filthy concrete. “i didn’t get it at first.” mike said softly, voice gentle as stanley rested his head on his shoulder. he could tell stan didn’t understand what he meant, so he continued. “when you told me you don’t have to be so much around him?”
“i recall mentioning that.”
“the way he looked when he saw you were there.” mike laughed softly, deep and warm in his gut as his brown eyes caught on stan. “his eyes got so big, and they were full of something i’ve only ever seen between two people.”
“mike-“
“and i was young but i remember, my father used to look at my mother with this warm smile that always met his eyes - he looked at you like that, stan.” he turned to face the blond, holding his soft face in his hands, thumbs wiping the fresh tears that sprouted from stanley’s eyes.
stan sniffled, pulling mike into a hug. “i wish i could’ve met them.”
“they would’ve loved you.” he breathed in stanley’s clean linen scent, holding him close to his chest.
“i hope im not interrupting.” a raspy voice spoke up after a moment of silence. mike turned to see who it was but stanley knew that voice, pulling back to wipe his tears before meeting richie’s eyes. “stan, can we talk?”
it wasn’t easy, convincing mike to give them space after having stan cry in his arms over this same guy but he trusted stan to make his own decisions even when he only wanted what was best for him.
when they were alone, richie began quickly, “are you okay?”
“i’m fine.” stan replied sharply, blinking up at him. “your show?”
richie shook his head, how could he continue on when stanley was upset with him, the fear of him running off and never seeing richie again had him taking a ‘water’ break while they did a short intermission. “i’m taking a short break, needed some air.” he lied.
“everyone loves your song.” stanley couldn’t help the way his eyes drop to those perfect lips, the ones who spoke so smoothly and sang terrible things about him all night. “glad i could be of service.”
“stan, you know it isn’t like that.”
stanley crossed his arms over his chest. “you tour, you meet guys. who cares?”
richie chewed the inside of his cheek. “if it didn’t mean anything, would i be chasing you out here?”
“you love the drama.”
the man smiled softly to himself, looking down at the ground before back up at stan. “i hate drama.” richie shoved his hands into his pockets, stepping slightly closer. he paused, thinking before speaking again. “i don’t want you to think what we had meant nothing.”
it kills stanley, throat burning as he’d felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes. shaking it off. “i’m leaving after spring break.” he admitted. “i graduate in may, i have a job lined up in atlanta.” that had always been the plan. go to school, graduate with high hopes for a bright future far away from this small town - only coming back for his parents occasionally.
stanley was composed. he was leveled and strong willed, careful and precise with every move he made - every step he took to his own version of success and happiness. ever since he was young, he’d planned everything out perfectly, thoroughly and realistically. he wanted people to see him as someone who was thoughtful and kind, well spoken and balanced with everything he did.
though, there was something about richie that made him want the opposite. the blond realized this as he pushed onto his toes and kissed richie again, the first time since their night together in manchester.
richie stood there frozen at first, like an idiot. causing stan to pull back nervously, hazel eyes going wide with embarrassment. he just leaned back in and smiled against stan’s lips, the moment of returning back home to a feeling he’d nearly forgotten he could feel. warmth brewed in his guy, nimble fingers clutching onto stanley’s cream sweater - fabric soft and expensive. his gangly limbs felt like they’d gone unstable in the moment, wobbly in the knees.
it was familiar and longing, exploring each other all over again as richie snaked the cold hand once gripping stanley’s sweater underneath the fabric, over the warm skin of stan’s back.
stanley hissed into his mouth at the chill, arching away and only pushing himself further into richie’s lips. “dickhead.” he grunted, pulling back. “i should go.”
this confused richie, the brunette arching a brow, jaw tensed. “what?”
“it’s late and my parents-”
“your parents?” richie scoffed, hands moving to adjust his glasses after stanley had them askew. his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, leaning down to stan. “mommy gotta tuck you in?”
“shut up.” stanley said, stiff.
richie paused for a moment, taking it all in. the messy blond curls, the dried tears on the corner of stan’s eyes, kiss swollen lips - flushed skin, nor from lust but from embarrassment. “i never wrote about anyone, before you.” he admitted, wanting to open himself up like he knew stan felt compelled to after the kiss.
“but i listened to-”
“it’s all bill, he writes the sappy love shit, bev writes whatever and usually i just play whatever they imagine.” richie explained, “i’m not good with my words.”
“they all seem to think so.” stanley nodded to the club. “i’m sorry i crashed your show, didn’t think you’d notice me.”
“why didn’t you call me?” richie asked, almost sounding as if he was begging.
the burning question, the thing that kept them both up at night, and for once, stanley didn’t have an answer.
“you didn’t call me either.” stanley grew defensive instead. “i mean, you’re saying it’s all on me but you had my number.”
“you said you’d call me.” richie argued.
“i thought you’d forget that.”
richie laughed stiffly. “yeah, well, i tried.” he shrugged, “but i couldn’t because it isn’t exactly easy to forget.” stanley ignored that. “stay.”
“i can’t.” stanley stated.
“please, just for tonight.” richie reached his hands down to grip stan’s, intertwining their fingers and pressing their foreheads together. “let me be yours again.”
the moment clashed with the abrupt sound of club music growing louder, a disheveled eddie pushing through the front doors, head swinging around in search until his eyes landed on richie. the short man called out to him, “we’re back on in five, rich.” he grunted, arms crossed over his navy blue graphic tee, ‘the deadlights’ in bleach wash over the front.
richie turned to face him, leaving stanley once again humiliated by one of the deadlights members. “spaghetti, give me a sec.” richie chewed his cheek, hand brushing over his face in frustration.
“i told you to stop calling me that.” he spat back, “and bev is getting sick of... this.” eddie motioned with his eyes back to stan. whatever this was, whatever it meant to richie - it was clearly pissing eddie off. he’d known richie for a long time and nothing ever got in the way of his performance, his time on stage one of the most sacred things to him imaginable. the reluctance inside him, eyes drawing back to stanley and waiting for an answer. “are you serious right now?” eddie called out.
stanley immediately steps back, breaking from the trance of those eyes and pulling his hands to his sides. “you should go back.”
“yeah, we’re kinda in the middle of something.” eddie responded, closing the front door and getting closer to richie. his hand reaches out, fingers brushing the skin of his shoulder, “2 minutes.”
he’s stuck. he’s stuck between stanley and music, the only things that have ever made him feel safe or protected and he’s being forced to choose between the two. richie didn’t know if he could ever give up the stage, he knew that and obviously stan did too.
eddie sees it, the hesitation in richie - those eyes torn with something inside. it causes him to soften just a fraction, shoulders relaxing and moving to adjust his posture, understanding. “3 songs left, it isn’t long.” he offered, eyes landing on stan. of course, eddie saw stan that night in manchester - noticing how easily richie gravitated towards him, falling for him so easily. though, in this moment he truly saw how beautiful stan was and why richie had fallen for him the way he did.
“go finish your set.” stanley said with a gentle nod.
“you’ll still be here?” richie asked, earning him no verbal answer but only a sad look from stan. and again, richie hesitated but turns back to eddie and rushes inside.
the music swelled from behind the doors.
three songs, stanley could wait three songs.
he could, but he won’t. the walk back to the truck was shameful, tears brimming in his eyes as mike helped him back home.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
love can change you, love can blind you to things you’d never want to stay hidden from. for stanley it did so many things but it couldn’t make him stay. he had a future in pennsylvania, and then atlanta. he wanted so much for himself and he wasn’t willing to forfeit it all for love. not when he could have both.
a grin plastered on stanley’s face as he held his degree, cameras snapping quick images of him as his father ruffled those curls. stanley didn’t fret, just adjusted his cap and posed again. his mother behind the camera, a blubbering mess of brunette blowouts and tears - her french manicure shaking as she held the camera up.
“oh stanley, my baby.” she chirped, handing the camera over to donald for him to get their picture. andrea pinched his cheeks, kissing his face with a proud smile. she smiled so hard it hurt, never knowing pure pride like this moment before.
as stanley stood there, medals covering his gown, cords decorating him and a black diploma cover in his hands with shiny gold lettering covering the front. this moment he dreamed of, worked for the past 21 years finally coming true. confetti covered the grass field of his university, families cheering happily around him, everyone hugging. it was pure joy.
“stanley!” he heard someone call from behind him, immediately turning to grin at his best friend. michael hanlon, dressed in his own gown came running over to him - nearly tripping in his fancy shoes, his grandparents walking over slowly, his grandmother's head resting on her husband's shoulder. “stanley, we did it!” he cheered out.
stan laughed softly. “you’re gonna fall.”
“i have something to tell you.” he grinned. “other than the fact i’m so proud of you, which i am- but-” he was out of breath now, panting slightly as he spoke.
“mike?” stanley raised a brow, rubbing his shoulders to calm him down.
mike took a deep breath, “he’s here.”
stan choked slightly, shaking his head. “i’m sorry?” he looked back to his parents, excusing himself with mike to the side while mike’s grandparents caught up with the uris family. “who?”
“richie, he- he messaged me after we came back to school to see if i could get him a ticket for graduation and he’s here.” mike moved over, nodding towards someone stanley couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before.
standing there, dressed actually nice. not some stupid graphic tee or ridiculous button up and tie. richie was dressed in a white button up, he even ironed it! - black slacks and a navy tie. a bouquet of flowers present in his arms, walking closer to stan and handing the flowers to him. mike pressed a kiss to his temple before returning back to his family.
“you didn’t think i’d miss this, stan?”
stanley didn’t know what to think. after that night, rushing back home during richie’s show. stan could feel his phone buzzing through the night, laying on his bedside table. he’d walked out on this man more times than he could count but richie somehow always found his way back to him, all of him - here for stan again.
he’d sent a blurred message, i don’t want you to choose, richie.
stan knew. he knew how much music meant to richie, everything it was for him. an outlet, a form of communication, a relationship only he needed to be apart of. music and performances were all the love richie knew and he couldn’t make him throw it away to chase stan across the country.
“you came?” stanley said, voice shaking slightly. richie nodded, buck toothed grin as he pulled him in - face stuffed into the pale expansion of his neck. “you’re really here.” he said, mostly to himself at that point.
“stanley, i love you.” richie stated. “in every song i look for you, every note or chord or chorus, it doesn’t matter- music doesn’t mean anything if i don’t have you to write about, write for.” his hands continued their way over stan, hands moving from his shoulders to cup his face, stare into those eyes. his throat burnt. every song he’d written since stan left for school, none of them had come out - he couldn’t bare letting anyone hear the precious words he’d written for stan. his stan, his heart. of course stanley was his muse, but not because of his body, or the way he felt or the things he’d do but how he made richie feel. the way he looked at him with those eyes, and that smile that richie could see even when he closed his eyes.
stanley was his first thought when he woke up, and the last thing he remembered before going to sleep. he was every lyric he wrote and every song he sang, every stroke of his guitar and every pound of his heart. there was no music for him anymore, not without stanley. not ever again.
“richie, please.” stan begged. “i can’t- i can’t do that to you.”
“we got a call a couple weeks ago, after you left.”
richie first thought it was spam, when the man over the phone referred to him as richard and asked him if he was from ‘the deadlights.’ one phone call changing everything for him, for the band. an offer to sign them for an album, to have their own record and be able to push their music across the world like he’d always wanted. they’d agreed, obviously, and began working but richie knew the music he’d written for the group couldn’t be put out before stanley heard it.
“i wanted you to have this.” richie said, pressing a cd into stan’s hands.
“what is this?” stanley asked, taking the cd case and turning it around to look at the title. the title making him grin, ‘deadlights after midnight’ with an image of the band - a retro shot of them all in a record shop. richie sitting on top of a case of vinyl, skimming through the tracks with his glasses about to fall off his nose. beverly sitting, holding a vinyl up to the light as if she was reading it with a scrunched face - ginger hair pulled back into space buns. eddie and bill stood across from each other bill holding the vinyl sleeve and eddie putting it on the player.
“you’re the first person to get one, i wanted you to hear it before it came out.” richie brought his fingers to the back, tracing the tracklist. the first one being ‘english love affair’ but then a couple songs down was another one, ‘i’d have to think about it.’ “since they’re about you.”
stanley watched the nerves form on his face. “richie-”
“i’m sorry, i should’ve told you i was coming but-”
“richie-” stanley tried again.
“and i shouldn’t have brought the album, you probably wouldn’t want to hear my voice ever again, what kind of an idiot does that!”
“richie!” he exclaimed, clearing his throat as he looked around to see nobody was drawn to him from his outburst. “thank you, i’ll listen to it in my car.” stanley pressed his thumb into the cd case, brushing over richie’s picture. he opened it up, pulling out sticky note tapped to the front. “track 5?”
“it’s called, i’d have to think about it.” richie explained. “i wrote it one night, beverly does the vocals for it but it’s about you.”
“i love you too, richie.” stanley said for the first time. he’d known it for awhile, since he’d lost pounds from not being able to eat after leaving home - getting sick and pushing his plate away, opting for crying into his pillow instead of facing his thoughts of richie. stan took him in, those brown eyes lighting up at the words. he pushed up slightly to reach his lips, kissing him gently - not wanting to bring too much heat to this family event. warm hands cupping richie’s face, pulling him closer into him as he was welcomed home to the mouth he’d grown familiar with these part couple months.
when richie pulled back, he was all grins and buck toothed smiles, eyes huge behind those frames - the ones that always dug into stan’s face in moments like this. richie was standing here with him, glowing under the daylight instead of stage lights. and for the first time in awhile, stanley felt fulfilled. like all his hard work was finally worth it. all the late nights of studying, dry spells he placed himself under, trips he’d taken - all of it, finally rewarding him.
there was no illusion of secrecy, no hidden feelings for the man in front of him. maybe he’d been his muse but now stanley knew not to be ashamed, every artist needed one and if anybody was gonna write about him - he was glad it was richie.
“let me be yours again?” richie asked.
and this time, stanley said yes.