#stozier it

Richie and Eddie were currently watching what felt like the 87th movie of the night. Richie had barely been paying attention to any of the movies they had watched; all he could think about was how to get back at Stan for leaving him tonight. There was always some excuse when it came to Stan hanging out with him. “I’m going birdwatching,” “I have homework,” “My parents hate you,” and blah blah blah. Stan was always too busy for him. “Ya know what, Eds? I’m gonna get revenge. If I can’t have Stan’s attention, nobody and nothing else can either,” Richie said, getting up from the couch. “First of all, if you call me that again you won’t have to worry about Stan not paying attention to you at all. Second, I don’t think that’s a good idea Rich, you know Stan hates being messed with,” Eddie replied, getting up from the couch as well. “Of course I know it’s a bad idea,” Richie said, matter-of-factly. “And you’re still gonna do it, aren’t you?” Eddie sighed. “Absolutely!”

“Richie, hurry the fuck up. It’s cold as shit and I didn’t bring a jacket,” Eddie whisper-yelled from the ground. “And whose fucking fault is that? Huh, dipshit?” Richie yelled back from above. “Well fucking excuse me for misunderstanding that your movie invitation was really just an invitation to play a fucked up version of Robin-hood all damn night,” Eddie shouted. It was 10:34PM. Richie had coerced Eddie into helping him get revenge on Stan by taking everything that could possibly distract him and hiding them all around town, including Stan’s bird-book. Richie laughed as he climbed back down from the tree. “Stop complaining, it’s not even that cold.” “SAYS YOU! YOU HAVE A JACKET YOU FUCKING PRICK! MEANWHILE, MY TOES ARE TURNING 75 SHADES OF PURPLE,” Eddie exclaimed, flailing his arms around. “75 shades of purple huh? That’d make for a pretty kinky version of ‘Fifty Shades of Gray’ wouldn’t it?” Richie said, smirking as he led the two out of the woods. “Fuck you, douchebag. Now what? Stan goes home and sees all his shit missing, then you have to go around town and get it back so he doesn’t flip a table?” Eddie asked, rubbing his hands up and down his arms for warmth. “I’m not a monster, Eddie. I’m gonna make this fun,” Richie said, pulling out his phone and smirking.

Stan was just pulling up at his house when he got a text from Richie. “I’m staying at Eddie’s tonight.” Stan rolled his eyes and put his phone down. Richie could be so dramatic sometimes. Stan hopped out of the car and went inside. Nothing looked too bad besides the mess of popcorn and candy left in the living room. He made his way upstairs and walked into his room, only to find that almost every important thing of his had been taken out. “What the fuck?” Stan said, walking around, looking for some sort of evidence. The house couldn’t have been broken into, could it? Stan walked to his bed and saw multiple pieces of paper tucked under his pillow. Stan, Stan my man, Stanarooni, read closely. Everything that could possibly distract you from spending time with me has been taken and hidden somewhere throughout town. The list of missing items are: - Your weird binoculars - Your damn bird book - Your fucking laptop - Your stupid ass backpack - Your mom and your dad Just kidding about the last one, even though I fucking wish…. Anyways…. Solve the riddles on the next couple of pages if you want your fuckin shit back, and maybe stop goddamn ignoring me all the fuckin time and give me some love and attention once in a while, yeah? GOOD LUCK, BABY! — Richie :) “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Stan said, dropping the pages on his bed. Stan dialed Richie, but he didn’t pick up. He called and called at least 12 times, but not once did Richie answer. Stan looked over at the time and it read 10:52PM. Is he really about to entertain Richie and this entire situation, and have Richie to hold this against him for the rest of his life just to get his bird book back? Yes. Yes he is.

It was now almost 2AM, and Stan was about to fucking LOSE IT. He had found every single fucking thing on the list except his goddamn bird book, and he just KNEW Richie had done this on purpose. “I swear to fucking Jesus Christ himself if something happened to my book I’m gonna murder Richie with my bare hands,” he mumbled to himself, stumbling around town like he was lost. On the other hand, Stan had started to realize that maybe he wasn’t paying Richie much attention. He kind of felt bad, but at the same time he’s walking around at 2AM because his dumbass boyfriend hid his shit. “I’ve read this dumb fucking riddle 600 times and still have no idea where the fuck my book- wait a minute. In the tree. This motherfucker hid my book in a motherfucking tree,” Stan said, coming to a complete stop on the sidewalk.

It was the next morning and somehow Richie had once again convinced Eddie to help him out. He wanted Eddie to come to his house with him in hopes that Stan wouldn’t yell as much if Eddie were there, and after offering 5 of his best comic books, a slushee from the arcade, and $12, Eddie had agreed. “Stan’s car is here but he isn’t,” Eddie pointed out, looking around the empty house in confusion. “Fuck, dude, do you think something happened to him? Holy shit. Holy fucking shit I killed my boyfriend,” Richie panicked, pacing back and forth in the living room. “EDDIE, WHAT AM I GONNA DO? WHO ELSE IS GONNA PUT UP WITH ME? WHO ELSE IS GONNA WIPE THE CEREAL CRUMBS FROM THE CORNER OF MY MOUTH IN THE MORNINGS? WHO ELSE IS GONNA ROLL THEIR EYES AT ME EVERY TIME I FALL DOWN THE STEPS? WHAT DO I DO, EDDIE, NOBODY IS GONNA BE HERE TO LOVE ME,” Richie yelled, putting his hands on both of Eddie’s shoulders and shaking him back and forth. “RICHIE CALM THE FUCK DOWN, IM SURE HE’S FINE.” “NO, I HAVE TO CALL HIM NOW!”

Last night after climbing 7 different trees and finally finding his bird book, Stan was completely exhausted and decided to rest for a few minutes on the branch he was sitting on before walking back home, but ended up falling asleep. Ring, ring, ring The noise of Stan’s cellphone ringing made him slowly wake up, only to realize he was a good 25 feet from the ground. Ignoring his phone, he decided it was time to go home and get some actual sleep in his bed. He was surprised he didn’t fall from the tree last night. Flashbacks from the previous night started to flood Stan’s memory, and he suddenly remembered why he was in a tree in the first place. Richie. “I can’t fucking believe that shit actually happened and I wasn’t just dreaming,” Stan ranted to himself, packing up his things in his backpack, which he had found hidden behind a dumpster outside of the arcade last night. In Stan’s haste to get home, while trying to stuff his bird book into his bag, it slipped from his grip. He attempted to reach out and grab it before it fell, but reached a bit too far and was sent soaring down from the tree along with his book and his bag. “AGH- AH- AGGH- FUCK,” Stan yelled, in-between hitting every fucking branch on the way down. Stan landed on the last branch before he hit the ground, and had thought it saved him from plummeting to the ground, only for the branch to collapse under the sudden pressure and send him crashing onto the dirt.