XIII

RUNNING OUT OF TIME | Tyler, The Creator

or, the party part 2 (3?)

"Holy fucking Christ," Richie mumbled, eyes wide as the three teens gazed upon the fucking mansion before them.

"Oh my god, the kid really is that rich" Beverly huffed out a shocked laugh. Stan is stunned into silence beside them.

Okay, mansion was a bit of an exaggeration, but only barely. It was indeed a huge fucking house. Lined with elegant pillars and a big front porch, which held teens wading in and out, just like the last party they went to. The disaster party, if you will.

Richie sucked in a breath, and it huffed out in a cold cloud of smoke before him. "Alright, some consequence yet hanging in the stars shall bitterly begin his fearful date with this night's revels, and expire the term of a despised life closed in my breast by some vile forfeit of untimely death" Richie mused playfully.

It was from the scene in R&J, right before the Capulet's party, and though there simply was no reason to say any of this out loud in the first place, he felt it bubbling in his throat. Different than when he just babbled things out of impulse. A gut feeling. As though this had much to do with what is to happen tonight.

"But whatever," Richie shrugged, and Stan snorted at that. "Direct my sail. On, lusty gentlemen!!" Richie said, swooning dramatically and taking the both of them by the hand, skipping toward the entrance to the house.

It was not much different from the last one, Christmas garlands hung all around, red and green lights aglow. It was a much much bigger house inside, and the Christmas tree was absolutely massive, standing tall just by the couches across the room.

The trio was fairly late to the party, mostly because one of their main rules is to always show up when everyone is already too drunk to notice. Perfect for mixing in with the crowd. And in this case, the house was crowded. And I mean the insane type of crowded where you just might get a clear space to not be tripping over someone else's feet. The dance floor was not as packed, but it's just about to be, because Richie can see in the corner of his eye, someone reaching out to turn on some sort of speaker.

Richie was to be the 'designated driver' for tonight.

They take turns for every party they go to, and the last Halloween bash from a few months back was to Stan's duty. Neither of them were one at the last party because... well- let's just forget about that for now.

One was necessary tonight because, unlike the last time, this party would be normal. The most normal any party could ever be. Correction: It has to be.

Then a song; 'Simply Having A Wonderful Christmas Time' boomed to life out of the speakers, and the three of them all groaned in unison, nearly masked by the strength of the music. Richie squawked out a laugh.

"So we all collectively agree that this is the worst Christmas song of all time?" he spoke loudly over the music, and both Stan and Bev nodded aggressively.

"Why is it's name so damn long!" Stan queried, and everyone scoffed with a laugh. Ridiculous.

After a second of them maneuvering around the house, awkwardly moving in a train of height (Beverly in front, shortest, Stan in the middle, merely a millimeter shorter than Richie [yes, they counted], and Richie in the back, bobbing his head to the unfortunately catchy song, with his hands securely clamped onto Stan's shoulders) they reach the entrance to the kitchen.

"Sorry Rich, but I'm just about ready to get fucked up!" Beverly turns to them and shrugs, pretending to pout with guilt, her eyes trailing across the room with fascination and excitement. Probably in search of the nearest drink around. Beverly isn't a raging alcoholic, obviously, but needless to say, she will never back down from a party.

Richie just rolls his eyes, "Don't you worry, Marsh, I'll be perfectly fine as a sober man for a few hours, won't I Staniel?" Stan just rolls his eyes too with a smile.

"That's a first" Beverly raises her eyebrows, and Richie pretends to think for a moment.

"Touché."

"Alright, we'll be on our way now" Stan says, pushing past Richie, giving him a playful shove, and pulling a laughing Beverly along with him.

"No drinking, my dearest sweet Stanny!" Richie hollers out to them, and Stan flips him off menacingly.

"Fuck you!" he hollers back. They disappear from view, and Richie sighs.

Now what to do, what to do.

___

"Are we supposed to be this late?" Eddie whines, tugging the sweater on him further up his shoulders.

"I remember specifically, Bev said it's smart to show up to parties late, I- I don't know why, but we're here" Ben says, gesturing to the house in front of them.

They weren't exactly at the front of the house though. When they arrived, Bill made some sort of squeaking noise once the house came into view and frantically tugged them both down the side of the house, and now they're here, behind the house, just in front of the gate leading to the backyard.

"Fashionably late, eh? I don't s-see anything fashionable about that" Bill shrugs, and Ben groans.

"Well we're here, and we're late. What more is there to say?"

"I'm still mad at you for bringing your damn fanny pack, Eddie" Bill cuts in, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fuck you, this has all the essentials! I have a mini first aid, my inhaler, the camera, just in case, and-"

"Guys!" Ben interrupts, silencing them both. "We're not going to need a first aid if we maybe stop fighting."

"Actually, to answer your previous question, there is a lot to say!" Eddie exclaims. "This place is fucking huge, and also, how are we still so sure that they aren't here" he says, his voice quieting at the mention of them.

Ben rolls his eyes. "They're not here, just trust me on this."

And so they do. And they walk into the house through the back, attempting to blend in with other teens around them, and eventually successfully land themselves on a random couch in somewhere that looks a bit like a game room.

There's a pool table in the middle, and a foosball table on the other side of the room. Not the living room, evidently, since it's much less crowded and they easily can hear the music booming through the wall from where the actual living room is.

"Okay," Eddie plops onto the couch in exasperation. "What's our game plan?"

"Game plan? Wh- What the fuck do you mean by that! We're just here Eddie! Trying to have fun, remember?" Bill sighs, taking a seat beside him and running a hand through his hair. Ben sits next to Eddie and nods in agreement.

"Well I'm sorry for wanting to be prepared and not fucking die from something going wrong, my mom warned me about this kind of stuff. High school parties are like a death trap, you could drink the wrong thing at any moment, get drugged and kidnapped and and-"

"Eddie! Calm the fuck down!" Bill exclaims, placing a comforting shoulder on the hyperventilating smaller boy. "We're going to be fine."

Eddie takes a deep breath at that, and shuts his eyes momentarily. Accidentally imagines big, coke bottle frames knocking against his forehead, and soft giggles that ghost breath over his face. Calm your tits, Eds. You got this.

Just then, a song starts up from the other side of the wall. 'Simply Having A Wonderful Christmas Time' begins abruptly, with it's funny synth pianos and upbeat tone, and Eddie can't help but stifle a laugh.

"Oh, I love this song!" Ben says, perking up at the noise. Eddie lets out a full on laugh, and Bill snorts.

"What?" Ben says. "It gets me in the holiday spirit!"

"No, I like it too, it's just... funny" Bill says, smiling and biting back another laugh.

Ben punches both their shoulders playfully and tells them to suck it, and they all laugh together, finally easing up.

Maybe this could be fun.

___

"Richieee" Beverly hums, bopping and prancing around the dance floor happily, but staying nearby the couch where Stan and Richie are laid. Richie sitting upright, and Stan's legs draped off of the side of the couch, his head in Richie's lap, a blunt between his lips.

A few songs have passed since they first got there. Some were holiday songs, and some weren't. Richie is giggling every once in a while, a bit high off of the secondhand smoke from Stan, and Beverly relentlessly keeps trying to get them to dance with her.

"Stan, you know you're getting me high, right?" Richie says with a growing smirk, his head turning downwards to look at Stan, who has his eyes half closed and is humming to the music.

Richie likes parties. He always has, and one of the main reasons is because he gets to see Stan like this. No stick up his ass. Letting loose. Hazy and pretty and happy. And especially as touchy as he wants.

Ever since they first started to go to parties, and Stan had gotten stuck in that hotboxed room for the first time, fourteen-year old Richie was stunned to see who had come out of the room as a result.

Don't get him wrong, he loves Stan all the time. Especially when he's not high. But having him like this, let's just say it was always an entirely different experience.

If sober Stan were here, he definitely wouldn't be resting his head on Richie's lap contentedly. Or trailing his fingers up and down Richie's knee idly.

Stan opens his eyes to see Richie above him, smiles, and puffs out a small cloud of smoke, fogging up the lenses of his glasses.

"Good" he responds cheerily, and Richie raises his eyebrows, snorting out a laugh. Oh well. Stan takes the blunt back between his fingertips, and his head tips to the side

"You should go dance with Bev," Stan slurs, although he curls further into Richie's lap and closes his eyes again. How can he possibly be able to sleep right now? Now, with the insanely loud music not too far away, and the couple making out right beside them.

Then abruptly, Stan sits up, and turns to him. Like a dog having heard the word 'walk' after a lazy day.

"We should dance with Bev!" he exclaims, and quickly grabs hold of Richie's arms, pulling him up and off of the couch in one fluid motion.

He isn't sure what song is playing now, but as Stan cackles loudly and joins in with Bev and her dancing, he easily finds the beat and begins jumping around with them. Nothing but smiles. It still feels like something is missing on their end, a few someones maybe, but that can't be important right now. They're having fun. This is probably all they've ever needed.

___

"Holy shit, look! This guy has a fucking pac-man machine in here!" Eddie exclaims, leaping away from where he once stood to examine the game.

They had been in the game room quite nearly the whole time, only leaving every once in a while when they needed more drinks.

Eddie shamelessly searched for orange juice and vodka in the kitchen earlier, and successfully made his own drink. Shamelessly thinking of Richie as he poured, and nearly overflowing the cup in the process of his mind drifting.

Needless to say they were already pretty fucking drunk, and were having a hell of a good time so far.

"Woah!" Bill's eyes widened comically at the sight of it. It was a real arcade machine. In someones house. It looked only a little beaten up surprisingly, but as Eddie pressed a random button cautiously, the screen shone alive.

"Neat! Well play a game, Eddie, why don't ya?" Ben nods toward the game, shrugging. "'m sure the owners won't mind."

Eddie contemplated for a moment, but after a second of staring at the pixelated characters, he gave in and grabbed hold of the joystick.

"Just a warning for you boys, I absolutely crush this game every time" Eddie shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant as he picks out the settings of the game and starts it up.

They all laugh, and as Eddie continues the game, Bill and Ben stand on the sides, exclaiming and high fiving him every time he defeats the ghosts.

And it's fun, even though the atmosphere is still a little weird. A little warped without— ... no, they're fine. It's a lot of fun, and this is kind of all they've ever needed.

___

"C'mon guys, I think someone mentioned a game room?" Beverly says, pulling Stan along, who is pulling Richie along behind them.

They stumble and laugh their asses off on the way there, skipping down the hallway in search of the room, and eventually find it.

There's an entire pool table in the middle, and couches in the corner. Not many people were in there, and in the corner of his eye, he could faintly see people leaving the room from a different exit. Damn, fancy house. Fancy rooms.

"Ohh holy FUCK!" Richie shouted, spotting something in the corner of the room. This evidently startled the people around them.

"Jesus, you scared me, Rich" Bev slurred, leaning herself on his tall frame.

"Yeah, and everyone else within a ten mile radius" Stan chimed, followed by a snort from the redhead beside him.

"Look, it's an arcade game! Inside a fucking house!" Richie exclaimed, pulling the two of them over with him to the boxy machine on the other side of the room.

He sees that the screen is already lit up, with a flashing signal of Victory! in pixelated letters.

"Looks like someone's already beat the owner's high score" Stan points out, but before Richie can get a good look at who it was, Stan had pressed a button and clicked off of the high score screen.

But what Richie had seen before it was gone... no, it can't be.

EDS

Three letters in red bold pixels.

But no, that isn't possible. Hah, Richie is probably just high right now, and is seeing things.

Or maybe... No. I mean, how many people are named Eddie in this school? One hundred, at least. It's probably someone else.

But, Eds? That name is for Eddie. And only Eddie. Maybe...

"-Richie!" Beverly shouts, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Oh sorry, what?" he blinks, shaking the thought away from his mind.

"Are you going to play or not?" she says, and Richie is confused for a second, until he remembers where he's standing.

"Oh, yeah of course! I'm ready to absolutely demolish this game" he grins wickedly, pressing the play button.

He ends up losing miserably after a minute, resulting in Beverly cackling, clutching her stomach and near tears, holding onto Richies shoulder for support. Stan giggles lightheartedly and shakes his head in fake disappointment.

"Alright, alright, rematch! That was so unfair" Richie announced, laughing along.

"Unfair? You went right toward a ghost" Beverly managed between short giggles.

"My hand slipped" he joked, and Beverly eagerly motioned for him to press the Start button again.

As they started up another game, Richie swearing under his breath that he's going to murder this machine if he loses again, Stan turns away.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna go look around a bit" Stan says, although all he gets in reply is Beverly's waving arm that meant she heard him.

He nods and begins walking out of the game room, headed for... wherever.

___

"You really killed that game, Eddie!" Bill exclaims, laughing drunkenly as they slowly walk away from the arcade machine.

"I told you, 'm the fucking master!" he laughs, shrugging.

Just as they make their way out of the game room-

"-FUCK!"

Eddie jumps at that, startled from the somewhat familiar voice. He turns to look back into the game room, but people are already starting to push in front of him, like a river current, and he loses view of the room entirely.

And he must have been the only one who heard it, because his friends continue walking, chatting among themselves casually over the loud music. They're near the living room now, he thinks, because he can hear the music clear as day.

He decides he should just leave it alone. That stupid voice. It's not... It- It's not who he thinks it is. Ben said it himself, they went to a different party.

He follows his friends to wherever they seem to be going, and eventually they end up in the living room. There are a lot more people here than the game room, and the three of them are weaving through the crowd, trying desperately to stick together and not get lost.

"I am going to be sick if I drink any more of this shit" Bill comments, holding out his Solo cup with a grimace as Eddie and Ben take a seat on a small couch together. They're in the corner of the room right now, and it's essentially the least crowded spot that they could find.

"Then... don't drink it" Eddie says dumbly, giggling at his own simple answer. Ben begins laughing along with him, his drunk flushed cheeks glowing in the dim light of the party.

Bill shrugs and turns to look around. "You are so right, I need water or something" he announces, faking a gagging motion before turning to walk away toward the kitchen.

"Bye Billy Boy!" Eddie waves, giggling with Ben as they quickly fall into a ridiculous conversation.

Rounding the corner and in search of the kitchen, Bill whistles an off-tune Christmas song. Eventually, he finds a door to the kitchen and whips it open.

His eyes are trained on the floor first, scanning the grounds for a cooler or something related to beverages. But he stops short when he takes notice of the shining white glint of One Star Converse standing in front of him. Too clean to be anyone other than who he thinks it is.

Cautiously, slowly, in a sudden state of shock, he lifts his eyes to meet with them, a confused sort of visual wince plastered onto his face.

"St-... Stan?" Bill says, his current state of shock causing his voice to quickly grow quiet.

They gasp, the noise being masked under the muffled jingling of Christmas music around them.

"Bill?"

___

"Come on, this song is way overdue, it should have been the first on the list" Richie complains to himself as "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" started up on the speakers. He was currently lounging around on the game room couch, sighing harder into the cushions and gazing idly all around the room. Beverly had been going to town on that pac-man game ever since Richie had given up a few minutes ago, and Richie could easily tell whether she won or lost a round with the way she groaned with loss or cackled in victory.

People around them were having fun, lots of fun, Richie could tell. Him included, of course, but the hype of the party had easily died down within him, and he found himself wondering what the time was. Perhaps he's getting tired.

Just as he pulled himself out of his thoughts, he felt Beverly grab at his arm, groaning that a pre-hangover could possibly be beginning to take it's toll on her. Richie chuckles as they make their way around the house together.

He pushes open the door to the kitchen, easily moving toward the fridge for the water bottle that Beverly is in desperate need of right now.

Just as he gets a grip on the fridge handle, he catches on a certain bright jug in the corner of his eye.

"Who th'fuck is drinking orange juice at a party?" Beverly giggles at it's ridiculousness. Richie halts, his eyes straying to the radiant orange substance resting ambiguously on the marble countertop.

What the fuck.

"Uh, yeah, that's... weird" he responds thoroughly confused. What is going on tonight.

Richie huffs in mild frustration and pulls the fridge open, grabbing a cold water bottle for Bev and slamming it closed.

___

"I fucking hate you" Stan muttered as he slammed the door to the random upstairs bedroom behind him, immediately turning to pull Bill in by the collar of his shirt and kiss him harshly.

"Not as much as I hate you" Bill mumbles on his lips, leaning into it generously. Bill is only an inch taller, but he still has to tilt his head just a bit down to meet with Stan's correctly. Stan rolls his eyes and kisses him harder.

"You smell like booze" Stan comments , pulling away and smirking at the way Bill tries desperately to follow his lips again, eyes closed and unfocused.

"And you taste like weed" Bill remarks, matter-of-factly. Both were right. But the question of whether this was a good thing or not— the two were less than worried about, as Stan slid in his tongue to meld with Bill's, their bodies swaying together drunkenly in the middle of the room like an uncoordinated ballroom dance.

Bill takes his gut leap of faith and, as he steadies the both of them and finally gets himself to lean on the wall with Stan in front of him, their chests nearly flush together, he trails his fingers down the expanse of Stan's clothed chest. Stops just on the hem of his shirt, takes hold of Stan's hips securely, and as swift as ever, brushes a thumb under the cloth, feeling the soft warm skin, a spark from his touch.

Stan inaudibly gasps into his mouth, shocked from the cold contact on his skin, allowing Bill to lick into his mouth gently.

"Th-this doesn't change anything" Stan announces stubbornly, allowing Bill's thin and nimble fingers to ride further up Stan's shirt and graze the skin of his stomach gently as they continue their messy kisses.

When Bill doesn't respond, only pulls him in closer, Stan takes that as a gesture of approval. Okay.

They continue on like that for another few minutes or so, only ever stopping to catch their breath. But eventually, the reality of the situation dawned on them both.

"Wait, what the f-fuck are we doing?" Bill says, pulling away momentarily.

Stan pulls away too, equally as conflicted as the auburn-haired boy in front of him.

Stan sighs, bites his lip. "I don't know" he admits, and moves to lean up on the wall beside Bill.

"God, why do I feel like a mess, when absolutely nothing is going wrong in my life" Stan groans quietly, letting his body slide down to the floor, where his knees knock together held close to his chest.

Bill snickers quietly, mimicking his actions and sliding to the floor, letting his legs splay in front of him as he rests his head on the wall with a thud. "I get that" he says, shrugging.

Stan scoffs quietly, but believes him nevertheless.

After a long silence, so quiet that the extremely muffled Christmas music from downstairs is less audible than the both of their heaving breaths combined, Bill hesitantly opens his mouth to speak.

"If I tell you a secret, you promise not to tell?" Bill says, and for a moment Stan had almost forgotten he was drunk at all till he slurred those words to him playfully.

Stan grins at his ridiculousness, his heart bubbling with something he can't exactly pinpoint, and he nods to Bill slowly.

Bill turns away for a second, his eyes straying to his own shoes, hesitant, serious, before finally opening his mouth again.

"As much of a dick you were that night... I still miss you," he speaks, biting his lip and caught on a frown.

Stan stays silent, feeling the weight of his confession settle in his own stomach heavily.

"Like, we argued a lot and all, but you were right, I was being an asshole, and I felt really bad about it for a long time and-" Bill explains, like a baby confessing why the china plate is shattered on the kitchen floor. Drunkenly whiny and breathless, and silently begging for forgiveness.

"Bill, it's oka- It's okay!" Stan chuckles, speaking over him as Bill's frown worsens, wallowing in his past guilt.

"I was an asshole to you too," Stan admits, shrugging guiltily. "I- I was being stupid and I thought you were starting to like everyone else more than me." He's past that now, but the guilt still creeped up on him every time he thought about it more.

"It's so selfish, I know, I just really lik-"

"Stan," Bill cuts him off, a warm, knowing smirk on his face. "No one could possibly top you as best friend in the world" he says, grinning.

Stan stops, a harsh spike of rejection poking at his heart, in contrast to the warm feeling that developed in his stomach from Bill's words.

"Don't lie," Stan laughs, swallowing the lump in his throat. " What about Ben?"

"Ben? Nah, he's got nothing on you, no matter how sweet he may seem" Bill snorts, looking to Stan with sincerity.

Stan thought for a moment, unsure. "And Eddie?"

Bill rolled his eyes playfully at the mention, "God, you think Eddie is a better friend than you? He'd ditch me for a trip to the pharmacy for god sakes" he laughs, and Stan giggles beside him.

For a moment, they both forget they ever had each others tongues down one another's throats. And it's peaceful. It's content.

And this is sort of all they ever really needed.

Then abruptly, as though the universe purposefully thought an idea to cause trouble at such a perfect time, the two began hearing rummaging downstairs.

Stan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, lifting himself from the floor to tread closer to the door.

The music abruptly cut off downstairs, and Bill hopped up from the floor along with him, following closely near.

"What's going on?" Bill queries from behind Stan, nervously awaiting any kind of verdict from the blonde boy.

I don't... I don't know" Stan says hesitantly, pressing his hands and head up to the door to try and catch any words people are saying.

Then his eyes widen, horror-stricken. He can hear something, that's for sure, but it's not coming from downstairs. Or from inside the house at all.

"What is i-?"

"We've got to go" Stan says immediately, frantically reaching to grab Bill's wrist and pull him toward the door.

"What- What the fuck is it!" Bill huffs, but just as he says that, he pauses in his steps, and suddenly he can hear them too.

The sirens.

Bill gasps, "Oh my fucking-"

"We need to go, now, Bill" Stan says hurriedly, tugging his flannel as they both head out of the door (lucky enough for them, no one was upstairs to see *coughcough*).

Stan can see red and blue lights coming into view from the windows as they stumble down the stairs. Faintly, but they're definitely there, and that's enough for him to speed across the hall and head for the door that a herd of teens are squishing out of.

"I'm not in the right state of mind to be in this position right now" Bill complains, though his tone is anything but whiny. His face is pale, all of the color flushed out of him, and he's fairly monotone as he gets dragged through the hall and out the door.

Stan is looking around frantically, seeing the obvious crowd of teens rushing up the hill, opposite to where the sirens are heard

"Forest" he says blankly, and Stan only has a second to process what the hell that means, before he's scanning the scenery, pinpointing the thick woods that come into view beside the houses across the street, and sighs in relief.

He continues pulling Bill with him, waiting for the cop car to pass before booking it to his destination, headed for the empty forest across the street and trying to look as fucking natural  and unnoticeable as possible. The red and blue lights are beginning to pull up to the house now, and thankfully he gets him and Bill into the shadows of the trees without a trace.

"Does this happen often?" Bill asks between heaving breaths as Stan finally drops his death grip from Bill's wrist.

"Eh" is all Stan coughs in response, his joking nonchalance causing Bill to look up at him with his own horrified expression. Holy-

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!" Richie curses as he and Beverly scurry past the game room, rushing to the empty hallway that led to the back of the house, where the back door is and where Richie hopes to god there aren't any cops.

The two teens had been lounging around, sitting at the stranger's dining table as Beverly drank her water. Chatting about winter break and what they ought to do together.

They're just pulling up to the driveway right now, so if his calculations are correct, him and Bev should be able to escape successfully. (no calculations were actually being made as he panicked and raced for the door, swinging it open and searching frantically for somewhere to go)

"The... Uh, the woods! Let's go there!" Beverly announced quickly, pointing in the direction of the tall trees just across the street.

Richie's wide eyes look to the direction, and his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head in relief, the exaggerated sigh that followed matching his expression. He kisses the fiery red crown of Beverly's head, "What would I do without you?"

Just as they begin speeding once again, headed straight for the heavy trees, Richie nearly trips on something on the floor, and curses under his breath. He looks down, and to his surprise, sees a bright little boxy thing, abandoned on the floor of a stranger's backyard.

But his breath catches in his throat when he takes notice of what it actually is. He quickly picks it up, dusts it off, and examines. Completely unsure, but at the same time as sure as he's ever been.

It's Eddie's camera!

The Kodak that he brings to school nearly every day, everywhere he goes, claiming "just in case" every time someone asks. It's his, Richie can tell from the way it's slightly scratched on one side like he remembers it being so vividly during the days when all of the Losers would hang out, and Eddie would give Richie full permission to go crazy with it and take as many pictures as he wanted. And also from the way it has Eddie's initials written in neat sharpie under the Kodak logo.

"Richie!" Beverly exclaims, clearly still panicked. "We're fucking running out of-"

"-time!" Ben yelps worriedly, standing a few feet away from a frantic Eddie, who's on the floor mat of the backdoor, chest heaving and on the verge of an asthma attack as he tries to re-gather the materials that had just fallen out of his fanny pack just moments ago. He had tried to reach for his inhaler, but evidently that didn't go as planned.

The police haven't arrived yet, but the sirens can already be heard from a mile away and Ben is desperately begging Eddie to hurry the hell up.

"I'm- I'm going!" Eddie replies hurriedly. His brain feels fogged and drowsy, but he can feel himself rapidly sobering up at an unhealthy rate due to the current turn of events.

He finally gathers his things into his hands and stands up, rushing with Ben off of the property, not caring when he hears something drop behind him.

Without having to even exchange a word, Eddie and Ben both give one another a knowing glare, then rush into the maze of tall trees they catch eyes on. Better than a fucking holding cell, eh?

Rushing into the darkness, they both gradually slow to a halt when they're sure that they've gone completely out of sight. Ben sighs and takes a relieved seat on the cold dry soil beneath them, resting his back on a tree. Eddie takes a puff or three of his inhaler and tries to steady his breathing, a hand on his knee.

"God, fuck" Eddie swallows, pretty much still processing what the hell just happened. Holy hell, he never thought he'd ever be in a situation like that before. If his mom knew about this, shit, an aneurysm is very likely on the table. He'd told her that evening that he was spending the night at Bill's house, thinking of -quote- "Richie's gnarly tips for lying- I mean acting" as he flashed his mom a perfectly fake grin after school.

It wasn't a completely horrible time, though. And although the end was a literal nightmare, he'd rather be choking on air in the middle of the woods with Ben, hiding from the police instead being held hostage in his mother's house, nothing to do and even less to talk about with her, awkward and uncomfortable and just- absolutely not.

Now, the larger matter at hand. Where the fuck is Bill.

___

Bill swats at stubborn tree branches that continue to annoy the living the hell out of him, following Stan closely behind as he walks further into the darkness.

"We need to find Richie and Beverly" Stan says firmly, squinting in the darkness of the forest. The moon is lighting up the sky well enough, but the trees above are so thick that only a few beams of moonlight gleam onto the floor below every once in a while, sorted into a pattern that scatters wildly around them.

Bill trips on a rock from behind Stan, and stumbles a bit, huffing loudly.

"No, we need to find Eddie and B-Ben!" he replies defensively. God, he just knows Eddie is probably having an asthma attack right now, and Ben is failing at calming him down, and they're probably looking for him.

Stan rolls his eyes at that, but quickly catches himself on it. He doesn't have to hate them anymore.

He never really did.

"I said it first," Stan shoots back anyway, hearing an annoyed groan from behind him. "Plus, they're probably looking for me, we were supposed to have a sleepover at my house."

Bill sighs and quickly catches up to him, looking at him like he's dumb momentarily. "You know we're in the e-exact same p-p-position right now" Bill says, narrowing his eyes as his eyebrows lift.

"Why the fuck are you stuttering now?" Stan queries, almost in exasperation, but they can both hear the hint of real concern he's trying to hide.

He knew about Bill's spectrum of stuttering, and that if they're starting up again it's because he's nervous or worked up or etcetera.

"What the f-fuck do you mean 'why am I stuttering?', we almost just got arrested over there, in case you've forgotten that we're str- stranded in the woods right now" Bill shoots back, not offended, but with a heavy tone of annoyance and frantic movements.

Stan scoffs, "We're in a neighborhood, dipshit. There's bound to be an end or exit to this somewhere" he says, keeping his eyes forward.

Bill sighs, but doesn't say anything more. They walk side by side in silence, the awkwardness settling between them.

Sure they've sobered up, but that seems to be the bad part, because what they were doing just a few minutes ago in a stranger's room has simmered in the air, and... are they going to talk about it? Now that they're... stable..er? Clear-headed?

"We can look for Eddie and Ben first, I'm sure Richie handled Bev fine" Stan says gingerly, letting his fingers graze the passing branches beside them softly.

He can almost feel Bill's frown stretch into a small smile next to him.

___

"You know, I'm not sure if this is the worst situation we could possibly be in, or the best" Richie says blankly as he and Beverly trudge through the squelchy almost-snow beneath them, Richie grimacing with every step he takes in it. He'd kept his converse on today, but he could feel the chilling stuff soak the fabric of it slowly, uncomfortably.

They've only been walking for a few minutes, but a massive bog of this shit appeared, and what other choice did they have?

"Can't fuckin' believe I decided to wear flats today" Beverly grumbles, watching every step she takes cautiously, shivering every now and then with the piercing cold to her feet.

Richie furrows his eyebrows, and looks over his shoulder to see her behind him. "What the fuck is a flats?" Richie says, letting out a pfft of air out of his mouth and watching his breath turn to smoke.

"The shoes I'm wearing, idiot," she replies, the shake in her voice evident from the way her teeth are probably rattling in her skull. "I made you wear some for the Christmas show last year, remember?"

Richie tips his head back with an ohhh, then quickly notices how she's shaking violently.

"Do you want my sweater?" he asks, whistling nonchalantly as he gestures to the thin cotton of his sleeve. He had been searching for his jean jacket all afternoon, but couldn't seem to remember where he put it.

Beverly has a sweater of her own, draped across her back and her shoulders and bunching up at the sleeves where she's covering her twitching fingers. But it doesn't seem like enough, evidently.

Still, she shakes her head quickly, "Hell no, you're gonna like, turn to ice or something" she says, and Richie laughs, though there was no hint of a joke in her tone.

And she was still partially drunk, that may be a reason.

"God, how will we find Stan?" she sighs, taking large steps to catch up with Richie suddenly, looking at him worriedly.

"Can't just show up at his house, cuz you forgot your key, and I forgot mine, and he's probably looking for us too, and we're just runnin' around like headless fucking chickens" she rambles, not exactly slurring, but definitely not speaking normal either.

Richie knows she gets snappy when she's drunk and he makes jokes, so he just shrugs and looks further into the distance, sighing in relief when he sees an end to the disgusting snow under them.

"We're gonna find him," he assures, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "In fact, he probably thought of coming into this forest too, so we'll run into him eventually, I'm sure of it" he nods, nudging her on the shoulder comfortingly, and she nods.

Then, suddenly, a voice.

It was distant, faraway, like a tiny ant shouting as loud as they could.

Both Richie and Beverly's head cocked to the sky at this noise, so abrupt.

"Is it a full moon tonight, Bevvy? Oh, carry me! Werewolves are my worst fear" he says, high and shrilly, his arms coming up to drape around Beverly's shoulders. She shrugs them off of herself stubbornly, letting out a snort.

___

"HELLO!!" Eddie shrieks to the sky, as loud as he could, walking slowly behind Ben, who's whistling horribly and huffing out a laugh when Eddie's voice cracks every once in a while.

"HELP!" Eddie says again, and hears it echo into the night sky miserably. He sighs in defeat, his shoulders slumping sadly.

"You should stop that," Ben comments, looking up to the clouds curiously. "You're going to wake up the rich people."

"Good," Eddie responds smart-assedly, skipping to catch up with Ben to give him a serious look. "Then I can ask to use their phone, and call my mom to pick me up from this absolute hell" he says, crossing his hands over his chest to rub over his shivering arms.

"Yeah, so she can find out you went to a party and ground you for the next ten years" Ben remarks, smirking at the way Eddie's face falls again.

They walk through the forest, silent now, aside from Ben's sad attempt at whistling.

Eddie notices Ben still looking up to the sky, the moon moving along with them, the wild branches covering a lot of it from view.

They're both gazing up, and Eddie sighs dreamily, cocking his head to the side. "You think you could write a poem about this?" Eddie asks, seeing the stars glimmer like sparkles in the contrasting darkness of space.

Ben is quiet for a moment, thinking. "About what?"

"The sky tonight," Eddie responds like it's obvious. "It's beautiful" he breathes out, quiet, almost to himself.

Eddie hears the fabric of Ben's sweatshirt rub together, sounding like a shrug, and he looks to him curiously. Why not?

"I can't say it's that easy, but... maybe" he says, and Eddie gives him a confused look.

"Maybe?"

"Alright, yes actually, I probably could" he nods, smiling appreciatively at the sky one last time before returning to looking forward into the distance. "I just.. think it's deeper than that."

Ben sees the gates to another house's backyard, and frowns. Gotta keep going.

"How do you mean?" Eddie queries in wonder.

Ben opens his mouth, but closes it again hesitantly, letting out a hmpf as he's kept in thought.

"I dunno, I just think it'd be easier, better, if some sort of emotion were connected to it" he says, and Eddie listens intently.

"Like, it's pretty and all, I could write about that, but it wouldn't really mean anything if there was no feelings behind it. And the truth is, everything has feelings, just depends on whether you let em show or not."

Eddie nods understandingly at that response, and grins at his friend's intellectualism. "You really are just a genius, Ben, aren't you?"

Ben doesn't respond, just huffs out a quiet laugh as his cheeks grow crimson in embarrassment.

And Ben was right. Nothing is really all that good when there's no emotions to go with it. It's just... external. Physical. Superficial.

Eddie looks back up to the sky momentarily, admiring the warm feeling he gets at the breathtaking sight.

The stars are especially prominent tonight, more than any other recently, and Eddie can't help but wonder if anyone else is looking at the same ones that he is right now...

___

"Holy shit, it's over!" Bill exclaims, jogging toward the end of the stupid fucking forest they've been stuck in, a skip in his step as he excitedly jumps out of the other end, sneakers landing on soft grass immediately, and he sighs.

Stan runs closely behind, laughing and following suit with a small leap as the ground transitions from sticks and dirt to rich people grass beneath him and no more fucking trees.

Bill collapses to the floor, and Stan looks at him oddly. "Is that not wet, or super fucking cold?" he asks worriedly.

Bill giggles giddily, and lays his head on the soft, perfectly trimmed grass. "No, and if it were I seriously would not give a fuck" he responds.

Stan scoffs, and cautiously sits on the grass beside him.

"Well that was horrible, I'm never doing that again" Bill remarks with an exasperated expression, his eyes stuck on the radiant night sky as he splays his arms and legs out on the grass around him. Stan rolls his eyes.

There's a noise somewhere.

Rustling, the clear voice of a human being is heard in the woods. Bill sits up suddenly, and the two watch in suspense, confusedly.

"I swear, at this point it just feels like parties are cursed for us" they hear a familiar voice emerge from the forest, further away from where they had just come out of. It's Ben. And Eddie hops out from behind him just a second later.

"What the fuck!?" Bill says abruptly, causing Ben and Eddie to shout in surprise. But once they realize who it is, they both collectively gasp and rush over, dropping to the floor with them immediately.

"What was that! Dude, I literally will piss myself if we get fuckin' mauled by a bear or something" another voice surfaces somewhere, along with the bustling of leaves that are their footsteps.

"There are no bears in a neighborhood, dipshit. Also you wouldn't piss yourself because you'd be dead, and the bear would've already ripped your dick off any... way..." Beverly trails off when her eyes are met with the four boys outside the confines of the forest.

"Rude-" Richie says finally, smacking away one last tree branch from his face before taking notice of the odd get-together around him.

His eyes widen in shock from the overwhelming information to take in. Well, to recap the last .5 seconds... We found Stan. Ben, Bill, and Eddie are here. Stan and Bill are in the same air-breathing space together without killing each other right now. Not to mention Eddie is here. Brain malfunction. Error 404.

"What... What?" is all Richie says, before he's being tugged by the sleeve over to the rest of the Losers. Can he even consider them collectively as The Losers together now? (not without Mike, though) Or are we still...

"Stan! Jesus Christ, we were looking to find you in there" Beverly says with a huff as she approaches them. "Do you even know how fucking tired we are? What time is it, like two am?"

Bill checks his watch, "It's twelve."

Beverly doesn't respond to that, suddenly confused as hell.

Richie can feel eyes on him. In the corner of his own eyesight. Watching timidly, silently. And he knows just whose they are, unfortunately, nearing closer to Stan as he and Beverly converse about going home immediately.

"We're so tired too," Ben chimes in, everyone turning to him at that. When it grows awkward, he looks away and mumbles a timid "Sorry, 'was just saying."

"I'm confused, what's going on?" Richie speaks up finally, still wondering what the hell the status is of Stan and Bill.

"I think we all got lost in the woods together... separately, I don't know" he hears from the back of the bunch. Eddie.

His heart seizes at the sight. He didn't want to look, but- well. How's that going?

Eddie is bundled up in a sweater, and has his hands held up to his chest as though it will help with the cold. His nose is cute and red at the very tip, a blush from the cold having spread over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose (probably from the cold). He smiles subtly back at Richie, and Richie feels bad for quickly looking away.

He hears the same voice clear his throat, "We- uh, we should go, right Bill?" Eddie says, looking to Bill, who's looking to Stan, who's looking to Beverly.

Still, nobody is questioning the fact that Stan and Bill aren't giving one another death glares anymore, everyone is likely too afraid. But then again, they could just assume that they-

"You two made up while you were stranded together, didn't you?" Beverly pops the question confidently, and yes. Everyone else was thinking the exact same thing.

Stan's eyes widen, tries not to choke on his own spit as his brain repeats Made Out Made Out Made Out. He hesitantly nods, looking back to Bill, who is equally terrified and trying not to show it.

Eddie laughs from behind them, "Cool, now we should get going, shouldn't we?" he says, beginning to stand up.

"Well, if you want, we could all go to my house... together?" Bill offers with a nonchalant shrug, although on the inside he's begging for a yes.

After a silence of agony, and full of exchanged glances between Stan, Richie and Beverly, they say yes in unison, completely avoiding the sentence "what could possibly go wrong" by any means.

And so with a sigh of relief, the six friends (yup, friends) walk the blocks to Bill's house, chatting about how they could have possibly just completely missed one another the whole time of the party.

And it's fun, it's like old times. It's cozy when they sidle up onto Bill's carpeted basement floor and begin talking about how much they miss Mike. When the clock strikes two am and Beverly is out like a light. It's fun, it's them together, and... it's really all they've ever needed.

Jeeeezus CHRIST that took me forever to write holy damn.. its lowkey unedited FNJK im just so lazy. sorry for making you wait this long for this piece of crap LMAO, but i will not lie, it is literally the length of two full  chapters, so fun fun fun. I would have cut it in half but i didnt want to lol i hope you liked it!- author

p.s. next chapter is going to be rlly cool i think >:)))))