.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

【 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 】

ix. time spent apart

IT WAS A BRIGHT AND BALMY DAY IN DERRY, and the park was bathed in a hazy glow. The peaceful silence, owever, was about to be broken.

"VERITY LOOK!" Stan said excitedly, almost falling over in his hurry to pass her the binoculars.

The girl cracked up at his antics, then took them from him and peered through the lenses.

"Is that it?" She whispered, watching the small golden-brown bird a few feet away. It hopped up and down on it's branch, singing away merrily.

"It is, I'm sure of it!" Stan murmured, trying to regain his composure. He took out a battered leather-bound notebook; his most prized possession.
"See here- 'the common goldfinch'! I haven't seen one before.. isn't it gorgeous?" He breathed.

Verity noticed how cute he looked when he talked about birds; how his eyes lit up as he spotted a new find, how his eyebrows furrowed when he was deep in concentration, or how he'd smile shyly as he showed her his notebook. This was the face she knew so well, had grown up with, and it was almost as familiar as her own.

"It's beautiful," she said, glancing at him as she spoke.

They sat like that for some time under the shade of an old oak tree, the leaves above them whispering sweet nothings to themselves.

"Here," Verity tossed Stan an apple, laughing as it bounced off his shoulder. "Dear God, and they say you've got good reflexes! How're you gonna make the baseball team when my great-aunt Matilda catches better than you?" She gasped, holding her sides and shaking with laughter.

"Hey!" He protested, struggling to keep a straight face. "Wait, doesn't your great-aunt have cataracts?"

"And your point is..?" She said, completely deadpan.

He shook his head, smiling as he watched her lay back against the tree. She closed her eyes, basking in a patch of sun like a cat.

There was silence for a moment, then Verity spoke. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

Stan shrugged, adding something in his notebook before looking up. "Well.. yeah, I am. I'm kinda terrified, to be honest." He confessed. "I mean, it's such an important time in my faith, you know?"

Verity nodded, knowing the pressure he felt, not only from his father, but from himself too.

"What if I go up there in front of everyone, and make a fool out of myself? What if I screw up reading the Torah? What if-"

Verity interrupted him, her voice gentle. "Stan, listen to me. You're one of the most hardworking and overall amazing people I've ever met. You've been preparing for this for so long, you're gonna do great!"

He gave her a doubtful look.

She took hold of his hand, giving it a small squeeze. "Trust me,"

He let out a shaky breath, and smiled. "Thanks, Verity. You always know what to say, huh?"

"Hmm, not always.. like ninety-nine percent of the time."

He rolled his eyes. "And she's humble, too."

"Watch it Stanny, or I'll bail on you tomorrow and you'll have to take Richie instead."

They went quiet, and suddenly both became very aware of how their hands were still joined together.

"Look, there's another bird!" Verity said quickly, pointing to a spot in the trees.

She let go of his hand, turning away to get her camera..
and to hide her furiously blushing face.
When the butterflies in her stomach had stopped doing the tango, she focused the camera on Stan, trying to find the perfect angle.

He was leaning over his notebook, deep in concentration. His nose was scrunched slightly, and his curls fell forward almost into his eyes. Verity looked at him intently, before taking the picture.

"Did you just take a photo of me?" Stan asked, not looking up from his work.

"And what if I did?" She huffed in mock-annoyance. "I need to practice!"

"Hmm, sure," he said, but he was unable to hide his grin.

»»««

The next day came around, and Verity could almost feel Stan's nerves coming from next door. They had stayed up late the night before, talking about almost anything except the bar mitzvah. Verity had fallen asleep with her walkie-talkie clasped in one hand, and unbeknownst to her, Stan had done the same.

She was all set for the day; she had worn her best dress, put a new roll of film in her camera, and gotten some money for afterward (they planned to get food after the ceremony).

The doorbell rang, and Verity hurried to the door, grabbing her bag on the way. Stan had to go to the temple early to get ready, so he'd promised an "escort" to be arranged. She had thought it'd be Stan's mother, perhaps, so she was surprised to open the door and see Richie Tozier standing there, almost unrecognisable in a light-blue suit and kippah.

"Miss Summahs, ah say, what a pretty pictuh you look!" He said loudly, slipping into his notoriously bad southern Voice.

She giggled. "Why hello, mister Tozier, how're you this fine morning?"

"Well ahm just fine, missy!" He offered his arm, which she took. "Shall we?"

"We shall, sir."

They arrived at the temple in no time, and took their seats next to Richie's mother. It was pleasantly cool inside, which contrasted to the sweltering heat outdoors.

"Think he's nervous?" Verity murmured, looking around at the full seats around them.

Richie nodded solemnly. "Oh yeah, he's probably shitting hims- oww!" he cried, recoiling as Mrs. Tozier swatted him with her handbag.

"Richie! What have we told you about swearing? Especially in a place of worship!"

He grinned, sheepishly rubbing his arm. "Sorry, mom,"

She turned to Verity, smiling kindly. "And I'm guessing you're Stanley's girlfriend?"

The girl opened her mouth, then shut it again, her face turning crimson. "Um, no, we're just friends."

"Ah, of course! I'm sorry, dear." Mrs. Tozier said, although she obviously didn't buy it. She looked at her son, shaking her head. "Honestly, we've taught him that foul language isn't acceptable, yet he still uses it! He behaves himself around all of you, doesn't he?"

Verity thought of all the jokes, Voices, and curses that'd give even a sailor a heart-attack. "Oh, of course," she smirked. "He's a regular saint with us. If anything, he's a good influence.."

The older woman nodded, pleased that her son didn't spend his free time like some of the other boys in Derry; who spent all their time playing video games and roughhousing. How much trouble could he get into with a group of sensible kids like his friends?

As Mrs. Tozier turned to chat with another adult, Richie leaned over to Verity and whispered, "Thanks for saving my ass like that, kid."

"No prob, I'm guessing she's opposed to your, uh, use of language?" She whispered back, grinning.

He rolled his eyes. "Is the pope a Catholic?"

Verity opened her mouth to make another remark, but went silent when she realised everyone was taking their seats.

"Oh God, it's starting!" She said, her smile falling away to reveal the anxiety beneath.

Richie patted her arm, his eyes trained on the altar. "Don't worry, our Stanny-boy's gonna ace it. Then he'll be a full-fledged Jew, aww, they grow up so fast!"

At his words, Stan walked towards the altar, his face blank and unreadable. Apart from his friends, the other people who saw him might have thought him uninterested, even bored. But Verity and Richie knew otherwise. They could tell by the way his fingers plucked at the material of his suit, and how his eyes shifted around nervously, as though for reassurance.

He wore a suit and tallit, as was the custom. His usually unruly curls were slicked down, and covered by a kippah. Verity suspected Richie was probably trying hard to keep in all the jokes that were threatening to come tumbling out at any minute.

The ceremony went smoothly, much to Verity's relief, and as Stan stepped forward to read from the Torah, she felt a deep swell of pride.

He finished his reading, but instead of handing the microphone back to his father, he blurted out "Becoming an adult, according to the holy scripture of Derry–" he winced as the microphone's interference rang through the air. "–is learning not to give a shit!"

The silence that hung over the room was suffocating, and Verity had to physically restrain herself from laughing like a lunatic. Then Richie stood up suddenly and began to clap slowly, his face full of glee - until his mother pulled him back into his seat, scandalised.

"So a pretty good ceremony, all in all!" Verity said brightly, then burst into a fit of giggles.

She was still laughing when they ran out of the temple a few minutes later, faces flushed in exultant joy.

"GO GO GO!" Richie yelled, almost falling over his bike in his haste. "PEDAL FOR YOUR FUCKIN' LIVES!"

They cycled as fast as they could, and all the while they laughed so hard tears streamed down their faces.

"Wacka-wacka!" Richie said manically, nearly crashing into a mailbox. "Stan tha' Man Uris gets off a good one!"

"Richie stop, I can't breathe!" Verity gasped, clutching her sides.

"Oh my Godddd, my dad's gonna kill me when I get back!" Stan said, causing her to start laughing again, her face bright red.

"Ohh, we do have some good times, don't we?" Richie said happily, hopping off his bike and resting it against the wall of the diner. "Some quality chucks alright."

Verity looked at him, puzzled. "'Chucks?'"

"Yeah, chucks. It's Richie-speak for laughs," Stan explained, holding the door open for her, then laughing as Richie breezed through, his nose in the air.

"After me, peasants!"

They got a booth near the window, and a waitress took their orders. Verity was still smiling after the incident in the synagogue, and she could tell the others were thinking of it too. She noticed Stan looking at her, and the butterflies inside fluttered to life again.

"What?" She asked, causing him to blush.

"Nothing- you just, um, look really nice today." He said, his cheeks flaming.

He was right. She had worn a dark blue dress with a lace bodice, the skirt a flowing length of soft tulle. Paired with silver kitten heels and some lipgloss, she looked simply beautiful.

"Oh, thank you, Stan!" She said softly, her cheeks flushing to match his. "You look really nice too,"

Richie looked between the two of them, then gagged loudly. "Gross! Get a fuckin' room guys!" He then squawked loudly as Stan whacked him with a menu.

Verity snorted, laughing at the look of pure disgruntled-ness on Stan's face.

"Hey!" Richie whined, rubbing the spot where he'd been hit. "This is abuse, Stanley! Don't make me call a helpline on your ass!"

"Aw, Rich, you know we love ya!" Verity said, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

They joked and laughed until their orders came, then sat in silence for a few minutes, the food so good that the only noises out of their mouths were appreciative murmurs and grunts.

Verity was halfway through her chocolate shake before she remembered to breathe, and Richie was inhaling his fries at light-speed.

"I want to marry this burger," she said, her eyes wide. "It's just so.."

"Damn sexy," Richie finished thickly, his mouth full.

Stan watched them both with a mix of amusement and disgust, a slight smile playing on his lips as he cut his food neatly.

"Jesus, Stan," Richie said loudly, spraying bits of fry everywhere. "It's not like you're eating at fucking Buckingham palace!"

Verity nodded, slurping her shake loudly for effect. "Yeah, c'mon mister tight-ass!"

"You're both unbelievably gross," Stan said, wrinkling his nose. "Richie! You're getting mess all over the place!"

"That's actually what your mom said last night," Richie shot back, grinning impishly. "y'know, when we had our amazing night of passion.." he waggled his eyebrows.

"Richie! What the hell?" Verity said, a look of faux shock on her face. "I thought it was my turn to bang Stan's mom last night??"

Stan looked at them both, shaking his head. "You're both such weirdos, I actually can't believe it."

Verity leaned over the table, and ruffled his neatly combed hair, a mischievous laugh bubbling up as she spoke. "Yeah, but we're your weirdos."

»»««

Stan and Verity dropped Richie home, then made the usual journey back together. They wheeled their bikes as they walked, strolling contentedly as though they had all the time in the world.

Verity stole glances at him as they talked, her heart fluttering whenever he spoke.

When they were eating in the diner, Richie had been horrified to learn that Verity had never played his all time favourite game, Street Fighter. He had vowed to teach her how to play it, and so they'd arranged to meet him at the arcade a few days later. Verity didn't really mind. She knew that Richie had been out of sorts ever since the events on Neibolt Street, and knew that this would cheer him up a bit.

"Verity..?" Stan said quietly, snapping her out of her daze.

"Mmm?"

He paused, obviously wanting to tell her something.

"Stan, you know you can tell me anything, right?" She said, looking him in the eye.

He stopped walking. "I... well it's just.. I wanted to tell you, uh," his cheeks had gone bright pink, and Verity could almost feel the heat radiating from them.

She smiled. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to thank you for coming today. It really meant a lot," he said quickly.

"Well, I had a great time." She said brightly. "We should do stuff like that more."

"Like what? You wanna disrupt another religious ceremony?" He said sarcastically, giving her one of his signature eye-rolls.

"No, you know what I mean!" She giggled, giving him a shove.

He shoved her back, grinning slightly.

They continued this for a few minutes, pushing each other as they laughed happily. Verity walked to her gate and turned to him, out of breath from laughing.

"Well, I should probably go in," she said, hooking her thumb in the direction of the house. "Talk more later?"

"Of course."

She looked back at him before she stepped inside, giving him one final wave before closing the door with a click.

Stan went around the fence to next door, shaking his head as he went up his driveway.

"Stupid!" He whispered, opening the door and going up to his room, all the while cursing silently for not saying what he'd meant to. Every time he tried to tell her, he got tongue tied, and each time, the more hopeless he felt.

Just accept it, he thought, folding his tallit neatly and putting it away. You'll only ever be her friend, that's all you'll ever be.