Beverly was there, and it was - it was a lot, the way arriving in town had been a lot, the way seeing Richie for the first time had been, and then Eddie after, and then Niebolt again. It was all a lot - and even after he and Eddie had talked about the others ending up here he still found that he wasn't entirely ready for the reality of it. For Beverly to be there, he'd been relieved when Richie came back home with her in tow of course, gotten over the insult of him running out without saying anything about where he was going or who he was meeting. But then reality had settled in and Stan hadn't known how to actually talk to her.
After everything, after what he'd done, he didn't know if she'd even want to talk to him. Eddie had told him they didn't blame him, but Stan couldn't help but feel like he'd betrayed each and every one of them, even if he'd done it as his own small act if bravery, to try and save them. He'd have only held them back and he couldn't stand the idea of any of them getting hurt because he couldn't go back - they had to all be together for it to work, and the only way that could happen was if he was taken off the board. So he'd done the one thing he could to make that happen.
But facing them after.
That had never been a part of his calculations. So he'd kept just a little space, hoped that maybe in time she could forgive him for it and they could try again, the way he had with Rich and Eds. What he hadn't expected as a knock at his door and her calling his name. Stan wasn't hiding, not really - not if he could play it off like he was doing anything else, but he'd have probably stayed behind a closed door for a while longer, until he was certain the others were up and moving and able to act as a sort of buffer if she hadn't come herself. But he wasn't about to keep her closed out either. He pulled it open instead, giving her a small tired smile. He hadn't slept well, and it felt like that fact was obvious. "Hi, Bevs." He said it gently, carefully. "Are you - did you sleep okay?" He asked, fishing for some sort of solid ground to set himself on as he drifted, feeling like he was floating out beyond the small bit of steady ground he'd carved out for himself since arriving here.