Who: Bertie and Bill Where: Food Court What: Stutterers Anonymous When: Backdated - just after the disappearances. Open: No, partial gdoc
Bill was building a set of ramps for his bike in one of the hotel lobbies since they were massive and there was no snow there. Zu would be able to use it too, and if Abra’s bike had shown up she would also be able to use it, although he hadn’t asked her just yet if she had a bike. If he’d been back home, Bill would have been scavenging the dump for different bits of wood and materials he could use, and Ben would have helped him. Ben often knew just the right things to take, but then, building was his Thing, like how writing was Bill’s.
He wasn’t home, and he hadn’t found a dump just yet, and Ben very definitely wasn’t here, but he had found all kinds of weird things he was certain he could use in the docking bays. And because he didn’t stick to the wheel Kat’s family lived on, he’d met an older guy, Jake, who was doing much the same thing on wheel three. Jake had taken him up to the food court, and over a coffee and a coke, Jake had explained a few things - what was okay to take, things that were bad to touch, asking if Bill would help him sort things out at times and so on.
Jake had left after that, but Bill was hungry so he went to get fries. He took his time over them, since he was still working out all that he’d need to do for the ramps. Finding the stuff he’d need was one thing, but he needed to then make sure everything was fit for purpose, tidy the stuff up (nails and bike tires were a bad combination), clearing the hotel lobby, and he hadn’t even got round to working out how he was building the ramps yet! When he’d finished his fries, he took the plate back and washed it quickly, and then walked out of the food court. He was still going over plans in his head, so he didn’t notice that there was anyone else there right up until he smacked into them.
“S-s-suh-horry, sir! I d-d-d-didn’t s-s-s-suh-suh-s-” he stammered, only to switch words when ‘see’ got stuck in his throat. “S-s-s-sorry!”
****
It was taking a little bit of time, but Bertie was slowly starting to get used to the station. He wasn’t entirely convinced that he hadn’t had some sort of breakdown brought on by the stress of the war, but he had decided that accepting things mostly at face value was the way to get through it either way. That, and ask plenty of questions.
People like Miguel have him good, solid answers, backed up with diagrams and equations where possible. Bertie was no scientist, no mathematician, but he found his methods strangely reassuring. Bridget provided more homely, natural sort of answers, that helped in a different way. She had empathy, made him feel less of a sap for pining for his family. Then there was Charlie. A friendly sort of a boy, but God he gave him a migraine when he started talking about great-grandchildren, and his little Lillibet as the longest reigning monarch. It was beyond stressful, even though he was sure he meant well. Like the photograph album he had given him- but when he had gone to send a thank you message Charlie’s name and his father’s were not on the list.
Still, he couldn’t very well sit in his apartment looking at photo albums of what he had left behind all day long. It wasn’t healthy, and if he wasn’t already losing his mind, that would be a sure way to accelerate the process. So, it was time for a cup of tea, out of the apartment.
Fortunately, he was not already carrying the hot drink when a young boy went careering into him. He made a soft “ooft” sound, and side stepped a little. He was about tell him it was alright, but then he couldn’t help but smile. The boy stammered so beautifully. At first he wondered if it was just the surprise of banging into someone, but then when the ‘s’ got stuck and he switched what he was trying to say, Bertie recognised it all too well.
He realised he was pausing as he tried to find the words, and there was a slight anxiety suddenly that the boy would think he was mocking him with his own speech.
“Um… th-that’s… that’s… quite alright, d-d-don’t… w-worry… about it,” he responded eventually, and then swallowed hard against the invisible lump in his throat.
***
Bill's first reaction was to think the man was mocking him - he was used to it from school, although granted, it wasn't from any of the adults. Mostly from Henry Bowers and his friends, and Henry was fucking crazy. Hell, even Richie mocked him at times, but he knew there was no malice intended no matter how annoying Richie was. That was just how his friend was, he mocked everyone including himself.
His scowl didn't quite have time to form, though, when he realized that he wasn't being made fun of at all. The man was like him! An adult who actually understood what it was like! He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face after that.
"D-did I h-huh-urt you?" he asked, just in case, before going on to explain. "I w-was luh-luh-host in m-my th-th-thoughts," he said, pointing at his temple briefly and then shrugging. "I cuh-c-could h-have wuh-halked into th-that w-w-wall just a-as easily."
***
Bertie was beyond relieved when a bright smile spread across the boys face, and it only took a second for him to mirror it with a warm smile of his own.
“Nnn-no, no, you d-didn’t… didn’t hurt me,” he insisted. Goodness, it was going to take them about a year to get through simple small talk, but he didn’t care. It was wonderful. “Ah, w-well… g-good to… to know… I am n-no… mmore noticeable th-th-than-than… uh a w-wall,” he joked.
“D-don’t w-w-worry…. I-I-uh… w-wasn’t p-paying… paying attention either,” he added, in case he was still worried about it.
***
At the man's joke, Bill did look a little sheepish, but his smile soon came back.
Ah, but now it was the difficult part. The one word he struggled with more than any other, his own name. Of course, worrying about it would only make it worse, he knew that. "I'm B-b-b-buh-b-Bill," he managed, pleased when it was nowhere near as bad as it could have been.
***
Bertie couldn’t help but smile when Bill said his name. The struggle over it was far too familiar, and so often when he was introducing himself he was mentally scolding himself in advance. Don’t say B-b-b-Bertie. Mostly, if not entirely, a result of his brother’s merciless teasing.
“I’m… I’m…” he stopped a moment, took a breath, and reminded himself that they boy had just stammered over exactly the same letter, so there was really no need to get worked up about it. “B-b-b-Bertie,” he got out eventually, and then gave him a bit of an exasperated look. “W-why’d they… have to g-give us… names with a--- a B?” he joked.
***
"I'm r-r-ruh-heally Wuh-wuh-w-w-Will-wuh-William," Bill replied. "Ih-it's n-n-not much buh-hetter." And he almost managed to keep a straight face after that. Almost! But he couldn't help his laugh.
***
“Ah. W-w-well… I suppose I… I’m really an Albert, b-b-but...but… I-- I like to… to challenge mmmyself,” he explained, easily laughing about it with him. God, when had he ever been able to actually see the funny side of his stammer? Perhaps for the first time it really didn’t matter, and he was talking to someone who more than understood. He wasn’t sure that he had ever spoken to someone who actually understood, not in the way Bill did.
****
"I d-d-dunno, eh-hevery l-l-luh-letter s-seems t-t-to like tr-tr-t-tr-trip-truh-tr-tripping m-m-me uh-up," Bill said, still laughing a little. His stutter was still bad, horrendously bad as he'd once overheard his dad saying, but he didn't feel tensed up about it at all. Well, he did a little, but only out of habit and not because of who he was talking to.
"I-I've nuh-never m-m-met an ad-ah-ad-adult th-that st-st-stuh-hutt-tered b-b-b-befuh-hore," he said after a moment.