When: February 24, after this.
Where: Stan's room.
Status: Complete.
Rating: PG. Some discussion of child neglect and abuse, as well as discussion of suicide and trauma. Boys kissing.
Stan made his way anxiously around his room, tidying things up in spite of the fact that the space was about as immaculate as a teenager's room could possibly be. Every so often he paused to check his phone and see if Bill had said anything else, but mostly he just moved around with a nervous sort of energy. He and Bill had talked and it had gone well and there had been no misunderstandings or screw ups. And now Bill was coming to his room and he wanted everything to be perfect. He knew Bill wouldn't actually care, or even really notice whether his room was cleaner than usual, but he couldn't help but want everything to be right.
He'd liked Bill since they were thirteen, or possibly earlier. Bill had always just been so brave and strong and good. Not to mention handsome. Of course Stan had fallen for him. It wasn't something he could act on in Derry, but he'd still been sure of how he felt. He'd given up on the idea for a while, after Bev came along and it was clear just how smitten Bill was with her, but the feelings had never gone away. They'd just continued on inside of him for years until it was impossible to deny them any more. And now it seemed like maybe Bill felt the same way and he couldn't help the flustered anticipation in his stomach.
He'd messed up, both by blurting out his feelings and with his disastrous internet post, and Bill had made his own mistakes. But that was in the past. It was weeks ago now. And now they could talk and hopefully Stan wouldn't let his anxiety get the best of him the way he so often did. He had almost messaged Eddie to tell him what was going on and ask his advice, but had quickly decided against it. No more internet solutions to his love life. He could handle this. Probably.
There was a knock to the door, and he had to smile. He'd told Bill before that he didn't have to knock if Stan already knew he was coming over, but he appreciated the respect for his privacy all the same. Barely stopping himself from rushing, he made his way across the room at a normal pace and opened the door, smiling brightly at Bill.
"Come on in," he said, moving to the side so that Bill could get into the room. "So, what do people do when they're mutually grounded anyway?"
Things were probably okay now. They sort of felt like they were. They had both messed up pretty spectacularly but they were teenagers. Neither of them had ever been in a relationship before and neither of them had had particularly spectacular role models back home. It would have been easier, Bill assumed, if he could talk to someone about all of this. If he found an adult (like Stan had, like Eddie had) who he could trust and who he could reach out to. He'd briefly thought about looking up Natasha or Eliot but was a little afraid of the advice he might receive or if they would even be interested in giving him advice.
He was afraid of annoying adults and part of him knew it had everything to do with parents and that, there was a chance, these adults wouldn't treat him the same way but he was afraid to take that risk.
Bill still wasn't exactly sure of what he was doing or what this was. He hadn't even stopped to consider how he felt or what any of this said about him. Was he gay? He didn't think so. There was still an attraction to women. He knew for a fact that he wasn't the heterosexual male his parents would've preferred him to be. Kissing Stan was just proof of that. He could deny everything else pretty easily but not that. It wasn't even like he was only gay for Stan either. There were other boys here that he found attractive and, even back home, Mike had existed. He assumed that there was something wrong with him. Like. Maybe he was just greedy. Maybe he wanted too much or loved people who were just too good for him. That had to be it. He was a little in love with all of his friends, after all. They all had qualities he admired or features he found attractive. He was pretty sure that wasn't normal and might even make him the worst human being on the planet.
Definitely the worst human being on the planet. Why were any of them his friends? What did Stan even see in him?
The walk from his room to Stan's wasn't long enough to mentally get through everything he needed or wanted to. He'd nearly turned tail and ran a few times as he settled on being the worst. He didn't. He'd been a coward before. They had needed to talk and he'd bolted. He couldn't do that again. He missed Stan and didn't want to avoid him. He didn't want Stan to feel like he was being avoided either. Stan had done nothing wrong. This was all Bill. So he kept walking, he inhaled, and he knocked even though he didn't have to. Maybe it was just to buy him some time but part of it was out of consideration for Stan's privacy. Even if he wasn't dealing with something he would've knocked. The smile that greeted him, however, was enough to lift his spirits. It didn't make everything okay, it didn't clear everything up, but it made him think that, maybe, it could be okay. Maybe he wasn't the worst.
"Hey…" He said, smiling back and stepping into the room. It was clean. Stan always kept his room so neat and tidy. "I'd tell you if I knew, Standrew." He laughed as he moved to sit on the other's bed. "My parents never actually cared enough to ground me." And that was information only Stan really knew. The other Losers had an inkling but Stan was the only one who really knew how bad it had been.
Stan's room was always spotlessly clean because he couldn't live with it otherwise. He had to keep everything precisely organized and immaculately tidy because if he didn't, he felt like clawing at his skin. He'd tried, once or twice, after one of the Losers had teased him about his need to have everything just so, but he'd felt sick to his stomach at the first sign of mess or clutter and he'd resigned himself to the fact that he was just wrong somehow. That he couldn't be like other people. There was too much inside of him, too much anxiety and too much of a desperate need to be good enough and to meet the expectations his brain put before him, even if they made no sense and were practically unattainable. It didn't help that his parents had always pushed him. He had to be perfect. He had to do everything right. Otherwise, they were disappointed. And he hated that. Because disappointment meant that he had failed. That he was a burden. That he was ruining their lives. His thoughts screamed at him constantly.
It was easier here in some ways, but harder in others. He didn't have to think about his parents here, but now he had his friends and the idea of disappointing them was so much worse. Because one day they would see what he really was, this horrible, messy monster that was inside his head, and they would never want him around any more. They were already seeing it. He could tell he was constantly screwing up and they were getting tired of him, no matter what Bev or Eddie said. And Dan was so nice and encouraging and he didn't tell Stan that he wasn't trying hard enough or that he needed to be better, and Stan couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop.
But Bill was here and he was looking at him like maybe he wasn't the worst thing in the world. And Bill had told him that he liked him and that made him feel like he could almost function like a person. Bill had never made fun of him for his need to keep things in order or his tidiness or his routines. Bill had always seemed to understand. Eddie understood too, but that was different. Eddie was more like him than the rest. But the point was that Bill was here and Stan felt like he could breathe.
He sat next to Bill, self-conscious of the space between them. "I think mine decided to ground me for all the times yours didn't," he said, saying it like it was a joke though it fell flat. They were mirrors in that way. Bill's parents had never cared enough and Stan's had always cared too much about all the wrong things and in all the wrong ways. Not about him. Never about him really. More about all the ways he could and did screw up. Constantly reminding him of all the little ways in which he failed. Adding to the voices that whispered that he would never be good enough.
He fidgeted, picking at his nails and wondering if he'd bleed if he pulled at his skin enough, then glanced over at Bill. That was nothing new. He was almost always looking at Bill. "This house is really stupidly big," he said. "I kind of hate it. It's part of why I go to Dan's so much. It's so big and empty and I just...it feels like too much sometimes. I know the apartment was impractical. Six of us in two rooms. But I kind of miss it. I miss having you guys close." It was a hard admission because he'd never been good at having people close. But he'd been trying. "Is that really stupid?"
There had always been secrets the two of them shared with one another that they couldn't share with the other Losers. Bill was sure it was the same with Richie and Eddie. They might not have been each other's best friend but they were definitely something important to one another. Because of that, however, they were aware of certain things the other Losers may not have been. Bill knew all about Stan's parents and the way their lofty expectations made him feel. There had been more than a few phone calls or visits in the middle of the night where Stan had rambled on and on about the way his parents made him feel. Confiding in Bill like that meant that Stan had, unwittingly, stumbled across one of Bill's own big secrets.
The first few times it happened, Stan had assumed that Bill had gotten into trouble with his parents and apologized. Bill had never been able to figure out how to tell him differently but, as time went on, he didn't have to. Stan was smart and the consistent absence of Bill's parents during every call or visit after the first one had been suspicious. It hadn't taken much longer after that for him to realize that Bill's parents often left him alone for long stretches of time. With that secret revealed, it didn't take much to get Bill to admit that, even when they were home, things were bad. That it was still lonely. That he was pretty sure they hated him. That they'd never loved him. That he hated himself for the stutter and assumed they did too.
It took a little more prodding for Bill to admit that he set goals and challenges for himself. He made up rituals and told himself that if he could do something then his parents would love him again. He had never admitted that he was often setting himself up for failure.
His parents didn't care. Stan's parents cared too much. As much as Bill would've liked to have his parents care in any capacity, he had never been foolish enough to assume he had it worse or that Stan's parents would've been better. He'd always recognized that neither of them had an ideal home life. They were both abused in ways that the two of them viewed as being less important when compared to what their friends went through.
He turned to look at Stan as he sat down behind him and shrugged. "Then you should be telling me what people do while grounded." He joked right back. Maybe it wasn't as funny as it should've been or as either of them had tried to make it but they were trying. These traumatic parts of their lives that didn't involve an eldritch nightmare clown were difficult to face. Occasionally, Bill thought he would go right back to the sewers and fight that damn clown if it meant he didn't have to talk or think about his home life. Murder, somehow, seemed kinder than neglect.
He noticed Stan picking at his nails and reached out to take ahold of the hand he was picking at, attempting to stop the self destructive behavior. He didn't consider whether or not Stan would've wanted to be touched. He may have remembered it a moment or two after he'd done it and quickly moved his hand from Stan's. "I kind of hate it, too." He said as he looked around the room they were sitting in. It was big. All of the rooms were big. "It's easier for me to focus on being suspicious of the guy who just gave it to us but.." He shrugged. "It's too big. Too quiet. It reminds me of home." His house had been nowhere near as big as this but, sometimes, it felt like it. Waking up in tears at 12 or 13, in an empty house, had a way of making even the smallest spaces feel a little too big.
"We needed the space though. With Ben here there would've been six of us crammed into a two room apartment. Sleeping arrangements were already getting a little hard to figure out." He was trying to focus on the positives. They had needed the space and now they had it. Everyone was safe under one roof. The house was big but it was nice. There was a study. It was big and quiet. He could disappear into there for hours and just write. If he had his typewriter from back home he could properly zone out and just get lost in something he loved doing. There would, of course, be the problem of just how long he'd zone out for. How long he'd spend writing and allowing himself to get lost in the tap of the keys. Without school or any other obligation it was entirely likely that Bill could spend days at a typewriter and only remember to eat, sleep, and drink when one of the other Losers found him. So maybe it was a good thing he had gel pens of various colors. both with and without glitter, and a collection of notebooks to fill. It was harder to get lost for days when gripping a pen made your hand cramp up.
There was also a piano in one of the rooms that he had mixed feelings about. The instrument reminded him of his mother and he occasionally found himself wistfully playing with the keys in an attempt to remember the song she always played on it. The one he could hear echoes of drifting up to his room on that rainy day Georgie had died.
He shook away the thought and focused on Stan once again. This time he smiled a little. "I knew you'd see the merit in my puppy pile idea. Too bad it took you so long."
"Sit and think about all the things you've done wrong and how you can be better and less of a disappointment?" Stan spoke without really thinking about it, flinching as he realized what he had said. It was fine. It was. Bill knew. Bill understood all about how his parents had made him feel like he couldn't do anything right. How he had been slowly suffocating under the weight of his perceived inadequacy. How much of a colossal disappointment he had been to them and how that had fed the creeping anxieties in his brain. It was fine. He could say that and Bill wouldn't judge him or think he was a bad son or an awful person for the words. "I...I don't think either of us wants to do that, so we might have to make it up as we go along."
He froze as Bill took hold of his hand, face flushing as his heartbeat struck a rabbit fast beat. He didn't like being touched, but it was different with Bill. There wasn't a terror that he would see something awful or get caught in the pull of someone else's mind. There was just this nervous fluttering in his stomach and a tightening in his chest as he tried to breathe through the anxiety of the most handsome boy he had ever met holding his hand. Even if it was just to keep him from giving in to his own harmful impulses. Then Bill let go and he felt an embarrassing wave of disappointment. "Thank you," he said softly, glancing away as he tried to calm his frantic heart. "Sorry...I didn't mean to...I didn't notice I was doing that. Thanks."
He hesitated a moment, then reached over and took Bill's hand again, ready to let go if Bill seemed put off by the gesture. "If you ever feel like the house is too big," he said haltingly, "you can always come sleep in here. I don't want you to feel like you did in Derry. You always have me if you need me. I swear it, Bill."
He sighed. "I know it's practical," he said, "and it never could have worked long term in an apartment that small. I don't even hate everything about this place. The garden is nice and sometimes there are birds that come around my window and...that's really nice. But I just...I worry. I worry all the time and there's so much distance and...I don't know. I can be a lot. But I don't want to seem ungrateful. It was...very kind of Eddie's friend to give us a place to stay. Still...I don't know…"
He ducked his head more to avoid staring too long at Bill's smile than at his words. "I...know that it's hard for you guys," he said after a moment. "The way I can be. I just...it hurts. Contact. Letting people that close. There's all of this stuff in my head and it's overwhelming and sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. And when I touch people...I just...I don't really like it. But I'm trying. I want to get better. And Dan is helping. He doesn't know why touch is such a difficult thing for me with my...with the shine...but he's helping me control it better. So it doesn't hurt as much."
He hesitated and then decided to just say what he was thinking. "It's different with you though," he said, biting his lip. "I don't mind when you touch me. It's nice."
"Okay, well, let's not do that." Bill said, scrunching up his nose at the thought. There was a chance that the two of them were already going over everything they'd done wrong and what it said about them. They didn't need more of an excuse to run it all through their heads. It wasn't what Bill wanted for Stan anyway. Playfully grounding him wasn't about making him feel like he was bad or wrong. Neither of them were bad in spite of whatever their parents had made them believe about themselves. They weren't bad. They weren't failures. They weren't unloveable creatures that ruined everything. They were kids who stumbled and fell from time to time, who made bad decisions, but who had deserved better than what they got.
So… what could they do? Maybe they could talk. He wasn't sure what they could talk about though. He was a little shy about bringing up some of the bigger, scarier subjects of their relationship and their feelings all over again. That never actually seemed to work out how either of them had planned or hoped. They could watch a movie? It might be a little harder for them to settle on a genre. Bill liked horror. Sure, there had been a lot of it in his life but seeing it on a screen made it, somehow, a little more bearable. He was pretty sure he could handle… He was pulled from his thoughts when Stan spoke up in order to thank him. He gave the other a curious look before shrugging a little. "I figured." He said softly. He had. It was just a nervous or anxious thing that Stan did without thinking or realizing it. "Eddie might just come in and kick the door down if you did that." He said, "He's got this superhuman sense of knowing when one of us is physically hurting." He was joking. They both appreciated Eddie and the way he cared for them and made sure everyone was okay. "I'm sorry I took your hand without asking." He was certain it should've been an issue or more of an issue but it didn't feel like one when Stan was reaching out and taking his hand again. When the other was holding his hand like it was just something he wanted to do. He wouldn't question the contact.
While Stan had always had his own misgivings about physical contact and affection Bill had always been a fan of it. He knew a lot of Stan's issues had something to do with that power he had. It made the other teen pull away from the group out of a sort of discomfort. Bill didn't know, exactly, what went on when Stan touched someone or was touched by someone but he knew it was enough to make the other want to keep his distance even from the people he loved the most. On the other hand, Bill's life had been bereft of any sort of physical affection from his parents. It meant he accepted and sought out what he was missing where he could and was always a little hurt when it was denied. Bill did his best to understand when it came to Stan. He knew the other didn't deny the affection to hurt him. The upside to being denied physical affection, however, meant that Bill was able to appreciate what a big deal it was when Stand did things like hold his hand or hug him.
He didn't let go of Stan's hand but he shrugged a little uncomfortably as Derry and the way being home had made him feel came up. Stan knew more about that than anyone else. "I should be used to it though." He decided. If they were back home this thing the Losers had couldn't last forever. Maybe they weren't in any danger of forgetting each other anymore but they were graduating. They were going to go their separate ways sooner rather than later. Bill wasn't sure they would all remain as close as they were. He would've had to figure out how to be on his own eventually.
None of that meant that he didn't appreciate what Stan was saying or that he wouldn't take him up on that offer.
He nearly drew his hand back in some sort of horror as Stan began to talk about his dislike for touch. Was he hurting Stan? Was this? He didn't want to hurt any of his friends and hearing that made Bill worry that he was. That he would. That all he was good for was hurting the people he loved. Scaring them. Leading them into something that could hurt or kill them. It was a good thing that Stan pushed forward and kept talking. It was good that Stan decided to be the brave one because there was a potential for another misunderstanding between them if he hadn't. Bill settled a little as Stan continued to speak. He let out a breath and smiled as he looked down at their hands. "I'm gl-glad…" He stuttered out, cheeks going just a little red. He tried to sit up a little straighter. He cleared his throat and tried to focus on his breathing a little. "I wouldn't want to do anything that might hurt you." He said honestly. "Any of you actually." He wasn't including the others in all of this to try and make what he'd said to Stan worth any less. He said it because it was true. Because he loved them. All of them. He didn't want to hurt any of them.
They really were a mess, weren't they? Sitting here overthinking everything. Stan knew that Bill had to be thinking about it just as much as him. Both of them had been circling this tenuous, fragile thing between them for a while now, too hesitant to let anything happen. Stan thought about what he had told Eddie, how he had encouraged him to act on his feelings for Richie. How Sabrina had told him to go for what he wanted and how Bill had said that she was right in her advice. It was easy in theory and so much harder here with Bill in front of him.
But maybe he could be a little brave.
"You don't have to apologize for holding my hand," he said, giving Bill's hand a squeeze. "I like it. You can hold my hand any time." He knew how much Bill needed that sort of physical reassurance and he wanted to give it to him. He wanted to give Bill the things he needed and be there for him. Bill had given them all so much and all Stan wanted was to make him happy. Bill deserved to be happy more than almost anyone Stan knew.
"You shouldn't have to be used to that!" he said, startling himself with the way his voice rose in distress at the idea of Bill just accepting the idea of being alone and not having people who cared. "You deserve better than that, Bill! You do! And you have us and we're not going anywhere. None of us. Me especially. I'm going to stick with you no matter what." He hadn't told Bill, but he'd made his college choices carefully, with the idea of sticking by his side. "I know you're planning to go to Columbia...because you're going to be an amazing writer. And so I was going to pick CUNY...so we could still be in the same city." There were maybe better colleges for his major, and New York would be a horror show with all those people, but he wanted to stay with Bill. "I had thought we could maybe get an apartment...if you wanted. I don't really want a random dormmate."
He just wanted Bill to know he would never have to be alone. That Stan would always be there for him.
He glanced over at Bill, hesitating a moment before screwing up his courage. "You could never hurt me, Bill," he promised. "Not ever." He paused, squeezing Bill's hand gently, turning a little to face him. Go for what you want. He could do this. "Um...Bill? Remember when you kissed me that one time? Would you...could you maybe do it again?" Without running away this time went unsaid. He ducked his head, face going red. "I mean...if you don't want to, that's fine. It's completely fine. I just...I'd like it if you wanted to."
Bill sort of felt like he did have to apologize for holding Stan's hand. He felt like he had to apologize for wanting to hold Stan's hand in the first place. For not being able to decide whether he liked boys or girls. He'd talked to enough people here, seen enough here, to know that this wasn't Derry. It wasn't anything like Derry. He didn't have to apologize for the way he felt about Stan. He didn't have to apologize for wanting to hold his hand or wanting to be close to him. It was okay. This was okay. No one was going to hate him. No one was going to hate or hurt Stan or any of his friends. Knowing that, however, didn't make it any easier. The way Stan squeezed his hand, however, managed to settle him a little.
Bill frowned at Stan's sudden outburst, turning to look at him curiously. They were all going to different colleges, weren't they? Things were going to end. He didn't want them to. He'd meant it when he'd told Stan that he thought they'd always be friends. That these connections didn't just disappear. He wanted to keep that promise they had all made to each other back then but the older they got the harder it seemed. "Stan…" He sighed, squeezing the other boy's hand. He liked the idea of being close but he didn't want Stan to sacrifice anything just so he wouldn't be alone. "No." He said softly. "You shouldn't settle for CUNY. You could go anywhere." And New York was going to be terrible for him. There were so many people and city life could be kind of gross and dirty. Stan would hate it. Bill didn't want him to do this and immediately regret his decision. He didn't want Stan to force himself into a situation just to stay close to him. He was worried about the other's comfort, sure, but he was also selfishly worried that Stan would resent him for this. "You… You should find a school that's better suited to what you want to do. In a place where you'll feel comfortable."
He wasn't trying to break them up or break up the group but he wanted Stan to be happy. That was all he really wanted and he wasn't sure the other would be happy in New York. With or without him. "If…" He paused, trying to think of how to put this. He didn't want to encourage the other to follow him to New York if it was going to make him unhappy but he didn't want Stan thinking that he was completely rejecting the idea. "If you're sure you'd be okay with it. If you really want to go to CUNY, then yes." He said softly. "I'd want to share an apartment with you." It made sense, after all. During the past year, Stan had been the one he relied on most when he had nightmares. He was the friend he'd stayed up late at night to talk to. The one he could rely on to let him sneak into his room when Bill felt lonely and didn't want to be by himself. He was the one who showed up the most. The one Bill shared the most with. Living with him just felt natural. It felt right. He wasn't going to stop trying to talk Stan into considering what he wanted though.
He very nearly pulled his hand back when Stan brought up the kiss again. Yes, Stan wanted to live with him. He had said he liked the kiss but things had gone so horribly wrong after that. Bill hated the memory as much as Stan did. He didn't think that Stan had been trying to hurt him or anything with the post he'd made either. He knew the other was just trying to get some advice on how to handle the situation. Bill had made a mistake by not talking to him about everything that had happened. He managed not to pull away, however. He managed to keep on holding Stan's hand and to not shy away anymore than he initially had. He was braver than all of this.
Turning to face Stan he nodded a little. "H-how could I for-forget?" He sighed, feeling a little nervous about where this was going. Was Stan finally going to hit him for that? This wasn't Derry but the memory of Derry had him thinking he probably deserved it. He nearly missed the question that followed, too busy getting lost in his own doubts. When the words finally settled in, however, when Stan was becoming flustered himself and clarifying that Bill only had to do it if he wanted Bill was a little more sure of what he was being asked. Stan wanted to kiss him again. Stan wanted Bill to kiss him. Part of him was a little curious as to why Stan wasn't the one trying to kiss him but he supposed it was only fair. Stan was being brave here. Stan had grabbed ahold of his hand. Stan was the one telling Bill that he wanted to try kissing again. "Are you s-sure?" He asked, staring at Stan with wide blue eyes. "I…" Honestly, he didn't think it was going to happen again. His attempted relationship with Bev had failed numerous times because the two of them had issues that they needed to work. Bev's were a little more serious than Bill's own but the two of them had agreed that work needed to be done. Things had sort of faded after that. Evolved from something that was romantic to something that was a little more like family. Part of Bill had expected the same thing to happen with Stan. It hadn't. Maybe there wasn't as much time but Bill still felt the same.
He chewed on his lower lip for a moment as he tried to gather up his own courage. He was braver than this. He'd lead the Losers into those damn sewers twice. He should be able to do this. He should be able to kiss Stan. He looked up at the other teen and nodded. He wanted to. "Okay." He said softly before he moved forward. He leaned in slowly this time. He wanted to give Stan time to pull away if he changed his mind. When he didn't, however, Bill pushed forward. He pressed his lips to Stan's once again in a soft kiss.
Stan and Bill had always been close. Even when Stan had been at a point where he couldn't stomach the idea of letting other people in, he'd still kept close to Bill. It was just a fact of the universe, that he and Bill consistently fell into one another's orbits. Richie was Stan's best friend and Eddie was the one who probably understood him best, but Bill was the one he was drawn to. The one he couldn't quite keep away from even when he was doing his best to push the rest of the world away. Not just because he loved Bill, though he did. He loved the others too in their own ways. But there was just something compelling about Bill that made it impossible to stay away from him.
Besides, Bill had always needed him in a way the others didn't. And having someone need him made Stan feel like maybe he wasn't useless or wrong or all the things his brain constantly tried to convince him were true. Bill saw something good in him, so that meant there had to be good there, right? No matter what his parents or his anxiety might try to convince him of, he couldn't be entirely worthless if Bill could look at him and see something worthwhile. He couldn't possibly be wrong if he could make Bill smile when nothing else would or comfort him when he was hurting. There had to be something good about him if he could have a positive impact on Bill's life by being a part of it.
Bill was definitely misunderstanding him about the New York thing, but rather than allowing the confusion to build to a hurtful point where they would both be raw with it for weeks to come, Stan held up a hand to get Bill to listen. "CUNY has a great accounting program," he said. "It was already on my shortlist. The other colleges I was looking at were great too but...they were in Massachusetts and Indiana and...I don't want to be that far away. I don't think I would do very well on my own and…" He considered the gentlest way to say it. "I told you about how I almost killed myself and...that wasn't the first time I had thoughts like that. And it probably won't be the last time. I have things that...I'm not entirely...I feel safer being around you guys than being somewhere new, by myself, where the pressure and the stress might cause me to give in to that. I know several of us are probably going to end up in New York, so it's the healthiest choice for me...going somewhere I'll have people to support me if it gets bad." He gave Bill a small, anxious smile, still a little wary of being this open about his mental health struggles with his friends. He knew that they wouldn't judge him or abandon him, but it didn't make it any less difficult. "CUNY also lets you live off campus as a freshman and...honestly, can you imagine me trying to live in a dorm? With all those people and the mess and the germs and...communal showers and…" He shook his head. His skin crawled at the thought of it. "I'd have a nervous breakdown before the first week was done."
He squeezed Bill's hand. "You're part of my reasoning," he acknowledged, "and not an insignificant part of it. I want to be close to you because I always want to be close to you. I want to be able to spend time with you and I want to know that you won't be alone and I want to hang out when we aren't in classes and just...I want you in my life all the time. But I didn't make this decision because of you. I made it for a lot of reasons. The fact that you're part of it...that's a bonus. And a pretty great one. So...yeah. I'd like to get an apartment together when we go to college."
Stan could have kissed Bill instead of asking Bill to kiss him, but part of him was worried that if he was the one to initiate it then Bill might just let it happen to avoid hurting his feelings. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Bill. This way, he was giving Bill agency and choice and letting him control the situation. If Bill said no, then he would let it drop. And if Bill did want to, then he could be sure it was happening at a pace that wouldn't make him uncomfortable. "I'm sure," he said, quick and a little breathless, as soon as Bill asked. "I just…" Maybe this was stupid. "I know everything got messed up and it was just...it was such a mess. But the part where you kissed me...I really liked that part." As much as he'd been able to process it. It had been so quick and then Bill had been gone and he'd been left to stew in his confusion. "I was hoping that if we tried again...it could just be good. Without all the other...less good parts." It wasn't exactly eloquent, but it would have to do.
He almost took it all back, just to avoid having to feel the sting of rejection, but then Bill was agreeing and leaning into his space so slowly and carefully that he easily could have put a stop to it if he didn't want it to happen. But Stan definitely wanted this and he held his ground as Bill's lips finally met his. It was soft and sweet and not much more than chaste. It wasn't like either of them had a wealth of experience to draw on. Still, Stan thought it was maybe the best thing that had ever happened in his life. He tentatively returned the kiss, careful to keep it gentle and not push too hard. After a moment, he pulled back, looking at Bill with wide eyes.
"Wow," he said, biting his lip. He felt all fluttery and warm and he couldn't help the shy smile that spread across his face. "That was...wow."
It made things easier to accept when Stan explained that Bill wasn't the reason for his decision. The notion of following someone off to New York or deciding to go to a school that was close to the person you were drawn to was romantic but not something Bill actually liked. He would've felt that way regardless of whether or not there was an actual possible romance or not. The last thing he wanted was to hold any of his friends back. He felt that way on occasion. Like he was holding them back. Like he was trying too hard to hold onto what they had had as children, and maybe he should just let go. None that was necessarily true. He'd attempted to take a step back because he realized that, in this place, Eddie was the Loser most of the other kids were familiar with. He was the one they trusted. He'd attempted to let Eddie be the leader here but his best friend seemed more than eager to let Bill take charge once again. It was comforting to know they still wanted him around. That the time they spent apart hadn't given Eddie or Bev time to think and realize how much better off they would be without his leadership.
He preferred being a bonus. An extra good thing to add to Stan's decision of the direction his life was heading. He liked the parts of the conversation that followed a lot less but, at least, he knew that Stan had thought out his decision as thoroughly as possible. He'd made it with Bill only partially in mind. That made him feel a lot less like he was forcing something on Stan. Though, the mention of Stan's suicide attempt did bring a certain thought up. Bill wouldn't voice it but they were being honest here. "You know, the words ‘fuck off Bill' exist for a reason. You didn't have to force yourself to fight the clown with us. You don't have to force yourself to do anything I ask in the future." Blood oath or not. "I am really hoping It's dead this time. I don't want to have to try and ask you all to do that again." Maybe he wouldn't. If It showed up again back home or even here maybe he'd try to take care of things himself. He'd asked too much of them twice already.
It felt like he could smile a little easier after that. Like he could nod along with Stan admitting to not being able to deal with life in a dorm room. It was true. People were gross and they should all probably fear communal showers. "I fear for both you and Eddie." He admitted. The rest of them could probably handle it without much of a problem but Stan and Eddie would absolutely hate it. "I used to worry I was going to track in dirt and you'd push me right back out the window when I'd sneak over in the middle of the night." He admitted. Maybe he'd still drive Stan crazy when they were living together but maybe it would be okay because they needed each other.
He'd always needed Stan. It didn't matter who he was crushing on at the moment or if he was focusing as much affection as he could on Bev. When he was hurt or sad, when he was lonely, when he was scared, Stan was the one he wanted to be around. He probably should've figured that meant something a long time ago.
He sort of knew it now. Bill was smart but certain things tended to escape him. He occasionally spoke without thinking and he was oblivious to a lot. He had been oblivious to his own feelings until the two of them were walking and Stan was looking at him like he was special or important or great or just worth something. He'd been overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by what he was seeing and what he was feeling. In spite of what he had been told the kiss was impulsive. He hadn't thought before acting. He hadn't even allowed himself to imagine the consequences until it was happening and there were no consequences. He'd been scared. He'd run. Kissing Stan now was different. He wasn't any less scared but he wasn't about to run either.
When the kiss broke he found himself smiling, maybe a little stupidly but definitely shyly. "Yeah…" He breathed. "Wow." He couldn't think of another way to describe it. Because it was good and it made his heart flutter in his chest. "So… should I take that as a sign you're going after what you want?" He asked. He wasn't sure where Stan was with that therapy he'd talked about looking into or whatever training he was doing with Dan. Maybe this was just a kiss. Maybe he'd just wanted a do-over since their last kiss had been disastrous. He just figured it was worth asking. It was worth figuring out where Stan wanted to go from here, even if it was nowhere just yet.
"If I hadn't been there, someone would have died," Stan said, going a little distant as he thought about the image of Eddie's death that was permanently ingrained in his mind. "If we weren't all there together...it would have been bad, Bill. And I don't regret it. I never would have forgiven myself if one of you had died because I was a coward." He knew the fact that he had almost killed himself seemed to run counter to that, but it made sense in its way. "I thought...I was afraid that I would be too scared and run away and you guys would be hurt because of it...that I would get you all killed. So I was going to...take myself off the board, so to speak. Make myself a non-factor. So you could be safe. But I'm glad I didn't." He hated thinking about how much that would have hurt Bill. He never wanted to be another guilty regret for Bill to shoulder.
"The point is," he continued, "if It does come back, I'll be right there beside you. Every time. Because I would never leave you to face it alone. Never, Bill." He didn't think It would come back, but he wanted to be sure that Bill knew he would be by his side. He knew that Bill blamed himself for It, the same way he blamed himself for Georgie, even if he had never understood why. Bill hadn't caused Pennywise to come after them. It had always existed in Derry. And he had been a child just like the rest of them. None of it was his fault. Still, he knew that Bill had always internalized things, so maybe it wasn't so surprising. He just wished there was a way he could help him see that he hadn't done anything wrong. That the only one at fault was that stupid clown.
"Eddie and I...yeah...neither of us are really cut out for that." Because Eddie worried about germs and Stan worried about everything. The idea of living with someone he didn't know, who might not respect his need for order and routine and who could be messy or loud or touchy, was horrifying. His skin felt itchy just thinking about it. No, he definitely never could have handled something like that.
Strangely though, none of that had ever been an issue with Bill. Bill was messy, though not as bad as Richie could be, and he definitely didn't have any sort of routine, but Stan had never minded. "I would never shove you out a window," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I just…liked having you around too much to mind." He gave Bill a small smile. "Besides, I always preferred you coming to see me when you needed to, rather than staying home alone." He always worried about Bill, so knowing that he could help when things got hard made it easier. He couldn't fix Bill's parents and make them give a crap, but he could make sure Bill knew he had people who did care.
He knew he had made mistakes here. The post he'd made had been a mess of insecurity and anxiety and, no matter his intentions, it had hurt Bill. He'd started going to therapy in the immediate aftermath and, while it had only been a couple weeks, he had been exploring his issues with someone who was helping him see how he could manage his mental health. It wasn't an instant fix, and he knew he wasn't anywhere near a hundred percent, but he felt like he was moving in a good direction. And because of that, he felt more comfortable addressing things between himself and Bill.
"Maybe I am going after what I want," he said with a shrug. "I mean...you said that I should. And...I really like you, Bill. A lot. I feel...I mean...I've never felt this way about anyone else. Just you. And that kiss was...really nice." He blushed, looking down. "So...I'd like it if we could be something. If you want. I mean...I don't want to rush anything. We could take things slow. But maybe we could keep holding hands and...kissing? And maybe...if you wanted...we could go out sometime? On a date?"
If Stan had gone through with it Bill would've been hurt. He would've been upset. He would've blamed himself for Stan's decision in the same way he blamed himself for what happened to Georgie. He wouldn't have seen the sacrifice for what Stan had intended it to be. It would just become something else to hate himself for and something else for It to torment him with in that final battle. Bill doubted he would've survived having both Georgie and Stan telling him their deaths were his fault. They didn't need to continue discussing this. Just the idea that Stan had thought about killing himself and set out to do it made Bill uncomfortable. It was a miracle he was still holding onto Stan's hand and hadn't let go of him to try and retreat into himself on some level.
Somehow, it was easier to talk about the possibility of It coming back. Bill was pretty sure he didn't actively want to die. He'd never tried to kill himself the way that Stan had but he had spent a few summers engaging in increasingly riskier behavior. He had, however, gone into the fight with the clown thinking that he might die. He'd been okay with that. Part of him had even looked forward to the possibility… and that was something he didn't tell any of the Losers. Not even Stan. At 12, he needed the support and understanding of his parents. He needed someone to hug him, to hold him, and to tell him that the terrible things running through his head weren't true. That it wasn't his fault that Georgie was missing. At 13, he'd needed his parents to tell him that it wasn't his fault that Georgie was gone. None of what happened had happened because Bill was too slow or because he hadn't wanted to play in the rain. He hadn't received what he needed so he internalized things. His guilt grew and the neglect he lived with only made things worse. He didn't know how to talk about any of that and, even if he did, there was no way of knowing whether or not hearing that it wasn't his fault from the Losers would actually help. There was the possibility that Bill needed an adult. He needed to build a positive relationship with someone older. Once he learned to trust he could go see an actual therapist and really work on himself. For now, however, he wasn't even entertaining the idea.
He said nothing to the promise that Stan would stick by his side if the clown showed up. He knew he could count on the Losers. Whether they actually wanted to fight It again or not. They hadn't sacrificed him in order to save themselves as children, they wouldn't let him do any of it alone now.
Stan had never really allowed him to be alone in the first place. Not once he figured out what was actually going on in the Denbrough house. He had always tried to make sure that Bill knew he was loved. He was cared for. He made sure that Bill knew he could always rely on him and their friends. Bill appreciated that but the appreciation came with worry. He worried about being too messy or too touchy or too loud. He worried that he would do something that would make his friends hate him. He worried about his stutter a lot. It was a childish thing to worry over but he was so damn sure that the stutter made things worse at home. He was so sure that he could earn back his mother's love if he could just get through that stupid poem. "You could have." He teased because he could imagine Stan pushing him out a window. "I always felt better around you guys." He admitted. "I prefered waking up to noise."
Mistakes had been made by both of them. Bill shouldn't have run. He was supposed to be the brave one. "I haven't completely addressed everything about myself." He admitted. "I like you. I know I do. I really, really liked the kiss too." It was nice. No matter what confusing shit was going on in Bill's head the kiss had been nice. "And that was part of why I ran, you know? Because I never really let myself stop and consider what I felt or the fact that I started to notice you and Mikey about as much as I noticed Bev." Derry hadn't been the sort of place for that kind of introspection. Even without Bowers around to torment them there were still dangers. Still bullies. Bill may not have been the target of some of the same slurs that had been used against his friends but witnessing it was enough to make him shut down whatever romantic notions he'd held towards certain male friends. Besides, he didn't need another reason for his parents to hate him.
This, however, wasn't Derry. This place was different. People were more open, more accepting. His own parents were in a completely different world. Here, he could think about his feelings for his male friends. It wasn't frowned upon. It was encouraged. There were more than a few same sex couples out there and none of them lived in fear. It was okay to hold Stan's hand in public. It was okay to kiss. No one was going to hurt either of them. It was still difficult and it probably would be for awhile. Healing didn't happen overnight. Stan, however, was being brave. He was being daring and going after what he wanted. It was only fair that Bill did the same. "I think going slow is the best option. Maybe get used to holding hands and kissing before we move on to anything else." He hadn't even admitted to his attraction to both men and women. Anything beyond this innocent display of love and affection might be a little overwhelming. He smiled when Stan asked him out and nodded, maybe, a little too eagerly. "Look at you. Stanley Uris asking me out…" He said, his smile becoming something shy and, possibly, a little dreamy as the reality of it sunk in. Stan had asked him out. "I would really, really like that."
"It's only ever really been you," Stan admitted, when Bill explained that he had been attracted to different people. He'd been a little in love with all of the Losers, but that was different. It wasn't ever something strong enough to act on. With Bill, it was consuming. It made him question everything about himself. He had agonized over it for the longest time, when everything about Derry had left him feeling as if there was something shameful and wrong about him. But eventually he'd just had to accept that Bill was it for him. That his feelings weren't going to fade away and he was just going to have to deal with that. And now he was glad he'd never abandoned how he felt, because it seemed like Bill felt the same way and that was pretty great.
"I understand why you ran," he said. "I mean...I didn't then. But I get it now. It hurt, but I do get it. Everything about this is so big and new and scary and it was a lot all at once. And you had to put some space between yourself and all of that. Derry fucks things up, even good things, and it makes it hard for us to deal with something like this. Which is just another reason I'm glad to be away from that stupid town."
He couldn't help but smile like a dork as Bill agreed to dating. He could hold his hand or kiss him and everything would be okay. For once, Stan wasn't panicking over what might happen. He was able to just enjoy the moment. "You make me brave, Bill," he told him, leaning forward and kissing him carefully. It felt important that he be the one to initiate a kiss, since Bill had been the only one to do so thus far. He wanted Bill to be certain that he was invested in this. "I have a date with Bill Denbrough," he said once they had pulled back. "That's pretty neat."