butterflies // stenbrough

~ Stan ~

    For probably the first time in his life, Stan didn't have any problems. The new batch of campers came in(only one Ryan this time) and they were all perfectly fine to be around. Counselling was fun and easy and paid well, plus there was the bonus of his perfect co counsellor Bill. God, Bill. The past few days had been heaven. They lived harmoniously, spending every living moment together. Stolen moments in supply closets were all he looked forward to and all he thought about. He could tell Bill felt the same, it was a comfort. Worry often plagued his mind about what others were feeling, Bill didn't make him worry like that. He wore his heart on his chest, whether he knew it or not.
    "Lunch Time!" Bill yelled out before running after the laughing campers. Stan chuckled as Bill tried to tag the kids, he was surprisingly fast but it was still funny to watch tweens outrun him.
Later, after dinner, Bill and Stan set up chairs around the main hall. It was time for a time honoured tradition at Camp Eagle Eye, once every two weeks, it was movie night. Stan felt sorry for the poor kids who came to camp on the wrong week and missed it. One of his favourite camp memories was being curled up with a blanket, watching The Princess Bride as rain raged outside. This weeks treat of choice; A League Of Their Own.
    Nostalgia filled Stan's brain as he saw the campers pooling in, chattering about nothing that mattered. That age was probably one of the worst for him, yet he couldn't help but wish for the youth back. It didn't make sense, how can you be nostalgic for the worst time of your life? But then again, when had his feelings ever made sense.
    Slowly, the campers quieted down as the movie began. Side comments about the plot and actors were the only conversation.
    "What do you think of the movie?" Stan whispered to Bill.
    "It's g-g-good but I've already s-seen it." Bill replied.
    "Same."
    "Wanna g-get out of here?" Bill asked.
    "Sure." They were lucky to be sitting at the back, no one could see as they sneaked off to the door. Stan closed the door as slowly as he possibly could, the slight click scaring him like a gunshot. Likely, no one else heard it, but to him it was the loudest sound in the world.
They giggled like children as they made their way back to the cabin.
"I feel like such a r-r-rebel," Bill chuckled.
"Yes, very rebellious." Stan laughed back.
"Speaking of r-r-rebellion.." Bill inched forward with a grin.
"Yes...?" Stan asked with false curiosity as their lips met. He would never get over how Bill's lips felt. Every kiss sent shivers through his body, distinct and new shivers every time. No two kisses were the same, they all felt amazing and they all felt individual. As if every kiss was specifically made for him in that moment, structured exactly how he needed. This time was new, not just because it was a new distinct shiver, but because it was a little more than usual. These weren't the typical soft, we have five minutes until the campers are done kisses. It was more passionate. Bills hand found it's place in Stan's hair and their lips moved in harmony, to a rougher sound. Drums instead of violins, and electric guitars replaced their typical acoustic tune. Bill broke the kiss for a moment to bring his shirt over his head and onto the floor. He was mostly skinny, with slight muscle definition in his arms, and Stan couldn't take his eyes off of him.
"S-S-Sorry if I'm...." Bill trailed off, insecurity clear on his face.
"No, you're perfect." Stan didn't lie, Bill was perfect to him. No matter what he looked like, that would never change.
"Okay, g-good." Bill's insecurity disappeared and they continued making out.
"May I?" Bill asked breathlessly, tugging at the bottom of Stan's sweater.
"Yes." Stan answered quickly before bringing his mouth back to Bill's, he was so caught up in the moment that worries about his body and how he looked slipped his mind, he cared only about being in this moment with Bill. In fact, once his sweater was off, the moment only become more passionate. He liked how Bill's cold hands felt on his back, they sent butterflies down his spine. As he leaned closer, he felt Bill's chest lightly graze his own. He almost felt ashamed about how much he liked it, but he pushed that down. This was their moment, shame wasn't going to ruin it. He even liked how Bill's hands felt running over his scars. His scars.... shit. He completely forgot.
    "S-S-Stan....." Bill's voice trailed off as he pulled away. The euphoric feeling of being in the moment with Bill was fading and his anxiety was filling the space. He quickly made a grab for his sweater and put it back over his head. Even with his sweater on, he felt exposed.
"....why?" Bill asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper.
    "It was a long time ago." He could tell Bill wasn't believing his words "I know that sounds like a lie but it really was. I was thirteen, I didn't understand my feelings. It felt like the only escape. It's been years, I promise. I'm not that person anymore." Stan didn't like how his voice came out apologetic, he was giving more of a defence than an explanation. Years and years he had tried to convince himself that his scars didn't define him, yet the second someone else found out, all that went out the window.
    Bill eyes were wide and unreadable, though he was clearly taken aback. Stan didn't know what to say to calm his mind. His inner worries about people hating him for his scars reappeared in his mind, this time convinced they were going to be realized. He imagined Bill yelling or making fun or storming out. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever might happen.
    "I'm s-s-sorry."
    "What?" Now it was Stan's turn to be taken aback.
"I'm s-s-sorry that you were in a p-p-position where this felt like the only out. That's sounds t-t-terrible and you'd n-never deserve that." Bill's voice came out sympathetic, but not the fake ingenuine kind of sympathetic, the actually cares and you can tell kind of sympathetic. He reached to put his hand on Stan's arm, and Stan let him. Warmth and relief shot through his body as Bill's hand found his arm.
"R-Really?" Stan hated how insecurity poisoned his words and tears threatened to fall from his eyes, but in the moment, he couldn't stop it. Fear had plagued his mind for years, and honestly, he was the only one who had put that fear onto himself. Yet, he still believed his fear was justified. And to a certain extent, it was. He had learned to make his face and mind void of emotion for when his worst fears come true, because he was so used to them coming true. Yet somehow, Bill was disproving all of his expectations. Bill was ignoring the hatred and disgust that Stan had expected and replacing them with understanding and sympathy. It was a beautiful feeling but also one of melancholy because of the surprise and unfortunate expectation that came with it. You can never be truly happy with the best when you're expecting the worst.
    "Yes, r-r-really." Bill pulled him into a hug and ran his hand up and down his back, allowing Stan to cry into his shoulder. And Stan cried. He cried the most he had cried in a while, partly because there was a little bit of him that was still preparing for the worst, and mainly because he was overwhelmed, in a good way. No one had ever treated him with the acceptance that Bill had, even his closest friends had never gotten to that point. So yes, it was overwhelming, but it was also probably the best he had ever felt.

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I have been listening to brividi by mahmood & blanco just on repeat !! it is such a good song, y'all should check it out !!