˚ʚ my heart beats for you in threes - stenbrough ɞ˚

chapter one

tw: descriptions of intrusive thoughts, possible eating disorders

   my name is stanley uris. i'm not very interesting. i like birds, and i've got some shit wrong with my brain.

   i'm not sure what's wrong with me. and if im honest, i don't want to know. i just want to keep pretending that everything in my mind is normal. it makes me feel a bit better about my problems. normal is good.

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   today, my alarm woke me up at 6:30 a.m which is sort of early considering it's summer time, and i don't even have anywhere to be. well, i kind of do, but there's no rush.

   after lying in bed for half an hour, i finally get up and head to my bathroom. i made sure to wait until exactly 7 o' clock to get up, just because it feels nicer.

   i've been staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror for a few minutes now. i don't like looking at myself. not because i'm insecure or anything, well, i am insecure, but that's not why. the reason i hate looking at myself is because i don't really feel like i look like myself. i'm not sure if that makes any sense. it's just, every time i look at myself, i don't see me. i just see a scared boy. i see a boy who has been terrorised and ruined by a stupid clown. i see a boy who younger me would not be proud of.

   i decide to finally look away from the mirror. i'm sure if i had stared much longer i would've started seeing things. that's happened before. when i used to have paintings in my bathroom, i would see them move in the reflection. i had to take down the paintings. ever since that summer, i haven't been able to enjoy portraits without being reminded of it.

   i decide to take a shower, a cold one, though. i heard cold showers are better for you. while i stand in the shower, i avoid looking down at the drain. i'm sure that nothing is down there anymore, but i don't know, it still scares me. i wash my hair and clean myself off a few times.

   showers are hard. the thoughts are always worse during them.

   when i hop out of the shower, i dry myself off and grab some clothes. i decided on a light blue button-down and some khaki shorts. i grab a black belt as well, since the shorts are a tad big on me. i get dressed and sit on my bed. my parents won't be up for another couple hours, and my friends probably aren't awake yet. i'm sure they're actually enjoying their summer and sleeping in.

   i don't know if i'll ever be able to enjoy summer. not after that summer.

   i stare at the rotary phone on my bedside table. i rarely ever call anyone, usually they call me. and today is no different, because the phone begins to ring, and when picked up, who else answers but richie tozier.

   richie tozier is my best friend. i have no idea how or why, but he just is. i've known him for years, longer than i've known any of the other losers. richie tozier is loud, obnoxious, and makes the most crude jokes. it seems impossible that we are friends, but we are, and i wouldn't have it any other way.

   it's always been richie and i. even after i met all the other losers, rich was still the closest to me. he seems to trust me a lot. i trust him too. he's the only one i've told about my thoughts, and i'm the only one he's told about his sexuality.

   "hi rich."

"stan the man! you still up for movie night tonight?"

"ye-" he cuts me off anyways.

"why did i even ask? you have no choice!"

i roll my eyes, despite him not being able to see them.

"i was gonna say yes anyways, dipshit. but now im rethinking it."