Bloody Noses & Crack'd Crowns

Chapter 17

I DO NOT OWN THIS STORY. All credit goes to TheWeaverofWorlds on ao3

Come Monday, Bill Denbrough still felt awful. He'd had a minor headache which persisted all weekend, and he had had trouble falling asleep which left him tired and irritable in the mornings. While he still carried the physical toll of the fight, there was something much weightier on his mind, something which distracted him from even beginning to worry about what Robert's meeting had been about. The longer he thought about Maggie and Andrea's visit the more he realized that someone must have said something, and if he had to bet, he would put his money on Trashmouth Tozier. Of course the other teen would ignore his warnings and go straight to his parents when things got tough. A mixture of betrayal and anger stirred in Bill as he made his way to Richie's locker before homeroom.

"T-Tozier."

Richie turned from where he was talking to Stan, the surprise evident on his face.

"You f-f-fucking snitch."

"Language –"

"Shut up. You t-told your m-mother about our situation, d-d-didn't you." Bill clenched his still sore knuckles into a fist. The tender skin began to open up again.

"Bill –"

"D-don't lie. I get enough of that at h-h-home."

Richie looked over at Stan before facing Bill head on. "Yeah I told, but guess what? We're in deep shit and maybe an adult's perspective could be helpful."

"It w-w-wasn't yours to tell."

"Oh yeah? Not every adult in Derry is a manipulative asshole. Maybe you just have a way of drawing them to you like a fucking beacon. Takes one to know one, right?"

"Fuck y-you," Bill lunged for Richie, but Stan pushed his way in between them.

"Enough. Stop it. Stop! I told."

The fire left Bill. "Y-you."

Stan nodded biting his lip.

"Fuck, Stan. I thought I could trust you."

"You can."

"A-apparently not. Stay away from m-me. W-we're d-done."

Stan watched Bill go, trying to fight the tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks.

"C'mon, man, let's go." Richie said putting his hand on Stan's shoulder.

Stan turned into the contact, falling into Richie's open arms. He sobbed into his best friend's shoulder. The one time he had thought that he was being brave, that he was standing for something he believed in and he had fucked up. He had lost the one person he couldn't bear to lose, the person who had inspired him to stand up for what was right in the first place. Stan wept in the hall no longer caring what the bullies thought. Everything was ruined.

–

Henry Bowers watched the fight in the hall with interest, an idea forming in his mind.

–

During homeroom, Bill sat away from the other Losers. He could sense Eddie and Mike watching him, but he had nothing to say to them. Christ, it was all fucked. He was losing control. So much of his life had been dictated for him, and the one thing he felt like he had a handle on, the one thing he felt was going right had been fucked up.

Bill couldn't face Stan. Not with his wet nose and red eyes. Bill wanted to hate Stan, but he couldn't. He wished he could cut off all the hot emotion in his chest, cut it out of him and be dead. That would be easier than the burn of betrayal. The cool calm of nothing. Bill longed for that. He longed to be clean.