this is a short one!
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by 10 o' clock, everyone had left. the little social battery that i had, has drained. i feel nauseous. i missed most of the movie, i barely spoke to anyone, and i had an anxiety attack in the bathroom. what a night.
since i was staying over at bill's unprepared, i was forced to borrow some of his clothes. fortunately, bill knows me so well and had washed a bunch of clothing for me. not even one wash, but two. "since i know y-you like your s-stu-stuff extra clean!" he had said. sometimes, i think this boy is far too good for me.
bill denbrough deserves the world, and i'm just not that.
bill lays out some blankets on the living room sofa. as much as i don't want to be picky, i mean, i'm the guest here, i really would rather not sleep in the living room. it's pretty, but it looks a lot like an art gallery. the walls are filled with paintings.
"no, bill. i can't-" i blurt out. i sound like i've gone mad. what the hell am i saying?
he sort of tilts his head in confusion.
"paintings." i mumble.
he opens his mouth to speak, but instead just picks up the blankets, and starts walking towards his bedroom, like he just understood.
he stares at me for a moment. i'm not sure why. and i suddenly feel guilt. i feel like i'm overreacting. i feel dumb.
"sorry."
"you have n-nothing to be sorry about." he assured me. although, i don't believe him. i can't believe he has to deal with all my bullshit. he would probably rather be with literally anybody else.
sometimes, i wonder if i'm really enough for bill. enough for anyone, actually.
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after a few long conversations, one ride to the gas station for a toothbrush, and one laugh-till-you-cry joke, bill and i actually began to get ready for bed. i'm not sure why this boy does so much for me. who else but bill denbrough would deal with my clinginess on bad days? who else but bill denbrough would go through an excessive cleaning process, just for me?
he's just doing it out of pity.
he just feels bad for you, you aren't friends.
and who else but stanley uris could convince himself that the boy, who literally fought an evil clown with him, hated him?
YOU ARE READING
˚ʚ my heart beats for you in threes - stenbrough ɞ˚
Teen Fiction"and just like that, i wasn't a loser anymore. i was just a loser, and god, that was the one thing that hurt me more than myself or my thoughts. i was just a plain old loser. i was just a plain old loser, and i always fucking would be."
