tutor; stenbrough

53

53

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the next morning, stanley wakes up with a pounding headache, and he pries his eyes open with some trouble.

taking his time to look around the room, he sees that the curtains are drawn and the door is closed, thankfully blocking out any light. he turns over, noticing the bottle of ibuprofen and the water bottle on the side table next to his head. the plastic bottle is cold, and the condensation creates a little ring on the table, implying it had just been put there, but stanley doesn't remember hearing the door or any footsteps. he must've slept like the dead.

he struggles to orient himself, but he knows at least that he's in bill's room. he remembers the events of the night at home, and stealing the vodka from his father's liquor cabinet before fleeing his house. he can only faintly recall arriving at the party, and running into richie, but the rest of the night is a blur.

before stan can begin to chastise himself for being so careless, he's flinging the plaid covers off of him and rushing out of the room in search of a bathroom. it's a good thing that it's right across the hallway because moments later he's doubled over the toilet, throwing up the contents of his stomach.

he remains in the same position for another five minutes after he's finished, just in case. when he finally turns to get up, he's startled to see bill in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.

"jesus," stan mutters, hand on his heart as he stands. "how long have you been there?"

bill raises his eyebrows in amusement. "only for a minute," he answers.

stanley must make a face in response, because bill smiles a bit and shakes his head to himself before moving out of the way and letting stan pass. stanley does so, making his way back into bill's room.

bill follows, watching as his friend takes a seat on the edge of the bed and grabs the water and the ibuprofen. he waits until he's taken a capsule and washed it down before asking, "how are you feeling?"

"kind of like i've been hit by a truck," he answers, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

he opens them again as bill responds with a low chuckle. "yeah, that makes sense."

"i'm afraid to ask," stanley says hesitantly. "but what happened last night?"

"about five vodka crans, richie tozier, and a whole lot of beer pong happened."

stan shakes his head in disdain, primarily directed towards himself, and decides that he should change the topic before he dwells too much on his embarrassing behaviour. "so are you not hungover at all?"

bill raises his eyebrows as if he's surprised by the question, but it only takes him a second to answer. "no, not at all. i didn't drink last night."

stanley is more taken aback by this than he should be, and he shakes his head in disbelief. "wait, really? you're telling me you were completely sober all night, at the saturday night party you'd been looking forward to?"

bill looks even more surprised at this comment of recognition, and the corners of his lips quirk up as he shrugs. "yeah."

"you didn't even drink a little?"

"nope."

stanley looks confused, and it's unclear whether this is plain disbelief or just the fogginess of the hangover. "why?"

"i don't really drink a lot, to be honest. i'll have a beer or two here and there, but i just got into the habit of not drinking, what with training and stuff. body's a temple and all that shit," bill admits, staring off into the distance as if lost in thought. "i was driving yesterday, anyway, so i stuck with water."

when bill finally looks back at his tutor, stanley is staring at him with an intrigued look on his face, not saying a word. bill shifts, feeling a bit out of place under the questioning gaze.

to break the silence, and dispel the sudden awkwardness he feels, the football player adds with a halfhearted, breathy chuckle, "and thank god i did, or else who would've taken care of you when you were so plastered you couldn't walk straight?"

the curly haired boy releases a dramatic groan, falling back onto the bed and covering his face with his hands. "please, spare me the details. i might just die of embarrassment."

"ah, nothing to be embarrassed about. it was impressive, really. shattered my expectations."

stanley props himself up on his elbows, furrowing his eyebrows. "do i want to know what you mean by that?"

"just that i never thought i'd see mr. stanley uris, smartest kid in school, world's greatest tutor, drunk on cheap vodka and winning beer pong in the middle of one of tozier's parties," bill teases. "it was a night to remember. or, not remember, in your case."

"shut up," he grabs a pillow from behind him and chucks it at bill, who dodges it through broken laughter. "did i do anything embarrassing? say anything embarrassing?"

bill shrugs nonchalantly. "nothing like that. you were pretty tame." he gets a mischievous look in his eyes before adding, "except for the fact that you finally admitted we're friends."

stanley groans again, shaking his head in denial. "i was drunk, don't take it to heart."

"ah, but haven't you ever heard the saying that drunk words are sober thoughts?"

"ha-ha," stan responds sarcastically. the room falls into a comfortable silence as stan nurses the water bottle in an attempt to ease his nausea and bill watches quietly from across the room.

"come on," bill says suddenly, nodding towards the door with a small smile still on his face. stanley raises his eyebrows in curiosity as bill walks out into the hallway, motioning for him to follow. "i'll make you some breakfast."

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sorry for the late update!