cue: confusion [IT FANFICTION]

power move: stay silent and wait for the other person to elaborate

As the fog of my confession settled, I jolted away from Stanley, who looked glad for the sudden reality check on my end. I felt less guilt over mayyybe making him uncomfortable and much more crippling embarrassment that was sure to directly impact the rest of my life until SUDDENLY I tragically die young, a tortured artist who just wanted to leave a mark on a world that constantly ridiculed him for being "overdramatic" until he proved all of them wrong by jumping into a fire. (All of his associates cried at his funeral, even his parents.)

As I woefully concluded this tragic story, Stanley and Richie were either speaking very loudly to be heard over the music or having a chemistry-altering argument, but I guess I'll never know because my ass interrupted them with a meek, "My b-bad."

"My bad"? Wow, Bill, smooth. Comparable to the flawless skin of.. uh... newborn baby.

Stanley turned to me nevertheless. "Listen, Bill, you need to go home. You too, Richie."

"I'm not R-Richie." I informed him.

"I'm Richie." Richie said with a frown.

"Oh god, just... stop." Stanley said with exasperation. "You both need to go home right now. You don't know what you're talking about."

"But I'm ss-sor-sorry," I mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Bill." Stanley replied stiffly. "You don't get to say that right now."

The conversation went silent again, the tension tightening like a knot in my chest. I opened my mouth to argue but Richie stepped forward, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.

"C'mon, Big Bill. Let's get some air." Richie's voice was surprisingly gentle, and I allowed myself to be led out, my last glance over my shoulder catching Stanley's tightly folded arms and the unreadable look on his face.

As soon as we were outside, Richie dropped his hand from my shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at me with a weird expression.

"You look terrible."

"I f-fuh-feel terrible."

"Well, you did just pour your heart out."

"C-cry my heart out? Did y-you.. reference that s-ss-song?"

"Right." Richie assured me, before giving me a sympathetic look and changing the topic. "Come on. You're gonna feel like shit in the morning.."

-

It had been one of those lazy summer afternoons, the kind that stretched out endlessly, where time didn't matter, and everything felt perfect, even in its messiness. The sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays filtering through the trees around the quarry, casting long, shimmering reflections over the still water.

I sat on a patch of grass near the edge of the water, Richie sprawled out beside me, sunglasses tilted haphazardly on his nose. Stan was further down, carefully laying out towels with the precision that only he could manage, while Mike and Ben attempted to build some kind of rickety structure out of driftwood. Eddie, just as I predicted, sat a bit away from everyone else, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he watched us from a safe distance.

"I swear, if one of you idiots gets a splinter, don't come crying to me," Eddie called out, though there was no real bite to his words.

Richie waved him off. "Relax, Eddie Spaghetti. It's called living a little."

"Living?" Eddie shot back. "More like getting tetanus."

Stan hummed as he finished spreading out the towels. "He's not wrong. You should at least use gloves, Richie."

"Gloves are for quitters, and I, my good sir, am no quitter." Richie rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows to glance over at me. "You agree, right, Big Bill? Gloves or no gloves?"

I just shook my head, a small grin on my face. "You're—you're just g-guh-gonna end up in the h-hospital at this rate, Rich."

"Hospital? Pfft. I laugh in the face of danger."

"You cowered in fear when that turtle crawled out of the lake," Mike pointed out, smiling as he balanced a piece of wood between two rocks.

"That was a—a tactical retreat," Richie said, sitting up and squinting against the sun. "You don't mess with nature. Nature's scary, man."

"Yeah, Richie's real brave," Stan muttered, laying back on his towel, arms folded behind his head. "He'll run from turtles but face planted off his bike to get to an ice cream truck last week."

"Hey, I needed to get to the truck before all the fucking—" Richie stumbled slightly, but caught himself." Kids!" He had a mock indignation on his face. "And don't act like you weren't running with me, bird boy."

Ben sat down next to me, wiping his forehead. "Think we're about ready to test out our masterpiece, don't you think?"

Mike glanced at Ben with a grin. "Masterpiece is right. You're good at this architecture stuff."

"I mean... well." Ben said, smiling sheepishly. "It's not, like, a work of art,"

Richie jumped to his feet, pointing toward the rickety driftwood creation. "Let's see if it floats, losers!"

As the group moved closer to the water, Eddie let out an overdramatic sigh, trailing behind. "I'm not cleaning up this disaster when it sinks."

"It won't sink," Ben said, optimism oozing from his voice. "It's... uh, got character."

"Yeah, just like a haunted house," Stan muttered under his breath. Richie ignored him.

Richie and Ben exchanged glances before Richie took off his shirt and cannonballed into the water, sending a splash over the driftwood structure. He resurfaced, shaking his head and sputtering, "Told you— it's unsinkable!"

Stan, still lounging on the towel, rolled his eyes. "You're not exactly proving your point by splashing it to death, Tozier."

I sat back, watching them bicker and laugh, feeling one of those bursts of sudden nostalgia for something that was already happening.

Stan was laughing now, a real laugh that traveled up from his shaking shoulders to his eyes, Richie making some elaborate show of inspecting the raft, and somebody called to me to get in the water. Everything felt perfect.

-

owwwwwwww

ow ow owww

ouch

i indeed feel like shit what the fuck

A/N: this authors note sounds a bit familiar but sorry for the delay chat 😭 this chapter is way shorter than the others, and less plot driven as well. Tbh just needed an explanation of how the fuck Bill got home lmao

Word count: 1049