" LIPSTICK " + STENBROUGH

[11]

(( warnings : swearing ))

monday morning arrives with nothing but panic from bill. he shouldn't be panicking, but he is, because he is only now realizing he owns literally no shirt with a high enough neck line to cover the fucking hickey on his collarbone. he might be a little pissed at bev for making it so obvious. just a little.

stan's sweater is folded neatly on his bed, and bill considers wearing it, but he knows that stan doesn't wear things twice, at least not until it's been washed and dried just the way he likes.

bill is standing in front of his mirror, wrapping a scarf around his neck and seeing how ridiculous that could possibly look, when there's a small knock and georgie enters.

he says something about taking him to school, and bill nods, but he's more focused on his brother's sneakers.

they're bright red high tops. new, a gift for his birthday last week. and they give bill an idea.

mom's ruby woo lipstick.

georgie leaves and bill changes into a blue graphic t-shirt that he's had for years. and this one rides up a bit too, like the green one he wore saturday—just long enough to pass, because the jeans he wears are a bit more high waisted than they probably should be, and there's a possibility that he's slowly destroying whatever chance he has at future children, like he's soaking in a hot tub, but he ignores it and wears the damned cuffed jeans anyway.

he makes sure that his family is downstairs, before sneaking into his parents' bedroom and makes his way to the vanity. he is far more familiar with it than he thinks most fifteen-year-old boys are with their mother's vanities.

his eyes graze the top of it—his eyes immediately find the infamous lipstick, because it practically never moves; why did his mom buy it if she never wears it?—until he finds anything that looks like skin. beverly has mentioned concealer a million times before, and he's even seen her use it before. so if he can just find the concealer, he should be able to cover this fucking bruise.

he pauses, as he glances at the top left drawer. he's never looked in them, but he thinks the answer to his problems may lie in there. with hesitation, bill open the drawer. bingo!

he picks up the palest tube of concealer. bill's mother is a bit tanner than he is, so the other shades wouldn't quite match, but this fair one he finds should work.

afraid he'll be caught applying it, he jams it in his pocket and hurries back to his room.

—

when bill denbrough walks into derry high school, stanley uris is waiting at his locker, as he is every morning. his arms are crossed across his chest, one shoulder supporting his weight against the row of lockers.

bill isn't gay—as far as he knows at least; he hasn't ever considered it, really—but he must admit, stanley is very handsome.

today, especially, as he stands there and watches bill approach with a wicked grin and smiling eyes. his eyes are always fucking smiling. he's dressed down today. he wears a pair of jeans, worn higher than his actual waist. his ankle is showing quite a bit, thanks to his long legs, but stan wears these wildly patterned ankle socks and sneakers, and bill thinks they're strange but make up for all the skin. he's wearing a sweatshirt. it's navy blue and reads 'derry high school'. bill always thought stanley dressed well, but for some reason, bill likes this outfit more than any other. maybe it's because he looks so comfortable. maybe it's because it's such a different side of stanley. bill doesn't know. he does, however, know that stan's eyes widen when he looks at bill's collarbone.

"woah, where the fuck did it go?" stan asks, eyebrows raised. he's impressed.

bill glances around, before pulling the concealer out of his pocket and flashing it at stan. he looks more impressed.

"well, it's covered nicely. if i hadn't known you'd had a hickey there, i never would have guessed. granted, if i didn't know you and beverly were a thing, i wouldn't have thought you were getting any action–"

bill hits stan's arm, laughing.

and then he puts his stuff im his locker, and puts the concealer in there too, and he gets the feeling.

the feeling he got from the lipstick.

the overwhelming feeling of happiness he gets when he wears makeup.

——

eh idk how much i'm liking these. i'm hoping i'm more happy with my work once there's more stenbrough.

this chapter was also written kind of rushed, and i was half asleep.

anyway, i hope you're liking the story so far.

- m