" LIPSTICK " + STENBROUGH

[12]

( warnings : swearing )

the door creaks as bill opens it; he has a ten page essay to write on novel themes and he's absolutely dreading it. with heavy steps, he walks towards the stairs.

"william, is that you?" his mother calls from the kitchen. bill sighs.

"yeah, it-it's me."

"can you come in here a moment?"

bill's mother sits at the kitchen island, a magazine in her hand. she's still dressed in her work clothes—a navy pencil skirt and blazer pair, a pink collared shirt underneath, and heels. bill can tell something is wrong, because her smile is forced. but then again, her smile is always forced around bill.

"w-what's up?" bill asks, slipping his backpack off his shoulder and leaning against the counter across from his mom.

"this may sound a bit strange," mrs. denbrough starts, a small laugh escaping her lips, as if she's about to say something ridiculous. "but, you haven't been going through my makeup, have you?"

bill freezes.

"you know, like you did when you were little?" bill's mouth goes dry, as he tries to think of something to say.

"uh, no, w-why do you ask?"

"i was just going through my makeup drawer and noticed my concealer is missing. guess i just misplaced it," she says with a shrug.

"i guh-guess so," bill stutters, and begins to slowly back out of the kitchen. when he's out of the room, he races up the steps.

the door to his bedroom slams shut softly behind him, and he collapses on his bed, tears threatening to spill for his eyes.

boys don't wear makeup. not normal ones, at least.

bill could really use someone right now, but he could never tell beverly about this. he needs someone to tell him he isn't insane, to tell him that he isn't weird for liking makeup.

bill doesn't even realize he's doing it until it's too late; his picks up the phone on his nightside table and dials a number, waiting anxiously for it to be picked up on the other end.

"hello?"

"stuh-stan," bill breathes, some of his anxiety disappearing simply by hearing the other boy's voice.

"bill? what's up?"

"c-c-can y-you cuh-come oh-oh-over?" bill stutters. it's as heavy as it had been when georgie went missing, and bill thinks stanley understands this, and knows that means something is wrong.

"i'll be over in a few. what's wrong? are you okay?"

"i-i-i duh-don't kno-ow," bill says, and his voice cracks. tears are beginning to form in his eyes, and he feels so stupid because he shouldn't cry over this. it isn't a normal thing to cry over, right?

"okay, just breathe. i'll be over as soon as i can." stan hangs up, and bill lets out a shaky breath. he sits on his bed, quiet sobs rack his body.

boys don't wear makeup. not normal ones, at least.

bill denbrough's bedroom door flies open exactly five minutes later, revealing a heavily panting stanley uris. he closes the door behind him, and looks at bill with extreme worry.

"bill, tell me what happened," he says, and sits beside him.

"m-my muh-muh-mom found ow-out about the-the-the muh-makeup," bill whispers. stanley's eyebrows furrow.

"she found out you took the concealer?" bill nods. "and what'd she do?"

"w-well, i-i didn't t-t-tell her i-i-i tuh-took it. so s-she juh-just knows it's muh-missing," bill explains. stanley nods.

"okay, but it upset you that you got caught?" stan's hands finds it's way to bill's, which rests in his lap, and he intertwines their fingers, thumb softly circling the back of his hand. bill sighs at the gesture.

"i-i actually h-h-have to a-ask y-you suh-suh-something."

"what is it?"

"have y-you ever tried muh-muh-makeup on b-b-before?"

"not that i recall," stan says, a light chuckle passing through his parted lips. "but, i think that if you want to wear it, then fucking wear it, you know?"

"am i-i a fr-freak for-for liking muh-makeup?" bill asks. the look on his face is one of worry and fear. bill's stomach is twisting and tightening, and he can feel the anxiety traveling through his veins.

"what? of course not!" stan says, voice rather chirpy. "makeup isn't just for girls. it's for girls, and boys, and people who are both, and people who are neither. and anyone else on the spectrum," stanley explains. "just because someone tells you that you shouldn't do something because it isn't normal doesn't mean you have to listen."

boys don't wear makeup. not normal ones, at least.

"besides, you, bill denbrough, would look hot as fuck in some eyeliner and lipstick. at least, that's what i think." bill smiles, and before he knows it, he's crushing stan's skinny body in a tight hug. he's convinced he's knocked the air out of stan's lungs, and that he's going to kill the boy in his arms, but stan just hugs back.

and so they sit, on the bed of a teary eyed bill denbrough, holding each other like bill doesn't know if he's ever held beverly marsh. and bill feels happy. and he thinks,

maybe boys can wear makeup. maybe it doesn't matter if it's considered normal or not.

——

thank you so much for showing this book a lot of love!! be sure to check out my other works, too!

i hope your stenbrough hearts were satisfied a bit, as well. it's going to get a lot better !

- m