" LIPSTICK " + STENBROUGH

[30]

the rain is still beating down against the streets of derry, maine, as a soaking bill denbrough turns down his street. he's going fast, bike sliding quickly on the wet pavement as he rushes home.

bill hates the rain and he just wants to sleep.

he slows as he approaches the neat house he lives in, swinging his leg around his bike to get off and walking it up the driveway. he parks it in the garage and shakes his head like a dog to dry his hair, which has turned a dark reddish brown from the rain, before entering through the house door in the garage.

the denbrough house is a quiet that leaves bill's stomach feeling unsettled. he doesn't like the way it makes him feel, but he ignores it, brushing away any worries as he knocks his sneakers off in the mud room attatched to the garage and heading further inside.

the kitchen is empty, as is the living room and dining room. bill wonders where his mom is briefly, as her car is in the driveway, but he honestly doesn't care. she's a woman bill has come to despise in his seventeen years. mrs. denbrough, and her unbelievable standars, with her fucking jean-cuffing and overprotectiveness of a boy who can take care of himself at eleven, even though she refuses to believe that.

bill trudges up the stairs, tears still brimming his eyes.

you are not normal.

you're a freak.

you're a faggot, bill denbrough.

he hates patricia blum. he fucking hates her, with her pink blouses and turned up nose and stupid perfect posture. she's a bitch. she stole stan. his stan. god, what he would do to be with that boy right now.

bill is ready to collapse in a pool of tears just as heavy as the rainstorm outside when he opens his door. his plans are foiled, however, when he sees his mother sitting on his bed. there's an unreadable expression on her face, as she stares at bill. he raises and eyebrow, slowly dropping his backpack off his shoulder and onto the floor.

"w-w-wha-what are y-you duh-doing?" bill asks.

"i, uh, i was looking for your brother's soccer socks. i was getting his uniform together and must have mixed them in with your laundry and, while i was looking through your sock drawer,"—bill floods with panic, his eyes dropping to his mother's lap. in it sits a black bag bill recognizes all too well. "i found this. mind explaining to me why you have makeup hidden in your sock drawer?"

"i-i–i...i wear it." his mother gives him a look.

"hun, only girls wear makeup."

"b-boys wear i-i-it t-too," bill defends, but it's weak. his mother sighs.

"no, william, they don't."

"says who?"

"says me!" bill's mother says agitatedly, standing up. she places the bag of makeup on bill's bed and takes a step forward, crossing her arms. "william, this isn't who you are."

"it's n-not who i am? y-you don't know me a-at all!" bill says, confused. his mother hasn't paid any attention to him in years, and suddenly she cares what he does with himself? "you don't know i-i-i qu-quit track l-last year, y-you don't know bev and i b-b-bro-broke up, or tha-that i luh-lost my vir-virginity." her eyebrows raise, and bill says, "an-and to a boy."

"william–"

"s-stop calling me that!" he says. he isn't sure what happened, but he's crying. he's snapped. "it's buh-buh-bill. it was bill when i w-was five, and i-it's bill n-now." his mother takes a step back. bill denbrough doesn't ever yell.

bill is crying. tears are cascading down his cheeks, sobs racking his body, as he leans against the wall, finally giving up, because everything he loves is leaving him. bill's door opens a moment later. with blurred vision, bill sees his father standing in the doorway, dressed like he's been at work. he barely registers his mother explaining to his father what she found.

"normal boys don't wear makeup, william," his dad is saying, but bill doesn't want to listen. "only queers do."

"it's too bad i suck dick then, isn't it?" bill snaps, glancing at his dad through his tears. he laughs bitterly at the looks on his parents faces.

"we want you to stay away from your brother for the time being," his mother says strictly.

"w-why? b-because i'll infect him with my 'd-dis-disease'? he can ta-take care of him-himself," bill says. "y-you act like he's f-f-fucking helpless. h-he isn't the-the same kid who g-got kuh-kidnapped."

the hand that hits bill's cheek is cold and unexpected, and bill doesn't register it until it happens. he cradles his cheek, narrowing his eyes at the woman in front of him. her eyes are brimming with tears, anger shadowing in her blue eyes. his mother just slapped him. she may hate him, but she's never land a hand on him before.

"watch your mouth, mister," she warns. "don't talk about him that way."

"l-like what? like he c-ca-can handle himself?"

"he can't. that's why he got taken in the first place. because you weren't there to watch him."

"watch y-your own kids, f-for a fucking cha-cha-cha-change!" bill says.

"don't make this worse for yourself, william," his dad mumbles, as his mother's eyes narrow.

"that's a strike, william. consider yourself grounded until further notice. think about what you've done." she takes his bag of makeup, storming out. bill's dad shakes his head tiredly.

"you never know when to quit," he says, walking out of the room. the door slams softly behind him.

bill slides down the wall, butt hitting the hardwood beneath him. he sobs into his knees, head spinning. he's lost everything. he's lost stan, his makeup, and now georgie?

how can his life get any worse?

——

im really not very happy w this :(( but im posting it anyway ! sorry it's not the best

- m