" LIPSTICK " + STENBROUGH

[36]

this chapter is really long, i hope you guys like it. it's to make up for my lack of material lately ! enjoy :)

"woah, bill, what happened to your face?" is the first thing bill denbrough hears when he walks in the front door that afternoon. george denbrough is sitting on the couch, long legs crossed beneath him, the remote in his hand pointed at the tv and worried eyes pointed at his brother.

"i-i got in a f-f-fight," bill mumbles. he begins to walk past georgie, who is now eleven and still too nosy for his own good, and towards the stairs. he wants nothing more than to collapse on his bed, wrap himself in blankets, and take a long nap.

since bill came out to his parents, he's seen his brother a total of two times. the first is when he goes to brush his teeth that night and georgie is in the bathroom. he walks out with a towel wrapped around his waist, and flashes bill a grin. he's a bit preoccupied, though, with a q-tip in his ear, so he does nothing more and makes his way to his room down the hall. the other time is in the morning, before school. bill descends the steps, nearly running into georgie who is going back upstairs. georgie simply smiles, mumbling something about needing to change, and slipping past bill. bill misses georgie, more than he misses stan, more than he misses makeup, more than he misses beverly and his friends. georgie has always been his best friend, and bill needs him. and bill hates his parents for denying him the right and fucking all of this up for their eldest son.

it sort of feels like he's twelve again, sitting on the couch as his father yells at him for not going out with georgie during the storm. it feels like the time a policeman shows up at his front door, telling the denbroughs that georgie's yellow slicker had been found on the street. bill dembrough feels like georgie's gone missing all over again, if he's being quite honest, because he's been ripped from his life just like he had been years earlier.

"by who?" georgie presses on. bill hears the tv turn off and footsteps follow him. feet patter against the steps behind bill, as he climbs the staircase and makes his way to his bedroom.

"n-no one, juh-georgie," bill says, glancing behind him to see the boy close by. georgie is nearly to bill's shoulders, but he walks a bit on his tip toes to get a better look at bill's face.

"are they the reason you've been so sad lately?" georgie asks. bill pushes open the door to his bedroom, dropping his backpack on the floor and taking a seat at his desk. he turns to look at the boy in his doorway.

"i-i don't know whuh-what you're t-ta-talking about."

"bill, i'm not an idiot. i can tell you've been unhappy," georgie says quietly, as he leans against the doorframe. "i can hear you crying, you know. when you think no one is listening or awake, i can hear you. it makes me really sad, but i don't know how to help."

"suh-suh-sometimes there's n-no cure fuh-for it," bill mumbles. "sometimes b-being sad happens so of-often it-it becomes all you knuh-know."

—

the tv downstairs is loud, the lights are bright, and his head is pounding. his jaw is sore, the back of his head hurts, and one eye is slightly more swollen than the ither.

bill denbrough sits up roughly, one hand holding his forehead, the other tightening the blanket around him. cold air brushes against his exposed arms and he shivers.

he's just woken up from a nap, it seems, based on the time on his alarm clock, which reads 6:04 pm. he falls asleep after his conversation with georgie, which ends when the front door opens and his mother calls georgie downstairs to ask him something. bill proceeds to collapse on his bed in his school clothes—a rolling stones t-shirt, cuffed jeans, and ankle socks—and drift off. not that he minds, because he loves sleeping, but he wishes he'd turned the lights off in his room and shut his door, because he's suffering from sensory overload and it isn't helping his killer headache.