n e v e r m i n d ☁ stenbrough

~chapter thirty~ piano man

Date: 6/31/17

Current Time: 2:08 pm

Bill's P.O.V

how the fuck am i sitting in his car right now? i mean, i don't have a problem with it. if i had a car, it would very likely be ten times more messy than his could ever be. it's not like i'm unfamiliar with this concept-

"Building?"

"Y-yes?...W-wait d-don't c-call me that in r-real life." 

damn me having that stupid username.

"Alright, Building." he put extra emphasis on the name.  why do i even bother  "Do you mind if I play some music?"

i rolled my eyes at first, but nodded after actually hearing out the question. 

"G-go ahead." 

stan pressed some random button, which pulled up a playlist simply entitled, "Good Songs." i leaned my head up against the window and watched familiar streets pass by in a blurred fashion. Blurred streets, blurred town. 

"You say things with your mouth. Cobwebs and flies come out..." 

are you kidding me right now? 

although it was faint, I could pick out Stan's humming intermingling with the lyrics that I knew every word to. 

"I-I t-thought you said y-you didn't know this s-song."

"I didn't. I listened to it after you told me about it." 

i swallowed the slightly evident lump in my throat and switched my gaze to look over at him, or his side profile, noticing a light rouge overlaying his cheeks. as it was a warm day, the sun magnified everything in the car with a delicate, glowey aura. 

"O-oh, so d-do you like it then?"

Dear lord, please say yes. 

"I would say so," he said. he glanced over at me for a second and smiled sheepishly. 

But I just leaned my forehead back against the glass, hot skin meeting cold surface. 

"Are we close yet?"

the humming stopped, leaving only "Lovely" and our voices to fill up any void lacking sound in the car. 

"T-take the next l-left and it's the f-fourth one d-down." 

 the song happened to finish right as we pulled into my driveway. 

(I'm sorry the transitions suck ass. There's a lot wrong with this book that I should fix and I hope it doesn't bother you nearly as much as it bothers me.)

                                                                                          ----

"W-welcome to my h-house." i closed the door behind us once we stepped inside, then shrugged at the appearance of my house. for years, I've always gotten an urging feeling in my stomach that something or someone is missing when I walk in.  part of me wondered if I was the only one who felt it, if Stan was oblivious to it or felt that gnawing, disgusting emptiness inside like I did. 

at least my parents aren't home. 

stan's brown eyes darted around the living room, landing on the old piano, covered in a shameful amount of dust, the dated pieces of furniture that somehow just fit in, and then back to the piano again. 

"It's nice." He paused. "And cold." 

oh shit

i furrowed my eyebrows and took a couple steps towards the thermostat that was up on the wall.