hidden ~ stenbrough

Chapter One: Stan

"Sometimes, all you can do is lie in bed, and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart."

It's a part of me...why should I hide it?

Stanley Uris sat at his desk in the middle of the night, dreading his return to school in a few hours. He had spent the countless heartbeats since the moon showed in a crisp ink sky considering his possibilities. He could hide it...he could show it...or he could skip school.

The last one was of course appealing, he decided as he laid his head in his hands. The first one was the easiest, but even if it wasn't what people wanted of him, why should he be ashamed of it? A sigh rose in his chest. He always did this. He told himself to do it, to show who he was and be proud of it, and yet he always went full circle and landed on his least favourite choice, but the easiest, the smoothest, the one that would prevent conflict.

He grabbed his black sweater, pulled it on, and hid himself.

Stan thought back to his last option: skip school. He fingered the strings of his sweater, wondering how many times his parents would kill him and revive him and kill him again, if he didn't show up in a few hours. A couple hundred? Yeah, that was about accurate.

The boy leaned his head back so the world flipped upside down. It always felt upside down. Maybe if he walked around on his hands (which he couldn't do) the world would finally seem right. Nothing made sense. The puzzle didn't fit together; it was made of sharp, broken, irregular pieces that cut and broke one another. Stan's pieces didn't fit together: Jewish, male, interested in birds...gay.

And the other one.

No need to dwell on that one, he reminded himself. Not that he wanted to dwell on gay either. At fifteen years old, he'd already gotten plenty of time to figure out who he was, and yet he kept surprising himself. Sometime a few months ago, he'd stumbled upon a bump in the road that landed him face-against-concrete with a shocking realization hovering above him. Gay. Stanley Uris...gay.

Okay, okay, it's been established. When the hell is it gonna feel like a part of me, and not some new, strange alien thing that decided to land in my heart?

He sighed again. He was gay. He had told it to himself enough times, and yet he still couldn't tell anyone else, not even his best friend, Bill.

Of course I haven't told Bill!

The other one...oh, one of the other ones. Three secrets burrowed inside of him, etched into his mind and body and heart, hidden under his sweater and his walls. He couldn't even admit his broken pieces to himself.

Here, at his desk in the safety of his room, far away from reality, he could be himself. But as soon as he stepped through the doorway and into the cold, harsh world, he was required to become the Stanley Uris everyone knew...the one nobody knew. Invisible was fine. He'd rather that than everyone seeing through his walls into his worst secrets.

There's nothing wrong with being gay! And the other ones...come on, just because you're not the best bird in the sky right now, that doesn't mean you have to be ashamed of it. It's a part of you, he thought, picturing the scared little Stan hiding beneath his sweater, staring back at the crowds of people expecting him to be somebody he wasn't. The Stan he was. The Stan in his heart was free and proud of who he was. That Stan...that was the Stan he'd never be, the Stan he kept hidden, the Stan nobody would ever know, because those crowds would become a mob, and with them would come all the judgement he feared.

He put his head against the desk and considered skipping again.

•

I really should've skipped.

There Stan was, standing with his friends near their lockers. Richie Tozier, the trashmouth who joked about fucking everyone. Eddie Kaspbrak, the nice kid whose strict mom stuffed him full of placebos. Ben Hanscom, as chubby as he was smart (very). Bev Marsh, the only girl, her ginger hair short and curly. And of course, Bill Denbrough, a stuttering, handsome mess with brown hair and greenish eyes, and a soft smile that made Stan's heart melt and—

Shut up!

They were the Losers, the band of kids (plus homeschooled Mike) who had joined together to defeat It a couple years ago, an event that had scarred Stan in more ways than anything else. Almost anything else. Stan felt lucky to be apart of the Losers' Club...or at least, he should feel lucky. Instead, he felt a deep panic and dread as Bill leaned in and kissed Bev's cheek...

"Stan? You okay?"

He turned away from Bill and Bev to see Eddie eyeing him, concerned.

He wanted to shout and scream and tear down his walls. He wanted to tell Eddie, I'm not okay. I'm not okay. I'm not okay. I'm not okay—

"I'm fine," he told the smaller boy nonchalantly, before forcing himself to ignore Bill sucking his girlfriend's face off (oh, there came the memories of Neibolt...).

He restrained himself, made himself focus on anything except the face-sucking going on right beside him.

I'm not okay. I'm not okay. I'm not okay.

If only Bill loved him back, perhaps he wouldn't feel so isolated, wouldn't feel so faraway. He rarely felt like part of the group; he was peering through a narrow doorway to where Bev and Bill were together, the rest of the Losers close, bonded, unafraid.

Stan was miles away, staring through that window, on the outside, still afraid, still hidden, unable to truly be part of the Club since he could only focus his heart on Bill Denbrough.

He could have acted.

He could have pulled off his sweater.

He could have told Bill everything, risked the rejection, simply done it because it was what his heart instructed him to do.

Instead, he watched from a distance as the boy he loved fell in love with someone else.

He loved and he hurt, and he watched from a distance, helpless, as Bill fell in love with her.