Stanley Uris, a boy with three secrets hidden beneath a thick sweater - one of them being his love for his best friend.
Bill Denbrough, a boy who spends every morning trying to convince himself he's not gay.
This is their tale, told through both of...
"This my first love song / first time I felt the words / first time I sang along / whenever it comes on / I just think of you and everything you do / you're my one, my from-now-on / my first love song."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"We-we're g-going on our d-date t-tonight, r-right, Stan?" Bill whispered, aware of his parents a room over. The happiness of two nights ago not yet gone, filling his voice as he spoke on the phone that cool, late September Sunday.
"Yeah! I wouldn't cancel, Bill." Stan sounded as happy as Bill felt. Joy was a beautiful and perfect, if not ephemeral, feeling.
"I di-didn't think s-so. J-just making s-sure."
He could hear the smile in his date's voice as Stan answered, "Great. I'll pick you up?"
"Y-yeah. B-bye, Stan."
"Bye, Bill."
Bill hung up and wondered if Stan would wear a sweater.
•
There Stan was, in all his good looks and noodle hair and emotional brown eyes, of course in his black hoodie, smiling. Bill's own face split in a goofy grin at the sight of him outside his door.
"M-my p-parents are h-home," Bill whispered when Stan gave a look that said Kiss?
"Okay," Stan replied, seemingly unbothered. His smile didn't falter, but more importantly, his eyes retained that true smile. The only problem was that this true smile didn't seem to be as happy as it could have been, as someday, hopefully, Bill could make it.
"We sh-should g-go," Bill declared, and Stan nodded. They walked down the street to a bus stop, clambered aboard a near-empty grey vehicle, and rode until the town outskirts. There they stepped off and saw fields stretching out, and a road splitting off from the highway that would lead them to their destination.
"Leaving Derry," Stan whispered, a fierce glow in his brown gaze.
"N-not for-forever," Bill reminded him.
"Someday," Stan answered, even more quietly, so it was only a breath, his eyes closed. Bill wondered if it was even meant for him, or just a faraway dream Stan chased in his mind.
"We-we're here."
At the end of that road was a small park: Derry Edge Park. It wasn't large, but a path led through the forest to where Bill knew there was a clearing decorated with flowers and a small gazebo, and a house that doubled as a cafe.
"B-beautiful," Bill commented, laying his gaze on the swathes of trees before them.
Stan nodded. "Just like you." He said it casually — as if he didn't know that he was especially cute when he was modest.
Bill's face blazed. "Y-you're more b-beautiful."
"Initiate cute couple fight."
"W-wait." Did he just say what I think he said? "C-couple?" He totally did, didn't he? Of course, in the dorkiest way possible...
Stan winked. "If you want us to be."
Bill smiled slyly. "L-let's give it a d-date, at l-least."
The curly-haired boy returned the smirk. "Of course."
Bill loved the way Stan didn't tease him about his stutter, like Richie did. He loved Stan's smile, perhaps not at its full potential, but better than the shadows that had lurked constantly in his eyes. He loved Stan's intelligence, that radiated off him. He loved Stan's eyes, and his hair, and the feel of his skin.
I'm fucking insane.
To increase his insanity, Bill gingerly reached for Stan's hand, and their fingers entwined. Bill's breath caught in his throat. With Stan, the lump that choked him seemed to lessen, even disappear. With Stan, he forgot about everything except this perfect haven away from their homes and families.
Holding hands, the two boys walked down the path. The sun was setting, bleeding scarlet through the trees and dappling the piles of golden leaves that littered the forest floor. A gentle wind wrapped around Bill, and he could hear the tiny lives of squirrels and birds hiding in the spindly branches of trees. The vegetation was thick and dense, but the path was clear and hardened, beckoning them forward. A clear path to Stan and Bill's future, surrounded by the thick tangle of life — so complicated, so confusing, so impassable. The path created an effortless way through it all. If only such a path could exist in reality.
They reached the clearing, where they could see the rooftops of Derry in the distance, and the disappearing sun sinking over the faraway horizon. The gazebo was smooth white wood and sat fringed by colourful bunches of flowers. The smells of coffee, fresh baked bread, pine and some sort of flower filled the air.
Bill loved the feel of Stan's lips as they kissed in the gazebo under the setting sun.
[oooOoOOOoo it's sailing...ps I have another stenbrough book called "years apart" which is updated daily if you want my not-so-fabulous writing more often]
