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...
"Just keep getting better. Little by little. Day by day."
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Stanley Uris was having a good week.
That's how he had measured his days back in the Bad: good...or not. The good days were only temporary havens from the absolutely shit of the bad days. A good day often led to a good week, maybe two good weeks. And yet eventually, or quickly, that all crumbled. Every morning, he had woken hoping for a miracle.
He wasn't in the Bad anymore. At least, not much. He wasn't totally happy, either. He was somewhere in between, something he didn't like, something that made him wish for a simple system. And yet, maybe being in one of the million shades of grey between black and white was better than either or.
He was smiling a lot that week. The Bad was still a part of him, as it always would be, but it wasn't his identity. It might have seemed stupid on the surface — he fell in love and got better, and yet it wasn't just that his love wasn't unrequited, but finally releasing two of his secrets, even if it was only to one person, that made him feel better — especially because he was releasing them to the person who mattered. He was waking up that week feeling good. His smile felt sincere. It wasn't as large as a fake one, or as large as that of someone who felt truly happy all the time; it was the smile of someone who was just climbing out of a bad place and was ready to stand on solid ground again.
Bill made all this possible.
Their first date was so nice. Bill paid for their sandwiches and pastries at the cafe — "y-you paid for th-the bus, I'll p-pay" — and then they ate while watching the sun slide away and the stars fill the darkening sky. Stan sometimes felt sky between night and day— things ending, things beginning, grey with hints of light and hints of darkness, somewhere between brightness and shadows, unsure which was coming next.
If this is what being human feels like, I think I'll get that become-an-alien surgery.
When they finished eating, Stan led Bill by the hand out to the forest, where they found a nice tree and climbed up and just leaned against each other, occasionally kissing, but mostly just counting stars and wondering what the future would hold.
"W-would you l-like to go on a-another d-date, St-Stanley Uris?" Bill asked sweetly, brushing his brown hair out of his eyes as they clambered down from the tree to go catch their bus.
Stan felt a smile taking over his face. He liked that — the feeling of not smiling, but having a smile come to him. "I would love to, Billiam Denbrough."
Bill smiled back. Stan often wondered if he was hurting. His brother had died, after all. He had a reason to be in pain. And yet he always seemed so happy, so at ease. Stan hoped to someday feel that way.
Until then, he'd simply hold his soon-to-be-boyfriend's hand, give him a kiss, and hope he was on the brink of a beautiful sunrise.
[heheh I like this chapter even though poor Stan always gets the short chapters]
