Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentioned death of a minor
Pre-established Stenbrough, college age.
Also, Stan calling Bill honey? Sign me the fuCK UP-
"Georgie is dead!"
The clown cackled.
"Go." he croaked, struggling. Pennywise's arm was wrapped tightly around his neck, and him clawing at it wasn't helping.
"Guys, we can't." Bev said adamantly.
Bill's heart broke as he heard Richie blame him
The fear in his friend's eyes was the thing that hurt most. Richie was right, even if it was just a distraction. It was his fault.
That was when it differed.
The three words that echoed in his head everyday, the ones that reminded him what his lie caused.
"You'll float too."
The setting changed, just blackness, with a wet floor, ripples following his steps.
Georgie stood in front of him, one of his arms ripped off, his yellow coat bloodied and dirty. His usually innocent face was cracking and decomposing as he chanted the mantra Pennywise had used to torment him.
The other losers stood behind Georgie, all in similar states, decomposing and screaming the phrase like it was a lifeline.
And then Georgie giggled and switched. It was no longer what his friends were saying, but something else entirely.
"You lied and I died."
"BILL!"
Bill Denbrough bolted up, panting. Nervous sweat had pooled around his neck and his hair was sticking to his forehead.
He looked to his side quickly and saw his boyfriend of a year and a half, Stan Uris, had shaken him up. His blue eyes were filled with concern and he was frowning.
"I'm fine Stan." Bill said quickly, pushing his fringe up.
Stan shook his head and put his hand on top of Bill's. "You're not. You can talk to me Bill."
"I know." Bill assured him, lacing their fingers together. "But seriously, we have classes tomorrow."
"Fuck college." Stan shook his head. "You're more important to me than some stupid degree."
Bill smiled weakly. "I'll get over it."
"Yeah, and I'm helping." Stan insisted. "So what just happened?"
"I-I-It was G-G-Georgie." Bill admited, his stutter coming back like it always did when he was shaky or nervous.
"Oh Bill." Stan whispered, hugging him tightly as he sobbed into Stan's chest, his salty tears soaking the front of Stan's pajama shirt. Stan laced his fingers through Bill's hair with one hand and wrapped the other around him in a comforting manner.
"It wasn't your fault honey." Stan reminded him. "It was the clown."
"B-b-but it w-w-w-w-w, fuck!" He let the curse out, his face flushed.
"You couldn't have done anything." Stan reminded him.
"I could have though." Bill whispered. "When we were split up, after N-n-n-Neibolt, I asked I-i-i-it..." he inhaled deeply. "I asked him why. He said because I wasn't there."
Stan was silent for a few seconds before he spoke again, softer this time. "You were sick honey. You couldn't have gone out with him, regardless-"
"But I wasn't!" Bill finally let out. "I f-f-f-faked it, so I didn't have to go out. If I had just s-s-s-sucked it u-u-u-up-" he began sobbing again.
Stan was quiet for a good few minutes, lacing his fingers through Bill's hair to soothe him.
"Please say something." Bill begged him in a whisper, eyes glistening with tears.
"Bill, you had no idea what would happen that day." Stan's face was firm, as was his tone. He was determined to do what he was doing. "If you had been with Georgie you would probably be dead too. It... It loved fucking us up, screwing with our minds. You can't constantly take the blame for what happened Honey."
Bill's breathing slowed to a more regular pace and he looked Stan in the eye. "I love you."
Stan settled down, wrapping his one arm around Bill's waist and the other further up his torso. "I love you too."
