𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 • 𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒆

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

Stanley Uris never thought he could love someone romantically, not really. He'd never felt a romantic kind of love, only the kind of love he felt for the losers for most of his life. Yes, he knew he liked Bill - he's known since he was about 15. He didn't think he would ever love him, though. The idea was scary.

Which is why he's terrified for more reasons than one as the four of them (Mike, Eddie, Stan, and Bill) stumble hurriedly into Mike's car. Stan sits in the front with Mike so that Bill can help Eddie stay calm. As Stan looks in the backseat to find Eddie sticking his face in Bill's shoulder as Bill whispers to him, all he can think about is the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he's been avoiding thinking about for the past month. Now, though, he can't seem to get rid of it. It's not like the feeling is unpleasant, exactly. It feels like his heart is bursting in a good way where all he wants to do is hold Bill and kiss Bill and love Bill.

It scares the shit out of him.

He feels uncomfortable, now, as he sits in the passenger's seat of Mike's truck. He was still wearing his pajamas even though it's nearly three in the afternoon, and he hates it. He needs to brush his hair, fix the mess of his curls. He needs to put on one of his fucking button up shirts, because he keeps tugging at the hem of his too big tee. He doesn't feel right, wearing night clothes during the day, when there are thousands of people roaming the streets because he lives in fucking New York. He needs to be clean, right about now.

"Are you sure he's there?" Stan asks Mike, not looking at him because he can't look at anyone right now - not when he looks like this.

Mike looks at him incredulously. "Of course he is," he answers softly.

"But you said he didn't come home yesterday."

"I called the house, Stan. He's there, okay?"

Stan nods and closes his eyes. He sits up straighter. His back is killing him.

It feels like they've been sitting in the car for hours, but he knows rationally it's only been five minutes. He's been watching the clock nonstop since they first got in. He starts to bounce his leg. He stops. That's a bad habit. Sitting still and straight and quiet and nice and proper is what matters. He'll just have to deal with the nervous energy some other way.

"I just - I feel like maybe he's with Beverly."

Stan still doesn't look away from the window, but he can feel Mike rolling his eyes. "And why would you think that?" He asks, turning on his right blinker. They're pulling up the apartment complex.

"It's Richie," Stan answers with, because that's a reasonable explanation.

Mike hums. "You're right. It's Richie." They park. Mike turns in his seat to look at Stan as Bill gets out of the way of Eddie as he scrambles out of the car at lightning speed. "And I told him this is about Eddie. Do you really think he would lie about his location?" Stan looks over at Mike. "Also, if you're forgetting, I called the phone in our apartment. And Richie answered."

Mike is right. Of course he is. "Sorry," Stan sighs, putting his hand on the door handle. "I'm just - this whole situations is freaking me out."

Mike shakes his head, opening his own door. "Don't be sorry."

Stan nods, and they both get out of the car.