Title//Reddie

Part 12. Monday, August 5th

After the arcade. Bill and Richie went back to Bills, Bev went to her house and Stanley went back to his. This chapter will focus primarily on Stanley.
TW: Self harm mentions, but not happening. Internalized homophobia.
Stanley's mind raced at Beverlys comment 'I see the way you look at Bill'. How could she? There was no way he looked at Bill. He looked at Bill like he looked at everyone, perfectly normal. No sense of romance. Yet Stans mind didn't automatically convert to that Beverly was lying. Why wasn't Stan appalled at the lie? Or was it even a lie? It had to be. His parents were very clear on that.
He didn't like Bill, there was no way. Beverly! He liked Beverly. Bill liked Beverly, that's why Stan couldn't tear his eyes away. Bill was the competition.
  But that still didn't feel right.
To be completely honest, Beverly was never Stans favourite person. He found her over impulsive and nosy. She just wasn't someone Stan would have a crush on. 
  "Oh god! Oh fuck!" Stan exclaimed. Why couldn't he fucking get Bill out of his head? Bills stupid smile, his shitty hair. It wasn't what he should be thinking about.
He glanced over at his dresser, his razor blades still stained red from the last time.
He hiked up his sleeve, checking if the marks were still prominent, they were. There was dozens of faded white lines across his arms, all differences lengths. But the most recents ones stood out like a dot of black in yellow. They were strong and red, jutting out of the skin. There weren't many of them, but they were the first thing your eye spots.
He sighed and pulled down his sleeve, it was a wonder how none of the losers had found out yet.  It had been a year, Stan wondered how much longer he could keep up the act.
"Stanley?" His mom pounded on the door.
"What mum?" Stanley asked.
   "Someone's here to see you"
"Send them in" he replied, his mind racing with the possibilities of who the mystery person could be.
He heard the door open and close and quickly turned around to see who it was. He was met with the reason of his confusion.
"H-h-hi" Bill said, walking over to sit down on the bed next to Stan.
"Oh. Hello" Stan said after a beat, his words had got caught in his throat.
  "R-Richie was annoying me. I th-th-thought here would b-be fun" Bill explained his sudden arrival.
  "Well I'm glad you're here" Stan was glad he was here, but he felt a little hurt. The only reason Bill had come was because he felt annoyed. He didn't specifically go to see Stan.
"So" Bill said, standing up and walking around "Th-this is your r-r-room."
  "Yeah" Stan thought Bill had seen it before, but he realized that almost none of the losers(Richie being the special case) had seen his room before. It wasn't anything special. It was small, with a twin bed tucked in the corner. He had a wooden desk underneath his window that had a array of books and homework to be handed in. He had a dresser at the foot of his bed and a few bird pictures hung on the walls. The only source of light, minus the lamp on his desk, were three light bulbs attached to the ceiling 
  "S-Stan?" Bill said in a small voice.
  "Yeah? Oh." Stan realized Bill was standing over his dresser. Stan wasn't expecting company and had foolishly left his razor blades out, still covered in blood.
  "Why are these b-b-bloody?" Bill asked.
"I c-chipped myself while shaving" Stan(Not very convincingly) lied.
"Stan" Bill walked back over and placed himself down beside Stan "C-can I s-s-see your arms?
   Stan didn't want to show Bill, he didn't want to show anyone. But in specific, he didn't want to show Bill. He cared about Bills opinion the most, and overall just liked him the most. What if he didn't want to be friends after he found out? What if he thought Stanley was a freak? The possibilities were endless. He looked into Bills eyes, looking for any dark intent. Instead he was met with empathy, actual empathy. It wasn't a sham or trick. He actually cared about Stan. That's why Stan nodded and allowed Bill to roll up his sleeve. He trusted Bill, hopefully he wasn't a fool for doing so.
Bill stared at the cuts that lined Stans skin. Why would he do this? I mean Stan had the picture perfect life. Good friends, nice family, good grades. And he always seemed fine. It made you wonder what happened behind the scenes.
  "Don't tell anyone please" Stans voice trembled.
"I w-won't." Bill promised Why d-do you do it S-S-Stan?"
  "I like Beverly. But she likes someone else. And it makes me sad" Stan convinced himself, that was the reason.
Bill felt a little bad. He had seen Beverlys side stares, and returned quite a few of them. He started to have some dark thoughts. You made Stan cut. He quickly shut them down but the idea remained.
"Sometimes in l-life, people don't l-like us b-b-b-b-back. But that's normal! N-not everyone is g-gonna like you" Bill attempted to comfort.
"Easy for you to say" Stan muttered under his breath. Everyone liked Bill.
"Hmm?" Bill wondered, having not heard what Stan mumbled.
"Nothing" Stan said a bit too quickly "Just leave please"
"Stan-"
    "I don't want to talk. Please leave"
Bill sighed.
  "F-fine." He was just about to walk out the door when he stopped to say one last thing "I'm here for you Stan"
And he didn't stutter.