Young and Yearning (IT Imagines and Oneshots).

Stenbrough; Euphoria.

Stan was not perfect - no doubt about it. He had these.. thoughts. Horrible, dreadful, pain inducing thoughts. At times, happiness didn't seem an option. Nobody and nothing helped, this was all until he met Bill Denbrough. The two had never truly spoken, perhaps exchanged a small smile while walking the school halls - but that was the extent of it. The world seemed to draw the two together, however. It began with class schedules, failed assignments and a missing brother. Bill's missing brother.

The afternoon was sodden and wet. The downfall of rain had begun hours ago and hadn't stopped since - neither had Bill's tears. If only he hadn't lied. If only. Those were the two thoughts racing there way through his head, as his head lay on Stan's shoulder - and sobs continuously rippled there way through his body. Stan couldn't have held is friend any closer, desperate for his touch.

Stan had his fair share of trauma too, but it was Bill's time. Bill's turn. With every hiccough Bill produced, another piece of Stan's heart would shatter. He felt as is he was doing nothing, and could do nothing. Eventually, Bill's tears came to an end - and his head simply lay on Stan's shoulder, mentally exhausted.

"S-St-Stanny.." Bill stuttered, his eyelids barely open and his view through a thin case of tears, "W-What if i-it was my f-f-fault..?"

Stan couldn't have held him any closer. His arms wrapped themselves around the boy and together they lay back on Bill's bed.

"It's not your fault.." Stan said clearly, over-pronouncing every syllable, "You're just a boy who didn't want to play with his brother. It's simple."

"B-But what if G-G-G-" Bill couldn't finish his sentence. The name, it pained him.

"Georgie is alive, Bill," Stan cut off his rambling with gentle words, "We will find him."

Bill nodded and closed his eyes. Stan unraveled his arms from around the boy and turned onto his side, his head merely supported by his hands. The boy in front of him was so painfully beautiful, and so painfully out of reach.

"Hey, Bill?" Stan whispered.

"Mh?" Bill muttered, his hands clasped together and laying on his chest.

"You make me really happy, you know," Stan pointed out, careful with his words around the fragile boy. These seemed to be the right choice, though - as a small smile broke onto Bill's face, amidst the rosy red cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Bill turned onto his side, too.

The two boys were mere inches apart, but in no world would either boy act on it.

"You make me very happy, Stanny," Bill whispered, as he eyelids became heavy. Stan didn't reply to this - and instead watched in silence as the beautiful boy in front of him dozed off into a peaceful slumber. Stan rose from the bed, careful to not make a peep. He shuffled his feet along the carpeted floor and finally made his way to the bathroom, where he merely stared in the mirror, clutching the sink desperately.

These feelings he was having, they were all types of wrong. What would his dad say? What would the town say?

Stan thought these thoughts as the sadness began to take over his body, and his own tears came flowing out. Tears for Bill, and tears for himself. Something climbed its way up Stan's throat, until he found himself vomiting up anything and everything he had eaten in the last day. He felt sick, really sick - yet he returned to Bill after washing the sink, his hands and mouth repeatedly, chugging some mouthwash and hacking up anything and everything. He did all of this as quietly, so as to not disturb the boy in the neighbouring room.

"Stanny..?" Bill's gentle voice whispered, "Y-You okay?"

Stan hurried back into the room, guilt tracing his body. He nodded quickly, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his woolen sweater.