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Now let me make this perfectly clear, this wasn't Stan's fault, well at least, that's what he told himself.
Well how could it be? He'd tell himself, he couldn't plan for this, this wasn't the sort of situations that people like Stan...people who weren't dry protagonists in a shitty rom-com, found themselves in.
Stan's pressence was never important enough for him to need to have loyalties. It wasn't like he had to prove his commitment to friendship, he just had to tolerate Richie's jokes and then, just like that he was a saint.
He certaintly didn't have people fighting for his affection...Stan wasn't exactly the affectionate type. But now, he had a strange situation, where he was a growing an affection for two different people.
One who he didn't even know, and another one who was completely broken. Which was chaotic in itself, Stan didn't know why suddenly he found himself protective and caring over Bill, maybe it was because everyone else he liked could care for themselves.
He wasn't sure why Stan was something that could have a positive impact on Bill, he was apathetic to most things and cynical. But for some reason, it was what Bill needed, someone to say it how it is and not feed him with false messages of hope. He let him grieve.
Maybe because Stan didn't question his behaviour, he had no right to, Stan's behavoiur sometimes seemed borderline sociopathic, but it wasn't ever really. Everything bored him that was it. Bill didn't.
He spent his days either distracting Bill from his pain, by telling him stories about birds or his latest Buzzfeed unsolved binge or just sit next to him doing nothing, while Bill stared at things.
That was what was happening in that moment, Stan was lying on the opposite end of Bill on his bed, their gazes both meeting the end point on Bill's ceiling. "You know it's the only way good things last forever..." Stan muttered outloud, not really thinking again.
"W-What?" Bill mumbled.
"To lose things, in some fucked up way, it's the only way you'll only have the good moments in your memories" He explained. "Nothing's ever perfect, but when you lose things, only then your memories tell you that they were perfect"
"T-That's fucked up" Bill muttered, but he could feel him smirk a little beside him. Stan averted his gaze away from the ceiling and connected it back to Bill, who was lying on his side, curled up and resting his head against a small turtle cushion. "But s-sort of poetic"
Stan smiled, turning to his side so he could mirror Bill's position, a small smile slipped onto Bill's lips too. "What do you want?"
"A distraction, a b-big one" He whispered and Stan grinned.
"That's a big wish, I hope you used it wisely" Stan said, because for some reason he purposefully said things, in the hope of making Bill smile.
"How m-many do I get?" He asked, raising his eyebrow.
