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Stan and Bill were sitting shoulder to shoulder, looking out on the Barrens. It was a nice moment, it really was, but Bill could tell something was off. Stan kept shooting him glances. Looking into his face. But it wasn’t comforting like it usually was with Stan. It felt more harsh, almost questioning.
“W-what?” Bill finally asked, blushing with embarrassment.
“Are you okay, Bill?” Stan asked in a gentle tone.
This rocked Bill. What did Stan mean? Bill didn’t think he had been acting weird, so why was Stan worried about him?
Bill waved his hands in front of his face dismissively. “O-o-of course! Wuh-wuh-wuh-what are you t-talking about?”
Stan looked away and rested his head on Bill’s shoulder. “Oh, nothing I guess.”
Bill looked down at the top of Stan’s head with a small frown.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Stan asked.
“Yuh-yuh-yes,” Bill answered.
A couple days later, Stan was over at Bill’s house. They were playing board games and chatting as usual, when they heard the door open and close. Bill’s parents had come back home. Bill’s mood dampened almost immediately. He was picking at his cuticles.
“Would you like to come over to my house?” Stan asked.
Bill looked up at him. “I-i-if that would b-be okay wuh-wuh-with your p-p-p-puh-parents.”
Stan’s parents were aware of Bill’s not-so-warm home situation, so they never minded if Bill was over.
“They’d never mind,” Stan said. This was comforting to Bill, but Stanley seemed off again. His brow was furrowed and he looked worried. Bill shook off the feeling and they went on to continue their hang out at Stan's house.
Around a week later, Bill was absent at school. He was at home. He hadn’t been able to muster up the strength to get out of bed this morning, and his parents didn’t give two flying shits about what Bill did all day, so no one had tried to stop him.
There was soft rain beating against his window. He buried his head under his covers. He hated the sound of rain. He could almost hear the sound of Georgie’s yellow galoshes running down the street. He felt sick.
By the time school was out, it was still raining, and Bill still hadn’t gotten out of bed. He lifted his head when he thought he heard someone open the door. His mom was out doing who knows what, and his dad was still at work. Who was coming up the stairs to his room?
His bedroom door creaked open and Stan’s head peaked in. He and Bill made eye contact, and Stan stepped into his room. “Bill?” he questioned. “Why weren’t you at school?”
“S-sick,” Bill muttered and looked down. He wasn’t a great liar.
“You’re sick?” Stan asked as he stepped closer to Bill.
Stan went to put a hand on Bill’s forehead, but he pushed it away. “I’m nuh-not sick. I j-j-just couldn’t g-g-get out o-of bed,” Bill said.
Stanley was silent for a second. “Tired?” he asked.
Bill layed back down and stared at the ceiling. “I g-guess.”
Stan sat on the edge of the bed and they were silent for a minute.
“Have you…” Stan started. “Have you gotten out of bed yet?”
Bill didn’t say anything.
“Bill?”
“Yeah?”
“Bill, are you okay?”
Bill took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. It felt like his chest was closing in on him. “Yeah, S-S-Stan. I’m o-okay.”
“C’mon. Lets get some food in you,” Stan said and walked out of his room.
Bill couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than eat, but Stan came all the way to his house. He wasn’t going to make Stan’s efforts pointless. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt filthy. Inside and out. His head was pounding.
When he came downstairs, Stan was rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “God,” Stan started. “I really need to bring you some more food.”
“Are you m-my muh-mom now?” Bill asked teasingly, but half-hearted.
“Might as well be,” Stan muttered under his breath.
Stan pulled out some bread. “Toast?”
“I c-can handle i-i-it.” Bill said and reached out to start making his toast.
“Sure you can,” Stan said sarcastically. “Go sit down.”
So that's what Bill did. He sat at the kitchen table and watched Stan make his toast. He was very focused.
“It’s raining,” Stan said, not turning to face him.
Bill didn’t know how to respond. “Yuh-yeah.”
“You don’t like the rain, Bill.”
“Y-yuh-yeah.”
Stan came over to the table and set down the buttered toast in front of Bill. He looked sad. BIll wasn’t hungry.
“Bill, I need to know that you’re okay.”
Stan sat down at the table.
He was sitting in Georgie's chair.
Bill decided not to say anything.
Bill sighed. “I’m okay S-Stan.”
Stan ran his fingers through his hair. He was stressed. “Fuck. Bill, I have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m worried. Worried about you. We’re all worried about you. And you not showing up to school was the final straw. Talk to me Bill, please. I just want to know that you’re going to be okay. I love you, Bill. We all do.”
Bill looked Stanley in the eyes. He didn’t mean to start crying, but there was no helping it now. He didn’t sob. Just let tears slide down the side of his face onto the table and his plate of un-eaten toast. He looked down. He was ashamed. He let his feelings get out of control and now his friends were suffering because of it.
He jumped when the front door swung open. Stan jumped too. Sharon Denbrough had come back home, she reeked of alcohol and she wasn’t alone. A stranger was following close behind her. A man that wasn’t Bill’s father.
“Bill,” she said in a too-loud talking voice. “Why do you have a friend over?”
“I-I-I-I-I’m s-s-suh-s-suh-” Bill stammered.
“Just leave, you two,” She said and started to lead the man upstairs. “And tell him to get the fuck out of George’s chair.”
Stan shot out of the chair. A bewildered look lingered on his face.
“Wuh-wuh-wuh-we g-g-g-gotta get o-out of h-h-huh-here,” Bill said and stood up.
Stan just nodded and followed Bill as he quickly left the house.
They stood on the porch and watched the rain. Heavy thunder clapped and Bill jumped. He was shaking. A mixture of the cold and what was going on around him.
“Let’s go to my place,” Stan said softly, barely heard against the rain.
Bill nodded and followed Stan, but stopped short of the awning. “I-it’s r-ruh-raining.”
Stan took off his jacket and handed it to Bill. “Put this over your head. It’ll work for now. It’s not a far walk to my house.”
Bill did as he was told. Stan reached out for his hand. That was the final push. Bill grabbed the boy's hand and took off into the rain with him.
Stan lead Bill through the thunder. Bill could hear the sound of their shoes hitting the road. It didn’t sound like Georgie’s galoshes, it was more pleasant. Bill ran faster so he was beside Stan now.
“You okay?” Stan shouted through the rain. His hair was plastered down from the rain.
Bill let Stan’s jacket fall down to his shoulders, letting his hair get wet too.
He was crying, but also smiling. Stan smiled back. They were doing this together. That was all the answer Stan needed to hear.
Bill started to laugh. This was his life, and he was living it. Stan laughed too. They probably looked crazy, but they were kids.
Bill was laughing and crying together. He was sad, but also so grateful for this moment. This was the most alive he had felt in weeks, months, maybe.
They had made it to Stan’s house. They ran up and stood on the porch. It was quiet between them for a moment. They looked into eachothers eyes. They both understood what a special moment that was.
Then, they wrapped each other in their arms. Embracing in a hug. Bill sobbed. Stan put his hand on the back of Bill’s head, pressing him into the hug. He really loved Bill.
After a minute or so of hugging, they made their way inside and took off their shoes. They were soaking wet.
“Stan?” Bill heard Stanley’s mother call out. “You okay? It’s awfully rainy out there.”
“Yep!” Stan answered. “Bill’s here, mum.”
“Oh!” His mom said. “Is… is everything okay?” she asked tentatively.
Stan looked over at Bill, who was still crying, but not as hard anymore.
“Yeah, mum. Everything’s okay,” He called up. “Let’s get upstairs and dry off.”
“Yuh-yeah,” Bill said quietly.
They went upstairs to Stan’s room and Stan brought some towels and gave Bill a spare pair of pajamas he could change into. After they were relatively dry and Bill was changed, they sat on Stan’s bed. Bill sat with his head against the wall and was looking up and Stan was sitting up, staring at the wall opposite of his bed.
“Can we talk?” Stan said.
Bill shrugged. His eyes never left the ceiling. He didn’t really feel like crying again, but Stan was a safe space. He knew that he would understand.
Stan paused for a moment, thinking of what to say and how to say it. “Who was that guy that was with your mom?” he asked.
Bill shrugged again. “Dunno.”
Stan sighed. “What about your dad? Does he know?”
“Doubt i-it,” Bill said. “He doesn’t n-notice a l-l-lot ruh-ruh-recently.”
“Bill, are your parents taking care of you?”
Bill thought for a moment, and looked at Stan. He didn’t think so, but he was 14 already, he didn’t really need to be taken care of anymore. “I mean, yuh-yeah. I guh-guh-guess.”
Stan spoke, exasperated. “Bill, there was barely any food in your house, you can be missing or out of school for days and they don’t bat their eyelashes, and your mom just brings random guys into your house.”
Bill shook his head. “Th-they’re not u-usually a puh-puh-problem.”
“God, Bill. This isn’t normal. I know they’re grieving and whatever, but that doesn’t give them an excuse to be shit parents. When was the last time your dad even spoke to you?”
These words hit Bill hard. He felt like the wind had knocked out of him. His vision clouded with tears. He wiped his tears and looked down, away from Stan. When was the last time his dad talked to him?
“Bill-” Stan started. “Bill, I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean it to be so harsh. But I can’t stand this. I can’t.” He looked at Bill. His eyes looked sad. “You deserve the world Bill, you need to know that.”
He looked up at Stan with wide eyes. He didn’t believe him.
“You lost your brother, and they lost a child, that’s enough to break any family. But they still have a kid, and before they can realize it, they’ll have lost you, too.”
Tears slid down Bill's face silently. “B-but I d-d-did it S-S-St-Stan. If I duh-didn’t suh-suh-send Guh-Guh-Guh-Guh-”
“Don’t. Please don’t, Bill. Nothing that happened can be blamed on you. You were the perfect brother.” Stan put a hand on Bill's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. Bill cried into the crook of his neck.
“Th-th-th-thank you S-Stan,” He sobbed.
“I can’t stand seeing you like this, Bill. You just mean so much to me, and I wish you could just live a normal happy life.”
Bill laughed at this. “A-as if.”
Stan chuckled slightly. “I guess you can’t kill a demon clown and live a ‘normal happy life.’”
“I m-miss him, St-Stan,” Bill whispered. “I miss him s-s-so mu-much.”
“I know, I know.” Stan ran his fingers through Bill’s hair. “I miss him too.”
“Yuh-you d-d-do?” Bill looked up at him.
“Oh, definitely,” Stan said softly. “He was adorable.”
“Yeah!” Bill’s eyes lit up. “You c-could make h-h-him laugh at j-j-just about a-anything. And he always w-wanted to hang out w-w-with you guys, but Ruh-Richie always told him he w-was too y-y-young. So at nuh-night he would c-come into muh-muh-my room and tuh-tell me I shouldn't be fuh-fuh-friends with Richie anymuh-more. He always s-said he was ‘tuh-too mean.”
Stan laughed. “And he was right, Richie is too mean.”
Bill laughed too. “He really luh-liked you, th-though. He talked a-about you a-all the time. Remember h-how he w-would a-always d-d-draw birds for yuh-you?”
Stan pushed up out of his bed and walked over to his desk. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a couple pieces of paper. They were Georgie’s drawings.
“Y-you still h-h-h-have them?” Bill said with surprise.
“I wouldn’t give them away for the world.” To his surprise, a tear rolled down cheek. He wiped it away fast. “Sorry! I don’t mean to cry. I mean, it’s just s-”
“Can I see them?” Bill said quietly without any stutter.
“Of course, Bill.” Stan wiped away the last of his short-lived tears.
Bill took the papers gently. Stan kept them real neat. No new creases that weren’t made by Georgie. Bill ran his fingers over the crayon wax covered paper. It was an old piece of notebook paper that Bill must’ve ripped out of one of his school notebooks.
This drawing was of a sparrow. It didn’t look much like a sparrow, but it was labeled at the top in Bill’s handwriting. Georgie must’ve asked Bill to spell and write it for him.
“I would offer to give them to you,” Stan whispered solemnly. “But they’re too precious to me.”
“I w-wouldn’t ask f-f-for them.”
Bill rotated through the drawings of birds. Each one sent a new pang of sadness through his heart. He was being careful not to let his silent tears roll onto the paper. He couldn’t let them be damaged any more.
After a couple minutes, he handed the drawings back to Stan. “If I nuh-knew how p-precious these were g-going to b-b-be, I would’ve k-kept mine in buh-buh-buh-better condition.”
Stan gave Bill a sad smile and put the drawings back into his desk drawer, then sat back down on the bed with Bill.
“Would yuh-you mind i-if I talk a-about Guh-Guh-Guh-Georgie a little muh-more?”
“I would never mind”
So Bill did. He told story after story. Sometimes pausing to laugh or cry a bit at the memories. He talked about the stupid games they played, the jokes Georgie told, and how he would eat dinner really slow if it was almost bedtime, just so he could stay up just a little bit later. He also talked about how he loved to ride his bike, much like his brother, but would always, without fail, fall off and skin his knee.
Stan listened to everything Bill said. He always assumed that he wouldn’t want to talk about it, that it would only make him more sad. But he knew now that this was completely wrong. It seemed now that Bill needed to talk about Georgie more than anything.
“Thank yuh-you,” Bill said. “I think I r-r-really needed that.”
“Anytime, Bill. Really,” Stan said. “I am here and happy to listen anytime.”
“Could I st-stay over t-t-tonight?”
“Yeah!” Stan said. “You’re welcome here anytime, you know that?”
Bill nodded.
Stan was his family. He was safe with Stan.