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FIFTH GRADE, 1986
"Huh-hey, Stuh-Stan! What's up?" the boy yelled after his friend. He jogged a bit to greet the smiling boy.
"Hey Bill! I... I like your outfit today. You look really nice in it," Stanley replied. A blush spread across his face, similar to the crimson red on Bill's cheeks.
He smiled. "Thuh-thanks! My muh-mum picked it out! I luh-like yours, too!"
SEVENTH GRADE, 1988
The boy sat alone in his room, crying in the dark. "Bill?" a small voice had asked.
"H-hey, Georgie. Kuh-can you kuh-call Stan for me, and ah-ask him to come over?" Bill asked, still choking on his tears. His younger brother jogged over to him, giving him a quick hug before running down the stairs to the telephone.
Within a matter of five minutes, Stanley was there. He saw the boy break, his heart immediately breaking with him. "Oh, sweet Bill. I'm here."
Bill looked up, blue eyes meeting his sweet hazelnut ones. He immediately began sobbing again, apologizing repeatedly.
"It's okay, Bill," Stanley cried. "What's the matter?" He stroked kindly at the boy's hair, allowing him to lay and cry on him.
"I-I just duh-don't fuh-feel like I'm guh-guh-good enough, Stan. I ruh-really don't."
These words had torn Stanley's heart apart. "Listen to me, Bill Denbrough. You are one of the kindest people I have ever known. You are smart, and beautiful, and kind, and so many other things. So don't you dare tell me you aren't good enough. Because you're beyond that line."
Bill looked up, feeling their faces moving closer. They were going to do it! They were going to-
"Bill?" Georgie had asked. The two pulled away at the young boy's arrival. "Mommy needs you."
EIGHTH GRADE, 1989
ONE DAY SINCE GEORGE DENBROUGH'S DISAPPEARANCE
Bill Denbrough walked into his middle school, tears streaming down his face. He only had two people on his mind: his missing little brother, and Stanley Uris. He needed Stanley right now. He was the only one who knew about Bill's breaKdowns and how to calm him down. Maybe he even needed him for other reasons.
Who knows?
He glanced around the crowded hallways, spotting his friends Eddie and Richie. "Hey, Big Bill!" Richie called out. "Are you alright?"
The boy responded with three simple words: "I need Stan."
The three of them found the boy in the art room, drawing a picture of a specific bird that Stanley had talked about before. "Bill?" he asked.
The boy looked up, blue eyes meeting hazelnut.
His eyes spoke for him, crying out, "I need you." The message transferred through his pouring tears.
And Stanley's eyes spoke, too. "I'm here."
FRESHMAN YEAR, LATE 1989
"I still can't believe how brutal our gym teacher is."
Stanley rolled his eyes. "I know! He hates us, I swear!" He stripped himself of his gym shirt, changing back into his sweater vest. Bill couldn't help but stare at his bare chest, Stanley noticed, but pretended not to, instead putting on a show--or, at least trying to.
He reached down for his undershirt, sliding it on obnoxiously slow. He enjoyed the boy's stares, but wouldn't want anyone else's.
Bill finally looked away, realizing he had to change quickly or he would be late. Little did he know that Stanley had been staring right back.
SOPHOMORE YEAR, LAST DAY OF 1990
NEW YEAR'S EVE
"Alright, eh-everybody! It's tuh-time for suh-seven minutes in huh-heaven!"
It was the famous Bill Denbrough's New Year's Eve Party. Every year, Bill threw a party and invited everyone at school, even though he only hung out with his six other friends. It was the most obnoxious thing about New Year's, but everyone still enjoyed it. At about 10 o'clock, most teenagers had been a little intoxicated, so, Bill had always chosen this time for spinning the bottle.
Every year Stanley had stood in the corner and watched. This year, however, he decided to play. Why? He had no clue. Bill had noticed this, and was so proud of his friend.
"Ah-alright, everyone! In honor of muh-my dear friend, Stuh-Stanely, joining us thuh-this year, he kuh-can go first!" Bill cheered.
Oh, gee, thanks Bill, he thought. Nerves crept up his stomach as he grabbed the edge of the bottle, spinning it.
The nerves jumped around when it landed on the one and only Bill Denbrough.
"Um, it-"
"It's okay, Stanley. Suh-seven minutes, Bev."
The two walked into the hall closet, searching for a light. Since both of them had known this home like the back of their hands, it was easy to find. "Lih-listen, Stan. I know you pruh-probably wouldn't want to do suh-suh-something, so we can just confess suh-secrets we've never told each other or something. Is that okay?"
Stanley nodded. "I'll go first. At first, I liked Georgie more than you."
"I stole your Puh-Polaroid of the dove that you love so much because it reh-reminded me of you."
"I stole one of your flannels and I still wear it."
"I use your tuh-toothbrush when I forget mine at home."
"I've always loved the way your freckles dot your face."
"I've always loved your perfect curls."
The two began moving closer to each other. Their faces were inches apart, when the door was swung open. They pulled apart, blushing, even though nothing had happened between them.
JUNIOR YEAR, LATE 1991
CHRISTMAS AT THE DENBROUGH'S HOUSE
Every Christmas, the seven members of the Losers Club met at the one and only Bill Denbrough's home. Stanley always felt welcomed, despite the fact that he didn't celebrate Christmas.
Mrs. Denbrough used to always put up mistletoe before Georgie went missing. When she still cared. Even though it pained him, the remaining Denbrough brother always continued this tradition, including this year. He made cookies for his friends, cleaned; you name it, Bill did it for his friends.
For some reason, though, this year felt different.
Stanley walked into the Denbrough home, a smile on his face. He was always the first one to get to gatherings. It was just a personal thing. He and Bill locked eyes, Bill feeling a sudden overwhelming urge to just kiss his perfect face. He sighed instead, sadly hugging the boy. "Are you alright, Bill?"
Bill only looked up, his watery blue eyes noticing that they were standing underneath the mistletoe. Stanley's gaze followed the boy's and he laughed. The two looked at each other. Finally, their lips met. The passion was so raw; so real. It was what they had wanted for years.
"I'm in love with you," Bill whispered.
Stanley smiled, a small tear escaping his eye. "I'm in love with you, too."