stan uris x bill denbrough
stan remembered the summer of 1958,
he relived it every time night fell and the
wind’s whistling transformed into a haunting
flute melody. it was torture and the faint scars
that only he and the other kids could see were
the only physical remnants of his almost death.
not that it would’ve been bad. he’d already felt
like dying was the best option.
until beverly was officially living out of state and
bill, having gotten over his rose-tinted crush on
her, was standing on his front porch. and then
bill was in his room. and then bill was in his arms
and his words fell out of his mouth like a man
confessing all his sins.
bill didn’t remember the monster that was derry
and it’s sewer clown. but he remembered how
he felt during the summer of 1958. how he’d
thought bev was who his heart was yearning
for when in actuality it was another curly haired
loser. one that had methodically cleaned up
blood without batting an eye, one that had
gotten back up after being pushed to the brink.
stan had always known he loved bill. more than
he loved the others; in a UFO kind of way where
he couldn’t really explain it & at times he couldn’t
quite believe it.
bill had always loved stan. he was just unaware
of how much that love grew until he was itching
to be near him; a brush of a shoulder here, a
hug lasting longer than usual there.
if there was one good thing to come from the
summer of 1958, it was stan & bill.