all we do is talk about the feelings that we hide (Stenbrough)
Prompt:Â drive by halsey. college au, fuckboy!bill/softboy!stan (aged up!) Requested?:Â i asked for this ship: stenbrough length: 5.5k+ Warning: drinking, partying. theyâre in college soooo
songs i listened to while writing
Stan hadnât meant to fall in love. Especially not with the loud, obnoxious boy that lived in the fraternity house across the street. Stan himself didnât belong in a frat house, the only reason he had even joined was because of his best friend, Mike. It was all Mikeâs idea. Stan was moving in when he first saw the gorgeous boy across the street. One of his new housemates must have seen him looking because he was warned to stay away. âHeâll only break your heart,â he was told. He believed it too, Stan was no idiot. But that didnât mean he couldnât look from afar. Plus, Mike was too good of a friend to let Stan get mixed in with something like that. He didnât dare get too close though. He wouldnât allow himself to fall down that rabbit hole. Heâd go mad just trying to get back out.Â
That day, Stanley Uris found himself sitting on the porch of his temporary home enjoying the beautiful weather. It was sunny, but not too warm. It felt amazing against his skin. He wished Mike wasnât so busy so he could join him as he sat and watched, looking from birds to the sky to people. He enjoyed people watching almost as much as he enjoyed bird watching. If Mike were with him, theyâd made up stories about the people they saw.
His first mistake was looking at the house across the street from his own. His second mistake was looking directly at the cute redhead that lived in the said house. Stan quickly looked away, pulling his bird book closer to him to make it look like he was looking around for birds instead of watching the other boy. It looked as if though he was stuck with mowing the lawn this week. Stan didnât mind the noise too much, a shirtless body came along with it.
âStan!â Mikeâs voice burst through his thoughts. His friend was standing at the front door, waiting for Stan to notice him. âCome here, Eddieâs got a thing to show you.â It was a lame attempt to get Stanâs attention away from the heartbreak from across the street. Nonetheless, Stan was thankful for the interruption.
âHeâs so fucking cute,â Stan whined to Eddie. The two were hanging out in Stanâs room, âstudyingâ. Stanâs attention was no longer on the book in front of him. He could only think about how attractive Bill had been today. He trusted Eddie with this information, knowing he wouldnât tell Mike about the things he said.
âTheyâre throwing a party tonight,â Eddie shrugged, his attention still on his homework. He scribbled a few things down on a piece of paper before turning his attention to Stan. âBut,â Eddie paused, biting his lip. âYou deserve better than to be a one night fling. But I wonât stop you from doing what you want. I just want whatâs best for you.â
Stan couldnât help the grin forming on his face, it was sweet that Eddie cared so deeply about him. He wasnât sure what he wanted. He knew that he deserved more than to be someoneâs one night stand. He wasnât even sure heâd take it that far. âI wouldnât fuck himâ Stan finally said. And he really wouldnât. Not unless there was something there. Maybe not love, but a relationship. They had to at least mutually like each other. Not just attraction, but like each other for who they were and not what they looked like. Stan had never even talked to the boy before. âI have far too much respect for myself.â
âGood,â Eddie smiled before returning back to his work. Stan shut his book, putting it carefully in its place on his desk. He got up from his chair and headed for his closet. âWhat are you doing?â Eddie watched from Stanâs bed.
âPicking out an outfit for this party.â Eddie raised an eyebrow at his friend but didnât speak. âIâm not going to go over there to fuck him, Eddie. Iâm just going to make an appearance, just to make myself known.â
âAre you sure you wanna do this?â Eddie sat up from his laying position. âHeâs not just going to change overnight, no offense. Iâve heard plenty of stories, Stan. He has a reputation.â Stan only shrugged, not answering his friend. He knew he was right but Stan was stubborn. âFine. But Iâm going with you.â
Stan felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb, not only was he (besides Eddie) the only one sober, he wore khakis and a button-down shirt. He felt so out of place for such a wild party. There was a song blasting from the speakers that Stan did not know and there were drunken bodies dancing against each other. He held tight to Eddieâs hand, suddenly scared that he would lose the shorter boy, and navigated through the sea of people. It seemed like there was no empty space in that entire living room, so he moved to the kitchen. Which wasnât any better since thatâs where the alcohol was kept.
âDonât touch anything,â Eddie whispered to Stanâs back. âThere are germs. But more importantly, the drinks could be drugged.â Stan knew better, but he didnât mind Eddie reminding him. He was going to do it even if Stan told him he already knew better. âLetâs go out back.â Stan nodded, heading towards the sliding doors that lead to the backyard.
It was a lot calmer back there, not nearly as many people. But a party was still a party. So there were still drunk college kids and music blasting from a single speaker. Stan noted that it was different from the song inside so there must have been an iPod or something hooked up somewhere back here. It didnât take Stan long to notice the redhead swaying drunkenly to the music. He had a few people dancing along with him but he was too preoccupied with singing along with the song to care. His eyes were closed, a red cup held high above his head, and he was belting out the words like he didnât give a damn in the world. Maybe he did or maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe both.
A nudge to his rib caused Stan to snap back to reality. âSorry,â he mumbled before grabbing a seat in an empty chair apart of a set of chairs and a table. The backyard was surprisingly well put together, the grass was cut, they had lawn furniture, and there wasnât that much trash that littered the ground. Eddie sat in a chair beside him but quickly got up when he realized that he hadnât wiped it down and that he couldnât since he didnât have a disinfectant wipes on him. Stan offered Eddie his lap, which Eddie gladly took. Stan could care less about what they looked like, he rather help his friend than care about gossip.
But he couldnât help the blush that formed on his face when he turned back to Bill and his eyes were on him. âShit,â Stanley muttered. Eddie didnât have to look over to know that Stan was talking about their neighbor. âHeâs looking at us.â
âDo you want me to get up?â Stan knew Eddie didnât want to but heâd do it for Stan if need be.
âNo, itâs fine. Like you said earlier, I canât change him.â
Eddie quickly got bored of the party and asked Stan if he wanted to leave. âNot yet. You go, Iâll be home soon.â Eddie looked hesitant at first but Stan urged him to go. âIâll be okay. Stan the Man can handle himself just fine.â Eddie nodded before making his way towards the house to cut through to get home. Stan sipped at the water Eddie had gotten him before setting it back down on the table. He hadnât moved from his spot since he had gotten there.
Bill hadnât left early, only to go get more beers. At one point, he did a shot with a small group of people. He was going to have a very bad hangover tomorrow and Stan couldnât find himself feeling sorry for him. He knew the cost of drinking before he had started.
Why was Stan staying back when he was completely bored out of his mind? Oh yeah, he enjoyed the sight of Bill Denbrough shouting lyrics and dancing stupidly with the music. A sigh escaped his lips as he checked his phone for any notifications. âC-can I g-give you my n-number?â A voice cuts into Stanâs thoughts. He looked up to see the boy he had been admiring this entire time. âOr w-will your b-b-boyfriend get a-angry?â
âHeâs not my boyfriend,â Stan answered with an eyeroll. âHe has a thing with germs, thatâs all.â He didnât answer his question though, it made him uncomfortable and he wasnât sure what he wanted to do.
âS-so I c-can have it th-then?â
âYouâre drunk.â Stan rolled his eyes once again.
âS-so?â
Stan didnât answer him, he stood up instead. He didnât realize just how close the other boy was until he stood and they were standing face to face. âI better go,â Stan whispered. Bill had a few inches on Stan, but there wasnât too much of a difference. âDrink lots of water or else youâll have a killer headache tomorrow.â He picked his drink off the table and held it out to Bill. âIt's water.â Bill took it with shaky hands. âSee you later, Bill.â
Bill didnât have time to ask him how he knew his name because Stan was already walking away. Speed walking away. âF-fuck,â Bill said to himself.
Weeks had passed since the party and Stan stayed away from the boy across the street. He didnât sit on the porch as much anymore, he didnât purposely look for Bill. He should be happy, Bill had been interested in him. But Bill was also drunk and probably didnât remember what happened. So, Stan kept to himself and avoided the boy at all costs. He felt pretty childish about it all but it felt like his body was on pilot mode whenever he saw Bill. Leave, leave leave, his body screamed and he was going the other way before he could stop himself.
He was waiting for Eddie to come outside so they could go into town to get a few things for the house when Bill approached him. He wore his snapback backward and his plaid shirt was tied around his waist. He crossed the street towards Stan. Stan felt like a deer in headlights and quickly turned to go back inside. âWait!â Bill called from the sidewalk.
A shaky sigh fell from Stanâs lips as he turned back around to face Bill. âCan I help you?â He tried to sound as neutral as possible, he didnât want the other boy to know that he was freaking out on the inside.
âYou never gave me your number,â Bill smirked.
As if on cue, the front door opened. But it wasnât Eddie. It was Mike instead. âLetâs go, Stan,â he glared over at Bill. âEddie asked me to go with you instead.â Stan knew he was lying, he must have seen Bill approaching Stan from the window. Stan silently thanked Mike.
âI guess Iâll go now,â Bill said awkwardly, turning back to walk back home. Stan watched him the entire time.
âWhere is Eddie?â Stan turned his attention to Mike. Mike didnât say anything, instead, he walked down the steps and unlocked his care. âMike?â Stan questioned.
âYou know Iâd do anything for you right? Weâve known each other for years and youâre my best friend,â Mike turns back to Stan. Stan only nods, heâs suddenly feeling very weak at Mikeâs words. âHeâs bad news and I know about the party.â
âD-did Eddie tell you?â Even Stanâs voice was wear.
âHe didnât have to, Bev was there. She told me.â
âNothing happened,â Stan promised. âI know better, Mike. You donât have to constantly look out for me like I donât know how to handle myself. Your friendship means so much to me, it really does. But you gotta trust me. I need a friend, not another dad.â
âIâm sorry,â Mike apologized. âI didnât realize I-â
âItâs okay,â Stan promised. Normally he didnât cut people off, but he didnât want Mike apologizing for caring about him or for trying to be his friend. âLetâs go get unhealthy snacks and as equally unhealthy food.â
A grin spread across Mikeâs face as he nodded.
It was a week later when Stan talked to Bill again. His crush hadnât gone away since their last encounter but he was doing a much better job of avoiding the other boy. Stan was walking to the schoolâs library, he still had a few hours to kill until his next class. Heâd get some studying done while he waited. His bookbag felt heavy on his back and he couldnât wait to take it off.
âStan!â Stan heard his name being called from behind him. He quickly stopped and turned around to see the source. His eyes widened as he saw Bill Denbrough quickly heading towards him. Stan looked around the campus to see if anyone was paying attention to him. There were far too many people walking around for him to run without looking like a complete nut. So he waited for Bill to catch up with him. âH-hey,â Bill huffed when he finally caught up. He was clearly out of breath so Stan waited for him to catch his breath before he started walking again.
He didnât get very far before Bill was grabbing his hand and putting a piece of paper inside of it. âSince you wonât give me your number,â Bill explained.
Stan raised an eyebrow at the gesture. âHave you kept your number in your pocket until you saw me again?â Bill blushed at the accusation which meant Stan had hit the hammer on the nail. He took the paper anyways and put it in his own pocket. âWalk me to the library.â It wasnât a question, it was more of a command. Bill couldnât say he minded it.
Their relationship hadnât changed, they barely texted. At first, they texted every day. But Bill stopped replying and if he did, it would be really late. Stan quickly gave up and stopped texting him altogether. It wasnât worth putting himself into something when the other person wasnât even trying. Outside of texting, Bill acted as if he didnât even know Stan.
Stan had been sitting on the porch swing with Mike and Eddie, deep in conversation when he noticed red hair walking down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Bill. But it wasnât just him, he held a blonde girl tight to his side. Stan could tell she was giggling from where he sat and he didnât miss Bill placing kisses on her temple. Stan quickly got up from his spot in the middle and stormed into the house.
How dare Bill treat him like this? How dare he constantly try to get his number and then give him his just to screw him over like this? How dare Stan think that he could just change the bad boy across the street? His blood felt like ice but his cheeks felt oddly warm. He was angry. He was upset. He was a fool.
A day later, Stan acted as if nothing was wrong. Soon, he wouldnât have to act like everything was alright because it would be. He wasnât going to let some guy bring him down. There was a fire deep inside Stan that was waiting to come out and show the world. He couldnât place what this feeling was. But all he knew was that he wanted revenge. He wanted Bill to see him looking so good that he regretted just ditching him like that. No, Stan would never use someone to get back at another. But he was going to use what he had.
âWeâre throwing a party,â Stan announced at the dinner table. âRichie already told everyone.â
Eddieâs eyes went wide at Stanâs words. Sure, they had thrown parties before. But Stan had never been the one to plan them. And Eddieâs boyfriend, Richie, had the biggest mouth around campus. âWhat?â
âWe have a week to plan,â Stan said, ignoring Eddieâs question. Mike and Eddie shared a look before turning back to their friend. âWhat? We havenât had a party in ages.â
âYeah, but youâre the one that usually stays away from them,â Mike spoke up. âStan, use your head-â
âI am, Mike. Iâm going to look damn fine and no one is going to stop me. This isnât for Bill, I promise. Itâs for me. I want to feel confident again, well as confident as I was before.â His confidence had sunk since he had seen Bill take that girl home with him. âPlease, just trust me.â
Mike could only nod. He trusted Stan with his life.
So they threw a party, a big one. Far more people showed up than Stan planned. He was too busy playing host to notice Bill Denbrough and his small squad enter through the front door. Richie Tozier and Beverly Marsh. Ben, a member of Stanâs home, had the biggest crush on Beverly but Stan had never spoken a word to her. He just had to take Benâs word on how amazing she was. He made a note to try to get Ben to talk to her this time since he never had the courage to talk to her before.
Finally, he was free from pouring drinks and he was being dragged onto the dancefloor by Mike. âHave some fun,â Mike explaining, taking Stanâs hands in his own and swaying to the beat. If it were anyone else, besides maybe Eddie or Ben, heâd pull away and complain about personal space. But it was Mike and Mike was his best friend. âBig Red at two oâclock,â Mike warns, his eyes darting from Stan to Bill.
âWho fucking cares?â Stan threw his hands into the air, yelling over the music. Stan hadnât had a single drop of alcohol, his actions were solely based on his anger and frustration at the boy across the street. Mikeâs eyes widened at his friend but he smiled anyway. Stanâs outburst caused a few people to look at him but most were too drunk to care. Stan began swaying to the music, matching his pace with Mike.
âNo one! Letâs get fucked upâ Richie Tozier yelled back, earning a laugh from some of the party goers, including Stan. Richie had a big mouth but Stan couldnât say he minded it all that much. When it came to parties, he knew how to get one started.
Stan looked over in the direction of Richie but made eye contact with Bill instead. Stan couldnât help himself, he rolled his eyes and looked away. âWhereâs Eddie?â
âRight here,â as if on cue, Eddie came up behind Stan with two red cups of whatever they had in the kitchen. âIâm not totally sure whatâs in this, Beverly Marsh made they. She insisted I take them. So, if I die, Stan has to die with me.â
âThank you for dragging me to hell with you,â Stan frowned. He took the cup anyways and sniffed it. âGod, it smells like death and regret.â He tapped his cup against Eddieâs and they both took a drink at the same time. Eddie quickly shook his head and handed his cup over to Mike before rushing away. It wasnât the best drink Stan had tasted but he couldnât say he truly hated it. âRace ya,â Stan raised an eyebrow at Mike.
âYouâre on, Uris.â
âGo!â
The two quickly downed their drinks, which probably wasnât the best idea. But Stan wanted to have a good time and wanted to get rid of the image of Bill in his head. He raised his empty cup over his head and let out a loud whoop. âI win!â Stan cheered.
âUris!â Stan turned to see Richie calling his name. âI challenge ya!â This got the attention of many people and soon enough there was a group forming. Stan could only shrug and walk over to Richie, Mike close behind. He raised an eyebrow at the trashmouth. âThree beers, two shots of vodka, and a mixture of whatever alcohol Beverly comes up with. Whoever finishes first wins.â
âWins what?â Stan could already feel whatever was in his cup clouding his brain. But he wasnât going to back down.
âWhoever loses streaks down the street and the winner gets to hide his clothes.â He hands his hand out for a handshake. A few people disappear from the group to start making those drinks.
âStan,â Mike warned in a whisper.
âI got this,â Stan shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. âIâm full of anger and bitterness. I got nothing to lose.â He took Richieâs hand in his and gave it a good shake. âYouâre on, Tozier.â
And thatâs how Stan ended up with Richieâs clothes as he ran down the street naked. Stan didnât feel like hiding them though, so he left them on the front porch for Richie to collect when he was done. Stan was out of it, he had consumed way too much and he was feeling it. He knew it wasnât walking in a straight line anymore. He shook his head at anything that was offered to him, he knew his limits.
He found himself sitting on the back porch, water in hand. The cool air was refreshing. He took a sip from his cup and watched people dance. âCan I sit with you?â Stan looked up to see Bill. He didnât wait for Stan to answer him, he sat down beside him. Too close to Stan, so he scooted away. âYou really showed Richie,â he said softly.
âYeah, so?â Stan answered bitterly. Couldnât he tell he didnât want to talk to him?
âWhatâs wrong?â
âWhatâs wrong?â Stan scoffed. What the fuck was Billâs problem? Did he really not know? âAre you shitting me right now? You gave me your number, waited to give me your number, and then I text you and you barely even talk to me!â Stan could have stopped there, he wanted to stop there. But the alcohol was speaking for him. âThen you took that girl home! Donât think I didnât notice that. I was outside with Eddie and Mike! You acted like you liked me and then, all of a sudden, you could care less about me!â Stan was red in the face, ready to yell some more. But he didnât. Instead, he turned the other way and puked into a small trashcan sitting on their porch. Ben had thought it was a stupid idea to put a trashcan there, but Eddie insisted there be a trashcan in almost every room and at least three outside.
Bill went to put his hand on Stanâs shoulder but he quickly shrugged him off. âDonât touch me,â Stan glared. He quickly got up, grabbed his cup, paused for a moment, wanting to throw his water on Bill. He thought against it and walked over to the door. âTalk to me when youâre not such an asshole.â Stan really needed to brush his teeth now and he had already made a fool of himself enough.
The next day, Stan woke up with a headache and sore throat. He was glad he had drunk that water or else his hangover would be a lot worse. His memory was a bit blurry but he remembers yelling at Bill. He wonders what happened after that. He gets up from his bed and exits his room, looking for Eddie. Eddie knew everything about everyone, it seemed. He was just as quiet as Stan but smaller and could sneak into conversations without being noticed. He loved drama and tended to keep up with it until the very end.
He knocked on Eddieâs door. âCome in!â he heard from the other side. Stan turned the knob and found Eddie on his bed, textbook open and notebook with perfect cursive written in it. âHey, Stan. Whatâs up?â
âWhat happened after I yelled at Bill?â Stan had gone upstairs, brushed his teeth, and clocked out. He watched Eddie frown and put down his pencil. Eddie chewed on his bottom lip and looked up at Stan with eyes that told him that he really didnât want to know. âHe left with someone, didnât he?â
Eddie sighed, he patted an empty spot on his bed. âYeah, Betty Ripsom. After you went inside, he drank so much everyone thought he was going to die! Then he was making out with her on the couch. Richie told them to get a room and I guess they did because they left together.â Eddie was now typing on his phone. âIâm texting Richie.â
âWhat? Why?â He didnât even know Eddie had Richieâs number.
âHeâll know if they-â
âNo, itâs fine. I donât want to know.â Stan looked down at his hands, he felt tears threatening to fall. But he didnât dare cry. Not for Bill Denbrough, the asshole across the street. âHe can do whatever he wants.â
Eddie didn't answer him, he shoved his phone into Stanâs face.
Trashmouth: Betty didnât spend the night. She left with some friends. I took olâ Billy Boy home! He was going on and on about Uris until he fell asleep.
âSo he made out with her and then just left her?â That had to even worse. Then he talked about Stan. He talked about Stan? To Richie? He wouldnât stop talking about him?
Eddieâs phone vibrated again, signaling another text from Richie. Stan took the phone before Eddie could take it away. ââBill says he didnât even makeout with Betty last night. He said he doesnât know who started that rumor.â So, you didnât see them, Eddie?â
Eddie shrugged, his face growing red. âI heard it from Beverly. Iâm not sure who she heard it from. Sorry, Stan.â
âYou didnât know,â Stan shrugged, handing the phone back to Eddie. âDoesnât change anything. Heâs still an asshole.â
âRichie said he was being super annoying about you last night. Maybe youâve gotten under his skin, Ya know, snuck your teeth into him. Now you just gotta reel him in.â
âLord, Eddie, you sound just like Richie.â Stan rolled his eyes. âIâm leaving now, youâre grossing me out.â
âI do not sound like Richie! Take it back!â
Stan quickly got up from Eddieâs bed and over to the door. âJust fuck him already!â Stan didnât hear what Eddie in return, he had already shut the door behind himself. He went back to his room to get ready for the day. He really needed to change out of the clothes he wore last night. A plain white t-shirt along with black skinny jeans.
He quickly changed into his usual outfit, a button down along with a pair of khakis. He sat to put on his socks and shoes. He grabbed his phone from his charger, thankful he had remembered to charge it in his drunken state. He raised an eyebrow as he scrolled through his texts, missed calls, and voicemails. All from Bill. He quickly called his voicemail.
âY-youâre r-right, I-I am-am an a-assh-hole.â Stan couldnât tell if he was stuttering because of his clear drunkenness or because his actual stutter was popping out to say hello. âYouâre so fucking cute, Stan Uris.â He didnât stutter this time. âAnd you deserve-NO RICHIE LET ME-NO DONâT TAKE MY PHONE-STOP!â
Billâs voice was quickly taken over by Richieâs. âSorry, Stan the Man, Big Bill is pretty drunk right now. Heâs a hoot! Iâm taking his phone as we speak. Bye!â And thatâs how the message ended.
Stan didnât know how to feel after all of that. He wasnât sure what to do. Should he call him back? Text him? Walk across the street? And then do what? Give a piece of his mind? Kiss him? Before he knew it, he was getting up from his bed and continued to get ready. He made sure to brush his teeth, comb his hair, put on deodorant. Then he found himself heading across the street. Before he could turn back, he was knocking on the door.
âShit,â he mumbled to himself. He could feel himself beginning to panic as he waited. He felt frozen in place like his feet wouldnât move even if his life depended on it.
âStan the Man!â Richie greeted him with a huge smile. âWhat begins you around these parts?â He sounded incredibly cheerful for someone who had spent most of the night drinking and probably had a killer hangover. âI know Iâm so good looking that you-â
âBill,â Stan cut him off.
Richie pretended to pout. âAnd here I thought we had something special, Stanny Boy! Big Billâs in his room, fighting one killer hangover. Heâs playing some depressing ass music so I donât see how thatâs-â
âWhich room?â
Richie crossed his arms. âYou know itâs rude to interrupt people. Okay, fine, upstairs, two to the left.â He stepped out of Stanâs way and Stan slipped past him and up the stairs. He ran a hand through his curls, suddenly very aware and very nervous. He wanted to run away but Bill had wanted him. And that was enough for Stan to at least go on, to question him about.
He gulped before knocking on Billâs door. âIf thatâs you, Richie, I want my fucking phone back!â Stan heard from the other side. He didnât answer, he turned the knob and opened the door. âStan,â Bill whispered. He was sitting on the floor, a blanket wrapped around him. He had changed out of what he wore last night, instead, he was wearing pajamas. âCome over to yell at me? Those messages were embarrassing enough.â No stutter.
Stan didnât answer him. He took a seat next to him, shutting the door behind him. He touched Billâs cheek, softly at first, just a couple of fingers barely there then he cupped his cheek in his hand. His heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest, his breath picked up. His lips touched the corner of Billâs before pulling back. âI have a few things to say,â Stan said softly, pulling away from Bill. His eyes looked anywhere but at the boy next to him. Bill didnât answer him so he took that as a sign to continue. âYou really hurt me. I thought you liked me. Then you know. You acted like I didnât exist. It hurt. Then last night. You left those messages.â Stan knew he was all over the place. âI need an explanation, Bill.â
âI was scared,â Bill said softly. âI know itâs a stupid excuse. But I was. I am. I always noticed you watching me. I was ready to...to you know, pursue or whatever. But Richie stopped me. He told me donât even try because you were a cool guy and youâre Eddieâs friend so I didnât. But youâre really cute and different. Thatâs so lame,â he admitted with a sigh. âBut itâs true. I really wanted to give you my number. And after I did, I was just nervous. And Carrie, she-â Bill sighed again, looking down at his lap. Stan still refused to look at him. âShe was a mistake.â
âYou still fucked her,â Stan said bitterly. He felt Bill flinch beside him. Stan wasnât sure how to feel about it all. Bill had just admitted that he made him nervous. But so what? Once a player, always a player. âYou act like I can change your or something but thatâs not how that works, Bill. You canât just expect me to accept you and act like you didnât screw me over by fucking her.â Stan stood from his spot. âIf you actually liked me, you wouldnât have done that. You wouldnât have thrown it in my face.â
âS-Stan...â Stan could hear the tears in Billâs voice. âPlease.â
ââPleaseâ what, Bill?â
âPlease donât go.â Stan finally looked at Bill. He wasnât crying, not yet, but he looked close. âIâm scared, okay? Iâm scared of what people will think. Iâm scared of my feelings. Iâm bisexual and Iâm not out, okay?â
âWhy am I different, Bill? Hmm? Tell me whatâs so special about me.â
Bill is clearly caught off guard but he quickly gets up and is standing face to face with Stan. âYou arenât bothered by the people around you, you push against people and go youâre own way. Youâre passionate about the things you like. Iâve noticed. Iâve seen you bird watch before. You point them out even when whoever youâre with isnât paying attention. You-â
Stan cuts him off with a kiss, short and sweet. He still tastes like the toothpaste he brushed his teeth with. âYou canât drop me again. You canât just not text back. You canât-â Itâs his turn to get cut off by a kiss. Itâs eager, full of passion and a silent promise.









