I’m not brave
Summary: Stan tries to kill himself but fails, Bill shows up at the hospital to talk to him.
A/N: this was part of the secret santa exchange by @itfandomprompts. This story was for @sqwidart I hope this is what you wanted and that you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think!
Warnings: This deals with dark thought and suicide attempt (not graphic but still)
The beeping of the machine was driving Stan crazy. For the last two days he had been in the hospital, and the beeping was still insistently beeping next to his ear. At least he could now move freely again. The first day after he woke up, his arms had been tied to the side of the bedpost, so he wouldn’t be able to hurt himself again. Stan scoffed, as if he would try again, especially since the room he was in was surrounded by windows, where once in a while someone would come and see through. It was embarrassing, and Stan hated it. He felt like an animal in the zoo, but he supposed that it was his own fault.
He can’t even recalled what he thought about once he got into the bathtub, it was like a black haze clouded his vision, like he was back in the sewers with IT, awaiting his death. He just didn’t want to die by the hand of IT. He didn’t want to feel that all-consuming, mind-numbing fear as he already had when he was thirteen. He had never forgotten how he felt when the painted lady of his dad’s office had closed her mouth around his face, her teeth sinking into the flesh of his face, swallowing like his head was nothing more then a grape.
Even when he didn’t remember why he felt a nagging voice in his head whenever he went to an art exhibition, or passed the painting Patty had bought and then hung up inside their living room, he remembered the fear. The fear that spread through his body like a wildfire, the fear he could never get ride off, no matter what he tried.
So when Mike had called him, telling him that he needed to come back, that he needed to be there tomorrow, he lost it. He couldn’t go back, there was no way. It was like he wasn’t in control of his actions anymore. The whole way to the bathroom, folding his clothes, grabbing a razor he rarely used, as preferring to go to a barber, running the warm water, sitting down and staring up at the ceiling, it was like he was using muscle memory with his mind miles away, back in Derry with his friends. Back in the summer of 1989 with his best friends; Richie, Eddie, Mike, Ben, Bev, Bill.
God, Bill. It was the first thought that came to him after the call. And as he brought the razor closer and closer to his wrist, his only thought was on strong, brave leader Bill, and the disappointment he would no doubt have in Stan after he heard what he did.
He shakes his head, trying to tune back into the present. He doesn’t want to think about why his last thoughts were about Bill. He hates himself for it even more. He didn’t once pause to think about Patty, the woman he had been married to for so long, the one he made a lifelong promise to.
He should have thought about Patty, about leaving her and bringing her pain, but as opposed to that, he was thinking about the pain he would bring Bill.
He knows Patty has tried to come and see him, but Stan refused to see her. He doesn’t know what this all means for his marriage. His suicide attempt was unsuccessful, but only barely, his doctors explained. It was a miracle he was here to tell the tale, but Stan would have preferred it if he didn’t.
He could move freely again, but that didn’t mean Stan felt any better. It had been embarrassing, to be stripped of any movement, of any choice he had over his own body. Though he was now cut loose, it did nothing to give him some more positivity. He didn’t have any privacy here, so Stan had tried to use the bathroom as a hideout, but his plan failed horribly. Apparently, his bathroom time was limited and he had to ask someone if he wanted to go. Besides, the nurse would wait until he was finished outside of the door, and she was listening intently to what he was doing in there. Stan didn’t try it again.
He wondered if his friends were alright. His plans didn’t work out the way he wanted them to, and he wasn’t sure if Patty send the letters he had written everyone. He wanted to ask his doctor for a phone call, or if anything interesting had popped up on the news, but he was afraid of the answer. He wasn’t even sure what he was hoping for. He didn’t know if IT could be defeated, but he doubted it very much.
He turned around in his bed once more, staring through one of the windows at the tree. He was cold, but he didn’t have the energy to get up and grab a blanket. He closed his eyes, squeezing them together tightly as if this was a dream he could wake up from.
A tear slipped down his cheeks, but Stan made no movement to wipe it away, he neither had the energy nor the mind to do so. He hoped unconsciousness would claim him quick, so his mind could finally be quite, so he could rest for at least a few moments. He knew it was futile though, even in his dreams his problems followed him. Every night since Mike called, Stan dreamed of IT, and it didn’t seem to be getting any better as days passed on.
He must have dosed off regardless, because he awoke to his room door slamming shut. He shot up, the beeping next to his bed elevating to alarming heights. Stan thought of the worst possible option straight away, which was that IT had killed his friends, and it was now here to collect the last loser. Instead of IT, Bill stood in the doorway, sheepishly looking at Stan, his cheeks a bright red.
He wasn’t sure how he knew it was Bill, considering he hadn’t seen Bill since they were kids, but he did. Maybe it was Bill’s aura, he always looked so calm, regardless of how stressed and scared he was really feeling. It’s what had attracted Stan to Bill when they were kids, the fact that Bill was brave whereas Stan never thought he was. It was what attracted Stan to him now too.
Bill stood, barely in the door, shuffling back and forth as if he didn’t know what to do, which was unusual for him, though Stan supposed that he really had no idea who Bill was anymore. At the sight of Bill, Stan’s heartbeat calmed a bit, but it was still way higher than it was supposed to be, and Stan cursed himself for not being more composed.
‘Hey’, Bill mumbled, his eyes looking intently at Stan, as if he was attempting to find something there, but Stan didn’t know what he was looking for. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to slam the door shut so hard.’
Stan shrugged, breathing deeply to try and calm down. ‘It’s fine, I wasn’t really tired anyways, I just got nothing better to do around here.’
Bill nodded, looking around the dull room, not a color in sight, with only one window. No doubt he must hate it as much as Stan did.
Stan opened his mouth, thinking of something to say, anything. He hadn’t seen Bill in 20 years, yet he couldn’t think of which one of his question she should ask first. He wanted to ask Bill about his life, if he had a wife or children, if he was happy with his job, where he lived and so many more. He wanted to ask about the other losers too, about Richie, his best friend, and all the other losers. He wanted to know what happened when everyone was called. He however also figured that Bill would have questions too, like why he tried to end his life, which was probably high on his list. He was waiting for Big Bill to take the first step, to be brave when Stan couldn’t make himself ask the questions, or say the words.
Bill wasn’t saying anything, he kept looking at Stan as if he was wondering how the hell all of this could happen in about 3 days’ time. A week ago, he had still been working on his book with his wife Audra, now he was visiting his childhood crush in a hospital, after he attempted to kill himself.
Stan’s hand twisted around the sheets, intrusive thoughts were making way in his head. Bill must hate him. He must be here to yell at Stan, to tell him how much of a coward he was, because he was. Stan chose the easy way out, instead of fighting with his friends he gave up. Bill came here to yell at him, but now he feels bad for him so he doesn’t. Soon he’ll go and he’ll tell Stan that none of the losers want anything to do with him. The man he loved since he was barely 12 years old will leave him forever now, and now that Stan remembers him, it’ll be so much worse than it was in the last 20 years.
And god Patty, he feels so guilty towards Patty. He made a vow to her, and now he can’t keep that vow, because he could never love Patty the way he loved Bill. It took everything in Stan for him not to burst into tears again, but then he looked at Bill again, and –
‘We killed IT’, Bill started, as if he seemed to sense that Stan was about ready to melt into a puddle and disappear forever.
Stan bursted into tears despite his previous efforts. Instantly Bill rushed to the side of his bed, his hand hovering over Stan’s arm, not wanting to touch Stan without his permission.
Stan sagged in his bed, leaning into Bill a bit more, and Bill took that as his sign to wrap his arms around Stan.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry’, Stan blubbered, burying his head in Bill’s shoulder. Bill smelled like books and coffee, and Stan didn’t even realize that he was twisting Bill’s plaid shirt into his hands.
Bill shushed him, one of his hands running through Stan’s hair, while the other held Stan close on his lower back. ‘You don’t have to apologize Stan, we’re the one who should do that.’
Stan shook his head franticly. ‘Why would you need to apologize? I was the one who was a coward.’ His voice was shaking almost as much as his body was.
Bill pulled back slightly, his right hand still firmly holding Stan relatively close. ‘Stop’, he said, and something in his tone made Stan shut his mouth straight away.
‘We should have helped you better, when we were kids. We never really thought about what happened to you, everyone was so eager to forget everything about IT, but we should have seen that it was eating away at you. We should have forced you to talk about it and help you give it a place.’
‘That’s not your fault’, Stan replied, when he was once again pulled closer to Bill.
‘Yes it is, and I’m sorry. I promise from now on you’ll never have to go through anything like that alone ever again.’ Bill kissed the top of Stan’s head, and he felt Bill’s body froze up, as if it had just been an automatic responds without thinking about it, and he was now afraid Stan would be mad. Stan didn’t do anything however, he just continued to weep in Bill’s shoulder.
If he was in the right mind he would be embarrassed, but he wasn’t, so he cried without any inhibitions.
When he finally calmed down, his weeping turned into soft sniffling, he asked; ‘How did you do it?’ referring to how they killed IT.
Bill laughed, short and a little bitter, ‘We bullied IT.’
For the first time in 3 days, Stan laughed.
Bill smiled brightly at the sound, but he said nothing, just continued to run his hand through Stan’s hair.
‘I’m sorry I did this, I’m a coward’, Stan said woefully. His hands clenched together tightly, his nails bighting the skin of his hands.
Bill’s hand tightened, and he kissed the top of Stan’s head again. ‘You’re not a coward, not at all. You were scared, all of us were, but Stan you were willing to die for us. Even when you were a kid. You were scared, but you still went into Neibolt with us, because you are brave Stanley Uris’, Bill looked straight into Stan’s eyes, daring him to oppose his words. ‘Being scared doesn’t mean you’re a coward. Just promise me, that if you ever want to do something like this again, you won’t, and you’ll call me.’
Stan nodded, ‘I promise Bill.’ And he would, though thanks to Bill’s words, Stan didn’t think he would ever have too.
‘Stan I’, Bill paused letting silence envelop them both, ‘I want you to know that I, I love you.’
Stan froze, his eyes looking around wildly. His heartrate that had started to calm shot back up again.
He looked at Bill, fragments of them laying the sun, Stan’s head on Bill’s lap, of them riding their bikes together, of stolen kisses in their secret hideout flashed through Stan’s head.
‘I… I made a vow to my wife.’ Stan said, his voice shaking.
Bill looked at him, his blue eyes boring into Stan’s. ‘I won’t force you to do anything Stan. If you’re happy with her than I’ll respect that, all I want for you is to be happy. But please, just stop thinking about what’s expected of you, and do what you want to do.’
Stan didn’t know how to respond, his mind going a thousand times a minute. ‘I can’t say the same.. yet’, he started, ’I need talk with Patty first. I can’t do something that will knowingly hurt her, I’m sorry.’
Bill smiled, without any judgement. ‘I’d never want you to do something you were uncomfortable with Stan, I hope you know that.’ He hugged Stan, once more, whispering that he was glad that he was there with Stan.
‘You should get some more rest’, Bill said.
Stan looked up to him fearfully, but nodded none the less when Bill said; ‘I won’t let you out of my sight for a minute.’
He laid back down, his hand grasped in Bill’s, and it seemed that for the first time since the summer of 1988, Stan slept without fear looming in the back of his head.
