inevitable - stanley uris x reader

chapter sixteen - afraid of something

You soon found yourself standing in a dingy alleyway, surrounded by the rest of your group.  You gazed at Bill as he lifted up a few missing posters, revealing one that had Betty Ripsom's face plastered on it.  He let them drop, his fingers halting limply at his side and his face falling a bit.  You squinted at the poster of Ed Corcoran, which took its place on top of all the others.

As you looked upon the printed face of the boy, Stanley spoke up, a tremor in his voice.  "Corcoran," he nearly whispered.  "They say they found a part of his hand all chewed up near the standpipe."  

"He asked to borrow a pencil once," You added solemnly.  Bill flipped the papers back up, staring back at the one of Betty.  

"I-It's like she's been forgotten because Corcoran's missing," he said quietly, as though he was talking more to himself than the rest of the group.  

"Is it ever going to end?"  Came the voice of Mike.  You averted your eyes, instead choosing to focus on the marching band that was strolling through the street.  You raised an eyebrow as you spotted your brother amongst the performers, wrestling with a poor tubist and struggling to blow into the instrument.  You sighed, rolling your eyes as Richie shouted an all-too-loud 'What the fuck?', bringing your attention back to the tense conversation before you.  

Eddie walked over, accompanied by a dejected Richie.  "What are you guys talking about?" He quipped.

"What they always talk about," your brother returned, rather insensitively.

Ben chose to ignore Richie's words, instead continuing on in a soft, yet assured voice.  "I actually think it will end.  For a while, at least."

"What do you mean?"  Beverly said, asking the question that seemed to be on all of your minds. 

Ben took a deep breath before he began explaining.  "I was going over all my Derry research, and I charted out all the big events."  He took a tentative pause, his eyes drifting over the group.  "The Iron Works explosion in 1908, the Bradley Gang in '35, the Black Spot in '62, and now the kids being..."  He trailed off, eyes flicking to Bill.  "I realize this stuff seems to happen-"

"Every twenty-seven years,"  The taller boy cut him off with his realization.  

Eddie took a hit off his inhaler, his palms shaking a bit.  You took a breath in, scanning the group around you before speaking.  "W-we shouldn't talk about this here,"  you declared.  "We should..find some place that's more private."

A few heads nodded in agreement, Stanley speaking up next.  "She's right, we should.  Bikes."  He said, leading the group from the alleyway and back to where you had stored your bicycles.  

The walk over to the park was a short one, but one that felt heavy.  Your head hung low the whole time, and the group was silent, save for a few mutterings from Richie and Eddie ever so often.  Eventually, you arrived at a park bench, dropping your bikes and taking your places around the area.  Stanley propped himself on top of the bench, and you sat yourself beneath him, looking up at his flushed face as a silent questioning of if where you were sitting was alright.  Stanley had never been the most comfortable with physical contact, hell, neither had you.  But you felt like you needed to be close to him in that moment, as so you pressed yourself up against his shins after he gave you a soft nod.  

Eddie, who had sat himself on the tire of Bill's bike, looked around, extending a palm as he spoke.  "So let me get this straight," he said.  "It comes out from..wherever, to eat kids for like, a year?  And then what?  It just goes into hibernation?"

You paused, mulling over the question.  "Maybe it's like, what do you call it?"  You brought a hand up to your mouth, chewing on your nail a bit and looking up at Stanley.