inevitable - stanley uris x reader

chapter eighteen - confrontation

"Bill!"  Beverly called, running after him with a determined gait.  "Bill you can't go in there!"  The group came to a halt, collectively throwing their bicycles down and letting them clamber to the floor, with the exception of Stanley, who was ever the cautious one and put up his kickstand.  "This is crazy!"  The girl finished.

"Look, you don't have to come in with me,"  Bill returned, turning back to address the group.  "But..What happens when another Georgie goes missing.  Or another Betty.  Or another Ed Corcoran- Or..one of us?  Are you just gonna pretend like it isn't happening like everyone else in this town?  Because I can't."  He paused, a weighted silence befalling the group.  "I go home, and all I see is that Georgie isn't there.  His clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animals, but...he isn't.  So walking into this house, for me, it's easier than walking into my own."  Bill turned once more to Neibolt, advancing towards the door was an inhuman amount of determination.  However, his path was soon stopped as the voice of Richie broke the tense quiet surrounding you all.

"Wow,"  he said, a bit dazed.

"What?"  Stanley hissed back.

"He didn't stutter once."

Bill turned back around and flung open the door, but this time the others followed him, and you all began to walk towards the house with an unearned confidence.

"Wait!"  Came the voice of Stanley, and your attention was immediately brought from the old house to him.  "Um...Shouldn't we have some people keep watch?"  Your lips parted at his question, head unconsciously nodding along with his suggestion.  

"That..might be a good idea," you backed. "Just in case something bad happens?"  The groups eyes collectively flicked to you before a few heads bobbed in agreement.

"Who wants to stay out here?"  Bill questioned.  A sea of hands shot up, all except for Beverly's, his, and yours.  You took a moment to survey the group, before reluctantly raising your hand as well.  You hadn't a clue how Bill and Beverly were being so calm throughout this adverse situation, all you knew was that you didn't want a part in it.  You were somewhat of a coward, and not afraid to admit it.  You would walk to the ends of the earth to help your friends or your brother, but this felt like certain death.

What are eight kids going to do against a fucking killer clown anyways?

As each member of the group gazed one another, your hands dropped.

"Fuck,"  Richie said aloud.

"Well someone's got to volunteer,"  Beverly insisted, a ragged determination weaving its way through her words.

"Can't we just draw straws?"  Stanley said hurriedly.  You could tell he was nervous.  His speech patterns were rushed and uneven, and his usually calm expression was contorted into a rather distressed one.  You were good at reading Stanley.  His fingers were twitching in place, his knees wobbling slightly and pressing against each other in a futile attempt to stop their tremors.  

Bill squinted at him before conceding.  "Alright.  Everyone grab a stick."

You each grabbed up indistinguishable twigs from the ground, all varying in size yet keeping a consistent color and shape.  Bill mixed them behind his back before holding them out to the group, concealing the sizes of each of them as he offered the bundle.  Stanley was first to draw, and took a rather long one.  He breathed a sigh of relief, a wave of visible assurance washing over the male as he grasped the lengthy twig.  Mike chose next, another long one.  Eddie took his pick, and chose an extraordinarily small one.  Richie snickered lightly at this, nudging the smaller boy, who just brushed him off with a pointed glare.  Richie chose next, taking a stick of similar size.  His face fell, and it was Eddie's turn to laugh a bit at the dejected boy.  Beverly chose, maintaining eye contact with Bill as she pulled one from his hands.  Another long one. Ben chose a lengthy one as well, and then it was your turn.  You were the last, besides Bill, to pull your stick.  The shortest of the bunch.