tutor; stenbrough

40

40

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it's 8:53 in the morning on saturday, and stanley sits near his front window, watching the street for any upcoming cars. he's ready to leave the house at the first sign of bill's arrival. his father is still asleep, and the last thing that stan wants is for the doorbell to wake him. if that were to happen, he'd be bombarded with questions and forced to work on the essay at the kitchen table, instead of at the library like he'd told his father he would be doing. goodbye comic-con.

he knows bill should be arriving any minute now, and that thought alone is enough to send his heart up into his throat. his hesitation to take bill up on his offer came from a place of guilt, yes, but also from one of anxiety. in addition to not wanting to alert his dad of his departure, stanley has no idea how him and bill are meant to spend the entire day alone. sure, they'd spent plenty of time together in the past three weeks, but all they'd really done was study, and there was minimal conversation required.

now, they'll be together all day, and four of those hours will be spent within a quiet car with less outside distractions. what the hell are they even supposed to talk about?

bill pulls onto stanley's street at 8:58am in a 2009 honda civic, and despite the age of the car, the grey coat shines like it's brand new. stanley sucks in a nervous breath, checking his pockets to make sure he had remembered his wallet, phone, and keys. when he's confirmed that he has them all, he slides his shoes on, tugging the long sleeves of his jumper over his hands before exiting the house noiselessly.

he's down the driveway before bill even comes to a stop, peering back anxiously at his dark house, and he's only able to release a sigh of relief once he's in the car and they're turning off of stanley's street. and so, finally sure that he's in the clear, stanley focuses on the situation at hand.

which is, he's now in a car with bill, quiet aside from the radio, and he has no idea what to say. what do they really have in common? what are they meant to talk about for two whole hours? oh god, this was a mistake, wasn't it?

"so, i was doing some research on the comic-con," bill breaks the silence between them, his slender fingers tapping the steering wheel as they stop at a stop sign. "and did you know that a bunch of people will even dress up as their favourite characters?"

stanley is more than slightly taken aback by the fact that bill had actually done some research, and so it takes him a moment before he's able to respond. when he does, he can't help the breathy laugh that passes his lips before he answers, "yeah, that's a pretty common thing that people will do."

bill shakes his head, but it's something that he does out of interest more than anything else. after a moment, his lips quirk up in the corners, and he asks, "so then why aren't you all dressed up as your favourite character?"

stanley scoffs, amused by the question, and he tries to suppress the smile that grows on his face, turning his head towards the window so that bill doesn't see. "yeah, no."

bill cards his fingers through his already tousled hair, which just makes it even messier than it already had been, a kind of intentionally unintentional look, and then he shoots stanley a teasing smile. "why not? i personally think you'd look great in a spiderman costume."

this time, stanley can't hide his amusement, nor can he stifle his little laugh, and with cheeks just a little bit rosy from the embarrassing comment, he gently nudges bill's arm, which sits on the armrest between them. when he finally replies, his voice is quiet, but there's an entertained lilt to it as he says, "shut up."

bill laughs then, out loud, and the sound is light and airy, and stanley is surprised by how comfortable it sounds. the football player doesn't answer right away, first turning his head just slightly to peer over at stan, his eyes shining a bit with intrigue, before returning his gaze to the road ahead of him.

and then, "come on, don't you think it'd be cute?"

stanley just shakes his head, still smiling, and narrows his eyes at bill playfully. he doesn't have any response, which is fine, because the car fills with the sound of a dumb pop song from the radio, but the silence that stretches between the two boys isn't awkward.

it's comfortable, actually, and stanley finds himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, the day wouldn't be as unbearable as he had made himself believe it'd be.

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