The Bath || Stenbrough

1985

I wake up in the night, getting out of bed to use the bathroom. I notice Stan's not next to me so I assume he's still in the bath. A note on the bedroom door sends surges of panic through my body.

Dear Bill,

Yes, this is a suicide note.

I stop short of reading the long note and run towards the bathroom, hoping I still have time. I jiggle the door knob over and over, but it's locked. I sprint into the kitchen, to the closet which holds the spare keys. I turn the key in the doorknob, opening it just in time. Stan sits with a knife in his hands, about ready to slit his wrists. He drops the knife out of his hand in shock as he sees me. I rush to the bathtub, sitting at the edge with a sigh of immense relief. Tears flood Stan's dark eyes flood with tears. Very soon, they flood mine too.

I rub his arm avoiding the wrist, which is bloodied pretty bad. "Stanley..."

"Sorry." He murmurs.

I shake my head and grab him a towel, which was right next to me. He sighs and wraps it around himself, pulling the drain plug. He sits next to me and we watch as the water swishes around, sinking through the hole. I put my arms around him, letting him cry into my shoulder. A few minutes later, he gets up making me panic.

"W-Where are you going?" I ask worriedly.

"To get dressed..?" Stan pretends like everything is fine, like he didn't just try to take his life.

"Can I come with you?"

He nods, holding my hand as we walk to the bedroom. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and one of my t-shirts. I watch the whole time he does, not so much in a sexual way but more because I felt inclined to protect him.

"I'm sorry." Stan's sobbed, sitting on the bed.

"You did nothing w-wrong!! I'm just glad you're okay." I sit next to him pulling the comforter over both of us.

"I promised, Bill."

"Promised what?" I rub his hand in mine.

"The promise, when we were kids!!" He exclaims.

"What promise?" At this point I'm very confused on whether I should know, or it's some childhood memory nobody could dream of remembering other than Stan.

"You don't remember?" Stan cries. "What do you remember?"

"About what, love?" I cup his face in my hands, wiping his tears with my thumbs.

"Everything!! The summer Bill, the summer of 1958!!" The man's hands flap up and down with stress and distraught.

"What happened that summer Stanley?" I say in a hushing tone, holding both his hands in mine, in attempts to calm him.

"Fuck." He says before breaking out into intense sobs. I hug him tightly, rubbing his back. He rests his chin on my shoulder, tears dripping down my back.

"I love you so so so much." I tell him.

"I love you too Bill." Stan replies, wiping his eyes and sinking down into the bed. I wrap my arms around his waist, laying down right next to him. And I'm sorry." Stan adds after a while.

"I'm so glad your okay." I ignore his apology fully, simply grateful he's here with me.

Stan soon falls asleep in my arms. I'm very tired but I don't want to sleep knowing he could hurt himself if I do. I sit up not allowing myself to fall asleep, brushing his soft curls out of his eyes.

The next morning, Stan wakes up whilst I'm still sitting up, never having slept at all. "Hi." He kisses my forehead.

"Hey." I reply, giving him a short but sweet kiss on the lips.