Fusion || Reddie Soulmate AU || IT (2017)

[Chapter 6]

— TRIGGER WARNING ~ OFFENSIVE/TRIGGERING SUBJECTS —

Mike was angrily stomping through the thicc underbrush of Derry's surrounding woods. He cursed out his brother in his mind, tears threatening to spill onto his reddening cheeks. He was so... ashamed of himself. He hurt his brother- his lifelong friend- over some stupid shit. It wasn't Richie's fault Will doesn't like him. It never was. He's not a good person.

Mike just showed everyone why.

He's a horrible person. He doesn't deserve his friends, much less fucking Will. Beautiful, innocent, love-of-his-life Will. Damn it. He'd never be good enough for him. Jealous? Hell yeah he was jealous. Of course he'd be jealous.

But taking it out on Richie?

He's a horrible brother. He's a horrible person.

During this thinking process, he slowed and eventually came to a stop. His vision was blurry from the tears, and as a small gust of summer wind blew softly he felt the coldness of non-dried tear tracks on his cheeks. He was crying? He didn't realize.

He felt his legs shake, and stumbled to lean against the closest tree. He slid down, one leg bent and the other sticking straight out in front of him. He let his head lull to the side, the contact between the tree and his head letting out a 'thunk'. He let out an involuntary choked sob, and buried his face in his hands.

He failed to notice the thundering footsteps of a running boy catching up to him.

—

Will wasn't panicking.

He wasn't.

Definitely not.

Okay maybe a little.

Will ran after Mike with all he had, a frightened look on his face. He felt as if Mike... shouldn't be alone right now. He doesn't know what happened exactly, but he knew Mike. Mike could say things he didn't mean when he was upset. He's not making excuses for him if what he said was really that bad, but maybe there could've been a more peaceful solution? Will was just so confused.

Will was a surprisingly light footed runner, unlike Richie who made more noise then a car alarm. He was surprised to see Mike hunched over leaning on a tree, but easily stopped and immediately dropped to his knees in front of his best friend. Getting all 'no homo' is what he's gotta do to survive in this shit hole called 'Derry in 1992'. Fucking wack if you asked him.

"M-Mike? Are you okay? What happened?" Will asked tentatively. He was hesitant. Of course he knew that Mike wouldn't hit him, but he was also sure he would never actually hit Richie. No matter how many times he threatened to or said he would. But look what happened to that. Mike didn't answer, so Will could only think of one other thing to do. It may be stupid and childish, Mike may push him away in disgust, but Will won't give up. Not when Mike was like this.

Will leaned down, and hugged the jerk.

Maybe it was fucking stupid. Maybe Will was being a dumb fuck, like Richie called Henry Bowers all those years ago.

Dumbfuckdumbfuckdumbfuckdumbfuck-

Then there was light.

—

Stanley Uris was a wreck.

'All Jews were rich and had ugly, crooked noses' Was something that Richie said to him and their friends a few years ago. Stan had scoffed and rolled his eyes, playing it off. But it stuck.

'Ugly, crooked noses'

It stuck for years. Years and years. And it'll stay in his mind forever. Until his last bath at 7:00 PM in the early summer of 2016.

'Ugly, crooked'

Maybe Richie wasn't actually talking about the stereotypical Jewish nose. Maybe he wasn't talking about noses at all.

"He was talking about you, Stanley." A voice giggled in his mind, making his blood run ice cold.

"You're not real. You're dead. You're gone." Stan gritted back to the voice in his head. That voice. It's haunted him. Haunted him since that fateful day in his Father's office to return his Torah to its rightful place of the shelf. That painting. The one that fell off the wall. The one with the disappearing flute lady. That's where all his nightmares spawn.

The evil giggles and haunting shrieks of laughter of that... that clown. It.

Pennywise.

Stan new the evil demonic shit bag that took form of a clown wasn't coming back. Not for more then a decade at least. But the scars on his face in the shapes of teeth marks and the scar across his palm proves that it was real.

It was usually Richie that made him forget. With his stupid jokes and awkward laughter. He always knows how to distract Stan from these impending thoughts, even when he didn't know he was helping in the first place. Stan thought he'd find the disorganized order that was Richie to be something he needed to fix. Like a crooked painting, or the collar on his polo shirts. But Richie seemed to be his own category, and therefore already in his proper place. He didn't need fixing.

It was Stanley Uris that needed fixing, supposedly.

Bill was there though. But Bill was so blind. Blind to pain that's hidden just out of sight. Suffering behind a one way mirror. That's the best way to describe Stan. A one way mirror.

"Stan? S-Stanley? B-buh-babe? A-are you alr-rih-right?" Bill stuttered out with concern, snapping Stan from his thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." Stan said, supporting his statement with a smile. A fake smile.

"Fakers are just people who lie. You remember what I told you about lying, Stanley? Liars are dirty. You don't want to be dirty, right Stanley?"

Stan never wanted to be dirty, but he's a teenager.

Teenage boys always get dirty.

———

Eat my angst. You're welcome.

Wonder what's going on with Mike and Will hmm ;>

Also gay angst ??? Definition of me