𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄 〣 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇

iii.

a/n: warning! contains triggering content towards the end!

At the end of the day, Stan waited by Bill's locker, anxiously twirling his car keys. When Bill saw his curly-haired friend patiently waiting for him, his heart leapt into his throat, and he all but ran down the hallway.

He threw his arms around Stan and hugged him tightly, like he hadn't seen him in years. Stan laughed quietly and returned the hug. To anyone else, the hug would look weird since the boys had seen each other earlier that day. But to them, it was just part of the bond they had. They needed each other throughout the day, and when they were apart, life was miserable.

"How was your day, Denbrough?" Stan asked, releasing the smaller boy from the hug.

Bill smiled, turning to open his locker, "Guh-Guh-Good. How w-was yuh-yours, St-Stan?"

"It was okay." Stan leaned against the locker, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing at Bill, his mess of curls bouncing slightly. "Better now that you're here."

Bill's cheeks turned crimson as he stuffed all his homework into his backpack. He shut his locker, turned and gave Stan a warm smile, "G-Glad to b-b-be here."

Stan casually threw his arm around Bill's shoulders as they headed for the school's exit, "Glad to have you."

They walked in comfortable silence to Stan's truck; Stan was supposed to drive Bill home after school, but he wanted so desperately to keep the stuttering boy by his side. They climbed into the old truck, Stan sliding the key into the ignition.

"Do you want to come over and study?" He blurted suddenly, hoping he didn't sound too desperate.

Bill smiled, "Sh-Sh-Sure. You're n-not in AP-P-P C-Calc, right?"

Stan shook his head, "Nope, regular Calculus with Miss Dyer. Any idea what she was talking about today?"

"Ant-t-tiderivat-t-tive and Ind-d-definite Integrals or suh-home sh-shit." Bill glanced out the car window just in time to see Richie chase Eddie to the bike racks. He didn't understand why the two didn't just date already. He didn't understand why he and Stan didn't just-

"Yeah, some shit," Stan nodded, breaking Bill's train of thought. "I have no clue what the lesson was."

"I-I guess we'll st-start with that."

Stan nodded in agreement, and the two fell silent. The radio softly cranked out the lyrics to Africa by Toto, and Bill sang along quietly. His stutter made it quite difficult, but Stan found it absolutely adorable and had to bite his lip to keep from smiling too wide.

They arrived at Stan's house and went inside, neither Stan's mom or dad anywhere in sight. Bill followed Stan up the stairs, his eyes falling over the simple pictures of pressed flowers on the walls. Bill was very familiar with this house—this hallway specifically—but every time he came over, he never got used to the cold, almost empty vibe he felt.

Stan's parents were very strict, as far as Bill could tell, whether they were at home or not. The house was always spotless, every picture frame straight, every bookshelf free of dust. You weren't really allowed to touch anything, and being in such a delicate place made Bill feel as though he was suffocating.

But then they walked into Stan's room, and he could breathe again. Stan's room was tidy, like the rest of the house, but the walls were a baby blue color and covered in posters of Stan's most common interests. They depicted his favorite music, cars, and birds. You could learn a lot about Stanley just by looking at his room.