The Losers Club ~completed~

Chapter 3- Awake

"Oh my god y/n! Are you ok?" You hear as you slowly open your eyes. You stare up at Stan's deep brown eyes, his curly hair flopped in front of his face. You suddenly let out loud sobs as Stan bends down to hug you, resting your head on his chest. You listen to his heart between your cries, his chest rising slowly then releasing.

"I'm f-f-fine." You whisper into his salmon polo, now soaked in tears. "I'm so sorry. I completely forgot about Gretchen." Stan says holding back tears. You keep sobbing as he pulls you closer, resting his head on yours tears streaming into your hair.

"It's ok." You say plainly as you pull away. "I need to get over it anyway." You whisper to yourself making Stan's eyebrows wrinkle. "Listen to me. You have every right in the world to be upset. I shouldn't have been so stupid and forgetful!" He says, his face gleaming in the lamp light. "I'll ride you home. Here." He hands you a pristinely white cloth, wincing slightly as you drag it across your eyes.

You both ride in silence as you reach your brick house at the end of the road. "See you tomorrow?" He asks concerned. "I believe so, Stan the man. Meet me here?" You ask. "We'll bike together then. See ya!" He says biking down Up-Mile hill.

"Y/n where were you?!" Your mom screams as you enter the poorly lit parlor, you father sitting comfortably in the easy chair and your mother standing up pacing. "I nearly called the police!" She yells. You run over to her and wrap your arms around her, fresh tears streaming down your red raw face. "Sorry mom. I lost track of time that's all." You say between sobs. Your mom peels you off of her and looks down into your eyes. "Are you sure you're ok?" She asks her concerned tone rising. "Yes, I fell and scraped my knee that's all." No one in your family ever talked about that day Gretchen died. It was as if once she was gone, time stopped. But it didn't. Time kept moving, people grew older, news changed from missing kids to back to school shopping sales, everything kept moving, except everyone in your home.

You walk into your room, plopping down on the well made bed, a soft squeak comes from the springs. You think about Stan as you begin to finally drift off, how easily he comforted you, how cute he looked when he leaned over you, how amazingly perfect he is. You finally start to fall asleep, when there's a loud bang coming from your window.