"stan? stan the man, stanley?" stan heard as he lifted his head up from the cold, black bench. he groaned, feeling the bench's marks on his right cheek and looked around. richie tozier.

"oy, stanley uris, i ain't—," richie tried to master his accent that wasn't working as planned, as he gazed down at stan.

it was light outside, a morning breeze creeping up to them both, only making stan shiver. "where's bill?" stan interrupted richie, who was brutally going through a irish accent.

"left like... ten minutes ago, but it's okay, cause richie rich is here!" richie sat down next to the dazed stan, crossing his legs.

"he left me at the park. alone." stan finished for himself.

"correction," richie pointed his finger towards the sky. "he left you in the park. with me, richie fucking rich—,"

"are you serious?" stan said angrily, standing up and turning around to see the black bench, a brown notebook sitting neatly on it.

stan picked it up within seconds before richie could get his hand on it, and opened it to the middle of the notebook, to the perfect page.

"you're reading his notebook?" richie asked. "i want in!" he added, reaching his hands out, but stan squatted them away.

"yes, it was left for me to read. leave me alone for a second." stan answered annoyed, before sitting back down on the bench, richie sitting down next to him, trying to peek at the page.

stan,

you fell asleep on me. did you know you mumble in your sleep when you're troubled about something? well you do. i love it— i love you.

you doubt yourself a lot, and tell me i doubt myself too much, something i don't completely understand at the moment. you try to fix me, find out more about me, but i don't know hardly anything about you.

when i saw you for the first time, you were running out of your house in fear, screaming at someone from the inside, and racing for your bike. i wanted to comfort you. hold you.

now i finally can.

the final reason why i have killed me father is leaving him. i left him from my utter anger, and left him sitting at the table alone.

it wasn't long before some kid with no dreams left in him, no soul left in his body shot him down. it wasn't long until he shot himself next, leaving everyone in the restaurant in screams.

i've never felt so... scared. scared sounds like a foolish word to use, heck, everyone uses it.

but when something jammed the door shut while running by and you're trapped in the men's room, hearing screams and sirens, you are scared.

my mother blamed it on me. and i blame it on myself. because only two were shot in that restaurant that night, my father and the shooter, and only two died.

i was sitting closest by the window, so if i hadn't smoked that night, if i hadn't opened my big month, and if i hadn't left him...

it would have been me.

it should have been me.

- bill <3

DOUBLE UPDATE FUCKERS.

wowie. so i'm on a plane rn so that's fun. yep. nothing else to say so hope you enjoyed the chapter. feel free to leave opinions, thoughts, and predictions here.

~ penny (march 31, 2018)