"when I close my eyes,

all the stars align.

and you are by my side."

— once in a lifetime

so your dad knows?, bill wrote in his current notebook, bill's writing messily scribbled on, but stan didn't care much.

they were both seated in stan's car outside of the best ice cream shop in town. derry scoops, the shop was called. very inventive.

the two seventeen year olds were supposed to be meeting some of the losers club here after school, but stan and bill's statistics class was canceled, so they got out of school early. hence getting to derry scoops before everyone else.

it gave bill memories of coming to the same place with beverly only a few months before. how she kissed him and told him she was trying to figure herself out. identity crisis, bill had informed stanley.

"yeah, he knows. i think he's cool with it. but i'm just waiting for the breaking point, y'know? he's got the worst temper sometimes." stan scuffed, turning in the driver seat to face bill, who had been turned as well in his seat.

"i want to ask you a few questions," stan said after a moment of comfortable silence, and bill furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "no, this isn't an interrogation," stan laughed, answering bill's question in his head.

"oh, c'mon. we got to this ice cream place like twenty minutes before anyone else is gonna show up, we might as well waste our time away."

"so... what was your first kiss like?" stan asked in a laugh, wiggling his eyebrows, and bill rolled his eyes before pulling out his notebook and setting it on his lap.

5th grade. levi jones. it sucked. he tried to eat my face in the school bathroom 'cuz he found out i was gay. why are you asking? we aren't 12-year-old girls, bill wrote and showed it to stan, who laughed and placed it back on bill's lap.

"well, that was boring," stan said.

bill put on an offended expression.

stan sighed. "i guess i should've asked a more exciting question. have you ever been in love? before yours truly," stan huffed out, making bill flush red a bit.

bill shook my head.

"my god. who gets to seventeen without falling in or making love? you didn't have a middle school crush who you thought you were in love with? i thought everyone went through that stage."

the mute boy shrugged. what was there to say?

"well, this romantic angle is proving entirely fruitless. family, then. what's with your mom?"

that's kinda hard for me to talk about.

"well, i've told you all my secrets. it's only fair you give me something of yours. besides, if you're going to be a writer, you have to be able to talk about the deep stuff. you said you wanted to be a writer, right?"

fine. i'll try.

"take your time."

bill decided not to overthink it. he'd just set down the facts as he remembered them. to let too much emotional stuff in would result in an awkward afternoon ice cream hang out, which bill was not keen on making a reality.

my mom and dad loved each other. i know that much. but that's probably the best you could say for them. they loved each other like the ocean loves the shoreline-eating away at it, little by little, day after day. they loved each other like the sunlight that makes the plants grow, then scorches the leaves and bakes the moisture from the earth. they loved each other like the seagulls love the bronze statue they're always shitting all over.

"-seagulls?" stan asked, peering over the notebook as bill wrote.

bill gave him an annoyed look.

"right, sorry. continue."

he was a writer. i don't know if he was any good. i haven't gotten myself to read any of his works. i know he was unhappy though. so maybe he wasn't any good. who knows? maybe he didn't work hard enough-

"-i asked about your mom."

stan slapped his arm this time and gave him a glare.

be patient.

my mom had been a pretty woman when she was younger. i'd seen photos of her as a long-legged, almost ditzy-looking teenager, throwing her hair back in convertibles and posing lazily on beaches, wearing outfits that made my skin crawl (thinking of your parents being young is like thinking of winnie-the-pooh going to the bathroom: just fucking weird). but the past few years had been rough on her. after my dad died, it was like her whole life flipped. maybe their love for each other had died out long ago before my dad was shot, but she never moved on. i think she thought nobody could ever love her as my father loved her.

she doesn't talk to me much. which is fine, it's not like we had some cute as shit mother-and-son relationship before. she's just not the same. she had to get a full-time job at the hospital, had to take care of two kids and had no time for herself. i guess she forgot to be her own person. and when i stopped talking, she took his death out on me.

bill placed the notebook on stan's lap, even though stan had already finished reading while bill was writing and was leaned over his seat anyway.

"that sucks," stan scuffed out after a moment, and bill nodded. he was glad stan didn't take pity on him or his family, it felt refreshing.

"y'know what happened to your dad wasn't your fault, right? your mom might think it's okay to cope with his death with pinning it on you, but it's not okay and she's not right." stan ranted, flaying his arms around as he spoke, his voice serious and bold.

bill didn't nod in agreement, just looked at him in awe. i'm so lucky to have you, bill thought.

"ready to go in? i saw them walk in like two minutes ago."

why'd you wanna know about my fucked up family?

"because," stan huffed, getting out of the car in record time and moving to bill's side of the car as bill shuffled out, leaving his notebook rested in his seat.

"because i love you and i want to know everything about you. the good and the bad." stan said confidently, even though he was slightly slouched over in a nervous position in front of bill.

bill's eyes widened as he closed the door behind him and faced stan.

"i was gonna tell you better, i promise, i just couldn't wait. i had like flowers and shit, oh, and-"

bill kissed stan on the lips hard and pulled back a few seconds later, ruffling stan's curls.

"what does that mean? you love me back?" stan asked, hands resting on bill's waist. bill nodded and decided to forget about how he could sense hurt in stanley's eyes. it was one of the few times that the mute boy could tell stanley wanted bill to talk.

stan grabbed bill's hand and locked his car. then they headed inside the ice cream shop.

i love you too, bill yearned to say back.

*

"big bill and shitface! you made it!" they both immediately hear as they enter the small shop, vintage looking. the plastic tables and wooden booths in the store were filled up with older folks who didn't seem to like richie tozier's foul language and gave the whole group a scowl.

ice cream was definitely one of the best reasons bill could think of to remain on this big, stupid scoop of a planet. the seasonal flavor was cinnamon apple crisp; it tasted like a pop-tart. bill's favorite.

stan flipped richie the bird before they went to get their ice cream, stan ordering vanilla, which resulted in bill giving him a weird look (because who orders vanilla at a place that has cinnamon apple crisp?).

when they sat down bill found himself sitting next to stan in a booth that was fully accompanied by richie tozier, beverly marsh, and carol bond. richie and beverly seemed to be getting into a fight overeating each other's ice cream, so bill moved over in the booth a bit to sit across from carol.

"i thought your boyfriend was coming," stan said to carol as he ate his first scoop of (boring as shit) vanilla ice cream.

carol bond ran his fingers through her afro before taking a bite of her own ice cream, strawberry flavored, as bill could see. somewhat okay taste; better than stanley, bill thought.

"he couldn't make it, something with his grandpa leroy, guess he needed help with the farm," carol answered, and bill could see now that she's reading through some kind of paper that's sitting on the table.

bill points to the paper, tilting his head a bit so she can get the gist of what he wants to ask.

he's only had a conversation with mike's girlfriend of nearly two years, carol bond, about three times. it's not like he or she were avoiding each other, it's just that carol always seemed to be terribly busy. mike called it passion.

"it's my speech for class president. the first step to being the first woman president of the united states," carol said like it was nothing, waving her hand through the air.

bill raised his eyebrows a bit at that. "big goals, i like it," stan replied and bill nodded in agreement.

"big goals lead to big things."

"speaking of big goals, did you guys here bowers and greta hooked up last week? everyone is talking about it!" beverly laughed, stealing the last scoop of ice cream from richie's cup, which earned her a slap on the arm.

"no fucking way! are you serious?" richie snorted, kicking his feet up on the table.

"the only couple worse than them is eddie and myra winter," stan added in, eyeing richie a bit as he adjusted his glasses, his face looking a little red.

"they're not a couple," richie murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. "she's a bitch and she's totally manipulating him." richie added, looking very uncomfortable in the booth now.

"richie's got a little crush, huh?" beverly joked, reaching up and squeezing richie's right cheek, which earned beverly a second slap on the arm.

"i'm not fucking gay, you hoe!" richie replied as beverly slapped him back.

"stop acting like you guys are five, i'm tryna read here!" carol added in, adjusting in her seat a bit, glaring at the two of them.

"richie, even if you were like one percent gay, we'd still love you," beverly says, ruffling up richie's hair and tozier rolls his eyes.

"whatever. it's not my fucking fault puberty hit eddie like a fucking truck. it's eddie fault. and his mom's for letting him crawl outta her vagina in the first place! that doesn't make me gay, that's just on them," richie huffed out, crossing his arms again.

"you've got it bad, trashmouth," stan laughed, reaching over bill to place his arm around him.

"gotta go, anyway. see you fuckheads," richie said and stood up, flipping them all off before leaving the shop.

"he's definitely going to see eddie right now, right?" stan asked in an amused tone of voice, and beverly snorted in agreement.

"...or going to bury myra six feet under."

"hey, stan," carol said, "you remember that time you said the third president was almost george washington?"

"i stand by it. i was only off by, like, two presidents. that oughta be worth partial credit." stan scoffed, and bill smiled at him.

"there's no partial credit with hard facts," beverly added in.

"whatever. and you should talk, bev. you once said that the white house was the capital of america."

"i was eleven years old."

"you were stupid years old is what you were."

bill was careful not to laugh. his laughter, he'd been told, was a strange sight to behold-like a silent seizure. he just smiled, then stole a spoonful of stan's vanilla ice cream. terribly bland vanilla ice cream.

+

this is a filler chapter.

real shit will go down

soon, i promise.

happy pride month!

and fuck trump!

penny,, june 3