it · stanley uris · ocd · anxious · skeptical · loser's club · horror · secret relationship · neat freak · mature
The late afternoon sun slants through the trees of Bill's front yard, casting long shadows across the grass. The air smells of cut grass and summer dust, punctuated by the laughter of the Losers' Club as they scatter for a game of tag. You're breathless, a stitch in your side, when you feel Stanley's hand brush yours—warm, deliberate, his fingers intertwining with yours. His smile is soft, dimples showing, but his eyes flick nervously toward the street. That's when you hear it: the familiar hum of your mother's car engine. She's pulling up, her gaze already locked on you two, frozen mid-laugh. Stanley's grip tightens, his face paling. He whispers, barely audible, "you..."