Lover: Bill Denbrough x Reader (Sequel to Losers: Bill Denbrough x Reader)

His Ring

There was a knock on the door.

I sat up in bed, the blanket rolling down and reasting in my lap. I looked around for a moment to get my bearings. I was in the Derry Townhouse and Bill's laying in bed next to me.

I ran my hand across the bed to wake Bill up. I assumed that the only person who could be here at this hour would be the person watching the security cams that noticed that the famous Bill Debrough never entered his room last night. However, the other side of the bed was cold, as if no one had been laying there at all.

I snatched my hand back, and held it against my chest. I grabbed ahold of the thin fabric and looked down. My button up was back on? I don't remember putting it on after... .

That's right. I didn't put on my shirt, I put on Bill's shirt. What the hell is going on? Did I just imagine all night with Bill?

The knock came again, a bit more urgent this time. I pulled myself out of bed and I walked over the the door, my feet thankful for the orange carpet that lay over the floor instead or hardwood. I turned on the light, terrified of who I might see behind the is door.

It could be Richie.

It could be Bill. 

It could even be Eddie or Mike.

But something in my stomach told me that probably wasn't the case. The anxiety that was burning in my stomach almost warned me against opening the door. I considered just getting back in bed. You couldn't get in here unless you had a keycard or I opened the door. I could ignore them and they'd have to go away eventually. I could be safe in here... Alone.

I felt the cool brass handle in my hand before I even thought about actually grabbing it. It threatened to freeze my once warm fingertips if I held it for to long. So, I braced for the worst and opened the door. Standing in front of me was a man I had only seen once before.

I had gone to Atlanta once when I was younger. I had just graduated from college and Richie had told me that I deserved a little vacation after doing all that work. So, he took me all the way to the east coast. While we were there, however, he said that he was meeting with a 'friend' after she got off of work. We arrived at the accountant's office and went inside.

That's were a met a man by the name of Stan Uris. He had bumped into me and spilled his iced coffee down the front of my shirt. He had appologized profusely and offered to pay for my dry cleaning bill. I had turned down his offer and we started to chat. We really hit it off and would've probably been good friends but I had to go. I never saw him again after that.

But the thing that hit me like a truck of bricks was that I had seen him before. Practically everyday from the time I was five until the summer of 1989. That was one of my best friends Stanley Uris.

And here he was standing in front of me.

His dark curls looked a bit damp, a few of them clinging to his forehead. His eyes shone excitedly behind his glasses, and a smile was etched onto his stubbled face.

"(Y/n)?"

"Yeah, Stan, it's me." I shrugged, awkwardly aware of my lack of pants for a few moments.

"Richie told me I'd be able to find you down here." He grinned.

"You couldn't wait until tomorrow? It's kinda late don't you think?" I asked, rubbing my arms. It feels like the room just dropped ten degrees.

"I just wanted to see you before Bill got to you. He kinda beat me go the punch when we were younger." He said, taking a step closer to me.

"Beat you to the punch?" Something about Stan was making me a bit uncomfortable.