"Just By Chance." - Stanley Uris x Reader. (DISCONTINUED)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘

While walking home, you had lots of time to think to yourself.

You thought a lot about how cool Richie was. You had only been talking to Stan the entire time, and weren't paying attention to anybody else except maybe Beverly. It really took an unexpected encounter for you to realise that Mr. Richie Tozier was super funny, and someone you never would've thought you'd want to be around. It was nice knowing that despite Richie's trashmouth exterior, he was someone who could listen to you and all the while help you feel like  the bad things in the world meant nothing at all. The sheer thought of missing out on someone like that because all of your attention was on another person made you think that you should probably try to get to know everybody else, so on your way home you decided that's exactly what you'd try to do. You'd make an effort to get to know the losers once school started, and that was that.

When you got closer to your apartment complex, your thoughts began to wander again.

You thought back to the moments of the morning, where you found yourself bored and not knowing what to do. Your mother wasn't home, which was alarming, but you wanted to distract yourself from how scared you were. So you went into her room and found a photo album, where you may or may not have discovered that Beverly's mother wasn't alive. You kept flipping through. You saw pictures of you, your mother, your father, and other people that you hadn't seen before.

And when you flipped to the end, you saw the clown and everything went downhill from there.

You began to speed up as thoughts of it's twisted grin embedded itself in your mind. You remembered the way it walked like a puppet, manoeuvring and behaving in a way that made it seem like it was having fun. It laughed as you struggled to open your door, almost as if it were taunting you for being so scared. It, whatever it was, seemed so real and so terrifying in the moment, and you knew then and there you couldn't have been hallucinating. It looked so real - like you could touch it if you wanted to, but you didn't want to because it was going to attack you. You felt fear, true and utter fear, because the thing in front of you was real and it wasn't a dream.

When you finally reached your apartment complex, you scurried up the stairs in a hurry - because by now night had fallen and the thoughts of the clown were making you paranoid. You didn't really know if Richie had truly believed you when you told him what you saw, which was clear by the way he looked at you when you explained to him what happened, so you didn't know if anybody else would. But you knew you'd have to try and at least tell someone else.

You walked down the hallway in an uncomfortable silence as the yellow light on the ceiling beamed down on you. You counted each door as you made your way to the end of the hallway, despite the fact that you had done it before. You wanted to be able to do anything to distract yourself from your fearful state. You made an effort not to breathe too loud, because the hall was so quiet that you were sure even the slightest noise would wake up your neighbours. Everything seemed like it was empty in that moment, and the hallway seemed as if it had gotten longer. Each step you took was planted carefully on the carpet in the effort that you wouldn't make too much of a noise - because you were petrified by the thought of making a noise louder than a knock.

You finally reached your room and waited in front of the door patiently and eagerly, wondering if your mother was home or not. You really hoped she was, but you didn't want to wake her up by knocking if she was asleep. Gently, you turned the door handle to see if it was locked.

But it wasn't, and the door opened without a sound.

Someone was home.

Closing the door behind you, you shortened your breaths and took a long look around the apartment. A dimly lit and surprisingly yellow light illuminated a table just a bit further into the kitchen, and you saw the shadow of somebody sitting on a chair with their back turned to you. You made your way towards the shadow slowly, trying to define each and every detail in the person. There was a glass of what seemed to be alcohol propped on the table, and the person had a firm grip on it, as if they were about to take a sip but were distracted by something. Then, the person sniffled, and a quiet sob escaped from the shadow's mouth, and you recognised the voice immediately.

"Ma..?" You said, softly. The sobs stopped immediately and your mother sat upwards, tightening her grip on her glass.

"(Y/n).." She said, her voice strained, like she had been sitting there and crying her eyes out for hours. She sniffled once more, not daring to remove her hand from her wine glass.

"I thought you were home already.." Her soft but obviously not okay tone scared you. Something was wrong.

"Didn't you check in my room to see if I was there?" You said, and you walked closer to your mother. She finally moved a little, turning her head the slightest bit and giving you a glimpse of her bloodshot eyes. She had been crying quite a lot.

Your mother didn't reply to your question. You walked even closer to her, not knowing what to do.

"What happened, ma?" You said, clearly fighting your way to not cry. Seeing your mother like this really hurt you.

The woman you knew as your mother smiled at you, as if she hadn't just been crying. You knew she wasn't in the right headspace to be explaining anything to you right now, but you wanted to understand at least something. It could've easily been her grieving your father, but if it was that you needed to get confirmation that it was that. Gently, you tried to take her hand off of the glass she was holding - and you rubbed her palm as she looked up at you again.

"What's wrong?" You softly said, and your mother finally began to speak.

"..It's just..grown up things, honey.."

"If these 'grown up things' are making you cry like this then I want to know what those things are. Please, just tell me why you're so sad.."

The broken woman in front of you sighed, as if she had accepted she couldn't get away from this situation. But from her response, you knew she wouldn't give up.

"I think you should go to bed now, sweetie. It's getting late."

It was like she had completely disregarded what you had said to her. It made you annoyed she had done that, because you really cared, but you knew she didn't mean too much harm.

"No, not until you tell me what's wrong!" You said, slightly but very very slightly raising your voice. She wasn't in the right mind.

Slowly but surely, your mother began to stand up from her seat, and she looked down at you with a firm expression, her eyes still bloodshot.

"Go to bed, (Y/n)."

Her tone was that of something you had never heard before. It was far too strict, like she was so so done and needed everything to be over. It scared you, but you wouldn't back down.

"No, ma! I just--"

"I said go to bed, (Y/n)!"

You flinched at her sudden change of emotion. She had raised her voice at you and yelled, and you knew how bad things got when people yelled at you. Tears began to form in your eyes and your mother noticed, her expression changing from angry to regretful in a matter of seconds. Her mouth hung agape, wanting to say something, but she wasn't able to say anything at all. You could tell she didn't mean to yell at you, but she couldn't stop herself. 

After a moment, she began to back away from you, mumbling the words "Go to bed.." one last time. She made her way towards to door to leave, and you wanted to go after her, but by the time you started to run after her she had left the room and she was gone. You listened as you heard her footsteps cease down the hallway, and when they were finally gone everything was quiet and silent. You turned off the lights in the quiet apartment and made your way to the couch, where you slowly lied down and let out a quivery breath.

Then came the tears.