(A/N:) Hey! Due to my busy schedule, I've decided to come up with a sort of set schedule for updating. I decided on Monday/Tuesday. If I can, I'll try to post twice a week but odds are it'll be once a week.

Anyways, here you go- chapter 3 :^)

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A cheery symphony of Christmas music and the fragrant scent of peppermint wafted throughout the entire house, setting in place a comfortable, warm atmosphere. “Hey, Bill, have you seen the green container labeled ‘XMas Wreaths’?” a woman called out from where she stood in front of the main door, surrounded by cardboard boxes and newspaper.

Bill took his attention off of his job to stoke the fire that simmered lowly in their red brick fire place, setting down the heavy metal poker. “Uh, n-no, I haven't suh-seen it.” None of the scattered boxes fit the description that his mother gave.

“Oh,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead in disbelief, “I must have forgotten it downstairs.” Despite being an incredibly brilliant woman, Bill couldn’t help but laugh at just how forgetful she could be. “Would you mind getting it for me, please?”

Bill nodded, stepping over several randomly dispersed decorative items to make his way to the basement door, hesitating as he let his hand fall onto the rustic silver knob. Basements nor the unknown lurking within the darkness scared him, but every time he thought about this particular cellar, his heart skipped a beat and he was left fearing what he might see. Casually, as to not alert his mother, he opened the door and began his descent, his footsteps heavy against the frail wooden stairs. It was exactly as he remembered- dark and unliving with cold concrete flooring and moldy brick walls. The space was filled with more things than before, but other than that, it was as if nothing had changed. Making his way down the last few steps, he spotted the green box his mom had been looking for. It’s front was clearly marked with masking tape and thick black words written in sharpie. Bill bent over to pick up the storage container when he noticed a small, old looking cardboard box to his left that had the faint words ‘Christmas Photos’ written in his father’s messy cursive. Figuring that his mother had forgotten about this box as well, he stacked it a top the heavier vessel of wreaths and exited the basement, not wanting or daring to look over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him.

Almost immediately after resurfacing, Bill approached the fireplace, setting down the boxes carefully on the cream colored carpeting and taking the small faded one into his arms. He was about to open it when he could hear his mom call his name. “Bill, sweetie, did you find it?”

He cast his deep forest gaze to where his mother stood at the top of the basement stairs, one hand on the door as she looked perplexed down into the gloom.

“I-I’m in here,” Bill announced from his spot in the living room.

His mom pulled her head out from the doorway, looking at her son, then back to the basement and finally back at Bill before shutting the door, looking confused, but ultimately letting a smile grace her delicately aging features. “Ah, so you did find it!” She exclaimed happily, picking the green box up from the ground and shuffling away to finish decorating.

Bill went back to what he was doing and opened the compact box in his hands, gingerly pulling out one image after another and setting them on the mantel with care. The first was from several years back when he and his extended family all went to Disney to celebrate. Of course, he and his father didn’t get the memo that it was a serious picture so there they were standing in the back with mickey ears and crossed eyes.  He snickered softly as he angled it on the end of the brick mantel and reached in for the next photo. This one was of his mother and his father, both smiling up at the camera as they posed in front of the house, red faced and bundled against the harsh Maine winter. On the very bottom of the image, written neatly by his mother in beautiful looping letters were the words ‘First Christmas in the new house! 1946’. They both looked so youthful and exuberant and Bill couldn’t help but wonder what changed. ‘Oh, right- I was born.’ He thought, chuckling to himself as he pulled out the next two pictures. They were both family pictures… one was of Bill as a senior in high school at church with his parents for a Christmas Eve service and the other was a candid shot of four people sitting on the hearth in front of a roaring fire, rosey cheeked and grinning widely. Bill was sitting on the floor in front of his dad who was in the act of ruffling his hair, laughing as his son tried to swat away his attacking hands. On the left was his mother, smiling as she hugged her arms around a young child, pressing kissing into his neck. The boy’s eyes were squinted and he was giggling, scrunching up like a turtle in defense of the playful pecks.  It was Georgie.

Bill took in the image, a sad smile dancing its way across his lips. It made him wish he could go back to those days, when he was young and unassuming of the world around him, carefree and blissfully unaware. He wished for someway to bring those days back, although he knew it was impossible. As if his mind was trying to forget, happy thoughts and memories of the two of them playing in the snow and him teaching Gorgie how to build a snowman came flooding back and he began to feel more at ease, peaceful even, setting the framed image gingerly on the mantel. “Hey,” Bill heard his mother say and felt a soothing hand touch his arm, “how about we go get started on preparing dinner, yeah?” She asked in a subdued tone, her voice not raising much past the crackle of the fire.

Not feeling much in the way of words, Bill nodded and followed her into the main hall. A cold gust of winter air swept into the house as the front door opened and Bill’s father stepped in, casually wiping shimmering flecks of snow from the shoulders of his jacket. “All the lights are finally up!” He announced, beaming, proud of his hard work.

“That’s fantastic honey,” Bill’s mother said, helping his father remove his coat. “You’re just in time, by the way, Bill and I were about to start making dinner.”

“Oh,” he hummed, placing a hand on his stomach, “That’s great ‘cause I’m starving.” He said this as he struggled to remove his slush covered boots, “What are we having?”

“That’s a surprise, dear,” she smirked, giving him a peck on the cheek before shooing him off down the hall toward the stairs. “Now, go freshen up and take a shower. By the time you’re done, dinner should be ready.”

Bill couldn’t help but to admire his parents lively banter. It was so vigorous and sprightly that it was as if they were still a young couple just starting out and madly in love.  He couldn’t help but feel as though he was missing that in his own life, or rather knew it, but did nothing to fix it. Bill knew he could’ve found someone and settled down by now. He was how old? It was just never on the top of his to do list.  Now it was all hitting him hard to say the least, creating a large weight of loneliness squeezing at his temples.  As his mother made her way to the kitchen, he followed, trying to shake the not so pleasing thoughts of his lonely love life.  Just because he felt like sulking for the rest of his vacation, shouldn’t mean his mom should have to as well.  So he tried and tried to let it go as he started to peel a carrot for his mother, but he had deep thoughts whispering threats against his lips.  He looked up at his mom, opening his mouth, but closing it again just as quickly.  This happened at least six times before his mother rolled her eyes at her son before chuckling, “just say it, Bill, I don’t have all day.” she said, cocking a brow at her son who looked like a gasping fish out of water.

“Huh-How d-did you- “

“You were opening and closing your mouth, sweetheart,” she laughed, “can’t get any more clear than that.”  Bill smiled and looked down, continuing to peel his carrot, he loved her so much.  

“I-I-I was juh-just t-thinking…”

“Yes?” She persisted.

“Wuh-well… can you, ttell me how you m-met dad again?” Bill asked sheepishly, starting to hack at the carrot in embarrassment.  

“Bill, is there something you need to tell me?” Mrs. Denbrough pushed again, setting down the spoon she was using to mix something in the bowl in front of her, leaning on the counter instead, her full attention now on her son. Bill felt overwhelmed all of the sudden, grabbing another carrot, peeling it furiously in an attempt to control his nerves.

“I w-want to d-date,” Bill said suddenly, face reddening, shaking his bangs into his eyes so he didn’t have to see his mother's face.  

“Honey, you’re thirty, I don’t think you need my permission for that anymore,” she said with amusement lacing her voice.

“Right...” Bill replied, still looking down.

“Unless,” she said in thought, “you have a preference that you’re trying to tell me about,” her amusement still prominent.  With this, Bill’s eyes became wide, head snapping to look at his mom, wondering what on earth she was implying.  

“W-What do you-”

“Preference,” she said again quickly with eyebrows raised, “you know, what- or rather whom you like.”

“I-I-I d-don’t unders-s-stand,” Bill fumbled out, looking down again, not having the faintest idea as to what she was talking about.

“What I mean is,” his mother sighed hesitantly, he could obviously tell she was a bit annoyed that she had to spell it out for him, “your sexuality, Bill.”

“Mom!” Bill whisper yelled, hissing a bit as he cut his thumb on the peeler he was using to prepare the carrots, turning quickly over to the sink to run it under cold water.

“Bill, honey, are you alright!” Mrs. Denbrough said after an initial gasp of concern.  She looked through a few drawers before pulling out a band-aid from the back of the very last draw she checked. Bill had already dried his cut on paper towel, reluctantly handing his wounded hand over to his mother, taking the bandage from her and placing it on the bleeding scrape.  

“Y-You just startled me, th-that’s all,” Bill scrambled, offering his mom an awkward smile. Bill was in shock, why would she even think of something like that?  Yet, then again, he hadn’t really ever given her a reason to think otherwise.  It makes sense though, almost too much sense that it hurt to think about it.  He needed some air. Taking a deep breath, he nodded, looking blankly at his mom before stating, “I-I’m going to guh- go out for a bit…”  She lightly shrugged and silently went back to making dinner as Bill headed towards the front door. Grabbing his jacket from the front hall closet, he prepared himself for it to be absolutely freezing, as it typically was this time of year in Maine. The chilling air hit him like a brick in the face as he slowly opened the door, peering out into the cool winter night. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Bill stepped outside, gently shutting the door behind him and walking down the front steps into the middle of his front yard. It was a good thing no one was outside at this time, because otherwise he was sure they’d stare at him. His knee started to subconsciously bounce as he watched on down the street with a vacant expression, retracting into his psyche. For some reason, he felt off after that conversation with his mom, and he couldn’t quite place what it was that bothered him. Was it the sexuality part?  His mother seemed to hint that she knew something that he didn’t even know about himself, which definitely frustrated him.  He contemplated for a bit longer before seeing a hunched figure walking down the street.  He took a closer look, squinting a bit, seeing what looked to be a middle aged man in only a T-shirt and jeans.  Bill did a double take, feeling as though the man looked familiar to him.  Was it?  No, it couldn’t be… could it?  Stan fucking Uris!  Bill wanted to yell, to scream out his name, but he was afraid of how the other male would react.  It had been so long since they had last seen each other and Bill worried that Stan had forgotten him.  It was highly unlikely, but Bill felt the need to prepare for the worst.  So, Bill kept an intense stare on Stan, willing him to look up, and to his surprise, he did.  Call it good luck or fate, but Stan looked up at just the right moment to lock eyes with Bill.  Both boys felt a surge of energy pass through them as they held each other's gaze.  

“Bill?” Stan asked from where he stood in the street.

“Stan?” Bill asked, not believing it yet. After all, the last time they spoke, Stan said he was never coming back, yet here he was.  

“Bill... “ Stan sighed softly, breaking into a faster walk, approaching his old friend.

“B-B-But you said-” Bill began, unable to finish as he was pulled into a tight hug by his best friend, whom he hadn’t seen in at least a decade.  It was cruel of his friend to never pick up the phone and he should be hating him right now for it, but for some reason all he could do was hug back.  Neither of them said anything else as they held onto each other.  “I-I-I hate yuh-you, S-Stan Uris,” Bill whispered in the others ear. Stan said nothing as he breathed the smell of his friend through his nose deeply, noticing that he hadn’t changed his cologne since the last time they were together.  Finally they broke apart, both standing in utter awkward silence. Soon, Bill returned back to reality, looking over Stan who was severely under dressed. “Y-You’re going to catch your duh-death out here!” He exclaimed, fussing over Stan’s lack of layers as he shooed him quickly inside his house.

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(A/N:) word count: 2500

I just wanted to say thank you for the feed back and I'd appreciate to see the continued support in the future. Also, if you find any mistakes or have any advice- I'd love to hear about it.

Thank you for reading and have a great day! 😚