"Hey, watch it!"

Mocha frappuccino exploded all over Eddie Kaspbrak's favorite shirt, and Stanley Uris wondered if the day could get any worse. With a roll of his eyes, he used the edge of his coat sleeve to help wipe Eddie's shirt, so he felt it when Eddie stiffened.

Approximately five seconds later, he realized why. A realization that felt more like an electric current running through him-quick, sharp, and over the moment he noticed it.

Eddie looked up first, and Stan a few seconds later. He looked at both of them, but he already knew which one was his soulmate. Bill Denbrough drew his attention instantly, and he fixated on those blue eyes immediately.

Stan knew without knowing, without question or uncertainty that he and Bill were meant to be together, and he nearly cringed at the overused cliche. Where Eddie had been nervous, Stan had been skeptical. The idea that only one person existed for everybody was just preposterous, and he'd been ready to deny the notion entirely.

But the moment his soulmate looked back at him, Stan knew he'd been wrong all along, and that was something he never liked to admit to himself. This guy was worth it, though. He could hear Eddie and the other boy bickering, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Listening to them wasn't important, after all. He just needed to maintain eye contact with his soulmate, and everything would be all right.

Then Bill looked away, drawn by Eddie's upset, and the moment was broken. Stan shook his head a little to clear his mind, but he felt sick. He kept looking down at his wrist and then at the two boys, one of which was his soulmate.

Stan knew which one it was, though. He knew. It wasn't this tall idiot with those thick glasses, who hadn't taken his eyes off Eddie. It was-

"S-sorry about that. We w-w-eren't paying a-a-attention." Stan's soulmate held out his hand for Eddie and then Stan. "I'm B-B-Bill, and this is Ruh-Richie."

Bill. Bill. His soulmate's name was Bill. Stan looked down at his wrist again pointedly, waiting for somebody to catch on. Somebody else had to notice, right? Surely he wasn't the only one paying attention.

"I'm Eddie. This is Stan." Thankfully, Eddie looked over at him, and Stan made a show of peering down at his wrist again. He saw realization dawn on his best friend's face and knew that it had been enough. Eddie remembered.

And he was having a panic attack about it.

Eddie flailed for his aspirator, backpedaling, and glared when Richie tried to come forward. Bill looked back and forth between the two of them, worry etched on his features, and Stan couldn't stand it. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head.

"You two," he said, surprised with how level his voice remained. Bill looked back at him immediately, and Stan could feel his cheeks beginning to burn. "Did your timers run out? Because ours just did."

"Buh-buh-both of you?" Bill raised his eyebrows, still focused on Stan, whose face grew even hotter. He nodded a little and averted his eyes in time to see Eddie stiffen again.

"Ours were five seconds apart! Whose timer went off first?"

"It's obvious, ain't it, Eds? It's you and me, and Big Bill and Stan the Man here! We're a match made in heaven!"

"Stop calling me that! And how can you be sure? Did your timer go off before Bill's?"

Hurt shot across Richie's face, gone just as quick as it had arrived, but they all saw it. Eddie floundered for a save, distraught, and settled for, "What if you're wrong, though? That's not fair to any of us if we pair up with the wrong person." Two minutes, and Eddie was already whipped. If he and Richie weren't soulmates, Stan would be stunned.

And offended. He was almost positive about Bill, and being wrong would devastate him. Not that there was anything wrong with Richie, but… from the way Richie had been staring at Eddie, he probably wouldn't handle it well, either.

"So neither of you have any idea?" Stan shook his head, annoyed a the lack of attention to something so important. They were meeting their soulmates today; the two of them could have been at least a little attentive for when the time came. "How are we supposed to figure it out then? That's the whole point of timers."

"Muh-muh-maybe we should juh-just play it by ear? W-we go on a few duh-dates and s-see who we're most com-com-patible with? Sh-shouldn't be tuh-too hard," Bill suggested with a glance at Stan, as if to see his thoughts on the idea. Stan shrugged a little; he didn't see any real harm when the outcome was certainly going to be the same.

Bill was his soulmate, and he had no problem waiting until everybody else figured it out, too. If only he could stop looking at Bill's mouth.

Stan, unfortunately, was paired up with Richie first. He tried to stave off his jealousy as he got ready for what he expected to be a terrible afternoon. If he had anything to do with it, the date would be cut short. Very, very short.

He felt Eddie's eyes on him, assessing him, and he fought the urge to tell him to get bent. He picked up his bird book, hand rubbing the cover lovingly before he stowed it away into his jacket pocket. If there was one way to get rid of a guy like Richie Tozier, then it was definitely bird-watching.

"Really, Stan?" Eddie raised an eyebrow. "On the first date?"

Stan shrugged and couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Hey, if he can't handle me bird-watching, then there's no way he's my soulmate. I just thought we would settle this the easy way."

Eddie's pencil tapped thoughtfully against the wood of the desk. He knew what Eddie was about to say; he just didn't know if he was ready to hear it. "You're really hoping for Bill, aren't you?
And, to cover his own ass, Stan remarked, "Aren't you?"

The denial was right there on the tip of Eddie's tongue; Stan practically watched him swallow it. Well. Stan didn't need a date to know that Richie wasn't his soulmate. He just had to hope that Eddie didn't fall in love with Bill by the end of the day.

"Stan the Man!" Richie was already waiting at the park when Stan arrived, wearing a grin that Stan was pretty sure never left his face. He'd been sprawled out on a park bench, and he sat up to make room for Stan the moment he spotted him. "So what grand date have you planned for me today, hm? A nice stroll through the park, some kissin' under the bridge-"

Stan walked right up to him and shoved a pair of binoculars into his hands. "Bird watching."

"Bird watching?!" Richie repeated dumbly, too shocked to even sound outraged. Stan smirked.

"You heard me. There are at least 800 species of bird in the US and Canada, and I'm determined to see them all. Here." He held out his bird book to the dumbfounded Trashmouth. "You'll need this."

"You're… you're fucking serious about this. You're not shitting me. Bird watching." Richie rubbed the back of his neck and gave a short laugh. "You really know how to show a gal a good time."

Stan's smirk hadn't fallen. This was so easy, he almost felt bad. "Unless you really don't want to go through with this date," he added with a shrug. "We just might be soulmates, that's all."

"I really fucking hope we're not," Richie mumbled before he realized what he said. His eyes widened behind his coke-bottle glasses, and he fumbled over an apology. "Not that you aren't amazing! I'm sure you are! You're just… you're not…."
Stan didn't even have it in him to be angry. He sat down on the bench beside Richie and held his binoculars with tight hands. He felt a pain in his heart, and if he'd brought it up, he was sure that Richie could relate. Sighing loudly, he grimaced at the bespectacled boy.

"I'm not Eddie, right? I get it. You don't have to apologize."

"I feel like shit, though."

"You really don't have to."

Richie began to fidget, uncomfortable. "Why are you being so fucking cool about this when I'm being such an asshole?"

"Because I hope we're not soulmates, too. Don't take it the wrong way or anything, but you're not Bill. He's my soulmate. I know he is. I knew it the moment I saw him." Stan felt a huge weight lift off his chest the moment he said it.

Bill was his soulmate. Saying it was… freeing, and also horribly inconvenient at the same time, especially when said soulmate was on a date with another guy. Stan's blood boiled with jealously, and he couldn't help but hope Bill and Eddie were as miserable as he and Richie were. He had the bad feeling they weren't.

"Then what the fuck are we doing here? Why aren't we going after them, dragging them apart, and taking what's ours, huh?" Richie demanded, ready to do just that when Stan grabbed his arm.

He didn't want to say it. He really didn't. He thought he might bring himself actual, physical pain to speak the words he had to say, but he did anyways.

"Because we owe it to Bill and Eddie to see this through. Just because we're sure who we belong with doesn't mean that they are, and… if Bill wanted to be with Eddie, I wouldn't be happy about it. I'd probably hate both of them, but I wouldn't stop them."

"I would," Richie murmured quietly. Stan glanced over at him, and he shrugged. "I've waited so fucking long for my soulmate, you know? And I know it's him. It has to be him. I've never wanted something so much in my whole fucking life as much as I want it to be him."

Stan said nothing. How could he, when he felt exactly the same? He thought his heart might crumble in agony if it wasn't Bill, and he couldn't stand how melodramatic that sounded. He hated being so emotionally vulnerable; it didn't make sense, wasn't logical, and every piece of him wanted to fight against it.

He reached over to take Richie's hand. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. He ignored that.

Instead, Stan began to talk. He talked about Eddie, what he liked and hated. His fears, his desires, the way his voice would go up an octave when he was really freaking out-small things that only a best friend would know. Richie listened attentively, drinking in Stan's every word as if his life might depend on it.

When he was finished, neither one of them spoke for some time. Stan watched a few birds fly past, twittering jovially. Robins, his brain casually filed away as they vanished into the trees. His fingers itched to raise his binoculars and peer at them, but now was not the time. Not yet.

"... I've known Bill since we were kids," Richie began quietly.

"You don't have to do this," Stan interrupted immediately, his heart clenching painfully.

"Shut the fuck up. Yeah, I do. You told me about Eds, now I'm gonna tell you about Big Bill. You wanna know, don't ya?" Richie raised a knowing eyebrow at Stan, who could do nothing except sigh and nod soberly.

When Richie spoke of Bill, a part of Stan wondered if Richie loved Bill, too. Maybe Bill was one of those people that just pulled people in, stronger than gravity and warmer than the sun, and Stan wondered what chance he ever had of being with somebody like that. Stanley Uris, the only Jewish kid in from a small, conservative town, who loved birds and could be frustratingly meticulous, even to himself. How could he ever hope to be soulmates with somebody as bright and and perfect as Bill Denbrough? Why would Bill even want him?

Stan learned that Bill's mouth stuttered, but his brain didn't. That he was so smart and loved his little brother more than anything. That he wanted to be a writer and told the most amazing stories. That he was strong and loyal and would do anything for the people he cared about. Would die for the people he cared about.

And Stan loved him even more.

He blinked back the stinging in his eyes. Richie's hand still felt heavy and wrong in his own, but he still didn't let go. "Do you think it'll be poetic justice if you and me end up being soulmates? Being so fixated on somebody we can't have?"

"Nah, we're not soulmates," Richie disagreed with a certainty that made Stan burn with jealously. "Sorry, pal. Your hair's too curly-only my hair can be that fucking fabulous-and you're too tall and just not damn cute enough."

"Your hair isn't that great," Stan replied, but he was smiling. "And I get it. You wouldn't be my first choice, either. You're too tall, your limbs are too long, and your ego's too big. Then there's your jokes…."

"Your mom wasn't complaining about my jokes last night!" He raised a hand for a high five, and Stan just shook his head.

"Beep beep, Richie."

"Man, why'd Bill have to tell you guys about that? Eds is probably gonna beep me about everything tomorrow. Think he'll like going to the carnival?"

Stan snorted, smirking. "He'll hate that."

"I'm gonna take him anyways." Richie grinned right back. "I'm gonna tell him we made it to second base, too."

Now Stan full-on laughed. "He won't believe that! I don't do second base on the first date. I don't even do kissing on the first date."

"Bet you'd make an exception for Big Bill." Richie winked knowingly, still wearing that infuriating smirk of his, and Stan hated to admit that he was probably right. "I can't believe we spent our whole date talking about other people. We're pretty fucking bad at this."

"I'm pretty sure you started it."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Richie reached over to mess with Stan's mop of curls, and Stan shoved him away and pinned him with a dark glare. "You know what? You're not that bad, Uris. We should hang out more."

"You must really like bird-watching," Stan joked nonchalantly, but Richie's eyes widened behind his thick spectacles.

"Shit, that's right! We're supposed to be bird-watching!" When he spoke again, he'd adopted an accent that was probably meant to be Australian, but Stan thought sounded like a poor imitation of dying. He raised the binoculars to his face and began to swing around violently. "Ah think we've still got time to spot some wild magpies 'fore we've got to pop around for shrimp on tha barbie!"

"You know, that's not how Australian people talk."

"How the fuck would you know how Australian people talk?!"

When Stan got back to the dorm, Eddie still wasn't back. He sighed in annoyance and sat down to do his History report, confident that he wasn't going to be able to concentrate. Not when he kept thinking about what Bill and Eddie were doing. What kind of date had Bill taken him on? Richie hadn't said, and Stan hadn't asked.

After ten minutes, Stan realized how pointless this was. He went to the bathroom and washed his hands three times, still trying to get rid of the feeling of wrongness after holding Richie's hand. He washed them again for good measure, until the skin felt raw and red and tingling. He fixed his hair until he looked immaculate, as usual, and returned to his desk.

His mind raced, considering all of the possibilities until his brain added Eddie got hit by a car and now has amnesia to the list, and he realized he needed to stop. History. He should be focusing on History.

So he stared at his book and stared at his notes until all of the words blurred together, but anybody observing from the outside would have guessed he was deep in thought, intensely studying. It was a look that Stan had perfected for whenever he needed to have an existential crisis and didn't want anybody to know. That was the key to survival, he'd learned.

Keep a neutral face, and people would believe he was fine.

That was why Eddie didn't ask him what was wrong when he entered. Stan, blinking away the cloud of disorientation he'd fallen behind, turned to watch his best friend collapse into his own chair. He fixed Eddie with a critical stare, trying to determine how the date with Bill had gone.

Eddie gave nothing away, merely searching Stan's expression in retaliation. Stan had nothing to hide: stiff posture, neat appearance, nonchalant visage. Eddie appeared to relax then, obviously having arrived at the conclusion that Stan's bird-watching session with Tozier hadn't gone well.

But no, Eddie had no idea who his soulmate was. Stan almost scoffed. Instead, he settled on a question.

"How was your date with Bill?"

Eddie shrugged a little, his lips quirking. Stan didn't like that. "Not bad. We had coffee, and he told stories. He's a great storyteller."

I know. Stan bit his tongue.

"What about you and Richie?"

Stan pursed his lips and glanced away from Eddie. He could be truthful, or he could mess with his friend some. "He was a gentleman, except for all of his stupid mom jokes. He listened to everything I had to say about bird watching, didn't complain too much, and even bought me lunch. And then…." Stan paused, allowing his sentence to trail off, and watched Eddie.

"And then?" He saw the precise moment when Eddie began to panic. Stan watched a million thoughts race through Eddie's eyes until the boy started hyperventilating.

"Aspirator, Kaspbrak," Stan warned and waited for Eddie to yank out his inhaler. He paused, giving his friend a moment to breathe. "And then he said that he hopes we're not soulmates."

"He… he said… why would he say that?" Eddie took another puff, still on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Stan shrugged, turning around in his chair and fighting to remain impassive. Eddie made it so hard to keep a straight face sometimes. "Oh, I have no idea. It's definitely not because he has it in his head that somebody else is his soulmate."

"That's-that's not fair to you, though! What a fucking asshole!"

Stan watched him toss his aspirator onto his desk, but he could tell it was all an act. Eddie was secretly happy, otherwise he wouldn't be so pissed. Stan felt a weight lift off his chest. "I didn't take it personally. I told him I hope he's not my soulmate, too."

"What?" Eddie was agitated. He stood up to pace, and Stan fought the urge to roll his eyes. "How could the two of you act lie this? What about Bill and me? Are we the only ones taking this shit seriously?"

Probably. Stan didn't say that. That would just send Eddie into another panic attack. "Would you calm down already? It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?!"

Stan turned back around and grinned down at his History notes. "Your voice is doing that high-pitched thing again."

"I know it is!" Eddie sat back down, moody, and didn't say anything else. Stan could practically hear the wheels turning in his friend's head.

And Stan got it. He really did. Eddie wanted to be sure. Actually, really sure, and Stan did, too.

But could they ever be sure? Really sure? Yeah, he was approximately ninety percent positive that Bill was his soulmate, but the idea that they might never really know the truth did give him pause.

The thought of tomorrow rapidly approaching terrified him. What if he and Bill went on their date, and Bill didn't feel the same? What if Richie really was his soulmate? The two of them would spend the rest of their lives pining for something they could never have, and wouldn't that just be his luck?

He and Bill were supposed to meet up for an early movie and then grab a bite to eat. Stan made sure he looked pristine, if for no other reason than to settle his own nerves. He hadn't cared so much when he was meeting up with Richie, but just the thought of Bill made his stomach roil.

Eddie had already left, wearing an expression of excited trepidation that gave Stan little peace of mind. Stan looked at his own reflection and thought he looked terrified. Neat and terrified. He tried to school his face into that impassive expression he was so good at. It just wasn't working.

Stan was about to leave for the Aladdin when his phone buzzed. Maybe it was just his nerves, but he didn't think that was a good sign. Swallowing around his tight throat, he pulled out his phone to read the text from Bill.

Hey, Stan! I'm so sorry, but I have to take a book to my friend for class. I won't be able to make the movie. Reschedule?

Stan read the message a few times, his jaw tightening until his teeth were near grinding. He didn't even know how to respond. He kept hearing a nagging in his mind, a quiet voice that kept getting louder and louder, repeating the same thing: Bill hadn't canceled on Eddie.

The message began to jerk back and forth, and Stan realized his hand was shaking. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, but it wasn't working. Bill could have at least called him.

It was fine. Stan wasn't all that surprised. He didn't reply to Bill's text; instead, he sat down and continued to stare at the screen, trying to come to terms with this.

His phone vibrated again, repeatedly this time, and Stan blinked to clear his mind. Bill was calling him, probably to tell him the same thing he'd read in the text. Stan heaved a frustrated sigh and answered.

"Stuh-Stuh-Stuh-Sss…." Bill took a deep breath, sounding frazzled, and Stan felt a spike of annoyance at himself for not realizing sooner. Of course Bill had texted him; his stutter probably didn't make talking on the phone very easy.

"Bill," Stan greeted, impassive. Best to keep his emotions to himself. "It's okay. You don't owe me an explanation."

"Yes, I do! Yuh-you could be my suh-soulmate, and I'm f-fuh-fucking it up already!"

"I won't take it personally," Stan lied smoothly, more than a little happy to hear Bill so upset.

"If-if this wasn't an emergency…." Bill sighed, not done, and Stan waited politely. "Luh-listen, do you still wuh-wanna hang out? Yuh-you can come with me to duh-drop off the book, and we c-can do something e-else."

"You don't have to go out of your way for me," Stan tried to insist, but Bill's quiet reply choked the words right in his throat.

"I want to. I wuh-want to spend time with you, Stan. Cuh-can I come pick you up?" The hopeful tone in Bill's voice had his stomach in knots. Before he'd even realized it, Stan had agreed and ended the call.

He stood in the middle of his room, dumbfounded, and it felt like mere seconds later when he heard a knock on the door. The sound snapped him out of his reverie, and he shook his head a bit before heading toward the exit.

When he opened the door, he felt his heart still. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to actually have Bill in front of him. It was so natural, so perfect, so painful.

Bill offered him a nervous smile and fiddled with the thick algebra book in his hands. "H-hey, Stan. R-ruh-ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me lock up." Stan's hands shook while he fumbled with his key, and he was thankful that Bill either didn't notice or pretended not to.

He followed Bill out of the dorm and away from the campus. The two of them were quiet, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Stan, for the most part, didn't know what to say, and Bill kept tossing him anxious glances.

Maybe this was a mistake. He looked over at Bill, who was taller than him and walked with a kind of natural grace. Stan couldn't believe how easy being in his company was. He imagined that he must look out of place next to somebody so attractive, but Stan couldn't find the energy to care.

Bill caught him staring and smiled; Stan's cheeks began to burn, and he hastily looked away. "S-sorry again about th-the movies. I totally fuh-forgot until she texted me about the b-book."

"It's okay. I wasn't that set on seeing a movie. Where are we meeting your friend?" Stan almost kicked himself. Did he always have to sound so down-to-business?

"Ah-arcade. Sh-she and her s-soulmate are o-old friends of ours. M-me and Ruh-Richie, I mean."

Stan swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. So this wasn't just a friend. This was an old friend, probably a childhood friend. And he was meeting her on his first date with Bill. Stan's hands were shaking again.

"H-hey, uh…." Bill's stutter got worse, Stan realized, when he was nervous about something. At least Stan wasn't the only one feeling so unhinged. "Eh-Eddie said he di-didn't want to do anything t-too romantic. N-n-no ki-kissing and shit."

"And you want to know if I have the same rules," Stan finished helpfully. He bit his lip, considering. He thought of Eddie's words from the night before about being fair and taking this seriously, so he reluctantly nodded. If Eddie could resist Richie's advances, then Stan could fight his own urges. "It's probably for the best right now. At least until we're sure."

Bill took a deep breath and nodded, looking as disappointed as Stan felt. Stan could give a little and tried to think of the least dangerous thing the two of them could do.

"We could hold hands? If, uh… if you want."

"Y-yeah! I'd like that!" Bill brightened up immediately, and Stan smiled in relief.

Then Bill took his hand, and a sudden, embarrassing heat burned in his cheeks because this was right. So right, he almost crumbled from the intensity. His feet stopped moving, his legs like jelly as he tried to compose himself. This feeling was terrifying, crippling, and so right, he almost cried.

"Wow," Bill murmured, having stopped as well and now gazed at Stan with such wonder and awe, he could hardly stand it. Nobody had ever looked at him like that. Like he was the center of the universe. Like nothing made sense, but it was okay because he had all of the answers.

Stan had never felt more afraid in his life. He wanted to run, to escape, but a very real desire to hold onto this newness kept him rooted to the spot.

He asked, "Did you hold Eddie's hand at all?"

"N-no," Bill replied with a shake of his head. "Wh-what about you and Ruh-Richie?"

Stan nodded, pleased at the flicker of jealousy he saw in Bill's blue eyes. "It didn't feel like… like this."

"Do-do you think this-this means-"

"I don't know what this means," Stan interrupted before Bill could get too excited. He pulled his hand away, already missing the contact. But they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, and people were staring. He shoved his hands into his pockets, grasping at his bird book as if it might be all that held him to the physical plane. "We should keep going. Your friend is probably wondering where you are."

"... y-yeah." Bill wore a strange expression, and he opened his mouth to say something else. No words came out, though, so they continued on their way in silence. Stan's hand felt cold without Bill's fingers wrapped around it, and he struggled to keep from reaching out again.

He wanted to hold his hand so badly, but he was afraid. He'd been so certain, right from the very beginning, that Bill was his soulmate. Now that he was starting to get actual confirmation, he didn't know how to handle it.

As the two of them approached the arcade, Stan spotted a familiar girl with short red hair standing outside. She was beautiful and tall, and a cigarette hung out of her mouth. The moment she spotted them, she grinned and raised a hand to wave. "Bill!"

"H-hey, Bev. Th-thanks for waiting." Bill handed her the book, which she kissed and then stowed away in her bag. "Wh-where's Ben?"

"Waiting for me at the library. It's the first fucking week of college, and he's already practically living there." She shook her head, frustrated, but the fondness in her eyes betrayed that she didn't mind too much. "Did Richie send me anything? He owes me a pack of smokes after Overwatch last night. We had a bet going on to see which one of us was the better sniper. He's such a shitty Hanzo."

"H-he keeps saying the bet wuh-wasn't fair, so he won't puh-pay up," Bill explained with a laugh.

"Hey, I can't help it if I'm an amazing Widowmaker, and he can't aim. Fucking Trashmouth. I'll get back at him." Her eyes settled on Stan, her smile friendly, and he couldn't help but think again she looked familiar. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh! Th-this is Stanley Uris. Stan, this is B-Beverly Marsh."

"Have we met before?" Stan asked as he shook Bev's outstretched hand.

Beverly scrutinized him, thinking. Then her eyes lit up, and she began laughing. "I think we have! We met at orientation. Richie made some nasty jokes, and you threatened to castrate him and staple his dick to his forehead."

"That w-was you?" Bill snickered. "Ruh-Richie didn't shut up about that for a wuh-week! I was sad I m-missed it."

"That was Richie?" Stan repeated, his mind racing to put two and two together. He definitely remembered the incident. He'd been bumped into, and when Beverly stopped to apologize, one of her companions had made some dick jokes. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized that was Richie.

He'd met Richie before. So he couldn't be Stan's soulmate. Which meant….

Stan looked at Bill to see if he'd realized. He had, if his delirious grin was any indication. Stan swallowed, his heart thumping loudly in his temple, and he opened his mouth to speak. What was he supposed to say? Hey, guess what? We really are soulmates. Hope you're okay with that.

Thankfully, Bill saved him the embarrassment and spoke up first.

"Thanks, Bev. We have to go. We'll see you later!" Bill grabbed Stan's hand again, ready to drag him away. It took Stan a moment to realize that he didn't even stutter.

Beverly looked back and forth between the two of them, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Have fun, boys!"

And then Bill was pulling him down the street. Stan stumbled, struggling to keep up with Bill's quick pace, and Bill helped keep him from falling on his face. Bill held his gaze for a moment, so many unspoken emotions glistening there that stole away Stan's breath. The urgency of the situation infected him, and he matched Bill's gait, desperate for the privacy of his dorm room.

He fumbled with the key, one hand still enveloped in Bill's, and he could hardly concentrate with the way Bill kept invading his space. He was so close, he could have pressed a kiss to Stan's forehead, and that somehow just wasn't close enough.

At last, he got the key in the door, and then they were falling inside, pulling each other close. The door barely closed before they were kissing, messy and eager and far from perfect. Bill held his waist in one hand, and the other dug into his curls, making a mess of them, and for the first time in his life, Stan didn't care. Bill could muss his hair and put wrinkles in his clothes all he wanted, as long as he kept kissing him like that.

"I w-wanted it to be you," Bill whispered, breathless, between kisses. "Th-the moment I saw you, I just fucking knew. I knew."

Stan pulled him back in for another kiss, deeper this time and at a different, somehow magical angle, and he groaned in relief. Bill felt so solid in his grasp, so real, so his, and he hadn't realized how much he had needed this until that precise moment.

And Bill is wiping away Stan's tears, smiling adoringly, and Stan almost can't believe it. "You… you mean that? You aren't just saying that because now we know for sure?"

"Stan," Bill murmured, lips soft and sweet as they kissed every inch of Stan they could reach, "wh-why would I ever want anyb-body else?"

"You barely even know me yet! I-I have OCD about the stupidest things, I'm uptight, my favorite hobby is bird-watching, and I'm the only Jewish kid from the smallest town you've ever seen. Half the time, I don't even know what it means to be Jewish! I'm-I'm just-"

"My soulmate," Bill interrupted, his voice taking on a serious, mesmerizing tone. "Y-you're my soulmate. Wh-what about me? Muh-my biggest f-fear is something happening to my little buh-brother, I n-never come to dinner on t-time because I g-get so d-damn involved in wruh-writing, I've been sketching birds muh-my whole life and wondering wh-why the fuck I d-do, and I've b-been in lo-love with you since the m-moment I met you and w-worrying about whether you could eh-ever feel th-the same."

Stan stared at him, completely flummoxed. It hadn't just been him. This whole time, he'd been so concerned whether he could ever measure up to the perfection of Bill Denbrough, and Bill had been thinking the same thing. Stan reached up to frame Bill's face with his hands, stroking smooth cheeks and watching the way Bill practically sagged into his touch.

"You… you sketch birds," he whispered, emotion causing his voice to break, and Bill turned his head to kiss one of his palms.

"I h-have five fuh-fucking sketch books filled with b-birds," Bill confirmed with a grin.

"We're soulmates."

"We are."

And Stan smiled a real, genuine smile, letting the warmth of his soulmate envelop him in a gentle shroud of want. He'd never felt so wanted in his whole life, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to it. But he knew that Bill would be patient with him, already understanding him completely, and that wasn't half bad.

Somehow they ended up on Stan's bed, basking in each other's attention. Bill was kissing at his throat, his nose nudging aside the collar of his polo shirt to leave a nice, red mark that Stan would have a fun time covering up tomorrow. Stan hummed in appreciation, his hand carding through Bill's auburn locks.

"I don't think we should tell Richie and Eddie," he decided suddenly. Bill raised his head to blink at him curiously, and Stan kissed him before continuing. "Well. We figured it out on our own. I think the two of them should do the same."

"H-how long do you think th-that will take?"

Stan pursed his lips. "Richie's already pretty sure. I think Eddie will be the problem. He wants hard proof."

"We c-could introduce him to Bev?"

"Too easy. Besides, that's basically leading them to the answer." Stan huffed a little. He loved Eddie, he really did, but the boy could be so impossible when he wanted to be.

Bill suddenly grinned. "I h-have an idea!"

"What is it?"

"I'll t-take care of everything. Juh-just make sure you get Richie to that buh-big tree on campus tomorrow."

"You aren't even going to tell me what you have planned?" Stan frowned, put out, but then Bill kissed him, sweet and slow and soft, and soon he forgot all about Richie and Eddie and Bill's plan.

By the time Bill left, night had already fallen, and Stan had hardly any time to get his appearance back in order before Eddie came home. He still managed to tame his hair and smooth out his shirt before Eddie walked in carrying a huge pink teddy bear. He stared at the bear, trying to find something to say and coming up empty. Blushing, Eddie rushed to his room and returned several seconds later, sans bear.

"So how was your date with Bill?" he asked, an edge of nervousness to his tone, but Stan wasn't having that. No, he wasn't spilling a single word about what had happened with Bill.

Naturally, he brought attention to something much more interesting. "Why do you have a pink teddy bear?"

Eddie fidgeted with the hem of his shorts. "Mr. Snugglepuss. We went to the carnival. Richie won him."

"A carnival?" So Richie had gone through with the idea after all. Still, Stan crinkled his nose and played the part of a surprised roommate. "I bet you enjoyed that."

"It… wasn't that bad," Eddie confessed slowly, sounding amazed himself about this strange and unexpected breakthrough. Eddie Kaspbrak went to a carnival, a practical breeding ground for infection, and not only lived to tell the tale but had fun, too. This was a day for the books. "I enjoyed myself, and I'm guessing you did, too?"

Stan felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, and no amount of schooling his expression could help. He swallowed and fought against the smile threatening to curl at the corners of his lips. Lips that had been kissing Bill not even an hour ago.

"Do you think Richie was right in the beginning?"

Stan didn't hesitate. He felt a little bad, but Eddie needed to realize himself. So far, he was the only one of them that hadn't known right off the bat who his soulmate was. Maybe he did know, Stan reasoned. Maybe he knew deep down, but he wanted the security of confirmation. Stan couldn't really blame him there.

So he lied to his best friend for his own good. "Beats me. It's possible, but there's no real way to be sure. We can go on as many dates as we want, but in the end, will we ever really know the truth?"

The shadow of doubt cloaked Eddie's expression, and Stan knew it was a job well done. Casually, he adjusted his shirt collar to hide the evidence Bill had left behind and prayed that whatever plan Bill had would work out smoothly. If for no other reason than the freedom to kiss his soulmate in public.

Just as Bill had insisted, Stan dragged Richie across the campus to the big tree. Richie hadn't gone without a fight, that trashmouth of his firing off at a million miles an hour to argue why he didn't see what the big deal was.

"It's a tree, Stanny Boy! What could be so fucking interesting about a tree?" Richie complained, dragging his feet, and Stan elbowed him.

"If you'd move along at a decent pace, maybe you'd find out. Are your long legs just compensating for something?"

"Hey!" Richie glared at him, offended, before he shrugged and grinned proudly. "That wasn't half bad!" He raised his hand for a high five, which Stan blatantly ignored.

He could see the tree in the distance, and he thought he spotted Bill and Eddie beneath the canopy. Bill was saying something to Eddie, who hesitated before nodding. Then Bill began to move closer, and Stan felt his whole body freeze.

What was Bill doing? Was he… was he going to kiss Eddie? No. No, that couldn't be right. Bill was his soulmate; why would he kiss somebody else?

Richie had arrived at the same conclusion as Stan, and his whole body tensed with rage. "He better not fucking be doing what I think he's doing! I'll fucking kill him!"

Before Stan could say anything, Richie took off toward them. Those long legs were good for something. With a sigh, Stan followed at a reasonable pace, satisfied when he saw Richie tear Bill away from Eddie. He stood between the two like a barrier, yelling loudly and ignoring Eddie when he tried to placate him.

"What's going on?" Stan asked, his hand instinctively slipping into Bill's as he looked around at the mess he'd let his soulmate cause. Bill didn't even look the least bit apologetic.

"Bill tried to kiss Eddie!" Richie accused, actually using Eddie's real name and not one of the nicknames Eddie swore he hated.

"You what?" Stan turned to Bill venomously and tried to tug his hand back. No wonder Bill wouldn't tell him what his idea was! He knew Stan would never agree to it, and he'd been right.

Bill wouldn't let go of him, though, staying calm in spite of Stan's wrath. He merely squeezed his hand put on a shit-eating grin. "Just p-proving a point."

Richie looked confused, about to start spouting obscenities and threats again, when Eddie grabbed his hand. The two faced each other wordlessly, realization passing between the two of them, and Stan had seen enough. He tugged at Bill, who followed him without argument away from the tree and the their two friends.

Stan hadn't said anything yet. He still felt incredibly angry. Even though Bill hadn't kissed Eddie, just the thought that he might have still burned him up inside. He could feel Bill's worried eyes flickering over to him, but Stan didn't address him. Not yet.

"I'm s-s-suh-sorry I d-didn't tell you muh-muh-my idea," Bill murmured, his thumb running up and down Stan's skin. His stutter was worse; he must've realized how angry Stan was.

The fury began to drain from him, pacified by Bill's earnest concern. Bill cared about him and couldn't stand the idea of Stan being mad at him, and Stan… well, Stan couldn't stand that he couldn't stay mad at him. He'd already forgiven him, and wasn't that just frustrating?

Stan stopped walking. He turned right to Bill, his famed neutral expression set firmly in place, and Bill looked genuinely worried. It might have been a bit cruel, but Bill did keep his plan from Stan. It had been a good plan, but Stan still didn't like it.

He couldn't keep his soulmate waiting for long. He grabbed Bill by the collar and pulled him down into a searing kiss that Bill melted into immediately. People were staring and pointing and whispering, but Stan couldn't care less. It was back again-that sense of this is right, this is how things are supposed to be. That feeling he'd been getting right from the very beginning.

"Don't kiss anybody else, no matter the reason." Stan tried to sound firm, but his words came out more like a plea.

"Wuh-wouldn't dream of it," Bill promised, his forehead pressed to Stan's so their breaths could mingle.

Stan smiled, his fingertips slotting perfectly with Bill's as he leaned in for another kiss. He didn't feel alone or unwanted anymore and never would again. He had Bill. He would always have Bill.

Finally, everything felt right.