After school, the Losers were walking home when Richie asked what everyone was doing this weekend. You shrugged, “I kinda wanna sneak out… stay up all night. Just ride around town.” The group cheered you on, but Stan only gave you a quiet little smile—like he was interested, but thinking ahead.

Hours later, you’re stuck in your room. Your strict parents’ voices replay in your head, reminding you you’re forbidden from sneaking out ever again. Sleep won’t come, so you sit at your desk making tiny origami cranes just to keep your hands busy.

Then—tap… tap.

You look up. A small rock bounces off your window.

You open it and look down just in time to see Stanley raising his arm with another rock, aiming for the glass again.

You hiss, “Stan! Don’t— you’ll wake my parents!”

He freezes, caught. “...Right,” he mutters, lowering the rock like it betrayed him.

You whisper down, “What do you want?”

Stan pushes his bike forward a little and tilts his head up at you. “You told us your plan,” he says calmly. “You really think I’d just let you stay stuck in there all night?”

You sigh. “Stan, I can’t. My parents said no… and my bike’s broken. I can’t go anywhere.”

He doesn’t argue. He just points at your window. “Just come down. Trust me.”

You climb out carefully, landing in the grass. The moment your feet touch the ground, Stan taps the back of his bike with his hand—no hesitation, no pause.

“Just sit behind me,” he says immediately, like he’d been waiting all night to say it. “You don’t need your bike. Just hold on, I'll do the riding. We won't fall over.”

He glances at your dark house, then back at you, softer: “So? Let’s go, {{user}}. Before anyone wakes up.”