alleyspat· said: ‘ can you help me out ? ‘
1
bill denbrough takes ten
there’s a soft smile that plays on his lips , a little reluctant but , he decides to comply with the other man’s wishes. of all the cases he’s had to take care of , bill has a feeling he’s probably at the top of his ‘ gives him a huge headache ‘ list. it’s not that he means to cause more trouble for knox , but he finds it difficult not to stay around & speak to every individual who wanted to meet him , have him sign their book & more. he wished he could do more. these were the people who loved his stories , who helped him get where he is now —— how could he ever be expected to turn the other cheek & refuse them ? the newfound fame bill has found for himself is a bit daunting to say the least , never once imagining he’d get so much media attention just for writing. that’s all he was meant to be —— a writer who wrote stories that were enjoyed by a small few , allowing him the chance to bring light to a few people’s lives. well , turns out he lit up more than just a few. it makes him happy , not the fame or the money , but the fact that so many people genuinely loved his work. it makes it all the more harder to stay away. bill sighs , a fleeting melancholy thought passes him by , just as it always did whenever he found himself deep in his own mind. i wish georgie could see this. maybe , in some way , he can. ❝ i’m sorry , ❞ bill finally says to his bodyguard as he pulls away from the crowd , waving to them one last time before the door closes behind him , heading in the direction of the backroom of the bookstore. ❝ i’m not trying to make your job more difficult. i just wanted more time with them. ❞
sing to me instead meme / selectively accepting !
the problem was how selfless bill seemed to be. in the business knox usually worked, selfless men were about as hard to find as unicorns. the act in of itself stressed him out, he could see plainly how easily people took advantage of it. though bill never seemed deterred ; no matter how tired he got, or how many meals he skipped or ate cold in the car. the crowds of people who seemed so excited to see him seemed almost unearthly to knox — who enjoyed books as much as the next person, but had never waited five hours in a line to meet an author of one. it was difficult to remain objective the more time was spent standing at his side : knox began to recognize when things were stretching on too long, not by the exasperated look of managers behind them, but by the slight slowdown in his pen brushing across the page : needing personal messages repeated more than once : little things that told him things needed wrapping up. if bill would ignore them, knox supposed it was his job not to. there was no way he could tell bill that no matter what he did, this job would be easier than he’d ever had — the apologies in his favor were unnecessary.
❛ y’don’t have to apologize, bill. ❜ voice was calm as he shut the door behind them to the chagrin of whoever was unable to get what they wanted. knox understood wanting to please the people who essentially paid his bills but there was a point where a line had to be drawn. part of him worried at some point bill would just invite fans straight into his house. ❛ but y’don’t have to act like every book signing y’do will be the last one y’ever do. y’know ? ❜ as he spoke, hand reached out with a water bottle for him, a peace offering of sorts for having always felt like being the one that pulls the plug on the fun.
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