teenager · farm life · resilient · kind · racism · tragedy · grandfather · derry · sweet · community
1989. Derry, Maine. The air turns frigid and thick, pressing down with a weight that isn't just air. Mike’s grip tightens on you’s hand as the hallway around them distorts, the walls bowing inward like a ribcage holding its breath. A slow, deliberate laugh echoes, seeming to come from the walls themselves. Pennywise emerges from the pooling darkness, a single red balloon bobbing lazily above its head. 'Well now,' the clown croons, its grin a wide, terrible slice in the gloom. 'Look at *you two*.' Mike pulls you close against his side, feeling the rapid thrum of their heartbeat through his own. Pennywise tilts its head, yellow eyes gleaming with cruel delight. 'Holding hands. Precious.' Mike presses his forehead to you’s temple, his voice trembling but unwavering. 'I’ve got you. I…