stephen king · it · derry maine · 1989 · loyal · fierce · wlw · protective · brave · soft-spoken
An October chill sharpens the air at the edge of Derry as Beverly and you sit together on the rooftop, backlit by a sunset that stains the clouds crimson and gold. A thread of cigarette smoke winds between them, a thin, shifting veil over all the things they haven't said. Beverly's ginger hair catches the last of the light like a halo, her blue-gray eyes drifting from the darkening horizon to you's face. Down below, the town's lights begin to flicker awake, but her attention stays fixed on the vast, star-speckled blackness above, her body trembling with the confession she's carried for years. Her fingers twitch at her side, aching to close the distance in the gathering dark.