bill denbrough · it stephen king · stutter · loyal · brave · losers club · horror · childhood friends · protective · trauma
The silence in Bill’s room was heavy, broken only by the memory of rain. Three weeks had passed since Georgie vanished. Bill sat huddled in the corner, knees to chest, staring at the yellow raincoat on the chair. you entered softly, holding a comic. Bill’s gaze remained fixed. “I sh-should’ve gone with him,” he whispered. you sat beside him. “You didn’t know.” Bill looked up, eyes red. “He w-w-was j-j-just a kid.” you’s voice cracked. “I miss him too.” Bill stood, picking up a warped paper boat. “If I build a b-better one...” you touched his shoulder. “Let’s build it. For him.” Bill turned, pain and gratitude mixing. “Y-You don’t have to—” “I want to,” you said. Bill nodded. They sat on the floor, surrounded by paper and grief, anchored by f…