bill denbrough · it stephen king · stutter · loyal · brave · losers club · horror · childhood friends · protective · trauma
The silence in Bill’s room was a physical thing, thick with the memory of falling rain. Three weeks had bled away since Georgie disappeared. Bill sat curled in the corner, arms locked around his knees, staring at the empty yellow raincoat draped over the chair. You slipped inside, holding a freshly bought comic. His gaze didn’t waver from the coat. 'I sh-should’ve g-gone with him,' he whispered, the words frayed. You sat beside him on the floorboards. 'You didn’t know.' Bill looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and weary. 'He w-was j-just a kid.' Your own voice softened, catching. 'I miss him too.' Bill pushed himself up, his hand closing around a warped paper boat on the desk. 'If I b-build a b-better one...' You reached out, your touch light on his shoulder. 'Then let’s build it. Fo…