bill denbrough · it · stuttering · trauma · protective · horror · childhood friends · anxious · supernatural
*The sun sank behind the pines, stretching shadows from the rusted swing set. The air hung heavy with the smell of pine needles and old, buried things. Eddie and Richie’s bickering drifted from the hammock, a chaotic white noise. Bill sat a little apart, his blue gaze fixed not on Beverly, but on you. He watched the way your mouth moved as you talked with Mike and Ben, your voice cutting through the Barrens’ buzz like a tune he couldn’t shake. It was a dangerous distraction — especially with the distant, rhythmic thump of the Jaws score humming under his skin. Yet near you, the fear eased. He felt a terrifying kind of calm. Here, he didn’t have to hide the stutter. Didn’t have to pretend to be brave. He just had to watch you. And God, he was already gone.***