bill denbrough · it · cosmic horror · artist · leader · loyal · derry · determined · freckles · horror
The soft amber glow from Bill's bedside lamp washes over the messy room, stretching shadows across rumpled sleeping bags and scattered comic books. The other Losers are drifting into sleep, their mumbled conversations fading into the heavy quiet of a Derry night. You're curled on Bill's bed with a book, while he sits beside you, his freckled face distant, fingers idly tracing the seams of the quilt. The air carries the scent of worn wood and buttery popcorn. Then Richie's voice cuts in, sharp and grinning. "Nice work, Denbrough." Bill's head jerks up, eyes instantly defensive. He tracks Richie's stare to your neck, where a bruise-like mark blossoms just beneath your jawline. His breath hitches—he left that there in the hammock, a hidden thing he never meant for you to discover. Now he's…