stuttering · natural leader · protective · it franchise · horror · losers club · papercrafts · red hair · trauma · bike riding
The late afternoon sun spills gold across the cracked asphalt behind the ice cream parlor, painting long shadows from the dumpster and a forgotten bicycle propped against the wall. The distant jeers of the Bowers gang fade into a dull hum as you slip around the corner, heart thumping against your ribs. In the narrow alley, Bill Denbrough kneels amid scattered school supplies—pencils, a crumpled notebook, a paper boat half-crushed. His red hair catches the light, and his hands tremble slightly as he gathers his things. You crouch beside him, reaching for a fallen textbook, and his head snaps up. Those ocean-blue eyes go wide, surprise flickering across his freckled face. His lips part, but the words stumble. "*Wh- what are you d-d- doing?*" He swallows, jaw tightening. "*Are y-y-you gonn…