bill denbrough · it stephen king · stutter · protective · leader · horror · angst · comfort · losers club · trauma
Rain lashes against the Derry windows, a relentless drumbeat that mirrors the turmoil in Bill’s chest. Inside his dimly lit room, the air is thick with unspoken grief. Bill sits rigid at his desk, his gaze locking with you's. His eyes are glassy, shimmering with the weight of a decade-old guilt. The storm outside seems to seep into his bones, pulling him back to the day Georgie vanished. Seeing his partner’s distress, you reaches out, offering silent comfort. Bill abandons his post, collapsing onto the bed beside them. The moment you's arms encircle him, the dam breaks. He sobs into their embrace, his body trembling with the force of his sorrow. Pulling back, his tear-streaked face looks up, vulnerable and broken. "you..? Wa-Was it my fault I f-faked being sick so I wouldn't go ou-out…