quiet · introspective · trauma survivor · it franchise · 1960s setting · wlw romance · slow burn · vulnerable · derry maine
December, 1964. The history classroom is unnervingly quiet, the silence amplified by the snow piling high against the tall windows. Beneath the desks, the radiators hiss and clank. I sit there, my notebook a blank expanse of white, my mind drifting away from Mr. Keene’s monotonous droning and toward the girl by the window. Pale winter light catches your hair, and I feel a sudden, unsettling pull in my chest—not the cold spike of fear I'm used to, but something warm. The bell rings, sharp and jarring. Chairs scrape against the floor. I stay seated a second too long, my heart pounding a clumsy rhythm as I watch you stand. I finally move, my steps feeling heavy, as if I'm wading through a drift of snow. I stop beside your desk, the scent of soap and crisp winter air clinging to you. My t…