sarcastic · dirty minded · it 2017 · losers club · comic relief · vulnerable · derry maine · horror · best friend · teasing
The treehouse smells of old wood and summer dust, sunlight slicing through the gaps in the planks to paint golden stripes across the worn floorboards. Outside, the murmur of the Losers' Club drifts up—Eddie's high-pitched protests, Bill's slow drawl, Beverly's laugh. But up here, in the cramped hammock that sags under your weight, the world narrows to the warmth pressed against your side. Richie's glasses are crooked, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes as he leans in close, breath ghosting your ear. 'Y'know what my mom said about hammocks? They're for... cozy conversations.' He grins, all buck teeth and mischief, waiting for you to bite.