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starry-nightflyer · 6 years

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“SWIGGITY SWEEDBACK, LEAVE ME SOME FEEDBACK!” - @da-chubby-burb . Chapter five! Holy shit! Okay, you guys BLOW ME AWAY with your responses and predictions for every chapter I write for @littlekiwifrog’s fucking spectacular It AU. Seriously, I love you all. I want to give a HUGE Shout out to my betas, SkyHighDisco-New, @navy-follower, and @clownxwithxaxpaperxboat These three are freaking amazing human beings and I love them all. You all deserve hot cocoa! As per usual, enjoy the chapter!

[FIRST] [SECOND] [THIRD] [FOURTH]

Georgie awoke in darkness. He frowned, squirmed, and tried to move his oddly unresponsive body out from under whatever pinned him in place, heartbeat quickening as he did so. The darkness engulfing him didn’t cease to be, but something atop him shifted, just enough to pin him closer to- well- what he was on top of, he didn’t know. All he knew was that it was very hot, and very dark, and he wanted to get out from under it, thank you very much. His sleep-glazed eyes began to focus on what looked to be a mess of white sheets, which caused him to stop scrambling to get free.

They weren’t his sheets, but they seemed familiar.

He frowned in the dark and slowly reached one hand out in front of him, pawing at the sheets, still incredibly aware of the weight on his back. It was hot, and it shifted around slightly, letting out small breaths of air before settling back down atop him. It was only when a soft snore resonated from above him that he figured it out. He huffed out an irritated breath and put a bit more effort into squirming, his legs tangling in the bedsheets.

“Billy! You’re squishin’ me!” He squawked, giving the weight atop him a shove. The snores above him intensified and he groaned exasperatedly. “Bill,” he whined, drawing out the name to last a small eternity. “Get off!” The snoring stopped and something atop him shifted.

A soft, somewhat irritated moan rang in his ears, a yawn following. “Juh-” Bill audibly swallowed before trying again, “Juh-Juh…” Georgie glared at the blankets and pushed at Bill’s chest, not in the mood to wait for his brother’s tongue to start working.

“Yes, it’s me. Now get off!” Bill groaned softly, but obliged, Georgie wiggling out from under his arms and taking a gulping breath of air, the cold morning air causing him to cross his arms against his chest. Bill laughed softly behind him and he whirled around to stick out his tongue, pushing at the arm that was still wrapped around his shoulder. “You’re still sweaty.” He observed as his brother retracted his arm and rubbed at his tired eyes, the brilliant blue they normally carried muted from sleep, looking almost glassy. Georgie watched his brother stand, fiddling idly with the bottom of his cream nightshirt.

“Suh-Sorry,” he muttered, yawning once more into his hand. Georgie tugged his legs from the blankets and sat upright on the bed, tilting his head to the side slightly like a curious dog.

“Feelin’ any better?” Bill visibly stiffened, his cheeks draining of color.

“Fine.” He replied, a soft smile gracing his lips. Georgie frowned. He could always tell when his brother was lying, as much as Bill liked to pretend he didn’t. There were two key things he had become aware of in his seven years of living. One, was that his stutter would intensify so much, he could hardly speak, even though he had been fine moments before. The other dead giveaway was when he spoke in single, harsh syllables that didn’t tie his tongue into knots, tugging them from his throat like they were stuck within it.

“Are you sure?” He asked, leaning forward, ignoring the way that Bill flinched back. “Because you don’t look fine.” Bill’s smile faded into something that looked more like a grimace and he rubbed at his face with the heel of his hand.

“I’m shu-sure,” he averted his eyes, but Georgie had seen the lie outright. After all, he knew Bill didn’t scare easily, but he had been shaking the night before. Surely that would stick with him into the morning? Still, Georgie bit his lip against the remark on his tongue, simply nodding and rising from the mess of blankets, stretching his arms high above his head with a heavy exhale.

“’M'kay,” he mumbled, sidestepping Bill and shooting him a sleepy grin before pushing open the door and stepping out into the hallway, deciding to brush his teeth before getting on with his morning. He was completely unaware of the way Bill watched him walk away, looking borderline frightened before shutting and latching the door to his room, retreating back behind the closed door.

Bill put his head into his hands the second Georgie was out of sight and let out a long, shuddering sigh, flopping backward onto his bed and trying to force images of last night’s dream out of his head. It wasn’t working. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make them leave, images of demons readying themselves to spring, the scent of blood, the feeling of pure terror as something- something hideous and otherworldly and wrong latched itself around his ankle, and the sound of his own deranged screams and wails before he had awoken in a cold sweat.

He changed out of his pyjamas in silence save for his thoughts, desperately wishing it wasn’t so quiet. Every creak from the floorboards set him off, thinking that the beast of his nightmare was coming for him, which was ridiculous. Even though he scolded himself for thinking such things, he couldn’t block out the noises of Georgie’s desperate screaming that his brain seemed content to repeat in an endless loop, growing steadily louder as he tugged his green t-shirt over his head and buttoned his jeans.

He would never admit that he had woken up a few more times that night on the verge of tears, his chest aching like his heart had fractured within it and his lungs screaming for air, a pair of hideous, gleaming yellow eyes etched into his mind. He made sure to tug the sleeping mass of Georgie just a little closer every time, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer to his side. Then, he would resume his staring competition with his ceiling until his eyelids were too heavy for him to keep open and he drifted off into a tormented sort of sleep that had him awake and gasping for breath mere minutes after, and so the cycle would continue.

He was reminded of that as he flopped backward onto his still-warm bed, letting his left hand hang loosely over the edge, knuckles grazing the floor. It was stupid to get so worked up over a dream. He was fourteen, not four, but somehow, that particular nightmare had deemed itself as different from the rest. He took a heaving breath and rolled over, shoving his fingers through his hair once in a futile attempt to get it to hang straight. Most nightmares, he had discovered, weren’t forgotten as easily as dreams, but still faded and lost some of their horrific quality by morning. But, this one wasn’t a normal nightmare, of that much, he was certain. The details were so crisp, so clear and unwavering in his mind that he knew this dream wasn’t going to leave him alone, even in his waking hours.

He rose from the bed with a small sigh, stretching once before plodding out of the room, stealing down the hall and cautiously peering into the kitchen. It didn’t look like either of his parents were up yet, which was always a plus. Quickly, knowing that he didn’t have much time until Georgie flew in, he made for the phone and quietly dialed, hoping against all odds that Ben was up.

He tangled his fingers in the white cord and let his head fall to the cold wall as the first ring echoed in his ears. And the second. Ben picked up on the third warbling ring and took a breath. Bill spoke before Ben could gather his words.

“I nuh-need to talk to you,” he mumbled, fighting not to let his voice crack.

“Bill, are you-”

“I’m fuh-fine, Ben,” he let the lie slip from his lips like he had the night before, guilt gnawing at his gut. “I juh-ju-just need to talk.”

There was a slight shuffling on the other end of the line, which Bill presumed to be Ben grabbing a chair before he resumed speaking. “Right, okay. Talk.” Bill scrubbed a hand over his face.

“No, luh-like, in puh-puh-” he took a shuddering breath through his nose, “person.” He could practically hear the pitying look Ben was wearing through the static and fought to keep himself from letting it get to him.

“Um, today?” Bill nodded vigorously before realizing Ben couldn’t see it. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the phone tightly to his ear.

“Yes, puh-please.” He managed, silently cursing the fact that his voice wavered.

“You okay?” It was the way that Ben sounded so genuinely concerned that made Bill bite his lip, desperate to keep composure.

“Sort of.” He felt a small surge of pride at the lack of a stutter in those two words and felt his mood lift. “I juh-just wanted to tuh-tuh-”

Damn it.

He trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose and gritting his teeth. “Talk to you.” He felt like a broken record as those words left his lips.

“Oh.” He could sense the hesitance in Ben’s words and stayed silent, knowing that, although he wanted Bill to speak, he wasn’t going to wait very long before continuing. “Actually, I was just about to call you. Mike, Richie, and I were going to check out the Neibolt house. Mike’s dad’s doing some research on historical buildings and figured that we’d want to help out…” He could practically hear Ben shrug.

“Oh, th-that’s fuh-fine, I guess,” Bill managed, shuffling awkwardly and twining his fingers with the cord. Ben took a deep breath and Bill could hear it through the line, mingling with the static.

“I was going to invite you along…” Bill smiled in spite of the situation, feeling the knot in his gut loosen considerably. “But, if you don’t want to, I totally get it-”

“I’ll cuh-come,” he interrupted. “That suh-sounds…” He searched for the right word for a moment. He settled with “different,” and Ben half-laughed.

“Good. Richie didn’t want to come until he heard there would be ice-cream.” Bill snorted.

“Suh-sounds like Tuh-Trashmouth,” he agreed. The two boys stayed in silence for a moment, before Ben broke it by clearing his throat.

“Why did you call me?”

Bill blinked. “What do you muh-mean?"

Ben sighed. "Just, I haven’t known you that long. I’m not complaining, but I thought you would have called somebody else if you wanted to talk…” Ben’s voice sounded genuinely concerned, but also touched, that he was the one Bill would call.

“Nah,” Bill leaned against the wall, knowing that it was his turn to speak. “You’re the buh-best listener,” he explained, “Richie wuh-would make a joke and tuh-try to muh-make me smile. Muh-Mike would try to fix th-things.” He mentally began to do an inventory of his friends, counting them off on his fingers. “Bev’s duh-dad would kick her ass if I cuh-called. Stan would th-think I was overreacting. And Eddie wuh-would fuh-freak out. I still want tuh-to tell them, but yuh-you’re the best at juh-just listening.” It felt like something heavy lifted off of his chest when he said those words, as though just admitting that he wanted to talk would be enough to make the horrors he had faced the night before a little less frightening.

Ben laughed. “Thanks, Big Bill.”

Bill nodded. “Don’t muh-mention it. Trust me, yuh-you’re great.” Once again, they lapsed into silence, but it was far more comfortable than the last time.

“Meet you there around noon?”

“Suh-sounds good.”

“Cool!” The dial tone sounded almost hollow in his ears and he let it ring for a moment before hanging the phone back on the wall, taking care not to tangle the cord before latching the white device into place.

“What’re you doing?” Bill nearly leapt out of his skin at the sudden presence of a new voice, turning to shoot a glare at his younger brother.

“You sh-shouldn’t be eaves-duh-dropping,” he scolded. Georgie had the decency to look sheepish. His eyes fell to the ground.

“Sorry, Billy,” he mumbled to his socks, looking back at Bill after a few moments. “But I didn’t hear much, promise!” Bill rolled his eyes fondly, still glad to be hearing his brother’s voice, even if the dream had long since passed.

“I wuh-was just tuh-talking to Ben,” he explained, running his fingers through his fair a couple times more, silently wishing for a comb. “He in-invited me to go on some kuh-kind of huh-historic hunt at the Nuh-Neibolt house.” Georgie nodded, pulling one chair from the table and sliding into it, one hand reaching for the muffins on the table.

“Are you gonna go?” He inquired around a mouthful of muffin, crumbs spilling down the front of his yellow shirt. Bill shrugged amiably.

“Probably.” He admitted, biting back the: Yes! That jumped onto his tongue in hopes that Georgie wouldn’t ask to tag along. He, however, knew that his efforts would prove futile the second the words left his mouth. Georgie’s eyes lit up.

“Can I come? Please?” Bill wanted so badly to say no, but once he looked into his brother’s wide eyes, he knew he was a goner.

“Well…” he started, averting his eyes and snatching a muffin. “I duh-don’t know if I wuh-want you there,” he confessed. Georgie let out a high pitched whine and rocked back and forth on his chair.

“Pleeeaase?” He begged. Bill slumped into a chair across from him and took a bite out of the chocolate-chip muffin, making sure to chew slowly.

“I dunno, are you shu-shure you cuh-can handle it?” He asked after swallowing, leaning forward slightly as he took another bite. “It is the Nuh-Neibolt Street house, yuh-you know the one.”

Georgie huffed out an irritated breath. “Yeah, I know. It’s not that scary.”

Bill raised his eyebrows skeptically. “It sc-scared Richie pretty buh-badly the other day…” he continued. Georgie squared his shoulders, brushing crumbs from his lap.

“I can handle it,” he insisted, “I promise!” Bill hummed slightly in thought, which caused Georgie to squirm in place. “Billy!” Bill held up one finger and swallowed.

“Okay,” he agreed, secretly loving the way Georgie’s face shone with a pure, childlike sort of glee.

“Really?”

Bill couldn’t help the answer that slipped past his lips. “No.” Georgie’s face fell and he had just opened his mouth to protest when Bill let out a laugh. “Just kuh-kidding.” Georgie glared at him and pointed his muffin at his older brother accusingly.

“That was mean!”

Bill grinned. “I wuh-was kidding!” He managed to say before a muffin wrapper hit him in the face, leaving a trail of crumbs down his shirt. Bill shook his head and looked over to where his younger brother sat with a pleased expression on his face. A soft laugh escaped Bill and he pushed his chair back and stood, balling up his own wrapper and pulling his arm back like he was going to make a game-winning pitch. Georgie squealed and shoved his chair aside, ducking behind the table as Bill let the wrapper fly. It hit the cupboard behind his target with a dull thud, prompting said target to giggle and peer over the edge of the table.

“You missed!” He sang in a mocking voice, sticking out his tongue at Bill. That, of course, was when Bill whipped out the wrapper that Georgie had pummeled him with and hurled it at his brother. It was a beautiful throw. Georgie squeaked as it hit him squarely in the face. A small surge of pride flared in his chest and a smug grin found his lips as Georgie shot him a scowl.

“That one duh-didn’t miss.” Bill remarked, leaning back cockily on his chair, watching as Georgie tossed the wrappers into the garbage bin.

“Yeah, but it was my wrapper.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “So?” Georgie opened his mouth to argue further, but then he seemed to realize how petty he was being and giggled. Bill soon joined him, and even though the horrors of last night didn’t fade from behind his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit better.

“Did you guh-get the camera fuh-from Dad?” It had been nearly an hour, and Bill was beginning to grow restless from waiting. His knees jittered as he sat on the front porch, bike at the ready mere feet away from him. The door behind him swung open and he turned to look as Georgie pranced toward him.

“Yep!” His brother proclaimed, stopping only to lace his yellow sneakers. The device in question swung loosely around his neck, the boy wearing it struggling to adjust the strap the second he stood. Bill laughed softly and moved to his side.

“Nuh-need some help with that?” He asked, gesturing to the strap. His brother nodded and grinned widely as Bill worked the weatherbeaten strip of leather, taking a moment to loosen it before pulling it tight, letting it hang at Georgie’s chest rather than at his ankles. He gave the strap one final yank. “That shu-should do it.” He took a step back to admire his handiwork.

“Thanks Billy!” Georgie chirped, practically bouncing down the front steps to his bike, camera swaying along with his movements. “How much longer until they get here?” Bill sank back down to the loose boards and drummed on his knees.

“Dunno. Th-they just said they’d-” A bicycle bell rang in the distance, effectively cutting him off and answering Georgie’s question. Bill squinted down the street in the direction of the noise, putting one hand on his forehead to shield his eyes as he stood, Georgie bounding ahead of him to get to his bike, camera swinging wildly. “Pick us up.” He finished with a wide smile, moving to leap astride Silver.

“Hi-ho, Big Bill!” Richie’s voice rang through the street in what he thought passed for a British accent, punctuated with a hoot from Mike and a laugh from Ben. Bill rolled his eyes, standing up on Silver’s pedals and beginning to pump his legs, Georgie already far ahead of him. “Stopping day!” The three on bikes were closer now, close enough to see the eye-rolls that were shared at Richie’s attempts to make them laugh.

“You do know that voice is awful, right?” Mike pointed out. Richie gasped.

“You fockin’ wot, mate?”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Ben scolded, jutting out his chin in the direction of Georgie and Bill, who were now mere feet away, Bill beginning to pedal in slow, lazy circles around the group. Georgie simply stopped, already scuffed sneakers hitting the ground. Richie pushed up his glasses, having the decency to sound sheepish.

“Hey, Georgie.” Georgie puffed up his chest, wheeling his bike a little faster and gliding on the street, steadily shooting ahead of the group. Mike laughed at his enthusiasm.

“What’s he so worked up about?”

Bill shrugged and the four of them fell in sync, Georgie shooting to the end of the street and looping back a couple of times. “He’s juh-just excited that Duh-Dad let him use the camera,” he explained, “and he luh-loves you guys.”

“Rightly so, although…” Richie waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “my heart does belong to Mrs. K.” Bill snorted, trying not to let his amusement show, knowing that it would only set the trashmouth off. Luckily for him, Richie didn’t notice and the group lapsed into silence, save for the steady grinding of their chains and the sound of tires on the concrete. Bill was glad for the quiet company and focused his gaze on the street below him, not trusting himself to look up at the houses without feeling that same dread from last night creeping back into his heart.

So instead, he busied himself by looking at the autumn leaves, still speckled with green amongst the orange, red, and golden yellow hues, crunching under the spinning tires that carried him down the familiar street.

“YOU’RE SO SLOW!” Georgie hooted, his voice startling Bill as it was so close and so loud, practically right in his ear. The handlebars swung and Bill had to take a sharp breath in through his nose as he struggled to keep the bike steady for a moment.

“We’ll cuh-catch up, Georgie,” Bill managed with a watery smile. He pretended not to notice the uneasy looks that were shared behind his back as Georgie looped around the group and shot back up the street.

“You okay?” It was Mike who spoke up, effortlessly wheeling his bike so it was right next to Bill’s beast of a ride. Bill shook his head.

“Not ruh-really,” he admitted, “I’ll ex-puh-plain later.”

Mike nodded. “Fair enough.” A wide grin broke out across his face. “After all, this is going to be fun!” Richie scoffed.

“What are we even doing at the house anyway? Real estate? Starting up a sex dungeon?” Mike shook his head, ignoring the gross remark.

“No, my dad’s doing a project on the old parts of Derry, like really old. He wanted to check Neibolt off of the list.” He gestured to the camera hanging around his neck. “We take some pictures, and then we’re done. Just in and out.” He addressed the latter part mostly at Richie, whose frown had been deepening through Mike’s explanation.

“And there’s ice-cream, right?” He pressed.

Mike laughed. “Of course, idiot.”

Richie shuddered. “Jeez man, you drive a hard bargain.” His tone turned serious, and Bill could see that even though he was hiding it with a joke, he was genuinely unnerved. “That place is creepy as fuck.”

“You’re already on the way there.” Ben pointed out, which silenced the Trashmouth for a moment, but once Bill saw the lopsided smirk creeping onto his freckled face, he knew they were in for a long ride.

“But, I could just sit outside,” Richie wheedled. “I bet Georgie’s not going inside.” All eyes turned to Bill, Richie’s silently pleading with him to agree from behind his thick coke-bottle glasses. Bill shook his head.

“Nah, he’s cuh-coming in. He suh-says he can handle it.” Mike let out a triumphant “Ha!” and Richie groaned. Bill could tell that although he despised the house, he wasn’t going to play lookout. His assumption was confirmed with the next words that escaped the Trashmouth’s throat.

“Okay, fine,” he said grudgingly, with a slight scowl, “I’ll go in.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ben enthused.

“But-” Richie visibly shuddered. “If I see one fuckin’ clown in there, I’m noping the hell out.”

“Cuh-come on, Rich. None of th-them are real,” Bill prompted. Richie sighed heavily and pushed up his glasses, putting on a bit more speed.

“Fine. But if there’s one real clown, I’m leaving you in the freakin’ dust.”

Mike shrugged, keeping pace with him as he began to pull ahead. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” There was silence for a few moments more, until Georgie came rocketing back down the street, swerving to avoid the four.

“Come oonnnnnnn!” He moaned as he looped back around them, his feet a nothing more than a yellow blur on the pedals. “You guys are so slow!”

“Slow?” Mike asked, to which the younger boy nodded. He then turned to Richie, and Bill watched his eyes light up with a mischievous gleam. “Hey, Rich, are we slow?” Bill held back with Ben, watching as the other two slowly began to accelerate.

“Why, my good sir!” Richie gasped in the voice of the British guy, causing Georgie to giggle. “I don’t believe that rubbish!” Georgie suddenly seemed to notice the way they were gaining on him and tried to accelerate forward, letting out a squeal of surprise when both Richie and Mike shot past him, grinning across the street at each other. Bill watched with a grin until they disappeared around a corner. Fear fell upon him like a lead weight.

I can’t see him.

I can’t see him, and what if that- that thing gets him and he screams out my name, but I can’t get to him because he’s dead and that thing, that fucking thing with the yellow eyes and sharp teeth will get him all because of me and-

“Bill?” Bill took a heaving breath through his nose and turned to face Ben, the round boy’s bike directly across from Silver’s hulking frame. “Why’d you call?” He asked softly. Bill set his jaw and pedaled a little harder.

“It’s stuh-stupid,” he growled, suddenly feeling apprehensive. “It sh-shouldn’t have buh-buh-bugged me so much.”

“That’s fine.”

Bill chose his next words carefully. “It was huh-horrible, Ben,” he began softly, noting how the other boy’s gaze softened, “if you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“O-kay?” Ben sounded unsure, but Bill knew that he needed to tell someone. Anyone. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

“It was like a duh-dream. Buh-But not, not really.” He kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead as they rounded the corner, his eyes latching onto the fleeting figures of his brother and his friends, smiling as Richie almost toppled from his bike as he attempted to stand on the seat, hawaiian shirt streaming out behind him like a banner. He could see Ben frown out of his peripheral vision and bit his tongue before elaborating, “it was tuh-too real. I wuh-was on this st-street.” He could see it behind his eyes and set his shoulders, trying to stifle the sudden surge of emotions in his chest. “An-and it was wrong. It suh-seemed almost normal, but it wuh-was so cuh-cold.” He could feel his stutter beginning to intensify behind his closed lips and swallowed hard, as if that would keep it at bay. “It wuh-was raining, too. But cuh-cold rain, like huh-huh-huh-” He closed his eyes, keeping his hands firmly clasped around SIlver’s handlebars, just feeling the street beneath him.

Took a breath.

What was it like, Bill?

What did you see?

“Hail. It was huh-hailing, but with ruh-rain, and it hurt.” He was ahead of Ben now, but not by much, the other boy’s shadow still overlapping his own. “And it was eh-empty too, th-there was nuh-nuh-nobody there.” A shudder ripped through him. “But I had tuh-to walk. You nuh-know how in duh-dreams how you cuh-can’t always cuh-control what you duh-do?” Ben nodded.

“Yeah.”

Bill began to pedal faster.

“It was luh-like that. I huh-had to keep walking.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully, taking a moment to come up alongside Bill. “Okay, I get it.”

Bill laughed humorlessly. “Cuh-course you do.” There was silence for a few moments more as Bill gathered his thoughts, snatches of the dream shooting through his head at a million miles per hour. “And th-then, the houses wuh-wuh-were falling apart, like th-they weren’t even th-there to begin with. All old and duh-decayed.” Bill tried not to begin shaking as twisted screams echoed in his head. “Th-th-the screaming came nuh-huh-huh-” He inhaled sharply through his nose and let it out through his teeth. “Next.” Ben was beginning to look more and more concerned with each stuttered syllable.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bill shook his head no, but he didn’t wait for Ben to offer him comfort.

“It was Juh-Juh-Georgie.” His closed fists began to tremble against Silver’s handle grips. “He wuh-was screaming, but it wuh-wasn’t like he was puh-playing. Huh-he was screaming because, buh-buh-because-” Bill swallowed hard. “He wuh-was hurt and sc-scared and al-al-alone, because I wuh-wasn’t there.” His voice trembled and he screwed up his face, as if that would take the fear out of his words. “The water I was wuh-wading th-th-through turned to ice, and I cuh-couldn’t move. Ah-and Georgie juh-just kept screaming, he cuh-cuh-called for help and I couldn't…” A sob worked its way out of his throat.

“Bill, breathe,” Ben instructed, wheeling himself closer. “You don’t have to keep going.”

Bill lowered his head. “I’m guh-gonna.” He spat.

“Okay,” Ben mumbled, sounding somewhat unsure.

“Okay,” Bill echoed. “He sounded so duh-desperate, and th-then there wuh-was a crack. And th-th-there were all these nuh-noises. Something wuh-was eating him.” Ben looked almost sick, but Bill didn’t stop, knowing that if he didn’t get it out then, he wouldn’t at all. “And it suh-said it was all muh-muh-my fault. And th-then I could see It, cuh-cuh-crouching over huh-him with so many fuh-fucking teeth…”

He could see his brother ahead, a yellow speck dancing above his blue bike, protected by the two boys on either side of him. He held tightly to that image while he spoke, not wanting his fears to pull him under again. “I cuh-closed my eyes buh-because I couldn’t kuh-keep looking. It suh-smelled like blood. It kuh-kept telling muh-me that I cuh-couldn’t save him, and th-th-that it was…” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, shoulders heaving with ragged breaths. “My fault.” He fought against the bile rising in his throat, forcing himself to continue. “And th-then, It guh-got me. It puh-puh-pulled me under the wuh-water and I-” His voice cracked miserably. “I woke up.” Ben was visibly shaken, but didn’t comment outright.

Bill couldn’t blame him. It took a few moments of silence for Ben to gather his words again, the round boy speaking slowly, but deliberately. “That’s not normal.”

Bill barked out a laugh. “You could say that again.” The silence that followed was one of acceptance, and frankly, was far more comforting than the unhealthy pauses and gaps during their phone conversation. It felt trusting, as though the pair of them were completely in sync. They would have stayed in a comfortable silence, had the Neibolt house been further away.

Its lopsided windows leered down at them with loose boards for eyebrows, the house looking almost slanted, like it could come down on their heads if they so much as breathed on it. It made everything seem cold, unforgiving, like the black spires that jutted from atop it, piercing the sky with their twisted points. The bikes of his younger brother and two friends were already strewn about the untrimmed, yellowing front lawn, the owners engaged in a rather loud conversation. Bill squeezed the brakes and skidded to a stop, wheeling the bike past the rusted gate and onto the grass, taking the time to stand Silver upright. Ben’s bike hit the dirt behind him with a soft thud and the pair turned to face the scene in front of them.

Georgie was hooting and cheering, pointing at Richie whilst prancing in circles around him, carefully avoiding the yellow flowers mixed in with the stiff grass.

“I BEAT YOU!” He crowed before turning his attention to Mike, an infectious grin dominating his youthful face, eyes shining. “AND I BEAT YOU!”

Mike put his hands in the air defensively. “Richie almost crashed in front of me, he slowed me down!” He protested. Georgie giggled.

Richie shrugged. “That’s just how I roll, Mikey!” He proclaimed, pushing up his glasses.

“Right,” Mike agreed. “That’s how you roll. In front of me. Off of the sidewalk and into the bushes.” Richie clapped him on the back, earning an eye-roll.

“Exactly! See?” He pointed finger guns at Mike. “This guy gets it.” It looked like they were going to continue, and they probably would have, had Bill not cut them off.

“Ruh-Right, so what are we huh-here to do, exactly?” Everyone turned to Mike expectantly, even Georgie calming down and shooting him a curious look. Mike surveyed his small audience for a moment before speaking.

“Like I said before, we’re just here to take a few pictures. Just of the rooms and stuff, maybe the old well.” Bill tried to fend off the unease he felt as he gazed at the lone tree and parched yellow flowers surrounding them. They seemed wrong, but he knew he was just being ridiculous.

He had to be imagining the feeling of being watched, right?

He brushed it off, tuning into Mike’s words. “It’ll be fine,” he closed with, shooting Richie a meaningful glance. Richie shuddered.

“Let’s get this over with.” Mike was the first one to move, wiping his hands on his beige pants before pacing toward the house, camera at the ready. He stopped only to get a shot of the crooked door frame, brambles and dead leaves clinging to the brittle supports. The others watched him for a moment as he stiffened, letting the camera swing freely around his neck. He looked at them over his shoulder.

“You guys coming?” That was all the encouragement they needed. Ben nodded, and Bill fell in step behind him, Richie and Georgie bringing up the rear. Bill could practically feel the tension leaking off his friends. It was heavy, muggy, like summer heat that would make it feel like you were walking through something alive, something that clung to your skin along with your own sweat and scent of the outdoors, making every step feel weighted. That was all Bill could feel as the five of them entered the house, the scent of stagnant air and dust filling his nostrils as he stepped in.

The floorboards creaked beneath them as they trudged in together, bits of dust flying around their feet with each step. The inside didn’t look much better than the outside, the wooden walls looking as though they housed at least a thousand different species of bugs. Bill turned his attention from the house over to Georgie, who was fiddling with the camera, pointing it at various areas of the house without taking any pictures, framing shots in his head. He pointed the camera at Bill, and a flash lit up the room.

There was a mechanical grinding, and then a small polaroid picture fell from it. Georgie tugged it off and began to shake it, knocking it against his off-green pants a few times, peering excitedly at it as the white-framed black square framed lit up to reveal Bill’s somewhat startled expression and the dingy inside of twenty-nine Neibolt Street.

Bill felt his breath hitch in his throat when he saw the rather dark shadow that seemed to be right behind him. Before he could take a closer look, Georgie had it clasped happily between his fingers, and was about to fold it in half to stick in his pocket when Ben stopped him.

“Here,” he flipped open his bookbag and motioned for Georgie to drop the picture inside. “Then, it won’t get crumpled,” he explained. Georgie flashed him a wide grin.

“Thanks, Ben!” He chirped, depositing the paper before bounding off in the opposite direction of the group, camera swinging wildly as he turned to face the door, framing a few more shots and giggling to himself. Bill couldn’t help the small smile that found him as he watched his brother prance about, setting up a few more shots as they ventured deeper into the abandoned building. Bill watched Ben’s lips curve up into a smile and felt some of the tension in the air melt away. Even Richie seemed to have relaxed a little, his tensed shoulders falling slack beneath the salmon-pink shirt he wore.

“So…” he drawled, slipping into the voice of the British guy, “I say, good sir, what rooms shall we traverse on this fine day?”

Mike laughed. “I told you, Rich! A few shots of some of the downstairs rooms, maybe check out the basement…” Mike’s face suddenly lit up with a mischievous gleam. “And I also wanted to get a shot of that creepy clown room upstairs…”

Richie slumped forward, groaning theatrically. “Do we have to?” He moaned.

Mike shrugged. “If we want to finish this history hunt and get the ice-cream my dad promised us, we do!” Ben nodded.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the whole reason we’re here, Richie.” The Trashmouth groaned.

“Okay, I just don’t remember ‘Kinky clown puppet theatre’ being on that list!” He spluttered. “Think of the children!” Ben snorted. Richie scrunched up his face. “Well, child,” he corrected.

Bill grinned, pushing his unease aside.

“Georgie’s fine, guys. Ruh-Right, Georgie?” Georgie backed up toward him, pointing the camera at a fractured window.

“Yep!” He agreed, sticking his tongue out in concentration. It was then that Georgie stopped walking with the group, and listened, tilting his head like an attentive dog. He could still hear the footsteps of his brother and his friends, but above that, something else- something different. The group, however didn’t notice.

They didn’t notice the way the sound wavered and crackled in his ears with haunting phrases, making up what seemed to be a melody that echoed in his head. They didn’t notice when he slipped away from them in the direction of the stairs leading to the well, armed only with his camera.

He took a few steps away from the other four, trying to place where exactly he had heard it before as it rang in his head. It sounded familiar, almost comforting, which floored him. It wasn’t a nice tune, but it was so, so recognizable that it just seemed so much more alien to him. He could still hear Bill talking to Richie to reassure him as he stole toward one of the slanted doors, the thing hanging open on its rusted hinges, holding up the door with what could easily have been gum and sheer force of will. The singing was muffled slightly by the wood, but Georgie knew that it would become clearer once he entered the room concealed by the gnarled oak planks.

Georgie pushed slightly on the door, and was surprised when it didn’t do so much as squeal, simply swinging open invitingly. “There’s no actual cuh-clowns here.” Georgie could see stairs leading down now, a small window in the cement wall of what appeared to be a cellar illuminating an old well, dust particles dancing in the sunlight. Recognition suddenly sparked in his chest, along with hope.

“Penny?” He asked excitedly, leaning on the handrail that didn’t look like it would support his weight.

It wobbled, but didn’t fall, so he kept his hand on it as he strode down the stairs, keeping one hand on the camera. If his friend had heard him, he didn’t show it, the words not stopping or even faltering, just continuing in their steady rhythm. They rang from the bottom of the well, and Georgie found himself being drawn toward it, like a magnet to a metallic surface. He crept to it, delicately perching on the edge of it with his trusty camera at the ready.

The bricks crumbled slightly under his hand, the scent of dust almost overpowering now, but he scarcely noticed, waiting for his moment to strike. He leaned forward, small smile on his face, camera poised-

“BOO!” A bright flash lit the darkness of the well for a split second, leaving bright spots across his vision.

He could have sworn he saw two eyes down in the darkness before the light faded, and was about to lean closer to check when-

“GEORGIE!” He turned, a confused look crossing his face as he rested his weight against the cracked bricks of the well, still holding tightly to the camera with his free hand. “Get away from-!” The brick supporting Georgie’s weight crumbled beneath him.

It was as though he was falling in slow motion, every clawing movement he made slowed to a crawl. Dust flew from beneath his palm as it skidded forward just far enough for him to teeter over the stone lip of the well, nearly hitting his head on the winch hanging in the air above him.

The boy hardly had enough time to let out a startled shriek before gravity took hold, intending to drag him completely into the inky depths of the well. “GEORGIE!” Bill howled again, his voice breaking. Georgie only screamed in response, the gaping maw of the well looming ever closer, ever nearer as gravity hurled him toward it.

Georgie filled his lungs with air and squeezed his eyes shut tight, intent on letting out another scream when something stopped him. His eyes slid open uncertainly. A white glove pushed lightly on the middle of his chest, long fingers keeping him upright and suspended. His wide-eyed gaze trailed from the off-white ruffles lacing the connected wrist, to the red bells looped carefully around it, all the way up to the yellow-eyed gaze of his friend.

Heart hammering, he let himself be lifted by the clown, a single strong arm pushing him out of the well and out of danger. His yellow converse hit the ground and he staggered back, arms splayed at his sides. In that moment, he made eye contact with his rescuer.

The clown looked back at him almost expectantly, eyes wide, hair illuminated by the cracked window looking almost like flames. Georgie let out a nervous laugh, swallowing once dryly.

“D-Did I scare you?” He asked, having the decency to look sheepish.

An expression of confused disgust crossed Penny’s face, the upper lip of the clown raising into a snarl, eyes flashing with sheer revulsion. Before Georgie could question him further, he was retracting his long limb back into the well, yellow eyes flickering before disappearing into the darkness. Georgie crossed his arms, an almost smug smile flashing onto his face as he turned to face Bill and the others. “That was close!” He remarked, biting back a cheeky grin.

Try saying he’s imaginary now.

The reactions he was seeing, however, didn’t quite match the ones he had expected. Bill was clutching the railing with white knuckles, his mouth hanging open, blue eyes blown wide in what looked like terror. Richie was next in line and he looked like he was trying to disappear into the wall behind him, face deathly pale. His eyes were huge behind his glasses, intensified by the thick lenses he wore. Georgie’s gaze trailed up to Ben next, brow furrowing as he saw the way the round boy was gripping the handrail, his shoulders tense and his mouth gaping. Mike was the last person Georgie looked at, and he was dismayed to see that the tall boy was visibly shaken, clutching the railing as though it was grounding him.

Georgie frowned, stepping away from the well on unsteady limbs. “What-?” He was interrupted from his full statement by Richie backing up into Ben, crashing into the bigger boy and sprawling crookedly across the lopsided steps.

“We have to leave.” He got to his feet, his voice shaking almost as much as his knees. Georgie could see the way his eyes looked when they connected with those of Bill, tension and fear rolling off of him in waves. He swallowed hard, hands trembling. “Now!”

#Turned good AU #my writing #littlekiwifrog #Georgie denbrough #IT'S DONE #It 2017 #It fanfiction #This one was a bitch to write #I'm so glad it's over tbh #ugh #The next chapter will be out...#soon-ish #I make no promises #but soon #probably #*shrug*

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