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Even without It terrorizing the town, Derry was still Derry, simply a lighter version. Or that’s what Bill thought. Bill’s parents still ignored him. Beverly still ended up with lumps, bumps, and bruises that she doesn’t get while playing with the others. Eddie’s mother still worried. Stan watched birds. Mike listened to stories his father told and gathered history on the town. Richie’s mother still hated Rock ‘n’ Roll and wished every now and then that her son was a daughter instead. There were things that were different though. Of course there were. Henry was gone and there was a sense of relief that came with that, but also pity. In the end, he had been nothing but one of Its pawns. Another change was that The Losers never met up anymore. They didn’t even play in the Barrens. Sure, they would come together in small clumps of twos and threes. Sometimes even so many as five or six of them would make their way together. Never all seven though.
Ever since that unseen but much felt power that had made them something more and guided them in their mission left they had been growing apart. It wasn’t even just that. Eddie… Eddie was leaving. He had told Bill the other day with tears welling in his eyes and a high, clear note of frustration in his voice because there was nothing he could do to keep his mother from bundling him up and carrying him away. There was nothing any of them can do about anything. They were just kids now.
The thought made something twist in his gut, sharp and painful. Pretty soon he’d be alone and part of him wondered if he’d just disappear. With his friends drifting away and his parents treating him with the same cold indifference. It was like he’d become a ghost. Bill’s hands curled tightly round the armrests on either side of him, like he was trying to keep himself firmly present in reality.
A warm, slightly clammy weight covers the white knobs of his knuckles and Bill nearly screamed, whipping his head to the left. It was only Richie, of course. They’d met in town earlier, decided to see a movie before the dark drove them home. He had got a look of concern on his face. Even if the only thing Bill can see is the reflection of the silver screen on his glasses, he knew it was there.
“You okay? Looks like you’re goin’ looney toons over there, Big Bill,” Richis said, voice low. There was no one sitting particularly close to them but the room wasn’t empty.
Bill’s mouth worked furiously, trying to spit the words out. They were screaming in his mind. Everyone’s leaving! The seven of us see each other but we’re never together. Not like before. My parents won’t even miss me tonight if I’m late. They don’t care! I don’t want to be invisible Richie… I never want to see It again but I don’t know what I’ll do without you guys. Don’t leave me alone! Please don’t let me become a ghost! All that comes out is a whine, not unlike that of a puppy’s, and the most quiet utterance: “I-I-I’m scu-scu-scared.”
Richie was transported back to the day he hugged Bill Denbrough as he sobbed over the loss of his brother and his own misplaced sense of guilt. Everything that happened. Richie remembered, all of them do, and just like them he let the thoughts sleep. They only bubble up to the surface when he actively thought about them, about It. One thing he recalled without having to try, though, was how strong Bill was. He was the driving force that gave them the courage to crawl into those sewers and fight. Seeing him like this, terrified and somehow smaller, was unsettling.
“I do-do-don’t want to b-b-b-be al-lo-oone,” Bill continued, eyes screwed shut as he fought to get the words out. They were quiet, nearly masked by the sounds from the movie playing out in front of them.
And suddenly, Richie understood… Bill wasn’t the only one who has felt their group drift apart. The almost telepathic link they had was fraying, ripping apart strand by strand. It scared him too. Unbidden, the thought of Beverly and what happened under the city came to the surface.
Richie knew what he could do.
It wasn’t what she did. What they did with her. It was something more childish. There were similarities, though.
Acting without thinking, Richie lunged forward and pressed his lips against Bill’s. Just a quick, dry touch of lips. The look of sadness and fear on Bill’s face morphed from one second to the next and when Richie leaned back, he was looking startled and confused…. But hopeful. Because for a moment it was there. That feeling of connection, of not being alone. And for that moment, Bill felt like everything would be alright. It was what spurred him into moving.
This time it was Bill who dove in, bumping his nose painfully against Richie’s and knocking his glasses askew as he crashed his mouth against his friend’s in an uncoordinated chase after that feeling. Neither had any idea what they were doing. It was less a kiss and more just their mouths touching while they breathed in each other’s faces. But it meant something.
Bill could feel that connection buzzing between them in every place they touch. It zinged from their lips, to their touching hands making a closed circuit. He was sure that Richie felt it too when the boy pried Bill’s hand from the armrest and held it in his own. When they pulled apart, their hands stayed locked together. Bill felt something warm that seemed to run between them now. It seemed like everything would be alright. He didn’t have to be alone.