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You sighed happily as you shoved your hands in your pockets, humming softly. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and you were on your way to surprise your daughter by picking her up from school and taking her for ice-cream. In your mind, it was the perfect day. You had paid all your bills, successfully managed to guide an expedition, and bought the groceries for the night's special dinner.
Nothing could go wrong. Or at least, that's what you thought before your phone started to ring in your pocket.
You fished your phone out of your pocket and looked at the caller ID, seeing the extension was from a place you swore you'd never return to. You furrowed your eyebrows and hesitantly tapped on the green button, holding the phone to your ear. You still had another twenty minutes before it was three, so you decided to stop under the shade of one of the street's trees. "Hello?" You answered tentatively, hearing the person on the other line take in a deep breath.
"Y/N?"
Your lips formed a confused pout. Your mind raced, trying to place the unknown, yet strangely comforting voice. But, alas, you couldn't. "Uh, yeah? I'm sorry, who is this?"
"It's Mike. Mike Hanlon."
For a moment, your breath hitched in your throat. Fragments of memories raced across your mind. Memories of a group of teenagers sitting up on a cliff overlooking a quarry. Cherished memories of laughter and loud yelling as they rode their bicycles down the streets of Derry.
"Y/N?"
"Yeah, sorry, I'm here... Mike, wow... How long has it been?" You asked softly, dragging your thumb along your bottom lip anxiously and tilting your head back to look up at the swaying tree branches to distract yourself.
"27 years." Mike chuckled, rubbing his forehead as he sat on his desk. He leaned forward on his elbows, staring out the window that overlooked all of Derry. He had been hesitant about calling you, because unlike the rest of the losers, he remembered everything that had happened, and he didn't want to put you in danger. Not again.
"27 years..." You repeated, your heart dropping as a sudden realization dawned on you. Sighing heavily, you closed your eyes, silently praying you were right. "Mike, please tell me this is just a courtesy call."
"I'm afraid not, Y/N. We need you."
"We?" You asked hesitantly, lowering your arm to wrap around your waist. "What do you mean 'we', Mike? Who's 'we'?"
"Me and the others. Ben, Stan, Richie, Bev, Bill, Eddie."
"The Losers." You breathed out, your heart hammering against your chest. All those memories were starting to make sense now. Some you could see more clearly. Comforting Bill when Georgie didn't come home. Running as Henry Bowers chased you through the Barrens for giving him an attitude. Nailing Victor Criss square between the eyes during the rock war. Shielding Beverly's body with yours in Bill's garage. Killing the clown.
The promise.
"When do you need me?" You asked, determination filling your voice. You glanced down at your watch for the time and started down the streets again, stopping at a crossroads.
"Tomorrow. We're all meeting at the Jade of the Orient at 6. Can you make it?"
You hesitated, letting out a small, frustrated sigh. So much for dinner with your daughter. Still, you knew a promise was a promise. You knew how serious this was.
"Yeah. Yeah, I can make it." You heard a sigh of relief on the other end of the line, courtesy of Mike, who slumped in his chair.
"Great, I'll see you."
"Bye, Mike."
You hung up and shoved your phone in your pocket. That's when you saw a red balloon floating down the other side of the street. Your heart stopped in your chest when it floated down the corner. You knew what it meant. You knew this was a sign. Suddenly, you yelped when an angry driver started to yell obscenities at you. You hadn't noticed you had walked straight into the middle of the intersection, staring off into the spot where you had sworn that balloon had been only seconds ago.