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Bill was walking alone in their neighborhood park, no one to bother him and his running thoughts.
the dark still made his skin crawl, the cold was slowly gripping his body. his eyes flickered around nervously, only stopping with his whole body at a vague, white figure standing at the edge of the park, looking at him through the fence.
“you weren’t there, Billy.” whispered the figure, his heart was beating in his throat. tears sprung in his blue eyes, but his body was frozen up as the figure was climbing over the fence, twisting and twirling it’s body that it’s eyes stared right back at bill, not letting the boy go a single moment.
he wanted to run. he needed to run, but IT was right. he should’ve been there. the figure stopped once over the fence, and even from this distance, bill could see the goofy grin on it’s face disappear, replaced by a dead stare.
bill finally breathed out, turned around to run. his neck was caught by it, his silent scream was left unheard.
he woke up in a cold sweat, grabbing his own throat because he couldn’t breathe, tears flowing down unstopped. he gasped into the cold air of his room, the salty drops dripped down on his drawing of a bird watching boy.
after five years, everyone got over the smiling face of pennywise the dancing clown, and bill had expected to do so too. but he never did. even after years, he still jumped at the slightest of sounds, avoided the dark corners of derry, and his mind still ran wild whenever one of his friends stayed outside for longer than they’d said.
he was alone at home, his parents out, using his age to their advantage to go on vacation. so nobody heard when bill thrashed around on the floor after falling off his chair, desperately trying to get his lungs to work. heavy sobs broke through the silence like a rock through glass, but his ears were ringing so loud he wasn’t aware of that.
he’d never gotten help from any of his friends. no matter how often they’d say it was okay to get help, he’d only agree, but then never do it for himself. why would he? he was bill denbrough, big bill, the fearless leader who doesn’t need help from anyone. others needed help from him, but he was strong. he had to be, their group was bonded through blood, and it was his fault they had gone through this.
but right now, his brain was shut off by the lack of air, curled up on the floor, his thoughts went no further than “I’m going to die” and “please, somebody help me”. his hands wildly and blindly looked for the only thing that’s kept him alive up until now, and once found, he pressed on the little button, activating it.
“FL t-to the losers club, i n-n-need a hand over huh-h-here.” he croaked through the mic of his communicator. they’d agreed to only use nicknames when communicating over the radio, just in case somebody tuned in that wasn’t supposed to. FL is the nickname Richie chose for him. Fearless Leader. it was dumb, but the others liked it so he just settled on it, having no better idea for a nickname himself.
he wasn’t scared none of the losers was awake at two in the morning, at least Richie, who liked playing video games until it was time to go to school would hear him. he was sure.
as soon as he’d finished speaking, something fell off his bed, making a loud noise, and bill immediately startled away from the radio, looking around in his room like a frightened animal.
“TM here, you okay over there?” crackled through the box, but bill wasn’t listening anymore, his breathing had gone ragged again and his vision was blacking out.
——————————-
Richie looked at the radio, brows furrowed in worry. it was very unusual for any of the losers except for him to be up this late -or early-, even more contacting the group at two in the morning. he shut off his tv after not getting an answer from his friend.
“hello, FL, can you copy?” he asked again.
he wasn’t one to worry much, but this was definitely getting under his skin, especially with the knowledge that bill was very against any type of pranks. the way his friend whispered through the radio was also something to consider, because even with his stutter, the boy was always the one to speak the clearest through the static.
his anxiety rose as still nobody answered.
“BB here, what’s up?” a sleepy voice answered. Richie wasn’t really relieved, but it was something. “boob boy” as he mockingly called the only girl in their group, always knew what to do.
“hey, i just got a message from FL, and i can’t reach him anymore, this motherfucker went silent.” he cursed, looking around in his room for his jacket.
“a message? this early? we don’t have school tomorrow.” Bev replied, referring to the nights bill would sometimes spend learning, forgetting the time.
“yes, and I’m getting scared.” he answered, voice shaking. since their group had gone through IT AND bullies, sometimes one of them contacted them in need of help, because they’d agreed that no matter what, even in the smallest emergencies, it wasn’t shameful to ask for help.
“and you’re sure it wasn’t Birb or Doc?” Bev asked, birb being the nickname they chose for Stanley, and doc for Eddie. for obvious reasons. the two had been the most affected by IT, both had gotten panic attacks regularly, either from nightmares or from a trigger in the day. but these had occurred less and less since they’d hit the three years mark from IT.
“yes, i don’t think any of them have a stutter or would introduce themselves as FL, thank you.” he sarcastically threw at her.
“fair, should i go wake up kid, Wool and doc?” she asked, with an undertone that clearly stated that she wanted to know if this was an emergency or not. they had called ben “kid” which should be the shorter version of “new kid” and mike, who was raised surrounded by sheep, had chosen the name wool for himself before Richie could come up with a worse one.
“yes, i’ll go get birb.” on the way to bill, bev had to go through their neighbourhoods anyway, and Richie lived very close to Stanley, so they settled on that pretty quick.
he sprung up from his position, now noticing he cannot feel his legs anymore, due to sitting in front of the tv so long, and grabbed the first jacket in reach while almost falling over. his parents had always been heavy sleeper, so he wasn’t really sneaking out, but more tumbling down the stairs trying to get his shoes on.
his parents trusted him, and they knew how close he was to his friends, so they were never scared when he’d leave in the middle of the night and contact them in the morning, same with most parents of the losers. not exactly with bev, Stanley and bill, but they always found a way to sneak out, or in bill’s case, he didn’t need an excuse since his parents were almost never home.
okay, Eddie’s mom wasn’t really much better, but since he’d yelled at her, she knew better than to try and hold him captive again, so he did whatever he wanted anyway.
Richie hastily closed the door, flinching a bit when it slammed close, mouthing a quiet sorry to his parents and rushed down the street to Stanley’s house, collecting small rocks on the way. Stanley was a light sleeper, so small rocks being thrown against his window was enough to wake him.
two rocks later, a very annoyed Stanley with his dark blue pyjamas leaned out the window he had opened.
“what the fuck d’you want, Richie?” he whisper-yelled at his dark haired friend.
“that’s not the line Juliet is supposed to say, Stan the man.” Richie whispered back, and Stan immediately noticed his nervous attempt to calm himself with humour. being best friends and all.
“Richie, what’s going on?” he asked, eyes thin with his face in a frown.
“you always look through me dont’cha?” He awkwardly laughed. “well, we kind of have an emergency code black, but we’re not sure if it really is one, sooo…” Stanley’s face shifted from a wide-eyed surprise to a thin-lipped confusion.
“code black” is one of the many codes the friends had agreed on just for fun, and it basically means “one of us has an issue in the middle of the night”.
“Eddie?” he asked and Richie shook his head.
“not Eddie? Bev?” he guessed again, and Richie was getting fidgety with how long it took to convince his friend to climb through the window. that sounded worse than it was, Stanley was a master at climbing through branches without messing up his perfectly tucked in shirts while making it look like came straight out of a superhero movie.
“no, bill.” he replied, making a hand movement to signal him to get down here fast, they don’t have much time. Stanley nodded and closed his window, only to open it a few moments later fully dressed with his radio in hand. he elegantly climbed through the tree next to his house, and Richie once again frowned at how easy he made it look.
he’d tried it before. it wasn’t easy at all.
Stanley landed next to him light-footed and Richie did not waste any longer, grabbing his friend’s wrist, ignoring his protests, pulling him down the street.
time went by a bit faster than usual and the arrived at the teenager’s house out of breath, with their four other friends waiting for them with an amused smile.
“see how slow you are, Staniel?” he mocked, mike and ben sighed at him.
“don’t call me that.” Stan replied, panting.
“could you just wait until we’ve solved this mystery? Bill might need our help, you dumbasses.” Bev hissed, leading them to bill’s house. the boys followed with no protest.
she knocked on the door, but like everyone expected, nobody answered. trying to open it, she almost fell into the house, not expecting it to be unlocked at all. she grimaced, looking back at her friends. bill always locked the door at night, meaning he must’ve been very distraught if he forgot about it.
the house was awfully quiet and the atmosphere was so tense, Stan was sure he could take scissors and cut right through it.
he was the first one to climb up the stairs, calling bill’s name gently. the rest of the losers club followed him step by step. the door to bill’s room was shut tightly, but light shone through the cracks, brightening up the hallway.
he didn’t even notice how nervous he was until he went to grab the door handle and stopped to watch his hand tremble. he shook any thoughts of what could be happening behind this door and opened it as gently as possible, freezing up as it swung open.
bill was cowering next to his bed, head on his knees and hands covering his ears, he was shaking like a leaf in autumn wind. to the losers, finding one of them stuck in a panic attack was nothing really new, but it broke their heart over and over again. every time, it was like a reminder that even if the had escaped ITs teeth, ITs claws were still sunken deep in all of their minds.
bill had. never showed any weakness, not even trapped between life and death when IT was holding him hostage. that’s what earned him the name, “fearless leader” but the losers had not realised that every time their “fearless leader” was alone at home, he was plagued by nightmares, and of course guilt.
“don’t touch him immediately, make sure he knows you’re here before.” Eddie whispered from behind Stan, and the two looked at each other, well knowing what it felt like to be in Bill’s position. and how he’d handled it.
“okay doctor k.” Stan smiled sadly, and entered the room, gingerly placing his footsteps. the others didn’t follow him for now, turning around and looking at something else, to leave them space to breathe.
he slowly tapped the bed next to bill and his head shot up, the boy wanted to back up from Stan startled, until he recognised his face.
“Stan..” The curly haired almost broke down at the vulnerability of his friend, his voice sounded like a ghost whispering its last wishes.
“I’m here. you’re fine.” he stated while bill scrambled to get close. Stan let his thin friend climb on his lap, head resting on his chest. he supported him with his arms, so he wouldn’t slip off, and placed his own head on top of Bill’s.
whispering sweet nothings and reassurances into his ear, he rocked back forth gently to calm him down, occasionally telling him to match his breathing Stan’s, and eventually, Bill stopped shaking.
“i saw I-I.. I saw I-IT again.” Stan almost missed what he said, but it still made his heart stop.
“IT’s dead. we killed it. you’re safe.” he replied, offering Bill a smile as they parted.
bill grimaced and planted his head in the crook of Stan’s neck, sighing.
“I’m sorry.” and Stan was back to being confused.
“what for?”
“that I’m a buh-buh-burden.”
“You’re not. we’re all allowed to be weak y’know.”
“It’s u-unfair, I d-d-dragged you into this.”
“And we stayed because we wanted to, it’s not your fault.”
“I should’ve be-been there f-f-for G-g-g-g-go..”
“he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. I know how much you miss him.”
he felt tears through his shirt, and for the moment being, he ignored his inner voice that said how disgusting that feels, and pulled bill closer.
“we’re not blaming you for anything. you stopped IT before IT could hurt more families. maybe nobody knows this, but you’re a hero, Bill.” he felt tears in his own eyes. “and the thought that scares us all the most is that we could’ve lost somebody down there.”
Bill lifted his head off of Stan’s shoulder, and with a soft expression, wiped away a tear on Stan’s face, before tracing along the little scars on his face. long healed, they would always stay a painful reminder.
he cupped Stan’s face, pulling him close, placing his forehead on his own gently.
“I b-blame myself only because I c-could-could’ve l-l-lost you down there.” he admitted.
“Okay, enough with the flirting, Stan the man.” Richie said from outside the room, both flinched away.
“I- What? I wasn’t- I wasn’t flirting you bastard!” Stan yelled, not very convincingly, and the rest of the losers laughed.
the tense aura that had surrounded the house earlier disappeared into thin air.
“should we stay here tonight?” Stan whispered to his friend.
“please.” bill responded with a smile, before Eddie, who had entered the room pulled Bill off his lap into his arms.
“you scared the shit out of me, don’t ever do that again, you bitch!” he sniffled, and bill giggled.
“I’m sorry, I won’t.”
Stan watched his friends gather around bill, and noticed Bill’s desk chair had fallen over. while the others talked about the unexpected sleepover, Stan made his way over to the desk to put it upright again, and his eyes fell on the drawing on top of the wooden table.
it was a beautiful drawing with black line-art and different pencil colours, of a sandy blond, curly haired boy with a book, watching birds fly. a few drops of water -or tears- washed some of the colours into a probably unintentional, pattern.
now even though some of the colours stepped out of line because of the drops, a warm feeling bloomed in Stan’s chest that he couldn’t quite place. he left the paper with a smile, following his friends downstairs, with a knowledge that he didn’t know how it would be useful in the future, but knew he’d use it some time later.
maybe code black isn’t always as bad as he thought.