Chapter Text
The Losers all stumbled out of the movie theatre, all laughing and giddy from the movie they’d just come out of— A Summer rerun of Pet Semetary. Despite it’s grab-your-seat-buddy’s-hand horror (even though it wasn’t the best made movie), they all knew how to make fun of any situation, giggling commentary to one another and causing playful havoc in the back of the theatre.
They stumbled out in the warm hug of muggy dusk Derry air (get it…derrière..?), and shoved at one another, laughing loudly without care into the dark blue sky.
“Last one to the club house has to sweep next!” Beverly yelled and bolted off into the direction of wherever the hell the clubhouse was from here, six silhouettes of friends chasing right after her.
“That’s so not fair!” Richie called down the road as they all booked it, weaving between street lamps and cracks in the sidewalk, eventually running through the forest that hid the clubhouse away. Nobody wants to sweep the dusty forest clubhouse floor, okay?
They all tumbled unceremoniously down the ladder and stood doubled over, catching the air they left back at the Aladdin.
“I don’t know who was- hff- who was last, but it definetly wah-wasn’t me,” Beverly stood, chest heaving.
“Keel over and d- god- and die, Marsh,” Richie huffed, staggering over to her and smiling brightly.
“We could- could all just work together and clean, it would take like five minutes,” Stan reasoned, taking his respective seat in one of the beanbags.
“He’s got a point,” Mike says, taking his rightful seat on the swing, Richie loved him to bits.
“Oh god, suddenly i’m sick and also out of town and dying on cleaning day,” Richie just barely ducked from the smack to the arm Eddie sent his way, laughing all the way.
“Shut up, Richie. You can help sweep for three seconds,” Beverly shoved his arm, playful.
“Miss Marsh! After our wonderful date, you betray me like this? I cannot believe it,” He threw a hand over his heart in feigned betrayal.
“Oh hush, we had a splendid time, what a romantic movie it was, Pet Semetary.”
“Oh, how right you are, my love,” Richie gave her a quick peck to the cheek, “A divine date, if you will. Just you and me,” He swooned.
“Alright luh-lovebirds, sit down and h-h-help me put uh-up a couple of posters,” Bill said.
“Coming, Sir Billiam the Third,” Richie hopped over, making noise of the wooden pillars and flooring, tugging anxious strings at poor Ben’s heart.