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The night air was thick and warm, the kind of heat that stuck to your skin even after the sun was long gone. The streets were empty, dead quiet except for the occasional chirp of crickets and the distant sound of a dog barking somewhere down the block. Castle Rock always felt different at night. Less like a place I was stuck in and more like a town I could just walk through. Like if I kept going, I'd reach the edge of it and find something better waiting for me on the other side.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight, I just needed to get the hell away from home.
My father had been drunk. Mean drunk. The kind where I didn't fight back because it'd just make it worse. The kind where I knew Eyeball wouldn't step in, not because he didn't care, but because he'd learned a long time ago that there wasn't any point. So I left. I walked out the door like I wasn't coming back. Maybe, for a second, I even meant it.
But there was nowhere to go.
Nowhere except here.
I stood outside Gordie's house, looking up at his window. His room was dark, but I knew he was in there. I could picture it - him curled up with a book, the kind with small words and no pictures, the kind I'd never understand no matter how much I tried. Gordie was smart like that. His brain worked differently than mine, smoother, quicker, like it wasn't weighed down by all the things I had clogging up my head.
I tapped on the glass. Soft, at first. Then louder.
For a second, nothing happened. I half-considered just walking away, but then I heard movement inside, the shuffle of blankets, and the window slid open.
"Chris?" Gordie's voice was thick with sleep, confused. "What the hell-"
"Come outside," I whispered.
"It's-" He glanced back at the clock in his room. "-one in the morning."
"So?"
Gordie hesitated. But then, without another word, he pulled himself through the window and dropped to the ground beside me.
He wasn't mad. He wasn't annoyed. He didn't even ask why I was here. He just showed up, like always.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Nowhere. Everywhere."
We started walking.
---
It was funny, how the town looked different at night. The streetlights stretched out shadows long across the pavement, making us look taller than we really were. The houses we passed were dark and silent, like they weren't even lived in.
We didn't talk at first. Didn't have to.
Then Gordie, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, said, "Y'know, normal people don't go wandering around at one in the morning for no reason."
"Good thing we're not normal," I said.
"Yeah, no kidding."
He sounded amused, but his voice was careful. He knew me too well. Knew that if I was out here, it meant something had happened.
I didn't want to talk about it.
Not yet.
"C'mon," I said. "Bet you can't hit a streetlight from here."
I grabbed a rock from the ground and tossed it toward the nearest pole. It missed by about a foot, bouncing off the pavement with a pathetic little clink.
"Wow," Gordie said. "What an athlete."
"Shut up. Lemme see you try it."
Gordie grinned, picking up a rock of his own. He tossed it, and it hit the metal with a sharp ping.
"Lucky shot," I muttered.
"You're just bad at this."
"I'm letting you win, man, don't get cocky."
"Sure."
For a while, that was all it was. Us, throwing rocks, seeing who could hit the most streetlights, who could skip one farther down the road. Stupid little games. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that we were growing up.
After a while, the rocks ran out, and we found ourselves sitting under the dim light of the nearest streetlamp, shoulders brushing, The warmth of the night fading into the cool of the early morning. The silence between us felt like the kind of silence that was meant to be shared.
And then, after a long stretch of silence, Gordie said, "What happened?"
I fidgeted with a pebble on the ground. "Nothin'."
"Chris."
I sighed. Rubbed the back of my neck. Looked at him, then looked away.
"Just my old man being my old man," I muttered. "Nothin' new."
Gordie didn't say anything right away. But when he did, his voice was softer. "I'm sorry."
I hated that. Not him - never him - but the way he said it.
"Don't be," I said. "Ain't your fault."
"Still sucks."
"Yeah. Well. Life sucks."
"Doesn't have to."
I looked at him. He was watching me carefully, like he was thinking too hard, like there was something he wanted to say but wasn't sure if he should.
"What?" I asked.
He hesitated. But I think we both knew what the other was thinking.
"Promise me something," I said, quieter.
He looked back at me, waiting.
"Promise me that if you ever get rich and famous, you won't turn into one of those snobby writer guys who forget about their loser childhood friend." I said as I nudged him with my foot.
Gordie smiled, "Only if you promise that if you ever become a fancy lawyer or something, you'll still throw rocks with me."
"That," I said, sticking out my pinky, "is a promise."
Gordie stared at it like I've just insulted his entire family. "A pinky promise?"
"You got a problem with pinky promises?"
He rolled his eyes but hooked his pinky around mine anyway. "I just didn't expect Chris Chambers to be a pinky promise kinda guy."
"It's legally binding," I said, nodding seriously.
"Oh, absolutely." Gordie gave my hand a firm shake, pinkies still locked. "This holds up in court."
We let go, but the grin stayed on my face. It was stupid, but it felt good - something about sealing it with something so ridiculous made it feel real. I knew he meant it. And I meant it, too.
The night was getting colder. I felt it on my skin, the kind of creeping chills that let you know it's late. Gordie must've felt it too, because he rubbed at his arms and pulled his knees up to his chest. We should've probably headed back.
But neither of us moved.
We just sat there, on the pavement under the streetlight, quiet except the sound of the wind and the distant hum of crickets. The world felt small like this - just me and him, the empty road, and a couple of dumb promises that I really, really wanted to keep.
"You ever think about running away?" I asked. The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Gordie blinked at me. "Like, for real?"
"Yeah. Just... leaving. Going somewhere else. Somewhere better."
Gordie was quiet for a long moment. "I think about it," he admitted. "But I don't think I'd ever actually do it."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "Guess I'd have to know where I'm going first."
I looked out at the road ahead of us, stretching into the dark. I didn't know where I'd go either.
Maybe I wouldn't run away. Maybe I'd just... leave the right way, when I was old enough. When I could.
And maybe, if I was lucky, Gordie would still be there too.
He exhaled, slow and thoughtful. "You wanna start heading back?"
I didn't answer right away. The streetlamp flickered above us, and I tilted my head back to watch it for a second. Then I pushed myself up and offered him my hand.
"Race you."
Gordie groaned but took my hand anyway. And just like that, we ran.