Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

the rain came down in torrents, hitting hard against the roofs of the houses lined against the road.

against the groggy, grayness of the day and the water running along the street, a bright pop of yellow appeared.

a yellow rubber duck.

it floated downstreet, swept along in the runoff and tossed around in the currents. the duck got stuck against the curb near a storm drain, yellow paint chipped and faded. 

the duck stayed for a moment, the runoff seemingly not enough to deter it from it’s place—until a small hand, covered in blood, dirt and grime, stretched out from the storm drain, the yellow of it’s sleeve barely peeking through the dirt covering it.

the hand grabbed the duck with a tight squeeze, forcing a wheezy quack from it, before yanking it down the storm drain and disappearing, the only sign either of them were there a smudge of dirt and blood against the curb.

[—]

a scuffed up shoe kicked at a rock, sending it flying to god-knows-where. it belonged to a tall, wavy black-haired boy with thick-rimmed glasses too bag for his face, walking down the street with a backpack slung over his shoulder. he had a bandage under his left eye, which was swelling a nasty purple color. walking with him was a freckled red-haired girl, curly hair falling just above her shoulders. they walked in a comfortable silence, before the girl spoke up.

“y’know, stan’s gonna be pissed.”

“i know, bev,” the boy responded, not seemingly interested in the conversation.

bev remained silent and the two continued walking, the boy’s eyes drifting to a dark red house they were passing.
“isn’t that the house that one kid lives in? y’know, the one who’s mom won’t let him out of the house?” beverly asked, but the boy wasn’t really listening. his eyes trailed up the red brick and siding to the window of the garret, where a short boy around their age sat reading a book.

as if the boy knew he was being watched he glanced out the window and returned the tall boy’s gaze, eyes meeting for barely a moment. he immediately turned away, refocusing his gaze on the sidewalk in front of them as his face warmed, though he didn’t know why.

well, he did, but he didn’t like thinking about that too much.

“uh, richie?” bev’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he quickly turned.

“huh?”

“have you heard anything i just said?”

whoops.

“uh, yeah. definitely.”

bev smirked, glancing back at the brick house they just passed. “uh huh.”

richie rolled his eyes, ignoring her and rubbing at the bandage under his eye. “we’re meeting stan at the quarry, right?”

“yep. you got the cigs?”

“no duh. who do you think i am?” he replied with a smirk.

“do you want me to answer that honestly?” she replied with a smirk of her own, to which richie flipped her off and they both laughed.

by the time they got to the quarry, stan was already there, sitting near the cliff. richie and bev sat on either side of him, richie dangling his legs off the edge and beverly sitting criss-crossed.

“what happened to your face?” stan asked, narrowing his eyes at richie’s black eye. “oh, nothin’, just a lil lovers spat with your mom,” richie replied without missing a beat, pulling an unopened pack of cigarettes out of his backpack. stanley rolled his eyes and scooted backwards as bev stretched over his lap to hand a lighter to richie, who used it to light up his cigarette.

“somebody got into a fight with hockstetter again,” bev replied, taking back the lighter and lighting up her own cigarette, ignoring the tongue richie stuck out at her.

“again?”

richie rolled his eyes. “what else was i supposed to do? he has a very punchable face.”

“so do you, idiot,” stan replied, to which bev laughed. richie blew smoke into stan’s face and stan slapped richie’s arm with a huff.

the three sat there and chatted for a few hours as the sky turned from blue to a hazy orange and purple, which is when the trio packed up their things and walked home. richie parted first, asking stan to say hi to his mom for him before leaving bev and stan by themselves.

bev and stan chatted a bit, but walked in a comfortable silence for the most part. bev was talking about something to do with her dad when she realized stanley had stopped walking a few feet behind her, looking down a street she was quite familiar with, eyes trained on a gray house down the block.

“stan?”

he snapped towards her, immediately continuing to walk. “sorry.”

“…it’s fine.” her eyes stayed on the grey house for a few moments, before starting to walk again.

the rest of the walk was silent, the only other words a muttered goodbye as stan parted.

beverly’s walk home was filled with pieces of memories she wished she didn’t get so sad thinking about.

four kids hanging out at the quarry—beverly, richie, stanley, and a boy with auburn hair, drawing something in his notebook while stan watched the birds and bev and richie smoked a cigarette. 

“what’re you drawing?” richie questioned, leaning over the boy’s shoulder, blowing smoke in his face as he did. the auburn boy blushed and immediately closed his sketchbook. “n-no-nothing, f-fuc-ck off!” he yelled in defense. “oOoh, is it that hot girl from class? what was her name, aubrey? audrey? bet you’d like a slice of her pie-“ “s-shut up, ri-r-richie!” the boy yelled, face even more flushed as he shoved richie away. “c’mon, bill! just let me have a little peek!” richie laughed as he tussled with bill.

bev looked over at stan, who’s gaze had dropped to looking down at the lake. she let out a sigh, exhaling smoke as she did. she knew what—or more accurately, who—bill was drawing, and it definitely was not audra phillips from english. her gaze stayed on stan for a few more moments before she looked up at the blue sky, exhaling more smoke as she did.

beverly blinked, inhaling sharply as she realized she’d reached her house. she tucked the memory away in her brain to think more about later as she opened the front door, mentally sighing.

maybe they’d be able to make more memories another day.

Chapter Text

long fingers wrapped around a plastic tube, fitting it together with another. blue-green eyes flicked up to a map of the derry sewer system pinned on the wall, and bill let out a frustrated sigh, tossing the hamster tunnel onto the table with a bang.

mr. biscuit—georgie’s pet hamster—squeaked from his cage at the sound of the tunnel hitting the table, making bill look at him.

bill sighed again, turning back to the table, before picking up the tubes again, taking them apart. he moved down the table, where an elaborate recreation of the derry sewer systems made with the hamster tunnels sat, and grabbed the end of one of the tubes, fitting it with the tube in his other hand. 

bill looked up at the chart on the wall, then back to the hamster tunnel-sewer system before picking up a small army man and placing it in one on the tubes. he picked up the garden hose coiled in the corner and placed it in the tube next the army man before turning it on.

the water flowed through the plastic tunnels, sweeping the army man away with it through the twists and turns before spitting it out with a clatter on the floor.

bill stared at it for a moment before looking up at the chart, his eyes trailing along the ink that represented the sewer tunnels, until he found what he was looking for. the opening of the sewers, that represented where georgie would’ve been spit out.

the barrens.

[—]

scuffed shoes met wet rocks as a stout, dirty-blond boy ran alongside the riverbed, shouts yelling out from behind him.

the boy panted, doing his best not to stumble over himself, when a dark-skinned hand grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side, deeper into the foliage—the blond barely stopped himself from screaming as he was practically tossed behind a tree, before coming face to face with a black boy his age.

“ben! are you alright?”

ben took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

“y-yeah, thanks. what are you-?” ben stopped as the other boy shushed him, and with good reason—a muscular-looking boy with a badly styled mullet splashed into the river, cursing loudly.

“come on out, tits!” he yelled angrily. ben winced at the nickname, extremely glad for the thick foliage that separated them from the angry boy.

“COME ON!” he yelled again, practically growling as he snapped his head around in search for ben. eventually he splashed on down the river, still yelling slurs and obscenities as he did.

once he was far enough away both boys hiding in the foliage let out a sigh of relief. ben looked at the other boy in confusion, finally free to speak. 

“i, uh- not to be like ungrateful or anything, which i’m not, i’m like, really grateful-“ ben stopped at the other boy’s look, which had an expression that said “stop rambling,” but in a much nicer way anyone had ever looked at ben. “uh- what are you doing here, mike?” he finally stumbled out.

mike smiled slightly.

“well, you know how you were wanting to like, build a place we could hang out without worrying about bowers or his gang?”

ben nodded, confused.

mike’s smile widened. “i think i found a place.”

ben’s eyes lit up and mike stood up, leading ben deeper into the barrens. they came upon a clearing and mike kneeled down, brushing some leaves off the ground to reveal an extrance to an empty burrow.

ben kneeled next to him, looking at him questioning.

“look, bowers would probably find us if it was like, a treehouse, right? but what if-“

“-it was underground,” ben finished, face breaking into a smile. “holy crap, mike, that’s such a good idea!” he beamed, grinning. mike smiled bashfully. “thanks, ben. i can totally help you, too, when i’m not doing farmwork.” ben looked absolutely delighted, and started rambling in excitement.

“oh, this is gonna be great- we’ll obviously have to dig out a bit more, and we’ll definitely need some wood to reinforce the floors and walls- oh and a trapdoor! we’ll probably need a trapdoor to get in and out but also, we meed to make sure it’s hidden so that-“

mike smiled as his friend rambled on about building their little clubhouse. even with bowers, he had a feeling this summer would be a good one.

Chapter Text

eddie was sick.

that was what his mom told him every day.

“it’s because you’re sick, eddie-bear,” she’d say whenever he’d asked why he had to take so many medicines or why he couldn’t go outside whenever he wanted.

eddie was sick, and the outside was full of sickness and germs and all sorts of horrible things that could kill him.

he was sick, and he should always stay away from anyone that wasn’t his mom. he should never hug or kiss or shake someone’s hand because there could be a million diseases inside their body or on their skin and eddie could die.

“but if everything outside is full of sickness, why do all the kids playing outside look like they’re having so much fun?” he’d asked his mom. “because you’re weaker than the other kids, eddie-bear, and we need to keep you safe. i can’t lose you, eddie-bear. do you want to die?”

he didn’t.

so eddie accepted her words.

he went outside in their fenced-in backyard for three hours every other day—because he needed sunlight to stay healthy—but only after his mother went and looked around and made sure there was nothing dangerous in the yard.

eddie wasn’t really sure what she classified as dangerous, but he knew he should always stay out of the dirt and only sit on the chair she cleaned every other day and never on the ground.

so thats what he did.

eddie had never broken an arm, and he’d never scraped his knees and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d used a bandaid.

sometimes, when he was sitting at his bedroom window, eddie would see kids pass his house, laughing and joking together like nothing was wrong. times like that eddie doubted what his mother was saying, because how could they be so happy and carefree when there were so many diseases everywhere?

but then he’d shake himself out of those thoughts, because someone that loved him wouldn’t lie and keep him away from joking and being happy with other kids. 

and eddie knew his mom loved him, so he knew he didn’t have to worry about that.

though that didn’t stop him from being sad, and wishing that he wasn’t sick, like he was now.

eddie sat scrunched up in his bedroom window, his knees to his chest, as he stared angrily at the paper in front of him.

since he didn’t get outside much, eddie had taken a liking to drawing. he drew himself, his mom, the little animals he saw outside, and sometimes the kids that passed his house.

this didn’t mean eddie was always good at drawing, however. like now. it was like the ink just wasn’t cooperating and it didn’t look right.

did glaring at the paper and mentally yelling insults and obscenities help? no, not really.

did it make eddie feel better? yeah.

he had been trying to draw a red squirrel—eddie had also taken to reading every single book in the house out of boredom, multiple of which were animal-related, and eddie could tell you every squirrel you could find in maine—but the ink and paper and eddie’s wrist just was not cooperating with his brain and he was about to lose his fucking shit.

eddie growled and shoved the notebook off the window seat, making it fall to the ground with a soft thump.

“eddie-bear! are you okay?!” eddie could hear his mother yell from downstairs. he took a deep breath and sighed.

“yeah, ma, i’m fine!” he yelled back. 

his gaze fell back on the notebook, discarded on the floor with the pages bent and all. “fuck you,” he whispered-yelled at the notebook, and, for good measure, flipped it off.

he sighed and brought his legs back up to his chest, moving his gaze to look out the window and laying his head against the glass. his mom didn’t like it very much when he did that, but he thought it was okay.

no one had passed his house today. they didn’t very often, but sometimes he’d see a lanky kid with dark, curly hair and glasses pass by. sometimes he was with a girl with bright, red hair, and sometimes he was by himself.

sometimes it was just the girl. 

he thought he’d seen a blonde boy with them once, and there used to be another lanky boy with darker hair with them, but he hadn’t seen either of them in awhile.

they always looked like they were having fun, though. eddie could sometimes hear the boy with glasses—he was really loud—but he never could make out what they were saying.

sometimes he’d draw himself with the boy and the girl, like he was part of their friendgroup. like he knew all their inside jokes, and what the boy was yelling, and what they liked and didn’t like, and hung out with them after school.

he wished he could hang out with them.

but he was sick.

eddie was drawn out of his thoughts as a drop of water fell onto the window, the sound seeming loud with the only other noise being the muffled sound of his mom’s soap operas from downstairs.

another drop.

another.

it started raining lightly, the sound of the water pitter-patting against the window slowly getting more even. eddie liked the sound of rain.

he sat there a few minutes, just listening to the rain, until a muffled shout came from outside, drawing his attention.

two young kids, both girls younger than him, had ran out of their house, yelling in excitement. one held a stuffed animal—a turtle, maybe?—while the other held a large-ish rubber ball, which she threw into one of the forming puddles in the road. she screeched and pointed at it, to which her friend responded by throwing the stuffed turtle into the puddle with it. it flipped on its side and landed upside-down.

this, apparently, was the funniest thing the two girls could have seen, as they both shrieked in laughter.

eddie watched as they splashed around for awhile. at one point the girl with the turtle saw eddie and waved at him with a big smile. he waved back. she went back to playing.

they kept playing, until a large rumble of thunder shook what felt like everything and lightning flashed in the distance. eddie jumped in surprise, and the two girls shrieked, abandoning their toys and running back into the house.

eddie didn’t like thunder. at all. he fumbled around his fanny pack for his inhaler, taking a puff of it. the rain came down harder and eddie was about to move away from the window when something caught his eye.

the rubber ball and stuffed turtle were swept into the runoff, floating down the street. eddie wasn’t sure why he was watching, nor did he know why he felt bad for the toys. they were just toys, after all.

nontheless he watched as the toys glided on until the rubber ball got stuck on a storm drain, which caused the stuffed turtle to get caught on the ball.

eddie blinked.

why did feel like he was expecting something else?

eddie let out a sigh, beginning to turn away when- what the fuck.

a hand.

a small hand *came out of the sewers* and grabbed the turtle plush, dragging it down into the sewers.

eddie screamed and fell off his seat.

he both heard and felt his mother’s screams of his name and her quick, heavy footsteps as she trudged up the stairs and slammed the door open.

“oh my eddie-bear!! oh are you okay? what happened? are you hurt?” she asked hurriedly, kneeling down next to him and scooping him up in her arms.

eddie was hyperventilating because what the actual fuck was that.

“t-t-there was a thing i-in the s-st-s-storm drain a-and-“

“slow down, eddie-bear, i can’t understand you,” she cut him off, practically shoving the forgotten inhaler into his mouth.

eddie breathed the medicine in greedily, despite how it burned his throat. he took another deep breath.

“t-there was a hand and i-it came out of the sewers and it grabbed the turtle and i-“

“shh, shh shhh,” sonia shushed him, petting the back of his head. “have you taken your medicine?”

eddie nodded. “y-yeah ma, i-i-“ “shh, shhh. c’mon eddie-bear. i think you need another dose.”

she didn’t believe him?

she didn’t even look out the window.

“b-but-“ eddie barely had a chance to protest before sonia pulled him up and begun to lead him downstairs, to where the medicine cabinet lay.

“shh. you’re sick, eddie. you need your medicine.”

bill brought his bike to a stop outside the barrens, not bothering to park it as he hopped off. he shrugged off his backpack and unzipped it, grabbing a flashlight and a bag of some sort before struggling to zip it up. the sound of footsteps and rustling foliage grabbed bill’s attention and he looked up.

two boys his age, one dark-skinned and the other a chubbier dark blond, had just made their way out of the barrens.

all three of them froze, staring at each other.

“…uhm… hi?” the blond said, though it sounded more like a question than a greeting.

“huh-hi,” bill replied, face scrunching up lightly as he stuttered.

“..what’re you doing?” the other boy asked, looking at bill suspiciously. bill looked down at the items in his hands and thought for a moment before looking back up. “luh-looking for suh-suh-some-something.” 

the blond’s eyes widened vaguely. “do you need any help? ‘cause we can help.” the other nodded in agreement.

“well, ah-i don’t reh-ruh-really know if-“ “well, what do we have here?” bill was cut off as a scarily familiar voice rang through the air as someone stepped out of the greenery behind mike and ben.

“shit-“ mike cursed and grabbed ben’s wrist in and attempt to pull him away, but was stopped as bowers grabbed ben’s backpack and pulled him backwards, in effect causing mike to fall on top of him.

“thought you could hide from me, tits?” bowers spat, kicking ben in the side, who responded with a groan.

bill couldn’t help the flash of anger he felt and he stood up, face twisted. “luh-luh-leave them alone, buh-bowers,” he growled.

henry looked up and scoffed when he saw bill. “oh, what are you guh-guh-gonna duh-duh-do, huh?” he asked, mocking bill’s stutter as he strided over to him, pulling out his pocket knife.

bill cursed himself mentally, taking a few steps back.

“haven’t seen you at school for awhile, huh? too busy being a fag? or you still cuh-cuh-crying over your bruh-bruh-brother? bet he got taken by one of yer fag friends and beat to death,” bowers growled out.

bill froze, expression darkening.

“wuh-what did you say?”

bowers scoffed. “you fucking deaf now too? i said your brother got killed by one of yer stupid fag friends. probably that fucking jew-“

bill’s face felt hot. his grip on the flashlight tightened significantly.

if anyone asked him what was running through his mind right now, he wouldn’t know. he wasn’t really thinking. at least, not when he swung his fist so hard he heard a crack as the flashlight in his hand came into contact with bowers’ head.