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Bill watches Richie and Eddie ahead of them, anxiety settled in his chest. Kids are screaming around them, excitement palpable in the air, but Bill can only feel fear thrumming under his skin.
Halloween isn’t an easy time of the year. Bill used to love it. Now he can’t stand it. He flinches at the sight of clowns, and the mirror mazes freak him out. Richie still makes him go in them with him, Ben, and Eddie, and Bill always regrets it.
A girl screams from far off, but the sound is still sharp, painful. Bill flinches, even though he knows it’s not Bev, who’s literally standing off to the left with Stanley and Ben. He frowns deeply. He wonders how angry Richie will be with him if he just turns around and leaves.
Slowly, Mike’s hand brushes past his fingers. Bill turns his head some, blinking in Mike’s direction.
Mike is watching him, eyes calculating and knowing. “You good, man?”
Bill slowly shakes his head. “I ha–ate that Richie makes us come h–here.”
“I get it,” Mike agrees, fingers brushing against Bill’s again. Bill doesn’t try to deny himself the want—he pushes his hand out, palm against Mike’s, and lets their fingers slowly tangle together. “But… I think he’s just trying to help us reclaim the stuff we’ve lost. Like being able to enjoy Halloween.”
Mike has a good point. Bill knows he’s right, really, but still. It’s a pain in the ass.
Bill’s chest tightens the closer they get to the main thoroughfare of the carnival. His hands shake, his knees feel weak, and his throat is tight. The anxiety attack is small, but prominent. Mike holds his hand through the entire thing.
No one says a thing about them holding hands the whole time.