Chapter Text
That fucking clown was long gone. Well twenty seven years gone at the least. And if the losers would do anything it would be to savor those twenty seven years- and likely spend them as their last. But when your deaths are inevitable as theirs you may as well celebrate it. Celebrate what you get to live at least, celebrate all the victories - big and small - celebrate the years, further from your past; without acknowledging your doom drawing closer.
Though even a summer like that can’t prepare them for another grueling year of high school. Days repetitively spent surrounded by pubescent teenagers and bells that left a ringing in their ears. Things were even weirder ever since Bowers disappeared - the lack of yelling and shoving comforting yet disturbing - the chief of police was suddenly gone along with his son- a story the news wasn’t allowed to cover; though other bullies still persisted. Additionally of course there were the rumors - though drained out by what the town had lived through - they all stayed, the words painted across walls; whether brick or a school bathroom even the faded paint- whatever your rumor of choice may be it whispered and echoed across the halls. Though the air did sit differently this year- more sudden chills, everything felt thicker, words lingered longer; even the kids who never saw It first hand remained startled by whatever rumor they believed. And just about anything is more believable than an immortal masochist clown.
“I bet he gets off to that shit,” Richie attempted to get a laugh out of the others as they sat in the library researching It’s motivations and adding to any helpful information Ben had previously acquired.
“So not funny- Do you understand how creepy that is Rich?” Eddie asked, raising an exaggerated concerned eyebrow at the comment, “This thing has obviously been around for like- a bazillion years- I mean this thing-”
“Bazillion isn’t even a real number mister brainiac,” Richie cut him off.
“It absolutely fucking is my math teacher says it all the time,” Eddie reassured- mostly himself, “Come on guys it’s a real number right?” He asked their other friends, though they had already drowned out the bickering with genuine thoughts on why Pennywise has done this for so long.
The memories weighed on them, everything was a constant reminder. It didn’t help that Pennywise was just about all they had talked about since. So they didn’t mention how it hurt; no one brought up how their heart beats increased during their conversations, no one brought up the tears wept afterwards. No one brought up how much Bev fidgeted with the key around her neck- how much Eddie needed his inhaler- how much Ben readjusted his shirt- why Richie no longer sat too close to Eddie- how Bill’s stuttering only got worse even though he did speech practice everyday- why Stan constantly picked at the scar on his hand. They silently adjusted back to their clown-less lives, with only each other to rely on. Though who else would believe them anyways?
Books lined up along with old newspapers flowing beside and below their usual table; they had spent any free time during the first few days back at school at the library like it was their home. A comforting home- their chosen family; it was convenient for them since most really did enjoy being there much more than their actual home. The librarian grew to recognize them quite quickly, becoming a sort of mother whenever they were in- luckily she was more lenient with them than most, not bothering to shush them during most of their occasional outbursts.
As the sun began to set and the conversations veered further and further from their original prompts more losers hopped on their bikes to ride home. Farewells and safe wishes danced around the group as the night grew darker.