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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 6 years

Text

with you [4/6]

Summary: Clementine pops the question.

Preview:

Louis chuckles to himself, causing her to quirk a curious brow.

“What?”

“We’re engaged.”

Clementine laughs with him now. “We are.”

“That’s crazy!”

“Is it?”

“Uhm, yeah. You’re my fiancée.”

“Soon to be your wife.”

“Holy shit.”

His smile is so wide it’s almost painful.

All night, the evening replayed in his head. Her fingers gliding along the piano keys, the golden glow reflected in her gaze, the heaviness of her voice when she admitted to wanting him- really wanting him - and shock of metal pressing into his skin as she slid the ring on.

His mind mulled about the fact that almost everyone seemed to know about it. Except him, of course. How little things started to make sense; Aasim’s weird behavior and the whole deer plot in general, Mitch throwing his shoe to keep him out of the basement, Willy bursting into their bedroom looking for Clementine, Ruby’s over-friendliness towards him, AJ’s eagerness to occupy most of his time…

His smile falters, just a bit.

His mind wanders to Violet.

Warnings: Ruby says “hootenanny.” Aasim hits his head. Mitch doesn’t know how to deal with gross feelings. Violet’s angsty again. Clementine and Louis each have some��worries of their own. This is anything but short and sweet jfc

Author’s Note: [insert “it’s too long had to split it again” speech here] Yeah I’m not even gonna bother at this point just know that it’s five parts now [maybe] and I’m still a big liar. I’ve just got too much to say about these kids so... yeah. Anyway, on a lighter note, THANK YOU to everyone who’s read and left comments/likes! I’m sorry that it took so long! It seriously means so much to me and I hope you enjoy this part.

---

The early morning isn't gray, but a soothing lavender and brilliant amber. The colors merge into neon pink and peach, a hue that would be blinding if not for the pulled curtains. The sweetness of dew ridden grass wafts in through the cracked window, cooling the room's temperature.

Louis inhales deeply. Though he's one to usually sleep in, he does have a fancy for the smell of mornings during the spring's transition to summer. It's a floral freshness you can't find any other time of year.

He watches Clementine slip her jacket on with such a fondness he can't begin to describe. He twists the ring around his finger over and over again as a reminder that last night really happened. All of it. From the silly and exasperating deer hunt to seeing the music room engulfed in a golden glow to the feeling of Clementine's finger tracing his palm.

"Louis, will you marry me?"

She sits with him now, scooting close enough for their legs to press and tangle together. Her eyes flutter shut as she relaxes against him, face buried in the crook of his neck and arms wrapped around his waist.

They barely slept last night.

They both could hear AJ tossing and turning over in his bed, sighing heavily several times during the night.

Clementine wasn't any better. With her body curled up against his back, she found that no matter how long she kept her eyes shut, sleep wouldn't take her.

It didn't help that every once in a while, a quiet, involuntary giggle would escape Louis. He tried to play it off like he was coughing, but she knew better.

Eventually, frustrated with his own restlessness, AJ hopped out of bed. Fully aware that he wasn't the only one awake, he claimed he would go on patrol and check on watch. Neither of them argued because, with the young boy gone, Louis could roll over and press a kiss to Clementine's lips without any judgment or awkwardness.

"We should get up," she sighs uncommittedly and without any movement.

"Should."

"Lots to do today."

"Lots."

"Ruby's probably waiting for us, too."

"Probably."

Neither of them attempts to get out of bed.

A particularly harsh gust of wind hits the window just right, blowing the curtains up and letting that morning luminosity seep in over the floor.

The cool air tingles his skin, so he pulls her closer. They would consider closing the window, but it's a pain in the ass to get open again due to the boards nailed over half of it. Besides, most days it's way too warm to keep fresh air out. They'll secure it when winter rears its ugly head again.

Louis lifts his hand up before him, admiring the ring adorning it. He uses his thumb to twist it until the carved initials appear.

So, he didn't just imagine that, either.

"This doesn't feel real," Louis mumbles.

"It is."

Clementine holds up her hand, too. Together, their rings are a perfect match. She places her fingers over his, bringing their hands down to intertwine over his chest as she rests her chin on his shoulder, peering up at him.

"You slept okay, right?"

"You assume I could sleep?"

"I mean, no bad dreams?"

"No," he answers lightly, relieved. "Course, you have to sleep long enough to actually dream. I just couldn't turn my brain off, I guess."

He tilts his head back, expression soft and thoughtful, but with a hint of something else. Like he's bothered.

Quietly, almost apprehensive, she brings herself to ask, "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No." He shakes his head, tightening his grip on her. "Of course not, Clem. I just can't believe this is happening. What brought this on? Like I said, I didn't think this was something you would've wanted."

Clementine pulls back from him to meet his gaze, saying, "Back at the train station, seeing you try and explain marriage to AJ and the way you looked," she grins, soft and pretty, "I couldn't get it out of my head and I just... knew that I wanted to marry you, end of the world or not."

"Wow," he breathes out. "Are you sure?"

She playfully pinches his nose. "Thought we talked about this."

"Yeah, but I want to one-hundred percent sure!"

"Then, yes, Louis. I am one-hundred percent certain that I want to marry you."

"Even though my nose is big and I have funny-looking ears?"

"All ears are funny-looking."

"Maybe so," Louis laughs. "But, still."

Clementine presses a light kiss to his cheek, resting her forehead against his. "What do I need to tell you to get you to believe me? Since my romantic proposal wasn't enough."

"Oh, it was plenty," he tells her with a beaming grin. "Never thought I'd ever get married, much less proposed to. Especially like that. I mean," he shrugs a little, "didn't think I'd make it this far in general, to be honest."

Her smile fades.

"I know," he says before she can speak. "I know. On a happier note, my bride-to-be, you're right. We have lots to do today."

He gives her cheek a quick peck and slides out of bed. He nearly blinds himself when drawing the curtains open, but boy does it snap any drowsiness out of him. He rubs his eyes, blobs of colors staining his vision as he moves around the room to gather up his things. Clementine remains on the bed, watching him with a reflective look.

She can see his mood is light now, still full of elation as evident by the grin stuck pulling at his lips.

Of course he could hardly sleep last night, he thinks.

How do you sleep when the girl of your dreams proposes to you?

Hell, not only proposes but plans an entire evening consisting of a well thought out candlelit dinner and sweet, classical music. And, on top of that, manages to acquire a set of matching bands to propose with?

Clementine did that for him.

Him.

Even now, he's not entirely sure this isn't just some intense hallucination, but god, he hopes it's not.

Louis chuckles to himself, causing her to quirk a curious brow.

"What?"

"We're engaged."

Clementine laughs with him now. "We are."

"That's crazy!"

"Is it?"

"Uhm, yeah. You're my fiancée."

"Soon to be your wife."

"Holy shit."

His smile is so wide it's almost painful.

His mind mulled about the fact that almost everyone seemed to know about it. Except him, of course. How little things started to make sense; Aasim's weird behavior and the whole deer plot in general, Mitch throwing his shoe to keep him out of the basement, Willy bursting into their bedroom looking for Clementine, Ruby's over-friendliness towards him, AJ's eagerness to occupy most of his time...

His smile falters, just a bit.

His mind wanders to Violet.

Clementine's talk with her made sense now.

He'd tried to push aside those less enjoyable thoughts over the night, the ones of Violet, the overly dark ones lurking in the back of his mind. Those ones, in particular, he forced away into the deepest parts of his mind. Those thoughts were ones that could break him, so he did his best to focus on the rush of love he felt for the woman pressed against him.

Now morning is here and it's time to face the reality that came with it. While he isn't ready to face his biggest fears just yet, he does let those thoughts of Violet race through his mind, which caused his small grin to quickly pull into a frown.

As he watches Clementine place her worn out hat upon her head, he knows that it's time to get serious.

"Clem?"

She turns to him, brow raised.

"Does Violet know?" he asks.

She glances away. "No, she doesn't."

"You didn't tell her? During your talk, I mean."

"I was going to," Clementine says slowly. "While we were still planning things, we weren't sure if we should or how we should tell her. I thought maybe if I told her it'd be the best chance I had at fixing things."

She steps closer now, arms still folded over her chest and expression pained.

"After we argued and she told me how she really felt," she shakes her head, "I just couldn't. I knew I had upset her enough and I don't know how she would've taken it."

Louis nods, understanding. "And, you're sure Tenn hasn't told her?"

"No, he promised he'd keep it to himself for now."

He pulls her close, holding her comfortably against him. "Well, don't worry. I'll talk to her today."

"Are you sure?"

"She has to know, Clem. She can't not be a part of this. Maybe she'll take it better if it's coming from me."

Clementine hesitates before mumbling, "What if she doesn't want to be a part of it at all?"

That's not something he wants to think about. It's that thought that he's tried avoiding all night.

If he's going to get married, end of the world or not, he wants Violet there.

Ideally, and totally unrealistically, Louis imagined her singing at their wedding.

He imagined him and Clementine dancing together, close and intimate, with him holding her hand to his chest and gripping her waist firmly. He imagined Violet's lovely voice filling the music room with whatever sappy love song he'd picked out for her. And when she finished, she'd smile at both of them and sing again.

That's where those thoughts ended because there's no point in making himself feel so sad over something he knows would never happen in the first place. While optimistic, Louis can see things through a realist sight. Daydreams and fantasies have their place, and right now isn't the time for it.

Right now, he needs to focus on talking with Violet. Clementine wasn't able to tell her, and that's okay, but she needs to know. He needs her to know that he wants her there. Even if she only popped in to grab a drink and wave at him, that would be enough.

Whether or not she'd listen is another story. Louis knows he can't force her to come. Hell, he doesn't want to force her to do anything. In the end, it's Violet's choice. All he can do is be as open with her as possible and tell her how he feels.

"In the very least, she deserves to know," he says. "And, maybe it's time me and her sort out some things of our own. There's..." he sighs, "there's some stuff that needs to be said, I think. Things we've been ignoring." He smiles at her, warm and comforting. "Leave it to me, Clem."

Clementine studies his face for a moment, worry furrowing her brow. "Just... be careful, okay? I don't want this to be like the last time you guys talked about something involving me."

"It won't be, I promise. I'll take care of everything. Besides, you've got other things to worry about."

"Do I?"

"You've got a wedding to plan, right?"

She smirks. "I guess I do. Although, I think Ruby's already planned most of it."

He chuckles. "Well, in that case, we shouldn't keep her waiting."

---

The full brightness of the day has taken over now, even if most of the sunlight is buried beneath the fluffy white clouds. It's much warmer than the past few days, too, giving the full effect of spring.

The first one they see is Willy.

Outside the open basement doors, he's down on his knees digging through a plastic tub and pulling what looks like Halloween decorations out. Rosie's beside him, curiously poking her nose around a long orange and black streamer.

Mitch's voice echoes from down the basement steps, but neither of them can make out the words.

"What!?" Willy calls out, tossing aside a smashed up paper pumpkin.

More undistinguishable yelling is followed by a loud thump.

"I don't know! Maybe in the back!"

Omar's gathering and sorting through wood, prepping it for a fire. Clementine can see his cooking equipment is stacked neatly on his table, freshly cleaned. He waves at them, whistling Rosie over to keep him company.

James' up on watch with AJ, from what Clementine can see. The young boy has his binoculars up to his face, searching outside the walls for any danger while James peers off in the opposite direction.

Ruby's nowhere in sight.

"She's probably already tearing apart the music room," says Louis with concern. "Don't see Tenn or Aasim, either."

"Clem! Louis!" Willy calls out to them, waving them over using a plastic skeleton arm. "Come look!"

Louis chuckles as they approach the boy, saying, "Didn't think our theme would be jack-o-lanterns, but I must admit, the approach is charming." He grabs a broken plastic pumpkin basket, one that would've been used for trick-or-treating.

Clementine bends down to admire the various decorations. "Wow," she says, "can't believe you guys kept all this stuff."

"The school used to go all out on holidays," Louis explains. "I mean, all out. Not a single corner wasn't covered for Halloween or Christmas or whatever. Even the dumb ones got decorated for. Said it'd make us cheerier if we were surrounded by it."

"Makes sense, I guess," Clementine nods.

Ericson's a pretty big school, and if they really did deck out the entire place, then that required a lot of decorations. It opens up a lot of potential for the decor of the wedding, she thinks.

Picking up a torn cardboard cutout of a glittery pumpkin, she finds her heart swelling fondly.

It reminds her of when she was little, before the outbreak. Her mom had bought her the most beautiful fairy costume to wear trick-or-treating. The skirt and wings had so much glitter on them that whenever she moved a puff of sparkles seemed to flow around her. It took her weeks to get all that glitter out of her hair, and even longer for her mom to get it out of the carpet.

While it does bring happier memories to mind, she's not sure how she feels about a Halloween themed wedding. Especially in the spring.

Willy pulls out a terrifyingly cheerful vampire mask and slips it on, cackling and wiggling his fingers at her. "Blood! Blood!"

She waves him away, laughing. "Okay, okay, please tell me you aren't using this stuff for the music room."

"Nah," Willy shakes his head, yanking the mask off. His messy hair sticks up in all directions, static from the plastic mask. "Just thought it was cool. Haven't touched this shit in years." The young boy's face lights up when he finds a crusty tube of fake blood. "Mitch's still looking for the real decorations. He's got this really cool idea! I dunno how it's gonna work, but if it does, it's gonna be awesome."

"Nothing explosive, right?" Clementine asks.

"No," Willy frowns, "Ruby already told us we couldn't make you guys fireworks."

"That's probably for the best."

"No fireworks, huh? But think of the crowd they could attract," Louis jokes.

"Yeah, a crowd of walkers."

"Hey, if James' friends want to come, I'm not opposed. Add 'em to the guest list, I say."

Clementine lightly smacks Louis' leg with the cardboard pumpkin, sticking glitter to his jeans and making him chuckle with amusement.

"Shit!" A sharp hiss comes from down the stairs of the basement, catching their attention. Two large plastic totes with a cardboard box stacked on top come into view carried by a struggling, panting Mitch. Louis is there quick, pulling off the box and handing it to Willy before taking the top tote.

"Dude, careful!" Louis says, grunting at the unexpected weight of the tote. "You'll fall and break your neck."

Mitch, his flushed face now in sight, huffs out, "Thanks."

They drop the totes and box to the ground with hard thuds. Mitch wipes his sweaty palms against his jeans and takes a breather, plopping down on the ground.

"They were buried in the back," he says. "Shit's a mess down there now, but I found 'em."

Willy pulls out what looks like thick batteries and small solar panels, as well as some black tape and a bundle of wires. "Think these'll work?" he asks. "We've never tried using them for something like this."

"We'll hafta try out a few different ways of hookin' them up." Mitch catches his breath, saying, "If they don't do the trick then we'll have to go to plan B."

Louis kneels down to examine the equipment for himself.

"And, what exactly is plan A?" he asks.

A wide grin spreads across Mitch's face. He tears off the plastic lid to one of the totes and pulls out an armful of tangled string lights. He shows them off with such a proud confidence that you'd think he'd struck gold.

"Ruby's not budging on having your wedding in the evening and wants to use all those candles again, but I got an idea. Get enough of these and they'll light up the place just as good. They'll also look better and we won't have to deal with that nasty ass smell those candles give off when you burn 'em too long. Just need you to pick out which ones you want."

Clementine eyes the string lights, dumbfounded. She and Louis share a look and she finds him just as perplexed.

"Pick out...?"

He begins to carefully pull apart and separate the lights. "We've got red ones and green ones and multi-colored ones, or there are some white ones, a few orange, but I think those ones are broken. These ones flash, I think. Found some with hearts, but it's only one set. And they're ugly. Anyway," he puts them back in the box, turning to the couple, "which ones?"

"Uh, Mitch?" Louis cocks his head to the side. "I-I don't know how to break this to you, but... those lights need to be plugged in and we haven't had electricity for years now."

"Yeah, dumbass, I know," Mitch scoffs. "Don't mean I can't get them to light."

"By...?"

Willy holds up the batteries and small solar panels. "These!"

"We're not one-hundred percent sure this'll work or if we'll have enough, but if not," Mitch shrugs before opening the second tote, pulling out a handful of clear boxes containing battery powered lights. They're smaller and much more delicate than the others. "We got these. They'll take up some smaller batteries, but we got a lot of rechargeables so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. Except they won't be enough to light up the whole place."

While Clementine finds it odd that Mitch is more willing to waste batteries than candles in this situation, she can't help but share his excitement. The thought of string lights illuminating the music room is quite compelling, even if she has no idea how the boys plan to pull this off.

"Smell or not, wouldn't it be easier to just use the candles?" Louis asks. "It sounds like this'll be a lot of work for something that might not even turn on."

"Your rings were a lot of work, too, and they turned out better than the piece of shit Clem wanted to give you."

"Hey, that ring was perfectly fine until you broke it," Clementine argues.

"And yet, you prefer the ones I made, don't'cha?"

"I never said I didn't." Clementine pulls out more lights to study, these ones green. "You really think you can get these to work?"

"Do you doubt me?"

"No."

"Then, hell yeah, I can," he smirks. "S'not like you're gettin' married tomorrow, so I should have plenty of time to figure this shit out."

"Ah, jack-o-lanterns," James' soft voice comes from behind. His smile is delighted as his eyes widen in awe at the various decorations.

"Hey, James, look!" Willy shoves the vampire mask back on, though crooked this time. "Mwahahaha, I've come to suck your blood!"

James' shoulders shake as he gives a heartful laugh. "You're quite terrifying," he compliments, charmed by the sense of nostalgia the decorations bring. "I haven't seen anything like this in a long time."

"Halloween used to be a pretty big deal here," says Mitch. "Used to get dressed up and trick-or-treat at all the different rooms, but they'd always give us the shitty candy."

"Is that why you preferred the 'trick' part of it?" asks Louis. "Weren't you the one who set off cherry bombs in the toilets?"

"Yeah, but only because Mr. Henderson gave me a handful of Almond Joys."

"Poor, poor Mr. Henderson," Louis sighs. When Clementine gives him a questioning look, he says, "He was the janitor. But, wait, the story gets worse when you find out the toilet still had a bunch of shit in it."

Willy bursts out laughing, holding his sides.

"It was fucking everywhere," snickers Mitch.

"Mitch!" Clementine scolds, crinkling her nose at the horrific idea. "That's disgusting!"

"Well, who the fuck likes Almond Joys? You don't hand that out on Halloween!"

"I wasn't ever a fan of those, either," James says. "I always liked Reese's."

"Yes!" Mitch points at him. "Reese's were the shit!"

"Kitkat's, too."

"Hell yeah! M&M's?"

"All except the peanut ones," James grins.

"Fuck peanut M&M's, man," Mitch happily agrees. He holds his fist out to James, prompting him into a fist bump which James excitedly does.

"Yeah, I was always more of a Skittles man, myself," Louis adds.

"Really?" Clementine asks.

"Oh yeah, I could scarf down bags and bags of Skittles until I made myself sick," Louis grins. "And I did. A lot. What about you?"

"At Halloween? I used to love candy corn."

"Seriously?" Mitch exclaims.

"Oh, darling, no."

"Ew."

"What?" Clementine laughs. "My mom used to make cupcakes every year and decorate with them. They were good!"

"Uh, no, candy corn's worse than Almond Joys!" argues Mitch. "Sorry, Clem, don't think we can be friends anymore."

"Likewise," says Louis.

"Hey!" She picks up the paper pumpkin again and smack's Louis' knee with it again. "Don't judge me!"

"I'm judging you super hard," Louis shakes his head, twisting his face into one of dramatic, exaggerated sorrow as he places his hand over his chest. "My darling Clementine, a lover of candy corn."

"It's not that bad."

"It's pretty bad," James agrees.

"Nasty," Willy nods.

"You were deprived as a child," Louis laments. "My poor Clementine."

"Oh, jeez," she rolls her eyes. "You guys are being ridiculous, you know that?"

"Hey!" A voice calls from the school. They turn to see Aasim coming towards them. "There you are. Ruby's waiting for you guys in the music room."

"Hey, Aasim. We were just looking for her," Clementine says. "Thought maybe she'd pop out here first before getting started."

"Oh, she's been in there all morning moving shit around. Had me and Willy take the couch out," Mitch scoffs. "She was barkin' at me to help her fix something before I snuck out."

"Yeah, the table," says Aasim. "I'm helping her with it. I just need something to tighten the legs. Got anything in the basement?"

"Yeah, check my toolbox," Mitch nods. "Should be by the stairs."

"Great." Aasim wanders towards the basement, uninterested in the various Halloween items thrown about.

"Well," says Clementine turning to Louis, "we've kept her waiting long enough. We better go."

"Before that," Mitch motions to the tote, "which ones?"

Oh, right, the lights.

"Well, obviously," Louis spots a string of green, four-leaf clover lights, no doubt used to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. "These ones, of course."

Clementine rolls her eyes, smirking. "Yeah, probably not."

She likes the idea of the white lights instead of the colored ones. She's still not sure how Ruby's planning on decorating and white lights go with everything.

"These," she says firmly. "They're the same color as the smaller ones, right? We'd probably get more use out of them."

"That's what I was thinking, too," Mitch grins. "We'll practice and test things out on the others. Tell Ruby not to bother with candles."

James peers over her shoulder curiously. "Lights?"

"Mitch here's gonna make them work with no electricity," Louis shrugs. "Like a goddamn wizard."

"Oh," James smiles. "Perhaps I could help? I don't have much to contribute to this wedding and I'd hate to just be a bystander."

Clementine grins. It's sweet that James is so eager to help, and it's good to see him involving himself more with the others.

"That is, if it's okay with you?" James adds, looking for Mitch's approval.

"Uh?" Mitch blinks up at James, obviously thrown off by his offer.

"Hell yeah!" Willy exclaims. "You can help! We're gonna hook 'em up to these batteries and string 'em all over the room!"

James, happy to be included, moves to kneel beside Mitch and pulls out the lights to study them closer. Mitch eyes him, mouth twisted into an unsure frown, but upon seeing Willy's excitement, he shrugs.

"Sure." Then, he nods over at Clementine. "Go see Ruby. We'll take care of things out here."

Clementine offers them one last smile before she and Louis wander away.

"Think he'll actually get them to light?" Louis asks.

"I think if anyone could, it'd be Mitch. And, if he can't, we still have plenty of candles."

"Right," Louis nods. He gazes up at the sky, brows furrowed in thought. Then, a charming smile spreads across his face. He pulls open the door, standing aside and motioning towards the entrance. "Shall we?"

---

When they walk into the music room, they're greeted with the unusual sight of what looks to be an aisle leading from the doorway and towards the center of the room.

On the left side, there are three rows of mismatching chairs.

On the right, there are the same three rows but instead of chairs, there are piles of pillows. Ruby's at the other end, peering back and forth between the two in contemplation.

On the far left of the room, Aasim's fixing the legs of a long table, no doubt the one that'll be holding their meal. He's quietly grumbling to himself, something about none of the wrenches working or being the proper size.

"Ah! Clem, Lou!" Ruby beams at the couple, rushing down the aisle towards them. "Good, yer here!"

"Wow, Ruby, you've already transformed the place."

"More like emptied it," Louis says, looking around the room. "Heard you took the couch out but damn."

Now that he mentions it, Clementine does notice that it feels particularly empty. The couch is gone, as well as the modified table they used last night. The walls are bare now, too. Even the portrait of the old headmaster's gone.

"Yeah, me and Aasim moved it all out," says Ruby. "Gotta make room fer the aisle! Which, now that yer here, ya can help me decide."

She takes a few steps back now, pointing to both sides.

"Which one ya like better? Chairs or pillows?" she asks. "I've been goin' back and forth on it for ages now. Chairs would maybe look nicer and it'll be easier ta stand, but pillows are comfy and cozy and easier ta kick outta the way." She turns to study the chair side some more. "Then again, chairs would be more traditional since we ain't got benches."

"There's nothing traditional about this wedding," calls Aasim from under the table.

"True," Ruby considers.

"Uh?" Louis glances at Clementine. "We're deciding on seating arrangements, right?"

Ruby motions to the aisle they're standing in. "Yep. Ya see, when Clem walks, she'll come down this path ta meet ya over there," she points over where the aisle stops, "and the rest'a us will be seated on either side," she explains. "Whattya think? Should we sit in chairs or on pillows? Which do ya prefer?"

The couple takes in their options before turning to each other.

"Whatever you want will work for me," Louis shrugs.

Clementine shakes her head. "It's your wedding, too. You're allowed to have a say."

"Isn't the bride supposed to make all the choices for her special day? I thought all I had to do is stand up there and look pretty."

Clementine laughs. "Well, sure, that's part of it," she teases, "but this isn't just my wedding. You should get as much choice in it as I do."

That's... not what he expected.

Not that he was expecting Clementine to turn into Bridezilla or anything, either. He just always assumed that the bride has the final say in everything since the wedding is supposed to be "her day."

But, glancing between his two choices, he can't deny any blatant favoritism towards one, and if he really does get a say...

"Not gonna lie, I like the pillows."

"I'm shocked."

"What?" he chuckles. "Ruby's right. They're cozy! They're also mine, by the way, just collecting dust in my old room. Might as well put them to good use."

"Yeah, had Willy grab the rest of 'em this mornin'," Ruby says. "Hope ya don't mind."

"Nah," Louis waves a dismissive hand. "Just, y'know, make sure they get put back in our room when everything's said and done."

"Uh, no, not all of them," Clementine objects. "We don't have space for all of these. You're pushing it already with the ones you have."

"Ah, my darling, I think you're missing the bigger picture here. Imagine the pillow fort we could create with all of these. It'd be magnificent, the coziest castle in all the lands. It'd put all those who tried to match its majesticness to shame."

Clementine rolls her eyes so hard it almost hurts. "Too bad there's no room for such a fort."

"We might have some extra space if you didn't pick up every animal skull you found."

"Hey, that's different," she laughs. "Those look cool!"

"Uh-huh."

Clementine bites her lip to suppress a smile, turning back to Ruby. "Pillows it is."

"Got it! Aasim?"

Aasim, still under the table, jerks up too fast and smacks his head against the corner. "Ah, shit!" he hisses.

"Shoot, you okay?" Ruby asks, worried by how harsh that thump sounded.

"Yeah, yeah," Aasim waves it off while rubbing the tender spot on his head.

"Sounded like that hurt."

"Nope, not at all," Aasim lies. "What do you need?"

"Can ya help me move some of these ta the side? Figure we keep some in case anyone wants ta take a break after the dancin' starts."

"Dancing!" Louis says with a bright grin. "Hear that, Aasim? We'll finally get to see those sweet moves you've been hiding from us."

"Dude, piss off."

"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss," Ruby chuckles. "I already picked out a bunch'a swing and slow songs fer it. And, yes," she pointedly looks at Aasim with a smirk, "we're all dancin', at least a little."

"I don't dance," Aasim says flatly.

Ruby jerks her thumb towards Clementine. "Well, ya gotta at least dance with the bride. It's good luck."

Aasim looks at Clementine, an awkward panic rising in his features. "Uh-"

"And the groom," Louis adds with a wink. "The good luck's only valid when you dance with the bride and the groom."

Aasim's shoulders droop as his expression becomes exasperated. "Oh my god..." he grumbles.

At that, Louis laughs. More thoughts, ways to tease poor Aasim, enter his mind but he decides to keep quiet for now. Don't want to provoke the guy too much, especially in front of Ruby.

"Aw, don't be embarrassed, Aasim," Ruby smiles at him. "I'm sure yer a great dancer. Oh, also," she turns back to Louis, "I pulled some slower, prettier ones out fer ya ta look at. We need somethin' to play while Clem's walkin'."

"I'll give 'em a look," he says. "Sounds like this'll be quite the hoedown."

"Oh, this's gonna be better than any other hootenanny we've had before," Ruby's excitement carries in her voice as she begins to move the chairs. "And, now that yer both here, we can get down to the nitty-gritty."

"Nitty-gritty?" Clementine asks, amused.

"Right," Ruby grins. "Like I said, yer gonna walk down this way and over here," she moves to the other side of the room, close to the fireplace, "is where we're gonna have one'a those big arches fer ya ta stand under."

"An arbor," Aasim adds.

"Right, that. Mitch said he'd figure somethin' out."

"He sure has his hands full, doesn't he?" Clementine says. With him trying to fix a bunch of lights that may not even work, as well as his other daily duties, she wonders where he's going to find the time build an arbor.

"Does it ta himself," Ruby rolls her eyes. "Did he tell ya his big idea?"

"Oh yeah. He's pretty excited about it," Clementine grins. "James is helping, too."

"Well, maybe he'll keep that boy outta trouble," Ruby frowns. "Anyway..."

Ruby told them all about her plans, from how they'll decorate the serving table down to where they'll hang the banner Tenn and AJ's making.

All the while, Louis went through different records in search of the perfect one. When he finds it, he glances over at Clementine, who's deciding how many candles they'll need if the lights fall through, and smiles. He tucks it away where she won't see it, making a mental note to tell Ruby about it when the day comes.

It's decided that AJ will be the one to give Clementine away, while Aasim will be the one to marry them.

"Really?" Clementine turns to the other boy, brows raised in surprise.

"Sure," Ruby grins. "He's the best choice, don't'cha think?"

At that, Aasim glances away, scratching the back of his head with mild nervousness. He shrugs, saying, "Yeah, I can marry you guys. It's not like it'd be that hard."

"'Pastor Aasim' does have a nice ring to it," Louis mumbles more to himself than to them, still over messing with the records.

"I think the term is 'marriage officiant,'" Aasim says. "At least, according to 'Save the Date!' weekly."

"Been doing your research?"

"Not research," he replies defensively, "I mean, it was with the other magazines. We were looking at it for ideas."

After going over all the fine details of the wedding, neither of them expected Ruby to kick them out.

"Decided that we want it ta be a big surprise," Ruby explains. "So, neither of ya are allowed in here 'til yer wedding day, that's the rule."

"Uh, I have a very strong objection to that!" Louis complains. "You're telling me that I don't get to play piano until after I'm married?"

"Yep, and don't you think 'bout sneakin' in here," she warns, pointing a stern finger up at him. "I ain't afraid ta drag you out by yer ear."

"But this could take weeks! Weeks!" Louis turns to Clementine with pleading eyes. "Tell her she's crazy!"

Clementine rolls her eyes. "I actually think some time away from the piano could do you some good. It's not going to take weeks to plan, right?"

"Wouldn't say so, but it'll take time ta put it all together."

She turns to him, shrugging a shoulder with a smile. "I like the idea of it being a surprise."

Louis frowns, hands planted on his hips in a way that reminds her of AJ when she doesn't give him what he wants. Now she knows where he learned it.

"Thought I got a say in this?"

"You do, but I have a feeling Ruby's not gonna budge on this one."

"Not even a little," Ruby agrees. "Ya two will live stayin' outta here fer a while. When it's all prepared, ya'll be the first ta know. Trust me, it'll be worth it. We won't disappoint ya."

Louis' shoulders slump, defeated with a hand pressed against his chest. "Sweet, sweet Ruby, you've broken my heart."

"Oh, Lou, don't you fret. I'll make sure ta keep yer piano nice and safe while yer gone."

"You'll find something else to occupy your time," Clementine tells him, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Think'a this as a good thing, Lou," Ruby says. "It'll give ya extra time ta work on yer vows."

"My what?"

"Yer vows! Y'know, ta tell each other how ya feel durin' the ceremony!"

"Like," Louis glances at Clementine, "in front of everyone?"

"I didn't know that was a thing," says Clementine a little surprised.

"Well, not all weddings have an exchange of vows," Aasim shrugs. "But, Ruby thinks it's a good idea."

"It is a good idea! It don't gotta be nothin' dramatic. Yer just makin' a promise ta each other. And no helpin'! They gotta be yer own words."

With that, Ruby shoos them out of the music room. Louis takes one last look inside, over at the piano and the initials adorning the wood, before Ruby slams the door shut behind them.

They move down the hallway together with Louis still partially sulking over the fact that he's been exiled from the music room, his home away from home.

He knows he shouldn't complain. Ruby's just trying to make things perfect for them, and bless her heart for that, but kicking him out of his safe space? What's he supposed to do now after a long day of survival?

"Shit," Louis sighs.

"It's not that bad. We'll just have to tune the piano after we're married."

"Great."

"Don't pout."

"I'm not."

"Uh-huh."

"Vows, though?" he asks. "You mean I have to actually put how I feel about you into words and say it in front of everyone?"

While this certainly wasn't something she expected when she first started planning to ask Louis to marry her, the idea of exchanging vows did make her heart flutter. She knows that even now, two years into their relationship, Louis still has his doubts. Perhaps she could use her vows to cement and bring peace to his mind about the way she feels about him.

"I'm actually excited. Aren't you?"

At that, he softens. "I'm fucking ecstatic. About marrying you, that is. Not the being kicked out part, and the vows thing I'm still a little iffy about."

She stops walking, turning to face him with a kind, loving grin. "Good, I'm glad to hear it. And, don't worry, I know you. You'll write something great."

He grins, still a little uncertain. She seemed to always have so much faith in him. He just didn't want to let her down.

"I'm going to check up on AJ. See if he wants to go hunting. You wanna come? It'll take your mind off it."

He almost says yes, but then another pressing matter fills his brain, reminding him what's more important at the moment.

"Nah, you go on ahead," Louis says. "I think I'm gonna go see Violet now."

"Oh," Clementine's shift away, as if thinking. "Okay. Just... don't get your hopes up, alright?"

"Clem..."

"I don't want you to get hurt again."

"I know. I'll be okay, promise. To be honest, I'm looking forward to it," he admits. "I haven't hung out with her in a while." He smiles down at her. "You be safe out there. Both of you."

"Always."

With a final kiss goodbye, they separate.

---

Louis' hesitant to knock.

He knows he shouldn't be. He knows that Tenn'll answer the door and let him in. It's just what happens after he's in the room that's bringing the delay upon his hand.

He'd gone back to grab a few things, including the thick blanket folded over his other arm. He just hopes he can sell this idea to her well enough to cheer her up.

He can hear someone moving around, the wooden floor wincing and the hum of a voice.

Louis' arm starts to ache from having it raised, ready to knock without actually following through. He hears a softer voice now, definitely Violet's, and it tugs a small smile on his lips.

He's eager to speak with her, see her face. Even though it's only been a few days since they really talked, it feels longer. Especially since he had planned on checking in with her yesterday before all the excitement went down.

Thank god for Tenn.

He takes a deep breath, counting to three, and knocks.

After a brief moment, the door unlocks and Tenn peeks out at him. Upon seeing it's Louis, he opens the door further with a polite grin, glancing back at where it's assumed Violet is.

"Hey, Tenn!"

"Good-morning, Louis," the young boy greets. He glances back again, then pulls the door open all the way.

Violet's sitting on the bed with her back against the wall, legs crossed, and her water bottle resting in her lap. Louis can't help but lightly chuckle at her bedhead and the imprint lines still running along her cheek from the pillow. Seems that she's just woken up.

"Nice to see you, sunshine," Louis beams.

She rolls her eyes, yawning. She avoids looking directly at him, taking an interest in her cuticles instead.

He makes sure the door is shut and locked before he proceeds. Tenn moves over to his desk, not wanting to get in the way of the conversation. Louis can see he's practicing his bottles, though unhappily.

Louis confidently approaches the bed and sets the blanket over the bed frame, standing before her with hands gripping the opening flaps of his jacket and a brow quirked playfully.

"Vi, put on your best climbing boots, you and I are going on an adventure."

She blinks up at him slowly, blankly.

"Now, now," Louis holds his hands up, "I know you're excited, but please, let me finish."

He exaggerates clearing his throat.

"I don't know if you've looked outside today, but it's damn beautiful. Not only is it warm and breezy, but the clouds are big and fluffy. It's a depiction of a perfect day. I say we go enjoy it the best we can by climbing up to that place you like and breathing in some of that fresh air."

She glances away, mouth twisted in contemplation.

Louis takes a careful step towards the bed, deeming it safe to sit on the edge. That catches her attention. When she meets his eye, he gives her a genuine smile.

"It's been a while since we hung out, just the two of us, don't you think?" Then, with a smirk, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a wrinkly, noisy bag. "And I brought pretzels, so, I mean..."

The corner of her mouth twitches up into an involuntary grin before she bites her cheek to hide it. Violet lightly shakes her head, murmuring, "I don't know." She flicks the mouthpiece of her water bottle up and down absently. "I'm not feeling too good today."

"Hmm," Louis fully faces her now, bringing his leg to rest on the mattress as he leans against the frame. "That fresh air might make you feel better."

Tenn's chair scrapes against the floor as he stands to gather up his drawing board. "It really is nice out," he says. "I'm gonna go out there and draw, okay?"

Louis grins, nudging Violet's knee and pointing at the young boy. "Have you seen how much he's improved? You should see the one he did of my handsome mug."

Tenn glances away timidly. "Um..."

This time, Violet smiles. She really smiles. "Yeah," she says, "you're getting better every day."

"Th-thank you."

Not wanting to feel awkward or butt into their conversation, Tenn leaves.

Now that they're alone, Louis takes a deep breath and allows his tone to become more serious.

"Haven't seen you for a while."

She shrugs, staring back down at her hands.

"I've been worried about you," he says. "I'm not gonna force you to hang out with me or anything, but I really do think going outside could be good for you."

"I-" she sighs. "You don't have to play nice. I know why you're really here."

"To challenge you to that wall climb? Because I'm totally going to beat you this time. Unless you cheat, of course."

She shoots him an unamused look.

Louis shifts closer to her on the bed. "Alright, you got me." He sets the bag of pretzels down and digs in his pocket again, pulling out his famous deck of cards. "I'm really going to challenge you to a very serious game of Go-Fish! Winner gets the last pretzel."

She rolls her eyes. "Dumbass."

"Maybe," he pockets the cards, "but, I haven't heard a 'no' yet, so there's a good sign." He picks up the bag of pretzels again, closing them up tightly and shoving them back into his jacket.

Violet takes a sip of her water, pointedly looking the other way.

"We don't have to go outside, and we don't have to talk about what happened. That's totally up to you, and if you really don't want to hang out with me, then all you have to say is 'no.' I'll get out of your hair. Promise."

He's patient as he watches her eyes fall shut.

Louis completely understands her hesitation, especially since she can see through him. At least, she thinks she can. He won't bring up the chat from the night before, but he's going to tell her the truth about him and Clementine, and he still doesn't know how she'll react.

Maybe she'd congratulate him in her own 'Violet' way, or maybe she'd snap at him for bringing Clementine up in the first place. Maybe she'd do nothing, just crawl back into her shell and refuse to ever talk to him again. Maybe she'd throw him over the balcony.

The possibilities are endless.

"It's really that nice out?"

"Best we've had in a while."

Violet scoots off the bed, handing him her water bottle as she gathers up her boots and slips them on.

"I'm totally gonna kick your ass on that wall climb."

Louis smirks. "Oh-ho! Cocky, much? Careful, Rabbit," he stands, teasingly shaking her water bottle, "sleep on this tortoise and he just might pass you."

"Hmm, we'll see."

She's still tentative about leaving, as evident by how long she sits on Tenn's bed after putting her vest on. But, Louis gives her his best encouraging smile, and that seems to put her at ease.

Shit, he's relieved that she's actually agreeing to come with him.

It's true, he does want to spend time with her, impending wedding confession or not. It really has been a long time since it was just the two of them.

With his nightmares and always being with Clementine, and Violet being so reclusive, it's hard sometimes. He knows he needs to make more effort, set aside more time to be with her. The guilt always begins to seep in whenever he goes more than a week without truly speaking to her.

Of course, she doesn't always make it easy.

He gives her space, even if he knows she needs someone.

What else can he do?

Their walk outside is peaceful. He carries the blanket, as well as her water bottle. By the time they reach the wall they need to climb, he's trying to stuff the bottle into his coat and keep the blanket secure on his shoulder.

"Y'know, I'm starting to think you only win because you weigh me down with all this stuff," he complains.

"Think of it as your shell," she smirks. "Ready?"

"Nope."

She's already climbing up, leaving him to still try and find his footing on one of the wooden planks.

"Hey, hey!" he says. "I didn't hear a 'ready, set, go!'"

"Ready, set, go!"

"Disqualified!" he exclaims, pulling himself up the wall while keeping the blanket from falling off his shoulder. "Rabbit, you're disqualified! I win by default!"

"You wish."

By the time he reaches the final ledge, adrenaline's coursing through his veins from the climb and height of where they are. Not that's he's afraid of heights, per se. It's more like he's completely aware of what would become of him if he were to slip off the edge and that's certainly not a happy thought.

Violet offers him her hand to help pull him up. When he's safely resting on his knees away from the ledge, he playfully glares at her.

"Cheater."

"Sore loser."

They find a spot lacking debris, smooth enough for Louis to lay the blanket flat. He plops down with a huff, ready to lighten the load of his heavy pockets. She sits close beside him, inhaling deeply and taking her water bottle from him. She sips the lukewarm water, looking up at the cloudy sky.

The breeze is nice, fresh. It ruffles her hair and cools her skin.

Louis can see by the serenity laying upon her features that she's already feeling better. It causes a smile to break free on his lips.

He offers her the bag of pretzels, saying, "What'd I tell you? Beautiful day."

"Eh, it's always nice up here."

"Maybe, but it's even better when the weather's like this. I don't know about you, but I'm not exactly gonna picnic up here in the middle of winter."

Louis lays back, stretching out across the hard surface and tucking his arm behind his head. He should've brought some pillows, but he can only imagine the disaster that would've been him trying to balance them while climbing the wall. The tortoise surely would've gone splat.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Violet lay down beside him. They both stare up at the white, fluffy clouds as they pass over.

"Ah, see how nice this?" he asks. "So calm and peaceful and quiet."

"Not if you keep talking."

"If I don't talk, I'll fall asleep. That's how relaxing it is."

Violet doesn't reply, but Louis can tell she's smiling. He pops a pretzel in his mouth, racking his brain for something to say.

He can't just come out with it now since they just got here. Well, okay, he could but it's not the best idea. He wants to enjoy her company before they got into the deeper stuff that could potentially end with him being thrown over the railing.

"Okay," he starts, "would you rather... be half fish or half bird?"

"So, a mermaid or a harpy?"

"Yep."

Violet mulls it over before firmly answering, "Harpy."

"Really?"

"I could go anywhere I want, travel the world without having to worry about walkers."

"What if there are walker harpies?" Louis asks.

"Even if there are, they wouldn't be a threat. They'd be flying into trees and buildings with how stupid they are. I'd be faster and smarter, and much more terrifying."

Louis laughs at that, imagining Violet flying around kicking walkers in the head and smacking them with her meat cleaver, screeching like some kind of rooster. Harpies don't make rooster calls, he's pretty sure, but it's funny to imagine regardless.

"And where would you go?"

"Everywhere. Nowhere. Depends on the day." Violet smirks. "Okay, would you rather only get to eat one serving of possum stew once a month, and that's the only food you ever get, or only eat cantaloupe every day for the rest of your life?"

"Aw, c'mon," Louis complains, frowning over at her. "Really? Guess I'm gonna starve."

"Just plug your nose and swallow."

"I think you underestimate how awful and lingering the taste of cantaloupe is. No matter what you eat or drink after, you'll be tasting it for the rest of the day." Louis scrunches his nose, shaking his head. "I'd rather eat walker guts."

"Oh yeah, because that taste would fade away."

They laugh, really laugh together.

"Okay, okay," he giggles. "Would you rather have a head the weight of a bowling ball or the size one of those big, bouncy workout balls?"

"Easy. Workout ball," Violet answers. "Here's a fun one. Would you rather be stuck in the middle of a crazy snow storm naked, or stuck in a blazing hot desert with ten layers of clothing on?"

"Shit," says Louis. "Can I at least wear shoes in the snowstorm?"

"Nope, you're as naked as the day you were born. And no, you can't take anything off in the desert."

Well, that seems highly unrealistic.

"Why not? What's stopping me?"

"You're dehydrated and can't move."

"And why am I naked in the middle of a snowstorm?"

"Wolves stole your clothes."

"Wolves? What- they took my boots, too?"

"All of your stuff."

"Those bastards," Louis lours. "Fuck, I dunno. Neither of those are exactly appealing ways to go."

"They're not supposed to be. That's the point of the game."

"Which would you choose?"

"The desert. When I die of heatstroke, at least I'll have my dignity and won't be found black and blue and naked. Then again, you might die faster if you freeze to death."

Well, this game took a turn to the morbid, as it usually does. He shouldn't be surprised. It is Violet he's talking to, after all.

"Damn." Louis focuses his gaze on one of the clouds, its shape reminding him of a whale, thick and huge with a long tail spreading out.

"So?"

"The snowstorm," he decides. "Maybe the wolves will eat me and I won't have to worry about my dignity."

"Always the optimist," Violet sighs, reaching to grab a handful of pretzels.

A long time passes as the two of them point up and laugh as the disfigured clouds take shape of various things. Every once in a while, they come up with another 'would you rather' question, each more disturbing and hilarious than the last.

Eventually, they let the silence take over and enjoy the light whistling of the wind and rustling of leaves.

As Louis studies the sky, he can't help but feel his nerves tingling under his skin and his heart became heavy with anticipation. He thinks back to Clementine's worried eyes before they parted ways and how her lips felt pressed against the sensitive skin of his cheek.

Fuck, he could keep stalling the inevitable all day and all night sitting beside Violet and pretending nothing else existed, just them and the sky.

But, he can't, and he doesn't want to.

Subtly glancing over at the girl beside him, a strange wave of guilt floods through him.

He has to tell her.

Every time he thinks it, imagines it, his confidence wavers.

Violet points up that the sky, her voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

"That cloud looks like a dick."

He turns to stare at her with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It does. Look."

"You don't know what a dick looks like!" He pauses, a little disturbed. "Do you?"

"How could I not? They're carved all over the place."

"Ah, touché." He squints. "Yeah, okay, I can kind of see it."

He goes quiet again, but his mind continues to race.

Should he just say it?

Hey, Vi, guess what? I'm getting married! Cool, huh? Be my best lady?

Violet seems to notice his sudden silence, looking over at him every so often. He's sure he appears unsettled by something. Most of the time, when she bothered to really pay attention to him, she could read him easily.

And now, she knows something's wrong.

She sighs, almost annoyed, pushing herself up to rest back on her elbows, looking over him.

"What?"

"What?" he echoes stupidly.

Her irritation only grows, but something in her eyes tells him that it stems from some sort of knowing.

"You look upset," she says. "What'cha thinking about?"

When he doesn't say anything, she chuckles dryly, bitterly.

He can feel it. The air has changed and there's no more real laughter.

It's finally time.

"Lemme guess... you don't really want to hang out with me. You're just trying to think of a way to ask about the other night."

"No, that's not true," he replies quickly. "I already told you we didn't have to talk about it."

"So, she already told you everything." Violet lays back again, shaking her head with a clearly pissed off expression. "Fucking- ugh."

"She didn't, actually," Louis tells her softly. "She just said that she came to you to try and fix things and you two talked. That's it."

He cranes his neck to fully look at her, looking over the profile of her face, angry yet somber, lips pressed into a tight line.

"Fix things," she scoffs. "She tell you she brought Mitch with her? Like I'm some sort of psycho that'll cut her in half if she doesn't have any protection."

"That's not-," Louis sighs. "He was worried that things might get out of hand and wanted to be there just in case."

"You really think I'd fucking attack her?"

"Of course not, but... you did before, and you know how Mitch is."

Violet shoots up, bringing her knees in and wrapping her arms around them. Louis follows, trying to meet her eye but she refuses, her glare focused out through the trees.

"I don't want to fight. That's not why I brought you up here."

"Then why are we really here, Lou?"

Despite the disgruntled eyes, her tone isn't angry. It's tired, dreading what his answer might be.

"Because something crazy happened yesterday."

"Crazy?"

"Yeah, unbelievably crazy. I-" Louis bites his lip.

Fuck it.

Beating around the bush is never the right way to go about these things.

"Spit it out."

With one final look at her, he slowly raises his arm up and over her line of sight, spreading his fingers and allowing his ring to be seen. He watches for a reaction, finding her brows knitted with confusion.

Finally, Louis says, "I'm getting married."

The words hang in the air.

Hell, he's not positive he actually spoke them given her lack of response.

He brings his hand back to rest against his chest, feeling his anxious heart pounding against his palm.

He swallows, finding his mouth and throat suddenly dry. "Clementine proposed last night," he says quietly. "I said yes, of course."

She's processing everything he's saying, and with every passing second, her eyes become wider with realization.

"I know. Like I said, it's crazy," Louis says. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. We're having a wedding. In the music room, of course, where else? Heh, uh..."

She's unmoving, still unresponsive to his attempted light tone.

"Ruby's there now, decorating and tearing the place apart," he tries. "She's banished us from going in there. Can you believe that? I'm not allowed to flex my piano skills until after the wedding. I still don't know if I'm gonna be able to handle that, you know."

Nothing.

"And, apparently, Mitch is magic now because he thinks he can get some of those old Christmas lights to work without electricity, so we'll see how that goes. Hopefully, he doesn't end up electrocuting himself, or James. Or Willy, or all three of 'em."

Louis watches her fingernails dig into her sleeve.

His heart sinks as a small, disheartening sigh escapes his lips. He searches within himself, trying to find the right words to get something out of her.

"I don't know when it's gonna be, but when the day comes..." he takes a deep breath, "...I'd really like it if you were there."

She tenses, breathing deeply through her nose.

"Everyone'll be there, and it wouldn't be perfect without you, Vi. You know that, right? You don't have to stay long. Omar said he's gonna make a big feast. Of what, I don't know but even if you just came to grab something to eat, that'd be enough. I just... I need you there with us. All of us."

Nothing.

"Vi, say something," he pleads. "Please talk to me."

"What the fuck, Lou?"

He flinches at the harsh pain cracking her voice.

"I-"

"That's why you brought me up here? You butter me up with 'Oh, Vi, I miss you, let's hang out' and pretzels and stupid questions and then you tell me that?"

"Should I have just kept it to myself? Let you find out from Tenn or Ruby or whoever?"

"You could've just told me back in the dorms," she glares over at him. "You didn't have to drag me all the way up here for some 'big reveal.'"

"I just wanted to spend some time with you before I-"

"Shut up," she snaps, her hand flying out in a gesture of silence. "Just, shut up. I should've fucking known. First Clementine, now you." She scoffs.

"I don't understand why you're so pissed! You're one of my best friends. Even if you don't like Clementine, I thought you'd at least be a little happy for me."

"Happy for you? Are you fucking serious? You really don't get it?"

"Of course I don't! You need to explain it to me or else we'll be stuck in this shitty loop!"

Violet finally looks at him, right in the eye.

"How can you love her?"

"What-?"

"After everything she put us through? After AJ killed Marlon?"

"Clementine saved us, Vi. She saved you. Without her, we'd all either be dead, or worse. And Marlon, I- shit, why does that even matter to you? You hated Marlon, and-and I get why AJ did what he did and I don't hate either of them for it."

"You did, though, remember? When you kicked them out?"

"That was a mistake, one of the worst ones I've ever made. I-I was still in shock over what happened, and scared, and-"

"Doesn't change what you did," she says coldly. "Just like how it doesn't change what she did." Then, she shrugs. "Maybe you were right. We should've kicked them out permanently."

"Don't," he snaps, his voice coming out surprisingly harsh. "Don't say that. Who knows what would've happened to us, or to them, if you hadn't shot Lilly!"

"You wouldn't have been shot."

"So? It saved them!"

"Oh, that's right," she scoffs, her voice becoming bitter, "I forgot. If we didn't save them or let her back in, you two wouldn't have been able to suck face instead of preparing for our doom. How could I forget?"

"Violet, that's- How can you say all this stuff? You defended her!"

"Yeah, and look where it got me!" exclaims Violet as she slaps the bag of pretzels between then, sending it flying near the edge of the balcony. "Abandoned, beat upside the head and thrown into a cage! Maybe I should've been an asshole. Maybe then she would've saved me."

"I-"

He can't look at her now. He stares down at his fists curled in his lap, trying to control his heavy, aching heart.

"You have no idea what they threatened to do to us on that ship, Louis. And if you did, if she let them take you, then I guarantee you wouldn't be so quick to defend her, much less love her."

"God, Vi, I-" he chokes out. "It's not her fault. It was those sick fucks who did that. Not her. Say we did leave her, never brought her and AJ back in. We wouldn't have been ready for their attack- they would've taken and threatened and tortured or even killed all of us. We'd all be brainwashed soldiers... just like," he swallows thickly. "...just like Minnie."

Violet's fuming, hands shaking violently at his words.

"Blaming all of it on Clem... it's not- it's not going to fix anything. It's made you miserable, and it kills me seeing you like this."

Louis scoots closer to her now, throwing caution to the wind as he reaches and grabs her hand, holding tight even when she tries to jerk away.

"I wish I could heal it, take it all away, I really do! Fuck, I-I wish Clementine had saved you instead! Maybe if she had, things would be better. Shit, you're a better fighter, better strategist, better everything! You sure as hell wouldn't have panicked like I did! We would've taken down the delta together and we'd all still be friends, but- fuck!"

He shrugs his shoulders helplessly, weakly.

"She should've picked you."

Her grip on his hands tighten.

"The entire time you guys were gone, I just... I tried to be better, I tried to be strong and help the best I could to bring you all back, I-" his voice cracks.

Violet remains silent.

"I don't want to fight anymore."

He lets go of her hand.

Violet holds her wrist as the quiet falls over them again for the first time in minutes.

"I love you, Violet," he whispers, "and whether or not you feel the same, we're family. We're all we have left. You don't have to hide from us- any of us. We miss you."

She stands up, pausing before passing him.

"Violet, please..."

"I've had enough fresh air."

He watches her leave, biting his lip to stop his chin from quivering. When it's just him, completely alone with nothing but the sunshine and clouds, Louis lays back on the blanket. He forces himself to breathe, to calm down, to swallow the lump choking in his throat.

He lays there a long time, hours, just thinking to himself.

When the sky turns a pretty orange, he finally rolls up the blanket and climbs back down.

Clementine and AJ are sitting and talking at one of the tables when he comes out.

She spots him, quickly standing with such a devastatingly hopeful look that Louis about loses it.

All he can do is shake his head.

---

For the past week, in between the usual have-to's of surviving, they've been preparing for the wedding.

Ruby has transformed the music room with the help Tenn and AJ, who both drew and cut out white and gold hearts to tape all over the walls, as well as other various decorations.

Aasim has taken his role of the 'marriage officiant' rather seriously. When he wasn't helping Ruby, he was jotting down everything he planned to say during the ceremony.

Omar spent his extra time helping the kids out with their decorations, as well as preparing a centerpiece for the serving table and thinking up ideas for the main course.

Mitch, James, and Willy spent the entire week together figuring out how to hook up the lights, and miraculously, they managed to get them to work. That one had left Ruby stunned, but elated.

Of course, Clementine and Louis weren't too involved, as per Ruby's request to keep pretty much everything a surprise. The most the two of them contributed were answers to what colors they wanted for this and what should they do with that.

As a result, they got stuck doing a lot more of the hunting and scavaging, but with that came more time together, just the two of them. As much as they both love AJ and enjoy his company, as well as the company of the others, it's nice to venture out from the walls of the school and be alone.

When it's just them out in the woods, hunting or fishing -when Louis allows it- or just resting against some of the protruding boulders laying around, it's different.

They really did work well together, in more ways than one. With Clementine in charge of the bow and Louis on walker look-out and trap duty, they got plenty done in a short amount of time.

Well, plenty done in between their conversations, flirtations, and stolen kisses, of course.

And, when they weren't together or hanging out with the others, they were writing their vows.

Well, Clementine was.

Louis mostly just stared at an empty piece of paper before growing frustrated and putting it off some more.

As for Violet...

She's taken to sleeping in Tenn's room every night, but, surprisingly, she'd began spending most of the days sitting outside. She'd place herself at one of the unoccupied tables and silently write in her little journal, the one Aasim had given her. Whenever someone came out, whether that be Omar coming out to cook, or Mitch and James with their tote of lights, or even Clementine and Louis preparing to go on a hunt, she always watched them. Not noticeably, and not with vexation.

Louis and Clementine had overheard Ruby asking her if she wanted to help decorate the walls. Violet had declined, but not sourly.

Louis wanted to go over there himself, but Clementine stopped him.

He hates it, but they both agreed it's best to give her space until after the wedding and after the excitement dies down. He couldn't keep throwing himself down on his hands and knees begging Violet to be apart of this.

Shit, he's just happy to see her outside so much.

Then, the evening finally comes where Ruby's swinging their bedroom door open, bursting with excitement as she enters with the big news.

"How do ya feel about tomorrow?"

Tomorrow.

After waiting all week, it almost doesn't feel real.

Ruby continues to tell them that nearly everything's ready, with the exception of some lights from Mitch and the banner AJ and Tenn are working on.

After that, she confiscates their rings.

"Yer gonna need 'em off so ya can slip 'em back on when ya say 'I do,'" she explains before Louis can begin to protest.

Louis looks down at his hand with a small frown, as does Clementine. They'd be lying if they said they hadn't grown attached to wearing them over the past week, hadn't grown used to admiring them in the quieter moments.

The boys really did do a wonderful job on making them damn near perfect, and to have to take them off now? Well, it's understandable, and perhaps it'd feel more special if did so now.

Clementine's the first to slip hers off and put it in Ruby's palm, followed by Louis who now stares at his naked hand.

"This should go without saying but please don't lose them," Louis sighs.

"Oh, Lou, don't you worry about that. 'Sides, Mitch would have my hide if I did."

Then, Ruby turns to Clementine with a glint of eagerness in her eyes, who meets this gaze with a questioning one.

"Now, as ya know, it's bad luck ta see the bride before the weddin,' so Clem and I are gonna have a little girls night." Ruby then turns to Louis, who wears a look at dread at what's coming next. "And, Lou, I already talked ta Aasim, yer bunkin' with him tonight."

"But-"

"No buts! Clem's gotta try on clothes and that's even worse bad luck ta see her in her weddin' outfit the night before!"

"But-but-"

"And ya need ta work on yer vows anyway. I know ya don't got 'em done."

"But-"

"I'll come back in a while with the clothes and we can have some fun."

"But-"

"Louis."

Ruby's tone shuts him up.

---

Violet's head pounds lightly, the beginnings of a headache starting to creep up. She forces herself to chug the rest of her water bottle, grimacing at the stale taste clinging to her tongue.

Resting comfortably in Tenn's bed with her back against the wall, she rests her chin on her knees as she watches the younger boy work on the floor.

It's a long banner made from some sort of canvas cloth that he'd found in the old art room. The school used to decorate them for sporting events. 'GO TEAM!' and all that. Of course, Tenn isn't working on this for some stupid game.

From what she gathered, James had sketched on the banner for him, since they want it to look "fancy," and with paint - 'Antique Gold', if she remembers correctly - Tenn traced the cursive script carefully, desperately attempting to make it as neat as possible.

Louis & Clementine

Underneath that is a pair of gold-painted rings looped around each other, also drawn by James. Tenn had added little accents of swirls and flowers near the corners and edges, all done in white, black and gold paint.

When he first walked in, he appeared guilty, which Violet didn't like at all. He explained that it's too windy outside for him to work on the banner there, and he wanted to finish before the wedding tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Shit.

Then, he asked if that was okay, and she told him, "It's your room. You can do whatever you want."

That didn't stop him from occasionally glancing up at her, checking to make sure she didn't look mad.

She knows he doesn't want to upset her, doesn't want her to think he's shoving the wedding and its banner in her face.

But, the truth is, she doesn't feel upset.

To say it's confusing is putting it mildly.

As fucked as it is... she actually feels left out.

That's a feeling and a thought that had really fucked with her head. It's not like she had asked to help and then they turned her away.

No, several times this week Ruby has asked if she wanted to help and she turned her down every single time.

Ever since she and Clementine talked, things have been fucked.

"I don't want to fight with or avoid you anymore. I- ...I really miss you, Vi."

Violet was happy to spend the rest of her days in the shadows of the school, hiding away from almost everyone. Well, shit, okay she wasn't happy but she accepted it.

It was easier that way.

Then, Clementine just had to come and try to patch things up, reopen the flood gates and make Violet remember why she had liked her so damn much in the beginning.

"I'll never let anyone take you again. We're family."

It's fucked, and she hates it.

Then, there's Louis who had come to her with good intentions, brought her to her favorite place and made her laugh like no one else could.

Louis, who had opened himself up to her again, like he always does. Louis, who had grabbed her hand and poured everything out to her, all with complete honesty, raw emotion.

Louis, the only one besides Tenn to continuously stay by her side after the delta.

Louis, who's getting married tomorrow.

And she couldn't just congratulate him and move on.

That's what a real friend would've done. Someone who isn't fucked up, selfish, or so stuck in her own mind that she can't help but hide behind her wall. A real friend would've found a way to climb up and over and hug her friend, especially after everything he's done for her, despite all the pain.

But, no...

Violet just... had to be Violet.

And she wishes she could be anything but.

"I love you, Violet, and whether or not you feel the same, we're family. We're all we have left. You don't have to hide from us- any of us. We miss you."

Why did she have to get so goddamn angry? Why did she have to throw around the same arguments, despite knowing deep inside her that they're bullshit?

Why did she have to nearly bring Louis to tears - fuck - because she couldn't control everything that had built itself up inside of her over the years?

No, it's not all Clementine's fault.

No, they wouldn't have been better off leaving her and AJ in the woods.

No... that wasn't the Minerva she fell in love with.

That Minerva died a long time ago.

But, none of those things take away the pain, the absolute terror of what happened.

None of those things make it any easier to forgive.

...As much as she wants to, to forgive Clementine, the trepidation prevents herself from doing so.

"Ruby and Clem are having a sleepover," Tenn says suddenly, breaking Violet of her thoughts. He sticks his brush in the can and rubbing the paint off his hand. "Ruby said you could go, too, if you want."

And with those words, Violet finds herself enervated.

"She said they're picking out what Clem's gonna wear. It might be fun."

Fun...

"Is AJ coming over here?"

"Y-yeah..." Tenn sullenly looks down at the floor. "You don't have to leave i-if you don't want."

"No, it's okay," Violet reassures him. "Really."

She could sleep in her room tonight. She's bothered the young boy long enough with her overstay.

Just as she's about to leave, Tenn stands, approaching her with his fingers pressed together anxiously.

"Are... are you going tomorrow?"

Something sharp, something painful twists in her gut.

After all the hurtful things she said to Louis... said to Clementine, was she even allowed to attend?

...Did she want to?

"Everyone'll be there, and it wouldn't be perfect without you, Vi. You know that, right?"

"...I don't know."

"I-I'll go with you," Tenn says hopefully. "We can sit together and everything. It really looks nice in there and-and James helped me draw a portrait of them. It's hanging over the fireplace."

She doesn't answer him.

What could she possibly say?

---

Louis' sullen face worries her.

Clementine knows he's not happy about having to spend to the night completely apart. Honestly, she's not thrilled about it either.

This'll be the first time in two years that they won't be sleeping in the same room together. Shit, even when they got into petty fights they still slept in the same bed.

The one comforting thing about this is that neither of them will be alone. She'll be with Ruby and he'll have Aasim. And, when the night's over and the sun rises, it'll be their wedding day. That's enough to make it all worth it, she thinks.

Louis lets out a long, groan mixed sigh. He's sat at the edge of their bed hugging one of his pillows to his chest with a pout on his lips.

She sits beside him, her arm sneaking around his shoulders to comfort him.

"You're gonna be okay," she smiles.

"I dunno," Louis frowns, tone taking a sarcastic turn. "Cuddling with Aasim sure won't be the same as cuddling with you."

That gets a laugh out of her.

"Didn't realize you two were planning that," she teases.

"We're not, but hey, things happen. Might mistake him for you again."

"Again?"

"The morning he came to wake me up to hunt Bambi, I was still half asleep and thought he was you," Louis shrugs. "We held hands."

She laughs harder now, which kills his pout, just a bit. He shakes his head and chuckles with her.

"Aasim failed to mention that part."

"I don't think he liked it very much."

There's banging on the door. Ruby pushes it open with her hip, hands full with a box of clothes.

"Alright, Lou, yer officially kicked out."

A deep, heavy sigh escapes him as he stands from the bed. "Fine, fine. I'm going."

He tosses his bag over his shoulder and tucks both pillows under his arm. He heads out with Clementine close behind. They stop just after the doorway to share a final, tight hug.

"Sleep tight," he murmurs.

Clementine pulls back and rests her palm against the warmth of his cheek. "You, too. Try not to give Aasim too many gray hairs, okay?"

"No promises," he chuckles. He presses a light kiss against her forehead. "Try not to get too crazy."

"You know I can't promise that," she smirks against his chest. "Ruby's quite the party animal."

"Ruby can hear ya!"

"Don't keep her up too late!" Louis peeks back into the room. "Don't know if you've heard, but she's got a big day tomorrow."

"Oh, I know it!"

Louis lets out another deep sigh, forcing a smile down at his bride to be. She leans up on her toes to give him a final kiss, lingering close even when they break away.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely."

---

"Watch your step. These stairs are pretty steep."

Mitch turns to make sure James has a hold of the railing before heading down into the darkness of the basement. He flicks on his flashlight, bathing the room in a soft light.

With the wedding being tomorrow and still having to fix up the rest of the lights, Mitch admitted to himself that he wouldn't be able to finish it by himself. James was happy to volunteer since it's Willy's turn for lookout tonight.

Mitch didn't mind seem to mind his company, and for that, James is grateful.

"Alright, so I got these left," he says, pulling out four pristine boxes of white string lights, setting them on the workbench. He pulls up another stool, adjusting it to be taller for the other boy. "Here."

"Thank you." James gets comfortable, squinting through the darkness and silently wondering how Mitch plans to work with the lack of light. Then, as if answering his thought, Mitch hands him the flashlight and pulls out a pack of matches.

"Shit, where- ah-ha," Mitch lifts an oil lamp. With a flick of his wrist, the match is lit, then the lamp. He places it between them, close to the wall. Rubbing his hands together, he says, "'Kay, just need'ja to hold the light where I need it and we'll have these done in no time."

"Okay."

He gets straight to it, pulling up the first box.

Mitch is fascinating to watch work, James decides.

Prior to this week, he'd only spoken to with him briefly in the times he stayed, but nothing more. He wasn't one for extended conversation until something was happening, something that he felt strongly about. Something he could get angry about, or get his hands dirty with. Otherwise, Mitch mostly kept to himself, always tinkering with something and grumbling to himself.

"Shine it a little closer," Mitch mumbles. "Riiiight... there- okay."

James had noticed a lot of things throughout the week.

Like how hyper-focused he can get while working on his various projects, and how he never half-asses anything. He gets frustrated, curses worse than any sailor on the seven seas when something fails, but that only seems to motivate him to do it right the next time.

Which is the case with the lights.

The first ones they tested, the "ugly" heart lights, didn't work. They'd been cramped up in that box so long that the wires had become faulty, making them mostly useless.

Mitch cursed, then grabbed another set of lights and tried again, and again, and again until they finally lit.

Then his profanities were ones made out of joy.

The best part, James decided, was watching his and Willy's eyes light up brighter than the lights themselves, the two high-fiving and fist bumping. Then, Mitch ruffled the boy's hair and sent him off to get the other batteries they had charging in the sun.

It intrigues him, knowing he and Willy are so close.

Willy doesn't keep anything to himself, even when he should, and that seems to be the polar opposite of Mitch, who never shares anything truly personal. The deepest thing he's learned about Mitch in the two years he's known him is his passionate hate for Almond Joys.

James supposes that the two share a deeper bond than one could see on the surface, given how long they've known and survived this world together.

What's still a mystery for him is Mitch's fondness for Clementine.

From what he's been told, after the tragedy of AJ taking another boy's life, the two were anything but friendly.

However, upon her return and the agreement that their lives and safety were the highest priority, they pushed their differences aside to work together and their friendship somehow sprouted and grew out of forgiveness, trust, and understanding.

It's nothing romantic, of course. That's easy enough to see. If it were, James rationalizes, then undoubtedly Mitch wouldn't be so passionate about preparing for this wedding; spending days perfecting their wedding rings, dusting and setting up the music room for Clementine's proposal, helping AJ and Tenn build the wedding arbor, modifying old holiday lights to work after they've lived without electricity for years.

Perhaps he finds it humanizing for someone like Mitch, or rather the person he initially thought him to be, to form such a connection to Willy and Clementine.

Then again, James has only known him a short while, and in that short time, he decides that he does like Mitch, oddly enough. Despite most of their conflicting views on things such as the walkers, he finds him enjoyable to be around, interesting to watch.

"Shit," Mitch jerks his chin towards James' arm. "Tape."

James tears off a chunk of the sticky black tape while trying to balance the flashlight. Mitch takes it, going back to work.

Soon enough, the pretty glow of the lights surrounds them.

"Fuck yeah!" Mitch smirks.

Hm.

Mitch has a dimple on his right cheek. The shadows of the basement accentuate it.

"One down," he flips them off, "three to go."

He carefully coils the lights up, sticking them atop their battery and pushing them aside. As he tears open another box, he says, "To think, Ruby still wants to use those nasty ass candles."

"Candles do have a romantic appeal."

"Gross."

James raises a curious brow at him. "You say that a lot," he says, attempting to study his expression.

"Say what?"

"Gross. You call a lot of things gross."

"Probably because they are," Mitch shrugs. "The candles, the wedding, it's all gross."

"Why?"

"Huh?" Mitch finishes untangling the lights, holding up the plugin.

"Why are they gross?" he repeats.

"Well," Mitch starts, "first off, Clem and Louis are pretty gag-inducing with their 'oh Darling!' and 'oh, Lou-Lou!'"

He's never once heard the name "Lou-Lou" come from Clementine, but for some reason, it's an amusing image that makes him grin.

"They're always kissing in front of us, too," Mitch wrinkles his nose. "I don't know if they think we don't see it but we do, and it's gross. And I still think this whole wedding thing is unnecessary."

"Really?" That's a surprise. "Then why are you so eager to help?"

The question seems to catch him off guard. "I-I'm not eager, I just- If they're so hellbent on having a wedding, stupid or not, might as well make the most of it. Besides, gives me something to do. More light."

James brings the flashlight closer.

After a beat of silence, Mitch mumbles, "Everyone's pretty pumped about it, too. Little more."

James scoots closer, giving him more light.

"There- ...uh, and, I dunno. Clem's excited, so..."

"She is," James nods. "You're happy for her?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Your support is important to her."

"...Whatever."

Another thing James has come to notice: Mitch doesn't like to let off like he cares. Which is curious, indeed.

He also realizes that they're actually holding a conversation rather than just sharing a few words here and there, which is exciting. So, he decides to try pushing, just a bit.

"I think it's wonderful," he says quietly. "It brings hope. Proves that love can still exist."

Mitch scoffs. "Don't need a wedding to prove that."

"Maybe not, but if that's how they want to express it, why not let them?"

"Not saying they can't," Mitch frowns. "Just saying it don't mean much these days. Really, what changes? Now they get to call each other husband and wife? You can do that without the big wedding."

"You seem very opposed to this for someone who's been helping out so much."

"Well, that- I just- uh." His hands hesitate as if forgetting what they're working on. He pulls back, brows knitted and mouth frowning. "I'm not opposed."

Something strange occurs in his mind, something he's almost afraid to ask. James bites his tongue, figuring the question may make Mitch defensive or hostile.

"Lemme put it this way," Mitch finally says. "Just 'cause it's not something I'd ever do, don't mean that I'm not gonna help them out any way I can, okay? I mean, if anyone's gonna survive all this bullshit and get their 'happy ending,' or whatever, it'd be them, even if it's a huge fucking risk. So, give it to 'em, y'know? That answer your question?"

In a way, it does, but...

"Risk?"

"Either one of them could die at any time, same for any of us."

"Yes."

"And doing this, falling in love and getting married'll only make it hurt worse."

"You'd never get married?"

"No."

"Not even if you fell in love?"

"Pfft," he scoffs.

"What?"

Now, Mitch almost looks amused. "And who exactly am I gonna fall in love with?" he almost asks sarcastically, rhetorically, but James decides to take it as a serious question, pondering on an answer.

"I don't know. Perhaps Ruby?"

Like that, all amusement is gone when Mitch scrunches up his nose and shoots James a distasteful look. "Ruby? Are you fucking serious?"

James is a little offended at his tone."Why not? She's very sweet."

"And bossy, nosy, loud, and she's always throwing stuff at me, or threatening to hit me with wooden spoons. And she has a hissy-fit whenever I try to go to the greenhouse."

"She's also got a big heart, and she's very pretty."

Mitch says nothing to that.

"Don't you think?"

"Dude, I dunno. I don't look at her like that."

Well, he supposes that's fair. While he can't say he approves of Mitch's choice of words regarding the girl, he's understanding that the feelings just aren't there.

"I don't want that shit, anyway."

"Excuse me?" James frowns deeply.

"No- fuck, I'm not talking about Ruby. I mean that gross love shit in general."

"Oh."

Well, that's somewhat of a relief.

Mitch goes back to work on the lights, flipping the switch to the battery. The glow is back as they turn on. Without any enthusiastic words, he turns them off and grabs the next box.

As he's pulling the lights out, he mumbles, "I just don't think it's worth it. Not for me, anyway."

"What?"

"Love like that."

James' curiosity is piqued. "How so?"

Mitch doesn't answer right away, and James gets the feeling that he's debating on whether or not he really wants to. But, as he's detangling the lights, he says, "You weren't here when we first lost the twins."

James holds the light up again, listening.

Mitch sighs. "Y'know, Minnie? The one who was on the delta? She tried to fuck us over?"

"Clementine told me about her, yes."

"Back before- like, years before Clementine and AJ got here, she and Violet had a thing."

Then, strangely, as he's saying the words, he watches James as if looking for something. A change in his expression, a reaction of some sort. Of what kind, he's not sure.

"I mean, they got together. As a couple. Girlfriends."

"Right, that's what Clem said. Then, Minerva and Sophie got kidnapped."

"...Right. Yeah, uh, so," Mitch puts the lights down. "Um, they were really into each other. And, after Marlon told us the twins died, Violet shut down."

"She was heartbroken."

"Fuck, more than that. She was fucking destroyed. Not even Louis could cheer her up for the longest time. It got better after a while, but she never did herself any favors. Everything was always, 'Minnie used to do this,' or 'Minnie would've liked that,' or whatever else. It was..." Mitch shakes his head. "...fucking pathetic."

"That's-" James finds a swell of agitation forming in his gut. "That's terrible to say."

"But, it's true," Mitch argues. "She's worse now, too. I didn't think that was possible, but yeah, ever since the delta Violet's just been nothing but a real bi-"

"Mitch," James warns.

"Fuck," he closes his eyes, "Yeah, I know. But it doesn't change the fact that she should just get over it. Minnie died a long time ago. That bitch on the boat? That wasn't her."

"You weren't there-"

"I didn't need to be," Mitch scowls. "I know all about it. Violet betrayed us because she couldn't get over the dead girl she fell in love with. And it's not Clementine's fault, none of it is, so she shouldn't still be so pissed. Whatever those assholes did to them couldn't have been that bad. They all came back in one piece."

James is glaring now, he's sure.

Mitch notices.

"Do you truly believe that nothing happened to them?"

"They're alive, aren't they?"

"And you think losing someone you love is that easy to get over? You've never had those feelings for anyone, have you?"

Something strange dances in Mitch's eyes, his glare wavering ever so slightly. He jerks himself to face forward, breaking the eye contact they held.

"...No."

"I see," James nods. "Explains why you don't understand. What it's like to lose someone you're romantically involved with, I mean."

"What's there to understand?" Mitch forces out stiffly. "It's like losing anyone close to you. It sucks for a while and then you get over it. Life goes on."

They're silent, tense.

This certainly wasn't where James wanted to steer the conversation, and now he's not entirely sure how he feels about the boy beside him. For someone who did indeed have genuine kindness in him, he spoke so heartlessly, so ignorantly.

"Do you think Clementine and Louis are doomed to that sort of fate?"

"Like I said, if anyone's gonna survive, it's them. But, yeah, eventually one of them will die, it'll hurt, and then they'll either shut down or move on"

Another period of uncomfortable silence fills the air between them. James shifts the flashlight to his other hand after his arm's cramped up from holding it too tightly.

"I'm never gonna be like that," Mitch finally says. "I'm not gonna let myself be like Violet. I'm not taking the risk."

"You think you can help that?"

"Yeah," he says firmly. "I'm not... built that way."

Even through his agitation, he finds that to be an odd thing to say.

He thinks back on Mitch's words, his attitude towards the topic of their conversation. James finds his heart slow, but hard and heavy. Something builds up inside of him when he turns to peer through the darkness at Mitch's sullen face. He finds that he wants to make Mitch understand, see this conversation in a new light.

He makes a decision and reaches into his pocket.

"Can I show you something?"

Mitch doesn't physically react, but his eyes dart towards him, his expression unreadable.

Still, even without an answer, James pulls out the photo still stuck in the plastic holder. He places it on the table between them, watching Mitch as he does.

Mitch blinks down at the photo before turning to face him again, waiting for an explanation.

"This is me," James says, pointing at the younger, smiling version of himself before sliding his finger over, "and this is Charlie."

Mitch follows, listening.

"He-" Already, James has to correct himself before even speaking the words, "-was my boyfriend."

Immediately, Mitch freezes, eyes growing wide and lips parting in a silent gasp. His fists, still wrapped around the lights, tighten.

A little thrown off by such a visible reaction, he continues, nonetheless.

"We survived together, just the two of us, for a long time. Eventually, we joined the Whisperers in order to stay alive and... everything got worse from there. He wasn't the Charlie I fell in love with anymore, but I kept holding on to him, telling myself that it's okay because I've changed, too. Those people... us- we..."

James swallows thickly, his eyes falling shut.

"...I left, and I don't know what became of him. He could still be alive out there, or he could be dead. I don't know. But, losing him, the real him, was one of the most painful things I've ever experienced and it wasn't some that I could just 'get over.' It's an easy thing to say, but what it comes down to it, it's not something that'll ever go away. I'll never 'get over' Charlie, just like how Violet will never 'get over' Minerva. So, what you're saying is foolish, sprouted from ignorance."

Mitch is silent, unmoving, still staring at the photo.

"Talking like that will only do more damage than good-"

"You- you need to leave."

The words are harsh but bitten back, like they're trying to hide something true, something dark.

"What-?"

"I'll finish by myself." Mitch snatches the flashlight away from him. "Just... fucking go."

A sharp blade of ice seemingly swipes through him, leaving him staggered. An ache, all too familiar, tightens his heart and drops to his gut at the coldness of Mitch's tone, his eagerness to get rid of him.

And that rejection, one he's no stranger to, cuts deep, tender and painful.

Silently, pitifully, James takes his photo and pockets in, gaze falling to the floor. The stool scrapes against the uneven floor, breaking the silence with an eery wince. Mitch doesn't look at him, he doesn't say anything, he just continues to stare forward without any acknowledgment, as if he and James hadn't just shared the personal conversation that they did.

As he's treading up the stairs, James takes note of what else he noticed about Mitch.

He undoubtedly knew how to be cruel.

---

Aasim's room is much different than Louis remembers.

It's freshly picked up with books stacked neatly along the shelves of a short bookcase. His desk is clean with a can of dull pencils and pens resting upon it. There's an astronomy poster hanging above his bed, one Louis remembers being in the old science lab. The other bed, Louis' bed for the night, is where Aasim seems to keep all his spare clothes folded, as well as some of the larger books that won't fit on his shelf.

Aasim's quick to move everything off the bed for him, tucking things in drawers and his closet.

Louis tosses his pillows onto the mattress and plops down with a huff.

"Dude, I still have to write my vows."

"Always waiting 'til the last minute," Aasim mumbles. "Here." He pulls out the chair of his desk and begins filing through one of the drawers. "Where-ah." He sets a notebook down on the desk before moving to his bed. "You can work on it there."

"Thanks, man."

Tossing the pillows aside, Louis sits down, lights the candle placed in the corner, and tries to find a sharp enough pencil to write with. He plucks a blue one with little cartoon cats on it out of the can. He can't believe he's about to write his wedding vows for the woman he loves with this, but it's a little better than the one that says 'SAY NO TO DRUGS! SAY NO TO DRUGS!'

A little.

"You nervous?" Aasim asks while kicking off his boots.

"Like I'm gonna vomit," Louis answers honestly.

He chuckles a little at that. "You're not gonna vomit."

"What if I'm standing up there, giving my amazingly romantic vows and I just throw up and then that makes her throw up? Then, you'll definitely throw up because you have a weak stomach and then Ruby'll be so pissed that she throws up and then there's just puke everywhere-"

"Dude," Aasim grabs a pillow to smack him with, "Stop. You're only digging yourself deeper into that nightmare hole. Climb out."

"I'm just saying."

"You won't throw up. You're just nervous."

"Oh, is that what this feeling is? And here I thought I caught a stomach bug."

Aasim rolls his eyes. "It's okay to be to have pre-wedding jitters. Before you know it, tomorrow'll be here and you and Clem will be married and dancing."

"And you'll be dancing with Ruby?"

"No."

"Right! Sorry, I meant James-"

"Louis," Aasim warns. "I already told you, I never had a thing for James. Drop it."

"Yeah, yeah," Louis waves his hand. "I know. I promised Clem I wouldn't tease you so much tonight. I'll drop it for now." Then, he points at the bed. "You don't have to wait up for me. I'll probably just say here all night trying to figure out what to say."

"Say what you feel."

"Oh, just like that, huh?"

"Seriously. It doesn't have to be long or poetic. Keep it short and sweet."

"Short and sweet," mumbles Louis. "Yeah, okay."

Aasim doesn't say anything else. Instead, he grabs a book off his shelf and lays down in his bed to read.

Louis briefly wonders if that's what he does every night, but doesn't bother asking. He has more important things to think about.

The blank page is intimidating, so Louis jots down his thoughts as they come to him. He crosses out ones that he doesn't like and makes little notes and adds onto the ones he does.

Eventually, he hears Aasim yawn and shut the book. He grumbles a "good-night" before turning over with a sigh.

His weariness catches up with him hours into the night as he tries and tries again to write his vows. He doesn't know how many pages he goes through re-wording and rewriting it, but with every sentence, he finds his eyes dropping and his limbs becoming heavier.

Soon, after nearly finishing what he had to say, his cheek rests against the notebook as sleep takes him.

---

She can hear Ruby's delighted giggles, muffled by the door. The wood creaks, wincing beneath her as she shifts her weight from foot to foot.

Violet can't distinguish what they're actually saying. How could she? All she can hear is the pulsating beat of her heart thumping in her ears, heavy but accelerating the longer she stares at the door.

No matter what she does, no matter how much she tightens her fists, Violet's hands won't stop shaking. The tremors run up her arms and down her legs, nearly buckling her knees, but she refuses to collapse. They would certainly hear and find her pathetically curled up into a ball at their feet.

Violet squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe in deep through her nose.

Raising her fist up only sends more trembles down her arm, weakening her down to the bone. Her palms ache from the sharp nails bitten into the tender flesh, leaving a sore redness and imprints ready to split.

Get over yourself.

Just knock on the fucking door.

More giggling.

Clementine's voice.

So pleased, so light.

Her chin quivers, so she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. She doesn't know what's louder; her short, gasping breaths, or the pounding of her searing heart.

Louis asks her for one thing. One fucking thing.

And she can't.

She can't do it.

Her arm falls weakly back to her side, defeated and piteous.

What did she expect, really?

To knock on the door and be invited in with welcome arms? To sit down with Clementine and Ruby and fawn over what Clementine would wear to her wedding? To talk about how much she fucking loved Louis and how she can't wait to start a new chapter of their lives together? To pretend that everything's okay between them and they're best friends again? That the forgiveness is mutual?

And Clementine would ask her to be her maid-of-honor and to hold her bouquet for her as she and Louis swear their vows to each other and kiss and live their happily ever after in this shithole of a world?

...She can't do it.

She just can't.

---

Clementine hadn't ever changed her clothes so many times in one night. None of the dresses Ruby had gathered up fit her, all way too small. They had better luck trying on blouses ranging from ones with lots of ruffles to plain t-shirts that wore long on her.

"Whatta 'bout this one?"

Ruby holds up a baby blue one with short sleeves and lace at the bottom. When Clementine pulls it on, it fits well.

"Oh, that's sweet," Ruby admires. "It'd count fer yer somethin' blue, too."

They add it to the 'yes' pile.

Over their time together, a total of four shirts end up in that pile. She decides that she'll make her final decision tomorrow since it's getting late.

They end up closing the window when the night breeze comes in particularly cold, saying their goodnights with Clementine alone in her bed and Ruby on the top bunk opposite of her.

Absently, her hand reaches out beside her. The bed feels much bigger than it usually does. She has so much room to spread herself out comfortably but still ends up on her usual side.

She can't help it. She misses him and his warmth beside her.

On any other normal night, after spending the day apart, one of them would creep into the room and get in bed and they'd be together again, ready to cuddle and sleep. Now, it feels like she's taken that for granted.

Perhaps this is good, she thinks. Like the old saying goes, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

How she could grow fonder of Louis, she didn't know.

She lays there a long time, her mind buzzing with the excitement of what's to come, as well as thinking what the future may hold, good and bad. Though, she tries not to dwell on the bad. Most of her life had been spent dwelling on threats and concerns.

Now, she gets to experience something like this, like it wasn't the end of the world.

So, she pushes all those dark thoughts, the ones of death, of Violet's hatred, of Louis' guilt, AJ's traumas, all out of her mind and images herself seeing Louis waiting for her in the music room... ready to take her hand.

Clementine's eyes fall shut, this time, remaining that way. She tries to calm her nerves, allowing her own exhaustion to wash over her, relax her body. She tries to think of nothing, tries counting sheep.

Eventually, sleep takes her.

---

The trees all look the same, flashing by one after the other in a blur of desaturated greys and browns. The grass is tall, much more overgrown than it usually is. If Clementine were to stretch her leg out it surely would tickle her ankles and feet. Leaves of various hues swirl around in the air as if dancing together.

The constant hum of the train's wheels running on the track is soothing. It vibrates through her body as she rests against the frame opening. Her legs swing relaxed as her fingers absently drum on her knee.

Clementine closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of wood and sun-dried grass. She doesn't fight the tranquil smile tugging at her lips. Strips of sunlight leak through the cracks between the trees, warming her cheeks as they pass.

"Something big is happening, isn't it?"

Her smile grows.

Lee sits down beside her, shifting to get comfortable.

"Been a long time," he says. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."

Clementine peeks an eye open to peer at him. "You?" She shakes her head. "Never."

He quirks a brow with a matching grin. Clementine scoots away from the frame and closer to the man beside her. He wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders as the two watch the nature fly by.

She can't contain the glee growing inside of her as she looks up at him.

"You're never going to believe it, Lee."

Lee chuckles. He admires the abundance of trees and falling leaves. He reaches out and snatches a large, yellow one. He pinches and twirls it's stem between his fingers as he asks, "It's a good thing?"

"A very good thing."

"Don't hear very many good things these days," he says. He catches another fallen leaf, sticking it with the yellow one. "Don't see very many smiles like that, either."

Clementine lightly touches her cheek, sore from the straining grin. Her skin is warm, flustered.

Lee catches more leaves, sticking and rearranging them together. "So, what's made you so happy, Sweet Pea?"

"I'm getting married."

Lee's brows raise in shock. "Married?" he asks. "Little young for that, aren't you?"

"In this world?" she smirks. "I don't think I'm too young for a lot of things."

Lee scoffs. "Oh, yes you are."

Clementine laughs, a sweet melody that warms the air. She leans closer into him as a red leaf gets stuck against her leg. She plucks it up and admires its vivid color.

"Married..." Lee mumbles to himself. "Wow. How did you get so grown up?"

"I didn't really have a choice." She lets the leaf go. It flies out and disappears with the rest.

"No, you didn't..." Lee nods to himself. "It's Louis, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"He's a good kid."

"He's..." Clementine laughs. "He's amazing, Lee. You'd really like him."

He nods, thoughtfully. "Well," he says, "I can't hate anybody who can make you smile like that. And AJ likes him?"

"AJ loves him."

"Good," Lee grins. "That's good to hear. The two of them are quite a pair, I assume?"

"You have no idea."

Lee chuckles. "And, everyone else?"

"They've worked so hard on the music room," she tells him. "Ruby, Tenn, and AJ have been decorating all week, and Mitch made our rings. He made them, him and Willy! Out of quarters! And Aasim, he's going to marry us, and Omar's going to cook and-" Clementine stops.

Something strange curls in her gut. A tingle runs along her neck.

"What's wrong?" Lee asks.

"I..." she closes her eyes and rests her head against his shoulder, "I just... I am happy, Lee. So happy and excited, but," she weakly shakes her head, "what if something happens?"

"Like what?"

"This kind of happiness, it-it doesn't last in our world anymore. It's never lasted for me, at least." The air becomes cooler, raising goosebumps along her skin. "Sometimes, I think that life at the school, with Louis and AJ and everyone else, is just too good to be true. We're happy now, but what if that changes? What if something happens and we lose more people? What if... what if something bad happens between Louis and me?"

"What if, what if..." Lee gives her a comforting smile. "You'll drive yourself crazy if all you think about are the 'what ifs'. You can't predict everything that's coming, just like how you can't go back and prevent the past."

"I know. It's just," she murmurs, "I can't help but think about Louis looking at me one day and thinking about all the terrible things I've done and... realizing that he can't love someone like me."

Lee's silent.

Then, he hands her a leaf, a green one.

"You really believe that?"

She doesn't answer.

"Tell me something, Clementine," he says. "Louis has done bad things, hasn't he? Both before and after the world ended?"

"Yes."

"Do you hate him for those things?"

"No," she shakes her head. "It's different. His bad things don't compare to mine. I've hurt so many people, Lee. Good people. Just so that I could survive, or to protect AJ, protect both of us."

"Does Louis know of these things?"

"Not all of them."

Lee goes quiet again. He closes his eyes and lowers his head.

"Do you remember when I told you about what I did? Why I was in the police car the day we first met?"

"Yes."

"Did you hate me? After you found out?"

"Of course not."

Lee smiles, just a bit. "I did a lot of bad things, too, Sweet Pea. We've all done bad things; you, me, AJ, Louis... it's this world that makes us do things we never would've done before."

She reaches out and grabs his hand. "It scares me," her voice is barely above a murmur, "I don't want him to look at me like-" she swallows thickly, "-like Violet does."

"Violet's different," he says. "She's still in a lot of pain, just like Louis. Like you. We all handle it differently, whether it's keeping it bottled up, covering it with a smile and a laugh, or hiding away from everyone. But, just because you see their pain doesn't mean you understand it. How many nights have you had to hold Louis because of his nightmares? And, how often do you wonder why? Why does it still haunt him?"

"He didn't mean to kill that lady," she says. "But, he was also justified. She would've killed him if he didn't react."

"He doesn't see it that way, though, does he? It's something that you may never come to understand, Clementine. Just like how you may never fully understand why Violet feels the way she does. Or, why AJ gets spooked so easily when someone comes up behind him. But, that doesn't mean you give up on them." Lee hands her another leaf, this one red. "You still stay by their side, even when everything goes to hell. That's what family does."

Family...

"I don't know what I would do without them," she says. "I wish I could make it better. Take all that pain away."

"Can't tell you how many times I thought the same thing," Lee grins. "It's a tough world, but you're tougher and smarter. You'll always have AJ there by your side. And maybe one day Violet will open herself up again and you two can rebuild that trust. It'll be a rough and slow process, but maybe you'll even be friends again. As for Louis?" Lee chuckles, shaking his head. "That boy isn't going anywhere."

Clementine looks up at him.

"How can you be so sure?" she asks.

Lee turns his focus to the collection of leaves in his hand.

"Relationships aren't easy," he says slowly. "They never were, even before."

"I know."

"Both of you have a lot to carry. There'll always be that unknown territory between you. Whether you choose to explore it or leave it alone is up to you. You'll have bad days, and so will he. There'll be times where you two fight for little to no reason, times where you could just strangle him. A time may come where you're in trouble again, where you might get hurt or separated, lose someone else."

The green and red bleed out of her leaves, leaving them yellow. He plucks them from her fingers and adds to his collection.

"But, everything Mitch said before?" Lee squeezes her hand. "It's all true. After all you two have been through? There isn't a doubt in my mind that you will overcome anything this world throws at you."

Her eyes burn.

"That boy loves and trusts you, Clementine, and he's not going to leave you. It's okay to believe that."

The forest blurs.

"Thank you, Lee," she whispers.

Lee leans forward and waves his free hand like he's signaling someone. As the train whistles and comes to a stop, he grabs her shoulder to steady her. The forest is still before them and the grass is at its longest.

He hops down and offers her his hand.

"It's time, Sweet Pea."

She gives him a questioning look that he answers with a smile.

He helps her down. She's unsteady on her feet. The humming of the train still rattles through her body, buzzing in her ears. When she turns to Lee, lips parted and a question laying on her tongue, she's startled to find his usual blue shirt has been replaced.

He chuckles again with a shrug. "I used to clean up nice, you know."

His black suit is clean, untouched, untainted. His tie is perfectly straight and he's cleanly shaven. The multicolored leaves previously in his grasp are gone, replaced with a bouquet of yellow roses tied together by a white ribbon. His dark eyes soften when they lay upon her.

"Oh, just look at you..." he whispers.

Clementine cocks her head to the side, giving him a questioning look. He extends the bouquet to her, and when she grasps it, her gaze falls down to her sleeve.

White lace.

She glances down and gasps.

The dress is pure white. Beautiful lace and glittering details line her torso and fade down the silky material. Her hat is gone, allowing her curls to hang loosely over her shoulders. She runs her fingertips cautiously over the lustrous dress in disbelief. The silk glistens when the speckles of sunlight shine through the trees and hit her.

She meets Lee's warm, proud gaze. He offers her his arm.

"Ready?"

With a shaky breath, she grabs a hold of him.

They leave the train to walk through the forest at a comfortable pace. The leaves continue to fall around them. However, they've all turned that lovely shade of yellow.

"Lee?"

"Hm?"

Her grip on his arm tightens. "I wish you were really here."

He places his hand over hers.

"You're not supposed to cry those kinds of tears on your wedding day."

She doesn't even realize that she's crying until he says so. She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, careful not to poke herself with the roses or their stems.

"Oh, Clementine," Lee sighs. "I know it's hard, but look around you. You've found a place to call home, a family. I always wanted that for you, hoped you'd find it even after I left. Now, you finally have."

"But, you're still gone."

"I'm still gone," Lee nods. "And you're still alive."

The trees are starting to spread out more, making the path clearer. The grass has gone from long and dry to short, thick and dark green. The air's sweetly floral. Still, the leaves fall.

"You're alive, Clementine," he says again.

There's chatter, whispers. A hum of several voices, all cheerful, some laughing. The closer they walk, the louder they become.

And, behind all those voices, is the playing of a piano.

Her song.

Clementine.

Her heart beats hard, slow. Somehow, her throat's gone dry.

Lee gazes about, admiring the beauty surrounding them.

Soon, there's a gate ahead of them, stuck between two enormous trees. Thorny vines weave through the bars where more yellow roses sprout.

They stop just before it.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

She peeks through the openings of the gate.

Rows and row of white benches line the grass leading up to a set of white stairs. At the top is a stage with an arbor covered in dark green leaves and vibrant yellow roses. Off to the right is a grand piano that, oddly enough, has no one playing it, yet the keys play her song. On the left are several tables, all with white tablecloths and candles and roses as centerpieces. There's a long table filled with various desserts and a five-tier cake.

The benches are full of people, all talking with one another, all dressed in various hues of yellow.

When Lee pushes the gate open and they step through, the chatter immediately stops.

The piano goes quiet.

It's silent.

All together, they stand and turn.

Every single smiling face, she recognizes.

Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes dart across the overwhelming rows of people rapidly. Her grip on the bouquet and Lee's arm tighten.

"Lee?" she gasps out.

"It's your special day," he grins. "Did you really think they'd miss it?"

The sun shines brightly through the trees now, lighting up the area, breathing life into it. The warmth pools in her belly and spreads through her veins. All eyes, all full of admiration and tenderness, are on her.

Lee steps forward, and by instinct, so does she. Her song begins to play again, faint, like a soft whisper. Down the aisle, they tread slowly. Her eyes dart from face to face, overwhelmed.

So many of them, all smiling at her; those from her previous groups, friends from before the world ended, mere acquaintances made during survival.

Luke and Nick stand side by side whispering to each other before Jane shushes them, motioning towards Clementine. She almost trips upon seeing them. All together, they proudly watch her walk past.

Sarah's practically jumping with glee, happily waving at Clementine and trying to catch her attention. Carlos places his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to keep his daughter still.

A lump forms in her throat.

She gasps at Christa and the baby in her arms. Omid beams, mouthing, 'Good luck!'

Duck waves at her with a smile far too big for his face. Katjaa wipes at her eyes with a tissue, sniffling. And Kenny, he reaches out to briefly touch her shoulder with a fond grin and a tender nod at her, then at Lee. His touch leaves a warmth that spreads down her arm. Her eyes become wet seeing the three of them holding each other again.

The Garcia's all take up one row with Javier standing the closest. He winks at her with a smirk, giving her a thumbs up. Clementine rolls her eyes at him playfully. Kate nudges Gabe and he shyly meets her gaze with a smile. David offers a solemn nod, but even he can't fight the tiny grin pulling at his lips.

She slows her walk to almost a stop when she sees Rebecca and Alvin. They both reach out to her and grasp her arm. 'Thank you,' they mouth. 'Thank you.' Clementine shakes her head, biting her lip to prevent her chin from quivering. Rebecca reaches around her and puts their foreheads together. 'Thank you.'

They let go, and Clementine continues down the aisle.

Lee chuckles again. He pats the hand on his arm and smiles at her. "It's crazy, isn't it?"

"That's-" She gives a heart filled laugh, sniffling and blinking back tears. "That's one way to put it." She looks up towards the sky where all the leaves still flutter and dance, swaying with the music. Her eyes fall upon the altar, and a wave of emotion rolls over her.

They're all there, lining up on either side of the steps.

Marlon, Mitch, Aasim, Omar, Tenn, James and Willy on the right.

Ruby, Brody, Sophie, Minerva, and Violet on the left.

All waiting for her to reach the stairs, all dressed in their respective matching suits and dresses.

She's ready to move forward, but Lee stops her. She turns to him, but he motions to her left.

And it's like all the air is knocked from her lungs and her heart's swelled fully in her chest.

Her mother and father stare back at her with tears in their eyes.

Lee lets her go.

Clementine rushes to them, throwing her arms over her mother's shoulders and holding on for dear life. She can't do anything but sob. Her father wraps himself around both of them. There's so much warmth surrounding her and it's hard to breathe. The rush of emotions is so overwhelming she thought they might cause her to implode, cease to exist.

When they pull away, her father's thumb wipes away her tears. And she laughs. She laughs and she cries. They say nothing, they only gaze upon her with love in their eyes. Her mother kisses both of her cheeks and holds her hands firmly, kissing them as well.

Words bubble in Clementine's throat, but refuse to come out. There's so much to say, so much she wants to tell them. But, they shake their heads and move back to their seats.

'It's time...'

Her mother and father turn their attention to Lee as he offers her his arm again. The gratitude, the affection they have for him is clear. Lee humbly gives a knowing nod.

She keeps her eyes locked with them, looking back even as they move forward. She can feel herself trembling, as if she may crumble if it weren't for Lee's hold keeping her together.

Violet steps down from her place on the stairs and catches Clementine's attention. She takes the bouquet from her, then she pulls her into a loving hug. Clementine melts into her, holding her back tightly. "Vi..."

They part with a smile, and Violet goes back to stand with Minerva, where they pull the ribbon off and pass around the roses, making sure everyone has one in their hands.

There's a giggle from the top of the stairs.

They turn to see AJ. He's dressed in his own suit with a yellow rose adorning it. He gleefully strides down the stairs in a hurry, jumping off the third to final step. He leaps at Clementine, holding her in a firm embrace.

AJ admires the glittering details of her dress before leaning over to wave at his mother and father. Clementine looks back, seeing both Rebecca and Alvin waving and tearfully laughing.

Lee lets go of Clementine to kneel down and fix AJ's twisted bowtie, earning another giggle from the young boy. Lee pinches his nose.

"Hey!" AJ laughs. He retaliates by pinching Lee back. That gets him a chuckle.

Clementine's lips curl into a warm smile as she watches the two laugh and hug one another.

There's something at the top of her peripheral sight. A small movement, just enough to catch her attention.

Louis stands at the top with a bright smile and when their eyes meet, everything stops; the leaves, the faraway murmuring, the piano. Nothing but a small, shuddering gasp escaping her lips.

His suit matches AJ's; black with a pale yellow tie and adorned with a rose. He ascends down the stairs one step at a time, never breaking their connected gaze, never losing his smile. The way he looks at her with so much love, like he can't get enough of her, takes away any lingering breath she has.

She steps forward to meet him as he moves off the final step. He reaches for her, and when their fingers curl together, it's like the sun lighting up within her.

Louis only breaks his loving gaze away to look at Lee as he approaches, his smile becoming a little nervous.

Lee eyes him, then he holds out his hand. Louis accepts it with great enthusiasm, giving him a firm handshake. But, Lee doesn't let go. Instead, he pulls him in for a tight hug, which Louis eagerly returns.

Lee, his expression calmed and content, turns back to Clementine.

"Good-bye, Sweet Pea."

Then, they're hugging again. She buries her face into his chest and does her best to contain the sobs forming threatening to spill over. "Good-bye, Lee..." she whispers.

She pulls away when AJ tugs on her dress.

She watches as Lee walks away, as he takes a seat next to her parents and gives her an encouraging smile.

"It's time."

When she turns back to Louis, he laces their fingers together once more while AJ grabs her other hand.

And together, they ascend up the stairs, hand in hand.

When they reach the top, AJ wanders away.

Now, Louis holds both her hands in his, and as she stares up at him, she can't help but lightly shake her head in disbelief.

"Louis..." she murmurs.

"Clementine." He pulls her closer until they're only breaths away. She can feel the warmth radiating off his entire being, soaking into her.

AJ approaches them again carrying a yellow silk pillow, and on it is the rings. Silver, freshly polished, and baring their initials.

C + L

Louis takes one and slips it onto her finger, and she does the same for him.

He cups her blushing cheeks.

"I do."

She feels her eyes fluttering shut.

"I do."

He kisses her.

And the world ceases to exist.

---

122 notes · View notes

murdocsagaypirate · 6 years

Text

A The Now Now Analysis:

Summertime Sadness

I’m wanted to analysis this album on its own merit without the inclusion of lore.

The message is “I miss you.” and the album never really changes it’s mind on that statement, but each song takes you through that with different feelings. It takes you on a journey through grief but doesn’t end in “acceptance” in the traditional sense. The album ends with Souk Eye, the final message of, “I miss you and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” Its a sad idea, especially compared to the start of the album, Humility, the focus is “I miss you, but I think I should try to move on.” and trying to be optimistic. The same lyric “I’m calling you” in both songs can read as “I miss you.”

In between these tracks, we have song after song of reminiscing. Tranz feels like it’s asking the question “were you ever anything like I saw you to be?” in the person's absence that “effigy” is crumbling while the singer wants to keep it in his mind forever (stay in the trance)...

So many songs about places serve as memories and points of nostalgia: Magic City, Kansas, Idaho, Hollywood. Normally songs about Hollywood are full of praise. This song just.. isn’t. When we are trying to get over someone that has left us we might choose to focus on the unpleasant memories or “dark times” to prove to ourselves that it’s better this way. That’s what Hollywood feels like to me, thinking about when jealous as soured something or when things were just “alright” when they should have been great.

Kansas: as it appears in the studio journal: “I don’t wanna cry I’m not gonna cry.” He’s trying desperately to get over this person. That is his main goal right now. and it’s clearly a struggle. Idaho is... really really sad. It’s true nostalgia. It’s harsh melancholy at being confronted with happy memories of someone lost. That “silver lining” he’s been holding on to since Humility, this idea that he’ll find a new dream and move on, is “getting lost”.

Fire flies, just feels like straight up depression. We’re in that stage of grief. Complete emptiness. Drinking. It also reflects on the lost relationship as a whole. It was dark, and singer had to struggle to find fleeting moments of light: fireflies. Fireflies on their own are a nostalgic symbol of summer. One Percent is the penultimate and with so few lyrics I have less confidence in my interpretation, but if I fit it in like a weirdly shaped puzzle piece it must serve as a transition from the sadness of Fire flies to the conclusion of the album. I think it’s the recognition by the singer of how much a part of his life the subject is. On this long journey, in all his nostalgic summer memories, the subject is there. The tone grows into something much more optimistic than Fire Flies and then dies back down.

And finally Souk Eye. It does a great job summing everything up. The answer to the question "Do I pick it up when I know that it's broke, or do I head on to the lonsome track and let you go?" Is one he's pondered the whole album and here he answers it... His feelings are complicated, but he knows despite the fact it might not be wise, that he loves the person he’s been singing about. And he’s decided that, even when the grief has been endured, he wants the relationship to be salvaged, “be forgiven”. He wan’t to leave behind LA (established as the complicatedness in the relationship) he wants it to be “stone”, solid. Ironically the lyrics sound more optimistic then the music, contrasted with Humility where the music sounds very happy and the lyrics talk about feeling trapped and lonely. The album doesn’t end on a “happy” note because nothing about the relationship has changed or improved, the singer is just now stepping out of grief and has yet to take action when Souk Eyes ends, and he still doesn’t really know what will happen when he does take action.

For an album made up of so much nostalgia it’s odd that it’s titled The Now Now. But when we tackle grief and heal from grief it has to be done in The Now. Of course, there are tons of political lines sprinkled throughout as expected of Gorillaz, and we’ve been told that the album is about what’s happening right now (pretty vague if you ask me). but right Now, at this time in history, we are nostalgic. We are grieving. There are so many laws being repealed every day that protected us, there are more issues being pushed back years, more then one could focus an album on. But at the same time I think this album was suppose to be the anti Humanz, turning the political and featured artist knob from 11 down to 1... Most of all I believe this album is an exploration of a lost, dysfunctional relationship and whether or not he thinks the relationship can be salvaged and repaired and I believe the conclusion reached is a tentative “we’ll see”.

More Gorillaz Lyric Analysis

#the now now #gorillaz #2d #commentary #murdoc niccals #lyric analysis

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thewatchau · 6 years

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Hello! I have some world-building questions for you! 1)What is the climate like in the kingdom? Does it vary depending on location, or is it mostly the same everywhere? What are the seasons like? Are there four clear seasons or is it mostly temperate all year round? 2)Obviously the population of the kingdom is very diverse, but are there any kingdom-wide celebrations, like equinoxes or anniversaries? (Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I hope you have a good one :))

Thanks for the question!!!!

The climate in the kingdom is comparable to Northern Italy in both climate, geography, and size (120,000 kilometers squared), although the population of the kingdom is slightly smaller (27 mil versus 21 mil). I’m a history person, not a science one, so I actually spent ages combing a topographical map of the real world, looking for an area with similar geography (mountains to north and south, ocean to the east) so I could answer this question accurately. The only geographical difference is that Northern Italy doesn’t have a creepy magical forest to the west (it just has more mountains) but since I don’t think forests have any huge impact on the climate of an area, I’m not gonna worry about it.

In the mountains (all of House Jameson and northwestern House Brody) the climate is very cold and snowy during the winter and mild and rainy during the summer.

Along the coast (eastern House Brody and most of House Schneeplestein) the climate is mild in the winter and hot in the summer. House Brody gets a good amount of rain from the mountainous regions to their north, which, combined with the milder temperatures from the coast, makes it the most fertile area in the kingdom. House Schneeplestein is much drier, except to the very south where the mountains begin to rise up, with very harsh coastal winds during the winter.

Within the main valley plains of the kingdom, the climate is continental, with very cold winters and very hot summers. The mountains mostly divert the precipitation away from the central part of the kingdom, making House Jackie, House Marvin, and southwestern House Brody extremely arid. This region also gets lots of snow in the winter. The plains of House Jackie are bad for planting but great for military exercises and ranching; I imagine House Jackie would be the source of most horse-related occupations in the kingdom, in addition to the others mentioned on the summary post. House Marvin is slightly humid with lots of fog due to the mountains on its north and south, but still gets less rain than the two houses along the border. The more arid portions of House Brody allow it to grow crops that dislike the wetter, milder climate to the north and east.

I sorta already answered your question about seasons, but I’ll summarize anyway. The summers and winters are pretty extreme; you could almost say there are two seasons rather than four. You’ll have a nice, temperate bit during the transition as the seasons change, but it can be very inconsistent. I actually live in a continental climate zone (North Carolina, USA) and we joke that the weather is completely confused for 90% of the spring and autumn. One day you’ll be sweating buckets just walking to class, the next it’ll be kinda nice out, then hot again, suddenly BOOM IT’S COLD, then it’s hot again, and you never seem to be wearing the right number of layers from September to November and March to May. And then suddenly the weather makes up its mind and it’s nothing but COLD COLD COLD or HOT HOT HOT for the winter and summer months respectively, and then it gets confused again. It’s great fun. The months when these seasons fall and how extreme they get will vary based on latitude and elevation, so I’m sure that my experiences in North Carolina are not a perfect representation of the seasons in Northern Italy, but since I can’t travel there to see for myself and the internet just says “continental climate,” that’s the best description I can give you.

I answered the holidays question in another ask, so you can check here if you missed it!

Thank you soooooo much for such good questions! I love answering this world-building stuff and there’s no such thing as a stupid question.

#asks #The Lands of The Watch

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miss-noo-na · 7 years

Text

“Dorm Love Affair” (V College AU) Part 1 of 2

Part 2

Title: Dorm Love Affair

Featuring: V (BTS) x Reader

POV: 2nd

Rating: Mature. Smut including oral, sexting, dirty talk.

Summary: Not only did you have to put up with living in the rowdiest dorm on campus, you also have to live near resident fuckboy Kim Taehyung and his antics. Though you can’t help but wonder why he flirts with everyone but you.

Note: Hey remember when I said forever ago I was gonna write this? Here it is. Its ridiculously long so I’m separating it into 2 parts. Enjoy!

When you started college, you knew there’d be plenty to deal with. Exams, bad food, professors with a stick up their ass, group projects, lack of sleep; but the last thing you expected to deal with was getting placed on the “party floor”.

You were a junior, so you’d had time to get used to it, but that didn’t make the transition from summer to fall semester any less jarring. People were always in the hall, meandering from room to room, talking too loud, drinking, and blasting music. You’d put in a bid to move 3 times and every time you were told that due to over-crowding and demand for dorm space, you’d either have to put up with it or move out. You refused to go back to your parents place and commute an hour to classes, and you didn’t exactly have the money to rent out on your own, so you dealt with it. You invested in earplugs, black-out curtains, and the art of avoiding conversation.

You weren’t a total stick in the mud, though. You liked your roommate, Sunny, who was slightly more low-key than the others on this floor. She was the one that got you up and out when homework was stressing you. You’d go have a couple drinks down the street or just hang around the dorm, at times interacting with others but not everyone. There were still some people on this floor you couldn’t stand.

One of them was working his way down the hall now, just as you fidgeted with your keys to get in. You avoided eye contact, but for some reason peered up at the last moment. He smiled at you, but not a nice smile; a smug, eyebrow raising smile, and you dropped your keys.

You cursed under your breath and quickly snatched them up, and thought you heard him chuckle as he passed. You glared at his back.

Kim Taehyung was a piece of work. He sauntered around like he owned the floor, and hit on anything with a pulse, and of course most people would vie for his attention. He was attractive, and charming, and had that sultry voice that he used to croon into an unsuspecting girls ear as she giggled and blushed. The problem was that he knew all these things about himself, and used it to his advantage. It disgusted you.

You’d only confided in Sunny about it one time, and never brought it up again after she accused you of being jealous. See, for every girl Taehyung would flirt with, which was every single girl that passed through this floor and hell, probably even this campus; he’d never tried it on you.

You weren’t even aware of it at first, you were consumed in your studies your first year or two, but the more social you became the more you noticed how he avoided you. He’d give you a look sometimes, like he did in the hall, and he might make a teasing comment, but he’d never take it any further.

You told yourself you didn’t care, that the thought of him coming onto you made your skin crawl. You did a lot of mental gymnastics to convince yourself of this.

This was especially difficult since you’d found yourself in a rut, lately. Throughout your time here at the dorm you’d had a fling here and there, dated casually, and had one boyfriend that lasted 6 months, but lately? Nothing, a total dry-spell, which only amplified your annoyance.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sunny asked from where she sat cross-legged on her bed over a notebook, before you even got your coat off.

“Why do you think there’s something wrong?”

“Well, I heard you cursing outside the door and you came in here with a grumpy look on your face, so usually that means something’s wrong.”

You waved a dismissive hand at her and started to unpack your bag.

“Nothing, I ran into Taehyung in the hall.” You said, and she tried to suppress a laugh unsuccessfully.

“What?” You snapped at her, and she shook her head.

“You’re still hung up on him?” She asked, and you made a face of revulsion at her, appalled at the accusation.

“Hung up on him? Give me a break.”

“Why does it bother you so much, then?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow and tapping her pencil on her notebook.

“It’s just annoying that he walks around like he owns the place, and everyone swoons over his every move.”

Sunny laughed again. “Maybe you’re just a little jealous you’re the only girl on this floor he hasn’t slept with.”

You shot her a look. “Are you saying you’ve slept with him?”

Sunny turned beet red and averted her eyes. “No! I mean, we made out once.” She smiled a little, and you groaned in disgust.

“Yeah, I feel real bad about being the only girl who hasn’t swapped saliva with every other girl on this floor via Kim Taehyung’s mouth.”

“Whatever.” Sunny mumbled, clearly feeling embarrassed now about what she’d just revealed to you, and you had to admit you were judging her just a little.

Once you were unpacked you tackled your homework for the night, then crawled into bed early and fantasized about the weekend ahead. You didn’t have any plans; you were just relieved you were going to get 2 days off. Maybe you’d get lucky and be able to sleep in? The thought alone relaxed you into rest.

Your days went about as usual, a blur of classes and homework, and you forgot all about Kim Taehyung and the fact he’d groped your roommate at one time. However, this peace did not last long.

“A party?” You whined, shoulders and arms going slack.

“You haven’t done anything fun with me in weeks, months even!” Sunny said as she explained that the whole floor was going to be involved in the shenanigans. Your dreams of a peaceful weekend slowly faded away. Even if you stayed in, there’s no way the noise would let you properly enjoy it.

Besides, Sunny had a point. You were never going to get out of this rut if you wallowed away in bed all weekend. You had to do something besides go to class and sleep.

“Fine.” You murmured, crossing your arms, and Sunny clapped her hands together. “Perfect!”

It’d been so long since you put on make-up you were worried you’d forgotten how, but it all slowly came back to you, even if you had to re-do your eyeliner 3 times before you got the wing right. Your clothing was fashionable yet modest, and suited you and the occasion.

You started out in someone’s dorm, an acquaintance that was doling out beers and playing music. You sat on the floor with your back against one of the beds and Sunny sat next to you. You and the others in the room, some you knew and some you didn’t, chatted idly and laughed, and you were surprised to say you were having a good time. It was low-key, and just what you needed.

That was until the door burst open and a sea of people from the hall spilled in, already far more drunk than you were. It was a typical event during these parties, where doors were opened and the entire floor was involved. This is why you usually went out on these nights.

Sunny pulled you into the fray of it; music was blaring from some unknown source and drowned out most of the talking. It was crowded in the hall and the dorm rooms were worse. Sunny brought you more alcohol from some source and you sipped it leisurely. You didn’t mind partying, but this whole “crammed together in a dorm” thing was obnoxious and honestly not very fun.

You needed some air and told Sunny you’d be right back. She told you to text her if you needed anything, or more like screamed it into your ear. You nodded and pushed your way down the hall. Luckily, the further you went the more it opened up, until you were in the floor’s lounge area, which was surprisingly empty.

You collapsed down on one of the couches and sighed. It was dimply lit; only one lamp in the corner on, and the TV was off. You could still hear the music thumping in the distance but it was remarkably quiet where you sat, and you enjoyed the moment.

“Hey.”

You jumped at the sound of a deep voice to your right, head snapping around to see Taehyung standing there, hands in his pockets.

“Hey.” You said uneasily, brow knitting together. He circled the couch and sat next to you.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked.

“Looks like you already have.”

He chuckled as his eyes scanned you, and you felt increasingly uncomfortable.

“Well, I always think it’s a shame to leave pretty girls by themselves.”

You swallowed hard, a strange mixture of emotions coursing through you when you looked at his face and listened to his voice. You should have been completely put-off by the comment, and you were, partially. Yet there was this teensy, tiny part of you that had enjoyed it. Were you really that starved for affection?

The fact you’d felt anything at all annoyed you, and you glared at him.

“Look, I came over here to be alone. I don’t need your lame compliments or company.” You snapped, and his face changed.

“Geez, I only came over here because Sunny asked me to. She said you were lonely.”

You were going to throttle Sunny.

“I just thought I’d do you a favor.”

It could have been the annoyance turning into anger, with a little bit of bravery supplied by alcohol that was responsible for what you said next.

“Go fuck yourself.”

You stood and left the lounge in a huff, not even waiting for his reaction. Maybe it was harsh, but come on, doing you a favor by talking to you? What kind of pompous dick says a thing like that?

When you returned to the crowded hall you made it your mission to find Sunny. You got some dirty looks and a few scoffs at the way you pushed through people, but you didn’t really care right now. When you found her, talking to some guy, you tapped her arm and waited, impatiently, for her to address you. When she saw your face, she knew.

“What the hell are you doing?” You shouted in both frustration and because the music was still loud. Sunny sighed and pulled you toward your room, the only one that was locked, and shut the door behind the both of you.

“Listen, I can explain.” She raised her hands defensively and you thought you might explode. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this mad at anyone.

“Please do, I’d really like to know why you have me out here looking like a fool.” You said, calming your voice some.

“I know you’ve been in a funk lately and I just thought if Taehyung hit on you, you’d get some confidence.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.

“So you’re telling me you asked someone to pity me, and thought that would help my confidence?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Sunny trailed, looking at the floor. You realized through the course of the conversation that she probably hadn’t meant to hurt you, she was just a little misguided on how she thought to help you. That didn’t stop you from being angry, though.

You dropped your arms and tried to relax your temper. “I know you mean well, but can you please never do anything like that again?”

Sunny looked relieved, and crossed the room to hug you. You softened under her warmth and hugged her back, even though you were still annoyed.

“I promise. Do you want to go back out? Maybe scope out someone else?” She asked, and you laughed a little.

“I think I’m good for the night, you go have fun. Text me if you need me.”

With that, Sunny nodded and left the room, and you locked it behind her knowing she could get in with her key later. You collapsed on the bed and pulled a pillow over your face, thnking you were more upset with yourself than her, because for a very short second you had actually believed Taehyung, and felt flattered by it.

You changed into your PJs and curled up in bed, putting in your headphones and booting up your laptop to watch some Netflix. You could still feel the bass thumping outside the room, but you learned to ignore it. Over time, it started to wind down, much earlier than you thought it would, but perhaps an RA had come through to shut everything down. You texted Sunny to make sure she was okay, and she assured you she was hanging out in the dorm you’d been in earlier.

A moment later, another text came through, but it wasn’t Sunny this time. It was an unknown number.

Unknown (1:46 AM): Hey

You stared at your phone, knowing you hadn’t given anyone your number recently, and you wondered if you should bother texting back. After a minute or two, your curiosity got the best of you.

You (1:50 AM): Hey who is this??

Unknown: (1:51 AM): its tae

You felt your whole body flush cold.

You (1:53 AM): How did you get my number??

Unknown (1:55 AM): a little birdie told me ;)

“Fucking winky face” You thought, was this boy for real right now? And it better not had been Sunny who gave away your number.

You (1:57 AM): What do you want??

Unknown (2:00 AM): I wasn’t going to text you but the way you dipped out on me earlier kind of stuck with me

“Here we go”, You thought. Again, maybe you were harsh but did he have to get butthurt about it?

Unknown (2:02 AM): ive never had a girl act that way toward me. It was kind of hot

You squeezed a tight grip on your phone and felt a strange stirring in your stomach.

You (2:04 AM): Clearly you have issues

Unknown (2:06 AM): maybe, but I think you have some of your own

You (2:07 AM): What is that supposed to mean??

Unknown (2:09 AM): sunny did explain it to me a little. has it really been 6 months since you’ve gotten laid?

You felt your blood boiling, coursing hot in your veins, but it also warmed your face and casted a blush over your cheeks. You’d never experienced such a contrast of emotions.

You (2:13 AM): This conversation is over

Unknown (2:15 AM): aw cmon babydoll, don’t be that way.

You felt your breath quickening as you read the last text, then read it over again a few more times. Every time your eyes scanned the word babydoll you felt a strange ache inside.

Unknown (2:17 AM): y’know, I wouldn’t mind volunteering my services. after going that long without, I bet I could have you screaming my name in no time

You (2:18 AM): Goodbye

You threw the phone away from you, not wanting to read the text again because you definitely felt the distinct rush of arousal all through your body, but especially between your legs. There was no way you were going to allow yourself to feel that way. Not about Kim fucks-anything-that-moves Taehyung.

You forced yourself to bed, and the next morning had almost forgotten about the texts until you’d seen the unread ones.

Unknown (2:20 AM): alright, alright. If you change your mind, you know where to find me ;)

Goddamn winky face again.

You spent your Sunday catching up on homework and trying to keep Taehyung out of your mind, but he did pop up on occasion, and not in the way you’d have liked. You reconciled with yourself that yes, he was attractive. However, admitting that didn’t mean you wanted to bone him.

The next week was off to a decent start, you were ahead on your assignments and you’d forgiven Sunny after she’d bought you a cupcake when you had lunch together. You asked her about giving out your number and she swore up and down that she hadn’t, and you believed her. You managed to avoid Taehyung and hadn’t laid eyes on him since the weekend.

On Wednesday night, finishing up a paper, you got a text.

Unknown (10:19 PM): heyyy

You signed and ignored it, going back to your editing. Your phone vibrated against the desk again.

Unknown (10:22 PM): listen im a litt drunk

Oh lord.

Unknown (10:23 PM): I know you hate me or whatever but man I bet the sex would be amazeing

You glared at the screen, and hated the clench you felt in your gut when you read that.

You (10:25 PM): You’re drunk on a Wednesday night?

Unknown (10:26 PM): what I cant let off some steam in the middle of the week?

You (10:28 PM): Do you, I guess. Doesn’t mean I need to hear about it.

Unknown (10:30 PM): hey so you wanna know what else sunny told me that night?

You really, really did not want to know what else your friend had blabbed to him that night, but he was going to tell you anyway.

Unknown (10:32 PM): she was going on about how I never hit on you and she thinks its making yu insecure or something idk point is theres actually a reason for that

Though you didn’t like what Sunny had implicated to him, you were intrigued.

Unknown (10:34 PM): we don’t even kno each other that wll and thas partially becase you scare the shit out of me

You actually smiled to yourself reading that, not sure why you were so proud of that fact.

Unknown (10:36 PM): like forreal remember when we took that lit class together? Every time you spoke up in that class I felt like an idiot and like you would just decimate me if I ever tried any sly shit around you

You (10:37 PM): You’re not wrong.

Okay, maybe you were enjoying this a little too much and it was giving you a big head. Still, there was something deeply satisfying about hearing this confession.

Unknown (10:40 PM): but yknow what? I still think you should give me a chance

You quirked your eyebrow at the screen.

You (10:42 PM): A chance for what??

Unknown (10:45 PM): get to know me? talk to me? And then eventually let me put my face between your legs

That time there was no feeling of revulsion, not even a tiny bit. You just blushed and felt heat rising up from your core as a mental image flashed across your brain.

You (10:47 PM): I’ll think about it

You didn’t believe you’d actually typed those words but who were you kidding? He’d somehow won you over, at least for now. Flattering your intelligence and admitting he was disarmed by you had only made him more attractive. And he was right, it had been 6 long months since you’d gotten laid, your brain might not be firing correctly.

Then again, he was drunk, and he might not even remember all of this in the morning.

Unknown (10:48 PM): that’s what I like to hear

You rolled your eyes, but you were also smiling.

To your surprise, he had remembered the conversation, and he preceded to text you every day for the rest of the week. He was always flirtatious, but he was funny, too and sometimes even interesting. You tried not to make much of the feelings you were developing, as you knew it would be a mistake to view him as a potential romantic partner. You didn’t need that in your life, anyhow. But you did know what you truly needed, and he seemed down to give it to you.

Taehyung (11:11 PM): you should come by, my roommate is out

You shifted your eyes around the room, landing on Sunny studying in her corner.

You (11:13 PM): You sure??

You don’t know why you asked that.

Taehyung (11:14 PM): I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure lol

You (11:15 PM): Okay, give me a minute.

You got up and started to re-dress, and Sunny turned and gave you a curious look.

“Where are you going this late?”

Despite it being a Saturday night, she knew you didn’t go out unless you had a reason to, and usually she was tagging along.

“I uh…just remembered that there’s a group project due on Monday, they want to meet up for some last minute stuff.”

She stared at you for a long moment, you could tell she didn’t believe you, but she didn’t question it either.

“Alright, make sure you have your key.” She said as she turned back to her book, as if she knew you were going to be out late.

You grabbed a hoodie and left the dorm, making your way down some winding halls to where you knew Taehyung’s dorm was. As you stared at the door, you thought about turning back and forgetting about it, but your body was screaming at you to continue, so you knocked.

“Hey.” He smiled warmly at you, stepping back to invite you in.

It was a typical college boy’s dorm, though a lot cleaner than you had anticipated. On Taehyung’s side of the room, he had art prints on the walls and collage of Polaroid photos stuck to a cork board. As you came closer, you examined the photos and recognized some faces as well as landscapes and random objects. They were actually quite good.

He offered you a seat on his bed, since there wasn’t anywhere else, really, and he sat at his office chair, facing you.

“Sooo..” You said, glancing around the room, trying to find something interesting to focus on. When you looked back at Taehyung, he had a slight smile still present over his mouth.

“Bet you didn’t think you’d end up here, huh?” He asked, and you could tell inside he was laughing. You wanted to be annoyed by it, but he was right.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “People change their minds.”

“I charmed you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Charmed me?”

“Well, what would you call it?”

“I call it ‘started talking to me like a person and not out of pity, and revealed yourself to be maybe half-way decent.” You explained with a grin, and he laughed, nodding in agreement.

“Okay then that works.” He said, then stood and slid down next to you on the bed “Though, we have to work on that ‘maybe’ part.”

“Oh?” You asked, though your voice trembled ever so slightly as you felt his warmth close to your side.

“Yeah, I’m way more than decent. I would even say I’m damn good.”

You had a feeling he wasn’t talking about his personality anymore, and you said the first thing that came to mind

“Prove it.”

A smile broke out of his face and he bit his lower lip, eyelids fluttering as he leaned into you. You sucked in a breath just as he took your mouth with his own. Your eyes fell shut and you realized how long it’d been since you’d been kissed, and kissed like this especially. He was slow and deliberate in his movement, the supple flesh melding into yours, closer and closer until his tongue found its way inside. You angled your head and he got deeper, rolling his tongue over yours and making you moan into his mouth.

“I’d be happy to, if you mean it.” He said low against your moistened lips, and you took in a strained breath, nodding your head.

“Hmm, I’m going to have to hear you say it.”

God damn him.

“Yes.” You said in a faint voice, and he grinned triumphantly before he was suddenly kneeling in front of you. He slid his hands up across your thighs and to your front buttons, undoing them with deft hands and tugging your pants down. You raised your hips as he pulled them all the way off your legs.

“Lay back.”

You felt your arms shaking as his deep voice commanded you, and you let your upper body fall back against the mattress. He gently parted your legs and knelt between them, trailing kisses on the insides of your thighs. When he got to the top, he nuzzled his face against your soft, clothed core and you shuddered.

“Mmm.” He hummed against you, and you felt the vibrations. He took his two fingertips and slid them under the side of your underwear, pulling them completely over to the other side so that you were bare to him. You brought your hands up to your chest in clenched fists, feeling exposed and chilly and nervous, yet aroused.

The two fingers trailed away from the underwear and over your slit, just barely parting them, and he hummed again, satisfied with the traces of wetness he found there.

“I haven’t even touched you yet.” He teased, and you blushed, some of that annoyance with him trying to creep up on you. It was completely squashed when you felt his mouth, warm and wet, encase you, his tongue drawing lazily over your clit and folds. Your head tilted back and you let out a yelp, causing him to laugh low against you.

“When was the last time someone made you feel this good?” He asked as he pulled back, and your eyes snapped open.

“What?” You breathed, wondering why he’d stopped just to blab to you more.

“I’m just curious if you’re always this sensitive. I hope so.”

“Will you shut up?”

He chuckled as he swooped back in, and your eyes slammed shut once more. You weren’t sure if it was just because it had been so long, but he was every bit as good as he said he was, and now you understood why girls fell all over themselves to get with him.

You felt your knees rising back on their own, and he didn’t miss this, bringing his hands to press on your inner thighs, widening your legs and giving him even more access. Little moans kept tumbling out of you as he worked you closer and closer to release, the way his tongue was able to roll and massage over the most sensitive areas without missing a beat had your back arching and your hips twitching in pleasure.

You started to pant, and your fists tightened more, your nails leaving marks on your palms. You felt like you needed something to hold onto and dropped your arms as your hands traveled to his head. You stroked your fingers through his hair and on a particularly wonderful lap of his tongue they gripped the locks tight to his scalp. If you’d been in your right mind, you might have worried about hurting him, but instead he let out a low growl and his tongue moved more rapidly to bring you toward the mounting release.

“Oh, Tae…” You moaned wantonly, and he returned the plea with his own moan against your skin, that only added to your pleasure. Your back arched further, hips rising toward his mouth as your orgasm crashed into you with a splutter of whines. As you came down off the peak, your body shuddered hard and your legs were shaking. Taehyung released you after you were spent, and kissed your trembling thighs.

Your brain was still in a fog. You meant to sit up, but instead Taehyung crawled up the bed and lay down next to you. In a surprisingly sweet gesture, he reached over and stroked your face.

“Your cheeks are red.” He grinned, feeling proud of himself. You moved your head away and felt a little embarrassed, adjusting your under garments and pressing your thighs together. He watched you, but you couldn’t really decipher the soft expression on his face.

You happened to glance down and noted the bulge in his pants. You were all too delighted that pleasuring you had turned him on, and it was only fair to repay him the favor.

You reached down and smoothed your palm over his hard length, and wanted to die when you realized that even though fabric you could tell he was thick. You sank your teeth into your bottom lip and gave him an enticing look.

He reached down and took you by your wrist and removed your hand.

“It’s okay.”

You were confused, and pulled your arm back.

“I just thought-“

“Maybe you should get going.”

You blinked at him as he rolled over and sat up, going to his desk without another glance or word. Mortification washed over you as you silently got up off the bed and redressed, and Taehyung didn’t even walk you to the door.

On the shameful walk back to your dorm, you felt a stinging at the back of your eyes, and couldn’t believe you might actually cry. It wasn’t like you expected some kind of romantic tryst, and if he didn’t want to go any further with you that was fine, too. It was just the utterly cold way he had dismissed your presence after being intimate with him that stung hard. You hadn’t been that vulnerable with anyone in months, and the first time you did this happened.

But what did you expect? You’d known for ages that he had a reputation, so why should it surprise you?

Maybe it was all the silly conversations at 2AM, many of which weren’t even sexual. Maybe it was the fact he’d actually made you laugh and smile a couple times, in a warm, happy way.

It was definitely your own fault for trusting that, though. How stupid of you to believe it.

You were glad Sunny was already in bed when you got back, because you just knew she’d be hounding you about where you went and why you came back looking so dejected. You forced yourself to sleep despite how the regret of the night weighed heavily on you.

He had attempted to text you the next day, and the day after, as casually as ever. You ignored them, and sneered at your phone any time you saw his name pop up, though you still hadn’t brought yourself to delete the number.

On the 3rd day, he finally took note of your silence.

#v scenarios #bts scenarios #kim taehyung #bts #kpoptrashtag #kpop scenarios #college au #bts smut #kpop smut #v smut #fluff #kpop fanfiction #bangtan

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closingtheme · 3 years

Text

HAUNT 1989

Rating: Mature (For Violence, Blood, Crude Language, ukw kind of like PG-13 but more gore is allowed.

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, Other

Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)

Relationships: Stanley Uris/Original Female Character(s), The Losers Club (IT) & Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Original Hanlon Character(s), Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Beverly Marsh, Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom, Minor Characters, Bill Denbrough, Pennywise (IT), The Losers Club (IT), Henry Bowers, Henry Bowers's Gang (IT)

Additional Tags: Childhood Trauma, Childhood Friends, Childhood, First Love, Murder, Death, Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Siblings, Protective Siblings, 1980s, Adaptation, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Complete, Horror, Body Horror

Language:English

Summary: Shanice Hanlon and Her Brother Mike move to Derry after the death of their parents and encounter something that will change their lives forever.

IT.

As she navigates newfound friendship, deals with grief and trauma she tries her damnedest to survive this inhuman cause of the children of Derry disappearing.

William Hanlon was a murderer.

Shanice wanted to not believe it. She hoped it was a nightmare of some kind, a really messed up one. The day he was arrested, it’d been a particularly nice day; she remembered watching fondly at her parents as they danced to Prince. Mike had out in the park playing with neighborhood boys.

She sat to herself, on a brown, suede sofa, reading the newest issue of JET Magazine when she heard a knock--one that only she seemed to hear. Tossing her reading material to the floor, she walked from the living room to the front door, leaning up to look through the peephole.

Two officers, both white, looking very cold. Tilting her head curiously, she opened the door as the warm summer air hit her body. A brisk, balmy breeze blew her beaded hair, a feeling of nausea washed over her.

Shanice’s gaze diverts from their path with a small voice she replies, “What’s up, Officer?”

“Hey, Sweetheart. Do you know William Hanlon?”

“Yeah, that’s my Daddy. What’s this about?”

Something wasn’t right.

She could feel it.

She didn’t answer but her eyes darted to her parents who were laughing and smiling. When she doesn’t say anything, the officers glance over her shoulder at the cheery couple.

“If you stand there and stall you for his protection, you’ll be obstructing justice, young lady.”

“What, you can’t--”

She feels her body shoved out of view as the men rushed into their small two-room apartment. She could feel her mother yelling and her father suddenly burst into a rage. The sound of rushing blood flooded her ears, her wide, dark eyes glued on her father’s figure.

Chaos, pure chaos.

The memory she had of her father was nothing but a mask, a cover-up to who he was outside of their safe apartment.

Everything is a lie, nothing but lies!

“I ain’t goin’ to jail--that, that thing told me to do it. I ain't no murderer!” Tears started to stream down her cheek as--she wanted to holler, but she couldn’t utter a word or a sound.

“William!”

“William stop it, put down that gun!” Her mother runs over trying to wrestle the gun out of her father’s hands, which eventually goes off and causes a stillness to go over the room.

Her mother’s body fell first, her eyes wide and petrified. Her breaths were shallow-- her body twitched as she bled out on the floor. She seemed to mumble something, something Shanice couldn’t make out.

Then, she was gone just like that.

It was surreal, phantasmal to her eyes.

“Sir put down the weapon.” As the officers urged him to stop, her father just stood there with a smile on his face.

“Ain’t no way I’m goin’ down without my Baby Girl." His arms stretched out, he calls out to her.

"Shanice, Baby girl. Come on to Daddy, everything’s gonna be okay. We're gonna be--” With her body trembling, the teenage girl rushes out the door in a sprint, screaming. As she dashes through her neighborhood, she flags down her brother on his way back down the street.

“Hey, Shay, what’s up? Why are there a bunch of cop cars out here? Why--Shay? Shay, what’s wrong?”

“Daddy he...he shot mom, h-he’s coming for us--we gotta run--”

A resonating gunshot fills their ears before Shanice could finish her sentence. She dropped to her knees, not caring about the harsh sting on the sidewalk.

When she saw the officers rush out, she knew one thing--her father was dead. Unknown if by himself or by an officer

He was dead.

When it was discovered that her father murdered twelve children during his twenties--and more that investigators speculate, whose bodies hadn’t been found. Missing children, that will never see their families again.

Shanice and her brother Mike were another set of victims that suffered due to his crimes.

A man died the day her father was arrested, not William Hanlon, the murderer, but the man she thought was her father along with her mother.

Moving to Derry from North Carolina was a lot for a fourteen-year-old who experienced the tragedy of seeing both of her parents and a thirteen-year-old who feels he should’ve been there.

It was a place they'd spent their early years at, it is held with some sort of nostalgia.

After climbing herself into the bed of her grandfather's truck, Shanice peered over at her brother with a small smile.

“It’s gonna be okay Mike--alright?” The young boy nods--Shanice wonders if she said the words only to comfort Mike or herself. After a month of being in state custody, being petrified and scarred was the least of her worries.

She was afraid. She hated that part of her, the part that made her human.

Being afraid is time-consuming; being afraid gives way to cowardice. Being afraid stopped her from being by her mother’s side, being afraid stopped her from confronting her father.

Moreover, she’d be the one to look after Mike when her grandfather eventually dies too.

Shanice was wearing jean shorts and a white, polo shirt, indicative of the springtime, transitioning summertime heat. She hangs her head between her legs, the heaviness of her braids connected with her heart. Feeling emotional exhaustion, she curls up and forces herself to sleep on the bed of the hot truck bed.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t have a dream or a nightmare. What wakes her up is the sharp jerk of her grandfather’s truck and she finds him grinning a toothy grin at her.

“Alright Baby Girl, we’re here!”

A farmhouse, one she remembered playing in as a kid. Chasing around pigs and playing in the creek--she’d be happier to be there if it wasn’t for the circumstances. She quietly descends from the back of the truck, taking the bulk of their things. Her brother was as her grandfather described as ‘soft’ and the aforementioned man was already in his sixties, worn down from working diligently for years--she felt it was more than necessary.

“You shouldn’t be carrying all those things, let Granddad take it.” Shanice waves off her grandfather’s helping hand.

“It’s cool, Texas built me well. I’ve got it.”

“Go on now. Pull it.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“People need to eat.”

“But how would you feel? Raised for food...” Shanice, who was drinking a glass of Kool-Aid watched as her grandfather attempted to teach her brother how--slaughter a sheep. She frowned. Her brother was such a sweet boy, couldn’t harm a fly even if he was forced to--and this was the exact opposite of the Patriarch.

“Like I’d want you to get it over with is how I’d feel... Remember what I told you? You gotta do this quick. If the animal senses what you’re about to do, if it starts to fear you, adrenaline courses through its body and changes the taste and the meat winds up tough.” Drinking the rest of the red liquid, Shanice sets her glass down and makes her way over to the barn.

“Granddaddy, forcing him ain’t gonna do you no good.”

“Babying the boy ain’t gonna do you no good.” He then turns to the machine and without an inkling of hesitation pulling the trigger, killing the sheep it was aiming for.

“You need to start taking more responsibility around here, Mike. Your Dad was younger than you when he took this over--”

“But what if I can’t? What if I don’t want to do this, be here.” His words made Shanice frown--Watching silently as their grandfather spoke on.

“Look at me--you too Baby Girl.” The old man points to the sheep lined up to be slaughtered--quietly, patiently.

Waiting to be consumed.

“Let me y’all about being here. ‘Cuz you two need to understand something. There are two places you can be in this world. You can be out here, like us. Or you can be in there, like those eager bastards right there”

He continues with, “And if you waste too much time hemming and hawing, that choice is gonna be made for you. ‘Cept you won’t know it 'til you feel the bolt blast right between your eyes.” Shanice blankly stares at him, unaffected by the words while her brother trembles in fear.

“Ok, ok. Here." She hands then both sandwiches wrapped in saran wrap.

"A cheese sandwich on wheat bread for Mike and a Ham sandwich on rye for you, Granddaddy.”

....

‘ Van Gogh, and Rembrandt, don't be uptight, cause here comes KID DYNOMITE. ’

While the two men in her life sitting in the living room watching the Good Times , Shanice looks outside, at the forest outlining their house.

She didn’t hate Derry but something about Derry left her feeling like there was something outlining--maybe she thought too much.

A few weeks passed, today was Shanice’s last day of class. Mike remained home, homeschooled by their Granddaddy who said, "The boy needs to learn about the land."

Her baby’s face contorted, yet she doesn’t follow up his answer with another question.

Finishing off her bowl of cereal, her brother appears from his room.

“Remember to do that test so we wrap stuff off it mail it off, ok? I'll see you when I get home.” Shanice mutters to her little brother, giving him a tight hug.

“Ride safe--don’t speak to strangers.” Shanice blinks at her grandfather who has her blocked from leaving the driveway. It’s been a minute since they moved to Derry, but he still went over the same Spiel to her every morning.

“Granddaddy I’m already fourteen, you know?" Shanice groans, feeling as if she was practically ancient at that age, "You’ve been saying that since we got here.”

“And? You’re prey to anything out there.” Shanice rolls her eyes, beginning to ride away.

“I’ll keep that in mind!”

Shanice arrived at the school--preteens, teenagers fill the entrance like crowded in herds like those doomed sheep at the farm. She gripped her backpack, it being empty--her knowing it was the last day and that she wouldn't bother trying to stay in class.

Watching students dispersing in to clear out their lockers, walking, she overhears a group of boys talking.

“How’s it work?”

“They slice part of his penis off.”

“That can’t be true. He’d have nothing left...”

She grimaces.

Boys discussing circumcision.

Nice.

Shaking her head, she gets to the girl’s bathroom, where she planned to attempt to wait until the bell rung.

She pauses when she hears a commotion coming from the lockers around the corner.

“...I think I can handle this.”

There’s a bang as if something or someone slammed against it followed by mocking laughter.

“Sure know how to spread ‘em, slut!”

Her face tenses up. She quickly debates whether or not to get herself involved-- resigning to help the girl. She slams open the door she's cooped up, letting her presence known. At her reveal, the girls stiffen--one, in particular, stood with a hockey stick in her hand. Her eyes glance at another girl, a redhead who seemed to be shaking. Her pale knees were bruised, purple, and blue.

She glares at the girls, who quickly leave, like a gaggle of hens.

“Hey, you okay?”

When the girl nods, Shanice lets out a sigh of relief.

The last thing she could make out on the girl was her fiery hair as she ran off in the opposite direction, making her way to her destination.

It’s around four by the time Shanice leaves school. After picking up Mike and dropping off his test materials at the post office--she calls her grandfather at a payphone in advance that they’d be a little late.

Stopping and parking the car on the side of the street, there’s a woman frantically stapling a poster to a light post. It was a missing child flyer for a kid named Dorsey Corcoran. Right beside it is a sign that says, ‘REMEMBER THE CURFEW, 7 P.M.’

She spots the two siblings running over to hand the older of the two.

"Please tell me if you've seen my son. Please."

Both of the siblings stare at her retreating figure in silent sympathy, heading into the grocery store after a beat.

It was such a sign of fleeting hope.

“What’s up?” He asks her brother as they make their way through the small grocery store. He seemed to be off in his thoughts, so she felt like something was wrong. Ever since the accident, he’d gotten quieter, and quieter.

It was concerning.

The boy looks the other way and mutters, “Nothing.” and she drops it, for now.

Riding home, she glances over at her brother.

“Try to put up with Granddaddy this summer, ok?” ‘We’re the only people he has left.’ She wanted to add but decided against it.

He nods and she adds, “I’ll do the farm work too.”

His face brightens up and it cheers her up as well.

The next day, Shanice decides to look for work and to drop off meat at the Butcher’s with Mike after he insisted on going--probably because he didn’t feel comfortable alone with their grandfather.

After finishing those duties they head out on her bike, Shanice has a feeling she can’t shake.

The feel of being followed.

“I think someone’s following us.” She could feel her brother’s confused expression through his voice.

“Who?” He turns around. She sees some sort of sports car--it starts honking at them, not letting off. It starts to increase in speed, edging on them as if to swallow them whole. Her brother frantically goes faster and faster until they manage to crash into a tree.

Laughter and mischievous hollering emerge from the car, as well as a taunt.

“Stay the fuck out of my town!”

“Hey! What the fuck is wrong with y'all?” Shanice yells at the car as it flies away, helping her brother to his feet. She looks at themselves--he wasn't hurt too bad, neither was she.

The real damage was her bike--it mangled beyond recognition.

“Let’s just carry this thing to the house, Mike.” She says, turning to her brother, who seems to be locked in a trance by something.

“Mike?”

“Huh?”

She frowns.

“Let’s go home.”

....

The two get home, both weathered and tired. Leroy spots them and smiles at them like an old, amused tabby.

“Long day, you two?” The two siblings stay quiet, sitting at the dining table in mutual silence.

“Something happened while y’all two were out on collections?”

He pauses as if he knew the answer once the question flew from his mouth and onto the cold, wooden table. Shanice’s and Mike’s eyes dart from each other to the elderly man.

“Saw Baby Girl’s bike. Y’all have a run-in with the Bowers boy?” Mike gazes at his grandfather, then nods.

“Yeah.”

“That’s it? Hmmm, thought it was something else...”

“Something else like what?” His words catch Shanice’s attention.

“Dunno. Y’all tell me.” Shanice holds his gaze, clearly unhappy that he might be hiding something from her, but doesn’t question further--hell, she wouldn’t even know where to start if anything. Instead, she elaborates on the whole Bowers interaction.

“He mangled up my bike and almost killed us with his car--he’s a total psychopath."

“Is that why do we live outside of town? Is it because of the Bowers?” Mike follows up, with questions of his own.

'Stay the fuck of out of my town!’ His words echo through her head, her hand makes fists. Licking her she asks,

"Granddaddy, are we outsiders?"

“No. We live out here because I want the best for my grandchildren." He says to his grandson, patting his shoulder before sighing at his granddaughter. "We're not outsiders. See, it’s not just the Bowers that ain’t right. It’s that whole town that’s wrong...”

Silence once again overtakes the three.

Inching, aching, catching them by the throat.

“Do y’all know what a haunt is?”

An unknown fear.

....

Shanice had dreamed later that night. It was seven years ago.

She still had her family together.

She was at a grocery store, with her mother, their hands clasped--her mother was glowing, her toothy smile made her so happy she was speechless.

As she reached out to hold her mother, everything disappeared around her--her mother glanced at her with crimson hands. She wore horror on her round face, her hands trembling, shaking with fright.

Her mother looks at her.

“My baby, why didn’t you save me?”

Then, she smiles. Her grin wide, unsettling--yet, it drew her in.

The false sense of comfort that caressed her, that infantile warmth.

Shanice, grounded, shakes her head.

“Mama I--” Her mother holds her face in her hands--dirty metal and aging rust fill Shanice’s senses, and she closes her eyes.

“Mama, I’m so sorry. I was so scared.” Her mother laughed, bringing Shanice's head to her chest--the smell of Swisher Sweets, the ones her Mama used to smoke, calmed her down--she breathes in, wailing as she stroked her hair.

"There ain't no reason to be scared."

Shanice weeps, now alone with nothing but a bright, red balloon in her mother’s place--yet, her voice is still heard light, her soft giggle giddy.

"Eventually, we all float, baby."

....

There was something strange about Derry that Shanice couldn’t quite put her finger on. As she stood in the kitchen, frying eggs and stirring a pot of grits, she felt complex. She couldn’t sleep, the bags under her eyes were evidence of that. On top of everything, her monthly friend came around to give her terrible cramps. She’d be good for a day or before the red flood starts, but probably be better off She tries to get stuff off her mind by turning on her off-white boombox, with a New Edition song playing.

Mike appears. He looks as weathered as her.

“Hey, Mikey.” She finds herself calling him what she did when they were much younger. When everything had a sense of normality.

Shanice gives him a quick hug, planting a quick kiss on top of his head.

“You look like shit.”

“...you do too, Shay.” She shakes her head, tittering as a distant rooster sounds off.

“Imma go to the pharmacy--wanna come?”

When Mike shakes his head, she makes her way upstairs to change and go out. Her beaded, braided hair clinking and shaking as she looked around. settling on a pair of black shorts and a white t-shirt. After lacing up her red converses, she waves her brother goodbye with a gap-toothed smile.

She takes the long walk into town.

When she makes it to Keene’s Pharmacy, she’s sweating, a bit fatigued. She notices a familiar head of ginger hair and notices the girl she’d seen while working at the school looking at a shelf of tampons and pads like it was a guillotine.

“Hey.” She looks startled, turning her sight at the small yet imposing girl. She's short than her--her dark eyes are big, deep-set--her grin makes her seem approachable, her head cocked to the side with her hands in her pockets.

"Thanks, I'm Bev."

“Shanice. Periods, they suck right? You look a little overwhelmed. Your Mama never told you about them?” At the mention of a mother, the girl shifts in a pretty floral dress.

“My...my mom’s not here anymore.”

She gives her a small, toothy smile.

“Mine isn't either. Good thing she taught me about that stuff. You’re looking at a five-year veteran.” She watches the girl’s face pale.

“Five years...” The girl trails off, before looking and hiding behind Shanice. Shanice looks in the direction that she glances at and recognizes the girl’s voice--the girl from the bathroom. She finds a haughty-looking chewing gum quiet-loud before she explains, “Watch it, losers!” at a group of boys who pass her and her way out.

Glancing around the girl trembling behind her, with her voice dropped down to a whisper she asks, “Was that one of the girls from the bathroom”

She nods, only sighing relief when she realizes she’s gone.

“Are you ok?”

“Uh...I’m fine. So...when did you get it?”

Shanice gives her a confused look.

“Oh, the thing. Nine.”

“Really? I didn’t know people got it that early, that's gotta suck.”

They continue to talk until she notices the girl glance at the boys coming in. They’re all chattering, inspecting each other's monetary means.

An older man stares at them sharply--then, locks eyes with Shanice before grumbling.

Shanice finds some products with good absorption levels, the group of boys staring at her with curiosity.

“Who are you?” Shanice smiles at Richie who seems to size her up.

"The name's Shanice. SHA-Niece. You can call me Shay." she says with emphasis, adding. "My family used to live here, before...”

“I’m Richie, that’s Bill, Stan, Eddie, Ben--and she’s--”

"Bev, I know. We met earlier."

The teenager nods, looking over as the aforementioned girl knocks down a cigarette display--the next thing she knows they’ve run out of the pharmacy, like bandits. Shanice finds herself following them into an alleyway, where Ben is being patched up due to a gnarly injury.

"W-We're going the quarry, wanna come?" She looks over at Bill, who asks the question to Beverly, but sheepishly looks back at her

“Y-you should come too.”

Beverly smiles.

“Sure. See you around.” The two girls walk out of the alleyway, into the main street.

“Want me to walk you home?” Beverly looked at her with a flash of concern before nodding.

“Where do you live?” A breeze past them as they walk--as they stroll deeper, houses become noticeably different. A lot of them are older, abandoned, or hadn't been repairs in years.

It's a run-down area, neglected by the rest of the town.

“The outskirts.” She frowns.

“Why?”

“Dunno. The people in the town think my Granddaddy’s strange--but you know what I think? This weird town is mistaking who and what is really strange.”

....

The teenagers make it out to the quarry the next day. Shanice finds Beverly standing off to the side, now sporting a bob.

“New Haircut?” Bev, hearing her voice putting her hand to her hair absentmindedly.

“Yeah.”

“It suits you, I think it’s cool. You look a lot like Molly Ringwald.”

The boys, who have stripped to their underwear, are contemplating who should jump first.

“Who’s first?” Bill inquiries.

“Eddie?” The fourteen-year-old rebuttals, “Screw that.”

Shanice and Bev who stand off the shadow look at each other.

“They’re a gang of wusses.” Shanice stifles her laughter, before doubling over.

“Right? Inviting us over and acting like a bunch of wusses!” For a moment, silence befalls the girls, only the boy’s chatter can be heard--then, Beverly gives the girl a look, a wild one, dripping with adrenaline.

“Hey, wanna jump?”

Shanice grins.

“Why not?”

The two quickly discard their clothing--a pair of denim overalls and plain summer dress--before bolting as fast as their legs could muster, their hands clasped, jumping into the murky waters below.

After a while, everyone is out of the water, resting on rocks while Shanice finds solace in the sort of cool temperature of the water. On Richie’s boombox, a song, one that made her bob her head slightly, she finds herself singing along in a small voice,

“I’m alive, huh, huh, so alive...”

Her body goes deeper, the sound of the music becomes muted. She felt like she was being tugged, something was her pulling away--when she realizes, it's too late. She's seized, water begins filing her mouth, nose, the sight of a balloon rising above her field of underwater vision--Shanice wakes up, coughing up violently.

Her body’s laid flat out on a scalding rock, all around her are the teenagers, still soaking wet in their undergarments. Dread overcomes, her throat burns as if it’s been choked--the Stan looks over at her concerned, his curly hair puffy, tangled like a bird’s nest.

His cheeks are flushed--he looks frazzled if anything.

“What the fuck...” She mutters before coughing up more water.

“Are you ok?”--Stan asks, his face inches away from hers--they lock eyes for a moment before he looks away, even more flustered--the chain event leaves her puzzled as she tries to catch her breath.

“Not bad for almost dying,” She jokes, sitting up. Her head feels heavy as she’s coughing up more water, taking a few breathes before sighing in relief.

“Did you guys drag me out?”

"Nope, Stan the Man dived in when he saw you were gone." Richie quips--Shanice gives Stan a jovial smile.

After she pulls away and walks over to her backpack to pull out her bottled water.

“So? Aren’t we gonna talk about how Stan slobbered all over her li--” Shanice stops and looks over Richie with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Nothing--it’s nothing,” Richie says, drawing his attention to something else--with that something else being Ben’s backpack. Shuffle through it, he pulls out books--lots of them.

“You went to the library? On your own? For fun?”

“Oh, uh, when I moved here I didn’t have anyone to hang out with or anything, so I just started spending time in the library.” Shanice grins while Richie frowns.

“Seriously? You went to the library? On your own? For fun?”

“He's 'cultured' or whatever,” Shanice notes, shaking her drenched hair before continuing, “girls like that kinda stuff sometimes.” She gestures to him inches in for a better look at the copies of newspaper stories Ben had gathered.

“Derry’s not like any town I moved to. And we’ve moved a lot. Did you guys know people die violently here or disappear like six times the national average?” Ben states, gaining the wide eyes of the teens in the process.

“That’s just adults. Kids are worse. Way worse.”

“You know, my granddaddy said that.” The group's eyes glance at their oldest, with morbidly curious stares.

“Said what?” Beverly asks--Shanice reminds her of what they talked about on the way to her house.

“Like I said yesterday ...that this whole town’s wrong. He’s been here for a while. Seen things, probably.”

A unanimous shiver occurs.

“I’ve got more stuff if you wanna see it...at home.”

Shanice could call his room one thing. Messy--indicative of a boy. Covering every inch of his bedroom walls were more newspaper clippings--some dating back a whole century.

“This is pretty impressive,” Shanice croons, amazed, sipping on her bottle of water.

“Cool, huh?” Ben replies.

“No!” Richie yells with immediate denial.

Bill's off in a corner, looking at an ‘ancient’ paper--as Shanice looks closer, she sees it says ‘INCORPORATION OF THE TOWNSHIP OF DERRY’.

“What’s this, Ben?

“The charter for Derry Township--it’s kind of interesting, actually. Derry started as a beaver trapping camp.”

“Still is. Am I right, boys?” Everyone looks at Richie who grins--it’s quiet until Shanice retorts with a snort “That joke is almost as funny drying paint.” Beverly shakes her head, hiding her smile while everyone has a good laugh at his expense.

“So it’s a record of them coming over here--what makes it so special.” Ben raises his eyebrows, almost relieved the conversation managed to get back to its original point.

“Ninety-one people signed the charter that made Derry. But then, later that winter, they all disappeared, without a trace.”

Everyone stops--the only sound that could be heard was the breeze from out the house. Ninety-one people--gone, just like that. In Shanice’s head, possibilities run. Diseases? Famine? Sure, that can happen--but everyone--every last, single person?

Eddie looks particularly spooked by the information, cautiously asking “The entire camp?”

“There were rumors of Indians but no sign of an attack. Others thought it was a plague or something. It was like everyone just woke up one day and left. The only clue was a big hole in the ground where the wellhouse was.”

“Jesus, we could get Derry on unsolved mysteries!” Ignoring Richie’s quip, Bill asks “Wh-where was the wellhouse?”

“Somewhere in town, I guess...”

“What’s the point of all this? What are you gonna do with it?” Stan asks--Shanice herself wondered it too.

Truthfully, he shrugs, saying “Dunno. Just killing time I guess.”

....

“Can you do the deliveries by yourself today?” Shanice asks her brother, she stood beside the bathroom, brushing her teeth. The teenager gives her a glance, then nods his head. She smiles, taking her tired body back to the room, quickly slipping on her white summer dress and her sneakers--making her way down the stairs, stops her in her tracks at the sound of her grandfather's weary voice.

“Baby Girl?”

“Yeah, Grandaddy?”

“Be safe.” Shanice looks at him, before pecking his cheeks, hugging him tightly.

“Ok, I love you.”

“Love you too, Shanice.”

Later on that day, Shanice finds herself going about absent-mindedly. She had nightmares again--so many more since she moved to Derry--since everything happened.

There was a common theme with her nightmares--the inclusion of a red balloon--but what did it mean?

She follows until he finds herself in the neighborhood where Bev lived, when--she notices the whole group gathers on the sidewalk, in front of her place.

“Hey...what’s going on?”

“Bev called. She’s freaked out about something... Sh-sh-she told us to wait out here until--”

A door bursts open--it’s Beverly, out of breath, spooked.

“You made it. I need to show you guys something...Shanice you--”

“Uh, hey. I ran into the guys while I was out. What’s up?”

Ben follows her question with, “Yeah, what is it?”

“Did we just win the Publisher's Clearinghouse ten million dollar sweepstakes? If Ed McMahon is in there I’m going to lose my sh--” Shanice glances before giving him a sharp punch in the arm.

“Read the room, Richie!”

“I just need to know I’m not crazy. But my Dad will kill me if he finds out I had you guys over.”

“We’ll leave a lookout. Richie?” Bill says as he looks at the teen who’s still rubbing his arm.

“Yeah, whatever. Ed McMahon can wait...”

Shanice gives him a look before they head inside her house. The light shines through the desolate feeling house as they follow her--farther into the house--until she stops in front of a door.

“In there,” Beverly says, her voice a fine to a whisper. Stan, who was beside Shanice asks, “What are we about to walk into?”

“You’ll see.” She doesn’t open the door--she seems rooted in her place--instead, it’s Bill who opens the door with her and Eddie following after --and the smell hits Shanice like a slap to the face. Her eyes were wide, visibly shaken. She doubles back until her back is against the wall and she falls on her bottom.

“You see it?” Beverly asks Bill.

“What happened?”

“The sink. It came out from there. My Dad couldn’t see it. I thought I was going crazy...” Shanice looks over at Bill, breathing heavily.

“You’re not going crazy. I saw something too. I-I, I saw Georgie.”

“Like a ghost?” Eddie asks, trying to avoid looking into the room again.

“N-no. He tried to get me to go into the basement with him. It wasn’t just him either. I saw this other... I don’t know."

“What’d you see, Bill?” Stan presses,

“The Clown?”

“And red balloons?” Shanice says immediately after Eddie, loud enough for everyone to hear. Bill doesn’t have a thing to say, only his silence the answer. They both shake, Shanice is trying to keep calm, while Eddie full-on freaks out.

“Are you two okay?” Beverly asks, concerned.

“Go outside. Keep Richie company, okay?” Eddie nods, Shanice shakes her head.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I am. Look, let’s just focus on cleaning this blood up.”

“R-Right, we can’t leave it like this.”

....

Cleaning--cleaning, cleaning, covered in blood.

Bill, Ben, Beverly, Stan, and Shanice spent time cleaning the bathroom, full of blood only they could see. Stan crouches next to her and asks, “Are you really, ok?” the sixteen-year-old glances over him, continuing to clean.

“I’m ok, I said before. I’m just...tired. This town makes me tired.”

Soon after they’re finished and exit the building, going down to Kansas Street.

“All that blood at your place and you s-say your folks didn’t see any of it... Last night at my house, with Georgie and the water, my Dad just acted like everything was normal--I think if you’re a grown-up...” Bill trails off, looking off into the distance.

“They can’t see it.” Eddie chimes in, which in turn Richie questions: “Can’t see what?”

“It.” Beverly answers.

“That’s why the cops won’t help, our parents, teachers...”

The group of kids stops, while Shanice continues to walk until she sees it--her brother’s mangled bike in a bush.

“...that’s my brother’s bike.” She looks over at Bill, her face in a deep frown, rage bubbling in her chest.

"It’s..it's that Bowers guy again, that’s why y'all stopped, right?”

“We have to help him,” Beverly says, seeing Shanice runoff, already in hot pursuit of her brother and the gang of high-schoolers.

“We do?” Richie snorts, watching the same, to which Bill replies, “If we don’t, who will? That could be any one of us.”

Shanice runs and runs, only stopping when she’s greeted by the sight of her brother's face being shoved in the same meat they deliver every week.

“Hey, you fuck faces!” Shanice yells, her voice being drowned out by their laughter and tithers, she meets her brother's eyes as he tries to crawl to her--only yanked back by the boys crowding him. He’s the ground, one of their sneakers dig into the boy’s skull, then--

CRACK!

A rather large rock first hits one of the boys, straight in the face, leaving blood gushing from his face. The assailant is Shanice, who's backup came in the form of Beverly, Bill, Richie, Eddie, and Stan.

“Holy shit!” Richie exclaimed, staring at the girl who was still throwing blows.

“Nice throw.” Stan compliments, although the armed girl hadn’t heard him--she was busy trying to save her brother.

Seeing the bullies distracted, she hurriedly yelled, “Mike, run!”

The boy scrambles to his feet, into the arms of his sister, who squeezes him tight.

The two siblings seemed to have reunited, beside them was an all-out rock war.

Rocks fly in the air, everyone ducks, hoping not to get hit by the hail of fire. When they realize they’ve been outmanned, Bill, their unassigned leader, screams for them to run.

“Mike, get on my back.”

“But--”

“I said get on my back, come on!"

They race until they find themselves back on a residential street. Everyone’s catching their breaths, tired from the sudden encounter.

Mike looks at the teenager whilst standing beside his sister relenting, “Thanks but you shouldn’t have done that. He’ll be after you guys now too.”

“Bowers? He’s always after us.” Eddie says and the rest shrugs in reply.

“I-I guess that’s one thing we all have in common,” Bill remarks, almost with a bit of sarcasm, while Richie full-on deadpans.

“Yeah, welcome to the Losers Club.”

....

“I was thinking about It. Ironworks explosion in 1904. Bradley Gang in ‘32. The Black Spot in ‘59. And now with Georgie, Dorsey, and the rest--it seems like this bad stuff happens nearly every thirty years.”

Time’s passed, and the fourth of July is right around the corner--the town of Derry takes things quite seriously--patriotic imagery scattered everywhere, vendors selling brightly labeled fireworks. Her grandfather would probably be out at the farmhouse on the outskirts, burning meat while they celebrated in their own way.

The self-proclaimed, ‘Losers Club’ members sit near the Paul Bunyan statue in the central square. Stan rests his head on her shoulder, listening to Ben’s Ominous rambling with her. Her brother on the other side with a complicated expression, sunglasses perched on her head through her bushy hair.

Stan raises his head from its place with uncertain eyes trained on Ben.

“So what, this town is cursed?”

“That’s what my grandfather thinks...”

Stan questions and Mike answers--Shanice glances at Stan, thinking back to her grandfather’s choice words for the Town.

She glances at the rest of the ‘Losers’, raising the question, “Y’all know what a haunt is?” her voice is soft, childish but it gathers the group’s attention.

“You mean like in a ‘who-ya-gonna-call’ sense?” Shanice shifts her eyes to Richie, shaking her head.

“Nah, not like that. Haunt can also mean like a feeding ground for animals--or for something else. My grandfather told me he thinks all the bad things that happen in this town are caused by one thing. An evil thing, that feeds off the people of Derry--one that fed off of him.”

Feeling all eyes on her and Mike, urging her to continue.

“After that run-in with Bower’s gang--”

--Mike and Shanice make it home, black and blue.

The two siblings look as if they’d been run through the wringer--or under the siege of rocks and boot soles.

Their Grandfather, who was sitting in the living, itching to chew them out stops and rushes over to them after seeing Mike’s bruises.

“What in God’s name--”

“--it’s Bowers, again,” Shanice mutters, spitting out the name without reluctance.

Sighing, her grandfather states, “...at least you two came home in one piece. That’s all I care for at the moment.”

She nods, heading to the kitchen for a glass of lemonade while Mike quietly sits at the table. Her grandfather takes off his farming gloves, taking a seat next to his grandson.

“Aside from that, Granddaddy, you’ve lived here for a while, right?” Shanice asks, after a beat of silence, handing him a drink after she’d already poured her.

After another beat, he answers before downing the drink in his hands, “About my whole life.”

The siblings, Mike now taking a bit more confidence, “Granddaddy, have you seen the clown?”

He pauses but lets out an uncharacteristically jovial laugh.

“What clown are you talking about, boy?”

Mike glances at his sister, Shanice before nudging her.

“Granddaddy, we wanna know if you know ‘It’?”

The glass in his hand had fallen to the ground, shattering--the sound made Shanice flinches, unknowingly, goosebumps litter her skin. The Hanlon Patriarch sits, shaking a bit--Shanice quickly looks to see if he’s ok but stops after seeing his face. He shook, he looked, spooked--haunted, repulsed at the very mention of ‘ It ’.

“Now y’all listen to me and listen to me good. There’s a reason why I tell y’all this town is strange.” As the three of them sat down at the dining table their grandfather lifted his pants leg to reveal—a wooden leg. It was smooth, oak-toned, and worn down by time. As he silently lets his pants leg, his voice begins to tremble, deep and strained.

“Sixty-six years ago, I lost my leg to It. I was only a boy, a year younger than Baby Girl.”

The children clutch either, Shanice holds Mike close as they both sat in shock.

“He was right. It--It is somethin’ evil.” Shanice finally whispers, her eyes narrow, like slits to a dark abyss. The mood chills amongst the teenagers when they realize they’re dealing with big--that seemed to be after kids.

....

The teens sit in the Monument, they glanced at her with startled eyes.

“But It can’t be one thing. We’re all seeing something different...”

“Yeah, but I think that’s because It uses our worst fears to scare us...”

Bill begins to speculate, “I guess that’s why I’m seeing Georgie.” Eddie follows him by saying, “I saw a walking infection. What’d about you, Richie? What are you afraid of?”

Richie frowns.

“Clowns.”

....

Shanice yawns.

It was a Thursday, ten in the morning.

‘The Losers Club’ sat in Denbrough's garage. Facing Shanice is a map of the sewers, projected on the wall in front of her and the rest of the ‘Losers’. The lights illuminate the room, almost as if they were telling ghost stories under a flashlight. Bill looks over to Ben, questioning if he brought ‘the map’; that map being an old map to Derry.

“Look.” Bill addresses the rest of the group, “Th-there’s the Ironworks. There’s the B-black Spot. Everywhere It happened to be is all c-connected by the sewers and they all meet up at.”

“The wheelhouse,” Ben notes.

“It’s in the house on Neibolt street.” Shanice furrows in curiosity her brows at Eddie’s words.

“Neibolt Street?”

“You mean that creepy-ass house where all the junkies and hobos like to sleep?”

“I hate that place.” Beverly says with a frown, adding, “It always feels like it’s watching you.”

“That’s where It lives,” Bill murmurs, staring at the image projection, until--Eddie, wheezing, rips the map clean off the wall.

“Can we stop talking about this? This is summer -- we’re kids -- we’re supposed to be--” He says through pants with Richie gets up abruptly adding, “I agree with Eds.”

“No...put the map back, Eddie--”

Suddenly, the light isn’t shining against the wall, nor is projecting the map of Derry either--instead, it shines bright in Eddie’s face, like a truck's headlights with Eddie mirror the look of a Deer caught in them.

“What happened?” Bill begins to get up from his seat when he stops to stare at the image projected.

It’s vacation photos, showing a happy family. Shanice recognizes Bill in it, smiling, in what seems like hiking clothes. Beside him is a boy that looks about 70% similar to him--a lot like him, but not entirely. She could only guess it was Georgie, Bill’s younger brother that died.

The projector keeps going.

Next photo there’s one of the family swimming--then, the boy--Georgie is standing at the edge of the lake. When Shanice is morbidly expecting it to switch to another photo, it doesn’t.

It shows the same picture, of the same boy--again, and again, and again.

But, there’s something different--it was as if the boy was moving, like a video. And slowly, Georgie turns his face to view his audience--them--with his face is painted with terror.

“Georgie?” Bill implores, almost in a whisper as Richie mutters, probably to himself, “What the fuck?”

“Somebody, turn this shit off,” Shanice begs, her voice shaking as she locks eyes with the child. He begins to run to the camera as if to leap out to them. Tears run down her face, she feels rooted in her place.

She can’t move, she’s paralyzed with fear.

“I SAID TURN IT OFF!” Again, everyone is fixated on the projection--he looks as if he wants to plead for help--moving his mouth rapidly--but he can’t; there’s no sound.

Stan runs to unplug the machine--it doesn’t do anything--it was like it was being controlled by some sort of specter; a supernatural force. It's presence lights up the dark garage, illuminating with a forthright glow incandesce in combination with the flickering photos.

“Georgie!” Bill screams.

Almost immediately, Georgie ran out of the frame.

Then, what the boy seemed to have been running from appears.

A clown, standing in the water. A macabre figure off the shore, staring at the group of teenagers.

One with receding ginger hair, staring at them, the ‘Losers’ with the biggest smile on its face. Waving at them, holding an oddly familiar red balloon.

“It’s fucking looking at us. What the fuck.” Shanice mumbles her face still that of disbelief, not feeling Richie squeeze her arm.

“Holy shit...”

“That’s It. That’s him.” Stan declares, as if confirmation for their separate, yet united experiences. That the threat that terrorized the teens was real, and that it was out to get them--a vengeful spirit beyond their dreams and glimpses.

Its face grows more fluid, closer and closer--

When It appears right in front of the camera, contiguous and menacing.

Various high-pitched screams echo throughout the garage, the teenagers scattering farther from the wall--Mike runs up, kicking the projector off of its box-structured stand. Shanice follows her brother’s lead, as his action snaps her out of whatever hold It had on her--she grabs a baseball bat--a steel one leaning against the wall, grabbing it and smashing the vessel of their collective fear.

Over and over and over until there was nothing else projected.

Stan looks at Shanice, both amazed and terrified at the amount of strength shown in her short, stout body. Quickly, he seizes her arms, causing her to stop her movement--she stands, frozen, still holding the means of destruction in her hand. Her eyes have grown wide from shock. Teardrops still fell from her watery, dark eyes as she shook in the boy’s arms. Her throat felt raw, from her fright-filled vocalized pleads.

Her face the color of cool, raw umber--still plump from baby fat, emitting a dark russet-colored rogue flushed with dread.

She was shaken, and Stan in his own way attempted to comfort her. He, with as much compassion a thirteen-year-old could muster awkwardly pats her back before letting go.

He couldn’t help but question wearily, “How’d that even happen?”

Eddie, still scared, replies “It saw us. It knows who we are now.”

“It’s always known who we were, Eddie. That’s how It knows how to scare us.” Shanice says, panting.

“Yeah, it always did,” Bill agreed, his voice unusually rough and strained.

“--at least It’s gone now.”

Bev speaks, soft as a rushed whisper, “Uh, guys?” but no one’s paying attention.

They all were trying to process what they all just saw.

The Hanlon siblings stare at the smashed projector, then at each other--their expression complex as they ask, “Yeah, but for how long?”

“Guys?”

Silence befell them, only Bev’s voice remains.

“GUYS!”

Her abrupt scream got the group to turn their attention to her. They follow her eyes to the ceiling, where she’s gazing at something above. The smashed--almost obliterated projector, much wider the image that’s shown to them.

It.

Staring at them, with a hate-filled growl stirring from its throat. It’s fast at first, as instant as polaroid, then slow, as he was creeping up on them-- It’s white, gloved hand tick out as if to grasp Bev by her neck--Bill pulls her away, but Its arm seems to stretch, determined of Its target.

His hold tightens on Bev, with his resolve to not let It take her.

The room is suddenly flooded with sunlight--the garage door opens, with Ben ultimately being the one who deters It away from them. The image of It disappears, the two kids let out a sigh of relief.

For now.

“Yeah. Thanks, Ben, Bill. Good, uh thinking.”

Bill lets go of Bev, turning to the rest of them.

No one says anything. Everyone’s processing things, trying to process that what they saw was real. Richie looks particularly unresponsive--no snide remarks or quick jokes with god-awful punchlines. Just a pale face, his mouth open and aghast--the fact that his ultimate fear came to life clear as day.

“No jokes this time, Rich?” Stan’s question is as awkward as it sounds, in this kind of environment, but it cuts the tension, slowly.

“Not today Stan, please,” Shanice warns, watching Richie slowly shake his head.

Despite the summer sunshine, the mood in the room was heavy.

“Okay so...” Bill begins, making everyone look his way, “Let’s go.”

“Go? Where?” Ben, asking the question of everyone’s mind.

“Neibolt. That’s where Georgie is. We have to go--” Shanice cuts him off, still shaken by what she just saw.

“Are you shitting me, Bill? After what just happened? It’s real. It is going to fucking kill us!” Everyone nods, Stan mimicking her thoughts saying, “Shay’s right. After that? No. No way.”

“Yeah...I’m with them.” Richie says, still sounding small, defeated.

“Fine. Then don’t.”

Mike looks at his sister and Bill, shaking his head.

“Wait, Bill--”

His words don’t reach him.

Bill hops on his bike, already getting ready to head to Neibolt.

“That thing took my brother. I’m going.”

The remaining ‘Losers’ watch as his figure gets smaller and smaller.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Shanice says, biting her lips, not releasing the hold till she tastes the iron of her own blood. Letting out a scream of frustration, she tosses the bat she used to crush the projector to Beverly, grabbing her brother's hand.

“Mike, let’s go get this boy before gets himself hurt.” Mike nods his head and the siblings heading off on his bike.

Stan casts looks at their fleeing figure, and makes up his mind to go after them.

Beverly and the rest of the ‘Losers’ follow suit, leading the way to the Neibolt house--an old, terrifying house, completely alien to all the other residences on the street.

“Bill!” Beverly yells after she spots him in front of the house, Shanice follows with, “What the hell are you doing, a suicide mission? Come back before you or someone else gets hurt!”

“Look, I already said you don’t have to come in with me. But what happens when another Georgie goes missing? Or another Dorsey? Or one of us? Are you just going to pretend it isn’t happening like everyone else in this town?”

“You know can’t. But this thing is going to hunt us down. Your parents only have one child, are you gonna take that away from them?” Shanice says, her voice cracking a bit. Shanice was small, about the same height as Eddie. But, she seemed mature, like an adult talking their child down from doing something idiotic.

“Y-You don’t know how it is...” Bill swallows his tears before continuing, “I-I go home and all I see is that G-Georgie isn’t there. H-His clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animals--e-everything but Georgie.” He turns away from Shanice, closing his eyes before opening them again.

“So, walking into that house--for me, it’s easier than walking into my own.” Bill’s voice was even, his normal stutter gone--he was serious, like dead serious.

“Wow...”

“What?”

“He didn’t even stutter. Not once.” Shanice glares at Richie, her expression only softening while she watches him follow after Bill, despite his words. Taking the bat she’d tossed in the basket of Beverly's bike, so does she, then Mike.

“Didn’t you hear him? Why are you following him?” Stan asked, to which she frowns.

“We’re just kids, Stanley. I’m the oldest, and it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still one. Bill is too. We all are. We gotta team up if we don’t wanna die.”

Stan runs to her side, with reluctance clear on his face. His Adam's apple bobbled, his heart raced loudly.

“We should just turn around. Bill’s he’s braver than us--”

“Brave? Bill’s not brave. He’s just dumb, Derry-dumb--and my mama used to always say if you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough.” She says, dragging her sneaker-bound feet as she went up the steps. Stan didn’t say a thing back, choosing to stand closer to her to calm his nerves.

“I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, I was taught enough to know that much.”

All of them, one by one--until every ‘Loser’s Club’ member was on the porch of the ‘29 Neibolt Street’.

Dark and eerie, that’s what Shanice described as the small opening of the house as she stood on the porch. As if he was reading her thoughts, Richie whispers, “I can’t see shit.”

She looks over at him, frowning as she watches him take a huff of Eddie’s inhaler.

“Tastes like battery acid.”

“Really, Richie? Is this this time to swab spit with the remains of Eddie’s inhaler?”

“What no I wasn’t. That gros--”

Shanice rolls her eyes, snatching the inhaler back and tossing it to Eddie.

Just as he goes to open a door, she stops when a thought occurs to her.

“Wait,” She says, holding up the bat she’d snagged from his garage, “If we’re trying to go in there, everybody needs something to defend themselves with. Even Batman can’t fight bad guys without something.”

Everyone scatters, looking for anything to use as a weapon

For instance, Mike at his sister’s word, goes for an old, rusted wrench, holding it with a tight grip.

Shanice hears something shatter--turning around looking back at the yard, she sees Richie with a dumbstruck expression as she looks at the beer bottle he just shattered, perhaps hoping to be like those action stars whose scenes involve bar fights.

She blinks before shaking her head.

‘Idiot. ’

His eyes locked with her gaze and he quickly rushed up behind her.

“I’ll just stand behind you.”

After some time, the group of teens fully reunite with their various choices of defensive means. Shanice jerks her head in the direction of the underworld-like entrance saying to Bill, “Now, or never.”

Slowly, but surely, the vengeful boy opens the door.

....

A dump.

The Neibolt house was an absolute fucking dump.

Trash everywhere, graffiti covering the walls--magazines, newspapers what have you, stacked and towering at every corner like a hoarder’s paradise.

“This is some kinda hell...” Shanice says, her frown seemed to deepen as she took in her surroundings and the smell that came with it.

“This place stinks. I can smell it.” Beverly remarks, disgust in her voice.

“I smell it too.” Her brother agrees--Richie pinches his nose, warning “Don’t breathe through your mouth. It’s like eating shit.”

Shanice punches him in the arm.

“You fucking tell me AFTER I’ve already got the taste on my tongue!”

They continue to journey through the abandoned house, passing different gross and odd things. Bev finds a lantern, surprisingly which aids in their sight.

“If there’s a well here it’d have to be in the basement, right?” Ben says. Stan gives him a look, looking mortified to even be in a house this filthy. Shanice nudges him before taking his hand with the one not occupied with her stolen means of protection, giving a small smile.

“Come on, I’ll protect you from this big, stinking house.” He smiles at her, still distressed by the way he squeezes her hand.

“Does this place even have a basement?”

“I hope not.” Eddie chimes in.

“L-let’s find out.”

Bill heads in the direction of the kitchen--however, the group hears something that stops them dead in their tracks.

“Hello? Is someone here?”

A child’s voice--coming from upstairs.

“Georgie?” Ben whispers, casting a glance towards Bill, to which he denies.

“This is a fucking trap, don’t fall for it, Bill.” Shanice starts, hearing the child’s voice become louder.

“HELLO?!”

“Down here! We’re down here!” Shanice’s eyes give Bev a look of utter disbelief, hushing her with a ‘shhh!’.

“Help me, please...” The child’s voice a whimper--Bev moves, with the lantern in hand, up the stairs. The remaining ‘Losers’ climb the stairs after her.

“Bev, she’s right. We need to be cautious.” Shanice gave him a heated glance.

“Now you listen to me when we’re already knee-deep in this trash heap--”

“Hello?” The child’s voice continues, coming from down the hall. The floorboards whine and groan under their combined weight. Shanice hopes it wouldn’t fail them.

Not with how far they’ve ventured. Almost at the end of the hall, Mike pauses.

“You guys hear that?”

Shanice stays in place, contracting--when she hears it. A light hum, a buzz. Coming from a damaged outlet, near the direction of another hallway, their intended target is the door at the end of it.

Only their breathing could be heard as they ventured on--with something troubling following it.

Squeaking, almost like--a clown horn.

“ It. ” Shanice says, gripping onto the bat for dear life. It stops, before smiling at her, with a shit-eating buck-toothed grin.

“Why, I’m not ‘ It ’. My dear, I’m Pennywise, the dancing clown!”

Bill braces, angry flooding his haunted features.

“WHERE’S G-G-GEORGIE?!”

It--Pennywise, tilts his head asking in a childish voice, “Who’s Geor-- oh -- sor--” letting out a giggle before changing back to his original voice.

“-ry, who’s Georgie?” He laughs again, watching them--no, hunting them. Counting them.

“Boy meat. Boy meat. Boy meat. Boy meat. Boy meat. Boy meat.” He chants, salivating, casting a hungry look at Bev.

“Girl meat. Yes. Sweet, salty blood-engorged girl meat...”

He stops, glancing at Shanice, who’s struggling to calm down her heart.

Leaning in close enough, close enough for their hairs to touch.

“Oh? When did Maturin cough up something that smelled so--delicious! You smell much better than your brother. You’re just like little Willy, filled with so much tasty fear!” Shanice screams, swinging her bat as she backed away as quickly as she could.

“Sweet, tasty child...do you know what I’d like to do? Use your thin blue veins like straws, little ears like spoons...” The chaotic plug sparks, Pennywise casts a wayward glance before going on.

“...armpits and cowlicks, freckles and dimples, peachy fuzz, scabbed knees, squeals, and screams!” The spark continues with a similar hum from earlier, however, the Clown ignores it.

“They all reek so good.”

Only when the sound grows louder does he consider acting upon it. The group watches on, seeing him pull out a small screwdriver, attempting to repair it.

Nothing.

Squinting at it, Pennywise snaps his fingers, as if to say, ‘ aha ’--grabbing a bigger screwdriver, jamming it into the socket--electrocuting himself and committing self-immolation. His laughs become manic, demonic, staring at his prey. His eyes like liquid lava, his teeth sharp and multiple spikes.

“Shay!” The girl looks at Stan who’s still holding her hand and her brother who’s inching to join her.

She shakes her head.

“Go, Stanley. You too Mike.”

“But--” Her brother begins--heavily breathing, she pushes the two boys away.

“I’m older. It’s my job to protect you. NOW GO!” With hesitation, the teens run to the rest of the feeling kids.

Shanice holds up the bat, glaring at his face, feigning fright--finally, she starts landing blows on him. Striking over and over, the rest of the losers fled as the floor seemed to crumble under them.

While the others make it, Shanice falls--passing out after she knocks her head into the tiled floor of the kitchen.

The other Losers yell her name while she lies limp, her sticky blood calling the name of a certain predator.

....

“Wakey, wakey Tasty.” Shanice’s eyes flutter open to a horrifying site--Pennywise and his bashed-in the skull and looking at her body propped on an old stool. Her head throbs, she touches it gingerly--only to find blood gushing from it. Her heart is racing, she vomits at the right of the mangled clown in front of her.

What happened?

The buzzing of the broken outlet, the fiery terror, the ground shattering under them.

Her falling, passing out.

And now, she’s confronted by a salivating, deranged nightmare of a clown.

This whole house--this whole town was a haunt--a feeding ground. The missing kids, the missing settlers. All of them, devoured--used to satisfy the diet of It.

“--it’s as if you’re marinated in it, aren’t my dear? Aged and rare, just for ol’ Pennywise!” As her head throbbed, she still tries to defend herself, rising her feet, unsteady. Her glaring vision shows a grinning Pennywise.

He takes a hold of her finger, still covering her, lapping at, nibbling on it--eventually gnawing off her finger, crunching on it like a treat. As if a child with a delicious treat, his teeth bloody, settled a delighted grin.

Her slurred hollering echos through the old, decaying room

“That’s it, scream more. GIVE ME MORE OF YOUR FEAR!”

“Get...away...from...me! Someone...help...me..."

She cries in agony--her fourth finger, gone, only a blood-gushing stump remains. Her fresh blood running down her palm as she yells, still trying to get away, somehow, back to her brother and the people she saw as first friends visiting Derry.

Her fellow ‘Losers’.

Shanice drags herself up, to a direction of an opening, feeling It catching her retreating legs, dragging her back. Her nails scraped against the floor, tearing off as she clung on for dear life.

“That’s it, scream more. GIVE ME MORE OF YOUR FEAR!”

Her feet, scratched and bruised, she twists and kicks sluggishly, until her body stops. She felt her dragged back, propped up against the wall.

This was it, this was how she’d die--being eaten, in some decrepit house. Her body--anything left of it would be buried under the crumbling house. She’d be the model for a missing kid’s poster, her grandfather would be like that mother she saw desperately going around, asking where her child was.

Everyone but her brother, Stan, and the rest of them would know the truth.

She’d die, just like that.

“Hey! Get away from my sister!”

Mike was there thrusting the wrench in his head, completely splitting his head--behind him where the rest of the ‘Losers’, with their teeth, bared. Pennywise lets go of her, howling in pain. Shanice falls limp to the ground, the smell of blood in the air.

Mike grabs his sister, and the rest of the gang hauls ass into the living room, her brother and Stan dragging her body as they run from the Neibolt house, the gapping door vaguely taunting them as they escape it.

....

Beep, beep. The squeaking sound of slip-resistant shoes worn by nurses echoes throughout. Beeps, finger-hitting keyboard, the occasional laughter, and conversation.

Shanice lay unconscious in the hospital bed.

Their grandfather silently stared out the window while touching his wooden leg.

This girl--she was his first grandchild. Born premature, didn’t come home until much later. Yet, she looked so much smaller laying there than she did inside of an incubator. She was hard-headed--but he didn’t think she would seek It after he warned the two kids.

The gash on her head wasn’t deep. Between the mental trauma and her blood loss--the doctors aren’t sure when she’d wake up.

It was troubling.

Mike’s silent as he sits beside the bed and stares at the slow breathing girl. Her skin is black and blue, she looks more than worse for wear.

The rest, the loser club--minus Eddie who had suffered a sprained arm, stood outside the door looking in.

“We’ll need to go back. Prepared this time...” Bill begins, Stan cuts him off, his voice squeaking with accusation.

“Will you shut the fuck up, Bill--she’s in there not waking up because she tried to save you from your shitty choices!”

Beverly, in the defense of Bill counters, with “...he’s right. No one else is going to do anything.”

“Face it! Shay almost got eaten, fuck she did get eaten--” He looks into the paneled window the door at her hand, wrapped up and traumatized--

“--by some shapeshifting demon monster that almost killed Eddie and Shay!”

Bill counters with, “But she hurt him, we hurt him. That’s something, right?”

“What kind of bullshit consolation prize is that?” Richies says with a scoff, rolling his eyes.

“Great, so next time it will just be madder and bigger and not mess around to kill us. That’s why I’ll go away, and not come back. Not my problem anymore. You can’t wait to get out of this town either, you said --” Ben mutters, while Beverly gives him a sharp look.

“I want to run towards something. Not run away. That’s what cowards do.” Everyone is looking amongst themselves when Richie addresses Bill again, however, he stares at him with a pissed-off glance.

There’s a beat.

And another.

“Let’s face facts. Real-world. Georgie's dead. And you killed him.”

Bill flinches--the words cut deep, like a razor blade. Was that the truth? Did he send his brother out in the rain to die

“I didn’t get my brother killed--”

“You sent him out there by himself. And he died. Either way, you’re just a bunch of losers and you’ll get yourselves killed trying to stop this stupid killer when none of it makes any difference.”

As the bespeckled teen begins his departure, Bill moves to block his path. They stare down at each other. With a frown Richie, irritatingly yells, “Out of my way, Bill! You couldn’t save him but you can still save yourself.”

“I didn’t get my brother killed.”

The hospital room door swings open, it’s Mike. Everyone grows quiet as he stalks up to Bill, and punches Bill square in the jaw--hard enough that he falls onto the cold tiled floors.

“You don’t care about any but yourself. We all have shit going on. My sister was smart enough to try and stop you and you didn’t appreciate that.” Mike says, calmly, a bit too calm as it scares the rest of the ‘Losers.’

Beverly, helping Bill says with a shaky voice, “This, this is what It wants. It wants us divided. That’s what it was doing in Neibolt--separating us.”

Richie snorted, retorting, “Well It got what it wants. But at least I’m alive. And I plan on staying that way.” Richie walks off, Stan and Ben follow. Mike focuses his gaze on Bill.

“Shanice and I are outsiders. We don’t belong here and today proved that.”

Bill, wincing as he holds his jaw, shakes his head.

“B-But, we’re all outsiders.”

Mike turned his back to him. His eyes shifted to his sister, bandaged up, lying still.

“No, you’re not. None of you are.”

....

“--may’ansho sheh’la’zeh.”

Inside of a synagogue, a bat mitzvah is held for Stan--none of his fellow ‘Loser’ club members, including Shanice’s who’s still deemed as comatose. Stan, who had been preparing for the day, couldn’t help but feel driven by his nerves.

Dealing with trauma, barely coping on his own--the day they went to the Neibolt house, the blood he couldn’t forget that on his hand--her blood for that matter.

Scrubbing his skin, throwing the clothes he’d worn that day.

Nothing worked

He glances at his mother, who’s looking quite stone-friendly--his eyes then glance to Richie, seated far in the back--then to the Rabbi, his father who gives a nod to go on with his reciting.

Stan nervously begins, “Um, reflecting on what I just read, I like what it says about indifference. When you’re a kid...” he stalls, the air turns into thick scrutiny.

“Stanley,” His father warns, his tone deep and authoritative.

He can feel the sharp looks his parents are starting to give.

It was suffocating almost.

He takes a deep breath.

Slowly, he recalls the advice Shanice had given to him while devouring an ice cream cone.

“I’m nervous about this whole thing. It’s like my dad’s waiting for me to mess up the whole thing.” Shanice looked up at him, her eyes big and curious. Stanley felt his heart pound--he averts his gaze, his flushed face instead focused on his frozen. They sat inside of an ice cream shop, both eating rocky road and chocolate chip ice cream respectively. He explains his trouble, which mainly stem from his problem regarding his speech and his fears of fucking the whole thing up.

“Well, if you’re scared that you’ll mess up--just wing it.”

“Just wing it?” She nods.

“Just wing it and say how you feel. If all else fails, at least you won’t be up there, saying nothing--you wouldn’t wanna look foolish, would you?”

And so, he does just that--he speaks what he feels, in his heart.

“Well, when you’re a kid you think the universe revolves around you. That you’ll always be protected and cared for. Then one day, something bad happens and you realize that’s not true.”

After her hospitalization, Mike took up his sister’s farming duties. Partially out of obligation, partially out of guilt. He watches a sheep in it’s pen with his grandfather--it was separated from his herd, vulnerable. His grandfather hands him the stun bolt gun again, urging him to take his shot.

Stans takes a breath before speaking once more.

“Suns go out and animals go extinct and whole nations go crazy and kill people they don’t like and none of it seems to matter.”

Mike aims, shoots--and instantly, the sheep falls to the ground.

Bev stands in her bathroom, brushing her hair--from the corner of her eye, she can’t turn her gaze out of the window, in the direction to Neibolt street.

Her heartaches.

A tear falls down her cheek.

“That’s why our friends and faith and family are so important.”

Bill sits at the dining table at his house, alone-- as always, thinking--about a lot of things.

Things he can’t do over, mistakes he’s made trying to be brave. Not actually being courageous, but faking it and hoping somehow that everything would end, and they’d make it out alive.

But, like wanting to see his brother again, those thoughts were wistful feelings of a boy.

“We matter. Even if, to the universe--”

In the library, Ben studies a painting of the First Settlement of Dairy. At first glance, it’d seem the men in it--the fur trapper was in position. However, as he looks closer, he realizes something both morbid and fascinating.

They were dead, only positioned as if they were alive.

A chill ran through him as he stared wide-eyed at it.

“--we’re too small to notice.”

Unknowingly, before they could even scream, they had become the prey instead.

....

Lucid, yet anchored.

Shanice was awake--but her body wasn’t.

Her mind ran, she felt so alone in a black space--she felt cold, down to her blood and her bone.

At that moment, she finally managed to open her eyes--to a white, bubbled ceiling. The first thing she notices is the scent of artificial cleanliness, a smell that’s almost sickening.

It’s a constant beep followed by the sounds of a new report.

“Good morning. Today is July 18th, 1985. In today’s news...”

The IV runs with a soft, slow drip.

She breathes slowly and calmly under her oxygen mask.

Shanice feels a dull, aching pain and her body reacts and stirs.

She hears the door open--it’s her Grandfather, with Mike and a familiar face following.

Stanley, looking at her with the worst kind of look on his face. In his neat clothes, his shirt buttons up all the way despite the heat of the summer. His big, brown eyes heavy, gaunt with dark, purplish bags.

“You look like shit.” She mutters, her voice small and raspy--at that moment, she’s overcome with a tight embrace, followed by a wailing cry--by Stan. Her hospital gown had become damp from those tears, his head inside the crook of her neck.

“I thought you were going to die.”

“But I didn’t. This kinda thing ain't gonna kill me.

Her response only has him sobbing harder inside her grasp.

When he looks at her, she gives him a gap-tooth grin, brushing his curly hair off his face. Stan, who seemed to have short-fused at the sight, ducked his head once against her chest. The adolescent, the one-sided moment was broken up from the older, impatient man in the doorway.

“Come on boy, you're getting your snot everywhere. You don't want the girl you like to see you with like some sap, do ya?” Her grandfather says, glaring down at Stan until he moves far away.

Shanice raises her brow at the last bit of the statement but decides she's too tried to investigate at that point.

The patriarch sits down, with Mike opposite of him--his face is grave.

“I thought I warned ya’ll of It--and yet you sought It out.” Shanice, groggy, still flinches at his words.

“Granddaddy, it’s killing people!”

“Which is why you should stay away! You got out this time, but what about the next time? Are you willing to die?” The girl and her Grandfather stared in silence, them being the only two in the room after a weeping Stan was ushered out by Mike. She struggles to keep up with the staredown, her eyes lowered, swollen and throbbing.

She began to cry.

An aching sob, rattling her sore back and chest, rough on her throat.

“Now, why the hell are you crying girl?”

Grandpa Hanlon asks, careful taking her small hand into his larger, calloused one. He, with the gentleness of a grandfather, lends her his shoulder.

“If we don’t do this, who’s gonna save us? Every adult here except you act like ain’t nothing going on. It’s It versus Us.”

William purses his lips, stroking his granddaughter’s coiled hair.

“I know what it feels like to be helpless. Against that thing, against Derry. You're alone, fighting against something much bigger than you. You kids... I don’t know what to say. I ain’t gonna stop you, am I?”

He looks down at his granddaughter’s snot, tear-covered face, and decides he should go ahead and lend her his handkerchief.

He held it up to Shanice's face.

“Gon ‘head and blow.”

After cleaning up her face, her grandfather pats her shoulder.

“Whatever you chose to do, I’ll support you and help you the best I can, Baby Girl.”

....

After a week, Shanice was released from the hospital, back home to an unsure reality.

Later that day, missing digits, left still tired and out of it--dressed in a pair of overalls and Adidas, she planned on trying to find something to do to keep her anxiety at bay. She approaches the local arcade, with intentions of seeing if they had a Pac-Man machine in it.

Then, she realizes she’s missing, certain required parts to play a hands-on game.

Nevertheless, she still enters, hoping to kill a bit of time.

She encounters a familiar bespeckled boy, he seems completely focused on the at hand.

“Finally! Anyone wanna watch me--”

Shanice obviously doesn’t care about the fact.

“Yo, Rich!”

Richie’s eyes, a bit annoyed, slowly widens when he recognizes the voice calling for him. He envelopes her into a friendly embrace, almost knocking the breath out of her when he did.

“Dude! You’re alive!”

“Of course I am. A little banged up, that’s all.” She uses her good hand to high-five him.

“So...” He glances at her bandaged hand and forehead.

“How are you...feeling?”

She laughs.

“Richie, I’m as good as a girl can be with her fingers missing.”

Richie snorts.

“Richie!” The two teenagers pause, looking at the other familiar voice--they’re met with Bill, who’s running over to them, huffing.

“It got Bev!”

Shanice frowns, suddenly feeling fidgety.

“What do you mean ‘It got Bev’?” Bill whose face is panicked and flushed finally notices Shanice, now out of the hospital staring at him.

“Shay, I--”

“Bill. We can talk later. We need to get her back, right?”

He nods, the three teenagers look amongst each other, a beat passes, and Richie speaks up.

“I’ll call Eddie and Stanley. You get Ben--and Shanice go get your brother. We’ll meet up at the standpipe.”

The boy and girl nod, with the feeling of dread hanging in the air.

“Th-thanks.”

Richie gives him a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, what are friends for, right?”

The three split ways.

Shanice arrives home, she spots her grandfather in the living room, watching an episode of Sanford and Sons.

“Remember when you said you’d help, Granddaddy?”

The older man, with a Budweiser in his hand, looks a bit off in the distance.

“Alright. Get your brother.”

With them all together, Shanice gives them both a brief rundown of the situation at hand.

He gives Mike the stun bolt gun, and her a hunting knife. It’s larger than her hands, and it’s metal cool to the touch. She glances at its gleaming nature before folding it and putting it in her pocket.

“Now, ya’ll sure you want to do this?” Mike doesn’t say much, only glaring at the ground.

“Why should we help them?”

Shanice knows what he means--of course, she does.

Why should we, when we’re just outsiders.

Did they ever fit into this mess? They were never supposed to be here in the first place.

But things happened, and now they are.

“Friends help friends, Mike.”

The siblings walk in silence as they approach the monument square, as they all did before. The dire situation at hand, bringing them together again--minus Beverly. While her grandfather’s hunting knife was tucked in the pocket of her shorts, Mike clenched onto the stun bolt in his hands.

Richie’s eyes are glued to it.

Mike rolls his eyes.

“Better than a broken bottle.”

Ignoring the boy and her brother’s interactions, Shanice turns to look at Bill as he begins to speak.

“If anyone wants to back out, now’s the time.”

Ben shakes his head.

“No. Remember what Beverly said. We all go or none of us do. That’s the only way we can defeat It.”

“Then...let’s go to Neibolt.”

....

The group of teenagers arrives at the still decaying house. It seems much more frightening than their first venture there. Shanice feels trepidation, thinking back to their first time being there. But now, they know what’s there. That thing was there.

She feels something tug at her hand.

Mike grabs her hand, squeezing it tight.

Her brother and Stan give her wan appearance mirroring nervous glances.

“You good?”

Not really.

She felt like puking.

But she couldn’t tell Mike that.

So, she nodded her head.

“No, let’s go ahead.”

After a while, they enter, standing in the living room. Shanice scrunches her nose as the smell of rot and scum hits her again.

“Where do you think she’ll be?” Mike turns and asks Bill.

“B-Basement. The well. That’s where he was going to take Eds, right?”

The teen casts a glance at the aforementioned ‘Loser’ visibly shakes, the only one still standing at the entrance. Letting of her brother’s hand, trying to shake off her own fear, goes over to him.

Shanice pauses, her hand frozen in the stifling air.

Was she reassuring him, or herself?

She didn’t know.

She was confident in her decision at home, but now she felt the situation weigh on thick. Her body is rattled with tremors. She recalls her howls, trying to crawl away, trying to get away from It.

Her, ultimately failing.

Subsequently, while the girl’s heart felt contemplation, Bill’s voice disrupted her thoughts.

Without pause or stutter, addresses Eddie and the rest of the group.

“As long as we don’t let fear overtake us we can do it. But we have to do it together.”

She nods.

“Hey, you got all your fingers, don’t you?”

Taking a quick glance at her bandaged hand, bobbing his head quickly.

“Exactly. He’s not gonna get you--or us, today. You gotta be strong--we have to be strong; together.” Shanice says, trying not to let her voice betray her words.

She pats him on the shoulder, like something her father used to do to comfort her, albeit brashly.

Eddie with resolve as he looks amongst his fellow losers makes his way into the house with her.

The floors creak as they champion on--as if to say they were intruding on it’s space.

Suddenly, there’s a loud commotion coming from the kitchen.

Following it was a similar sound coming from the other side, coming from the basement.

Bills rush over to the direction, much to the dismay of the other ‘Losers’ in the house.

“Wait--” Eddie warns from beside Shanice.

Bill responds stubbornly, “It could be her.”

And immediately after tries to open the door. At first, it doesn’t budge, persisting in its door frame. Looking amongst, themselves, wondering if it could be Beverly, go over to try and help. With a reverberating clang, the door is forced open. Shanice stumbles back with the rest of them, falling back, looking back in horror at what emerges from it.

Bright, red balloons.

And beyond them, lingering darkness.

Almost inaudibly, Shanice mutters “Not her...it’s It trying to scare us...”

Bill takes in a deep, sharp breath, rising to his feet.

“C’mon. Stay close.”

With those words, he takes the plunge into the vantablack nihility. With uncertainty, they follow after him. The stairs wobble with their combined weight--Shanice, thinking back to when the floor stares into the darkness with her heart pounding.

Only, then, does she realize she doesn’t seem to notice where Bill anymore, even squinting.

“I can’t find Bill.”

Meanwhile, Bill is leered from above through the sewer gate, by Pennywise. Blood drips from his sharp, barred teeth, onto Bill’s face. Determined not to seem intimidating, he stares back at him as fiercely as he could with the clown drooling at the sight of him.

“Not yet seasoned. But I know some girl meat, that I’ve sampled--and boy meat that is fresh with fear--that is...”

While he walks away with his own giddy laughter, Bill’s eyes widen in realization.

Shanice, back the stairs, wonders if she’s imagining things when she hears the line.

“Shay!” Her suspicions are furthered when she hears him call out to her.

“...Bill?” She questions, cutting herself off as the floor below her opens up like a trap door.

She drops with a harsh thud--onto the rough carpet, the beige color evoking memories.

It was her parent’s old apartment. The old, brown recliner, which was her favorite place to sit was still there.

She looks down, her bandages were gone, her hand and finger intact.

Was everything just a dream?

A long, sick dream?

“Shanice, baby?”

Standing in the living room, she’s met by her mother.

With her arms crossed standing in her pink, satin robe, her mother calls out to her. Her voice to grown rough by nicotine, her tone concerned and maternal.

“Sweetheart, why aren’t you in bed?” Her mother questions, cupping her face. Shanice leans into it, soaking in the maternal warmth she’s missed during this nightmare. At the sight of her mother, alive and well, Shanice hugs her tight.

“Mama, mama. I was so scared...” She mutters in a silent chant, burying her face into her bosom. The smell of swishers fills her senses, mixed in with her mother’s soft rose-scented perfume.

It assured her that she was home.

“What’s wrong baby? Had a bad dream?”

The teenager nods, replying, “I really bad one. The...the police came to our house, and Daddy was gonna get arrested. I...I thought you died.”

Her mother laughs--no giggles, with fancy.

“But baby, I’m already dead. Don't you remember? You were the one who let me die.”

Suddenly, she starts to smell rust, while blood begins to smear on her childish face. She jerks away, looking at something, that her mother, smiling back at her, bleeding from the chest.

She starts to holler, uncontrollably, scrambling for exit away from the nightmare she was facing.

Meanwhile, her brother, who notices both Eddie and Shanice gone, with his thoughts mimicked by Mike.

“Where’s Eddie and Shay? They were just here.”

Stanley couldn’t help but reply, “It’s separating us. We need to get help for them and Bill...”

The four boys, Richie included, decide to move back the stairs, away from the pit below. Just before they reach upstairs, they see a figure of a person on top.

Mike, squint, clutching then stun bolt gun in his hand.

It was Henry Bowers.

Baaing like a sheep, holding a knife.

Unexpected, with a bit of lunacy.

“ Guys, it’s never good when the person with the knife starts making animal noises, especially--”

Mike glares at him reprimanding him--

“Now isn’t the time to be fucking making a joke, Richie!”’

--a bit like his missing sister.

They all freeze, trying to find a way away from the older teen a knife he planned to use on them.

“Here! Climb up!” Ben, who seemed to have found some sort of escape tunnel among debris and calls them over to it. Mike, being the only person of the group armed, guards the entrance as the others made their way in

“Mike! Let’s go!” Ben yells--with his eyes on Henry, he slowly climbs in--the others not fully out yet.

“Shit, Mike,” Stan says, the second to last of the escapees, looking at him with worry filling his chest.

The others have stopped as well, their movement stalling.

“Just go. Find the others--find my sister. I’ll hold Bowers off.”

Richie shakes his head his words, “Mike--”

Lifting the gun that never left his hand since they arrived at the decrepit house, he remarks with steady, surprisingly cooled confidence, “I came prepared, remember?”

With that, the teenager turns to face the boy who’s been taunting him since he came to town.

....

Shanice watches with her hand clenched as the illusion fades and her ‘mother’ transmutes into Pennywise. They’re kitchen, like before. She even sees her blood on the tiled floor, dried--having left a trail to where she tried to save herself.

“You’re not real, none of this real.”

The clown smiles at her, with its bloody buck-teeth.

“Your missing fingers beg to differ, do they not?”

In a soft, flamboyant tone he mockingly continues in reply, “ ‘Mama, Mama, I was so scared!’ The big bad pennywise was gonna eat meeeeee.”

She narrows her black, pit-filled eyes, her pounding heart betrays her defiant expression.

She clenches her teeth, remembering her knife that was thankfully still hidden in her pocket.

She convulses, choking back her trepidation. Her skin was covered in sweat, she felt as if she wanted to throw up.

Her heart is in her throat. Throbbing, pulsing.

This could be the reason for her death.

But she can’t go back now.

Not now, she wasn’t a coward, nor was she someone who would abandon her friends.

Taking a breath, she rushes and lunges at the clown in front of her. She impales the space of the creature’s skull once with the weapon in her hand--piercing it as blood-splattered and flowed--not waiting as she dashed away, using the distraction to escape. down to the uncertainty of the basement.

Shanice races, in pursuit of Bev, her brother, Stan--hell, anyone to make sure they were at least still alive.

She dashes down the stairs, feels her short legs trip and tumble--and despite pain, she continues. She pursues until she’s limping to the sound of voices. Shanice sees her brother--and Henry Bowers standing over him. It’s a scuffle, and her brother was obviously losing.

“I told you to stay the fuck out my town, didn’t I?” His voice drips with disgust, kicking Mike in the chest as he produces a knife with no gleam. She chokes down a sob before a scream rips through her chest.

“Hey Bowers!”

Henry’s head whips over to her, her brother’s eyes glued to her.

It didn’t matter if she was a girl who stood at only 4 ft 10 or if she was even smaller than Eddie, Henry had one thought on his mind.

Again, again, again, she’s knocked around and beat with persistent fists.

Kill her, get her out the way, and then finish off Mike.

Her breaths are shallow, her body feels ravaged.

He takes a boot-clad foot and kicks her in the chest to throw her back.

“You aren’t so tough now, are you?”

His wicked grin spreads as approaches her with her brother’s stun bolt gun in one hand, aiming right between her eyes.

“I’m going to kill you and your wuss brother and then I’m going to kill all your friends.”

“No...No, you won’t!”

There’s not even a whole beat before another voice interrupts the bully's speech. The rest is like a blood-soaked haze--Mike grabs the bully, away from his sister down the darkness of a well behind them.

“Mike!”

Shanice is panting, dragging herself against the structure, hoping to see what was occurring--not suspect she’s fallen herself to a harsh, bone-rattling thud. She watches in a daze as Henry lies still, seemingly rendered unconscious. Her brother, and the newly reunited Losers club attempt to help her up.

“Michael, why don’t you come with your old pops?” The teenage boy stops in his tracks as a hand jerks him away from his sister’s grasp. Roughly handling him is something that looks like his father, but not him.

“Let me go!”

He’s being pulled closer, into a mass of Dead Lights, a stunning death wish. He struggled, thrashing at the man’s grasp, letting out a voice cracking scream. He believes that isn’t his father, he knows that isn’t his father. Determined for it to not get him, he looks away from the illuminating accumulation, every word like a thrown dagger.

“Let! Me! Go!”

Only after that, is he truly free and brought back into the safety of his friends, his fellow losers.

Shanice, with a strained voice, weakly asks, “Bill...where’s Bill?” Beverly, who stood beside Stan holding the injured girl in his arms, looked around alarmed.

“We have to find Bill.” Stan, who opted to piggy-back Shanice, Mike searches for their leader who disappears. The room around them shakes and quakes, their calling becoming louder as the chaotic finally hits its peak until--Shanice sees a body drop from the squint of her drooping eyes.

It’s Bill.

Foolish, stuttering Bill.

“Are you okay?” Beverly asks.

The boy nods.

Shanice lets out a weak laugh.

She watches from over the shoulder of Stan’s shoulder, gripping tighter onto his clothing when he hands his gun to Bill.

Bill begins walking, stopping to turn to the Losers. His eyes are bright and determined.

Slowly, but with a common aim in mind, they hunt for Pennywise. All along the way they are faced with their fears. The Losers, ignore them, as if they didn’t exist--Bill who stands in front of them with his head held high.

“A truce to be true. A deal to be struck. Ignore this, forget me, and I will let you all grow and thrive, living happy lives until you die happy deaths at age hundred and one.” Pennywise’s voice offers, clear and dark as if it were speaking directly to them--but, the clown was nowhere in sight.

Bill’s stuttering voice follows soon after.

“N-NO! No more...”

Silence follows it.

“Maybe we should have at least discussed the deal first...” Richie murmurs as they leave in the fright of the dark unknown.

The sewer gates, behind it was a child’s crying face.

Georgie, Bill’s brother, wearing a yellow raincoat.

Holding a soaked paper boat.

“Let him go, Bill. He said I could come back if you let him go... please, Bill!”

Bill hesitates. There his brother was, looking like he did before he disappeared. The same, childish smile.

“I want you back more than anything else--”

Georgie smiles, calling out him, “Hug me,”

He turns around. He sees the two Hanlon siblings, he glances at Shanice’s batter form, slowly trying to stand on her own--Mike’s steel gaze watching his every move.

He turns back to face his “brother”, stepping forward--and instead, raises Mike’s gun to him.

“But you’re not Georgie.”

Suddenly, enraged, the boy’s figure quickly turns Pennywise--whose teeth are bared like a rabid animal. As fast the Losers can blink, there’s seven of them instead of eight. They all are faced with a sight that churns their stomachs--the creature grins with bloody teeth as he gnaws once again at the girl’s injured hand--only spitting out non-tasty things like bandages.

Bill panics, looking between the girl and clown before he finally takes a breath and fires a shot. It lands right between its eyes, where Bowers had intended to shoot Shanice.

It lets out a shriek, engulfing itself as it transforms into something akin to a black hole...with the girl and boy she held to, following it into its abyss.

#IT #stephen king's it #fanfiction #fanfic #slashing in color

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