#thr expressiveness the way his eye brows frame his face that point where his brows meet his nose the v of his cheekbones

[freebooter4ever]

im at that point of sleep deprivation where its kinda hard to see and definitely impossible to think... drawing is a challenging lol

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 9: Only Dreaming •

A/n: For those of you who might not have caught my announcement, this series has recently gotten a title change, and new cover as you might have noticed. Both of which I owe a big thanks to my good friend scamander [RichieTozierKaspbrak on Quotev] This is still the It rewrite, just under an official name: Scars That Heal. You can find the full explanation on my profile activity, anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

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    Silver’s tires skid across the cracked pavement creating a high screech that barely managed to pierce through the thunderous heartbeat in Bill’s ears. Before him, stood the Neibolt house, and despite his pounding heart, there was no sign of hesitation as he stormed across the pavement towards the gate. However, when his bruised and gangly legs reached the gate’s threshold, they slow as if he is suddenly standing in quicksand. His nerves have finally caught up to him but Bill does not allow this to stop him from his mission and continues across the crisp dry grass that crunches beneath his sneakers. As he walks, it feels as if he is now wading through an invisible pool, his muscles aching as they fight hard against the water. The technique turned mantra slipped from his lips the moment it popped into his mind as crosses the lawn and into the dark shadow the house casts over all of Neibolt.

    “H-he thr-thrusts his fists against the p-po-posts,” Bill’s clammy palms tighten, his mouth running dry but he continues. “and still insists he sees the g-gho-ghost.”

    He has reached the house’s rotten and creaky steps when he hears the approach of several bicycles and Beverly’s voice.

    “Bill!” She cries, jumping off her bike and it tumbles to the ground. “Bill, you can’t go in there. This is crazy!”

    He turns to find his seven distressed friends abandoning their bikes and following cautiously after him into the yard.

    “Look, you don’t have to come in with me,” Bill says, looking to each of his friends. “But what happens when another Georgie goes missing? Or another Betty? Or another Ed Corcoran? Or one of us?”

    The shadow of Neibolt seemed to grow darker before it got lighter as Bill rallied before the Losers Club that day. And despite the ice coursing through their veins, not only from their previous encounter minutes ago but the mere thought of seeking the creature out, they couldn’t fight the small spark of hope from Bill’s words. He had always had that effect, he had a way with words despite the stutter. And what he said was something Eddie had been dreading himself. His eyes flickered to Y/n instinctively, his mouth parted slightly as he regains his breath. There’s a pained expression on her face, her lower lip curled as if she was fighting back tears and he feels like kicking himself for not doing anything to protect her back in the garage.

    “Are you just gonna pretend it isn’t happening like everyone else in this town?” Bill asks, capturing Eddie’s attention once more. “Because I can’t. I go home, and all I see is that Georgie isn’t there. His clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animals, but… He isn’t.”

    Bill takes a deep breath, and it seems to fill him with more confidence and the Losers each squirm under Bill’s confession.

    “So walking into this house, for me, it’s easier than walking into my own.”

    Bill turns to face the old rotted door and Richie raises his eyebrows.

    “Wow.”

    “What?” Ben asks.

    “He didn’t stutter once.”

    Y/n’s eyebrows raise in shock as this dawns on her and she turns to Eddie instinctively for his reaction and he meets her gaze uneasily. A moment passes between all the Losers before they begin heading for the porch.

    “Wait!”

    Everyone stops to see Stanley, who remains planted to the ground, his eyes filled with uncertainty. He catches their waiting stares and shuffles uncomfortably.

    “Um,” he clears his throat. “Shouldn’t we have some people keep watch?”

    Bill fidgets with the doorknob and he shrugs slightly and Stan looks around uncertainly at his friends.

    “You know, just in case something bad happens?”

    “Who w-wants to stay out here?” Bill asks.

    Six hands rise to the air, none of them Beverly. Each Loser looks around at one another before one by one their arms fall back to their sides. Richie sighs, knowing what’s coming next.

    “Fuck.”

    After much debate, and several coin tossing later, the Losers had found themselves divided into two groups of four. Due to an unfortunate toss, Richie, and Eddie found themselves with Bill and Bev who had volunteered, while Ben, Stan, Mike, and Y/n stayed outside.

    Richie, of course, didn’t go without a fuss, making his feelings on the matter very clear as they prepared themselves for venturing inside.

    “I can’t believe I drew the short straw,” he huffs, trudging up the porch steps. “You’re lucky we’re not measuring dicks.”

    “You’d still be drawing the short straw” Y/n quips, her voice vaguely meek.

     He turns to look at her, ready with a comeback but the words die on his tongue when he spots her smile, it’s weak and he knows immediately what she is feeling - why she’s making jokes when at a time like this. He can’t help but smile weakly back. Her arms are folded over her b/t frame protectively and her eyes flicker between him and Eddie.

    “Just be careful, okay?” She sighs, her eyes darting to each of them. “All of you.”

    They each nod, and Eddie swallows thickly before following after his friends. Not before casting one last longing glance at Y/n who gives him a less than convincing smile of reassurance.

    The front door creaks open, and Bill, Eddie, Richie, and Beverly step wearily inside. They each have to duck underneath the many wooden slats nailed over the doorway and through it, bits of sunlight stream through.

    The three follow Bill’s lead as they exit the small alcove that bleeds into what is supposed to be the living room. Around them is an empty dark entryway with they could guess was thousands of thick cobwebs. The warped wooden floor beneath their feet was littered with hundreds of dead leaves scattered from the many twisted branches that had snaked up through the cracked floorboards, walls, and ceilings. It’s clear from where they stand and their limited view into the other rooms, several pieces of furniture have been left behind. And to greet them as they step inside, just across the floor was an eerie brick fireplace with a wooden header, carved into it in large misaligned letters; Good Cheer, Good Friends! A low whistle leaves Richie’s mouth as he takes in the chilling sight around him.

    “Well, he’s got the haunted house part down to a science,” Richie says.

    “Shut up, Richie.” Eddie scoffs, his nose scrunched up in overwhelming disgust as he looks around. “Ugh, I can smell it.”

    “Don’t breathe through your mouth.”

    Eddie’s brow furrow as he inches further towards one of the connecting rooms.

    “How come?”

    “Cause then you’re eating it.”

    Richie’s eyes fall on the small alcove to his left when something tangled in a branch catches his eyes. Behind him, Eddie lurches forward as he gags repulsed and hastily grabs for his inhaler in his fanny pack. Against his better judgment, Richie crosses over into the small corner of the room and the closer he approaches the thick trap of web and leaves the clearer the object has become; a missing kid poster with an all too familiar face. Shakily he reaches for it, and every crumple of the paper through the branches is like a thunderous boom in his ears, his heart already racing. All he can do is stare in shock, he can feel his stomach twist into knots and this time it wasn’t because of Eddie. For the first time, Richie ‘the Trashmouth’ Tozier was speechless. Beverly is the first to notice.

    “Richie?” She wanders over with the other in tow, her senses heightened when noticing his fearful gaze. “What’s wrong?”

    “It… It says I’m missing,” He croaks, realizing his mouth and throat have run bone dry.

    Bill joins his side, examining the poster and he tries to keep the worry at bay for his friends.

    “Y-You’re not missing, Richie,” Bill eases.

    Richie’s tremble only grows worse and he starts to shake the flyer, his voice rising.

    “'Police Department, City of Derry.’” He cries. “That’s my shirt. That’s my hair. That’s my face. That’s my name-!”

    “Calm down,” Bill interjects, attempting to grab the flyer. “This isn’t real.”

    “That’s my face! That’s the date!”

    “It can’t be real, Richie!”

    “No, it says it!” Richie shrieks, now fighting over the flyer with Bill. “What the fuck!? Am I gonna go missing!?”

    Beverly and Eddie can only watch in pain and worry as the moment unfolds until finally, Bill is able to rip the paper from the boy’s hands and throws it the ground without even a glance. He wraps his hands over Richie’s shoulders, holding tight against his clawing arms.

    “Calm down!”

    “Am I gonna go missing? Am I gonna go missing-?”

    “Calm down! Look at me, Richie,” He tugs on his friend’s wrist, bringing his attention away from the flyer on the floor. “Look at me.”

    “That…” Bill hastily points to the flyer, and Richie looks to it fearfully, “th-that isn’t real. It’s playing tricks on you.”

    “Hello?” Calls a distant, whimpering voice.

    The four Losers’ attention is ripped away to the source of the oddly familiar voice. Slowly, they creep back into the entryway, the leaves crunching beneath their feet and that is when they hear the voice once more.

    “Hello?”

    “It’s coming from upstairs,” Bev murmurs under her breath, creeping towards the winding stairway, the boys close behind though reluctant.

    “No shit,” Eddie trembles, stepping closer to Richie as they approach the stairs.

    One by one they ascend the winding stairway, caution in every step. They each have duck a gracious amount to avoid the thick tendrils of cobwebs stitched between the walls. And as they inched closer to the top they could hear the sounds of muffled coughing, the source of the voice was gasping for air. They reached the second-floor landing - somehow, it seemed dirtier than the first floor if that was at all possible - and had a continuing set of stairs behind them. Ahead of them, was the entrance to a long hallway, and the four of them inched along as the ragged breathing got louder, now almost wheezing.

    Just around the corner, and the end of the long hallway was a largely cracked and warped wooden door opened ajar revealing a figure on the ground. It was girl, gasping for breath and spitting up blood, her face buried in the leaves and dirt on the floor. Shakily, the messy head of muddied brown hair brushes aside as she weakly turns her head to reveal a face they never thought they’d see again.

    “Betty?” Bev gasps.

    “Ripsom?” Richie gulps.

    She merely looks at them, her eyes sunken and lost before she is ripped away, clawing at the floor and her screams are quickly swallowed in silence. The Losers jump back in horror, their hearts hammering in their chests and they can feel the bile churning in their stomach. And yet, without a word they each creep forward, knowing what they have to face. The leaves scrape against the floor as they pushed by their dragging feet and Beverly tries to focus on the sound of each leaf’s crunch rather than what she is willingly about to face.

    Eddie finds himself shrinking back but he carries on nonetheless. That is until he hears a hauntingly familiar voice carry through the air.

    Eddie.

    The poor boy feels as if his legs - and heart for that matter - have stopped working altogether and slowly he turns around. He finds nothing but the other half of the hallway and it came to a dead-end with an ominous yellow glow from the faded window pane.

    What are you looking for?

    Eddie’s eyes widen to the size of saucers and he freezes where he stands, his heart pumping his chilled blood through his veins. And he can feel the familiar tightness return to his lungs. His hands are fumbling for his inhaler when his friends reach the door at the end of the hall, unaware they were now one Loser short.

    “She was just here,” Richie breathes, looking around the empty room. “Where the fuck’d she go?”

     Eddie still stands rooted in place, he commands his body to scream for his friends but all that comes out is a hushed whisper. And as the only door amongst the dead-end hallway slowly creeks open with a taunting wail, one single moment plays over in his mind strangely enough; the coin toss just minutes ago.

    “So, are we doing this two out of three, or is this a one-flip — well — flip?” Eddie asks.

    It had come down to him and Y/n, and whoever lost the coin toss was going inside. The others had already paired off and it was between them. She stood across from him, she was bouncing nervously on the balls of her heels, shaking out her hands at her sides, visibly nervous. He held the coin in his hand, turning it over endlessly with his forefinger and thumb and her eyes followed its movement precisely.

    “Cause if we do out of two of three, statistically speaking it’s fairer and considering-”

    “Eddie,” she says suddenly, her voice trembling and pleading.

    She fails to meet his eye and she sighs deeply, her eyes closed for several moments and he realizes she only wants the waiting to be over.

    He shuffles on his feet and readies the coin, her eyes stilled trained on the quarter as well as his own and he is suddenly all too aware of the sun beating down on his neck. He looks at one last time, his stomach twisting and turning for many different reasons as the dumbest fucking plan he’s ever heard forms in his mind and the feeling hits him. That deep, sinking feeling one gets when they know - no matter a feeling, or any logical thought, no matter how much their gut is screaming at them not to do something, they know in their heart of hearts they are going to anyway. If it’s the right or wrong thing, they’re not quite sure but it is inevitable from that moment in time and beyond.

    The ‘58 minted quarter soars through the air, the sun reflecting off in thin fleeting beams and Y/n’s voice rings out with slight hesitation.

    “Heads,”

    Eddie swipes at the coin, several beats off even though he was certain he could have caught it if he truly wanted to. Instead, it lands noiselessly in the grass only feet away.

    “The fuck was that?” Richie called. “You probably didn’t realize this, Eds, but you’re supposed to catch the thing,”

    Ignoring his friend’s jabs - and ruefully neglecting to correct his given nickname - he takes a few steps off to find the coin buried in a pile of grass and sure enough, as if to mock him, the tail end of the quarter glints in the sun.

    “What w-was it?” Bill asks, growing impatient.

    He picks up the coin and straightens out. He deposits the quarter in his fanny pack and looks to Y/n. Her eyes are squinted in the sun, and it only enunciates the worried frown already on her face.

    “Heads,” He mutters, slipping over to join Richie, Bill, and Beverly.

    He expects to see her relax, but all she seems is shocked. Not eased in the slightest. But that was only because she now had him to worry about. He had willingly taken her spot.

    But would it be worth it, he can’t help but wonder. This was his chance to be brave, for her, and himself. To prove that he could be. But as he stared down the dirty hallway with god knows how many germs and viruses lurking in every nook and cranny and not to mention the leper’s voice calling to him again, he sure didn’t feel brave.

    “Guys,” he mumbles, turning to find the door begin to close. “Guys!”

    SLAM

    The door separating him and his friends at the end of that long hallway had slammed shut. The noise breaks the others from their trance-like state and they whip around to find they are trapped inside, and worse; Eddie is not with them. Eddie’s terrified screams only bring their further to the edge and they fight harder against the door to no avail.

    “Guys! Guys!” They hear him call out.

    “Eddie!” Richie cries out, his heart pounding dangerously fast.

    “What the fuck?!” His hoarse voice tears through the air, muffled by the door separating themselves from their friend.

    Eddie nears the door, only feet away from the barrier keeping him from his friends when he comes to a screeching halt. The floor in between him and the room had suddenly caved in, one by one the wooden slats peel away to reveal a giant hole leading to the kitchen below - a hole he had barely missed by only the skin of his teeth. He looked down below in shock as he struggled to catch his balance - his knees wobbled terribly at the sight - and while he had not taken the fall, he felt as if his stomach had.

    He tries desperately to slow his rapid breathing, and before he can even think of what to do next, he feels a bony hand grip his shoulder and just as fast an icy chill shoots down his spine. Eddie feels a light tug from the hand that turns him around and he can feel the exhaust of each gaunt finger at the simple gesture. It’s face is somewhat lost in the dark but It is unmistakable; the same face, the same monster that terrorized him before. Pools of excess spit dribble out of a hole in It’s cheek as It’s one foggy and cataract eye drinks up the sight of fear in the boy.

    “Time to take your pill, Eddie.” It taunts.

    It all becomes too much for Eddie, and for the briefest of seconds, he feels as if his heartbeat is so fast it is almost nonexistent. He is suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of light-headedness - or at the very least, he is only just now recognizing it - and suddenly his vision darkens. Only one thing is strong enough to pull him back to earth before he falls under once more; an explosion of pain on his head and back as piles of wood crumble beneath him, prodding his skin. Eddie is given only moments of consciousness to realize he is back on the first floor, his arm and back in searing pain and he has crash-landed on the kitchen table below.

    The last thing Eddie hears before he feels the deep pull of sleep is the shrill beep from his watch.

    Time to take his pills.

    On the other side of the door, a panicked trio of Losers claw at the seemingly jammed door. Bill wrestles with the doorknob and Beverly begins looking around the room for things to use to bust down the door. Meanwhile, Richie stumbles numbly back, fear and panic gripping his heart at the raucous going on outside the door. And how Eddie was all alone.

    Richie!

    His head turns sharply at the sudden call of his name, grabbing his attention. But what held it captive, was the familiarity of the voice. He knew it was impossible, and just about the stupidest fucking thing to believe given the circumstances. The idea that his best friend had somehow made his away around the door and into the room and had decided here of all places would be the perfect time to pull a page of the Tozier handbook and pull a fast one on him to lighten the mood. It was ridiculous, but it was a far more palatable reality than the alternative he faced. That Eddie was trapped in the hallway alone and in grave danger, quite possibly in pain. Or worse. And yet, he had no clue. All he knew is he heard his best friend and the only logical thing was to go to him.

    Come here, Richie. Came Eddie’s hoarse sounding voice, followed by a dry cackle.

    Adrenaline was pumping fast through his veins, and his legs trembled something awful, but this did not stop him from striding quickly across the room as he followed the source of the voice. Around the corner, was another door, this one wide open that displayed a limited view of what looked to be a storage room upon first glance. Several figures cloaked in faded white rags, covered in dust and cobwebs filled the ill-lit room, and yet he still managed to make out the sudden burst of movement of a small frame scurrying from one hiding spot to another.

    “Eddie,” He breathes, less than relieved and treads inside. “Eddie!”

    Richie receives no reply, but he does not let this stop him from his search, nor does it calm his spiked nerves.

    "Eddie,” Richie hisses to the now seemingly empty room. “where the fuck are you? We’re not playing hide-n-seek, dipshit!”

    On the other side of the room, Beverly - who was nearing her defeat in her search for a ramming device of some sort, had only just noticed Richie’s absence.

    “Richie?” She calls, trailing across the room, a curious Bill on her heels. “Richie-?”

    Having heard her calls, Richie turns quickly on his heels to find Beverly just outside the door in the other room, a look of relief flashing across her face and even Bill comes into view. He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing for sure what he is seeing is a true familiar face and he can feel himself coming to his senses. He wastes no time in heading for the door, but just as suddenly as it had happened with Eddie, the door began to close.

    “Richie! Richie!” Beverly calls, pounding and punching the wooden frame, no longer bothering to look for something to do it for her. “Richie, are you okay?!”

    “Guys,” He yelped, his sweaty palms struggling to twist the jammed brass knob to no avail. “come on, open the door!”

    “What’s going on? Rich!” Bill pleas, his arms growing sore from his fruitless fight, but he doesn’t give in. “Richie! Open the door, come on!”

    Richie, who had resorted to tugging on the handle until his arms weakened called out once more, hoping his voice would reach them.

    “I can’t!” He cries, his head whipping over his shoulder and he squints up at the new flickering blue fluorescence above him. “I- I fucking can’t!”

    No matter his efforts against the jammed door, all Richie could really do was watch helplessly as he slowly drowned in his fear. The frightened cries of his friends now lost in the thunderstorm that was his own dangerously fast heartbeat. All sound was lost to him it seemed, that was until he heard the eerie sound of what he could only describe as several curtains dropping at once. Against his better judgment, he turned to face the room he was now trapped in and the pounding of his heart was no longer the problem. Scattered across the dimly lit room, illuminated by the pale and flickering lights were dozens upon dozens of clown figurines of varying sizes, all staring directly and unmistakably at Richie.

    “Oh, shit,” he mutters, mouth running dry and his breath ragged.

    The voices of his friends have since disappeared altogether, or maybe this thing just doesn’t want him to hear them. He can’t tell which is worse in the spur of the moment, that is until he can hear the snickering high pitched laughter of the many painted porcelain faces staring back at him. It’s not real, he tries to remind himself. He just needs to get back to Bill and Bev and then go find Eddie, but when he turns back around, he finds his path is blocked and he jumps back with a frightened yelp.

    Standing propped up against the door, at about half his height was another porcelain clown, with cockeyed eyes and a wild painted grin. He found himself stumbling into the center of the room, now feeling more trapped than ever as he gazes around at the taunting figures surrounding him. One wooden clown, that stood just inches taller than him and its hand extended suddenly became the center of Richie’s attention.

    It’s not real, it’s all just some fucked up trick.

    Slowly, he reached out, his confidence slowly returning and taps the hollow wooden cheek of the white-face clown. Nothing.

    Richie releases a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and for a moment he thought he could almost laugh. Almost.

    “Stupid clowns.”

    No sooner does the sound of cloth hitting the floor echo in his ears, and just as fast his one measly scrap of confidence evaporates into the air. He turns to find at the very end of the room, what had been previously hidden under the final cloth tarp; a coffin. With a shrill, one chilling creak it rises open to reveal his own missing poster. And sprawled over it, and all across the baby blue moth-eaten fabric lining was a single five-letter word painted in blood.

    FOUND

    “Oh, fuck,”

    His legs nearly buckled, and yet they still carried him forward towards the open coffin. His widened eyes never broke contact with the open casket, had they, and he just might have spotted the wandering heads of the clowns that followed his every move. As he approached, he prepared himself for whatever horror he was about to face. His mind even managed to conjure up several stomach-turning images before he could reach the thing, all far too horrible a thought to have conjured himself. And he wondered for a moment if the Clown was putting these awful thoughts in his brain. Or was It, and the fear It created in him just unlocking the darkest corners of his own mind?

    What did lie in the coffin was something small, cloaked in a black veil of some sort and yet it still managed to keep his heart pounding. Just like a band-aid, he told himself. Taking another deep breath, once again preparing for the worst, he pulled the cloth off to reveal a small, marionette figurine… Of himself. It was made to look like it was rotting, and it sure was succeeding. It’s eyes were glazed over, nearly all white and his mouth was stitched closed. But what made his stomach lurch was the many patches in its face filled with real maggots, squirming and squelching and Richie could even swear he could smell the corpse rotting.

    “Ugh!” Richie groaned.

    Though he had to say he was in the least bit relieved, it was far less gruesome than he had expected, more disgusting than terrifying he couldn’t help but think. It was enough to make even him nauseous, and he always thought he had the stronger stomach out of his friends. He could practically hear Eddie gagging.

    The very thought snapped him back to reality. Eddie. He needed to get the hell out of here so he could find Eddie.

    With a definitive huff, he slams the coffin door shut.

    BAM

    The casket flies open and a sudden and elongated blur of silver and orange soars out and up to the ceiling, a sharp and maniac screech piercing the air. Richie stumbles back with a scream of his own and he watches on in sheer terror as Clown falls back down to earth, landing perched on the now-closed coffin and towering over Richie. It’s twisted smile grows, and the arch of where It’s eyebrows should be perk halfway up to It’s copper hairline creating a taunting snarl.

    Reaching out one gloved hand, It moves as if to honk an invisible horn at the boy and It’s wicked grin only grows wider. “Beep beep, Richie.”

    Before he can even blink, he is running for his life. No sooner had it spoke was It leaping through the air and charging after him. Unhinging It’s jaw, It lets out an impossibly shrill and ear-splitting roar of anger as It lunges after Richie, long arms growing in length as It reaches out to snatch him up. Richie spares a glance behind him, knowing he is about to run out of the room when to his great surprise the door swings suddenly open, and Bill’s arm stretches in and pulls him out.

    Despite his current situation, Richie cannot believe his luck. He barrels over, swallowing air in heaps with his hands gripped tightly above his knees and hoping they don’t buckle.

    “Let’s get outta here,” Bill stammered.

    A soft thump from the adjoining room shifted their attention to a shabby, threadbare mattress that began to shake vigorously - they could barely make out a familiar giggle from inside. And at its center, a lump grew from inside the mattress until one of many weak seams finally gave way, splitting open to reveal the face a friend they had been searching for.

    Their jaws hit the floor at the sight of a disheveled and even somewhat decomposing Eddie, who looked at the three friends with a glint of mischief.

    “Wanna play loogie?”

    Thick, inky black sludge began to pour from his mouth, staining the mattress as well as their minds. The projection of Eddie let out a deep, primal grunt and he began to vibrate unnaturally as the grunts evolved into a crazed cackle before his head disappeared back into the mattress. All the while, the black sludge had begun to spread; seeping out from under the mattress and onto the floor, slowly inching for their feet and burning anything it touched.

    Down on the first-floor kitchen, the real Eddie springs up, awoken by his adrenaline and he looks around the room. In less than moments, the entirety of his pain of injury returns and he looks down at right arm that lays limply in his lap. He is repulsed at the sight when he realizes why it looks so wrong. It had snapped clean in two, and his lower forearm dangled weakly when he attempted to cradle it. He winced as he did so, excruciating amounts of pain flaring up and it took everything in his power not to vomit. Though this time, he was unsure if it was out of disgust or pain.

    Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! How would he ever explain this to his mother? That is if even got out alive! What was he going to do?

    Eddie was far too caught up in his panic to notice the gloved hand that shot out from inside the fridge. That is until It began drumming It’s fingers against the metal exterior of the fridge, creating a chilling rhythmic tap, tap, tap that diverted his attention. His head shoots up in time to see the refrigerator door slowly creak open. For one short instance, he can’t make anything out inside, though that quickly becomes a desirable advantage when he finally spots a crooked lanky arm unfold onto the floor revealing the crooked and twisted face that had cornered him here only weeks ago.

  A sinister cackle echoed from the fridge as limb by limb, the gargantuan figure untangles Itself from the fridge and comes to tower over Eddie’s small frame. The boy draws back in terror as the clown dips into a bow, and It’s puffy white cheeks peel back into a mocking leer that revealed It’s several sharp teeth.

  “Time to float!”

  It’s voice, despite its low octave, was light and mocking. The voice It always used in this form, It’s favorite form: Pennywise.

  He steps forward, his long and lanky arms began shifting side to side in a stiff and stilted manner as He stalked forward towards his prey. All Eddie could bring himself to do was crawl back to the best of his ability, swallowing a dangerous amount of air in the form of choked gasps. Finding this amusing, Pennywise puts on an exaggerated frown and begins to feign a gasp, mocking Eddie as It pretends to stumble.

  All the while, the black sludge surrounding Beverly, Bill and Richie only grow closer to their toes. Subconsciously sweeping them back with her arms, Beverly turns on her heels and goes head for the door, the boys following her lead. However, they each stop short, shocked at the least to see not one but three doors in their path. They were each labeled, painted in what one could only assume to be blood, and each drop of excess liquid slowly crept up to the ceilings as if gravity had been reversed. From right to left, they read; ’Very Scary’, ’Scary’, and ’Not Scary At All’.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

  Eddie’s back hit one of the larger scraps of wood - what was left of the kitchen table - indicating he could go no further. He nearly jumped out of his skin when in the blink of an eye, Pennywise was within inches of himself. His tuffs of copper hair - normally swirling out in even sweeps, now mucky and mangled as it hung closer to his rotted face. In an act of bravery, and all the strength he can muster under such terror, Eddie begins to swat at the clown’s face, batting him away in an act of defiance.

  Pennywise snatches the boy’s wrist with an iron grip, bringing it close to his jowls and pretends to eat Eddie’s hand. He giggled delightfully at his clever antics, oh what fun! And the squeals this meal was capable!

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

  Beverly met eyes with both Richie and Bill, knowing a decision had to be made. And it was unanimous. The three children scrambled for the door marked Not Scary At All, Bev is the one to reach the handle first and she rips the door open to find nothing but shadows. A hoarse whisper carries through the air, bringing goosebumps to their skin, all the while, the sizzling goo was creeping dangerously close to their feet.

  “Where’s my shoe?”

  Spotting the metal chain dangling only feet from his face, Bill reaches forward and pulls the chord illuminating the small space and the ghastly sight within. Betty Ripsom’s bloodied and bruised body was suspended from above, hanging by her wrists as she was left to bleed out from the gaping and shredded stump where her torso ended, and her waist and legs had been torn off. Her mucky and tangled hair hung over her face but parted soon as she limply lifted her head revealing the gathering terror on her face.

  A horrible shriek left her lips, eliciting one from each Loser respectively. Richie lurched forward, swinging the door shut and collapsing on it, panting heavily with a wild look in his eye.

  “Where the fuck were her legs?!” He screams, eyes falling to the sludge creeping up on his friends. “Holy shit, what the fuck was that?!”

  “T-T-This is-isn’t real,” Bill reminds, shaking his head and grasping Richie’s shoulders. “R-remember the m-missing kid p-poster! That wasn’t r-real, so this isn’t real.”

  Beverly nods feverishly, trying her best not to pay no attention to the sludge. Bill was right.

  “You can’t let It get to you,” Bev urges, locking eyes with the boy. “It’s toying with us, all of us. But we can change that.”

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

  “Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear!” The clown cried with glee, spit dribbling from his lips and onto Eddie.

  Eddie convulsed with revulsion, his face barely able to scrunch up in disgust in the iron grip the clown held him in. He choked back sobs as the clown smiled. His eyes had turned to a yellow that glowed harsh bright light amidst a darkness like two headlights tailing you in the night on an old back road. And his smile was so sharp and sudden, so unnaturally pointed. And then, those gaping yellow eyes, the haunting headlights, rolled back into his enlarged - was it enlarging? - skull and his jaw unhinged revealing his rows and rows of thorny teeth. Like hundreds of little white needles that would surely tear his flesh apart and Eddie was sure of it. He was sure this was the end of him.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

  “Come on. Ready?” Bill asked, the three of them facing the door.

  “NO!” Scoffed the Tozier boy.

  “Let’s go!” Beverly rallied, ripping the door open.

Disgruntled, Pennywise turned from his meal. Like a wolf in It’s den, It could hear, It could sense - It could smell - the company.

  A sigh a great relief swept through the three friends as they saw the disheveled and grossly unsanitary hallway. Something they never thought they’d be grateful to see and Richie felt one of many large weights had been lifted from his chest.

  “Oh, thank fuck.”

  But the moment was cut far too short when Beverly begged the question he had previously been asking.

  “But where’s Eddie?”

  “Help!” Eddie! “Help!”

  Pennywise’s gloved hand moves to cover the child’s screams, only managing to muffle his cries. All the while, It’s rotund head still angled away and physically, It’s eyes are fixed on the kitchen door, and yet It knows the boy’s friends are coming for him.

  “Eddie!”

  The door is thrown open, Richie, Beverly, and Bill come stumbling in. They all gasp at the sight of the disheveled clown hunched over their friend, hand now pinned around Eddie’s throat. Displeased, he turns to glare at the interruption, yet a glint of amusement lingers in It’s soulless eyes.

  “Holy fuck,” Richie mutters breathlessly, eyes shifting away quickly. “Eddie!”

  His exaggerated lip began to quiver as he looked to Bill, his voice growing high and shrill as he so easily put on an expression of pain.

  “This isn’t real enough for you, Billy? I’m not real enough for you?”

  “Oh, shit,”

  A malicious smile painted the clown’s face, curling his mouth.

  “It was real enough for Georgie!” He jeered.

  An odious cackle erupted from Pennywise at Bill’s reaction, and it took only seconds for it to turn to a hideous roar as he lunged across the room in a hazy silver blur. It was their turn to stare death in the eyes - more specifically for Bev, Bill, and Richie - death was in the form of a heinous clown. A rallied cry tore through the air as swiftly and cleanly as the fence iron rod was driven through It’s eye so suddenly. Everyone in the room gaped at Y/n as she uncurled her trembling hands from the spike, blood floating out of It’s eye and up towards the ceiling. The rest of the Losers stumbled inside, mouths agape to see the wounded monster wailing meekly at It’s new wound. It was distracted, for the time being.

  “Eddie!” Y/n cried, shuffling around the hunched figure, motioning for her friends to follow. “Guys, help me get him out!”

  No one wasted any time, and Bill, Richie, and Bev managed to maneuver around pennywise and scurried to the floor to help. Mike, Ben, and Stan stood frozen in the entryway, unable to help.

  “Eddie, come on!”

  “Eddie!”

  “Get up!”

  In their fright, not one Loser could hear one another, each scream overlapping the other in a mad scramble to get Eddie out. But Eddie couldn’t bring himself to move, the shock of it all was gripping, and he was much too afraid of what would happen if his eyes left the clown for even a moment. Bill quickly caught on, and he turned his head to see Pennywise’s arched back slowly straightening, a deep growl rumbling It’s chest.

  “Oh, fuck!” Richie gasped at the sight, looking back over at Eddie as he tugged at his one good arm. “we gotta get outta here!”

  With a flourish, Pennywise turned on his heel halfway in a bow, and even then he towered over the Losers. The spike had gone clear through his head and was protruding through his left cheek, his growl deepened and he rose to his full height as he stalked forward. Dribble was once again pooling at his lip, and nothing but a fiery rage was left in It’s one good eye, fixed on It’s newest target. But she was too focused on Eddie, and getting him up. Beverly stood over her and Richie, groaning in fright and tugging frantically at her best friend’s shirt.

  “Get Eddie! Let’s go!”

  “Eddie, come on! NOW!”

  “Guys!” He wailed.

  Y/n, who was all too aware of the It’s presence, finally turned around to see It inching closer. She locked eyes with the monster and tuning out the overlapping screams of her friends became easy when she did so. Because all her mind could handle at once was the fear, the very fact she and her friends were in danger and she just pissed this thing off even more. It was coming for her first, that was easy enough to know. Though she trembled with fear, she shifted her frame in front of her friends, shielding them to the best of her ability.

  It merely snarled at her, amused at her ply but far more tickled by It’s own countermove. A horrible cracking elicited from It’s hunched figure, and everyone - apart from Richie who was hellbent on assuring Eddie’s attention was on him instead - watched as the clown transformed. It’s arms began to grow, now sagging on the floor as It’s knuckles dragged through the leaves. And It’s torso had thinned to impossible proportions, It’s hunched and bony back ripping away the seams on It’s satin costume. And of course the eyes, the same eyes that haunted her that night and every night since.

  And yet she didn’t move.

  Not as he taunted her, with cruel, strikingly similarities as that night - the boogeyman towering over her trembling form. Nor did she move when he lurched forward with a shriek, a desperate, last resort jump scare that worked on her friends. But not her, she refused. Refused to let him know he got to her, or even admit to herself that he got to her. But he did, all too easily. Y/n looked up at the dark chasms where his eyes once were, were two glowing yellow iris now resided, and she waited. Waited for the final blow and for this all to be over. When it finally came, she had expected it to be directed at her but had hit Ben instead.

  Turning suddenly, the iron rod protruding from It’s cheek had caught the flesh of Ben’s stomach, tearing it open. He collapsed back into Mike’s arms with a painful wail, Stan running to his side. All the while, Pennywise turned to look at the eight petrified children and cackled weakly at the small feat. Taking a bow, It backed out of the room, retreating into the shadows and back to It’s hideout. Everyone was in a state of shock, Mike and Stan were fussing over Ben. Richie and Y/n now doing the same with Eddie while Beverly trembled in horror, hand clamped over her mouth to stop her screams from breaking through. But Bill, he only grew more frantic and he rose to his feet and made a mad dash for the door.

  “Don’t let him get away!”

  “Bill! Where the fuck are you going?!”

  At that moment, Bill didn’t care his friends hadn’t followed. He had to make sure the bastard didn’t escape. He followed the clown and found himself descending a rickety staircase, not unlike the one in his basement. That’s when he spotted the well. And more importantly the two lanky claws gripping the stone ledge and the disappearing glance of the clowns head and glowing red irises vanishing into the well.

  “BILL! GET BACK HERE, WE HAVE TO HELP THEM!” It was Y/n’s voice, and Bill was certain he had never heard her so certain.

  “NO! NO!” Eddie cried, looking around at all his friends as they grabbed for his arm.

  Bill has to pull himself from his trance, promising himself this wasn’t the end and scrambled back up the steps back to his friends. He quickly joined their side, and for the first time, he got a good look at Eddie’s arm. He felt as if he could just about puke. Richie looked at him nervously, his hands trembling and a stutter of his own taking over.

  “I-I-I’m gonna, I’m gonna snap your arm back into place!”

  Anger flashed in Eddie’s eyes, and he shook his head with fervor. “DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

  Ignoring Eddie’s protests, Richie attempted to calm his nerves and prepare himself, all the while the rest of the group beginning to panic. Even Mike, and Stan were drawn to their cries, having been wrapped up in Ben.

  “Okay, one,”

  “Do not touch me!”

  “Eddie, squeeze my hand,” Y/n ordered over the commotion, extending her palm but he shook his head.

  “Two,”

  Cries of protest echoed across the room and finally, Y/n quickly grabbed the Eddie’s one good hand, closing her eyes and turning away knowing what was inevitably to come.

  “Three!”

  Everyone heard the sickening crunch of Eddie’s bones shifting, yelling out in disgust but none compared to Eddie’s pained howl. Y/n grimaced at Eddie’s surprisingly strong grip, and she did her best to swallow the bile creeping up at the horrible sound. Remembering all too quickly where they were, she jumped to her feet. Her and Richie helped the boy up and once they were assured Ben was able to move, the eight Losers fled for the exit.

×××

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