it chapter two | reader insert [✔]

ten | neibolt; the sequel of the sequel

Neibolt house was coming quickly into view, and it looked just as run-down as it did the first time you'd come here all those years ago. 

You watched through the window of Beverly's backseat, and Bill's bike came into view in the darkness. You still remembered it almost clearly, and you knew he had used it to get here immediately. It was sitting abandoned on the front lawn, and for a few terrible moments, you thought about being too late. He'd already fell victim to the clown. 

But then him himself came into view, and Beverly skidded to a stop. You all practically leaped out of the car, running up to where he was about to enter the house without so much as hesitating. 

"Bill! Bill, stop!" You yelled, and he immediately turned around at the sound of your voice. You skidded into the front lawn, coming to a stop a few meters in front of him and the veranda of the house you'd promised yourself never to come back to.

"No, (Y/n), no! Go home, all of you!" He replied to you once he noticed the rest of the Losers Club following behind you.

"Listen, I started all of this. It's my fault that you're all here." He stuttered profusely during his sentence, and it took him a few moments to get it out. "This curse, this fucking thing that's inside you all. It started growing the day I made you go down to the Barrens to find Georgie."

He examined your grief-stricken face for a few moments, before turning to the house. "Now, I'm going to go in there, and I don't know what's going to happen. But I can't ask you to do this."

The whole group remained quiet, before you spoke up softly. "Well, good thing we're not asking you either."

He stepped down a step towards you, whispering your name like a plea. Mike interrupted him. 

"We didn't do it alone back then, so we're not gonna do it alone now."

"Losers stick together." Ben agreed. 

The group fell silent and Bill looked torn between his choices- but you knew that he knew, deep down, he didn't have a choice. 

"I-I think Richie said it best last time we were here." He said simply, and everyone turned to him. You felt confusion bubble up inside you, until suddenly you remembered, and a smile took over your features. 

Richie didn't get it yet, though. He looked at him with a confused expression. "I did?"

The group simply looked at him as he racked his memory. "'I don't wanna die'?"

"Not that."

"'You're lucky we're not measuring dicks?'"

You turned to give him an incredulous look. 

"No." You heard Bill say softly from the stairs. Richie paused, before a confident look took over his features. 

"'Let's kill this fucking clown?'"

When Bill let out a laugh, Richie straightened up and a cocky grin took over his features.

"Let's kill this fucking clown."

---

You entered the house stealthily, resisting the urge to cough at the olden furniture covered in dust. Cobwebs lined the whole house, and it was even worse then what you remembered- 27 years had passed, after all.

You weren't entirely sure why Beverly kept a convenient stash of flashlights in her car- but you were definitely grateful as you gripped one in your hands, shining it around at every little sound that occurred.

You knew you were being on edge- who wouldn't be in this situation? 

You felt like your fear was floating you upwards towards the sky, and only Bill's occasional reassuring touch was keeping you on the Earth. You were grateful for him.