Losers: Bill Denbrough x Reader

Visitors

(Y/n)'s POV:

Richie had come and gone. He seemed much more at ease when he left than he had when he got here. It was almost like he had been scared to open the door, scared to come in and see me. But, I hid the throbbing pain that began burning across my side as the medicine they had given me before my surgery started to wear off, and he seemed content with my condition.

I had known that I could fool Richie. I knew I could smile and try to give him answers that would convince him everything was going to be okay. However, there were some people out in that waiting room that I knew it wouldn't work on. The big ones being Bill and Bev, I knew they'd see through my facade as soon as I put it on. They'd see through it because they'd put on the same mask many times before.

I sat alone in the room for several minutes, listening to the steady beeing of the heart monitor and the sound of the sound of the uncomfortable sheets rubbing against one another as I shifted and tried to find a more comfortable way to lay down. Each minuscule movement sent pain shooting up into my shoulder and down through my shin.

I thought about calling for the nurse and asking for more pain meds, but I didn't. The beeping of the monitor seemed to speed up as I heard steady footsteps coming down the hall. I knew that one of the losers would be here in the next few minutes, and I prayed that it wasn't Beverly. I couldn't lie to her.

I could like to Richie, Ben, Mike, Eddie, and Stan. Hell, I could even lie to my mom and maybe Bill, but I could never lie to Beverly. I'd have to tell her that it felt like I had just pulled the knife out all over again and every breath sent pain all across my chest. She would worry. She'd call for a nurse and then when Bev finally left my side, she'd tell the losers everything I'd said.

Tears burned my eyes and the heart monitor's beeping almost seemed to become one solid, never-ending sound. My chest heaved and pain took over my entire side, even making its way up behind my eyes. I let out pathetic sobs as I went over what Richie had said in my mind.

I had scared them, on more than one occasion in a mere couple hours. I made them worry. I made them cry. All I had to do was tell them something was wrong, but I didn't. I knew that I wouldn't have been able to make it home. The thought may not have been front and center in my mind, but I knew to some extent that I'd never make it home.

I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes and sobbed. I knew that my fast heart rate was going to set off the machine and alert a nurse, but I just couldn't help it. My body was racked with sobs, and the pain in my side was making it hard to breathe. I was vaguely aware of someone opening the door and then strong comforting arms were around me.

"I'm...so.....sorry." I croaked in between my sobs.

"You d-don't have to ap-p-pologize." Bill mumbled into my hair.

"I thought...I just....I-"

"Shhhh You don't have to t-talk." Bill said.

And I didn't. I sat there, eventually grabbing onto Bill's filthy shirt like my life depended on it, as Bill held me tightly against his chest. My side was sending sharp shooting pains all over my abdomen now, but I welcomed the pain. It meant that I was real. That I was here. The pain and the tears all meant that despite everything that had gone down this summer, I was alive.

We made it down into the sewer, we fought that fucking clown with everything we had, and we made it out. We beat It and lived to tell the tale.

"...Bill?" I asked, my crying starting to die down at the revelation that I was miraculously still breathing no matter the pain I was in.

"Yeah, (y/n)?" He asked, no stutter, but plenty of worry in his voice.

"I need to ask you a favor." I mumbled into his chest.