𝐈𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

 The hotel lobby was empty when you returned roughly half an hour later. After changing out of your sewage-soaked clothes, you decided to head back down to the hotel bar and wait for everyone else to return with their tokens. From upstairs you could hear the hum of a heated argument. Richie had his heart set on booking it and Ben was up there with him, desperately trying to convince him not to.

 In the meantime, you snacked on bright red maraschino cherries and green olives, spearing them with tiny umbrellas and spooning them into your mouth. You weren't in the mood for alcohol, deciding instead to save that hangover for when your brain finally processed that you had seen the ghost of Patrick Hockstetter.

Dim orange firelight flickered from the zippo as you flicked the lid open and closed, twisting it in your grip to better inspect its shape. You ran the pad of your thumb over the jagged initials carved into the sleek metal surface. It was definitely Hockstetter's. You recognized his lousy handwriting anywhere. That and the two letters embossed on the side of the tool spelled out P.H.

You were about to light it once more when the front door of the hotel burst open and in walked a very bewildered looking Eddie. He was covered head to toe in a thick black goopy substance that reflected off of his clothes and skin like oil as he walked by. He didn't bother to acknowledge you as he went.

Gasping, you dropped the zippo back into your pocket and moved around the bar to enter the entrance hall. "Oh my god, Eds," you sighed with a hand over your mouth. Partly to mask the stench and partly out of shock. "What happened?"

"Nothing..I'm fine," he answered once he was halfway up the stairs. "Everything is fine. I'm stealing all of the towels from your room by the way."

You nodded, the hand on your face moving down to your heart. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Ok well I wasn't asking," he snapped, followed by a bout of nervous laughter as he disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him. You were tempted to follow after him when the bell above the door rang once more.

You turned around to see Bill standing in the doorway. He looked exasperated and out of breath, eyes finding yours, and lighting up. "Where is everyone?" He asked.

"Richie is trying to leave and Ben is upstairs trying to talk him out of it. Eddie is..." You looked up the staircase and into the second-floor hallway but saw nothing. "Eddie is stealing my towels."

Bill nodded along until the very end when his eyebrows creased together. "What?" He asked.

You raised your hands defensively, slowly shrinking in on yourself. The day's events were finally setting in and suddenly you wanted a little bit more than cherries and olives in your glass. "I honestly have no idea what's going on anymore," you fumbled. "I just-"

 Bill's strong arms wrapped tightly around your middle, stopping your words in their tracks. Resting his head on your shoulder, you leaned your ear against his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

For just a moment, everything felt semi-normal. For a moment, the fear escaped your body and swirled above your head like a vapor. "Everything is fine," he assured you, not loosening his hold. "They're just scared."

"Doesn't that worry you?" You hummed, eyes closed. You didn't remember Bill smelling so good. Like sawdust and cinnamon. Like home. "That's that It wants, right?"

"We'll just have to stick together."

After what felt like hours, Bill lifted his head from your shoulder and you did the same. The embrace hadn't been completely broken and his hands were still wrapped loosely around your waist, thumbs pressing into the small of your back. You looked up at him, hands against his clothed chest. Something flickered in his eyes, something like a memory. He must've seen it in you too because his sharp blue eyes softened as he leaned his face in closer to yours.

You couldn't find it in you to pull away as his lips made contact with yours. Instead, you reached to cup the underside of his jaw, holding him there. His lips tasted faintly of the warm summer sun. Of half-melted popsicles minus the sticky sweet sugar. He tasted like the Bill you didn't know you remembered.

But he wasn't the Bill you remembered.

 With eyes going round, you reared your head back and took three long steps behind you. Your hands moved to cover your mouth in shock, the anxious feelings resurfacing in your gut despite the lingering warm feeling on your lips. Bill opened his eyes finally, cheeks flush and hands still reached out to hold the phantom of your figure. He took a few short breaths before looking up to you. "What's wrong?" He asked. His tongue jutted out to lick his lips quickly, to savor the taste of you.

You gawked at him. Surely he was messing with you. "You...you're married, Bill!"

"I know," he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"To my boss!"

Bill furrowed his eyebrows and smiled, a chuckle rising in his chest. "Well, technically I'm your boss. So-" he was interrupted when you raised your arm to swat him on the shoulder. 

"That isn't any better!" You glared.

Your argument was interrupted by a sudden 'clunking' sound coming from behind you. You twisted around to watch as what looked to be a skateboard slowly began descending the staircase, jolting and bouncing as it went. Bill acted quickly, grabbing the empty coat rack to his left and using one arm to pull you behind him.

Slowly but surely, it rolled to the very last step and slowed to a stop on the carpet in front of you. Bill approached it hesitantly with you following close behind. Nudging it with the coat rack, he used it as leverage to flip it onto it's back.

In drippy crimson red lettering, a message was written on the opposite side of the deck. You could feel Bill tense up in front of you and you peered around him to get a better look at the message. "Won't be there for him either..." you read aloud in a hushed tone. Shaking your head, you looked up to Bill. "What does that mean?"

He dropped the coat rack, letting it clatter against the rug. "I-It's the kid from the p-place, the Chinese place. I s-saw him on my way here. He lives in my old house. He w-was going to the fair. I have to.." His eyes fell and met yours. They were filled to the brim with determination with pinches of guilt. "I have to be there for him. I wasn't there for Georgie."

Without thinking, you took his arm and held it, pulling him toward the door. "It's ok. I'll come too, let me just shoot Mike a text," you reached into your back pocket and produced your cell phone.

"No!" Bill interrupted, placing his hand on top of yours. "There's no time. You stay here with Ben and Richie. I can't let it happen again."

"What happened before?" Your expression soured. "It wants you to think it was our fault but it wasn't. It wants you to isolate yourself from the rest of us. You can't let it do that, Bill."

For a split second, his eye softened in a moment of clarity before hardening once more as he eyes the half-open door. Before you could comprehend what was happening, he pulled your face closer to his and registered a swift kiss to your cheek. His light stubble scratched your skin and the action stunned you. "I'm sorry," was all he offered you before hightailing it out of the hotel and into the street away from view.

You were still standing there when Ben ran down the stairs a few minutes later. "Did Bill just leave?" He asked, looking between you and the wide-open door. You only nodded, not taking your eyes off of the street. The sound of water running above you made itself known and you finally blinked back into reality.

"I'm going to go check up on Eddie. He said something about needing towels," you pointed your thumb to the stairs and Ben nodded with a comforting smile. It was almost as if he knew what just happened between you and Bill.

 The door to Eddie's room was open a crack when you approached it with a stack of clean towels in your arms. Saying nothing, you walked over to the bed and put them down at the foot. The bathroom door was barely open as well and you could hear him mumbling to himself over the sound of the running sink. You couldn't make out exactly what he was saying but you could pick up bits and pieces that sounded vaguely similar to 'fucking leper, fucking clowns, we're all gonna fucking die.'

Trying to respect his privacy, you knocked on the wall next to the open door and cleared your throat. "Hey, I put some towels on your bed. I didn't know if you still needed them."

You waited patiently for a response but only heard the sounds of feet shuffling across the floor and the shower curtain being pulled back. "Eddie?" You said again, pressing your hand against the door and pushing it open a foot further. 

When you peered inside, your body went rigid and you froze. "Bowers?"

It certainly looked like Bowers. He had the same greasy hair, the same awkward stance. He looked to be wearing some variation of hospital scrubs with a hoodie thrown overtop. Dried blood curated the front of his shirt. Bowers threw his head around to look at you and his eyebrows furrowed.

"(Y/L/N)?" He murmured, hands flexing dangerously at his sides. You took a fearful step back and he looked as if he were about to advance in your direction when suddenly the shower curtain jutted out and the sharp tip of a knife prodded through the sheer fabric and plunged right into Bowers' chest. You gasped, reaching out to clutch the doorway as he stumbled backward.

Standing in the bathtub with his hand still reached out was Eddie. There was a wide gash in his cheek and he reached out for the tile wall for balance as he stepped out of the tub. With eyes unmoving from Bowers' cowering figure, Eddie reached for your arm and pulled you along with him as he scooted out of the bathroom.

"You should cut that fucking mullet," he quipped, voice just as jittery as his demeanor. "It's been like thirty years, man."

As soon as the two of you made it out into the hallway, you screamed down the stairs for Ben. Behind you, Eddie shut the door to his room and fell down the wall until he was seated on the wooden floor of the hallway. You crouched down beside him. 

Ben came bounding up the stairs a moment later. He looked between you and Eddie with wide eyes. "It's Bowers," you managed. "He's in Eddie's room."

He wasted no time after that, throwing open the door and disappearing inside. Eddie looked up to you with a painful expression, blood nearly pouring from his open wound. "Is it bad?"

You squinted as blood trickled from his mouth. The knife must've cut him all the way through his cheek. Not wanting to cause panic, you shook your head but found it morphing into a nod halfway through. "it's...yeah it's something."

 Ben reappeared in the doorway and got down on his knees. Meeting your gaze, he nodded and placed his hand on Eddie's shoulder. "I've got him," he said, referring to your injured friend. "Go find Bill and tell him what happened. We need him back here." 

 (A/N: The next chapter is gonna be in Bill's POV because why not. Is this one short? I can't tell. Anyway, thanks for being patient with updates and all. I'm slowly getting back into writing and I really appreciate your patience).