𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫

✩ 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 ~ 𝚋.𝚍. ✩

pairing: bill denbrough x (fem)reader

warnings: angst, heavy gore

word count: 1354

song preference: things we saw, cary brothers

requested? [yes] [no]

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ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡ where to start.

She was . . . God, she was amazing. She had these eyes and this smile. I could go on for days about how pretty she was, but that wasn't the only good thing about her. She was beautiful on the inside, too. Her perfect laugh, her shining compassion, her willingness and determination. She was like a godsend. If there was one thing I will always remember about her, though, it is how she always smelled like sunscreen, in hot or cold weather, no matter the time of day.

Her name was [Full Name]. She was my best friend, and I loved her with every piece of me. And she loved me too.

I remember the day everything fell apart. Not just our friendship, but our lives. All of us Losers. We were broken and reshaped like half-dry clay, all broken bits and odd ends stuck in a glob without a defined shape. We were helpless victims to this beast.

I was always afraid of losing the people I loved most. That's why It took Georgie away from me. That's why I had constant nightmares of my friends and family dying. Even before the sewers, I would toss and turn every night, afraid that I would wake up and one of the Losers would be gone, no matter how much I said I hated them in the daytime.

We had ventured deep into the belly of the sewers to find Beverly. It had taken her because she was what held our group together, the strongest link in our weak chain. We had been split up repeatedly, but I remember when [Name] and I were alone. We marched through calf-high water, our fingers pressed against our noses to keep the stench of rotting flesh and sewer water out of our nostrils.

The two of us slowed to a stop at a fork in the road, and [Name] released the pressure from her nose. "Bill?" she panted, tired from walking for an hour and coated in grime.

I looked back at her, muttering a "Yeah?" before looking either way down the fork again.

"I never told you what I'm most afraid of," she said, her hands on her knees and a sick look on her face. She bowed her head and I became worried. Whatever had prompted her to bring this up had clearly been bothering her for quite some time.

"Wh-what is it?" I stuttered, pointing my flashlight down the left end of the tunnel and lifting my vision from her sickened figure.

"I'm scared of dying," she said, letting out a large breath like a weight had been lifted from her chest. The hand holding my flashlight dipped and I looked at the murky water, my other unoccupied hand beginning to shake a little.

"Me too," I whispered, meaning it as much as she. We were all afraid to die. Who wouldn't be? But [Name] seemed petrified at the thought of dying. Any time any of us Losers brought up death around her, she would go green in the face and we would have to talk about something else.

We carried on and in another fifteen minutes, we found Beverly. While [Name] attempted to get her down and waited for the other Losers to arrive, I went off in search of Georgie, whose voice I had heard a moment before.

A stupid decision.

All hell broke loose after Georgie was revealed to be another trap set up by It, nothing but a lifeless puppet used to trick us into believing Georgie was still alive. Rather, to trick me into thinking he was still alive.

We fought the monstrous creature back with all of our might, using baseball bats discarded on an enormous pile of lost toys, all dirtied and long forgotten by their presumably dead owners, as well as broken pipes and rusty iron spikes that once belonged to the broken fence surrounding the devil house.

"Bill!" [Name] screamed, her eyes flashing with terror as It morphed into a terrifying depiction of the Grim Reaper, wielding a magnificent scythe and swiping at her body, which had been cast to the ground by a blow in Its original clown form. [Name] screamed and my blood turned cold as I watched the blade cut a lethal gash right through her stomach, hot red blood pouring from every orifice. I was so shocked I barely heard my screams as I ran toward her, It turning away from her bleeding body and preying on Richie instead.

"[Name]!" I shouted, collapsing to my knees at her side and cradling her body close to mine. There it was, among the pungent smell of sweat, greywater, and blood . . . Sunscreen. I pulled her away from the big fight behind a drain pipe, hoping to hide her from Its evil presence. Still, I gripped a rusty chain tight in hand, prepared to fight off the ancient beast.

"It's okay, i-it's gonna be o-okay," I whimpered, laying her in my lap. She gasped and choked, pressing her hands to her stomach. Her body had turned pale and her lips were turning blue. She coughed horribly and blood leaked from the corners of her lips, spraying on her shirt. She took a few shaky breaths, each one more ragged than the other.

"Bill," she rasped, her eyes wide and terrified. She reached up and clutched my hand in her shaking weak one and whispered, "I d-don't want to die."

I sobbed and tears leaked from her eyes, mixing with the blood still trickling from her mouth. I shook my head and held my hand tightly in hers. "I-it will be okay, [Name]. I-I p-promise."

She gasped and sputtered for another minute, pain overtaking her emotions. Her stomach was still seeping blood, and I could tell there was not much time left. She gasped and coughed even worse than before and I sobbed, tears flowing down my face.

"No. No, no, no, no, no. I c-can't lose you, too," I sobbed as she took a few more pained, ragged breaths.

She looked like she was in the worst pain imaginable. Her eyes leaked a few more tears as she gasped one more time and whispered, "I don't wanna die."

That was the last thing she ever said to me.

To anyone.

I never quite got over her death. Of course, I pretty much had to. But that was still my best friend. I never got the chance to tell her how much I loved her, and it pains me every day when I think about those last words she said. I'm no longer allowed to see the [Last Name] family because they think I'm the cause of their daughter's death. And to be honest, I think it's true. I'll take the blame this time. I was the one who roped her into that whole mess, after all.

But I can't get over the feeling I get sometimes, how depressed and upset I get whenever I think about her. The graphic way she died, the terrible things that happened to her . . . I can't help but think it's all my fault. But there's always something that makes me think of how she lived, and I feel a little better in the end.

And sometimes (even though I might be imagining it), when I'm feeling depressed or lonely, I can close my eyes and find the smell of sunscreen wafting through the air, like a message to know I'm not alone anymore. Like a message to know that she's okay.

That she isn't afraid anymore.

And I shouldn't be, either.

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hey all! sorry this was a little short, but i promise this will be the last angst ... for now (teehee) anyway, if yall are reading this in publishing order, i'm officially going to start updating my miniseries tomorrow!!! super exciting, huh? please feel free to check it out! i have information on it in chapters "miniseries idea (i need your help)" and "miniseries idea (part two)" so if you have any questions check those out first :) okay, remember to drink some water and get your rest, guys <3