Splendor//Bill Denbrough

F o u r

Jeremy shivers as he steps off the train. There is something about this place that's really sketchy, and just gives him a feeling of ice falling down his spine.

"Something's not right," he mutters as a breeze blows his hair back.

"Come on," Atticus gently grips his wrist and guides them out of the station, grabbing a map. "We can't afford a hotel, can we?"

Jeremy shakes his head.

"Park benches it is."

There are two parks they could go to: one in the center of town, and one on the outskirts. The twins agree on the outskirts, so there's less of a risk of being caught.

With Atticus as their navigator, the boys finally make it to the park around two in the morning. Jeremy, who was half asleep already, collapses on a bench and blacks out. Atticus smiles fondly and pulls out the thin blanket they packed, draping it over his brother. Only ten minutes later, he's wrapped in his father's flannel jacket that he stole before they left, snoring his heart out.

The temperature continues to drop to the forties throughout the night, leaving the poor sleeping boys with chattering teeth.

A voice whispers in the wind.

"Jeremy..."

His eyes are open in a split second, and he sits up. The blanket falls, leaving goosebumps crawling up and down his arms.

Jeremy's eyes are drawn to a blinking light under the jungle gym... he hates blinking lights, but his legs unwillingly carry him underneath the playground bridge.

As he walks there, a strong wind gusts violently, blowing his hair back. An owl hoots deafeningly. Jeremy reaches the light, which only blinks faster. There's no source of the light.

So much going on... He can't handle it. It's torture; it's.... hell. He can't think, only panic. Jeremy screams and punches the posts supporting the jungle gym. To top it off, an inhuman laugh pierces through everything. Jeremy's throat is raw, but it doesn't stop him from howling.

And then, just like that, it's gone. Silent and still is the night. But Jeremy has been riled up, so he's still thrusting his fists and shrieking. Atticus is awake now, and he groggily sits up.

"Jer?"

It takes a couple seconds for Atticus to process where he is and that Jeremy isn't on his bench. Rolling off his own bench, Atticus follows the cries. He finds his brother now in a ball on the mulch.

The next thing Jeremy feels is warm arms surrounding him, and he's not sure whether to panic more or relax.

"Hey, hey, it's just me," Atticus whispers softly. "Think of your safe place."

There's still guilt on Atticus' chest from fourth grade, where he would be too embarrassed to associate himself with Jeremy. He hasn't told anyone this, not even his mother. But there is only one way to fix it, in his mind... bury it and take care of Jeremy no matter the cost. And that's exactly what he does. Besides, since Claire is the obvious favorite, they really need to stick together.

They stay in an embrace for five whole minutes, until Jeremy calms down completely.

"You're alright, bud. You just must have had a nightmare."

Jeremy shakes his head.

"What?" Atticus asks, tired and unfazed.

"Wasn't a nightmare," he rasps.

"Of course it was," he pulls out his Gatorade water bottle from his bag and hands it to his twin.

Jeremy chugs down the rest of the water so it dribbles down his face. "No, it wasn't. There was an awful blinking light... and so many loud noises..."

"I'm sure there wasn't a blinking light under the playground. You must be on crack."

"I experienced it, Atticus. I'm not making shit up."

He's taken aback at Jeremy's use of an expletive, but still very reluctant to believe that it was real.

"Okay... let's just get some sleep."

Jeremy rolls his eyes in frustration, but doesn't argue. Instead, he wraps himself tightly in the blanket and plays connect the dots with the stars, hesitant to doze off again.

But sleep eventually overtakes him, and the both of them sleep until around nine in the morning, when a stranger finds them.

"What the hell?"

The stranger, a very handsome man about their parents age, looks genuinely confused.

The boys open their eyes to see him, and don't have a clue what to say.

"Would it be rude to ask why you two boys are sleeping on these benches?"

"Would it be rude to ask why a grown man is in the park by himself?" Atticus replies, upset that his sleep was interrupted by this bold stranger.

The man chuckles with a kind smile. But then he sees the cerulean of both of their eyes and recalls something his friend said last night about having twin boys. And at least one of these boys certainly has a lot of audacity.

The man drops his library book and runs hands through his hair.

"Holy shit, you're Bill's and Carn's boys."