Lover: Bill Denbrough x Reader (Sequel to Losers: Bill Denbrough x Reader)

Welcome Home...

The two of us hopped into Richie's Cadillac and he drove us to the airport. I wondered what they would do about his car just being parked outside the airport for however long we would be in Derry, but I didn't ask. It didn't seem important enough. I followed close behind Richie, not being used to big public airports.

Surprisingly, we made it to the plane without running into any issues. Richie let me get the window seat so he could sit in between me and a guy who had made me a bit uncomfortable with the way he looked at me while we were having our bags checked.

I had my head laid on Richie's shoulder while I tried to keep my eyes open and focused on the in flight movie that was offered. It was some horror movie starring that pretty actress Audrea whatever her last name was. However, I felt sleep tugging at me no matter how hard I fought it.

I knew falling asleep with all these new memories popping back up just spelt trouble for me. But, for some reason, I almost wanted to fall asleep, to be embraced by these newly resurfaced memories. To remember what it had been like. To remember that last summer in Derry.

"Hey, Rich?" I asked, glancing up at him for a quick moment before my eyes settled back on the screen in front of me.

"Yes, my darling sister?"

"How much do you remember?" I asked him.

"About Derry?"

"Yeah." I nodded against his shoulder.

"Just about as much as a forty year old man is expected to remember about his childhood, I suppose." He shrugged and laughed it off.

"I don't really remember anything. There's a few things here and there that are coming back, but everything else is just gone." I huffed.

"That's called getting old, four eyes." He chuckled.

"I am not old! And you also have four eyes, or maybe you haven't noticed?" I rolled by eyes.

"Trust me, I'm aware. Why are you so worried about Derry anyways?"

"When I got that call from Mike, I felt like I was gonna be sick or cry. Are you telling me that you didn't feel anything when he called?" I asked, sitting up and looking over at him.

For a split moment, it seemed as though we had gone back to 1989 and thirteen year old Richie was in the seat next to me. His mess of curls cut short on his head, his glasses magnifying his eyes to an almost comical size. His expensive leather jacket had been replaced with a white and dark blue hawaiian shirt and he looked as though he had just told a "great" joke and no one had laughed.

Then I blinked, and he was gone. Once again sitting next to me was forty year old Richard Tozier.

"I mean, I got a little sick but that probably had nothing to do with the phone call." He said, thinking for a minute before continuing, "(Y/n) have you been taking your meds?"

"I don't need those stupid pills Richie. They're bullshit and you know it." I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"They are not bullshit, and you need them. You know how you can get when you don't take them." He shook his head.

"You're just like them." I huffed. I felt more and more like a child the longer this day went on.

"I am not like mom or Dr. Underland. Don't you ever say that to me again." He seemed to be very hurt that I had compared him to our mother and my old psychiatrist.

"Yes you are. You think I'm fucking crazy." I whisper shouted at him, afraid that any passengers that hadn't fallen asleep yet might hear our childish bickering.