Unwritten 🎈Ben Hanscom Fanfiction🎈

~🎈29🎈~

🎈CHAPTER 29🎈

•°Corinne's POV°•

One by one, we climbed out of the forgotten clubhouse, the weight of Mike's task already settling on our shoulders. Mike helped Ben out last. Once on solid ground, Ben immediately turned and reached his hand back down for me.

I took it, his grip firm and sure. He held me steady as I climbed out, his strength making the ascent easy. As I stepped onto the grass, my foot slipped on the damp earth. I started to pitch backward into the hole, a gasp catching in my throat.

But Ben's hands were there in an instant, snapping around my waist and pulling me firmly against him. My hands flew to his chest for balance, and for a moment, we were frozen there, chest to chest, his face inches from mine. The world narrowed to the feel of his hands on my hips and the intensity in his eyes.

"You okay?" he whispered, his voice low and husky, his breath warm on my face.

I could only nod, my voice lost somewhere in my throat. My eyes flickered helplessly between his lips and his gaze, held captive by the magnetic pull between us. The air crackled with unspoken words and a decade of missed chances.

"Okay, Mike, so where do we find our tokens?" Eddie's practical voice sliced through the moment like a knife.

Ben's hands dropped from my waist as if he'd been burned, and we both turned toward the group as if nothing had happened, though my heart was still hammering against my ribs.

"Yeah, I gotta be honest, man. All due respect, this is fucking stupid, all right?" Richie stated, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "Why do we need tokens? We already remember everything. Saving Bev and Cori, defeating It... I mean, we're caught up!"

"It's not everything," Mike countered, his voice patient but firm. "We fought, but what happened after that? Before the house on Neibolt. Think."

He was right. No matter how hard I tried, my memory of that time was a blurry, fragmented mess. It was like trying to recall a dream upon waking-the feeling was there, but the details were gone.

"W-we can't remember, can we?" Bill asked, a note of dawning realization in his voice as he looked at Mike.

"See, there's more to our story. What happened that summer, and those blank spaces... it's like pages torn out of a book. That's what you need to find." Mike's gaze swept over all of us. "We need to split up. You each need to find your artifact. Alone. That's important. When you do, meet me at the library tonight."

My stomach clenched. I liked this plan less and less. Going off alone? What if It showed up?

"Yeah, I gotta say, statistically speaking, you look at survival scenarios, we're gonna do much better as a group," Eddie said, voicing my exact fear. He'd clearly been reading his risk analysis manuals.

"Yeah, splitting up would be dumb, man. Okay, we gotta go together. All right?" Richie argued, seeking support. "We were together that summer, right?"

Bill's answer was immediate and sobering. "No. Not that w-whole summer."

A memory, sharp and painful, suddenly flooded back. It was a different argument, on a different street, but the feeling was the same-the group fracturing under the pressure.

"No! No 'next time,' Bill. You're insane," Stanley said, his voice cracking with a mixture of anger and raw fear.

"Why?" Beverly asked, shocking me. "We all know no one else is going to do anything."

"Eddie was nearly killed! And look at these two fuckers," Richie yelled, pointing a trembling finger at the bloody gashes on Ben's stomach and my side. "They're leaking Hamburger Helper!"

"We can't pretend it's gonna go away. Ben, Corinne, you guys said it yourselves-It comes back every 27 years," Beverly argued.

"Bev, I can't!" I shot back, the pain and fear making my voice sharp. "I'll be 40 in 27 years and far away from this town! Weren't you the one who said you wanted to get out, too?"

"Because I wanna run toward something, Cori. Not away from something," she fired back.

"I'm sorry, who invited Molly Ringwald into the group?" Richie interjected, his anger misdirected.

"Georgie's not dead," Bill stated.

"You couldn't save him, but you can still save yourself," Richie retorted, trying to push past him. Bill didn't budge. "No, t-t-take it back. You're scared and we all are, but take it back!" He shoved Richie backward. Richie shoved back hard.

"Fuck you!" Then Bill threw the first punch. It connected with Richie's jaw with a sickening crack. A gasp tore from my throat. "Bill!" Beverly cried out in shock. Mike and Stanley rushed to pull a dazed Richie off the ground. Ben left my side to grab Bill, holding him back as he struggled.

"You're just a bunch of losers!" Richie yelled, spitting blood onto the pavement as he tried to break free from Mike and Stanley's hold.

"Fuck off!"

"Richie, stop!"

"You're just a bunch of losers and you'll get yourselves killed trying to catch a fucking stupid clown!"

"Stop!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice raw. The sound echoed down the empty street. I just wanted the fighting to end.

"This is what It wants!" Beverly cried, her voice breaking. "It wants to divide us! We were all together when we hurt it. That's why we're still alive!"

"Yeah? Well, I plan to keep it that way," Richie snarled. He finally shook off Mike and Stanley, deliberately bumping Bill's shoulder as he stormed away. The fight was over. The group was broken.

Ben wordlessly took my hand, his grip tight. He pulled me gently toward our bikes. "Cori..." I heard Beverly whisper, her voice full of hurt and confusion. I couldn't look at her. I couldn't look at any of them. I just got on my bike and pedaled away, leaving the shattered remains of the Losers' Club behind me.

The memory was a gut punch. We had split up once before out of fear and anger, and it had left a wound that had taken years to heal. Now, Mike was asking us to separate again, but this time by design. This time, to remember. To fight.

The choice was before us again: to let fear divide us, or to trust each other-and the memory of our friendship-enough to walk into the darkness alone.

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