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.