Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Derry didn't get many exchange programs, or field trips. The town itself wasn't all that exciting, especially when you consider the fact that everyone in Derry would rather be by themselves or be terrible instead of actually caring about another person. 

This is where The Losers Club differed from their hometown. They cared, perhaps a bit too much, and showed it freely. Often, they were the ones being picked on and not the other way round. 

Eddie had seen it, had experienced it, and it never ceased to amaze him how fucked up Derry was. Out of all the towns in America, Derry was by far the worst one (though, Eddie has never really been outside Derry, so maybe his claim is plain incorrect). 

But today, there was something different going on among the students of Derry High School. Eddie had biked here with Richie, Bill and Stan, and yet all four of them didn't have the faintest clue as to what was going on. 

There was a buzz of excitement in the air, and that was certainly not normal. It was almost jarring, to walk into Derry High expecting the usual gloom—only to be faced with a strong feeling of anticipation. 

“Did Bowers finally die?” Richie asked, and Eddie held back a snort at the comment. Instead, he gave Richie a full eye-roll to convey just how idiotic that question was. 

“I think they'd be happier if Hockstetter was found in a ditch,” Stan retorted, eyes roaming the crowded halls of school with intrigue. Bill laughed at that, and Richie nodded in agreement. 

“Shuh-Shouldnt we ask s-s-somome what's going on?” Bill suggested—and see, that would be a nice idea if everyone in Derry weren't such assholes. 

“And get picked on?” Eddie said, scrunching his nose at the thought, “hell no.”

Bill huffed, but didn't argue as they made their way to their homeroom. That's when they saw it: a bright poster (which was a stark contrast to the monochrome walls) stuck onto the notice board next to their class, more than a few students huddled next to it to read what it had to say. 

Eddie was curious himself. Was that the thing that had created such a buzz at 9 in the morning? What even was it? Knowing Derry, it would probably be something lame like… a field trip to the Derry police station or something. 

With such a big crowd, it was difficult to garner what the contents of the poster could be, but after Richie almost made at least four people trip, they finally got close enough to see. 

And bright, bubbled, letters greeted them back, reading: ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY! VENTURE OUT OF DERRY; SEE THE BRIGHT LIGHTS OF NEW YORK. 

The poster itself had been weird, but what was written on it was beyond bizarre. 

“Holy shit,” he heard Richie mumble, and when Eddie stole a glance at the other boy he saw a gleam of excitement in his eyes. It wasn't surprising, but Eddie didn't think the poster was being very truthful. Why would the school fund something so expensive like a trip to New York? 

“Wait,” Stan said, pointing at the words at the bottom of the poster that had been deliberately written in a miniscule font. “It says we have to win via a raffle, how is that fair?”

“If everyone had a chance to go to New York, Derry would be a wasteland,” Eddie remarked, gaze fixed on the poster. Essentially it was saying if they won the raffle they and their friends would be given two weeks of “non-stop fun and entertainment” in New York City. No parents, no Derry, no nothing. It was almost too good to be true. 

“Sh-Should we e-enter?” Bill asked, glancing at the three of them. Eddie hummed, not entirely sure. It was unlikely they'd win anyway, wasn't it? And his mom wouldn't let him leave either way, not with how overprotective she was. But, it would be nice. To pretend that they stood a chance and could potentially win the raffle and have a chance to explore New York City. 

“Of fucking course!” Richie said, and that seemed convincing enough for Stan because he shrugged and nodded, so Eddie decided he might as well agree because what were the chances they won anyway, right? Their luck was beyond shit. 

Two days later and Eddie had to make sure his eyes were working—he didn't need glasses, did he? The winners of the raffle were supposed to be announced today, and Eddie and Richie had rushed towards the notice board to see what numbers were the winning ones. 

But then when they arrived, it was more than shocking to see their number staring right back at them. Like, what the fuck? 

“What the fuck!” Richie exclaimed aloud what Eddie said in his head, “oh my fucking god, Eds, did we just win the raffle!?”

“No, Richie, it was some other group of losers. What do you think?”

Bill and Stan joined them not moments later, and were almost just as surprised to see their number on the notice board. None of them had thought they'd get farther than the raffle ticket. 

“D-Did we actually wi-win?” Bill asked, sceptical—and rightfully so because this was Derry. Promises didn't exist here, and something as grand as a trip to New York felt like the biggest fucking lie Eddie had ever seen. 

“We’re supposed to go to the head office to give our number,” Stan said, reading the text below the raffle number. “How much do you bet they won't let us go?”

“But they have to, don't they? What the fuck was the point of this then?” Richie asked, brows furrowing as his lips turned into a slight frown. The expression was cute on him, but Eddie did not want to begin thinking about that, lest he go down a rabbit hole of thoughts he would wish to ignore. 

Stan shrugged, “entertainment?”

“Yeah, imagine the look on everyone's faces thinking they'd win the raffle only to be dissapointed,” Eddie said. 

“We shuh-should still go a-and suh-see,” Bill reasoned, and, most of the time, Bill’s judgement was sound, so everyone agreed without complaint. The four of them headed towards the head office; which was a secluded part of the school where the walls were freshly painted and actually looked pleasing. 

At the desk, an old, tired, man sat, typing away on a battered computer. He didn't look like he was doing anything worth waiting on, but even if he was, the Losers were too eager to figure out if the NYC trip was a scam or not to care. 

“Hi!” Richie said, a cute grin on his face as he dramatically slammed his hands on the desk, making the guy jump. “Know anything about the raffle winners?”

The old man blinked tiredly, looking unamused at Richie’s bright personality. “Do you mean the one for the NYC trip?”

At that, they all nodded in unison, and the man sighed, “let me guess, you're here to tell me you won? Listen kids, I need actual proof before–”

But he paused when Bill handed him their ticket, inspecting it before sighing again, this one sounded more tired than the last. “Hell, okay,” he mumbled, then began typing on his computer again, the sound of keys clacking filling the room. 

The Losers waited in silent anticipation, wondering if this really was a scam. Eddie wouldn't be surprised if it was, but then again, there was also a very slim chance that it wasn't. And some small part of him clung onto that irrational hope, if only because the thought of escaping Derry for two weeks sounded delightful.

“It looks like you did win,” he said, glancing back at the four of them thoughtfully, “as custom, you're allowed to bring as many friends as you like—though the maximum amount has been fixed to five.”

Eddie blinked. Was he… was he being serious right now? He almost said that aloud, but stopped himself from looking stupid. Did they actually win? How was that even possible? How would the school even fund a trip of this scale?

“Wait, wait, wait,” Richie said quickly, looking just as bewildered, if not more excited. “Hold the fucking phone—did we actually win? Like, for real, no jokes, we won?”

The man almost rolled his eyes at their bemused expressions, “yes, obviously. The school has spent a butt load of money on this, so don't go thinking this was all for nothing.”

But that begged the question—why. Why did the school spend as much money as they did? What was the point of funding this trip when they had absolutely nothing to gain? It was odd, and more than a little suspicious, but honestly? Eddie wouldn't mind overlooking it for the sake of going to New York City. 

Besides, didn't people say not to look a gift horse in the mouth? 

“Is there anything we should know?” Stan questioned, having recovered from his initial shock. 

The man nodded, “you are to go with an escort. He goes by the name Robert Gray, the man who lives at Neibolt. Are you four only going?”

Bill nodded, and the man hummed, “we need permission slips from your parents by tomorrow morning.”

Eddie felt a sense of dread wash over him. A permission slip? He knew he wouldn't have been able to go anyway, why had he been getting his hopes up? His mom would never let him go—and for two weeks, too? She'd have a heart attack! 

He internally sighed, already preparing for his friends' disappointed faces when he reminded them of his inability to leave Derry either way. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Richie said, and the man just handed them a badly sealed envelope—which Stan took to open entirely. 

Inside, there were details on who their pick up would be as well as four plane tickets. Seeing the accuracy, Eddie felt goosebumps on his skin. It was odd, and he knew he was being irrational, but how did they have the exact number of tickets they'd need? All ready to go, too. Maybe he was overthinking, they could have left a few envelopes as preparation for the winners. 

That made logical sense, so Eddie should listen to it and believe it. And he did, somewhat.

The four of them left the head office with a nervous sort of anticipation, well, everyone except Eddie—and perhaps Stan, who had a more thoughtful expression on his face than a worried one. 

It was Stan who eventually broke the silence, “how exactly are we going to convince our parents to let us go to New York?” He asked as they moved through the crowded school hallways side-by-side. 

“W-we could te-tell them it's e-ed-educational?” Bill suggested, but Eddie knew whatever excuse they came up with would not persuade his mom to let him go. 

Richie blew a raspberry, clearly finding the idea to be terrible—and when it came to Richie, whatever came out of his mouth next would be ten times more idiotic. 

“Just forge it, dumbasses!” he said, sounding more confident than Eddie felt. Stan gave him an unimpressed look. 

“As if that'd work,” Eddie countered as the four of them left school grounds and towards the bike racks. “You think the teachers would fall for that?”

“Uh, yeah?” Richie said, grabbing his bike by the handles. “What, my idea too advanced for your little brain, Eds?”

Eddie scoffed, “you wish,” he said, rolling his eyes. He did that a lot when he was around Richie. “I couldn't go either way, I don't need a lousy forgery to tell me that.”

Richie’s grin faltered, “you aren't going? But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

“Yeah, and my mom is way too fucking protective. She'd never let me set foot out of Derry,” he reasoned as all four of them mounted their bikes. 

Stan hummed, “I don't think my parents would either, really. Going to New York all by ourselves?”

“B-But we wuh-wouldn’t be by our-r-selves,” Bill said, the wheels of their bikes zooming against the pavement. “T-This Robert Guh-Gray guy would be w-with us.”

“A total stranger?” Eddie huffed, knowing just how terrible the trip sounded. If his mom got any whiff of it, she'd probably do something drastic like lock him up in his room or something. 

“Where did that guy say he lived again?” Richie suddenly asked, a small frown on his face. Eddie knew he probably wanted to go on the trip, and knowing his parents they'd probably let him, but he wouldn't want to go alone, and Eddie wished he could go with him. 

“Neibolt,” Stan replied, and all four of them got goosebumps at the name. Neibolt wasn't the friendliest house in the neighborhood, if anything it looked exactly like something from a horror movie. It was old and worn down and no one ever seemed to live there, and yet someone apparently did? Creepy. 

Richie shuddered, “ew, don't people say the guy that lives there is fucked up?”

Bill nodded, “th-they say he’s kuh-killed people.”

Eddie scrunched his nose, “what and we're supposed to spend two weeks with a potential serial killer? That's fucked up.”

“But—we don't know if he's a serial killer,” Richie reasoned, though since it was Richie most of the reason flew over their heads.

“There's a high fucking probability he is!”

“Oh, Eds, when are you gonna learn that probability is a lie created by Einstein.”

Stan scoffed, “Einstein didn't create probability, Rich.”

“Were you there when it was discovered, Staniel?” Richie retorted, and soon the four boys reached Bill’s house. They usually congregated there just to do homework, but Eddie knew he wouldn't be able to get any done today. Thoughts on the trip to New York occupied his mind, and he really wished he could go. 

Just. Being outside Derry, even if for only a few days, sounded amazing. Two weeks without his mom's nagging and coddling, two weeks where he was allowed to breathe. That sounded like bliss, like a dream come true. Which is why Eddie knew he'd never be able to go. 

Bill’s house was quiet that afternoon, even the ever jubilant Georgie wasn't home. It was such a stark contrast to usual, and Eddie almost missed the soft melodic sound of Bill’s mother playing piano in their parlor and Goergie’s loud laughter as he showed Bill some cute picture he drew. 

But they were busy today, and so they had the whole house to themselves as they walked towards the living room, dropping their bags near the leg of the couch. 

“I still think my forgery idea would work,” Richie mumbled, and that seemed to break the almost tense silence that had fallen over them. All Richie had to do was speak and Eddie's anxieties seemed to ease. That didn't sound normal—was he dying? No, that's stupid. He wouldn't be dying. Right? 

Whatever, he could overthink about that later. He settled down on the carpeted floor of Bill’s living room, everyone's books and pencils laid on the glass coffee table. Yet no one began their homework, still simmering over the idea of a trip to New York. 

They had won the raffle—really, it seemed to be fate, didn't it? Eddie was being irrational right now, he knew, but the urge to break free from the constricting cage he had been kept in for so long was overwhelming. What if. What if the signitaures being forged did work. What if they got to spend their two weeks without trouble, carefree and happy. 

What if. 

“Fuck it,” Eddie said before he could stop himself, and he turned to Richie, “how good are you at forgeries.”

And maybe it would all be worth it with how wide Richie’s stupid dumb grin got, already taking out a sheet of paper to show off his work—and Eddie would admit, it was good. 

Perhaps this would work. 

“Can you do my mom's?” He asked quickly, and Richie looked so smug Eddie just wanted to slap it off his face. 

“I can do more than Mrs. K’s signituare—”

“Beep, beep, Richie!” Eddie said, “this is not the time.”

Richie just huffed but complied, for once. “If you guys show me how it looks, I could do a neat replica.”

Eddie wasn't sure why, but his blood was pumping at the thought of something so rebellious. This went against everything his mom wanted for him, and honestly? He was glad. For once, he felt a tad lighter. 

They were going to New York.

Chapter Text

Richie was beyond nervous when the four of them reached school that early morning, having packed a few clothes and necessities to not make their parents suspicious of what they were going to do next. 

It was so surreal. He couldn't believe Eddie was the one who had agreed to faking their parents’ signatures. Richie knew for certain this would work, and they'd be in New York before their parents even had time to realise they were gone. 

The morning air was crisp, and his hair blew against the wind as Derry High School slowly came into view. Just seeing their shitty school made Richie’s grin widen, and he peddled faster, stirring in nervous excitement. 

Next to the school's entrance was a rundown clown car, the paint having faded from years of use and now it was a muted yellow that looked almost green. Though it wasn't the absurdity of the car that caught Richie’s attention, but instead the man who stood beside it. 

He looked friendly enough, tuffs of auburn hair stuck out and his eyes gleamed an amicable grey. Yet there was something about his smile that made Richie unnerved, he didn't like the way it seemed a tad forced. 

But that must be Robert Gray, their escort. The potential serial killer. How fun. 

The four stopped just at the entrance of the school, parking their bikes, and Robert Gray grinned a wide smile, “good morning, children.”

“M-Morning,” Bill replied, before glancing at the other three boys, “a-a-are you Roh-Robert Guh-Gray?”

The man nodded, “indeed I am!” he exclaimed, grin never leaving his face, “I hear you and your friends are coming with me to New York! Along with a few others.”

Richie nodded, “yeah,” he said, hands slightly sweaty from nerves. Robert Gray resembled a clown in quite a few ways, and although Richie would never admit it aloud—he hated clowns. They gave him the same unnerving smile that Robert Gray was giving him now. 

“Do you know who else is coming?” Stan asked, before his question was answered when the school doors opened and the principal, along with three kids, walked out. 

“I see you boys finally arrived,” their principal said, sounding almost irritated at having to come to school at such an early hour. “All seven of you were chosen to accompany Mr. Gray on his trip to New York.”

Behind the principal, a dirty-blonde haired boy (who Richie had seen around, and was most commonly known as ‘The New Kid’), asked, “is his car going to fit all of us?”

The principal scoffed, “obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes rudely, which made the boy shrink into himself—like a turtle, Richie thought absently. “Now! Hand over the permission slips.”

Everyone did, quickly, and when Richie glanced down at some of them he realised that most were likely forged. It was dumb, really, but Richie had to hide his grin either way.

After the principal gave the slips a small glance, he stuffed them in his pocket and nodded, “Mr. Gray will help with your luggage,” he said, before turning on his heel and heading back inside the school. 

Everyone was silent for a good second before Robert Gray opened his trunk and the sound broke through the quiet. The ginger haired girl, who Richie knew was Beverly Marsh, soon slipped her backpack off to put into the trunk. Her movements caused The New Kid to put his things in, too, which, in turn, caused the other kid—which Richie was pretty sure was the homeschooled Mike Hanlon? What was he even doing here, wasn't this a school event? Well, it didn't seem like the principal cared—to start moving as well. 

After those three had put their things in, Richie decided there was no point standing around any longer and stuffed his bag inside as well. Eddie was next, though he seemed weary of touching the car itself, followed by Bill and then finally Stan. 

Robert Gray still had that creepy smile, closing the trunk loudly, before shuffling towards the driver's side, “sit anywhere, kiddos! This car is just as much yours as it is mine!” 

“Right…” Richie heard Beverly mutter, and glanced over at the girl to see her suspicious eyes watching Robert Gray as he sat down behind the steering wheel. Though she got in just moments later, so Richie wasn't sure why she was so suspicious of the man. 

New Kid followed, (Richie should really get his name, shouldn't he?) with Mike Hanlon not too far behind. 

Then, just as Stan hesitantly sat down, there was a loud ringing of a bell echoing in the cold morning air. 

“Billy!” the voice yelled, the sound of wheels hitting against the pavement slowly getting louder. Richie didn't even have to turn to know it was Georgie. “Don't leave!”

Bill sighed, and turned just as his little brother jumped off his bike and dashed towards him, gripping him in what was probably a tight hug. 

The sight was sweet, but Richie knew they had to leave soon or they'd miss their flight. Though the conflicting look on Bill’s face showed just how reluctant he was to go on this trip, especially without Georgie. 

“Juh-Georgie,” Bill said, trying to sound stern, but even he didn't want to leave his little brother. Georgie shook his head, gripping tighter. 

“Don't go.”

Richie’s heart broke at how small Georgie’s voice sounded, and he wished he could think of something funny to alleviate the mood. But nothing came to his mind, and the silence was almost palpable. 

But then Robert Gray’s saccharinely sweet voice cut through, “bring the kid, I can pay for his ticket.”

Bill blinked, head turning to Robert Gray like he'd just said something impossible. Which, he kind of did, “r-r-really?”

Robert Gray’s smile widened, “of course! Come sit up front! Come, come!” He said excitedly, patting the front seat and Georgie let out a happy sound, tugging Bill towards the passenger seat. 

Richie soon got inside the car, and was surprised to learn that it was almost big enough to fit all of them. Though, Beverly was barely sitting on a seat and more on New Kids lap—who was red in the face, while Beverly looked unphased, though Richie saw a small smile on her face—and then when Eddie came to sit inside, trying his hardest not to touch the car at all, he had to sit with one leg on Richie’s while the other stayed pressed against the passenger seat. 

“Richie, you're taking up so much room!” Eddie snapped, and his quip seemed to elevate the tension, if only barely. Once the clown car door was closed, Richie grinned. 

“That's what your mom said after I showed her a good time,” He said cheekily, which only made Eddie's eyes roll. 

“I'm sure your sister will say the same after I'm done with her,” Eddie said without hesitation, and Richie had to bite back a laugh as the car started, the soft rumbles turning into white noise. 

“Foul,” Beverly Marsh said, an amused grin on her face. “Hell, are you two always like this?”

“Unfortunately,” Stan muttered, not even bothering to hide the eye roll he sent Richie.

Beverly laughed, and the New Kid let out a small huff, too. Richie grinned at their amusement, “you might love it now, but I can get so much worse.”

“A-At least h-he ah-admits it,” Bill said from where he sat upfront, with Georgie in his lap. 

As the car ride continued, slowly heading towards the Airport the next town over because obviously Derry didn't have one, it transformed into a lull of jokes and laughter. Never had Richie thought he'd find more people who tolerated the way he was, and the fact that sometimes they were worse made it all the more entertaining. 

“Do you get a boner everytime you look at Mrs. K?” Beverly asked, brow raised as Eddie made an offended noise. 

“Oh, yeah,” Richie replied, “all the time. But Mrs. K loves it—”

“Shut up, Richie!” Eddie yelled, shoving into the boy with his elbow. He let out a yelp, before shoving Eddie back. 

“Hey, guys, maybe don't fight?” Mike said hesitantly, though it was futile seeing as Richie and Eddie continued to shove each other. 

That was until Stan said, “stop flirting.”

And Eddie and Richie both froze. He couldn't believe Stan had just said that, and he glared at the other boy as he stopped shoving Eddie, the beginning of a blush painting his cheeks a light pink. 

“Fuck off, Stan,” Richie muttered, flipping Stan off, who rolled his eyes annoyingly. 

The others didn't seem bothered by Stan’s deceleration, and Richie internally sighed with relief. He thought they'd be disgusted, calling him a fag or something similar. But, well, Beverly was still grinning, and Ben—Richie had finally gotten his name, half an hour into the car ride—looked amused by their shenanigans and Mike just laughed. 

It was funny how easily all of them seemed to bond even if they only knew each other for an hour at most. Richie mostly ignored Robert Gray, who stayed silent throughout the ride as everyone talked and laughed. 

Sometimes, Richie felt his eyes watching them and the unnerving feeling returned, but he dismissed it as paranoia. Rumours weren't always true, after all, and Robert Gray probably didn't have dead bodies in his basement. Probably. 

Being in a car with everyone else did lessen his paranoia, though, and he could mostly ignore it as he continued chatting with them. 

Eventually they arrived at the airport. It was small, and not properly maintained, but groups of people left and entered the place like it was normal for it to be in such bad shape. 

Richie was glad when everyone finally got out of the car, legs feeling cramped from having to sit in such an uncomfortable position for two whole hours. 

“Is everyone excited?” Robert Gray asked, that uncanny smile still plastered on his face as he locked his car. Everyone had grabbed their bags and nodded at his question. He hummed pleasantly, “good, good.”

They all made their way towards bag check, and soon spent half an hour just going through the process of registering before going through Airport security. Then, they were meant to wait an hour for the plane to land so they could finally get to New York. 

The fact they were so close exhiliterated Richie, he was just so excited to get out of Derry and nothing could stop them now. Not when they were basically there, only a plane standing in their way, for two whole weeks of nothing but freedom. 

Airport waiting rooms were quiet, and Richie quite hated the silence, so as everyone sat down on the chairs to wait for their plane (except Robert Gray, who excused himself to the bathroom) he decided to start up conversation again. 

“Ever played Street Fighter?” Richie asked, continuing to stand even if there were enough seats to cater for all of them. He just didn't feel like sitting anymore, all the energy inside him struggling to be contained. 

Mike shrugged, “is that a game?”

Richie almost scoffed, “only the best game, ever! Have you never been to the arcade? Like. Ever?”

“I usually stay away from the town unless super necessary,” Mike replied, “you know, with Bowers around I don't really like coming here.”

It was reasonable, and hell, Richie didn't like Bowers either, but he still couldn't believe Mike hadn't gone to an arcade—not even out of curiosity, either! “When we get to New York, we're gonna look for the biggest fucking arcade ever and I'mma show you all the games.”

It was a promise Richie would fight to keep, and Mike smiled warmly at his words. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

Georgie stayed close to Bill, gripping his arm tightly, like he was scared Bill would leave him behind if he didn't. Though, at the mention of arcade games his eyes lit up, “can I come, too!”

Richie grinned at the seven-year-old, “obviously,” he said, ruffling the boy’s blonde hair, which made the smaller boy laugh happily. 

“W-W-What are yuh-you all going t-t-to do at New Yuh-York?” Bill asked, looking over at the others curiously. 

“Meet some hot chicks,” Richie replied easily, which made Stan snort. 

“Every girl in New York would see your Hawaiian shirts and run in the other direction,” Stan remarked with an amused stare, watching as Richie flipped him off. 

“I'm probably going to check out the malls,” Beverly said, ignoring Richie and Stan in favour of replying to Bill’s question. “I heard they're huge.”

“That's what she—” but Richie was cut off by Eddie, who stood up just to slap his hand over the other’s mouth. 

“Beep, beep, Richie!” He said, and Richie only really stopped talking because the feeling of Eddie's hand over his mouth was nice. His face flushed, and he quickly swat the hand away and flipped Eddie off too, for good measure, before trying to calm himself down. 

“Maybe New York has some nice museums,” Ben said and Richie would have fake gagged at the thought, but he was currently too busy freaking out over the fact that Eddie Kaspbrak had put his hand over his mouth. He shouldn't even be focusing so intensely on such a small detail, and yet it made his stomach do summersaults. 

“Why museums?” Stan asked. 

Ben shrugged, “I just… they sound cool, you know? Looking at all the architecture of the olden times and stuff.”

“Awh, you're adorable, Ben,” Beverly cooed, which caused a bright blush to spread through Ben’s cheeks. 

It may have taken a few minutes, but Richie soon recovered. Mostly. He was still somewhat shaken up, but Eddie had already gone back to sitting down and everyone seemed content to just chat with each other so, really, he shouldn't even be thinking about it. 

Just as Richie decided to sit down, Robert Gray returned, that creepy smile never seeming to leave his face. He stared at all of them pleasantly, “plane almost here?” he asked.

Bill looked towards the large screen that displayed their plane landing time, “a-a-almost.”

Robert Gray’s smile widened even more, “perfect,” he said slowly, insinuating the syllabulls. “Just, perfect.”

Soon, their gate opened and everyone scrambled to get their things, heading towards their plane with a feeling of nervous anticipation. 

It was finally time. 

Richie couldn't hold back the grin, and turned to lock eyes with Eddie, who looked just as, if not more, nervous than Richie. Although he seemed to relax just barely when their eyes met, and Richie tried to hide just how flustered that made him. 

Their tickets were checked before finally they stepped into the tube-things that led to the airplane's door. Only a few more paces and Richie would be inside a plane; going far away from Derry for two whole weeks. 

He let himself smile wide as the airplane door whooshed open and he stepped inside, a whole new world waiting for him. This was it. Freedom.

Chapter Text

The plane ride was pleasant, but also nerve-wrecking. Since that point, Stan had never been on a plane, and the feeling of it lifting off made his heart stutter and stomach swirl with anxiety.

He gripped the arm of his seat, glancing over at Bill, who sat in the middle seat, with Georgie next to the window, and his nerves eased slightly at the sight of Bill just fussing over Georgie. 

Stan wasn't sure why, but the scene was just so normal that watching it made him remember that although this plane ride was new, he wasn't alone in that experience. 

“But can't I explore the plane, Billy?” Georgie asked, a kiddish pout on his face as Bill ensured his seatbelt was on properly. 

“No, Juh-Georgie, it's u-unsafe,” Bill chided gently, and Stan nodded in agreement even if his words meant absolutely nothing to the seven-year-old. 

Georgie sighed dramatically, but listened to Bill’s words, “okay…”

Bill flashed the little boy a smile, before he leaned back into his seat and turned his eyes towards Stan, who was still a little nervous, but less so now that he could stare into Bill’s pretty blue eyes. 

“You o-okay?” Bill asked, lips turning up into a small smile, and Stan ignored just how annoyingly pretty that was. 

“Yeah,” Stan replied quickly, the plane had come to a steady pace now, having found the correct altitude to fly in, but it still made him nervous, being this far off the ground with no real guarantee of safety. “I just… planes, you know? They're kind of weird.”

Bill laughed softly—the sound was melodic and cute and Stan couldn't stop the blush from dusting his cheeks—before placing his hand on top of Stan's, which was still gripping the arm of the seat. So now a pretty boy was basically holding his hand, that definitely didn't make his insides swim and flutter. 

And Bill just… never moved his hand. Stan was okay with that, though, and honestly, he kind of hoped Bill would never let go. 

He could feel Richie kick his seat from behind and resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead turning his head to glare at the trashmouth, who gave him a knowing smirk. Richie was a hypocrite though and Stan didn't even have the energy to try and tell Richie just how obvious he and Eddie were. 

Stan turned back to Bill, who was now setting up a movie for Georgie to watch, hand still on top of Stan’s, and he settled in his seat with a soft sigh. 

Behind him he could hear Richie failing to whisper properly as he and Eddie bantered. Stan was this close to becoming homophobic if those two didn't get their shit together, and besides, he already hated himself so he was already halfway there. 

Across from Stan, Mike Hanlon and Ben Hanscom were talking about something to do with Derry’s infrastructure, with Beverly Marsh chiming in every now and then. 

Stan wasn't sure where Robert Gray sat, but he was glad the guy wasn't anywhere near him. He gave him the creeps, and he hated the way that man smiled or looked at him. It's like his gaze was made to look friendly, which is what made it so disturbing—it wasn't real, a fake painting created to reassure them that he was nice. It didn't work, and Stan was on-edge whenever that man was around. 

That was okay, though, since they'd soon be in New York in just the next hour or so and he wouldn't have to look at Robert Gray until the two weeks came to an end and they had to return to Derry. Yet there was this small part of Stan that didn't fully believe that, but he dismissed the thought. 

When Bill had finished setting up Georgie’s movie, Stan glanced at their own small TVs and asked, “want to watch a movie together?”

Bill smiled, “sh-sure.”

And then Stan opened their compact TVs and found a random movie they could watch, before timing it perfectly so they could watch it in sync. Stan put his headphones on, and watched as Bill did the same, before the two began watching the movie. 

Maybe it was just Stan, but it felt nice, watching a movie with Bill. Spending any sort of time with the other was nice, really, and Stan kind of didn't want the plane to land—but also he was terrified of being above ground for too long and would appreciate it if the plane landed safely and without any problems. 

Time seemed to pass by quickly after that, with Bill making comments about the characters and their idiocy and Stan laughing at his quips every now and then. Georgie only really bothered Bill every few minutes, but he was a good kid and knew how to stay still during a long ride.

In no time the speaker cracked and the captain's voice filtered out, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We have begun our descent into New York,” he said, and Stan sighed in relief. He really wanted to get off the plane, and soon. “...We anticipate landing shortly. Thank you for flying with us, and we look forward to welcoming you to New York.”

Stan took his headphones off, putting them back inside the seat compartment as everyone began getting ready to descend, anticipation palpable in the air. They had really left Derry. Stan had never imagined leaving, never thought the town's chains would let him leave, and yet, here he was: on a plane landing at New York. 

They'd done it. 

Everyone waited with bated breath as the plane slowly descended, the atmospheric change making their ears pop, before, finally, the wheels of the plane hit the asphalt and they had landed. Once the plane had stopped completely, Stan didn't waste time removing his seat belt, and was almost overwhelmed when the aisles began being filled with people who wanted to leave the plane first. 

Stan wasn't a fan of crowds, so just being next to that many people sounded terrible. Though Bill was still holding his hand, their fingers now linked together, but Stan wasn't sure when that had happened, and he appreciated the small comfort their locked hands brought. 

They waited until most of the crowd had left before standing up, Bill’s other hand interlocking with Georgie’s as Stan opened the overhead bins to grab their backpacks. With both of Bill’s hands preoccupied, Stan decided he'd just carry Bill’s bag too, and ignored the smug grin on Richie’s face as they all began leaving the plane. 

Even the airport itself was years better than the one they'd been at, and Stan almost couldn't believe just how clean everything looked. Nothing was broken, the planes weren't either out-of-commissioned or just not used—it was jarring. To think that Derry was just weird and that the rest of the world just wasn't affected. 

Everyone was in awe as they made their way down the tube-things that connected the airplane door to the airport, though Stan’s awe was slightly less so when he felt eyes on him and turned his head slightly to see Robert Gray staring. He wasn't sure if those grey eyes were meant to be directed at him or at Bill—but either way, he didn't like it. 

They left the airport after a few minutes, though everyone wanted to look at everything the airport had to offer before they even dared to stop outside into the New York air. Stan wasn't very keen on the crowd, but stayed close to Bill and Georgie, the latter gasping and pointing at each small thing he noticed. 

“This place is sick as fuck,” Richie said after they had basically stripped the airport bare with their eyes. 

“Is that a stand for hand sanitizer!?” Eddie asked, pointing at a small stand that had a dispenser to pour out hand sanitizer from. For some reason he found that to be the most crazy thing in New York’s airport out of literally everything else. 

But, it was Eddie, so Stan could dismiss his behaviour for the sake of knowing him well enough that this really wasn't surprising anymore. 

“What about the food? And the people?” Beverly asked the shorter, brow raised, and Eddie waved her off with a hand. 

“Do you realise how dirty airports are?” Eddie asked, but Beverly only snorted, finding his incredulous expression to be funny. “The amount of people that come and go everyday, touching things and probably forgetting to wash their hands!? That's fucking disgusting!”

“I can think of something way more disgusting,” Richie teased with a sly grin, making Eddie roll his eyes irritatedly. 

“Yeah, your face, maybe,” Eddie snapped back, which only made Richie’s grin widen and Stan was already done with their bullshit. 

“Hey, kids,” Robert Gray’s uncannily sweet voice broke through the peaceful air that had wrapped around them, and Stan felt goosebumps form on his skin at the smile the man directed at them all. “A friend of mine is picking us up, we shouldn't make her wait.”

They all nodded, before following Robert Gray towards the exit of the airport. By the time they stepped out into the New York sun; there were crowds of people reuniting with their families or getting ready to leave, and Stan gripped Bill’s hand tighter as they maneuvered past the busy bodies and towards whoever Robert Gray had called to pick them up. 

A strange looking lady stood away from the crowd, her face ashen and slightly… deformed? Stan wasn't quite sure how to describe it, but there was something fundamentally wrong with the way her face was shaped. Her greasy black hair was slicked back into a bun, and her eyes were almost as black as a void. 

Robert Gray noticed her before she did them, “Judith!” he said, grin still as creepy as ever as the lady looked over at him, lips pursed in slight distaste. 

Stan found her to be rather disturbing, but pushed down the wave of anxiety that washed over him as they slowly came to a stop next to her. 

“Robert,” Judith greeted plainly, a stark contrast to Robert Gray’s uncanny smile. “These the kids?”

“Yes, yes! The ones I told you about,” Robert Gray explained, “the fun ones.”

Judith seemed to understand what he meant, because she merely nodded, “yes, I remember,” she mumbled before she grabbed a pair of keys and handed it to Robert Gray. “The car is just over there.”

“Are you not coming with us?” Georgie asked, clinging onto Bill’s side nervously as the woman looked down at him. 

“I have… errands to run,” she said tonelessly, though Stan couldn't help but wonder just what ‘errands’ she had to do. Maybe that rumour about Robert Gray being a serial killer wasn't so far off. Or maybe, Stan was being stupid and he should stop believing fake news without proof. 

Robert Gray nodded happily, “how great!” he exclaimed, holding the keys in his left hand before he turned to the kids, “come, now, kiddos! This way, this way!”

They followed Robert Gray towards the car. It was similar to the one he'd driven to the airport, except the paint was newer and it looked a little bit bigger. Stan knew they'd probably still have to sit cramped in the back seat, though, since there were eight of them. Well, seven and a half, since Georgie didn't really count. 

Stan sat pressed up against Mike, just as they'd done previously, and kind of wished he wasn't forced to sit with Richie and Eddie as they continued to “flirt” with each other. They were the most oblivious idiots to ever exist, and Stan sometimes wanted to push their heads together so they could just stop beating around the bush like some cowards. 

“Where are we going, Mr. Gray?” Ben asked, the only one who at least tried to sound respectful whenever he spoke to the man. Stan was too creeped out by the guy to watch his tone. 

He watched Robert Gray’s smile widen from the rear view mirror, “oh, a beautiful place! Very fun! Very happy!”

Stan furrowed his brow, and glanced out the window as the scenery whooshed by. New York was so different from Derry—and of course it would be, seeing as it was a city and not a town. But Stan couldn't help but be surprised either way as he watched tall buildings pass by and crowds of people walking on the side walks. 

New York City thrived in the loud honks and stuffy traffic, and those who lived in the city seemed unphased as cars zoomed past, adhering to speed laws that Derry most definitely did not have. 

Stan even spotted a police station and noticed how the officers stationed there sat and chatted among themselves, though they looked way more competent than Derry’s police force had ever been. Maybe New York City just wasn't real and Derry was the reflection of everything bad in the world—or maybe Derry was the fake and New York City existed within a reality Stan had never considered. 

Though as they continued to drive past landmarks Stan had only seen in textbooks, he realised that they seemed to be going further away from the bustling city. The scenery changed slowly, with less and less people populating the streets until finally it was mostly barren and the buildings were more or less still under construction. 

Just where were they going? 

“Why are we moving away from the city?” Stan asked after deciding that he didn't want to think about the countless possibilities of being in a car with a potential serial killer. 

Robert Gray hummed, and even that was eery, “did they not tell you? My circus! I'm a clown, you see! They call me Pennywise the Dancing Clown!”

Oh. Wait. Circus? Stan blinked, did he just say circus or was Stan going insane? Maybe his ears were clogged, because what were they gonna do at a fucking circus. 

“Man, maybe our principal thinks we're clowns,” Richie joked, which made Robert Gray laugh—and the sound made the hair on Stan’s arms rise. He didn't like it. He didn't like any of this. 

“Don't worry! It'll be very fun! We have balloons and lions—red balloons! Do you like when they float?” 

“Yeah!” Georgie replied, an excited smile on his face. At least someone was excited to go to the circus. Bill ruffled his hair as Robert Gray glanced at the boy. 

“Like floating, Georgie?”

Georgie nodded, “do you have any other colours?”

“We have the whole rainbow,” Robert Gray said, “but red is the best.”

“Wait. Can we backtrack to the circus thing?” Beverly asked, looking almost confused at the idea. “The poster said we’d get to go to New York City and experience the sights. What's this about a circus?”

Robert Gray shrugged, “your principal must have fibbed! How bad! Well, since you all aren't aware: this trip is so you kiddos can help out at my circus for two weeks! Just two, don't worry! I won't keep you forever.”

Sometimes when Robert Gray spoke, Stan felt his skin crawl—and that was especially apparent now. He couldn't quite place it, but the way he said that last sentence… it irked him. 

“So we're circus clowns now?” Eddie asked, sounding almost mortified at the idea. 

“Not all of you,” Robert Gray said, finger tapping against the steering wheel. “Some of you can be lion-tamers! Or acrobats! We'll see when we get there.”

That did little to ease Stan’s worries, but he stayed quiet just in case he really was overthinking. He did that a lot, so maybe this was just his brain trying to find more reasons to be afraid. Yeah, that's what it was. Nothing else. 

The rest of the car ride was filled with tense silence as everyone pondered over Robert Gray’s words. Only Georgie really seemed excited by the prospect of performing at a circus—but to Stan the whole thing sounded less than ideal. How were they meant to “see the sights of New York” if they were stuck being circus freaks for other people's entertainment? 

He couldn't believe their one chance to do what they wanted to do wasn't even that; just another cage they were trapped in. There goes his plan on searching for new bird species, though he supposed he could still do that. Maybe the circus had some interesting birds he could examine? If that were the case, then this whole trip might not be so bad. 

Stan ignored the anxiety stirring in his gut and tried to relax as the car continued onwards, heading towards what would soon be their two weeks of “fun.”

He turned to glance out the window again, letting his mind just quiet down as he watched the trees meld into each other as the car zoomed past them. 

Maybe… maybe everything would turn out to be fun, and Stan really was just overthinking. Hell, two weeks at the circus could prove entertaining. Besides, Stan rarely went to circuses and the idea of participating in one sounded somewhat interesting. 

He let himself have a little hope, and continued to watch the window as the sounds of the car and Georgie’s rambles filled the space. 

Everything would be fine.

Chapter Text

The minute they arrived at the circus, Eddie wished he hadn't had that burst of teenage rebellion which had caused him to impulsively ask Richie to forge their parents’ signatures. 

In his line of sight he could see almost all of the circus. It was one of those moving circuses, and the main tent, which was pinned to the ground by nails, was stained and probably filled with so many diseases—just thinking about stepping foot in there made Eddie's skin crawl. 

Robert Gray parked the car after everyone had gotten out, saying he'd find them in a bit and that they were allowed to explore as far as they'd like. But Eddie wasn't too keen on doing that, actually, maybe New York wasn't worth it and he could just go back to Derry! At least in Derry he didn't have to work at a disgusting circus for two weeks!? 

Richie poked his cheek and that snapped him out of his spiral. He swatted Richie’s hand away, glaring, “what the fuck do you want?”

“Your mom, but I already have her,” Richie joked, and Eddie really wasn't in the mood to deal with his snarky remarks right now. 

“Beep beep, Richie,” he grumbled, holding his backpack tighter as he watched the entrance of the circus wearily. It wasn't anything special, just a sign written in bold letters: PENNYWISE THE DANCING CLOWN’S TRAVELLING CIRCUS! with a picture of Robert Gray in a creepy-looking clown costume. 

And yet, Eddie couldn't be sure just how many times that sign had been cleaned—or if it had been cleaned at all. Instinctively, he reached for his fanny pack and took out his inhaler, bringing it to his lips to ease some of his nerves. It only helped a small amount, and he watched as the others began walking inside. 

“Hey, Eds?” Richie asked, still standing beside him, as a concerned frown graced his punchable face. “We should go inside, yeah?”

Eddie glared at him, and took another breath from his inhaler. Fuck, why did they have to go to a dirty and germ-filled circus!? Couldn't they have just stayed in a clean and nice hotel closer to the city? How much did hotels even cost in New York? This was so stupid, everything about it, why had he agreed to this in the first place? His mom was going to kill him—

“Eddie!” Richie’s voice cut through his panic, and he blinked as he stared at the other’s soft blue-grey eyes. When had Richie gotten so close? Though Eddie's grip on his inhaler did lessen, and his heart was now beating frantically in his chest for other reasons unrelated to his asthma attack. “Hey, just look at me? I- we don't have to go inside just yet, we can stay here.”

Eddie nodded slowly, gaze fixed on the captivating bluish-grey eyes that he'd longingly stared at multiple times before. Except this time, he got a closer look—and, well, they were just as pretty up close. The colours mixed together to create such a pretty shade that Eddie wouldn't have minded claiming it to be his favourite colour. 

“What are you boys doing?” Eddie pulled away from Richie in an instant, startled by the voice that had broken the almost trance-like silence that had fallen over them. He blinked, before his eyes moved towards the intruder and realised it was Robert Gray, that disturbing smile still plastered on his face as he watched the two—something in his grey eyes made Eddie shiver. 

“Nothing!” Eddie replied quickly, having finally found his voice. His face was most definitely flushed a noticeable red, but he opted to ignore that fact in favour of stuffing his inhaler back in his pack, zipping it closed. “We were just—”

“Bonding!” Richie chimed in, perhaps just as nervous as Eddie—or maybe it was the sun that made Richie’s cheeks a blotchy red. “Bonding. Like, brothers.” 

Robert Gray giggled, “bonding! How fun,” he said, cocking his head to the side. And even that made Eddie's skin crawl. “Well, how about you two bond inside?”

Eddie nodded, “yeah,” he said, taking Richie’s hand almost instinctively, “come on, Rich.”

And then Eddie was dragging Richie away from the still-smiling Robert Gray, whose gaze lingered on the two boys until they were entirely out of view. 

They passed multiple circus caravans, and Eddie made sure he didn't graze the rusted and old metal, eyes roaming the area with curiosity and precaution. Everything was so run-down, and this was supposed to be a place they had to perform at? 

“Uh, Eds, where are we going?” Richie asked, and Eddie stopped in his tracks. He may have forgotten that Richie was here with him—and the fact that their hands were still interlocked. He was quick to seperate them, turning towards Richie and hoping beyond hope that the other didn't notice the rising blush on his cheeks. 

“Somewhere, anywhere, who knows,” Eddie said, scrunching his nose when he smelled a rather weird scent—it was like garbage and shit and the smell alone was enough to make Eddie want to throw up. “This place is fucking disgusting! How are we supposed to do anything here!?”

Richie blinked, fixing his glasses with a shrug, “maybe we could measure dicks”

“What.”

“I mean, it's pretty secluded right? I bet barely anyone even comes to this shithole,” Richie explained, and Eddie gave him the most unamused glare he could muster at that current moment. 

“Richard fucking Tozier, one more idiotic word to come out of your mouth and I'm feeding you to the fucking lions,” Eddie snapped, making Richie laugh loudly. The sound made Eddie falter slightly, but he pushed aside his stupid thoughts on how Richie was so damn cute sometimes because that was not important right now! 

“But seriously,” Richie said, sounding far more serious than Eddie had ever heard him, “I get this place sucks ass, but it could be good! Just trust me, Eds!”

Eddie hesitated, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. He'd love to trust Richie, and a lot of the time he did—but this? Eddie wasn't so sure. Everything was already terrible, how could anything improve? 

But Eddie also hated disappointing Richie, even if he didn't openly show it, and so he sighed exasperatedly, “okay,” he said, and didn't miss the way his heart fluttered when Richie directed a stupid grin at him. 

“Great!” Richie said, “let's go check out the lions, now!”

And then Eddie was being dragged towards the large circus tent at the centre of the barren field. The same tent that probably didn't get washed every time it was set up, and Eddie grimaced as Richie slipped them both inside without a care. 

The tent was huge on the inside, with rows of seats surrounding a severely worn-out stage. It was your generic circus, and Eddie wasn't entirely sure why their school had thought it was such a good idea to go through the trouble of sending seven kids here. 

At the centre of the stage sat a rusted-metal cage, large enough to fit at least one wild animal inside, and even from afar Eddie spotted the sleeping form of a lion trapped within.

“Holy shit!” Richie exclaimed, running towards the cage and, consequently, pulling Eddie along. 

“Maybe we shouldn't get closer to the wild animal that can kill us both!?” Eddie said as they neared the cage, their voices causing the lion inside to flick its ear at the disturbance. 

Richie ignored his warning and removed his hand from Eddie's (and Eddie pretended to not be dissapointed) so he could grip the bars of the cage, eyes shining as he watched the lazy lion. 

“It might bite your head off!” Eddie warned, keeping a good distance away from the lion as Richie continued to watch it curiously. 

“Kinky,” Richie replied, and Eddie couldn't stop the frustrated groan that left his mouth. Sometimes Richie’s unseriousness made Eddie want to drop kick him to Alaska or something just as satisfying. 

“Could you just step away from the cage before the lion—”

But then the lion turned its head towards the two boys, watching them lazily, and if Eddie could decipher animal expressions maybe he'd realise that the lion looked almost sad. Even though Richie stood dangerously close, the lion only laid its head back down on the cage floor and continued to snooze. 

“It’s lazy as fuck!” Richie said, but he sounded more delighted than disappointed at the lion’s lack of, well, anything. Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes even if Richie wasn't looking at him to see it. 

“Okay, we should probably go find the others now before the lion eats us both and our faces are on the news for the worst death ever: mauled by lion ‘cause Richie Tozier was a fucking idiot,” Eddie said sharply, which made Richie let out an amused snort, before he complied and walked back over to Eddie. 

“Oh, Eddie, my love, when will you realise that I'm untouchable,” Richie said, but Eddie's brain had stopped working the minute Richie had uttered out the words Eddie my love. What. Maybe he had misheard, but Richie usually joked like that so. So he shouldn't be focusing on it so much—obviously Richie meant it as a friendly tease and nothing else. Why would it be anything else? 

“Fuck you, trashmouth,” Eddie said just so he could focus on something else and not the way Richie’s words made his insides melt. 

The two left the lion alone, leaving the big tent as the sound of a bell echoed through the still air. It was getting late, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon and painting the sky an array of pretty colours. 

Eddie and Richie followed the sound of the toll of a bell, and soon arrived at an area filled with multiple circus caravans, messy and improperly maintained—as had begun to become the norm in this disgusting place. Robert Gray stood near a more freshly painted caravan, holding a small bell in his hand as everyone approached. 

“Sooooo,” he asked, pocketing the bell, “liked it? Was it fun?”

“Yeah!” Georgie replied, a bright smile on his face. Out of everyone, Eddie was sure Georgie actually enjoyed the beat-up circus quite a lot. He didn't think the kid had been to many circuses—and maybe that was a good thing! Because this circus sucked. 

Robert Gray nodded, “good, good,” he said, and Eddie looked away when the man's grey eyes found him; the stare alone made his hair stand on end. God, why was this guy so creepy? “Well, you see these caravans! I've hand picked a few for you!”

Oh, so now they had to sleep in musty old caravans that probably never got cleaned, like, ever? Eddie's day continued to get worse and worse, maybe his mom was right. Maybe the world really was just a big hive for potential diseases and it was safer to stay with her, where he would be protected.

But, at the same time, Eddie didn't want to be sheltered all his life. This trip proved that. He wanted autonomy, he wanted even a smidge of freedom. Two weeks where chains wouldn't hold him down, two weeks that—even though didn't look promising—would be what he needed after fifteen years of being trapped under his mom's thumb. 

So he may be able to tolerate the questionable hygiene in this wack circus, if only because this was supposed to be his break from his mom's overbearing personality. He could do this. If Richie believed in him, then he could believe in himself, too. 

“I thought long and hard about bed arrangements,” Robert Gray explained as he opened the caravan door closest to him. “This one is for… oh, what are your names, again? Ah yes! Mike Hanlon and Ben Hanscom!”

They were all assigned caravans eventually, with Stan, Bill and Georgie being given the caravan beside Mike and Ben's and Beverly getting her own since she was the only girl. That left only him and Richie—and since Eddie had a brain, he was already dreading the words that were about to leave Robert Gray’s mouth. 

“Last one is for Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak,” he said almost joyfully, that unnerving grin even wider now as he opened the caravan door. It was creaky and old and there were probably spiders or a rat in there, and yet he was going to share it with Richie of all people—and for some reason that made his heart stutter. 

Richie stepped inside easily, checking out the interior with a wandering gaze. Eddie hesitated, and Robert Gray continued to smile at him as he kept the door open. Just being almost alone with the guy made Eddie shudder, and, without any other choice, he entered the caravan. 

The door slammed shut behind him, and he jumped at the noise. The interior was kind of home-y, he supposed, with a bunk bed fitting near the corner and a small desk right across. Everything was, unfortunately, old and probably also very dusty. Just the thought of touching anything made Eddie want to puke. 

“Isn’t this cool!” Richie exclaimed, turning around to look at Eddie, who found all of this to be anything but cool. 

“No, not really—do you understand just how many diseases are crawling around in this one area alone?” Eddie asked nervously, gesticulating as he glanced around the caravan again. At least the lights were working, that was nice. 

Richie huffed, sitting down on the bottom bunk and causing dust particles to fly everywhere. Eddie took an instinctive step back, being careful to not accidentally touch any exposed surface.

“Stop worrying, Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie said painfully carefree, waving a hand at Eddie's very reasonable worries. “We'll just… fix some shit up and make it our own!”

As he said that, he lightly punched the frame of the bunk bed which caused the dust to fall and cake Richie entirely. It was… gross, but Eddie did have the sense to laugh at how absurdly hilarious the sight was. 

“Okay…” Richie said slowly, wiping his face, “maybe a bit more than just a fix-up.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Eddie sassed, rolling his eyes, before they landed back on Richie, who was now grinning like a stupid nerd. 

“Either way, we can turn this place from a disaster to a masterpiece in no time! Just… It's getting late so we should probably sleep, shouldn't we? Survive one night, and tomorrow morning I can ask that Gray guy if we're allowed to decorate the caravan!”

That was… sweet of Richie to suggest, and Eddie felt his cheeks burn up. He couldn't believe Richie’s words had actually made him consider sleeping in this disease-nest! There was no guarantee that Robert Gray would even let them renovate the small space, but… but Richie’s determination was apparent, and his eyes shined with a promise. 

So. So, really, it was only inevitable that his feet began to move towards the bunk beds. He sat down beside Richie, tensing at the feeling of dust and grime underneath the sheets, but chose to ignore it just because Richie had promised they'd fix this all up tomorrow. A night, that's all he had to endure. 

It was unlikely he'd get much sleep, and as Richie stood to climb up to the top bunk, Eddie knew he'd probably spend most of the night awake. Feeling every bit of grime and whatever else against his skin. 

And as Eddie laid his head reluctantly onto the badly stuffed pillow, he wished he wasn't so easily affected by Richie’s dorky smiles and equally dorky face. 

“Good night, Eds!” Richie said from the top bunk, and the bed shook as the other tossed in the bed. Eddie curled into himself as more dust fell from the corners and onto his sheets. 

“Night,” he mumbled into the quiet. What a long fucking day today had been. 

His eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into a light sleep at the sound of Richie’s steady breaths, hoping that tomorrow would at least be a bit better than today. Even if only by a margin. 

Chapter Text

In the light of the moon, a caravan door creaked open—the sound louder than usual in the dead silence. Beverly wasn't sure why, but being in a caravan all by herself made her skin crawl. 

There was just something about this place after sunset, when the shadows became more prominent and the darkness felt threatening, that rubbed Beverly the wrong way. She wouldn't say she was a coward—but even just standing outside her caravan in the quiet of the night made her jittery. 

She had chosen to get away from her father for two weeks, knowing that this was her last ditch effort to find a purpose for herself that was outside her father's watchful eyes. Beverly wasn't about to regret it just because she got goosebumps on her skin, or because her gut was telling her to run. 

That night, though, Beverly did let herself be a bit vulnerable. She couldn't stay by herself, not when sleep seemed impossible when there was a possibility she could be killed before dawn. It was probably a leap, but Beverly just had this feeling, and, most of the time, she never doubted it. 

Beverly knocked on the decently painted caravan door, the red much brighter than the other caravans stationed beside it, and it swung open only a few moments later. 

“Bev?” Ben asked, sounding almost surprised to see her, and she grinned at him. 

“Hey,” she said, eyes glancing behind her to just make sure there wasn't anything watching her. Nothing was, the night encompassed in shadow and silence. “Is it okay if I hang with you and Mike for a while?”

Ben nodded immediately, and took a few steps back so she could come inside. The caravans themselves were already rather small, but even in such a compact space Beverly felt so much safer. Just having Ben and Mike with her—who were her only two real friends—made her nerves ease and shoulders relax. 

“Is Mike sleeping?” Beverly asked as she closed the door before sitting down on the carpet. There was a peculiar stain on it, but she really didn't care all that much, and sat down anyway. 

“Yeah,” Ben said, sitting down across from her. “I couldn't sleep, though. You?”

“Same,” she muttered, glancing over at Ben just to watch the way he fidgeted nervously. Even after a month of being friends, he always did seem a small bit nervous around her. Was she scary? No, Ben wouldn't have been her friend if that were the case—would he? “Well, what do you plan to do tomorrow?”

Ben shrugged, “there isn't much we can do here, is there?”

Beverly hummed. He wasn't wrong, but even so they had to make the most of the opportunity given to them! “We are going to be working for the circus, aren't we? That could be fun.”

“I guess…” Ben said, a slight frown on his adorable face. “I hope we get time to check out the city, too.”

She nodded; from the small glimpses she'd gotten when they were driving towards the circus, she already knew she had to visit New York City at least once before the trip was over. The hustle and bustle, the tall buildings, the people—everything about it was so exciting and new and Beverly wanted to be at the centre of it all; watching, thriving, living. 

One day, maybe she could live in a city as grand as New York and strive to become someone worth something, someone who can do more than she can now. Soon, she hoped. 

“Do you… uh, wanna stay the night?” Ben asked awkwardly, which made Beverly laugh. She would love to, really, and with how creepy this place was she really didn't want to go back to her caravan. But the beds themselves were too small and there were only two anyway, with Mike already asleep on the top bunk, and… and maybe the thought of sharing a bed with Ben made her cheeks hot. 

“I couldn't,” she replied, shaking her head, her ginger hair grazing against her shoulders. They were long, and maybe she should cut them? She knew how much her father liked her hair, and the thought of keeping them so long made her want to barf. Yeah, she'd cut them soon. 

Ben looked disappointed, but an understanding smile graced his lips, “yeah, that's okay, I- it's getting late anyway we should sleep.”

Beverly nodded, standing up with a huff, “see you tomorrow,” she said, walking back towards the door. Though she was reluctant to leave, just the thought of being alone in a stuffy caravan made her skin crawl. And yet. Showing weakness, being vulnerable, it scared her. She loved Ben—as a friend—but even then, showing him the bare bones of what made her her was frightening. 

“Good night, Beverly,” Ben said quickly, and in the dim light Beverly missed the way his cheeks flushed a soft red. She smiled at him, waving, before opening the caravan door and stepping back outside into the cold air. 

“Hi Beverly!” She almost screamed when Robert Gray appeared in front of her, hair standing on end as her heart thumped rapidly. 

“...hi,” Beverly said slowly. Being this close to Robert Gray made the man far creepier than normal, especially when the shadows seemed to deepen his features and give him a more hollow look. 

Robert Gray’s toothy smile freaked her out, and being the focus of those dull grey eyes made her instinctively grip the handle of the door. 

“Why aren't you sleeping?” He asked, taking a step away from her and allowing her to breathe. She was still skittish, and would continue to be as long as he was around, presence a loud reminder of his disturbing personality. 

“I… I forgot to ask my friends something,” Beverly said, not moving an inch as Robert Gray hummed, nodding his head. 

“Next time do that in the morning, yeah?” He suggested, grinning at her. 

Beverly nodded quickly, “yeah, yeah. Sure.”

“Perfect! Good night Beverly!” He said happily, turning around and disappearing into the shadows. Even once he had fully left, Beverly stayed rooted at the door, her grip only loosening once she had regained her bearings. 

Holy shit, that man was creepy. There was no better word to describe him—just, creepy. Even Beverly, who prided herself in being rarely afraid, was terrified whenever that man looked at her. But, being with a creepy-looking man was better than living with her father. 

Besides, they would probably rarely meet like this. It was a one time thing, he must have heard her door creaking and came to check if she'd died or something. Yeah, that was probably it. No need to be so afraid, Beverly. Get your shit together. 

Beverly let out a small exhale then slowly extracted herself from the door of Ben and Mike's caravan, making her way back to her own. The night was intimidating, and the feeling of eyes watching her made her shudder, so she quickly opened her caravan door and stepped inside, shutting it closed loudly. 

It was just two weeks, and she'd be damned if she couldn't spend them to the fullest. So creepy clown guy or not, Beverly would not give all of this up, not now, not ever. 

That night, Beverly slept with a switchblade gripped tightly in her hands, mind plagued with images of turtles and red haired clowns. 

When the sun’s rays filtered through the small window just above her door, she stirred and awoke easily. Beverly blinked herself awake, and stood, dropping the switchblade into her backpack—which she had carelessly thrown on the ground yesterday. 

She found a change of clothes and got ready for the day, even though last night's encounter with Robert Gray still remained in her mind, like a stain; forever stuck and unable to wash out. 

Outside, she spotted Bill Denbrough—or as most people at their school mockingly called him: Stuttering Bill—and his little brother who she had learned was called Georgie. They seemed to be the only two up at this time, and her shoulders relaxed at the knowledge that she wasn't alone. 

“Morning,” Beverly greeted, walking over to the two with a friendly smile. 

Bill returned it with a smile of his own, one hand holding Georgie’s as the little kid waved joyfully at Beverly. “M-Morning.”

“Have you seen any balloons?” Georgie asked, practically buzzing with energy, “or- or clowns! I didn't see any yesterday but maybe they were sleeping?”

Beverly laughed softly, “I dunno, kid, maybe the only real clown here is that Tozier guy.”

Bill snorted, “Ruh-Richie does r-r-resemble a clown.”

“All he's missing is the red nose,” she remarked, eyes wandering to the large tent at the centre of the circus. She wondered if people even came to this place—it didn't seem likely, what with how rundown and empty this place looked. 

Georgie giggled, before tugging Bill’s hand eagerly, “come on, Billy! Can we pretty please go look for some balloons! Beverly wants to go, too!”

Beverly nodded her head, “yeah, Billy, I really want these balloons.”

“F-Fine,” Bill said, rolling his eyes fondly, before he ruffled Georgie’s hair. “Buh-But don't b-be sad if w-we duh-don’t find a-any.”

The smaller boy nodded quickly, a bright smile on his face as he practically dragged Bill towards the big tent. Beverly chuckled to herself, then followed. 

“Your brother’s so cute, Denbrough,” she commented, a playfully smile on her face as Bill huffed out a laugh. 

“O-Only sometimes,” he said, and Georgie blew a raspberry at him. “See?”

As they neared the tent, Beverly spotted a stand out front with balloons tied to one of its poles, gracefully floating in the air as the wind pushed them against each other. No one was attending the stand, and it definitely hadn't been there yesterday, so maybe Robert Gray or that Judith woman had put it here? 

Georgie gasped softly, letting go of Bill’s hand to run over. He jumped up to try and grab at the balloons, but was way too short to even graze them. It was rather funny, and Beverly snorted as she and Bill walked over. 

“Need some help?” she asked, and at the boy’s nod she carefully untied a red balloon and handed it to him. 

Just then, a voice called out from inside the tent, and Beverly jumped as Judith emerged, looking almost as bored as she did back at the airport. Her eyes glanced over the three of them, before raising a brow. 

“Have you come to get your assigned roles?” She asked, her ashen skin looked rather nightmarish in the sun’s light. Beverly decided to ignore that. 

“N-No?” Bill said, pulling Georgie closer to him as Judith hummed to herself. Honestly, Judith was perhaps creepier than Robert Gray—with the way her face seemed… unnatural. Maybe if she smiled, she'd look creepier. Or maybe, Beverly should stop thinking about some woman's face and focus on why she was out here in the first place. 

“Robert is waiting inside,” she explained, “it would do you good to not keep him waiting,” and then she walked past them, not bothering to hide her disdain as she left. 

Beverly eyed the entrance of the tent wearily. She wasn't sure if she'd like to go in there, especially when Robert Gray was inside. But then she glanced at Bill, who met her gaze with a far braver one, and Beverly was glad to know that she wasn't going in alone. 

The three stepped inside, and Beverly marveled at the interior. It was still pretty rundown and badly maintained, but it was huge and she’d never actually seen a circus tent before. 

Robert Gray stood, his back towards them, looming over a rusted cage. Maybe it was just Beverly, but without his face in view it made him seem… vulnerable, in a sense. Like that was the real him, behind the fake smiles and the blindly white teeth. 

Georgie’s balloon bobbed up and down as they reached the stage, and Robert Gray turned just as they stepped onto the wood, that grin Beverly had never seen him without still on his face. 

“Only you three?” He asked, gaze shifting between all three of them. There was something Beverly couldn't place in his eyes, and she tried not to stare at them too long. 

“Yeah,” Beverly nodded, now kind of wishing the others were here too. Bill was good comfort, yes, but having a group made it easier to deal with Robert Gray’s peculiarity. 

Robert Gray tutted, “how bad,” he said, an exaggerated frown on his face before it quickly shifted back to his grin. “No worries! The others can get their roles later!”

Then, he grabbed a clipboard which had been laying ontop of the cage—that Beverly belatedly realised had a lion inside—and handed it to Bill, who took it after a moments of hesitation. “This,” he said, tapping the paper clipped onto the board, “has your schedule for the two weeks. Be sure to not miss it!”

Beverly glanced down at the sheet of paper, and furrowed her brows when she noted that she was tasked as the circus acrobat. She knew absolutely nothing about acrobatics, how did Robert Gray possibly beleive she could perform? 

The rest of the roles he had assigned the others were somewhat normal, she supposed—though Ben being a circus clown did strike a nerve. But she pushed it down for now, maybe the roles had been spun on a wheel or something? Beverly wasn't so sure. 

“What's my role?” Georgie asked, a small frown on his face when he noticed his name was not on the list. 

Robert Gray laughed, “oh! Georgie, you have the most special role out of everyone!”

“I do?” Georgie questioned, eyes brightening as his smile widened. “What is it!”

“You,” Robert Gray said, toothy grin turning almost menacing, “you, Georgie, are our mascot.”

“Mascot?” 

“Yes,” Robert Gray said, nodding to himself. “The face of our performance.”

Beverly hid the way she shivered at his words. Honestly, it wasn't even that weird, but the tone he used just made it ten times more unnerving. 

Georgie’s eyes brightened and he gasped softly, “that's so cool!”

Robert Gray chuckled, “yes, very cool.”

Then Bill was tapping Beverly’s shoulder and she glanced over at the boy, “l-let's guh-go?” 

And if that wasn't the best idea Beverly had ever heard? She nodded immediately and Bill grabbed Georgie’s hand. 

“Leaving?” Robert Gray asked, head tilting to the side. “Well, bye bye! Circus opens at one!”

It was currently six in the morning, if when Beverly glanced down at Bill’s watch was correct, so they had more than a bit of time to just… hang around? Her initial exploration of the circus yesterday had led her to the conclusion that without actual people working the stands, there really wasn't much to do. 

As they left the circus tent, Beverly decided to speak up, “do you wanna play Connect Four?”

Bill blinked, then blinked again, “d-do you ha-have it?”

Beverly grinned, “stole it off of Bowers’ cousin a week ago, so, yeah. I do.”

That earned a snort from Bill, and Beverly’s smile widened. She was beginning to enjoy Bill Denbrough’s company. 

“Sure,” he replied, and Beverly led the two boys towards her caravan where her backpack was still half-assedly placed on her bed. “Just know, I'm, like, really good at this game.”

Bill rolled his eyes, “well suh-see about t-that.”

Beverly and Bill sat across each other on the carpet, Georgie sitting on Beverly’s bed, looking rather bored as he watched the two set up Connect Four. 

Just as they began playing, Georgie asked, “Billy! Can I go play outside?”

Bill glanced over at his younger brother, and noticing just how bored the seven-year-old was, he sighed, “f-fine, but d-don't wa-wander too far!”

Georgie grinned, jumping off the bed, red balloon trailing behind him as he hugged his brother before walking out, “I won't!”

That morning was the last time any of them saw George Denbrough. 

Chapter Text

Georgie left the caravan merrily, eyes roaming the empty circus with child-like wonder. He had never been to many circuses! His parents always thought it was a waste of time, but Georgie had watched a few shows and found the circus, but more specifically: clowns, to be really exciting! 

His favourite was Bozo The Clown, though Ronald Mcdonald was a very close second. Maybe for Halloween, he could ask Billy if they could dress up as clowns. Yeah! That sounded fun. 

As promised, he didn't wander too far, deciding to stay close to the few caravans that were occupied by people. He wasn't sure what he was going to do by himself, but just watching his red balloon float and bob in the air made him giggle. He liked balloons! Especially balloon animals. Georgie wondered if they had balloon animals here, and if they did, maybe he could ask that Mr. Gray guy to make him one. 

The whole circus made Georgie excited for when it would open and people would start storming in. He couldn't wait to be the mascot! Although… he wasn't entirely sure what a mascot did. Did he just have to stand at the entrance and smile and wave? That sounded rather boring, hopefully that wasn't the case. 

Suddenly, Georgie’s attention was captured when he spotted red balloons flying into the sky, multiple of them all in different sizes. He gasped softly, watching the ascent before his gaze lowered and, in the distance, noticed Robert Gray smiling at him, waving. He wore a face full of white paint with clown attire, and Georgie’s eyes sparkled. 

This was his chance! To see a clown up close, even if it was just Robert Gray. Georgie should ask why he doesn't wear a big red nose, and then maybe ask if the man knew any fun clown dances. But all he really wanted was a balloon from the man, who seemed to have hundreds! He'd never seen so many balloons before, especially really big ones. 

He waved back, and when Robert Gray beckoned him, he ran over, his balloon still gripped securely in his hand. 

“Mister! Can I have another balloon?” Georgie asked, eyes locked onto the batch of balloons Robert Gray held. They were all red, but Georgie didn't mind, he just really wanted another one to keep his first one company! 

Robert Gray nodded, “of course, Georgie!” He grabbed a few from the bunch in his hand, before giving them to the little boy, and grinning as he grasped them tightly in his fist. “Do you want more? I have many. What's your favourite colour?”

Georgie smiled up at the man, “I really like yellow!”

“Yes, yellow! What an amazing colour!” Robert Gray chuckled, grabbing Georgie’s arm, “come on, Georgie, I'll show you some yellow balloons! You can bring some for your brother, too!”

“Really?” Georgie asked excitedly, letting Robert Gray lead him towards a more secluded area of the circus where a lone caravan stood, old and rusted with the door having PENNYWISE THE DANCING CLOWN imprinted onto the front. This must be where Robert Gray lived, Georgie thought absently. 

“Yes, of course!” Robert Gray said, still grinning wide, as he let go of Georgie’s arm to open the caravan door. It creaked, and Georgie noted how dark the inside was. “Come inside.”

Georgie smiled, the clown’s own eagerness enough to make the boy comply, “okay! Billy's favourite colour is green!”

The clown laughed sharply, “how interesting,” he said as Georgie stepped inside the caravan, hand loosening slightly on his balloons as they escaped his grip, floating up and into the sky. Before George even had time to be upset, a small pout forming on his lips, he was quickly pushed inside the caravan all of the way by Robert Gray. 

Maybe he shouldn't have trusted the clown right away, but Georgie never was able to scope the hidden undertones of a person's personality. That was Billy. Billy was good at that stuff; being able to see a person's motive, knowing when someone was there to harm them or not. Billy was good at many things. 

He wished Billy was here, with him, in the dark caravan as his eyes searched for the balloons Robert Gray had promised him. He didn't see them, and opened his mouth to ask when he felt white-hot pain in his right arm. He might have screamed, or maybe the shock had silenced him. He thinks he did scream, even if only to shout “ Billy! ” into the quiet air of the caravan, scrambling to get away from the man, to reach the door. To get to Billy . His yell ultimately fell on deaf ears—Billy was still playing Connect Four with Beverly, after all, unaware of the events unfolding. 

The last thing Georgie saw was the wide grin on Robert Gray’s face, the sound of the knife slicing into his flesh almost enough to make Georgie vomit, as blood poured down his body and onto the floor. Painting the wood; staining it. 

Red balloons continued to float above the circus—unassuming and innocent—as Georgie Denbrough took his final breaths, only one word frantically repeating itself in his mind: Billy.

Chapter Text

The day went by quickly. At some point, the sun’s rays had gotten harsher, filtering through the small window above the door and warming up the inside of the caravan. 

Bill had been having fun playing Connect Four with Beverly. They bantered and laughed and chatted as Bill beat Beverly more than a few times. She smiled at him, bright and toothy, and Bill wasn't sure he'd seen anything prettier. But then he was reminded of Stan’s smiles when he birdwatched and backtracked, because he had seen prettier. 

It was almost enough for Bill to momentarily forget that Georgie was supposed to be back by now, but then as he slid another blue token into the Connect Four stand he glanced at the door then back at Beverly. “Buh-Bev, what's th-the time?”

She glanced at the worn-out watch strapped around her wrist, “it's almost one in the afternoon. Isn't your brother supposed to be back by now?”

Bill nodded, brows furrowed, before he stood up, “I sh-should go get him,” he said, already walking towards the door. There was a small inkling of anxiety deep in his gut, but he pushed the feeling down before it grew into something overwhelming. 

“I'll come with you, my legs are starting to cramp,” Beverly replied and stood up, too, before following Bill out the door. 

When he stepped outside, eyes searching for Georgie and his red balloon, he felt a sense of dread wash over him when he couldn't find his little brother. It was stupid to jump to conclusions so fast, so Bill decided he wouldn't overreact just yet. 

“Juh-Georgie!” Bill called out, a small worried frown on his face as he frantically looked around. He only faintly registered that Beverly had called out for Georgie too as he searched behind caravans, hoping for any sign of Georgie—for his messy brown hair or that toothy smile—that would ease the growing panic in his chest. 

They only spent a few minutes calling out for the boy when Bill heard a door open and whipped his head towards the sound, silently praying it was Georgie, before he locked eyes with Stan. Usually, staring into Stan’s warm brown eyes would help lift a bit of the anxiety stirring in his gut, but not right now. Not when it was becoming increasingly more obvious that Georgie was not here. 

He'd promised not to wander off too far, so where would he have gone? The circus was big, sure, but Georgie wouldn't leave the vicinity of the caravans unless something had distracted him. And yet as Bill overlooked the badly maintained scenery, he couldn't quite figure out what would have gotten a seven-year-old boy’s attention. 

“What's happening?” Stan asked, but it felt fainter to Bill’s ears as his brain supplied him with all the worst-case scenarios as to what could have happened to Georgie. Maybe Georgie had just gotten lost, and Bill had to find him. Maybe Georgie had twisted his ankle while he was running around and was waiting for Bill to come help him. Maybe—

A hand placed itself on his shoulder and he flinched, taking a step back, before looking at whoever had done it. Mike Hanlon’s worried expression was what greeted him, and he was unsure what to do. Absently, he could see Bev talking to Stan, a look of concern forming on his face as she continued to explain the situation. 

“Hey, you okay?” Mike asked softly. When had more people shown up? 

“H-H-Have you s-s-suh-seen Juh-Georgie?” Bill tried getting the words out, but the nerves made him stumble and stutter like an idiot. Mike was patient, though, and waited for him to finish speaking before shaking his head, and the sense of dread in his gut increased. 

“Is he missing? I can help look?” Mike offered with a sympathetic smile, and Bill didn't have the energy to return it. He shrugged. 

“Y-Y-You duh-don't have t-t-to.”

Mike shook his head, “no, I'll help, I don’t mind.”

Bill appreciated it, and he would have said a thank you for Mike's kindness, but right now all he wanted was to find Georgie and ensure the boy was safe and not lost somewhere. He nodded at Mike before walking past him to go to Stan, maybe he would know where Georgie was. 

The other boy was looking at him now, concern evident in his eyes, but Bill ignored it in favour of asking, “d-d-did Juh-Georgie go buh-back i-into the cuh-caravan…?”

Stan’s frown deepened, “no, Bill, he didn't,” and Bill felt himself falling into a deeper spiral. Where was Georgie? Where had he gone? Why had Bill let him wander around an unfamiliar place? He was so stupid, so fucking stupid. Stan brought his hands to Bill’s face, making him look into Stan’s eyes again. “We’ll find him, okay? We won't stop until we do.”

It was comforting to listen to Stan’s voice, to have his hands cupping his face. Faintly, he wondered if Stan could see the small blush dusting his cheeks, but he didn't have time for this. He needed to find Georgie now, because if he didn't then what would happen? Would Georgie roam around this unfamiliar place, scared and unsure of where he was, and be kidnapped by some random people on the streets? 

He didn't want to think about it. 

Just then, the sound of balloons popping caught everyone's attention and Bill felt Stan drop his hands. There was a lingering feeling of disappointment at the loss of the touch, but he shoved that down—as he had been doing with every emotion that wasn't panic—and decided he'd think about it later. 

“Oh goody! Most of you are awake,” Robert Gray’s voice was just as happy as ever, and even before Bill turned towards the man he already knew there would be a forced smile on his face. “I assume you know what your roles are?”

At the tense silence that followed, Robert Gray chuckled to himself, “did the two redheads not tell you?”

“We got distracted,” Beverly replied, shifting on her feet. 

“Well! Do wake everyone up and tell them,” Robert Gray clapped, the sound shattering into the silence. “We have rehearsals to get through!”

“Um, Mr. Robert Gray, Sir,” Mike piped up, and Robert Gray looked over at him with a curious grin. “Bill’s brother’s missing. Can we have time to look for him?”

Bill watched Robert Gray’s reaction intently, hoping the man would say yes, or at least let Bill look for Georgie. But then the man laughed, and Bill frowned. “Missing? He's probably just walking around the circus, no biggy! Rehearsals are more important, chop chop!”

“H-He’s muh-missing, not w-walking uh-around,” Bill snapped, shooting Robert Gray a glare. The man turned his head towards Bill, that stupid creepy smile still on his face, and stared. Those grey eyes watched him, and Bill got the feeling that he was being assessed at that moment, but then Robert Gray looked away and the feeling faded. 

“I'll send Judith out to look, then! Is that good enough for you, Billy?” 

Bill clenched his hands into fists, pressing his lips into a thin line, before he responded, “no.”

Robert Gray gave him a warning smile, and it sent a chill down his spine, before turning on his heel and walking away, “see you in five minutes, kids!” 

The silence that followed was heavy, constricting in a way that made Bill want to break it, but his mind was all over the place and all he could properly think about was Georgie and where he was and if Bill would even be able to find him.

But then Beverly spoke up, momentarily distracting Bill from his thoughts, “we should… wake everyone else up.”

Mike nodded, and walked towards his caravan where he was probably going to go to wake up Ben Hanscom. 

“Bill, maybe you should go wake Richie and Eddie up? God knows what they're doing in there,” Stan said, trying to lighten the mood, and the small smile on his face did make Bill feel less nervous. He nodded, and walked towards the caravan Richie and Eddie had been assigned. 

Bill didn't knock on the door, knowing that if Richie and Eddie were doing something in there, then maybe that would distract Bill enough from his thoughts. 

“Big Bill!” Richie exclaimed from where he was standing with a cloth in hand, and Bill had to blink a few times to realise that Richie was dusting. “Like what I've done with the place?”

That's when Bill noticed that the caravan looked neater than the others. The surfaces were properly dusted and cleaned, though the wood was still cracked and moldy in a few places, it still looked better than it had yesterday. He glanced over at the bunk bed and noticed Eddie still asleep, curled up on the bed, before looking back at Richie with a raised brow. 

“Wh-What are you duh-doing?” He asked, even though it was rather obvious what Richie was doing. 

Richie went back to dusting as he grinned, “your mom.”

Bill almost rolled his eyes, but did let a small smile break through his face. Richie’s stupid humour helped distract Bill, even if only for a moment. “No, suh-seriously.”

“I’m cleaning, Bill, what does it look like?” Richie questioned as he finished dusting the surface of the termite-eaten desk, dropping the cloth into a rusted bucket beside the foot of the bed. 

“For E-E-Eddie?” Bill asked, a fond smile on his face as Richie flushed a bright red, spluttering. 

“What? No-! Can a guy not clean without ulterior motives!?” Richie said quickly, but the brightening blush on his face gave him away, and Bill laughed. 

“Nuh-Not you,” Bill replied, before remembering why he'd come to their caravan in the first place. “W-We need to guh-go to the suh-circus tent now.”

Richie huffed, but walked over to the bunk bed to wake Eddie up, “righty-o, Big Bill!”

“Suh-See you,” Bill then walked out of the caravan, deciding that he'd tell Richie and Eddie about Georgie’s disappearance later. Maybe he wouldn't even have to tell everyone, maybe he'd find Georgie before then. Maybe. 

Soon, everyone was awake and walking towards the circus tent. Bill was at the back of the group, glancing around every second to see if he could spot Georgie anywhere. He knew Stan was giving him worried looks, but he ignored them in favour of searching. 

Although Robert Gray had said he'd send Judith out to search for his little brother, Bill didn't trust her or Robert Gray’s word. He hadn't promised he'd do it, he could have just said it to appease Bill—and to think that no one was currently looking for Georgie made Bill uneasy. 

As they approached the tent, Bill noticed Judith walking past them. She didn't greet them or say anything, but for a split second, her eyes locked with Bill’s before she was gone. 

Was she off to go look for Georgie? Or was she going to go do her own thing? Bill didn't like not knowing, and he split from the group to follow her. Hopefully no one would notice his absence. 

Bill followed Judith as she walked somewhere, wondering just where she was going. What did the woman even do at the circus? Was she Robert Gray’s manager or something? 

Then she headed towards a lone caravan, bigger than the other ones Bill had seen, and he spotted a sign reading PENNYWISE THE DANCING CLOWN above the door. He furrowed his brows and waited behind a trash can, watching as she unlocked the door and went inside. 

Just what was she going to do in there? It's not like Georgie was in there, so what was the point? Bill huffed, then moved to follow her, before a hand caught on his wrist. He startled, whipping his head towards the newcomer, before relaxing when he realised it was just Stan. 

Wait. What was Stan doing here? 

“What are you doing?” Stan asked, that look of concern and worry in his eyes having become more noticeable. 

Bill looked back towards Robert Gray’s caravan and where Judith had walked inside, before glancing back at Stan. He sighed, “nuh-nothing.”

Stan looked unconvinced, but didn't pry, “let's… let's get back to the others?”

“B-But Juh-Georgie-”

“We’ll find him, Bill,” Stan said firmly, squeezing Bill’s wrist. “I promise.”

Bill frowned, reluctant to return to the big circus tent and get on with the day like Georgie wasn't missing. But there was a pleading look in Stan’s eyes, like he wanted Bill to just go along with it for a few hours, and he could never say no to Stan. So, he relented. 

“Okay,” he mumbled and felt guilty at the relieved sigh Stan let out, letting go of Bill’s wrist. 

“Thank you,” Stan replied, directing a soft smile at Bill—and maybe if he wasn't such a mess right now he would have blushed and looked away, but all Bill could do then was nod. “Let's go.”

And with that, Stan began walking back to the others, and Bill gave Robert Gray’s caravan one final glance, promising himself that he'd come check it out later, when everyone was busy, before following after the other boy. 

He'd find Georgie. He had to.