.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

【 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 】

vi. memory lane

WALKING THE STREETS OF DERRY ALONE, without the company of her fellow Losers, Verity found, was rather like facing a battle without armour. The support they provided, no matter how small, was a comfort; as though nothing could touch her when they stood united. So, some of that childhood magic still remained, she thought. That whimsical belief that so many children harboured; the concrete certainty that no matter how bad things got, you could always leave the situation as easily as waking from a nightmare. A beautiful blessing and a secret curse - the fatal hubris of youth.

She navigated though the streets, taken aback at how crowded it was. The small town was a hive of activity; the townsfolk preparing for the annual Canal Days Festival in a flurry of brightly-coloured banners and balloons. She stifled a laugh, thinking back to a similar festival from the past. Richie had stolen a tuba from one of the members of the marching band, she recalled; he had grappled with the pissed-off band member as his friends looked on, bemused.

Mike had told them that they had no choice but to split up; just like they had done in the summer of '89, when the Losers club had fallen victim to the horrors of their first encounter with the Neibolt house. Ironically, that part of the summer had been the hardest - Verity had only just found a group to belong to, only to lose them again.

Now, as she wandered the streets as an adult, along those well-worn tracks she had once haunted, she was spellbound by the utter determination they had possessed as kids. They had never been asked to defeat the clown, after all. So what had been their motivation, exactly? That same naivety, driven by innocence, the certainty that good would triumph over evil. After all, if it always happened in the tales and stories of their younger years, why shouldn't it work for them?

She sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. What sort of token was she even looking for, anyway? Before the group had parted ways, none of the others had really known where they were meant to go, either. It was only now, as Verity looked up to realise where she was, that she understood. 

A decently sized, Victorian-style house stood in front of her, eerily unchanged since the last time she had seen it. Everything about the dwelling was familiar; from the paneled wooden exterior to the cosy front porch where she had sat during her childhood - the former Summers household. 

Verity blinked, lips parting slightly. Even in her distracted state, her feet had led her to the place she had grown up in, the place she had called home for so many years of her life. Dazedly, she noticed the For Sale sign on the front lawn, the sight sending a pang through her stomach. Of course, she thought distantly. We moved away when I was in high-school... God, it had killed me to leave, how I-

◇

"...don't want to say goodbye," Verity said, trying desperately to keep it together. She couldn't cry in front of her friends, not now. Couldn't bear the thought of hurting them even further.

After Beverly had left, two years previously, it had left a tear in her heart that had taken months to heal, a constant reminder of their friend's absence. And now, it was happening all over again. The remaining Losers had stuck together as they entered high-school, had stayed through all of the heartbreak, all of the struggles, all of the highs and many lows of the teenage experience.

And now here they stood, grouped numbly outside Verity's house, hardly speaking for fear of unleashing the wave of emotions and heartbreak that was sure to crash down upon them at any moment. 

"I'll call every day, okay?" She had said, hugging Stan tightly as tears cascaded down their cheeks, as though if they held on for long enough they could escape this harsh new reality. "And I'll write letters, too."

He looked down at her with reddened eyes, "Promise?" he whispered, stroking her hair with a trembling hand. He had to bend to hug her, she thought faintly; they all did, now. She remembered how the boys had shot past her, even Eddie leaving her behind as he had gotten taller.

"Promise."

Verity turned to the others, huddled together a few feet away. "Come on, you idiots," she laughed weakly, holding an arm out to her boys. "One last hug before I go,"

Richie was first, trying to remain calm as he swaggered over, then abandoned it as he ran, almost knocking the pair over as he engulfed them in a hug. He stooped, unruly dark hair flopping as he rested his head on her shoulder. "I'm gonna miss you, Veritas Summerday," he tried to grin, but it was so, so difficult. He was going to miss his partner in crime. "Who am I supposed to get in trouble with in Biology now?" 

"I'm sure you'll find someone," she rolled her eyes. "Maybe Eddie'll take up the position,"

"I will not," Eddie muttered, joining the group-hug, his eyes bloodshot with unshed tears. "Some of us care about our grades, you know," he sniffed, making her laugh in spite of it all.

Mike, Bill, and Ben followed closely, joining the hug without uttering a word. It was easier not to speak, and she understood completely. 

They stayed like that for some time, not daring to break away from the hug, not wanting to see another friend leave. Verity continued to cry soundlessly, crying harder as her friends tried to comfort her. Mike rubbed her back, still in shock over what was happening. How would they manage without Verity? Their mediator, their confidante, the one who could charm a laugh from your lips even on the worst of days, who had held their little patchwork family together since they were thirteen.

Verity's parents watched this scene play out from the front seat of their car, hearts aching for their daughter and her friends as they were forced to say goodbye. It killed them to hurt her like that, but it was their time to leave; for there were simply too many bad memories to be found in Derry. Charlie Summers caught his daughter's eye, the discrete tilt of his head saying, Time to go.

 Taking a deep breath, Verity broke away from her friends, arms falling to her side as she took in the looks of heartbreak on their faces. She moved along the group, hugging each person one by one; Bill, who at this stage was like a brother to her, his eyes screwed shut as the tears fell; Ben, wrapping her in a bear hug as he tried to smile; Eddie, who hugged her fiercely, afraid to let go; Mike, as comforting as he always had been, burying his face in her shoulder; Richie, who swore under his breath as he cried, knuckling the tears away like a child; and Stan, oh, Stan.

They had both known this would be the hardest goodbye of all. They had never been separated like this before. Verity couldn't bear the thought of waking up and not having him right next-door. After all, they were Verity and Stanley, Ver and Stan, Summers and Uris, just as inseparable  as they had been as children.

He couldn't meet her eyes, pale in the afternoon light, his face so familiar she could have traced it in her sleep. Verity couldn't bear it; surely her heart was breaking in two, cleaved clean in half inside her chest. She knew that wherever she went after that day, no matter how long the distance between the two grew, he would always have a piece of her heart, just as she would always have a piece of his. To separate them was unfathomable, a thought that neither of them could ever come to terms with. They had grown up together, grown apart, then found each other again; had gone from friends to something so much more.

She took him in her arms, the feel of his body against hers bringing some comfort; they fit together, a matching set. He touched his forehead to hers, closing his eyes as she did the same, not caring that they were being watched. It didn't matter. They had to steal those last precious seconds together. 

"I'll miss you every single second I'm gone," she whispered, words catching in her throat. "Every damn second I'm away from you." 

He ran his hand over her hair, shaking his head as a sob rose in his throat. "I- Ver I can't," he urged. "I don't-" he stopped as her lips met his, soft and tasting faintly of salt. They kissed with a sort of desperate urgency, the only way to express the grief, the pain, the deep longing to stay together. It was beautiful, in a way; the ability to convey their true emotions when words failed.

"Don't forget me, okay?" he asked, eyes filled with sorrow mixed with something else, something she couldn't quite place. 

Verity held on to his shoulders, looking straight into his eyes as she spoke. "Stan... don't ever think that. Not ever. I'll never forget you, Uris, you can count on that."

The teens clutched at each other, desperate not to let go, survivors clinging to a sinking ship. 

"Just hold me,"  Verity breathed, her blue eyes searching his hazel ones. "Don't ever let me go, Stan,"

"Never." 

◇

Never. They had promised, sworn not to forget each other, and grief filled Verity's heart at the thought. Stan had waited for her to call. They all had. And she had forgotten them completely. 

"I'm so sorry, Stan," she whispered, but of course, he couldn't hear her. She would never get a chance to explain, to apologise. How long had he waited, when the calls never came? 

Wait, she thought. Oh God... 

He had  called, she remembered now, feeling as though she was going to throw up. There had been one call, during that first week after they had moved. She had picked up the phone-

◇

Confusion making her frown slightly. She took a breath, leaning against the wall as a voice spoke over the line. 

"Ver? Is that you?"  The person asked, voice slightly muffled. 

Verity blinked, using the best polite voice she could muster, "...Hello? I'm sorry, who is this?"

An intake of breath, followed by an inaudible murmur that suggested that the caller wasn't alone. "Ver? Don't be silly, it's me, Stan." A pause. "Can- Can you hear me okay?"

She shook her head, fidgeting awkwardly. "I can hear you fine- just, I think you have the wrong number," then, eyebrows furrowing, "and how do you know my name?"

"W-What?" The boy stammered, shock clear in his tone. "Ver- Is this a joke? We were worried, you said you'd call... Is everything alright?" 

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but I'm sorry, okay? Just... I have to go, my mom's calling me," she lied, alarmed at how this utter stranger not only knew her name, but her nickname too. "I hope you find whoever you were calling, though," 

"No, Ver please-"  the boy pleaded, promptly cut off as she hung up the phone. 

"Weird," she muttered, shaken. 

How had he gotten her number? She tried to brush it off, but couldn't get her mind off the odd boy from the phone. Stan.

It was puzzling - she had never known anyone named Stan in her life. 

◇

Verity inhaled sharply, hands clutching the wooden front gate so tightly her fingers felt numb. The pain was back, the wounds in her heart opening back up again at the memory. He had called her, and she had hung up. 

That was part of It's power, after all; It's influence made sure that whoever left the town would forget almost as soon as they crossed Derry's borders. Some small rational part of Verity's brain knew that, of course, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

She fought the urge to cry out. To scream profanities at the sky, the universe, for fucking their lives up like it had. Oh, how different their lives would have been if she hadn't moved away, or if he had left too. A strangled noise escaped her throat at the thought. 

They could have stayed together. Could have finally built the life they had always dreamed of during those lazy afternoons, spent curled up together with nothing but each other's company. They could have gone to college together; traveled the world to see far-off countries on a whim, because fuck it, they were young. Gotten the careers they had always wanted; bought an apartment, then eventually, a house. 

Then, later on, they could have had children. Could have had a family.

"It's not fair..." she seethed, tears needling her eyelids as she raised her voice to a yell. "It's not fucking fair!" she burst out, not caring if the people in the homes nearby thought she was crazy, a madwoman screaming at no-one. It didn't matter anymore, nothing did. 

The only thing she was sure of, the only thing that was certain in the turbulence of this reality, was simple.  

The clown was the reason she had left, the reason Stan was dead. Verity knew, that she would have her retribution, or die trying. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE!
i literally hate it here- also the way we were robbed of teen losers content