THREE WEEKS. IT'S BEEN THREE WEEKS. Three weeks since they defeated that clown. Three weeks since Bill has been able to whisper 'I love you' to her. Three weeks since his light went out. Three weeks since he had last been able to kiss her forehead and cheeks and nose and hold her in his arms. Three weeks since he had last spoke to his Sunshine.

It was all so unspoken. Each member of the club too afraid, too shattered to even bring mention of her name. The loss was heavy on each of them, the thought of the bright young girl clouding their minds as the built within them built up and up and up until they were all on the verge of bursting.

It was almost sickening. Every thought they had of her reminded them of how incomplete they felt now. There was a large April shaped gap within their once flourishing group and no matter what, it seemed they'd never recover from it. They all took the loss differently. Richie's voice was stolen from his throat and Beverly began going through packs of cigarettes like candy. It was Bill who took it the worse.

He had lost interest in the things which once helped him cope with Georgie, the sketchpads and journals he frequented were all now abandoned. Tossed to a corner in his room with a layer of dust collecting atop them. His parents didn't bother to reach out to him and in a way, he didn't blame them. It was his fault. Both of them. They're gone because of him and of course, it'd make sense that they didn't bother with him anymore. It was as if loss was following him.

On days where it was exceptionally bad, he'd pray to God that he could forget it all. Somehow forget all the pain and just live cluelessly because he was sick of it. Sick of seeing them in his dreams, terrified of sleeping because he knew they'd appear.

In the past few weeks, he had dark circles form beneath his eyes which were more noticeable than ever. A clear sign of him avoiding sleep. His hair was messy and lips chapped, hands trembled in a way that begged to be held. God, he missed her.

There were so many things he regretted this year. Not going with Georgie, letting her go into Neibolt. So many things which killed him and he wondered if everyone would be better off he was the one who died that October. April wouldn't be... She wouldn't be gone if he had been.

He felt selfish in a way. After everything, he realized that so much of what he said to her, to the Losers, were part of some desperate ploy to satisfy his need for answers about his brother and in the end, it resulted in more tragedy. Not just for him, but for his friends, and her family. The mere thought of his actions made him sick. Part of him would always hate himself for it.

As days turned to weeks, they all finally found it
in themselves to meet up and discuss the horrors which occurred in August. They were met up in the train-yard which they all recalled they walked through when they first met Mike. When they all finally became the complete set of Losers.

They were all sat in the overgrown grass, seven of them. They were fully incomplete and it left a hole in each of their hearts. The sun which shined down on them feeling bleak. The world was so dark without her and they all saw it.

"I can only remember parts, but I thought I was dead, that's what it felt like, I saw us together. We seem older. Maybe, our parents ages..." Attention was on Beverly, explaining what she had saw while under IT's
possession. Her voice was shaky as she looks between each of her friends faces. Somehow, she could still see the faces of their older selves in them. It was odd.

Ben hums, tilting his head with a solemn look. "Was she there?" He asks, voice weak. He was asking the question they all wondered.

There was a silence which filled the air as Beverly looked down at the bracelet on her wrist. The group doing the same. Bill felt his hand tremble as he looks down at it, recalling the sweet smile she had given him the day she offered it to him. God, he never loved anyone more.

"She was." Beverly nods simply, looking back up.

Silence again. All of them unsure as to what to say before Bill speaks up. "W-What were we doing?" He asks, eyes staring blankly at a bundle of wildflowers nearby. They were so bright, full of colour. They reminded him of his Sunshine so much.

Beverly shrugs, fiddling with her hands. "I just remember how we all felt... How scared we were, I don't think I'll ever forget that..." She mumbles in response. Knowing well that it wasn't enough for any of them and wishing she knew more.

Bill breathes in weakly. Feeling his throat go right as he leans over, snatching something off the grass and standing up in front of them. "Swear it. S-Swear if it isn't dead, if it ever comes back, we'll come back too.... I-If not for me, if not for Georgie, or the missing kids... For..." He trails off at his last word, eyes glossing over at the thought of the curly-haired girl he grew to love so quickly.

He had fallen into her so fast, it was as if each and every part of themselves was made for the other and yet, so cruelly, it was ripped away from them. Their chance at happiness. Their chance at love. "F-For..." He repeats, attempting to bring himself to finish. He looks to the Losers, biting his lip harshly as a tear leaves his eye and drips down his cheek. "For Sun-" He starts, cutting himself off.

The name felt bitter in his tongue. Sunshine. Sunshine was his nickname for her. It was special to them. Only he called her it. She was his Sunshine and she was gone. It didn't feel right saying it when she wasn't here, it was only for her to hear. It wasn't anyone else's.

"For April," He whispers, eyes flicking down to the glass. His April Ambrose. He loved her. So much. Beyond words could tell. The feeling of her given name on his tongue felt foreign and he wasn't sure what he should call her anymore. It didn't seem right — Sunshine. It didn't sit well with him, seeing how dark the world became without her laughter and smile and notions.

The way her name slid from his mouth was heart-wrenching. Richie could've sworn he felt his heart shatter at the sound. Mangled, choked. April. April wasn't ever April to Bill Denbrough. She was Sunshine. His Sunshine Ambrose. She brought the world back to colour after he thought he'd be forever stuck in the stark grey that was casted over his life after everything. After Georgie. She made him feel happy again. Safe, again. Wanted, again. God only knew how much he needed it. She was his angel. His own personal piece of heaven.

Nodding, Beverly stands up. Followed by Richie. Then, Eddie, Stan, Ben, and Mike. They understood his pain, feeling the emptiness in the air without her endless smile to brighten their spirits. He had lost his brother and her. Georgie was gone and the only person who had ever made him feel himself again was gone too.

There was a moment where they stood in a circle, silently staring at one another. Before, Bill looks down at his hand, swiping the glass shard against it and drawing blood, barely flinching because of now numb he had become to reality.

He turns to Richie, his hand already out for him to cut it. Bill nods to him, pressing the glass against Richie's skin and gliding it across. He clenches his free hand, shaking his head as Bill pulls the glass away.

It was all so solemn as Bill goes around the circle, gripping each one of his friends hands and swiping the glass across their hand. None of it mattered to him, however. The only hand he wanted to hold was hers and he couldn't. She was gone and he was responsible for it.

He lets out a shaky breath and he returns back to his original spot in the circle, all of them joining hands and allowing themselves to wallow in the silence of their trauma. The blood which leaked from their wounds seeping into the dirt.

They weren't sure how long they stood like that, their eyes hollow and lips parted weakly. Their hearts ripped into two with the one exception for Bill. His heart was absolutely shattered to bits and he swore he'd never recover. The group all understood what this was. It was their own personal way of becoming one, of becoming a family.

They were each other's home. They each others one place in this town which made them feel safe, wanted, and loved. They let go, blood staining their hands as the summer heat shone down upon them. Beads of blood and sweat trickling down their skin.

"I gotta go," Stan speaks up, breaking the comfortable silence which lingered in the air. All heads go towards him, staring at his bandaged face.  "I hate you," He says, looking to Bill whose lips wore a permanent frown since Georgie. Stan smiles softly, shaking his head as he looks to their leader in a bittersweet sadness. "Kidding," He adds on, hoping to lighten the mood. The group laughs weakly before it dies out once again, feeling the emptiness in the air which may never be filled again.

♧

Bill had promised himself that after he met up with the club he'd go straight home. He had told himself over and over again a thousand times. He promised he'd go home. Yet, he found himself pedalling straight past the street which led to his and heading to Main Street.

He felt the wind brush through his hair as his legs pedalled rapidly and he almost had to hold back from closing his eyes, imagining... No, remembering the feeling of April carding her fingers through his hair softly during those days where they would do nothing more than lay in bed and talk.

There was a breath he had not taken stuck in his throat and part of him wondered if he was turning purple. Or, he actually was breathing and he just felt so blue without her he just couldn't feel anything at all.

He genuinely didn't even recall how he had gotten here, stood in this stark white room with a constant beep. But being here had managed to push all thoughts of not feeling anything away because he felt the blood drain from his face as he looked down at her.

She looked so peaceful. As if she was sleeping. Like, that time when his tire popped and they went to her house and dozed off between loosely strung together words. God, it felt so long ago. Softly, he brushes his hand against her cheek before moving part of her bangs off her face.

"Hey," He whispers, taking hold of one of her hands and rubbing circles onto it with his thumb. Staring down at it, he notices she had her friendship bracelet tied around that same wrist. "T-Time really does f-fly," He goes on weakly.

He wondered if she could hear him. In this state. She was unmoving, except for her breathing yet, she looked nothing like how she once did. Almost unrecognizable, really. Her tan skin now pale due to the amount she spent under the hospitals fluorescent lights. She was sickly and frail. She didn't look like how she did those few weeks prior when he had her with him, awake. Her arms wrapped around his waist while they rode around town on Silver.

Her hair wasn't even neatly done how she usually did it, with a dainty braid down the side of her head. It was messy, her natural curls knotted. Bill sighs, letting go of her hand and beginning to comb his fingers through her hair gently — knowing she hates when her hair isn't neatly done. Does she feel anything? Does she feel his hand holding hers? Does she feel the kisses he leaves on her forehead? Her nose? Her cheeks?

This was almost worse than death. It was worse than death because it was just a constant battle now. Waiting, wondering, and praying to whoever was listening that she wouldn't flatline. IT hadn't killed her when it grabbed hold of her those few weeks ago. It had merely injured her, just enough to get her to go unconscious on the sewers floor.

And, there was hope for a split moment as Eddie Kaspbrak held his fingers against her neck and caught a thread pulsating within it which caused them all to jump to action. None of them even recalled how they got out of the sewers, just that they made it to the hospital where the sat in hospital chairs with shaking hands.

The worst of it all was when a nurse approached them, needed to fill out their April's chart, asking for her first, middle, and last name. Bill was the only one who knew her middle name, sputtering it out weakly as he thought back to when she told him while they talked about everything and nothing all at the same time.

"April... April R-R-René Ambrose,". His voice was barely a whisper, his eyes trained blankly on the dirt they trudged onto the hospitals floor. He didn't know it but Mike had had to repeat it back to the nurse and even help contact her parents.

He was in shock for most of it. Almost unmoving as time lulled on slowly. He was barely in his mind as Josephine, Cain, and Holly entered their hospital. If it weren't for Josephine's worried voice prodding then doctors for answers, he probably wouldn't had even registered anything.

They found out what's wrong three hours after. Well, her family did. The Losers were all expected at home. Curfew was fast approaching and despite having solved the problem, they could still get in trouble. Cain had told them all to go off, that he'd phone their houses and that they could all visit her in the morning and that April would be fine because she was April. His daughter, April. She could do anything.

Beverly and Mike practically had to drag Bill out of the hospital, pulling him by the arms as he struggled to rush back to the waiting room. He couldn't just leave her. He'd never do that to her. He could never do that to her. But, he had to.

The next day brought news of blunt force head trauma and a medically induced coma. There was no telling of when she'd wake up, if she ever did. Josephine was hysterical, in tears and a bundle of anxiety while Holly stared off into space emptily. She'd never say it aloud but she was feeling everything crash around her. Cain stood strong for as long as he could, breaking down in the closed doors of their house, sliding down against his bedroom door and letting out the loudest sobs you'd ever hear. It was all such a different type of heartbreak.

The club was no better, each feeling responsible for the outcome. They had to lie about how it had happened too. A broken up lie of hysterics and sobs was formed. April Ambrose had brutally hit her head against the bottom of the Quarry after a jump down the edge gone wrong. It was them who had ultimately gotten the Quarry cliff shut down to the public.

"I need you, Sunshine..." He mumbles as he twirls a piece of her hair around his finger, softly unknotting it while he looks down at her. "I m-miss you s-so much. I'm sorry, I shouldn't h-h-have let you g-g-go in t-there. It's m-my f-fault, S-S-S-Sunshine. P-Please, w-w-wake up. I n-need y-you, I l-l-l-love y-y-y-you so m-m-much. Wake up, p-please," He whispers to her, his head bowing down, falling against her steadily moving chest. "I-I-I'm sorry. I-I-I s-s-said you'd b-be s-s-s-safe. I-I'm s-s-supposed to p-p-protect you," He sobs into her chest, tears staining her hospital gown as his breath gets caught in his chest.

He begins to feel his throat tighten, tears spilling freely from his eyes as he heaves in heavy breaths, moving his face from her chest and looking at her emotionless face. He can't breathe. Oh, God. He can't breathe. He's sobbing, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle the noise as he hyperventilates. This was his fault. "I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry! P-P-Please, w-wake... W-wake up!" He sobs, his free hand grabbing at hers and squeezing it tightly.

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his back, rubbing it softly and he freezes, his breathing still uneven and tears still in his eyes as he turns to the figure behind him. Cain. He stares at him with pleading eyes, remembering the days where he'd pick April up from her house and see him through the window at the front of their house.

Bill looked at Cain and felt guilt flood his throat, feeling it go tight as he battled with his body to breathe. Cain couldn't do anything but sit down in the chair next to his. "Hey, hey, hey. Bill, I need you to breathe. I know it's hard. But... Just follow me, okay?" Cain breathes in slowly, Bill trying to mimic his actions, his lip quivering.

Cain nods, feeling his own throat go tight because he was looking at Bill and seeing April. Remembering all those nightmares his daughter would have and all the nights he'd spend rubbing her back and telling her to follow his breathing. "Alright, okay. Good. You're doing good," He says as he continues to breathe in and out.

Bill follows, looking to Cain with glassy eyes. "I'm s-s-sorry," He heaves out, voice hoarse as his hands shake.

Shaking his head, Cain puts his hand over the young boys and cups it. "Don't do that. This isn't your fault, Bill," He responds, shaking his head.

"B-But... What i-if," Bill sputters out, lips trembling as tears fall off his cheeks.

Cain shakes his head again. "No, Bill. No what ifs. You couldn't have ever known. She'll wake up. You know her, don't you?" He asks. Bill nodding weakly in response. "Exactly. April Ambrose... She's probably thinking she's in a fairytale right now. What's that movie? Sleeping Beauty? Yeah, that's my Apple," He goes on, patting them young boys hand. "She'll be fine and you'll be okay, Bill. I know that enough," He adds, standing up and walking back towards the rooms door before looking back and nodding to Bill who sat in the chair looking down at April. "She'll be okay," He reassured him once more before walking out of the room.

And, Bill chose to believe him. Sitting there in the hospital chair with threads poking out of it for a few minutes as he played with her curls and talked to her as if she could hear before he finally stood up shakily. He wasn't sure how long he had been there for. He just knew that he was growing tired and that his eyes were heavy.

So, with tired eyes, he leans down to her. Pressing his lips to her forehead, running his fingers through her curly bangs before pulling away and staring down at her once more and allowing himself to see Sunshine. His Sunshine with bright eyes and tanned skin and big smiles. "Me and you, okay?" He whispers, sure she could hear him. "Me and you. Always," He repeats, not stuttering once because he knew for sure and certain, that it would always, forever be, her and him.

END