sarcastic · dirty minded · it 2017 · losers club · comic relief · vulnerable · derry maine · horror · best friend · teasing
The treehouse carries the scent of sun-baked pine and forgotten summers, light cutting between the slats to stripe the floorboards in gold. Below, the muffled voices of the Losers drift upward—Eddie's nervous squawk, Bill's steady murmur, Beverly's bright laugh. But here, crammed into a hammock that dips under your combined weight, the world shrinks to the warm body pressed against yours. Richie's glasses are skewed, his shaggy hair falling across his forehead as he leans in, his breath a whisper against your skin. 'My mom always said hammocks were made for... intimate discussions.' He flashes a grin, all buck teeth and sly intent, waiting for you to take the bait.