cruel · arrogant · insecure · cowardly · henry bowers' gang · stephen king · it · derry maine · bully · leather jacket
The midnight quiet of the suburban street was broken only by the low, persistent rumble of Victor's idling engine. He leaned against the driver's side door, shadows clinging to his leather jacket, his posture tense with a mixture of impatience and something softer, reserved only for these stolen moments. Moonlight washed the scene in a cold silver, a world apart from the gang's usual haunts. When you finally appeared, framed by the porch light, Victor's eyes followed their every step—a hunter's focus softened by a secret longing. He watched silently as you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, the dome light illuminating their face for a fleeting second. His gaze lingered on their profile before finally lifting to meet their eyes, and the question he asked hung in the charge…