29 Neibolt Street
“Push harder [Y/N]! Harder!”
The sound of a young boy’s voice resonated throughout the barren lawn. The owner of said voice was none other than George, Georgie, Denbrough: a 6-year-old boy with a love for playtime and friends. His hands gripped tightly onto the metal chains that connected the tire to the large oak tree: whose leaves were starting to turn brown at the edges. Behind the tire was a young child, in their early-to-mid teens, with an equally wide smile on their lips.
“Only if your brother helps!” the teen replies and turns their head for a moment to eye said brother, who was sitting on the porch of the newly refurbished house. “C’mon Bill!”
“I’m s-sick, r-r-remember?” Bill replied with a cough that was well planned out.
“You always say that!” [Y/N] lets out a loud laugh before focusing their strength on pushing the large tire. “Live a little!”
“I-I’m good, [Y/N],” the timid boy replies softly and returns his attention to the comic book that he’s reading.
At the sight of Bill immersing himself in those inked pages [Y/N] stops and hushes Georgie. The fifteen-year-old saunters towards Bill and places a hand on his shoulder, causing the boy to freeze and look at [Y/N]’s eyes. They bring out their hand and Bill gulps down a lump that has formed in his throat before placing the comic book in their smooth hands.
“It’ll be fun,” [Y/N] promised. “You two didn’t come to my place for nothing. Come on, Bill. Do it for Georgie.”
Bill looked at his brother, who looked back at him with a wide grin on his face, and then at [Y/N] who looked at him with doe eyes: his gaze lingered on the latter before sighing quietly. He looked back up at the two with a small on his face and rose quickly before walking with [Y/N] to the tire swing. Georgie cheered loudly.
“Yay! Do you wanna get in the tire with me, Billy?” Georgie asked, full of childish innocence.
Bill turned to [Y/N] who was waiting for his answer. “I-I think I’ll be fine p-p-p—pushing with [Y/N].”
Georgie replied with an “okay” and turned back around, practically bouncing in his seat.
[Y/N] and Bill stood next to each other before they both thrust their hands forward with one long push that brought the tire higher than before. Within mere moments the three of them were all laughing.
“Wanna get on the tire now, [Y/N]? I’m kinda tired,” Georgie called up from the tire.
[Y/N] looked hesitant but then agreed with joy. “Of course, Georgie! C’mon Bill, push me!”
Bill didn’t hesitate to push them as soon as they got on the tire, Georgie making himself comfortable on the porch whilst reading Bill’s comic book about Superman. Bill couldn’t help but let his cheeks grow warm at the sight of [Y/N]’s hair shining and their laughter filling the cool autumn hair with warmth and love.
It left him with a feeling almost like—
“What’s up lovebirds?!” A loud, imitation of a rockstar’s voice sounded throughout Neibolt Street.
Bill suddenly slowed down his pushing and [Y/N]’s laughter died down, both of them looking at the three boys who approached [Y/N]’s house. Richie, Eddie, and Stan. The latter two both giving Richie an incredulous expression at his lack of a mute button.
“Oh hey you guys!” [Y/N] gave them a quick wave and hopped off the tire. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We were wondering if you guys wanted to come with us to the Barrens,” Richie continued, “but seeing as though you two were wanted some alone time, we’ll be going now.”
“Wait, we’ll come with!” [Y/N] replied. “We’ll drop off Georgie first.”
[Y/N] gets up and gestures for Georgie to hold their hand. “Bill? We’ll meet you at the Barrens.”
“O-Oh, okay,” Bill nods and walks Georgie to Silver, his bike.
As Bill gets ready to depart, he listens to the conversation that Richie and [Y/N] were finishing. Eddie and Stan seemed interested in the birds that perched on the roof of [Y/N]’s house.
“—I’m just teasing, [Y/N]!” Richie yells with a laugh.
“Yeah, and you know what?” [Y/N] continues, “it’s nothing, Rich. We’re only friends.”
Bill’s heart clenches at the words of his since-elementary-school-crush, but what can he do? [Y/N] was in high school, leagues above Bill (both figuratively and literally). He shakes off the somber thought and begins to peddle away from the Victorian house, bellowing out:
“Hi-ho Silver, Away!”
After a fulfilling weekend of fun and laughter, [Y/N] bikes until they reach their home: 29 Neibolt Street. A formerly run-down home that no one had dared to enter, that is until their parents had bought it from the mayor of Derry: whom was adamant on not selling it, before [Y/N]’s father waved those dollar green bills in front of the stout man.
Ever since their parents bought that home they rebuilt it and brought the neighborhood to a somewhat glamorous vision, going so far as to replacing the windy, deformed tree with a younger version of itself. The lawn was green, reflecting its hue against the sand-grey paint that the house was now covered in.
Despite the fact that their parents had removed the sunflowers that were originally there, [Y/N] noticed that they always grew back no matter what. So to ease their parents’ frustrations, they decided to plant red poppies into the grass, bringing out a lovely mirage of a sunset lawn.
They propped their bike (which was a sky blue with a beige basket at the front) at the entrance and entered the house, taking off their shoes immediately.
“I’m home!” [Y/N] called out.
It was silent for a moment before their mother’s voice called back. “Dinner’s ready, honey! Oh, and can you please get the cleaning supplies from the basement? I’m gonna clean the kitchen.”
“Okay!” they exclaimed and made their way to the basement door.
They paused for a moment, breath halting before they shakily opened the door and silently entered. There was something… Off about the basement, of course the whole Victorian-esque theme of the house (which was the only house in Derry to have such a theme, excluding the townhouse and city hall) was strange, but the basement was even stranger. Illuminated with only natural light via the two windows near the top of the basement, the room was mostly pitch black.
There was a single well in the center of the basement, built on old rocks that grew rocks and moss on them. The well was so deep, [Y/N] noted, that it seemed to stretch into the very depths of the Earth. For some reason when [Y/N] had asked their parents about the well, they greeted them with confused expressions.
“There’s no well,” their father explained.
“We had that well removed, remember?” their mother added.
It was a strange revelation that [Y/N] made, because although their parents could not see it - their friends did. Bill, Richie, Eddie, Stan—heck, even little Georgie could see it.
Something was definitely not right. But [Y/N] had no time to ponder on their thoughts because as soon as they had grabbed the bucket, chemicals, and sponges; they ran up the stairs without closing the door.
That place gave them the creeps.