????? ??????????, ( ???? ????????? )

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

SWEET MELANCHOLY

LETTERS

0. the missing of bill denbrough

--------------------------------------------------------------

January 1st, 1991

Billy,

I think it's safe to assume that this letter will likely never reach you. Wherever and ever you are. I suppose, it's nice to just see your name on paper and act like you're still here and I'm not here in Derry without you. I'm probably not even going to send this out.

I hope to God that you'll visit sometime soon. Within the new year, at least. I wonder why you haven't called. Surely, you've got at least one of our numbers? Richie's, Stan's, Mike's? Me? At least one of us... Why haven't you called, Billy? I miss you, severely. I don't think I'll ever not miss you.

Happy early Birthday, by the way. You're turning sixteen in three days — the big sixteen! Isn't that crazy? Remember when we were in fourth grade and we weren't close yet? You brought cupcakes to school on your birthday and I remember you gave me a 'special' yellow frosted one, the only yellow one your mom made because you said I was 'like the sun'. You've always been my most precious boy. I'd give you a new bracelet if you were here. Bake you a cute little cake with buttercream frosting because I know it's your favourite too.

Nothing much has happened here. I'm still getting used to, walking? If that even makes any sense. The doctor said it's cause I was comatose in a bed for six months. I see what he means. It's kind of like I forgot how to use my body which is weird since it's such second nature.

Ben and Richie taught me how to ride a bike recently. It took hours because I suck at balancing but also because my muscle reaction is still slow. I'm terrible at it. You guys make it look so easy. I'm not sure how you all do it. I kept tipping over and stumbling and I'd move the handlebars too slow and my shoe kept getting caught on the pedal somehow! Maybe, I shouldn't wear a dress next time. I learned a bit, nonetheless. I'd much prefer riding with you, though. It was more comfortable and I always felt safe.

For a while, I forgot a lot of things after waking up. I forgot about IT for a while — a month and a half to be exact. It was awful nice since I didn't have to relive the memories. I remember now and I hate it. I wish I could erase them.

Sometimes, I wake up from being asleep because of nightmares of the cistern. Being alone in there, dark and damp, filled with bugs crawling into my throat. It's terrible. Really, truly terrible. On nights like those, I often find myself laying in bed staring at the ceiling and just sobbing, wishing you were here. Sometimes, I sneak out the window and go to Stan's. I think he understands how I feel the most. We're bonded through our... Physical trauma, I guess.