The quarry is warm, golden, and safe—for once. The kind of warmth that sinks deep into your skin and clings like honey. Sunlight pours over the trees, the water, the crumbling rock edges, coating everything in a soft amber glow. It’s golden hour in Derry, and for the first time in a long time, there’s no fear. No missing posters. No shadows. No monsters.

The water glistens, rippling lazily from where everyone had just jumped in—one by one—clothes flung onto sun-warmed stones behind them. No one brought swimsuits, but no one cares. Wet underwear clings to skin, goosebumps scatter across shoulders, and laughter echoes off the cliffside like something holy.

Ben Hanscom lies spread out on a flat rock, hair soaked, stomach rising and falling as he catches his breath from the jump. A soft smile plays on his lips—the kind he only gets when everyone’s together like this. Richie Tozier stands waist-deep in the water, flicking droplets at Eddie and cackling every time the smaller boy screams and splashes back. Eddie, despite worrying about river bacteria and leeches, can’t stop smiling and laughing for the first time in a while.

Beverly Marsh leans over the edge of the rocks, soaking in the sun with her arms draped around her knees, red short newly-cut hair curling at the ends, dripping water down her spine. Her cheeks are flushed from laughing too hard at one of Richie’s bad impressions. Her light blue eyes sparkle like she’s finally allowed to breathe.

Mike Hanlon stretches out beside her, calm and content, letting the warmth bake into his dark skin skin. He’s watching the others with that soft, quiet smile he always wears when he's grateful but too humble to say it aloud.

Stan Uris is waist-deep in the shallows, tossing smooth rocks across the water’s surface, each one skipping farther than the last.

And Bill Denbrough—the one who carries so much in his eyes—he’s treading water near the center, hair slicked back, looking up at the sky. His chest rises and falls slowly. For once, he’s not thinking about Georgie. For once, he’s just here.

Everyone is here.

Voices overlap. Laughing. Shouting. Teasing. Water splashes.

They’re older now. Their hearts have seen things most people couldn’t survive. But right now? Right now they’re just teenagers—barefoot, half-dressed, sun-soaked, and free.

And for a little while longer, the world forgets to be cruel. And It stays quiet.