Bill didn’t think he liked you.

That was the funny part.

Everyone else figured it out before he even realized there was something to figure out. Richie, of course, was the loudest about it — making jokes when you weren’t around, asking when Bill planned to hyphenate his last name, calling you “Mrs. Denbrough” just to see him snap back with something sharp and defensive.

Bill always did snap back.

“Sh-shut up, Richie.”

And yet… some part of him never really wanted Richie to stop.

He told himself the looks he gave you were normal. Friendly. Just checking that you were okay. Just listening. Just noticing. That’s all. Friends noticed each other. Friends sat close. Friends laughed quietly together while the others argued.

Right?

The sleepover at Richie’s house felt like a miracle in itself. Everyone had fought for it in their own way. Eddie had shown up with enough medication to survive the apocalypse. Stan arrived on time, as always, schedule memorized down to the minute. Ben looked relieved just to be included. Richie acted like it was his personal victory over the universe.

And you?

You walked in like you belonged there.

Bill noticed that immediately.

You didn’t hesitate. Didn’t shrink. Didn’t act awkward about being the only girl. You dropped your bag, joked with Richie, smiled at Ben, bumped shoulders with Eddie just to make him yelp.

Bill watched all of it from the corner of the room, heart doing something strange and uncooperative in his chest.

The evening blurred together — jokes, arguing over movies, snacks scattered everywhere, Richie narrating everything like it was a stand-up routine. Bill laughed, really laughed, more than he usually did. He forgot things. Forgot the quiet heaviness of home. Forgot that his parents rarely noticed when he left or came back.

It was easy here.

It was easy with you.

By the time midnight crept in, the room was dim, bodies stretched across the living room floor in mismatched sleeping bags and blankets. The air felt thick with summer — warm, lazy, buzzing.

You ended up beside Bill without either of you really deciding it.

Just… naturally.

“C-can’t sleep?” he whispered after a while. You shook your head slightly.

“Too many people,” you said softly. “Too much noise in my head.”

He nodded. He understood that.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Just shared the quiet. The hum of the refrigerator. Richie’s soft snoring already starting from the couch. Eddie muttering something about inhalers in his sleep.

Your fingers brushed Bill’s hand by accident.

Just a touch. Barely anything. Neither of you moved it away.