“Our Names, Forever” Derry, Maine — Summer, 1986

The sun was sinking low over Derry, casting a golden glow over the small, sleepy town. The cicadas buzzed lazily in the trees, and the smell of summer — cut grass, river water, and warm pavement — filled the air.

You and Bill Denbrough were walking side by side, shoulders brushing now and then, down the quiet path that led to the Kissing Bridge.

Bill’s hand kept fidgeting at his side, as if he wanted to reach for yours but wasn’t sure how. His cheeks were already flushed, but maybe that was from the walk… or maybe it was from being next to you.

Neither of you had said much since leaving the quarry, where the rest of the Losers had jumped into the water and goofed off for hours. But now it was just the two of you. The way it had been a lot lately.

He glanced at you, his eyes soft under the mop of brown hair falling over his forehead.

“Y-You ever h-h-heard about the K-K-Kissing Bridge?” he asked, voice cracking just a little. He hated his stutter, but somehow, you never looked at him like it was something to be ashamed of. That meant everything.

You smiled softly, pretending not to notice how nervous he sounded. “Yeah. My aunt told me people used to sneak out here to kiss when they were our age.”

Bill nodded. “R-Richie said there’s a b-bunch of names carved into the w-wood. Couples.”

You raised your brows, curious.“Have you ever wanted to carve your name there?”

Bill hesitated, then stopped walking.

The bridge was just ahead now — old and worn, with ivy creeping up the sides and initials etched in the beams in every direction. A whisper of wind moved through the slats, carrying the stories of all the lovers who had come before.

He looked at you, really looked at you — like you were his favorite song, or a sunrise no one else had noticed.

“I w-want to,” he said softly. “W-W-With you.”

Your heart skipped. “You do?”

He nodded, a shy smile pulling at his lips. “I l-like you a lot. M-More than a lot. I think a-about you all the time. And I d-don’t know what’ll h-happen in high school or c-c-college or anything. But… I know right now. I know this. Us.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just leaned in and hugged him tight, and he didn’t even hesitate to wrap his arms around you, too. It wasn’t one of those awkward middle school hugs. It was real. Warm. Home.

When you finally pulled away, you were both smiling like idiots.

Bill pulled out a small pocketknife he’d borrowed from Ben earlier that week — even though Ben hadn’t known what it was for.

He looked at you one last time, like asking for permission. You nodded.

Together, you both walked to the middle of the bridge. The wood was rough, worn from years of names and promises. He carefully carved it into the side panel, right between a “B.H. + M.G.” and “Tommy ♡︎ Lisa ’74.”

Slowly, he scratched:

B.D. + [Your Initials] 1986

You both stood back and stared at it.

There it was. Proof. Evidence. A piece of the two of you left behind in this quiet little corner of the world.

“Th-Think it’ll s-still be here in twenty years?” he asked.

“I hope so.”

Bill reached down and, for the first time, took your hand. No hesitation this time.

And you just stood there together in the golden light of summer, hearts full and silly and young, believing that maybe — just maybe — love really could last forever.