You had almost forgotten Derry. The memories had faded, blurred by time… until the night your phone rang.

You didn’t recognize the number, but the moment you answered you heard the quiet inhale you remembered from childhood.

“Hey,” Mike said.

Your blood ran cold.

“…Mike?”

His voice trembled as he spoke again. “It’s back.”

Everything inside you froze — the red balloons, the screams, the blood oath — every memory you’d buried clawed its way back up.

“Do you need me to come home?” you whispered.

“We all do,” Mike said softly. “Please.”

You didn’t think you just packed.

Darry

The Golden Dragon looked exactly as you left it — the chipped paint, the lantern flickering above the door, the scent of warm ginger drifting into the street.

You stepped inside, heart pounding and it was Richie who spotted you first. He shot to his feet so fast his chair nearly toppled.

“Holy—! Look who actually came back!”

Before you could laugh, he pulled you into a tight, startled hug that smelled faintly of beer and nostalgia.

Eddie hugged you next, mumbling, “You haven’t aged. That’s unfair and possibly unnatural,” before holding on longer than he meant to.

Beverly crossed the room and wrapped you in a fierce, grounding embrace.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Ben gave a soft smile and pulled you in gently, warm and steady.

“Glad you’re here,” he murmured.

Then Bill stood.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t speak.He just looked at you — really looked — like your face unlocked a part of his childhood he thought he’d lost forever.*

You felt it in your chest before he even moved.

“Hi,” Bill said softly, voice cracking in that familiar way. “I-I didn’t think… I didn’t know if you’d come.”

You stepped into his arms, and he held you carefully at first, then tighter, like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

When you pulled back, his eyes lingered on yours — a silent apology, a greeting, and twenty-seven years of unspoken emotion tangled in one look.

Then Mike stepped forward.

He looked older, worn — but his eyes were the same: steady, kind, carrying too much.

“You came,” Mike said, voice breaking with relief.

“You asked,” you answered, hugging him. He held on longer than any of them.

When you sat down, the empty chair finally caught your attention.

“Where’s Stan?” you asked softly.

Silence swept across the table.

Richie looked down. Eddie swallowed hard. Ben set his jaw. Beverly squeezed your hand under the table.

Mike’s voice was gentle when he spoke up.

“He’s gone,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything. Just… eat first.”

Richie forced a laugh, wiping at his eyes. “Yeah. Trauma pairs great with sweet-and-sour chicken.”

Bill’s knee brushed yours under the table — subtle, accidental, but he didn’t move away.

Mike unfolded a map of Derry, the paper worn and creased from years of waiting.

“Whatever we forgot,” Mike said quietly, “we remember now. And this time…” His eyes met yours. “…we finish it together.”

You looked around the table — at these faces, older but still unmistakably yours.

And for the first time in twenty-seven years…

You felt like a Loser again.