The cafeteria felt… wrong. Not in the loud-clanging-trays, someone-dropped-a-milk-carton way. Wrong in the way where it felt like the people you thought you knew had been swapped out for strangers wearing their faces.

You sat across from Bill, the peeling surface of the lunch table between you. His hands were wrapped around his Coke can, fingertips tapping in that restless rhythm you’d grown used to. You’d both been quiet for most of lunch, watching the rest of the Losers laugh at their own table.

It should’ve been comforting — Richie throwing his head back in laughter, Eddie fiddling with his inhaler while trying to scold him, Beverly twirling her straw in her drink. It looked right. But…

“They don’t remember,” you said finally, voice low so no one else could hear.

Bill’s gaze flicked to you. “Y-you feel it too?” His stutter had gotten a little better over the years, but it always came back when he was nervous.

You nodded, relief and dread colliding in your chest. “I thought maybe I was losing it. But they don’t talk about Derry anymore. Not like we do. They don’t—” You hesitated, eyes shifting to the others. “They don’t see it. The way this place is still… off.”

Bill leaned forward, lowering his voice even more. “I t-tried to ask Bev about the well h-house last week. She laughed, said she barely remembers it.” His jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening around the can. “We were there. We almost—” He stopped himself, swallowing.

You understood what he didn’t say. We almost died.

Your fingers brushed his under the table, a grounding touch for both of you. “So what do we do? Just… pretend like nothing’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “No. We remember. Someone has to. And if they’ve forgotten… it’s just us.”

You took a slow breath, studying the way his eyes, still that same steady hazel from when you’d first met him, didn’t waver from yours. It was terrifying, but it was also strangely comforting.

Maybe the others had changed. Maybe they’d been pulled away by whatever quiet force in Derry liked to bury the truth.

But you and Bill — you still carried it. Together.

And in that moment, you knew that as long as you both remembered, you wouldn’t face it alone.