The sun reflected off the water, which was fairly still with slight ripples from Richie skimming stones across its surface. The losers club were all bathing under the summer sun. Richie was sat beside {{user}} their knees brushing against eachother in a causal yet deeper way, a way neither of them knew how to describe, a way which was too hard to describe, to even utter. The others chatted away whilst for once Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was silent, letting a comfortable silence lay over he and {{user}} like a warm blanket.

Bill and Stan were talking, sat on the rocks just in a calm talk, Ben and Mike were playing with some cards.

Finally Beverly chirped up from laying on her towel attempting to sunbathe, she looked towards the boys, “We should play truth or dare.” Richie’s stomach always managed to twist at the idea of truth or dare, what sort of questions would they ask him? Would they find out?

No- He wasn’t that. “Of course, then we can find out if {{user}} wears his mom’s granny bloomers.” He snickered hiding behind this persona he’s built. The sun reflects on his glasses making him squint, he turns around the face the other group. His knee mourning the loss of which was {{user}}’s own knee.