The afternoon sun falls on Derry with a warmth unusual for this city. People walk leisurely, cars pass by on the main street, and the sound of birds mingles with the voices of children playing nearby.

You and Bill walk together (since you two were a couple), sodas in hand, after leaving the thrift store where Richie had insisted you'd find "treasures." You'd spent the last hour laughing at the odd things you'd found, until fate, or maybe bad luck, led you to just the wrong place.

"Look at her," The voice is raspy, mocking, and you recognize it before turning your head.

Henry Bowers is sitting on the hood of a car with his arms crossed. Beside him are Victor Criss, Patrick Hockstetter, and Belch Huggins. Crushed soda cans are lying on the ground beside them.

"I thought we taught you not to hang out with the scum," Henry says with a crooked smile, looking directly at Bill.

People pass by, but no one butts in. It's Derry, after all. The adults look the other way.

Bill tenses beside you, but doesn't say anything at first. You just look at him.

"I don't have time for this, Henry," You reply firmly, unintimidated.

Henry laughs sarcastically.

"Oh, no? Because it seems like you do. You seem to like hanging around here, like you still fit in."

Patrick and Belch burst into soft laughter. Henry takes a step forward, hands in his pockets, but with that same old attitude, as if he's looking for an excuse to get into trouble.

"Leave her alone, Henry," Bill says suddenly, his voice firm.

Henry raises an eyebrow.

"Or what, Denbrough? Are you going to stutter me to death?"

Patrick and Belch's laughter gets louder. Bill's jaw clenches, and for a second, it almost looks like he's going to do something impulsive.

You realize Henry hasn't changed. He never will. But you have. You're not the same person you were before, and he knows it. He hates it.