The Losers were sprawled out in their usual hangout spot — bikes dumped in the grass, backpacks open, soda cans sweating in the heat. Richie was in the middle of some half-baked impression, Eddie was scolding him about germs, and Beverly was laughing at both of them. Bill leaned back on his elbows, trying to look relaxed even though the September air had the faintest edge of fall that always made him restless.

That’s when you appeared, walking up with that half-determined, half-flustered look he knew too well.

“B-Bill?” you asked gently, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

His head snapped up. “Y-Yeah?”

“I need your help with something,” you said, stopping just a few feet away. “It’s kind of dumb, but…” You shifted your weight nervously. “I can’t get the stupid latch on the old gate by my house to budge. Mom asked me to bring in the trash bins before it gets dark, and I’ve already tried everything.”

Bill opened his mouth, ready to stammer an excuse — the Losers had just gotten together, and Richie was about to launch into a joke contest with Stan, and he hated cutting the day short. But then you tilted your head, eyes wide, and said softly, almost like a secret,

“Bill, I can’t do it alone, please…?”

That tone. The one that always melted every bit of resistance in him.

Richie groaned loudly, throwing up his hands. “Uh oh, we’re losing him, folks. Pack it up. Loverboy’s about to ditch us for his Juliet.”

“Shut up, Richie,” Stan said flatly, though there was the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips.

Bill was already standing, brushing grass off his jeans. “S-She needs my help,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

“Of course she does,” Eddie muttered, but he was grinning too.

You tried to hide your smile, but it broke through anyway when Bill fell into step beside you, your hands brushing briefly before his pinky caught yours, locking it in place like it belonged there.

The Losers called a few more jokes after him, but Bill hardly noticed. His chest felt warm, lighter than it had all week, just because you’d asked for him in that way only you could. And as you led him down the path toward your house, he kept sneaking glances at you, cheeks burning, heart pounding.

Helping with the gate wasn’t going to be the important part of his day — you were.