#itkeeper

is so friendly

loves mike hanlon so much

WONT FUCKIN STOP REBLOGGING THAT DAMN SPRING AWAKENING POST THAT HURTS MY HEART.

HEY UH GOOD CONCEPT

that means henry is still dead tho    

The way Mike says it, framed the crook of a window and illuminated by the light through it, finds a home in the curled up corners of Bill’s mind. He says it with a magnitude of things that rush rampant through him: morosity, finality, acceptingly.

It reminds Bill of a young boy with a craving for loyalty but nowhere to go, no one to rely on.

“We can try.” He says finally, exhaling it out like the words were the weight of the world itself. “Harder.” Bill inclines his head and regards the spotless floor (old and weathered, but spotless). For the whole lot of them sans Mike, they had never known what Derry was, or who they had been when they were children. Naivety had the ability to abandon them because Derry had let them go, had let them grow enough to come back but Mike had never left.

Mike had kept something childlike to work all his components. Bill could compare himself to Mike several times a day and still come out on the other end feeling other wordly and robotic. Knowing now that he had lived there, developed there, he could remember the type of boy he’d evolved from. Increasingly, it reminded him that he wasn’t quite confident of who he was now.

How was he meant to romanticize himself when memories he thought were stress-roughened nightmares were real?

Another glance to Mike calms him. If he becomes lost, Mike will call again.