I don’t often cry in my life, let alone in movies. I think the last time I remember actually sobbing at the cinema was when I was eleven and my mother took me to see Marley & Me. But I cried throughout the final quarter of IT: Chapter Two. My friend grabbed my hand the moment she heard me sniffle and didn’t let go until after the credits had rolled.

I’m not unfamiliar with the story of IT. I’ve known how it ends for years. I rewatched the 1990 miniseries twice the week before to prepare myself, and scanned the final few pages of Stephen King’s 1986 book in the days before. I’ve always known how the story plays out. That the Loser’s Club separates for over twenty years, forgetting each other and their memories of that summer. That for some of them, they end up in places they never wanted to end up in. That Stan dies, kills himself before they all reunite. That Eddie dies in Richie’s arms, and something unspoken is always left between them. So it wasn’t as if I was caught off guard by most of the events that transpire in the film.

But I still sobbed and dug my nails into my friend’s hands as I watched these moments play out. I came out of the cinema shaking and had to sit down on the side of the road while I processed it all. Despite the warnings I had received, and despite knowing I would probably come out of it emotional due to my love of the characters, I did take a moment to wonder why this was the case. Staring at my reflection in my bathroom an hour later, wiping off smudged mascara, I wondered why I loved this story about a demon clown terrorising a town so much. I don’t like horror, and I don’t like clowns, and I don’t really like Stephen King’s storytelling.

And yet IT means so much to me, and I think it’s because of what the story is really about.

At heart, IT is a story about love. It’s about loss and hope and childhood and growing up and facing your fears, and yes, it’s about a demon clown, but more than anything, it’s about love. Love in all of it’s forms. The love that Bill has for Georgie, that drives him to want to take out Pennywise in the first place. The love that Richie had for Eddie, which stood tall despite time and memory loss and his own fears. The love that Ben has for Beverly, a pure and safe love she had never experienced before. The love that Stan had for his friends, who loved him just as much and united because of him. The love that the Loser’s Club had for each other, the best friends any of them ever had.

It’s about how love is important than fear. It’s about how love survives even when you forget parts of it. It’s about how love stands the test of time. It’s about how we find strength in the people we love even after they’re gone. It’s about how love doesn’t need to be romantic to be beautiful and strong.

The moment that made me sob the hardest came at the end, and it was yet another ultimate act of love. It was watching Richie Tozier (Bill Hader) return to the spot where he had carved a secret message of love as a child. Something he had kept buried for so long. A crush he was too scared to mention. Something that said everything he could never localise. R + E. And he looks back on it as an adult, and gives a watery smile. Because he never stopped loving Eddie. Even when his brain forgot, his heart never did. It was true love. It did stand the test of time, and Richie’s memory, and gave Richie strength even after Eddie was gone, and it helped Richie overcome his own fears about his sexuality.

I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle this scene by itself. But having the voice over be a letter Stan had written the Losers before his suicide, a letter of explanation and a letter of love, telling them to be who you want to be. be proud, really did it for me. Because there it was, to close out the movie for us: love in more than one form, surviving even when we don’t.