ethereal : it oneshots

running red lights for love

pairing: stozier 

OH SHIT TW: SUICIDE SORRY

we got together the day after i turned sixteen. i'd just gotten my car, and while it was one of my first times driving, you'd have thought richie had lived his entire life in that passenger seat, he was so comfortable. he didn't care that i had to pull over if i thought about it, or if i saw a balloon, or a clown, or some shit. even the wrong bird call would set me off. he got it.

i mean, they all did, we were all we had, but he understood me like no one else. i was a sixteen and a day old, and i was driving him home from bill's. they'd fought over who would get a drive from me (i was only comfortable driving one of them), but i think they all knew it would be richie. we'd gotten really close, you see, since eddie retreated into the arms of bill. 

i mean, we'd always been close, but when eddie stopped letting him pinch his cheeks or rub his hair, richie turned to slinging an arm around my shoulders, or elbowing me when something was funny. i'd be lying if i said i didn't think i owed eddie something for that. 

some shitty song that i secretly loved came on the radio, and god richie was just about pouring his lungs out like it was his life story. i pulled over in front of his house and with the car in park, he looked at me like i was the nicest damn sunset he'd ever seen. he gulped.

then he kissed me. it was slow, and it was awkward, but in a loving, endearing sort of way. he leaned over the gearshift and we kept shifting around. but it was lovely. it sorta seemed like an act of disobedience, saying fuck you to the world. we survived a fucking demonic clown, so a homophobic town or two was chump change.

before we got together, we spent a lot of time together, but never at his house. i eventually learned why; his house seemed to make him depressed. it wasn't his family, they were so nice, and more understanding than any of ours, but at his house he never stopped thinking about pennywise. i hadn't realized it had troubled him so much. i didn't know he thought about it the way i did. i mean, it had been four years, so we mostly struggled in silence now. but he always knew what to do for me. 

he held me, he told me it was okay, he was just about the sweetest thing i'd ever seen. but i didn't know what to do for him. i'd panic, and my throat would close up, and i'd get so upset on his behalf i'd start crying too. we'd just lie on his bed, him curled into me, sobbing dreadfully as i ran my own, shaking hand through his hair. it was a tragic time. 

he dreamt about it, too. he'd wake up gasping, and see me in his peripheral, go to cover his mouth (afraid he'd wake me up) and lie back down quietly. the poor boy. 

but it wasn't all bad. most of it was fucking fantastic. the losers didn't seem to be that surprised, so they took it well, and i loved him like no one fucking could. i adored that boy. we went on shitty painting dates, and made playlists together, anything we could do to take our minds off of what was looming in the distance. 

we had time, i told him once. twenty seven years is a long time. we had so much time. he'd tell me he knew, but he didn't believe me, i know that much. and anyway, what's time worth if it's spent worrying?

then, when he was eighteen, he killed himself. that was about three months ago. we were going to move out together, but he went and took his dad's shotgun and blew his brains out onto his bedroom wall. i don't know what to do.

people check up on you during the first month, when they're so overwhelmed with grief they can't even imagine what you're going through. but then, as their grief is replaced with gratefulness, they leave you to fend for yourself. i know the losers miss him. but i know they're glad they aren't me. i know bill thanks god every day that wasn't eddie. 

i resent him for it. i resent all of them for not loving him the way i did. they don't understand what it meant to lose him. i love him so much. it makes it hard to breathe. i am so utterly lonely without him. 

i haven't talked to them in god knows how long. i miss him too much to get any words out. 

i still own that car. i run red lights now. who cares? god knows what i'm asking for, he just has to go through with the damn thing. i don't stop, i swerve around passengers, i hope one of these days i'll pass out behind the wheel and go smashing into a ditch. 

hey, maybe i'll go for a drive. 

(i'll see you soon, richie. i miss you so much, you have to understand, this was the only way. i can't go on without you.)