𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫

72. Communication

March 25, 1986

The leaves underneath Richie's shoes crunched ever so slightly. The noise was somewhat soothing to the teenager. The silence with the ever so often crack of the leaves beneath the young adult's shoes felt thought-inducing. It seemed like a silly thing, but to many other people, the silence mixed with the over empathized noises would be overstimulating to most, however, Richie felt like a child again. It was a slight reminder that he was still living. He was still breathing, he felt alive. He felt sane. Comfort was the true word for it.

He trailed his eyes up to Beverly was walking slowly next to him. Her eyes shined as the light hit them over so slightly. It was moments like this he would replay in his head over and over again. He enjoyed these times the most. They felt the most valuable in a way, which seemed silly, but it truly was what he believed.

Even though they were in a moment of crisis, he felt at peace for this moment. The most peaceful he's felt in the last few months. Just like the remainder of the cracking leaves, he felt childlike again. Although, Stan would probably believe he still was practically a child.

That is of course until the tiny voice in his head suddenly rang through his mind, putting an abrupt stop to his thoughts.

There is no time to relax, you're trapped down here. You may be cursed, you may be the cause of your friend's demise.

Thoughts plagued everyone, or at least Richie has been told that. He still couldn't help but think possibly his was worse, more abusive in a way. He's dealt with numerous things before, pain and insecurities from his own thoughts was one of them.

It wasn't something he felt proud of, but sometimes, he listens to those thoughts, and he believed they were true. The words that rang through his head currently, he believed that those were true as well. Like he said, he wasn't proud of it.

Maybe the reasoning behind his listening to these things was because of the emotional and physical pain his parents endured onto him. Or maybe, just maybe, he listens to it because he was constantly belittled as a child and believed everything that he was told. He felt that blame should be placed onto the Bowers gang, minus his parents, or course. But, the four of those boys truly did taunt him with awful words.

Either way, he still felt somewhat responsible for either option.

He swung an arm around Beverly's shoulders. Her skin was cold and goosebumps had littered her arms. "You're freezing, Molly Ringwald." He nodded his head towards her, pulling her to a sudden stop.

"God, please don't make a big deal out of this." She rolled her eyes. Beverly would be lying to herself of she said she didn't enjoy this treatment from the boys. But right now she didn't want one of her best friends to be worrying about her. She'd much rather have him worry for himself than for others.

"Nope, not going to happen." He quickly removed his somewhat damp jacket from his body and immediately wrapped the rough fabric around her. "Ben would cut my dick off if you got sick over my watch." He chuckled at himself and patted her on top of the head. "We'll just make a deal and say that you owe me a box of cigarettes."

"Well, I suppose I can take you up on that offer." She placed a kiss on the older boy's cheek and wrapped Richie's jacket tighter around her body. "Thanks, Chee."

He held his hands up defensively, "Hey, I'm only doing this for the free cigarettes." He smirked and bumped his hip against the redhead.