✓ | TEENS AND THINGS → richie tozier ²

fourteen

STAN URIS flipped the key he had just used to unlock Richie Tozier's door back under the mat, swinging open the door.

He was instantly greeted with the smell of beer, and he cringed, noticing shards of glass lying strewn on the floor by the front door and crushed beer cans everywhere.

"Richie?" He asked hesitantly, and wasn't surprised when there was no answer.

Richie was only ever silent when he didn't want to be found.

And considering he hadn't set foot into the school building for the entire past week- in fact, none of the Losers had heard or seen him since the day he had planned to meet Ash at lunch- he was pretty sure Richie was hiding from everyone and everything.

Stan resigned himself to going upstairs to Richie's bedroom, turning the knob, which was unlocked.

He stepped into the room, and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. The room was almost pitch black, faint sunlight streaming through Richie's blinds on his window, and as he could make out the rest of the room, he saw a lump lying under a huge pile of blankets on top of the bed.

Stan cautiously walked over to it, and said softly, "Richie!"

The lump stirred, and then was still, and Stan knew he was awake. "Richie, where the fuck have you been? What's going on?"

Richie didn't answer, and Stan, growing frustrated, walked over to Richie's blinds and opened them.

Sunlight poured into the room, and he could see strands of Richie's curly dark hair on top of his pillow, the rest of his head completely covered with blankets.

"Richie!" Stan said again, and he shook him.

This time, Richie flipped over onto his side, snapping, "What?"

Stan almost leapt backwards in sudden shock, not believing his eyes.

Richie's face was so grey it gave off the impression of being white and bloodless, his cheeks sunk in; dark shadows, purple and bruiselike hung beneath his eyes which were such a dark red they looked bloody and hollowed out.

His hair was limp, his lips chapped and cracked, and he looked like he had been sleeping in the exact same clothes every single night.

To Stan, he looked almost dead.

"Richie, what happened?" Stan asked, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.

Richie jerked away, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse. "Don't fucking touch me!"

Stan stared at him for a couple of seconds and remembered the shattered plate by the front door and the empty beer cans and came to an executive decision.

"I'm calling the guys." He said, and Richie's face twisted.

"You are not-"

Stan ignored him and turned to walk into the hallway, grabbing the phone and dialing his boyfriend's number.