he sees the ghosts-bichie

2

i am lost, trying to get found in an ocean of people

ever since that afternoon, richie has seen henry everywhere. sometimes he even thinks he sees victor criss, belch huggins, or patrick hockstetter striding down the sidewalk out of the corner of his eye. bill is the only loser who really understands, having seen his own little brother five years ago. in fact, he's been spending all his time with bill. currently the two of them are sitting next to each other at the dinner table, and holy fuck it is so hard for richie to not obviously stare at the side of bill's face. mr and mrs denbrough sit across from them, trying to engage the boys in conversation, when the attention suddenly turns to richie. "so, richard, you've been spending a lot of time here with our william," his father says, not even glacing up from his plate. "yeah, well, bill's a great friend," richie says, emphasizing the word friend because he knows that bill's dad wouldn't stand having a faggot in the family. "that's great, honey. i'm sure our boy is very understanding," mrs denbrough croons, actually looking him in the eye. knowing of the fact that eye contact makes richie very nervous, bill slides his hand under the table and links his fingers with richie's. he can see him visibly relax and hopes his parents don't notice.
•••
after dinner, the boys head up to bill's room. they settle down on his bed, twisting locks of each other's hair around their fingers. "i think your parents really like me, bill," richie says, his voice thick with sarcasm. bill hums a response and their lips connect under the graying evening light coating the room. they get so engrossed in the kiss that they don't notice the creak of the door opening, and they only break apart when bill's father forces them to, pushing his meaty hands between them. "william denbrough, what the fuck is this,"zack bellows, his radiating anger so thick richie could feel it on his skin. without thinking (he doesn't do much of that these days), he grabs bill's hand and pulls until they're both out of bed, down the hall, out the door, dragging until they're in the barrens, until they are stowed away safely in their old clubhouse, the smoke room, the one in the ground that they built with ben's help five summers ago. dragging until a tear stained bill is in his arms. crying until he can not cry anymore.
•••
bill crashes at ben's house, thanks to his awesome mother, the favorite parent of all the losers. richie sometimes spends nights with him there, doing things that would have made zack denbrough's skin crawl. they often see bill's mother out somewhere at the movies or the grocery. she always looks like she wants to say something, to grasp bill and never let him go and take him back home where he belongs, but every time she just looks the other way. sometimes they'll wake up and find a basket of bill's clothes on ben's porch with a note attached to it, but they never read it. bill no longer mourns over it because it means that he can finally just be with richie, can hold hands with him in public without having to worry about his father popping around every corner.

i made a playlist for this fic! my spotify is prickletove