being super ain't easy | the losers club

see you on the other side!

Bill places his hands on his hips as he and Stan look over the spot. Just standing on the cliff looking over the grassy land below, Stan gets the itch to let loose and fly. But it isn't safe, not yet.

The car ride over was full of long gaps of silence as The Smiths played on Bill's radio. Stan opened his mouth multiple times to say something but decided to close it.

"So, what's the plan?" Stanley asks, rolling his shoulders back, then forward again. A few of his joints pop and Bill wrinkles his nose at the sound.

"That s-sounds gross," Bill says. Stan chuckles.

"It feels nice," he says, shrugging.

Bill tilts his head to the side and continues to look over the open space below.

"I guess we j-just walk a-around un-t-t-till we see anything that wah-wasn't there the last t-time we where h-here," Bill says, gesturing to the thick, sparsely green, brush of trees.

Stan nods and his curls bounce.

Bill looks over at him and sees the tension in his shoulders, practically radiating from under his grey sweatshirt.

"If it's c-clear, you should fly f-for a b-b-bit," Bill suggests.

Stan looks to Bill with brows raised, then frowns.

"You said it yourself, Bill, it isn't one hundred percent yet," Stan reasons, " I can wait a few more days." On the inside, he years to let loose.

Bill shifts his weight to his other leg, eager to change the topic.

"I'll take the trees," Stan says, "You can do the rest."

✨

Richie Tozier hisses his teeth when the black, muddy boots of Henry Bowers' step foot into Secondhand Rose, Secondhand Clothes. The sound is all too familiar.

Richie snaps his head towards his co-worker, a college drop-out named Bradley, then he throws one more glance at the Bowers gang who falls in around Henry. He rubs his fingers against his thumbs in anxiousness. It's a nervous tick he has always had.

"Hey, Brad, I gotta go to the Jon," Richie says quickly, shoving his glasses up his nose.

Brad waves his hand with a careless look on his face and Richie jumps over the counter and makes a mad dash for the employee lounge. He has a quick flash-back to the time that Bowers chased him through this same store in elementary school. He can't even remember what it was for.

He rounds the corner of one of the aisles and lifts his head to see the black door to the employee lounge. Safe ground. The loud slaps of Henry's boots still sound off. The less-intimidating thumps scatter around the store.

His navy blue converse sneakers slap against the cold, white linoleum floor faster and faster as he grows closer and closer to the door.

Buzz out, Rich! His mind yells at him.

No, Rich, someone might see, the other half of his brain yells too.

Sorry, good angel, Richie thinks, I'm not getting my ass beat. Not today. See you on the other side!

Richie Tozier dissolved into thin air.

✨

Victor Criss blinks three times. He shakes his head for good measure.

Was it a hallucination? Are his eyes playing a trick on him? He cocks his head to one side and blinks a few times.

"Vic!"