Lover | Richie Tozier

Chapter 15.

Richie sandwiched his way into the empty space stretching between Eddie and Elowynn through the vacant hallway, hesitating at first, but figuring that since the kid just cleaned blood off of his lips, it couldn't be too awkward anymore.

"Thanks for doing that, Eds," Richie thanked him, brushing his thumb against his chin and still feeling dried excess in the crease below his lower lip (despite several disinfectant wipes being drawn across his face, thanks to Eddie).

Eddie grimaced strongly. "Sure, but don't call me that."

"Don't call you what? Eds? You don't like being called that, Eds?" Richie provoked abrasively. Eddie put his palms over his tiny ears as if to muffle Richie's satirizing. "Why? Should I call you Eds-T-D instead?" He continued, getting high off of the way Eddie reacted.

His attention was lured in again when Elle spoke once more, her voice chiming through the air. "Nice going, Toaster. You've only properly known the kid for 15 minutes and you're already driving him to near insanity."

Richie suddenly had a brand new sense of awareness, flattening out his posture so that his chest would protrude and drown him in masculinity. He brought a gentle smirk across his face.

Normally, a comment like that would sting at him a little. Maybe even as bad as the Neosporin that Eddie had just put on his cut 5 minutes before. His mind pulled him through a maze, desperately trying to figure out why it didn't hurt this time.

Maybe it was because his mind still lingered around the good face-fuck that Bowers had given to him, or maybe it was because Elowynn-Lively never had a sharp bite in her words. Anything that came out of her mouth in the 2 days that he had known her was nothing but soft spoken affirmations and questions of care. He knew that she didn't mean a word she spoke when she snapped back and gave him a taste of his own medicine.

She didn't mean it, did she?

Don't be stupid, you fuck. Of course she meant it. She had no reason not to mean it. You think she's gonna go soft for you or something? You, of all people? Enough with the jokes for once, Rich. Don't you get tired of running around your own mind all day?

But Richie was all shades of wrong. Elle was soft for him. She was soft for everyone, because it was her nature. It was how she became fulfilled.

She had her moments when fire met gasoline, sure, but a fire still provides warmth. When Elle-Lively walked into a room, her presence hovered around like warm embers off a late winter fire -- the kind that you cuddle around when the hissing snow outside is mean and bitter, frosting your bloodstream with white ice.

That's what Elle seemed to be. She was born as a fire that gained a flame for each day that she lived, defrosting the hearts of those unfortunate enough to be caught in a blizzard. At least she was in Richie's eye, and surely in his melting heart.

Eddie's too. Someone finally understood his health concerns and his weird obsession with the bag around his waist, holding his entire life.

Their admiration wasn't knitted in a romantic way either. It was a simple nod of appreciation for someone who didn't hurt their feelings every time they spoke or drew a sharp knife to their throat. The two figured out that the depth of someone's love could extend for galaxies beyond, and they had both become planets in her orbit.

Richie kicked himself again, the Converse colliding with his ankle sending signals of pain to his mind. "Well, anyway. I should really get going to class," he interjected, affecting nobody's thoughts but his own.

Eddie raised a thick brow. "You go to class? The Trashmouth learns? Honestly, I took you for an idiot."

Richie looked over at him, fixing his glasses over his glaring eyes. Ha ha ha. Funny, Eds! You're practically Eddie fuckin' Murphy!  "I've got A's on A's, just like your sisters bra size," he bit in return.

Elle laughed to herself on the outskirts of the boys' interaction. Richie took careful notice of this and the sound touched him like something he'd never heard before. It was a mix of independence and amusement all at once. He watched as she stared down at the floor and waited for Eddie to bounce back with a quick-witted remark, a glow sitting on her features.

Wouldn't it be nice if she would go soft for you, though?

Richie had to physically shake his head out of view to bring himself back down to Earth from where his mind resided: light years away.

"Alright. Get to class safely. And try to avoid licking your lips or rubbing at your face, the powder I put on will come off," Elle informed candidly.

She had taken full reign over her cosmetic bag in the locker room, doing everything she could to cover Richie's gashes and deep blue welts that would only darken over the next week.

When she did this and inched closer to his face, placing herself in between his bruised skin, Richie's breath caught in his throat sharply. Nobody had ever been this close to him and been so gentle. Not in a very long time, at least.

Usually, when someone was in this close of proximity to his face, they were either yelling at him or grasping at him with strong hands. She wasn't. She dusted a nude powder along the apples of his cheeks with a dance of her wrist. She'd put liquid makeup over the really bad parts, using the tip of her warm finger to blend it into his freckled semblance. Every time Richie wanted to make an improper comment, he swallowed it whole. There was no reason to mess this up right now. He was being cared for.

In fact, the three of them had all cared for each other in some way since Friday. Elle saved Richie's ass from starvation, Richie saved Elle's ass from Henry Bowers' switchblade, and Eddie saved both of their asses by using his extensive knowledge on first-aid to their advantage. All of this and they hadn't even known each other more than a week.

Please don't fade into obscurity and become another laugh that I could recognize anywhere.

They had all thought this about each other, yet not one of them could let the words leave their tongue and assert more than an acquaintance. None of them wanted to weird out someone they'd just met by proposing a friendship. That was something you did as a child, when you knew no rejection.

The daunting truth was that they weren't kids anymore. They were 16 and 17 year olds just trying to claw onto any form of contact they could get. They didn't want to initiate a friendship with someone who seemed as if they didn't even want friends in the first place.

But on the inside, they all knew someway or another that the very people standing next to them could be the ones to provide them with some sort of the love that they had been lacking.

Richie even wondered if they were the angels that he had been praying for.