Lover | Richie Tozier

Chapter 39.

"You boys alright in here?"

Sharon Denbrough poked her head into her sons room, setting down an armful of Sear's shopping bags on the ground with great exhaustion.

"J-Juh-Just fine. Th-thanks." Bill replied, convincing his mother with a small smile on his face.

Richie did the same, nodding his head in addition. "Just fine, Mrs. Denbrough. Dessert was delicious. Thank you."

Bill had agreed to letting him come over later that evening when he got back from Stans to fill the vacant space that should be occupied by Georgie. If he was honest with himself, he hated being home now. He thinks walking into hell would be easier than walking through the doors where he resided. Richie didn't mind. He hated the emptiness of his house, too.

"Thank you, Richie," her forbearing face perked up in gratitude. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. No funny business, kids," she joked, waving her finger and making her way back down the hallway.

Richie turned to Bill. "Does she think I do funny business?" He asked. He felt slightly insecure, worried that Sharon secretively might've thought of him as some kind of troublemaker.

"No," Bill's head shook in silent laughter. "No. Sh-She uh," he picked at the quilt they were sitting on top of. "She used to say that to G-G-Georgie and I."

"Oh." Richie's shoulders slouched and he now picked at the blanket just as Bill was doing. He felt awkward as guilt prodded at his halfhearted soul. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't know that."

The bedside lamp threw a yellow light onto the side of Bill's soft face. The trickle of the fish tank in Georgie's room from across the hall could almost be heard in the kind of silence they were sitting in. "It's fine." Bill smiled a little to himself, recalling a past memory. "Really. Ih-It's okay. It was ah-actually really nice hearing her say that again."

Richie shifted on the bed, feeling a little more comfortable now. He fused his eyes with Bills. After some time, he said in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, "I know you miss him. I miss him too."

Richie never got to find this out, but he was Georgie's favorite friend of his brothers. When Stan, Mike, and Bill were occupied running on about several different subjects, Richie would sit to the side, playing Legos and cars with him. Georgie would even put on his glasses every once and a while, looking around and observing how much larger the world looked through the lenses. Larger than he could see with his own eyes. His eyes that never got to see just how much the large world had to offer.

"He's in a beh-better place now. I believe th-that. I've got to."

["A belief is only a thought that we've continued to think..."]

"Me too," Richie whispered.

"But eh-enough about G-Georgie. I don't want to become s-sad," he stuttered out, knowing well enough that any conversation about his little brother ended with him in tears.

"Okay. I'm s-"

"Don't say you're sorry, Richie. S-S-Stop being so sorry all the t-time."

"Okay. S-"

"Richie!" Bill yelled, and both boys collapsed into laughter.

"I'm just fuckin' with yah, Denbrough." He pushed his best friends shoulder, and noticed that Bill didn't shy away from his touch like Eddie did.

Bill shook his head, a smile still planted on his face. "Yeah, I know you are, Rih-Richie. You always ah-are."

When their laughter died down, the filter of the fish tank ran again.

"I have a question," Richie said suddenly.

Bill raised an eyebrow at Richie, giving his full attention to the boy in front of him. He didn't need to ask "what?" -- his eyes did it for him.

"So..." Richie now accidentally pulled out an entire thread of the blanket, fumbling nervously.

"Sp-Spit it out," Bill urged.

Richie drew back. "Oh really? Pretty brave statement coming from someone with a stutter if you ask me."

Bill laughed again, but this time his head tilted back when he did. The golden light moved with him. "F-For real though. Tell me what you were th-thinking about."

[Who] you were thinking about

The words trembled on his lips dangerously. If he were to ask this question, he's afraid his roughed-up image would be damaged. The Losers would no longer view him as the aromantic hypersexual that they currently did. But didn't he want it that way? A small part of him thinks that yes, he did.

"How did you know you liked Beverly Marsh?" The question jerked out of him, slapping Bill in the face with it's abruptness. If it were anybody else, they'd both think it was a stupid question. Idiotic, even. But because of the way Richie's past had followed him in a haunting shadow everywhere he went, they both knew that he'd become so numb to raw emotion that he needed to be reminded of what it felt like sometimes.

Don't think I'm weird

Don't think I'm weird

Please don't think I'm weird

Richie's face ducked down, out of sight from Bills.

Bill blinked. "Th-That was it? That was the question? What took you sss-so long?"

"I don't fuckin' know dude," Richie ran his hands down his face, knocking off his glasses. "I really don't know. But tell me, Stuttering Bill, how'd you know you were down for Beverly?"

"Th-That depends." Bill started. "Liked her in general or liked her like that?"

"Like that."

Bill was surprised by this answer. Richie was the last person he thought he'd hear it from.

"Oh," his eyes widened just like a Elle's had. "W-Well then," he made himself comfortable against the headboard of his bed, fluffing the pillow behind him, and began telling his story.

Richie was on the edge of his seat (better known as Bill's bed) the whole time he executed his explanation. His eyes widened at some points and his heart would flutter at others. With every new sentence, Richie could remember what it felt like again. Everything that he hadn't felt since the fifth grade, when he had his first (and only) crush, made an appearance in his memory.

The feelings Bill was describing sounded awfully familiar as of recently, too.

"Thanks, stutter." Richie placed a hand on his shoulder as he shoved his foot into his Converse. "That was interesting. I mean it."

Bill nodded in polite thanks. "A-Are you leaving?"

Richie smirked. "I gotta. Don't wanna be killed by Mike's killer clown."

["And I need you to stop being so afraid of the fact that somebody might actually like you."]

Richie said his goodbyes to Sharon and Zack Denbrough and started out of his house, back onto the streets that were a lot more empty without a certain girl by his side.

He rode on a wave of complete elation on the way home. He wasn't sure where it came from, but he didn't even have to know. He was happy. He was so happy. He had a little more skip in his walk than usual and his blushing grin never faded as he walked the vacant streets. He felt things again.

His mind casted back to the conversation he had with Bill and he took his words into special account.

Richie was sure that he liked Elle a lot more than like that now.