Lover | Richie Tozier

Chapter 46.

Richie didn't get the opportunity to comment, "That's what your sister sounds like every time she's taking me from behind," in response to the screaming metal of the Hanlon gate this time like he usually did with Stan and Bill. Tonight, the entrance into the farm was held open by heavy orange pumpkins sitting in front of the rusted fence. The three of them could no longer see the tinted hues of the autumn leaves around them; a dark, charred environment overcame them and burnt the air with the familiar smell of Halloween night.

"Stan the Man," Richie's long arms extended on either side of himself. The smirk that stitched on his face was one of an excited greeting, showing just how anxious he was for the night to begin. "Where's Hanlon and Stutter?" He asked, knitting together his eyebrows as he scrutinized the many faces in the background. A little girl dressed up as a calf swept by his leg, giggling with childhood bliss as the tip of her nose moved beneath the pink face-paint.

[He remembers the way she would purposefully guess the wrong animal, calling out, "a cow!" as Richie oinked like a piglet just to see his reaction.]

"Back there by the punch," Stan's head tipped backwards towards the concessions.

Through their chatter, the sound of Eddie's triggered inhaler could be heard. "Oh, fuck. Please don't tell me there's alcohol in that punch. I can't be around people who drink. I can't fucking stand the sloppiness and the carelessness and the smell of liquor... oh God, the smell of liquor," Eddie gagged, taking another shot of the air inside of his aspirator.

"Relax Germie," Richie attempted to terminate the racing of the boys fragile heart. "There's no alcohol here. It's a family thing. People gotta drive their kids home and stuff," he explained, hoping he'd alleviate at least some of the anxiety that was brushing through Eddie.

Eddie's small hands stuffed his inhaler back in his fannypack. "Good. I almost fuckin' killed you for bringing me here, Trashmouth. You're so lucky." He zipped it up harshly, exhaling heavily.

Bill walked up holding two glasses of cherry-red punch in his grasp. They mixed with his movement and stained the inner edges of the cup. "G-Glad to see you made it, g-guys," he smiled. The look on his face emanated pure comfort and tranquility to those standing around him. He handed a serving to Richie. "Your favorite."

Richie hid his grin in his glass as he drained it. He thought again about how Bill would bring him lunch after noticing he'd stopped eating. "You're a real one, Stutter. You know that?"

Bill shrugged his shoulders shyly. He had a sort of child-like embarrassment to him that made itself visible in his expression. "I guess so." His flat-top haircut blew in the biting wind and his face was dressed with a small smile.

"Now, y-you guys ready to go fff-fuck around, or what? I'm looking forward to b-beating you at all these ff-fucking party games for the third year in a row, Rih-Rich."

Elle crossed her arms over her chest and pulled her eyebrows up on her face in amusement. "That sounds like a challenge." She looked at Richie, who felt his seams burst just by the way she simply glanced at him.

"Ih-It is."

Richie looked at Elle again. The crisp breeze billowed around the ridge of her plaid skirt, pulling it up slightly while the rest curved tightly around her lower body. He momentarily wondered how she wasn't cold, but fuck, it seemed like she was never anything but burning warmth.

"It's on, Denbrough."

It wasn't on. Richie failed pathetically at almost every game Bill challenged him to. The crash of rubber spheres against tin cans became one with the stars up above while they played, and Elle stood in the background along with Eddie as they pulled at a stick of cotton candy.

Eddie turned to Elle, feeling the mix of sugar melt on his tongue. "Why didn't anybody tell me Halloween could be so much fun?" He asked, rubbing his lips together in an attempt to sweep off the excess.

Because your mother is lying to you, Eds. About everything.

She only gave him a sympathetic look, wishing she could do nothing more but expose him to every good thing he'd been sheltered from. "You glad that we brought you here?"

He nodded, brushing his sticky fingers against the rough fabric of his jeans. It amazed Elle that he didn't rid himself of the germs with a dose of hand sanitizer. It seemed like he forgot all about germs and bacteria when he was happy. "I am. But I'm getting kind of sick of watching Richie lose. You wanna go do something else?" He offered.

"Sure," she nodded politely. She turned to Richie, who was angrily throwing objects at the targets in front of him in an effort to knock down more than Bill had. "Hey, Rich," she called out.

He turned around, getting another glance at her in that skirt. "What's up?" He pondered. Her words flew right past him and got stuck in his web of distracted bliss. It wasn't until she hooked arms with Eddie and began walking away that he asked her to repeat herself.

"Eddie and I are going to see what else there is around here," she informed. She kept her arm wrapped around his.

Richie let go of the tennis ball in his hand and sent it colliding with the dirt. "Wait, I'm coming with you." He looked over to Bill. "You win, man. Good game."

As Bill locked his gaze on Richie walking away with Elle, he couldn't help but beam timidly to himself. The ties between them had become thicker and thicker by the day. It pulled them closer to each other like the opposite poles of a magnet and everybody could feel it. Those two, especially.

Richie stopped outside of a wall built from husks of dried corn. "We're going in the maze."

An objection arose immediately. "Fuck that, I'm not going in there!" Eddie panted, staring into the pitch black starting point. "Who the fuck goes inside of a maze in the dark?"

"That's the point of Halloween, my boy. Live a little, huh?" Richie encouraged.

Eddie sent his eyes falling back with an attitude. "I'd like to keep living, that's the point, Einstein."

Elle grinned through parted lips. Maybe Richie was right. Certainly Richie was right, actually. Eddie needed to be scared. Not by fear driven tactics from his deceiving mother, but playfully scared of the things that wouldn't actually hurt him, no matter how hard she tried to convince him that they would.

"I'm sitting this one out. You two have fun, psychopaths," he gave a Cheshire grin, finding his way to the other Losers.

Richie faced the only person left in front of him. "You still in, Lively? Or are you gonna be a minuscule bitch?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "How do I know there's not a killer clown in there waiting for me? Or a fucking crackhead? Or a leper?"

His lips tied up into a smirk, alluring and promising. "You don't. That's the fun of it. Take my hand, you'll be fine."

And she did. And she was.