Lover | Richie Tozier

Chapter 76.

Somewhere above the sky acting as a canopy for sunlight on Richie's walk home, angels appraised down on his stride sweetly, knowing they had done the job he had been desperately begging for all this time. Whatever ethereal being had sent Elle to him in the first place was surely proud of what they had so carefully crafted. He could hear it in the clouds, echoing with the best instruments the world had to offer.

The words that fell from her lips injected right into his veins: I love you.

The first time she had ever said them -- when they froze into the December air -- he was barely conscious enough to hear them. To Richie, what she had whispered on the curb sounded like what an eclipsed moon appears to be: hidden directly behind a shadow. The alcohol had drained right into his soul, whiskey remnants poisoning his ability to think. He wasn't sure if what he was hearing then was just a fabrication of his dreams or a genuine confession.

But now, he knows. And he was certain this wasn't a hallucination, because a red strip of skin formed on his ankle in response to how many times his shoe had collided with it. This dream was one that wasn't meant to be woken up from. Richie would spend the rest of his life exploring tiny planets unbeknownst to those who kept their eyes open, infinitely lost in his own fantasy. It couldn't be woken up from, for his wings that were clipped had grown back to carry him through healing the rest of the damage, and he refused to come back down.

He floated down every empty avenue with a grin on his face and the tips of his fingers occasionally brushing over his bottom lip where hers had been only 30 minutes before.

The neighborhoods around him looked... suspiciously friendly. The gardens lining the streets were a shade brighter than he remembered them to be. Golden buttercups harvesting silk butterflies opened their center and selflessly gave away all the nectar they had to give. Bright blue paint was veneered onto houses in fresh coats only for the oncoming summer sun to open down on them and soften the tint.

The primary purpose of the world looking so beautiful was not unknown. It was obvious the clouds opened in space when their lips had closed it. Every hue on every plant and anything beyond had been kissed into brilliance under the sunshine. Love was truly in the air.

Richie watched as his shoes scuffed against the pavement, unable to care about the harm he was doing to them. Destruction wasn't a thing to him right now, because he had just witnessed permanent damage become miraculously undone while they were sitting in the meadow. Nothing seemed to be permanent right now except for his happiness.

He glanced down at the abrasions on his knuckles, and for once, it looks like he's finally stopped bleeding.

It turns out his wounds weren't infinite. Emotional or physical. The scars laid against his skin repeatedly, hoping he would vow to never re-open them. They were finally mended. He had been healed by the love from a girl who wasn't permanent either.

Richie shook his head free of the thought, avoiding letting anything cross his mind that could possibly be a threat to his purest ideals. In this moment, it didn't matter whether she stayed or not. He figured she was somewhat permanent anyways -- infinitely staining his heart with her vibrant colors.

His attention wasn't drawn from the idea until something brighter than her had bestowed alarming shades in front of him. These tones weren't something he typically associated with elation, though. These colors had strong ties to both anxiety and safety; red and blue lights vividly turned on rotations, bringing beams of psychedelic luster along with it.

Richie's mouth unhooked, his shoulders tensing up, laying his eyes on what was being presented in front of him: Police cars. Numerous of them. All swarming around his home.