Is this what depression feels like? Like he was barely keeping his head above the water, and that one wrong slip he’ll go sinking to the bottom of the quarry forever forgotten just like that stupid fucking clown predicted.
Richie Tozier didn’t know what was worse, when he didn’t have his memories but a feeling of not quite being whole, like a piece of him was missing, or finding out that he had forgotten the love of his miserable life, remembered him and then lost him again.
permanently this time within a three day span. He was furious, he was heartbroken but more importantly he wanted more fucking time!
He was drowning in his grief and the only thing, no the only people that could get him out of it was dead! Gone, up with the angels or whatever the Bible, Quran, Torah, said.
“Are you happy pennyfuck? You got what you wanted! Richie Tozier is alone and you won! You took everything from me.” He drunkenly sobbed.
He laid his head against the carving that he made what felt like a lifetime ago.
he shakenly traced it and snatched his hand back as if the words burned him.
“ I need them back! I need Stan, I need Eddie, I can’t do this without them.” He whispered.
He hoped some God would take pity on him and answer his prayer. But when none came, he took a big gulp and let the burn of the drink soothe the ache in his heart where Stan and Eddie used to be.
The whiskey he held, sloshed in its bottle as his hand shook from both exhaustion and pain . He had stolen it from the empty bar back at the inn and drank his weight in cheap liquor.
They may have won the battle, but they lost the War. they lost two of their best friends, the best of them and now all they could do was move on. But there was no moving on for Richie.
Three days ago, he got to remember how it felt to hold Eddie Kaspbrak in his arms, he got to remember their first kiss in the hammock and the hundred no thousand of times he snuck up to the smaller boy’s window, just to see that pretty smile lit up freckled tan cheeks when he realized that Richie was coming to spend the night.
He just remembered how much he loved Stan, how Stan was the first one he told that he was gay, the first to know that he was in love with a fire cracker of a boy, remembered how it was Stan who pushed Richie to confess, Stan who held Richie when he found out that him and Eddie didn’t get into the same college, and was the one who even in death tried to still be there for Richie.
If you find somebody worth holding onto…
Richie tried to get up but he stumbled and the bottle went tumbling over the bridge. He could feel the old bridge straining under his weight and knew he should move before he went tumbling down too.
“Fuck.” He slurred. Lifted his head only to scream when he found himself looking into stan’s face.
Thirteenth year old Stan, with his golden curls and carefree smile. The stan before that summer of ‘89 changed him.
If you find somebody worth holding…
“You wanted more time right?” Stan Inquired.
More time, we are here to give it to you.”
he looked behind him as a little boy in red shorts and a fanny pack came up and smiled that beautiful dimpled smile that could stop Richie’s heart in his chest.
“ hey chee.” Eddie said shyly.
If you find somebody worth…
“Am I finally going fucking crazy? Am I still in the deadlights? What the fuck.” Richie reached out a trembling hand and grabbed eddie’s extended one.
“No this is your second chance.” Eddie laughed.
He squeezed Richie’s hand and didn’t let go until Stan placed a hand against Richie’s chest. The bridge barrier creaked in protest at the weight being pressed onto it.
“Don’t fuck it up, Richie, take this chance and be happy.”
“Don’t let it end like this Trashmouth. Do it for me, for the rest of the losers, but most importantly yourself.”
“How? I..I'm scared.” Richie didn’t hear the wood start to splinter, was only focused on his dead best friends who supposedly were here to give him another chance at life.
“See you soon Richie.”
And with that stan pushed hard enough for the wood to break and Richie blacked out before he hit the ground.
If you find somebody….
Richie sat up with a gasp, his breathing labor from the wild trip of a dream he had.
His eyes teared up at the overwhelming feeling of disappointment and fear. He felt like he was going to throw up.
Was that just a really fucked up dream that his drunk subconscious conjured to punish him?
He definitely was going to stop drinking himself into a coma if it meant he never has to face his best friends giving him false hope ever again.
He scoffed, there was no such thing as second chances. Only one, and he already fucked it up.
So he swallowed the pain, and tears and put on his happy Richie face. He knew he had to get up and get ready to send the others on their way and get on the road himself.
He could still taste the whiskey on the back of his tongue and gagged at it. First he needed to brush his teeth before anything else could be done.
He squinted at the vague shapes and didn’t register how everything seemed different as his hand scrambled around the dresser to find his glasses only to freeze when he felt a body move next to him. He hadn't realized that he wasn’t alone.
For a single heart stopping moment he thought that stupid clown came to finish the job. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath till he heard a quiet sniffle to his left and a head full of brown curls popped up. He quickly pulled his glasses on and realized three things:
One: he was not at the Derry Inn like he idiotly assumed.
Two: if the mirror he was staring at wasn’t a trick, he was 20 years younger than he was yesterday.
“Chee? What’s wrong? Another nightmare?”
laying in the bed was a twenty something Eddie fucking Kaspbrak cupping a rounded belly and a wedding ring that was gleaming on his finger in the morning sun.
If you find…..