Hatchetfield.

Turning Pages

Anxiety was the biggest thing running through Richie's brain as he stared at Max ahead of him. In some sick, twisted part of his brain, Richie ignored the feelings of relief and happiness that had started to grow like mould since he had first heard Max's voice again. His heart pounded in his ears. The only thing in Richie's vision was Max and that grin. How did it look the same? How could he come in here after being dead and grin? How could he after seeing how much Richie had cried?

"C'mon, Rich." Max ducked his head slightly, tilting to the side, brows drawing together in a crude copy of concern. "We've got to do this. I can't stay dead forever." A barking laugh came out of Max's throat as he leaned back against the lockers properly again.

Richie swallowed, thinking. How could he even fix this? He wasn't at all well versed in this sort of thing. He didn't even know if ghosts existed until this very moment. Sure he'd started to believe a few days ago, but he wasn't even sure. But now he had to bring someone back from the dead? How? How could he do that? He started nodding, forgetting himself.

"Okay. Okay. I can fix this. We can get you back." Richie continued nodding. "Okay. Okay. Okay." He felt like a stuck record, repeating the same word on loop. Max watched him, Richie watched him back.

Richie held himself. Neither of them had moved from where they'd been stood when Max had first come around the corner. He swallowed. Breathed in. Breathed out. And felt his body lose some tension. He repeated the motions until he was mostly calm. His eyes never left Max, who also didn't stop looking at him with an unreadable expression. His eyebrows were lowered, mouth set in a line, jaw clenched. Richie felt like he was being inspected under a microscope.

"So how are we going to fix this?" Max broke the silence that had settled.

Oh.

Right.

That.

Richie inhaled. "Yeah, I actually have no clue." He ran his hand through the side of his hair. "Uh... I could ask my friends? They might know?" He was trying his best to try and get some sort of plan.

Max took a moment to look at him again before sighing and rolling his eyes. "Yeah sure. Why the fuck not."

Richie smiled at him before starting to head in the direction of the door. But to do it, he had to walk past Max.

As he approached his undead boyfriend, the air grew thick and cold, the hair on his legs and neck rising. Time seemed to slow as each step felt like forever to even meet the ground, let alone lift again.

He felt Max's eyes remain on him as he passed him completely, and time seemed to speed back to normal. Jolting back to the present, Richie paused as he put his hand on the door handle.

What if he turned back and Max wasn't there?

What would he even do in that case? Go outside and act like he hadn't just imagined his dead boyfriend in the locker room? Ruth would have a field day if she knew.

Richie turned back.

Max was still stood there, frowning. He tilted his head sideways.

Richie shook his.

It was nothing.

The breeze hit him as he left the locker room, and Richie couldn't help but sigh and inhale as he began to walk to where his friends were seated in the bleachers.

He was greeted with a cheer from the small huddle of Pete, Ruth, Steph and even Grace, and Richie smiled as he was hugged by Ruth, returning it.

"Dude you were so cool!" Ruth all but yelled as they pulled away from him, grinning. Richie just awkwardly laughed and rubbed his arm.