Richie's perspective
So, I quit my job.
I say 'job' but most would barely consider it as such. Rewording that, I didn't show up at work today, and I'm never going back.
Not that there's any crazy reason why, it's just unbearably boring and none of my friends have jobs, so why should I? The only reason I took it up in the first place was because my mother wanted me to. She'd realistically never find out about it, anyway. It wasn't like she was going to check.
As for Mr. Keene, he won't notice either. He's not even awake half of the time, and if he were to find out he'd probably celebrate.
It's a bit miserable, if you think about it. I only managed to sit through one day of work and I'm already scheming. But nonetheless, I did it.
*
It was a completely average Saturday in the life of me, Richie Tozier, ( autographs, denied. ) A few weeks after the incident at Bill's house. Me and Eddie had been swapping phone calls all week, much to my enjoyment. There was little selection of topics to discuss, but nonetheless, the simple presence of his attention was enough for me.
We had arranged to meet again, one of multiple times this week. It was nice, knowing that Eddie was sticking with me. I would've automatically assumed that in these circumstances it would be the other two he'd side with, but gratefully, I'd be wrong. Each time we'd meet, our friendship would only be getting closer and closer to how it used to be.
I was situated in my room, flicking through my old comics and reminiscing about the people I would to read them with all those years ago. Two of which most certainly wanted nothing to do with me, but I was okay with that.
The pictures, although silly and mindless, held times that I would kill to return to.
(Minus the brother-killing thingaling)
When I had finally snapped out of my train of thought, my hand continued clutching the flimsy paperback, almost as if clutching onto the memories instead. I tossed it in no general direction, arising from my mattress and walking over to my windowsill.
My driveway was empty, letting me know that my mother hadn't returned from her errands. She probably wouldn't be back for a while, leaving me with the house to myself for an unspecified amount of time.
Peace.
I shut the blinds again, hurrying downstairs and making my way into the kitchen. It was only the hours of early afternoon, meaning Eddie would be here quite soon.
Quickly opening a cupboard, I decided there would still be time to make myself something to eat. I popped some bread into the toaster and lifted myself up onto the countertop, taking appreciation of the home alone privileges.
My eyes rested on the front door, a small frame of light passing through the peephole and reflecting onto the ground in front of me.
Today, in all, felt nostalgic.
I couldn't pinpoint exactly why, but something about the maintained contact between me and Eddie definitely played at my mind. I never could've guessed that we'd meet again, but now that we had, things were good. Almost too good. I still loved him. That, I knew.
Normally, a person would've moved on after all those years. But with Eddie, it was different. Not a single day in those six years did I manage to make it through a day without thinking of him.
He still cared about me, regardless of our contact deprivation. Even though he couldn't stand me at times, he put up with me, and that was what I appreciated the most.
