ego // oneshots

shake your lonely → bichie

it's been two months since the losers went their separate ways. and

well, not exactly.

they all hung out occasionally but the frequency of their visits wasn't common, sometimes there were weeks between visits among the losers.

bill was a wreck.

he's accepted george's death but that didn't make anything at home easier. he'd become the ghost boy of the denbrough household. his mother stopped talking conpletely, and his father threw himself into his work and only spoke to bill when he needed something. bill found himself spending as much time outside his house as possible.

today, he was out. he sat on the curb in front of the ice cream shop, but instead of holding a sundae or a popsicle, a thin cigarette was gripped between his bony fingers. bill started smoking a lot more after the summer. he stole packs from the drugstore or his dad's desk, and occasionally bummed off richie, just like old times. he didn't like smoking, it kind of hurt his chest and it made his mouth taste bad and he knew it was no good but he couldn't stop chainsmoking. cigarette after cigarette after cigarette.

richie tozier stopped smoking. it made him too sad. the familiar smoke reminded him too much of beverly and the last time they spoke she mentioned that her aunt wont let her smoke anymore, and that it was about time she stopped anyway. richie only smoked with bev and now that she was in portland, the nostalgia made his heart hurt. can summer come any faster?

richie was walking on main street with his hands in his pockets. his mom was hammered. so fucking smacked. it was two in the afternoon. he decided that he wanted to be anywhere but home. he figured he could run by stan's, but his folks were really getting tired of richie and mr. uris seemed to be taking it out on stan. he's come to school more than once with colorful bruises on his body, likely from the hands of the rabbi himself; things haven't been the same since his bar mitzvah.

as richie walked aimlessly through town be spotted a familiar face: bill denbrough, on the curb in front of the ice cream shop, smoking. he approached him swiftly, standing in the street before him, smiling.

"hiya big bill!" richie said warmly, "why so down?"

richie plucked the cigarette from bills hand and flicked it on the ground, stepping on it to extinguish it.

"wh-what the he-hell, rich? that was my last o-o-one; what gives?!" bill said, growing angry.
"you're smoking all your teeth brown stunner! hell, with your nasty little habit, can't say you'll be a stunner for much longer." richie said.
"might i r-r-remind you that we sh-share this 'nasty little ha-habit'?" bill said smirking slightly.
"no, you can't."
"i can't?"
"i quit."
"well i'll be da-damned." bill looked at his empty pack of cigarettes blankly.
"why do you think im such a chick magnet now?" richie joked
"w-who t-told you th-th-that? they must be fuckin st-stupid, tozier." bill said with a smile.
"really? thank god, big bill. i was so focused on my chick magnetism but now that you've opened my eyes i can return back to trying to win your impossibly mysterious heart!" richie swooned. bill laughed, hard. "sit down, you w-wet end." bill said gesturing next to him. richie sat down and bill layed his head on richie's shoulder. richie was at a loss for breath, and his heart was beating a million miles per hour, but he'd never felt so content.