IMPULSE {Richie Tozier}

18

Ivy nervously paces her room, the words from earlier today echoing in her mind.

Every 27 years.

Novocane paces with her, subjecting her loyalty. Ivy can't think straight, every little sound makes her jump out of her skin. She can't even take a shower, she's too afraid to drown and die.

"Just when everything was going good in life!" She complains to Novocane. "Why does the world hate me?! Why can't I just live a normal life, for once! Why can't I just breathe? Why can't I just go out and not be afraid? Why can't I just fucking be okay?!"

She shouts at no one in particular, becoming more angry and fragile as minutes tick by.

She's so distracted by her frustration, that she doesn't even hear when Richie sneaks in through her window. Her back is faced to him.

Novocane is distracted by how distraught Ivy is becoming, so she pays little attention to Richie.

"I don't love myself! I hate me! I am a loser! I am a fuck up! Jesus, Novocane, when will I be okay?!" The girl begs to know, while her dog whimpers.

Richie stands behind the girl, flinching at every word that leaves her mouth. His playful exterior deteriorates as he processes what she thinks of herself.

"You can take your 'I'm okay' hat off now—" Richie mutters, causing the girl to spin around and face him with a shocked expression. "–fall apart, I'm not going anywhere."

"R-Richie...jeez, a bit of a warning next time would be nice..." she chuckles softly, wiping whatever tears had fallen from her eyes.

The boy frowns, and steps forwards, preventing her from moving away from him.

"Just now– you were yelling– and I heard everything you said, and none of it is true—"

"Oh please, a week ago you were one of the people trying to convince me of those things— things that I already knew and hated about myself!" She defends, walking around him and towards a book on her shelf.

Once again, he steps in front of her, frowning.

"Yeah, I know. We already clarified that I'm an asshole, Ivy! That's not what this is about, this about you. You shouldn't—"

"Blah blah blah, I shouldn't say those things about myself, but I do anyway!"

Richie frowns. Ivy does too.

"I'm sorry..." she mumbles, rubbing her arm. "...maybe, maybe now isn't the right time for us to date. I'm not that stable—"

"Do not fucking say that!" Richie growls, cutting the girl off.

She stares at him with wide eyes.

"I will break every fucking clock on this earth to prove that we are not bad timing."

He pushes his glasses up, and steps close to the girl once again.

She doesn't back away from him, just stares at him with her wide eyes.

He continues, "I don't want just the pretty parts of you– I want the dark. The dirt. Tell me what you hate about yourself, so I can love you for it! I know– I know I'm an asshole, and I know I bother you most days, but I will always bring the biggest guns to your wars."

Ivy blinks, unsure of how to react.

"But Richie, I-I....everyone else thinks I'm—"

"People don't like it when the flame becomes a wildfire. Fuck them. Burn anyway."

Ivy takes a minute to process everything he's said to her. She smiles lightly, and laughs quietly under her breath. She finds it amusing how he really can't go a few sentences without using the word "fuck".

Richie stares down at her longingly, so deeply hoping that his words somehow effect her.

They do.

She glances back at him, catching his eyes and smiling. Leaning up, she plants a much needed kiss on his soft pink lips.

When she pulls back, she continues to stare into the boy's eyes. His glasses make them appear larger, and project a light shade of brown. Freckles scatter his cheeks, and nose. The longer she stares at him, the more a blush begins to grow on his cheeks.

"Listen, Richie, I know we only started dating a week or two ago— but, I swear to god, I've loved you since second grade." She confesses, her watch/heart monitor beeps out of control as the words leave her mouth.

Novocane howls, while Richie's eyes widen.

"Y-Your heart monitor," he points out.

"I know," She laughs. "I know."

Richie grins brightly, his playful attitude returning.

"I knew you couldn't get enough of me." He jokes, "and I love you, too. Sorry for being such an asshole before."

Ivy turns away from him, plopping onto her bed.

"It's alright I guess, but, if you don't mind me asking, why did you have to be so mean?"

Richie follows, plopping on top of her, causing her to let out a small "umph!". She groans and struggles to escape from under his weight, but is seemingly stuck. She glares playfully.

"Well," he goes to answer her question, "people make mistakes, but I like to go big and completely fuck it all up!"

She laughs, wrapping her arms around his waist, deciding to get comfortable beneath him. He leans down and scatters kisses on her cheek, to which she giggles in response.

"Richie, get off me! You're getting heavy." She begs, pushing his face away from her.

He gives her one last kiss, before rolling off.

Once he's off her, they both sit up.

He 'seductively' takes off his glasses, attempting to make her smile. It only results in him squinting like an idiot.

"Wow, you're fucking blurry."

Ivy bursts into a fit of laughter, leaning back into her pillows. Richie snorts a little too, putting his glasses back on.

Once their laughter dies down, he decides to spring the question he's been asking for at least two days.

"Sooooo....wanna make out yet?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"No."