cherry chapstick ☾ tozier

[ii] 1-800-SCARS;

as richie watches you carefully with wide eyes, and the other losers are holding their breaths, you manage to reinforce the super glue you put in richie's glasses with insulating tape.

"there." you say with amusement.

"amazing! looking as good as new!" he says putting the on finally. "oh."

"what?" you ask the boy. "is there something wrong with your glasses?"

"nah." he smirks. "you just look hotter when they're on." everyone grunts. you chuckle.

"no way. i'm hotter then hell already."you answer, mischievous smile plastered into your face.

"see what you did? made her ego even bigger!" beverly jokes and you laugh along with the group.

"not bigger then her ass!" he lifts his hand to bill. "up-top!"

"s-shut the f-fuck up-p." he responds and rolls his eyes. stan has an almost proud look in his face.

you looked in richie's features as time passed.
richie had an angular face and square chin. big, round brown eyes stared your soul and his hair looked like a muddy mop. he smile, full of crooked teeth, was rare and what he most made was either a stupid face or a shit-eating grin.

he had long fingers in the hands that he moved around whey too much when he spoke, and he spoke too much. you wish you could shut him up. you smirked to yourself.

after a long day of shenanigans in your big yard, the losers got home as quickly as they before the curfew came. eddie, who waved you guys goodbye after scrambling to gather his stuff, desesperate because he had an appointment at five, was the first to go. half an hour later, bill and ben took off, bill having homework and ben saying his mother was waiting for him before six. then stan and richie were gone in a second, richie was mostly accompanying stan, who was a bit afraid since they were quite close to the curfew.

beverly, however, used the toe of her shoe to dig a hole in the dry dirt of the gravel path that led to your home, and played with a strand of her long orange hair as she asked shyly if she could stay.

you said yes, of course, knowing her father. you hugged her and whispered to her she could sleep there how many times she wanted to.

beverly felt safe, she felt the old you embracing her again, struggling like that mask you keep on was a thick layer of mud she was swallowing. beverly could feel your entire soul about to pour right out, as you were going to explode.

but you didn't.
instead, you smiled fakely and walked to your front door, getting inside.

it was only when you two were laying on your dark room, beverly's face iluminated by the weak moonlight, that she turned on her side facing you and coffed. even in the dark, without your glasses on, you could tell her face was serious, tense.

"what's the truth, y/n?" you look at her as if you never something more ridiculous. you gave her a lopsided grin, not minding that she couldn't actually see it.

"what the hell you're talking 'bout?" you almost hiss, getting up your defenses. she frowns.

"the scars in your back. i've known you for years now and it wasn't as bad last year..." you sigh and turn on your back to face the beige ceiling of your room. you could use a cigarette.

"my father. it's really the only thing i can say without going too deep onto it."

"you can go deep. i'm here and we have the whole night."

and then you tell her every little detail about what is it about. in various parts of the story she feels natious and disgusted. and sadly: she relates to it. shivers run down her spine and goosebumps raise on her delicate skin.

you talk until your jaw hurts and your pillow is wet from silent tears. at the end, beverly gets up and walks to your bed. it's very dark, shapes of furniture seem to be made of jelly as they keep moving around.

the dim, crepuscular light iluminated her fiery hair and her perfectly white skin. time seemed to stop when she was laying by your side, embracing you lovingly.

that night, you dreamed of deep waters that extended themselves on a red ocean.