Bichie one shots

.10

It was fall in Derry, Maine, and that meant dark and stormy nights. Bill looked out the window, seeing the rain pelting down with force. He used to like the rain, enjoy the smell, the feeling like the world was clean afterwards, like things were new again. But since the night Georgie had disappeared, the rain only brought darkness.
Bill's parents were out of town. His mother had come down with something, talking of pain, nausea, heart palpitations. She had even collapsed a few times. Mr. Denbrough had taken her to a facility a few towns over and taken a few days off, leaving Bill alone in the house. He was a teenager, and pretty capable of taking care of himself, so he wasn't worried. And Bill had seen his father's fear written all over his face. He couldn't lose another person he loved, another member of his family.
His parents had never recovered from losing Georgie. Bill hadn't either, but it seemed to have drained his parents of any remaining happiness. He wondered if his mother's sickness had to do with Georgie too, but Bill's father wasn't telling him much.
Bill was closing all the curtains and blinds, making sure the windows were shut, looking for leaks, and locking the door to the basement. Just in case. Once he had finished making sure everything was secure, Bill went where he did whenever he was alone in the house. He went to sit in Georgie's room.
It looked the same as it always had, like a time capsule, suspended with no sign of decay. It felt a little like the whole house was frozen in time, or in slow motion. Negative pressure constantly hung in the air with Bill and his parents. But when Bill was alone in Georgie's room, it would dissipate and fade away.
There was something about being in his room that felt like exhaling. Bill had helped teach Georgie how to tie his shoes in this room, helped him learn his alphabet. He had helped him with art projects and they had been planning to put together a lego set that Georgie had gotten as a birthday present a month before he disappeared.
Tears started to fall down Bill's cheeks as he thought about his little brother. "I think w-we would have had a great t-time with that lego set, G-georgie. We all miss you a lot. Mom's s-s-sick. We don't know what it is. I think she just misses you a lot. W-w-w-we all d-do," he finished, his stutter more prominent as his tears became more frequent. He wiped his eyes, clearing his throat before continuing. "S-sometimes I forget you're gone. I wake up and I don't realize until I p-p-pass your room a-a-and then it comes flooding back."
Bill took a deep, shaking breath before whispering to the room, "I d-d-don't know w-what to do w-w-ithout you." He stopped, laying down on the bed and wiping his face on the bedspread, grasping the pillow and sheets for an ounce of comfort. Bill took a moment to breathe in, but Georgie's smell had entirely faded from the bedding.
Bill thought he would just sleep there, feeling exhausted from all of the emotions that were overwhelming him, but his drift into unconsciousness was halted by loud banging on the door.
Scared and surprised, Bill shot up on the bed as his hair stood on end, goosebumps covering his arms. He felt his muscles tense and his pulse pounding in his neck. Who would be here this late, knocking so loudly and in this horrible storm?
As he got up from the bed, Bill took a breath and a brief detour to his room, before heading to the door, baseball bat in hand. He took a few deep breaths, wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, and told himself it couldn't be It. They had defeated It and It only came out every 27 years, but the thought was merely weakened, not disarmed. "He thrusts his fists against the p-p-posts, and still insists he s-s-sees the g-g-ghosts," he whispered to himself, trying to focus on anything but his fears.
A new set of pounds on the door reverberated through the house, as Bill reached for the lock, turned it for the door and opened it to reveal whoever had been pounding.
Outside, on the doorstep, soaking wet, was Richie Tozier. His glasses were so wet from the rain that Bill almost couldn't see his eyes. But, despite the abundance of moisture, he could tell that, even before Richie had gotten there, he had been crying.
Richie looked at the bat in Bill's hand and laughed, but his laugh was hollow, entirely devoid of mirth. "Jesus Christ, Bill, who did you think I was, a fucking axe murderer?"
Normally Bill would have responded, but he was so worried about his friend, he didn't have time to. He pulled Richie into the house, looked him over to see if he was injured or not. Richie had skinned his knee a few days ago and still had a mark, and a few scratches on his arms, but none of them were bleeding. "R-r-richie, you're soaking w-wet," he said as he closed the door and locked it.
"Wow, Bill, really? I had no idea. I wonder how that could have possibly happened. Any theories?" Richie looked around, like he was searching for the answers in the air.
Bill rolled his eyes, but grabbed Richie's hand after setting the bat down by the door. "Let's get you some dry c-clothes." Bill pulled Richie upstairs, pointing to the bathroom next to his bedroom. While Richie dried himself off, Bill pulled out a sweater and some sweatpants for Richie to wear.
Bill knocked on the door softly and Richie opened the door wide, standing there in his tighty whities and nothing else. He didn't even have his glasses on. For some reason, Bill immediately looked away, even though he'd seen Richie like this plenty of times. But they were always with their other friends and swimming together. Something about it just being Richie, almost naked, in his house felt...inappropriate for Bill to look at.
Richie snorted, a sound actually filled with mirth this time. 'Really, Bill? Are you preserving my dignity?" He did a high pitched voice and sashayed as he did. "It's nothing you haven't fucking seen before."
Bill looked him in the eye, irritated, but still looked away afterwards, careful to not look anywhere else. Richie took the clothes from Bill's outstretched hands. "Fine, fine," Richie said, "I'll close the door to keep your virgin eyes clean."
Richie pulled the door shut, drying off and putting on the clothes Bill had grabbed for him. Bill headed down to the kitchen while Richie changed and, worried that Richie would still be cold, decided to make some hot chocolate for them.
He'd been friends with Richie long enough, that Bill knew how he liked it. Richie liked cocoa with milk, caramel sauce, and whipped cream instead of marshmallows. Bill finished making their hot cocoa and turned around, carrying mugs in both hands, only to see Richie standing in the doorway.
Bill had sleepovers with the other losers before, but he had never seen Richie in his own clothes. Richie was wearing his dark grey sweatpants and a forest green sweater Bill had gotten last Christmas. While he was cleaning his glasses, Richie held them up towards the light and, as he did, the sweater lifted up just enough to expose some of his stomach. Bill only realized his fixation on it when Richie finished cleaning and it disappeared, being swallowed up by the sweater again.
"Whaddya got there Big Bill? Looks like cocoa to me!" Richie rushed over to grab the one Bill was holding out to him. He took a long sip and said, "and just how I like it." He smiled at Bill in a way Bill could only describe as overtly flirtatious. Bill shrugged, but felt his heartbeat quicken slightly.
"L-let's go sit down, in the living room," he said, and Richie nodded, following right behind him. As they walked, Bill thought about how Richie was always right behind him, when they would play games or mess around, when they went into the sewers or into Neibolt. And when the group had splintered over the summer, it had been after Richie and Bill had their fight, when Eddie got hurt. It was comforting to Bill that Richie was always right behind him. If he had to pick a best friend of the losers, it would definitely be Richie.
They sat down and drank their cocoa in silence for a few minutes. Bill was surprised at Richie being so generally quiet. Usually, Richie seemed really in the moment, thinking and reacting to only what was currently happening. But something about him right now seemed preoccupied.
"D-do you wanna talk about it?" Bill asked, breaking the silence with an honest question. He wouldn't make his friend tell him why he showed up at the door in the middle of a storm crying, but he'd like to know.
Richie looked at his cocoa for a moment before he started guzzling it down, looking at Bill as he did, trying to make a joke out of anything he could. Finally, he finished drinking, a soft whipped cream mustache on his upper lip. Bill, without thinking, reached over to wipe it off his friend's top lip, softly grazing Richie's mouth with his thumb. Richie let him, not reacting, but saying more in his lack of joke than anything else could.
Richie looked down, frowned, and looked back up at Bill. The look of melancholy on his face transformed him, so distinct from the usual goofy grin he had, that Richie didn't even look like himself. "My...my mom has a new boyfriend. And he doesn't like me. Guy's got no fucking sense of humor, at all. Not a funny bone in his whole god damn body."
He paused, taking a ragged breath, before continuing. "He was drinking and he kept trying to come onto mom, and she kept pushing him away. But he wouldn't knock it off, and it was getting kind of physical and pissing me off. So finally, I couldn't fucking take it anymore. I pushed him over and told him to leave her the fuck alone, and he went ape shit and looked like he was going to murder me. Before he could hit me, I ran into my bedroom, slammed the door behind me, and climbed out my window. He was too fucking drunk to try and catch me." Richie was tapping his finger on the side of the glass, the rhythm speeding up the more intense the story got. "And then I came here, because I didn't know where else to go this late. And I remembered you saying your parents were gonna be gone, so...."
Richie looked back down at his mug and Bill reached over, putting his hand on Richie's hand that was resting on the couch, propping him up. Richie didn't look up, but Bill looked right at him when he asked, "Richie, are you okay?"
Richie pulled in his lips, pushing them together, as his chin started to tremble. He kept his gaze on the mug, tears softly rolling down his cheeks. "I just...I fucking hate being at home. My mom ignores me completely and lets assholes live there for no reason and it just feels...."
"Empty," Bill finished. Richie's head snapped up when Bill spoke, his tear-filled eyes locked onto the other boy's. There was a connection between them, palpable in that moment. Both boys sat silent, looking into each other's eyes, knowing the other was feeling the exact same way. Bill finally broke the eye contact, moving closer to Richie, pulling him into a hug. They sat there for a while, silently breathing each other in, holding tightly, feeling more comfort and love than either had felt in as long as they could remember.
Neither knew how long they stayed like that, in the other's warm embrace, but eventually, the boys separated. Bill looked down, a few tears falling from his eyes, but he could feel Richie's eyes on him. "What happened to you, Bill? You were crying before I got here, weren't you?" Bill looked up at him, a question on his face. Richie responded, "your eyes were red. I could tell, even through my wet and fuzzy as hell glasses."
Bill exhaled a laugh, before answering. "I-it's just...my m-mom is sick and w-we don't know what's wrong and that's why they l-l-left, and I m-m-m-miss Georgie s-s-so much, and...." Bill stopped, shallow breaths overwhelming his speech.
Richie immediately put his right hand on Bill's shoulder to steady him, his left hand reaching for his face, to wipe away his tears. Bill looked up and smiled at his friend, silently thanking him for the comfort. Richie smiled, his gaze flicking between Bill's eyes and lower on his face a few times, before closing the distance between them, Richie's lips landing on Bill's.
The kiss was a surprise, but it was gentle and comforting, and Bill leaned into it, a rush of happy, peaceful feelings permeating his chest, leaving his heart racing, but his chest warm. He was immediately disappointed when it ended abruptly, as Richie pulled away, his eyes wide, mouth agape. "Oh god, Bill, I'm so sorry. I'm a fucking idiot. I didn't, uh, mean to do that, especially while you were sad and crying and...GOD!"
Bill finally opened his eyes when Richie yelled, worried. Richie was holding up his hands like he was trying to defend himself. "Can we please, PLEASE, just...forget this ever happened? Like, I'll leave now, if you want, I would totally understand if you don't want me here. I don't really want me here right now. I can see if I can sneak into Eddie's room or something, or go home, or...."
Richie stopped babbling as Bill placed a hand on one of Richie's, holding it softly, caressing the back of his hand with his thumb, until he stopped. "I don't want to forget," Bill stated. Richie noticed his lack of stutter and confidence in his words, before Bill reached over and put his lips back on Richie's.
A contented sigh left Richie immediately, all the panic he had just felt melting away. Richie's hands moved to Bill's neck, pulling him closer, more deeply into the kiss. They stayed that way, kissing back and forth, hands in each other's hair, or holding the other boy close. After a while, they broke apart, faces still very close, resting while their foreheads leaned on each other's. They stayed like that, giggling, smiling at each other, just basking in the closeness, the intimacy, loving for the second time that night, that they both knew exactly how the other was feeling.
Bill and Richie realized that they were both exhausted and went upstairs to Bill's room to go to sleep. They both laid in the bed, arranging his pillows so that they were close enough that the boys could cuddle in bed while they slept, Richie's head resting on Bill's chest, his rhythmic heartbeat lulling him to sleep. It was the best night of sleep either had had in months.
Bill woke up the next morning, rested and still abuzz with happy feelings. But he looked next to him and realized Richie wasn't there. He got up quickly, wondering if Richie had even been there, or if it had just been a lovely dream. That was, until he heard something break downstairs and someone yell, "fuck!"
Bill laughed, but hurried downstairs, hoping Richie hadn't broken anything his parents would be upset about. When he got to the kitchen, Bill saw Richie, flour on his face, multiple eggs broken on the ground. He was wearing the clothes he had worn to Bill's house, which they ran through the drier, but didn't look completely dry.
"I'm sorry. I was trying to make breakfast for you before you woke up, to say thanks for last night, and I made a huge fucking mess." Richie ran a hand through his hair, but it just got more flour on him. Bill laughed and smiled at his friend, marveling at how kind he was for trying to make him breakfast, and how adorable he looked, all messy.
"Why did you put your wet clothes back on? I c-can get you another outfit," Bill said.
Richie shrugged before answering, "I didn't want to get your clothes dirty."
Bill's face pulled into a smile, so touched by the amount of thought and effort Richie was putting into everything right now. Richie had always been thoughtful...but this felt different. Was this because of the kisses they'd shared the night before? Thinking about it made Bill's heart beat faster, and he took a deep breath before replying.
"That's r-really sweet of you, Rich. How about I f-f-finish making breakfast and you get cleaned up?" Bill suggested, moving some of Richie's hair out of his face, his hand caressing Richie's face as it fell.
The touch sent a chill down Richie's spine and he smiled at Bill, leaning into him, and saying in a low, flirtatious voice, "I'd kiss you, but I don't want you to get dirty."
Bill took a deep breath, leaning away from Richie to keep from kissing the boy himself. "We c-can save that for l-later. Clean y-yourself up f-first."
Richie grinned, knowing Bill's stutter got worse when he was nervous. Was Richie making Bill nervous? "Yes, sir," Richie said, saluting as he passed Bill to head upstairs, slapping Bill's butt as he walked passed.
Bill sighed loudly, so Richie could hear him, but smiled to himself as he cleaned the eggs off the floor. Did he have a boyfriend now? It certainly felt like it, although Bill figured this was the kind of thing they'd probably need to discuss.
He thought about what he should say to bring it up, what it would be like to date Richie, what their friends would think, and a lot more, while he finished breakfast. Richie had already made bacon, and was working on pancakes and eggs when Bill had discovered him. Bill retrieved some juice and milk from the fridge and got everything on the table for them to eat together.
Richie arrived downstairs, wearing one of Bill's favorite plaid shirts and a pair of his jeans. Bill sighed, seeing Richie so handsome and in his clothes was definitely a sight he liked to behold. He quickly walked towards Bill, going straight for a strong, fervent, but quick kiss, ending in a little smack sound. "I had been patient as long as I could be. I am clean and came to claim my prize," Richie said, winking at Bill.
Bill looked away, but smiled, sure that his cheeks were getting a little redder than usual. When Richie turned to the table, he was pleased and sat down at the place Bill had set for him. "Holy shit, Bill, you're great at this. Will you be my mom?"
"N-no, Richie, I will not b-be your mom. Gross."
Richie smiled at him from across the table. "Ah, you know I'm joking, Big Bill. I don't kiss my mom like that."
They talked, and flirted, while eating breakfast, both laughing almost so hard they choked, enjoying each other's company, both surprised at how natural everything still felt. Even Richie's flirting, which Bill was pretty sure was serious, felt so much like regular Richie, that it all seemed so...normal. Like why hadn't they been doing this the whole time?
Afterwards, Bill went upstairs to shower and change, while Richie did the dishes, after insisting to Bill that he would. While he was finishing changing, Richie knocked on his door. "Permission to enter?" he asked, in his British accent.
Bill finished zipping his pants, and reached for his shirt. "P-permission granted."
Richie opened the door, while Bill was still pulling his shirt on, before shrieking and covering his eyes. "Bill, how dare you assault my innocent eyes with your bare, muscular chest! Are you trying to seduce me?"
Bill was going to shake his head, but decided instead to move close to Richie, only inches between the two boys' faces. "Maybe I am," he said softly, causing Richie to lick his lips before leaning in to kiss Bill, not seeing any reason to resist his advances.
After a few kisses, Bill pulled back and asked if Richie had any plans for the day. It was a Saturday and Bill's parents were going to be gone until Monday evening. "Not a one, Billy boy. What did you have in mind?" Richie asked, raising his eyebrows at him.
Bill walked away from Richie, not answering. Richie followed, confused, but following his natural instinct to see what Bill was up to. Bill turned into Georgie's room, while Richie stayed in the hallway, nervous about what kind of mood Bill might be in when he came out. Much to his surprise, Bill came out with a smile on his face...and a box.
"Do you want to put together a lego set with me?"