cherry chapstick ☾ tozier

[v] 1-800-LOVERS;

the night-time on derry is your favorite. you get to sit back and relax, the only clients in the arcade being the adults that use the bowling area.

but after the little "accident", you have this feeling in your gut that screams to you to go find a safe place to hide.

it is about seven pm and you are sitting on the front counter, waiting until the clock strikes seven-thirty, closing time of the arcade if no clients are in the place.

you tap your red colored nails on the the counter, sitting there, staring at nothing.

please, just let me go home, let me have this one thing,god.

seven-fifteen. you give the wall-clock a nervous stare. it ticks lazily two or three seconds before you turn your eyes back to the glass door.

what the fuck.

on the other side of the street, there's a figure of someone. behind them, a clearly illuminated red balloon.

the figures, that seems strangely tall, lifts one long arm and waves to you. you huff.

you are so done with all of it. you just want to solve it yourself. you prop yourself down on the tiled floor, and circles the counter, crouching down and grabbing the dusty winchester rifle the owner had under the counter.

you remember him saying that it had three bullets, and would scare any weird people.

im going to scare off this freak and then quit this fucking job.

you get up quickly.

bang!

the winchester, that had the safety lock off, had shot by itself.

luckily, it shot the tiled floor, that broke in some big chunks.

"what the fuck! n/n, what are you doing?" the muffled voice was still fuzzy in your mind. there was a buzz on your ears.

you walk over to the door and open it.
the clock shows seven-twenty-seven.

it stopped.

but i changed the batteries this week.

you feel uneasy all of a sudden.
you turn the "open!" sign, showing the "closed, sorry." side to the door, and opening it to a very scared richie.

"hi." she says.

"hey! fucking, hey! what in the absolute fucking hell are you doing with a gun?"

"long story short, i'm trying to scare this weird guy with the balloons." she shrugs.

"that's badass." richie points out and enters the place. "it smells like shit in here."

"it's the gunpowder. it smells weird when it's shot inside."

i changed the batteries. how the fuck.

your head feels like it's going to explode.

you blink slowly one or two times.

"hey, are you okay? you look like you've seen my wang and is shocked by the size, if you know what i mean." richie cocks an eyebrow.

"i..." you say. "i need..."

you look past through richie, only to see the fuzzy image of a red balloon, floating past rows of arcade machines until it stops in front of one. you vision focus again on richie.

"woah, are you okay, doll? you look pale..."

"i need..." to get you out of here. "to close the store, dumbass. get out." you convey.

"ugh, you're such a meanie." he makes a strange nasal voice, that reminds you of sally mueller. you snort.

"yeah." you go into the back, closing the back door and flipping the general light switches.

you go back to the main area, taking your keys and shutting the door behind you and richie and locking it.

"so..." richie starts.

"i saw this creepy dude and he waved at me, and he had a balloon..."

"is it illegal to have a balloon?" richie asks.

"no, of course not."

"then why would try to shoot him!?" he grabs you shoulders and shakes you.

"i don't know. i have a bad feeling about him." you shrug. "have you ever... had a feeling? like, in your gut? about something?"

"this one time i ate a three-day-old burrito an-"

"no, fucknut! i'm talking about actual creepy stuff!"

"like what?" he takes his hand to his face, adjusting the crooked glasses on his nose.

"i don't know, i just..." you inhale and exhale slowly.

"i swear to god, there's something watching me when i sleep."

richie kisses you.

holy shit, richie tozier's actually kissing you.

you lunge backwards and look at him frantically.

his eyes were even wider behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

you lean back and kiss him, slowly, calmly. you get the perfect image of his eyes fluttering shut, and the freckles on his face shining bright blue and pink, the same color from the neon signs above you.

you separate. you turn and start walking, only turning back when you're a good fifteen feet away.

"g'night, richie. sleep with the angels."

"does that mean you comin' home with me? 'cause you're the only angel i want to sleep with!"

you giggle.

"go home, dickwad."