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9. Whispers
We never fought to lose it We didn't build to burn this You don't have to carry the weight of your sin We didn't rise to cave in We never left for safety I will not just age to grow weary and bleed
- by Vancouver Sleep Clinic, 2017
Richie woke up to his phone vibrating against his cheek.
He lifted his head, which pounded rather painfully along with the ache that was spreading through his entire body and looked down at the unknown caller I.D. He glanced around himself and froze.
He was at home— at home in his living room and an empty bottle on the floor at his feet. His gaze flew back down to the phone and he answered it, pressing the device to his ear with trembling hands.
"Hello?" He asked shakily, and he sounded like shit. His voice was scratchy. He felt sweaty all over.
"Richie Tozier?" A deep voice that he recognized as Mike's asked. Richie breathed out sharply, and tears stung his eyes.
"Yeah, that's me," he answered, and he hoped he didn't sound as close to crying as he felt.
"This is Mike Hanlon. You have to come home."
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This was weird. He had known nothing but Derry for what felt like over two weeks. But when he looked down at his phone, it wasn't the same day he had arrived every time before. It was twenty-four hours earlier.
"Holy shit," Richie whispered to himself, staring at his screen.
He had hung up with Mike just a thirty minutes ago, but he was still shaking, and he was still astounded. The same as he had what felt like forever ago, he called the airport and the same seat was available as someone had just canceled last minute— "It's your lucky night!" The lady had chuckled, and Richie could remember laughing along despite the fact that he had thought it was quite the opposite.
If only I'd known the trouble I'd get into.
Richie checked his watch, tossing another shirt into his suitcase. His flight was in two hours. It was a late one— it left at 1:30 in the morning.
"So early, not late," he corrected himself aloud, standing up straight and cracking his back as he leaned towards the wall. He sighed and looked at the napkin and pencil laying on his bedside table. His stomach twisted and his heart skipped a beat.
