Տմʍʍҽɾ 88 ➵ reddie

．Introduction．

．June 16th, 1988．

    Leaving his room for anything besides basic human needs was a special event during the beginning of Richies 16th summer. It was also one of the many things his father, would strain and complain to him about while he drank his morning coffee. The droopiness and lingering tiredness that came almost guaranteed with the 5 am alarm usually constrained both Richie and Went from forming real discussions on his behavior. Nonetheless Richie was grateful for the circumstance sleep deprivation had put them in.

This situation was not to be mistaken however. Richie Tozier did have a reasonable amount of friends and acquaintances. He wasn't an outcast or a loner by any means. He could have easily made plans to hang out with others during that summer. Yet he choose not to

It was because Richie knew that no matter how many times he would hang out with others, he would always feel alone. After what happened to him he couldn't seem to find happiness amongst anyone.

Wentworth was utterly defeated. He felt as if ever since Richie had gotten his own room he had been acting more and more distant. He had seen Richie transition from cracking inappropriate jokes at every second of the day and quickly laughing back to himself, to seeing bags beneath his sons eyes, alongside long greasy hair and complete silence. The signs of crying were also present more often than not.

Wentworth was also aware of the pain Richie was going through. He was all too familiar. After all it was he who had lost the one he loved. Wentworth knew he was not in the mental state to take care or comfort his aching child, but he did know that Richie needed to get his mind off of everything that had happened. All of the misery that they had gone through for the past month. It had affected them too much. Plus it wasn't something someone of his sons age should even be going through. He was determined and compelled to get Richie out of the house by any means. He didn't want to. But he knew it was for Richies best. He needed to look out for his son because he was all he had left. He needed to get Richie away. At least until he had collected himself enough to be a good father.

Richie had never felt more miserable in his life. All he did was think about the next time he could sleep. He spent his time awake, staring up at walls and thinking about death. He had no desire to keep his hygiene at a normal level. He only ate when he felt like it was absolutely necessary for his survival. And when he did eat he would feel like a pussy. He was too scared to starve himself. Too fearful of death to just end it. He wished he had the balls to just do it. He wasn't brave like his mother. He wasn't filled with amazing power like his father. He was pathetic, and a waste of oxygen. He knew his father probably blamed him for what had happened, and he did too. Everything felt like it was his fault, and Richie believed it was. He should've been the one who died. Not his mother. Not Maggie Tozier, a beautiful mother. A blessing to the entire human race. A vibrant rose among gray tulips. His mother was special. Always bringing out the best in the worst of situations. She didn't deserve the fate she had. Richie was actually glad he was miserable, this was his punishment for ridding the world of her only angel.

Richie didn't know it yet but both Wents and Richie's grief that summer is what would eventually pillar his life. He never thought he would be thanking his father all those years later for the exact thing he had hated him for that summer of 88'. The two of them would share a laugh over the irony that had taken so long to come into sight. Or perhaps Richie had dreamed of doing so.
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》this is so bad but who actually even cares《