Lover | Richie Tozier

Chapter 20.

"So I see that you're hanging around Eddie more," Richie commented inquisitively, flinching as Elle carefully patted layers of makeup over his lip. "I'm thoroughly surprised. I've been around the kid since elementary school and have never seen him with a friend a day in my life."

The word threw off Elle's balance, pulling her into a thoughtful trance that could be seen through the hesitance in her eyes. Could she classify Eddie as a 'friend'? Didn't she need to wait at least a week before she could even qualify him as an acquaintance? She didn't want to scare him off, and she surely didn't want to inflate her ego to the point where she'd actually believe that he was trying to be anything more than hospitable.

What she didn't know, though, was that Eddie already felt especially close to her.

She shrugged after finally collecting all of her thoughts once again. "I wouldn't exactly call it a friendship I guess. Beverly Marsh has been out sick for the past few days and she's who I usually sit with. I don't really know anybody else, so I took a chance with him."

Richie pulled back, leaning away from her touch. "What, am I not here or something?" He asked, completely serious.

He tried to throw in some of his classic ardent sarcasm but the genuineness that he tried to drown was able to float. Once those words slipped through his lips, he immediately wished she'd powder his tongue so he couldn't speak anymore.

His eyes intensified, his throat suddenly burning.

My God, Tozier. Could you be any more obvious? Way to be clingy, jackass.

"I'm joking," he lied. He could feel his cheeks become filled blush and balanced with heat. The honesty that he had shown for that split moment was enough to bring out floods of curses and repentance under his breath.

She sunk her tone to a softer, more somber one and let it into the air. "You have friends, Richie. He doesn't."

He only nodded. "Right."

He felt a strong pang of jealousy, but he always did. Anybody who could take away someone who he'd become remotely close with struck a match of jealousy on the rough surface of his soul. That match went on to light a raging fire inside of him that tarred his edges. He didn't even know the girl yet he still managed to feel abandoned by her.

For fucks sake, get it together Rich.

She patted his legs, giving him an unimaginable beam. "You're all set."

When she smiled at him, the world whisked away and brushed right through his frizzy curls. It was a comforting sight. He wasn't falling for her, no, that was impossible, but seemingly being around someone who wasn't out to get him or hurt him - that was comforting.

"Thanks a lot." He secretively took a glance at the brands she had been using so he could shoplift them later and do this shit on his own so he wouldn't have to keep putting her through hell. "You did good."

They both fell subjected to silent echoes and enchanting thoughts. Neither of them spoke, but they were both almost entirely sure that they were thinking the same thing.

"Why do we always do this?" Elle finally cut through the silence. The question was sudden enough to fracture any space between them as if her voice was a new knife.

Richie's attention was abruptly shot down by the question. "What do you mean?"

Her bottom lip tucked out of her mouth, Richie noticed. She pouted with thoughtfulness. "We only seem to come close to each other when you're getting your ass beat or after the fact. Why?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not sure. Guess it's because you've got your friends and I've got mine. Pure luck that we keep running into each other when we do," he answered defensively.

Elle dropped her head to the floor, flinching back for a few seconds. "Oh, alright," She paused. "I agree."

Her thoughts, however, would not accept this answer. No you don't. You see right through his petty lies; he's too afraid to initiate anything more than this with you. Poor kid has been beaten and avoided by anybody he's crossed paths with. Besides Stan and Bill, but maybe he's too fractured to see that.

She turned to leave before stopping and taking a wistful look back at him. "Hey, Trashmouth?"

"Yeah?" He asked, his ears perking up at the mention of his nickname. Her voice reached him like a symphony of pattering rain that washed away any thoughts he ever had.

"If you ever need anything... a touchup or whatever it may be, come to me. Whenever. I want to help, you know?" She offered.

His heart raced against the speed of time again. He gave another closed mouth smile, feeling as if his heart would jump out if he left space between his lips. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks."

She turned towards the door. "I mean it Toaster, don't be afraid."

He stopped his breath in his throat like he had the day before. If his heart was going to leap out of his chest, now was going to be the time.

She placed her hand on the door, connecting their stares. Her eyes fell deeper into his broken soul as she did. She took a step out, saying one last thing that corrupted every negative feeling inside of him before she did:

"I care about you, Rich."