Losers Club fanfics

MikexRichie

"dum spiro spero"
[while I breathe, I hope]
— unknown
  

     I lead Richie out of the house, before stopping on the porch.
     "Richie, wait right here," I demanded.
     He nodded his head, staring at his feet; his eyes were full of tears and all I wanted to do in that moment was wrap my arms around him and hold him. But we had to leave.
     I ran back into the house, pausing for a moment to look at the man clad in clown makeup. He lay in a puddle of his own blood, stiff and unmoving. I couldn't believe I had killed him, but he had hurt Richie.
     I kept walking, until I found the man's study. I ruffled through the drawers in his desk, before finding a wad of cash. I didn't bother counting it; any money was good money. Now we could take a bus home and not hitchhike or walk.
     "Ready Rich?" I asked as I walked back outside.
     He sniffled and hurriedly wiped his face, but nodded. "Yeah, mhm."
     I walked up beside him, gently taking his shaky hand in mine. "It's ok now, I've got ya," I whispered.
     He nodded again, and gave my hand a squeeze.
     We began walking down the sidewalk, unsure of where we were headed. Finally, we reached a small town. After asking a few people where the bus stop was, we found it.
     We boarded the bus without a moment to spare; I handed the driver a ten from the stash of cash in my back pocket.
     I felt eyes on Richie and I as we walked to the back of the bus, but I paid them no attention. I just needed to get Richie home.
     Richie slid into the bench, claiming the window seat. I sat beside him, and he immediately rested his head on my shoulder.
     We still had our hands intertwined, and I began to brush my thumb over Richie's knuckles. He squeezed my hand tightly.
     "I love you Mike," he whispered.
     "I love you too Richie," I whispered back.
     We stayed like that for the rest of the ride; I pretended not to feel Richie's tears on my shoulder, or hear a quiet sob that would escape him randomly.
     I wrapped my other arm around Richie's shoulders, just holding him against me.
     "It's ok, it's ok," I repeated, tracing circles on his shoulder blades.
     Eventually, he fell asleep. I sat quietly, and just looked out the window.
     After a few hours, we were barely two towns away from Derry.
     "This is the last stop, Prout's Neck, the last stop is Prout's Neck," the bus driver announced over the intercom.
     That was barely a mile from Derry. I sighed in relief.
     "Rich, wake up," I whispered, gently shaking his shoulder.
     His still-red, puffy eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at me.
     "We're almost home," I told him, and a small smile broke across his face.
     We filed off the bus behind the few other passengers, then began the trek home.

     Finally, we reached the town of Derry, Maine.
     "W-will you stay with me tonight, Mikey? Please?" Richie asked me with a quivering voice.
     I nodded my head; there was no way I was fixing to leave him alone, and I didn't have to be home until the following day anyway.
     "Thanks," he breathed.
     He walked closer than normal beside me, flicking at the tiniest of sounds. I hated that man for what he did you Richie; you just don't rape a kid. Or anyone for that matter.
     "Hey-Hey Mike... how'd you know I was- I was gay?" Richie asked quietly.
     "The clown man..." I whispered back to him.
      Richie nodded his head. "You don't hate me do you?"
     "What Richie are you serious? I could never hate you! I don't care who you love, you're my best friend, and nothing will ever change that!" I exclaimed as we walked up the path to his dark house.
     He stayed silent as we walked into the foyer, but wrapped me in a tight embrace as soon as he closed and locked the door. I hugged him back tighter.
     He pulled away, wiping his eyes. "I'm sorry I got us into that mess," he mumbled.
     "Shh," I cooed, cupping his face in my hands. "It wasn't your fault baby."
     He closed his eyes and nuzzled into my hands. We stayed there for a moment in silence, but it was soon broken.
     "Let's go to bed," Richie murmured sleepily, reopening his eyes.
     I nodded, following him up the stairs and into his room. We both stripped from our shirts; Richie tossed me a grey sweater with a pair of black sweats. I stepped into his bathroom to change.
     I finished and stepped back out; Richie was gone.
     "Chee?" I called out in panic.
     "Mhm?" Came a muffled reply.
     I looked over at Richie's bed; he was there, under about five or six blankets.
     I bit back a giggle as I slid into bed beside him. I pulled the covers back from over his face. It was evident he was still crying; his cheeks and nose were red, and his eyes were swollen.
I slid under the blankets, laying on my back. I wrapped my arms around Richie, holding him close. He placed his head on the crease between my shoulder and neck; his warm breath made my skin tingle. He curled up against me, his eyes drooping.
"You ok Rich?" I asked him around a yawn.
"Yeah but only because you're here," he responded.
I wrapped my arms tighter around him, watching as his eyes slowly blinked closed. The freckles I could hardly ever see in the daytime shown like stars on Richie's sleeping face; they were beautiful. He was beautiful.
I ran my fingers across his cheekbone, then moved to his hair. I brushed my fingers through his thick curls, and he nuzzled into my hand.
I placed my lips on his forehead, giving him a soft kiss. "G'night Richie, I love you."
"Mm, I love you too," he murmured. "See ya in the morning."