new kid - stozier

6. Hello, Again.

warning: the end is a lil risque.

Richie was the first to wake up and pack his bags. It was a chilly late August morning and the losers had only one more week to make their summers worthwhile. Beverly, of course, planned drugs, drinks, and movies. Ben preferred watching movies or reading.

Richie walked into the slight breeze. The breeze swiped a pink blush over Richie's freckled nose and cheeks. His hands clutched his backpack straps and his knuckles turned white. His eyebrows were furrowed and his chapped lips were firmly pressed together. His glasses balanced on his nose and his eyes were squinted, determined on what's in front of him. he walked faster than the sun rose. He walked in fear.

He hoped, even prayed, his dad wasn't home, but with his luck, he could make out the slightly dented blue truck his dad bought when Richie was fifteen. Alongside the truck was a suspicious light gray Mustang. This car was clean. It surely wasn't belonging to any of the Toziers. Richie's grip on his backpack straps grew tighter and his breath was caught in his throat. He cautiously walked up the driveway and carefully unlocked the door. His hand shook as he turned the doorknob and stepped in the seemingly empty house. The sun made its way through the thin curtains hung in the kitchen and crawled to the hallway in front of the door. Through the beam of light, Richie watched the dust dance around. He'd always do that as a child and try to catch each little particle as if it were a bird. He finally let out a breath but was startled when he heard quiet, tired murmuring. Too soft for his dad and too stable for his mom, but then he heard the strong, firm, familiar voice he'd known all too well.

"Richie? Is that you?" Wentworth called out.

Richie figured he'd have been at work by now or at least still sleeping.

"Uh, yeah dad," Richie made his way from the door into the kitchen, "it's me."

Richie looked from Wentworth to Maggie. Wentworth was in his scrubs for work and Maggie was in a silk nightgown that hugged her petite body. Her eyes were sunken in and puffy but she still managed to put a smile on her face when she saw Richie. They were both standing by the island in the middle of the kitchen conversing. The room felt warm and the smell of coffee lingered in the air. 

Maggie walked toward Richie and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Wow Richie, you've gotten quite tall. No longer my little boy," Maggie smiled then moved her hand to brush Richie's hair out of his face.

"Yeah, ma, I've grown a bit," Richie chuckled, starting to feel uncomfortable. Maggie was never this affectionate. Ever since Richie had turned thirteen and his parents started having problems, Maggie had grown depressed. That's why they thought it was better for them to move to New York. They thought the change would help.

"Well, I w-was about to go read some comics, if you don't mind," Richie slipped from Maggie's embrace towards the stairs.

"Wait, Richie," Wentworth called out, "I want to give you these." He fished in his pocket for some keys. "She's all yours now, son."

"Woah, dad, I-I can't take her," Richie stammered. "What would you drive?"

"The grey mustang in the driveway. Your mother and I have been thinking it was about time we give you a car and I just got a raise in my paycheck so we thought to buy another one and you'll have the truck. We can see how much you love her so I thought she'd be a perfect fit."

Richie couldn't believe what his dad was saying but accepted the keys nonetheless. He made his second round to head upstairs with starry eyes, but before he reached the steps he heard Wentworth call out. 

"I hope you know we both love you."

After going upstairs, grabbing a few tapes, and bidding a farewell to his mother now sitting alone at the round dining table, Richie was ready to finally drive his own truck. He ran all the way to the front door while throwing on a warm flannel, stumbling on his way. He caught hold on the doorknob and swiftly opened it. He dashed his way to his car and inserted one of his beloved cassette tapes into the cassette player. All at once, everything melted away and molded into the melancholic sound of Ian Curtis's voice radiating through the speakers. Richie dug through the hidden compartment in which he kept his cigarettes. He grasped the box only to be met with an empty pack of Marlboros. He gazed at the empty box held in his calloused fingertips and he then remembers where the pharmacy was and hoped it was still there.

Driving to the pharmacy was a huge mindfuck for Richie. Since moving back to Derry, he hasn't been out much, yet he still knows which exact road leads to the Bower's farm and which exact road leads to the kissing bridge. He also knows the exact location of the creepy fucking house on Neibolt Street. He'd always go there with friends, most times it was just him and- and- fuck.

Who the fuck did I use to hang out with? Richie thought to himself. I know it wasn't that psycho bitch Bowers or his needy little boyfriend. Was it with Victor? Belch? Where the fuck am I getting these names from?

Still disoriented, Richie managed to park his car and pushed the glass pharmacy door eliciting a loud chime. The same loud chime was played when he met Beverly. He still remembers seeing her hunched over, dainty body. Her eyes darting back and forth from the endless supply of candy. Richie chuckled to himself because it feels like years ago when really it was only three weeks ago. Still, Richie made his way to the cashier. 

"Two packs of Marlboros, please."

"Huh, never took you as a Marlboro guy. You were always a Camel type of guy." The voice from the cashier was familiar. He sounded raspy as he let out a light chuckle. Both him and Richie locked eye contact and Richie saw right into his preteen years. The nights where he would sneak out and smoke packs of Camels while getting wasted. He also remembered the taste of alcohol on his breath. He remembered the feeling of Connor's light touches and soft kisses. Connor.

"Connor?" Richie's eyebrows were drawn and his mouth was open slightly. The realization then hit him like a bus as his facial features softened and his frown turned to a smirk. "Connor Bowers? What the fuck? How've you been?"

"Everything's fine, my uncle really misses you, Rich. Been a while." Connor was now leaning on the counter with the same mischievous glint in his eyes he's had since they were thirteen. 

"How'd you know I was back? What are you doing in Derry? Are you visiting from Bangor?" Richie's questions bubbled up like a just-opened can of coke. 

"Hen told me about the lovely way he greeted you back." Connor winked then looked Richie up and down. His lips were caught between his teeth as he looked back into Richie's eyes. "I'm just about to go on my lunch break, do you wanna catch up?" Richie couldn't find the strength in himself to say no because now he was very curious about how this would end up. Instead, he nodded his head and Connor made his way from around the counter to where Richie stood.

Connor's hands ran up under Richie's black tee and his cold hands on Richie's warm skin made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He was pressed up against a wall in the backroom trying to muffle his slight moans with his hand over his mouth. Connor's lips attacked Richie's throat leaving bruises in their wake while his knee rubbed against Richie's growing boner. 

One of Connor's hands left from under Richie's shirt and replaced his knee between Richie's legs. Now he was palming Richie through his skinny jeans and his other hand replaced Richie's over his mouth some time in all the action. Now, Richie was holding on to shelves nearby as Connor's lips moved expertly against the other's collarbone. 

After all these years, Richie missed his company and all he longed for was for someone like Connor.

a/n
i'm so sorry i have no idea how that ended like tHAT.

(word count: 1428)