Kisses | Reddie

fortythree ☆ l'appel du vide

by: xhollxnd on wattpad

trigger warning; self harm, suicidal thoughts

please refrain from reading if you are struggling with your mental health.
We all want to keep you safe and comfortable!

~~~~~

Richie studied all the crisscrossing scratches engraved in his lighter, shifting it ever so slightly for the quickly setting sun to reveal different ones.

He sat perched on his bedroom's window sill, leaning against the frame, his foot dangling outside. His other leg was bent, the side of his elbow resting lightly on his knee. The cool breeze entered through the opening, gently swaying his black curls.

He stared blankly at the peaceful outdoor scenery, his head pounding. His dry eyes stung underneath swollen eyelids; they were most likely red and bloodshot.

He watched the gentle wind make the plants dance and bend under its control. Everything was under a periwinkle tint, the sunshine's last whispers before disappearing beyond the horizon.

The only movement in the room was his chest, gently rising and falling with each shallow breath he took. He sat that way watching the landscape until the sun disappeared.

However, he barely even noticed when it had become dark. He had screaming, raging thoughts pounding in his mind. Too many for him to truly focus on his surroundings. His chest panged as he fought off more tears. He was done with crying. It was pathetic and childish. What would Eddie think? Seeing the tough, got-it-figured-out, overly confident Richie Tozier crying like a baby over absolutely nothing but his own insecure thoughts.

He tried to push away the thought of Eddie. It was a foolish case of his heart acting faster than his head. He should have never fallen for him. He didn't want Eddie to waste his time on a trashmouth like him.

Waste.

That's what Richie was. A waste of time. A waste of space. A waste of everyone else's sympathy and care.

He took the box of cigarettes out of his pocket, pulling one out. His shaky hands held his lighter up next to it, flicking it on to light it. He lifted it up to his chapped lips, inhaling the toxins.

A waste of a good cigarette.

'Oh well,' he thought. 'One breath closer to death.'

He watched the smoke emerge out of his mouth, escaping his body as quickly as possible before disappearing into nothingness. He wished he could be like smoke... disappearing without a care. It's not like anyone else would notice; if they did, they would be relieved and overjoyed that he was finally gone.

He stared at his lighter for a moment before flicking it on again. He was entranced by the dancing flame. It seemed so elegant, so beautiful, it was hard to imagine it causing such destruction. The small fire blended up from blue to orange, and he couldn't take his eyes off of it. Suddenly, he wondered how it would feel to touch. He thought it over for a moment, looking from his boney hand to the lighter. He wanted to know how it felt to burn.

He had experimented with self harm before - his favorite method being smoking himself to death - but he had never tried this before.

He inhaled the smoke one last time, holding his index finger above the flame. He forced it into the light, holding his breath. A stinging pain forcefully greeted the tip, making him gasp out. He took it off, gazing at it. His grey tainted finger was pulsing on the inside, but numb to the touch. He gulped, holding his finger above it again.