The End Of Us || losers club ✔️

twenty one

twenty one - three years later

In and out. Just breathe, in.. and out.

The bright orange jumpsuit hangs off Richie's shoulders, much too big and much too itchy. When he first pulled it over his arms back at sixteen years old, he thought he would eventually grow into it. Now he stands against the brick wall, newly nineteen, and it still falls over his shoes.

He feels a hand take his own and doesn't need to open his eyes to know who it is. He simply holds back. They need the comfort, the reassurance, because after today, everything will change. Just a few more pages of paperwork, a few more steps, and they'll be free. Released back into the world.

The sunlight that falls in through the windows is bright and hot. Richie has to turn his head fully for the glare of it to leave his broken lenses. They broke within the first year of being here, trying to save his cell mate from a fight. Didn't do either of them any good. Richie got broken glasses. Robbie died.

Richie stayed away from fights after that.

"What if... What if my parents.. aren't there?"

Richie turns his head, the glare flaring back up in his glasses. He looks at Stanley, his flopped golden hair, his terrified eyes, the faint scar etched along his chin. Richie sighs softly and shakes his head.

"They'll be there."

Stanley shifts his weight. He's been staring at the gates ever since they and the few others being released were put into the room. He's only ever looked away to do the paperwork given to him.

"I don't know, Richie. Last time I saw them was at my trial."

"And last time I saw my mom was when she ratted me to police," Richie says.

Stanley closes his mouth, swallowing his doubts.

A sensor buzzes, loud and blaring, and the door opens. This is it. Stanley's dried out hand squeezes onto Richie's. The anticipation is high in Richie's throat. This is the start of restarting.

Officers lead the former inmates out of the building and onto a white school bus. The two boys take a seat next to each other, never once letting go. They don't dare to. It's always been them from the moment Richie saw Stanley sitting alone during their short lunch. God, Richie doesn't think there was a happier time than that in prison.

The bus is quiet, it always is when the guards are around. Stanley pulls one leg onto the seat and sets his cheek on it, staring out the glass encased mesh windows. The bus exits the same way Richie entered, sixteen and deathly afraid. He's now leaving prison grounds, nineteen and still deathly afraid.

He's not sure where they're going first, as he's positive he and Stanley are the only ones from Derry. He sits back in the stiff bus seats, grasping onto Stanley's hand, and stares at the gray ceiling. He just hopes the time passes by quick. He closes his eyes, feels as the bus sways him, and falls deeper into his own mind.

Before he knows it, Stanley has a hand on his shoulder and his face close to Richie's own. He sits up in his seat, eyes wide and looking around.

"What?" Richie asks.

"We're home," Stanley replies, then moves to show Richie the outside world. It's horribly dark in the bus, more that Richie has just woken up, and he has to blink hard before he could look out.