#stillseesghosts

INTRODUCING: 

bill denbrough

                                     eddie kaspbrak

                                                                            stanley uris

He hates when Bill does this.

Bill’s so goddamn sensible ever since he got glasses. Richie’s had them for years (he had progressives when he was a kid, jesus) and Bill gets a pair and suddenly he’s like, the glue of their whole relationship? To be fair - Richie thinks - he’s already been that but now there’s just so much more evidence.

Or maybe Richie’s just been really shitty lately. Or in general.

“Like… actually?” He’s got his hands slung into his pockets of his jacket, pulling it against his shoulders in a way that’s almost uncomfortable. It’s a little too hot to be wearing one still, fall not quite coming up but he likes having a medium height to hide his hands. His mandatory therapist tells him it’s a defense mechanism. Shit, wait, maybe a safety blanket? Whatever. It’s one of the two and he does it, and he’s doing it now, because he hates serious conversations.

He and Eddie can go at each other like dogs aiming for the throat and come out of it ok, but Bill does not take that shit. Bill’s a real straight dude (in this way only) and there’s not much that gets by him which includes Richie’s bullshit.

“Ok.” There’s only a little tension. The night so far had been great: Eddie had taken some time away to go see his mother (despite their better insistings) just to appease the creature, which left Bill and Richie to other devices. It was deemed the perfect opportunity for a date, which led them from a restaurant to the park enroute home. Despite the fact that he’s been with Bill just as long as he’s been with Eddie, he always feels… strange. Like maybe Bill’s more annoyed by him than anything, even if they still fuck, and kiss, and hold hands and all that other gay shit. That Bill’s just putting up with him and that it isn’t love.

Richie knows that’s his head, what it does, what it’s good at for no good reason and that just makes it worse.

Does Bill think the same? That Richie just thinks Bill is there? He hopes not. He loves Bill - who couldn’t, wouldn’t? 

“Ok,” he repeats, this time in a way that sounds more bracing. “Sure. We yell. A lot.” A pause stretches between them. “…I yell a lot.” He scuffs his shoe against the sidewalk. It cuts through the lush park (which is really more of a well taken care landscape with no playground in sight) and was lit with yellow light from long, black stalks meant to be poles. It’s all very atmospheric and Richie hates it. It’s perfect mood lighting for realizing he’s a total fuckjob.

doubt comes in and my heart falters                            and forgets the songs it sung                                           where are you? where are you now?