closed; Up where the mountains meet the heavens above

[trashmouths]

Who: Richie Tozier and Lance Sweets
What: Richie's worried about his friends
Where: Lance's place
When: Backdated to before the sandstorm
Warnings: Richie's mouth, and most likely talks of abuse, bullying, murder, basically everything that comes with a stephen king movie

[ He supposes he should have actually told Lance he was going to come knocking, but that would have required some slight degree of impulse control and planning ahead. With Bill and Beverly gone, all of that is completely out the window - all that's left is Eddie's worrying, Stan's meticulous, and...Richie.

It makes him feel strange, not being with the rest of the Loser's, and he knows it makes the others feel weird, too--before he'd just had blind optimism that the rest would show up, but it's starting to dwindle and leave Richie with the very real fact that this place is just as bad as what they fought in Derry. And then there's how concerned he is with everyone else, and sure, Lance had helped, but Richie had backpedaled and did what he always did when faced with a problem: ignore it and look for something fun.

So it's a strange moment of lucidity as Richie realizes him distracting himself won't help his friends. It's just after dinner (courtesy of Ignis) that he finds himself knocking pretty loudly, fumbling with his glasses as he waits. ]

Fuck.

[ The last word is softly to himself, chewing on the inside of his lip. ]

Comments

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance's eyebrows furrow briefly in confusion at that first part, not because Richie isn't right, but because--]

I'm not sure if I should feel insulted or take that as a compliment.

[And hey, small child, get out of the cabinets. There's pretty much nothing to find in there anyway, aside from a few remaining tea bags and half a roll of crackers; there are at least some water bottles in the fridge though, if Richie decides to look there.

But he's more interested in that Richie seems to be getting to the point of the visit, so he focuses on that.]

Yeah?

[Please go on.]

[trashmouths]

Yeah. [ Damn, nothing but crackers. He's tempted to see if he can whistle with a mouth full of them before visibly shrugging and moving to the fridge, to--ah. Water. Bingo. He twists the top off as he speaks. ]

Y'know how you said it's not completely up to just us as a group? And you can trust other people. I mean, I trust you mostly-- [ he may or may not chug half of the bottle ] --but there's still something missing.

Bill, he used to sort of do this, since he's the leader. Figured out what works and what didn't. Now we're just sort of drifting, it sucks. Don't you think everyone here's crazy, anyway? Aliens and super powers and all that shit, how are you supposed to relate to that sorta thing?

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance continues watching him as he moves on to the fridge, briefly concerned about whether Richie has been getting enough to eat considering the food shortage, but right now it seems he's more nervous than anything else especially once he drinks half the bottle after starting to talk.

So he nods a little, listening silently until Richie is done, before responding.]

It's pretty weird, but so is being in this place at all. We just sort of have to adapt to the situation.

[At least as far as that sort of thing goes. But although he answered the questions--or the last one, anyway--that's only to keep the conversation from becoming too serious too quickly and therefore potentially scaring Richie off.

But Lance only allows that much distraction before addressing the rest of what he said.]

'Something missing' as in someone to give you direction as to what to do, or do you mean in another way?

[That's the impression he got from the comment about drifting, but he's not entirely sure.]

[trashmouths]

I don't really want to adapt. I want to go to back school and be normal. [ A beat. ] Ew, I can't believe I said that about school.

No, like something gone. Even before we all made the blood oath, it was like as soon as we saved Mike from Bowers--did I tell you about the biggest rock war I've been a part of?--it was just like everything clicked. Like there was supposed to be seven of us. Like the Loser's Club was something that just didn't make sense, but was...

[ He srcunches up his face. ]

Destined? Is that the right word? Like when there's a little voice in your head that's going, 'yeah, this is what the world wants from you.' But less stupid sounding.

[lifetothefullest]

I know. But unfortunately, as unfair as it is, that's the situation.

[He says it sympathetically but not pityingly; he wishes he could tell Richie something different, but he can't. Sometimes you don't get a choice in what situation you end up in, and just have to deal with it.

Lance listens to the whole explanation, and although he doesn't totally understand--he's missing context--he does get the general idea. He's pretty sure he does, anyway, because the feeling Richie is describing makes sense.]

And so with just a few of you being here, you feel the absence of the others.

[Although he says it as a statement, it's open to correction.]

[trashmouths]

[ He's getting antsy, mostly because he can't quite explain exactly what he wants to say--that's something Stan can do, not him, which hammers home the fact that he needs the others--but also because this is just a little too heavy. Even at the park, discussing what It was and figuring it out, he'd broken the tension with a stupid joke.

Time to fumble with his glasses again and shoot Lance a grin. ]

Yeah, I guess, sure. [ He's right on the money. ] Hey--you look into everyone's head and try to figure out what's wrong with them, right? Has anyone looked into yours?

[lifetothefullest]

[Lance wishes he had something he could offer Richie as a distraction, so he wouldn't be agitated, but he isn't even keeping Brennan's fennec fox at the moment. There really isn't a lot to do here, since Lance hasn't been doing much besides sleeping and stalking the network lately.

But for now, what he can do is allow the distraction briefly, and he gives a small shrug and nods.]

Not recently, but yes. It would be kind of hypocritical of me to suggest therapy to people and then never use it myself.

[Which is... An understatement, since he's seen someone off and on most of his life, but no need to mention that right now. And he suddenly has an idea, actually; remembering his time seeing a counselor in grad school makes him think of one of his causes of stress at the time, which gives him an idea--]

Have you tried the chess game, on the phones?

[It's an abrupt subject change, but he thinks having something for Richie to focus on while they talk might make things easier. Provided he's willing and knows how to play chess, anyway.]

[trashmouths]

Whuh? Smart, Richie. [ He blinks, fumbles around for the phone. ] Oh, yeah, old people stuff. Stan's dad likes to play, so I learned from Stan. Y'know I think that guy's secretly 80.

...Tell you the truth, I feel bad for him most outta everyone.

[lifetothefullest]

Let's play while we talk, then. I'm secretly 80 too, so don't expect me to go easy on you.

[It's a light challenge; Lance hasn't actually decided whether he'll play to win just yet, but that's less important than getting a distraction up and going so Richie will relax a little.

But he didn't miss that last part, so as he pulls out his own phone and starts loading up the program he asks--]

Why do you feel worst for him?