Who: Richie and Stan What: Hanging out Where: The Loser’s House When: November 27th
Richie’s trip through the Doom Doors with Dick had proven uneventful as far as finding trouble had been concerned. He’d found all that he was looking for, though — one of those somethings burning a continuous hole in his pocket, and the sweaters as ugly as possible, had been handed out between the Losers. Richie had found Stan the worst Hanukah one possible, of course. But he’d also found one with birds on and that felt like it was a fair sort of trade.
Richie was wearing one now — all bright reds and greens. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal even though even with the snow outside it didn’t feel much like Christmas, yet. Not that Richie really knew what Christmas felt like anymore - and hadn’t for a long time. It didn’t have anything to do with snow, obviously. It was more the fact that he’d been relatively alone for the past twenty some years, never really getting close enough to anyone enough to call them family. Sure gifts had been exchanged between pals, his manager, whoever else. But when it came down to the big day, it’d always been Richie alone with take-out and some high grade bourbon.
This year would probably be different, he thought, staring at himself in the mirror in the bathroom (the bright reds made him look washed out). He had people now. Family. Eddie and Stan and hell, even some of the new friends he’d made here. It was weird to think about. Not bad. Just weird.
Even though he’d been reamed out thoroughly by the Losers for going on his trip, he knew they weren’t really mad so much as worried and there were no hard feelings. Only good ones really, even if occasionally bittersweet. It was just. A lot, sometimes. Richie had spent so fucking long covering up his emotions, hiding behind jokes that he didn’t know what to do here some days. He just felt raw, nerves on the outside, and sometimes, after a long night of not being able to sleep, he worried that it was all going to come crumbling down around him and he’d have no walls to draw up and hide behind anymore.
“Fucking, shit, even not being stressed is stressful.”