InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "pretty fly for an orange guy!"

Richie Trashmouth Tozier (trashmouthloser) wrote in snapthread,
@ 2019-10-03 13:14:00

Entry tags:

bill weasley, richie tozier

Who: Richie Tozier and Bill Weasley
What: Secret optometry.
Where: Bill’s place
When: October 3rd

Richie really should have known better than to be standing outside some stranger’s house that was promising him miracles. That sort of thing never seemed to go over well in his experience, not even a little bit.

But — well. Maybe they existed after all, miracles. Not a week ago he’d been sure he’d lost everything and now — well.

Now Everything lived with him in a weird house that was both free and very empty. They should probably work on that, him and Eddie. Get like… furniture or dishes or whatever it was people had here that’d make it all pass as something more normal than what it really was. But right now he was mostly just content to have Eddie in view and surely furniture would only block that even more than barely being able to see in the first place did.

Richie scoffed out a little noise of disbelief over his own idiocy and plucked his glasses off his face, squinting down at them — everything beyond blurry, which wasn’t any better or worse than the fact that the broken lens had been making him focus on the wrong shit this entire week and was giving him a killer fucking headache. Or was at least one of the contributing factors to his headache. Stress and anxiety probably didn’t help, either.

So maybe this guy, Bill (not his Bill, not Big Bill Denbrough, Richie’s other best friend, the one he hadn’t had been secretly in love with for thirty years now) really could produce a miracle. No point in stalling and not finding out, right? What was really the worst that could happen?

Probably a lot.

He knocked on the door anyway.

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hexes_n_hearts
2019-10-03 09:26 pm UTC (link)

Bill was a pretty nice guy, not a 'nice guy' but just a friendly all around person who cared about the happiness and well being of the people around him. He wasn't so overt about it like some, but when someone outright seemed to need help and that was a help he could provide? Well he'd volunteer. This place was unpredictable, there were people that shouldn't be, people that weren't anymore, people of different places. Sometimes at night Bill held the newspaper article, proclaiming his brother was dead and watched it as the light of the candles climbed the walls. Was that what he was missing? Did the world back home continue and crumble?

It weighed on him, but a new day and a new way to shake that off, throw back his shoulders and pretend not to think about it.

Being the welcoming sort Bill had whipped up a few cookies and he was transferring them onto a rack to cool when the door went. He waved his wand toward it and it swung open as he wiped his hands on the front of his trousers. "Hello there, come in, cup of tea?" Bill offered but he was already filling the teapot.

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trashmouthloser
2019-10-04 07:50 pm UTC (link)

Richie's fist still sort of hovered in front of the door, and he stared for a long moment because no one in their right mind -- particularly not him -- should trust something like a door opening on its own. But it had, and the urge to run hadn't bubbled its way up inside of him yet and maybe that was a good thing.

Or maybe he was just going crazy?

Either way, Richie stepped into the house, looking around a little awkwardly as he went but the kitchen in question wasn't filled with horrors so far as he could tell. It just looked tidy and welcoming, even if it didn't have a microwave. At least, not one that he was right away.

"Uh, hi," he said, taking Bill in -- the guy was. Younger than Richie with hair that seemed impossibly long. Pretty, his brain told him. Bill was pretty. Kind of like how Ben Hanscom had ended up being ridiculously hot. Everyone in this town was good looking, apparently, and Richie was getting a little tired of that, too. "Okay, tea." He didn't drink tea. But what? Like he was gonna say no?