ʀɪᴄʜɪᴇ (beepbeep) wrote in wtnvic, @ 2019-10-10 15:58:00 |
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Richie loved pizza. He didn't know how or why he was here (and he'd pinched himself many, many times to make sure that he actually felt the sting of it) and yet he knew he loved pizza - not necessarily gluten-free pizza (what the fuck, why would you - the crust was like a paper bag) but whatever. It would be okay. He just had to keep telling himself that, it would be okay. The heartbreak of losing Eddie felt like everything was rapidly closing in; he'd gone through the motions of letting his friends literally drag him away from the wreckage on Neibolt. He felt the rock solid barricades that were Mike and Ben, a hysterical Richie plowing into them to attempt to get past and still their hold didn't break. He went through those motions physically though in his mind he just kept chasing a circle of pain, over and over, hoping that he’d get to the end soon too - the nothingness would be soothing compared to the way he felt at the moment, and he actually welcomed death. It all just hurt too badly. But the remaining Losers stopped him. He wasn't sure if he was grateful yet or not. Not like he had much time to think about it, though. Then he ended up here - about to meet Eddie in a pizza parlor. Not like the kind he was used to in, say, New York - a hellscape around lunchtime, but lulled to near-sedation in the late afternoon, the interior a red and white checkered motif. Or Chicago, he liked the ones in Chicago - the stuffed variety was a favorite at Giordano’s; he got his with sausage, jalapeños, and olives. But this place like. He either needed a new glasses prescription or there was a literal, actual sign referencing pets being spayed or neutered. Fuck everything. He'd just wait at a table and try not to lose his shit, for the hundredth time. |