#they couldn’t do the same thing with Eddie so they’ve done it with wall colour - which is perfect because it’s the only space in his house

[stagefoureddiediaz]

If nothing else I’m just happy to see Eddie has some colour on his bedroom walls at last but don’t think it escaped my notice he’s painted them the same blue as bucks blue journey of self discovery shirts!!

[floralreddie]

falling in love with Richie Tozier: Part 5 (when they’re adults)

this is a kind of rev up for what’s to come (fighting IT, getting to Mike’s and talking) and is also my own interpretation of chapter 2, though leaving quite a bit out. it would take about a billion more of these imagines to write what I hope/think is to come in that, so I’m squishing it down lmao

you feel like vomiting after Mike hangs up

you don’t

instead, you cry

you push yourself into your kitchen, which is white and black and red and full of little trinkets hanging from the ceiling and walls, and you pour yourself a gin and lime and down it in one

because

what the fuck

how could you forget? you knew, you always knew, that Derry wasn’t a normal town, without normal adults, but you don’t know how you can forget something as important as the place where you grew up

and the people in it

(The Losers)

and It

because suddenly you’re in the woods again and you’re thirteen, and you’re seeing that shape of the scaly, slithering thing that looks like a snake but kind of looks like a human and then...then it’s a fucking clown with yellow eyes and a drooling grin

and Mike...Mike had said it was back

(and you had choked and gasped and said sorry so many times, because you said you would call him and you never fucking did and you forgot him and he’s been there for years and he was (is) your best friend)

you book a plane ticket straight after the phone call, terror seeping in to you that you had always hated as a child; one that you had worked so hard to outgrow

because you save lives

you’re a fucking boss of a surgeon

but you’re suddenly so scared

but you book that plane ticket to Maine, hand shaking as it hovers over your laptop and the other holding that glass of gin to your lips

you think of times when you had been on the verge of remembering those boys and that girl, and you wonder what their blurred faces look like now

how could you love people so intently that you didn’t even remember?

you book time of work (not an easy thing considering your profession, but you made a fucking pact when you were thirteen and suddenly your palm is tingling and, Jesus, how could you have forgotten?)

you pack a bag and dress yourself in black jeans, a loose black shirt and a leather jacket and as you leave your apartment, you made special sure that you let that firefly necklace sit atop your shirt

and your heart hammers

because you’re...you’re seeing someone you forgot about, and all you remember is a laugh and a song and a nervous breath as he told you he loved you

the plane ride is long and tedious, but you shove on a a few episodes of Game of Thrones and ride through it, and suddenly you’re renting a car and hopping in it and shoving the music on as loud as it can go (and you wait until you find a station that’s playing something old and rocky, because you need to listen to something that reminds you of your youth)

and suddenly you’re remembering a sewer

and a boy with a stutter who lost his brother

and a creepy fucking house where a small and brave boy broke is arm 

and you gasp and choke and drive just a little faster

you don’t know that he’s just a few miles ahead of you, just on the boarder of Derry driving some obnoxiously brightly coloured car and listening to the same station as you

you follow Mike’s instructions and head for the Chinese restaurant you remember your parents used to enjoy, and your heart feels heavy as you look about at the old building and the paint work of the shops that has changed so little and yet so much

and fuck

Bev used to live in that flat at the top of that building? (and you’re laughing because, fuck, you remembered her name after all these years)

and you used to ride your bike there with the boys with the blurred faces

and that’s where Eddie threw up on that street corner the first time he tasted vodka and that’s where Stan finally laughed at one of your jokes

and you’re remembering their names

and you shut off the music and park down the street, heart hammering and palms sweaty and tugging at your long hair and patting your cheeks because, shit, you’ve always hated being scared

‘oh, fuck,’ you mutter, because it’s fifteen minutes past and you’ve been staring out of the windscreen for far too long and why the fuck are you such an idiot?

you tug at your necklace and think...think of who will be in there

because there were eight of you, right?

...yeah

you slam the car door and lock it, and curse the fact that you’re probably going to be the last one walking in and why the hell are you such a nervous wreck, you’d gotten over such things when you...you befriended them

you surge into the restaurant, brown bag hanging over your shoulder with one single badge hanging off the strap (its a The Cure one, because you don’t know why the hell you’ve always loved that damn band)

(and that song...Love Song, was it?)

the restaurant is dimly lit and full of people, because it’s a Friday, and you can’t quite believe you’re in fucking Derry, a town you had only ever remembered as being boring and friendless and you don’t know how, because you’re remembering days at the Quarry and star gazing with your boyfriend (because, fuck, you’d had one, hadn’t you?) and (had they all forgotten, too?)

and you weave through tables, searching the faces and panicking that maybe you won’t recognise them (because it’s been so, so long and the last time you saw any of them you were eighteen)

but then you turn

and you stop

because through an archway, past a waitress who’s leaving the room, is a table filled with six adults

(but shouldn’t there be seven?)

and they’re laughing

and they’ve already ordered their drinks (the fuckers)

and you eyes meet brown, brown eyes, and they’re crinkled mid-laugh, and suddenly they widen and soften

his hair is curlier and longer and pushed back from his face, and he’s wearing a loose fitting white shirt and loose black tie and there’s lines around his face and stubble on his jaw and his nose is longer he’s still so scruffy but so well put-together and 

(‘Y/N!)

and they all turn

and the man who called your name is dark skinned and tall, with greying hair and bags underneath his eyes and he’s standing

and you’re laughing as you rush over to him, almost tripping over the heeled ankle boots you’re wearing

and he’s wrapped his armed around you and he is warm and big and you’re breathing against his cheek and huffing out a, ‘Mike!’

and next is a woman with curly red hair to her shoulders, who smells of cigarettes and perfume and has dressed in dangly earrings and a loose black dress and you gape at her before yanking her toward you and smooshing a kiss against her cheek and she laughs

‘Jesus, (Y/N), you miss me?’

you snort. ‘I’m pissed, Bev. you left me alone with these assholes for five whole years’.

and then a shorter, but still taller than you, dark haired man with large brown eyes and a half-smile is standing from his chair and rounding the table to you. he’s pale and freckles and both handsome and adorable at the same time. ‘you weren’t complaining when you begged to sit with us that first day back’ (after that summer of hell)

‘Kaspbrak,’ you snort, letting him pull you into a hug. ‘I did not beg, Ed’s’

he stiffens and sighs. ‘Oh, don’t you start!’

you snort

a man behind Bev who is tall and handsome but maybe a little too skinny sidles around the pretty but tired looking Beverly Marsh and you gape, whilst the others laugh. ‘Ben?’

‘I know,’ he shrugs and laughs and his hug is strong and solid, and then Bill is hugging you and his stutter has gone but his blue eyes are still the same (but his hair cut is a little better) and, fuck, you haven’t seen him in so long

and then it’s his turn

and you understand so profoundly who he is as he raises from his seat (and he’s grown even more since he was eighteen, he must be 6′3 now) and his moves with that awkward, lazy grace that was so like Richie Tozier that you almost choke on your breath as he brings a hand forward, touches the necklace resting against your chest, scoffs, and then pulls you to his chest just like he used to, with his arms wrapped so securely around you you’re sure you might suffocate (and he still smells the fucking same)

his voice is low and drawling when he talks against your hair. ‘saving the best ‘till last, doll?’

(and you remember that time you heard him on the radio, because you understand that it was him, now)

‘shut it, Tozier,’ you breathe, and he’s home and light and the reason you haven't bothered looking at or touching anyone else, because whilst he filled the void with girlfriends and boyfriends, you couldn’t possibly do the same

because

he’s Richie

and the others are quiet for a moment, before you’re snatching yourself away from him and laughing and he does the same, but his eyes linger on you as you take the free seat beside Mike near the head of the table and opposite Richie and Eddie

the waitress comes over and you order a gin and you ask them all what they’ve been doing (and Richie makes some comment about how you should have come on time, then you wouldn’t have missed that part)

you flip him the bird

and he pretends to catch it

and they’ve all done so well

all of them (us, you think, us)

you tell them you’re a Doctor and that you live in L.A

and Richie stares at you the whole time you talk, but you pretend that you haven’t noticed

before he breathes out slowly, ‘The fuck, (Y/N). I live in Beverly Hills’

and you gape as he shakes his head and laughs, running a hand through his mop of hair (and, fuck, you always loved his hair)

and Mike rolls his eyes

and Bev looks at Ben as he asks if anyone got married

you eye Bev as she struggled around describing her boyfriend (because you worked with women like her in the Hospital and in your training, and you know an abused partner when you see one)

and you watch how Ben watches her

and you and Richie (you both watch each other closely when it’s your separate turns) breath out selfish sighs of relief when you reveal you’re both single

‘did it wrong too many times,’ he insists to Bill, and you wonder what his life has been like without you

‘being a Doctor takes up a shit load of time,’ you shrug out

and you all

slowly

talk about that summer

and you put the pieces together

because you remember that Bowers kid died

and you remember you all saved this shithole of a town

and Bev remembers how adults would see Greta and the Bowers gang fucking with her, and never did anything

and you remember the first time you ever saw them, as they helped Ben with his injuries and you remember, as Bill talks (but his stutter is slowly seeping into his voice) the day at the arcade when all of you were fighting after Eddie broke his arm (’yeah, and Tozier fucking snapped it back into place. don’t think I’ve forgotten that, Richie’), in which you befriended a bespectacled and trashmouth Richie Tozier 

and everyone is listening so intently to Bill as he picks apart the things you have all forgotten (Mike insists he remembers more, because he never left and that’s how things go to shit with forgetting) and Bill nods and swiftly asks questions (because after all these years, he’s still the Leader) you look across the table, past Eddie who had mentioned earlier a marriage that you all knew he didn’t want, and you catch Richie’s eye

because he’s staring at you

and you’re staring at him

and you both smile at the same time, and it’s such a fucking bittersweet smile that you almost start crying there

and when you all leave the restaurant later, a little tispy and a little confused as to where the fuck Stan is, you find yourself walking by Richie’s side as Mike gives directions to his house (but you all know where he means, because suddenly you all remember Derry so vividly) and you nudge Richie and he looks down at you, a dark curl falling into his face and his brown eyes slowly filling that void within you, and you frown and say,

‘I told you I’d kill you if you ever got contacts’

and he smiles and rolls his eyes and says, ‘Sorry, doll. I guess I forgot’

you frown and brush your hand against his, and his pinky catches yours, and you see Mike and Eddie wander off a little to the left to give you both some privacy, and Ben and Bev and Bill seem to be migrating toward each other, and the absence of the boy with the curly hair and neat shirts and biting words is so eerily real. ‘Yeah,’ you breathe, frowning and swallowing. ‘I guess we did, huh? no matter how much we promised we wouldn’t, Rich’

and the way he looks at you then....you know whilst it has never been over for you, it hasn’t for him either