"behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic."
   — oscar wilde

warning: chapter contains slurs related to weight
if you would have told richie he'd be standing in the middle of a drug store looking for a romantic gift for beverly marsh with ben hanscom, he would have laughed.

yet here he stood, buried beneath two layers in the heat of fall, searching the isles for something that spoke to true to beverly. ben had asked him about the ensemble that adorned richie's skinny body, but the tozier just shrugged it off and wrote it off as "this morning was just a bad morning." the basis of which wasn't entirely a lie. it hadn't been the best start to the day richie had ever had.

against his usual schedule, wentworth tozier was awake and sitting on the couch when richie had woken up for school. a cigarette was pinched in between his thumb and pointer finger and there was a wrinkle between his brow that had his son coming to halt.

mr. tozier didn't turn his his head to acknowledge the boy that stood like a statue in the entry way of the living room, but he did let out a small tsk and exhale the stench of a camel cigarette. richie hated the smell of camels, they made the burns on his back ache. "richard," he greeted, voice gravely and eyes sunken in due to his lack of sleep, "come here."

richie didn't want to move, he felt petrified, but his feet betrayed him and moved toward the man out of their own accord. he felt like the smoke was choking him, but richie couldn't even find it in himself to cry out in fear, for the eyes looking into his own were empty, and richie knew no one would come for him.

"care to enlighten me," his father began, hand spread across the back of the couch and one of his legs casually resting on his knee, "as to why there was five bucks missing from my wallet when i got home this morning." richie's blood turned cold. he needed that money—his dad barely bought food as it was, but he'd been working overtime at the station and richie was just so hungry.

but he knew his reasons—his excuses—wouldn't matter. he'd stolen from his father and wentworth tozier was a firm believer in putting out the persona of being an outstanding citizen. so when richie felt the familiar grip of rough, calloused hands surround his wrist, he bit the inside of his mouth until it bled and took his beating like a bitch.

so now, in order to hide the new bruises and burns from the prying eyes of derry, richie had adorned a long sleeved shirt under a t-shirt. the shirt covered moved of the noticeable marks, but the way it brushed against them when richie walked—or even breathed, had him wincing and sucking in small breaths through his teeth.

ben was leading the charge through the isles of the drug store, picking up various objects and looking at them with a great amount of concentration before shaking his head and putting them back on the shelf. oh, pretty woman was humming softly in richie's ears as he followed behind ben, richie figured it would get him in the mood to spend what seemed like hours shopping for a pretty woman.

eventually, ben stopped at the end of the last isle, turning to face richie with a dejected look on his face and richie was quick to slip the headphones off of his ears. almost immediately he missed the music.

"i can't think of anything," ben groaned leaning against one of the shelves and squeezing his eyes shut, "i can't even think of one thing that would show her that i really liked her." richie felt bad for the kid, he really looked like the realization was taking a toll on him. from the limited knowledge richie held about ben hanscom, he had quite the bleeding heart, so his reaction really didn't surprise richie.

"hey," richie spoke, voice cracking with disuse as he stuck his tongue out to run along his dry lips, "i'm sure we can find something—" his eyes scanned the counter, desperate for something to get ben out of his rut. richie's eyes fell upon a rack of postcards by them at the back of the store and he quickly moved over to snatch one. the picture on the back was of a the derry standpipe, a rickety old water tower that he was sure bev would find charming and 'rustic.' "—here, write her something on this. she'll love it. bev's a sucker for homemade gifts."

richie waited patiently for ben's reaction, holding out the postcard to him as the other boy stared at it. a few seconds later, ben's eyes lit up and he took the postcard from richie with a grin spread across his face. richie noticed that his eyes disappeared when he smiled. "that's a great idea, rich! she'll love that. maybe i could write her a poem?"

the tozier shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets and smirking slightly. "whatever you say, haystack. don't expect me to help you with a poem, i have a reputation to uphold. can't waste time on just one lady when i've got so many others chasing after me." ben just laughed, surging forward to wrap his arms around richie.

richie winced, biting back a small cry and keeping his arms stiff at his sides. his body ached, and hardly anyone hugged him. beverly usually held his hand instead and henry certainly wasn't one to show affection, so the embrace of ben hanscom was foreign to the trashmouth. "y'know," ben sighed, pulling away from richie and moving toward the counter to pay for the postcard, "you're not so bad, tozier."

oh but i am, richie's thoughts screamed out to the boy's retreating figure, all i am is bad. i'm a bad person. i deserve to have you hate me. why don't you hate me?

the boys left the store with ben chattering away happily and clutching the bag containing his gift tightly in his hand. "—and then bev scared him so bad that stan let out the highest pitched scream any of us had ever heard. we all laughed so hard and the only one that could even stop long enough to ask if stan was okay was bill." ben was laughing, cheeks flushed with joy as the memories flooded back to him.

richie's heart ached. it hurt to know that—just because richie's world revolved around beverly marsh—her world didn't revolve around him. she had so many people that made her happy—made her laugh. all he had was her. her and henry.

"he probably spent too much time recreating the mating calls of birds. isn't he obsessed with birds?" richie joked, rolling his eyes and slowing his steps on the sidewalk so ben could better keep up. richie tended to let his awkwardly long legs get the better of him at times.

ben shook his head, giggling, "yeah, he's pretty obsessed with them, but not as bad as bill was with—" he was cut off by the roar of an engine and the familiar squelch of worn out breaks.

"hey piggie!" belch cackled out henry's car window, throwing the door open and leaning against the old rusted piece of junk. richie and ben had made their way to a less populated area of derry where not much foot traffic was due to the lack of shops down in the area. richie tensed, dropping his head to the ground while ben just rolled his eyes beside him.

"leave me alone, we were just leaving anyway." he sounded strong, richie admired that, but one look at the shorter boy had richie realizing his bravery was only a farce. ben hanscom was terrified.

"we?" came the familiar echo of henry's voice and all richie could do was try his best not to shrink away from the disgust in his voice. "the fuck are you doing hanging around with tits, tozier?"

the nickname had richie wincing. he didn't like when henry called people names. especially ben, ben was nice to him and he—

"well?" henry moved toward the pair, getting close to richie and gripping his chin in one hand, making the ravenette look at him. "i don't want to ask again." richie didn't like when henry got angry like this, he wanted his henry back. his henry, his henry who would speak softly with him and tell him everything would be okay.

"leave him alone!" came the squeaky cry of ben hanscom as he moved toward richie, eyebrows furrowed as he yelled at henry. richie's heart sank. ben didn't need to stand up for him. richie could take it. ben needed to get the fuck out of here, run away before he made anything worse.

but it was too late, henry dropped richie's chin and turned toward ben with a snarl on his lips. "you talkin' to me, fat boy?" he growled, "what if i don't leave him alone? will you eat me?" henry descended upon ben, shoving the poor boy and causing him to lose his footing and stumble back before falling onto the concrete. richie bit into the flesh of his lip.

ben only narrowed his eyes from the ground, hands still shaking at his sides, but he ignored it. "just go away, henry." he huffed, eyes locked with the older boy's standing menacingly above him. henry only laughed, throwing his head to the side and signaling for belch and patrick to come forward and grab onto either one of ben's arms and haul him up and against the wall of the nearby alleyway.

richie stumbles after them, finally lifting his head to stare wide eyed as henry neared him, slipping the switchblade out of his pocket. ben struggled in the boys' grip as his eyes fell on the weapon barely concealed in henry's hand. "please don't, please stop," ben begged, eyes wild but always falling back to the blade mere feet from his skin.

henry unsheathed the blade and hacked away ben's shirt with one swoop. richie finally found it in himself to move closer and grab onto henry's bicep, breath leaving his lungs at the murderous look he got in return. "get out of here, richie." henry's voice was gruff, but richie didn't move.

"no, hen, don't hurt him, please i—" henry growled, turning to face richie and shove him backwards. "don't call me that, how many times do i have to tell you?" richie's eyes watered. you only tell me not to call you that around them.

henry moved back toward ben, movements shaking with rage and aggressive intent as he brandished the blade toward the sensitive flesh of ben's stomach. "this is going to hurt, tits. i wish i gave a shit." and that was all he said before pressing the blade into the boy's skin and starting the bloody beginning of a carved 'H'.

ben's screams filled the air and richie's heart shattered. he saw red, moving toward henry and shoving the older boy with all of his weight. "don't fucking touch him!" his voice held bite and he glared down at henry on the ground before him, who looked stunned by richie's outburst. richie only continued, turning toward the boys holding ben and narrowing his eyes, "let him go or i'll fucking kill you."

apparently he looked murderous because the two dropped ben's arms with wide eyes and backed up towards henry. richie moved forward, throwing ben's arm over his shoulders to help support his weight. henry had pushed himself up off the ground and glared daggers at richie as richie did the same to him. "you'll get yours later, tozier." then they were gone.

richie let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and turning his head to glance at ben. "ben," he breathed, breath catching at the blood pooling against his pale skin, "we need to get you help. a hospital—"

"no." ben sounded calm, certainly calmer than richie, who was trembling so much that ben must have felt it. "the losers will be at the diner right now, you need to get them." he motioned his head toward the small diner a few buildings down and richie looked back toward him with wide eyes.

"your friends were here the whole time and you still wanted to hang out with me?" he was confused, ben had no reason to drag richie along. all of his other friends were here. but all ben did was scoff and roll his eyes playfully, a small smile spread across his lips as richie helped him to sit on the ground. "of course, like i said, you're not as bad as you think you are, tozier."

all richie could do was nod in shock and let a few breathless words pass his lips before he was running toward the shady looking diner down the street. blood covered his hands and part of his shirt, but he didn't seem to notice as he pushed the door open, wild eyes scanning the booths for a familiar head of fiery hair.

"bev! beverly!" he choked and immediately she turned to look at him with concerned eyes, which widened upon seeing the blood covering his hands and staining his shirt. "what?" she called, slamming her chair back and moving toward him with a group of shocked boys stumbling after her. "what's wrong, richie? are you okay? are you blee—"

"—it's ben." the words tumbled from his lips before he knew they were even there and he heard an audible intake from the girl in front of him. yet—to bev's credit—she only let out a shaky nod and asked for richie to show them where he was.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

richie stood to the side as all of the losers surrounded ben. eddie kaspbrak was preoccupied with cleaning and bandaging the angry red wound while beverly crouched beside ben and clutched his shoulder comfortingly. "what happened?" her gentle voice cooed, concern lacing every word. oh beverly marsh, always an angel.

ben just shrugged, eyes not having left her face since she had come into view. "henry bowers," was all he said. everyone seemed to go silent after that.

evidentially eddie was done bandaging ben's wound because a scoff echoed around the alleyway a few seconds later. "well we know who's fault it was then." his eyes burned into richie's and all the boy wanted to do was run away, again. "r-r-richie?" bill asked, brows furrowed as he eyed eddie, "ho-how w-would it be h-his fau-fault?"

eddie's expression scared richie more than his father's. "well, it's obvious isn't it?" came stan's pinched reply. "he's one of them. one of bowers' dogs." richie flinched back as if stan had hit him, though, he might as well have, the words dug deep enough into him. "no, stan, he's—" ben. "a fucking coward is what he is." eddie. "you don't know him." bev. "i don't want to know him." stan.

all of the voices overlapped and richie slammed his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block them out. the only two who weren't taking were bill and a kid richie didn't recognize from school, deep skin and saddened face.

one, two..

his counting was rushed and not steady like he preferred, but all of the angry voices echoing around him made it hard.

"fucking coward!"

three, four..

richie was close to tears, eyes slammed shut and fingers digging painfully into his ears as the arguing escalated to shouting.

five.

no no no. he couldn't do this. he couldn't. so he ran. richie ran so fast that the wind bit at his face. he didn't know if anyone was following him, if anyone was calling his name. he just ran until his lungs burned and he found himself outside of the bowers' front door.

henry opened the door without him having to knock. he dragged him into the house and richie was grateful. so, so grateful because henry was helping him to feel. the slide of the switchblade along his skin had a feeling. the crack of henry's fists connecting with richie's already battered body had a feeling.

but richie's favorite feeling of all was how henry held him close afterwords, featherlight touch brushing against his bruises and lips caressing his cheek. they sat at the bench of henry's old piano, richie's body aching beautifully and his head against henry's shoulder before gentle fingers came to lift up his chin. the same fingers that had done the same action so violently not so long ago.

and then henry's lips were on his, and just like a not so distant past, with his mother's hands lovingly caressing his skin, richie could feel everything.