~~~Jeremy Soule – Njól

Part 2 of 'Levantation'.~~~

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It was this time of the year when spring decides to make a joke only it found funny, because it can, and because it's bored. Something in terms of, today is a bitey minus, aiming for the hatless heads and the main ammo being instant-cold for kids like Eddie, and tomorrow is plus fourteen, shorts, bikes, fifty liters of water in the backpack and the cold is left utterly confused.

So the Losers' club, save for Eddie ("The cold." "So warm up." "Shut it, Ding-Dong."), decided to do the only thing they knew how to do on a day like this: get lost from school as soon as possible, find a refuge in the well-house from the mad sun and just do nothing because it was so damn hard.

Except for Richie.

„Beverly", not taking his eyes off the thin-papered crossword book, he pointed an index at the girl who just walked in, spring fatigue clinging to her slouch. „Green vegetable."

She shook her backpack off, visible relief taking over the place in her blue eyes. „Cabbage."

„...", Richie counted the squares with the pencil tip, face scrunched up in a perfect imitation of a grumpy pensioner. „Doesn't fit."

„Then buy a smaller head."

Her statement was accompanied by a couple of quiet laughs, the loudest frequency they were capable of producing on a hot day like this. „Hardy-har...", Richie returned, even as his lip had contradictorily curved upwards on its edge.

Instead of lounging in Pennywise's lap like he normally would, Georgie didn't opt to do so this time, lest he wanted to get cooked alive in the ruffles of the costume, so he wisely took a position opposite the said friend, tapping his chin pensively at the board of Mensch ärgere Dich nicht. Even Stan, who had it brought in the first place and was sitting to his right, wasn't able to tell exactly what it was supposed to mean, but it was as frustrating as it was entertaining. The game, besides the three said participants, was occupied by one more, and that was Mike. Mike, who perked up like a lost pet found again when Beverly took a large bottle of brilliantly transparent water out of the backpack and held it out to the group sitting on the floor.

„I adore you", was the only thing he was capable of saying before uncrooking the top and starting to chug, oblivious to the girl's chuckles.

„I know", she smirked, then risked the glance at the situation. „Who's winning?"

„I'm definitely not", Stan grumbled, face in his palm while he used the other hand to point the thumb at the giant thing to his right. „He ate me more times than Mike and Georgie collectively."

„Hee-hee", Pennywise giggled, bouncing with a flick of his head, bells jingling. „Fun, Stanley."

Georgie giggled at the Jewish boy's eye roll, facepalming, and it took him a second to realize it was his turn to roll the dice. He didn't do as well as Penny did (who wouldn't pick any other figurine color but red), but wasn't the worst, either, so he had nothing to complain about.

„How do you even translate the game?" she asked, amusedly puzzled.

Outside their competitive gaming circle, Bill was on the floor, finishing up an essay he missed out on. „I t-t-think it's something in the terms of 'P-people don't argue with each other'." He shrugged at Beverly's scoff.

„Gee, what else would you expect from Germans?" Richie jeered from where he was laying on his back on the row of commodes, for once glad his germaphobic friend wasn't there to remind him how he sported a perfect example of a 'human duster, jeez, Trashmouth...' „Their games of violence take after their supreme leader. Sieg Heil!" he added for emphasis.

„How are you feeling there?"

„Fine, why?" he brushed her off, maybe too quickly, not waiting for a response. "''Brother' in Serbian, three letters'?! Really? What did I ever do to this puzzle?"

„Aw, nuts!" Georgie cried almost simultaneously upon seeing a single dot on the dice, drawing attention back to himself. „I can't get around these."

„You just don't have a good hANd", Pennywise teased merrily, reaching over to tap him on the nose when the boy glared up at him, failing to force down the grin. The only thing it could've turned into was a cackle when Pennywise's enthusiasm dropped in the shape of a pouting frown when Mike scored a six and gathered one of his red pawns, forcing it back to the beginning.

What a convenient timing for Ben's intro. Quite... direct, as well.

„Hey guys", his voice seemed to boom, even as heat could be heard pressing on in it, too. „Look what I've got."

The thing he displayed in his hands eluded all kinds of different reactions; from risen eyebrows to broad grins and snorts to absolute confusion displayed neatly all over Pennywise's face.

„What's that?"

„It's a b-boomerang", Bill explained. It seemed how his dedicated productivity for today has reflected on him. „It's basically a w-w-weapon that comes back to your face."

Pennywise scrunched up his nose, eye slowly escaping to the sides. „Doesn't every weapon you make go bACk to yOur face?"

Bill had no doubt that by 'you', he meant humankind collectively.

A thought hit him, and Mike grinned. „Aaah, so if you have Bowers at your back, just throw it and duck."

Ben handed the smoothly curved thing over to anticipating Georgie, spotting the member isolated from their group. „You alright there, Rich?"

Richie composed that face which could transcribe into the word 'obviously', but with three or four question marks following it. „As healthy as Eds is sick."

„I only meant after what's—"

„I'm fine, okay, drop it and tell me the green vegetable."

„God, Richie, he was asking a simple question", Beverly immediately dove in to get Ben's back.

„And I gave him a simple answer", Richie's eyes never left the crossword, even as the pencil wasn't moving.

Beverly's I-give-up scoff was ignored, as well as Stan's muttered "You're impossible."

But it was Pennywise who stiffened, head gyrated like owl's, nearly 180 degrees around on the flexible neck, eyes laid against the resting figure. While the others might've been oblivious to it, the entity felt the thick barrier of apathy around the boy shiver and prickle like an electrical charge, coinciding with unsettling storm saturating the mind he couldn't reach. The black to the white of the boy's seemingly calm exterior.

„You didn't sleep", he said.

Richie's eye twitched. That was all.

Mike was the first — he was there to see him collapse, after all. „Is that true?"

The pencil was scribbling on the paper. „And?"

„Rich, is everything alright?" Ben clearly didn't miss the rising turbulence fighting to stay repressed in his voice.

„So what, I didn't sleep well, big deal."

„That's how 'the thing' started", Stanley raised his index for emphasis.

Georgie knew Richie was in the hospital, but was denied the answer as to why. So his next question wasn't not seen incoming. „What thing?"

This time, whatever control Richie might've had, was beginning to slip through the gritted teeth. „I'm serious just drop it, I'm good, I'm not sick, and I didn't take anything."

„We didn't say that", said Beverly. „We're just trying to hel—"

Without warning, Richie sprung to his feet from where he was laying with speed that managed to startle them all. This separated from them, it was like he was a stage actor, preparing for a play that was going to be anything but good.

„Okay, seriously, everyone stop. Enough. I'm fine. Do I look changed? Do I sound anything other but a fucking Trashmouth who likes to brighten your day every so often? I don't think I do. It's you who insist on pulling shit right now, and I don't even see the reason. It happened, so what, you can't change what's been. And even if you could, well fuck it, I'd do it all again just to mess up your work. Now, I'm going upstairs for fifteen minutes and you all better get your shit together by the time I'm back, and if someone follows me, I'm gonna jump through the window."

That being said, like he just commented what kind of an ice cream he wanted for dessert, Richie did exactly as he said, leaving the seven blank minds behind.

Beverly's eyes shifted over to the abandoned crossword paper. It was half filled, somewhere with intentionally wrong, random words, distinguishable by one or two extra letters, unmistakeable features of the old restive, inappropriate-humor-ly boy they knew. But cutting straight across the middle of the page was a long, thick, violent ugly graphite line, wrecking the overall composition and purpose of the page like a swift slit formed by a knife.

The girl looked up and noticed their number has slid to six with no sound or motion to signify so.

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His overpowered skills were convenient for instances like this. Pennywise didn't usually bother to conceal any sounds which would announce his presence, but in this case, the sound of bells wasn't as welcome as it would usually be. There was no word of 'merry' in the air of the second floor where Pennywise could see the fled boy pacing up and down in front of a dusty window, breathing accelerated like Eds' after a game of tag. Soundlessly, he observed as the boy took one final stride and settled down on the edge of the floor riser, which divided the space into two different ground heights, ripping off his glasses, hooking a thumb in his mouth and trying to stabilize the thoughts.

Pennywise cringed at the feeling Richie had spread around the floor like a stale air of foul breath which couldn't have been that easily dispersed. Dozens of pangs hit his heart, and one of them, not surprising, he supposed, was guilt.

Guilt over doing what he'd had to do. Even if it had consequences like this.

„You know those guys with amnesia in movies?" Richie's voice resonated over the quiet room, and the clown was nearly caught startled. Him. Startled by the most-unlikely-to-startle-anyone club member. „Like, you've seen the events that caused it, but they still get bits of the memories... I don't know, through dreams, flashes, or they suddenly draw something somewhere without knowing they did, and they don't know what it is, but you know because you can relate it to what happened before."

„Richie..."

„I've got nothing", the boy shook his head, and the action was helpless, even as the clown couldn't see his face. He would never admit anything close to emotion, uh-uh. Not Richie. But here he was, leaking like a glass filled just over the tip and Pennywise didn't need any extraterrestrial abilities to note it. „No dreams, no eurekas in shower or flashbacks when I'm bored the fuck out of my mind in History class", his voice trembled just a bit, like he was trying with all his force to shove hysterics back under, which stubbornly kept persisting against his faltering grip. „It's like someone literally took a piece of my life and cut it like Marsh cuts her fucking hair!" He emphasized by making scissor movements with his fingers, but the clown didn't think the anger was directed at Beverly, or her hair.

Pennywise chirruped softly, as if fretful of shattering the silence, then slowly got down on his knees so he could begin a slow, steady trip towards the boy who had his face in his hands.

„It shouldn't cope me this much, though", Richie said into his palms, and the sound was stranded and choked. „Nothing ever copes me longer than five seconds. Fuck... But there was something", he gestured, talking into the empty air, while his interlocutor was only getting near from behind, and Pennywise was momentarily taken back to that fearful night, stopping to cringe soundlessly at the bitter memory. „It was important. I know I saw something in that delirium", a lonely tear escaped his left eye, a sign of pure desperation since he didn't show he was crying anyhow else and a hand went up to cup his mouth like he was nauseous all over again. „I saw something, Pennywise... I know I did, goddamit."

Now seated next to him, Pennywise was having a battle of his own, debating the two sides of the answer road. Richie gave no body sign to acknowledge his presence until Pennywise tried to lay a comforting hand down on his shoulder. Immediately, Richie roughly slipped out of the creature's gentle grip and firmly batted the hand away with a strained, sharp, grunted "don't touch me" to accompany it. Pennywise whined softly, drawing back on his haunches at the boy's rejective nature, and the buried despair stung the alien more than Richie's defensive action. He was holding back so, so much, too proud to let anything out, too stubborn to admit how he felt, letting emotions gather like a nuclear bomb that was getting bigger and bigger with each passing year, but not ever allowed to perform its sole purpose.

„Perhaps some things are- are best left unanswered", the being said quietly. Uneasily. And Richie felt that. For he had turned his head to look up at the painted face, even as he clearly didn't see it. It was filled with anger and frustration and so many other things Pennywise couldn't have counted, but he swallowed thickly nonetheless.

„Easy for you to say", Richie's voice was like the lash of the whip. „You don't have a missing piece in your head which keeps bugging you with its presence anyway every single minute of the day. And night." he sighed, looking away. "Just... go away, man. Leave me alone."

Pennywise didn't show the slightest intention to do so, and Richie didn't inquire it further, and for a while, they were smothering together in a suffocating, painful silence.

After a while, Richie's mind had stilled enough for him to inquire: „Can't you fix it?" His voice was hoarse as a result of mental fatigue and stress. „I know you can, I saw you do it. With your little... magic thingy", the boy wiggled his fingers mockingly, without the slightest sign of humor. Or anything, for that matter. „You can do anything you want."

Richie looked over. The sun drizzled its rays on the clown's pale visage, disagreeing entirely with their state of minds. He could see little, but those blue eyes certainly weren't pointed his way. He'd felt that, even as there was too much to feel already. For once, Pennywise didn't speak. Just kept... existing, and being there. Racking the silence and loneliness Richie would've had to endure by himself had this creature not had the need to intervene in everything.

So he gave up right away, looking back forward, no will within his reach to press the entity further. No amount of his usual antics would've elicited the answer out of the clown, either, he was sure.

Somehow, he felt the clown had already done what he could.

„Why does it hurt so much?" he asked instead, not Pennywise directly. It was a question hanging above his head for weeks now, months, years; it was banging on his brain, sneaking up from his subconsciousness out of the hole where the memories should be. But instead of them, the definite solution for his mind to finally settle, it kept surfacing repetitively, pestering him over and over again, deepening an already existing gap.

The bells chimed softly as Pennywise shifted, looking over at the boy, hesitatingly. „It's okay to cry", he repeated what he had heard Beverly say to Georgie once, after a long brawl with his older brother. Had Richie been lucid to some extent, he might've been surprised, for it was the steadiest voice he had ever witnessed the clown use, subsided down to a whisper. „No one should feel judged when they do."

And that was all it took.

Two or three seconds of nothing. Then suddenly, Richie snapped. But not abruptly, like a breaking dam or a soap bubble would. It was a leakage as slow as a heated oil or volcano magma slithering between rocks where it would eventually settle, cool down and form another solid layer. Bitter. Painful. Tortured. Richie's face crumpled and twisted in a bitter, repulsive expression as silent tears freely crawled down his cheeks, refusing, or not being able to succumb to real, loud sincere crying. The sobs shook his shoulders and body, and the boy bowed his head forward to clutch his hands at his bare eyes, beginning to shake against the scratching gasps between them.

Sitting by and feeling the prickling like a thousand needles stab from every direction was perhaps equally painful. Slowly, as to not startle him, Pennywise moved closer to lightly rest his chin against the boy's scruffy head and snake an arm around his fragile body to easily settle it down, little by little — as if Richie was made of the thinnest glass which would crack at the lightest touch. When the child didn't budge or snap at him from his silent weeps, Pennywise relaxed and gently pressed into him, settled to hold his little friend and feeling his own vision blurring.

So did the sight capture the eyesore — of two equally damaged souls, one ensnared in absolute oblivion and one knowing too much, but stranded mute by its own will. The clown figure blinked heavily, feeling small drops that leaked down his cheeks burn worse than fire, soundless against Richie's agonizing sobs, who was doing his best to keep them as quiet as possible without exploding with overwhelming grief and anguish, finally leaning over into the silver suit in silent acceptance and on-the-edge-of-nonexistence 'thank you', but Pennywise didn't need words to figure that out. Tears slid down his chin and onto the dark-haired scalp it was perched upon, but it could be the last thing Richie could feel at that moment. So the entity settled to squeeze his eyes shut with the shaky breaths through the nose, trying to focus on stabilizing their shattered energies, not daring to admit he had no strength even for that.

Oh, Richie...

How can I fix it, when I've already done all the fixing I could?