Chapter Text
i'll never be this happy again
i would've been right there, front row
even if nobody came to your show
*~*~*
After all the crazy shit that his return to Derry had brought with it, Richie no longer felt comfortable on stage. He used to love being the center of attention and watching people roll their eyes over some of his inadequate jokes. Still did, really. How good it felt to have all eyes on him, to make people laugh even if they didn't really want to because his jokes were a bit too “dirty” for their tastes.
But that was before Derry. Before he had to fight for his life because a mad clown wanted nothing more than to watch him bleed out. Before he remembered things that hadn't been on his mind for years. Before he reunited with the people that had had conquered his heart years ago.
Standing on stage suddenly didn't feel right anymore. But maybe it's been like that for a while, and he just didn't notice. If he had always loved it, he would never have stopped writing his own texts.
Richie Tozier – Keep On Laughing!!
He never would have given his show such a ridiculous name, and if he really cared he probably would have changed it. But this was different.
It felt different, after Derry. He wasn't burnt out and bored and too lazy to come up with his own jokes. It just felt...wrong. Standing before an audience, alone and helpless, served on a silver plate – perfect for Pennywise. Although he knew precisely that he would never come back. Bill would probably tell him that he had been traumatized in Derry, but Richie didn't want trauma.
The only thing he really wanted was to walk back on stage again without feeling like a liar. Making jokes, laughing about them, telling anecdotes – being happy. Just being happy. Instead, he was already lying when he appeared on stage and exclaimed “Ah, what a GREAT fucking day it's been!”
After Derry, after Pennywise, Richie wasn't even sure whether good days even existed anymore.
His days had become incredibly simple, filled with existential nullities, and even if he didn't feel like doing any of all that, there was always something to drag him through the day.
Eating shit
Drinking shit
Driving to work
Interacting with assholes
Eyes shut
Richie couldn't wait for his final curtain call. Only five more performances before his grand retirement – although he knew it was much too early. And yet, he enjoyed thinking about this unlikely event.
“Every time they say 'that's when she snapped', on Snapped, I'm all alone at my place like 'yeeeaah, she snapped!! He's a dead man!' Just like I am, ladies and gentlemen, thank you very much!”
He hated his exit from the stage and he knew he wasn't the only one, even though some kind folks in the audience laughed, albeit out of sympathy or pity. The applause didn't feel deserved, and yet, there he was, standing on stage, grinning and bowing before he left for the stage door after the audience had gone quiet.
There used to be something about the hectic buzzing of the crowd that he enjoyed. Probably because they were all here because of him, smiling triumphantly as they forced themselves through the rows of people, pen and paper already in their hands. And he'd feel so..wanted, and liked, and talented – but today, he just felt tired.
“Tozier! Mr. Tozier! Could I have an autograph please, sir?” Before him stood a small girl, and he wondered whether he was a terrible human because his first instinct was to just continue walking straight ahead. But instead, he took the blue pen from her hand and scribbled his signature on the dark red programme booklet, right on his own face which was depicted on it.
Her father nodded in approval when she turned around to face him, smiling and telling him that she had just received an autograph from Mr. Tozier. “You know, you used to be better, back in the day”, he let Richie know.
“Oh yeah?” Richie stopped for a second, and although he knew that the father before him was indeed right, he just couldn't stop the words from exiting his mouth. “Well, fuck you, too!”
The father's face immediately grew angrier as he covered his daughter's ears. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Your uptight fucking asshole!”
Richie knew that the people around him had begun to stare, that he had once again become the center of attention – and this time it wasn't even the good kind. But that didn't change a thing about his anger and frustration, and the fact that uptight fathers with their daughters could just lead a happy life back home, going to sleep at night without having to leave the lights on. And as he yelled at this man and received some insults as well, he almost didn't hear someone say his name.
“Richie!”
And this voice was suddenly so familiar that Richie completely forgot to counter the man's last insult – which probably would have resulted in a punch to his face.
“Eddie?”
A slim figure had slid under the velvet ropes and now stood right next to him with a bundle of papers pressed against his chest, one hand tightly gripping Richie's upper arm. “Richie, have you gone completely insane?”
Of course, Richie had now completely forgotten all about the angry man before him – next to him stood Eddie, Eddie Kaspbrak, and dammit had he missed those terrible wrinkles on his forehead.
“Fucking hell, what are you doing here, Eddie Spaghetti?”