Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Nightmares.
Date: 1993-01-05
Richie wakes up on the cold hard ground, which is questionably wet, why is the ground wet? Richie opens his eyes and is meeted with a black abyss above him. ‘Weird’ He thinks to himself, he sits up to try and view his surroundings, he is met with what looks like an endless black abyss all around him that is coated with a white light that is nowhere to be found. He looks at the ground below him and sees that he is sitting on a thin layer of water, but it looks as if it’s deeper than just that.
Richie looks up from the ground, and looks around him once more before yelling,
“Hello? Anybody around for this dream? No..? Okay that's cool I guess.” Once he realized no one was around he went to stand up.
As he stood he started processing this odd dream, He’s never lucid dreamed before so that's a start, he has also never had a dream where he’s in an abyss with weird water on the ground, but then again, there’s always a first for everything. He decides to start walking around waiting for something to happen since he has no idea what to do.
Richie walked for what seemed like hours before he felt a hot breath on the back of his neck. He freezes as the breathing on his neck continues, he suddenly realizes what kind of dream this is gonna be. Richie Spins around on his heels to get a look at who is behind him.
Richie stops in place. ‘ No fucking way.’ Richie thinks, ‘ You have to be fucking kidding me.’ It’s Patrick Hockstetter, or at least seems to be something that used to be him in a sense. This patrick seems to be decomposed now and covered in blood and grime, with a constant smile plastered over his face.
“Patrick..?” Richie whispered, he said more to himself than to ‘Patrick’.
“Heya Trashmouth, You grew up a lot didn’t ya’? I mean you can just tell with how big and broad you got.” Patrick said with a sickening tone to his voice, Richie Shivered. He knew that voice, Patrick had used many times when he was alive. Especially to him.
‘ Yep that’s fucking Patrick all right.’ Richie thought to himself.
“Whatcha thinking about Trashmouth, Thinking about me? Thinking about doing dirty, dirty things with me? You do it with others now don’t you, would you do it with me?” Patrick snided.
Richie was paralyzed in fear, of course he knew, It is Patrick of course, he always knew everything, Whether it be a dream world or the real world. Just why did Richie have to be haunted by him in his dreams, Stupid subconscious.
While Richie was in his head panicking, Patrick Lunged at Richie going to grab him, but missed as Richie dodged and slipped on his feet, falling to the ground while screaming.
.
“Oh come on Richie, don’t be like that, I know you wanna have some fun with me fag .” Patrick got up and personal in Richie's face, and starts laughing. Richie gags, Patricks breath smells like Death, Vomit, and the sewers, ESPECIALLY the sewers.
“GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING SICKO!” Richie screamed, backing away from Patrick, “YOU’RE FUCKING SICK, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!” Patrick had gotten closer to Richie, standing tall over him, crowding him in, making Richie crower below him. Richie starts kicking at Patrick hoping to hit him in this frenzy.
Patrick Grabs Richies legs and starts dragging him, Richie still trying to kick him, but he’s really just flailing in the end.
“L - Lâchez-moi, vous êtes malade!” (L- Let go of me you sick fuck!) Richie was panicking so bad now that he was speaking his base language. His vision was getting blurry, and his breathing was getting out of sorts. ‘ Just My luck that I’d get a panic attack in my own fucking dream. ’ Richie thought.
“Sorry I don’t, speak FAGGOT. Speak English or don’t speak at all,” Patrick Spat.
Patrick manhandled Richie so that he was holding and between Richies thighs, Richie's eyes filled with tears. ‘ No, god please no, not in my dream, NOT EVER. ’
Richies Kicking and flailing was starting to be useless. Richie was bigger than Patrick now, Being a broad, 6’2, 17 year old, While Patrick Died when he was a scrawny, 16 year old, and only 5’11.
“S'il vous plaît, Patrick, s'il vous plaît ne pas, je-je vais faire quoi que ce soit, j-juste pas ça.” (Pl-Please, Patrick, Please don’t, I-I’ll do anything, j-just not this.) Richie Begged. He was full on sobbing now.
“Shhh,” Patrick put his disgusting grimmy finger to his mouth. “Don’t cry baby, I’ll take care of you, Just keep shut your pretty little mouth.” Something Richie Snapped when he said that and Richie got his leg out of Patrick's grip, and kicked him straight in the balls. Patrick reeled back in pain and Richie started backing up, getting off the ground in the process and running until he felt something grab his leg and drag him into the depths of the water below.
Richie Woke up with a start screaming, with rapid tears falling down his cheeks. He sat there for a moment, until He felt like he was about to throw up. He shot out of bed and ran to the bathroom, it was hard since he didn’t have his glasses to see and he was blind as a bat, but he made it there fine.
Richie lunged for the toilet, hoping he didn’t miss, and threw up last night's beef stir fry. Richie sat there after for a few moments with his eyes closed calming down, until he saw flashes of the dream, and went to throw up again. Distantly Richie hears his mother's voice, approaching from the hallway,
“Richard, honey are you alright- Oh my god!” Maggie Tozier walks into the doorway of the bathroom and sees Richie curled over the toilet. “Oh God, Richie Honey what happened? Are you alright?” Maggie asks with concern.
“I-” Richie heaves and takes a deep breath again, “Yeah, yeah I’m, i’m uh alright mom, I just think last night's supper didn’t agree with me.” Maggie didn’t believe Richie, but she didn’t push. She kneeled down to Riches level and rubbed his back, she leaned a bit over him for a second and flushed the toilet.
They sat there for a few moments in silence as Richie calmed down and Maggie lightly rubbed his back to help. after a bit Maggie spoke up,
“Are you sure you’re okay Honey?” She asked softly.
“Yeah I’m good Mom, I swear.” Richie replied quietly, it seemed like he was saying it more to himself.
“Alright well, I’ll go get you some water and a bucket, do you need help getting to your room?” She kindly asked.
“Okay thank you Mags, and Um no, I think I’ll be fine.” Richie sighed, and went to get up from the floor with Maggie's help.
Richie uses the wall to help him travel back to his room, while Maggie traveled downstairs. Once in his room Richie manages to get to his bed without tripping to much and promptly collapses on it.
He reaches for glasses that lay somewhere on his bed, and slides them on his face. He sits up and looks around his room and sees himself in his mirror, ‘ Holy fuck I look like fucking garbage. ’ His hair was sticking up everywhere more so than usual, his face tear streaked while also being red and blotchy. It seems like he was sweating a lot in his sleep too, which would make sense, he was having a brutal nightmare.
He turns away from the mirror, not wanting to look at himself any longer, he turns to look at his alarm clock and sees that it's 3:27 AM, He is definitely not going back to sleep now, but at least it's still Winter break so he doesn’t have to worry about school. He flopped back down on his bed.
He heard his door squeak open and his mother's soft footsteps approach his bed. She set the bucket right by his bed on the ground, and put the cup of water on his nightstand. After he felt the edge of his bed dip and Richie turned his head over to her. She smiled softly at him and brought her hand to run her fingers through his hair for a bit. He hummed and closed his eyes and mumbled,
“Thanks mom, love you,” He felt like dozing off, looks like he might be able to sleep after all.
“Of course Honey, if you ever need anything or want to talk to me, I’m always here.” Maggie told him, before getting up off the bed, and placing a soft kiss to his forehead, “And I Love you too, now get some sleep, you look like you need it.” And with that she left the room quietly.
Richie felt himself slowly slipping back into sleep, his mother was always able to ease back to sleep, yeah he might have been seventeen, and his parents might be working all the time so that they are barely home, but He still thinks they have a strong bond in the end anyways.
With that last thought, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.