Chapter Text
A Thousand Tattoos lay wedged in between a coffee shop and a bookstore. And—if you were to ask Richie—it was the best damn tattoo parlor in the world.
He remembers when he first bought the place. And he remembers renovating. Johnathan (who goes by Viper) and Rudolph (who goes by Rudy) stayed up for two days and nights with him, fixing up the place. And of course, to help, they were the obvious choice. As an adult, he doesn’t have many friends—well, not any he can fully rely on, anyway. He hasn’t had too many good friends in his whole life.
But that’s not true, is it?
(who am I forgetting?)
So it’s the three of them, wedged in between the two shops, and all is good. The coffee shop and bookstore are always bickering, so they effectively make ATT a third wheel. But other than that, Richie is happy to say that everything has run without a hitch.
Until that shop pops up across the street.
Yeah, at first, he thinks it’s going to be a turf war. His shop is the only tattoo parlor in this part of downtown, and he would really hate to start treating another business owner like competition. But apparently, upon further investigation... it appears that he was completely off the mark.
Dolls + Daffodils.
It’s a flower shop.
Viper is the first person to bring it up into conversation. He slinks behind Richie, smiles, rests his tattooed hands and arms on his shoulders.
“I wonder who the fuck they are,” he said, all smile in his voice. He was amused.
“Ain’t no tellin’,” Richie replies, and he shrugs.
Viper lets out a little scoff. “Would you believe it. A flower shop on this side of town? A fucking flower shop, Rich. What’d you bet on this one? Sink or swim?”
And when Richie looks up at him (which he instantly regrets because he’s almost blinded by the brightness of Viper’s green ass hair), he says: “Mm, they could swim.” And he means it.
A couple of days go by, and Dolls + Daffodils (which he and Viper have been affectionately calling D&D) starts looking brighter and more alive. There are folks outside working, putting up signage and flowers and decorations. That’s when Rudy brings it up.
“You know,” he starts, folding his (also heavily tattooed) arms over his chest, “I never noticed there was someone across the street from us now.”
Richie can’t help but to snicker. “Seriously? They’ve been setting up for like, three days, dude.”
“I know, I know.” Rudy grins back and puts his hands up in surrender. “I just, I dunno... never looked over there. That lot’s been vacant for so long that I just kinda got used to it.”
“Yeah, same here. But you know what?” He puts his hands on his knees for extra effect. “At least we don’t have to ask those bickering dickheads for anything anymore!”
“Yeah, hopefully,” Rudy smiles, laughs a little.
It takes about a full week for Dolls + Daffodils (I’m sorry, D&D) to get fully moved into their lot across the street. It’s pretty and bright, with a hand-painted sign of their name in cursive and striking flowers displayed in the window. Richie has to admit that he’s pretty impressed. Whatever guy or gal that owns that shop not only is effective in their time management, but also put their heart and soul into their business. Just like he does. The place is so cozy and aesthetically appealing.
“I give them a month,” Viper is saying, “two months, tops, before they go outta business. Ain’t nobody coming to this side of town just to buy some damn flowers.”
Rudy cuts his eyes at him. “You never know, Johnathan. Christ, you’re so negative.”
“How is that negative?”
“How is it not? You never believe in anybody.”
“That ain’t true,” Viper scoffs back, and he actually sounds a touch offended. He snakes his arms over onto Richie’s shoulders, then Rudy’s, pulls them all in close together. “I believe in you, me, and Rich.”
“That doesn’t count,” Rudy mumbles… but he blushes anyway.
“I dunnooooo, Johnny... maybe Moody Rudy has a point,” Richie says, grins as he takes in Viper’s exaggerated betrayal. He shimmies out of Viper’s grip just so he can grab both of his friends’ hands. “Maybe we should believe in them, y’know? Like I said, they may swim. People love flowers. But I mean, to your defense, it’s not looking good for our heroes. I mean, shit, they moved into… The Haunted Lot!”
Rudy bursts out into laughter. “Give me a fucking break. Do you guys still believe in that bullshit? The lot’s not haunted.”
“Then how come every single shop that moves over there goes out of business in, like, under a year?” Viper asks, raising his bright eyebrows that match his hair. “Huh?”
“That shit’s not real, Viper,” Rudy says, completely deadpanned.
“How do you know? Have you ever been anywhere that’s haunted?”
Richie snickers. “Ladies, ladies—”
“No—whatever, I’m not having this conversation with you. So, moving on.” Rudy suddenly smiles and his eyes light up. “You know what we should do? We should go over and meet our new neighbors.”
“Hey, good idea!” Richie chirps, matching Rudy’s enthusiasm—even though he can see Viper’s eyeroll out of the corner of his eye. “We can’t just go over there empty-handed, though. Can one of you guys go get those bottles of Coke out the fridge?”
“I thought we were gonna drink those Cokes,” Viper all but whines... but he obliges anyway.
With the drinks in tow, the three of them lock up the shop and make their way across the street. As soon as they walk across the crosswalk, they’re directly in front of the doors of D&D. Something suddenly makes Richie nervous, a feeling uncharacteristic to him; a feeling that he hasn’t truly felt in a long time. He hasn’t felt like, truly nervous since he was... what, fourteen?
(and what was I even nervous about?)
Rudy is about to open the door to the shop, but Richie pressing his face up to the glass makes him reconsider. Richie mainly just wants to look in and be nosy, see what they’re up against before they fully commit to anything. He sees a few girls, all smiling and chattering about with each other, finishing up a couple of final vases for display. And
(yo there’s a dude in there)
(he’s cute)
he’s not sure, but looking in the shop makes him nervous again—there’s something about it that makes him nostalgic
(who am I forgetting?)
and very weird. Even though everyone in the flower shop are coworkers, it looks like they’re talking and laughing like
(holy shit!)
(the loser’s club!)
old friends.
“You guys can go in without me,” Richie says to his friends. “I forgot something at the shop; I’ll be back in a jiff.” And even though Viper moans and groans and complains that he wasn’t going with them... Rudy grabs his hand and lightly swings the door open, finally heading into D&D.
(I can’t go in there)
There’s something about that damn shop that feels like there’s an invisible barrier at the door, that’s almost repelling him. He feels that same, sick and annoying nervousness as he walks back across the crosswalk. That weird nostalgia... that weird nostalgia makes him remember that he did have good friends, once upon a time. Ben and Bev and Mike and Stan the Man and Big Bill and...
and even though he was right in front of the doors of his parlor, he looks back to the flower shop and squints his eyes
(and Eddie!)
(holy shit, is that Eddie?)
one last time. Unlocks his parlor and scurries into the doors. He doesn’t even realize, until he sits down, that he’s dripping with sweat—soaking wet, like he got caught in the rain.
He feels so damn weird.
“So, how were the neighbors?” Richie spins around in his chair. He was feeling much better after a couple hours of cooling down, no nervousness at all. Until Viper and Rudy came back to their side of the street, he’d almost forgot all about it.
Rudy perks up. “They were really nice!” In his hand he was holding a shock of bright blue flowers. Viper had some, too, but a different flower entirely... even though he didn’t look nearly as thrilled.
“I thought you said you were coming back,” Viper mumbles, and Richie and Rudy decide to leave him be and let sleeping dogs lie.
“They gave these to us,” Rudy continues. “Said that they could add a little color to the shop. They’re all such nice girls. Mr. K is, too.”
(wait, mr. k?)
(what was Eddie’s last name?)
[He couldn’t remember.]
The sun had long set, and Richie had watched his friends walk to their cars. He locks up the shop after they leave, then decides to light up before he gets in his own car and makes the drive home. He decides to take one last glance over across the street, why the hell not... and they’re still there, locking up as well. The girls are chattering again, and now Richie can hear their light and lilting voices from where he’s standing.
“Great first day, you guys. Let’s all get here a little early tomorrow so we can work out a routine. How does seven sound?”
7 AM? Yeesh. What’s he trying to do, kill them?
But all of the girls agree, and smile and nod at the guy that Richie saw in there before. He must be their boss. His back is turned to Richie, but even from the back, he can make out the knit stitches in his cardigan. The boss claps his hands together, and Richie can even hear the smile on his voice... it’s cute.
“Cool! Well, I’ll see you guys in the morning. Be safe on the way home.”
All the girls yell in unison: “Okay, Mr. K! You too!”
He can see the guy’s side view now; he watches his girls get into their cars and drive away... and then he checks to make sure he locked the door at least three times. Then he turns his head and looks across the street, right at Richie.
(that can’t be him)
And... holy shit, he’s really cute. Way cuter than just the glance Richie could only get of him before. He’s a brunet, and his hair looks really clean and soft. His shirt is tucked in, and the legs of his jeans are cuffed. He’s even wearing little Oxford shoes. And that navy blue cardigan. Everything about him looks very clean and orderly, and controlled.
(it just can’t be)
He squints his eyes at him, gives him a look that Richie can’t quite read (but it looks like a “you look familiar, do I know you?”)... but then gives him a friendly little smile and wave.
And something as simple and innocent as that seems to throw Richie so off kilter—he almost forgets what the hell to do when somebody waves at you. He stares a little more, frozen in place, almost frozen in time—frozen in time back to when he was... what?
(fourteen)
(holy shit)
(that’s what I was nervous about)
But he finally gains his composure; gives the guy across the street
(him)
a weak smile
(it’s always been him)
and a wave back.