mixtape (reddie)

Chapter 11

"Tozier!"

Richie doesn't lift his head, but continues walking across the field with his eyes cast downwards. His bag weighs heavily on his shoulders, the weight of the day weighs heavily on his mind, and all he wants to do is go home and listen to his records.

"It's rude to ignore people, Tozier," the voice is closer, more demanding. Richie lifts his head, annoyed with the interruption, and slides his headphones off of his ears.

"What is it, Hen?" Richie sighs. He glances at the familiar hazel eyes, bright and demanding like a sandstorm, but unfamiliar all at the same time.

"Henry," Henry Bowers spits, but it doesn't appeal as cutely as it does when Eddie corrects him.

"Mhm," Richie nods, then turns and keeps on walking.

His "don't give a fuck" attitude seems to piss something off within Henry, and even though he's shorter than Richie, he's got muscle where Richie just has bone. He throws a hand on Richie's shoulder and pulls the boy backwards, his fist tightening by his side.

"Little birdy told me that you've got yourself a boyfriend," Bowers growls.

"You should know I'm not gay, but whatever," Richie shrugs. "Which bird told you this?"

"I did, dumbass," a more familiar tone interjects, announcing the arrival of the other three terrorists that love to pick on anybody they deem weak enough.

"Ah, Belch, how kind of you to live up to your promise," Richie reaches up to slide Henry's hand off of his shoulder. Skin memories sends gentle molecules into flurries of carbonation. It's familiar, but neither will admit it. "Is this where you kill me? That is what you said, isn't it? I'm a dead man?"

"Look at that," Patrick sneers. "Didn't know queers could think about anything other than dick!"

"You're one to talk," Richie raises his eyebrows. Richie drags his eyes back to Henry and says "Does Patrick know about New Years Eve? The one in fifth grade?"

This seems to be the last straw, which he quickly finds out from a swift punch to the jaw. Richie stumbles backwards, gaining his composure, but quickly retaliating by throwing all of his might into his fist.

Richie's a good fighter, he always has been. Despite his bony structure, he has the deeply rooted unresolved issues that give him more muscle than all of Bowers' men combined. He's quick as well, and when you combine that with his long arm span, you get a boy who can certainly hold his ground in a fight.

And he does. He does well. Henry looks much more worse than Richie does when the other three finally step in, pinning Richie to the ground while simultaneously kicking his ribs in. If he were to go one on one, this would have been an easy fight. But it's not. And now here he is, bloodied, losing consciousness, and defeated.

"Stop it! Stop it! Get off of him! Get the fuck off of him!" Eddie Kaspbrak's voice is as clear as a church bell. Richie lifts his head up to identity the sounds, seeing the way that Eddie punches his tiny fists against Patrick's back, and the way that the rest of the losers are standing about a block away on their bikes. Eddie's is discarded nearby, telling a story all on its own. Eddie turned the corner, saw the fight unfolding on the school field, and dropped it the second he ran up.

"Fucking queer," Belch turns, shoving Eddie to the ground. "Come to protect your boyfriend?"

Eddie springs back to his feet like a resilient little bastard, trying to push Henry Bowers aside but merely angering the boys more.

"Leave him the fuck alone!" Eddie screams, then, without any warning at all, kicks his leg so high up that it somehow manages to hit Victor directly in the jaw.