Random OneShots

It's like they never loved you

By: astromirage on Ao3

Reddie

~~~~~

Eddie leans into Richie's side as they stare intently at Richie's decrepit childhood house.

To be clear, Richie didn't have the best memories of his time living in this house. His parents weren't the worst, especially compared to Bev's and Eddie's parents. Simply put, they were extremely homophobic, but Wentworth, he was more than homophobic, he was mean, angry and prone to occasional violence. He knows they could have been much, much worse. Richie takes a contemplative breath and leads Eddie up the creaking steps to his door.

"You're sure about this?"

"Can't hurt me if they're dead."

"Rich," Eddie looks at his husband's face, watching it contort into an expression unknown to Eddie.

It's hard and forlorn yet he has a dangerous twinge of victory in his eyes that makes Eddie tear his eyes away from the man he loves. Instead, he switches his attention to Richie's shaking hand approaching the doorknob and before he can twist the old wood door open, Eddie sets his hand on Richie's. The corner of the comedian's mouth twitches into an offsetting smile. Richie sighs audibly, relieved when his father is not there to greet him. Eddie leads him into the house, flinching slightly when the floor beneath them creaks loudly with wear and age. Eddie notes the thick layer of dust covering everything and the clutter on every surface of the house. Eddie feels his feet moving without this own violation, taking him to the mantel, filled with family photos. He touches a frame that keeps a professionally taken photo of the happy Tozier family. Richie is wearing his bright, sunshine smile, behind that smile Eddie knew so well, he also knew a different, far more unhappy Richie Tozier.

He remembers a Richie who was full of tears and hurt and regrets yet somehow had the energy and the happiness to make a joke or to cuddle Eddie close to his chest, despite his very apparent and warm tears.

Richie squeezes closer to Eddie, sobbing loudly and gut wrenchingly. Eddie caresses his cheek, not knowing what to say. He hears a shaky, deep breath before swatting Eddie's hand away and getting up. Eddie looks up from his position on his bed.

"You goin' home 'Che?"

Richie nods silently and wipes his tears and his snot. He turns to the door before falling to his knees and sobbing again. Eddie rushes to his side in a desperate hurry. Eddie flinches as Richie sobs about his dad being homophobic and the names he gets called daily. He can't help but fumble off his glasses, ferociously trying to wipe away the tears. Eddie hears Richie mutter details of a particular day when Wentworth punished him with violence. His mind raced with the image of Richie cowering away from his father screaming obscenities and stepping closer and closer to his frightened son. His cries interrupt his thoughts as Richie mutters about not wanting to go home.

Eddie rubs Richie's arms, up and down. He tries to help him calm down, he lets him collapse into him and wear himself down, wiping his tears for him. Eventually, Richie stands up, ruffles his boyfriend's hair, kisses his head and walks out.

It used to happen like that. Rinse and Repeat.

Eddie is snapped from his thoughts when a crash resounds from stairs. He tears his eyes away from the frame and runs to the stairs. He makes a mad dash up the creaking steps and swings the corner into Richie's childhood room. His eyes drift to a shoebox, contents spilled all over the floor, Richie kneeling over the box he had dropped.

"What'd you find Rich?" He asks, sitting next to him on the floor.

"It's a box I hid under the floorboards." he laughs sadly, picking up a photo booth strip and showing to Eddie, "this is full of stuff of us, shit I wanted to keep from my dad."

Eddie looks at the photo strip and smiles, it's from high school, the first photo is them hugging, the second is Eddie giving Richie Bunny ears and Richie flipping the bird, the third is them closing in for a kiss and the last, them kissing. He leans against Richie and watches as he pulls out a small box, he opens it and pulls out notes written by Eddie, addressed to nicknames like "Che", "Rich" and "loudmouth<3"

"You would leave me these in my pockets when we hung out, like a fucking creep." he jokes, nudging Eddie with his shoulder.

"Well, I couldn't exactly slide them in your locker like some school girl dipshit." He shoots back, little to no bite in the remark.

He hands Eddie the box and picks up a figurine. "I took this from you in senior year." Richie smiles, holding it above their eye lines.

"Oh you dick! I was looking for that for years!" He shouts, eyebrows furrowed, he grabs the toy and stuffs it in his pocket.

"Sorry Eds, I'm your husband, that thing is ours now. Joint custody babe."

Eddie smiles at his dumb statement and wraps an arm around his husband. He's happy that going through this box of random shit was enough to distract him from the pain of his past.

After going through everything in the box, Richie packs it back up and sets it on his dusty bed.

"Next, I suppose is the old fart's room. I know they gotta have some of the shit they confiscated from me in there."

"You sure Rich?"

"Yea," he nods, lacing their hands together and leading him to the biggest bedroom, a bedroom infamous for long lectures about how Richie, their only child, is a disappointment because of his "inclinations towards homosexuality".

Richie vividly remembers the room being a common place for Wentworth's anger. He'd get so furious when Richie would talk back, cuss him out and call him an asshole, he would threaten him with violence, sometimes he'd carry it out. He shakes his head and opens the loudly creaking door to reveal a slightly less dusty room.

"Good god." The taller says, his grip on Eddie's hand tightening.
Richie immediately goes for the drawers, opening each to find the "contraband" box. He lays his eyes on the small box and yanks it out, presenting it to Eddie.

"Pretty sure there's some weed in here." He grins, plopping onto the bed.

"Wow Rich, 30 year old weed, definitely something you should indulge yourself in." Eddie says, deadpan, arms crossed.

Richie laughs and opens the box, it's empty, save for one singular journal.

"What the fuck?" Eddie questions, standing over the box.

Richie picks up the journal and opens it up, it's his dad's handwriting. This is his dad's diary, detailing the hatred he had for his son, the desire he had for his son to stop his "wicked ways".

"I knew it," Richie says softly, "they never loved me. They hated me. Why would he even keep a diary about how much he hated me in a box? That's so fucking dumb." He frowns, trying to joke his way out of uncomfortable feelings and sets the journal to the side. "But I miss them? God why do I miss them, Eds?" Richie feels tears surface in his eyes.

"Oh Rich." Eddie sits next to Richie, hugging him, pressing his husband into his chest, letting him cry.

"They were horrible to me, they hated the very person I am," he sniffles. "But I can't help but miss them for some reason!? It's so fucked! I hate it!"

"It's okay, I promise. Parents are a complicated thing, they raise you, and they're supposed to give you all the love in the world, and you hope they do, and sometimes they end up just hurting you instead." Eddie says, carding his fingers through Richie's slightly greasy hair.

"Sometimes." Richie scoffs.

Eddie nods and continues, "And when they hurt you, after that expected love isn't given to you, it fucks you up. But you still love them, for some shitty, shitty reason. I was like that with my mom."

"Really?" He asks, looking up and blinking away tears.

"Yes," he kisses his head, "and I can say that it will get better, I promise."

"Okay."

The two sit there, in that disturbing room, and they hug until Eddie decides it's time to end this.

"You wanna finish clearing this place out next week?" Eddie asks as they stand up.

"Yea. Let's get out of here Spaghetti."