✓ | BETTER WITH YOU → richie tozier ³

five

"WHAT THE actual fuck is wrong with you!?"

Stanley Uris burst into Richie's house, feeling the desolate air seem to close in around him as he spotted Richie on the couch.

Richie stood, holding a cigarette in his right hand and stumbled towards Stan. "Heya, Stanley, wanna beer?"

He turned towards the fridge and then Stan angrily grabbed his arm, yanking Richie around to face him.

Richie gave a weak laugh, holding onto the counter for support, and Stan said, "God, are you drunk?"

Richie raised his head to meet his eyes, a grin tilting up the corners of his mouth, "Nope."

Stan rolled his eyes and Richie dissolved into laughter, trying to get his arm free. "Let go, I want another beer."

"Uh, no." Stan said, trying to keep the fury out of his voice and threw Richie away from him, who almost slipped and fell, his brow crinkling.

He folded his arms, and then brought his hand up to take another drag of his cigarette. "Something wrong, Stan?"

"Son of a bitch, yeah, something's wrong!" Stan spat at him. "Do you mind giving a fucking explanation as to why Eddie is at home crying right now?"

Richie stared at him, and then shrugged, lifting the cigarette again to his lips and blowing out. "Huh. No, I have no idea."

Stan had had enough. Grabbing Richie angrily by the shirt, he slammed him against the kitchen counter, nose to nose with his best friend, smelling the smoke and beer on his breath.

"Let go, you fucking-" Richie started, but Stan angrily cut across him.

"What did you call Eddie, Richie?" He said lowly, and Richie shook his head, trying to wrestle free.

Stan narrowed his eyes, and said dangerously, "What did you call him, Richie?"

Richie stopped and met his eyes, and then answered coldly, "I called him a faggot. Cause that's what he is."

Stan voice trembled with rage as he spoke again. "Then you know, I'm a faggot too. And so is Bill. Me, Eddie, and Bill are all faggots, right?"

He waited as Richie stared sullenly at the floor. He wasn't very good about handling Richie when he entered one of his "stages"- that was usually Eddie's job.

Shit, it was always Eddie's job.

But as Eddie was unavailable, it was Stan who had volunteered to do it. And as much as it was killing him, he knew the number one thing he couldn't do was get violent.

His mind flashed to the day they had all made the rules for Richie: sophomore year, a cold, freezing Saturday in December.

"Is he- is he asleep, E-Eds?" Bill asked nervously as Eddie came wearily into the living room, dark circles underneath his eyes.

"Yeah, he's asleep." He muttered, casting a look around the room, which looked as though a bomb had exploded in it.

They all nervously looked at one another before Ben spoke. "That was really, really bad."

Stan slowly nodded, and the rest of them followed suit.

It was silent for a couple of seconds before Stan announced, "We need rules. For when he gets like this. We can't keep- I don't know, we can't keep getting disorganized and fucking his rage up more, if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean." Eddie said quietly, and Bill said curiously, "Wh-what kind of r-rules, Stan?"

"Well," Stan said slowly, thinking. "I think the number one rule is that we shouldn't ever get violent with him."

The rest of them stared, outraged.

"Wait, even if he gets violent with us!?" Ben asked, and Stan nodded firmly. "It's not going to help and frankly, I think it would just make it ten times worse."

They were all quiet, before nodding in agreement, and Stan moved on.

"Okay, anything else?"

He looked at Bill, who glanced at Eddie, and then said, "I th-think it should be Eddie who c-calms him down."

Eddie stared at him. "What?"

Ben chimed in. "Yeah, that makes sense. He never does anything to Eds, and he'll let you persuade him to do whatever you want. You can even touch him or say,"

He swallowed, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Say Ash's name around him."

Eddie cringed, and they all looked nervously towards the bedroom door, as if Richie could hear them.

He sighed, running his fingers through his messy hair, and then said, "Alright, fine. I'll. . .I'll do it."

"Good." Stan replied. "Moving on. I think we shouldn't say her name or "Beep, beep Richie." anymore."

"Wait, what!?" Eddie said. "That's the only thing that gets him to shut up!"

"Really?" Stan said grimly. "Did it work this time? In fact, has it worked any of the times he's gotten mad?"

Bill slowly nodded. "O-okay. We'll just s-say 'shut up', th-then."

"And we won't say her name anymore, or anything that has to do with her." Ben said, and then he noticed Eddie, who had tears sliding down his face.

"Eds?" He asked, and Bill and Stan turned to look at Eddie, who said shakily, "I hate this. This isn't who he is. I want her back, you guys. She needs to fucking come back!"

He choked on a sob, putting his head in his hands. "If she hadn't left, none of this would be happening. It's all her fault that Richie's like this!"

"No, Eds, don't." Stan said softly. "You're mad at Richie, and so am I, but don't take it out on. . ." He trailed off, and then continued, "Just don't blame her. It isn't her fault."

"I know." Eddie sobbed. "I fucking know, I just- I want Richie back!"

They all moved to sit around him, putting their arms around him, huddling together on the floor as Eddie cried.

Stan blinked, and then remembered Richie, who was still staring at his feet.

"Richie." He growled, and then Richie's head snapped up. "What's your answer, then?"

Richie glared at him, and then snapped, "Yeah. You're all faggots."

He shoved Stan off of him, and Stan stared at him incredulously before saying, "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you'd better think really long and fucking hard about what you're saying."

"I did." Richie snarled.

"Well then," Stan snapped. "I'm done."

And then, he whipped around and left the house and Richie Toizer, the boy he had thrown everything away for.