Hold Me (Reddie)

Try My Best (Richie)

Eddie ran off, leaving Richie confused on the bed. He was mad, of course he was mad, but why? Richie was questioning it all in his head. He was just playing around like always. But the kiss had made things worse. "Eddie, where the shit are you going?" Richie was calling down the stairs of Stan's home, chasing after Eddie who was already at the door.

"Just leave me alone," Eddie yelled. He slammed the front door behind him as he left. Richie stood there a moment, confused, before turning and facing Stan. Stan looked even more confused than Richie felt.

"Do you know what's going on with him? He hasn't been normal lately."

"No idea," Richie responded. He had to fix this. He didn't know exactly what he did wrong, but he knew the reason Eddie was upset was because of him. God, he was such an idiot! The poor kid was so scared. Had his first kiss that day, and Richie somehow upset him. He needed to fix this. "I can't stay. I'm sorry Stan, but there's no way on Earth I can stay. I need to go fix this."

"No, I understand. I'll see if Mikey's busy, I'm sure you'll figure it out. Ed could never be that mad at you."

"We'll see."

————

Richie had a plan. Not a smart plan, of course. For a smart plan he'd need a lot more brains than just his own. But he did have a plan, no matter how bad it was. It started with going across Kansas Street back to his own home, running into his bedroom and tearing a page out of his math notebook. It was right then he remembered he didn't have envelopes. And even if he had an envelope, he didn't have stamps. This letter would need to be hand delivered for it to arrive. He went through the plan in his head again. Drop it off, and then what? He was no writer, he couldn't make Eddie forgive him for whatever mistake he made just by putting a couple words on s page. But he was still going to try, that's for sure. He was not a quitter.

He took a pencil out of a drawer in her mother's him, ignoring the vodka bottle that was in with it. He sat on her big bed with the pink cotton sheets and began writing, trying desperately to get struck with a good idea.

It was a great kiss,

He scratched that out. A great kiss? God, it wasn't just great. It was incredible. For someone who was new to the whole kissing thing, Eddie sure was amazing at it. He needed something better than it being a great kiss.

You are adorable,

And that wasn't good enough either! Eddie wasn't just adorable...he was more, but not in a way Richie could easily explain. He couldn't do this! How many syllables did a haiku have anyways? One line was five, another was...damnit! This letter would never be written, would it? And then Eddie would continue to sulk with that fuck of a mother he had, letting her convince him he was dying in whatever way she wanted. Richie knew she was crazy. She was absolutely mad, but he could never explain it. He needed to keep Eds away from her, and he couldn't do that if he was hiding away dying from asbestos or whatever Mrs. K would be scared of that day.

I don't know poetry Eds, but I'm sorry. The kiss was unbelievable though, that's for sure. I hope my Eddie Spaghetti can forgive me.

Rich

Richie knew the note was terrible. It was worse than terrible, it was pathetic. But it would have to do because he didn't have any better material to work with. With anyone else he could tell another awful fucking joke and they'd forget they were ever mad. And even if that would work on Eddie, he would never try. Eddie deserved more than just a simple joke and a smile. Eddie deserved a lot more. He was just a kid still, Richie knew that. He hadn't been poisoned yet by the world. And Richie would keep it that way as best as he could.

So he got back on his bike and crossed back over Kansas Street, and went the new route to Eddie's. It was longer than the route he used before the summer, but this way avoided Neibolt Street which was probably for the best. Richie couldn't give himself the courage to go by that place again. So he took the new route, across Warville, and right past Greta Bowie's house, and landed his bike in the front of the Kaspbrak home. He paused dead in his tracks. Eddie wouldn't want to see him. He could go home, he could go back to Stan's, he could let this go. Stop being a fucking coward and give him the damn letter, will ya?

Richie approached the door, the folded piece of paper in his hands, and dropped the letter by the door. He then picked it up, regaining his bravery, and rang the doorbell. For a minute, there was no answer. But then the door slowly creaked open, as if preparing Richie for the evil on the other side. She was big, tall, and in her pajamas, smelling of tobacco and something else. She looked at Richie once and started to close the door.

"Is Eddie home?" He asked, trying to stop her. Eddie needed to get the letter. Eddie needed to forgive him. Give him a second chance.

"Why do you want to know?"

"You know me, Mrs. K, I'm Richie Tozier. I'm his best friend, that's why I want to know. I want to talk to him. I wrote him a letter." Richie was trying to think before he spoke, which was something he never did, but he didn't want to accidentally tell the obese controlling bitch that she was an obese controlling bitch.

"Oh yeah," Mrs. Kaspbrak nodded. "Eddie told me about that. The pen pal project. What're you writing about?"

"That's not important," Richie reassured her. "But is he home? Because I seriously need to speak to him. It's urgent."

"Urgent?" And then Mrs. Kaspbrak made a dumb decision. A really fucking dumb decision. She grabbed the letter right out of Richie's hands. As soon as she did Richie knew the shit that would go down. It was bad. It was really bad. There would likely be no stopping her from reading it, even though he pulled back on it. She held on. And read. She read, and then, as if landing on a word she didn't quite fancy, she frowned dramatically. "I don't think I want you speaking to my Eddie anymore." And then she slammed the door.