Richie's been struggling with his sexuality for years, unsure of what everyone would think of him when they found out his secret. After defeating Pennywise with the other losers, he's clueless as to where his life is leading him.
Little does Richie...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When Richie closed the front door, he stepped quietly, crossing his fingers that his parents were passed out from alcoholism.
Although his mother didn't act out as much as his father, she wasn't any better. Maggie Tozier was incredible at doing absolutely nothing. She never stopped Wentworth and his homophobic values. She never stopped Wentworth from cursing out Richie. She stopped giving Richie hugs years prior. To her, hugs were a chore that didn't seem necessary so she removed it from her list. Richie thought that she was just as bad as Wentworth.
Richie paused when he heard the quiet clink of a beer bottle. They were awake.
Clutching onto his backpack straps even tighter than he was before, he carefully walked up the steps to his room, narrowly avoiding the living room where his parents seemed to be located.
Dropping his bag on the ground, he closed his door, and fell onto his bed.
He really needed some water though.
Richie scoured the room for any sign of a water source with no luck. The bathroom and kitchen were both downstairs and he was risking getting caught. But he made his way down the steps anyway.
As he said, Eddie made his tongue extremely dry, just thinking about him.
He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and held it under the tap, running it slowly and sculling it down quickly.
"Richard." It was his father yet again. He had began to shave his face for any hairs at all, with the shaving cream still covering most of his stubble. He stopped mid-shave to be a dick to Richie.
"I just came down to get a duh-drink." Richie stuttered nervously, his father's stern look, still fixated on him.
"I expect you to be packed and out of the house in two days or I'll throw you out myself." A white towel was flipped over Wentworth's shoulder, just above a white singlet that had grease on it.
The coldness of his father's voice sounded dead and sad. Sometimes Richie even felt bad for Wentworth. The most joy that his father could get was from bullying his own son. What a sad, sad life he must've had.
All Richie could do was let out a meek, "okay."
Wentworth went back into the bathroom to resume his shaving and Richie went upstairs to process what really just happened. He was freaking out, hyperventilating. It was as if he was having an 'Eddie-itis' flare-up, but not fuelled by love. No, this wasn't love. Richie deserved love and needed it. Why couldn't he have a hug? Why couldn't he love Eddie? Why couldn't he feel loved for once? For a firm two minutes, Richie truly believed that no one cared about him. Then he realised-
Richie grabbed his phone from his bedside, dialling the number that was imbedded in his memory.
"Eddie, hi." Richie was out of breath.
"Is that you, Rich? I was just about to go to sleep." Eddie was whispering and Richie assumed that it was because he was meant to be asleep. But it was 8:15 pm!
"I just- I just need you to talk to me. About anything! Please, just talk about your inhaler or medical statistics. Talk about Will if you have to, just please." Richie was begging, not allowing Eddie to interrupt him.
It was very strange for Richie to sound so desperate and hurt. It made Eddie feel scared, but what could he do other than talk it out?
"What's so wrong about Will? Ugh, whatever! Richie, are you okay?"
"I'm just peachy, Eds." There was sarcasm lacing his voice like poison in a cup of tea, unexpected, rotten, and deadly.
"Are you being sarcastic?"
Eddie was so naive. Most of the time, he didn't get sarcasm. Considering the fact that he was best buds with the trashmouth, this quality of his wasn't very useful.
"I just really needed to hear your voice." Richie's tears could be heard through the phone, which made Eddie want to cry. He could be hurt and dying. If Richie was hurt and dying, he would still definitely want Eddie's voice to be the last thing he heard.
"Okay, tell me what's wrong." Eddie knew how to comfort people even though his mother never comforted him without evil intentions. In person, he would hold the person close, place a hand on the back of their head, and sway lightly, creating the illusion of being on a calm boat on European seas. He would let the person bury their head into his neck even though he was quite shorter than most people his age. He would let the person cry until they were ready to speak. Eddie had done this exact thing about three times. Once with Bill, the second with Stan, and the third with Will. If Eddie was right in front of Richie, he wouldn't hesitate to embrace him with the might of gods, despite his puny size, and make him feel as if the world was going away and leaving him alone.
"It's, uh- it's my dad, h-he's- oh, God. I just- I need-" Richie was beginning to break down and Eddie wanted to hold him close more than anything in the world. Despite their separation period, Eddie hadn't forgotten how close they were.
"Take a deep breath, Rich. Tell me everything."
So Richie told Eddie about his situation. He told him about his parents and the relentless abuse, along with the threat of throwing him out of the house. But Richie didn't tell Eddie everything. He hadn't told Eddie why his dad was so much angrier than he had been. His father had suspicions over Richie's sexuality.
Richie and Eddie spoke for another hour before Richie spoke, "we can talk more tomorrow."
