Promise || A Reddie Fanfiction

I've Got to Go- Chapter 3

     Richie stood there stunned as Eddie paraded his new girlfriend around the room. He casually introduced her to each loser individually, but his eyes fell to the floor as they approached Richie, his tone changing- almost hesitant, it seemed.

"Rich... This is Allison. Allison, this is Richie."

"It's good to meet you," Richie replied, his voice hardly above a whisper. As he said it, he didn't take his eyes off of Eddie, whose stare flickered up to meet his gaze for just a moment, and then back down to the floor. Richie's chest felt tight and he was now holding back tears. It didn't go unnoticed. They moved on to Bill, and Richie breathed a small sigh of relief. He knew it wasn't Allison's fault, but he hated being so close to her. Why is this so fucking difficult? You were never with him. He was never yours. You were never his. He cursed his own thoughts, despising the truth.

     The next few hours were nothing short of torturous for Richie. Every look, every time Eddie grabbed her hand or placed his arm around her waist... he could hardly bear it. He attempted to mask what he was feeling with an overabundance of jokes in typical Richie fashion, but this time the Losers could sense something was different. Ben and Mike exchanged questioning glances, but no one had answers. No one, that is, besides Stanley. His heart ached for Richie. The moment he saw the woman standing behind Eddie he knew exactly what was coming.

When Beverly began asking questions about how Eddie and Allison met, Richie stood up and headed to the kitchen in an attempt to escape. Leaning against the counter, he buried his head in his hands and sighed heavily. That's the last thing I want to hear right now. The last fucking thing. It would've been me and Eddie in there if I had grown a pair and fucking told him. It would have been us holding hands, us- Footsteps approached, followed by Mike's voice, quiet and steady.

"Rich? You good, man?" He had intentionally spoken lightly enough that their conversation wouldn't be heard by anyone but the two of them.

Richie reluctantly lifted his head. "Yeah! Just came in to grab something to drink," he replied, feigning a smile- but his voice began to waver, which was a dead giveaway. Get out of here, Mike. Please, just go. The last thing anyone needs right now is for me to have a fucking breakdown in Bill's kitchen. Mike saw pain written all over Richie's face. He gave him a sympathetic look and gently placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Is it..." Mike paused and looked down. He wasn't sure if he should continue. It's about Eddie. There was no mistaking that look... but should I ask? Would I be crossing a line? "...it might not be any of my business, but... is it Eddie?"

Richie's face said it all before he could deny it- he was a deer caught in headlights. His whole body stiffened. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. FUCK. Neither of them knew what to say next, and the kitchen felt eerily silent. Finally, a burst of loud laughter came from the living room, which caused Richie to snap out of the trance he had been in. He quickly shrugged Mike's hand off his shoulder.

"I've got to go."

Richie snatched his keys from the counter and nearly raced to the door.

"Richie, wait!" Mike shouted, trying to catch up- but it was too late; Richie slammed the door behind him.

Everyone previously in the living room spilled out into the foyer along with a quiet murmur of questions. Eddie stood back- now he was the one who felt frozen. This can't be what you think it is. Standing next to him was Stan- he had a good guess of what had just unfolded in the kitchen. There was only one reason Richie would leave in such a hurry. He stared at his feet and thought about giving him a call to check on him, but he also knew that there was nothing he could say to fix what Rich was going through.

Bill stepped forward. "What the h-hell just happened, Mikey?" He spoke aloud exactly what was already on everyone' minds.

"I... I'm not sure," he replied- and it was the truth. He wasn't entirely sure. Was it about Eddie? Of course it was. Nice going, Mike... real tactful.

Their night as a group ended shortly after that- The awkward air in the room never dissipated, and one by one the losers slowly left. Stan decided to catch a ride home with Mike, hoping to gain a little insight as to what he had said.

***

The low grumble of his truck could barely be heard over each loud crack of lightning. Stan debated for a moment whether or not to say anything at all, but his curiosity eventually got the better of him.

"What exactly did Rich say to you?"

"Not much. I think what you should really be asking is what I said to him... I think I might have messed up, to be honest with you."

Stan turned his head to look at him now. Ah shit, Mike. What did you do?

Mike continued. "Look, I don't know anything for sure, okay? So don't go talking about it to anyone else. This stays between you and me."

Stan nodded.

"I think it has to do with Eddie. I can't be the only one who's noticed the way he's been acting... especially tonight, even before he stormed out. The more I think about it, the more sense it all makes. And I just feel like my suspicions were confirmed when Eddie walked through the door with Allison. Did you see the look on his face, Stan?."

He avoided the question. "We should check on him tomorrow. I think he's in for a rough night."

***

Richie parked in his own driveway just minutes after leaving Bill's house. He shut his car off and unbuckled his seat belt. He sat there for a long time, staring at the way the rain washed down his windshield. Now that the wipers were off, he was no longer able to see though it. It reminded him of a curtain, affording him total privacy. Finally stepping out, his clothes were nearly immediately soaked. It was still raining; a complete downpour now, but Richie hardly noticed. The night was inky black, and only the dim streetlights allowed him to find his way up the lawn. He sluggishly made his way to the front door, but as he went to pull his keys out he could no longer hold in everything he had pushed down inside of him. I missed my chance... I missed my fucking chance, he repeated to himself. His heart sank... it was too late. He sat on the steps of his porch and cried more than he had in a very long time.