pop || reddie

vingt-neuf

Warnings: bullying, mention of s*icide, hate crime, abuse

"No way. They really said all that to you?"

Richie and Eddie are sitting in Richie's tire swing together. Eddie had been the one to speak, about the awful insults Richie had endured at his old school, and Richie laughed quietly.

"Yeah, they did." He replies. "It used to really hurt my feelings, but now it's just funny. Stop giving them the power, you know?"

Eddie thinks it's a wise statement. "How much did you get bullied in your old town?"

"Oh, all the time. Every day. People used to come to my house and leave me notes or write on the windows, 'Trashmouth faggot' or something like that. It was... a lot." Richie sighs, growing a little sad at the memories.

"Yeah, people would call me a... faggot, too. Or, like, a flamer, or a girlyboy, or whatever." Eddie says, hesitant to speak that word aloud. "I'd get beat up sometimes. I was small and defenseless, you know? I still am."

"No, you aren't, Eds." Richie shakes his head, frowning. "You're so brave, and so strong. You aren't defenseless in the least."

"Nah, I'm scared of everything." Eddie says, laughing lightly.

"You can't be brave without being scared first." Richie replies, and Eddie smiles.

"I don't know, man. I just- I guess any mom kind of fucked up my perception of everything. And, like, I know everything she says is bullshit, but I can't shake it." Eddie sighs, frustrated.

"What kind of things does she say?" Richie asks, watching Eddie's face carefully. He can tell it's a touchy subject.

"You know, that I'm sick and whatever. She homeschooled me through elementary school because she was so afraid of me getting hurt. My dad died from cancer when I was five, and then I got really bad bronchitis- so that was a big scare for her- and after that, she was never the same." Eddie says, looking at the ground, pondering. "She doesn't like me going out places. Or like, doing anything. Because she says I'm too small, too weak, to handle the world. And she hates you."

"Wow." Richie replies. "That's crazy. Awful."

"Yeah, I've lived with it all my life. I know how to get around her by now." Eddie smiles up at Richie, wanting to lighten the mood.

"My parents were never super involved with me. Like, they love me and everything, but sometimes I feel like they don't like me all that much." Richie chuckles a bit, and Eddie holds his hand. "I was an accident, and even after my mom got pregnant, she wanted a daughter. I'm confusing to them, they don't understand anything I do. So they didn't do much about the bullying, and they didn't notice when I was depressed or hyperactive or whatever. They still don't."

Richie is kind of amazed by how good this feels. Talking. He's never been brave enough to speak about his problems, and he's never thought they were important enough, anyway. He wants to tell Eddie everything. It's so cathartic.

"I'm sorry, Rich." Eddie looks at their hands, resting his head on Richie's shoulder.

"I tried to kill myself in ninth grade." Richie says, out of nowhere, and Eddie's eyes widen a little. But he doesn't say anything, waiting for Richie to continue. "I tried overdosing. I thought, you know... it wasn't worth it to keep fighting every day, for nothing. I felt like such a burden on everyone. It looked like a win-win. But I threw it up."

"That's good." Eddie brings their hands up to his lips, kissing Richie's knuckle gently. "I'm happy you're alive."

"Me, too." Richie lays his head on top of Eddie's, watching as he fiddles with Richie's rings. Richie has never breathed a word of his suicide attempt to anyone. It's his deepest, darkest secret. But, for the first time, there's someone he trusts enough to tell. Now that it isn't a secret anymore, it feels less scary. Less lonely.