Things "Best Friends" Do

{4} English Breakdown

Richie cakes the right side of his face with make up, making sure he gets most of the bruise covered. The foundation is a little more tan than his actual complexion and Richie is no makeup artist, so the edges of the bruise look slightly orange. He narrows his eyes in the mirror, giving a determined look. He cracks a smile, gladly seeing he doesn't have any missing teeth as he didn't think to look at it last night. The day is cold and windy, but all Richie is wearing a long sleeve shirt to block it out. He walks outside already shivering and hops on his bike. Richie's backpack bangs against his back as he pumps his feet. The fall air flows through his hair that's whipping his red face. The wind hits his face, cold as the quarry on a spring day.
When Richie arrives at school, the minute bell had already rung. Richie had woken up at the same time as usual, but applying the makeup had taken more time than he thought. He jogs into his english class, reclaiming his usual spot behind Stan and Bill.
The Losers Club gives him strange and concerned glances as he sits down, they always meet at the flagpole but he wasn't there today. They thought it was weird but Richie just waved them off, shrugging and smiling per usual.
The late bell rings bringing in the last flood of students. Bowers walks in with Elliot and Belch trailing behind him, he gives Richie a wink and taps his pocket. Signaling the knife that resides there. Eddie nudges Bills ankle from behind passing him a sticky note, Bill unfolds the paper and his eyes scan it. He stifles a laugh and rolls his eyes at Eddie who laughs, looking at Richie. Richie gives him a questioning glance.
"What?"
"Oh nothing It's just that you have a smudge on your cheek." Eddie winks.
"It's from your mom's lipstick!" Richie says smugly, his arms crossed over his chest and he smiles. The smile and banter is interrupted by Bowers throwing a balled up piece at Richie's head, the paper bouncing off and falling to the floor. RIchie frowns at Bower's, "What."
Bower's eyebrows narrow and he points to Eddie who's turned away talking to Bill again.
Richie's heart speeds up and his leg bounces up and down. Up and down over and over. He's a ball of anxiety and ADHD, his chest tightens and restricts. He bites his lip, fear races through his mind and he begins to wring his clammy hands together. Richie gulps and nervously glances at Henry, who's laughing silently chatting with Idiot #2. Richie blocks Henry's and Elliot's laughter out so he can pay attention and calm down. It's the second week of school and he's already falling behind the thing is, he can't pay attention to anything the teacher is saying and he really hopes she doesn't ask him to answer a question. Richie tries to busy himself by doodling on his desk with his nub of a pencil. Time ticks by slower each second and he wishes it would be last hour already! He looks over at Bowers in the middle of class and he's writing something down on another piece of paper- his weapon of choice- Richie wouldn't be surprised if it's notes of what the teachers saying, on account of he's failed the class twice now.
"Psst."
Richie looks over at Eddie, "What?" He whispers.
Eddie points to Richie's erratic bouncing leg, "That's so fucking annoying dude, stop."
"Oh sorry," Richie scowls, "I didn't know moving my leg would kick up your allergies." Richie smiles, hoping it doesn't look like he's wincing on account of him being anxious.
Eddie rolls his eyes and faces forward, Richie catches himself staring and quickly tears himself away. He tries to listen to the lesson, he really does, but it's really hard when you keep getting distracted by the booty-short wearing boy. Also, Richie keeps thinking of the day before.
Bower's hot breath on his cheek before the shameful kiss.
Bower's doing what Richie wants Eddie to do-
thinking of Bower's hands on Richie's hips makes him want to throw up his cereal.
Bower's knowing his secret.
God, Henry knows Richie's secret and he doesn't care if anyone else knows.
Richie's heart pounds out of his chest, his blood rushes to his ears and he'd be surprised if someone can hear the bomp. Bomp. budump. Of his heart.

The cuts itch and Richie fidgets tightening his grip on his pencil to keep from scratching at the scab that's forming. He can't move much today in fear of the cuts reopening, how he would just love to explain that one to the nurse...
He feels something brush his arm-finally a distraction- he looks over to see Bower's handing him a folded piece of paper. He'd rather skip the distraction thank you... Richie gives him a disgusted look and Henry just smiles, nodding to the paper.
Richie reluctantly takes it, when he opens the crinkled paper, he can sense them staring at him.
Richie unfurls the paper, quickly closing it and breathing a sharp intake of sticky air on account of what's written inside.
RICHIE TOZIER
Sucks Flamer
COCK
Richie's breathing shallows out and now both of his legs are bouncing up and down. He wants to erase those words out of his mind. But it's not possible.
Go away...
Go away...
Go away!
Goddamn it!
GO AWAY!
His fingers drum on the wooden desk, and he tries to calm his breathing.
Faggot.
Fairy.
Disease.
Flamer.
A fucking steamer.
Fuck...
Goddamn it Richie calm down.
He feels sweat trickling down his neck making his hairs stand up. Richie can hear Eddie telling him to stop moving but he can't, he turns red and he feels as if someone had just exposed his secret, What if someone looked over my shoulder? What if Bower's passed it around the room before it got to me and I just didn't notice? What if- Richie suddenly shoots his arm up, his fingers outstretched. He grips the paper in his other hand waiting for Mrs. Harrison to call on him.
"Yes Mr. Tozier?"
"C-" Suddenly Richie's mouth's as dry as the paper he holds. "Can I go to the bathroom?"
"I don't know can you?" Mrs. Harrison muses.
Normally Richie would appreciate the snarkiness but right now he really despises it.
"May I?" Richie practically leaps out of his chair when Mrs. Harrison nods, when he gets to the hallway he sprints to the bathroom, drinking large gulps from the water fountain before locking himself in the furthest stall from the door. He grips the paper in his hand and tears it to pieces, smiling at the satisfying rip and seeing the tattered segments flaking to the floor.
Richie presses his back against the wall and slides downward, his legs tucked underneath him. But he doesn't cry. Not here at school anyways, there will be plenty of time for that later.
"Fucking.... Bowers..." Richie says for the hundredth time. He realizes his hands are trembling and he tucks them in between his thighs and calves where his legs are bent. Thoughts race through his mind, wanting to forget about the words sketched into his mind- and stomach- he untucks his right hand from his leg and traces the tile. It feels like hours go by but he knows it's probably only seconds.
I wonder if I asked Eddie, he would sit on this dirty bathroom floor with me... Richie almost laughs at the thought of his germaphobe friend willingly sitting on a bathroom floor. He slide down, his legs stretching out and he lays his head against the wall.
Richie checks his watch, only two minutes have gone by, Richie sighs and starts to get up then all of a sudden the bathroom door bangs open. "Rich?" Eddie squeaks into the dimly-lit bathroom, "Are you still here?"
"Fuck..." Richie squeezes his eyes tight and stays quiet.
"Richie I know you're here you idiot." Eddie spurs.
He stays noiseless.
"Richie, I'm not even fucking kidding get out here." Eddie softly kicks the stall Richie's hiding in, "I know you're in there... I can see your shoes."
Richie hesitates for a second thinking about just staying quiet. What do I have to lose now... Richie thinks, sighing, "Alright Eds... I'm coming." Richie unlocks the door, the discarded ripped paper still in his hand.
"Don't call me that- and what's in your hand?"
"Your mom."
"Wow that is just so fucking hilarious." Eddie rolls his eyes.
Richie shrugs, "Just the truth," He dumps the remains into the trash.
"Whatever." Eddie narrows his eyes, "You never told us what happened with Bowers."
Richie laughs, "Nothing happened he was just being a dick, like always."
"Well why wouldn't you let me patch you up then?" Eddie stands hands on hips.
"Because I needed to get home and-"
"Oh bullshit. You are totally lying right now."
"Am not!" Richie throws his hands in the air, frustrated.
"Are too!"
"No"
"Yes!" Eddie rebuked, exasperated.
"No"
"Yes you-"
"Okay whatever!" Richie sighs, "It doesn't even matter dick-wad its over with so let it go Eds."
"Fine... but what'd he ingrave in you?" Eddie queries, wiggling his fingers as if it was night time and someone heard "a ghost outside".
Richie shrugs, "If he did write anything, it would be meaningless words, so...  like you! But he didn't."
"Beep Beep Richie." Eddie deadpans.
"Oh shut up!" Richie rolls his eyes, softly pushing Eddie into the counter.
Eddie's eyes grow wide, his hands are resting on the countertop and Richie is smirking- inches away from their chests touching- until Richie realizes the position they're in.
"Oh!" Richie leaps back letting out a nervous laugh even though he really wanted to rip out his fucking hair just then.
"Uh" Eddie steps to the side and tugs down his shorts, "What's been going on with you? You haven't been around much."
"What do you mean?" Richie asks, he's nervous enough as it is, but with Eddie asking these types of questions? Richie fidgets with the hem of his shirt.
Eddie sighs and leans against the wall, "Ya know what I mean. You never want to hang out."
"Yes I do!"
Eddie gives Richie a 'really? you're gonna play that game?' expression and Richie nods, pursing his lips.
Richie presses his shoulders against the opposite wall "I do wanna hang out I do, It's just I'm already behind in school and-"
"That's bullshit."
"It's totally not."
"Yes it is. You may be behind in school but me, and all the other losers, know you don't do your homework. So stop BSing me and tell me the truth." Eddie crosses his arms.
"I'm telling the truth Eddie, I swear." Richie looks into Eddie's eyes and puts a hand on his shoulder, "I swear."
Eddie shudders and his eyes dart to Richie's hand then to his lips. Richie steps away, putting his hands into his pockets and looking down to his scuffed shoes. Eddie toes the floor and tightens the strap on his fanny pack. The air is laced with awkwardness and if Richie had a knife he could cut through it.
Richie clears his throat, "Uh. Anyways, I'll be able to hang out after school- I promise. We can go to the clubhouse like we were going to."
"Okay." Eddie smiles.
"Or we can go to your house 'cuz I really wanna see your mom." Richie smirks.
"Shut the fuck up Rich!" Eddie growls.
"You love it!" Richie laughs, dragging Eddie out the door, "Well if we're done here, Eddie Spaghetti, can we get to class?"
"Well the bells are about to ring," Eddie checks his watch, "so why don't we just stay? There's literally like a minute left anyways." The asthmatic kid says. "I kinda hate English with Mrs. Harrison anyways."
"Me too, she's so boring." Richie snorts, "She tries to act cool and it just doesn't work.."
"No kidding!" Eddie laughs and pats Richie on the shoulder, "How's your cut doing anyways?"
Richie smiles, "It's fine. Don't worry Dr. K, it won't get infected."
"If you're sure..." Eddie says.
They talked for a few more minutes about meaningless things until the bell rings, echoing through the halls and ending their conversation, "See you at lunch Eds." Richie salutes Eddie and swings his leg around, walking out the door.
"Don't call me that!" Eddie wines, "Ya know, you better have brought your own lunch we have no idea what kind of ingredients the lunch food holds-"
"Oh shut up." Richie laughs jogging through the door and to his next class.
Eddie keeps the smile going until Richie is out of sight, then he pulls out his inhaler to take a couple puffs, his face grim.
There is definitely something going on with Richie.