whoa, baby! | reddie

- ten

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❝ if my calculations are correct, when this baby
hits eighty-eight miles an hour, you're going to see
some serious shit! ❞

⫷❍▨❍⫸

Richie's plane landed an hour earlier than it was scheduled to, but the airport was busier than ever— people were still coming and going for Christmas break— visiting home, or vacationing for the holiday. An early plane meant the gate wasn't open yet. So, he sat in the vehicle for the last hour, staring at his phone.

Eddie hadn't messaged him or called him all day, and Richie felt shitty, but knew he deserved it. The guilt was eating him from the inside out. He had gotten a few happy anniversary wishes from his friends, but his favorite was from Beverly Hanscom-Marsh:

happy anniversary, u asshole.
i hope u brought back smth good, or
hes never going 2 forgive u -b

Richie had read that one as soon as his flight landed and smiled a bit, typing out a snarky reply.

it's none of ur business, mrs. hanscom.
(but for the record, i really, really hope it IS worth it) -r

He got off the plane easier than he had thought he would, and despite the airport being packed, he didn't have to worry about baggage claim. He lugged his carryon out front where the drop-off and pick-up zones were and called an Uber. He answered a few of the other Losers' wishes for his happy anniversary— although, it didn't seem that anyone knew of the issue aside from Bev.

Stan would have known.

The thought made his heart ache. He hadn't thought of Stan in a long time— but he knew Eddie thought of his old best friend every day. And if Stan were alive, he would have called Richie by now, absolutely fuming— and Bill would be sitting in their shared house, listening to him shout over the phone, and wondering what the hell had gotten his husband's pants in such a twist.

But he wasn't alive, and he wasn't yelling at Richie, and Richie still felt just as bad as he would if the man were shouting at him. Worse, even, because now he felt sad about something else.

He sat down at a bench and opened his carryon, pulling out the item that had hopefully made the entire trip worth it just to look at it for a second.

The edges were a little bit jagged. They would have to bring it somewhere to get it smoothed, if Eddie wasn't pissed enough to throw it out the second he saw it. Richie hoped he wasn't, because the longer he looked at the little hunk of what anyone else would say was nothing special, he felt a little bit better.

His Uber arrived at 10:23 at night and he had never gotten into a stranger's car so fast in his life. The ride was silent. He knew it always took almost exactly forty-five minutes to get home from the airport, but he found himself counting down the minutes as if he were Cinderella trying to make it home before the clock struck twelve and everything was ruined.

He almost leaped from the car before it even stopped moving. He barely got the words out to thank his driver before he was slamming the door and flying up the rest of their extensive driveway to get to the front steps.

The door was unlocked. He shuffled inside as quickly but as quietly as he could, shrugging off his jacket and carrying his bag into the living room. He held Eddie's gift tightly in his free hand, and he knew he was shaking as he glanced around.