The front door to Richie's house was open by a crack. Richie stopped, dead in his tracks.
No. No, this couldn't be happening. Richie sauntered to the door, peaking in. He didn't hear the rustling of papers coming from the kitchen or the tossing of kitchen utensils. Richie didn't hear the fridge opening with welcoming hands as Wentworth made a grab for another beer.
The raven stood outside his door for a minute or two. Maybe longer. He opened the door slowly and cautiously. He made a run for the stairs, one step, two steps, three. On the fourth, however, a voice stopped him.
"Where ya going rich?" The drunken voice spoke. Richie closed his eyes, think think, think of a lie. He couldn't. He turned back. One hand was curled into a fist, the other was flat and he hit his fist into the palm of his hand. A nervous habit he had picked up on. "I was.. with Eddie, dad." Wentworth cocked a brow, "Last night?" Richie nodded. "You know how i feel about that boy, Richie."
"It wasn't like that, sir." He swallowed, "It started raining, Eddie didn't want me to walk home so he let me stay over." "You didn't think to call?" He was screwed. He could've at least called. But in that moment his mind was just clouded with Eddie. Eddie's face, his lips, his ass, his body, anything. It was just Eddie. "I asked you a question, boy." Richie flinched, "Yes, sorry. No, I didn't think to call."
Mr.Tozier bit his lip, the beer bottle was held in his hand very firmly, dangerously. "You better watch out with that boy," he said, "You wouldn't want him grabbing at your dick now, would you Rich?" "No, sir." Richie looked down and his lip quivered. He felt angry, mad. He wanted to yell, punch the wall, something, anything. But he couldn't. "Look at me." He did. "You ain't a faggot, are you Rich?" Now, he felt like crying. "No, sir." Wentworth smiled in satisfactory, "Good. now get outta here."
"Where's mom?" "How the fuck should I know?"
Richie preferred his mother over his father. He held in his breath and turned around, running up the stairs. He couldn't wait to leave. It's the only reason he had been trying in school this year. It amazed the losers that Richie was actually really smart. He was a straight A student, if he actually tried.
"Good grades better fucking help," He told Stan, "I gotta get away from my dad." Stan could understand why Richie would want to leave. He'd never mentioned anything to Richie, but he knew. Stan had seen the many bruises on Richie's waist at times. Or the times his friend would hide the black eye behind a cap. Or the awful shade of purple on his forehead. Or what about the time Richie tried to cover up a red mark on his cheek? Either way, Stan had seen through the makeup, fingerprints. "I'll help, you know."
"Yeah, yea, you're rich. I don't need your money Stan, I'll figure it out." Stan rolled his eyes and ran his finger across the book's spine. "I wasn't offering money, idiot. Stay at my place, for as long as you want." Richie wasn't the type to cry in front of people, but he teared up a little. "Rich?" Stan stopped staring at the bird book and faced his attention to Richie, who was staring at the ground, shaking. "Hey, Rich, it's alright." He walked over to the lanky boy and hugged him, warmly, tightly. In those moments, Richie felt so small, to himself and to Stan.
His legs gave in and he slowly sunk down to the ground, Stan sinking with him. He held him, stroked his hair and whispered kind things to him. "You're gonna be alright." No one had ever held him, comforted him. Not even Eddie. How could he, he didn't know what was going on with Richie. Richie never opened up. And that day, all his emotions had come tumbling out.
Richie went up to his room and locked the door. He kicked off his shoes and tossed off his shirt. He changed into clean clothes. In his drawer, was a walkman. A gift from his mom for his 13th birthday. "Take good care of it, Rich." And he had. He plugged the headphones in and put them over his ears. He let the sweet sound consume him and drain his thoughts away. He found himself humming along to the music and within seconds, he was fast asleep.
He woke up to the small droplets of rain landing on his face. A leak. He sighed and turned on his side. He wanted to see Eddie or Stan, he didn't know why, but he needed to. He got up and went to the restroom to brush his teeth, then made his way over to the living room, where the phone was. Richie had lost his phone somewhere in the house but it was dead so he couldn't find it. It didn't matter though, he knew all the losers's numbers by heart. He dialed Stan, who answered immediately, "Hello?" Richie would never admit it, but he loved Stan's voice. If Eddie hadn't been around, Richie would have fallen in love with Stan. Other people, they'd say he already had.
"Hi, Stan." Richie said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Did you just wake up? Dude, it's 2 in the afternoon!" Richie giggled and Stan smiled, "No, I guess I took a nap. I was at Eddie's last night." There was a short, odd pause.
"Oh. Why?" He shrugged and remembered Stan couldn't see, "Went to see a movie with him and Via." Stan said, Oh, again. "Why'd you bring Livia?" Richie held his elbow in his hand, rubbing circles around it, "I dont really know, actually. I guess I didn't want it to seem like a date?" "Why would it be a date? You have a girlfriend." Richie didn't answer, "Rich?" "I know." he said at last, "I know."
"Then?" "I don't know." He could practically hear Stan rolling his eyes, "Do you know or not?" He didn't say anything. "Rich." "Yeah?" Stan took a deep breath, "Do you like Eddie?" Richie hit his foot against the kitchen chair, "I dunno." "C'mon, be honest with me." "Maybe."
It was cold again and Richie remembers last night. Eddie snuggling up against him for warmth. Eddie covering himself in more blankets than needed. He remembers Eddie's lips accidentally pressing against his. And the kiss they almost shared. How close they had been. Just a couple more inches and they would've done it. There would have been no space, and that gap would've been filled. But time has a way of working things out.
"Tell me the truth Richie, it's not like I don't already know." He was right, of course Stan knew. Stan knew everything. He was weird like that. "Yeah."
Silence on the other line. "Yeah. I like Eddie." On the other side of that call, Stan was biting his lip and holding back his tears. He cleared his throat, "Yeah. I know." He sniffled. "Stan, you okay?" He regained his composure, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm great. Fine. Just.. getting a bit sick, maybe? It's been raining like crazy." Richie nodded, "Yeah, it has been. What do I do?" "Bout the rain? Nothing, really, stay inside."
Richie rolled his eyes, "No, smartass, about Eddie?" "Oh." he paused, "Nothing." "What?" "Well, you can't do anything while you're dating Liv. So, unless you break up with her.."
Richie shook his head, "I can't do that" "Why?" "Because it'll look suspicious, I mean, my dad just asked if I was a-"
He bit his lip and stared at the marble counter. "A what?" Stan asked. "A.. a faggot." Richie answered in a whisper. Stan's eyes widened and he leaned back on the headboard of his bed, "Wow." Silence. "Wow." He repeated. "Yeah." "And you said no?" "Well obviously!"
Stan ran his fingers through his curls, "Think you can come over?" Richie looked at the clock, it was now 2:53 in the afternoon, "I dunno, maybe." "Well, if you can, I'll be waiting. If you can't, call me later. I'll figure something out."
"Okay.. Stan?" "Yeah?" "Thanks.. for everything. I dont deserve you, man." Stan blushed and smiled, though it was a sad smile. "Yes you do and dont worry. I'll always help you," Even if it hurts me.
"Okay, I'll go see if I can come over, alright?" "Alright." "Bye, Stanley." "Bye, Rich."
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