𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 | 𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕖

chapter two: good vibrations

After the dinner was complete, Richie bid farewell to the short and smartly-dressed Eddie Kaspbrak.

When Richie left, Eddie felt more confused than he'd ever been, yet everything seemed to make more sense. He thought back to his feelings about 'love' and 'romance', but he just couldn't think of having it with a girl.

But the way that Richie's large lenses shone from the moonlight outside made Eddie feel like a girl. He felt like a girl and he hated it. How dare he think about boys like that? What made him think that was okay? He felt gross. Crazy.

And when Richie's large hands made direct contact with his necktie, he felt like he could stay in that moment forever and not be upset about it. Perhaps he just wanted to be really good friends with him. Perhaps it was platonic interest. That's what he hoped.

Eddie had a quick shower, 'washed the boy right out of his hair', and dressed himself in his flannel pyjamas. As he brushed his teeth, he thought about what it would be like to be in a relationship.

Imagining a girl next to him, he sighed. She had messy raven-black hair and large glasses. All he could think about was Richie.

He rinsed his mouth out and mentally scolded himself.

Crawling into bed, he did a silent prayer in his head.

'Dear God, whatever's wrong with me, please help me with it. Why did you make me this way? I don't want to be crazy. I'd rather die than have people look at me any weirder than they already do. Let me be normal. Amen.'

After the prayer, his eyes began to well up with tears. He felt pathetic.

★

Richie entered his house with a huge grin on his face, sighing in bliss after meeting Eddie Kaspbrak. He felt as if he'd known Eddie forever. They'd instantly clicked, both knowing that the other was special. And they were.

"Goodnight Richard, sleep well." Maggie said to him, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

Wentworth smiled at Richie and walked off with Maggie to bed.

"Night." He said to nobody, heading upstairs to his large and lonely room.

His walls were a strange shade of purple, perfectly matching his personality somehow. In his bedroom, he could be himself all the time. He could listen to his records and look as ugly as he wanted to. He could cry into his pillow and it would absorb his noises and tears. He could let out his frustration whenever he wanted to.

The cold shower only lasted long enough to wash the slight product out of his hair and when he came out, he put his glasses on and looked at himself in his small mirror. But he wasn't checking himself out this time.

He dried himself off with his towel and looked again. He felt like there was something different about him.

Something crazy.

Maybe it was all in his head.

He dressed himself in his pyjamas and brushed his teeth as quickly as he could, not caring if they were completely clean or not.

Diving into bed, he snuggled into his sheets and placed his frames on his bedside table.

In that moment, he had a lingering question on his mind,