Reddie Oneshots

Richie's Guitar Pt. 1

found this on ao3, the title is I Say I Don't Know (When I Know Well Enough) by intouchwithhumanity (the name was too long so i just said fuck it) i think there's 4 parts so yeah. enjoy.
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'Where's Richie?' Eddie asked, swinging his legs over the cafeteria bench to sit beside the other Losers.

Ben waited until he was done with his mouthful, then said, 'He's probably down the music block again.'

'Whoever decided to give Richie Tozier a guitar was an evil man,' Stan chuckled, picking at his food. 'He's loud enough as it is.'

Bev nudged him, her fingers twitching for another cigarette. 'I think it's nice how obsessed he is with it. You know how he's always had trouble focusing on one thing at a time.'

Stan did know, and so did everybody else. Richie's energy was almost permanently on overdrive, which kept his mouth running faster than his feet and his attention diverting by even the smallest distraction.

Everyone had expected the guitar to go the same way as every other novelty birthday present he'd received over the years, but to their surprise, Richie had kept up with his daily practice and lessons, often taking additional time out of his lunch period, evenings and weekends to play.

He took the instrument with him nearly everywhere he went, would often regale the Losers with new strumming patterns and chord progressions which he had memorised, and would learn to play their favourite songs to sing along. Richie would never sing for them himself though, as he insisted that he couldn't play and sing at the same time. No one had really questioned whether this was true.

'I'm sure he could take one lunch break,' Eddie grumbled. 'He hasn't eaten with us all week.'

'It's n-not like we don't s-see him anymore,' Bill reminded.

Eddie knew that this was true, but ever since he was eight years old, he'd shared his lunch breaks with Richie. As much as he hated to admit it, Eddie was a stickler for routine. It was comforting, and Richie had always been part of that routine.

The guitar had thrown everything off course. Richie was consumed by it in a way which always made Eddie resent it. He saw it as an addiction, like the cigarettes stuffed in Richie's shirt pockets, or the inhaler that he still hid in his locker, despite knowing it was a placebo.

'I'm gonna go find him,' Eddie said, picking up the uneaten half of his sandwich for the walk. 'One of you can have my pudding.'

'Dibs,' Mike said, hauling the plate onto his tray.

---

Eddie finished his sandwich, stopping briefly to rinse his hands in the music block toilets. As he turned off the tap, the muffled sounds of Richie's guitar percolated through the walls. He started to follow the sound, traipsing down the hall until he reached the furthest room. He was about to burst in, hand poised on the doorknob, when Richie opened his mouth and started to sing.

It's not often at just thirteen years

You're forced to face your darkest fears

I never knew someone so brave as you.

Eddie took his hand off the doorknob. It wasn't a song that he'd heard before. It certainly wasn't a voice that he'd heard before, lilting and husky.

And when you're choking raggedly

I find it's me that cannot breathe

And all that's red inside me drains to blue.

Something tugged in his heart as his throat dried and constricted, and Eddie wished that he had his inhaler. He raised his hand to knock on the door, to stop himself from eavesdropping on Richie singing, but he couldn't bring himself to do so.