Reddie Oneshots

-75- Off Track

TW // Alcoholism

The teachers pitied him, naturally—everyone knew the Tozier household was more boozy than a bar at happy hour. They'd given up on him. Nobody really tried to help anymore; it was a known fact that Richie had alcoholism in his blood. It was amazing that his mother's sober kick had even lasted long enough to have a healthy child. The whole of Derry was surprised when the baby came out without fetal alcohol syndrome.

Another day, another drunk Richie in fourth period. Gym class was truly awful, for everyone involved, but it just got worse when Richie came in drunk because Richie didn't do things halfway. If Richie was drunk, he was stumbling, slurring and yelling, walking straight out the gym doors into the school yard for a smoke.

Eddie stood in the locker room trying not to watch Richie strip butt naked in the middle of the room and put on all of his gym clothes on without an ounce of shame. Eddie sighed, shaking his head and turning to pull on his shirt. He observed as Richie got bowled over by one dodgeball hit to the shoulder, and helped him up when he couldn't hoist himself off the grimy gym floor.

"You're being obnoxious," Eddie huffed into his ear as he lifted the taller up. "This is stupid."

"It's fine," Richie laughed in his face, his breath smelling of booze and smoke—either whiskey or cigarettes. Probably both. "They don't care anymore." He giggled, covering his mouth as he hiccuped.

Eddie hated how much he loved that boy's smile.

He rolled his eyes, trying to turn his attention back to the game and getting immediately pummelled in the face by a ball. He heard Richie's loud yell of "head shot! Doesn't count!" followed by a fit of laughter, and shut his eyes.

Fucking moron.

That Saturday, the Losers had planned a reminiscent visit to the quarry, in honour of it getting warmer out. Eddie was honestly excited; a chance to spend time with his friends (...and Richie—sober) outside of school was all he wanted, and to be doing so in such a childish way was freeing compared to the mountains of work Mrs. Hamer piled onto them.

After just a few more days of waiting, Saturday finally rolled around. By eleven, Eddie was packed up and ready, Nutella and spoons shoved clumsily in his bag beside some bagels and a water bottle. Mike was bringing the chips, Beverly was on drinks, and Ben on the picnic blanket.

Eddie trotted out of his house, walking happily down the sidewalk towards the cliff spot. When he arrived, Ben had beaten him and had already begun setting up his (rather intricate) picnic "blank-tent" as he called it; "naming in progress."

"Hey!" he called from where he sat under one of the support sticks. "Thoughts?"

Eddie sat and stared for a bit, grinning. "It's really-"

"Fuc-ck-kin sick!" Richie yelled, trotting confidently into the opening. Ben's face visibly fell. It made Eddie's heart crumble the way their childhood best friend made even the losers unhappy now. Even though he's grown into his looks so well... "I brought drinks!" Richie whooped, producing an entire bottle of rum from his open backpack.

"Richie," Eddie began, trying to keep his calm. He didn't want to be the one to break Richie's bubble. He didn't want to have to. "That was beverly's job."

"Well," he replied matter-of-factly, "she's only gonna bring virgin drinks," he winked, making Eddie's face go all hot, then placing the bottle beside the blank-tent and plopping himself down beside it. Ben held his tongue as Richie lit up a cigarette, and simply shook his head when Richie got ash on his blanket.

It was a small matter of time before the others showed up, Stan even remarking that "Richie was on time?" and Beverly rolling her eyes as she set down the orange juice and the lemonade beside Richie's bottle. As the rest of them gathered the food and drinks, Richie put out his cigarette and joined them. They sat in a circle around their lunch, and Bill made sure no one was missing.