𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 | 𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕖

chapter twenty-eight: my guy

Henry wasn't sure what he was feeling. Agonising pain radiated throughout his entire body, blurring his thoughts and killing his free will. Patrick was an absolute maniac, pushing through his injuries with a gruesome grin adorning his face.

Henry was scared. He could finally admit it, he was scared.

Did that excuse his past actions? Of course not. But it didn't mean that he deserved to be trapped with a psychopath with a lust for torture.

As much as he hated to admit it, Henry wanted to cry on his dad's shoulder, which stopped happening around the age of six.

Even with the obvious villainous actions committed by Henry, he just so desperately lacked a proper childhood. He lacked love and warmth, and it brought him to his adult age, being a complete basket case.

"Stop crying, you fucking baby." Patrick said, turning out his pockets to check for change. "I could shoot you right now." He started to smile just like he always did before he did something completely malicious. "I could shoot you and it wouldn't even matter. It wouldn't even matter." The side of his lip twitched upwards and he looked just as much of a psycho as he sounded. "Either you do this with me," he checked the amount of bullets in his pistol. "Or you can die right here." 'My Guy' began to play on the radio, and Henry began to tune in on the melody.

"Fuck-" Henry choked, "fuck you, Pat."

"Make your choice and choose wisely, my good fellow." Patrick spoke in his raspy, sarcastic voice, aiming his gun at Henry's head. "Don't make me waste my bullets on a worthless piece of shit like you."

Henry wiped the streaming tears off his face and sighed. Within a second, he was grabbing Patrick's gun and hitting him over the head with it, knocking him out. "You won't have to, bud." Henry smiled.

"Nothing you could say could tear me away from my guy," Henry sang low and started to whistle to the tune of the romantic song.

★

Richie had never seen anything as simple and beautiful as the image of the Eddie looking out of the car window wistfully, his curls growing messier everyday. He was damaged, and broken, ashamed and weak. And he was there, and he was beautiful. Richie wondered if perhaps one of his birthday wishes came true.

Eddie and Richie were still unsure of how relationships worked (especially gay ones) and refrained from moving too quickly. They were still kids after all.

Eddie, out of boredom, turned the dial for the radio back and forth, back and forth, ranking from raspy country to opera to girl group. It ended up sounding like a big mess of genres, but what was there to do anyway? Perhaps the adventurous vibes of running away were wearing off.

"You good there, Eds?" Richie asked, trying to make his hair look somewhat tidy.

Eddie stopped switching the stations and simply turned the radio off. "Just bored."

"Just bored? Why, Eddie, look around you!" Richie exclaimed in his most cheerful, boisterous voice. "Surrounded by millions of new technological advancements, the moon landing, the radio, the car! The future is now, Eddie Spaghetti!"

"Gah, I don't believe that junk. Future? Not likely. The world'll end next year."

"1970? Lame."

"Lame? You're lame!"

"Me? I'm radical."

Eddie sighed and giggled quietly. "You're a catch, Richie Tozier."

"Thank you, madam." Richie spoke in a British accent. "I bet the world will never end. My world could never end unless you broke my heart." Richie fake-pouted and fluttered his eyelashes.

"I could never do that to you, Chee," Eddie laughed.

He had to admit it. His mother's suspicions were correct. He was gay and that was for sure, but he had no idea that he would end up falling for a dork in clunky glasses with hair like a bird's nest. But he did. And he vowed that he would continue to do it in every reality they spend together.

Thoughts of strife and stress fled Eddie's mind and he instead thought about what kind of shenanigans him and Richie would get into.

He imagined Richie riding a motorbike with Eddie clinging onto his back as they leapt over a myriad of traffic, but he just couldn't see how it ended. A bunch of villains would be after them- but lots of friends were there to protect them as well. Eddie would almost slip- but would grasp onto the hem of Richie's jacket, begging God for a second chance. An evil man would aim his rifle right at Eddie and-

"Are you listening, Eddie? We're getting super close to our final destination!" Just as Richie finished his sentence, something hit the windshield. "HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT, EDDIE, SHITYAKI MUSHROOM MOTHERFUCKER BITCH SHIT CRAP SHIT FUCK BITCH!"

Eddie somehow remained silent but his eyes remained opened wide and what he saw was extremely odd.

"You hit me!" A guy around their age popped up, mostly unharmed, but angry nonetheless. He had chestnut-brown hair and thin-rimmed glasses and suddenly Richie felt very self-conscious.

"Sorry, dude! We didn't see ya!" Richie ferociously apologised, but couldn't help but notice the way the guy looked at Eddie in the passenger seat. "We'll be going now," Richie hesitantly said, beginning to step on the gas.

"I won't sue if you give me a lift."

"Sweet Jesus, I ain't a chauffeur."

"I never said you were. I need to go to Nevada if that's alright with you."

Richie exchanged a look with Eddie as if to say 'we don't have a choice, we need to save our money for gas and food'.

"Okay, beggar boy." Richie said, rolling his eyes and flipping his leather jacket's collar up, attempting to look threatening. "You're lucky we're passing through Nevada anyway."

"What's your name, pumpkin?" The boy asked Eddie in the front seat.

Eddie immediately blushed after tuning out for a while, and Richie's face also went red (for a different reason).

"Pumpkin's name is Eddie." Richie snarled, "mine is Richie, and don't wear it out."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare." The boy responded, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Whats your name?" Eddie asked the boy.

Richie rolled his eyes yet again. Everything always got in his way.

The boy slipped on his pair of sunglasses and checked his hair in a mirror. "Hector."