Secrets | Reddie Fanfic

Shower Thoughts and Wet Hair

I lightly close my front door and feel all the bones in my body shudder. Before walking further into my house, I take a few heavy deep breaths. Richie and I kissed again.

My mother was asleep on the couch while Dr. Phil played quietly on the television. She had been working late most nights, so her sleep schedule has been screwed up. We were new in town and she got stuck with the terrible hours. I tip-toe past her, and head to my bathroom upstairs. I turn the shower water on and once the temperature's just right, I walk in.

I don't want to make myself paranoid, so I try to avoid thinking about Richie. How can I though? Every time his face slips in my brain, I immediately shun the thought.

I think about school work-

Then I think of Richie.

I think about the movie I had watched the night before-

Then I think of Richie.

I think about music-

Then I think about Richie.

I think about anything at all-

I think about Richie.

"Fuck," I whisper to myself.

I look down and notice I'm much more upright than I had been previously. I want to touch myself, but I don't. The reality of getting myself off to the mere thought of Richie Tozier was petrifying. Everything I'm doing with him is scary and new enough, hell I was going to give that man a handjob. When I think about it, I'm more or less repulsed by the idea of touching him in that way, but when I was in the moment I would have done anything he wanted me to. Kissing him got me outside of my mind, and in the moment I didn't care. He kissed back so demonically passionate, so shameless. I knew just how bad he craved me and I fucking loved that. It made me want him that much more. It was almost as if he lifted my hand and placed it there with his brain.

"Okay, Eddie, just think of grandma naked. Or the movie Shrek. Anything gross or sickly, just calm yourself down," I say to myself in an attempt to ease my tension.

-

Richie didn't answer his phone three times, and I was at his house now. I was far too scared to just let myself in, his dad wouldn't want me here. I breathe heavily and round up every ounce of courage I have in my tiny body, and knock on the door. No answer. I knock a few more times. The only vehicle in the driveway is Richie's truck, so I decide to turn the knob and step through the door.

"Richie?" I call out with a shaky voice. Still no response.

I walk around the entire bottom floor, including the patio. No one was around. I peak up the staircase, and it seems like there's a single light on. Richie had to be napping, it had to be him. What was someone going to do if they caught me climbing the stairs, murder me? I slowly creep up the stairs, regretting my actions, but continuing. The hallway is narrow. To the far right is a bedroom with the door shut, only a speck of light shining through. Next to it was another room, only it was pitch black inside. There was nothing along the wall, no picture frames or artwork, just like the downstairs. To the far left was a room that had music coming out of it, even though it was dark.

I walk towards it and flick on a light, once I realize it was vacant. Richie's phone laid on the bed playing Last Nite by The Strokes. His room was empty and small but it smells just like him. His window was cracked open, he probably had been smoking or something. He didn't even have furniture, aside from the basic necessities. I plop myself onto his soft, small bed, one that he most definitely outgrew years ago, and face the window.