cliché || reddie ✔️

twenty six

Richie went to bed early that night. Not like he could fall asleep properly, not with Stanley's broken face and confession swirling around in his head. He dreads going to school the next day. How could he look at Eddie knowing there's someone else out there wanting him, too?

Richie rolls around to lay on his side, a saddened breath of air leaving him. He didn't stay at Stanley's until eight like he thought he would, instead he left directly after their short, forced conversation. The air was too tense and awkward to stay a minute longer, and by Stanley's rushed actions, it seemed like he agreed.

Now, as Richie stands next to Beverly with weak knees and timid eyes staring up at the back door, the dread is much more sickening than when this situation was only a mere thought.

"What's up with you?" Beverly asks, knocking an elbow to his side.

Richie shifts his weight and moves his eyes down to the ground, shrugging. "It's- .. I'm just not ready to be back at school. I would much rather be at home-"

"Banging someone's mother," Beverly finishes for him, a smile on her face, thinking she knows his exact thoughts. Sometimes she does.

He pushes a smile onto his own face, saying, "You know me so well."

She shrugs and pushes herself off the chain-linked fence, metal rattling against itself. "I had to pick up a few things about you, haven't I? With being stuck with you for so long."

"Ah, you love it," Richie replies and receives a soft laugh.

"Maybe I do."

The bell pierces the outside air, signaling there are limited minutes before class begins. Richie takes Beverly's arm and rushes her inside, completely ignoring her questions as to why they're moving so fast. He desperately wants to avoid the three boys right under their feet as they walk across the mezzanine.

"Wait, lets wait for the others," Beverly says, her steps slowing as they pass the stairs.

"No, Bev, I got to get to class," Richie says, impatiently inching towards the hallway that leads to the main stairwells. Beverly looks to him, her eyes narrowed in confusion. It's obvious one specific question pushes at her lips, wanting to come out, but she knows Richie better than to push. She knows if she does, he'll never tell her.

"Then you go. I'll see you in second period, alright?"

Richie glances briefly at the steps, then nods his head and begins to walk away. He can feel her eyes move from his back to the three boys as their own steps thunder up the stairs.

Richie never looks over his shoulder, not then as he walked away or now, hours later, when he feels a presence come up behind him while he's at his locker. It's between classes, students filtering out classrooms and finding their way to their second to last class of the day. Richie just wants to get there in peace and not have to deal with whoever is waiting for him to take notice.

"Rich," they say. "Richie, I need to talk to you."

"What about, Stanley?" Richie asks. He doesn't mean to be so salty towards the boy, but sometimes he can't help it. They're both pinning after the same boy, two of them in the race, and to Richie it feels like Stanley is many points ahead.

"Don't be stupid," he says. "Could you come over to my house after school? We need to talk. There's- there's things I need to tell you."

This grabs Richie's attention. He pushes his locker door shut, the bottom refusing to fall into place, and he turns to look at Stanley. "Why can't you tell me here?" Richie asks, only to receive an eye roll.