5555 reddie (Completed)

Part 21

"I always love that," Richie says, thinking out loud. Sometimes he likes Eddie to hear what he's thinking. Eddie's his best friend. "How we can talk about pointless shit and then just have some deep conversation like it's nothing. Is it always like that? When you talk with friends?" Richie does not realize how devastatingly pathetic the question is until he's asked it, until he glances over at Eddie's heartbroken face. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make it weird. But that's just what I'm talking about-conversations we have go from fighting to joking to thoughtful to fucking weird."

"It's not," Eddie says. "It's not always like that with friends. Just with you."

"Oh." Richie can feel himself blushing. Why do I always blush around him? "That's even cooler, then. It's like an us thing, or something." He attempts to cover his red cheeks with one of his hands, but knows it is overall pointless. There's no way Eddie hasn't seen it, even with only the poor car light.

"An us thing. Yeah," Eddie agrees.

"A Richie and Eddie thing," Richie says.

"An Eddie and Richie thing," Eddie shoots back, and Richie doesn't need to look over at Eddie to know he is smiling. "That has a way better ring to it."

"Whatever you say."

This gas station is busy this Spring. That is the first thing Richie notices as he gets out of his truck to fill it up with gas. Eddie waves a hand at Richie, saying he'll wait inside while Richie fills up the car. The second thing Richie notices is the cluster of kids surrounding a large silver car, how their parent is absent, perhaps inside paying for their gas or buying snacks for the road. He lights himself a cigarette and takes a long drag. Sometimes a cigarette is the best fucking thing, Richie thinks to himself, though he tries to angle his body in such a way that Eddie will not see him. He knows Eddie disapproves of his smoking habits.

Richie begins to set up the machine to put gas in the truck. Sticking the gas pump in his car, he fails to notice a little girl walking up to him.

"Hiya, mister," she says, and Richie's head snaps to his right, and then lowers, only to meet eyes with this blonde pig-tailed girl. She grins widely, holding onto a sticker book and a stuffed teddy bear as large as the dress pooling over her shoulders. Casually, she stretches a sheepish hand to her shoulder and holds the fabric there as not to let it fall further.

Before Richie says anything, he flicks his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out, not wanting the young girl to get the wrong impression too early on in life.

"Hi, little peach," Richie says. He crouches down to be at level with the girl. "Where are your parents?"

"Mommy's inside," the little girl says, pointing a finger toward the indoor shop. Richie glances over to where her supposed siblings stand, though none of them seem to notice she came wandering over; they are all too involved with their giggles and conversation. "I saw you all alone over here... you looked pretty lonely. I thought I should come say hi."

"Thanks for coming over," Richie says, smiling gently. "But I'm not lonely. My friend is in the car."

Then she cranes her neck as if to try and get a good look at Eddie in the front seat. "Oh," she says, her face falling flat.

"Won't your brothers and sisters be worried that you're over here?" Richie asks, not wanting to upset any of the girl's family. He especially doesn't want her mother to come outside and yell at him, as selfish as that sounds.

"No. They don't notice when I'm gone." And the way the girl says this puts Richie under the impression that she strays from her siblings often. He hopes she won't run into the wrong person one day. There are too many bad people in the world, and he hates to think that this innocent girl could end up in the clutches of someone so terrible.

"You really shouldn't leave your siblings when you're all waiting for your mom," Richie tells her, a lopsided smile on his face. The last thing he wants to do is sound like he's upset with her. He just wants to let her know to be careful. That's all. "Next time try to stay with them, okay? You're not supposed to talk to strangers. Didn't your mom ever tell you about stranger danger?"

Nodding, she blinks up at Richie. "I will try."

"Good." Grinning, Richie stands up tall again and stretches his limbs above his head. Eyes wandering, he tries to see if he can see the girl's mother inside the shop, and he can; at the front of the line there is a woman talking to the person at the register. By the looks of it, she'll be out in only a few minutes. "You should go back over there now. Your mom's almost done."

"M'kay," the little girl says. Then she drops her teddy bear on the ground so she can open up the sticker book she's holding. It seems to be a collection of different dog breeds, and hearts, and pawprints. It looks like something Richie would have enjoyed as a child. Rummaging through it quietly, she begins to speak in a childish ramble, "Wanna give you a sticker before I go, mister. So you're never sad and you're always happy, because stickers are so happy. Which dog do you like? I like these ones because they're all spotty..." She holds the sticker out for Richie to take, eyes doe-like, smile missing a few teeth.

But as soon as Richie's gaze settles on the sticker, his whole body tenses; the spotted dog was once between Richie's own fingertips, and this he knows, because the image is too familiar. His heartbeat quickens, mouth running dry. And his mind goes blank and he seems to lose connection with himself. Nothing feels real. But he knows he himself is slipping away, slowly but so quickly, and then he is alone. He is there but not there. And he can feel the tug on his hand but cannot make it out. Richie wonders how it is possible to be a stranger in your own body. And he ponders when this feeling became secondhand nature, routine, because it has.

He is scared, undeniably so.