5555 reddie (Completed)

Part 30

Sometime during the night, Eddie must have gotten up and drawn Richie. It is done in crayons, but it is still undeniably beautiful. Nobody has ever drawn Richie before. He thinks he'll hold onto this portrait forever; it captures him in a shockingly calm light, with his eyes closed and arms folded across his chest, though his expression is tight and uncomfortable as he sleeps.

You drew me, Richie wants to say as he shakes Eddie awake. But he doesn't. He just stands, and stares, feeling strange. Feeling unfamiliar, in a way he has never experienced. Gazing at Eddie in his slumber, Richie wishes he could place his emotions. That has always been incredibly difficult for him, sorting out what he's feeling versus what he thinks he should be feeling. But isn't that challenging for every teenager? Doesn't everybody feel like this?

Ten minutes must pass, with Richie holding the drawing between his greasy fingers, still shaken up, before he gets back underneath the covers. Eddie's arms do not find him. Richie finds himself oddly disappointed. He does not sleep, but he does feel the house warm up. Though this heat is peculiar, it seems to push past 68 degrees, because Richie is so hot he peels off the covers and sits upright in the bed. Still sleeping, Eddie shifts at Richie's movement. This is weird, Richie thinks, and he wipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

Getting out of bed, Richie goes down the hallway, and it is bright. In all his life, Richie has never known a light like this. "What?" he says out loud, because he is scared, and the light is not similar to the light of a lamp, it is red, and fiery. Suddenly he coughs, and though he has been awake for much time, he feels very groggy. "What is this?"

It is a fire, unmistakably.

"Eddie!" Richie calls out, panicked, and he darts back to the master bedroom. Eddie is already awake, at the foot of the bed, confusion and fear written across his furrowed brows. "Eddie, we need to go!" But Eddie is frozen. Richie grabs his arm and shakes him, panting. "What the fuck are you doing?! Eddie, now!" He won't look at him, and Richie shakes him, and shakes him, and the flames are at the door now. Richie can't breathe. He coughs and pulls Eddie along with him, but Eddie is heavy, and solid. He won't move. His feet are glued to the floor.

"Eddie! We don't have time for this, come on!" With all his strength, Richie tugs on Eddie's arm and attempts to bring him to the closed window. But he won't move. It doesn't seem as though Eddie is really there, and that scares Richie more than the actual thought of being engulfed by flames. Richie's face is wet, and it dawns on him that he is crying. He doesn't know when he started, and right now he isn't sure he'll ever stop, because Eddie is seemingly paralyzed with fear, and there's nothing Richie can do to help him. "Eddie, please!" Richie pleads, sobbing, because the fire is so close now, and he still has to open the window. "If you don't stop I'll leave you!" Richie screams, his throat sore and raw. He doesn't want to leave Eddie. In one last attempt, he tries to lift Eddie up and manages to drag him a little closer to the window, but Eddie is too heavy, and Richie curses himself for never going to gym class. He is too lanky and weak to carry Eddie any further. "Please!"

The flames are dawning on them, so close, so hot. Richie feels the heat all over his body now. He wonders if Eddie can feel anything in this state.

And then it seems to hit Richie like a pile of bricks, like an answer you suddenly remember during a math test-because Richie doesn't want to die. He is only sixteen years old. He has his whole life ahead of him, and he has so much to live for; there is no reason he should die now, here, like this, so tragically, with a fire birthed by the end of a cigarette.

And then he lets go of Eddie's arm.

He rams the window open with his foot, breaking it the same way he broke the window at the front of the house. And he throws himself out the window, and runs, runs, runs. As he weeps, Richie weaves his way out of the woods, down the same way they came, and he doesn't stop running until he reaches the road. Until he reaches his car broken down at the side of the road. And he cries and cries, and falls asleep on the hood of the yellow pickup.

It isn't until morning when he wakes, shook awake by a man with a beard. The man looks at Richie, concerned. He is tall, and large, and is saying something. He points a finger at his car and gestures to Richie's truck. Richie nods, yet he isn't sure what the man said at all. But Richie gets up and follows him, and lets him hook his car to the back of his own. When they are in the man's car, and Richie is in the backseat, biting his bottom lip anxiously, he asks Richie if he knows about the fire.

And in a rush Richie remembers.

The fire, Richie thinks. I started the fire. And Eddie-

At the thought of Eddie, Richie feels something on his hand. Swiveling his head to the right, Richie makes eyes with Eddie. He doesn't remember Eddie being here, with him, doesn't remember Eddie speaking with the bearded man, or watching as the man explained to Richie that he would bring him to the nearest gas station. Richie doesn't remember any of that. But Eddie grins at Richie, calm and collected, his eyes a gentle whisper, and Richie grins back, real slow, but kind, deciding Eddie must have been here all along, that Richie just misremembers what happened.

I started the fire. And Eddie made it out, too.)