soulmates? - reddie

8

A/N: This chapter includes a hate crime. The next few chapters will probably also have the aftermath. If you don't want to read about the actual event, i'll mark where it starts and ends (like so: ...)    thank you! :)

Saying goodbye to Eddie felt like shit.

Richie was already upset when Eddie had gone back to sleeping in his own room, but then, because of his mom, Richie couldn't even give a kiss goodbye. And of course, he was getting a dirty look from Ms. K because of his black eye, his split lip and the smell of weed, cigarettes and alcohol coming from his room. He'd have to blame Bevvie for that, she'd came by after a party, drunk and probably high, and she fell asleep on Bill's bed. Damn Beverly.

Now, it's been two days sans Edward, and Rich is about to go insane. He can only take the long way to the roof to smoke, and to leave. Of course, Henry is here for the rest of the month. He's apparently being forced by his old man to finish college, he dropped out in the middle of his freshman year. So, he's seeing if this college option is better than his last. That puts Richie in a strange position, because now he's stuck with a homophobic asshole who knows that Rich fucked his cousin.

But still, Richie would love if his boyfriend was here to force him to go the easy way. Bev, Bill and Stan have all complained of how long it takes for Richie to get outside, and of course, he feels bad. He wishes they'd jus understand, Eddie would be so mad if Richie got beat up again, and so much could go wrong. He wouldn't be able to explain himself, he can be more aware of the chances of getting beat up, and that's what he'll do for Eds. 

As Richie gets his cigarettes, and his leather jacket, he gets a text. Beverly asking if he wants to go out, and he can't say no. He texts her a yes, and goes right back to his closet. He throws all his clothes off, getting dressed in a pair of black distressed jeans, and a red button down shirt. he rolls the sleeves to his elbows, leave the top three buttons down and cuffs the jeans. He goes for Vans, black high tops. He slides his arms into the sleeves of his leather jacket, grabs his keys and phone, tying his hair up, half up and half down with a man bun. 

With one foot out the door, he puts on some chapstick and sighs. He looks down the hallway towards his longer way to the exit, and then thinks of how much Bev hates waiting, he decides to go the regular way, there's no way Bowers can be monitoring the door 24/7, right? The hall is almost scarier than usual, he can see Connor's door, and fuck, it's open. Too late to turn back now. Richie keeps going, but makes the mistake of stopping just outside the open door, where his shirt is grasped. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes to Henry staring him in the face. "Sup?" He asks, not being answered.

...

"So, I talked to Connor, and I think I'll be teaching you a lesson." Richie doesn't even fight back, he's dragged to a bathroom, no funny sexual joke, nothing. He doesn't want to fight back anymore. He put himself in this situation. Any rude name he could be called is yelled at him as he's repeatedly punched, crying. He raises his arms, but they're knocked back down. He's kicked in the shins, and eventually he ends up on the floor.

Each kick, one after the other. Richie doesn't say a word tries to stay as composed as possible. His chest and sides are being filled with sharp pain, he's flipped over which is excruciatingly painful. He can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he knows it's Beverly, his phone screen is probably cracked. Henry gets on top of him. straddling, punching once more. It doesn't seem like Henry has his knife, thankfully. 

Richie feels hands on his neck, and soon enough, he's passed out in a bathroom. All he could think throughout the experience was that he was going to die in a bathroom, and disappoint his perfect soulmate. Still, he wouldn't fight back and make it worse, he'd take it. 

...

Hours later, he opens his eyes, still laying on the cold tile, doesn't seem like anyone tried to help him, blood covering his face and shirt, blending in with the color. He stands up, aching in every way, immense pain. He looks in the mirror, then down at his phone. Over 80 missed texts from Bev, 10 calls. Richie can't believe what just happened. What is he meant to do now? His mind is running wild with thoughts, why would he let it happen? Will the police do anything? Does Henry realize how different this is from his usual shit?

Rich sighs, walking out of the bathroom, down the stairs and outside, ignoring the stares, the questions. He walks into the fresh air and just starts to cry. He doesn't even care that the winter air is hitting his face, he doesn't care how much he's in pain, he just wants to cry for himself. That's when she comes around the corner, Bev, with Stan, Bill, Mike and Ben, all of them looking at the mess that is their friend. She rushes to Richie, wrapping her arms around him, getting a yelp of pain in response.

They're all shocked, there was no conversation until they're piled into Mike's truck, all six of them. Stan is trying to comfort Richie, Bill and Beverly working to to get the story of what happened. Mike is driving, Ben staying silent in the passenger seat. Richie won't say much, only one word answers. "Henry" "Bathroom" and "Connor" coming up frequently.  

Nobody knows what to do, Rich has stopped crying, but he's still not talking. He's pissed, but he's hurt. He wonders what could've happened if Eddie was there, who'd get beat harder? Who'd be more hurt? He didn't want to think about it. The losers all jumped when Richie moved, no longer sitting there sitting in silence, staring at the wall. He takes out his phone, passing it to Bill. 

"Text Eddie, let him know I'm okay, and that he can enjoy his trip." Richie looks at him expectantly. "He'll guilt me into asking him to come home, I don't want him to see me like this." Bill looks to Bev, who nods, knowing it's best to follow what Rich wants in this state. As Bill has Richie proofread the text, they pull into the parking lot of the ER. Everyone looks at Richie and he scoffs "Let's go, see what the fucker did." 

And like that, the Trashmouth is back.

Word count: 1,127