The End Of Us || losers club ✔️

eight

eight - i never wanted her gone

Richie knew from the start he was going to miss the motel room horribly. It's only been a day since they left the stiff mattress and scratchy sheets, but Richie would take that over sleeping on the floor of a car parked on the side of the road.

He has no blanket over him, none of them do. Mike refused to keep the car running as it would drain the battery and even with the windows cranked down, the humidity is suffocating. He can't sleep, can't breathe, can't get comfortable. His blanket is bunched under his head, awkward and angling his neck to where it's defiantly going to be stiff in the morning. He wishes they stayed an extra night, even if he didn't get the bed.

He's not sure if everyone else is asleep, but either Eddie or Mike (they're both up front) keeps shifting and it's only one more thing pounding at Richie's ears. It's beginning to get on his nerves. The crickets and screeches of owls and the rustling of the leaves hits his ears. He just wants them to stop.

Another shift of the car seat, dull stomp of a foot. Richie breaths out a fast sigh. Then he hears the click of a car door unlocking and the car itself shifting as a weight leaves it. The door slams shut.

Richie lays there for a moment more, blinking up at the dark car before heaving himself into a sitting position. The passenger seat is empty. Eddie had left. Richie pulls himself up farther and looks around. Beverly sleeps just inches away, her arm throw over her head and her nose pushed into the crook of her arm. Bill and Stanley sleep in the middle section on reclined chairs, both on their sides and facing away from each other.

Richie awkwardly tries to get to his feet, slowly grabbing backs of chairs and handles to create as little noise as possible. He crams his foot between Bill's chair and the sliding door for balance, soon getting the door unlocked and pushing it open.

He hops out of the car, his socked feet hitting the hard and bumpy pavement. He doesn't bother closing the door, as it probably brings in more air into the car anyway. He looks around and sees no Eddie. He lifts his eyes to the tree lines, tall and much darker than the roads, but no Eddie. Richie feels a weird sense of déjà vu fall over him.

"Eds?" He calls out into the night. "Eddie, I know you're out here."

He walks around to the front of the car, pebbles and dirt pressing into his feet. His eyes search the pavement and there Eddie is, crouched down on the ground with his arms pressed to his face, hands tangled in his hair. Richie isn't blind or oblivious. He knows Eddie's crying. He can see it in the sudden stiffness in Eddie's posture and the shallowing of his breathing.

Richie takes a seat next to Eddie. The air around them is stiff and tense and Richie figures Eddie didn't want to be caught crying. But here he is, and here Richie is. They both wait for the other to make a first move. Silently tiptoeing around the subject. The subject Eddie refuses to bring up.

Richie inhales deeply, shifting to get comfortable on the hard ground. "Wanna talk about anything, Eds?"

The boy next to him lowers his arms, sniffling before burying his nose back into his knee. "No," his muffled voice comes up, "There's nothing to talk about, Richie."

Richie lets a soft snort escape, obviously not letting himself believe a word Eddie says. "We're all in this shitty situation together," he says, tilting his head as he speaks, "and I'm here.. for you, I mean. So if you need to like.. rant or some shit-"

"Stop it, Richie," Eddie says sternly, his head now picked up off his knees. "Stop it."

Richie looks over at Eddie, horribly confused. "Stop.. what..?" He asks.

A fast sigh passes Eddie's lips and he drops his hands to his sides, as if he's going to push himself off the ground, but he still sits. "Stop acting like.. I don't know, like this isn't what it actually is," Eddie says, "Like we didn't kill my mom a few days ago. You're talking to us as if this whole thing is fucking normal!"

"I'm not.." Richie tries, twisting his body to face Eddie, "I'm just trying to add some levity to this shit."

"Well I'm tired of your-" Eddie yells out, but his voice cracks and he smacks a hand to his mouth. He breaths in a shuddery breath, eyes shut tight. "I don't want your jokes, Rich," he says in a much softer voice.

Richie sits back, shoulder blades pressing into the front of the car. Eddie's hurt-filled voice squeezes at Richie's heart, bringing a second-hand wave of sadness.

I'm sorry bounces around in Richie's head. Fuck, I'm so sorry Eds. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's becoming to not even sound like a word anymore. It lays awkwardly in his mouth, as if he's never said it before.

"I just.." Eddie begins, his hands open and flexing in front of him, grabbing for something to say, "I just.. I hated my mom. We all knew that. Ben says I complained about her too much, so I know that."

Richie only nods.

"But I also loved her. She was my mom, Richie. I.. sure, whatever, I couldn't stand her. She forced pills down my throat for way too long and she was overbearing, she got on my nerves, she didn't know when to just stop.." He inhales deeply, "God, I hated her. I hated her so much."

Richie's eyes narrow. He blinks, one too many questions flying through his mind that he tries to sort out. "I.." He says softly, shifting to fully face Eddie, "Are you.. like, glad your mom is...?"

Eddie coughs out what sounds like a strangled laugh. "Glad?" He echoes, "What the fuck? No, Richie, I'm not fucking happy my mom is dead! Why would you ask that?"

"No!" Richie replies quickly, slightly overlapping Eddie's words, "It's just you made it sound like-"

"My only parent left is fucking dead!" Eddie yells, interrupting Richie, "Dead! Gone! And you think I'd be happy?"

"But," Richie breaths out, eyes darting around, "But your dad.."

"Richie, I'm only going to believe he's alive when the police say they found him. When I see him, I'll believe when they say he's alive."

Richie studies Eddie face, the boy staring just as hard back. A beat of silence passes them, crickets and wind occupying the space their words couldn't fill. Richie just wants to go back into the car. Better yet, back home.

Richie breaths in and sinks farther into himself. "We did a fucked up thing, Eds," he says, watching as branches sway in the wind. "We did a fucked thing and I know sorry doesn't fix all we've done... I wish it never happened, Eds. I really, really do."

Eddie lifts his eyes to Richie, but Richie doesn't look back. He feels Eddie's stare burn into the side of his head, hard and searching for something. "Save your apologizes, Richie," he says. His voice is soft, loosing its harshness it's held just moment before. "What's done is done. There's no reason to wish."

There's no reason to wish.