The End Of Us || losers club ✔️

eleven

eleven - i want her back

Tension is thick within the car. It's the type of tension where it's awkward to even simply move around. The teens have succumbed to the silence long ago, their throats beginning to hurt from the mixture of yelling and crying.

It's just horribly silent now.

Richie isn't sure if it's better or worse that way. Perhaps it's better, because with a heavy heart he can feel it: their friendship straining. The distance in their conversations is obvious with every word spoken.

They're losing each other.

Or maybe Richie is just losing touch with himself. Either way, something is deteriorating between the teens and it's deteriorating fast. It makes Richie not even want to be around his friends, but it's going to take a lot to drag him away from them.

Ben has stopped his crying long ago, but every few moments he'd intake a shuddery breath, as if he's on the verge of tears once more. Mike sits in the middle seats, staring down at his open palms. His eyes gloss over with tears, but they never fall, just simply sit in his eyes. Eddie is staring out the window, continuously picking at the skin of his lips. It reminds Richie of a habit Maggie had, something that would always leave her lips chapped.

Richie wishes he was back at home, sitting on the couch with Maggie beside him, watching TV. Maybe they'd be watching Wizard Of Oz (her personal favorite) or maybe some other outdated movie Wentworth picked out. Everything would be alright. Empty seats in the living room would be just that - empty seats. They wouldn't yell silent screams at him or burn into his mind like a harsh fire.

They wouldn't scream that it's his fault. His fault his friends are gone, his fault they're miles behind him, his fault any of them are in this situation in the first place, his fault, his fault, his fucking fault-

"My fault," Richie finds himself muttering.

A beat passes before Eddie turns his head to look at Richie, eyebrows drawn and confusion written all over his face. "What?" He asks.

"It's my fault, isn't it?" Richie asks. His eyes stay planted on the car floor because he thinks if he looks up at Eddie, he'll see the answer laying behind his eyes: that it is his fault. Deep down, he knows it. He took away all of their chances at a normal life the moment he wrapped his hand around the bat handle and lifted it over his head. Nothing is going to be okay, not after what went down in the farmhouse. Not after Sonia. That was the turning point, of course it was.

Eddie shifts to fully face Richie, a leg pulled up onto the seats. Richie drags his eyes over to Eddie's leg. He's not sure how or even why, but he's much too thankful Eddie hadn't turned to hating him. He's struck with this sense of overwhelming gratitude, happy that after everything, Eddie doesn't despise him.

"It's not your fault, Rich," Eddie says, then slides his eyes to the other two up front. "Blame them."

Richie's breath gets caught in his throat. He darts his eyes up to Mike, then to Ben. Neither one of them say anything, but words aren't needed when Mike's shoulders become ridged and Ben flexes his hands over the steering wheel. It's all too clear. Their friendship is falling apart.

"But," Richie tries again, "I was the one who..." He looks at Eddie, but only briefly. "I was the one with the bat."

Richie hears Eddie inhale deeply and the shift in the seat as he stiffens. "I know that," he starts off. Out of the corner of his eye, Richie watches as Eddie slowly flexes his hands. "We all did something, Richie. It's not just on you."

Richie keeps his eyes on Eddie, watching, searching. Richie has already lost his mom, and Beverly, and one of his best friends (Stanley), he's not sure what he would do if he lost Eddie too. Sure, he's got Ben and Mike in the car, but he can feel them slipping. Or maybe pulling away.

It makes Richie shudder to think about.

Then, without a hushed conversation to keep the lingering thoughts away, Richie is back to hugging his arms and staring out the window. It all comes back. Maggie, Beverly, Bill, Stanley.. How all of them must be feeling. Richie thinks if he studies on them for long enough, he too could feel the utter terror and grief and betrayal they all must've felt. It makes him feel so useless, so fucking useless.

As Richie stares up at the moon, wallowing in the endless abyss of sickly emotions, he desperately wishes

(There's no reason to wish)

that he could just reach out to someone. Someone that isn't stuck in the same car as him, someone that wasn't forced into the same situation as him. Everything is a bit too much for him and he's not sure he can keep this up for much longer. He feels as though his mind would break. He'd go crazy. He'd become one of the members up at Juniper Hill, maybe even be roommates with Henry Bowers because that kid is destined to land up in a place like that.

Richie inhales deeply, and the harsh storm raging on in his mind calms, but only slightly. He just wants someone, anyone. Hell, he's thinking he might even confide in a homeless person if he has to.

Even with all the options, only one person really comes to mind.

Maggie. Richie's mom. The one person in the entire world Richie knew would be there for him at the end of the day. She has to be, right? That's what moms are for. Richie glances at Eddie, the pit in his stomach forming once more. He just wishes Sonia was a little nicer, had a gentler hand. Richie wishes.

He'd come home with scraped knees and heavy breathing, maybe teary-eyed depending on who found him that day (Losers or Bowers) and there she would be, standing in the kitchen, perhaps with a book or on the phone talking with one of her friends. She'd rush over to him, fret over his cuts, but once he assured everything was okay she'd smile wistfully down at him and press a kiss to his hair.

Richie just wants everything to be okay again.

"Hey Ben?" He asks into the stiff air, his voice wavering. He's not sure what he's asking, it just feels right talking, "Can you stop at the first store you see?"

Ben's fingers dance along the steering wheel, then he glances up at Richie through the rear view mirror. "Sure. Can I ask why?"

Richie shrugs. "I feel like I gotta do something."