Behind the Scenes // Stenbrough {COMPLETED}

Forty

"Here." I reach into my back pocket, handing him an inhaler as we sit on the bed.

He leans his head onto my shoulder as I rub his back gently.

He doesn't cry anymore. His breathing hitches every couple of seconds, leading to a slight sniffle.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I whisper. We sit still as he nods.

"I uh...a week or two after Bill and I broke up...I got with him. Today would've been our one month." His lightened voice signifies he's smiling.

"He uh...he. Well, Victor figured out what I've been doing behind his back and wanted to break up. It's my fault. I don't know why I'm crying." He chuckles softly.

"I'm pretty sure it's not your fault for whatever you did." I smooth his hair back as he lay facing each other. He looks away before speaking again. "How did you know I needed an inhaler?"

"I uh...did some research you know...saw some compilations fans have made of random guys you've dated handing you an inhaler." He smiles gently, listens to me ramble.

"You left this one at my house...I've been carrying it around for a while." I chuckle as his small hand pushes back my hair.

I begin to stare at his lips. "Richie?" "Yeah?" My face begins to inch closer. "I uh...I'm sorry." "For what?" Our lips touch slightly before he pulls away slowly.

"He knows Richie." My stomach begins to twist into a perfect knot.

"He knows been booking up." I furrow my brows, sitting up quickly.

"How?" "He noticed they hic-"

"So you're telling me that you've had a boyfriend for over a month. And decided not to tell me? And now I figure out it's basically my fault??" My voice begins to grow louder by the second.

"It's not your fault-" "Yes it is Eddie. You didn't tell me! For a whole month, I could've stopped!" I stand up quickly

"No, it's my fault, Richie." He argues back like every conversation he's in. "It's my fault! Why can't you understand that?!" My voice cracks.

"Baby, listen." He uses a nickname that I loved at one point. "Don't call me that okay?!" "Are....are you crying?" I wipe the tears I didn't realize have fallen away quickly.

"Maybe I am!" "Wh-" "I've had to be your personal therapist for a whole month. You haven't realized my feelings for you??!" I leave the room quickly, slamming the door as tears fall down my cheeks.

"Richie?" "Huh?" I turn towards Beverly. "Why are you crying, hun?" "Oh, I don't know. I just confessed my feelings to Eddie. Oh and also I just figured out it's my fault they broke up. Isn't that nice?" Sarcasm fills my vocabulary, making even a small sentence seem sarcastic.

"It's not your f-" "Why can't anyone except the fact that it's my fault!? I've literally been hooking up with him while he's had a boyfriend!" I run my fingers through my hair as my other hand grips the door handle.

"Richie?" He comes out of the hallway. "Fuck you." I open the door, leaving quickly.

Wow. Isn't funny how it decides to storm as my day gets worse?

I get into my car, pulling out slowly. Eddie stands in the rain. I flip him off before driving away.

I whimper as I drive down the road. I'm not sure where to, but somewhere.

It feels like I only had to blink to end up at this bar. Seems reasonable to drown out my problems with alcohol, doesn't it? I believe so.

"Richie?" I turn to see an unfamiliar face. "I'm a big fan. Can I get a picture with you?" "Sure." I smile gently, pushing my hair back as the rain soaks me even more.

She takes the picture. "Are you okay?" I tilt my head. "Not to get into your business, but are you crying?" "Oh yeah." I chuckle. "Just not having a good day. I'm okay." She hesitates to say something before nodding.

"I hope you have a better day." She smiles before walking away.

At least someone cares.

"Hey, buddy. Can't come in here wet." "Listen I'll pay as much money I have to come in here. I really don't care." I hand him a hundred dollar bill as I walk past him.

—twenty minutes later

My vision becomes worse as I sit there. My chin resting on my arms.

"Richie? What's are you doing here?" Someone puts their hand on my back. "Found his glasses." Another familiar voice mumbles.

—Third-person omniscient

"Oh heyyy Stan. Whatareyoudoinghere?" He squints as his voice slurs. He grabs onto Stanley. "Here to make sure you're okay. Let's go home." Richie groans before putting all of his body weight onto the smaller one.

"Oh no." The three-plus Richie stand outside. His back hunches over as he throws up. "There you go..." Stan sighs, wiping his mouth off. "Stan? I love you." He smiles putting his forehead on the crock of the boy's neck.

"I love you too. Now come on." He lays the boy in the back seat, someone sits in the back with him, cradling his head.

"I don't wanna...I don't wanna go home." His voice begins to fade out as he passes out.

The person runs their fingers through his hair gently. "We gotta get you home." They mumble.

—

Two/three small Reddie chapters to fill this story until I can think of ideas for the actual plot of this story.