I Fucked Your Mom - Reddie Week 2020

SIX - Hammock / Family

"Richie, stop touching me so damn much."

"You're the one who got in even though it's literally my turn."

"You were taking too long in the hammock!"

"You say that every time!"

"Fuck you."

"Oh, shut up. You love me."

"I don't!"

"You do. We're family, Eds."

"...You promise?"

"Of course."

—

Eddie sighed, tapping his pencil over and over against his notebook. The eraser on the end bounced every time it hit one of the thin blue lines that ran across the paper. He rested his head in his hand, eyes lifting up to the clock on the wall. Five more minutes. Five more long, excruciating, agonizing minutes.

He let his eyes fall on the boy they were always magnetized to. Curly dark hair. Black-rimmed glasses with lenses thicker than Eddie had ever seen on any other pair. Dark clothes. Ripped jeans.

Richie Tozier had always been a sight to behold. The only difference between freshman year and senior year was The Utter and Ultimate Betrayal. That's what Eddie liked to call it, anyway. The fact of the matter was: Richie had split off from the Losers in their third year of high school, just last year.

He'd started growing more and more different, distancing himself and doing drugs and smoking and drinking. He got mean, and not just in the joking way. No, Richie became a dick. The jokes faded into solemnity and so did the awfully bright shirts Eddie had loved so much. The weirdest part of it all was it was primarily Eddie he was an asshole to. It was like he was trying to shut him out— and it worked. He'd even crashed Eddie's brand spanking new car and hadn't even apologized. Finally, after Richie sold them out to Bowers (who, as anticipated, didn't go to college, instead sticking around in Derry to get some lame ass job and still chase after losers to feel better about himself) for cigarettes, the Losers decided they'd had enough. Richie had totally and completely changed, and they had to accept that he wasn't ever going to be the same kid he used to be again.

Eddie had cried for hours. He'd laid in bed awake for several nights, unable to sleep because all he could imagine was the stupid hammock in the clubhouse. Richie and him in the stupid hammock in the clubhouse. He'd promised so many times never to leave Eddie, and here he was, abandoning him. And for what? Fucking substance abuse? Unbelievable. But Eddie couldn't help the way he missed his ex best friend, which was why, nine times out of ten, he ended up staring at the back of Richie's head and zoning out every Spanish class. This was the only class he had a C in. Lately, his mother had been getting on his ass about it often.

With another frustrated sigh, Eddie drew a dark line through the wrong answer he'd been about to erase. He ripped the paper, and he gritted his teeth. Of fucking course. Jesus Christ. Now all he could do was stare at the back of Richie, who was, by some miracle, in Spanish 4 with him, as was mentioned earlier. Eddie tore the page out of his notebook, crumpled it up, and tossed it across the room at the trash can, too lazy to get up. His Spanish teacher raised her eyebrow, giving him a warning look, and he lowered his head after an apologetic glance. Sorry, Señora Martin. It was impossible for him to focus.

Finally, the bell rang. He slammed his notebook closed and stuffed both it and his vocabulary sheet back into his bag, shooting up and out of his seat in a heartbeat. The pill bottle in the front pocket (he still carried his medicine around, except now it was just in his book bag) rattled because of how quickly he yanked his backpack up. He tried to ignore Richie as the taller male stood up and hefted his own bag over his shoulder. For once, Eddie couldn't smell weed on him. Curiously, he allowed himself to peek. Clean shaven, Eddie noticed. His clothes were less rumpled. His hair was... brushed. But bags were under his eyes, and he moved slower than normal. Eddie had been noticing this more and more these days. Richie was cleaning up, looking a lot nicer. Well, good for him, Eddie thought bitterly, but he couldn't help continuing to look. Yes, Richie was looking better, but he also looked so damn tired. Withdrawals? Eddie had no idea. He was painfully unaware of whatever was going on in Richie's life. He had no way to tell.