Mixtape

35

35

Richie was under the impression that he would be locked in a concrete room with no windows and one-sided glass. He assumed he would be interrogated of his parents' whereabouts as if they had just killed a man and Richie is their only suspect. That didn't happen, of course, but it still took some time for Richie to process what had actually happened.
Him and Eddie were separated almost the second they walked into the police station. Eddie was guided towards a waiting room of some sorts, and given a dollar for the vending machine. Richie, however, was taken to a man behind a desk, a computer sitting on top.
Richie had only seen a computer a couple times in his life. There were two in the school library, but both had games disabled and were purely for research only. There was always someone inhabiting the seats in front of them, however, so Richie never got to experience the technology himself. Here, however, he was sat right next to the computer screen. He stared at the computer, at how it was less boxy than the ones at school, his eyes following the wires down beneath the desk and disappearing to some place he cannot seat. The keyboard looked less clunky, too. Richie guesses that this is where the taxpayer's dollar is being spent; the police having up to date innovative technology.
The man asked a lot of questions, some that seemed irrelevant. He asked about Richie's birthday and where his dad works. Richie answered everything the best he could, but there were some questions that were left blank, such as "When was the last time that you saw your parents?"
When the interview finally ended, the man started printing directly from the computer, and Richie was fascinated by it. Before he could stay and see the result of the quiz he had just taken, another officer was guiding him by the arm out of the office area. As he walked down the hall, a door opened up in front of him, and the last person he expected to see walks out from the doorway.
Henry Bowers.
Certainly Henry was no stranger to the police station, being taken down for petty crimes such as vandalism and loitering. But this was different, the timing was too convenient, and Richie was being taken into the exact same room that Henry had just been coming out of.
"You fucking told them," Richie blurts out, his eyes pouring into Henry's. He feels himself grit his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides as bile begins to rise in his throat. "You called the fucking police on me, you piece of shit."
The officer that's guiding Richie tightens his grip on the thin arm hidden beneath a jean jacket, pulling him back from Henry in just the slightest.
Henry looks away, guilt evident all over his expression. He moves like an injured rabbit, one that's just had its lucky foot cut off. It's a familiar walk, Richie knows the way he limps quite well. He knows that if Richie were to lift up Henry's coat right now, he would see belt lashes and welts raising all over Henry's pale skin. He went too far this time, Henry's dad. He went too far and Henry felt cornered to telling someone. But instead, he panicked and ratted Richie out rather than telling the truth about what really goes on. After all, his father is the sheriff.
"I was worried," Henry says dejectedly. He is at a low, maybe his lowest point, and he doesn't really need nor want Richie's opinion of him being added onto that pile. But Richie doesn't care, he's going to kick Henry while he's down.
"You don't have the right to be worried!" Richie spits, trying to twist his arm free of the officer's grip. The man only tightens his hand, now attempting to coax Richie into the tiny room. But Richie is done being complacent, he's done giving up. He's fighting back so that Eddie doesn't have to. "You don't get to be worried after you held a knife to my fucking throat!"
Then, Richie is shoved into the room, and the door is shut. He stands there, rigid with anger, his hands shaking in fury as he tries to swallow the betrayal he just experienced. Henry doesn't have the right. He just doesn't.
Even if he doesn't have the right, they had promised to each other. Promised when they were little. Two young boys huddled under a tree in Henry's backyard, pinky promising one another that they would never tell anybody their secrets. Now, here Henry is, breaking that promise by dragging the police into Richie's abandonment case.
"He beats him, you know," Richie blurts out. He makes a vague arm gesture towards the door, looking around at the cops in the room. "His father beats him. If anybody needs social services on their doorstep, it's him."
"Chief?" One of the cops almost laughs at Richie. "No way. Docile as a kitten."
"I would beat him if he were my son, too," the one still holding onto Richie's arm suddenly says. Richie yanks his arm out of the man's grip, feeling disgusted by the words that just came from his mouth.
"He beats him," Richie repeats, with more emphasis on the word. Why is nobody listening? Are they really that caught up in what they think of their precious Chief?
The only one who takes him seriously is the woman from before, sitting at a desk with another computer, but her piece of technology is slightly older. She nods at Richie, then takes the pen from behind her ear and makes a note on a pad of sticky notes. Richie leans forward so that he can read it, but when he can't, he bounces back in defeat.
"Sit," she asks him, motioning towards the chair in front of her desk. She pushed the pad forwards, so Richie takes another look.
Investigate Bowers for potential child abuse.
The words are underlined, giving off a sense of urgency that calms Richie down. He nods, thankful that somebody actually listened to him. So, Richie takes his seat, his body stiff and uncomfortable in the room he's been locked in.
"I'm not talking to any other cops," Richie says bluntly. He eyes the woman, preparing to see how she reacts, but she barely even bats an eye at him.
"I'm not a cop," she says simply.
Richie eyes the other men lining the room, and with a simple wave of her hand, they all start to vacate the room. Suddenly, Richie straightens up and turns to one of the officers on his way out.
"Wait!" Richie calls, his voice panicked. "Can you check on my friend? He's in the waiting room, his name is Eddie."
"Little one?" The man asks, to which Richie nods. He waves Richie's request off, saying "That kid is fine. He's been calling up a storm, using up all his money on phone calls."
Richie's stomach drops at this, but he knows that Eddie would not dream of calling his mother. Not in this position. Sonia would quite possibly quarantine Eddie for the rest of his life if she were to have to pick him up from the police station. No, Eddie is calling people who matter. Richie just isn't sure if he wants all of them involved just yet.
As the last officer leaves, and the door is shut behind him, Richie suddenly doesn't want to be alone with this woman. She came into his home and went into his parents' bedroom, and Richie feels like that is partially illegal on its own. He avoids eye contact with her, looking at the pictures of various children on her desk. There's no way these are all hers, there's dozens. Kids of varying age and race are all framed for whoever enters her office to see.
"He means a great deal to you, doesn't he?" she asks.
Richie is caught off guard, his body tensing, muscles locking up in fear. He feels as if he swallowed a ton of molten lava, his insides stripping away from the inside out as it eats him alive.
"Sure, I guess," Richie tries his best at being nonchalant.
"Does he take care of you?" She asks. "Eddie?"
Richie bites his lip, not trying to give away anything too crucial to his and Eddie's true relationship. "Um, sure, I guess."
She nods, and Richie braces himself for whatever her next question is going to be. When Richie finally works up the courage to make eye contact with her, he notices that she doesn't look annoyed like all the other cops did. She looks friendly. Pleasant. He doesn't trust the facade at all.
"What's your name?" Richie asks so he can stop referring to her as the woman.
"Dr. Wendy Patome, PHD in behavioral science and sociology."
Richie shakes his head, saying "I don't want your credentials. I'm not an employer. What's your name?"
She smiles at him, tucking some hair behind her ear. She's really quite beautiful for an adult; long brown hair, dazzling green eyes. Eyes that haven't been dulled by her line of work yet, eyes that are still hopeful. Upon inspecting her hands, Richie doesn't see a wedding ring, but that's no surprise. This woman is married to her work, and all these children are just lives that she has saved.
"Wendy," she tries again, and Richie seems to accept this answer better. She's got a young face, almost too young for someone who has a doctrine in sociology or whatever it was that she said.
"Are you smart?" He asks.
Wendy doesn't blink at this question, merely nods and says "Yes, I graduated top of my class at NYU."
"Then why come to a shithole like Derry?" He questions.
She hums a little in amusement, then sits back in her seat as if she's getting more comfortable. Richie just wants to derail her from the topic of his parents, and even if it seems obvious that that's what he's doing, she still humors him.
"I tested to be placed in the FBI," Wendy tells him, her voice full of nostalgia for a life she never lived. "I was going to be in the behavioral analysis unit. Do you know what that is?" She doesn't wait for Richie to answer before she continues. "But I requested to be moved to Derry, Maine. Do you know why?"
Richie shakes his head.
"The crime rate here is higher than any other town all throughout Maine. The missing children files are almost double what they are in Chicago. I've seen a lot of towns, a lot of crime, a lot of death. But I have never seen a town like Derry. The adults here... they don't really care, do they? It's the strangest thing. I saw this, and I knew that I could help. Sure, I could help in the FBI as well, but I knew that I could really make a difference in Derry. So, I packed up, and I moved. Now, here I am, about to make a difference in your life."
Richie frowns at the last sentence. He doesn't want a difference, he likes his life the way it is. Sure, there's some rough patches here and there, and not everything is ideal, but he likes it. He likes seeing his friends every day, he likes being able to cook with the radio on, he likes not having to climb down the rose trellis that broke Eddie's arm, he likes being able to walk out the front door with nobody stopping him, he likes having Eddie over whenever he wants, he likes it. He likes the sense of responsibility that he was given, and he doesn't want that to change. Not now, not ever. He wants to be with Eddie, just like they talked about.
Him and the woman, Wendy, talk for ages. He feels like she's dissecting every bit of his personality, her questions ranging from "What do you like to eat after school?" to "What's the worst thing that your parents have ever done to you?"
This.
Richie's answer is this.
The worst thing they have ever done is leave him alone for so long that he has to be taken into police custody. Richie doesn't tell her that, though. He just says "They never bought me Christmas presents," despite the fact that Richie is not much of a materialistic boy and he doesn't mind the lack of gifts in his childhood.
Wendy talks to Richie as if he's another adult, not talking down on him or simplifying her vocabulary for the sake of making sure he understands. He does, he does understand, and she recognizes that. She tells him about what their next step will be, and what they have to do to take that step. Richie feels sick by the end of their conversation, but there's really not much else he can do about it. Wendy tells him that it's unlikely his parents will come back, and she also tells him that it is not his fault that they left. Those were the words that Richie had been searching for from the moment he noticed they were gone. He just needed somebody to tell him it wasn't his fault.
Wendy finally releases Richie, walking him to the station's waiting room while talking about the best Chinese restaurant in town. Richie nods as he listens, somehow enthralled in her tale about egg drop soup. When they turn the corner, though, her story is cut short by the smile that takes place on her face.
Richie follows her line of vision to see what's caught his attention, his heart pounding and threatening to leap out of his throat once he sees. His knees buckle in, legs growing weak, stomach doing somersaults and backflips at the scene in front of him.
It's not the whole group, but it's enough to make Richie want to break down and cry. There, sitting in the waiting room, are four out of six of his friends, all worried sick. Mike paces through the room, while Bill and Bev try their best to comfort a sobbing Eddie. Richie thought he didn't want the others to know, but now that they're here, he couldn't be more grateful.
"Your friends?" Wendy asks. The two still haven't been noticed yet, which Richie is thankful for. He doesn't want them to see his stupidly shocked face, though he knows they would not make fun of him. When Richie nods, she places a hand on his shoulder. "Bill Denbrough's a great kid."
"You know him?" Richie turns to ask, alarmed. He didn't think that Wendy would know anybody else other than him and Henry, it just makes sense. Him and Henry are broken.
She smiles sadly and rubs Richie's back in small circles. "I worked his case after... after his brother died. His parents... well, can't say they're the best."
Richie's eyes widen and his gaze goes back to Bill, a new light shining down on the kid who has been in Richie's shoes. To know that... to have that information... it feels unlike anything else. Richie and Bill share a bond now, whether Bill knows it or not. It's a bond stronger than anything, and Richie knows that they've become connected for all of their future life.
"You stay with a friend tonight, okay?" Wendy asks. "I'll see you again on Thursday, just like we discussed."
Richie nods, now desperate and eager to get out her clutches so that he can meet his friends. He looks back at her one more time, trying to see if she has anything else to say, but Wendy stays silent.
So, without hesitation, Richie jogs down the hall to the waiting room where he automatically throws his arms around Mike. The darker boy yelps in surprise, but once it's clear who is hugging him, it does not take long for Mike to hug back.
Bev hugs next, inserting herself into the equation by forcing her arms around Richie and Mike. Richie doesn't even need to open his eyes to know it's her, he can smell her perfume from a mile away.
"Jesus, Rich," she sighs, squeezing her face against his. "You had me worried, kid."
Richie laughs, his grip tightening on Mike as he hugs harder. "Sorry," he laughs, a classic Richie laugh, one that can make everyone smile.
Mike pushes on Richie's chest, attempting to get the boy off of him. "Eddie. Now."
Richie doesn't need to be told twice. He separates from the two, spinning around to face Eddie now standing up in front of the chair. Bill is behind him, a hand on Eddie's trembling shoulder.
Eddie's eyes are the most heartbreaking part. Wide, sparkling, full of pain and confusion. Tears streak his face, and his eyelashes clump together to form wet triangles. Every single emotion that he has stored for Richie is shown perfectly in that moment, the two need not confess another word to one another. It's written all over his face, as if Eddie is wearing love as an accessory.
Richie steps forward and hugs Eddie without fear of holding back. He doesn't care about the other losers around him, he doesn't even care that they're in the police station. He stoops his body down low enough to Eddie's height, and he nuzzles his face into the side of Eddie's warm neck. The boy seems to cry a bit harder, his tiny arms wrapping around Richie and squeezing as hard as they can. Neither want to let go, they know if they do, they might get taken away from one another. It feels as if the sunshine is finally ending, the sun is setting, and the moon is rising to take it's place. Richie once would have fallen in love with the moon. In fact, he's sure that he did. He loved the moon when it lived along the outskirts of Eddie's features, illuminating the boy's face late at night. Now, Richie would give anything to have their eternal sunshine back. He never wants this day to end.
Richie feels the same way that waves do when they cling to the shores come high-tide. Once again, a current controlled by the moon. He's afraid that the riptide is going to suck Eddie in and pull him under until the boy drowns. Richie knows that the longer he hugs, the more water is filling up in Eddie's lungs. So, he gathers every single bit of strength he has in his body, and he pulls away first.
Eddie looks up at him completely heartbroken. Richie pulled away. Richie pulled away. There are many things for Eddie to be freaking out about right now, a countless supply of factors that he should be more primarily fixed on, yet his brain seems to get stuck on a mantra of Richie pulled away. Richie pulled away. Richie pulled away.
"Come on," Bill speaks up first, oblivious to the other worldly conversations that both Richie and Eddie are holding within their eyes. Bill says the only thing that comes to his mind in a situation as dire as this one, and that is "Let's go home."
Home.
What a foreign fucking concept.
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a/n: early update because im going to be in Chicago tomorrow lol enjoy