𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 / 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞✔️

eight // self centered

      Richie got up, his feet padding along the concrete. Eddie was still in bed. He hadn't shown up in two days, since he was still in shock. Richie didn't understand how he couldn't just get over himself, but he kept that to himself. He entered the cafe, walking up to the counter and glancing at the reading adults and teens listening to music from their Walkman.
      He got a slice of banana bread, with no nuts, a blueberry muffin, an iced coffee and vanilla frappucino. Richie thanked the lady, tipping them before walking back out. The walk back to Eddie's wasn't that long, so he arrived within fifteen minutes. He set the muffin and frappe on his nightstand with a small sticky note that said 'I'm going out with Stan today. Call his house if you need me. -rich' with a small heart. He smiled, setting the pen down and walking back outside. He took his skateboard this time, letting the wheels carry him.
       He kicked it up into his hand, knocking on Stan's door. He chewed his bottom lip anxiously, staring at a tired, grumpy Stan in the doorway. He mumbled some sort of nonsense, Richie was sure it was about him, letting Richie step inside. "I got you some banana bread and coffee to wake you up," Richie grinned. "I knew it's what you liked."
      Stan seemed to have forgotten he was supposed to be grouchy, because his eyes lit up as he took it from his hands, walking upstairs. Richie just chuckled and followed behind, a smile spread wide across his face.
       "I need to talk to you about Eddie," Richie broke the silence. Stan let a crumb fall down his chin, looking up at Richie.
        "Speak."
        "The other day I found him just- laying on the sidewalk, a little past Patrick's house."
         Stans eyebrows raised, "shit. Is he okay?"
         "I guess so. I just- I can't only focus on Eddie, you know?"
         "What else do you have to focus on?" Stan questioned, but soon caught his lip between his teeth and narrowed his eyes in pity. "It's not your dad, is it-"
          "I have my own issues! I love eddie to death but when I get home my dad's gonna beat the shit out of me! He hates it when I'm gone!"
"Richie, sometimes other people stru-"
"I know they do! But I can't just give them all my attention. How am I supposed to make Eddie feel better if he can't get over it enough to tell me what even happened."
The room fell silent, Stan scoffed. "Don't be so fucking self-centered."
Richie stared at him, getting up whenever the phone rang. He didn't say a word to stan, simply stating over the phone "uris residence."
Richies heart crumpled at the sound of Eddie sniffling, he knew he was crying but he couldn't bring himself to pity him.
       "R-rich..ie," he breathed, it sounded like he was having an asthma attack.
       "I'm right here, hon'."
       "I nee...d you."
       "Eddie, I can't."
       Silence rang over the line, other than another broken cry from eddies lips.
        "P...lease-"
        "I can't. I have shit to deal with, too. I can't help you forever if you don't tell me what happened."
       "I can't t-tell you."
       "Then I can't help you."
      "That's not fucking fair."
       "How? I have stuff to do, too. You're not the only one struggling."
        "You're heartless."
        Richie swallowed back the lump in his throat, "what?"
        "You're heartless."
        The phone buzzed in richies ear. Eddie had hung up. He felt his chest tighten, slamming the phone onto the holder and running out of stans house. He hadn't noticed it began raining, but it had, and he was already soaked. He jogged down the sidewalk, bursting into his house only to be struck by wentworth's hand directly on his cheek. He stumbled back in shock, looking up at his father. "Where have you been, boy?"
        "nowhere, dad-"
        Slap.
       "Where?"
       "Eddie's."
        "That fag?"
       "He's not a fag."
       "What'd I say about back-talkin'? He's what I say 'e is. You ain't any less of a fairy than him. Talk about waste." He shoved Richie into the wall, Richie coughed, holding his chin up high. His father rolled his eyes, walking back into the living room, but stopping dead in his tracks. He picked a wine bottle off the counter, turning around.
        The wine bottle came crashing just above richies head, that would've definitely killed him if Richie hadn't of ducked down. He shivered, staring at his father in fear as the falling glass cut and buried into his arms.
       As he walked to his bedroom, he couldn't stop thinking about the words. You're heartless. You're so self-centered. He'd apologize to Eddie tomorrow.