「trashmouth」 reddie

04

when sixth period had come, and everyone parted their ways. richie couldn't help but notice the feeling still looming in his chest. he was making friends. his lips tug into a frown, the sour taste of bitterness on the tips of his tongue. he couldn't allow himself to open up those floodgates of friendship. he had to close them quickly before the storm made the water overflow and caused a disaster.

making his way down the opposite direction of his next class. richie finds himself in the boy's bathroom, the window he normally sat perched up on, huffing out clouds of cigarette smoke was his escape plan. the window arched open wide enough for richie's lanky body to jump out of. richie knew he only had one more class before the day was over, but he couldn't help the overwhelming need to get of the hellhole. luckily the window was on the first floor, the jump barely anything.

normally richie spent his days in town, far away from his house and the memories it contained. he couldn't be home, the familiar memories of his childhood choke him each time he saw the women who gave birth to him. he feels their slimy hands all over his body, touching places that make him feel sick to his stomach. he couldn't go back there.

ignoring the rumbles of hunger come alive from his stomach, richie grabs his bike from the rack, hopping on the old thing. he listened to the chain make a rattling noise, the sound reverberating his body. he petals faster, his legs burning. he was surprised at how fast this old bike could go. it didn't move smoothly, the wheels staggering each time richie went over a tiny rock.

before richie has time to plant his feet on the ground he feels the front tire of the bike give out, tipping over a large rock. like a rag doll richie's body's is thrown off the bike, his chin meeting the concrete and his knees bracing him for the fall. richie rolls over, reaching his hand up to grab the coke-bottle glasses that somehow seemed to survive the fall, his bike on the other hand did not, the tire flat and bent in all different directions.

"that was a pretty nasty fall. huh?" richie cocks his head around to see a boy, eyes wide with concern as he looks at richie's stunned face, inspecting the damage that had been done from the fall. "you okay?" he questions kneeling down in front of the boy. 

richie nods his head quickly. "i'm fine but my bike sure as hell isn't." he winces, standing to his hand, with the pads of his hands he wipes the gravel off his pants hissing when the skin of his hand came in contact with the gash on his knee.

the dark-skinned boy looks over at the bike, then back to richie. "you should clean up those cuts." he nods. "i'm mike hanlon." he politely says, holding out a hand for richie to shake.

"richie."

after the boys had introduced themselves mike was on his way, waving a bye to richie saying something about having to get back to the farm and help his grandfather with the cattle.

richie, tugging the broken bike along side of him debates rather or not he should just go home instead of spending his day in town. he wanted to desperately avoid that house on the end of the street; the one that looked so familiar to him but felt so different each minute he spent inside the walls of that house. he wanted to avoid the memories and those hands on his skin that still seem to make his skin welt with terror even after all the years that had passed. don't think about it. being inside that house almost seemed to trigger all the memories he pushed away, so he did his damn best to avoid that place only really using the house to sleep. his mother never noticed anyways, always too drunk to care about her son's whereabouts and if he was dead or alive. all she cared about was her alcohol.

richie's nicotine craving grew, the closer he got to the house. god i need a fucking smoke. he huffs, placing the broken bike down against the side of the house. richie noticed the car wasn't in the driveway, which meant his mother wasn't inside, most likely at the bar getting drunk. he lets out a sigh, feeling his muscles release the tension he was holding onto.