It was nearing late evening when there was a faint knock on the door.
Richie's chest started pooling with cold dread before he could even fully process the gentle sound. He hesitated before standing up, knowing full well no one ever knocked on his door.
Whatever you might call it, his social life was fairly sad, the only person he talked to on even a weekly basis was his manager, and even then, they always called him if there was something to discuss, not come knocking at his apartment door at six o'clock in the evening.
His pulse quickened as he stood to his feet and slowly trudged toward the door. For some reason he hadn't thought to grab even a makeshift weapon, considering how uneasy he felt. He just placed his hand on the knob and slowly turned it, almost zombified in what seemed to be nothing but pure slowness. Everything was slow, like he was stuck in a pit of sand, slowly sinking but not quite fast enough to be able to be relieve when he finally suffocates.
When he got the door open his jaw went slack and his eyes widened quickly, now understanding what the feeling of dread was.
Standing there, on the other side of his door frame, stood a person he couldn't forget if he tried. A face he often imagines seeing but never actually did, at least not anymore.
It was his dream come true before tragedy, and his nightmare in disguise after anguish. It was his best friend that he always kind of wished was more than a best friend but never quite got the chance to tell him.
No, that's wrong. He had plenty of chances, and he knew it. He had the chance, when they were kids, when they were laying on that too small hammock in that too small bunker, with too much skin touching too much skin and the perfect opportunity to take his hand in his own and tell the truth.
He had the chance, Before they went their separate ways, when the overwhelming pit of grief grew in Richie's chest when Eddie had announced to the club that he was going to college in New York, he could have asked him to stay, given him a reason to stay, a reason to not forget, but instead he joked about how Eddie didn't seem quite cut out for the city life.
He had the chance when they met a second time, when they had just met, in that stupid Chinese restaurant. Richie remembered Eddie a mere few moments after first laying eyes on the man, and all of those feelings washed back. He could have told him that he had a big, dumb crush on the man when they were younger, and that he still hadn't really gotten over it. Eddie probably would have wanted to get out of there fast had he said that though, so he didn't.
And then he didn't have the chance. The chance had passed and he never took it. He regretted it more than anything.
But his chance was right in front of him now, standing right in front of him, as if he had never been gone at all. As if it was just some cruel nightmare. What also made itself clear to him was the faint beeping noise.
"Eddie-..." Just as Richie had said his name, Eddie was gone. Not a trace left. The noise stayed though, and got louder. The dumbfounded look on Richie's face quickly turned to one of despair as his chance vanished once again, gone before his eyes. When he was about to close the door, everything went black.
The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was the insistent beeping beside his head.
"Ungh..." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he reached for his phone to turn the alarm off. After a few moments of fumbling and the constant beeping growing louder, he grabbed his phone, and instead of turning the alarm off, he muted his phone.
The alarm was still going, but with no sound.
"Heh... Beep beep yourself, motherfucker." He rasped out, setting his phone back down onto the night table and groping around for his glasses until he found them.
"Ah, another day in paradise." He mutters out as he kicks his legs over the edge of his bed, wincing as his feet meet the cold floor.
His job didn't exactly call for him to wake up early, hell, he didn't even need to go anywhere half the time. It wasn't his idea, he was perfectly content to keep his schedule free so he could do whatever he wants.
Besides, it's not like he really needed the extra money. It wasn't like he was rich or anything, but being a semi-famous stage comedian, he certainly wasn't lacking as far as money went, especially since he scored the that Netflix special spot a few months back. His part-time job at the coffee shop hardly paid much anyway, the only reason he took it up was because Clara, his therapist, had suggested it.
Fucking dumb if you ask him, who wants to wake up at 7 AM just to go serve other people all morning.
It is a little relaxing though, if Richie's being honest.
As much as Richie actually loves his job as a comedian, especially the flexible schedule, it was nice to have a break from all of the publicity acts and commercial deals.
And, as Richie had known for years, the media can be fucking cruel. He had had many, many plots and stunts worked against him by reporters and writers alike. Not that he wasn't used to it by now, but it still stung a bit when he could do something as simple as search up his name and have multiple articles pop up, describing him as something less than a human being.
He never let people see him take it to heart though, the only times he ever brought it up to anyone were when he talked about it with Clara, and when he incorporated some of them into his shows.
Everyone loves some amusing self-hatred.
His job at the coffee shop was nice. Quiet and not too busy. It was mostly elderly and a few campus students that regularly frequented the shop, so he didn't get recognized much, and when he did, surprisingly, the people were quiet about it, just talking to him for a few minuted before getting on their way after realizing Richie was just as much annoying in real life as he was funny.
-
By the time Richie had gotten showered, dressed, and out of the house, he was feeling slightly better about being awake. It was a nice day so far, not really much to complain about, nice and sunny with a bit of a mist since it was so early in the morning.
It was just cool enough to give a nice breeze on his arms as he made his way down the sidewalk in the direction of the coffee shop. He had been so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the person walking in the opposite direction of him, a couple feet in front of him.
By the time, he looked up, their shoulders had already slammed together, not moving Richie much but sending the smaller man to lose his balance and wobble before regaining it and standing up straight.
"Watch where you're going, dickhead!" Instead of just going about his way, the man had turned around and cursed Richie out. What an amazing start to a morning, why don't I just fall in the mud while i'm at it.
But then another thought came to his mind, or, a memory, rather. A memory of that voice. Richie looked up to stare at the man's face, only to see that the man seemed to recognize him too.
"Wh-..." Richie's eyes flicked around, unsure if this was real or not. "Eddie?" The man, who was undeniably Eddie, stared at him in shock.
"Fucking shit... Fancy seeing you here, Trashmouth." He says in a half-joking voice. Richie just shakes his head.
"Well uh, y'know, we are only a block away from my house so uh... yeah..." He didn't exactly know where he was going with this. Eddie rolled his eyes but seemed a little antsy.
Suddenly his job at the little coffee shop was the last thing on his mind.
