It's a surprise to have both parents home at the same time, especially when it's not a Thursday, but Richie isn't complaining as he pulls up behind his mothers car. He wonders what they could be up to, or if it had to do anything with the call that same morning. He thinks of Wentworth sitting in his recliner, newspaper out while Maggie cuddles a pillow in the middle of the couch. Richie hums to himself, keeping that memory close as he flips through the few keys he has on his keychain.
He unlocks and opens his front door, stepping inside. A small part of him expected to see his parents just as he imagined, but disappointment isn't new to him, so he easily brushes the sick feeling in his stomach when the living room is dark and quiet.
However, light expanding out from the kitchen catches his attention. He makes sure to lock the front door before walking forward a few steps, just enough for the whole kitchen to come into view. And his parents.
Wentworth is leaning against the table, arms crossed and looking down at the floor while Maggie stands a few paces away, hands on her hips as she stares at the ceiling. They stand so stiffly and awkwardly it makes Richie wonder what he walked in on.
"Hello dear parents," he says slowly, looking back and forth between them.
"Hey kiddo," says Wentworth, his eyes unmoving.
Maggie says nothing.
Richie sucks in a breath and nods, diverting his eyes. "Okay.. um, I'll be upstairs in my room if you need me." He waits for a response, but his parents are silent and Richie accepts defeat once again. Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers, they're never going to communicate unless they need something. When it comes to Richie, they never do.
He heads up the stairs and to his bedroom. A beat of silence in the house passes after his door clicks closed, then the conversation erupts from downstairs. He doesn't even try to eavesdrop. He already knows what they're fighting about because it's the same thing over and over again. About money, about the house, jobs, college...
Over and over again.
Richie tosses his car keys into a small clay pot Beverly made for him back in art class in the 8th grade. He takes off his shoes, jacket, glasses- just ready to get under the covers and fall asleep for a few more hours.
Just to get away from reality for a few more hours.
~~~
It's quiet inside the house, it always is, save for Wentworth occasionally leaving his office for another cup of coffee. Richie lays in bed, watching the snow tumble down from the skies outside his bedroom windows. Wintery light brightens up his room and puts a soft haze across everything. It's silent and for once Richie is contempt with it.
Beverly was the first to help him discover that silence sometimes isn't so bad. It was early in their friendship, when Beverly still lived with her dad and her hair was long enough to be pulled over her shoulder. When her father was away at work, Beverly took him to the top of her apartment building where they watched the sunset. She sat on the edge, legs swaying over a sixty-foot drop. It was peaceful up there with her. And silent.
The unexpected ringing of his phone cuts through his bedroom, his heart skipping a beat and he jumps. At first he thinks it's an alarm he forgot to disable, but then he recognizes it as his ringtone. Richie pushes himself up and reaches out for it, thinking it may just be Beverly asking for another adventure. Instead of Molly Ringwald displayed at the top, it's Eds. Eddie's calling him.
Richie sits up farther, staring down at his screen. A million and one thoughts ram themselves into his head. Why's Eddie calling? He need something? Does he want to hang out? Unless he meant to call Bill or Stanley-
His mind takes him back to the day before, when Eddie sat in his car with anxious eyes and tapping feet as they both peered up at his house. Is that it?
He clears this throat and says, "hello," to the emptiness that accompanies him in his bedroom, then he answers the call.
"Richie!" Eddie says, sounding a bit out of breath. He then clears his own throat and says in a more controlled voice, "Hey Richie."
"Hey Eds," Richie says, smiling to himself as he pulls his legs up to his chest. "You need somethin?"
"Yeah, uh.." Eddie trails off. "Are you busy at all?"
Hope of what this question could lead to sparks in Richie's chest. "No," he says, shaking his head. "I'm not busy at all."
"Okay," Eddie breaths into the phone. "Is it alright if I come over? For a little while?"
Richie's eyes scan over his messy bedroom, books and clothes thrown over the place. "Yeah, sure, of course. Do you need me to pick you up?" He gets out of bed, kicking the blankets back as he assess the amount of cleaning up that needs to be done.
"No thanks. I'll walk over. You live in the neighborhood, don't you?"
"Yeah, I'm just a few blocks away. My car is in the driveway, you'll see it."
"Okay, nice. Yeah, I'll be there soon," he says. Richie's about to say his own goodbye when Eddie says one last thing.
"Thank you, Richie."
He lets out a breathy laugh and picks up a shirt off his floor. "I'll see you soon, Eds."
And with that, Eddie ends the call.
Richie doesn't fight back the grin that spreads over his face. Eddie had just called him. Him! He breaths in deeply, the happiness that swells in his chest making him feel like he can float.
But that doesn't last very long when Richie remembers his dad. Wentworth will hopefully let him have friends over, Richie figures, as long as they're not too rowdy. His dad has always been the more laidback one of his two parents.
But first, he needs a clean room.
Richie glances at the front door on his way down the hallway to the french doors. Wentworth sits at his desk, the glasses perched on his nose reflecting the bright spreadsheet on the computer. "Hey dad?" Richie asks, leaning against the doorframe.
"Yeah, Rich?" He asks. His eyes linger on the screen before he exhales deeply and leans back in his chair, looking up at Richie expectingly. Richie's fingers pick at the doorframe and he asks, "Is it alright if I have a friend over? His name is Eddie."
"Is he a friend from school?" Wentworth questions.
"Yeah," Richie shrugs. Wentworth nods his head and returns his hands to his keyboard, tossing one up to shoo Richie away.
"Sure, you can have a friend over. Stay quiet though, please."
Richie grins and thanks his dad before leaving the office, waking down the hallway with higher spirits. He goes to the kitchen to pull out a Poptart, deciding he should eat at least a little before having Eddie come over. He hopes Eddie eats beforehand, because he doesn't think he has the guts to show Eddie the empty cabinets of his house.
Halfway through his second Poptart, leaning his head in his hand and staring out the kitchen window, a knock at the door sounds. Richie's attention snaps to the door and he gets off the chair, watching as crumbs roll off his shirt. He quickly fixes his appearance in the reflection of the oven door, then breaths in deeply to calm his raging nerves. There's no reason to be so nervous, it's only Eddie.
He goes to answer the door. Eddie stands there, arms crossed and looking off to the side as he shivers. He lifts his eyes to meet Richie's and a smile slides onto his face. Warm and welcoming. It makes Richie's heart flutter.
He lets Eddie inside, watching as the boy stomps the snow off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket. "Welcome," Richie says as he locks the door, "to my humble abode." Eddie giggles softly and looks around at the front entrance. "So.. um, what brings you here? Me almost dying make you realize your feelings for me?"
Eddie looks up at him, his eyebrows narrowing yet a smile dances on the edge of his lips. "Shut up," Eddie says as he turns his head. "No, I just wanted to.. you know, get out of the house. Be somewhere else for the day."
Richie notices the way Eddie's shoulders drop. Something in the back of his mind tells him that's not the full truth. Maybe because he knows what it's like to not want to be at home. So does Beverly, perhaps even Bill. They all know what it's like to purposely distance yourself as far away from the thing at home that makes your skin crawl and heart drop. They all know too well.
"I'll show you my room. Don't mind the mess," Richie says and leads Eddie to the stairs.
"Richie, I'd be surprised if it wasn't a mess," Eddie says, following him up.
"Wow," Richie laughs. "Harsh."
"It's not harsh," Eddie defends as they reach his bedroom door. "It's the truth. What? Can't handle the truth?"
Richie turns to face him, hand on the doorknob. "I can handle the truth, Eds," he says, staring down the the boy. Eddie lifts his chin to look up at him, eyes moving to look in both of Richie's. He doesn't move and neither does Richie.
"Then face the truth and stop calling me Eds."
Laughter bubbles up from inside Richie. "No can do, Eds," he says. To distract himself from his hammering heart, he opens his bedroom door and lets Eddie in. He runs his eyes over the layout nervously, checking for any misplaced items.
Eddie walks in slowly, taking his time to inspect each aspect of Richie's room. Each band poster carefully stapled into the wall and the books and CD's haphazardly thrown into the bookshelf. The stack of unfinished Rubix cubes and self-made bookmarks on his bedside table. "It's nice," Eddie says as he sets his jacket onto Richie's desk chair.
"Nice?" Richie repeats. His room is cluttered, says his mom. Messy at best. He wouldn't use the word nice for it. "Maybe you're the one who needs glasses."
"You're blind enough for the both of us," Eddie shoots back. "And yes, Richie. You have a nice room. What's so bad with that?"
His eyes linger on Eddie for a second longer before darting to his poster-plastered wall. "Nothing," he says. Eddie smiles, seemingly content with Richie's response.
"Are your parents home?" Eddie asks.
Richie hops onto his bed asking, "Wouldn't you like to know?" Eddie scrunches up his nose and takes a seat on the chair, pulling his legs up. Richie smiles softly, his mind going back to the day in the grocery store. "My mom is at work and my dad is downstairs.. working," Richie chuckles, looking down at his bedding.
Eddie hums and starts slowly spinning around in the chair, highly amused. "Yeah, I wish my mom worked. I would love being able to be home alone," he says.
Richie picks at the skin around his nails and shifts so his legs are out in front of him. "People overdramatize being home alone. It's lonely," he says, then shrugs it off. But Eddie doesn't think the topic can be shrugged off that easily.
"Are you home alone a lot?" He asks, reaching a hand out to force the chair to come to an abrupt stop. Richie studies Eddie's face, trying to decipher what he's getting at. Left to be by yourself isn't fun. It's not therapeutic to be left with your own thoughts, or at least Richie doesn't think so. His thoughts haunt him and fabricated lies and warped realities keep him up at night. Doesn't Eddie want to stay away from that?
"Yeah, but it's nothing. All I'm saying is.."
"No, it's not nothing," Eddie interrupts. His eyebrows are creased and he's looking at Richie with a pained expression. "Just like your broken thumb, it's not nothing. It's something and I want to know. If you'd let me, at least." The two stare at each other, one pair of eyes much more fierce than the others.
Eddie sucks in a deep breath and looks away. "I just want to know more stuff about you," he says, his eyes unmoving from the window.
Richie drops his eyes to his bedding, then glances back up. His brain tries to comprehend Eddie's words, yet a brick wall standing far in the back of his mind refuses to let acceptance in. "Why?" Richie ends up blurting out.
Eddie tears his attention away from outside. He searches Richie's eyes for a moment, too long of a moment for Richie. He feels the need to say something, to fill the silence he's come to hate.
"You're interesting," Eddie finally says.
A nervous laugh escapes Richie's throat and he shifts around under Eddie's now confused stare. "What?" He asks as Richie throws a hand up to fix his glasses.
"Nothing, Eddie," Richie responds. "I was just.. not expecting you to find me interesting in the slightest."
A soft smile comes onto Eddie's face and he starts spinning himself around again. "You're not too bad. I'll be willing to give that to you, Chee," he says.
The two stay up in Richie's room well into the night. Eddie goes back and forth between Richie's bed and the chair, only to complain about the crumbs between the sheets and move right back to the chair again. An endless cycle until the rumble of the garage door sounds and Maggie comes walking in moments later.
"That your mom?" Eddie asks, looking at the bedroom door.
"Yeah," Richie replies and checks the time on his phone. 12:39 a.m., she's later than usual. "She works shifts at the hospital. Almost always comes home a little late."
Eddie nods and returns his attention to the bookshelf. Richie gave him permission to look through his stuff, not like he has much to hide. His bookshelf is littered with books he read back Freshman year, some CD's and old mixtapes back from his parents childhoods, and a lot of journals. Richie never wrote in them as he found them stupid and useless, yet ever year one would be sitting in his locker, a gift from his relentless middle school counselor.
"Hey, Richie?" Eddie asks, a hand resting on the shelf as he looks up at him. "Do you have anything to eat?"
Richie sits up, letting out a soft "oh, yeah," as he slides off his bed. His feet are ready to carry him down to the kitchen, but the reminder of empty shelves burn in his mind.
He breaths in deeply, guilt striking him deep in the chest when he imagines of Eddie's confused face when he says he doesn't have anything to give to him. He listens as Eddie gets up off the floor and he starts to panic, desperately digging around in his mind for an excuse.
"Wait," Richie says and turns around. "There's a gas station down the street from the neighborhood. We can go there and stock up on whatever. I can pay."
Eddie lifts an eyebrow and asks, "At this time?"
Richie shrugs. "Why not? I can drive us there," he says. He desperately hopes Eddie says yes, because if he doesn't he's not sure what he will say. He watches Eddie start to pick at his lips as he contemplates Richie's offer.
"Will your parents be okay with this? Because if my mom ever finds out that I even left your house-"
Richie stifles a laugh, interrupting Eddie and receiving a look from the boy. "What happened to that rebellious attitude you had at the party? Who gives a crap about your overprotective mother? I don't- No offense," he says and Eddie shakes his head dismissively, understanding completely. "Do you want her to control you even when you're not around her?" Richie asks.
Eddie breaths in deeply and slowly, looking down at the ground as he thinks. "No," he says. "Not exactly."
"Then come on, Eds," Richie says. He's tempted to hold out his hand for Eddie to take, but there's boundaries. Maybe even a bit more for the germaphobe. So instead he looks at Eddie, waiting, his offer holding out as a replacement for his hand for Eddie to grab.
"Okay," Eddie says with a nod. "Yeah, I'll go." He dips a hand into his pocket and takes out his phone, walking over to the desk to set it there. When he meets Richie's questioning look, he says simply "Life360."
"Your mom does not have you on that," Richie laughs and grabs his shoes. "What the fuck."
Eddie smiles lightly and shrugs, also dropping to the floor to pull on his shoes. "I told you, Richie! My mom is.. insane.. to say the least."
"And she let you come over here? After everything yesterday?" Richie asks, pulling his wallet and car keys from the clay pot.
"She was mad," Eddie says softly, focusing his attention on tying his shoes. "And I had to argue with her. But, Richie, I really think I'm starting to get through to her." Eddie looks up at him, eyes big and vulnerable. The change of tone in his voice tells Richie that this is serious, Eddie is being genuine.
"Your mom sounds like she has worms in her brain," Richie says. It may sound like a joke, but unbeknownst to Eddie he's being completely serious. With the amount of stories Richie has been told about this mother of his, the more of a resentment he's built up against her.
He looks down at Eddie sitting on the floor. He goes back to yesterday, when Eddie sat by his side on Mike's couch. His smile just as warm and beautiful as he is.
It strikes Richie hard and deep, standing in the middle of his bedroom with Eddie there, but he realizes that Eddie is the warmth in his life. Right next to the fiery embers of Beverly Marsh's hair.
All boundaries flew out the window. Eddie is there with him, why not take advantage of their blossoming friendship?
So he does. Richie offers out his hand for Eddie to take. He notices this and looks up at Richie, vulnerability pouring out between them.
And he takes Richie's hand.
The two boys arrive at the gas station minutes after the clock hits one in the morning. Fluorescent lights expand into the empty streets, much brighter and powerful than the street lamps.
It's much colder outside without the sun, cold to the point where Richie sees his breath when he laughs at Eddie's pout when the icy breeze his him.
A bell dings from above them, signaling their entrance to the man behind the counter. "Welcome," he says and Richie gives him a passing smile. They move the the farther back aisles where the freezers of drinks and beer are.
"The store is yours, Eds," Richie says, opening his arms at the array of candy and chip bags. Eddie looks over everything, a hand reaching out to inspect them closer. Richie, going to this gas station religiously throughout his teen years, beelines it for his favorites.
It takes Eddie a few extra minutes to carefully pick out what he wanted, to which Richie patently waited off to the side. They go up and pile their bags of goods onto the counter. Richie pulls out a $20 bill as Eddie's fingers ghosts over the handheld lighters on display.
Eddie gives the man a fleeting "thank you" as the two exit the gas station, now freshly stocked up on food. They get back into the car, yet Richie doesn't start it up. Eddie gets the bag situated between his feet before looking over questionably. "What?" He asks when he follows Richie's eyes on the empty roads.
"There's no one out there," Richie says.
Eddie follows his gaze once more, then nods slowly. "Yeah, Rich. Everyone is sleeping. Only weirdos go out at night- oh wait, that's us!" Richie chuckles softly and turns back around only to open his door.
"Come on," Richie says, ignoring Eddie's narrowing eyes. When he doesn't move, Richie rolls his own eyes and close his door. Eddie watches as he rounds the front of the car and opens Eddie's door. "I want to show you something," Richie says and holds his hand out for Eddie to take.
Eddie looks between Richie and his waiting palm. "What is it?" He asks apprehensively, hesitating for a split second before giving in and putting his hand in Richie's.
He doesn't answer Eddie's question. He presses the lock on his keys as they walk past the gas pumps, illuminated by the blinding fluorescent lights. Eddie's eyes search the streets, looking down past the bending hill for any upcoming headlights.
"What are you doing?" Eddie asks, his hand pulling on Richie's when he steps down from the curb of the street. Richie turns to him, glasses reflecting the red of the frozen streetlights.
"You're tired of your mom pestering you about shit that doesn't matter, right?" He asks. Eddie's eyebrows twitch in confusion.
"Yeah, of course I am. What are you getting at Richie? Is your answer to get hit by a fucking car?"
A laugh escapes Richie and he shakes his head. "No! Beverly and I would do this whenever shit got too much... Here, I'll demonstrate for you Eds," he says and lets Eddie's hands slide out from his palm.
Richie starts to walk away and into the streets. He tried to ignore it, but the panic and anxiety radiating off Eddie is something he can feel right behind him, growing distant with every step.
"It's Eddie!" He hears from over his shoulder.
"Not to me!"
There's a sense of danger and rebellion of walking out in the middle of an intersection, where the lights glow red and the universe expands forever above you. It's also freeing in some sort of way. As if nothing can be held against you.
Eddie watches with a horrified expression as Richie crouches down and goes to lay on his back, arms and legs spread out like a starfish. "Richie!" He yells out into the night, only to receive a laugh.
"Come on!"
Eddie looks around himself, down all four streets connecting to where Richie lays, as if he's asking to become a pancake. Yet, the only lights he sees are the street lamps and their yellow glow. There's no one other than them two.
Eddie steps into the street, sparing one last look all around before jogging to where Richie is. He ignores the grin that spreads over Richie's face and goes to lay down next to him.
"What is this- what's this supposed to do?" Eddie asks, lifting his head to look again. Then, Richie is sitting up with him and pushing down on his shoulder gently, telling him to just relax and look up at the sky.
"There's nothing to be scared of," Richie says.
"Besides the fact we could join the roadkill at any second," Eddie snaps back, but he still takes Richie's advice and relaxes his body.
Richie breaths in deeply, the cold air stinging at his nose. He's not sure about Eddie, but he's never felt more alive. The world expands around them, populated with cities and more places than Richie can count, yet he feels as if it's just them in the world. Nothing matters besides him, Eddie, and the universe and stars looking down at them.
Eddie chuckles softly, turning his head to look at Richie. "I like this," he says. Richie meets his eyes, grinning at the boy before looking to the stars again.
"Me too."
A train whistle blows in the far distance, roaring from behind streets and trees. It lets out three long blows, eerily sounding like a deep voice calling for Richie, beckoning him.
"come to me," it calls.