Chapter Text
Richie isn’t sure when he became Richie the Ruiner. Maybe it was a slow run thing. Maybe it always there.
In hindsight he could see that time when he was 7 and had his pops had found him wriggling about on the living room floor while covered in glitter and goldfish crackers that he’d glued to his face (I’m a whale at the bottom of the sea you see!) was probably kind of annoying, especially as it took literal years to get all the glitter out of the shag-pile carpet.
He’d realised his mum wanted a girl instead of a messy boy when he was even younger, because she’d, well, said exactly that. Maggie had sat Richie down for a nice tea party, but he’d instead decided the tea had been spiked with rum and he was therefore a pirate and should treat Maggie to a rousing sea shanty (Avast ye lubbers! Let’s go hunt for tea-sure!) and Maggie had sighed and asked why she couldn’t have had a nice little girl. At the time Richie had simply asked why girls couldn’t be pirates (Because of the cooties? Is that what scurvy is?).
Maybe the key moment happened when he was 10. He’d told Went about a funny thing Eddie had done at school today (Greta Bowie had spit on Eddie’s shirt, and after a few puffs on his aspirator he’d gone to the vending machine, bought four whole cans of soda and poured them one by one over Greta’s head, squeaking in fury the entire time) and Went had laughed at it. I mean of course he laughed it was funny as fuck and Went liked Eddie (everyone liked Eddie apart from Eddie’s mom which was weird. And he supposed Greta didn’t like Eddie. And Henry didn’t. Actually lots of people really thought he was a loser, but everyone Richie liked liked Eddie which was all that mattered. And of course anyone cool would laugh at a funny story about Eddie because Eddie was cool).
But that night one of Went’s dentist friends was eating dinner with them for some reason, and his pops had definitely said this friend was cool (for a dentist, Richie added in his head). Before long their grown-up talk about work and Went’s possible promotion had grown super boring so Richie told the Eddie story expecting chuckles all around. But Went’s not-cool (even by dentist standards) friend hadn’t laughed at all and his pops gave him an angry look. Afterwards he told Richie the story was in-a-propriate, sounding out each bit of the word like it was the worst thing imaginable. At first Richie couldn’t understand why a story that had made someone laugh and be happy earlier in the day would now make them mad.
After a while he thinks maybe the same joke can sometimes be funny and make people happy, and sometimes be in-a-propriate and make people sad or mad. And that’s okay. He just has to learn timing, which is apparently super-important to comedy (Richie always thought being funny was the important thing, but maybe there is more to it). But the thing is, as time goes on, his parents always seem to be sad or mad with him, and at times (a lot of the time) it’s like the avoid him. Sometimes (all the time) it looks they’re trying to ignore him. So how does that work? Is just always annoying? Always in-a-propriate?
The problem gets worse as he gets older, because he keeps having nightmares about the summer when he was 13. Awake-Richie can’t remember anything about that summer at all, other than the fact that a BIG SOMETHING happened, and the BIG SOMETHING was really fucking bad. Asleep-Richie remembers a grinning face and more teeth than you can count. He dreams of grey water, and the colour red and floating. But mostly he has nightmares about fighting with Bill, Eddie’s face scrunched in pain from his broken arm and him shouting at Richie in agony. On the worse nights the dreams just consist of the words beep-beep Richie and a hissing voice in his head saying the other boys knew what he thought about them, and just how much they hated him for it.
The trouble is of course is that Richie does think all that about Eddie. And some other boys and girls as well, but mostly Eddie. Frankly he doesn’t understand how anyone doesn’t think those thoughts about Eddie, because Eddie is cute, and adorable, and beautiful, and smart, and kind, and fiery and funny as fuck.
When he was younger, he always assumed that he and Eddie would just be together when they grew up. Be together Like That. You know. That Way. Because they were best friends and he liked Eddie a whole lot, and he was sure that Eddie liked him a whole bunch as well.
Eventually though, he realises Eddie doesn’t want to be That Way with him. He doesn’t like it, but he knows it’s true.
Because ever since Gazebogate (Richie’s proud of that name), Eddie has been so much better about stuff that used to send him scuttling for an aspirator. Dirt, grass, even Richie’s wet kisses to his tiny little forehead are all things that Eddie takes, well maybe not in his stride exactly (and not only because his little legs means his stride is like the size of Richie’s handspan). You can still see the old panic in his eyes when he comes across something gross. But then that panic is incinerated by a fire which melts Richie’s heart faster than the ice-cream he once dropped down the back of Ben’s pants, and you can see Eddie’s face turn into a steely mask of resolve and he powers through the grossness like nobody’s business.
Sometimes he doesn’t even need that, and looks like he forgets that he is even supposed to be grossed out.
One of the proudest moments of Richie’s life is when they’re in Bill’s basement one Friday night, and Eddie accidentally drinks from Richie’s beer – the bottle which Richie’s sloppy lips were wrapped around not moments earlier – and sips from it happily. When Richie points out that Eddie’s is stealing his beer (super delicately in case Eddie does an Eddie-rage), Eddie simply smirks at Richie, asks “What you going to do about it?” and downs it in one. Of course, this might not have been such a great idea in hindsight as 30 minutes later Eddie is heaving his guts out into the Denbrough’s hydrangeas, but still, it makes Richie’s heart swell with pride.
But, even after all that, Eddie is still completely consistent when it comes to all that gay stuff. It’s not just the fact that he never says anything about how handsome some boys are, and only occasionally says something about a pretty girl on TV or something. But he also has kept chattering about AIDS, and the diseases you can get from homosexual sexual relations (he always says it that way), no different to when he was 5 years old and reciting all the Latin names for germs he knew whenever Richie dragged him to the sandbox during recess.
So Richie the Receiver has received the message loud and clear. Eddie has gotten over all the other bullshit that Sonia drilled into him when he was younger, so if he still says all that about homosexual sexual relations then Richie knows that must be something he actually feels, and not just some Mrs K. propaganda crap.
Eddie always does say he doesn’t have anything against gay people, none of the Losers do, and hell, they’ve all been called fags (and dykes in Bev’s case) enough that Richie is pretty sure none of them would ever hate Richie for being queer. But clearly Eddie doesn’t have the same thoughts that Richie does. The same thoughts he has at night or when Eddie bends over, or when Eddie eats a popsicle, or when Eddie wears shorts, or when Eddie does well, anything really. Those same thoughts that the voice Richie remembers from the BIG SOMETHING mocks him for in his dreams.
So Richie’s secret thoughts will become his super secret thoughts, and he and Eddie won’t be like that. They’ll just be best friends.
He’s not exactly overjoyed by this revelation, but he knows it’s something. Some Eddie is better than no Eddie, so if this is what it means to have some Eddie then so be it.
It’s okay. He supposes.
But then one day, the day of the Incident, it all goes wrong.
It should just be a normal day. Sure, he had the BIG SOMETHING dreams last night, but sadly that’s pretty normal. As is the way that Went reminds him over the breakfast table not to be in-a-propriate today. Somehow though, everything with the Losers just goes a bit wrong.
Bev won’t let him mooch her last cigarette.
Stan looks like he rolls his eyes harder than normal when Richie makes another joke about his dick being cut off.
Bill’s stutter is bad that day and Ben thinks he’s putting on weight again (which is ridiculous, it’s sliding off him faster than the ice cream that Richie once put down the back of his pants). Normally Richie’s gentle ribbing about this cheers them both up (Richie the Ribber, Ribbed for her Pleasure, they shall inscribe on his tombstone) but today it seemed he did it wrong. Richie knew (used to know. Used to believe) that this sort of gentle teasing was actually good. It let them know their stutters and weight aren’t a big deal because Richie teases everyone about everything, and if it lets them be faux-mad at Richie then that’s better than them being actually mad at themselves. But today he was in-a-propriate. Today he was annoying, and it all goes wrong.
He doesn’t even know how he annoys Mike because Mike is so nice, but somehow he does.
Worse though is Eddie. Which makes no sense because Eddie is clearly the best, but someone this is the worst.
Eddie just hates the kiss Richie plants on his cheek and shoves him off with a “I’m not gay Trashmouth, and even if I was I wouldn’t want those lips on me!”
And that’s the thing. Normally all these things are pretty run of the mill. But not today. Today he realised that actually he doesn’t know how to be good funny and not bad funny. He doesn’t make the Losers happy, he makes them sad and mad.
That’s been the case with his folks for several years now, but he thought he had it down with the Losers. Apparently not. Apparently he’s still just as annoying, just as in-a-propriate with them.
And that can’t happen. Because if it does then they’ll ignore him just like his parents do.
If it does, Eddie, his Eds, will end up avoiding him, just like the voice said.
So he hatches a plan.
Operation Beep-Beep involves permanently Beep-ifying himself, and it will ensure that he doesn’t annoy the Losers that he loves and that he doesn’t lose his Eds.
He doesn’t like the plan, but what else can he do? He can’t lose Eds and the Losers. He can’t.
Phase 1 consists of not being as sexual anymore.
He thinks he’s been doing pretty well in hiding just how gay he is for Eddie, all things considered (like considering how short Eddie’s shorts are, and how cute Eddie’s face is, and how beautifully Eddie Eddie is). Even the fateful kiss was only a cheek kiss which is likely almost entirely no-homo – like, maybe an eighth homo total. Which is like only half the letter h when you think about it.
But he can’t just stop all his daily sex references completely (after all he totally lost his virginity at age 11, he has a rep to keep up). If he cuts it out altogether then Eddie will notice and ask him why he now sounds like an extra celibate nun, and Richie will have to confess he doesn’t want to be annoying and in-a-propriate. And then Eddie will ask him why he wants to do that and he will have to confess it’s because he doesn’t want to lose his Eds, which will lead him to telling about he feels about him, because Eds is as smart as a whip covered in razors when it comes to getting things out of Richie.
So Richie’s cunning plan is to keep on chattering as normal, but just keep everything like super-hetero. That way Eddie won’t suspect anything is wrong and force him to confess his secrets, but Eddie also won’t get grossed out and hate Richie more than he probably already does.
The next time they’re together in Eddie’s room, lying on the floor and reading comic books and complaining about school, he decided to trial this new procedure out. He’s going to be smooth and clandestine like a lubricated secret agent. No problem. Smooth and clandestine.
“Eddie’” he pipes up, breaking the silenced they had lapsed into. “Would you rather drown in a vagina or be crushed to death by boobs?”
The silence returns with a vengeance.
Maybe Richie doesn’t sound as super-hetero as he though he did.
“What? Why would you ask me that?” Eddie shrieks.
“Come on Eds”, Richie plunges forward gamely, hoping he can salvage this. “What would it be – have your head crushed by a giant nipple or drown in a sea of clitorises?”
It does not appear he can salvage this. Eddie has turned maroon.
“Richie! Why would I answer that? That’s so – you’re so – disgus – annoying!”
He’s annoying. He wasn’t homo at all and he’s still annoying.
“Just wondering Spaghetti! No need to lose your hair net!” he squeaks out, before burying his face back in the comic book, hiding his own rapidly reddening face, and the tears which are totally not swimming in his eyes.
It takes him five minutes before he can blink them back, and even then he decides to cut his losses and run, with just a hasty “See you later Spaghetti!” before he shoves out the room. He’s not sure he can keep his voice steady for any longer than that.
Ok, so maybe hetero-only chat was a no-go. Talking about sex stuff still makes Eddie mad, which will make Eddie hate him. But simply stopping talking about boning altogether will make Eddie ask him what’s wrong, which will mean Richie has to confess which will also make Eddie hate him. Solution – stop talking. Stop talking about anything. Well, obviously not anything anything. Everyone, even his parents would notice if she just didn’t talk at all.
So Phase 2 is easier – just talk less. No blabbering means no need to freak Spaghetti out, but by doing it super smooth like (for real this time) Eddie won’t notice what he’s doing.
Contrary to popular belief Richie can stop talking. Everyone assumes that jabbering is like breathing for him, but nope - the Trashmouth has always had to deliberately turn the trashmouth on. True, once he gets going he does find it hard to stop, but he knows when to start in the first place and when to not open his garbage mouth at all.
He could yammer Went’s ear off the way he did when he was a kid, but what would be the point? Went doesn’t like his yammers, so he stays quiet as a gagged mouse at home.
But the Losers always loved his yammers – Bev would laugh, Eddie would giggle, Mike would chuckle, Eddie would giggle, Stan would smile slightly, Eddie would giggle and Eddie would giggle (not sure if he mentioned that last one or not, but it’s super important).
But after the Incident, he knew that not being able to stop once he got going led to everyone being sad. When he was little (not Eddie little of course, but like littler than he was now) he might have been okay with that, because, hey a reaction was a reaction right? Now though he wanted happy reactions, not sad ones, and to do that, to not be in-a-propriate he had to stop before he got going. Just talk a little bit and STOP.
And somewhat surprisingly, Phase 2 was delivered super slick. Slicker than the time Bill tried gelling his hair back (Richie had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard, and he almost cracked a rib once Eddie had pointed out Bill looked like a sealion). He’d chuck his two cents into every conversation the Losers had, but wouldn’t empty his change jar the way he used to. He’d talk and then…stop. It worked. No one was sad. Of course this also kind of made Richie a little bit sad. Because while it was great that he wasn’t annoying his friends, this also proved that actually they never liked his patented yammers at all. Which was…well it was a something.
He was trying not to think about this fact one day when he and Eddie were walking back from the Barrens, and Eddie was chattering on about college decisions and Richie hadn’t said a word in like five minutes and Eddie didn’t seem to care. Hadn’t even noticed that Richie had resisted saying something when Eddie mentioned that he was thinking “long and hard” about his decision. At least Eddie wasn’t annoyed or sad at Richie. At least he could congratulate himself on delivering Phase 2 as sneakily as a stealthy ninja-spy-cat.
“So I’ve noticed you’ve been talking a lot less lately. What’s wrong?” Eddie asked.
Shit.
The ninja-spy-cat had just tripped the alarm. Abort.
“Wh-what do you mean?” he croaked out, resolutely facing forwards and avoiding looking at Eddie.
“Normally you love making ‘chucks’. But the past week you haven’t really made any jokes at all.”
“I thought you said my jokes weren’t funny.”
“They’re not.”
“Well, my dear Eddie…” Richie was struggling to keep the hope out of his voice. If Eddie had noticed this then maybe he missed the way Richie used to be. Maybe he liked Old Richie, and didn’t just find him annoying. Maybe if Richie just turned his head to the right, he would see Eddie looking back at him with those big doe eyes, and Richie would confess everything, and cry, and Eddie would hug him and tell him everything would be alright, and then everything would be alright….
He turned his head to the right. Eddie wasn’t even looking at him. He was picking dirt out of his fingernails.
“Well, Spaghetti. Everything’s peachy keen.”
“Oh, well that’s cool.” Eddie said. He paused for a few seconds, glanced briefly back at Richie before he turned with a “Bye” and walked up the driveway and straight into his house.
Richie was left, alone, on the sidewalk. He stood there, alone, for another four minutes. It took him that long to summon the will to walk the rest of the way home.
For the most part, Phase 3 isn’t too bad. Like not the absolutely worse thing in the world. If he had to choose between Phase 3 and, say, actually having to have sex with Mrs Kaspbrak, then he’d probably pick the former. It just involves touching everyone less. Not utterly terrible, all in all. Stan even seems to prefer a formal handshake to a nice hair ruffle for some mad reason.
With Eddie it’s harder though (everything is harder with Eddie). Richie grins and waggles his eyebrows when he thinks this, even though he’s alone in his room. So then he runs to the bathroom and thinks everything is harder with Eddie again so he can see himself grin and waggle his eyebrows in the mirror, proving that at least someone liked his delicious boner joke. He misses having audience.
He’s not sure he can’t not touch Eddie at all though, he might starve. Billiam handily presents the solution, when Richie notices that he and Eddie have plenty of bro hugs. It takes Richie a couple of days to build his nerve to try this with Eddie, and to his delight, it seems to be accepted. He feels ridiculous doing it, trying to keep chest contact to an absolute minimum and instead adding in a whole bunch of manly back slaps to try and prove how absolutely hereto they are to anyone watching. He wants to pinch Eddie’s cheek, or plant a kiss right on it. He wants to pinch and kiss Eddie’s other cheeks as well of course. But perhaps most of all, he wants to have a proper hug again, to wrap his noodle arms around his Spaghetti until they fuse together and become some giant walking bowl of noodle-spaghetti. Noodlegehtti they can call themselves. Maybe Spaghoodle. Instead he just slaps Eddie on the back, and Eddie slaps him right back.
Richie gets by on this limited diet, this bread and gruel, of Eds-touch, for a few weeks.
But then one day he has a run-in with Belch (who by Richie’s count, is repeating his senior year for the fourth time) in the bathroom.
At least, he thinks as Belch splits his lip open, I’ve proven Went wrong.
As his head is dunked in the toilet, Richie remembers his dad saying the bullies would leave him alone if he didn’t antagonise them.
But I didn’t even say anything to him this time. He just saw me alone and came right for me. What do you think of that, pops? Richie asks himself when he hears his glasses get crushed underfoot.
While lying on the floor and taking a few swift kicks to the robs, he can at least console himself with the fact that Belch maybe isn’t as bad as he used to be. Richie still sees a couple of other faces hanging with Belch sometimes during his BIG SOMETHING dreams, and he thinks they used to be even worse. If they ever existed that is.
But the consolation doesn’t get him very far. Bloody and damp, and wincing with every step, all Richie wants at that point is a hug with his Eds. Maybe this time he can hold him a little longer and a little closer because he’s hurt, and everyone knows (or everyone should know), that hugs with Eds can make everything better. Instead Eddie gives him the gift of a shrieked “Don’t touch me!” as soon as Richie opens his arms.
“What happened to you? You look disgusting!” Eddie chokes out. He even clenches his left hand into a fist and plunges a finger down into the middle the way he used to with his aspirator.
Not trusting what will happen if he opens his mouth, Richie merely shrugs.
At least he marched me to the nurse’s office, he thinks to himself. He cared that much, he tries to cheer himself up with.
He just wishes Eddie had held his hand as he led him there, rather than pointedly walking three feet ahead of him. He just wishes he’d stayed and maybe patched Richie up himself the way he used to. Instead of leaving. Like he did.
Phase 4 is entirely unintentional, but happens anyway. It seems the universe has noticed his plan and done him the solid of isolating him from the rest of the Losers. Great. If he’s not there, he can’t annoy anyone.
See, now that they’re Nearly-Adults, everyone is busy doing Nearly-Adult Things – jobs, internships, lots of homework, all that terrible, terrible dull stuff. Eddie seems to spend half his life working on extra-credit assignments and researching colleges, which Richie thinks is pretty awesome for him. Stan and Mike seem to be spending basically all their time together hanging out alone in Stan’s bedroom for some reason.
Richie doesn’t really go in for Nearly-Adult Things, and it’s not because he’s scared of being a Nearly-Adult or anything. He doesn’t really need money or extra credit or work experience to get into college, and he’s certainly not going to take the risk of being annoying, and needy and in-a-propriate with other people by getting a job or joining a club or any of that malarkey. He’s barely got his behaviour under control with Eddie, no point in risking exposing anyone else to the Trashmouth. Chernobyl Richie, that’s what they should call him. Add concrete and keep away.
The end result is that while Richie is still just…here, all the others are busy. He can’t just go the arcade after school with Bill, or take five smoke breaks a day with Bev, because they’ve got their Things, they’re isolated from Chernobyl Richie while Patient Zero himself is still…here. He keeps his lanky birdnest of a head down. Now whenever the Losers do something, it has to be organised, someone has to plan it and check who is available, rather than them all just spending all their free time together. As the months go on, the Things pile up and these events get fewer and fewer.
So he’s quite delighted when one day Eddie grabs them all at lunch and sets up plans to go to the Barrens after school on Friday. He’s even more delighted when Eddie checks with Ben, Bev, Bill, Mike and Stan that everyone can make it and they all check their planners (seriously, it’s not just Stan anymore, they all run their lives around these little books, it’s terrifying) and everyone can. That delight pops like a soggy dirigible when Eddie doesn’t check with Richie. Richie sits next to him for the entire lunch period and makes sure to contribute to the conversation every two minutes and thirty seconds precisely (it’s kind of hard to tell time accurately when you’re having to read it upside down from Ben’s chunky Casio across the table, but he manages). Twnety-five minutes (and ten well-timed comments) later, Richie still has no invites. Still none by the end of the day, or the next day, or the day after that, even though he walked home with Eddie for two of those.
He spends that Friday night alone in his room, listening to the Cure. He smokes half a pack. He doesn’t cry. There’s no need to.
He doesn’t dream about the BIG SOMETHING that night. Instead, he dreams about concrete.
So his heart doesn’t know what to make of things when the next Friday, Eddie collars him outside of class.
“Richie this week has been complete shit. Could you come round tonight with a bottle of something and we can hang out? Just the two of us.” Eddie seems to get all this out in a single breath.
Richie is pretty sure his mouth is gawping like a guppy after a root canal.
“S-sure Eds. That sounds great.” He gasps out after an embarrassingly long interval.
Eddie smiles. “Thanks. Come round at like 8, my mum will be gone by then.”
Richie’s can feel that grin growing wider than the Grand Canyon. His jaw hurts, and he’s pretty sure he can hear the muscles creak and groan.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world Spaghetti.” He allows himself the nickname, but he resists making a joke about missing Mrs K.
Swiping a bottle of booze from his old man’s liquor cabinet is no big deal for a practiced swiper like himself. But he’s not sure what’s up with this particular bottle, because it seems to contain a tiny and powerful Booze Wizard inside it. Well, that’s the only explanation Richie can think of, because somehow, magically, everything that night seems like how it used to be. Fun and comfortable, like a marshmallow bouncy castle.
Sure, Eddie seems to dominate the conversation at first. And Richie’s voice is more of a crackle initially, but he thinks that has more to do with smoking too much recently, and not from never using his voice or anything. But after a little while, the Booze Wizard’s spell has taken effect and Richie finds that he’s enjoying himself. He’s talking. Regularly talking, just saying what he wants, not waiting for a pre-assigned schedule. He tells jokes. Dirty jokes. He’s having something that can only be described as fun.
Yet the real proof that sorcery is involved is the fact that Eddie seems to be enjoying himself just as much. Eddie laughs at his jokes, Eddie makes his own jokes, Eddie looks happy. Not grossed out, not annoyed not like someone who hates his former-but-maybe-not-former-maybe-still-best friend.
In fact there must be a magician involved, because while Richie’s eyes are shittier than the bat version of Daredevil (Batty Murdock), he’s pretty sure he can see that Eddie is sitting on his bed right next to Richie. Like, close to him. Like, propped up against him. Like, he doesn’t mind Richie’s arm around his shoulders. Almost, almost like he seems to be happy to half-hold Richie’s hand and casually intertwine their fingers together.
This can’t be happening. Silence falls for a few moments, but it doesn’t feel like all the other silences Richie has spent the past few months wallowing in. It feels….it feels like a lot. It feels like maybe this is actually happening.
“I’ve missed you.” Eddie says after a while. Great chunks of concrete crumble and fall.
“What do you mean Eds?” Richie responds as soon he can muster the brainpower to do so.
“It’s like I never get to see you anymore, and I’ve missed that Chee.” Chee. Richie’s heart is thumping so loud, he thinks seismologists around the world must be staring at their instruments in confusion.
“I know everyone’s busy lately, everyone’s got stuff going on,” Eddie continues “and everyone’s doing…”
“Nearly-Adult Things?” Richie ventures, which makes Eddie giggle. Eddie giggles. Earthquake alarms sound all across the country.
“Yeah, that. It’s just…I’ve missed…hanging out…being with you.” Eddie sounds almost shy.
“Me too.”
“Don’t tell the others, but…you’re my favourite.” The Booze Wizard says in Eddie’s voice.
“You’ve always been my favourite Eds.” The Booze Wizard makes Richie respond.
It must be a wizard. There’s no way Eddie is looking at him like that otherwise. Not deep into his eyes. It can’t be just Eddie making that soft, tender smile on his face. A sorcerer is making Eddie’s thumb slide softly back and forth across the back of Richie’s hand. A mage is gently pushing Eddie’s face forwards towards him. Some arcane master makes Richie’s do the same. This can’t be happening otherwise. Eddie can’t look at him like that. Can’t be softly closing his eyes. Their lips cannot be that close.
They are.
There is a great gust of wind from the other side of the room, the sound of a rhinoceros having a heart attack.
“I KNEW IT! I knew it would be YOU to do this!”
Mrs Sonia Kaspbrak stands in the doorway, huge and imposing.
“I thought it might be that Marsh slut who would try and corrupt him at first, but then I knew, I knew it was going to be YOU, you dirty, FILTHY boy”
“Mom…” Eddie manages to gasp out.
Richie doesn’t say anything. Richie can’t say anything.
“How could you DO this to me Eddie-bear? How COULD you?”
“Mommy I…”
“No, don’t be a stupid little boy, it’s not your fault. It’s THIS one’s fault, sneaking in under my rooftop and doing who knows what filth to my boy! Get out! Get out of my house! GET OUT!”
Sonia pauses for a moment, gasping like a shipwrecked man, gathering breath for the next onslaught.
Richie eventually manages to gasp out a plaintive “E-Eds?”
“I think you should go” Eddie says softly.
“But…”
“Please.” Eddie won’t even look at him properly. His eyes flick desperately between Richie’s face and the window. He doesn’t even want to see the Trashmouth’s face.
Richie can’t say anything else. Eddie wants him to leave. He leaves.
He’s not sure when he gets back home. It might even be morning by the time he crawls into bed. It must have been hours he spent wondering the streets. Maybe he was crying. Maybe not. He doesn’t know.
He does know that he ruined it. Foolishly, he thought he had been getting better. Stupid. Trying to be less annoying, less in-a-propriate, less gross, less needy. Stupid. Nothing had changed. He knew he could never be Eddie’s boyf- (he couldn’t even complete that thought). But maybe he could have been his best friend at least, or a friend, or someone who didn’t let his horrible thoughts get the best of him and try and…Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.
Now Eddie would know. And things had been getting better. Richie had really tried, and he had hated it, and he felt like he was shrinking and rotting and disappearing into nothing, but it was worth it! It was worth it for not annoying the Losers, for Eddie not being angry at him, Eddie not being sad, not hating him. Eddie not knowing what Richie thought about. And the worse thing is that Eddie had given him a lifeline and Richie had thrown it away and ruined it.
No. The worse thing is that he ruined it for Eddie. Richie had set a fire and run away and now that fire might consume his Eds (not his, NOT his). Sonia would be mad at Eddie, would try and fix Eddie and lock him away. Richie had done that. He had made that happen. He had ruined himself, his friendship and gotten Eddie in trouble. Richie the Ruiner.
That’s what he did. Richie ruined.