Chapter Text
Richie woke up on Saturday morning slowly. The sun shining through his window as the summer heat started to force him out of bed. He stretched, thankful for the weekend break from school's forever pressure. Maybe he'd hang out with his friends for a while at the arcade, or have a movie night in with-
Oh.
Max.
Richie frowned as he picked up his phone from his bedside table. No notifications. Of course there wouldn't be. It was only 10am, and the only early riser he knew was Max and that... Richie took a shuddering breath in. The silence of his house seemed all too suddenly suffocating. With a numbed sense of indirection, Richie navigated to his texts with Max, seeing the cheery conversation they'd had that Friday morning.
You: ill see u l8r right?
You: after practice??
Jock: yh
Jock: ill come to urs
Jock: we can watch tht show uve been ravin abt
You: rlly??? >^<
Jock: yh c u then
You: :D
Richie smiled at the messages before sending a good morning message to Max.
Ping!
A text tone interrupted the silence of Richie's room. Richie frowned and got out of bed, walking over to where Max's phone apparently sat on a chest of drawers. When he'd come over Friday afternoon, he definitely hadn't left his phone there. Friday.
The party.
Richie felt ice run through his veins. He turned over the phone to see Max's lock screen, a text from him, and a few social media notifications. This was definitely his boyfriend's phone. Shit. He'd taken it after everything at the Waylon Place. That meant Max really was dead. Richie shuddered, holding the phone to his chest tightly.
Slowly, Richie exhaled a shaky "Fuck."
He was screwed. Numb, he walked to his kitchen to try and get his brain to focus on anything else. But the phone pressed between his hands and chest dragged his thoughts back to that stupid house, with how much anger had been in Max's eyes as he died. How he swore to kill them all. Even Steph, who wasn't even a nerd or a prude. A sense of irrational fear filled Richie as he stood in his empty kitchen.
As fear mixed with sadness, Richie tried to make himself a glass of water with shaking hands. After taking a sip, Richie inhaled, exhaled, and then the weight fell down.
Tears gathered in his eyes as he placed the glass on the counter and carefully lowered himself to the floor. His knees got drawn to his chest as he sobbed.