#reddiefanfic

I knew how I wanted it to end but was struggling to know how to fill it, but I just came up with a great idea that I hope people will like!

“He’s just b-being a p-prick.” Bill said, sticking up for me. I shot him a thankful glance. Eddie wasn’t the best at keeping secrets so you never know who could know my secret. We all starting walking back to Ben’s house. I liked it there, but he had so many weird fucking useless ass pictures of Old Derry on his wall, we all just learned to ignore it. The whole walk there I found myself staring at Eddie. I carried an extra inhaler in my bag on days that we walked to someone’s house just in case he forgot his backup fanny pack. I could feel it stabbing through my backpack. I didn’t mind, though. I would do anything for this boy. My little emotional support hypochondriac. 

Rose Colored Lenses - Reddie Richie is the school’s bottom of the line scum. A no good loser. He knows what it’s like to not be wanted. He knows he’s no good. He knows he shouldn’t get involved with anyone. Even if that means he might hurt a few people in the process, he knows its for the best. Chapter One - My Name Smoke dances in the air above Richie’s dark curls before disappearing into the air. With a cigarette in his mouth, a pack of cigs in his pocket, and a single notebook in his backpack, Richie heads to the first day of his last year of high school. Richie arrives in the front of the school where some of the school’s students are loitering around. All in their little cliques. One of the many things Richie hates about high school. He can see it. How some of the students are peering at him out of the corner of their eyes. How the atmosphere seems to shift a little bit once he steps foot on school grounds. He knows that it’s not because of the now small cigarette propped on his mouth. No, it’s for a different reason this time. He doesn’t want to deal with that right now. He takes the stub out of his mouth and crushes it beneath his foot. He rakes a hand though his hair taking in his surroundings. Fucking amazing to be back in hell. He heads off to the courtyard already taking another cigarette out of his jacket pocket. He fishes around in his other pocket to grab the lighter. Shit. Richie forgot his lighter. He stabs the cigarette back into his pocket angrily. He heads over to his pal Jeremy to see if he can borrow a lighter for the day. He’s surrounded by what other people would call Richie’s “friends”, when in reality they were just a bunch of jackasses who he would get high with sometimes. Definitely not friends. “Richie, my boy!” Jeremy called out once he saw Richie walking towards him. Richie let out a big fake smile, as if he was happy to see him too. Something else he hates about school. The fakeness. “Jeremy!” he says throwing his arms up in celebration. They give each other pats on the back as a greeting. Jeremy’s arms are still on his shoulders. Where have you been? None of the guys have seen you all summer! “Oh you know, here and there.” Jeremy looks somewhat confused, but then again he always is. He brings Richie in for another bro hug where they pat each other on the back. Richie never really understood the concept. He just guesses it’s was a way for men to show affection for each other but still In a manly way. He always hated it. Another thing he hates about school. “Well sit down, chat with me, tell us what you’ve been up to.” He smiles and takes a seat. “Actually,” Richie scratches the back of his neck, “I’ve got to be somewhere,” he lied, “to do something,” he lied even more, trying to think of a good excuse, “with someone.” Richie was a hell of a liar, but he didn’t really feel the need to put the effort in with Jeremy. Jeremy was as gullible as a fucking toddler. You could tell him the earth was flat, and he would believe you, no questions asked. “Well ok then, meet up with us later after school, we’re going to the park.” Richie would rather poke his eye out with a fork and chew on it rather than go hangout with Jeremy and the other potheads. “Ahhh, maybe. Hey I was wondering if I could get a light.” Richie pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and started to bring it towards his lips. “Sorry man, I don’t got mine on me,” he hits his friend’s arm and pulls him out of conversation, “got a light?” He asks. His friend shakes his head no. “Has anyone got a light for Richie here?” they all shake their heads no. “Sorry man.” He shrugs his shoulders. Richie puts his left foot behind and steps on it. “Hey I’ll catch you guys later,” he waves his hand goodbye and turns on his foot. He’ll just skip class to get his lighter. The Bell rings and a bunch of kids rush inside because they don’t want to be late for class. Richie laughs at the memory of him being one of those kids. Richie walks out of the courtyard and into the parking lot. He’s half way to the side walk when he hears someone yelling to him. “Hey young man!” He turns around and fights the urge to roll his eyes. The vice principal or principal or secretary, or whoever the hell it was started yelling at him with her nasally voice. “Get to class!” She shouts, pointing towards the school building. Richie raises his hands in surrender and starts to walk back towards the building. She crosses her arms and scoffs. “Yeah that’s more like it.” Richie resists the urge to flip her off. He walks into his first period class with the click clack of Mrs. Whogivesashit’s shoes trailing behind him. He opens the door to his class to be met by a few stares from his other classmates. The teacher looks at him. “Found this one loitering in the parking lot.” She peeks in the classroom and leaves. “Detention after school, now take a seat.” Richie rolls his eyes and takes a seat in the front, where the only empty desks are. He looks around and everyone has paper out. He grabs the only thing from his backpack and plops it on his desk. Shit. He doesn’t have anything to write with. He taps the girl’s shoulder next to him. She looks startled and whips her head around towards Richie. He makes a motion as if he was writing something in the air. The girl holds up a single finger before digging into her backpack for a pencil. She brings out a whole bag of pencils and hands it to him. “Give it back ok?” she whispers, trying not to disturb the class. As if you need it back anyways. “Ok.” He won’t. The class drags on until the bell rings letting everyone out. All Richie managed to get from that class were a few shitty doodles on his page and a pencil he was going to steal from the girl next to him. As soon as the bell rang he shoved his notebook into his backpack and left the classroom as fast as a bullet. He walked straight out the double doors that marked the entrance of the school and walked home to get his lighter. Richie came back to school half way through second period. He takes a drag before walking back into the school. He looks around the empty hallways for a while before he finds a nice quiet place in the corner by some lockers. He sits there for a while. He crushes his now useless cigarette into the wall behind him, leaving a black imprint. He pushes it aside out of sight for anyone to see if they walked by. He probably won’t pick it up later anyways. He lights another cigarette, trying to make time go by faster. He smokes until the bell rings. He contemplates whether to put out his cigarette and leave, or just ride out this last one until it dies before going to class. He decides to keep on smoking until the nicotine runs out. As the people walk by he starts to stand up now because he doesn’t want to get trampled on by a bunch of people, as some walking by are almost tripping over his gangly limbs. He takes a drag and watches as the people go by. “Um, hey.” Richie could barely hear. He turns his head around to the stranger next to him. It was a much shorter boy compared to him. Compared to Richie with his prominent 6'3 height, this boy was a dwarf only reaching to about 5'7. “Yeah cutie?” Richie put on his signature shit eating grin. No mater who it was, boy or girl, Richie Tozier flirts with every stranger he meets. No one gave him shit for it, because it was just a part of his nature. Sometimes men would take it seriously and he would have to say apologies, and if that didn’t work he would have to dodge a punch or two. Because Richie Tozier? Gay? “Um, that’s my locker.” He said so quietly in a place with so much noise. Richie instinctively goes “What?” even though he could somewhat make up what was coming out of the smaller boy’s mouth. “That’s my locker,” he says, this time with more certainty. Richie realizes that this boy has not looked up at him once throughout their whole conversation. What’s up with this kid. He must be scared of Richie. He sees that his backpack is stuffed to the point where Richie couldn’t even put his single pencil in without everything falling out. He got a good look at him and figured he looked young so he could have been a freshman or something. That or he’s a new kid. “You new around here?” Richie takes a drag. The other boy’s face finally looks up at him. He can see the blush creeping up his neck, and how his face is all splotchy. Richie kinda smiles at the overall cuteness of the boy before him. He lets out a laugh. Richie thinks he likes his laugh. “Is it that obvious?” He sighs out. “Kinda.” Richie laughs, taking another drag. The other boy’s face scrunches up. “How do you not get caught smoking in blatant sight?” the smaller boy asks fanning the smoke away. “This is the only corner where there isn’t security camera, see,” he points to the two cameras facing outwards, “Those two are facing towards the hallway, so that makes this corner and your locker,” Richie points at him, “invisible.” Richie seems very proud of himself for finding his little corner. “Wow,” the smaller boy says incredulously, “great for you,” he claps his hands, “now can I please get to my locker?” He asks. “All yours my kind sir,” Richie bows with his left foot crossing behind his left and his lanky arms displaying the smaller boy’s locker. He goes to it and puts in his combination. “So what’s your deal?” Richie asks. The boy looks taken off guard by the question. “My deal?” “Yeah, your deal. Like why’d you move to Derry, Maine. The middle of shithole, nowhere.” “Well, if you must know, my mom got a new job and decided to take it here. And she decided it was a great idea to move her 16 year old son halfway across the country.” “Oh so you’re a junior?” “Um, yeah. You think otherwise?” “I mean I was thinking freshman-” “Freshman!?!” he shouts in shock. “How could you think I’m a freshman?” “Well for starters you have the height of a garden gnome, secondly-” “Okay, okay, I wasn’t actually asking.” “Oh of course, of course.” “Anyways,” the boy drags out the ’s’ while closing his locker, “I’ve got to get to class, so have fun with your cigarette, and I’ll see you around maybe,” he shrugs his shoulders and starts to walk away. He turns around disappearing into the crowd. Richie gets rid of his cigarette. He can’t wait to see, uhh- Fuck. Richie smacks his forehead. I forgot to ask him his name. Richie stands at the locker that belongs to the boy he met yesterday. It is now passing period between second and third period. Richie pretends that he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. He hears someone clear their throat. Richie whips his head around and pretends he’s taken off guard. “Hey, funny seeing you here,” Richie leans his arm against the locker. “Yeah real crazy, that’s my locker,” he looks over to it crossing his arms. “Oh is it?” Richie asked, oh so completely shocked. He looks at he locker as if he’s never seen it before. “Weird.” he shrugs. “Hey, I never got your name yesterday.” “It’s Eddie.” He uncrosses his arms. Richie extends a hand out to Eddie. “Nice to formally meet you Eds,” he says loosely shaking his hand. Eddie scoffs. “Never call me that again,” Eddie retracts his hand putting both behind his back. “Whatever you say Eddie Spaghetti.” Eddie rolls his eyes at the unsuccessful attempt at a clever nickname. “Don’t you want to know my name?” Richie asks pushing his weight to his toes and rocking back. “Not unless you move,” Eddie tries to act tough by crossing his arms, but the light smile on his face suggests otherwise. “Oh Eds, I’m wounded,” he slaps a hand to his chest as if he had just taken a bullet. “Your locker,” he steps out of the way nodding towards it. He just keeps on looking at Eddie as he grabs his stuff. He shoots him questioning look, clearly weirded out how the guy who can never shut his mouth is all of a sudden silent. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” he asks while he puts his Bio textbook in his locker “Nope,” he shakes his head. “Ok?” He closes his locker. “Well I’ll see you around, nameless stranger.” “Bye Eds,” Richie waves as Eddie disappears into the crowd yet again. The next day Richie stands at one particular locker waiting for that particular boy. Three minutes pass before Eddie runs up to his locker. “Move, I’m late for class!” Richie rolls off the locker. Eddie’s body slams against the lockers as his hand jabs for the lock. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, my sweet boy,” Richie can see the blush creep onto his neck, “you have two full minutes. That’s plenty of time.” “I don’t have time for this Richie. I have to grab my stuff for the rest of my classes because my first and second period books are way too big to put anything else in my backpack. Then after that I have to run across campus to get to class on the other side of the building.” Richie almost lets it slip. Wait? “You know my name? How do you know my name?” Richie’s head tilts to the side. This time a significant amount of blush rises to Eddie’s checks as he slowly closed his locker. “I asked around.” He says nonchalantly aligning his lock back to zero. “Yeah? Wha’d they say about me?” Richie tries to brush it off like asking the question was no big deal, the slight fear in his voice was subtle. “That you were no good. A troublemaker. A real piece of- it really doesn’t matter, I don’t think I believe them.” He turns to face Richie in apprehension. “Hey, hey, it’s all good. We’re all good.” Richie laughs and ruffles up Eddie’s hair, which causes him to use his free arm to try and flatten it out again. “Now go to class,” Richie waves his head the opposite direction, “you don’t want to be late.” “Right,” Eddie points his finger up in memorization. He turns around and hobbles off to class. Richie watches as he goes off, smiling as he does so. He only hopes that the words of others won’t get in his head.  perma-taglist: @fucking-reddie @chuckaliclous @neverhadenough