Chapter 17

The cold was beginning to creep up outside, and the sky had become considerably darker from when Richie first left the house. Now there he was, 3 hours later, skateboard in hand, aggressively cleaning the gunk off of his shoes on the crusty mat outside his houses because his mother didn't want him "fucking up the hallway" as if their house wasn't already a steaming pile of shit. He cringed a bit at the scratchy sounds of the soles of his shoes rubbing against the with bristles on the cheap mat, but he didn't want to "fuck up the hallway" and so, much to his displeasure, continued to sacrifice his hearing until his shoes looked somewhat presentable. He sighed, reaching into his pocket for the dented key to the house, almost slipping into a panic when he didn't feel it in his pockets.

Come on Richie, it's not lost, just try again , and so he did, putting his hands in his pockets once more and let out a breath of relief when he felt the jagged metal against his hands, quickly scooping it out, and slotting it into the keyhole. It took a few tries because of how old and damaged the key was, but after abusing the door with a few well aimed kicks at the knob, he managed to get it open, stumbling into the dark house, feeling more than a little tired, and propping his skateboard against the wall, as he closed the door behind him. 

The boy kicked his shoes off at the entrance and dropped the key onto the little shelf just by the door, walking into the dimly lit living room and collapsing onto the sofa. His back sunk deep into the plushie base pillows and his feet stuck out over the arm rest, and despite the sofa only being about 3/4 of his size, he found it extremely comfortable, and nuzzled his head into the crook of his elbow, longing to get some well-earned rest before his mother got home. He was in the stages of not quite falling asleep, but also having no thoughts flitting through his mind, he felt relaxed, but was still conscious about what was going around him, so only on the brink of falling asleep. And that's when the telephone rang. 

It wasn't even a soft sound, it was one of the scary ones, the loud ones, that sounded more like a fire alarm than a telephone, because it would probably be heard along the whole street. He jerked at the sudden noise, the face scrunching up in annoyance, and he left his comfy sofa to go answer whoever had decided to call. He trudged to the hallway, and to where the telephone was kept, letting out a sigh, then picked it up and held it to his ear. No one usually called the Tozier household, unless it was for his mother. And the only sort of people who called his mother, were not worth Richie's time. "Listen here, if your one of my mom's fuck buddy's-"

"Richie what?" came a crackly voice from the other end, sounding incredibly confused

Richie stopped in his tracks, that didn't sound like a grown man at all, that sounded like... "Eds?"

"Um...yeah?"

".... Where did you get my number?"

" Why were you calling me your mom's fuck buddy?"

"I asked first"

"I think my question's better."

"Your question doesn't have a short answer but mine probably will, now where did you get the number?"

"Alright geez... I found it in the telephone book,"

Richie paused, "People still use those?"

"Shut up.. now why did you call me your mom's fuckbuddy?"

"Wait why are you calling me?"

"I was busy yesterday and all of today morning, and you told me to call when I got home from the farm... So I did,"

"Oh yeah I did, great timing though, you could have died and I wouldn't even know,"

"Didn't seem like you remembered,"

"Of course I remembered Eddie spaghetti!"

"Did you really though?"

".... no"

"wow Richie-,"

"I'm just messing with you spaghetti man, I would've called myself, but..."

"But.." eddie prompted for Richie to continue

"I'm not an oldie who uses telephone books," Richie grinned into the telephone, propping his elbows up on the little table, and fiddling with the curly wire, knowing very well that Eddie also knew he was teasing

"Shut up rich everyone uses telephone books," eddie laughed a little on the other end

"Oh really" Richie raised his eyebrows, still smiling, "name one person," 

"Well me for starters,"

"No I mean someone other than-"

"Sorry rich I've got to go, see you Monday," Eddie said abruptly, ending the call.

...

It took a second for Richie to process, but once he became aware of the dull ring coming through the other end of the receiver he put the telephone back down on it's holder, wondering why the call had come to such a sudden halt. That was weird... Nice that Eddie had called ...but weird.. why did he end it so fast? he thought to himself, making his way back to the sofa, to now try and get some sleep. 

Luck just wasn't on his side, because as soon as he sat down, the sound of someone struggling to push open the heavy front door made him close his eyes in frustration, and once again he slowly got up, to help his mother, who had started banging, her metal rings probably leaving chips in the wood as she showed, "Richie! "Richard open this damn door!"

And that's exactly what the boy did, heaving it open, and then being shoved to the side as she stumbled in, pushing him against the wall, struggling to gain her balance as she tried to walk down the hallway without her legs giving in. Richie glared at her back, knowing very well exactly why she couldn't keep herself walking straight, and watched her walk into the living room and plonk herself down on the sofa, where he had been planning to rest.

... He didn't want to talk to her, or even be in the same room as her, and so quickly as he could, grabbed his skateboard, and jogged up the stairs. He didn't make it halfway until Maggie yelled at him to come back down. "What." he said nonchalantly, standing in the door frame, with a blank expression on his face

"Don't look at me like that," Maggie snapped, rummaging around for something in her bag

"But-"

"Can you stop talking for just one minute," she looked up at him exhausted, a worn out look in her eyes, but her mouth, nevertheless set in a hard line.

"But I-"

The woman gave him a piercing look, and then continued to dig through her bag. "Sorry," Richie mumbled

"Sit down."

The boy sat down, in an old armchair facing Maggie, not knowing why she all of a sudden wanted to talk to him. On normal days they both avoided each other, only speaking when it was time to eat, but some days, they didn't even do that. Richie preferred not to talk to his mother, there wasn't anything that they had in common that they could talk about, nothing he could say without her going into full on lecture mode, eventually spiralling off into why he was such a terrible son. 

She never said it out loud, no, but the way she worded everything she said to him, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out that she really didn't like the boy, despite him being her son. He didn't like getting in arguments 24/7, and so restricted himself to the confinements of his room only when he was in the house, and at other times, tried to stay away from it when his mother was home. It would get too loud, too noisy in her room, to the point where he sometimes worried her bedframes would snap. The door stayed slightly open too, and it wasn't something he wanted to listen to. Somehow or another he would always find pieces of clothing missing from his wardrobe when he got back. Did it make him slightly mad as well? Yes, yes it did. She wouldn't find herself one person, but instead would sell herself out for strangers. He wished he could help, but his ego, his pure dislike for the woman, always stood in the way. This is how it had been going on for years. It didn't seem like it needed a change.

"Are you fucking hearing me Richie?" 

"What?"

She sighed and put her hand to her forehead, trying to stop herself from getting mad, "I said, you need to hang out with Betty Ripsom." 

"Woah woah woah, what?!" Richie exclaimed. Where had this come from?

"Richie I've said this about four times now, Betty Ripsom. Hang out."

"But why?" He asked incredulously, "she's a fucking bitch,"

"Because" his mother forced out with grinded teeth, "I said so."

"No way," the boy scoffed, standing up to leave, when his mother stood up abruptly blocking the way and scowling at him, "Richard. You do what I say. And I say you have to spend time with Betty,"

"Well give me a reason!" he raised his voice, tired of his mother's bullshit. She never once listened to him but expected him to obey so willingly. Maggie didn't say a word, she simply stood there glaring at Richie until he looked away and sat back down on the armchair.

"If you just gave me a reason-"

"Stop talking." She snarled once more, massaging her temples, her nostrils were flared, and she was taking deep breaths.

And then, it clicked.

Why else would she be forcing him to spend time with Betty Ripsom?

"It's for one of your men isn't it?" Richie said quietly, "he's not going to pay you for fucking him unless-"

"Figured it out haven't you!" She spun round and said loudly with a wild look in her eyes, "You better get your useless arse out there and find that girl unless you want to starve the rest of the month!" 

She was up close to Richie now, and he could smell the stench of alcohol and cigarettes, he looked away, standing up abruptly, stalking out of the room, and up the stairs, ignoring his mother's frustrated yelling from the room below. The frail door slammed behind him, shaking the floorboards a bit, as Richie angrily walked in, sitting heavily on his bed, and holding his head in his hands.

Right now, he would rather do anything, absolutely anything than go hang out with that bitch Betty Ripsom. He pressed his palms against his forehead, attempting to cool it down a little, when he got mad, or had too many thoughts at once, there was a 99 percent chance he would be suffering with a splitting headache later that night, and so, trying his best to not overthink anything and everything, he sat there in silence for ten minutes, putting his cold hands to his head, and staring at the chipped design on the underside of his skateboard.

  Richie really did wish there was another way for them to get money, but the Tozier name was soiled enough throughout the neighbourhood, not so much amongst the younger people, but anyone old enough to own a business knew what Maggie Tozier had turned to doing to get money when her husband left, so not many people were keen to hire a woman of that sort, no matter how persuasive anyone may be, they simply would shut down the idea of hiring someone from the Tozier family. Another one of the reasons why Richie hated this shit hole of a town and wanted to get out as soon as he was 18. 

The only thing that had stopped him from running away sooner, were Bev and Stan, and now, up till recently, Eddie too. He didn't know what is was about the boy, but the kid kept him grounded, and in the past week, teasing and talking to him and really helped Richie not tip off the edge of insanity. It was hard enough to keep a pretence up with Stan and Bev, they had their own problems, but with Eddie, it was... freeing? Somehow? Nevermind, Richie thought. There wasn't time to dwell on his Eddie spaghetti at the moment, and he lifted his head away from his palms, and taking his glasses off his face to clean them with his shirt, now, he had to go find Betty. 

...

To be continued one day in the future 

A/N 

Hey so uh I put lots and lots of time into this fic and rn I've written 42,568 words or smth, and of course I had so many more ideas and things that I've always wanted to write but I've kinda lost motivation, I think this has like 3 readers so yeah

I wouldn't mind continuing if anyone wanted me to but yeah for now I'm taking a long break, I might finish writing it someday but idk 

BUT ANYWAYS

THANK YOU TO @trashmouth_loves_eds and  @fairiesntoads for always hyping my chapters up lmaoooo I LOVE YOU BOTH SO MUCH <333

BUT YEAH STAY SAFE, HEALTHY AND DRINK WATER, EAT AND SLEEP ON TIME PLEASE, I LOVE YOU GUYS AAAAAAA <3333