mixtape (reddie)

Chapter 43

The next morning, Stan Uris decides that the grace period is over.

Richie doesn't know this, however. He just stumbles into his astrophysics class and takes his seat next to Stan, keeping his eyes focused downwards as he grows nauseous with the idea of having to go see Beverly after this period is over.

The first bell rings, a tendril of anxiety coiling in Richie's stomach, sticky heat dripping down the back of his throat as he swallows his nerves.

The lecture goes on as proceeded, and Richie takes notes today. Not good ones, he's still distracted by his own thoughts and fears, but he makes an effort to actually write something down today instead of just lying helplessly next to Stan. Stan took the chance of letting Richie be his partner, he doesn't want to be a deadweight like the supposed Jordan who has yet to attend class.

However, when the lecture ends and the students are set off on their own to complete their lab worksheet for the day, Stan Uris turns to Richie and gives him an expectant look.

"I'm... I'm only on number five," Richie taps his pencil against the paper, showing that he doesn't have the answer to question eight, which Stan is stuck on.

Stan takes a deep breath in. He could tell from the minute he saw Richie staring at him and Ben in the hallway that something was off. Later on, Ben told Stan that he had given Richie a nasty look, but that wasn't Stanley's intention. He wasn't trying to be rude, he was just confused by who was standing in front of them, or more specifically, what happened to the infamous Trashmouth.

He gave Richie a day. He saw how Eddie and Bowers had been glaring, figuring there was a lot to unpack there that Richie was overwhelmed by. He assumed that Rich would need some time to catch up, so Stan gave him precisely that.

However, he was growing tired of being patient, for he has many questions that crave to be answered.

"When did you get back?" Stan asks. He sets his pencil down, tucking some curls behind his ear. He's not accusing or biting in anyway, he speaks in a soft, gentle tone. Richie flinches at anything else, Stan's been noticing little habits that weren't there before.

Richie looks down at his paper, guilt crashing through his body like a tidal wave on rocky shores. He should have told Stan, he should have tried to phone his old friends to get in contact. But he was paralyzed by fear, stupid fucking fear. He's missing out on life choices just because he's too afraid to take them.

"Bill's birthday," Richie says quietly, idly picking at the tiny shreds of eraser that are sticking off the ends of his pencil.

"The fourth," Stan clarifies, then nods as if he's processing something in his mind. "So are you living with Bill?"

Richie taps the eraser end against his paper, the wooden utensil bopping against the name titling the paper. Richie Denbrough.

Stan nods again, and then says "What's going on with Eddie?"

As if on command, Richie lifts his eyes to look at the duo at the table one row up and over. Henry has his head down on the desk, snoozing carelessly while Eddie flips through the textbook in front of him for the answer to whatever problem is puzzling him. He always did need to study more, intellect practically came naturally to Stan and Richie. They're the only pair in the whole classroom without a book open in front of them.

Richie turns back to look down at his paper, quietly recording the answer for number five after finding the proper way to word it. "I don't know," he says, followed by "Not much."

Stan pauses, frowning at the response. His brain does some recalculations, working this Richie and Eddie equation out because they clearly won't. After a moment, he sees Richie's hand tightly gripping the pencil, his knuckles white with pressure. Stan's eyes coast along the raised white scars embossed into Richie's skin, his hands reading like blank sheet music.