richie tells only the truth.

outting¿

"you guys look like you just saw a ghost," mike chuckled, but the joke fell flat when he realized this wasn't a time to try and lighten the mood.

"what happened?" eddie asked, glancing over at richie, who was half-covering his face.

"richie.. can't lie," ben told the two.

"well, why so gloomy? isn't this supposed to be a funny, good thing?" eddie asked, walking up to the three already there.

"i guess.. it's just turning out to be much more awry than we thought," beverly spoke, looking at the miserable boy on the hammock.

"oh? so what- is he like- depressed or something?" eddie asked, but no body laughed. they all just looked at richie.

"are you, richie? are you- depressed?" stanley asked hesitantly, not believing so.

richie was too happy to show any signs of depression. he was always smiling, always joking around, always making everyone, proudly, feel uncomfortable whenever he got the chance. not.. sad.

"maybe a little bit- or like a lotta bit, but what do i fucking know?" richie looked at everyone, trying to shut his mouth. "fuck."

"what?" eddie mumbled. mike put a hand on the brunette's shoulder.

"might as well strangle myself to keep from speaking ever again, i know you all agree," richie mumbled too low to be heard.

"wh-what?" bill asked.

richie groaned again, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. "fuck this! this has GOT to be the official worst day of my life!"

"worst day?" stanley asked hesitantly.

"yeah. fucking worst. plus, i can't lie to you anyway," richie said grumpily.

"how is it the worst day?!" stanley asked defensively.

"well, i don't know, stanley! this is literally my biggest fucking fear. i don't want you guys to find... out.. stuff i'm.. hiding," richie said, struggling out words to replace instead of outting himself.

"hiding..?" eddie asked innocently. richie made eye contact with the boy, looking down in shame. he didn't mean to make the shorter boy upset. it's his fault. all your fault.

he felt like crying. he sat up again and curled into himself, his knees pulled up to his chest as he wrapped his arms around them. he rested his chin on his knees and sighed.

"do we have tape?" richie asked.

"richie," beverly said.

"what?!" richie snapped.

"i- y-you know you can talk to us, right..? you can tell us anything," she tried to comfort.

"you wouldn't understand," richie mumbled.

"what do you even have to hide from us?" mike asked richie.

"you really think i would tell you all if i'm clearly trying to hide it?" richie asked, scanning his audience. he sighed. "a lot, mike. like-" richie started. he tried to cover his mouth, but his hand wasn't exactly cooperating. "the whole reason i'm so pressed about this is just me snapping under the mistreatment of my parents, maybe it's my ADHD, maybe it's anxiety, maybe it's the fact that i'm-" richie rambled once again, slapping himself in the face twice and trying to stop himself from speaking further. he bit hard down on his tongue.

bill grabbed richie's hands and looked at him with sympathy. "d-don't do that to yourself."

'it's the only way to stop myself,' richie thought.