Delusional. {IT 2017}

7.

Friday rolled around fairly quick, and Richie waited patiently for it. He was tired of feeling like he was crazy.

"Okay.. here it is.." Richie sighed, crumpling the invitation and tossing it to the ground as he shyly entered the house party. He glanced around at all of the dancing teens, his ears being deafened by the loud music.

The room was filled with loud music, flashing lights, and a sea of people. Most of them held cups, which he automatically assumed were full of some sort of alcohol substance.

"Hiiii, what's your name?" a drunk girl slurred, ramming into Richie.

"Uh, none of your business.."

"Hiya none of your business! You're haaandsome," she exaggerated, sticking her fingers in Richie's hair. He swatted her arm away and continued through the rough crowd and over to the bar in the kitchen.

"Whatcha want?" the seemingly oldest girl asked Richie.

"Is ten cups enough?" Richie asked.

"Depends. How drunk you wanna get?" she yelled over the loud music, leaning onto the bar-top.

"However many cups can make me forget all of my problems," he said truthfully.

"Gotcha!" the girl disappeared and returned with a giant bottle of alcohol and a cup, offering them to Richie. "Just fill the cup up until the whole bottle's gone."

"Sick, thanks," he said, grabbing the bottle and cup.

"Don't forget to pay when you leave!" she screamed, sighing as she realized he probably didn't hear her.

Richie found an empty wall and sat against it, quickly glancing at the couple near sex next to him, relatively far away. He sighed and ignored it, filling up the cup and downing it with a scrunched face.

He repeated this, sitting alone in a corner, clutching a plastic red cup consistently being refilled with alcohol. He took another long sip, trying to down his sorrows.

Removing the now-empty cup from between his lips, Richie breathed out.

"Maybe this'll make it go away.." he mumbled, happy that no voices could be heard over the loud ringing in his ears from the music.

Not long after drinking the whole bottle did it kick in. Richie found random drunk people to dance with, people he wouldn't remember once he was sober again. He screamed and shouted the lyrics to every song that played, feeling himself lose his voice more and more with every passing moment.

"Yeah, Eddie?" Bill asked, picking up the phone and raising it to his ear.

"Do you know where Richie is?" asked Eddie, who sounded scared and concerned. Bill dropped his pencil and listened much more intently just then as he realized the seriousness of the situation.

"N-No.. why?"

"He's not home.. and his phone is still here. But what really concerns me is that Mindy's party is on his calendar," Eddie informed. Bill shivered at the thought.

"Oh.. well ss-sh-shit. Sh-Should we go check it out? See if he's there?"

"I don't know.."

"Well what if he does something stupid and nobody's there to stop him," Bill demanded quickly, losing his stutter for a good moment, making him proud of himself.

"You're right. Also, nice job."

"Thanks. Okay, m-meet you there?"

"See ya."