Breathe ⭐️ Reddie

01

It had to have been the hottest day of the year in New York so far. The air was humid, making adults and children alike take cover in their cool, air conditioned apartments. No one wanted to be out on such a hot day, where the sun beat down causing throbbing headaches and shirts soaked with sweat. Only one person in all of New York wasn't inside.

Granted, Richie Tozier wasn't technically out and about, but he refused to stay completely inside his home. He sat on the windowsill outside his bedroom window, earbuds plugged into his phone, music playing with the volume all the way up.

It was the only way to block out the screaming of his mother and father. He knew if he took his earbuds out, all he'd hear is breaking bottles and angry, drunken slurs.

Fuck that.

So, Richie spent as much time as he could in a tank top and ripped jeans, sitting on his windowsill trying to drown out the noise by blowing out his eardrums with music. Not that it helped. Whether he could hear them or not, Richie knew they were yelling and trying to hurt each other.

It wasn't worth it to get in the way.

"Fucking hell," Richie whispered to himself after nearly an hour of sitting on the sill. Even though he wasn't directly in the sun, the temperature was still just under 100 degrees.

His shirt was wet with sweat, head throbbing from dehydration. His glasses kept slipping off the bridge of his nose and his phone's battery was nearly dead, even though it was still early in the afternoon. Grumbling under his breath, Richie quietly slid back into his room.

Much to his disappointment, it was just as hot inside his room. He assumed his drunk ass father forgot to pay some shitty bill that would allow them air conditioning. Richie's mood only worsening as he took out his earbuds and still heard the yelling.

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered.

Richie wasn't afraid to speak his mind in school, but with his parents he never took the risk. It wasn't worth it to get hit with a broken bottle or to have to leave the apartment until the following day when his parents were drunk enough to forget what he said.

If he left home, then he'd end up in the streets and would have to avoid the dangers on the streets, whether it be bullies or muggers. At least at home he could hide in his room and block out most of his parents' yelling. They almost never paid him attention, so the chance of them seeking him out and trying to hurt him was pretty low.

Richie sat down on his bed and plugged his phone into his charger. There was no point in trying to contact anyone to hang out with. No one in the city wanted to befriend him.

Even though it was a big city, almost everyone in the area knew about the Tozier family. They had either heard the yelling that came from inside the apartment or heard rumors of the family in some other way. No one wanted to be associated with them.

To Richie, it was a miracle his family still had a place to live with all of the yelling and rumors surrounding them. He assumed that anyone who could force them to leave was too afraid to approach them.

Richie wanted to leave. He wanted to run away and never look back.

He could.

No one would stop him.

Most of the time, Richie couldn't pinpoint what was holding him back.

Maybe he had hope that his parents would change their ways, but most of those hopes were diminished when he heard another bottle break. He guessed maybe it had more to do with that he didn't know where he'd run.

California sounded fun, but the only thing his parents paid more attention to than alcohol was their bank account. Sure, they didn't have much, but if a penny went missing, they'd immediately target Richie.

Was it worth it?

Richie sighed deeply and laid down on his pillow as sweat trickled down the side of his face. He pulled off his glasses and placed them on his nightstand, before closing his eyes. There wasn't much to do, so a few hours sleep would definitely help as opposed to hurt.

"Someday. Someday I'm getting the hell out of here," Richie murmured to himself as he drifted off.