cliché || reddie ✔️

twenty three

It's a surprise to have both parents home at the same time, especially when it's not a Thursday, but Richie isn't complaining as he pulls up behind his mothers car. He wonders what they could be up to, or if it had to do anything with the call that same morning. He thinks of Wentworth sitting in his recliner, newspaper out while Maggie cuddles a pillow in the middle of the couch. Richie hums to himself, keeping that memory close as he flips through the few keys he has on his keychain.

He unlocks and opens his front door, stepping inside. A small part of him expected to see his parents just as he imagined, but disappointment isn't new to him, so he easily brushes the sick feeling in his stomach when the living room is dark and quiet.

However, light expanding out from the kitchen catches his attention. He makes sure to lock the front door before walking forward a few steps, just enough for the whole kitchen to come into view. And his parents.

Wentworth is leaning against the table, arms crossed and looking down at the floor while Maggie stands a few paces away, hands on her hips as she stares at the ceiling. They stand so stiffly and awkwardly it makes Richie wonder what he walked in on.

"Hello dear parents," he says slowly, looking back and forth between them.

"Hey kiddo," says Wentworth, his eyes unmoving.

Maggie says nothing.

Richie sucks in a breath and nods, diverting his eyes. "Okay.. um, I'll be upstairs in my room if you need me." He waits for a response, but his parents are silent and Richie accepts defeat once again. Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers, they're never going to communicate unless they need something. When it comes to Richie, they never do.

He heads up the stairs and to his bedroom. A beat of silence in the house passes after his door clicks closed, then the conversation erupts from downstairs. He doesn't even try to eavesdrop. He already knows what they're fighting about because it's the same thing over and over again. About money, about the house, jobs, college...

Over and over again.

Richie tosses his car keys into a small clay pot Beverly made for him back in art class in the 8th grade. He takes off his shoes, jacket, glasses- just ready to get under the covers and fall asleep for a few more hours.

Just to get away from reality for a few more hours.

~~~

It's quiet inside the house, it always is, save for Wentworth occasionally leaving his office for another cup of coffee. Richie lays in bed, watching the snow tumble down from the skies outside his bedroom windows. Wintery light brightens up his room and puts a soft haze across everything. It's silent and for once Richie is contempt with it.

Beverly was the first to help him discover that silence sometimes isn't so bad. It was early in their friendship, when Beverly still lived with her dad and her hair was long enough to be pulled over her shoulder. When her father was away at work, Beverly took him to the top of her apartment building where they watched the sunset. She sat on the edge, legs swaying over a sixty-foot drop. It was peaceful up there with her. And silent.

The unexpected ringing of his phone cuts through his bedroom, his heart skipping a beat and he jumps. At first he thinks it's an alarm he forgot to disable, but then he recognizes it as his ringtone. Richie pushes himself up and reaches out for it, thinking it may just be Beverly asking for another adventure. Instead of Molly Ringwald displayed at the top, it's Eds. Eddie's calling him.

Richie sits up farther, staring down at his screen. A million and one thoughts ram themselves into his head. Why's Eddie calling? He need something? Does he want to hang out? Unless he meant to call Bill or Stanley-