Richie loved being alone. Ever since he was little. He liked being able to sing and dance without fear of someone laughing. He liked to lie in bed and just think without someone worrying about him. He liked drawing, acting, and crying.
Being alone was comforting to Richie. That he was free, no friends to hold him back, and it's not like his parents cared about whatever he did. The music was his friend, art his comrade, and they could never do him any wrong. Unless his pencil broke, he could always just sharpen it.
There was no world beyond his room. Just him floating in space, singing with the stars, and drawing the milky way.
Richie loved being alone.
Until he met Eddie.
Eddie taught him what it was like to be friends with someone. What it was like to have someone to sing and dance with. How it felt to lie down with someone in silence that wasn't awkward.
He loved Eddie. Platonically, of course. At least, that's what he told himself. Truth is, Richie didn't know the difference between platonic love and romantic love because he'd never had either. He had seen shows about love. One character is always nervous around another one. They do everything in their power to avoid them. They fumble over their words. They tell their friends about them. The other character is all they can think about.
But Richie wasn't nervous around Eddie, quite the opposite, actually. And Richie never wanted to avoid Eddie. And maybe if Richie had other friends he would talk about Eddie, and the only reason he thought about Eddie all the time was because he, in fact, didn't have other friends.
So Richie concluded it was simply just friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. And he was happy. He wondered what good deed he did to meet Eddie. Because the way Eddie smiles, the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs, the way he puts up with Richie's trashmouth, the way he just somehow understands him. Either Richie did something right, or he's just one lucky motherfucker.
Along with friendship, Eddie taught Richie what it felt like to miss someone. It fucking sucked. Before Eddie, he didn't have anything to miss. Anyone to miss. But sometimes Eddie would tell him he couldn't make it because they were going out of town for a week, or even just for a day. Richie always just replied with a small, "Oh." Eddie would apologize and Richie would wave him off and laugh, telling him it was okay, even though his heart was heavy with disappointment.
The days without Eddie visiting would go by unbelievably slow. Richie would do anything to pass the time. Nap, watch TV, make a bunch of paper airplanes, talk to himself. A week felt like an eternity without Eddie. How did he live before him?
And then when Richie would go to the corner after a week without seeing him he would wrap his arms around Eddie and plant kisses on his cheek, Eddie would laugh and push him away.
Eddie would catch up with him, ask him what Richie did without him. Richie would awkwardly laugh and answer vaguely with a "not much" or "I don't know." Eddie would try to get more of an answer, but Richie would laugh and brush it off and ask what Eddie did.
The way Eddie rants about his aunts being annoying was always irrationally cute. And Richie would listen to him, let him get his anger out until pinching his cheek and telling him how adorable he was, which always earned him a scowl.
If you haven't already guessed, Richie really admired Eddie. Sometimes he wanted to tell Eddie that. He wanted to go on overly emotional rants about how much Eddie meant to him. He wanted to cry and pour his feelings out. He wanted to thank Eddie for just being Eddie, because Richie couldn't ask for anyone better.
But he was too afraid to gush out for Eddie. Scared Eddie might think less of him. Eddie came to Richie's house to laugh and have fun. He came to escape the tears.
Richie returned to reality. Looking around his room that was lit by nothing but the moonlight. Everything had a bluish hue to it. He turned to his wall, it had a square of light.
Richie lifted his hand, his shadow appearing. He tried to make shadow puppets. A dog, a cat, a bunny. He laughed at them, although they were slightly blurry without his glasses. It was childish, he felt childish. But Richie didn't really, ever, get to feel childish as an actual child.
Ever since he was born he seemed to be on his own. Other than basic needs, such as food and clothes, and a few fun things (if he worked hard enough), his parents didn't do anything for him. He wasn't sure if he could call it neglect. But he just felt like their roommate rather than their child. He brought it up with his mother once and she smiled, brushed a curl behind his ear and caressed his cheek, Richie melted into her touch.
"You're independent," she said, "Ever since you were a kid, you were independent." And then she rushed out the door to go to work.
That seemed to be the excuse for everything.
"You're independent, Richie." "You don't need us, Richie, you're independent."
Well, what if Richie didn't want to be independent anymore? What if he wanted his mother to hug him and kiss his cheek? Or his father to pat him on the back and tell him a stupid dad joke? Wanted his mother to post family pictures of them with a cheesy caption? Wanted his birthday to be more than waking up to a cupcake on the table and a note he assumes says "Happy Birthday!"?
But maybe he was being ungrateful. There are parents that straight up ignore their child all together. Don't feed them, don't buy them clothes or proper shoes.
'Ha, at least I'm not that kid,' he would think, and then feel guilty for laughing.
He tried to make an elephant, failing since he couldn't bend his finger in the correct way to form the trunk. He sighed, before dropping his arms to his sides and finally closing his eyes and falling asleep.
