This is the second part of a Friends/Losers Club Crossover that I uploaded back in January. I want to get back to writing Reddie stories. In the first chapter, Richie bought expensive boots but they are not comfortable at all. Enjoy the story!
Saturday night was the time for the Losers to hit up the town, going out to the best restaurants and sometimes getting kicked out of movies because they were being too loud. When that happened they’d end up at home making recipes for different drinks, like tasty margaritas. Oh, the drunk stories they had from these nights - if they could remember them.
Tonight, they attended Richie’s comedy show. He was hilarious as usual. However, Richie's exuberance had waned, replaced by an unbearable pain seeping through his feet. Despite the discomfort, he maintained a facade of normalcy, determined not to burden Eddie with his suffering.
For their usual Saturday night gathering. The Losers had chosen a local pub as their meeting spot after Richie’s show that night. They patiently waited for a table to become available.
“The audience sure loved the show tonight, Richie,” Stanley congratulated him as they hung back from the others. “How did you come up with that silly dance?”
“What?” Richie, struggling to conceal his agony, shifted uncomfortably as they stood outside waiting for a table. The pain intensified with each passing minute, as if the boots were slowly tightening around his feet, crushing his toes mercilessly. He stole a glance at Eddie, who was engaged in an animated conversation with Bill, his concern for Richie's well-being temporarily overshadowed by the evening's joviality.
“You were dancing on your toes, remember? The audience was laughing,” Stanley reminded him, starting to become a little suspicious by the strange way Richie was acting.
Seeking solace and advice, Richie discreetly leaned over to Stan, “That wasn’t a dance.” He slid down on the wall, trying in some way to take the pressure off his feet.
"Richie, what's going on? You look like you're about to keel over," Stan whispered, genuine worry in his eyes.
Richie grimaced, attempting to keep his voice steady. "It's these damn boots, Stan. They're killing me!"
“Then why are you wearing them?” Stanley raised his voice only to be shushed by Richie.
“‘Cause these things cost a butt ton and I already told Eddie how much I love them! He’s gonna chew me out for buying something I didn’t want! But I can’t take these boots anymore. Ow, they put needles in these boots, I swear!”
Stan's concern deepened as he observed Richie's struggle. "Rich, you can't keep this to yourself. You're in pain, and it's only going to get worse. You need to tell Eddie."
"I lied to Eddie. I won’t lie to him! If he finds out he’s going to be pissed at me!" Richie insisted, his voice tinged with stubbornness. “Plus, I don’t think the store will want these back.”
“Why not? Did you get blood inside them?” Stanley was trying to make a joke to lighten the mood.
“Um, that and Eddie and I already... you know while I was wearing them.”
Richie couldn't help but chuckle at the unintended innuendo, his pain momentarily forgotten, as Stanley rolled his eyes. "You could've stuck with the blood, man.
Just then Eddie approached them. “Hey guys, a table is available now. I’ve starving!” He took Richie’s hand and attempted to pull him along. Only once he stood up on his feet Richie had shooting pains in his feet, almost doubling over on the ground.
“Ow! Fuck!” Richie shouted miserably, getting everyone’s attention, The rest of the Losers started scrambling over, concern etched on their faces.
“What’s the matter, Richie?” Eddie asked, alarmed.
Trying to at least stand in the uncomfortable boots, Richie staged a fake smile. “Oh, you know, just got a cramp.”
“A cramp? A cramp, where? Cramps could be a sign that there’s something more serious,” Eddie interjected, his worry evident.
“Eds, Eds, I’m fine! Let’s just go and eat - God! Fuck! Who made these fucking things!” Richie took two more steps feeling a burning sensation around his heels and toes, scratching along his ankles. He grasped a nearby bench for support.
"Enough is enough, Richie," Stan declared, firmly gripping Richie's arm to steady him. "You're not fooling anyone. We're taking those boots off, now."
Eddie, sensing something was amiss, turned his attention from Stanley to his husband. “What’s going on, Richie?”
Reluctantly, Richie conceded, realizing he could no longer bear the agony. With Stan's support, he removed the cowboy boots, revealing raw, blistered sores etched upon his reddened feet. The sight was enough to make even Stan cringe in sympathy.
A mixture of relief and remorse washed over Richie's features. Relief at having freed himself from the source of his torment, but remorse for the repercussions of his impulsive purchase. His gaze fell upon Eddie, who stood beside them, his expression a blend of concern and frustration.
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