Wait For It || Reddie ✔️

thirteen

Richie stared up at the black ceiling. It disappeared up into the darkness, becoming a murky mess of shadows before his eyes. His friends laid slumbering around him, their quiet exhales softening the air. It buttered the atmosphere so much so to the point when Richie decided he had enough of a restless night, throwing his blanket off felt wrong. He tiptoed around Mike, stretched his leg over Stanley and crept down the pitch-black hallway to where a skinny door sat. The small square window gave no break to the darkness, the night just as thick as it was in the basement.

Stepping outside, Richie put extreme care in closing the door behind him. He wanted to be alone, needed to be alone, and the last thing to happen was accidentally waking a friend and being found.

The back door of the basement led to the vast expanse of Mike's farm. The grass immediately outside of the house was meticulously mowed, the blades short and sharp under his bare feet. Richie walked to the edge of the lawn where the grass sky-rocketed, the tips breathing in the nighttime air near his hips. He wandered towards the big oak tree that stood tall and proud off to the side of the house, its gnarled bark rough against his back as he dropped to its base.

The Suck and Blow game ended promptly after Eddie's lips grazed Richie's. There was no shrieking of laughter, no hysterical joke thrown (save for Mike's impression), which lurched the group into a tense state of awkwardness. It didn't help when Stanley returned from the bathroom, his demeanor changed for the worse.

Thankfully, however, Beverly and Bill joined forces to put on an entertaining performance of charades. They recruited Ben and Mike, the only two not personally affected by any uncomfortableness, and soon Stanley shook whatever mood was haunting him and sat back into the couch, watching the show with amusement.

Eddie played by himself in the corner of the room, bouncing the balloon into the air in quiet diligence. As Richie sat on the couch with Stanley, a part of the charades game but not involved, he cast meaningful looks over, hoping to catch the boy's eye and telepathically apologize.

But, he never did.

Sleep came soon afterwards. Mike was out first, him telling the group he was 'only resting his eyes' as he laid back on the beanbag, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. Ben soon joined him, laying on the large make-shift bed on the floor with his arms curled up underneath his head. Stanley fell asleep while sitting on the couch next to Richie, his mouth hung slightly open, to which Richie tried to drop balls of lint into but Beverly quickly put an end to that.

When the last four went to bed, Eddie purposefully moved his pillow away from Richie's. And when Richie noticed, a hurt swelling turned raw in his chest. It lingered, persisted, stalled and remained until the moonlight left the ceiling, dousing Richie in cold darkness.

With his head leaned up against the pokey bark of the tree, Richie watched the quiet, slow blinking of the fireflies far off on the other side of the lawn. His fingers circled and rolled around the short stumps of grass, the edges sharp against his skin. The crickets were loud in the tall grass, singing their harmonious tune.

Richie brought his fingers up to his mouth. Eddie's accidental kiss still stuck around, the ghost of it heavy on his lips. During the charades game the haunting sense drifted, the fear stuck in his chest getting chased away by Beverly and Bill's entertainment. Up until they all went to bed, then the dread came slithering back and Eddie's faraway presence heavier than it needed to be.

Stars twinkled dimly from beyond the canopy of leaves. Richie rubbed at his mouth, then let his forehead fall to his bent knee. He sat there for an immeasurable amount of time, long enough to feel the clammy heat of nighttime summer and the itchy swell of nature on his bare skin. He was about to lift his head and wander back inside when, startlingly, the back door clicked shut.

Richie lifted his head. In the darkness, there was a figure walking towards him. He didn't need the milky moonlight to highlight the person, as the cuteness told Richie all he needed to know.

"Eds?"

"Hi, Richie."

"Hi," he replied dumbly. He watched with mounting wary and confusion as Eddie approached, the boy stopping just short of him. "Hi."

"Hi," Eddie said.

An awkward silence falls.

"What are you," Eddie slowly started, "doing out here?"

Richie looked away and shrugged, his eyes falling to his knees. "I just couldn't sleep."

Eddie hummed, nodding and turning his head to stare out to the overgrown field. He then looked back and asked, "Can I join?"

Richie perked up. "Yeah!" he said, instantly shifting to move and make space. "Yeah, sure!"

The boy lowered himself next to Richie, keeping the inches between them purposeful. Richie sat and waited for Eddie to begin speaking, picking and pinching at the grass surrounding them. When the seconds passed like minutes, Richie sucked in a tight breath and said, "What--what a stupid game, huh?"

A tense silence passed. "Yeah," Eddie agreed, then bubbled out a forced, tight laugh. "So stupid. Like, where did Beverly even get that from?"

Richie pushed out a fake, breathy snort. "No, I know, right?" Then: "Did'ya see how Stan reacted?"

"Yeah!" Eddie said quickly. "What was that about?"

"I don't know!" Richie dropped his knees, feeling a little more comfortable now that the conversation shifted. "Do'ya think it's got something to do about how religious he is? 'Cause that's, like, what I was thinking, you know?"

Eddie bunched his mouth to the side. "Maybe," he said, then flickered his eyes to Richie. "'Cause, you know, like Ben said.." He paused. "It's unlikely that Stan has a crush or something on, like, you know, Bill.. or whatever. Because, like, you know, he's not..." He paused. "You know."

"Yeah," Richie breathed out. "I know."

"Right. 'Cause it's statistically unlikely that there's someone like that in our group."

A beat of silence passed. "Yeah."

"Right," Eddie repeated, "right," he said, sounding more like he was talking to himself. He fell silent, and so did Richie, but before it stretched on too long to become awkward, Eddie quickly said, "But, it's not like I'm saying that--that's wrong, or anything. I'm not trying to be homophonic, you know? Like, if Stan did come out, or whatever, then I'd be, like, super happy for him."

"Yeah," Richie agreed, his voice light and quick. "Yeah, yeah. No, me, too."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Eddie nodded. "Yeah," he said softly, almost a whisper. "Glad we're on, like, you know, the same page."

Richie looked down at his lap, feeling the desperate hole of dread and sick and fear and regret in his chest. "Yeah," he said at last.

Patting his hands lightly against his thighs, Eddie and Richie fell into a tight, scared silence. Richie refused to look anywhere but his lap, trying to breathe calmly through his nose to force down the nausea, while Eddie's eyes flickered all around: the leaves, the grass, the field, the house, the sky, and the fireflies softly twinkling across the yard.

"Anyway," Eddie said at last. He lifted himself up from the ground and brushed his pants clean. Richie could feel his eyes on him, but still refused to meet the gaze. "I'm gonna go back inside. It feels gross out here."

"Alright," Richie sighed. He let his head go limp against the bark of the tree, but kept his eyes on his lap. "I think I'll stay out here, so... goodnight."

A brief second of silence passed. "Goodnight." Then, in a trying voice: "See you later, alligator."

A small smile peeled across Richie's face. He lifted his eyes to Eddie and said, "In a while, crocodile."