Arcade Boy ((reddie, WIP))

Chapter 2

   Richie pulled into the arcade parking lot, swerving between cars. He set up his bike against two others, and walked in. The lanky boy stretched and took in the awful smell of old gym socks and spilled soda as he looked around at all the bright arcade lights.
  
   "Hey, Richie." The cashier at the prize counter said, holding her hand out. "Hey, honey!" Richie said, slapping a five dollar bill in her hand. The older girl laughed, handing Richie his tokens in return. "All right, dork. The new StreetFighter is set up over there." She pointed towards the back. "Sweet, thanks!" Richie winked as he started towards the new machine.

   Richie had always made a "home" of sorts out of the old Derry arcade. Whenever he had a rough day, and before he met the other losers, he never felt like an outcast at the arcade. I mean, how can you feel like an outcast when you're surrounded by fellow dweebs?

   He turned and walked past two rows of machines, heading towards the orginal StreetFighter. After turning the corner, he saw the gleaming lights coming from the new and improved StreetFighter II. The ravenette was excited and started down the aisle until he saw a small, graceful silhouette blocking the game, watching a curly haired, taller boy play the Mrs. Pacman game next to it.

   For some reason, Richies heart began to pound. What the fuck? He thought, standing still. He couldn't take his eyes off of the small boy standing in front of his game. He stumbled up against Donkey Kong, closing his eyes and catching his breath. Damn, that was werid.. He shook it off and opened his eyes again. And there that little silhouette was.

   He was a small brunette boy in a yellow shirt and red shorts with rainbows strips running down the sides. Richie stumbled against Donkey Kong again at the sudden suprise of this strange boy being so close to him. "Are you okay, dude?" He asked, standing on his tip-toes to look Richie in the eyes. Richie caught his breath and stood straight again, noticing the noodle-haired boy standing close behind the brunette. Richie reconized him from school. He sometimes hung around Mike; Stan, his name was.

  "C'mon, Eddie! I'm sure he's fine!" Stan said, looking the lanky stranger in front of him up and down. "But what if he's epiliptic or something! I can't let someone die in front of me, Stan!" The small boy, Eddie, said, looking up at Richie. "Oh, no, I'm fine! Must be my damn glasses, I broke them this morning." Richie cleared up, taking off his glasses and showing the messy tape barely holding them together.

   "See, he's fine, Eddie! Can we go now?" Stan said impatiently. "Yeah, yeah, Stan." Eddie rolled his eyes, "But let me see those glasses a sec," He said holding out his hand. Richie carefully took them off and set them gentle in this boys small hand, skeptical of what he's doing. Eddie took the crumpled tape off and dug in the fanny pack around his waist, pulling out a roll of medical tape.

   Eddie taped his glasses together perfectly, and stretched up and carefully put them back on Richie's face. "Better?" He asked, tilting his head slightly. "Yeah, thanks , uh, Eddie?" He nodded his head. "And you're Stan, right? I'm Richie. Sorry for ruining your arcade time, heh." He said with a hint of sarcasm. Stan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, Richie. Can we go now?" He asked the small boy. "Yeah. Nice meeting you, Richie! Be careful with your glasses!" Eddie said, walking out with Stan.

   Richie did some finger-guns at him, and walked towards the game he came there for, a slight blush across his cheeks. He played for an hour or so, but the entire time he couldn't get his mind off of the small silhouette.