𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢; reddie

(vi.)

TIME SEEMS to move as slow as ever on this particular Monday morning. Mr.Decker drones on about
god-knows-what in the background, Eddie isn't paying attention.

He drums his fingers impatiently on the desk, undergoing an intense staring contest with the face of his watch. His narrowed eyes challenging the ticking hand to move faster. Lunch is merely minutes away and Eddie simply can't wait.

"Seven minutes left," he whispers under his breath, now eyeing the teacher crudely as if it was his fault that he had to be in class.

"What was that Edward?" Mr.Decker peers at him over his golden rimmed spectacles, wondering why the bizarre boy is perched on the edge of his chair, ready to bolt out of the classroom.

All eyes turn to Eddie, some students snigger at his eagerness to leave.

"Sorry sir," he mutters under his breath, jumping from his seat and weaving through the desks, heading straight out of the entrance.

"Edward Kaspbrak where do you think you're going?" Mr.Decker bellows.

The boy takes no notice, and makes a beeline towards the school toilets—a popular spot for the schools notorious skivers.

Throwing the door open he realizes that this is possibly the most unhygienic place he could've gone to, oh well.

Eddie stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, and upon a quick survey of it, notices cigarette smoke creeping over the closed door of a cubicle.

"Smoking destroys your lungs," he states matter-of-factly.

"Ed's?" the door swings open to reveal a grinning Richie sitting on the toilet lid with his legs crossed awkwardly, a cigarette hanging between his chapped lips.

"You smoke?" Eddie hisses, eyes narrowing judgmentally.

"Absolutely not!"

"Then what's that between your lips?"

Richie stands abruptly, plucking the death stick from his mouth and flushing it down the toilet at a speed that suggests he's done it before.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Richie smirks cheekily, walking past Eddie towards the exit, "c'mon spaghetti."

"Where are we going?"

"You tell me Eddie, you're the one thats taking me out for lunch."

Eddie rolls his eyes, following him out of the toilets.

-

  It seems as if they've been walking forever. Richie's just about to complain about the heat for the hundredth time in the past ten minutes when Eddie speaks up.

"We're here!" the short boy smiles sweetly, watching Richies reaction from the corner of his eyes.

"Is this... A museum?"

"Not just any museum," Eddie clicks his tongue, "it's an art museum."

  "I see," Richie smirks, slinging his arm over Eddie's small shoulders.

"What? What do you see," the younger boy almost trips over Richies comically large feet.

"C'mon Eddie," he drawls, "Cute kid takes his gorgeous friend on a romantical lunch date to an art museum. If you wanted to fuck you could've just said so," Richie bursts into hysterical laughter, slapping his hand against his knee in amusement.