Wait For It || Reddie ✔️

two

"Late for what again?" Eddie called out against the breeze. 

Richie, standing on the pedals of his bike, looked over his shoulder with his eyebrows pulled in. "Don't you remember?"

Eddie quirked an eyebrow, eyes wide and awaiting an answer. Richie laughed, turning back around just in time to twist the handles of his bike, nearly avoiding going off path and hitting a fire-hydrant. 

"You totally forgot," Richie said.

"No," Eddie lied. "I remember." 

"So you remember today is Ben's birthday?"

Eddie, in the safety of Richie's diverted eyes, freely expressed his surprise on his face. "Oh, shit," he whispered, the rushing wind taking his words and throwing them over his shoulder. Though, and in Eddie's perspective, unfortunately, Richie knows him too well. 

"You totally forgot," he repeated.

"Did not," Eddie said, near whining. "And wanna know how I remember? Because I told my mom I was hanging out with Ben today. And!" Eddie pushed on his pedals harder, his front tire nosing beside Richie's back tire, "I remember we are gonna go pick up some snacks."

Richie laughed. "Your lying has gotten better!"

"I am not lying!"

"Are too!"

Eddie, in his rising frustration, jerked his handle bars to the side, his front tire clashing against Richie's back one. Richie shouted in surprised fear as his bike swerved, his thin, pre-teen legs flying out to reestablish balance. 

"You fuckin' shit, Eddie!" 

As Eddie cruised by, he tipped his head back and laughed freely, his bubbling amusement cleaning away all bad feelings. 

By the time the two reached the small convenience store, their hair was wind-swept and faces blotched with exertion. They parked their bikes in the metal rack, the sun making it unbearable to look at for longer than a moment. Entering the store, blistering chilled air blasted at them, giving the boys a needed break from the sun.

"Since Bev and Mike are good friends or whatever," Richie said, continuing another string of conversation he pulled at, "they got the cake and shit. I think Bill already got decorations. Probably pulled them out of his ass. That leaves us," he wiggled a finger between the two of them, a spark of mischief behind his eyes, "to get the goods."

"The goods?" Eddie asked, perplexed. "Why are you phrasing it like that?"

A devious smile glided onto Richie's face. Between the stacks of candy, Richie got close to Eddie's face and whispered, "You ever heard of the battery acid drink?"

Eddie's face scrunched up in absurdity. "Battery acid?" he asked, his voice cracking in its embarrassing prepubescent way. Then, after quickly recovering and sarcastically: "No, Richie, I never heard of it. Where the hell would I have heard of a drink called battery acid?" 

Richie shrugged dumbly. "I dunno."

"Jeez, Rich. What even is this drink? Do you buy it? Is it new? Oh boy, if my mother ever found out that I'm drinking batt--"

"Oh, man, Eds. You got pills in your fanny for a rambling disorder? I heard about it through some boys at the arcade. It's a drink you make, well, more like a concoction, like a witches thing, you know? Hey, when you were a kid, did you ever used to make potions? I used to and my mom--"

"Oh, man, Rich," Eddie mocked. "You sure you don't got talking addiction?" Eddie huffed and pushed past the boy, walking further down the aisle, but his personal bubble was quickly popped by Richie bounding after him. 

"Imma ignore what you said. So, this drink, or potion, whatever you wanna call it-- it's all the spicy candy you can find, plus your favorite soda, plus a Redbull."

"A Redbull?" Eddie nearly screeched, whipping around to face Richie. "You know what is in those things? Death! A heart attack in a can! Your blood clots up, and you die! You hear me? Die! Death!"

"Oh, stop being such a drag."

"Redbulls are poison!"

"What your mom feeds you is poison."

"You're not listening to me," Eddie said, eyes wide with anxiety. "You can buy it, fine, sure. I can't stop you. But like hell am I gonna let you kill me."

Richie blew a raspberry. "You think breathing in a little cigarette smoke will cause a million types of cancer."

"Second-hand smoke kills, you know."

"Listening to you all day is more fatal." Richie breezed past and peered at the open boxes of candy, slanted for perfect viewing. "Zotz are a must," he said, reaching in a particularly glossy cardboard box and pulling out a handful. "Hell yeah, these Cherry Sours, too... Pop Rocks.. Watermelon Sours, Pixy-Stix.. Hey, Eds, do ya think Lemonheads would taste good in it?" He looked over at Eddie, whose face was blown out in astonishment mixed with absurdity, with a hint of disgust curled in his upper lip. "Yeah," Richie agreed. "I think so, too." He reached in the box and piled some into his hand, fingers spread out wide to hold all of the mounting candy.