Wait For It || Reddie ✔️

nine

Their night together consisted of the usual: petty debates, name-calling, board games (monopoly, ending with Richie winning, and Scrabble, ending with Eddie being victorious, and Yahtzee, which Richie had pulled out from the back of the cabinet in the living room, as that game is reserved for "adults night" in the house, and ended with him winning on a technicality), and the boys playing with the green army men that are littered around Richie's bedroom, the entire upstairs filled with their battle sound effects.

After the sun had set and the two finished off the last of the pizza, they laid in Richie's bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling from early childhood. They talked on and on about monotonous things: about their friends, the people that lived in their town, about the ideas that swirled around in their heads. Ideas of the future, of school, of each other, of their families, of life and Derry and life outside of Derry.

"Would you ever leave?" Eddie had asked to the dark ceiling, his hands politely clasped to each other as they rested high on his chest.

Richie continued to pick at a loose thread on his pillowcase. "I dunno. Maybe." He paused, thinking. "Might go away for college."

"Do you know where?"

"Eds, I don't even know what I wanna go to college for."

Eddie hummed. "Neither do I." Then: "My mom wants me to become a doctor."

In the dark, Richie can see him pull a face. "Eds," he said, "you're too cute to be wasted working on sick people. Besides, I don't see you becoming a doctor."

"I hate it when you call me that."

"What?" Richie had asked innocently. "Eds or cute?"

"Both!"

"Oh!" Richie laughed. "Like I care enough to stop."

Eddie mumbled, "Like you care enough period." Richie hadn't heard, though, and carried on with his tangent, arms flying and motioning in the air as he talked.

The two had fallen asleep moments before the garage door rumbled open, vibrating and shaking the floor of Richie's room, as it sat directly above. The movements of Maggie clattering around echoed up the stairs, muffled by the closed door.

Richie blinked into the darkness of his room, awaking, and turned his head to instead face Eddie. He stared at the boys face, at the flutter of his eyelashes as they twitch with dreams, the soft inhale and exhale of his chest. His eyelids quickly became heavy once more, pulling him into his own lapping sleep.

In the morning, the sun shone high and bright into the bedroom. Long squares of lukewarm gold heated the bed, bringing Richie out from his sleep. He blinked at the white ceiling, feeling as a breath expanded his chest, and slowly came to.

It wasn't long until he felt a pressure across his chest and legs. As he had begun to move to shake whatever it was off---either it be a real sensation or a phantom one---he glanced down and froze.

He slowly twisted his head and, jarringly, saw that Eddie's haphazard sleep-induced movements had its consequences. The boy laid on his back, star-fished, with his chin tilted up and away. Richie looked back down at the arm and leg strew across his own body and forced himself to settle back into the sheets.

Yeah, he thought, this is fine. This is cool. He stole a glance out of the corner of his eye to Eddie, searching for any sign of the boy being awake. When he noticed the chest rising and falling at an even pace, he relaxed even further. Chill, cool, awesome, he thought, I'll just pretend to wake up when he wakes up.

Little did Richie know, though, was that Eddie was awake and staring at the opposite wall. He had been shaken out of his watery dreams when Richie moved and tensed, then tensed himself when he felt Richie's warmth underneath his leg and arm.

He forced his body to stay calm as his eyes darted around Richie's room, doused full and bright in the morning sun. Rain droplets covered the windows and a thin mist sat outside, making the world beyond just a little bit hazy.

Eddie pursed his lips. He knew Richie was awake, and he wondered why, why!, Richie hadn't thrown his limbs off of himself yet. It would be easy, too, Eddie figured. Just roll around and let Eddie get the hint himself. But, no. No, because Richie is stubborn and difficult and makes situations more awkward than they need to be.

So, Eddie decided, he will just pretend to wake up when Richie does. It's a foolproof plan, no? Eddie would nod to himself, but that would give himself away. Instead, he closed his eyes and lingered back into the scenes he remembered from his dreams.

The sun brightened. The squares of liquid gold had become molten. Richie laid unblinking at the wall, feeling the heat climb from under his clothes. That, and the uncomfortable sensation of needing to fucking piss---Jesus, Eds.

Richie sucked in his lips as he thought. He reveled in the contact. It made that little pure butterfly become animated in his stomach. And a situation such as theirs was something Richie would jump at to tease Eddie incessantly over. Oh boy, he thought, the type of jokes he could get out of this.

But, Richie knew with a disappointing certainty that those types of jokes would not bode over well. The nicknames and the gentle shoves will never fail to get a small smile out of Eddie, or a certain sharp look with playful undertones alight in his eyes.

He formed a plan and counted to three. Reaching the number, he inhaled, long and sharp, and twisted onto his side. In an instant, Eddie's arm and leg retracted. The emptiness left Richie feeling bare, cold. That little dip of disappointment carved in deeper, and he hid his sadness in his pillow.

Another set of sequential numbers later, and Richie was lifting his upper body and bending his knees to lean over the diamond shape of his lap. He rubbed the crust out of his eyes, ran a hand through his hair. Twisting to peer around his shoulder, his heart seized.

"Eds?" he squeaked out. He met the boys eyes instantly and it had startled him. "You're awake?"

"I mean," Eddie started, his eyes flickering away. "I just woke up. Just now. When you sat up. That's when.. I woke up."

"Yeah," Richie said, nodding along. "I woke up just now, too."

"Yeah," Eddie echoed. "Me, too."

"Cool."

"..Cool."

Richie's mouth hooked into a grin. He ripped off the sheets and began to crawl over Eddie's legs, the boys bones pushing uncomfortably into his own.

"Richie---Ow!---Stop---Really?"

"Sorry, Eds." Richie stood tall and briskly walked to his bedroom door. "Don't miss me too much!"

"As if," Eddie snorted out.

"You're right." Richie hung onto the door, just his face and his hand visible. "It's your mom that can't get enough of this."

Eddie's eyes flashed into the back of his head. "I just woke up! Can't I get at least an hour before the mom jokes start?"

"Asking me to stop flirting with Ms. K is like asking me to stop breathing air."

"I wish you'd stop breathing air!"

Richie feigned hurt, his palm fluttering to his chest. "Eds.. I can't believe you'd say something like that to me. I thought we were besties."

Eddie's nose scrunched and Richie bit back a smile. He had to look away to calm that butterfly, then looked back. Right when he did, there was a flash of blurry movements. The understanding clicked into place fast and quick, and Richie let out a delighted squeal and slammed the door shut right before the thrown pillow could hit him.