Wait For It || Reddie ✔️

ten

Days later and after mass communication efforts, the losers eventually found a time to meet up. The park's trees loomed overhead, big and tall and full of vibrant green leaves that billowed with the unseen breeze. They sat at a picnic table, snacking on the lunches they all brought from home. Bikes piled haphazardly around like a moat of silvers and blacks, blues and greens and yellows.

Eddie tipped his back in delirious laughter, and if Richie wasn't so hooked on the words coming out of Ben's mouth, he would have spared a glance his way.

"I don't have a fucking foot fetish!" Richie squeaked out, his voice reaching a pitch too high and cracking. "Ben---" Richie said, but was interrupted when Eddie laughed again, this time resting his forehead on the wooden table as he giggled. Beverly dipped her chin and laughed into her hands as Bill fell into her shoulder, his eyes brimming with tears from his own hysterics. "Guys!" Richie flung his hands into the air. "This isn't funny!"

"It is a little funny," Stanley said, and when Richie shot him a heated look, Stanley's reeled back expression broke as he snorted with laughter, turning away.

"I mean," Mike started, a teasing smile on his face, "if anyone here would have a weird fetish, it would be you and it would be feet."

This spooled out another thread of laughter out of the group, and only Richie sat there with his jaw hinged open, gaping like a fish out of water.

"This is blasphemy. Blasphemy, I say!"

"I'm pretty sure the correct word is slander."

"Shut it, Ben!" Richie squealed. He pointed a finger at the boy. "I don't want to hear another peep out of you!"

"Sorry!" Ben laughed out. "Sorry, sorry!"

"Ugh!" Richie crossed his arms over his chest and sat back into the curvature of his spine. "Some friends you all are..."

"Oh, Richie," Beverly said, leaving her hands pressed to her flushed cheeks. "It's all in good fun."

"Your secret is safe with us," Mike said, a grin hooked onto his face, and shot a secretive wink Richie's way.

"Not with me," Stanley quipped.

"Asshole," Richie threw at Stanley's face. He then made eye contact with each of his friends and said, "Asshole. Asshole. Asshole."

Eddie sputtered out a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Remind me to never take my shoes off when Rich is around."

Bill let out a sharp laugh. "He'd be--be the one tay--taking your shoes off!"

"Oh!" Mike said. "Good one!"

Over Richie's head, they high-fived one another. Richie rolled his eyes. "Hop off my dick, will you?" He then motioned to the others, sputtering out, "Let's--let's talk about your guys' fetishes, huh?"

"Oh, my God," Eddie mumbled, then quickly shook his head. "Nu-uh. I'm not talking about this."

"Yeah," Stanley agreed, his mouth twisted into one of discomfort.

"Oh! So we can talk about mine, but not yours?"

"Richie," Beverly sang out, her eyebrows rising, "that sounds like you're admitting to having one."

"Oh, fuck this!" Richie said over the upsurge of his friend's laughter.

/

After stomachs were filled and the day stretched on above their heads, the park had begun to clear out slightly. Parents hurried their kids into minivans; the older groups of teenagers walked off in packs, hands bunched in their pockets and heads lowered as they talked; elderly couples lifted themselves off of the benches and ambled down shaded sidewalks.