Wait For It || Reddie ✔️

- 15 -

The three sat on the cement of the shady side of the building. "So Rich," Beverly said, "Are you ever going to tell us what happened?" Richie looked at her and shrugged. "Like I said, it's personal. But, dude, wait," he said and smiled. "Open your mouth." Beverly's eyebrows knitted together and she slowly did what Richie instructed.

Her tongue was a brighter red and her teeth were slightly tinted. Richie laughed and Stan smiled as Beverly clamped her mouth closed. "What? Was my tongue red?" Stan nodded and told Richie to show his stained mouth.

"It's blue, isn't it?" He asked after closing his mouth. "No.. not really," Beverly said as she played with her straw. "How the fuck is that possible? Your already red tongue is red but mines not blue?" Stan shrugged and continued to drink his Icee. "Maybe it doesn't like you," he said. Richie flipped him off.

Silence fell and before it could go on for too long, Stan set down his cup. "What were we talking about again? Why Richie originality wanted us to come over?" Beverly's eyes lit up and she nodded. "Yeah! We were talking about that."

Richie swallowed and pulled the straw away from his lips. "No. Not happening." Bev's shoulders fell in disappointment. "Please?" She asked, leaning forward so Richie could get the full affect of her begging. He stared at her, seemingly debating with himself. He leaned in closer to her and shook his head. "No."

Stan threw his hands in the air. "I know I've already asked this, but why won't you tell us? I know you're Richie, but it can't really be that bad." Richie's mouth opened and he, too, threw his hands in the air. "What the dick is that supposed to mean?"

"Answer the question, Rich," Beverly said. Richie breathed in and set his cup down on the ground. "I'm going to sing a song to you guys. It's called "My Life So Far"," Richie said. Stan raised his eyebrows. "Oh, okay," he said as Richie cleared his throat, not knowing what to expect.

"AghhHHhhhHh!!!"

Beverly glanced around the gas station parking lot, looking if anyone heard Richie scream. Stan made a face as he smiled. "Sounds accurate," he said and Beverly cracked up and nodded. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here every Thursday night," Richie said.

~~~

As they talked, Richie got the conversation to move farther and farther away from what made him call his friends in a panic.

They finished off their drinks, their skin cool from the cold Icee's and the shade and it felt great to stand in the sun. Since Stan lived in the opposite direction of Richie, the two boys parted ways. Beverly decided to stick with Richie and make sure he didn't fall off his roof when he snuck back in.

"Bye Bevvy!" Richie called out as he waved. He was standing safely on solid grounds of his bedroom floor, Beverly outside on her bike. "See you later?" She asked and Richie gave her a thumbs up. He closed his window and watched as she biked down the street.

Just as Richie kicked off his shoes and started to relax in his bed with a comic book, a knock sounded at his door. "Come in." Wentworth stood at the door, a hand on the doorknob. Richie breathed out and set his comic down on his lap.

"Where's your friends?" he asked, glancing around the room. "They.. uh, they left." Richie's fathers eyebrows pulled together and he shook his head. "When? I was in the living room the whole time." Richie paused. oh shit oh shit. he's gonna know i snuck out oh my god. "A while ago. Maybe you didn't see them," Richie lied.

He crossed his arms and stared his son down. "Did you sneak out? It wouldn't be the first time you pulled this shit." Richie sat up and spun to face his dad. "How would you know I sneak out? You never notice anything! You didn't even notice my friends leave!" A tense silence flooded the room. "Excuse me?" Wentworth said, his voice sharp. "You're grounded. You know the rules on having friends over-" Richie's arms flung in the air. "What?" He asked and his dad continued. "You know the rules on lying, sneaking out, talking back."

Richie glared at his father. "Just..! Just go away!" Richie yelled and his father breathed in deeply, as if to warn him. "You're not leaving this house for a week. Understood?" Richie rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "I fucking understand," he whispered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said I understood! Now go!" Wentworth stared his son down for a second longer before closing his door. Richie bit his lip, anger boiling his blood. He heaved out a breath and stood up, his eyes landing on the comic book. He grabbed it harshly, bending the paper pages. He held it in his hands and watched it get blurry as tears filled his eyes.

"ArG!" He yelled out as he threw it across the room. It hit the wall before fluttering down to the ground. Richie breathed in shakily and felt the anger leave his body and sadness flood in. His chin shook as tears fell onto his cheek. "Fuck life," he whispered. "I fucking hate life."