Brushstrokes (Reddie AU)

Trouble

School on Monday just seems different from the start. Eddie is now sleeping on my floor, but it's no issue. It's not like my mom is home to know anyways. We return to school and I think I just see the world differently.

I finally pay attention to the art project he had been talking about. The teacher thought it was a great idea. It's a collection of works we must make using all our own materials, telling the story of how we changed from children to young adults. We're allowed to use any medium for the project. So as soon as class starts, Eddie begins to paint.

"I just don't think I've changed," I rant to him as he paints. His first image is of a tree, but he hasn't told me why.

"You've always been a snarky asshole with glasses?" He teases me.

"Yeah! My mom squeezed me out and the doctors were screaming when I commented on how they looked in their scrubs," I tease right back, a smile on my face. He laughs and it makes me feel like I'm the funniest person in the world.

"Quiet, Richard," the teacher states. "You haven't gotten any work done, don't distract Eddie."

I snicker and stand up. "Well, how do you know I haven't done any work? Maybe my medium isn't something you can see, necessarily. Maybe my art is..." I think for a moment. I'm going to be in deep shit for this. "My art is comedy."

The teacher is annoyed, I can tell. She stands up at her desk and walks over to me. "You think this class is a joke? You could never be an artist, not if you think comedy is a true form of art."

Eddie groans from beside me. "You bitch, you're only saying comedy isn't an art because then he'd be more talented than you!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

We get detention together. We are the only two kids in the school who got detention that day, and it made everything wonderful. Detention is held in the art room after school. We get there together and I smile. "Aren't you glad I spat on her?"

He rolls his eyes. "No, I'm not glad you spat on my teacher," he says.

"But now you're not alone in detention! If she wasn't staring us down I'd make out with you!" I laugh. The teacher is grading work in the corner of the room, and even though we are whispering, I think she can still hear us.

"You wouldn't dare," he smirks.

"Oh, I wouldn't?" I ask and lean in close, kissing him deeply. He is surprised, I can tell by the way he backs away somewhat and then leans back in. If there were any other students in the room I would've stopped, I wouldn't have done it. But I don't stop.

He eventually pulls away and looks at me with heavy eyes. "If your comedy isn't art, your kissing sure is," he hums.

I run a hand through his hair. From then on, detention goes by quickly. Probably because the art teacher is a dumbass who doesn't realise that we are kissing in the back of the room, occasionally working. So I am super relieved when it's over and we actually get to go home.

In the hall, I take a breath of relief. We finally get to leave now, and spend the evening together. I pull him close and kiss him quickly. "Come on, let's head home, cutie," I chuckle and take his hand, leading him out of there. "Comedy is an art form, have you seen Andy Samberg? That man is fine."

He laughs. "You're prettier than whoever that is."

I smile to myself. He's obviously blind if he believes that, but it's such a sweet thing to say. We walk down the hallway hand in hand and then leave the school, making our way out to my car. I hate the hunk of junk, but I know I'm lucky to have it in the first place.

I drive him back to my place and we head inside. We start some homework together, just some calculus stuff he wanted help with. I'm actually really smart, whether you believe it or not. About halfway through, I get a phone call from Stan. You know, the really good friend of mine who hasn't called me in probably three or four years. I answer because I'm genuinely curious as to what would make him call me.

"Hey bitch," I grin softly when I answer.

"Asshole," he replies formally. "Can I talk to you? About the post?"

I don't say anything for a minute. "Excuse me? Post?" I ask, confused.

"Rich, go to the school's Facebook and see for yourself. Call me back when you do, okay?"

You know what it is, Richie.

I sigh and hang up, immediately going onto the school's Facebook as it was instructed by Stan. The student Facebook isn't something I pay much attention to. It's just used for student government and the different clubs, really. They also have fundraisers sometimes. But not today. I see what's on there and my heart pounds. My blood boils. It's a post. A picture of me and Eds, kissing in the hallway. The caption is simple, really. It reads: Richie Tozier is a Queer. I can't control myself. I immediately close my eyes. Maybe the post won't be there when I open them.

"What is it?" Eddie asks. He looks at the screen and his eyes widen. "Richie, I'm...I'm so sorry."

I tremble as I pull him close. "What's going to happen?" I ask. My voice trembles from the horror. I don't know what I can do.