learning // reddie

Chapter 13: We Are Young

Eddie's eyes fluttered open, his lids basking in the warm sunlight filtered through the shades. He could hear Stan and Richie bantering quietly, bits and snippets floating to Eddie's ears from across the room. "They totally slice the tip of your dick off," Richie argued, his voice filled with such a confidence that Eddie wished he could possess. Stan openly groaned, face-palming himself. "It's just a coming-of-age ceremony! I still have my dick," Stan spat, his voice dying down a bit with the last phrase. Richie laughed, hard chuckles and giggles being emit from the boy's mouth. "Yeah, right! And I'm dating Eddie!" Richie choked out, laughter lacing his words. Eddie's lips frowned at that; "Not that it would be a bad thing," Richie admitted, and Stan gasped. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! Bill owes me ten bucks," the Jewish boy yelled. Eddie sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbows.
"What wouldn't be a bad thing?" Eddie asked, playing stupid. Richie's head snapped in the brunet's direction, cheeks slowly burning up. "Uhm- uh, fucking your mom!" he blurted, eyes cast downward. Eddie wondered why Richie would lie. Was he ashamed? Stan coughed, eyeing Richie hard, brown eyes boring into his soul. "Gross," Eddie muttered, flopping back down on Richie's pillow. He watched the lint fly around with small particles of dust projected by the sunlight, floating aimlessly in the air. Richie had invited Eddie and Stan over for a sleepover; he invited Mike, too, but he couldn't come because of farm duties he needed to fulfill. "Eds, we think we might go to the quarry later. Beaverly said she'd meet us there if we did," Richie spoke up, breaking the silence that consumed his room. Eddie pondered this, thinking of what he needed to do today. "Okay, I should be able to come. Will Bill be coming?" Eddie asked, hopeful. Bill and Eddie has recently started to get along better, speaking more and finding that they had a lot in common.
Richie's eyes flickered, and Stan chimed in. "Yeah, but he'll be a bit late. He's driving Georgie to his friend Dustin's house," he answered, picking at his thumbnail. Eddie nodded thoughtfully, studying the threads of Richie's thick quilt. "Great," Eddie said, smiling softly to himself. What he missed, however, was Richie's slight huff of jealousy and envy. What he missed was Richie's attempt to shift the conversation. What he missed, even more, was Richie's confession to him a few nights ago. "So, Staniel, mind cooking us up some breakfast?" Richie said, a horrific British accent in his voice. Stan glared at him, sighing. "I'm Jewish, Richie. I don't know how to make non-kosher foods," he said, as if he were stating the obvious. Richie shrugged, leaning forwards on his elbows, skin against granite countertop. "You know how to make eggs?" he tried again, peering up at him through long eyelashes. Stan shrugged back, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. "I suppose so," he huffed, and set to work.
  "So, Eds, how'd you sleep?" Richie asked, turning his head to look at the small boy. Eddie smiled back, a butterfly waking in his stomach. "Better than at my house, actually. How about you?" he responded formally, and Stan turned around, gawking. "How come you never ask me how I slept, Richie?" he complained, hand on his hip. Richie just smiled a shit-eating grin, his glasses lopsided and he went to fix them. "I would've slept better if I was cuddling you," he winked, and turned back to Stan. "But somebody insisted I let you have the bed to yourself!" he groaned, setting his cheek into his palm. Eddie giggled, resulting in Richie snapping his gaze back to the brunet. "I'm glad. I already have you feeling me up enough at the quarry," he said slyly, returning the wink that was given earlier. Stan burst into laughter at this while Richie sat, eyes wide, expression appalled. "I do not!" he exclaimed, voice going higher. Stan cackled, laughter uncontrollable. "That was- that was a good one, Eddie!" he breathed out, pretending to wipe tears away. Eddie chuckled softly, crinkling his nose at his own witty joke. "Yeah, yeah, trash the trashmouth," Richie muttered, "but that was a good one, Eds. I'll remember to getcha back," Richie reminded, waving a finger mockingly in Eddie's face. Not knowing what came over him, Eddie bit Richie's finger, hard enough to leave a mark, but soft enough not to hurt too badly.
  "Ow, you motherfu- this motherfucker just bit me!" Richie gasped, pointing at Stan to display the evidence. Stan just remained calm, however, he was holding back his giggles so he wouldn't upset Richie anymore than he already was. "That's what you get for being an idiot all the time," Stan chastised, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. Richie frowned, his mouth finally shut for once. Eddie smiled in a daze, focusing his eyes on the stone-etched countertop. A plate of scrambled eggs was slid his way, fluffy and extra cheesy. "Richie told me you liked your eggs with extra cheddar. Is that enough?" Stan asked, eyeing the plate worriedly. Eddie smiled, happy that Richie thought of him. "Yeah, thanks, Stan," he said, grinning appreciatively. Richie picked at his eggs, fork twisting in the yellow food. The silence was interrupted as the Tozier's landline rang, an obnoxious noise echoing through the dining room and kitchen.
Richie raced to the phone as fast as the Flash, unhooking the receiver. "Tozier residence, this is Richie. Who's speaking?" Richie's face fell, frowning deeply. "This is Mr. Uris. We need Stanley home for now because we're going out of town and Lily needs a babysitter," Stan's father explained, and Richie thanked him and bid him goodbye. "Stan, your Jewish family needs you!" Richie called from the living room, voice projected into the kitchen. As Stanley left, the sound of a door shutting quietly was the only sound heard in the tension-filled silence. Eddie eyed Richie, who stared down at his own plate of food. "Thanks," Eddie said suddenly, his mouth moving fast. Richie glanced up questioningly. "For what?" he asked, genuinely confused. Eddie attempted to muster up the words, eventually spitting out, "For everything- this past month. It's been amazing."
Richie's heart just about boiled in his chest, sizzling on his rib cage and lungs. A watery grin broke out on his lips, taking Eddie's hand into his. "Of course, Eddie Spaghetti. And thank you, too, you know," Richie continued, playing with the boy's fingers. Eddie smiled, too, pearly whites exposed. "You're welcome," he returned quietly, ruffling Richie's hair. Richie, instead of protesting, grabbed at Eddie's hand as he retracted it. "..Please?" he asked in a small voice, and Eddie's eyes began to water for a bit before the tears evaporated. He let Richie guide his hand into the boy's hair, where he carded his fingers through the deep, black curls. They were soft, Eddie had to admit, but the sigh of relief that Richie gave meant more to the asthmatic than anything else.

"Thanks," Richie breathed, and Eddie kissed the tip of his nose, words not necessary.