cliché || reddie ✔️

two

The first thing Richie notices when he pulls into his driveway is the lack of his mother's car. His eyes linger on the empty space in the driveway as he reaches for his backpack. His mother is usually home by now as she only works until 2:30 on weekdays. Shaking his head, he pushes it out of his mind and pulls the car keys out, the music cutting off abruptly.

The cold is more unforgiving than any other late November day, the wind forcing Richie's coat open and biting at his uncovered skin as he trudges up to the garage. He doesn't have a remote for the garage and has to resort to manually punching in the code. He bounces on his toes as the rusted wheels go to work pulling up the heavy door.

Richie goes inside and glances around the dark kitchen. The emptiness of the house hits him, surrounding him in a suffocating grip as he heads towards the staircase. He knows his parents aren't home and won't be for a long while, but as he passes by their bedroom, he can't help but pause and gently push open the door with his knuckles.

The curtains are drawn closed, cutting off any wintery sunlight that might float in. One side of the bed is untouched, the light brown sheets Richie can picture himself climbing up on as a child smoothed out. The other side tells a different story. The sheets are kicked back and the pillows are indented, but it's as cold as the other side of the bed. Richie breaths in deeply, putting any dreadful feeling down.

~~~

Beverly kicks her legs up onto the armrest of the couch, ready to resume her bingeing on a new show. Her eyes are peeled away from the TV when her phone starts rhythmically buzzing from under her pillow. Pushing out an irritated breath, she props herself up on an elbow and slides her hand under the pillow to grab the buzzing device.

"You always know to call at the most inconvenient times, huh, Rich?" She asks and lays back down.

"Gotta make sure you don't forget about me somehow, right?"

Beverly rolls her eyes and lifts a hand in the air to inspect her nails. "You know I'd never forget about you. You make it too difficult." Her hand falls above her head and she asks, "Why are you calling?"

"It's a weird question."

"Nothing new."

A breathy laugh is heard on the other end and Beverly can picture Richie nodding, the same goofy smile playing at his lips. "Fair enough, Bev. Do you have Oreos at your aunts house?"

She casts a glance to the doorway of the kitchen as she thinks. "Maybe," she says and gets up off the couch. "Why are you asking?"

"Mom was supposed to go shopping today because it's Friday and fucking didn't. I came home hungry and expecting food only to be sadly disappointed," Richie explains as Beverly runs into her kitchen, letting her socked feet glide across the wood floors.

"That's shit," she says and opens the pantry door. Richie says something that sounds like an agreement as Beverly scans the shelves. Her eyes catch blue packaging tucked behind bags of chips.

"You know what my aunt says," she says as she pulls out the package. "Our food is your food, Richie."

"Does that mean you have some?" The kiddish excitement in his voice makes Beverly smile. She kicks the pantry doors closed and nods.

"Yes."

"Fuck yeah! Give me 10 minutes and I'll be over there."