Brushstrokes (Reddie AU)

A Talk With An Irishman

As soon as we turn the project in I realise what a grave mistake the switch was for both of us. He never ends up letting me hear his set, but from the look of the painting, we are going to flunk the project no doubt. We turn it in on a Friday, and the art teacher promises to have them back on Monday. Having the weekend to sit and think is usually not great. But I'm Richie Tozier, Who can realistically talk himself to death. And I can entertain my boyfriend who worries far too much.

"I'm going to fail the class," he snickers softly and shakes his head. "And all because of you."

"Me?" I laugh. "Yeah, you're not wrong." We are interrupted by a sharp knocking on the door. I don't know who it could be, though. Definitely not Stan. He's been a bit preoccupied as of late. And I don't think it's my mom either. No, this knocking is different.

"Are we going to get that?" Eddie asks. He seems almost hesitant to even ask his question. What is going on? Isn't it just a knock on the door?

I stand and take his hand. "Come on."

But once we get to the door I notice something off. The man on the other side of the door is a policeman. He looks stern and tall, but has a gentle look upon his face. "Hello boys, do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?" He asks. His accent is unique, I like it. Irish.

We lead him into the living room, because we have no idea what the fuck is going on. But he's got a kind smile. "One of my partners got a call this morning from Sonia Kaspbrak in a panic. She was screaming about how her son had ran away. Now listen, this isn't the first time she has reported something. And many times she's sent in false accusations. Do I have your word to tell her you're safe and well?"

Damn. This is some serious shit.

"Sure. But I didn't run away. I'm just hanging out with my friend Richie." He shrugs. I can tell there's something on his mind he's not saying. We will have our own conversation after.

"I understand. I'm on your side here, though don't go telling that to your mother. If there's anything I can do, just give me a call. I'll be around." He looks like he's finally going to leave, but then he stops before he can. He looks at me.

"Richard?"

I nod. "That happens to be my name, sir."

He smirks and stifles some laughter. At least someone thinks I'm funny. "So where is your mother? I was planning on speaking to her as well. It seems the relationship you two have is going to be the center of a lot of shit...pardon my language."

I snicker. "You're good. I don't give a fuck about language."

He smiles, but then it fades. "Maybe don't say that to other police officers. They don't always behave the way they should. Don't always practice what they preach. And a lot of people around here are just bad people. But where is your mother?"

"Oh, I don't know exactly. I think she went to the store," I lie blatantly. Even though I like this police officer, I'm not going to let him know that my mother is a complete bitch most of the time.

"I see. Well, I will tell your mother that you're safe, Edward. If you need anything, just call the station and ask for Officer Nell. I'll see you around, boys."

Even after he leaves I still have no idea what the fuck he said.

Why is he caring so much? Sonia cried on the phone and so he needs to ask us this shit? Seems like bullshit to me. But I like him so it doesn't matter. He is right about one thing. Most people around are shit. I don't know why that is, but I know I'm not wrong. People just have got a lot of hate it seems. And I'm too lazy to care or try to change it.

"My mom called the fucking cops," Eddie bursts out giggling. I never expect that reaction. "She's insane! She called an actual cop!"

I roll my eyes. "You almost called the cops when I tried to make myself a pop tart."

"You put it in the microwave like a dumbass!" He yells. "I wish you did crack because then at least we'd have an explanation for you."

I shake my head. Such a rude comment, I'm practically heart broken. So heart broken that I have to kiss him. And I do. And not to sound all mushy gushy, but I really enjoy kissing him. And he's such a brilliant kisser as well. I'm so happy I get to kiss him. I don't deserve it. I'm an asshole.

"I'm still mad at you for not using a toaster like a normal human being," he says after he pulls away from the kiss. "Don't think you can just get away with that. It's evil."

"That's the most evil thing I've done?" I ask.

"No. It's not your political impressions. But it is fairly evil." He kissed me again quickly before sighing. "I'm going to paint you one day. Because I think you are beautiful and I think it could be a true work of art. I've never been so inspired to paint a person. I mean, I am usually more into landscapes anyways. But you! Your eyes and glasses and freckles and your stupid hair...I love it. I love it all."

"That's gay," I tease.

He laughs and nods along. "I know. But it's true! I love you, Dick."

"And you too, Eddie Spaghetti." He seems to hate the nickname entirely but I think it's cute.

"Bitchy Richie," he replies, trying to think of something like Eddie Spaghetti. But nothing could ever be as good of a nickname. It was the perfect one and I would never change it.