Brushstrokes (Reddie AU)

Bill Denbrough

I get a call at three in the morning. Eddie and I are both completely asleep, and the sound of my phone ringing wakes us up from that state. I would've immediately denied it, but it's Stanley.

"Hello?" I ask in a groggy voice. Need I remind you it's three in the fucking morning? The witching hour? The don't-call-your-friends-unless-if-you're-plastered-hour? Yeah. That hour. And...he called me. So I assume he's dying.

"I'm gay," he says. Oh god, he's panicking.

And you understand exactly where he's coming from.

Holy shit! Internal monologue? I thought you left! What the fuck are you doing here? And then I realise that I still haven't said a thing. "Me too?" I mumble.

"I'm sorry Rich, I am, but I...I'm gay. There's this boy named Bill and we've been seeing each other. I lied about Stacey because I didn't want...I didn't want you to think I was an asshole. I should've come out when you were outed! But I was scared. I was scared, and I'm sorry."

I smirk a little. "Is Bill hot?"

"He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I'm not too great with words, but he is. He's a writer! It's sexy."

Well, I don't really get that. Sure, writers may be...attractive, but there's no sexier art form than painting. Not that I'm going to tell Stan that. "You realise now I'm going to tease you profusely about you actually finding someone, right?"

He sighs. "I know."

"And the fact that you've called me at three in the fucking morning to tell me this shit is the most dramatic thing you could've done?"

"At least I didn't spray paint a wall at school."

Huh. That's interesting.

"You know that was me?"

"Everyone knows it was you, Rich. I'm pretty sure even the teachers do. But they can't prosecute you, because it'll make them look bad. The music teacher suggested they keep the art up as a sign of peace. I can't tell if it's peace between the LGBT+ and the straight cis folks, or peace between you and your teachers that you torment."

I do not torment them! I provide classes with humour. And if I don't do it, I doubt anyone else will. I am, in fact, the single most funny person within that school. And I will die to prove it as fact.

"I'm going to go back to bed now, I really hope that you do the same...asshole." I chuckle softly.

"G'night bitch!" He cheerfully hangs up and I put my phone down. Somehow, despite all this, Eddie still hasn't woken up. I reckon he's just one of those people that can sleep anywhere at anytime.

I shake him a bit.

And again.

He mumbles something incoherent before finally opening his eyes. "What's going on?" He grumbles. He rubs his eyes. "Is Santa here?"

"Stan is gay," I say with wide eyes.

He giggles. "I know that, silly. He skips sixth period to make out with Bill...something." He snickers and within seconds he falls back asleep. I'm left wondering if it was obvious, and I'm a shit friend, or if Eddie is secretly a genius.

I'll go with the latter.

We sleep until late morning with no more phone calls to interrupt us, thankfully. Of course, I'm the first to wake up. Eddie Kaspbrak could sleep through anything, I swear. So as an act of kindness, true love, whatever you want to call it, I make him pancakes. After our date at the diner I discovered how much he loves pancakes. And so I attempt to surprise him.

If the instructions to prepare the pancakes weren't on the back of the box, I never would've been able to actually make the breakfast. I wouldn't ever look up a recipe online, I always get bored reading about one single mom's struggle after her divorce.

So, after a miserable mess of flour and a questionable mixing device, the pancakes are finally made. I arrange them onto two plates and leave the plates at the table. I'm so fucking romantic. He better appreciate me being the best boyfriend in the history of men.

I make my way to the bedroom. He's somehow taken over the whole bed since I've left, looking more like a starfish then a human. But it's cute. "It's a sunny day here in my bedroom. Temperatures are warm but not as hot as last night. Eddie Kaspbrak still hasn't gotten out of bed. Boys and girls alike wonder if he's actually just become a part of the bed!" I march around the room loudly and continue talking when he puts the pillow over his face. "It's almost as if he's trying to avoid me! But that's impossible. I'm his boyfriend!" I chuckle and jump onto the bed. "And I made pancakes."

He slowly removes the pillow from his face and looks at me skeptically. "Did you actually make pancakes? Or is this a cruel joke?"

"I made pancakes."

He sits up. His hair is a mess but it's cute that way. I'll make sure to keep him from brushing his hair for a while. "I'm shocked. I didn't know you knew how to cook anything."

I giggle and stand up, pulling his hands along with me as I bring him to the kitchen. His eyes widen in surprise as he sees what's on the table.

"You cooked!" He jumps up and down for a moment before taking a seat. "They don't look half bad! Is there anything you can't do?"

Yes. Many, many things. I once tried to fill a hairspray bottle with spray paint. There are many things I cannot do, unfortunately.

He eats and I do as well. They're nothing like the pancakes at the diner, but he's right. They aren't half bad. And I'm kind of proud, if I'm being honest. I managed to make breakfast. Now we know who the housewife of the relationship is.