r e d d i e ~ eddie, my love.

~ T W O ~

     Warning - slurs
         Richie woke up, noticing the other boy was gone. He must be in the bathroom. He began rubbing his eyes, careful of the bruise, of course, as the glazing, eternal blinding, sunlight then hit his eyes, as if it was trying to blare into his mind and read the band obsessed boy's thoughts, which was something it wouldn't want to see. Of course, Eddie Kaspbrak was on his mind, with his doe eyes, the dark hazel color hypnotized Richie, as if it caressed his future.
"Eds?" He called out, getting up off the uncomfortable couch, and walking around looking for the shorter one. He neared the kitchen, seeing a small Post-it note, messy hand writing scribbled on it lying on the cupboard.
Rich,
I had to go home. Your mom called earlier, by the way. Meet me at quarry around 3?
-Eddie
Richie smiled to himself, until he read the second sentence. Oh, God. His mom called, and that couldn't mean anything good, especially since he didn't pick up. Richie rushed over to the phone and pressed re-dial. It rang and rang, for what seemed like days, weeks, maybe even months. An automated voicemail played.
"The recipient has not answered the call, please leave a voicemail," A robotic, monotone voice spoke.
"Hey mom. Sorry I missed your call, I was at the, uh, store. Yep, the grocery store!" Well, shit, he was stuck with that sorry excuse. Peaking into the pantry, Richie saw that it was empty and he should actually stop by the store. "Anyways, I'm just gonna go hang out with E-" Fuck, his mom didn't like Eddie, called him a faggot, which made Richie rolled his eyes. Eddie was far from that, not that it was wrong to be gay, of course. "Ben at the..library? We gotta study for a test, so if I miss a call, that's why. Bye mom." Richie slammed down the phone with relief, and maybe a little bit of leftover panic. Looking at the clock that was ticking like an endless time bomb in the kitchen, realizing it was almost three. The raven-haired boy ran out of the kitchen, and to the front door, quickly slipping on his shoes, tying the laces. His hand grasped the handle firmly, and twisted it. A bike was leaning up against the garage, and Richie took it with no hesitation. The summer sunlight struck his pupils, but he ignored it and kept biking, faster and faster until his legs ached, trying to run away from his worries about his mother, and life in general. Finally, the quarry was in view and so was a petite brown-haired boy, with red shorts on, small strips of rainbows marking the sides, and a sunny yellow shirt that was paler than Madonna herself.

"Rich! Hey!" Eddie yelled, waving a hand at him. Richie dropped his bike and ran to Eddie.
"Hey Eds!"