adjectives | reddie

four - mellow

i wanted to murder him.

i sat in the restaurant booth quietly, watching the cars go by slowly. it was a sunday, the day before another week of school. richie sat across from me, making about the twentieth sex joke in the past hour. i didn't laugh however, i just rolled my eyes.

"you're a child, tozier, you know that?" i looked over at him. a wide smile was painted across his face, and his laugh echoed quietly.

"but you're still here, kaspbrak," he retaliated, "so i must be doing something right other than your mom!" he started to laugh quietly as i stood there, not knowing what to say. he wheezed, but it was the kind where no noise came out, until he breathed in. he hit his hand on the table almost without his own doing.

"okay it wasn't that funny," i mumbled, crossing my arms. i took another spoonful of the chocolate milkshake in front of me. I was used to inappropriate jokes sometimes, but inappropriate jokes were the only genre in richie's joke book. i barely met him yesterday, and it was already apparent. it got old real fast, but he always made them; it showed that he was there, and i could sit through that. it gets difficult at some points, though.

the restaurant was mostly empty, except for a few tables. most people at the diner were over the age of sixty, living out their final years in hell-town before becoming another gravestone in the large town cemetery.

i honestly don't know why i'm with richie tozier in a booth at a local restaurant. it was eight in the morning, and i just happened to pass by richie on a random walk. he was on his bike, shoulders slouched and dark bags under his eyes. the word 'tired' was hung above his head when i stumbled upon him. we traveled in the same location, guiding each other mindlessly until we ended up in the parking lot of the diner.

"did you even sleep last night?" i asked. "you're acting insane, but the circles under your eyes are telling me a different story." i stabbed the metal spoon back into the chocolate milkshake mindlessly. the dark haired boy simply shrugged in response. he lifted up his knife and fork and started cutting into his waffle again. he took a big bite off his fork and started chewing.

i stared at him dumbfounded. "you must be blind," i said harshly, cringing a little afterwards. i leaned forward and grabbed the thick-lensed glasses off of his face. i wiped the glasses with my napkin to clean off the germs and then placed them on my face. my surroundings looked blurry; barely anything was recognizable.

"i cannot see," richie said in an overly posh accent. he then stole back his glasses and placed them back on his face, blinking rapidly. his eyes then landed on me, "nevermind, i don't want to see." he ripped the black rimmed glasses off dramatically.

"put your glasses on, dipshit," i snickered.

happy

"you're acting like beverly," he laughed lightly. i felt my head perk up; i imagine it looked like a lightbulb had lit in my head.

"who's beverly?" i asked, pretending as if i had no clue. richie looked down at his lap with a fond smile. it he fiddled with the napkin that was laying in his lap. i felt a lump form in my throat, preparing for the worst. the way he was smiling seemed almost lovingly. i was already thinking of when i was going to tell bill. i imagined the sad face bill would hold, but he would try to smile through and explain that everything was fine.

before i completely fell down the rabbit hole of circumstantial pity, tozier finally spoke up. "she's my best friend," he explained, "my only friend."

i listened. to richie drone on and on about his friend. explaining everything from how they met to how they always got in trouble for 'stupid' things. i just listened. it's obvious he could talk for hours on end; it was almost like he was holding in all of his thoughts forever. i nodded at every one of his words, hanging onto them like they were gospel. my elbows rested on the table as i listened to all of his thoughts.

"— and if i were to choose, i would have purple eyes." he smiled proudly.

"because they're rare? that's it?" i asked, genuinely interested. my body seemed to lean closer and closer, as if richie was as quiet as a mouse and i wouldn't be able to hear. in reality, i was actually interested in whatever he could babble on about and wanted to

"i guess," he shrugged. "i think they're quite beautiful, and they're just so rare. people would pay attention to them, and i would be considered cool."

"or the cause of a religious riot."

"sounds festive."

i laughed lightly at his final remark. "well anyways," i looked out the window to watch the passing cars. they were probably coming from the church service. the church always had an early service. "i would love to meet beverly. she sounds super fun."

richie's eyes seemed to light up. his lips curved up into a small smile. he combed his hair back with his fingers to be able to see, like he was inspecting if i was lying. when he realized i wasn't, he nodded slightly to himself and spoke up again.

"i'm supposed to meet her at the quarry at three," he smacked a ten on the table before getting up. he stood there with a smile. "i'll see you there," he said before walking away and exiting the restaurant, the bell ringing as he opened and closed the door.

my eyes wandered the diner for a minute. everything in this town seemed two decades behind. the brown and yellow tones screamed seventies and made the restaurant look tired and will make you tired. the small, square tiles reminded me of a public school bathroom, and the wood paneling mixed with the yellow lights made the place look disgusting. i wanted to wipe down every green booth and every smooth counter top and table.

the town never outgrew the seventies. not the school, not the diner, and not even my bedroom ever upgraded. i barely remembered the decade, but i remembered it enough to know that it wasn't the most attractive times. what would it even be known for? stoners and ted bundy was my guess.

despite my distaste of the tones, i still loved it. it gave me familiarity.

i quickly licked my spoon "clean" and looked into the morphed reflection. the word above my head was bent and twisted, yet still readable.

mellow