adjectives | reddie

nine - cozy

i slowly opened my eyes. a groan escaped my lips when the brightly colored leaves seemed to stab at my eyes. the rocks on the ground dug in my back and the back of my arms, probably leaving imprints on my skin. i craned my neck to look on my left. richie stared blankly at the sky, observing every cloud that would pass by through the red, yellow and orange leaves. one cloud looked like a small butterfly.

richie pointed at the same cloud, "that looks like a face!" he let out a laugh and lowered his arm. the back of his hand landed on my palm, and it never moved. heat rushed to my face, but i shook it off as the sun burning my skin. richie's first words to me as i woke up were not even a 'good morning' or a 'hey', but merely what he interpreted as a cloud to be. i looked up at his adjective.

comfortable

i found it odd that he was comfortable on such rocky ground.

"i don't want to go home," i whispered to myself. the thought of returning and possibly getting a lecture from my mother about not being home or the dirt i was covered in was enough to want to run away. she would probably send me into lockdown if she could.

"we should head back, though," richie frowned, "your mom has probably already contacted the CIA."

we both boarded his bike the way we did the previous night, and then he started to pedal. i watched as white clouds passed and grey ones appeared in the sky slowly as the wind picked up. my cold body shivered lightly.

"wait," richie stopped his bike. he slipped off his jacket and pulled it around my shoulders and on top of my backpack. it was soft and smelled like a mixture of floral laundry detergent and watermelon. smiles were exchanged before we rode off once again. i looked down at a puddle and into my reflection.

cozy

some adults walked in and out of the grocery store, but barely anyone was outside on the cold fall day. i felt a gust of wind hit, so i snuggled into richie tightly.  "i'm gonna get a cold," i whispered.

"no you won't," richie responded, and i almost believed him. i wanted to believe every word he said. they were always carefree and reckless compared to my paranoid words.

we finally reached the corner of neibolt street. neibolt street was a staple street due to the creepy house at the end. its exterior could scare and possible buyer away.

"you should stop here," i whispered to richie, who was pedaling ahead of me, "my mom would never let you in the house if this was the scenario she saw you in."

"oh she would," richie shot back, but still hit the brakes on his bike, "she loves me."

"oh i'm sure," i laughed, "bye richie."

richie started to pedal away, "bye eds!"

"it's eddie!" i called back with a laugh. i then turned on my heel and started to walk down neibolt street. my watched beeped; 11:00 am.

"great," my eyes seemed to roll to the back of my head. i pulled out my fanny pack a bottle of bills and took one out. it was red with two small letters carved into it. i don't remember what it does; it was just a habit to take it at 11:00.

i swallowed the pill quickly and started walking down the street once again. my mind wandered to how the time i was awake went from staring at clouds by a river to taking pills without richie by my side. i missed him already, which was strange. my thoughts were broken when rain hit my arm. i looked up at the sky, and i watched as grey covered it almost completely. my pace picked up to the point where i was jogging home.

"fuck" i kept repeating, "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

fuck indeed. i opened the door and saw my mom on the phone. her screaming came to a stop when her eyes locked with my own. "thank you, mr. bowie. you've been a real help," she said sarcastically and slammed the phone into the wall.

"mommy-"

"eddie-bear!" i watched as her gigantic figure flew towards me. she engulfed me into a strangling hug. my breath hitched and my shoulders tensed. i felt her hot breath on my neck and heard the silent sobs. "you're sick, honey! you can't leave like that! you can die!"

she pushed us apart and scanned me with a panicked face. she started to scream, "you have dirt all over you! whose jacket is that? oh honey!"

"mine," i backed away and put my hands up, "and i fell. i needed to return a book to the library. i'm sorry for not telling you, mommy."

"are you sick? it's raining."

"i won't get sick, mommy. i had this jacket! it's warm."

she nodded one final time before i ran past her and headed upstairs. i ended up in the bathroom and closed the door.

—

my head tilted back to let the water clear out the shampoo. i ran my hands through my hair to help comb it out. a tune ran through my head slowly, escaping my lips occasionally. my thoughts went back to richie talking about the poetry. how he interpreted words on a page, yet he didn't believe them. his thoughts seemed loud and constant, like a kid on a sugar high. he is constantly thinking, and he'll express his thoughts to anyone that would listen.

how could a person that constantly joke about having sex with your mom also interpret a piece of poetry beautifully?

i tried to drift away from those thoughts, but they never left. it was a constant poke at my brain that wouldn't stop. my mind drifted to his life in general. besides his low friend count, his life seemed generally amazing. his dad is a dentist, and his mom seems like the type that could listen to you talk all night (even if she didn't understand). his house was nice, and he even had the smarts that he hid with his sense of humor.

i thought back to his adjectives. i wondered how they went from "fine" in quotations constantly to regular adjectives. i didn't always understand them either; like when he was comfortable on rocks. he seemed like a myth in my mind.

i was happy he was real.