soft | reddie oneshots ✔️

someone new (f)

The buzzer to Richie's apartment starts ringing. He thinks groggily, while trying not to blind himself from the light of the window, that perhaps if he didn't open the door, it would stop. But it didn't. Instead, it hesitated, and then buzzed again, for a couple seconds longer. Then a third time, moments later.

He pushed himself from the bed and didn't bother picking up his glasses. He simply dragged himself towards the door and pulled it open, scratching a spot on his bare chest.

Standing maybe a couple inches below him was a man. He glanced worriedly up at Richie. Richie thought he'd seen him before... He doesn't think so, but maybe he was just drunk at the time. While he was trying to remember, the boy, with wide eyes, spoke.

"Hey, uh... I'm Eddie. Kaspbrak. I found this, I'm pretty sure it's yours... So here," he said, and handed over a cardboard box. Richie noticed it, and tossed it behind his shoulder, making do to close the door.

"Thanks, kid," he mumbled sleepily. Eddie squeaked a bit, murmuring something. Richie stopped and turned back to him.

"I was wondering if I could use your telephone?" he asked. Richie stared at him, comprehending what he was saying.

"The... the phone. Yeah, sure, you can use the phone." Richie let him in, and Eddie closed the door softly behind him.

Richie went to get his glasses, jumping over dirty laundry on the way. When he could actually see, he seemed to be more awake. He started to speak from the other side of the apartment.

"You've moved in recently, right? Eddie. Yeah, I guess that sounds familiar. You know, I had a friend in college named Eduardo. He came all the way from Mexico, yeah," Richie babbled, shaking out the knots from his hair.

Eddie stood near the door, scratching his neck. "It's a... nice place you've got here," he commented. Richie grinned.

"Thanks," he looked around, proud, then, "What was it you asked again?"

Eddie blinked at him. "The telephone?"

Richie snapped his fingers quickly. "Right!" He spun in the living room, eyeing the apartment. "I think I... Oh! I put it in here." He glided over to the fridge, where a spiraled cord hung out, and opened it. He grinned almost wolfishly at his visitor. "It muffles the sound."

Eddie's eyebrows raised as Richie handed it out to him. He tentatively took it, as Richie slyly apologized about it being cold.

Eddie dialed a number and held the cold plastic to his ear. Richie stared at him for a second. "It's Sunday, isn't it? Did you just come back from church?" he asked while the phone rung. Eddie glanced at him. Richie only asked because Eddie was dressed rather fancy.

"It's Monday," he replied. Richie gasped.

"No way. No, it can't be Monday... It was just fucking Friday!" Richie jumped over the couch and ran towards the bedroom, holding his head. "No! It's too nice outside for a Monday!

Eddie stared after him. When the other line didn't pick up, he bit his lip and replaced the phone. He peeked into Richie's bedroom, where he was hastily getting dressed. Eddie blushed and looked away.

"Are you late to something?" he asked, trying to fill the silence. Richie stuck his head into the doorway. His eyes were comically huge, and Eddie stared right back at him.

"Not late, Eds... No, not really. Well, I want to be more productive, ya know? Tryna be more productive, spite my dad." He popped back out and Eddie heard him rummaging through his room.

He nodded, looking around at the posters on the wall. There was one for David Bowie, he noticed, and another for the Talking Heads, hovering over a box of records.