Act III

SUGAR | BROCKHAMPTON

"So," Richie drags out the 'o', tracing lines on the wood of the stage. "Happy friday, Eds! It's been, what... three days of this shit? Yeah, three days"

"Longest fucking days of my life" Eddie comments, smirking when Richie punches him on the knee.

The blond boy sits crisscrossed in the very middle of the stage, similar to how he'd been doing for the past three days in the auditorium. The curly haired boy lays on the hardwood on his stomach, his feet kicking at the air mindlessly as he fidgets with his hands.

"This is getting boring as fuck, don't you think?" Richie queries, lifting his head to look at Eddie. They had only been sitting there for three minutes or so since class had started, but Richie was always quick to want more action in their little tutoring sessions.

Eddie thought for a minute. He didn't want Richie to know how interested he actually was in the things he taught him about theatre. Which was quite a lot actually.

Every day, Richie brought something new to the table for them to discuss. Wednesday was all about the parts of the stage and what they're called, and yesterday Richie talked about characters and storytelling.

"Yeah, you're right" Eddie lies, pursing his lips as he fiddled with a loose string on his pants. What Eddie didn't know was that Richie actually did enjoy the tutoring he did. It merely added on to his love for theatre even more. He was lying too.

Richie frowned slightly, looking to the floor as though it would give him an idea. He didn't plan anything for them to do today, too caught up in finalizing his memorization for the show next week. He needed something fun for them to do. Interactive. He needed-

"Idea!" Richie said aloud, startling Eddie from where he sat.

As Richie stood up from the floor, dusting himself off and heading for the stairs to get down, Eddie scrambled to follow him, grabbing his backpack along the way.

Eddie: What the fuck are you doing?

Richie: I just said it, Eds, I have an idea.

Eddie: Well that's a first.

Richie: Fuck off.

Eddie: What exactly is this idea of yours anyway?

They were already heading for the double doors, and Richie, being a gentleman, dramatically opened it for Eddie, bowing his head. Eddie flipped him off as he passed.

"Just wait" Richie says, scanning the halls for anyone. It was completely empty, considering it was the middle of class for everyone. Richie let out a sigh of relief before beginning to speed walk down a corridor. Eddie groaned as he kept up with Richie, occasionally muttering insults and confused noises as they made their way to where Richie was getting to.

When they reached the main hallway, Richie ducked his head on a certain door. When Eddie didn't do the same, Richie pulled him down by the collar.

"What the fuck, dude!?" Eddie whisper shouted, Richies hand still very much fisting a handful of Eddies sweater. With no response, Richie sprints down the rest of the hall.

Oh my fucking god, Eddie thinks as he follows suit, this is absolutely ridiculous.

They reach a secluded door in the very corner of the halls, and Richie stands with a wide grin, gesturing to it. Through the fogged up window, Eddie could see the cold outdoors. A bright obnoxious red sign sat up top of the door, it read Exit.

Eddie: Fuck no.

Richie: [already pulling his arm out the door] C'mon Eds! I have a new learning experience for you!

Eddie: Don't fucking call me that.

The freezing wind nipped at Eddies cheeks and nose, making them flush a bit crimson on his face. Richie runs to the side of the school, Eddie running closely behind, where his bike laid on the gravel. It was large and fit Richies personality fairly well. Colourful stickers and sharpie graffiti practically engulfed the whole damn thing, and each one seemed to tell a different story of some sort. Eddie finds one spot that has 'R+B+S' written inside a heart in black marker, then another that reads 'FUCK MRS.B' in bright big green.

Richie picks the bike up in one swift movement, and mounts the seat, patting the back. "Hop on".

"Are you fucking psycho!? We're in school right now, Richie, we could get busted and they'll call my mom and she- oh my god she'd never forgive me if I fucking skipped school, Rich-"

"Eddie! Calm your tits, kid, I swear on my life that we will be back by the time next period starts. Cross my heart" Richie promises, making a swear motion over his chest. Eddie pouts, crossing his arms over his chest like he'd always done when Richie made sense.

Eddie let out a huff.

Eddie: [mounting the bike] "Do you know- Do you know the statistics of death by riding the back of a bicycle?!"

Richie: [riding off] Nope

Eddie: Well neither do I, but I can assure you it is a lot.

Eddie yelped as the bike jumped a curb, immediately latching his arms around Richies torso tightly. "Just so you know, I'm going to hate every second of this" Eddie states from behind Richie. The taller boy chuckled, steering the bike through the parking lot and onto the side of the road.

Eddie sighed, already having his head nuzzled into Richies shoulder. He told himself that if he let go he'd fall off and die. But he couldn't deny, it felt super comfortable. Richie smelled like smoke and candy.

Why was this comfortable? That's weird, isn't it? Eddie shouldn't be enjoying this. It's weird. He couldn't understand exactly what he was feeling inside, when he'd have soft raven curls tickle at his cheeks, or when a voice from ahead would speak incoherently then giggle low and happy. Whatever it was that he felt, it's apparent that he sure likes being weird after all.

——

"What the hell are we doing here?" Eddie shook his head, sliding into a booth across from Richie and settling his backpack beside himself.

"New learning experience" Richie states, smirking.

The diner was cozy and under-crowded, only a few people in sight aside from the waitress wading in and out of the kitchen. It only took Richie about five minutes to get here on the bicycle with Eddie, considering it was just down the street from school, but Eddie still frowned to make sure Richie knew he wasn't having a good time.

Richie was unsure of whether the diner was meant to be 50's themed, but it sure as fuck looked old. The color palette of the place was bright and vintage, the stools by the counter squeaked loudly, and the leather on the seats Richie and Eddie now sat on were peeling at the corners. He had come here lots of times before, but it seemed Eddie was new to the whole scenery.

Eddie: Please. Enlighten me, then.

Richie was always a visual learner. He loved to get his hands dirty, and interactivity generally helped things make more sense for him in the educational part of his life. So Richie, being himself, immediately had the assumption that the best way to teach Eddie something within a week is to get interactive every once in a while. He knew exactly what to do.

"One of the most important parts of theatre, my friend, is learning to take risks,you know,  get out of your comfort zone" Richie explains, leaning in secretively as if it were vital information, his hands sprawled out on the table in front of them. Eddie listened intently, nodding.

Richie: So, what I want you to do... is to order something off of this menu that you have never in your life tried before.

Richie snatched a menu from a different table, holding it out to Eddie with an eyebrow raised.

Eddie scoffed, eyeing the menu tentatively. After a second, he rolled his eyes and bit his lip, "I hate how much this makes sense". He grabbed it from Richies hands, glaring up at him before slowly looking through the choices on the menu. Richie grinned triumphantly, pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

Eddie: [skimming the paper] This is gonna sound insane, but my mom actually forbade me from ever eating spaghetti. She says my dad nearly choked on a noodle once.

Richies eyes widened, and he burst into a loud fit of laughter. "Oh my god, pfft seriously?! That- see now that is an all time new low for you, Eds" Richie shook his head stifling laughter as Eddie smacked him on the head with the menu.

"Don't laugh, asshole. My mom is a psycho, okay?" Eddie scolded him, a thin smile threatening his serious tone.

"Okay, okay okay fine," Richies laughter died down, and he gestured Eddie to the menu. "You know what to do, then, Eds".

Eddie pursed his lips. "Go on and order that Spaghetti, Eddie-

Richie: Holy fucking shit I just made a revelation.

Eddie: Oh god this can't be good.

Richie: Eddie Spaghetti! EDDIE FUCKING SPAGHETTI!!-

Eddie: [whisper-yelling across the table] Shut up, fucker, you're gonna get us kicked out!! I'll order it, just please say you're not gonna start calling me that.

Richie: No promises, Spagheds!

Eddie groaned, hailing over a waiter as he flipped off Richie with his other hand.

He quickly ordered a small plate of spaghetti, having a battle of feet kicking under the table the whole time he recited the order to the waitress. Richie ordered a free cup of ice water, smiling innocently as their legs unnoticeably still fought for dominance.

"So what's the deets, Kaspbrak? What's your dad like? Can't be as douchie as mine, I bet" Richie thinks out loud, head resting in the palm of his hand as they wait patiently for Eddies order.

Eddies eyes trailed away suddenly, turning to the floor as he bit the inside of his cheek. "Oh my dad? He- uh... he died when I was 5" Eddie says, trying hard to seem unbothered in hopes of not to let the mood down too low. Richie stopped moving altogether (his leg had been bouncing nonstop the whole time, Eddie was sure it would fall off or something), and quickly let out a mantra of apologies.

Richie: I'm so fucking sorry, [to himself] god i'm so stupid, [back to Eddie] I'm sorry I- I didn't know uh-

Eddie: It's fine, Richie. Really. I don't even really remember him that well fr

After an apologetic nod, they sit in silence, drowning in the awkwardness of it all. Richie so desperately wanted to start a new conversation, change the subject, anything, but neither of them spoke a word. Not until the spaghetti arrived.

Waitress: [setting the meal down] One plate of spaghetti... that's a bit odd. Shouldn't you kids be in school?

Richie: We are, ma'am. I am his tutor and this is strictly for learning purposes. Nothing more.

Richie explains to the old waitress, who held her hand on her hip and looked tired as ever. Richie kept his head in his hands, smiling up at her with a charming grin. It seemed only slightly effective, but merely on Eddies end, since the waitress had barely batted and eyelash in response. Eddie couldn't help but find it funny. He stifled a laugh, not so well, to which ended in Richie kicking him under the table again as the waitress gave one last glare before she let out a grumble and walked away.

Eddie erupted into laughter, and it wasn't long before Richie joined too. What's there not to laugh about after all? They drove on one bike to this diner in the middle of class, not to mention in 30 degree weather, to do a tutoring lesson on eating spaghetti.

Richie: Eddie! Just- fuckin try it dude! You'd be surprised, it's like the only thing I know how to make. And for good reason. Best thing ever.

Eddie: [glaring] Shut up, I'm doing it!

Eddie took the fork, playing around with it and biting his lip. His mind swarmed with doubt. Fear? No. Not fear. It's a fucking plate of spaghetti. He knew it was his mom talking in his head when he got anxiety from simple things like this, and he hated it. He just wanted it to go away. He wanted her to go away.

Eddie suddenly dropped the fork. "Oh I forgot to show you something!". He began ripping his backpack open and rummaging through it for something. Richie, who had been holding his breath for dramatic effect of the moment, let out a sigh and slouched in his side of the booth.

What Eddie brought out, though, refocused all of his attention. It was a camera.

"Oh sick! What kind is this? Is it the ones that print it straight out? Or the lame techies that you have to wait to get developed or something" Richie began rambling, mindlessly snatching it from Eddie across the table and examining it carefully. He toyed with the buttons before Eddie smacked him upside the head with the menu again.

Richie: Ow!

Eddie: [taking the camera back] Careful, dipshit! It's not really that valuable, but it's all I've got, and I'm not gonna fuck around and have it broken right when I bring it out in the open.

Eddie showed him which buttons and settings to have it on and handed it back carefully, glaring in a silent threat. Richie looked through the camera, one eye squinting beside it as he examined his surroundings through the lens.

"Wait a minute, fuck off, this is just to stall for the spaghetti, isn't it?" Richie suddenly says, setting down the camera and shaking his head. "Just eat the damn spaghetti, Eds".

Eddie: But-... ugh, fine.

Richie: Attaboy! It's all about the risks, am I right or am I right?

Eddie glared at him once more before looking down to his plate, grabbing the fork and stabbing the noodles almost aggressively. He picked some up and shoved the fork in his mouth, getting it over with.

Richie couldn't tell exactly what Eddie was feeling, but he had a pleased almost surprised look on his face, so Richie had to assume it was positive feedback. Before Eddie could say anything, his mouth full with spaghetti, Richie took the camera and without looking through the lens, snapped a shot of him. Eyes wide, mouth still chewing, Eddie scolded him as expected. They laughed.

Eddie: This is actually really fucking good, what the hell?

Richie: Told you! But you should try mine... way better than this half-assed bullshit.

Eddie: What?! It's good though!

Richie: Not as good as mine

Eddie: Someone's full of themselves.

Richie: Oh be quiet, it's just facts.

"Sure," Eddie crinkles his nose in a smile, shaking his head as he takes another fork full of spaghetti. A bit of sauce falls onto the side of his chin, right near his lip, and Richies eyes may have lingered there for a bit too long. He clears his throat and looks down to the menu again, just looking for somewhere else to put his dumbfuck eyes.

They hang out there for a few minutes longer as Eddie finishes up the spaghetti, and Richie won't stop commenting about how perfect the nickname 'Eddie Spaghetti' had fatefully come into effect. Eddie, as expected, rolls his eyes and begs him to stop with it, yet completely unable to hide his fits of giggles along with it.

Richie: No fucking way am I letting go of a great opportunity such as this, Eds Spagheds, to have created one of the best nicknames in nickname history! Period.

Eddie: Period? No one says that, Rich.

Eddie laughed, pushing aside his plate and looking back at Richie. "Done," he says triumphantly, gesturing to the now empty plate that sat in front of the both of them.

Richie cheered enthusiastically, attempting to mimic the sound of a large crowd who'd be spurring Eddie on. Eddie giggled, and Richie practically fainted at the noise. Heaven's choir sang, but Eddies laugh sounded better.

"So, what's the verdict, Judge Kaspbrak? Was the risk worth the risk?" Richie asks, raising his eyebrows with suspense.

"Yes, what the hell!" Eddie exclaimed, "That spaghetti was good, fuck my mom for not letting me have it in the first place."

"Trust me, Eds, that's on my to do list I swear"

"Shut the fuck up Richie.

And don't call me that."