Chapter 1: These Are My Confessions
Richie knew he liked Eddie. He liked his clear face, his crude sense of humor, his perfectly styled hair, his petite frame, his stupid short shorts; he even liked the way his voice raised several octaves whenever he was annoyed or telling Richie to shut the fuck up. He liked the way Eddie let him hold his hand whenever he damn well pleased (even if they were out in public and everyone was staring). The sensation of intertwining the shorter boy's fingers with his own made his heart take flight. Richie felt so safe and loved and special all at once, it was incredibly overwhelming, but in the best way possible. His best friend gave him a gift his own parents deprived him of for years. Eddie's hands were tiny and soft and fit perfectly in the older boy's palm. He'd spent countless hours over the past two years tracing his fingernails across the inside of Eddie's palm and occasionally playing with his fingers whilst the chocolate eyed boy giggled and squeezed his hand.
Richie had always been affectionate towards Eddie, much more than he was with the other losers, but his bold displays of attraction greatly intensified after the summer battle with IT. He held Eddie close to him and guided him around by the hand for two reasons; the first was that he enjoyed the other teen's company, and the second (one that he would never dare to admit out loud) reason was because he was terrified of IT coming back and taking his best friend away. If Richie always clung to him, then there was no way IT could suddenly reappear and rip him away into nothingness, right?
The way Eddie cuddled into his chest on Bill's loveseat during their daily hang out sessions was another thing that drove the taller boy crazy. To put it simply, Eddie was cute. Everybody at school could see it, the Losers Club could see it, and even Eddie couldn't deny the astonishing power of his dangerous beauty. Eddie, in his adorably oversized sweaters and pastel colored clothing, would lay his fragile frame against Richie's, and the sexually frustrated teen would literally have to prevent himself from flipping the other boy over, pinning him against the sofa, and attacking his delicious looking lips with messy kisses. Instead, he opted for placing light kisses against his cheek and forehead and delicately biting on his ear, and if he was feeling brave, his neck.
The way the smaller boy stayed attached to his hip whenever they visited the Barrens or explored the forest that surrounded the outskirts of Derry was one of his favorite things ever. The fact that Eddie felt safe around him meant the world to Richie. If Eddie heard a loud noise or thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, Richie would pull him into a comforting hug and soothe sweet nothings into his ear until he finally managed to calm down. Richie hit a massive growth spurt last summer (he was just over 6'2 and towered over Eddie, who barely hit 5'3 a few weeks ago), so he always carried Eddie on his back when they traveled through the Barrens.
The tragic thing is, Richie didn't realize how much he liked the younger boy until a month into their sophomore year of high school.
It all started on a dreadful Tuesday afternoon when Christina Chapman personally delivered Eddie a handwritten love letter.
Eddie and the rest of the Losers Club congregated around the same faded blue square shaped isolated lunch table they met at everyday. It was nestled in the farthest corner of the cafeteria, hidden behind the small stage where the theater kids rehearsed and ate lunch together. It was incredibly easy to miss and it gave the group a nice sense of privacy they normally didn't feel elsewhere on school grounds. After all, they were the punching bags of the entire sophomore class, so finding a way to keep themselves secure was highly welcomed.
Beverly and Ben were cuddled up next to each other, a no longer jealous Bill perched on the bench beside them, and on the opposite side sat Stan and Mike. Eddie had a whole section all to himself, saving the seat next to him for a certain dark haired boy with coke-bottle glasses and cute little freckles splattered across his handsome face. Wait, what did he just say?
"There he is, the man of the hour!" Stan declared as Richie approached the hidden table. "Where have you been?"
"Did Mr. Henderson hold you back again?" Mike added.
Richie's mind took him back to the end of his third period American Literature class.
~Flashback~
"Richard Tozier," Mr. Henderson said in an aggravated monotone voice, looming over the tall teen's desk. "I noticed you arrived fifteen minutes late to my class, again. Care to tell me why?"
"I must have gotten lost in the halls, sir," he responded, his shoulders slumped and his expression uninterested. "It's a real maze out there, who ever designed this school must have been on one hell of a trip."
"I'm going to ignore that comment, Richard," Mr. Henderson stated between gritted teeth. "Since you believe it's okay to waste my time, allow me to waste yours. I'll dismiss you in fifteen minutes."
"What!" Richie complained. "That's so not fair!"
"It's plenty fair, young man! You're lucky I haven't given you detention or sent you to the principle's office yet! Now, I suggest you settle down and stay quiet before I change my overly generous mind!"
The moping teenager sighed and plopped back down into his seat, angrily crossing his arms across his huffing chest. He played with the sleeves of his AC/DC jumper for approximately twenty seconds before total boredom set in.
If I'm going to be stuck in here, might as well do something productive, Richie thought to himself.
He retrieved a piece of paper and a dark purple pen from his backpack and started writing. It took him a few tries, but he was finally happy with the sloppily written words scribbled across the lone page.
To Eddie Kaspbrak, AKA My Little Eddie Spaghetti:
-Burning Beauty-
Pretty pink lips, hazy chocolate eyes
Your scent takes me in, I'm hypnotized
When you speak, know I listen
Your personality is the sun
And I'm engulfed by your everlasting flame
Equal in beauty and in danger
Your heart is a bird
And I'm about to soar
Sure, it was no January embers, but it was the best Richie could do, and frankly, it was more than enough for him. There was no way he would ever tell Eddie how he felt, but he needed to express himself somehow.
"Your fifteen minutes are up, Mr. Tozier. You're free to go."
Richie quickly rose from his seat, shoved his possessions into his backpack, and awkwardly scrambled towards the door. He was halfway down the hall when he heard Mr. Henderson shouting his name.
"Richard, Richard! I believe you dropped this!"
The coke-glasses wearing teen whipped his head around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. All the color drained from his already pale face when he realized his literature teacher was holding Burning Beauty, a poem he had written for one person and one person alone. The words his heart had poured onto that page weren't meant for anybody else except Eddie.
Richie raced down the hallway and briskly ripped the poem out of Mr. Henderson's hand.
"Burning Beauty? You're a truly gifted writer, Richie. You should be proud of yourself."
"Please don't tell anyone who that poem is about," he begged weakly, too defeated to argue or scream or get angry.
"I would never hurt you like that, Richie. Now, get out of here. Aren't you supposed to be eating lunch with your friends right now? And if I'm remembering correctly, isn't your Eddie Spaghetti waiting for you as well?"
The relieved teenager gave Mr. Henderson a lopsided smile before nodding his head in understanding.
"Only I can call him that, but I'll let it slide this time," he said, gliding away on his heels.
~End of Flashback~
Richie grinned, getting ready to blab out an idiotic joke to distract the Losers. He really, really didn't want them to know what he was up to, let alone question him about it. "No, even better, I was nine inches deep in Eddie's mother and I lost track of-"
"B-Beep beep R-Richie," Bill stuttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Nine inches? In your dreams, Tozier," Ben snickered.
"I only speak the truth, Benjamin! I'd let you measure my wang, but I wouldn't want my little princess to get all flustered and upset, right sweetheart?" Richie said with a flirtatious wink and a sensual lip of his lips.
"Richie, why don't you just shut your motherfucking mouth?" the fourteen year old ordered between gritted teeth. He usually took Richie's smart ass comments with a grain of salt, but he wasn't in the mood to mess around today. Also, Richie's comments always led to some type of flirting, and he wasn't in the mood for repressing his feelings today either.
The taller boy laughed as he took the empty seat next to Eddie and casually wrapped his arm around the boy's thin waist. "Someone's feisty today! Come on, Eds! It was a joke, take one."
"How about you take my middle finger right up your-"
"Okay, okay!" Beverly shouted as she dramatically waved her hands in the air, enforcing her role as the group's infamous voice of reason. "Both of you need to keep your mouths shut, especially you, Trashmouth."
"I mean, if I put my lips on Eddie's it'll keep both of us quiet for a while," the raven haired teen joked.
"And get your disgusting germs in my mouth? No thank you, but maybe you can jerk yourself off to the idea later tonight since that's the closest thing to action you're ever going to get from me," Eddie countered a little too harshly. The rest of the Losers watched them with their mouths hanging open, too dumbfounded by Eddie's snarky comebacks to intervene in the argument. On a normal day he stayed back and rolled with whatever idiotic joke Richie made, letting himself laugh every once and a while, but today was very different.
"Wanna bet on it, princess?" the older boy teased, leaning down until there was less than an inch between their lips. "You don't complain when you're laying on top of me at Bill's house, or when I'm giving you piggy back rides all the way to your house. And who said anything about germs in your mouth? That would imply some French kissing, my little Eddie Spaghetti. I never took you for the dirty type. Unless you're secretly into that sort of thing?" he questioned, bringing his lips closer to the other teen's until they were nearly touching.
Richie chuckled slightly at Eddie's stunned expression and took the opportunity to smoothly stuff his hands into the shorter boy's back pockets, causing the younger teen to yelp and whimper in surprise. A small smirk tugged at the corner of the pale skinned teen's lips; he was clearly satisfied with his best friend's adorable reaction.
A wave of snickers and giggles rippled throughout the Losers Club. Only Stan and Beverly noticed the deep red blush that crept up from Eddie's neck and rose all the way to his burning cheeks.
"Yeah, you wish loser," Eddie mocked in a low voice. He tried his best to sound threatening, but it was painfully obvious that his plan failed. Beverly and Stan shared a knowing look, realizing at the same time what was actually going on.
"Don't be so mean to me," Richie whined with fake disappointment dripping from his voice. He pulled the younger boy into his chest and clung onto him tightly, the sound of his steadily beating heart comforting Eddie and making his own heart overfill with joy. "You don't want to hurt my feelings, do you? Is that anyway to treat your best friend?"
"Get off of me asshole," Eddie groaned. Despite his frustrated demand, the shorter boy didn't resist Richie's advances. He just stayed there in his arms as the older boy lovingly placed his head in the crook of his neck.
"You're looking pretty cozy Rich," Ben pointed out, starting to understand what Bev and Stan already pieced together.
"What can I say? Nothing beats cuddling with my Eds and all of his 5'3 feet glory!"
"Richie, I thought I told you to stop calling me that!" Eddie shrieked. "I hate it!"
"Shut up, you know you love it," the older boy purred sweetly, placing his hands on Eddie's hips and carefully tracing his fingers along his fragile body. Without hesitation, the black eyed teen leaned down and placed a quick kiss on Eddie's cheek. The sensation of warm, soft, chapped lips sent a rush throughout Eddie's entire being. He turned his head to the side and came face to face with Richie's beautiful chocolate curls, big wide Bambi eyes, and adorably dorky thick glasses. Richie stared at Eddie's pretty pink lips for a little longer than he should have, but the fourteen year old didn't seem to mind, not one bit.
"Careful Trashmouth, you don't want to give Eddie herpes," Mike quipped, ruining the moment as Bill let out a low whistle. "You might want to wash up Eddie. According to my research, Richie only brushes his teeth twice a year. Who knows how many germs are living in that big mouth of his?"
"Piss off, Hanlon. You aren't being funny right now," Richie deadpanned bitterly as Eddie crawled out of his arms, a light pink blush painted across his embarrassed face. The expression plastered across Richie's face was one of pure hatred. This was the most serious any of the Losers had ever seen him, and if it were under different circumstances, they'd be laughing their asses off at how stern their usually ridiculous friend was acting.
"You know what, Rich? Why don't you go blow Eddie since you love him soooo much?" Mike retorted.
Richie Tozier, the man of a million words, the King of Never Shutting the Fuck Up, was suddenly left completely speechless. Before he could clap back with a rude comment about Mike's physical appearance, Christina Chapman, a thin blonde haired girl with soft brown eyes and skin paler than snow, approached the table with a pink and red letter tightly clutched to her chest.
"H-Hi, Eddie," she stuttered softly, her eyes never leaving the cafeteria floor.
"Bill sure looks different today," Richie said as he rolled his eyes. The raven haired teen raised a perfectly arched dark eyebrow and closely studied the girl's posture. Her hands were shaking, her face was burning red, and she looked like she was about to throw up. She looked like, well, she looked like him whenever Eddie smiled at him a little bit longer than the others, or when the shorter boy willingly rested his body against his.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked rudely, his big mouth kicking in as an automatic defense mechanism. Richie didn't know why, but he did not like Christina Chapman. Not one fucking bit. She needed to leave. "You look like you're about to blow chunks all over my best buddy over here. And if you do, he'll be out of school for a month because his mom will think you gave him meningitis or something. First she'll admit him to the hospital for a few weeks and then he'll be on house arrest. It'll be like he died."
"Beep beep, Trashmouth," Beverly demanded angrily.
"I'm sorry for interrupting your guys' lunch," Christina apologized politely, nervousness now having full ownership of her voice. She was purposely avoiding Richie's intimidating, judgement gaze. "Please Eddie, j-just take this."
She handed the red and pink letter to the confused fourteen year old boy and then swiftly ran away in the other direction.
"B-B-Bye, C-Christina," Richie mocked, earning himself a smack from Stan and Mike.
"What the hell you guys," he muttered in aggravation. "Can none of you take a damn joke?"
"What does it say?" Beverly asked excitedly, ignoring Richie's comment.
"Who cares what it says?" the Tozier teen groaned.
"Shut the fuck up Richie," Stan deadpanned.
"O-open i-it!" Bill encouraged, easily matching Bev's enthusiasm.
"Or you can just throw the stupid piece of garbage away," Richie muttered to himself, an emotion he had never felt before suddenly swelling inside his chest and causing his blood to boil like a volcano.
The anxious boy slowly unfolded the letter and started reading it inside his mind.
"Well," Ben started. "What does it say?"
The youngest member of the group remained silent, his eyes unmoving and his face blank and expressionless.
"Lighten up, Eds, it can't be that bad," Richie tried to reason more so to himself than the solemn looking teen he had managed to squeeze back into his arms. "What's wrong, does my little Eddie Spaghetti have a new girlfriend?"
Eddie used all of his force to break out of Richie's protective grasp and shove him onto the floor.
"What the fuck, man!" the older teen screamed. "I was just messing around with you! What is wrong with you people today!"
The brown eyed boy crumpled up the red and pink love letter and carelessly shoved it into his pocket. He grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the cafeteria without saying another word.
"So what, you aren't going to say anything! You're just going to shut us out because of something a dumb girl who most likely has crabs gave you?" Richie shouted after him. He didn't care that all the other kids were staring at them now, he only cared that Eddie was ignoring him for some unknown reason. "You're not even going to tell me to shut the fuck up?"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP TRASHMOUTH!" he screamed as he exited the cafeteria, not bothering to glance back.
"Nice going, Richie. Do you even hear yourself talk? Do you not realize how insanely rude you are?" Stan spat as he sprinted after the shorter boy.
"What the hell did I ever do to him?" he yelled, mindlessly raising his arms into the air. "He's the one who's acting like a drama queen!"
"Richie, have you forgotten the concept of beep beep?" Beverly asked sarcastically. "Or are you just plain stupid?"
~Page Break~
It didn't take long for Stan to find Eddie curled up into a little ball underneath the school bleachers, tears streaming down his broken face and painful cries occasionally escaping his strained throat.
"Don't let Richie's teasing get to you," Stan said in a comforting tone as he slowly approached the sniffling boy. He knelt down besides a now heaving Eddie and placed a reassuring hand on his trembling shoulder. "You know he doesn't mean any of that crap. His jokes are rude, but they're just that, ignorant, unfunny jokes."
"Please, can you not bring Richie up right now?" he pleaded between sobs. Eddie pulled out his inhaler and took a quick puff before stuffing it back into his fanny pack. He was willing to let go of his medication, but his inhaler was a comfort he couldn't bring himself to part ways with.
"You need to talk about your feelings, Eddie. This isn't normal. This isn't okay. You aren't okay."
"He's not the problem, okay!" the younger boy exploded, bursting into another uncontrollable fit of tears. "It's me. There's something wrong with me and I'm scared that I'll never be able to fucking fix it!"
"You're perfect just the way you are, there's nothing wrong with you."
"Oh yeah?" he stammered angrily. "If I'm so perfect, take a look at this load of bullshit!"
The fourteen year old reached into his pocket and retrieved the cursed note that started this whole mess. He tossed it at a concerned looking Stan and then brought his knees up to his chest, covering his face to avoid seeing the other teen's reaction.
"I don't see what the problem is," Stan stated as he skimmed over the sappy love letter. "Christina Chapman is pretty cute and she's totally into you. What's the issue?"
"Everything," he whispered numbly. "Everything you just said is the issue."
"Eddie, you're starting to freak me out. We're best friends, you can talk to me about these things. I'm not going to judge you."
"I'm already judging myself," Eddie cried weakly. "I look at myself in the mirror and I fucking hate the person looking back at me."
"Can you tell me what's wrong already so I can help you?" Stan snapped. "You're freaking me out and I feel helpless. We made a pact that we'll always be there for each other. Let me be there for you."
"I don't like Christina," Eddie admitted coldly. "I don't have any significant feelings towards her."
"Eddie, it's okay to not like someone back. You aren't required to return her feelings. Don't feel guilty because there's nothing between you two."
"That's not the only part," he choked out. "I can't like her, Stan. No matter how much I want to, or how much I've tried, I can't do it. Christina's had a crush on me since school started. I've always known, and I tried to feel the same way, but I can't fucking do it. I'm broken."
"Don't force your emotions. There's billions of girls out there. Just because Christina wasn't the one doesn't mean that you've loveless, or a bad guy, or that you won't eventually find the right person. She's out there somewhere, you just have to find her."
"That's not the point!" Eddie sobbed.
It was at that moment everything snapped together in Stan's mind. He and Bev were right.
"It's not the point because you don't like girls, do you?" Stan asked cautiously.
Eddie didn't respond. Instead he let a few more tears slip from his shattered eyes and carelessly allowed himself to completely break down. Stan comforted the disheartened teen as best as he could, wrapping his arm around his slim shoulders and gently patting his back.
"There's nothing wrong with liking boys, Eddie. Being gay isn't a bad thing."
"Yes it is!" he screamed into his knees. "My mom would have an aneurysm if she ever found out! She'd probably think I'd contract AID's, and then she'd never let me leave the house again! Besides, what would the people in this small town think? I don't want to spend the rest of my miserable years in this run down city being called a fag or the Derry Fairy. Look at me, Stan! I'm small and short and skinny, I'll be even more of a laughingstock! Besides, what would our friends think about me being gay? Most importantly, what the hell would Richie have to say about it?"
"What does Richie have to do with any of this?" Stan questioned, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear his friend say it out loud himself.
"It's really stupid, so, so fucking stupid."
"If it has you this upset, then it's definitely important. The way you feel about yourself isn't stupid or invalid. You deserve to express yourself without fear of being ridiculed. I'm here for you, just tell me what's going on inside your head."
Eddie took in a deep breath, the image of Richie's smiling face rapidly flashing through his mind. His body, his laugh, his personality, his everything; he's perfect. Eddie couldn't deny the fact that his heart beat would increase every time Richie was near him, or the fact that he felt so warm and safe during their daily cuddle sessions, and he certainly couldn't hide the obvious blush that took over his face whenever the older boy openly flirted with him. The playful flirting was just that for Richie, playful. It had no deeper meaning than that, he just wanted to dick around and watch the younger boy squirm.
"I'm sick, Stan. Actually sick, and no matter how many hospitals my mother can take me to, none of them will ever make me better. They can't cure me. I'm pathetic and disgusting and no one can do anything about it. Richie, he's supposed to be my best friend, nothing more, but.. but-"
The fourteen year old cut his own sentence off to prevent himself from crying. He took a few hits from his inhaler and carried on with the conversation.
"-But I don't want to be just friends with Richie."
"You like him, don't you?" Stan asked.
"I think I'm in love with him," Eddie confessed so softly Stan wasn't sure if he heard him correctly. "I like him so much to the point where it hurts."
"Have you thought about telling him how you feel?"
"Fuck no," he scoffed resentfully. "He'd hate me forever. Everything would change. Richie would never hold my hand again, or flirt with me, or pull me into his chest. I don't want to lose what we already have. Our friendship is amazing, and me spilling my guts would definitely mess all of that up."
"Do you even hear what you're saying, or do words just randomly come out of your mouth?" Stan stated.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Einstein?"
"Dear god, you're more oblivious than Richie is," Stan sighed. "He likes you, Eddie! He's had it bad for you since we were kids!"
Eddie let out a painful laugh. "Don't screw around with me like that. Richie's straight, he's always talking about all the girls he's banging or how hot the chicks at school are."
"If Richie was actually straight, then why is he always doing those things with you? Why is he always calling you his little Eddie Spaghetti, or trying to kiss your cheek and neck, or getting way closer to you than he should be?"
"I don't know," Eddie mumbled miserably. "Richie likes to joke around, it probably doesn't mean anything to him."
"That's a load of bullshit and you know that. Richie likes you, so tell him how you fucking feel already! He deserves to know!"
Eddie furiously nodded his head no and started walking away. "I can't do this right now," he said with a shaky breath, taking a hit from his inhaler right after.
End of the first chapter!
I'm really proud of how this Reddie story is turning out, so reviews would be greatly appreciated xx Seriously though, feedback is amazing.
I almost didn't put the poem scene in this chapter, but I couldn't help myself. It's an original one written by me, so please don't reuse it in your own stories :p (I've had this issue happen to me more than once in the past).
~Naya