~.~
Richie tore his mouth from Eddie's with a choked gasp, reeling from the fact that his body had betrayed him and dared to kiss the shorter boy, burning head to toe with shame and elation and something else, and pulling away before Eddie could throw him off.
"Shit, Eddie, I- I- I'm sorry, fuck, I- Sorry, I'm sorry, I-"
He scrambled back so fast he landed on his butt, but his whole body had gone into panic mode as his legs tried to find purchase on the ground, so he just ended up scooting backwards in the dirt. He stared at Eddie with wide eyes as the other boy stared back at him equally so. Eddie's face was frozen in a strange, screwed up surprise, his brow furrowing as he gasped and touched his chest like he did when he needed his inhaler. Riche turned himself away before he could see the disgust take hold, tripped to his feet, and fled.
~.~
Only hours before, the Losers had been lounging in the park, draped over a bench and lying in the grass beside it, watching eddie and Richie argue, like they often did. Mike was getting ice-cream, Ben going with him to help carry the seven cones back.
"Do you even know how disgusting that is?" Eddie screeched, jerking away from the leaf Richie was twirling between his teeth with his tongue, eyes hooded and gleaming as he taunted Eddie, "God, there's so much bacteria on that?"
"Tastes okay to me, señor." Richie snickered.
Eddie looked positively horrified, waving his hand weakly in the air between them and looking vaguely green, like he was ready to throw up.
"Get it out of your mouth, Richie, right now, spit it out, oh my god!"
"Got a problem with what I put in my mouth, Eddie?"
"You're fucking gross, dude. That's fucking nasty. Spit it out, oh my god spit it out!"
Richie flattened his tongue and stuck it out, making no move from where he was leaning on his hands in the grass. The leaf lay wet and gleaming on his tongue and Eddie covered his own mouth with one fist, half turning away.
"Richie, gross! You're a fucking biohazard, I swear."
"You gonna take it outta my mouth, or can I keep sucking on all the bacteria that's-"
Richie's lisping tease was cut short by Eddie, who snatched the leaf from his mouth so fast that Richie blinked at him for a second before realising it was gone. The brunette tossed it from his hand with a whine, tearing open the zip on his fanny pack for hand sanitizer, scowling red-faced at Richie as he cleaned his hands.
"Well gee, Eds, you could have asked."
Eddie grumbled waspishly while the others laughed, and Richie grinned wide, adjusting his glasses as he glanced at Eddie.
"What even is that, with the glasses?" Eddie snapped, put out and awkward and looking for something to get under Richie's skin with in return for being taunted.
Richie rolled his eyes and smirked, opening his mouth to answer, but Stan's voice interrupted him with a sigh.
"It's a nervous tic." he answered, throwing his eyes to the sky when they both looked at him, "Like people coughing."
Richie looked like he was going to respond, but just then Mike and Ben returned, and everybody forgot the argument in favour of the icy treats they'd brought with them.
As often happened, the evening found Richie and Eddie walking home the other way, worn warm by the sunshine and comfortable in each other's company. Richie had always enjoyed being alone with Eddie, even when they were younger and friends who weren't really friends, but played together because their best friends did.
Now, Bill and Stan were no longer needed as reason, because he and Eddie had built their own friendship. Even now that they had the Losers Club too, they could often be found alone, once everyone else had separated. Richie had grown fondest of Eddie, even though he'd known Stan longer. For the last few years, there had been something different about his friendship with Eddie. In the time since they'd killed It, they'd only grown closer.
Of course, the clown had known Richie's secret. No matter what way he looked at it, he loved Eddie. More than he loved the others, whom he'd die for. Differently, more vividly. Eddie was…
Richie just wanted him around, always. He wanted to tangle with him on the hammock in the Clubhouse, bicker with him, drive him into a frenzy so he was red and yelling and his entire focus was on Richie. He wanted the aftermaths, when everything calmed down and Eddie was still there, within touching distance, looking cute and soft and...
When Eddie turned his face up to look at him, to say something, his brown eyes warmed amber by the sun that was close to setting, Richie kissed him.
And then, he ran away.
~.~
"Hey Bill." Eddie smiled, raising his hand to mirror the greeting.
His eyes swept the rest of the faces gathered, in greeting but also…
Richie was missing. He didn't know what the feeling was, when he noticed. Like it couldn't decide. Was that relief? Was it disappointment? The weird, tangled feeling that had settled in his ribcage two days before seemed to stretch and twinge, and he had to stop himself reaching up to rub his chest, knowing it wasn't a real pain.
At least, not a pain in his skin.
"Richie's not coming." Beverly supplied, having noticed the way he looked around, no doubt, and Eddie felt his face heat up.
"So?" he shrugged, looking away from her curious green eyes, "Whatever."
The others were quiet for a few surprised seconds, and Eddie realised he'd spoken harshly, the sound of his voice abrupt and savage. She wasn't teasing him, just being letting him know. His stomach sizzled with guilt at the brief, wounded flicker in her eyes. He swallowed and shrugged, but he couldn't look at any of them when they started talking again. He couldn't even follow the conversation, his mind too busy with the puzzle of what had happened, and what he felt about it.
He ducked out with some lame excuse not long after, ignoring their questions as he threw himself onto his bike, destination in mind.
~.~
"I'm doing it." Richie called in answer to the knock on his bedroom door, sitting up a little straighter in the chair he was slumped sideways in, reaching for the pencil that was lying discarded on the desk.
The door handle creaked and he groaned, his head and shoulder falling over the arm of the chair as he pushed himself around with one hand on the desk.
"Ma! I said I-"
His eyes landed on the figure in the doorway and promptly skittered away, his chest clenching in sudden, icy panic. He hurtled upright in the chair as he struggled for a breath. His voice croaked as he spoke again, even though it'd been fine just seconds ago.
"Eds."
"What are you doing?"
Eddie sounded the same as always; a little accusatory, a little frustrated. Richie's stomach lurched and flipped at the sound, as he tried not to think about how he might not be hearing his friend's voice much in future. If he even stayed his friend. His mouth was dry, and he turned back to the desk to hide what he could feel on his face: scattered panic, embarrassment. Shame, and the way his eyes were growing hot with the threat on oncoming tears.
He cleared his throat, and forced a jovial tone into his voice. It came out flat, like boredom.
"Homework."
Eddie breathed out in a sharp sound that Richie knew well.
"What are you really doing, dipshit."
Somehow, the insult they threw around so regularly had sharper edges that time, and Richie winced.
"Things." he answered, evasive, blinking hard behind his glasses and staring down at the mostly blank page in front of him, wishing his heart would slow the hell down.
"What kind of things?"
Take a hint, Eddie, for God's sake.
"Just… things. Lots of things. Little things. Nothing-" his voice nearly broke and he stammered just a little, "important."
The room fell quiet, and the door closed. Richie could feel Eddie there, though, inside his room with him. The air felt too warm. Had it always been this hard to breathe in here?
"Are we gonna talk about what happened?" Eddie eventually asked, speaking fast and sharp and familiar, and making Richie even more afraid.
"Which happening?" he snorted, forcing himself to sound bored again, "Been a lot of happenings lately, Eddie-o. Lotta happenings in Derry."
He swallowed the rush of further words that wanted to escape, the babbling driven by his nerves and his fear of what was to come. He clenched his hands to stop himself from reaching for his stupid glasses, but his arm ached like denying the habit was actually painful.
"You know what I'm talking about, Rich. I'm sick of your games."
Eddie's voice was low, that time, quiet and… different. Almost dangerous, like something bad was going to happen if he didn't answer straight. Richie squeezed his eyes shut again when they popped open, biting his tongue as his heart scrabbled in his chest. Everything hurt. He didn't think he'd ever been more scared.
Not even when the Clown had-
Okay, maybe when he thought the monster had killed Eddie when it broke his arm, but apart from that…
"Don't ignore me, Trashmouth." Eddie snapped, his feet on the carpet as he strode to Richie's chair, his brown eyes hard when they entered the taller boy's peripheral vision.
Richie couldn't help it, his eyes darting sideways to see him like they always did, and he pulled the gaze away with a barely swallowed gasp.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't. If Eddie walked away from him he didn't think he could handle it. He couldn't lose him. His chest squeezed painfully, and he blinked hard again. Sweat was beading at the back of his neck, and when he reached up under the guise of yawning, hand pushing at his hair, his skin was clammy to the touch. His fingers were shaking. Fuck.
"What do you want, Eddie?" he asked, looking only at the homework on the desk, "I told the others I wasn't coming. I'm busy."
"Cut the bullshit, Tozier."
Richie swallowed. Eddie made an annoyed sound when he didn't look up. A hand slammed down on the desktop right by Richie's arm, making him jump and hiss a startled yelp. His gaze tracked the hand up an unbroken arm, the red sleeve of Eddie's polo shirt stained faintly with grass. He turned away before he hit eyes, because he knew all his secrets would be there, in his eyes, for Eddie to see and be disgusted by.
He opened his mouth to spout something witty and stupid, but at the last second Eddie's thumb twitched where it was on the desk, and caught his eye. Their hands were so close, his own curled around the desk edge where he'd gripped it in surprise. If he just…
That was what took all the words away. That stupid feeling, and he was. Fuck. He was. He was going to cry. He could feel it in his eyes as they burned. He tipped his head further away from his friend when the shorter boy leaned a little closer.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked in a miserable whisper, "I said I was sorry. I- I don't know what else you want me to say, Eds."
Eddie was quiet for a long time. A really long time. Long enough for Richie's first tear to fall, streaking down his far cheek and tickling his neck as he tried to ignore it. If he moved to brush it away, Eddie would see. So he didn't. His heart thrummed hard in his ribcage, and even just keeping his breathing steady was hard work.
This was worse than it had ever been, this stupid feeling. He'd always thought it couldn't get worse, especially after everything that happened with that freaking clown, but here it was.
"Why?"
"Why?" Richie parroted back stupidly, almost looking up, "Why what?"
"Why'd you do it?"
Richie shrugged, swallowing his thick tongue as his throat closed up a little more. He wasn't sure he could speak again without it being obvious he was crying. Another tear spilled over his cheek. His nose was all gross, it was gonna start running any second, and if he sniffled he'd be caught. He shook his head and said nothing.
The room felt chilly, all of a sudden. Clammy, cold. Like the skin on his neck. Several more tears tumbled over his cheeks. He shifted further away from Eddie.
"Were you… serious?" the boy's voice whispered, breathed hesitantly and almost inaudibly.
He froze up. He couldn't answer. His heartbeat roared 'yes I was! yes I was! yes I was!' hard in his ears and it felt like the air was going thin. His head swam. He was sure, by now, that Eddie would be able see how his shoulders were trembling. The shorter boy moved closer suddenly, and Richie didn't whip his face away in time.
"Are…" Eddie's voice made him want to curl into him; soft, nervous, concerned, "Richie are you crying?"
"No!" he snapped, scrubbing his hands across his face defiantly, his tears calling him a liar as he threw an angry glance Eddie's way.
Eddie didn't bristle like Richie expected. Or like he'd hoped, to turn the awful tense air into something angry and at least familiar. Eddie stared across the space between them with his mouth a little open, his eyes surprised but working, his brain behind their brown depths. Richie sneered and turned back to the desk.
"What do you want, Kaspbrak?" he snapped, as further tears broke free and tumbled down his face, making dark marks on his shorts, the paper.
They both jerked at the sound of it, at such venom in his tone. He never called Eddie Kaspbrak like that, not with that… poison in his tone.
"Tell me right now if you were serious." Eddie hissed so fast it was almost a single word, "Tell me right fucking now."
Richie couldn't do it. He could hear the words falling out of his mouth, even as he closed his eyes and turned away from them. He couldn't even admit who he was to his best friend. He gritted his teeth as the seething pit of shame twisted like a snake in his belly, making all his skin burn.
"It was just a joke, Eds."
His heart crackled and shuddered as the lie spilled out. When Eddie spoke again, his tone was icy.
"A joke? You're- you're fucking sick, Richie! What kind of joke was that?"
The words stung, his hands curled so hard into the desk that his fingers hurt. Sick. Disgusting. Wrong.
"I- I'm sorry, I-"
"Fuck you, Richie." came the answer, as Eddie's feet moved across the carpet to the door.
Richie didn't feel like he even moved, one second he was sitting and the next he found himself thrown to his feet, reaching out desperately, fingers curling around Eddie's good wrist. The moment seemed to slow right down as Eddie shook him off, face twisting into a sneer, but Richie watched the first tear as it pooled in one brown eye and fell, and something new fluttered tentatively in his heart.
Eddie glared up at him, seething, his face a blotchy, angry red and his brows lowered hard to match his bared teeth. But Richie had heard the tremble when Eddie said his name, and he recognised the hurt. He'd felt enough of it himself recently to know what it sounded like.
He'd kissed his friend without warning, and it had been a shitty thing to do, but he didn't want to hurt Eddie. Never Eddie.
"I'm sorry." he whispered, pleading, "I didn't mean it. Eddie, please. I- I'm sorry."
Eddie twisted away as he started crying properly, but when Richie dragged him back and folded his arms around him, he didn't pull away. He hugged him hard, crossing his arms at the shorter boy's back and tucking his head under his chin, holding him close as Eddie hiccupped and sniffled. His heart ached. He hated when they fought, hated seeing Eddie cry. He couldn't remember the last time they'd argued so badly that they ended up like this. He hated himself for doing it to him.
God, there was so much wrong with him, what the fuck?
One fist knocked into Richie's chest, but it didn't hurt.
"You're an asshole, Richie. Your jokes aren't funny."
"I know," he murmured, "I'm sorry."
His chest ached and cracked, the lie still bitter in his mouth. He hated Derry and its toxic views, hated the stupid fear in his gut because of who he was. For just a moment, with Eddie held tightly against his chest, with the boy's hair brushing against his cheek, he could pretend not to feel it. He held him for a while, until Eddie grew still and it started feeling awkward. But Eddie didn't move, and Richie didn't want to, so he didn't let go even then.
~.~
"I wish you'd be serious, once in a while." Eddie said out loud some time later, after they'd relocated to the mess that was Richie's bed and sprawled there with comic books, homework forgotten.
Richie lowered his comic on his chest and looked over at his best friend, half-propped against the corner wall (because the bed wasn't really long enough for them both flat,) with his own comic against his thigh. His other leg, draped lazily, was a comfortable pressure along Richie's side, the heel of one socked foot resting somewhere near the taller boy's heart.
Eddie raised an eyebrow when he caught his eye, the trace of a smile on his face. Richie grinned sheepishly, still feeling a little nervous, and adjusted his glasses before he could stop himself. Eddie sat up, dropping the comic to the floor as he did, and waited for Richie to do the same. There was a moment of tangled limbs before they both sat, and Eddie looked at him thoughtfully.
"Is it nerves, the glasses thing?"
Richie's mouth dropped open in surprise, and he felt his face heating a little as he avoided the curious gaze and shrugged. He smiled a little, feeling weird and shy and a bit uncomfortable. Not how he usually felt around Eddie, at least before he'd grown so goddamn attracted to him.
"No idea, Spaghetti. Just a habit."
"Huh."
Eddie didn't smile back when Richie threw him a grin, but his eyes were bright and that was okay.
"Why?" he asked, feeling bolder, feeling braver, his grin widening joyfully as Eddie started smiling too.
The shorter boy shrugged comfortably.
"I like it."
Richie's grin died a little as surprise stilled his tongue. Eddie was brushing something from his shirt, looking totally chill and relaxed, but Richie could feel his own heart beginning to race again. He'd always known, of course, that Eddie messed with his glasses on purpose when they were horsing around. But the idea that Eddie might like them was… Well, it made his stomach feel kind of funny. It was weird.
"You like my glasses?"
Eddie looked up again and laughed.
"Yeah. But I mean the-" he mimicked adjusting invisible glasses with a grin, "thing you do with them. It's such a you thing."
Richie grinned, adjusting the glasses without thinking, and Eddie laughed again.
"You're such a dork."
"Whatever, Kaspbrak," he shoved the other boy, and chuckled when he cried out and shoved him back, "you're the one who likes my glasses."
This was easy, this part. Push-and-shove. There wasn't any thinking, it was just… how things were. Richie let the comfort of it, their well-worn routine, soak into his skin as their batting became wrestling, each fighting playfully, daring further, trading insults and squealing in laughter as it did. He loved this, with Eddie. It was natural, it was them, it was teasing and fun and made them both flop down after calling a truce, breathing hard and laughing in between. What Richie loved most was the feeling. The rightness that would hum happily in his chest, the sheer knowledge that neither would take it further than the other was willing, knowing the lines without even asking.
They communicated best without words, or without real words. They said all their things in laughter and complaints and casually tossed, familiar insults. Richie didn't know who he was, without this. The only one of the Losers who truly gave him as good as they got, in the same way.
Richie's heart hitched as Eddie dumped one heel back down on his chest, sliding down the wall to lie flat, despite how it tangled them together. He batted the socked foot weakly aside, like he was expected to, and listened to Eddie's breathless chuckle. Eddie shifted and bent the other leg crooked, Richie's shin behind the knee as he tucked his own toes under his butt. Kinda like their legs were looped arms. The thought made Richie snort, trying to ignore the gleeful little bite in his chest.
This was easy, he could do this all day. In his room, in the grass by the Quarry, in the hammock in the Clubhouse. The room fell quiet as their breathing did, the sunlight filtering through the air and glinting on the dust particles to make them shine gold. Richie thought that maybe there was no such thing as happier than this, this right here, his legs tangled upside down with Eddie's, laughter still lingering on their tongues, a comfortable warmth in his chest.
Richie was drowsily listening to Eddie turn the pages of his comic book, walking his fingertips lazily up and down the tall sock on Eddie's foot when the sound of feet bounding up the stairs was all the warning he got of his bedroom door being thrown open, before one, two, three, four familiar faces were peering around into their corner, grins swiftly lighting them.
"Told you!" Bev sang, punching Bill delicately on the arm and dancing into the room.
Richie winced on Bill's behalf. The boy put on a brave face, but Richie knew first hand how hard those delicate love-taps from Beverly really were.
"I d-d-d-didn't say h-he w-wouldn't be here!" Bill cried, pouting for the briefest of seconds as Bev turned to flash him her grin.
"No, but you wanted to check the Clubhouse first." she smirked, dropping onto the very thin strip of mattress that was empty above Richie's head, and planting her hand right in his hair as she tipped her face sideways to grin at him.
"How's it hangin', Tozier?"
Richie drew up an easy, wicked grin, and winked at her face above his.
"Low as always." he retorted with an arched brow, and if Bev was the only one who laughed, as she shoved his face away not unkindly, then that was okay.
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
Her fingers angled playfully in his hair as she spoke, one of those comfortable, thoughtless gestures of affection that Beverly especially seemed so good at. Richie hummed nonchalantly as he focused on the sensation of her fingers dragging through his hair, so that he wouldn't tense so much. He did his best, but it didn't help when Eddie tensed against him, heel digging almost painfully into Richie's shoulder.
"What does it look like?" he answered, grinning up at her again, "I'm teaching Spaghetti to read."
Eddie's response was swift and a little painful, and gave Richie a good excuse to wriggle up into a seated position, rubbing his chest but grinning unabashedly at the smaller boy as his brow bunched up and he scowled that familiar scowl.
"I helped you to read, dipshit." he snapped back, eyes glowing with fire, "And don't call me that!"
The sound of their friends' laughter filled Richie's room and made him happy, even as he reached over to pinch Eddie's cheek before darting away and laughing. Eddie sat up as though to chase him, and Richie watched him with waiting, dancing eyes. Watched as something flickered in the cocoa-brown eyes he knew so well, watched as it hesitated there for just a second before disappearing.
"You're a dickwad."
Richie tried to ignore the strange little flicker of disappointment in his chest at not being chased, instead only smiling even wider.
"And yet you looove me, anyway."
"Dream on, asshole." Eddie answered with a swift eye-roll, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and turning to the others.
Stan's wry smile was small, but Richie saw Eddie look away from it as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, and wondered if the others could see that something had gone on between them. Eddie was a terrible liar.
"What's the plan, Big Bill?"
Bill shrugged, looking between them.
"Clubhouse?"
"Spectacular suggestion, my dear fellow!" Richie cried in a terrible British accent, "Spot on, I say!"
"Do you have to do that?" Eddie groaned, shoving at him half-heartedly.
"Absolutely!" Richie fired back, still in character, "Laughter is food for the soul!"
Eddie rolled his eyes and shot Bill a look.
"Barrens?"
"You hate the Barrens." Richie smirked, watching as Eddie's face flickered as he scowled.
Arguing just for the sake of it, like always.
"I do not."
"Oh, you so do."
"Don't!"
"Do!"
"Don't!"
"Do!"
"Alright, alright," Bev laughed, shaking Richie's shoulder as she did, "we get it, you don't agree. Stan?"
Stan shrugged, looking worn out.
"I could do either."
She looked to their companion, who shrugged.
"I don't mind either, but I have to be back at the farm before dinner."
"You're all terrible." she complained without heat, smile tugging her lips, "Who's got a quarter? We'll flip for it."
Bill had a nickel. The coin turned in the air, and landed Heads up. Richie pouted and grumbled theatrically as they headed downstairs to collect Ben from where Mrs Tozier was grilling him good-naturedly about schoolwork.
"B-Barrens." Bill answered Ben's curious glance.
As they raced each other out the front door, swung legs over bicycle seats and pedalled off, Richie's mom called after them.
"Have fun, stay safe! Make sure you get Eddie home at a decent time, Richie! You know how Mrs Kaspbrak gets!"
Eddie ignored his gleeful grinning, but Richie could guess the angry red blush on his face wasn't from the sun. He was sure he could think of some fun comments to make by the time they got to the Barrens. He did take a second, though, to appreciate how lucky he was to have Eddie's easy forgiveness. And his trust, too, because he knew his friend wouldn't even tell the others, not if Richie didn't first.
He swallowed down the brief ache that his feelings hadn't been reciprocated, but he was a gay kid in Derry. Probably best he didn't drag Eddie down with him. Eddie deserved better.
~.~