The Best Part of Me (Is You)
Chapter Three
Richie's POV
A loud boom, boom, boom thunders through Richie's head. The shock waves vibrate through his skull, tingling down his spine and legs, shaking his body violently all the way down to his pinky toe. Still clouded in sleep, he releases a long heavy sigh, burrowing further under the comforter.
Another series of booms, heavier than the last, echo through Richie's head, ripping him from sleep. His body goes into automatic defense mode - his body jerking upward, limbs flailing, only entangling them more in the sheets. Grunting, he twists his head side to side trying to identify the source of the sound, only to find a dark and empty room.
Relieved, he slumps back down in bed. He rolls onto his side, shoving his face into the cool pillow. He's on the edge of sleep when the next series of booms echo through the dark room, crashing against the inside of Riche's skull. Sitting up in bed again, with a hand placed on his head, he realizes the booms are coming from the hallway.
It happens again, even closer. Boom, boom, boom. Although this time, after the booms, he hears a faint voice.
His heart leaps into his throat, realizing what's about to happen.
As he scrambles out of bed, fighting against the tangled sheets, the sound falls on his door. Boom, boom, boom.
"Hello?" A soft voice calls on the other side. "Housekeeping."
He tries to call out, but his throat is dry. With one foot firmly planted in the plush carpet he flails his arms, trying to untangle his foot, which is still stuck in the twisted sheets.
"Wait," he croaks.
He manages to tear his foot away just as he hears the telltale beep and clicking of the lock. He stumbles across the room, flying down the tiny hallway to slam his body against the door.
"I'm here! I'm here!" he yells. "Can you - huh - can you come back later?"
All he hears is a mumbled response, followed by the jangling of a cart.
He holds his ground for a few beats until the sound of the cart has faded. With a sigh of relief he shoves his back against the door, slumping down to the floor. He places his head in his hands, trying to stop the ringing. With a grunt, he pulls himself up from the floor to make his way back to the comforts of the bed. Halfway across the room, he pauses, his eyes landing on the empty bed.
"Eddie?" Richie whispers to the room.
Only silence greets him.
"Eddie?" Richie calls, slowly stepping toward the bathroom. He opens the door; there's only darkness inside.
He's gone.
"Edd-IE!" Richie yells, his voice cracking at the end. He runs to the adjoining room, throwing open the french doors to stumble into the sun streaked room. With pinched eyes, he looks in all corners of the room.
He's not coming back.
"Eddie," Richie sobs, turning in the circle as he checks the room a second time.
The clicking of the door pulls him out of his dark spiral.
"Eddie?" Richie croaks, standing his ground in the sun slatted room, too afraid to move.
"Rich?" Eddie's voice rings, bright and chipper.
At the sound of Eddie's voice, Richie surges forward, practically throwing himself into the other room. He catches himself on the frame of the french doors watching Eddie place a tray on the coffee table.
"Heeey," Eddie chuckles, walking toward Richie. Winding his arms around Richie's bare torso he presses himself against Richie's body, leaning up on his tip-toes to plant a quick peck to Richie's lips. "I'm glad you're awake. I brought you breakfast." He cocks his head toward the tray.
"Oh," Richie breathes, too in awe of Eddie to form words. He squeezes Eddie's body against his.
A chuckle vibrates Eddie's chest. "I brought coffee too."
Richie moans, "I love you."
A burst of laughter explodes from Eddie, his head thrown back as he grabs Richie tightly. "I love you too," he smiles. "Now," he tugs Richie to the coffee table, "I brought you a nice big breakfast. Should be perfect for your hangover."
"What?" Richie laughs, "What hangover?" As soon as he plops down on the couch he swallows his words, almost biting his tongue in half feeling his head bobble violently on his shoulders.
With a flourish Eddie pulls off the top of a silver platter, revealing a gorgeous golden omelet. The smell of cheese, ham, and peppers fill Richie's nose.
"Fuck," Richie groans, half drooling.
"I thought you might like it," Eddie grins, placing a hot paper cup in Richie's hand.
As Richie sips, Eddie's hand brushes an errand curl behind Richie's ear. "How did you sleep?"
"Like the dead," Richie laughs, cutting into the omelet. "I mean, I barely remember last night."
"Oh yeah?" Eddie twirls his finger around the stubborn curl.
"I mean," Richie mumbles around a mouth full of food, swallowing before continuing, "I remember most of it. Just the middle is a little - uh - fuzzy."
"Mhm," Eddie hums, trailing his hand down to rub Richie's back. Silence fills the room as Richie works his way through his omelet and coffee.
"Do you remember the pizza?" Eddie whispers, probing.
Richie pauses, midchew, before swallowing. It goes down slowly, painfully.
"Yeah," he croaks, placing his utensils down to stare at his plate. After taking a deep breath, he presses forward, "We're going to talk about it, aren't we?"
"Yeah," Eddie goes back to rub Richie's back, "but not now. I told the others we'd meet them in the lobby in an hour. We should get ready."
Richie frowns, turning toward Eddie. "Get ready?"
Eddie hums, "Yeah, Stan and Patty thought it would be a good idea to explore the city before we have to be at Bev's shop. Patty suggested we got to the Art Institute."
"Oh yeah? Loser's Day Off?" Richie says, leaning in to Eddie's side.
"Yeah, Loser's Day Off," Eddie grins, curling into Richie's side. Cupping his hands behind Riche's head, he pulls him close to touch the tips of their noses together. "Wanna shower with me?"
Richie's breath catches in his throat. Eddie's hand pauses mid-twirl around one of Richie's curls before pulling away. "We don't hav-"
"No!" Richie yells, grabbing Eddie's hand. "I mean...yeah," he smiles, placing Eddie's hand on his chest. "That sounds good."
'DON'T'
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Richie grins, mentally telling his brain to fuck off. "Wait," he pauses, frowning, "you didn't take a shower before going to breakfast?"
Eddie shrugs. "We're on vacation. And besides," he says, scooting closer to Richie, "I wanted to shower with my boyfriend."
A shiver runs down Richie's spine. "Oh yeah?"
"Mh-hmm," Eddie leans in closer, ghosting his lips over Richie's, only to pull away when Richie shrugs forward. Grabbing Richie's hand, Eddie tugs him toward the bathroom. "Come on, handsome. I want you naked and sopping wet."
/
"Mmmm," Richie hums quizzically, tapping his forefinger dramatically against his chin as he stares at the broad strokes of yellow and blue in front of him. He knows the painting of the blue walls and the yellow bed is by Van Gogh, which practically gives him the answer.
A delicate laugh floats in the air next to him. "Sooo, what do you think?" Patty asks.
When Richie only hums deeper in response, she bumps her hip against his leg; her arm, which is drawn through Richie's, tugs tighter. The combination of both josels Richie enough to place a small step out, catching his balance. He laughs, surprised at how much weight such a petite woman can throw around.
"Okay, okay!" he relents. "Uuuhh, post-impressionism?"
"Yes, The Bedroom by Van Gogh is peak post-impressionism. Very good!" Patty cheers. "You're a quick learner."
"Well, I have a good teacher." He bows his head toward her.
"Well, thank you. Got to put my college degree to use at some point, right?" she laughs, pulling him into the next gallery.
The gallery is empty; they're the only two people there, the only exception being the security guard standing at the opposite entrance. There is a delicate silence hanging in the air - although, in the distance they can hear yelling, most likely from the elementary school group stomping around a few galleries behind them.
They come to a stop in front of a small painting. It's a simple scene - a white fireplace in an empty room. On top of the fireplace is a clock and two golden candle holders. Above the fireplace is a large golden framed mirror with nothing reflected in it. Instead of a glowing fire burning in the fireplace there is a miniature train steaming out into the room.
"What about this one?" Patty quizzes.
Richie clicks his tongue as he studies the simple geometric lines, the bare empty space of the floor and walls. Even the fireplace looks simple, ordinary, like it could be in any house - except there's a steaming locomotive shooting out of the middle of it.
"You're going easy on me, Patty, my dear."
"Oh yeah?" she laughs.
"Yeah! This is surrealism," he vaguely waves his hand toward the painting. "I mean, come on."
"Okay, okay. I guess Time Transfixed by Rene Magritte is a little easy. There is a train coming out of the fireplace," she shrugs her shoulders.
They take a minute to just stand in front of the painting, enjoying the silence before the kids descend on them.
"You know," Patty says, "Stan hates this painting."
Richie's boisterous laugh bounces around the room. He tries to stifle it behind his hands as the guard frowns in their direction, but it's too late. His laugh is making it's fifth rotation of the empty room by the time he can form words.
"No shit. I wonder why," he sarcastically snorts.
Patty shares his knowing smile. "Actually, he hates Magritte in general. He's much more of a Hopper fan. Oh! Actually, I think they have one here! Yes! They actually have the Hopper!"
With another tug, Richie and Patty shuffle out of the gallery.
"Hopper. Hopper," Richie mumbles, dutifully following Patty through gallery after gallery.
He's still searching the recesses of his brain as they pass BIll and Audra who are quietly contemplating a bronze statue in another gallery.
"Oh! Hi, Bill! Hi Audra!" Richie yells. Patty is going so fast, they go by in a flash, their heads turning as Patty & Richie move to the next gallery. "Oh. Bye, Bill! Bye, Audra!"
They come to a screeching halt, Richie's feet skidding on the marble floor.
"Here we are!" Patty declares, extending her arms to present the painting in all its glory.
Realization sparks when he sees the dimly lit cafe. "OOOH! Hopper!"
"Yes, Nighthawks. The Hopper!"
"Oh, well," Richie pushes his glasses up his nose, putting on his Professor voice. "This is a classic example of social realism. The dimly lit diner, the lonely figures at the bar, the two street meeting up are all ways Hopper illustrated the lonely setting of suburban life."
Patty delicately claps her hands. "Very good, very good."
"Thank you," Richie bows, "Thank you, my dear. Although you shouldn't be too impressed. I think I read that on plaque somewhere. Maybe at that actual diner?"
"I'm surprised Stan isn't in here," she turns, looking around the gallery. "We actually have this painting hanging in our house. We like to argue about what time of night it is. Most people, including myself, would say it's in the dead of the night - due to the empty streets and how few people there are in the diner - but Stan argues that it's closer to dusk, with how the light is shown on the opposite building and on the street."
"Hmm, I can see that."
"I think he says that because of the bird though."
"The bird?" He scans the painting.
Patty hums. "Yes. A nighthawk is a type of bird, you know?"
Richie snorts. "Of course it is."
"Their name is actually a bit of a misnomer. They tend to hunt at dusk and dawn, not at night. And they're not even related to hawks."
"Ah, I see." Richie turns back to the painting with fresh eyes. "Hence why he thinks the painting is depicting dawn."
"Exactly. Now," turning on her heel, Patty hums to herself, tapping her chin in thought, "what should we see next?"
"Can we see my painting?" Richie suggests, excitement filling his chest.
"Oh! Of course!" She guides Richie out of the gallery, passing through gallery after gallery as they make their way deeper into the museum. "I hope it's not too crowded. It's one of the most visited pieces in the museum."
"I'm sure."
"Is that your favorite painting?"
"Oh, wow." Richie hesitates. "I'm not sure how to answer that. I've never really thought about what my favorite painting is. I'm not that sophisticated."
"But you like it though?"
"I mean, yeah," Richie scoofs, shrugging his shoulders. "But I like it for the same reason everyone else likes it. I saw it in a movie and it's a pretty famous piece of art. Nothing too deep about it."
Patty shrugs. "That doesn't matter. Just because something is popular doesn't mean that it's not a good piece of artwork. And, it doesn't matter how you found it - whether it was through a movie, tv show, or a magazine. If you like it, then that's good enough."
"Huh, I never thought someone with an Art History degree would say that," Richie teases.
Patty laughs, "Yes, it's a pretty radical idea that Art Historians are starting to grapple with. That popular art can be good. My professors didn't really like me cause I kept challenging them on it the whole time I was in school. Although, on the other hand, they might not have liked me cause I was actually spending my time creating art instead of studying it."
"Why didn't you become an art major?"
"Oh, cause my parents thought that meant I would be poor. I wouldn't be able to make a living. They ended up 'compromising' - their words - on me studying art history. They thought I could get a degree, work at a notable museum for sometime, and then become a professor."
"Well you showed them, didn't you? Teaching art at a high school," Richie smirks.
"Yes, yes I did."
They come to a stop in a crowded gallery. There is a swarm of people circled in front of a wall.
They stand at the edge of the crowd, not pushing forward, just letting the crown slowly give way until they can see the million colored dots compiled together to create a beautiful sunny day by the river - A Sunday Afternoon on the Island La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat.
"Do you want to know another reason why my professors didn't like me?" Patty adds.
"Mhm?"
"Cause my favorite painting is Water Lilies."
Richie snorts, managing to keep the volume down. "By Monet? How original, Patty."
"I know," she smirks. "I used to carry around all my textbooks in one of those bags you get from gifts shops. You know, the ones where they print paintings on the side? I carried around my Water Lilies bag all four years of college. You should have seen the looks I got from my professors! And some of my peers!"
"Oh my god, Patty!" Richie places his hand over his heart in mock surprise. "You are a troublemaker!"
A sly smile spreads on Patty's lips. "Only good trouble though."
The crowd parts in front of them allowing a full view of the painting.
"Wow," Richie stares, taken back by its size and grandor. "It's bigger than I thought."
"Yeah, it's very impressive. It really commands the space. You need the whole room to stand back and appreciate it. Do you want a picture with it?"
"Oh! Yes, please!" He claps his hands, childlike. Handing Patty his phone, he rushes forward to stand in front of the stanchion ropes separating the painting from the crowd. "Cheeeeese!" He holds up a peace sign, smiling wide for the camera.
"Perfect!" Patty gives him a thumbs up as she hands him back his phone.
"Thanks," Richie murmurs, grabbing his phone. He barely looks at the photo, not wanting to look at how much his body takes up the frame. Without thinking about it, he texts it to Eddie, quickly typing a caption underneath it.
*Richie*
Richie's Day Off!
*Eddie*
You're too cute. *heart eyes*
I just wanna kiss you all over
your cute fucking face.
*Richie*
Oh, yes please!
*Eddie*
Why don't you come and find me?
*Richie*
Where are you?
*Eddie*
Arts of North America, Level 2
*Richie*
*running man*
Just as Richie is hitting send on his last text a figure comes to a stop next to them.
"Hi, how's the tour going?" Stan asks softly.
"Oh! Hi, honey!"
"Stanny!" Richie beams. "I have you say Patty has been showing me a lovely time. She is a fantastic teacher."
"Honey, we were just looking at Nighthawks! Have you seen it yet?" Patty asks, slipping her arm through Stans.
"No, not yet," he smiles down at her. "I haven't made it there yet." He flicks the map in his hand.
"Don't worry, Stan. It won't hurt to skip ahead a few galleries," Richie smirks. "By the way, where is Mikey? I thought he was with you?" He glances around, trying to catch sight of the tall man.
"He was," Stan states slowly flips through the map, working out his route, "but I left him somewhere in Korean art. You know how Mikey gets - he has to read every single plaque, take multiple pictures of everything, and talk to all the security guards. He takes forever."
"Oh yeah, he takes forever."
Stan frowns, clocking his eyes up to Richie for a brief second before going back to the map.
"Well," Richie says, "I'm going to leave you two Agaporns-"
"Agapornis," Stan corrects, emphasizing the last syllable. "I knew I was going to regret teaching you that."
"Yes, Agaporniiisss," Richie slurs, really digging in hard at the end. "You two love birds. You two turtle doves. I'm going to go find Eds. See you two later." He waves, slowly stepping back into the crowd.
"We're going to meet up out front in an hour!" Stan adds before Richie has gotten too far.
"Sure, sure."
As he zig-zags his way out of the crowd, he hears Patty behind him. "It's this way, Stan. Oh, we don't need that. I know the way, silly."
Richie chuckles to himself, weaving his way out of the crowd to head further into the museum. He finds Eddie, alone in a gallery, standing in front of a painting.
Sneaking up behind Eddie, he slides his arms around Eddie's waist. Eddie jumps in his arms, but his shock is gone in a second. Realizing it's Richie, he relaxes, falling back into his arms.
"Well, look at this pretty piece of artwork I found," Richie whispers against Eddie's neck. "How much do you think I have to pay the museum to take it home with me?"
"Nothing," Eddie turns in Richie's arms, winding his arms around Richie's neck. "You already get to take me home." He leans up on his tip-toes, kissing Richie. "How was your history lesson?" Eddie pulls himself out of Richie's embrace, a hand sliding down Richie's arm to grasp Richie's hand as he walks along the wall.
"Mhm, good," Richie hums, gliding along behind Eddie. "Patty's a very good teacher."
"I'm sure."
They fall into an awkward silence as they slowly walk around the gallery, glancing at the artwork but not really looking. There's been an unspoken awkwardness throughout the morning. A heavy weight that Richie's been carrying around since he remembered what he confessed last night in a drunken stupor. Eddie knows it too, but he's not pushing.
Richie falls behind Eddie's step, just lazily following along.
Eddie stops in front of a six-foot-tall bronze statue of a nude woman with her large breasts hanging freely with a deeply etched waist above curved, blossoming hips. Richie stops next to Eddie, crossing his arms, mimicking Eddie's stance. He gnaws his lips, pretending to look at the statue His mind is buzzing too much - unnerved by the silence and from standing in one place for too long.
"Uuhh. Look, Eds," Richie points at the statue, "it's meee." His voice goes high at the end, trying to make a joke of it.
Eddie's eyes go comically wide, quickly shuffling between the statue and Richie.
"I - I mean," Richie stutters, "Like - the breasts." Cupping both hands he places them under this chest, heaving them.
Eddie just gapes at him, mouth completely unhinged.
"You know, cause I'm...fat." The last word comes out as a whisper.
Suddenly, the spell Eddie's under is broken. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tilts his head back, breathing deeply. "Ok, ok," he mumbles to himself, shaking out his arms as if he's getting ready for a fight. "Ok, come on," he grunts, grabbing Richie's hand, tugging him away from the statue.
"Eddie!?"
Eddie tugs Richie into the next gallery, snapping his head side to side. Once he confirms the gallery is empty, he slides to a stop. Turning on his heels, he snaps, "Ok! What was that!?"
"A joke? I mean, admittedly, it was a really bad-"
"Richie!" Eddie hisses.
"Whaaat!?"
"That's not -" Eddies snaps, before cutting himself off. After taking a deep breath, he starts again - quieter, practically desperate this time. "That's not what I mean."
"Uhh, ok, well-" Richie shuffles side to side.
"Richie," Eddie's voice is soft, comforting. He looks so concerned, so lost. "Why - why would you say something like that?" Stepping closer, he grabs Richie's hand.
"I mean," Richie shrugs, "it's true." He holds Eddie's hand, but he looks to the side.
"Rich-"
"It is. I've gotten fat. Nothing - None of my clothes fit anymore," Richie rambles, his vision getting misty. "I have a literal muffin top. A big 'ol spare tire. Bouncing tits-"
"Richie, stop!" Eddie jerks Richie, forcing him to look at him. Eddie's own face is distraught, wet around his eyes. "Rich," he whispers, "don't say things like that."
Richie hiccups. "But, it's true."
Eddie shakes his head, his mouth drawn in a tight line.
Soft mumbling, from a couple who just entered from the other side of the gallery, draws their attention. Richie is suddenly pulled forward, Eddie dragging him out of the gallery. They weave their way in and out of galleries, each filled with people, until they arrive in an empty hallway at the back of the building where the only options are the women's bathroom or the stairwell. Eddie crashes through the door to the stairs, coming to a stop on the landing. The stairwell is bleak; nothing by concrete and cold metal handrails.
Richie looks down at his shoes, afraid of what Eddie's going to say next.
'This is where he breaks up with you. You'll never even get the chance to ask him. That ring will sit in your sock drawer, just collecting dust, for the rest of your pathetic life.'
"Richie," Eddie whispers.
Richie gulps, trying to stop his tears. "Eds, please. Don't-," his sobs cut off his words, his tears making his vision hazy.
"Oh, Richie. Come here, baby." Eddie pulls Richie into a tight hug, pressing Richie's head down to rest on his shoulder. Richie feels so lost, completely broken. He grabs the back of Eddie's shirt as a way to ground himself. Digging his nails in, he sobs, uncontrollably.
"You know I'll never leave you, right?" Eddie's breath tickles Richie's neck. The only response Richie can manage is to nod into Eddie's shoulder. Eddie strokes Richie's hair, "And you know I'll love you no matter what, right?"
"Mh-hmm."
"Okay, good. Here," Eddie pulls back, placing his hand on the small of Richie's back to guide him to the steps, "let's sit down."
Richie plunks down on the cold concrete step. Eddie shifts and turns his body until he's curved around him - his legs are draped over Eddie's legs with Eddie's arms curved around Richie's back, holding him to his side. Richie rests his head against Eddie's shoulder, just breathing in his scent.
After a few minutes, Eddie breaks the silence, "Richie, baby, what's going on? All those things you said last night and the way you've been acting the last few days-"
"I know," Richie cringes, ashamed at what he's put Eddie through. "I know. There's just been...a lot." Pulling his head up, he drags his hands down his face, "And I don't know how to handle it or what I should fuckin' do!" He waves his hands, Eddie-style.
"Hey, hey!" Eddie interrupts, grabbing Richie's hands to pull them into his lap. "Hey, it's ok, Rich. Why don't you start from the beginning, yeah?"
"From the beginning?"
"Yeah, I mean, I know you've been under a lot of pressure because of your Emmy nominations. I just don't know where all of this is coming from. You're not normally so...down on yourself?" Eddie cocks an eyebrow, frowning at his own choice of words. "Mean to yourself?"
"I mean, I can be kinda of an asshole sometimes."
"Rich," Eddie frowns.
"Okay, okay. Fuck, I don't know how to say this," he mumbles the last part. Gritting his teeth, he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look at Eddie. "Okay, listen. I was being honest earlier...about half of my clothes not fitting. You remember I had that big meeting with Liam a couple days ago?"
"Mh-hmm."
"Well, I know it's kinda stupid but I kinda wanted to look nice for the meeting." Richie blushes, curling into himself, half in embarrassment and half because of his little white lie.
"That's not stupid. You knew Liam had something important to tell you."
"Yeah, well, anyway, I went to put on something nice and - uuuhh - nothing fit," he spits out. Cringing, he forces himself to go on. "I kept trying things on, one after the other, but everything was too fucking tight. I mean, I couldn't even zip up my fucking pants! I was already running late by the time I realized half of my clothes were on the floor. I ended up going to the meeting in clothes that were too fuckin' small, which was fuckin' horrible cause it was practically cutting off my circulation. So...yeah, I guess that's what I get for lying around the house all summer in my shorts and t-shirts, eating nothing but Taco Bell and McDonalds. So, yeah, there you have it. You have a fat boyfriend," he huffs, out of breath.
"Oh, Richie. I'm - I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that happened. But, you know, it's not a big deal if some of your clothes don't fit-"
"Not some, Eddie! Half! Half of my clothes!" Richie groans, pulling his legs off of Eddie's lap. "Which means it's all of the really nice ones! Not my gross 'walking around the house' clothes. No! The ones that actually need to fit!"
"Ok, fine. Half. But it's not a big deal. We'll just go buy you new clothes," Eddie says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Oh my god, that's so fuckin' embarrassing!" Richie grips his hair, kicking his legs out, childlike, in protest.
"Richie, who the fuck is going to-"
"Wait," Richie interrupts. "You didn't say I wasn't fat."
"What?"
"When I said I was fat, you didn't say 'No, Richie'", he voice goes high, purposely not doing his best Eddie impression, "'You're not fat.' No, no! What you said is 'it's not a big deal if some of my clothes don't fit.' Which means you do think I'm fat!" Richie gasps, turning to see Eddie biting his lip, his eyes shifting uncomfortably. "Oh my god, YOU DO THINK I'M FAT! That's why you've been calling me 'big guy'!?"
"Wait, what!? No! Richie!" Eddie yells, his hand flying out to grab Richie but Richie's too fast.
Jumping to his feet, out of Eddie's grasp, he starts to pace the little landing. "Oh my god, Eddie!"
Eddie's up, trying to step closer to Richie but Richie keeps dodging Eddie's flying hands. "Richie, please-"
"Why the fuck didn't you say anything!?" Richie clutches his hair, practically tearing it at the roots.
"Cause it doesn't MATTER!" Eddie yells. "Have you gained weight? Yes. Did I notice? Yes. Do I care? Fuck no! I don't care that when you wear those old ass basketball shorts you have a little muffin top that bulges over the side. I don't care that I sink into you a little bit more when I lay on top of you. I don't care that there's a little bit more skin on your thigh for me to bite into. So, no! I didn't say anything."
"Huuuh-" Richie stares at Eddie, lost for words.
Eddie takes Richie's stunned silence as an opportunity to step forward. He wraps his arms around Richie's waist, tilting his head up to rest his chin on Richie's chest. "I thought it was obvious how much I love your body. I was pretty vocal about it the other night," Eddie grins, his fingers digging into Richie's sides.
"Oh, well," Richie gulps "You know how I'm not very good at taking compliments."
"I guess I'll just have to be more vocal, huh?" Eddie's grin stretches wider, his fingers walking down Richie's side before both his hands slide flat into Richie's back pockets, grabbing a handful of Richie's ass.
Richie lets out a slow breathe, "Fuck, baby. So, you - huh-" He loses track of what he was saying for a second when Eddie squeezes his ass again. "You really don't mind having a fat boyfriend?"
"Richie," Eddie huffs, his hands easing up a little bit but never leaving Richie's pockets. "You gained some weight. But so what? You're not obese, and I mean that in a medical sense. You're not at any risk of having a heart attack or impeding your life just cause you had Taco Bell two days in a row."
"Are you sure? Cause I can make it three."
"Yes," Eddie chuckles, "I'm sure. Don't you think I would say something if I actually thought you were at risk of having a heart attack? I would be all over you, and not in a good way, if I thought you were anywhere close to that point. Okay?"
Richie nods, "Okay." Richie rests his head on Eddie's.
"You shouldn't be so mean to yourself about it. It happens to everyone. I mean, even Ben has gained a little bit of his weight back."
Richie snorts, "Yeah, I mean, love can do that to a man."
Eddie knocks his head against Richie's chest, laughing. Once his body has stopped shaking with laughter he rests his head against Richie's chest, taking a moment before looking back up, a serious look in his eye. "I just, I don't like that you think about yourself that way."
Richie shrugs, "I don't know. I just...don't feel good about myself. Like physically. Not like I ever have, but I guess, seeing all of the clothes I've - uh - grown out of just doesn't make me feel very good about myself. I mean, what the fuck am I going to do about it?" Richie snorts, "Go on a diet? Start exercising?"
"You could. You don't need to, but you could if it would make you feel better about yourself."
"Are you fucking serious? There's no way that I could go on a diet? Drink juice for two weeks straight? I don't have that kind of self control. And exercise? No way."
"No, no. You don't need to do any of that shit. You don't need to go all Hollywood," Eddie mocks, rolling his eyes.
"Hollywood?"
"Yeah, you don't have to start juicing and doing fuckin' Crossfit."
"Yeah, never happening."
"I just mean it doesn't have to be all or nothing. Maybe we can start eating in a little more, and start taking more walks in the evening. That's all. You can still eat at Taco Bell and play video games all evening if you want. You don't need to feel like you're sacrificing your whole life for it."
"Oh," Richie blinks. "Well, when you put it like that. Although, I don't think we'll ever find a form of exercise that I actually like. Don't even think about asking me to go running with you."
Eddie snorts. "Didn't even cross my mind."
Richie leans his head down, rubbing their noses together. "Thanks, baby," Richie says softly. "I don't know what I would do without you."
Eddie hums, rubbing his nose against Richie's. "Of course, handsome. Anytime."
"It's still going to be embarrassing to go buy a whole other wardrobe."
Eddie shakes his head, dragging their noses together more harshly. "Well, we can make it into a date night. A few date nights, actually."
"You're a genius, love."
Eddie rocks forward, leaning up on his tip-toes to press his lips to Richie's. Richie moans, pulling Eddie tight against his chest.
"You know," Richie moans, between kisses, "I think I saw an old-fashioned canopy bed on the first floor. Wanna check it out?"
Eddie laughs, the sound of it ringing in Richie's ears and in the tiny stairwell. "Save it for tonight, Tozier." Eddie kisses Richie again, swiping his tongue inside Richie's mouth this time. Eddie pulls back, leaving Richie's puckered mouth as he rocks back down on his feet. "What else?"
"Huh?" Richie blinks, coming back to himself.
"What else has been bothering you? You said something about John last night. That you thought Liam was replacing you? What was that about?"
"Oh, that. That's just a dumb thought that ran through my head when I felt like a fat cow. Oww!" Richie jerks away from Eddie's pinching fingers.
"Don't say things like that. And I'm sure it's not dumb."
"It's pretty dumb."
"Tell me."
"I don't know," Richie kicks the floor, bashfully, "It just really surprised me when I found out that John was joining the company. It's not like John and I are - uh - rivals or anything, it's just John and I have been in the biz for the same amount of time. We started working at clubs at the same time, and I don't know, his career just kind of took off. He's written for amazing shows, he's hosted SNL like three fucking times, and he's won I don't know how many Emmys! He's a friend, but I've always been a little jealous of him?" Richie cringes, feeling like a stupid teenager. "Also, he's skinny. The asshole. Like I said, it's stupid."
"It's not stupid." Eddie rubs his hand up and down Richie's back in a comforting motion. "It's natural to compare yourself to others, but I think you and John are completely different. You had to completely restart your career. And you're way fucking funnier than him, so there."
Richie snorts. "Thanks, babe."
"No, really," Eddie urges, jostling Richie. "I mean it, Rich. You're so fucking funny. And you make people so happy and it makes me so mad that people are just starting to realize that now. And you totally deserve your Emmy nominations. And I know, I know," Eddie pulls Richie, who automatically started to pull away, back to him ",that you don't like to hear that. You don't think it's a big deal but it is a big deal! You're a genius at what you do, and you deserve to be recognized for it."
Richie shuffles, squirming in Eddie's arms. "But...what if I don't win? Everyone keeps saying 'you're going to win, you're going to win,' but I don't want to disappoint anyone," he whispers.
"You're not going to disappoint anyone if you don't win, Rich. Your friends are still going to love you. And if anyone is disappointed, they can go fuck themselves."
A wet laugh shakes Richie.
"Feel better?"
Richie sniffs, "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, sweetheart."
"Of course. Anytime, baby," Eddie purrs.
Richie twitches, an automatic response to Eddie calling him 'baby'.
"Sooo, do you wanna know why I started calling you 'big guy'?" Eddie says as he lazily draws a circle on Richie's chest.
"It's not because I'm a fatty?"
"What? No! Do you remember our date night when we went to get Korean BBQ?"
"Oh, hell yeah," Richie chuckles. "That was hot. Both the food and after."
"Remember holding me up against the wall? Mhm?" Eddie pulls Richie's head down to whisper in his ear. "You remember holding me up and fucking me into the wall? Yeah? You remember how loud I was? Moaning your name the whole time? Huh? Fuck, I thought you were going to break me through the wall with how hard you were fucking me."
Richie moans, squeezing Eddie tighter. "Fuck yeah, I remember. That was so fucking hot, baby. Jesus, your legs wrapped around me." Richie's hand cups Eddie's ass, digging his fingers in.
"Mhmmm, well that's why I started calling you 'big guy.' My big, strong man," he punctuates each word, squeezing Richie's biceps. "So strong he can hold me up against a wall."
"Fuck, baby. You're getting me all riled up."
"Well," Eddie chuckles, pulling back, "you're going to have to save that for later, handsome. Stan is blowing up my phone."
/
Richie stares at the dark blue suit hanging in front of him. Even though he's in nothing but his boxers, he's sweating. His stomach is churning with nerves, afraid at how the fabric is going to squeeze his body. He can only imagine the wedding photos - a beautiful glowing bride, a happy beaming groom, both surrounded by four handsome gentlemen and one fat man.
Letting out a long dramatic sigh, he pulls the pants off of the hanger, stuffing his legs through each of the legs. He tugs them up, not bothering to zip them up just yet - wanting to put that moment off as long as possible. He rustles the white shirt on, taking a moment to suck in a breath, pumping himself up before starting to button up his shirt. The higher he goes, buttoning one after the other, he waits for the inevitable moment when the shirt starts to bite into his skin.
As he pulls the top button through, he's left feeling...comfortable. Looking down in confusion, he rolls his shoulders and then lifts his arms up. Surprisingly nothing is biting or constricting his movements. Furrowing his brow, he zips up his pants. Again, nothing. He twists his torso and then squats down, deep into the pants.
He's at a complete loss. Pulling on this blazer, he wonders if he's suddenly lost 20 pounds between this morning and now.
"Rich?" Eddie's voice calls from the other side of the curtain.
"Yeah?" Richie responds as he looks at himself in the mirror.
"Are you decent? Can I come in?"
"Baby, when am I ever decent?"
He hears Eddie huff in fond annoyance as he pulls back the curtain, enough to duck underneath. Through the mirror he sees Eddie pause, mid-step, when he catches sight of Richie.
"Ooh," Eddie, dressed in a matching dark blue suit, walks slowly toward Richie. Richie turns, blushing as Eddie racks his eyes up and down Richie's body. "You look so handsome, baby," he purrs, slotting his arms underneath Richie's, placing his hands on the small of Richie's back.
"Mhmm. You look pretty good yourself, sweetheart." Humming, Richie winds his arms around Eddie.
"Thanks." Leaning up on his tip-toes, Eddie plants a soft kiss under Richie's jaw before whispering in his ear, "You look so hot, Richie. I can't wait to get you out of this."
"Fuck, baby, do I really look that good?"
Falling back onto his feet, Eddie runs his hands up Richie's chest, pushing back his blazer, revealing his broad chest. "Fuck yeah," Eddie breathes out unevenly.
Richie growls, "Wanna do a quickie?" He sweeps his hands down Eddie's back, grabbing his ass in both hands.
A laugh burst out of Eddie. "Richie! We're in Bev's studio!"
"She'd understand." Richie dips down, capturing Eddie's lips in a heated kiss.
"Guys! Come on!" Bill's annoyed voice calls. "We have a dress rehearsal we need to get to!"
"Ok! Ok!" Eddie yells, exasperated as he pulls away from Richie. Grabbing Richie's hand he pushes back the dressing room curtain in a flourish, revealing three other Losers dressed in matching blue suits.
"Hey!" Mike smiles. "Richie! You look great!"
"Thanks," Richie says, sheepishly.
While he can admit the suit does look good on him, it looks way better on Eddie, Bill, Mike, and Stan. Each look handsome and distinguished. Richie feels like a kid playing dress up.
"Oh, you boys look so handsome!" Audra says.
"Yes," Patty nods, smiling. "Oh, we should take a picture!"
"Oh, yes! Yes!" Audra combs through her purse, looking for her phone.
"Oh, we don't have to..." Richie trails off, feeling uneasy at the idea of a photo. He didn't shave that morning.
"Nonsense!" Audra waves, still looking for her phone. "We need to send it to Bev to show her how good you boys look in her suits!"
"Oh, Rich, we need to put your tie on." He steps quickly into the dressing room, coming back out with a blue tie. "C'mere," Eddie waves, beckoning Richie forward.
After whipping the tie over Richie's head Eddie turns up Richie's collar, slipping the tie underneath it. Richie's eyes are glued to Eddie, completely entranced by the way Eddie bites his lip in concentration as he folds, slips, and tugs the tie around Richie's neck.
"You really do look good, baby," Richie whispers, slipping his hands around Eddie's waist.
Eddie smirks, his eyes quickly bouncing up to Richie and then back down to Richie's tie. "Thanks, Rich." He tugs the knot, clinching it tight. He pats against Richie's chest, grinning up at him. "There. All good."
"Alright! Alright! Pictures!" Audra yells, waving them to join the others.
Eddie and Richie shuffle to stand next to Bill, Mike, and Stan; all of them smiling as multiple flashes blind them.
Audra flips through the photos. "Perfect!"
"Oh, you should send one to Bev!" Patty adds, looking at the photos over Audra's shoulder.
"Je-sus." With his glasses in one hand, Richie rubs his eyes. "I can't see anything."
"When can you ever see anything?" Stan retorts.
"Oh! Good one, Stanny," Richie snorts, his voice laced with sarcasm.
"Excuse me? Mr. Tozier? Mr. Kaspbrak?" An assistant, holding two garment bags, steps up.
"Huh? Yeah?" Richie frowns, eyeing the garment bags as he slips on his glasses.
"Ms. Marsh would like you both to try these on." The assistant holds the garment bags.
Richie chuckles, confused. "What? Did she want to give us a second option? Oh! Even better! Do we get matching suits!?"
Eddie frowns, "We already have matching suits."
"No, no! Like for couples! Couples matching outfits."
"Oh my god," Stan moans in the background.
"Huh," the assistant shuffles awkwardly, completely taken back, "No, no. Ms. Marsh made these for your upcoming ceremony."
"Ceremony?" Richie frowns, wracking his brain.
Eddie gasps, grabbing Richie's arm. "For the Emmys!?"
Richie gapes. "No fucking way."
The assistant stutters, uncertain how to respond. He simply just holds out the two bags, allowing Eddie and Richie to take them.
Walking into the dressing room, Richie pulls the curtain shut, putting the suit on the hanger as he stares at the black bag. He delicately unzips the bag revealing a deep purple blazer with thick black wingtip lapels. Reaching into the bag, he pushes the blazer off the hanger, revealing a luscious floral lining, made of bright pinks, deep greens, and glowing yellows. He smiles, his eyes getting misty as he runs his hand over the silky fabric. Bev's really outdone herself this time.
After he puts on his clothes, he stares at himself in the mirror surprised by how much he actually likes how he looks in the suit. The fit is just like his groomsmen outfit, but this is much more...Richie. Underneath his purple blazer he's wearing a black button-on shirt on top of black pants, both accentuating the colorful top.
"Rich?" It's Eddie again.
Richie pulls back the curtain revealing Eddie in a burgundy suit, red pants and blazer on top of a bright white shirt with a black tie and shiny black shoes. At the sight of Richie, Eddie's eyes go wide.
Richie whistles. "Damn, baby. If I win I should send you up on stage. You look like someone who actually deserves to win!"
Eddie halfheartedly swats at Richie, a grin on his face. "Stop it! Jesus, Richie." Eddie pauses as his eyes drift down Richie's body. Reaching out he rests his hand on Richie's hip, tugging him forward out of the dressing room. "You look fucking incredible."
"Holy shit!" Mike says as he walks out of his dressing room tugging down the collar on his polo. "You guys look great!"
"Oh my gosh!" Patty gasps. "Those are designed perfectly for you!"
"Thank you, thank you," Richie blushes, bowing his head.
"Oh my gosh, we need to take some pictures and send them to Bev!" Patty says, flicking through her phone. "Alright, come one. Get in, get in." She waves her free hand, motioning them to stand closer to each other.
Richie and Eddie shuffle together, side stepping until their hips bump. Richie winds his arms behind Eddie's back, tugging him in closer just as Eddie rests his hand on Richie's lower back.
"Aright, boys, smile!" Patty smiles, tapping her phone a few items. Thankfully there's no flash this time. "Oh, you two look so handsome," Patty coos, looking down at her phone. "Ok, a couple more!"
"Whhaaat," Richie moans, feigning annoyance.
"Come on, Rich," Bill says, stepping up behind Patty to look at the photos. "You gotta practice your red carpet poses."
Richie groans, louder this time. "Yeah? Got any pointers Big Bill?" He's been to a couple of award ceremonies and galas in his time - although nothing as big as the Emmys - and the one thing he hates is posing for photos. He has no idea what to do with hands, so ultimately, they dangle, pathetically, at his sides.
"Here, let me," Audra jumps in, grabbing Richie lightly by the waist to angle him and Eddie toward each other. "Now," she directs toward Richie, "push back your blazer by putting a hand in your pocket so people can see that gorgeous lining Bev designed. There. Perfect. Real casual. Yes, yes! Just like that!" Backing up slowly, making sure nothing is out of place, she stands next to Patty. The rest of the gang have huddled up behind them.
"Oh, Audra, you're so good at that," Patty smiles as she takes picture after picture.
Audra shrugs. "I've had some experience walking the red carpet. I keep trying to couch Bill, but it doesn't really take," she laughs.
"Heeey," Bill whines.
"It's ok, sweetie," Audra says, sweetly hugging his arm. "You're always so sweet to come with me. I know you would much rather stay home and write."
"What? No, of course not," Bill mumbles.
This whole time Patty has been taking picture after picture, moving around to shoot at different angles. After a few more shots, she stands. "Ok," she says, giving them the thumbs up. "We're good!"
"Wait!" Richie yelps as Eddie starts to pull away from him. "One more set! Real quick."
"Really?" Eddie quirks an eyebrow at him.
"Yeah, come one," Richie smirks, grabbing Eddie around his waist, shifting him in front of him. Richie steps up behind him, winding his arms around Eddie's waist, tucking his head into the dip of Eddie's shoulder.
"Oh my god," Eddie huffs, although it's laced with fondness. "Reeeallly?"
"Yeah, come on, babe," Richie whispers into Eddie's ear. "The prom pose is a classic."
Eddie laughs, placing his hands on top of Richie's. "Ok, just for you."
Richie quickly pecks Eddie's cheek, love burning in his chest. "Love you, babe," he whispers before turning back to grin at the camera.
/
/
/
Author's Note: Didn't mean to give an art lesson in this, but I really like the idea of Patty being an artist/art teacher. The idea of Stan - the straight-laced boy scout - falling for a pretty, independent art student? *Chef kisses* I also think Richie and Patty would be the best of friends and would immediately click, which Stan would totally approve of, so I had to write a section with them.
References:
All of the paints I referenced are located at the Art Institute of Chicago:
The Van Gogh painting of the blue walls and yellow bed is The Bedroom.
.edu/artworks/28560/the-bedroom
The painting with the fireplace and train is Time Transfixed by Rene Magritte
.edu/artworks/34181/time-transfixed
The painting with the diner is Nighthawks by Edward Hopper
.edu/artworks/111628/nighthawks
A Nighthawk is a type of bird! They can be found in North & South America
Richie's painting is A Sunday Afternoon on the Island La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat.
.edu/artworks/27992/a-sunday-on-la-grande-jatte-1884
The bronze statue of the nude women that Eddie & Richie are looking at is Woman (Elevation) by Gaston Lachaise
.edu/artworks/58839/woman-elevation
The movie that Richie and Patty are referencing is Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
"Agapornis" is a type of small parrot that is typically referred to as a Lovebird.