Chapter Text
Richie thought about Eddie a bit too much in class- so much so, that he was beginning to worry himself. Once he started fantasizing about dark brown eyes, bruised shins, pink shirts, scabbed yet clean, covered elbows- he knew he was going to be in for an unproductive class. But god, what did Mendel even do for the world that could compare to the effect that Eddie had on Richie’s life? Biology had no priority over the pretty boy Richie held so fondly in his heart.
Yes, the pretty boy, who wore sometimes overalls, and sometimes short baby blue shorts. Who had eyelashes that would knock brick houses down in less than a second, and had lips that shined with what Richie could only assume were the balms of pure bliss (probably lip smackers- lemon, if he had to guess; but he wanted to know). A pretty boy who looked very, very different to the dirty boy that Richie knew he was.
Richie didn't wear the powdered blues and bubblegum pinks that Eddie would flounce around in. He wore gray, red, and black instead- as cut off shorts and ripped jeans, bruises always peeking through the holes of the knees. Instead of the soft brown waves that Eddie had, Richie had thick ringlets in his almost black hair that were all tangled together; like girthy, inky roots of old and dying trees. His shoes were not held together by velcro, nor were they regularly cleaned by a boy a bit too high maintenance for his own good. Richie’s laugh was not as bright, his hands were not as soft, his skin was not as warm-
But just because they were so different didn't stop Richie from so desperately going after Eddie, and all he had to offer.
After the class bell blared, and he wiped at the warmness in his cheeks, he found himself on a mission. He usually didn't cross paths with Eddie after this class had ended, but he had fawned particularly hard over the boy this go around and he needed to actually feel him. He needed to press his chapped lips against a freckled cheek and ruffle the hairs that danced around his ears. Ears that would sometimes have pencils shoved behind them, ears that burned bright red when he was frustrated and also when he was cold. Ears that would listen to Richie’s joke, a nose that would crinkle in disgust and amusement, lips that would purse and spout- a full Eddie that would give him attention and drag him down into another pit of what seemed like unrequited hell.
But in actuality he was an Eddie who loved him just as much as Richie loved, but wasn't sure how to say it. Especially as he watched the now jogging gangly boy trying to endearingly catch up to him before his next class.
His words, Eddies, always seemed to get stuck in his windpipe. But he couldn't help it all that much. The same way that Richie thought of Eddie, Eddie dreamily thought of the dirty boy himself.
The dirty boy, yeah. The one with boots that came halfway up his scarred and cigarette burned calves. With a smile so big and beautiful that it could replace the face on the moon. With glasses thick enough to amplify the sparkle and crinkle and small twinkle in his eyes, which Eddie would find himself getting lost in without much of a reason to. The dirty boy who smelled like bad cologne and arcades and menthols- the boy who somehow always managed to take Eddie’s breath away (if only for a moment).
Richie managed to get to Eddie from across the hall, his long- long, long, long- arm wrapping around the smaller set of shoulders on the duo, pale fingers squeezing into Eddie’s bicep. The long awaited peck Richie was previously drooling over was given, but instead of the cheek he just barely reached for Eddie’s temple- planting a sloppy one right on the smoothed surface of his forehead. His nose brushed against the hair that framed the pretty boy’s forehead and he took a discreet sniff, to remember for later.
Strawberry. It was always strawberry, and it was so, distinctly Eddie at this point. He still wanted to get to know what he assumed was lemon, but Richie would always take what he could get with Eddie. And Eddie would do the same.
Every touch that Richie gave felt like it burned- but Eddie loved it. It burned like the pleasant rays of the sun and lingered like freckles or a nasty sunburn. He loved when he could feel the slight spasm of Richie’s arm or hand against his back. Like a rabbit jumped over Richie’s grave, just to help remind Eddie that the boy was still there. Or, especially, when he could feel the light exhale of breath just after his soft yet sparse face kisses. This time around there was no exhale, but there was a warm patch that seemed to spread across Eddie’s face. It felt like a gift, but he wasn't sure for what, or if he particularly deserved it.
A present it was, for sure, but a curse it felt like it could be as well. He couldn’t react as he wanted- as he needed to, by melting into Richie’s side and looking up into brown eyes much more inky than his own. Especially in the hall, in public, Eddie immediately knew he had to act disgusted. His nose did the crinkle that Richie loved so, so much, and his hands went up to Richie’s chin, to pinch and push him away. There was a light popping sound when the wet kiss had been detached that the pretty boy felt in his quick beating heart.
"Wow, gross. Did you really haul your flat ass here to give me some other girls mono? I am touched-“ he looked at the hand that still was tightly wrapped around his arm, “in more ways than one- but I think I already got it from your sister, so there's no point in trying to infect me now." Eddie scoffed, releasing the grip he had on Richie’s chin- but not before giving it a squeeze. A squeeze that made Richie’s chin sore but his breath flutter.
"The special lady I got it from was your mother, so hell Eddiebear, you probably infected your mom yourself! I see the way you kiss her on the cheek, you oedipal complex motherfu-"
"Hey, hey Richie?" Eddie’s voice interrupted him before he could finish speaking. his tone was softer than what he had expected to come out of the pretty boy’s mouth- it almost shocked him, making him go quiet. Richie’s grip on eddies arm loosened and slid down to be closer to the crevice of his elbow, taking his time to look down at Eddie. He witnessed Eddie’s lip twitch, his brows becoming furrowed- and Richie just knew he had to take him seriously, if only for a second.
"Yeah, Eddie, what's up?"
"I just wanted to make a suggestion to you,” he let out a soft exhale before reaching to the hand that was still cradling his arm. He began to slowly pry the fingers off one by one, before pinching Richie's pinkie in between two sharp nails, “learn how to shut the fuck up- beep beep, if you will. My mom doesn't have mono, especially not from me, you sick fuck. Now go to class, because the fact that you’re here and not halfway across the building by now is tragic in regards to your dwindling focus on your education."
Richie clenched his teeth at the pinch before yanking his hand away, giving it a shake. He grimaced, making that beautiful, expressive face all the more froggy, before cracking a smile and letting out a small laugh that came from deep within in his chest.
“Wow, kinky, Kaspbrak! And yet so caring. Maybe next time we get this rough, I can give you a safe word. And maybe next time, I’ll let you graze my voluptuous tits instead.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, rolled them hard, before giving Richie a push to the direction of his class. Just in the middle of his back is where his hand had rested for just a second too long, and he was able to feel the curves in Richie’s spine beneath his layered shirts. He wanted to follow the curve up, follow the curve down- down, down, down?- but he yanked his hand away so that he could properly dismiss the other before they were both going to be horribly late to class.
“In your dreams, Tozier. How about you start actually washing your shirts after you wear them five times, and then we’ll talk about your tits. Now, shoo.”
And with that, they went, both heads swimming and skin warmed by the others obvious yet unnoticed affections.