Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time it happens is the Monday before Christmas break. The morning had been perfectly normal up until this point; he had done his best to brush off his mother and her worries about him riding his bike to school in the cold as usual, met Richie at the end of his street as usual, and met the rest of the losers outside by the bike rack just as usual. When things become utterly unusual is when they make their way into the school, Stan and Richie going left towards their lockers and Bill, Mike, Ben, Beverly, and Eddie turning the right-hand corner onto the hall towards their own.

Bill is the first to veer off towards his locker, with Mike and Ben following suit a little ways down the hall and it isn’t until they turn away from their friends that Bev stops in her tracks, causing Eddie to almost collide face first into her back.

But before he can let out a snarky comment to tell her that she’s hogging the hallway, he sees what it was that made her stop so suddenly and the words catch in his throat. Taped to his locker door is a yellow rose and an envelope.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, Eddie,” Beverly teases, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow and breaking him out of his shocked silence. In response he merely scoffs, shoving past her and stalking haughtily the rest of the way down the hall.

“It’s probably just some asshole who think they’re so fucking funny,” he says over his shoulder to Beverly, rolling his eyes as she leans against her locker with a reproachful look on her face. “Don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true,” he continues as he rips the envelope from the cool metal. “It’s everyone’s favorite game lately - let’s make fun of the homo!”

He laughs at her responding scoff.

“Let’s see what they’ve got,” he says with a sardonic chuckle, tearing the envelope open carelessly and ignoring the poorly drawn hearts on the front of the envelope.

He pulls a piece of paper out and unfolds it. The first thing he notices is that it’s been printed out, not handwritten. The second thing he notices is what the printed message actually says which only manages to make his day even stranger.

“Eddie,

I’ve been wanting to tell you this for awhile but I didn’t know how, so I thought this might be the best way to go about it. You make coming to school worthwhile. I think you’re so cute...like, holy shit you don’t even realize how cute you are and you kill me every time I see you. Polo shirts are so dumb and I hate them but you look so perfect in them and you make me love them on you. And your fanny pack - nobody wears fanny packs, but you do and it’s just so natural on you? How is it that you make the dumbest stuff look like it should be on a magazine cover?

And on top of that, you’re so brave and I really admire how you still hold your head up so high even when people are being assholes about you being gay.

I realized I wanted to kiss you when you spit in Henry Bowers face last year when he called you a fag, but I think I wanted to be with you for a lot longer than that too. It just took me awhile to figure it out because I’m a fucking idiot.

So don’t make a big deal about this or anything, I just figured since it was Christmas time, it would be nice to let you know that someone here in Derry thinks that you’re really great (it’s me, in case you were wondering). And maybe sometime I’ll have the nerve to tell you in person. Maybe.

Love,

Your Secret Santa Admirer

P.S. I promise this isn’t a joke. I know you’re going to think it is, but it’s not.”

Eddie reads it over twice, his jaw dropping and can’t help it as his thoughts stray to a certain loudmouth friend that he’s been wanting to kiss since middle school.

Bev’s voice is what drags him out of his reverie.

“Earth to Eddie, come in Eddie,” she says and he jumps, startled as a her hand waves in front of his face. “What the hell does that even say, seems like they spooked you pretty good,” she continues, looking at Eddie with concern in her eyes. “Who’s ass do I have to kick?”

Eddie folds the paper up as she makes a grab for it.

“Nobody,” he replies a little too quickly, silently reminding himself that he’s being stupid. There’s no way Richie would do this. “Nobody, it’s just a stupid prank.”

She’s quicker than he is though and she’s snatched the note out of his hand before he can shove it back in the envelope and out of her reach, eyeing him suspiciously as she unfolds it and begins to read.

“Holy shit,” she breathes out, a smile spreading across her face and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Shit, Eddie this is so awesome, you have a secret admirer!”

“Who’s got what now?”

They both turn around at the sound of Mike’s voice and see Bill, Mike, and Ben coming up behind them. Eddie makes to grab for the note, blushing furiously but once again Bev is faster, and the note is in Mike’s hand, Bill and Ben looking over his shoulder at it.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Eddie turns to his locker and busies himself with his books, his face burning as he hears the excited whoops of his friends behind him.

“Well damn, Eddie!” Mike exclaims, clapping him on the back.

“Yeah, you’re a regular C-C-Casanova,” Bill teases with a smile and Eddie lets his head fall back as he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Just give it back,” he snaps, pulling the yellow rose down from the locker door and holding his other hand out, relieved when Ben, who had been holding it, placed it back in his hand apologetically. Leave it to Ben to make him feel like a jerk when they were the ones teasing him .

“Do you think you know who it might be?” Ben asks quietly, looking at Eddie with what looks like genuine curiosity, and Eddie turns back to his locker again, even though he already has everything he needs and he knows they all know it.

“No,” he says, busying himself with the books that are already perfectly organized on the shelf. “I have no idea and it doesn’t matter because it’s obviously a prank,” he says, tossing the note and the rose inside the locker as he slams it shut.

Richie doesn’t see Eddie until lunch, but word travels fast in a small high school like theirs, especially what with the scene their friends had apparently made in the hall that morning outside Eddie’s locker. He had been hearing whispers all day about ‘that Kaspbrak kid having a secret queer admirer’ and ‘damn who knew there were more fags like him here in Derry?’ .

Eddie must have been hearing them too because when he finally makes his way to their table at lunch, his head is down and he looks exhausted.

Richie feels terrible.

“Hiya Eds!” he calls out anyway (because the last thing he needs is for Eddie to figure out that it’s his fault that the entire school is talking about him). “I’ve been hearing some interesting stuff all day, now what’s this I hear about a love letter?” he teases, wagging his eyebrows at Eddie, as he throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie just glares in response and shrugs out of his grasp, drawing a peal of laughter out of Richie as he snaps back, “Don’t call me that. And it’s none of your business.”

“Oh come on, Spaghetti man!” he wheedles. “Tell me all about him! Is he smooth and poetic like Benny Boy here?” he cackles jauntily as he squeezes himself between Stan and Eddie, and gestures at Ben, who just blushes and rolls his eyes. “Or is he creepy and stalkerish?”

He reaches out to snatch one of Eddie’s chips, only to have his hand slapped away and he brings his hand back to his chest.

“Ooh, feeling feisty today are we?” he teases, before draping himself over Eddie’s shoulders. “Come on, Eds take pity on me, my mother doesn’t feed me - we can’t all have babes like Mrs. K packing us nutritious food pyramid compliant lunches every day!”

“God, you’re so disgusting,” Eddie grumbles but Richie watches triumphantly as he reaches begrudgingly into his lunch bag. “Here if you’re so desperate for something nutritious, you can have my carrots,” he challenges and Richie’s face falls into a grimace.

“I think I’ll take my chances with the mystery meat,” he says wrinkling his nose and standing. “You know, sometimes I think you don’t really love me, Spaghetti,” he grumbles, ruffling Eddie’s perfectly coiffed hair as the smaller boy squawks and shoves Richie’s hand away from his scalp.

Once he’s far enough away and in line to get whatever garbage they have set aside for free meal kids like him, he turns to chance a glance over his shoulder back at the losers’ table. He smiles to himself as he watches the annoyance melt out of Eddie. Sure he might be pissing Eddie off but at least he doesn’t look so worn down anymore. He’s smiling and rolling his eyes while Bev, Mike, and Bill look like they’re pressing him for more information about this mystery guy, while Ben (to Richie’s relief) busies himself with his lunch.

The only one who knows what he’s up to is Ben. Richie had shown up outside his house over the weekend and begged Ben to help him figure out what to say to Eddie in the letters. Sure, Stan had been his best friend since diapers, but Stan would just roll his eyes, and he would never live it down if he told Bev what he wanted to do.

Ben was the perfect partner in crime. He was a hopeless romantic, he was poetic, and he loved love almost as much as he loved his friends. So Ben had assured Richie that he was happy for him and had spent hours listening to Richie talk about Eddie and helping him get his feelings onto the paper.

He hopes Eddie believed him that it wasn’t a joke.

When he looked back at the others it was to find Stan staring at him suspiciously. Trying not to panic, Richie flashes him a shit-eating grin before turning on his heel as the line moved forward. He grabbed a tray, grimacing at the usual sad fare of a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a carton of 2% milk, and brought it to the cashier, mumbling his name to her as she gives him a pitying smile and checked off his name on her list.

He makes his way back to the table, dropping his tray carelessly to the table and flopping back into his seat, ignoring the worried looks of his friends as they eyed his lunch. He knew they knew better than to say anything at this point.

“Any headway on Operation: Who’s Eddie’s Secret Man?” he asked jovially, in an attempt to divert the attention from his pitiful lunch, poking Eddie in the ribs as he does so. This only earns him the expected shove and he took it as an opportunity to wrap an arm around Eddie’s neck and squeeze him into an almost strangling side hug. The others laugh with him as Eddie sputters and yanks Richie’s arm off of him, red-faced glaring.

“He’s being very tight-lipped about it if you must know,” Bev teases. “He didn’t even want us to look at it this morning!”

“Gee, I wonder why!” Eddie grouses. “You only broadcasted it to the entire hallway, and now the whole school has been staring at me all day.”

Bev, Bill, and Mike have the decency to look embarrassed at this, but Richie barked out a laugh and reached out to pinch Eddie’s cheek.

“Aw, that’s just because you’re looking especially precious today, Eds!” he laughs. “You can’t blame the whole student body for finally noticing!”

Eddie slaps his hand away once more and wipes at his cheek as if Richie had smeared mud across his face. “Besides,” he snaps, glaring at Richie for a moment before letting out yet another long-suffering sigh. “It doesn’t matter who it is, because we all know this is just another elaborate prank to humiliate me for being gay.”

Richie feels like Eddie just slapped him across the face.

He had known when he was writing it that the thought would occur to Eddie but he had tried so hard to be as genuine as possible and had even tried to tell him that he was serious in the note.

But instead of letting himself be discouraged, he makes a show of rolling his eyes and decides he’s just going to have to keep trying. “Oh come on, Eds,” he says warmly. “Don’t be so modest!” and ignores the millionth eye roll from his smaller friend.

Eddie would eventually realize that his secret admirer meant every word that he said.

Richie also tries to ignore the burning feeling of Stan staring at him as he tears a bite out of the mushy sandwich in front of him. Neither of them says anything when Eddie glances at him as he does so before reaching back into his lunch bag and silently pulling out a bag of Famous Amos cookies and sliding them onto Richie’s lunch tray, but Richie suddenly feels warmer than he’s felt all day.

Chapter Text

The next morning Eddie finds that he’s almost disappointed when he walks up to his locker to find nothing taped to the front of it. No matter how much he had tried to remind himself that there was no way anyone could possibly be doing this seriously, there was still a traitorous part of him that had been so hopeful about it. His disappointment was quickly squashed out by his irritation with himself for falling for it even a tiny bit and he berated himself internally for a moment, rolling his eyes to himself and ignoring Bev’s pitying look from a few lockers over.

He makes quick work of his lock and pulls it out, yanking the door open.

Only to be faced with the shocking sight of another yellow rose, this time sitting neatly on top of his books with an identical envelope to the one from yesterday tucked beneath it.

Before he can catch himself, his heart flutters and feels as though it’s rising to his throat and he can’t help the warm feeling filling his cheeks. The moment doesn’t last long though, and he quickly schools his expression back to annoyed neutrality, before quickly tucking the envelope in between the pages of his book and discretely putting the rose neatly into his backpack which he hangs from the hook in his locker.

Face still hidden in his locker, he takes another moment to busy himself with his things as he wills away the flush on his face. He doesn’t want anyone else to know about the new letter until he’s had a chance to read it himself.

He closes the door just as Bev walks up to his locker, giving him a sympathetic look as she approaches. Bill, Mike, and Ben are coming up behind her as she begins to speak, Mike and Bill with similar looks of confusion.

“No note today?” Bev asks quietly, and Eddie knows that she feels bad for causing such a scene yesterday morning.

‘Too little, too late,’ he thinks uncharitably for a moment, but he knows he’s kidding himself. He knows his friends meant well, and he knows he can’t stay mad at them for long. If it wasn’t this, the rest of the student body of Derry would have found something else to gossip about him, and it’s not like Bev herself is a stranger to how cruel their classmates can be.

Instead of answering, he shrugs noncommittally, hoping she will take the vague answer as disappointment and not question it further. Mike, Bill, and Bev share a sad, concerned look, and Eddie shoulders his backpack, not noticing that Ben’s look of confusion is different.

“I’ve gotta run to the bathroom before class,” he says quickly, turning to look at them. “I’ll see you all in class, yeah?”

Without waiting for a response, he nods and turns over his shoulder towards the boy’s bathroom, ignoring Bill’s confused call after him, reminding him how much he hates public restrooms.

His friends aren’t stupid, and he should have known his friends would remember that Eddie always waits until he’s home to use the bathroom and knows he’s going to be asked questions when he sees them all later. His curiosity has been piqued though, and there’s no way he can wait until he gets home to find out what the letter says.

Relieved to find that the bathroom is empty, he quickly ducks into the handicap stall and locks it behind him, not wanting anyone to walk in on him reading it, but also not wanting to be in a space small enough where he might actually have to touch the public toilets.

As soon as he’s behind the safety of the locked door, he opens the textbook to reveal the envelope, adorned with the same crooked hearts that were scrawled across the the front of yesterday’s envelope. This time, he can’t help the small smile that finds its way to his face as he, carefully this time, opens the envelope.

This time his hopeful side is winning out, and is much louder than the now small voice in the back of his mind that tries to tell him that this is probably the punchline, and that this letter will surely say something along the lines of ‘Ha ha can’t believe you fell for it, fag!’

Inside is another printed letter, and he bites his lip softly as he reads.

“Eddie,

I meant what I said in the note yesterday. I hope you believe me now, and I hope that if not, the flowers can tell you exactly how I feel about you. You’re so beautiful and you light up my life as stupid and sappy as that sounds. Maybe I should have gone with sunflowers? But no, you can’t go wrong with a good old fashioned rose.

Roses kind of remind me of you anyway. They’re beautiful and they might look delicate to some people but they’re sharp and can defend themselves too. They don’t go down without a fight. You’re the sharpest person I know, I hope you know that. You’re also one of the kindest and most loving people I know so I think the roses are a good choice. Besides, sunflowers are the opposite. They look strong but really they’re so fragile, and that’s not you at all.

I’m sorry for causing a scene yesterday. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or get everyone spreading rumors about you. This school (and this whole damn town, really) doesn’t deserve you but I’m selfish so I’m glad that you’re here.

Love,

Your Secret Santa Admirer”

This time he can’t deny the pounding in his chest and he revels in the warm feeling that the letter brings him. He’s glad to be in the privacy of the bathroom and not out in the hall with his friends. He knows that he’ll let the others see it now that he’s (pretty) sure that it’s not a prank, but he’s happy he saved this moment of reading it first for just himself.

He knows that he can’t dwell on it for long though, unless he wants to be late for class, so he carefully folds the paper once more and slides it back into the envelope, tucking it neatly back in between the pages of his English text-book.

He manages to slide into his seat of his first period class just as the bell rings and ignores the curious and suspicious looks from Stan across the room and Bill in the seat next to his. Using small motions so as not to draw the attention of the teacher, he surreptitiously scrawls a note and tears the page out of his notebook. Folding it neatly and, as the teacher turns to pick up the attendance log, passes it to Bill.

“Today’s note was inside the locker. I wanted to read it myself before I told you all. I’ll show it to you at lunch.”

He sees Bill smile out of the corner of his eye as he reads Eddie’s note, and is relieved that Bill is able to get the note out of site before the teacher turns around again.

One last thought occurs to him before he opens his book to follow along with the teacher, and that is the realization that whoever this is, they know his locker combination. He doesn’t have much time to think about the implications of this though, as he opens to a clean page of his notebook to take notes.

The first thing Richie hears about Eddie today is from Stan, who he sees in his second period study hall. He knows that Stan is in Eddie’s English class and desperately wants to ask if he said anything, but knows that would just give him away. He also knows Stan is suspicious already, so he doesn’t want to invite that kind of attention.

Logically, he knows that Stan wouldn’t hate him if he knew how Richie felt about Eddie. Stan was his best friend, and besides, he had suspicions about Stan’s sexuality too. He had been Richie’s first kiss when they were in elementary school and Stan hadn’t been grossed out by it, but they had also never talked about it since and Richie had quickly realized that his feelings for Stan were much different (and much more platonic) than his feelings for Eddie.

The way Stan looked at Mike sometimes when he thought no one was watching, told him that he wasn’t the only one of them who felt that way too, but he wasn’t about to bring that up. Despite his usual lack of tact, he knew better than to throw stones from glass houses.

So he was glad that Stan brought it up on his own, though he could do without the knowing raised eyebrow that came with it.

“Eddie was almost late for first period today,” he said quietly as he sits in his usual seat next to Richie. To be honest, Richie could do without Stan’s cryptic bullshit but he could roll with it.

“He was probably busy washing his hands a thousand times,” he joked easily, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his seat, hoping he looked more casual than he felt. With a glance to his left at Stan, he saw his friend rolling his eyes back at Richie.

“You know as well as I do that Eddie is never late for class,” Stan said, voice level, but Richie can hear the hint of curiosity in his voice. “I think it has something to do with the Secret Admirer from yesterday.”

Well. That was much more to the point than Richie expected. Stan was looking at him expectantly and Richie did his best to put on his usual lazy smile, even though he knew that he was terrible at lying to Stan.

“I don’t know, Staniel. Eddie seemed pretty sure that was a joke yesterday,” he said, testing the waters, continuing when Stan’s only response was another raised eyebrow. “What, did he say something to you about it?”

Stan’s gaze narrowed minutely, and Richie could tell Stan was examining his reactions with the mental equivalent of a finely toothed comb. He rolled his eyes once again before continuing. “What, you gonna make me guess, Stanley my manley?”

“No,” Stan says neutrally. “I’m stuck on the other side of the room, but he passed Bill a note this morning and after class, Bill told me that he got another letter.”

“Well I don’t know what you’re expecting to get out of me, buddy,” Richie jokes.

“Just wondering if you might know anything about that,” his friend says in response, and Richie hates how evenly keeled Stan always sounds.

“You know as well as I do that I haven’t seen Eddie since we got here this morning,” he says in his defense. “How the hell would I know anything about it?”

He’s getting a bit too defensive and he knows it. Stan knows it too but Stan is nothing if not patient, and after fixing Richie with another long stare, turns back to the front and pulls his books out to study. Richie knows Stan doesn’t jump to conclusions and won’t voice his suspicions until he knows that he’s right, and Richie breathes an almost imperceptible sigh of relief at that.

“Just curious,” Stan says, not looking at Richie this time, and the finality with which he says it tells Richie that the conversation is over.

Richie’s nerves are on high alert the rest of the morning and is almost relieved when he gets to the lunch table and Eddie isn’t there yet. He makes his way through the lunch line as quickly as he can and returns to the table with his mushy peanut butter and jelly and 2% milk and drops it to the table, entirely not casually ensuring that the only seats left are the ones on either side of him.

“What’s up, fuckers?” he asks as he leans his elbows on the table in front of him.

“Eddie got another note this morning!” Bev fills him in excitedly. “Bill told us as soon as he got here. We haven’t had a chance to read it yet though!”

Richie feels a tug of embarrassment at the idea of the other losers reading what he’s written to Eddie, but reminds himself that that’s why he did this anonymously, and hopes that his cheeks haven’t turned pink.

“Yeah, Stan told me all about it in study hall this morning,” he says instead as he pops open his milk carton. “Where is Spaghetti Head anyway?”

“I’m right here asshole,” comes the dulcet, annoyed tones of Eddie himself, behind him. “And that’s not my fucking name.”

“Well yeah, and I do know that out of all of us, Stan’s hair looks the most like Spaghetti, but Stanthony has his own nicknames, Eds!” Richie retorts, ignoring Stan’s look of irritation as he happily slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders when he sits beside Richie. He’s pleased when Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn’t pull away from his arm and pulls his lunch out.

“Come on, Eddie, are you really gonna make us keep waiting?” Bev teases, not wasting any time. “Let’s see it!”

Richie smiles slightly at the sight of Eddie’s flushed face as he gives them a small embarrassed smile, and pulls out his English textbook and then from within it’s pages, a familiar envelope. He tries to hand it to Bev, but Richie is quick to snatch it out of his hand.

“Let’s see what this loser has to say about our Eds!” he says with a wink, as he pulls the paper out from the envelope, and ignoring the protests of their friends that the word ‘loser’ is hardly an insult in their circle.

“Shut up, Richie,” Bev says with an annoyed sigh, but it’s accompanied by a good natured smile as she takes the note from him, and lays it on the table where they could all read it.

“This is so s-sweet, Eddie,” Bill says after a long moment, looking up at Eddie with a bright smile. “I w-wuh-wonder who it is!”

“I bet it’s your lab partner!” Bev exclaims. “You’re always saying how much nicer he is, and how he’s never made fun of you like everyone else has.”

“Oh come on,” Richie grumbles, suddenly annoyed at someone he’s never met. “Like Eddie would be interested in an egghead like that!”

“What do you know, trashmouth?” Eddie argues, turning to him. “You’ve never even met Gerald!”

“And I don’t need to! With a name like Gerald , that tells me all I need to know,” Richie snarks back. “And besides, are you even interested in Gerry?”

“Well...no,” Eddie starts. “But-”

“Well there you go!” Richie says, but silently decides he might need to find out what this Gerald guy’s deal is. He tries not to get so defensive about the rest of the losers’ guesses, and shares a soft smile with Eddie when he quietly places a fruit roll up on Richie’s lunch tray.

-

Later that day, Richie bikes Eddie home like usual and once Eddie is inside the house and has turned away from the window he waves to Richie from, it’s time. As soon as he’s out of Eddie’s sight, he bikes back in the direction he had just come from instead of continuing on to his own house. He makes a pit stop at the flower stand on Main Street, looking over his shoulder before he does so to ensure no one he knows is around, and pedals all the way back to the school as quickly as he can.

The freezing wind is blowing in his face, and his ears and fingers are burning from the cold (lack of proper winter clothing will do that to you), when he arrives back outside the large brick building. Normally he would never be caught dead here outside of school hours (and sometimes not even during them), but this week was far from normal for Richie as well. He stops into the library to use the school’s monstrous computer, and as soon as he’s printed out tomorrow’s note, steals an envelope from the librarian’s desk.

He hastily scribbles Eddie’s name on the front, surrounded by a few hearts and slips the paper inside, before tossing the pen down haphazardly and making his way to Eddie’s locker. He’s looking down as he turns the corner to the hall, pulling tomorrow’s flower from within his denim jacket, when a familiar voice stops him in his tracks.

“I knew it was you.”

His blood runs cold as he looks up to see Stan leaning against Eddie’s locker, with a small smile on his face.

“Please don’t tell Eddie,” Richie pleads (and Stan better not tell anyone that Richie begged him for anything or Richie would kill his friend). “Please don’t.”

Stan actually looked offended at the insinuation that he would do such a thing, and was quick to put Richie’s mind at ease.

“I’m not gonna do that, Rich, I just wanted to know if my suspicions were true. You’ve been acting weird the last few days,” Stan says calmly. “Besides, I think this is...nice,” he admits begrudgingly. “Eddie deserves to have something nice happen to him after all the shit he’s faced. You better not do something stupid like pretend this is a joke if he finds out, though.”

“Who says it’s not?” Richie tries, but the glare Stan fixes him with silences that quickly. “Okay, fine, it was worth a shot,” he says. “You gonna help me now that you know?”

Stan actually laughs at this and Richie is almost offended.

“God, no. I’m not getting involved,” Stan says, after his laughter dies down. “Yellow roses, though?” he says with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with that?” Richie asks, bewildered. “Yellow’s his favorite color. Rose’s mean love.”

Stan opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but quickly thinks better of it and closes it. Better to let this play out as it will. Besides, he said he wasn’t getting involved and he meant it.

“Nothing,” he says with a smirk. “You’re right, it’s great.”

Richie is too relieved that Stan isn’t going to tell Eddie to realize that he really shouldn’t brush that smirk off as easily as he does.

“Thanks, Stan,” he says. “You really are the man,” he continues with a wink.

“Shut up before I change my mind,” Stan says with a laugh and walks off towards the entrance, Richie following in tow.

Chapter Text

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, about fifteen minutes before his alarm goes off, he doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s not looking forward to getting to his locker. He had completely given up on trying to convince himself that this was a joke and if he was being completely honest with himself, it felt really nice knowing someone was feeling like this about him. Even if he knew it wasn’t Richie, it felt good to be wanted.

He smiled to himself, rolling over and reaching for the top drawer of his nightstand where he had hidden the last two days’ notes under a false bottom that Bill had helped him install when they were kids. The last thing he needed was for his mother to find them.

He could feel his heart flutter softly as he takes a moment to look at the scribbled hearts on the front, before extracting the pages from their respective envelopes. He’s careful not to bend or wrinkle them and examines them for clues as to who this mystery boy might be, nevermind the fact that he had read them both over and over again the previous night to no avail, and had already memorized the contents of each of them.

‘The flowers can tell you exactly how I feel about you’ yesterday’s note had said. He doesn’t know much about flower meanings himself, but clearly, this person had put a lot of thought into it. Another reminder that there’s no way this could be Richie, but the idea that anyone is thinking these things about him is nice to think about. He’ll have to look in the library during his study period for a book about flower meanings.

There isn’t much more time to think about it for now though, and with a glance at his clock, he sees that it’s going to go off any minute now. Quickly, he places the letters gently back into their place beneath the false bottom of his drawer and closes it before dragging himself out of bed.

He’s brushing his teeth when the thought occurs to him that if he hurries, he might be able to catch whoever it is in the act, and with a newfound fervor, combs his hair and dresses as quickly as he can. He grabs a granola bar from the cupboard and kisses his mother on the cheek, racing out the door and ignoring her concerned shrieks as he slams the door behind him.

He drags his bike out the door and practically throws his leg over the seat, and once his helmet has been strapped to his head, he pedals out of the driveway and down the street. The ride to school isn’t far, only about two and a half miles from his house, and the adrenaline he’s feeling makes it feel even shorter. His heart is racing and he thinks for a moment, that he’s never usually this impulsive, but the curiosity that has been piqued by this mystery guy has made this week far from normal for Eddie.

It’s not until he skids to a stop outside the school and pulls his bike up to the rack that he realizes that in his haste to beat his admirer to the school, he had forgotten about meeting Richie outside of his house.

He feels bad for a moment, but the need to know beats it out. He’s sure Richie will be fine without him for one morning, so he locks his bike to the rack and runs towards the school, pace slowing as he opens the heavy front doors.

The halls are empty, which he guesses he should expect at 6:15, but the office lights are on and he can see the secretary at her desk through the window. Before she can look up to see him, he turns to the right and makes his way down the hall, stopping for a moment as he gets to the corner. He pauses and takes a final breath before turning the corner, only to find the hall empty.

Hoping this means that he’s beaten the mystery guy to the punch, he looks over his shoulder for a moment before racing down the hall to his locker, making quick work of the padlock and wrenching the door open.

To his disappointment, he’s faced with the familiar sight of a yellow rose and an envelope perched on top of his books. With a sigh, he pulls them out and smiles begrudgingly at the hearts on the envelope. This guy must be getting here pretty damn early then.

‘Another sign that this is definitely not Richie,’ his brain supplies, but he tries not to let it get to him.

Shaking the thought away, he looked at the rose and smelled it thoughtfully. He’d just have to get here even earlier tomorrow, he decided and tried to think about who it could possibly be. Really the only plausible suggestion the losers had been able to come up with yesterday was in fact, Gerald and Eddie tried to think about how he might feel if it did end up being Gerald.

Gerald was...nice. He was never anything but kind to Eddie, which is more than he could say about pretty much anyone else outside the losers club and he was hardly bad looking. He was kind of cute in a really nerdy way, Eddie guessed.

But when he tried to imagine holding Gerald’s hand or kissing him, it felt wrong. His brain automatically overwriting Gerald’s thin pianist fingers with Richie’s calloused ones, replacing Gerald’s neat dirty blonde hair with Richie’s wild dark curls, and…

‘Come on, Eddie,’ he scolds himself. ‘You can’t wait forever when someone else might be right in front of you.’

Instead of letting himself spend any more time thinking about Richie, he neatly pries up the sealed envelope, careful not to rip it and pulls out the now familiar sheet of printer paper. He wondered what this guy’s handwriting was like. It would make sense for Gerald to use the printer, he guessed. What with being lab partners, Eddie was almost as familiar with Gerald’s handwriting as he was with the losers, and Gerald would know that, he’s sure.

Looking down at the neatly typed letter with a soft smile, he began to read.

“Eddie,

I hope you had a good night. You certainly made my day yesterday (just like you do every day). I love how you’re always looking out for your friends - you’re so quiet and unassuming about it, but just know it doesn’t go unnoticed and it means a lot. You care so much and it really shows in the way you look after everybody. I wish there were more people in the world who give a shit the way you do.

You looked so handsome yesterday, by the way. I miss the short shorts now that it’s cold out but those pants you were wearing practically gave me a heart attack. I had a hard time not staring and I was worried you might notice. But you don’t think about me that way so it probably wouldn’t have occurred to you anyway. It’s really okay - I don’t say that to make you feel bad! I’ve come to terms with it, and I know you’ve been feeling alone being the only out gay guy here at Derry so I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone and that someone out there is daydreaming about you.

I’m sorry I’m not out there with you. Sometimes I think people think I’m not afraid of anything, but I’m not as brave as you are. I don’t know if I could be out without you there by my side. Keep doing what you’re doing because as cheesy as it sounds (and who am I kidding, all these letters have been cheesy) you inspire me.

Love,

Your Secret Santa Admirer

Eddie is relieved that he had gotten to school so early and was no longer so disappointed that he hadn’t beat this guy to the punch by the time he finished reading the letter. There are hints of tears pricking in his eyes and the last thing he wants is for anyone else to see him reacting to it like this.

He doesn’t know what this guy is seeing in him if he’s being honest. He has never really considered himself to be brave before, and it isn’t like coming out had been a choice that he had made. He had just gotten sick of trying to lie when people accused him of it and had stopped trying to defend himself and everyone had taken that for the confirmation it was. He wishes he could tell that to whoever it was. It seems like they need to know that they aren’t alone too.

And he certainly knows a thing or two about having feelings for someone who doesn’t think the same way about him. Sure, this guy isn’t Richie but maybe Eddie could develop feelings for him back? Maybe this is just what he needs to move on from his stupid crush on his friend.

He wipes fiercely at the wetness in his eyes before it has a chance to tumble down his face, and reads through the letter once more, before carefully tucking it back into the envelope and placing it in his backpack along with today’s rose.

Glancing at his watch, he makes his way back to the front entrance to wait by the bike racks for his friends and tries to figure out how he’ll apologize to Richie for ditching him without warning this morning.

Richie is having a pretty terrible morning. He had waited for Eddie outside the Kaspbrak house for a good 15 minutes that morning before knocking on the door only to be given a dirty look by Eddie’s mother and told that Eddie had flown out of the house an hour ago without an explanation and she was sure that this behaviour was due to him being a bad influence on her precious boy.

Disappointed, late, and without Eddie’s company, Richie grudgingly pedals the rest of the way to school, not bothering to pick up the pace. He can’t believe that Eddie forgot about him this morning. He makes no effort to make it to class on time and decides to just skip first period entirely. He’ll be fine without showing up. Math is practically a blow off class for Richie. You wouldn’t expect it looking at him, but numbers are simple for him. They’re easy to understand and he likes the way they fit together like puzzles.

So, knowing it won’t be hard to catch up, he decides to spend his first hour sulking by the dumpster and smoking through a quarter of a pack of cigarettes in the hour and a half before it’s time to meet Stan for study hall.

His mood hasn’t improved much by the time he slumps into his seat next to Stan and grumbles a half-hearted hello to the other boy. It’s clear that his mood is obvious because Stan doesn’t waste any time turning to him and fixing him with a somewhat amused stare that Richie is really not in the mood for.

“Where were you this morning? We waited for you until the final warning bell.”

“How thoughtful,” he grouses. “Eddie blew me off this morning. I waited outside his house for awhile until Mrs. K pretty much told me to fuck off, but by then I was already late.”

“Oh stop grumbling,” Stan says with a laugh and Richie glares at him, annoyed at Stan’s lack of sympathy, but Stan keeps talking. “Eddie felt really bad and wanted to apologize when you got to school. He decided at the last second this morning to try to catch his ‘Secret Admirer’ in the act,” he finishes with a chuckle.

‘Oh,’ Richie thinks to himself and clearly, the thought is obvious to Stan as his friend continues laughing at him.

“Yeah. So stop with the attitude, he didn’t ditch you on purpose. And don’t worry, I didn’t say anything. Like I said, I’m staying out of it.” Stan says, and Richie is relieved at that at least and shoots Stan an apologetic, grateful smile.

“He showed us the latest letter by the way,” Stan continues, and Richie can hear the smirk in his voice, cheeks turning pink. “You wanna talk about anything?”

The smirk has faded to a kind, understanding smile, but no, Richie doesn’t want to talk about this in the middle of study hall.

“I don’t know, Staniel, you got anything you want to talk about?” he counters. “Maybe something to do with our dear friend Mikey?” and revels in the way Stan’s mouth closes and he looks away from Richie to straighten out the notebooks on his desk.

“We’re not talking about Mike. We’re talking about your decision to try to anonymously woo Eddie,” Stan says but he doesn’t sound quite as in control as he usually does. If Richie wasn’t having such a shit morning, he might feel bad about it, but for now, he’s just glad that Stan drops it after that.

He spends the rest of study hall drumming his pencil against his knee and throwing torn bits of paper at Stan’s desk until Stan reaches out with his right leg and stomps on Richie’s foot.

By the time they make it to lunch, Eddie and the rest of the losers are already at the table and are hunched over a book. Bev and Bill are the first to see them and excitedly wave them over to the table.

“Shove down, Haystack, you’re in my spot!” Richie jokes, gesturing at the seat next to Eddie that Ben is currently occupying as he and Stan walk up behind them. Stan rolls his eyes and walks to the other side of the table to sit between Bill and Mike, and Ben and Eddie turn around quickly at the sound of this voice.

“Wow, rude!” Bev scolds him, but she’s laughing and waves Ben over to take the seat on her other side. Ben blushes and quickly takes the proffered seat.

“Sorry, Rich!” Ben mutters good-naturedly.

“Eddie has a discovery about Mystery Man!” Bev announces excitedly, and now that gets Richie’s attention. He doesn’t want to seem too eager (or god forbid, nervous ), so instead he changes the subject for a moment as he sits, trying not to sound too interested.

“Too busy for me this morning, Spaghetti Head?” he asks, ruffling Eddie’s hair and grinning when Eddie rolls his eyes and smoothes his head.

“I’m sorry, I just realized that I might be able to catch him this morning if I got to school early enough, but I was still too late. I was so caught up, I didn’t think to call your house,” Eddie apologizes.

Richie doesn’t bother to tell him that no matter how early in the morning he gets to school, he’ll still be too late to catch him.

“I didn’t find him anyway,” Eddie continues. “I’m gonna have to get here even earlier tomorrow I guess,” he says and Richie’s breath is almost taken away by the excited flush on Eddie’s face.

“So you’re telling me I’ll be lonely and Eddie-less again tomorrow?” he gasps, clutching his hand to his chest, and smiles at the way Eddie laughs and nods apologetically. “Alright, alright,” he says. “I’m gonna go get my peanut butter slop and then let’s hear all about this discovery.”

And with that, he stands and makes his way to the line, glad for the opportunity to get his shit together. He knows that the others probably don’t know and he’s likely just being paranoid, Stan is just freakishly observant, but his heart is definitely beating a little faster. He’s now realizing why he doesn’t really keep many secrets.

He’s surprised to see that the lunch ladies have switched up the poor kid lunch, and eyes the two pieces of bread with a single slice of mustard covered bologna between them and grabs a carton of milk before making his way through the line.

Eddie eyes the bologna sandwich distastefully as he sets the tray down on the table, and jokingly announces to his friends that the school decided to get fancy today.

“Alright, throw it at me Eds. What did your investigation reveal?” he says, taking a sip from his milk carton.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother telling Richie not to call him that, and instead shakes his head as he slides the book the rest of the losers had been huddled around previously over towards Richie.

He looks down to see a book with sprawling cursive on the cover that reads ‘The Language of Flowers’ . He looks up at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. “What’s this?” he asks.

Eddie sighs.

“Do you know what yellow roses mean?” he asked expectantly.

Richie hopes that none of his friends notice the way he tenses slightly at the question and tries to shake it off. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Don’t roses mean love or whatever?” he asks, hoping it sounds as nonchalant as he’d like it to.

“That’s what I thought too,” Eddie says excitedly and reaches into Richie’s space to open the book for him. The way this is going doesn’t bode well for Richie but he’s too busy enjoying the feeling of Eddie pressed up against his side to think too hard about it right now. He watches as Eddie flips to a dog-eared page towards the end of the book.

He’s face to face with a photograph of a yellow rose.

“But,” Eddie continues, “I don’t know if you remember the note I got yesterday, but it said that the flower would tell me what I needed to know about how he felt about me, so I decided to look it up. And this is where it gets kind of weird?”

“Weird how?” Richie asks, starting to feel a little anxious when Eddie points back down at the page.

“Look,” Eddie says, gesturing at the book. “Yellow Roses represent ‘warm feelings of friendship and optimism’,” he explains, and realization dawns on Richie. “It just seems odd that he would leave these really romantic notes with these flowers, and then stress the importance of the flower.”

“Yeah…” Richie mumbles, staring at the page. “Weird.”

“I wonder what this guy was thinking when he picked them out, don’t you, Rich?” someone asks from across the table, and Richie looks up to see Stan smirking at him.

Richie suddenly thinks back to Stan’s comment last night. He’s struck with the sudden urge to kill his best friend but tries to swallow it for now.

“Yeah, I do too Stan,” he says through gritted teeth, shooting daggers at his smug friend with his gaze for a split second before plastering a smile back on his face and turning back to Eddie. “Who knows, Eds,” he says, feigning a light tone. “Maybe he just thought you’d like the color?” he offered and ignored Stan’s snort across the table, smiling warmly as Eddie places an apple at a twinkie on his lunch tray.

Chapter Text

Beep! Beep beep beep! Beep! Beep beep --

Eddie’s arm shot out to silence his alarm and quickly pushed himself out of bed, glancing at the clock that read 5:00 AM with a smile. He was going to catch his secret admirer today if it was the last thing he did. The last three days letters were safely tucked in his drawer and the flowers were drying between the pages of his heaviest books, and he was going to get the next ones directly out of this guys hands.

He dressed as quickly as he could in the outfit he had carefully selected the evening before and brushed his teeth before throwing on his coat and hat and sneaking down the stairs, cautiously avoiding the third and fifth steps that he knew would creak under his weight in fear of waking his mother.

After scribbling a note for her on their memo pad that he had gone to school early to work on an assignment in hopes of avoiding her driving all over town in a panic, he pulled the door open and then shut behind him as quietly as possible.

The air was brisk outside and the neighborhood was silent, snow glistening under the streetlamps and he feels a smile break out across his face. He has a great feeling about today, he thinks to himself as he clips his helmet strap underneath his chin and sets off down the road on his bicycle.

When he makes it to the school and races to yank open the doors, he’s giddy at the realization that they haven’t even been unlocked yet. No one else is here, which means there’s no way he’s going to miss his secret admirer.

Not wanting whoever it is to see him waiting and leave, he quickly hides his bicycle and hide’s around the corner, ensuring a vantage point where he can see anyone approaching and settles down to wait.

And he waits.

Impatiently checking his watch every few minutes, he begins to second guess himself, jumping every time he hears a car drive by or see’s someone walking up the street. Eventually, he sees movement in the parking lot and whips his head towards the figure approaching. However, he sighs in disappointment at the realization that it’s just the secretary coming to work and unlocking the door.

‘Well,’ he thinks to himself with a sigh. ‘At least now I can wait inside.’

He had been so focused on keeping a look out that he almost hasn’t noticed how freezing it is, but now that he’s distracted, he’s shivering from the cold and he makes his way into the school after the secretary.

Feeling a little bit like the Pink Panther (and trying not to let that thought make him feel quite as ridiculous as it should), he glances over his shoulder every few moments as he sneaks down the hall as quietly as possible on his way to his locker. As he approaches the corner, he leans slightly against the wall and takes a deep breath before surreptitiously glancing around the corner. Seeing that no one is there, he breathes a sigh of relief and practically scurries down the hall and tries to open the door to the classroom across the hall from his locker.

Of course it’s locked and he huffs with frustration, but not wanting to be waiting so out in the open he decides to hide behind the last of the lockers, glad for once about his small stature as it allows him to hide there easily. It’s close enough that he can still hear movement by his locker and he can peek out down the hall discretely enough, so he settles down in the corner where the locker meets the wall, placing his backpack gingerly on the floor and crossing his arms over his chest.

Richie had offered to come in early and wait with him on their bike ride home the last evening, but Eddie had refused the company, insisting that Richie would never be able to get up this early. Besides, there’s no way Richie could ever wait quietly in the hall and he would probably scare Eddie’s admirer away.

‘Not to mention it’s one more nail in the coffin that it isn’t Richie,’ a sad, traitorous voice in his head reminds him. Logically, he’d known all along that there’s no way this guy could be Richie, but he had never quite been able to fully squash a last glimmer of hope.

As he waited, he thought more about last night’s bike ride home. Richie had been unusually quiet at first and Edde felt bad that all the losers had been talking about all week was his mystery man. He knew this was a rough time of year for Richie, even if his friend never talked about it. But when he had tried to ask Richie about it, he had sprung to life, immediately changing the subject to Eddie and the letters.

Richie had all sorts of theories, each more outrageous than the one before, about who this guy was and by the time they made it to Eddie’s house they were walking their bikes at their sides instead of riding because Eddie had been laughing so hard he couldn’t balance on the bike.

When Richie dropped him off at the end of his driveway he had leaned in like he was going to hug Eddie, but stopped at the last second and Eddie couldn’t figure out why. Sure, they didn’t always hug when Richie dropped him off every afternoon, but it wasn’t like they didn’t hug regularly. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if Richie was secretly bothered by the whole thing? Sure, he had reassured Eddie that he didn’t have a problem with him being gay but what if that was all just in theory? What if now that it was becoming a reality, Richie would be grossed out by him?

A clattering sound down the hall broke him out of his reverie before he had a chance to go further down that mental path and to be honest he was grateful, as it wasn’t one he wanted to spend much time on anyway.

His head shot out from behind the locker, eyes shining and a smile on his face, prepared to finally find his secret admirer, but instead he was met with the sight of his math teacher who had dropped his briefcase in the hall, papers flying out and lying strewn across the floor.

He sighed heavily, and moved from his hiding spot to help him pick up their things.

As he hands a few of the pages closest to him to his teacher, the man kneeling before him jumped, looking up at him flustered.

“Oh! Mr. Kaspbrak...thank you. What are you doing here so early?” he asks, as Eddie kneels down to help him with the rest of his things.

“Oh um, nothing,” he mutters, offering a cursory smile. “I was just um...waiting for someone.”

The teacher eyes him somewhat suspiciously, but accepts the answer nonetheless and, after closing his briefcase over the last of the papers, stands up again, Eddie following suit.

“Well, thank you again Mr. Kaspbrak. I’ll see you in class this afternoon.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” Eddie mumbles back awkwardly before going back towards his locker, and glancing at his watch, shocked to find that it’s already almost seven o’clock. The rest of the losers would be here within the next half hour and he had gotten here sooner than this yesterday. Maybe he hadn’t hidden his bike well enough and ruined his chances?

Eddie sighed in defeat. He decides to wait for another fifteen minutes to no avail, and rips a small piece of paper out of his notebook and slides it into the door to rest above the lock. This way he’ll know if anyone has been inside his locker when he returns, and begrudgingly making his way towards the entrance. With more students arriving, he isn’t comfortable leaving his bike unattended any longer without locking it to the bike rack.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the losers to arrive, only to find him waiting by the bike rack for them instead of the other way around once more.

Bill and Ben are the first to arrive, offering Eddie a sympathetic smile at the sight of his disappointed face, followed by Mike and then Stan shortly after.

“No sign of him?” Bill asks quietly, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I fucked it up, I think,” he mumbles. “I got here before the school even opened and he never showed up.”

“Maybe he saw you and left before you saw him?” Mike offers, wrapping Eddie in a one armed hug and smiling down at him.

“Yeah, maybe,” Eddie mutters. “Either that or it really was a joke all along.”

“It’s not...uh, I don’t think it was a joke, Eddie,” Ben says, and he sounds strangely confident. When Eddie gives him a questioning look he continues. “We all read the letters and they’re all really specific and sincere. I think whoever it is is being genuine,” he says and Eddie smiles at him.

“Thanks, Haystack,” he mumbles. “I think I’m gonna go wait back inside. Maybe he just hasn’t gotten here yet.”

The others give him one last concerned smile before he turns over his shoulder to head back inside. There are more students in the halls now, which is hardly surprising. The first bell is going to ring any minute now signalling to those remaining outside that it’s time to start coming in. As he walks towards his locker for the second time today, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

When he arrives in front of the familiar grey metal door, he sighs softly at the sight of the paper still in the place where he left it.

As if on cue, the first bell rings and students begin flooding the halls heading towards their own locker, and Eddie reaches out for his lock. Turning the combination deftly before pulling out the lock with a soft click, his breath is taken away once more as he opens the door.

There in front of him in the usual spot on top of his books is a letter. But not just that, this time a crimson rose is resting daintily on top of the letter and Eddie immediately thinks back to the conversation with the other losers at the lunch table yesterday. Red roses mean love - romantic love, and not just that, but passion too.

His heart is hammering in his chest as he lifts the rose out of his place and brings it to his face to smell it. Could it be that his secret admirer is one of the losers? They’re the only one’s he’s talked to about this and he didn’t mention the meaning of the yellow flowers to anyone else. He runs through the losers in his mind one after another trying to figure out which of them might be the culprit, but is shocked out of his thoughts for the second time today at the sound of Bev calling his name down the hall

He turns to look at her and at the sight of the rose in his hands, a broad smile is plastered across her face, and she all but cheers as she runs up to him.

“I knew he would show!” she whispers excitedly as she comes to a stop at his side.

“That’s the thing, Bev,” Eddie mutters, still shocked himself. “He didn’t - I’ve been waiting here all morning, and I even booby-trapped the locker this morning so that I would know if it was tampered with. He…”

And Eddie trailed off as a realization hit him.

“He must be doing it in the afternoons!” he says excitedly, shocked that the thought hadn’t occurred to him before, and Bev is smiling encouragingly at him.

“Did you read the letter?” she asks, and Eddie shakes his head, reaching frantically back into the locker for the envelope just as the warning bell rings. “I’ll show it to you at lunch!” he yelps, and grabs his books before racing off to class, flushing at the sound of Bev’s laughter following him.

As soon as he’s settled into his seat he pulls the letter into his lap, carefully prying open the flap of the envelope and taking out the paper within, his hands shaking slightly and his heart beating rapidly as he ignored Bill’s questioning looks to his right.

“Eddie,

I don’t want you to have any doubts about how I feel about you. Every day I look forward to seeing your smiling face and yeah, for a long time I thought what I was feeling for you was just friendship. But I realized that my feelings for you are way more intense than my feelings for anyone who I’ve ever really just considered a friend. I look forward to seeing you every day and I dream about you almost every night.

I think about what it would be like to kiss you and hold your hand if I was ever brave enough to come out (and on top of that if you could ever even consider thinking about me the same way I think about you), and I think about taking you out to the movies and maybe necking a little bit in the dark but you’d probably slap me if I tried to do that, who am I kidding? ;)

Anyway, once you’re reading this, there will only be one more day left before Christmas break, so after tomorrow, I won’t be able to write you any more of these for awhile, but don’t think for even a second that I’m going to spend any amount of time this vacation not thinking about you. So, don’t forget about me either! Maybe someday I’ll have the courage to tell you who I am, but until then, at least I’ve got this.

Love,

Your Secret Santa Admirer”

Eddie’s cheeks are bright pink when he’s finished reading and when he finally looks up at the teacher, Bill starts nudging Eddie with his foot. Eddie is too embarrassed to look over at him right now, though. The thought of necking with some guy (who could be one of the losers - could even be Bill himself!) in the dark at the Aladdin still fresh in his mind and a bit much for first period English, and just shakes his head.

Richie is actually in a pretty good mood when he arrives in the cafeteria that afternoon. He had known Eddie wasn’t going to be riding into school with him today, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of the way Eddie was smiling the previous afternoon, clutching his stomach and bending over the handlebars of his bike, laughter on his lips and tears pricking at his eyes all night. With that as his first thought in the morning, he didn’t think this day could possibly be a bad one.

He actually smiled at the lunch lady as she handed him his soggy sandwich (peanut butter and jelly again) and milk and jovially made his way to the losers table, excited to see Eddie smile at him and tell him all about how he missed his secret admirer again, but he had still received a flower and a letter that morning.

However when he walked up behind Eddie, he did not expect to find his smaller friend interrogating Bev about the letter.

Well. Interrogating was a bit of a strong word, but Eddie did look pretty serious and Bev, obviously, just looked confused.

“Come on, Bev, it’s okay if it was you, I know you probably just wanted to make me feel better but just tell me the truth!”

“Eddie, I swear it wasn’t me!” Bev was saying, holding her hands up in a defensive position. “Besides, I saw the letter you got today and even if I was doing that - which I’m not - I definitely wouldn’t have my fictional admirer be talking about making out with you at the movies!”

Richie sputters out a laugh at that, causing Eddie to turn over his shoulder and glare at Richie, who holds his hands up, mirroring Bev’s actions from moments before.

“So,” he says, sitting down in his usual spot next to Edde and grinning at his friend wolfishly. “Mystery man’s getting frisky in his letters?” he asks, winking at Eddie who just groans and shoves the letter to Richie who pretends to read it thoughtfully before handing it back.

“Not to mention the rose I received this morning was red, not yellow,” Eddie explains as he takes the letter back from Richie. “The only people who I mentioned that to was you all - so either this is one of you, or one or all of you know who it is!”

Richie’s jaw dropped and his mind started revving into overdrive trying to think of a way to explain this away, not liking how close Eddie was to the truth.

“That’s...that’s ridiculous, Eds!” he says, laughing weakly. “You read the letter - he said that his feelings for you changed...maybe the changing of the flowers is just uh...symbolism you know?”

“I don’t know, Rich,” Stan snorts from across the table. “The timing does seem a little convenient to me,” he says smirking at Richie and for the second time this week, Richie wants to punch his best friend in his stupid smug face. Stan didn’t have to help him but he could at least not actively try to poke holes in his defense.

Eddie is still looking unimpressed, but Bev and Mike are looking at him in the same suspicious way that Stan had on Monday and Tuesday and Richie really didn’t like that, or the way that their gazes narrow when Eddie slides

He watches as Eddie goes around the table, questioning each of their friends about their whereabouts the last few afternoons, staring at each of them suspiciously and if Richie wasn’t so relieved, he would be offended that Eddie isn’t accusing him.

The idea that the day was going to be a good one is quickly dashed when on their way to their first class after lunch (the only one they have together) Eddie tells Richie not to wait for him to go home today.

Richie’s heart plummets when Eddie reveals that he’s figured out that it happens after school and that he’s going to wait after to try to catch him in the act. He forces out a laugh and asks Eddie if he wants him to wait with him, hoping he’ll say yes so that Richie will know when he’s gone so he can try to still get tomorrow’s note and flower in place, but he’s not surprised when Eddie refuses.

With the knowledge that Eddie will be there all afternoon, the quality of Richie’s day falls straight to the ground as he tries to figure out what he’s going to do. Eddie even passes him a note to ask why he’s being so weird when Richie doesn’t talk through their Health class as he usually does.

He scribbles a reply on the paper before balling it up and tossing it back onto Eddie’s desk.

‘What, can’t a guy pay attention to these riveting photos of tar filled lungs?’

He takes it as a small victory when Eddie just rolls his eyes and tucks the paper in his pocket. He’s going to take whatever victories he can get at this point.

At the end of the day he stops by Eddie’s locker in a last ditch attempt to salvage his plans, but Eddie is set on his decision.

“Come on, Eds, at least let me wait with you!” he whines. “You’re not really gonna make me have another lonely bike ride this afternoon are you? How will I ever survive without my darling Spaghetti Head?” he wails dramatically, and Eddie laughs.

“Oh stuff it, Trashmouth,” Eddie replies fondly. “Hopefully this will all be sorted out this afternoon and I’ll be waiting for you in the morning to make it up to you.”

Richie things about trying again but doesn’t want to push his luck so he sighs heavily, throwing his arms up in exaggerated defeat before turning to walk down the hall.

“And I’m holding you to that, Eds!” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning and you can tell me all about your mystery man!” he continues, feeling guilty as soon as the words come out of his mouth. Eddie won’t be getting a note or a glimpse of anyone this afternoon, but Eddie can’t know that Richie knows that.

He bikes home alone in the cold and when the now familiar man at the flower stall waves at him, he holds his hand up briefly, shaking his head in disappointment as he rides by.

When he arrives at his house, he drops his bike unceremoniously in the garage before opening the door. All the lights are off, but he can hear the sounds of his mother’s soaps playing in the living room and he quietly grabs a box of cereal from the cabinet before making his way upstairs to his room.

He tosses on a Smiths record before throwing himself on the bed and reaching his hand into the dry cereal, trying not to think about how pathetic that is. He lets side A of the record play out and when the crackling of the end of the record starts he doesn’t move to flip it. He can’t stop thinking about how Eddie could picture Bev writing those letters to him but couldn’t fathom the idea that it might be Richie.

He knows the whole point of being anonymous was to keep Eddie from knowing it was him, but he couldn’t help the part of him that was secretly hoping Eddie would figure it out and maybe confess his undying love for Richie and they would steal his dad’s station wagon and go see a movie and Richie could kiss him in the car and hold his hand during the movie.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, but the sky is dark and he knows he can’t keep wallowing. He slowly drags himself off the bed and pads down the stairs to the telephone in the kitchen. If his parents were more attentive he might be nervous about having this conversation in the open, but his dad hadn’t been home for days and his mom was already passed out on the couch, so he picks up the receiver.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, he can see that it’s already 8:30 and he almost feels bad calling this late, but he doesn’t know what else to do, so he presses his finger into the holes for each number, dragging the wheel and letting it snap back for each number.

He hears the first ring and then the second ring, twisting the cord nervously around his finger as he waits, until finally he hears the familiar voice on the other line.

“Uris residence, may I help you?”

Richie feels a little guilty at the annoyance in Stan’s father’s voice, but he responds as apologetically as he can manage.

“Uh, hi Mr. Uris it’s Richie - is Stan there?”

“Richie, do you know how late it is?” Donald sighs on the other end, but Richie can tell he’s not going to refuse the request.

“Yeah, I’m real sorry about that Mr. Uris,” he says, trying to sound at least somewhat sincere. After all, out of all of his friends’ families, the Uris’ are the ones who’s opinion he cares about the most. He’s been friends with Stan since they were toddlers. “I just had a question about an assignment for Stan. I’ll only keep him for a few minutes!” he promises and Donald sighs again but Richie can hear him calling for Stan and smiles.

“Thanks Mr. Uris, I appreciate it,” he says.

“Sure thing, son. Don’t stay up too late - sleep is just as important as your schoolwork,” he says and Richie wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to have a father who actually gave a fuck about him as he wishes Donald a good night.

“What do you need, Richie?” Stan asks without any preamble.

“Jeez Stanny,” Richie laughs. “Can’t a guy just call his friend and say hi?”

“Not at 8:30 at night, and not when I know what’s up with you this week,” Stan says, but Richie can tell the exasperation in his voice has an edge of fondness to it.

“Alright, alright, don’t get your tighty whities in a twist,” he replies, but the wry smile on his face at the joke fades quickly as he continues speaking. “I just...I don’t know what to do, Stan. Eddie stayed after today to wait for me, only he obviously didn’t know it was me because obviously Haystack - who we all know has been in love with Bev since before they ever even spoke, and Bev herself are clearly more likely to be leaving him those fucking flowers and notes than me. And since he waited I couldn’t do anything so he’s probably all sad at home right now and he’s gonna be all pissy in the morning and he’s not gonna have a note waiting for him, and I don’t know what to do,” he finishes.

There’s a long moment where he starts to think that Stan might have gotten sick of his rambling and hung up on him, but then he hears a soft sigh on the other end.

“Richie,” Stan says softly. “You could always just tell him. I think he might respond better than you think he will.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs. “And Mrs. K is gonna invite me in for breakfast tomorrow morning and tell me that I’m her favorite of Eddie’s friends.

Stan laughs slightly but continues speaking.

“I mean you’ve gone this far. Clearly you want him to know it’s you whether you admit it or not. I think you should tell him and if it goes poorly - which I really don’t think it will - you have all of Christmas break to have some space from him and you can come over and light the candles with us if you want and we can have latkes and just read comics all break.”

Richie sighs. Deep down he knows Stan’s right even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Yeah. Yeah okay, thanks Stan. I’ll uh, I’ll think about it,” he mumbles and Stan wishes him luck before hanging up the phone.

And before he can talk himself out of it, he walks out of the house and grabs his bike, riding it down the familiar path to the Kaspbrak household, hiding his bike in the bushes and climbing the tree outside Eddie’s window.

Chapter Text

That evening, Eddie finds himself in bed rereading today’s letter, eyes rimmed red with tear stains on his cheeks. He had waited for hours after classes ended and he had sent Richie home and no one had shown up. He felt like such an idiot and eventually left when the janitor walked by, surprised by his presence, and told Eddie that he would need to leave if he didn’t want to be locked into the school overnight. He had just nodded silently and followed the man out the front doors, silently waving as he mounted his bike and took off down the road.

His mother had been furious when he came home, well after six o’clock, having apparently called the Denbrough’s, the Uris’, the Hanlons, and even Mr. Keene in a panic over his whereabouts. Eddie just counts himself lucky that he had gotten home before she called the police, and after another hour or so of her frantically fussing over his ears and nose which were red from the cold and forcing him into a hot bath, he had finally managed to get to his room where he could be alone.

It was here that Eddie finally allowed himself to let go. He peeled off the towel that his mother had left out for him and numbly pulled on his pajamas before crawling into his bed and pulling out the letters, barely registering when a tear fell onto one of the pages.

He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid. He should have just let this play out the way it was going to. He was more and more beginning to believe that it was all just an elaborate prank, but even if it had been real, he was sure that he had fucked everything up. Clearly whoever this was, didn’t want to be found and if he was real, he probably wanted nothing to do with Eddie now that Eddie had tried so hard to catch him in the act.

He had just finally been happy this week - happier than he’s been in a long time. And he knows how stupid it is to let his happiness hinge on whether or not someone want to kiss him, but sue him. He’s sixteen, he’s never been kissed and he had just been happy that someone might have actually wanted to change that for once.

But it doesn’t matter now. He’s sure that he’ll go into school tomorrow to no note and no rose in his locker. The days will go back to how they had always been before and he wishes that thought wouldn’t wrench at his heart the way it does. He’ll go back to staring at Richie on the bike rides to and from school whenever Richie’s not looking, and sitting next to him at lunch and at the Aladdin and at movie nights at the Denbrough’s, itching to reach out for Richie’s hand with his own but refraining.

And things weren’t so bad before, so why does that make him so fucking sad?

He’s reading the newest letter for probably the twelfth time when he hears it.

Tap tap tap! Tap! Tap tap!

His head shoots up to look at his window and his eyes fly open even wider, as he throws the covers off his bed and races to the window. Richie is gripping onto the tree branch outside the glass with one hand and reaching out with the other to tap on Eddie’s window.

He yanks the window open and reaches a hand out for his gangly friend. He can’t remember the last time Richie had done this. It must have been when they were in middle school, but he pulls Richie into the room all the same.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, in a harsh but concerned whisper. “You could have fallen and killed yourself!”

“Oh calm down, Eds,” Richie replies amicably, shrugging off Eddie’s concern at which Eddie huffs in return. “I’m fine, I just had to see ya! What, uh...what happened after school?” he asks, clearly trying to cling onto the confidence in his voice but Eddie can tell it’s fading, and is embarrassed that Richie can probably tell he’s been crying.

“He didn’t show up, Rich,” he mumbles, sighing heavily and turning back towards his bed, slumping down to sit on the edge and absentmindedly reaching out to finger at the corner of one of the letters. “I don’t know what I was thinking believing in all of this. I’m such a fucking idiot. Whoever it was was really starting to get me convinced but I should have known it wasn’t real.”

“Hey,” Richie says softly, and Eddie can feel the dip in the mattress as Richie settles down onto it by his side. “Don’t say that.”

Eddie barks out a laugh and looks over at his friend, ready to tell Richie that he doesn’t have to do this - doesn’t have to say this shit just to make him feel better, but the words are stolen out of his mouth at the genuinely concerned look on Richie’s face.

“I mean it, Eds,” Richie continues. “I bet something just came up. Maybe he saw you waiting for him just got scared that you wouldn’t like him if you found out who he is.”

“Be serious, Richie,” Eddie grumbles, looking back down at his lap, worried that if he keeps looking at Richie’s stupid, dumb, caring face he might do something reckless. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I’m not just scared that he’s not real.”

“What is it, then?” Richie asks, and Eddie is sure he must be imagining the breathless quality to Richie’s voice.

“What if…” he starts before trailing off, and for once, Richie doesn’t fill the silence with stupid jokes. His heart is beating faster than it ever has before and he’s sure Richie will hear it if it gets any closer. His mind is racing and he’s terrified to keep going, but the overhead light is off and in the dim lamplight, the situation feels just unreal enough for Eddie to keep going. “What if I find out who he is and I’m...disappointed?” he says quietly and he almost doesn’t notice the way Richie tenses imperceptibly next to him.

“Well I’m sure that’s what he’s scared of too, Spaghetti,” Richie replies, forcing out a somewhat awkward laugh.

“I just...would that make me a bad person?” Eddie asks quietly, still looking at his fingers which have twisted anxiously in his lap. “I have...feelings for someone already,” he forces out, and is relieved that Richie remains silent next to him to allow him to continue. “And I don’t know if I could move past it if it’s not him, which is stupid, I know, because I already know it’s not him.”

Eddie can practically hear Richie’s brain working in overdrive and he looks up at the taller boy anxiously, for once wishing Richie would open that stupid trashmouth of his. It doesn’t take long for him to get his wish.

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Eds,” Richie murmurs after a long silence and Eddie can feel tears pricking at his eyes once more and tries to swallow them back down. “But if you were able to give this guy a chance, even if he’s not who you want him to be, I think he’d be really happy. But if his letters are anything to go by, I bet he’d also understand if you couldn’t.”

Eddie sniffles and leans his head on Richie’s shoulder, smiling softly to himself as one of Richie’s hands comes up behind him to pat him softly on the back. This reminds him so much of the nights they would spend as kids, when Richie would sneak out of his parents house when they were being especially awful and Eddie would move aside to let Richie curl up under the covers with him.

“Thanks Rich,” he says quietly. “Why’d you really come here? It’s been a long time since we did this,” he asks, with Richie laughing in response, and if there’s a tinge of awkwardness to the sound, Eddie brushes it off.

“I told ya, Eds,” Richie replies and his usual lighthearted tone is coming back in full force. “I just wanted to see how things went - I didn’t hear from ya so I thought maybe mystery man swept you off your feet.”

Eddie scoffs and shoves his side, pushing away from Richie’s body heat and Richie laughs again, ruffling his palm into Eddie’s scalp and mussing his hair, but the air changes slightly and Eddie can tell Richie wants to say something more. He slaps the hand away from his hair as usual, but instead of offering a retort, he waits.

“I don’t know, Eds,” Richie finally says, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. “I just figured things might change tomorrow, you know - you might have a new boyfriend or whatever and then maybe he won’t want shitheads like me climbing through your window at night so it might be my last chance.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that at first and looks up at Richie who’s grinning down at him awkwardly.

“Richie,” he says softly. “My secret admirer could be Luke fucking Skywalker and even then I wouldn’t let him get in the way of us. Any guy who doesn’t want my friends around is getting kicked to the curb,” he jokes.

Richie laughs again at this and pulls Eddie into a strangling one armed hug, that has Eddie choking and shoving him away, despite his own peals of laughter.

“Come on, Trashmouth,” he mumbles, shoving Richie one more time for good measure before turning off the light. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

When Richie wakes up the next morning, to the sound of Eddie’s alarm blaring in his ears, he groans loudly, stretching his long limbs until they bang against either end of Eddie’s twin bed. Opening his eyes, he finds that his friend is nowhere to be found and he takes a moment to curl up once more in the comforter, relishing in the clean scent of laundry detergent and Eddie for a moment before he hears movement outside the door.

He grins lazily as the door opens, revealing Eddie’s fond, yet exasperated face as he closes the door behind him.

“You gotta get up, Rich,” Eddie hisses. “I’ve kept her distracted downstairs but we don’t have much more time before she gets suspicious.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles as he throws back the comforter. “Don’t worry about me Spaghetti Head,” and he stands from the bed moving to grab his shoes and pull his denim jacket back over his shoulders while Eddie made the bed behind him. “You’d think she’d be happier to see me after the beautiful night we spent together while you were sleeping,” he teased over his shoulder, only to be met with a pillow to the face.

“Alright, I surrender,” he laughs, holding up his hands defensively as Eddie brandishes the other pillow, and then tosses the one that had hit him square in the jaw back to Eddie to place it neatly back on the bed. “I’ll see you outside?” he asks, and Eddie nods, rolling his eyes when Richie leaps back up and hangs his legs out the window, blowing him a kiss before jumping to the tree to climb back down to the ground.

Eddie bites his lip at the window as he watches Richie make his descent - Richie knows that no matter how many times they’ve done this over the years, Eddie will never get over the fear that he’s going to fall out of the tree and crack his head open. Once he’s safely on his feet, he looks back up at the window and salutes his friend dramatically, chuckling to himself when Eddie flushes and closes the window.

As he digs his bike out from the bushes behind the Kaspbrak’s house, he thinks about what he’s going to do today. He hadn’t been able to come up with a plan yesterday, but after his conversation with Stan and then Eddie himself last night, he knows that it’s time. At least if Eddie hated him after this, they had two weeks they could spend apart before school starts back up and he’ll just hide out at Stan’s house until the New Year.

When Eddie comes out the front door, repeatedly assuring his mother that he would be home by 3:30 on the dot today, Richie wheels his bike into the neighbor’s lawn, riding around the side of their house and onto the road so it would look like he was coming up the street if Sonia was watching, and met Eddie at the end of his driveway. And yep, having Eddie back with him for their morning ride made this a better day than the last two already.

They approach the losers by the bike rack and Stan is immediately smirking at them suspiciously, but Richie is quick to shake his head almost imperceptibly so Stan would know that Eddie didn’t know yet. He averted his eyes from Stan’s disappointed gaze though, instead tuning into the story Eddie was telling the others about what had happened the previous afternoon.

It’s second period Study Hall when Richie kicks his plan into action. Once the teacher in charge of the room had taken attendance, Richie scribbled a note onto a page in his notebook before ripping it out and shoving it onto Stan’s desk.

‘I know you said you wouldn’t help but I am begging you. Yes, I, Richie Tozier, am begging you, Stanley Uris, for a favor and if you will help me I’ll do literally anything you want.’

Stan snorts softly at the note and Richie can see his eyes rolling out of his head in his periphery. But nevertheless, moments later, the paper is back on his desk and he unfolds it, to see Stan’s perfectly neat cursive looking up at him from beneath his own chicken scratch.

‘That’s a dangerous offer to make, Richie, but I appreciate the desperation. I can’t make an educated decision if I don’t know what you need, though.’

Richie turns to glare at Stan - he really couldn’t just give a simple yes or no, could he? But Stan was pointedly reading his notes instead of looking at Richie, so he sighed and scratched out a reply.

‘I just need you to ask Mrs. Sawyer if we can go to the library for an assignment. She’ll never let us go if I ask. And then I need you to keep watch by the printer.’

He tosses the page back on top of Stan’s desk, grinning to himself when it lands directly on top of the pages that Stan is trying to read and waits for Stan to make a decision. His feet are tapping nervously in an arrhythmic pattern as Stan seems to contemplate the offer - Richie is ninety eight percent sure that Stan is just dragging it out to make him squirm, but he sighs in relief when after a few long moments Stan calmly raises his hand into the air.

“Yes, Mr. Uris?” Mrs Sawyer calls out after a moment, looking out at him over the rim of her reading glasses.

“Can Richie and I go to the library?” he asks, smiling politely at her and lowering his hand. “We need to get a book for an English assignment.”

Mrs. Sawyer’s gaze withers for a moment at the mention of Richie’s name, but sighs and, apparently deciding that Stan is trustworthy enough to take the risk, nods and writes them out a hall pass. Stan stands gracefully as Richie grins and practically leaps to his feet, reaching for his bag before the voice of Mrs. Sawyer stops him in his track.

“Leave the bag, Mr. Tozier,” she says coldly, staring him down with an unamused expression as Stan takes the hall pass from her outstretched hand. “I expect you back within 20 minutes.”

Richie grins at her and salutes, “Aye aye, Mrs. Sawyer,” he says loudly and practically bounces out of the room, Stan rolling his eyes and following behind.

As soon as the door is carefully shut behind him, Stan power walks to catch up with Richie, grabbing his arm and turning him around.

“What are we doing, Richie?”

“We’re printing out another letter for Eds,” Richie responds as matter of factly as possible and tries to continue walking in the direction of the library, but his shoulders sag and he groans dramatically as Stan’s voice catches up with him.

“Nope. No way, Richie, I’m not helping you drag this out any longer - just tell him.”

“ Staniel. Standrew. Stan the man,” Richie says, turning over his shoulder to look at Stan with exaggerated exhaustion, but quickly stands back to attention at Stan’s withering glare. “I am telling him, I just want to leave him a note to tell him where to meet his secret admirer after school. I’m certainly not gonna tell him at lunch in front of you hoodlums,” he explains and Stan snorts at the notion of Richie calling any of the rest of the losers hoodlums.

“Anyway, we both know Eddie stops at his locker before lunch, so I want to get it there before then, so let’s go because Mrs. Sawyer doesn’t trust me and gave us a time limit,” he finishes before turning away from Stan and setting back off down the hallway.

“Well you can’t blame her for that,” Stan says in rebuttal, but follows after him until they reach the library. Richie leaves Stan by the printer, not wanting anyone else to intercept the note now that he doesn’t have the library to himself and goes off to the lone computer, heaving a sigh of relief that it’s not currently in use as he sits at the chair and pulls up Microsoft Word and begins to type.

“Eddie,

I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to leave you anything for this morning. You’re too smart for me and figured out what I was doing so I wasn’t able to stop by yesterday afternoon. But I think it’s time. I can’t keep hiding it so if you want to know who I am, wait by your locker this afternoon after school and once everyone else is gone, I’ll be there.

Love,

Your Secret Santa Admirer”

Reading it over once more before determining his satisfaction, he clicks Control+P and sends the letter to the printer where Stan is waiting, and lopes over to him to snatch it out of his hands before he can read it.

Glancing at the librarian’s desk and realizing he won’t be able to steal an envelope with her sitting right there, he instead folds the paper into thirds and grabs a pen from the reference table and scribbles Eddie’s name on the outside, surrounded by the same lopsided hearts that had accompanied all the other envelopes. He waits for Stan to check out a random book if Mrs. Sawyer asks and have the librarian sign their hall pass before making his way back into the hall.

As soon as Stan is beside him, he grins widely at the small smile Stan gives him.

“Last stop: Eddie’s locker!” he announces, and races off to the other end of the school with Stan in tow. When he arrives, he makes quick work of the lock, grateful that the losers all knew each others’ locker combinations and places the note in its usual place atop Eddie’s books.

Once the lock is back in place, he turns around to face Stan.

“How are you feeling?” Stan asks kindly, and Richie loves that about Stan. For all the shit they give each other, Stan never makes him truly question how much he cares for Richie, and Richie sags against the lockers.

“Fucking terrified,” he says honestly, and Stan smiles at him sympathetically. “I went to his house last night, you know?” he says, and Stan raises an eyebrow curiously, but doesn’t interrupt. “Yeah, after we talked on the phone. I was gonna just tell him it was me right there but then I climbed through his fucking window and he had been crying and he told me he already has feelings for someone and doesn’t know if he can give his Secret Admirer a chance and I chickened the fuck out, Stan.”

“Richie-” Stan starts, a wry, knowing smile on his lips, but Richie cuts him off before he can continue.

“I bet it’s Bill,” he says and Stan outright laughs at that, but Richie doesn’t let him keep going. “Or maybe it really is that asshole Gerald. Maybe that’s why Eddie dodged the subject when we talked about it. He was pretty quick to shut me down when I asked if he was interested in that nerd, maybe he was overcompensating or--”

“Richie!” Stan cut in exasperatedly, and Richie stopped mid sentence, staring at him with his mouth open. “Shut the fuck up. Eddie doesn’t like Bill and he doesn’t like Gerald. You’re such an idiot sometimes. We’re gonna go back to study hall before Mrs. Sawyer flips out, and then we’re gonna go to lunch and you’re gonna get through the rest of the day and tell Eddie how you feel and it’s going to be fine.”

“But Stan--”

“Nope. I’ve officially done what you’ve asked me to do, my help is done. We’re going back to class and don’t forget that you owe me one!” he snapped, turning on his heel back towards their classroom as Richie raced after him.

The rest of the day passed by in an almost nightmarish blur. Eddie had shown up to lunch brandishing Richie’s note giddily, and had slid an entire extra lunch in a paper bag to Richie, explaining that it was an apology for abandoning him the last few mornings. Richie flushed scarlet, feeling warm and happy as he pulled out the thermos with chicken noodle soup along with the crackers, vegetables and cookies that Eddie had apparently packed for him that morning, and smiled at Eddie in thanks.

And when the day came to an end and the bell rang, Richie dragged his feet anxiously towards his own locker. Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, and Richie watched as he left to meet the others outside. He waited by his locker, heart hammering anxiously against his ribcage as he waited for the rest of the students to clear out of the hall.

When the sounds of bustling students and teachers echoing throughout the hall with wishes of Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays died down into silence, Richie knew he couldn’t hold it off any longer and began the march to the other end of the building where Eddie’s locker was. It wasn’t a long walk - Derry High School was ridiculously small, but the hallways seemed to warp and stretch in front of his eyes as if they were miles long.

He arrives at the corner before the hall where Eddie’s locker is and takes a deep breath, panicking for a moment and wondering if Eddie decided he didn’t want to find out - what if he’s not there?

But he closes his eyes for a moment, and reminds himself that if there’s even a miniscule chance that Eddie feels the same way, or is at least willing to give him a chance, it’s all worth it.

And he steps out into the hall.

Eddie has been waiting by his locker for at least twenty minutes since the final bell rang out. He had practically raced to his locker and assured Ben, Bev, Bill, and Mike that he would let them know what happens when he gets home, but he’s starting to get nervous. It’s already 3:05 PM and he had promised his mother that he’d be home by 3:30.

But his heart stops when he hears footsteps approaching. The hallway had been completely desolate for the last seven minutes and those footsteps could only belong to one person. They stop around the corner and his heart flies into his throat at the pause, terrified that they’ll decide that he isn’t worth it and just leave.

But only moments later, a figure turns the corner and he thinks he might have a heart attack.

Standing at the other end of the hall, is the tall, wiry, familiar sight of Richie and Eddie wonders for a second if this really is all a huge joke after all. Richie waves nervously at him and Eddie’s jaw drops as his friend starts walking towards him. He realizes he should probably meet him halfway, but his feet feel like they’ve been glued to the floor, and he doesn’t think he could move even if he tried.

Richie stops a few feet away from Eddie and laughs nervously and the sound tears Eddie out of his thoughts.

“What the fuck, Richie,” he says coldly, only feeling slightly bad at the way Richie jumps at the edge in his voice, laughter dying on his lips.

‘Good,’ he thinks to himself.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he snaps. “I had thought this was a joke from the beginning, even if I fell into it by the end, but I never thought you of all people would stoop so fucking low. Did you have a big laugh at my expense last night after I fell asleep and all but told you exactly how I feel about you?”

“Eds, wait, I-” Richie tries to interrupt, but Eddie isn’t done.

Tears are pooling in his eyes, but they aren’t tears of sadness. He doesn’t think he has ever been more embarrassed or angry in his life. He has always known that Richie doesn’t like him that way, but he never thought Richie would make a joke out of it.

“You should have just let me wait here just like yesterday afternoon. You knew I was waiting here for someone who I thought actually cared about me, and you were probably riding your bike home and laughing about how totally fucking chuckalicious it was that you fooled me.”

“Eddie, stop,” Richie interjected again, taking a few steps closer to close the distance between them. “Just let me explain--”

“Fine!” Eddie bites out. “What, was it all well intentioned? Were you trying to make me feel like someone might actually want me because you felt bad for me? I didn’t need this , Richie.”

“No!” Richie insisted. “Eddie, I…It’s not...” But Richie had completely lost the words he had been preparing all afternoon in the shock of Eddie’s anger. This was the last thing he had expected, and Eddie’s face was turning red and his eyes were shining, his fists balled up by his sides and Richie winced at the thought of the harsh marks his stubby fingernails were probably leaving on his palms, and makes a split second decision that he knows he might regret later, but doesn’t know what else to do.

He grabs Eddie’s face between his hands and leans down and presses his lips to Eddie’s scowling mouth.

It’s terrible. Absolutely awful.

Eddie’s anger is fading into shock, but in Richie’s nervousness, his face collides with Eddie’s a little to hard, their teeth banging together through their lips and Richie winces and pulls away, relieved at least that in his shock, Eddie has stopped yelling.

“I meant it,” he says taking a step back, and looking down at Eddie apologetically, before shifting his gaze to his too big boots. “I left you those flowers, and I was the idiot who didn’t research flower meanings, and I wrote you those letters and I meant every word of what I said in each one of them, Eds,” he explains, rubbing anxiously at the hair at the nape of his neck and chancing a glance at Eddie’s face.

The anger had melted away and Eddie was staring at him with what almost looked like wonder as Richie kept going.

“I wanted to tell you last night, but then you told me you had feelings for someone already and I was so scared that you were going to hate me if you found out how I felt about you. I wasn’t worried about your mystery guy, obviously, I was just scared you wouldn’t let me come back, and--”

In his rambling he hadn’t noticed Eddie stepping closer and closer into his space until Eddie was leaning up on his tiptoes to press a much gentler, and much nicer kiss to his lips.

“ Yowza ,” he whispers with a grin when Eddie pulls away, and smiles as Eddie laughs, a light tinkling sound that makes Richie’s heart feel like it’s spinning in circles.

“You idiot,” Eddie mutters, and Richie balks at the insult. “I was talking about you the whole time last night,” he explains and Richie’s eyes go wide at the realization.

“So, you mean to tell me that if I had just done what I went there to do I could have been kissing you all last night?” Richie asks with a grin, and Eddie smiles shyly back.

“I guess we’ll have to make up for lost time,” he says as he nods and Richie leans down to capture his lips once more.

“Merry Christmas, Rich,” Eddie murmurs against Richie’s lips and he smiles in return, pressing his forehead against Eddie’s. “Those flowers are definitely the best presents Santa has ever given me, secret or otherwise,” he teases and Richie laughs, before capturing Eddie’s mouth with his own once more, relishing in the feeling of Eddie’s soft lips against his own.

“Merry Christmas, Eds.”