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Over the past few weeks, Richie had begun to fear that Stan could read his mind. That night though, when he spared a glance away from Eds only to meet Stanley’s face, which was twisted in a knowing smirk, he became certain of it. He was see-through. Apparently, the fact that he was losing his damn mind wasn’t bad enough, now he had an audience for it. That was another of his closest friends he had reason to avoid. But he hadn’t done well putting distance between himself and Eddie and with Stan, it would probably be no different. No matter how much resolve he worked up when he was alone-- he’d been telling himself, just a few weeks of minimal contact with Eds and this whole mess would sort itself out-- but the moment he laid eyes on his best friend it crumpled as easily as wet paper towels. There was something wrong with Richie, and being around Eddie only made it worse, so much worse, but, God help him-- he couldn’t stay away.
And Stanley must be having a great laugh about it at his expense. Who wouldn’t? It was mortifying. Richie was an idiot, and a freak, and had somehow become so hormonal that his stupid brain and his stupid body seemed to have forgotten how to tell difference between a cute girl and, well, Eddie. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. If it ever got out, it could ruin their friendship for good. He and Eddie had always been close, but over the past school year, they’d grown closer. They worked at the Aladdin together and took a lot of the same classes and they’d ended up having sleepovers nearly every weekend since Richie’s mother was their ride to work. Sonia, even months later, was still pissed that Eddie had gotten the job behind her back when she’d disallowed it, but it was well worth it. They didn’t get paid much, but the hours flew by as they worked the concession stand thanks to how easy it was to work Eddie up by throwing popcorn or getting nacho cheese or melted butter anywhere near him. The boy truly was not meant for food service.
Richie was saving up for a car, which Eddie said he would help him fix up if Richie promised to behave. Eddie wasn’t allowed to get his license, much less a car, so he saved up for college instead, for getting away from Derry and the overbearing monster he had for a mother. Sometimes, after a particularly bad argument with his mom, Eddie would come to Richie practically shaking, muttering fear after fear that it might never happen, that he’d be trapped and under his mother’s control forever. Richie should’ve known things were going wrong in his head with the way he was all too comfortable with holding Eddie, leaning close enough to whisper comforts in his ear, gently brushing away stay tears. He should’ve known he had a problem when he’d looked at his friend and said, “Christ, Eds, you’re even cute when you’re crying,” and meant it. He should’ve known when Eddie shoved him for saying that and half-smiled and the sight of some trace of happiness returning to Eddie’s face left Richie feeling like he was sitting out in the sun.
But he’d had no idea-- or no suspicions strong enough that he couldn’t brush them off-- not until that day three weeks ago. The disaster that had tipped him off to all future disasters that were sure to happen thanks to his utter stupidity. The pair of them had been laying on Richie’s bed reading comics. It was a normal Saturday afternoon for them. Except, normally the sunlight wasn’t hitting Eddie’s face at the exact angle it took to turn the tips of his hair golden. And then Eds had turned to him, not knowing Richie had been looking at him instead of the comic they’d been sharing, not noticing how close their faces were or not caring. He’d started to gush excitedly, pointing at some section of the page that Richie couldn’t make himself glance at because that would mean looking away from Eddie and the excited smile he was trying to form words around and the way that the sun was painting his eyelashes gold. And maybe Richie’s eyes looked at Eddie’s mouth for a bit too long. And maybe, just maybe he’d started to wonder-- only for a second-- of what it might be like to kiss Eddie. But he slammed the brakes on that line of thinking so quickly his whole brain nearly capsized. He’d flung himself off of the bed like it’d caught fire, feeling so panicked he was worried for a moment he wouldn’t be able to speak but he managed to stammer out something about needing to go home.
“Richie...you are home. This is your bedroom.” Eddie’s eyebrows had crinkled in concern.
Fuck. “No, I meant-- homework. I need to do homework, cause like earlier this week when you and Stan were on me about the research paper in Mrs.Henderson’s class and I said I was already halfway done that was a total lie. I haven’t even started it.”
Eddie’s face immediately fell into annoyance, just like Richie had hoped. “Richie, you moron! That paper is worth thirty percent of our grade! If you fail English you get held back unless you can pay for summer school, which I know for a matter of fact you can’t; I can’t believe you--”
Richie held up his hands in surrender. “I know, okay? That’s why I’m coming clean now. I can’t flunk out cause I don’t have anyone in the grade below us to shoot spitballs at during lunch, now do I?”
“Tozier, if you ever get another spitball in my hair I swear I’ll--”
“Wait, does that mean you don’t mind having my saliva other places?”
Eddie shot him a death glare before getting up and snatching his share from the stack of comics. “I’m leaving. But I’m gonna call you tonight and if you don’t have the first two pages of your essay done and ready to read to me I’m gonna come back over here and kill you myself.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know you mean it,” Richie said, steering Eddie to the door. “Now get out of here so I can work.”
Richie shut the door behind him unceremoniously. Usually, he made sure to walk Eddie down to the front door at least. Who was he kidding, usually he offered to walk Eddie part of the way home and if Eddie accepted he almost always ended up walking him all of the way home. But the essay was a good excuse. Richie couldn’t help but feel bad for lying-- in truth, he’d finished his paper last night. But he needed to be alone so that he could think like a normal person.
Because what was that? What even was that? Richie had always been a loser, but he’d never thought of himself as a freak. Or at least not that much of a freak. He was just a touchy person, he was close with all of his friends. He only touched Eddie so often because it was fun to get him irritated and because, in spite of all his protesting, he put up with it the best. Hell, it usually only happened when the two of them were alone, but sometimes Eddie was the one to hold his hand out first. But it was just friendly touching. He’d hold Eddie’s hands the same way he’d hold Bill’s or Mike’s or Stan’s. Except he almost never held anyone’s hand but Eddie’s anymore. Except he’d never once thought of kissing any of his other friends except Bev. He didn’t have a crush on Bev, sure, but he knew how gorgeous she was. And if they hadn’t been close friends, and if two of his other close friends didn’t have painful crushes on her and she was just some girl he’d met at a party he’d probably jump at the chance to kiss her. Plus, he’d kissed other girls before and liked it just fine. Sure, only two, one because of truth or dare and the other because of a game of spin the bottle-- but still. He wasn’t-- you know. And if he made himself take out his stash of stolen playboy magazines later that night to prove it to himself it was nothing. He was normal. Normal. Normal.
Except, as Eddie leaned against him now his heart thumped like he was running through the woods. Maybe Stan could hear his pulse, too, on top of his thoughts. He hated the way Stan was smirking and gave him a pointed glare before forcing his eyes to look at the screen. Richie realized he didn’t even know what movie they were watching. He’d been too busy teasing Eddie to get in on the argument on what they were gonna watch, too busy looking at Eddie every three seconds to notice the title card when it’d come up. Out of nowhere, Eddie reached over, letting his fingertips play against Richie’s hand.
God help Stan if he really can read my thoughts-- if this keeps up I’m not going to be able to think about anything but Eds. I’ll really lose it. I’ll just think his name over and over and forget every other word there is, just Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
He let his fingers twine loosely with Eddie’s anyway. Why not? He was already doomed. When he’d showed up earlier that evening and saw that Eddie was wearing one of his shirts-- one that Richie had lent him weeks ago-- he’d almost died on the spot. Maybe Eddie would steal it for good, or, he’d return it and it’d smell like him. Like hand sanitizer and plain bar soap and cedar wood. Richie made a show of fake-yawning, stretching his free arm above his head and then looping it around Eddie’s shoulders.
Stan let out a snort before covering his mouth and continuing to laugh into it.
Eddie leaned close and half-whispered, “You are such a dumbass.”
Richie squeezed his shoulders in a one-armed hug, “You’re just too embarrassed to admit you love me, Eds.”
“I tolerate you.”
“Whatever you gotta tell yourself to sleep at night, cutie.”
Eddie let out a pouty little ‘hmph’ before resting his head on Richie’s shoulder.
This is all your fault, you know. Richie thought at him. You’re too cute for your own good.
Richie knew he was staring again but if he turned back to the TV he’d risk catching Stan’s eyes. He didn’t need another one of Stanley’s looks. He knew this was fucked. He knew it was wrong of him to sit there with his arms around Eddie, who thought all of this was platonic, while Richie was trying to shoo away some clearly more-than-friendly affection. It was wrong for him to sit there and think about how close Eddie’s lips were to his neck and the way their entangled hands rested on Eddie’s thigh and the way that Eddie’s basketball shorts were riding up slightly.
But if Stan found it funny, he wasn’t being too awful of a friend, right? Even with these thoughts buzzing around in his head, it’s not like he’d ever try and make a move on Eddie, or do anything he knew would make his friend uncomfortable. If he was truly taking it too far then Stan and Eddie both would let him have it. He was just being stupid, sitting too close to Eddie, staring at him too much. And doing that really only hurt Richie, because he was the one trying to make his thoughts behave but still edging closer to what they wanted. Unless Eddie figured it out. Unless Eddie noticed the way Richie was looking at him and realized that the person he thought was his best friend was actually some pervert who had to keep reprimanding himself not to hope that the Losers would find a reason to all pile into the minivan Bill sometimes borrowed from his mother again, because it was only meant to seat five which left Richie and Eddie crammed into the trunk with almost no space between them.
Who was he kidding? This was gross. What he was doing-- and the things he tried his hardest not to think about doing-- they were all wrong. Maybe he should get a girlfriend. There was some girl in him and Bill’s math class that Bill kept insisting had a crush on Richie. Her name was Sandy, and Richie could see that she was kind of cute. She wore bows in her hair a lot and it was sort of endearing. Maybe if Richie kissed her it would set his brain right again. There had to be something that could stop all of this from happening to him. He decided he’d take her out on one of his days off next week. He could take her to the Aladdin-- scratch that, the Aladdin would make him think about Eddie. Out for ice cream then-- maybe he wouldn’t think about Eds as long as neither of them got strawberry. Or they could go to the arcade, he knew he could probably win her something from the claw machine, and he could try his best not to think about what games Eddie would have them play if he were there, and he would turn on the old Tozier charm, and when he walked her up to her doorstep at the end of the night if she turned to him and leaned in and closed her eyes Richie would kiss her, and he’d be cured right then it there. Simple. Easy. Like a goddamn fairy tale or s--
Richie was jarred from his thoughts as the front door burst open. All seven losers turned to the doorway, dread permeating the air as they were met with the imposing figure of Sonia Kaspbrak.
“Ma,” Eddie said, sitting up bolt straight and slipping out from under the arm Richie had draped over him. “I- I thought you were spending the night in Bangor with your sister.”
Sonia stepped into the entryway, putting up her jacket and glowering. “I don’t remember you asking if you could have people over, Eddie.”
“I-it’s m-m-my fault, M-mrs. Kaspbrak,” Bill stepped in. “We were s-sup-posed to be at my house but my p-parents w-wanted the living room and w-we didn’t know wh-where else to g-go.”
“I’m going to need you all to leave now. Eddie hasn’t been feeling well lately, and like it or not, he needs to be getting rest and staying away from germs.”
Eddie frowned, Richie could see him swallowing his protests.
“Of course, Mrs. Kaspbrak,” Mike spoke up, as he was the best at placating by far. “We’ll be on our way, we’re sorry if we caused any trouble.”
Sonia just stood there glaring as everyone scrambled to pick up their things. Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand once before standing up and letting it go. The six of them were up and being shuffled out of the door in record time, Eddie shouting a rueful goodbye that got cut off as his mother slammed the door shut.
Mike, Ben, and Bill split off to the left while Stan, Richie, and Bev headed the opposite way. They walked in silence for about half a minute before Bev glanced at Richie and said, “You know, Eddie left his window open earlier.”
Not her, too. “You really think he’s gonna want to see me after my genius idea to move the party to his place just got him into trouble?”
“Would you want to be alone after being chewed out?” Beverly asked.
“Yes.”
“Yeah, but Eddie’s not you, and you know that,” Stan said.
Richie knows they’re right. Or they would be if Riche wasn’t so messed up over Eddie right now. What right does he have to comfort his friend if he can’t do it without having those thoughts about him?
“You’re right, I don’t want him alone after she says god knows what to him. But you should be there Stan, not me. You’d do a way better job.”
“Oh, stop being stupid, Richie,” Bev said. “We all know you’re the best at cheering Eddie up. You’ll go in there and keep talking till he can laugh again. If we send in Stan all he’s gonna come away with is bird facts.”
Stan blushed. “Okay, how was I supposed to know other people don’t find information about birds as comforting as I do?”
“Because other people weren’t still involved in boy scouts past the fifth grade, Stanley.”
“I’m not a boy scout anymore, and after fifth grade, I was an eagle scout, which is actually really impressive and--”
“We get it, Stan, we’re impressed, I promise,” Bev cut in. “But Richie’s trying to distract us with bickering, and I for one refuse to engage both because he’s an asshole and also because he needs to go back there and get his boy.”
Richie flushed. “He is not my boy.”
Stan did his smug look again. “He totally is.”
“No he’s not, and saying it like that sounds super weird and I’m not okay with it.”
“Sure, sure,” Bev turns Richie around by the shoulders and shoves him lightly back in the direction toward Eddie’s house. “Now go talk to him.”
Richie felt timid as he snuck around the side yard of the Kaspbrak house even though it was something he must’ve done a hundred times before. Surely, if Bev and Stan really knew what was going on in Richie’s head, they wouldn’t be cruel enough to tease him over Eddie like that. Even if Stan has suspicions, he must not really know. And Richie has to make sure no one else finds out. It can’t be too hard. He’ll ask that Sandy girl out when he sees her at school on Monday. He’ll make sure their date goes well, things will go back to normal. Richie will go back to normal.
He made it through Eddie’s window without a hitch but was disheartened once he got inside. Eddie’s room was dark and empty, the only light streaming in through the hall, and sounds of the screaming match happening downstairs carried through the open door easily.
“They’re my friends, Ma! How many times do I have to tell you I’m not letting you take them away from me!”
“If they were really your friends Eddie, would they constantly interfere with what’s best for you? If they really cared about you, why were they over here, exposing you to germs and exhausting you while you’re still recovering?”
“Recovering from what? That cold you decided I had because I sneezed in front of you one time?”
“Eddie, sweetheart, you had a fever--”
“Bullshit! I was sweaty because you turned off the air conditioning when it was ninety degrees outside! You probably turned it off just so that I’d get overheated and you could make your lie seem more convincing!”
“Is this the sort of thing your friends teach you to do? Do your little friends speak to their parents like this?”
“No, Ma, they don’t, because most of my friends' parents are normal people who don’t try to fucking imprison their children.”
“Eddie! Eddie, you get back here!”
Richie heard the sound of Eddie’s footsteps stomping up the stairs. When they were joined by Sonia’s considerably heavier footfalls Richie panicked and threw himself into Eddie’s closet, closing the door behind him.
He heard Eddie enter the room, then a smack of a hand against wood. Richie guessed that Sonia had gotten up the stairs just in time to stop Eddie from slamming the door. Not that it would’ve mattered, if Sonia ever allowed a lock to be put on Eddie’s door it would be on the outside.
“What? What do you want?”
“I want to take care of you, Eddie. I want to keep you well.”
“Yeah? What special germ is it you think my friends have that all the kids at school don’t? Or are you going to try and homeschool me in a plastic bubble from now on?”
“Not all sicknesses are passed through germs.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Eddie, we have to. You need to hear this. I know you can’t see it on your own, but those ‘friends’ of yours are only going to hurt you. That Tozier boy especially.” She said ‘Tozier’ like it was a slur.
“What’s so especially bad about Richie? Is it his jokes, or have you just caught on that he’s always there to help me stand up for myself even though you don’t want me to.”
Richie wore a sad sort of smile. He hated Sonia beyond words, hated that Eddie had to deal with all of her manipulative lies. But he was also proud of him. When Eddie fought, he fought like hell. As long as Eddie had his friends around to remind him that he wasn’t weak, he was the just about the strongest person in all of Derry. How could Richie not admire someone like that?
“I saw the way he was draped all over you tonight, Eddie. I see the way he looks at you, the way he touches you. He wants you, it’s written all over him.”
Richie couldn’t breathe. Richie was going to suffocate to death in Eddie Kaspbrak’s closet and part of him was okay with that. He really must be sick. If the things that went through his head when Eddie was around were so obvious that even Sonia Kaspbrak could see them, he was well and truly done for.
“W-what are you talking about? That’s crazy. We were just sitting close, Ma. We all were, the couch was cramped. Richie is just a touchy person, he’s close with all of his friends-- it’s not-- it’s not like that.”
“I could see it in his eyes. I’ve always worried he might turn out like this, you know. He’s always been so attached to you. Never very masculine, always very touchy with other boys when he thought there was no one around to see it. And his parents never gave him the proper attention to stop that-- that perversion from developing.”
And what if she was right about that, too? What if Richie had always been like this, or had been becoming this all along? What if he was too far gone to set himself right again?
“You’re just saying this to hurt me,” Eddie’s voice was growing watery. “You just want to believe any awful lie you can think of, you just want to find any excuse to try and take my friends away and not feel guilty about it.”
“Eddie-bear, sweetheart, I know this isn’t easy to hear. It’s not all Richard’s fault. His parents should have watched him better, should have intervened. But they didn’t and now he’s sick. Being queer is a sickness and no matter how much you think you care about him, I won’t let him make you sick too, I love you too much.”
Eddie’s breath was hitching with tears. “You know, I don’t think you do love me, Ma.”
“That’s not true! Eddie, I love you more than life itself. I would do anything, anything to protect you.”
“I know you would. I know you’d lock me up for days on end, I know you’d take me from doctor to doctor until you find one that you can convince that I’m sick, I know you’d tell awful, disgusting lies about my friends because you already have. And guess what, I’m not any safer. I just hate both of us more, and if I ever die on you like you’re so afraid I will it’s not going to be because of any fake sickness, it’s gonna be because you’ve finally succeeded in making me so miserable that I have no choice but to fucking kill myself.”
“Eddie, Eddie if that Tozier boy has-- has touched you, has made you, or convinced you to do things, it’s okay. We can get you to a doctor, get you help, Eddie, Eddie have you--”
“ No. Richie would never do anything like that. If you knew him, you’d know that. I’ve never kissed him, or any boy, or anyone, and you know why? You know why mom? Because of you. Because of all those lies you told me about germs and being sick and how anyone and anything will just make me sicker. And I let Richie and my other friends touch me all the time because the six of them are the only people I can touch without thinking I’m going to get fucking leprosy or something! Because I am sick Mom, but I don’t have asthma, or allergies, or any of those other things you told me I did. I’m just fucking crazy, and I’m crazy because of the way you’re always lying and using and manipulating me-- You keep warning me away from the world but the only person who has ever made me sick is you! I’m sick because of you.”
Sonia was in full hysterics now, wailing louder than a police siren. “Eddie, no, Eddie, please--”
“Get out. Get out of my room right now or else I’ll leave,” his voice was trembling again. “And if I leave, I’m not coming back.”
“ Please--”
“GET OUT!”
And she did. And her sobbing trailed down the stairs with her and Eddie slammed the door behind her and then kicked it a handful of times.
Richie was still sitting in the closet, in the dark with a wet face. He could hear Eddie hiccuping and wheezing. Eddie took a hit of his inhaler, then two more, then threw it across the room.
Richie was starting to think there wasn’t gonna be a good time to come out and try and comfort Eddie. Maybe he could wait until Eds fell asleep and then sneak back outside unnoticed. He probably couldn’t comfort him too well, considering how shaken up he was after what Sonia had said anyway. As much as he hated hearing Eddie suffer, he didn’t want to come out of the closet.
When the irony of that thought hit him, Richie let out a low, bitter laugh.
“Fuck is-- is someone there?” Eddie said, sounding more than a little bit creeped out.
Shit. “Uhm. Yeah,” Richie admitted weakly.
“ Richie? ... Are you in my closet?”
“Maybe but, uh, you’re kind of having a moment so you can just ignore me. Or I can like, leave out the window or something, it’s fine.”
Eddie opened the closet door and Richie winced when the light hit him. He kept his face down, hoping Eddie wouldn’t be able to get too good of a look and notice that his cheeks were still sticky with salt water. “I’m guessing you took it upon yourself to sneak back into my house and check on me?”
“Yeah, Stan and Bev all but forced me to, though, so don’t be flattered or anything.”
Eddie crouched down so that he was eye level with Richie, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the closet floor. “Shit,” Eddie placed one hand on Richie’s knee and used the other to try and make Richie turn his face toward him with no success. “Rich, were you crying?”
“I’m all good, Eds.”
“...I’m really sorry you heard all that awful shit she said about you.”
“I’m more worried about what she says to you.” Richie wished, not for the first time, that it had been Sonia who had gotten sick and died when Eddie was young instead of Eddie’s father. Richie didn’t know much about Frank Kaspbrak, but anyone short of an actual psychopath would be a better parent than Sonia.
“I’m used to it, though. You’re not.” Eddie moved the hand that was trying to make Richie face him down to Richie’s other knee.
Richie scooted back so that both of Eddie’s hands trailed down his legs and then met the floor. He held himself a little tighter.
“Rich, come on,” Eds said. “I know she sucks, but that wasn’t even a good lie. Remember middle school? You had a new crush on a girl every two minutes. And when you had your first kiss at Bev’s birthday party two years ago you wouldn’t shut up about it for months. Everyone knows you’re not queer.”
Richie’s breath catches, and as much as he tries to fight it the tears start up again because what Eddie said about middle school and his first kiss is true. But that was years ago. Back when he was normal, but now-- Now Richie doesn’t want to try and chase any girl that laughs at his jokes and looks cute. Now Richie doesn’t want to play spin the bottle or kiss that girl from his math class. Now Richie is broken and he wants to kiss Eddie and he can’t stop wanting to even though he knows how wrong that is.
“Fuck. Did I say something wrong? Is this still about my mom being shitty to me? That’s not your fault, Rich, no one can control her. She’s just crazy and I know better than to listen to her, okay? And I know I said that I’m crazy, too, and that she makes me miserable, but I was also really upset. I know I need to get away from her. The second I turn eighteen I’m going to and after that things won’t be so bad. And until then I have you and the rest of our friends helping me. You help me, so much. I’m okay. I’m okay because I have you guys.”
Richie wished he could still cry over the way Sonia treats Eddie-- but he hasn’t, not for years. Nothing she does shocks him anymore. He doesn’t hate her with sadness the way he used to-- now its all anger, clenched fists and a tongue he bites for Eddie’s sake alone. Eddie’s reassurances aren’t good for much because of that. Richie has always known Eddie was going to be okay-- he was too strong not too be. But what Eddie said, about Richie, the way Eddie trusted him and believed in him and didn’t have any clue about the wrongness in how Richie thought about him-- that just heaped on an extra layer of guilt and cut his breaths shorter.
“Richie, let me help you, please. I hate seeing you like this.”
Richie hates himself for being like this. For thinking about Eddie in ways he shouldn’t, for sobbing on Eddie’s bedroom floor when he’d meant to come here and comfort Eddie . He didn’t deserve Eddie. Honestly, he didn’t deserve any of his friends.
“I’m sorry,” Richie mumbled. “I came over here to try and help you and now you’re the one trying to comfort me.”
“That’s okay. We take care of each other, alright? I’m always here for you, just like you’re always here for me.”
“I think maybe I should just go.”
“Rich,” Eddie reached out toward him again, but Richie only pushed himself back further. “Richie, are...are you worried what my mom said might be true somehow?”
And there it was. It was really happening. Eddie was going to see right through him. Eddie was going to be able to hear every perverted thought that Richie had ever had about him.
“Richie?”
Richie moved to stand up and Eddie stood with him. “I should go,” he said again, trying to brush past Eds.
“No,” Eddie grabbed Richie’s arm, fighting to keep ahold of it. “Talk to me, please.”
Richie broke free and wiped at his face with his sleeve. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“So this whole thing is nothing? You almost having a panic attack because my mom thinks you’re queer is nothing and I’m just supposed to ignore the fact that you’re crying right now even though I only see you cry like twice a year?”
“Yes.”
“No. Fuck that, Richie, You’re being stupid!”
“No, you’re being stupid! You’re prying, like you think it won’t ruin everything, but it will. You think you want to know why I’m upset, but you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like for me to be around you.”
“Rich, if you’re… even if you were queer, it wouldn’t ruin everything. You’re not capable of doing or being anything that could ruin our friendship. I know that we’re always gonna be friends the same way I know my way around without ever getting lost. We’re in the Loser’s Club. We were always meant to be friends.”
Richie wished he could believe it. But the magic that brought the seven of them together that one horrific and momentous summer came with a terrible price. And there was never any promise that the magic would stay. And there was never any promise that, even if it did, Richie wouldn’t find some way to break it. “So, what? If I liked you, if I thought about you all the time, and couldn’t stop staring at you and had to throw out a page of perfectly good math notes because I wrote ‘Richie Kaspbrak’ in the margins and if being close to you meant too much to me and if I wasn’t joking as much as I thought I always was when I called you cute and if I like, maybe even, maybe thought about, you know, like-- like kissing you that-- you wouldn’t-- all of that would just be fine with you?”
Suddenly, Eddie wasn’t looking him in the eyes anymore. But Richie was so stuck in his own self-loathing at the moment that he was bitterly triumphant more than heartbroken. He knew it. He knew it and there it was.
“Something like that,” Eddie finally said.
Oh. “Well, what does that mean?” He didn’t want to hope. He didn’t want to be wrong but he didn’t want to be right either. He just wanted to undo this whole night-- or maybe he really didn’t.
Eddie’s face began to turn red. “Maybe...maybe it means you aren’t subtle, and that, if I really didn’t like the way you’ve been looking at me I would’ve told you to knock it off.”
“So you… you think it’s tolerable? Or you like the attention?”
Eddie kept looking anywhere except at Richie. “Or I like the idiot who’s giving me attention. Maybe. If he’s lucky and stops pinching my face all the time.”
And Richie hadn’t been crying for a while and suddenly something bright and nervous and warm was finally having success encroaching in on his anxiety. Suddenly, he was desperate to have Eddie look at him again. “Eds, are you saying you…?”
“I stare at you too. Sometimes. Not as often lately, cause I have to wait for you to look away and you haven’t really been looking away so much anymore.”
Richie took a half-step closer to Eddie. He reached one hand out and gently used it to guide Eddie’s face back in his direction. “There,” he said. “Now we can both stare.”
“I-- I guess it is more efficient this way.”
Richie could’ve died happy right then and there. Eddie Kaspbrak looked like a dream, his eyes open wide, beautifully dark and reflective, while a blush stained his cheeks and a nervous smile fought its way across his lips. “Eds, can I take you somewhere? Like just you and me? I know there’s no place in Derry that we don’t go together all the time but I could see if I can borrow my mom’s car, and I’d buy you dinner and wear a shirt that you don’t hate and we could just...stare at each other some more or something?”
Eddie reached out and took Richie’s hand. “I guess I could tolerate that. Since I’ll get a free meal out of it and all.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love me, Eds,” Richie said without thinking--then he immediately blanched. Here it was, they’d been happy for two whole seconds before Richie had come along and made it weird. “I-- I mean--”
Eddie laughed, then hesitated for a moment before pressing a brief but cloying kiss against Richie’s mouth. “Don’t push your luck,” he whispered, his face still so close that Richie could feel his breath.
Richie thought he might actually collapse. Maybe-- just maybe--Eddie really did love him like that, even though he was an idiot. An idiot who was thinking he might be in love with Eddie after just one kiss. He was hopeless. And maybe that was okay.