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Richie didn't see it coming, but he couldn't say he was surprised. The first punches hurt like hell, but after a few minutes his body was so numb he almost couldn't feel Bowers’ foot against his ribs. The world seemed far, far away now. The screaming coming out of his mouth, the whimpers, the tears, all felt like they were coming from someone else, somewhere else.
“Bowers, you're gonna kill him,” someone said. Not him, though. He was silent, except for a few explanations here and there: I swear, Henry, he just came onto me, the fucking fag. Tried to touch me, kissed me, the queer son of a bitch. Richie didn't bother trying to explain, trying to tell the truth: that it was Bowers’ cousin who’d found him, pushed him against the wall of the alley, kissed him whether Richie wanted him to or not, his hands running down his body and making him feel guilty, dirty, but also good against his will, no matter how much he wanted to ignore the heat in his belly.
When Bowers finally stops, he spits on Richie’s face as a signature of his work. Richie doesn’t care to wipe it out. He couldn't even if he wanted to, couldn't move his arm high enough.
“See you later, fag,” muttered Bowers, and it sounded like a threat.
He doesn't know how long he spent there on the alley, spread on the floor like a bag of bones, blood dripping down the side of his face, the pain coming from so many places that it was impossible to say what hurt most, what was whole and what was broken. What seemed like an eternity later, he found a way to drag himself through the streets. The sun was already long gone, and the cold winter wind made him shiver, though it was also weirdly calming on his wounds.
Somehow he made it to Eddie's house, which was the closest of his friends’ houses (except for Beverly's apartment, but Bev doesn't live there anymore, and anyway she hadn’t answered any of their calls since she went away to live with her aunt). He managed to grab some pebbles from the floor and throw them to the window before he finally passed out.
When he came to his senses again, someone was moving him gently and whispering his name in a desperate voice.
”Richie, Richie, please, Richie,” Eddie was repeating like a chant, his cheeks full of tears. Richie mumbled something incoherent in return. “Oh, thank God” whispered Eddie above him, his hands grabbing Richie’s face with so much care, so much tenderness and fear and worry, that Richie felt himself break. Suddenly, he was crying his eyes out, crying every tear he hadn’t cried during the beating. Eddie hugged him and Richie whimpered in pain.
“Sorry, sorry” Eddie said, and loosened his arms, though he didn’t let go completely.
After a few minutes, Richie managed to stop crying. Eddie helped him get up and they limped towards the door of Eddie’s house.
“Your mom…” began Richie.
“She's already asleep”
Oh, it must be later than he thought.
They sneaked up the stairs to Eddie’s room. Richie let himself fall down on the bed, careful not to whimper too loudly as Eddie came back from the bathroom and closed the door. Mrs. Kaspbrak had her room downstairs, but Richie knew she’d get up at the minimum noise coming from his little bear’s room.
Eddie came to kneel in front of Richie, a first aid kit on the floor next to him. He took his time seeing to Richie’s every wound. First he tended to his face, which thankfully hadn’t suffered the worst of it. He cleaned the cuts and bandaged everything that could be bandaged. Eddie seemed to know what he was doing, so Richie closed his eyes and let him work. At Eddie’s request, he took his shirt off and let his friend touch gently down the side of his body as he tried to swallow the whimpers that inevitably tried to escape him.
“Sorry,” Eddie said when Richie could not avoid complaining. “There’s not much I can do about the ribs, but I don’t think they’re broken… I’m pretty sure. Where else does it hurt?”
“No...nowhere else” lied Richie.
Eddie tried to catch his eye. “Richie, don’t make me poke you until you scream”
Richie smiled against his will, but the smile slowly faded. “I… I don’t want to tell you”
Eddie looked him fixedly, and he seemed so sad that Richie was afraid he’d start crying again. “Rich, please, let me help you”
Richie nodded almost immediately, couldn’t say no when Eddie used that voice on him. With shame colouring his cheeks, he stood up in front of his friend and pulled down his pants.
Eddie gasped. “Jesus, Rich” His eyes were full of tears again, and Richie hated himself. Hated himself for making his friend so worried. Hated himself because his thighs were covered in deep purple bruises and they hurt like hell and Eddie was crying and all he could think about was that he was half naked in front of Eddie, who was on his knees for God’s sake, and…
Dirty, dirty little boy , whispered a well-known voice in his mind. Just a dirty, disgusting little sinner.
“Let me…” Eddie pushed him gently so that Richie would sit down again. He took some kind of ointment from the kit and handed it to Richie. “This will numb the pain a bit”
After a few minutes, Richie felt a bit better. Much better, but Eddie still made him swallow some pills for the pain. “I swear they’re not glazebos ” he joked, but it was half-hearted. “So it’s your... “ he cleared his throat and vaguely gestured towards Richie’s crotch. “Does it hurt too?”
Now Richie smiled for real. “Are you just trying to get in my pants, Kaspbrak?”
“Shut up, asshole”
“Oh, my asshole is alright, do you want to rub some ointment on that too or should I ask your mo…”
Eddie hit him in the head. “See you’re alright then,” he sighed, smiling.
Richie shrugged his shoulders. “I’m alright, Eds. “ He looked him in the eyes. “Thank you, for… you know.”
Eddie nodded and sat down next to him on the bed, far enough that he wouldn’t touch Richie’s wounded side but close enough that he could feel the comforting heat emanating from his friend’s body.
A few minutes of silence passed before Eddie asked the inevitable. “So… want to tell me?”
Richie bit his lip. “Bowers,” he provided, but he knew it wasn’t enough. Eddie looked at him expectantly. “He had a bad day, I guess”
“Richie” Eddie said accusingly. “Why did he hit you so bad?”
Richie looked his friend in the eye, trying to come up with a believable lie, but his brain was blank. Come on, make a joke. Something about his mom. But he was frozen.
“You know you can tell me everything, right?” Eddie asked gently, and he put a hand on top of Richie’s.
Richie took his hand away as if the touch had burnt him. “You… you don’t-don’t wanna do that, Eds” he stuttered.
Eddie looked at him, confusion turning his brows into a frown. “What’s happening, Rich?”
Richie shook his head. “I can’t. Not this.”
“Richie.” Eddie put his hand back on top of Richie’s, stubborn as ever, and this time Richie couldn’t bring himself to take it away. “Richie, nothing you can say would scare me, okay? But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to”
Those last words were all it took. Richie felt something inside of him break, because he didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve the love, the care, the worry. Didn’t deserve Eddie , the fucking idiot, who was such a good friend he would let Richie keep his secret (his dirty little secret) and ask no further questions. And precisely because of that, Richie knew he had to tell him everything. That he wanted to tell him everything, that he wanted Eddie to know this thing that was eating him alive. Maybe it was selfish, yes, to want to share the burden of what lived inside of him, but hell, they shared everything —the nightmares, the fear, all the fucked up things that went through their heads after that summer. So he started speaking.
“I was going to the pharmacy to get some meds for my grandma” he began, “I walked past that alley in Denver Street, and…” he swallowed nervously. “Bower’s cousin was there, Steve, you know?” Eddie nodded. “He called my name. And I went…”
“Why?” interrupted Eddie. Richie avoided his gaze.
“Well, I… We, um. Steve and I. We have…” he hesitated. “He’s nice to me. Sometimes. When he’s alone. And I thought…” He couldn’t do this. He took a deep breath, searching for courage. “So I went there, and he grabbed me, pushed me against the wall and he… kissed me”
Silence.
“What did you do?” asked Eddie. Good, he didn’t freak out yet, thought Richie.
“What do you mean?”
“What did you do to stop him?”
Richie looked at the other boy, surprised he hadn’t yet realized what this was all about. “I didn’t want to stop him, Edds”
Realization fell on his friend, the surprise clear in his half-opened mouth and big eyes. “Oh” Suddenly, though slowly, he took his hand away from where it was placed on top of Richie’s.
Right, thought Richie, should’ve seen that coming. Didn’t stop it from hurting though, and it hurt worse than any of the wounds that now covered his body.
“Anyway. I guess Bowers had followed Steve, or I have the worst luck in earth and he just happened to walk by. Thing is he saw us, kissing I mean, and the rest you can imagine”
“What happened to Steve?” asked Eddie, and now it was him avoiding Richie’s eyes.
“The fucker said I’d jumped him, tried to kiss him, I don’t know. I think Bowers believed him, or didn’t want to admit his cousin is a fucking f…”
“Don’t” interrupted Eddie. “Don’t say that word”
Richie felt anger crawling up his skin. Who he was angry at wasn’t very clear. “What, fag? It’s what he is, isn’t he? A fucking disgusting fag. It’s what he is. It’s…” he closed his eyes. “Fuck, it’s what we both are”
Again the silence. And again Eddie breaking it.
“So?”
“So?” Richie frowned.
“So what?” asked Eddie, half shouting and half whispering. “So you like boys, big fucking deal, Richie”
Richie looked at him with surprise. “You… you don’t mind?”
“What I mind is that you chose fucking Steve to…”
Hope invaded every corner of Richie’s chest. Eddie didn’t care. Eddie didn’t care. Eddie didn’t care. He laughed, and immediately pain shot up his spine. “Auch”
“Dumbass”
“Wait, so… Let me get this straight. Wait, ha, no. Let me get this” he said, still smiling like an idiot. “You don’t care I like boys, you’re just… jealous?”
Eddie gaped. “I’m, no, I didn’t say that , you dumbass, I said…”
“No, no, don’t lie Eddie Spaghetti. You’re jealous of Steeeeve… ” he sang.
“I would punch you right now if I didn’t know Bowers already did the work for me”
Richie elbowed his friend and Eddie couldn’t help a smile.
“So, for real, you don’t care?”
Eddie took back his hand. “I don’t care, Rich” He stayed silent for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to say something. “Well, I do care to be honest”
Richie’s stomach plummeted.
“I care because…” Eddie continued. “I care because I am. Too. I think. I don’t know. How did you know? Because I think I know I do but I don’t really know because I’ve only liked one specific person and that person happens to be a boy and that person happens to be…”
“Hey, hey, Eds, breathe,” said Richie, laughing out of relief. “Okay. Maybe you are. That’s cool”
That’s very, very cool supplied Richie’s mind. Because maybe, just maybe…Could it be? Could he be so lucky?
“How did you know?” repeated Eddie, after taking a breath.
I knew because of you , Richie wanted to say. I knew because you tell me to shut up when everyone else ignores me, because you see through all my bullshit, because you used to fight me in the hammock and wear those stupid shorts and talk hours about a disease you will probably never get and because it’s you, Eddie. It’s always been you.
“Richie?” asked Eddie, bringing him back to reality. “How did you know, then?”
“Will Harley”
“Will Harley? From chemistry?”
“Yes,” he lied. Big, big lier. Fucking coward.
“Uh”
“What about you?” asked Richie, scared of the answer. “Why do you think you’re…?” Eddie snorted, and Richie frowned, confused. “What?”
“You really have to ask?”
“I…” he thought for a minute. “Bill?”
“Bill?” shouted Eddie, immediately covering his mouth. When a few seconds passed and Eddie’s mom didn’t burst through the door, he took his hand away. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“I don’t know! Bill’s kinda hot, and you were always following him around”
“We all followed Bill around. We still do” he affirmed. “And no, it’s not Bill, you idiot”
“Then who?”
Eddie’s cheeks turned red. “You, you clueless dumbass! You really haven’t realised I’ve had a huge fucking crush on you since the moment you opened that big mouth of yours?”
“I…” Richie began.
“No, let me talk,” interrupted Eddie, pushing a finger against Richie’s chest accusingly. “I tried to tell you, I did. Tried to show you, so many times. I followed you around like a dog, laughed at half of your stupid jokes, opened you my window at 3 o’clock in the fucking morning just because you couldn’t sleep, cuddled with you, touched you any chance I had and you, you , come to my house tonight and tell me you kissed Bower’s fucking cousin, that he is nice , that you liked Will fucking Harley. Honestly, Richie, have some standards for God’s sake because I may not be a fucking Greek god but mfff…”
Eddie’s words were lost in Richie’s mouth, which was suddenly pressed against his. After., Richie would say a million times that he kissed Eddie to shut him up because he was being a little whiny bitch but the truth is Richie couldn’t stop himself. Eddie was just so cute when he was jealous, and angry, and confessing all of these things that Richie had been dying to confess since God knows when.
After the shock passed, Eddie finally relaxed into the kiss, wrapping his hands around Richie’s head and burying his hands in his curls. Richie felt Eddie’s inexperienced lips parting a bit, a tongue timidly poking at his mouth and he felt he was going to die right at that moment because this could not be happening. He half expected to wake up from a dream, half expected Eddie’s head to turn into a fucking red balloon or something. But nothing happened, and they kissed some more, and some more, and some more until neither could feel their lips and had to part for air.
The silence was there again, but it was not awkward at all. They looked at each other and smiled.
“You know, I never thought I would say this…” began Richie, “but you actually kiss better than your mum”
That earned him a shove, which hurt, but he didn’t complain. This was the worst and the best day of his life all in one.
“I like you too, Eddie Spaghetti” he muttered, feeling the heat on his cheeks as if they hadn’t just made out.
“Good”
“Good”
Richie yawned, suddenly very tired. Eddie yawned back. They looked at each other and reached a silent agreement. Richie laid back on the bed and Eddie followed, pushing his chest against Richie’s back. “Can I…?” Eddie asked, putting his hands around Richie’s waist.
Richie mumbled an affirmative response, pushing back so that every part of him was touching Eddie. This was perfect. It was so perfect that Richie forgot about the pain, about Bowers and his threat, about the fact that they were two gay kids in love in the middle of a small town in the 80s.
“You have to go before my mum wakes up, though” whispered Eddie.
“I know”
Silence.
“And we’re not doing more than kissing… Yet”
Richie smiled deviously. “Whatever you say, Eddie man.” Oh, he wants this bod, thought Richie, wants it so… and he immediately fell asleep.