Chapter Text
Richie is so fucking done. He’s at this dumb ass college party fucking sober because it’s his turn to be the DD, and as everybody knows, nobody wants to be at a dumb ass college party without being Fucked.Up.
Without the booze, these kinds of things are just hot, smelly, and miserable, and every single other person is having a better time than you are.
Bev is on the couch next to him, sitting prettily and talking to someone she knows from one of her classes, only occasionally making heart-eyes at Ben over on the dancefloor. She’ll get tipsy enough that it's not socially acceptable for her to drive, but she never gets really drunk at these parties because she has too much dignity to be sloppy in such a public context. Bev, Richie can handle.
Stan, Bill, Mike, and Ben are all dancing to the shitty, loud pop music over in the cleared-out living room, sober enough that they’ve still got moves but drunk enough that they can’t stop giggling while they do them. He can handle them, too.
Eddie, on the other hand, is sloppy ass drunk. Like, vomiting into a houseplant drunk (which he hasn’t done yet tonight, but isn’t unheard of in his usual drunken antics). Not that Richie’s judging - he’s usually even worse than Eddie is, and he loves the shenanigans they get into when they’ve both had more than a few shots too many. But Richie’s had zero shots at this fucking thing, and therefore Eddie’s behavior has him one part jealous and two parts annoyed as hell. He’s on Richie’s other side, leaning all of his weight on him and loudly complaining that no one will drink with him, and Richie's about to pop a fucking blood vessel in his forehead.
“I told you, Eds, I’ve already hit my one-beer-limit! I’m your ride home, remember ? How the fuck am I gonna get us all to the house in one piece if I end up as hammered as you are?”
Richie always lets himself have one drink when he’s on DD duty, mostly so he gets to feel like he’s drinking with everyone else, but that one drink was the Corona he had when they got here 2 hours ago, and he’s never mourned its loss more than he is right now, begging Eddie to shut the fuck up.
“We’ll take an Uber!” Eddie shouts. He’s so loud when he’s drunk. Richie loves him.
“How the fuck are we gonna take an Uber, dumb ass? I drove my car here, and I’m not leaving it in the frat parking lot to get pissed on by drunk assholes all night.”
“It’s probably already been pissed on by drunk assholes, drink with meee!”
He’s now fully draped over Richie’s lap, whining dramatically and flailing his arms out, and Richie, through stifled laughter, is trying to shove him off.
“Get” -grunt- “OFF” -grunt- “of” -grunt- “me!” He laughs, trying and failing to return Eddie to his spot on the couch.
“You’re not being a very good best friend right now,” Eddie complains casually, as if he hasn’t even noticed Richie’s attempts at dislodging him - maybe he hasn’t.
“I’m never a good best friend, that's one of my charms,” Richie laughs, giving up and throwing his hands up in surrender.
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees in a sigh, closing his eyes and nuzzling into Richie’s stomach.
The very same stomach that is, at this very moment, being absolutely fucking demolished by butterflies. He needs to get Eddie off of him before he pops a boner and makes them all uncomfortable. Bev’s giving him a look like she knows exactly what he’s thinking (she does), and she raises her eyebrows at Eddie laying in his lap.
Shut the fuck up, He mouths with a subtle middle finger thrown in for good measure.
He loves you , She mouths back, or maybe she’s saying Cheese Kung Fu , but either way she’s being fucking ridiculous, so he rolls his eyes.
Eddie does not love him. That’s just a dream Richie’s had floating around in his head since, oh he doesn’t know, forever ? It’s not reality, as much as he wishes it were. He’s been in love with Eddie more or less since the day they met - that’s actually how he found out he’s gay - but Eddie has never returned those feelings. And Richie’s fine with that, really. Sure, it keeps him up at night knowing he’ll never find love because Eddie’s the only person he’s ever wanted, and sure, it makes for awkward moments like these, where he has to worry whether he’ll get a boner while his best friend is sprawling on his lap, but really, it’s fine! Okay that was a fucking lie, it fucking sucks . But he’s used to it. He’s lived most of his life knowing Eddie will never love him back, and he knows that’s never going to change. So Bev really needs to stop being such a dick about it.
“Alright, that’s it Eds, time to go.”
“What? Nooooo! No c’mon we just got here!”
“Eddie, we’ve been here for two hours.” Richie informs him in his most unimpressed voice.
“Wait….what? Really?” That seems to bring Eddie up short. Jesus Christ.
“Yes, really. So c’mon, let’s go beddie-bye before you do something to really embarrass yourself.”
Eddie protests weakly, but by the time Richie gets him to his feet he’s leaning so hard on Richie for support that he really can’t argue much. Bev gets up as if to join them, but Richie waves her off.
“Don’t worry about it, you guys can stay a little longer. I’ll get Eddie to bed and swing back for you”.
Eddie walks to the car surprisingly easily, but Richie’s pretty sure he falls asleep the minute he’s in his seat. This makes for a peaceful drive home, most of which he spends staring at the comatose patient riding shotgun. Probably a dangerous amount of time. Okay, so he almost hits a tree, and about five other drivers. But he doesn’t! Eddie just looks so cute passed out in the passenger seat - he’s wearing what Richie’s almost positive is one of his shirts, and the way his hair flops over his eyes? Fucking Christ he’s fucking screwed. He basically has to drag Eddie out of the car and into the house they share with Stan, Bill, Mike, Ben, and Bev. It’s a big place near campus that they split the rent on so it’s almost manageable, and he loves living with all of his best friends almost all of the time. Like now, for instance, because he gets the immense pleasure of tucking Eddie in.
Eddie, who is just now coming awake as Richie tries to wrangle him fully-clothed into bed. The "good-bro" thing to do here would be to help him out of his jeans so he’s more comfortable, but given the way he feels about him, that seems a little inappropriate. He knows that if Eddie had any idea about the big, gay crush he has on him, he’d probably feel a little differently about letting Richie undress him. Anyhow, Eddie’s probably way too drunk to care much, so it’s a moot point.
Richie heads to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and some aspirin to hopefully stave off Eddie's impending hangover, and when he comes back Eddie’s sitting up in bed, back in full on complaint-mode.
“Alright bud, drink this before you go to bed.”
“I’m not even tired, Rich!”
“Yeah, that’s because you decided to take a nap in my truck, dumb ass. But the more sleep you get, the better you’ll feel in the morning. Speaking of which: water, now.”
Rolling his eyes, Eddie does as he’s told, for once. Geez he’s sassy when he’s drunk, but then again, he’s sassy all the time. Richie fetches a second glass of water, which he forces him to drink as well, and then finally a third, which he leaves on the nightstand with the aspirin for tomorrow. Through all of this, Eddie’s kinda just…looking at him, and it makes him nervous. He lives most of his life making sure Eddie pays as little attention as possible to the things he does, hoping it’ll keep his secret safe; having his unwavering attention is concerning, and he feels like he could do something to fuck himself over at any moment, so he makes for a hasty exit.
“Now listen here fuckface, I’m gonna go pick up our friends. Do not, under any circumstances, get out of this bed and get up to do more stupid drunk shit. Go. The hell. To sleep.” He pushes Eddie’s chest into the mattress for effect, and turns to flick off the lightswitch and leave.
“Wait, c’mere!” Eddie whines, motioning for Richie to get closer.
With a puzzled look, he does, taking a step back towards the bed and raising his eyebrows in question.
“No, come here , like closer.”
Richie walks back to the bed, leaning over Eddie when he indicates that’s what he wants. Is he gonna try and headbutt him so he can escape? Ed’s never been a violent drunk, but he’s devious in all states of being, so Richie tries to be ready for whatever stunt his best friend is about to pull. He is definitely fucking not ready for what happens next.
Eddie pushes up surprisingly sturdily on one arm and leans up the foot or so between their faces to press their lips together, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of Richie’s head and threading his fingers through the thick curls there. And because Richie is a weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak man, he lets him. Just for half a minute, but still it’s more than he should allow. But fuck , man, this is all he’s wanted for pretty much as long as he’s wanted stuff, period, so sue him.
Eddie's kissing him urgently, but not roughly. It's tender enough to make his heart thump painfully in his chest, if a little sloppy. Eddie makes this whining sound in the back of his throat when Richie presses into the kiss, and holy shit Richie's never been so fucking turned on in his life . He's hard as a fucking rock, which is embarrassing as hell because he's only been kissing Eddie for like 30 seconds, but honestly he's so psyched, he could come in his pants right now and he'd thank God for the opportunity.
However, he knows it's time to stop when Eddie puts his tongue is his mouth. That sounds kind of counter-intuitive, right? Because that's the part that makes the kiss, like, 10x hotter, yeah? But that's the problem: Richie knows when he feels Eddie's tongue move hotly against his own that he could lose himself in this for the rest of the night, climbing on top of Eddie and kissing him breathless until one of them falls asleep or dies. And that's what he desperately, desperately , wants to do. But Eddie's skunked , man, so out of it he can't walk straight, and Richie knows that if he were sober this would never be happening. Hell, Eddie would be horrified if he found out he got totally drunk and made out with Richie. And if he found out Richie let him keep doing it?
He'd probably never speak to him again.
The fear that shoots through his veins at that thought has him jolting away from Eddie like he's been shocked, staggering back until he hits the doorframe, leaning against it and gulping in a few shuddering breaths. Eddie hardly notices - he just smiles sleepily and lays back down against the pillows, muttering a quiet "g'night, Richie" before promptly passing out again. And Richie is freaking the fuck out.
He's shaking so hard he can hardly keep himself upright, and he can't pull in a full breath of air. Is this what a panic attack feels like? Fuck this is a panic attack, isn't it? He's having a fucking panic attack! Great, this is just great . A fucking panic attack. Great. He feels like he's been doused in ice water, the bliss from earlier completely vanished. How could he just let that happen? Eddie is gonna be so pissed - no, not pissed; disgusted . Horrified . Richie needs to get out of here, like, now.
He practically sprints back to his truck, jumping into the driver's seat and shutting the door hard behind him. He takes at least 5 tries to get his keys in the ignition with his shaking hands.
"Fuck !" He yells, slamming his hands on the steering wheel.
He talks to himself the entire way back to the party.
"That's it, Rich, you've gotta die - or maybe you just need everyone to think that you're dead. You could go to Mexico, I hear it's pretty nice there this time of year. Maybe meet a nice man there who's not, oh I don't fucking know, your best friend ? God , you're such a fucking idiot."
By the time he makes it back to the party, he's wound as tight as a drum. He heads straight to the kitchen to get himself another beer because fuck it, he deserves one. This watered-down ass Corona won't actually get him any drunker, but it makes him feel better to have some alcohol to drink. He chugs it practically all in one pull while the other party-goers chatting in the kitchen look on in confusion and mild disgust. Then he slams it down on the marble countertop, chucks it into the bulging-full trash can on his way out, and marches upstairs to the bathroom.
It's here that he goes into full-on breakdown mode. When was the last time he cried? When they watched Homeward Bound for his film class in 9th grade? Eddie was there that time; he's not now. Richie's crying so hard he can hardly pull air in through his shudders, sobs breaking out painfully from his chest. He throws his glasses to the counter and looks at himself in the mirror, swiping angrily at the tears flowing down his cheeks and running his hands through his hair.
"Fuck. Fuck! Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Fuck!"
"Rich?"
His image in the mirror freezes.
"Ummmmmm… occupied?"
Great fucking job Richie, you fucking idiot.
Bev's voice gets closer, "Rich, are you okay in there?"
"Oh yeah! I'm great! Totally!" The fake chirpiness he adds to his voice is undercut by it's obvious wateriness.
Bev is done playing this game. "Richie, let me in there with you right now." She demands, trying the locked doorknob.
"Okay, okay, Jesus! Can't a guy have a breakdown in peace these days?"
The second he gets the door open with his trembling fingers, she's on him, feeling for injuries like the mama bear she is. Once her assessment of his body comes back positive, she moves her gaze to his face and stops dead.
"Oh, Rich, what happened?"
"Oh nothing, I just, you know, ruined my entire life, no big deal."
"Richie I'm gonna need you to stop spiraling for a sec and tell me what happened so I can help you."
"Oh nothing major, just fucking Eddie kissed me, and because I'm an idiot I let him, and now I'm gonna have to move to Mexico and I don't even speak Spanish Bev-"
"Whoa whoa whoa, okay, stop. Eddie kissed you? Why aren't we celebrating right now? What's the problem?"
"The problem , Beverly, is that he was drunk out of his damn mind, and is certainly going to regret it very much in the morning, on the off-chance he even remembers, that is. Greatest moment of my fucking life, and stupid ass Eddie won't even remember it-"
"Okay, Rich, reel it in. Have you, for even a minute, considered the fact that he wanted to kiss you?"
A pause
"Of course not. Because that's fucking stupid. He was drunk."
“Okay, yeah, but 'Drunk actions are sober thoughts' or whatever that saying is, right?"
"That's just a saying made up by some dumb ass in my position trying to convince himself that the actions of a blackout drunk mean something. Spoiler alert: they don't!"
"So you're telling me that sober Eddie is straight and has no interest in you, but drunk Eddie made out with you like a teenager?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you."
"No offense Richie, but you're fucking stupid."
"Hey!" He yells indignantly.
"Don't you 'Hey' me, Tozier, I'm not going to have this conversation with you again. Eddie is totally, 100%, stupidly in love with you, and he kissed you because he was too drunk to stop himself like he usually does. End of story."
Richie's heart soars in response to Bev's words, but he crushes that instinct quickly. There's just no fucking way, and the only thing worse than feeling the way he does now would be feeling hopeful instead, only to have his dreams crushed.
"Listen. You're fucking wrong. But that's not the point. Eddie can never find out that I kissed him. Comprendé? Hey, maybe I do speak Spanish!"
There, now he's using his usual coping mechanism for his emotional trauma: humor.
Bev's not laughing. "Richie-"
“No, Bev, no Richies. I need you to swear to me that you won't tell anyone about this, especially not Eddie. Don't fuck with me. Swear."
"Alright Rich, I swear that I won't tell him. But you should. Seriously, I know you. You can barely handle keeping the secrets you've got; If Eddie weren't as hopelessly oblivious as you are, he'd have figured it out 10 years ago. Keeping this one is going to kill you."
"Well then you'd better start planning my funeral, cause I'm taking this one to the grave. Make sure you play lots of Bowie," he grins, but it's clearly an act.
She sighs. "Alright, let's get out of here, you're in no state to party."
"You guys are ready to go?"
"Yeah, that's why I was looking for you, the guys are ready to head home."
Richie takes a quick look at himself in the mirror.
"Fuck, I look like shit , don't I?"
He tugs his hands through his hair, wipes his eyes, and puts his glasses on, but he still looks fucking terrible.
"Yeah, but luckily for you, the guys are too smashed to notice. Let's go."
She's right; Richie drives the guys all the way home, puffy face and all, and not a single one of them comments on it. Some friends they turned out to be. They all head straight to bed, and Bev follows after kissing Richie on the cheek and patting his shoulder. Which leaves Richie, alone with his thoughts for the rest of the night. This outta be good.
Now, Richie's no stranger to dark thoughts. He grew up gay in a small town, and he's been secretly in love with his closest friend for 12+ years - he's basically the poster child for depression. But tonight's on a whole 'nother level. Thankfully, he's fucking exhausted , so he passes out quickly.
The morning is… better and worse. Better because for a few blissful seconds he forgets what happened last night. Worse in every other possible way. On the bright side because he wasn't drinking, he doesn't have a hangover to contend with. That's the end of the bright side. All of the self-hatred from last night is back like it never left, and the knowledge that Eddie is either awake or will be soon has a tremor of fear shaking down his spine. He just needs to act normal, that's all. There's no way that Eddie will remember what happened last night, and now all Richie has to do is act like he doesn't either. Easy, right?
He cringes like a bitch when Eddie bursts into his room a few minutes later - the man has a sixth sense for when Richie wakes up -but Eddie's just being his usual grumpy self.
"Thanks for letting me get blackout fucking drunk last night, asshole. I'm pretty sure my hangover has a hangover." He’s so angry when he’s hungover. Richie loves him.
Usually, Richie's response would have been something along the lines of "Awwww Eds, did someone get a little too tipsy and hurt himself?"
What he goes with instead is "haha, yeah...sorry dude."
The stumble doesn't go unnoticed.
Eddie's brow furrows. "I guess you're not a total lost cause - thanks for the aspirin and water by the way." He tries, throwing him another bone like the great best friend he is.
But Richie is incapable of acting like a normal human being.
"Mhmm."
Smooth Richie, smooth.
Look, Richie isn’t a good actor. And you’re probably thinking “isn’t comedy just another form of acting?” and to that he says: fucking no, it isn’t. You might also be thinking “Richie, you’re literally constantly acting like you’re not in love with your best friend, isn’t that acting?” and you have a point there, but he doesn’t actually do much acting for that. Mostly, he just hopes and prays that Eddie isn’t reading into all of the gay shit Richie does, and so far, honestly it’s working. Well, it was until last night. Now he actually has to put effort into pretending like the last 24 hours never happened, and he isn’t fucking good at that.
Eddie definitely knows something’s up.
“...okay. Well, I’m gonna go grab some breakfast in the kitchen.”
“Haha yeah, you do that.”
Shut the fuck up, Richie! God , why didn’t he sign up for those free acting classes over the summer again? Oh yeah, that’s right, to spend more time with Eddie. Typical Richie move. Fucking idiot.
When Eddie closes the door behind him, Richie faceplants into his pillow and groans. Jesus. This is going to end very, very badly. And yet, he has no choice but his current course of action. It’s not like he could (or ever would) just never see Eddie again, but at the same time he needs to keep last night’s events a secret. So his only real option is to act like a completely fucking suspicious idiot for the rest of his life. Great.
Things only get worse as the days stretch on, and the other guys are starting to take notice. Of course, Bev knows from the jump what’s going on, so she’s been interpreting his awkwardness correctly the whole time. The guys, on the other hand, take a while to catch on, but now they’re definitely seeing it. The way that he’s his normal, hilarious self until Eddie walks into the room and turns all of Richie’s sentences into stunted garbage. The way he’s been dodging Eddie’s attempts to hang out when that used to be how he spent all of his free time. The way any talk of the party that night is met with an abrupt subject change, courtesy of Richie. Bill even pulled him aside to ask him about it once, and Richie made up some shit about exams and being tired saying that if he’s been acting weird around Eddie then that’s completely unintentional. Fucking liar.
And if they’ve noticed it, Eddie definitely has. It’s been 2 weeks since the party, and every day Eddie gets a little bit less weirded out by his behavior and a little more clearly annoyed by it. Yesterday, when Richie claimed to be too busy to go see the new Zombieland with him, Eddie muttered “Of fucking course,” under his breath as he walked away, and earlier today Richie caught him glaring daggers at him while he did his homework in the living room. But it’s fine - or, rather, it’s very much not fine, but Richie’s just gonna keep doing what he does best: pretending that everything is okay until it either becomes okay or blows up in his face.
It’s looking very much like it’s going to be the latter when Eddie stomps into Richie’s room after class one day with a murderous expression on his face. They’re the only ones home because they’re the only two who had a test the day before Thanksgiving break and couldn’t leave campus early to see their folks. Shit . Now Richie has another reason to hate his Comm. Arts 301 professor, other than the fact that her breath smells and she grades like a complete nazi - she set him up for this shit. Fucking harpy-ass bitch.
“Okay, listen here fuckface -”
“Eddie, I-”
“No, it’s my turn to talk now, Richie, and I’m pissed . No, not just pissed, I’m fucking hurt! I don’t know if you’ve become confused somehow, but I’m not fucking stupid, jackass. I’ve known you just as long as you’ve known me, and I can tell when something’s up. You’ve been acting weird for the past month-”
It’s been a month? Shit, it’s been way longer than he thought it has. Fuck.
“-and I tried to be patient, because I know you’re just fucking weird, and sometimes you just do weird shit because that’s who you are, but clearly it’s not just you being you; it’s got something to do with me. You act totally fine around every other godforsaken person on this fucking planet, so what’s your sudden problem with me? At the risk of sounding like a complete clingy tool here, what the fuck, Rich? We’re supposed to be best friends.”
By the end of his rant, his voice has tapered down from angry to just sad. It breaks Richie’s fucking heart, man.
“Eds, you’re not being clingy, okay? I’ve just been...really busy lately.”
“See, this is what I’m fucking talking about Richie! Our rooms are right next to each other, dumb ass, I can hear the Brooklyn Nine-Nine theme playing every twenty minutes, and I know your ADHD ass can’t do homework and watch TV at the same time!”
Fuck, he knows him too well.
“Cut the shit and tell me the truth, Richie.”
But he can’t tell him the truth. The only thing worse than having this conversation with Eddie right now would be losing him altogether.
“This has something to do with that party we went to last month, doesn’t it?”
That catches Richie off-guard, and Eddie can see that on his face.
“See? I told you I’m not stupid, asshole! What could I have possibly forgotten about that night that’s so bad? Everyone else treats me just fine - it’s just you! Look, I’m sorry for whatever it was, okay?”
Richie has one more chance to try and turn this around.
“No, Eddie, I’m sorry. You’re right, it totally has to do with that night. You threw up all over my favorite Hawaiian shirt and ruined it, and I guess without realizing it, I’ve kinda been holding a grudge against you for it. I’m over it now, okay?”
There’s a brief pause while Eddie checks to see if that excuse fits with the evidence he’s collected. He can see in his eyes that he’s almost made it…
“Richie, you wore that shirt yesterday.”
Fuck ! God he swears he’s smarter than this. His horny idiot genes block his brain cells when he’s around Eddie - that must be it.
“Are you serious right now, Richie? I’m done with this,” Eddie’s voice is thick with tears. Holy shit, what has he done? The whole point of avoiding Eddie to keep his secret was so he wouldn’t lose him, but as he watches Eddie walk towards the door with that devastated look on his face, it’s clear that he’s about to lose him anyways. That can’t happen.
“Wait! Eddie please wait, okay, I’ll tell you what really happened!”
He turns back towards where Richie’s sitting on his bed with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised in the universal expression for “I’m waiting.” Richie lets out a slow breath. This is it.
“The night of the party, you got really drunk, and… you kissed me.”
Richie cringes away from the words as they leave his mouth. All of the color drains from Eddie’s face, and his expression becomes horrified. This is the moment Richie’s been waiting for, where his best friend tells him that he can’t be around him anymore. Eddie opens his mouth, and he braces for impact.
“Richie…”
Here it comes...
“I am. So . Sorry .”
Wait, what?
“Wait, what?”
“It will never happen again, okay, please don’t hate me.”
His voice is trembling.
“You’re the most important person in the world to me, okay, and the way I feel about you doesn’t have to get in the way of our friendship, I promise.”
“Wait, what? ”
Eddies brow furrows. “Look, I know this is a shock, and I can give you some space, if that’s what you need, but please keep being my friend. I-I need you to.”
“No, like wait, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“...I kissed you. When I was drunk. Even though I knew you weren’t into me. And I’m very sorry.”
“I was going to apologize to you , asshat!”
Eddie’s head snaps up in shock. “What? What were you going to apologize for?”
“For kissing you back and taking advantage of you when you were drunk, even though I knew you’d be disgusted about it if you were sober!”
“Disgusted about what? ”
“About kissing me , moron!”
“Why are you yelling at me dickface, nothing you’re saying is making any sense!”
“No, nothing you’re saying is making any sense!”
“Why would I be disgusted with that? I’m the one who kissed you !”
“Because you’re straight and I let you kiss me when you didn’t know what you were doing!”
“Um, no?”
“Don’t lie to me, dude, I know exactly how out of your mind you were that night.”
“No, I was extremely drunk, but I’m not fucking straight !”
This is news to fucking him.
“...yes, you are.”
“No I’m not! How are you gonna tell me what my own sexuality is! I’m gay as shit !”
“Why didn’t I know that? I know everything about you! You never talk about guys!”
“I never talk about girls! I don’t discuss my love life with you because you’re the only person I’m interested in, and somehow I thought that might be awkward to bring up at guy’s night; my mistake!”
“Okay, but- wait, you’re interested in me?”
“Yes! Which is why I kissed you the other night, and what I’m trying to apologize for!”
“That’s impossible.”
“Look, I know-”
“No, just shut up for a second, dude!”
Richie puts his head between his knees and starts to hyperventilate. This can’t be happening to him. He should be totally fucking psyched right now, but he’s been wanting to hear Eddie say that for so long that his brain isn’t sure how to comprehend this information and has elected to set itself on fire, instead.
A hand falls on his shoulder. “Rich, I’m really fucking sorry, okay? Please don’t freak out.” Eddie pleads in a soft voice.
“Don’t freak out? Eddie, I’m in love with you ! I was gonna apologize because I have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair and kissed you back even though I knew sober-you would be disgusted. I felt like a total fucking skeez ball , and I was avoiding you so I wouldn’t slip up and tell you what happened, and by extension reveal my big gay secret!” His chest his heaving by the time he finishes his rant, but instead of feeling better he just feels vulnerable and exposed.
Eddie has the same deer-in-the-headlights look Richie was probably wearing a few minutes ago, and his hand is still frozen on his shoulder. The ice in Richie’s chest is starting to thaw and filling its place is a little, tiny piece of hope. Don’t you fucking ruin this for me, Eddie.
“Richie, you...like me?”
“I believe ‘love’ is the word I used, but if that’s too much for you we can pretend I said ‘like’.”
Ah, a joke to cover up how scared he is. Right on cue, Rich. Right on fucking cue.
“And you kissed me back that night because you love me-”
“Uh-huh.”
“And have been avoiding me ever since because you were afraid that I’d reject you if I found out.”
“That sounds about right to me.”
“And you thought I was straight.”
“Look, I’m learning a lot today, give me a break.”
“And you had no idea that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”
“...I guess? I still don’t think I know that.”
Eddie grins. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Rich”
“Hey! I-”
Whatever defense he was about to try is cut off by Eddie’s lips blocking his airflow. The hand on his shoulder moves up to cup the back of his head, and it’s so much like last time that it makes his head spin a little bit. But it’s also so different from last time, because as his head is just starting to fully comprehend, he’s allowed to want it this time. Eddie is sober, and he loves him. He grins so hard into it that Eddie breaks away because the expression he’s wearing makes it impossible to kiss properly.
“Sorry, dude” Richie laughs, before pulling Eddie down by the sides of his face to kiss him the right way. This time, Richie ’s the one to push his tongue into the other’s mouth, and the whimper that Eddie lets out in response leaves his stomach aflutter with butterflies. They kiss passionately for several minutes until their lips are bruised and swollen, which Richie finds so hot that he groans and draws Eddie back in. Eddie bites at Richie’s lips, which sends a tremor of heat down his spine.
“ Fuck ” Richie moans, tugging on Eddie’s perfect hair.
Eddie really likes that, if his responding attempt to get them even closer is any indication, but unfortunately that move also knocks off Richie’s glasses.
“Dude!” Richie laughs, falling back onto the bed.
“Shut up, I’m new at this, jerkface!” He lays on top of Richie, dissolving into giggles as well.
Richie pushes up onto his elbows, bringing his face inches away from Eddie’s.
“Hey, I don’t know if I made this clear through all of the yelling earlier, but I’m serious.” Richie’s tone of voice indicates as much, losing the laughter from a few seconds ago.
“I’ve been in love with you since we were 8, and I never told you because I… I was so afraid that you’d reject me, that you’d never talk to me again, that you’d be grossed out, all that good stuff. And I’m still so fucking afraid. And that’s why I was avoiding you, and felt like I couldn’t tell you about what happened, and I’m sorry. I’m done doing that - everything’s out in the open now. If you were doing this whole liking-me-back thing because you were afraid I’d wig out again or something, don’t. You’re my best friend, even if you never love me. It’s really okay.”
Richie finishes his speech with an encouraging smile, even though it breaks his heart to have to say those words. He just needs to be sure that if Eddie really says he loves him, he fucking means it.
“Fucking OW !” Yeah, Eddie just punched him in the arm, hard.
“Unlike some people , I don’t lie to my best friend. Of course I really love you, you idiot! Why would I ever say so just to spare your feelings? I love hurting your feelings! It’s like, in my top ten favorite things to do!”
He’s grinning, that little shit.
“I’ve loved you probably about as long as you say you’ve loved me, I was just way too much of a pussy to say anything about it; luckily for us, drunk-me has no fear, and decided to take matters into his own hands.”
Richie shakes his head, grinning now, too.
“You really love me.”
“I do.”
“I love you.”
“I’m starting to see that, yeah.”
“Are we boyfriends now?”
“I certainly fucking hope not, you’re awful.”
“ Eddie! ”
“I’m just kidding , sheesh. Yeah you’re my boyfriend, idiot.”
“Dude, Bev is gonna be so fucking psyched, she basically called this shit 10 years ago. I think I owe her money now.”
THE END