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“What if it isn’t a girlfriend that I want to bring home for Thanksgiving?”
There’s silence after his words, drawn out enough that Richie almost thinks that the phone line might have cut off.
But he hasn’t.
He knows instead that this is just the shock.
Hopes that it doesn’t end with a dial tone.
The thing is he had plans for how he was going to come out to his parents, numerous plans, that he had made and remade multiple times unsure each time that they spoke on the phone or that he visited for the holidays that he would actually be able to manage the words.
And it’s not like he isn’t out.
One of the first things he did after leaving his hometown and moving to the big city after graduation was come out to everyone. Sure it was a little messy at first, not knowing the right words, not he just wears a rainbow bracelet and hints on every other guy he meets and waits for whoever he’s with to put the dots together.
The thing is for the last few years he hasn’t actually had to come out.
Everyone had just known.
Everyone except his parents.
Which is why he’s not really thinking, and acting on impulse when his mother asks if he’s bringing a girlfriend home for the holidays.
“Richie,” his mother’s voice is gentle through the line.
And suddenly Richie’s heart feels like it is going to burst out of his chest.
“You know that your father and I love you, no matter what,” she tells him. “As long as your boyfriend has a steady job and no felony charges, you’re more than welcome to bring him home for the holidays.”
Finally, Richie can breathe again.
“So misdemeanors are okay?”
*
“So I might have fucked up.”
“Shock of the century, Richie Tozier fucks something up,” Stan says, hands out like he’s framing a headline, because he’s a bit of an asshole of a best friend, which like, Richie deserves since he’s a bit of an asshole too, but still .
They’re all hanging out at Bill’s place, because it’s Tuesday nights, and Tuesdays mean cramming into the house of the only one of them dumb enough to actually still pay for cable so that they can all watch the Flash.
Richie knows from experience that he has a sweet two minutes and fourteen seconds of the commercials (and Eddie’s bathroom break) to get his story in before they will all tell him to shut up.
Which again, fair .
“You know how it’s almost Thanksgiving-”
“That’s a weird way to pronounce Black Friday,” Bev replies.
“Now that’s a holiday I can actually respect,” Stan chimes in.
While Ben adds, “I’m more of a Cyber Monday guy.”
“Yeah well,” Richie says, ignoring all of them, his next words coming out quick, in an almost comprehensive rush. “I might have kind of told my parents I was dating someone and now they want me to bring him home for the holidays”
There’s a moment of silence, where the TV plays that one Target commercial that comes on every commercial break and signals the show is about to return.
“But,” Richie laughs awkwardly. “I’m not dating anyone so…”
“RIP Richie,” Ben says, holding his diet coke up in a mock toast.
Mike meets his toast a second later with his own drink, and adds, “It’s been nice knowing you buddy.”
“Hey, not helpful.”
“You we’re right about fucking up,” Stan says.
Which is right about the time Eddie comes back in the room, sliding into his spot on the couch next to Richie and trying to dry his hands off on his pants, and asks, “What did you fuck up this time?”
“Nothing,” Richie says, right at the same time Bev says, “Everything.”
But it’s Bill that chimes in with the last second save, right as their commercial break wraps up and suggests - “What if you m-make a Craigslist ad?”
And well, it’s not the worst idea, right?
*
“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had, and really Richie that’s saying something.”
“Thanks Eds.”
Eddie, who is making his morning coffee and eating a fucking protien bar for breakfast, just shakes his head at him. Eddie’s always a little meaner in the morning, something about having to work a boring office job, and Richie really is only awake this time to see him off because he had spent the night playing video games instead of sleeping.
As far as roommates go they really couldn’t be more different.
But there’s familirity to it, the familiarity that comes from moving to New York City with your childhood best friend and renting shitty apartment after shitty apartment until you finally get to a decent one because one of you (Eddie) has a stable job and the other (Richie) makes a decent amount of money freelancing and recording his very popular podcast.
It works for them, and sure the magnets on the fridge spell out don’t forget to buy milk dickwad but it’s home.
“Bill was joking.” He’s got that pinched look of disappointment on his face, complete with his business suit and that Stranger Things coffee mug Richie bought him for his birthday last year, the picture of maturity. “You do know that, right?”
Meanwhile Richie is still in his pajamas, he’s sort of running on his own coffee high and well suddenly Bill’s suggestion from a few days before didn’t seem like the worst idea. “Okay, but consider, it was a good idea.”
“No,” Eddie says, with a shake of his head. “Haven’t you ever heard of the Craigslist killer.”
“I knew letting you find out about podcasts was a bad idea.”
“You’re going to get some random pervert or murder on there to come to our house and then you will die and I won’t feel bad.”
Richie makes an exaggerated pouting face, “I would feel bad if you died.”
“Tragic,” Eddie replies. Finishing off his coffee and turn turning to wash the mug before leaving
“You’ll save me from whatever weirdo I have to bring home, right,” Richie asks. “I mean, we’d all be stuck together for the long drive back to Maine and-”
“I’m not going to be driving there with you.”
There’s finality to Eddie’s tone, and even though he’s turned off the sink he doesn’t turn back around. Richie can tell his shoulders are stiff. That somehow he’s upset Eddie. “What, why? We always drive back together home.”
“I’m not going home for Thanksgiving.”
“Eddie?”
“It’s not like I have a home to go back to…” Eddie’s voice breaks a little. “My mom died , there’s no Thanksgiving dinner waiting for me, and…”
And “ Fuck” it’s not that Richie forgot. It’s just not something he ever actively thinks about. Something he sort of pushed out of his mind, because it was tragic and terrible, but Richie never liked her anyways, or the way Eddie way Eddie became when he was around her.
Moving to the city really had been what was best for both of them.
But still Richie had been there for Eddie all of May when he kept blaming himself for leaving, for moving on with his life, regretting not staying a child forever, because now it was too late to have that time back.
Eddie had gone home for the funeral, had come back, met with his therapist for a few weeks and never brought it up again, so Richie just forgot , which in hindsight was kind of terrible.
“I figure I’ll work through the holidays, get overtime and-”
“No, fuck that.”
When Eddie finally turns around Richie can see that his eyes are red, and his hands smooth down invisible wrinkles on his suit, a sign of his anxiety and distress.
Richie can’t have that.
Can’t have Eddie hurting himself and stressed out over that.
“You have to come.”
“Rich-”
“You can stay with my family!”
It’s a perfect idea. His parents love Eddie, and Richie knows if he calls his mom back and tells her that Eddie was planning on spending the holiday working instead of eating delicious turkey that she would insist that he drag Eddie back to Maine.
They wouldn’t want him to be alone.
Eddie shouldn’t have to be alone.
Richie won’t let him be.
“Won’t that be a bit of an issue?”
“What, why?”
“You told your parents that you were bringing your boyfriend, not your tragic and family-less best friend.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll just call them and…” Richie trails off.
Snaps his laptop shut, and looks up at Eddie with a look that he knows spells trouble.
Because he’s just gotten the most brilliant idea, way better than Bill’s Craigslist idea.
“No,” Eddie says, “Whatever it is the answer is no .”
“Eddie, Eds, baby, you gotta be my fake boyfriend!”
It’s a bad idea.
Probably a terrible one.
Because the thing is, Richie has kind of been in love with Eddie since he was ten years old and pretending to be dating him will surely only make that situation worse, but fuck it if he’s managed to repress his feelings for his roommate this long, what difference does it make now.
And Eddie doesn’t tell him to ‘fuck off’ so really that’s basically a ‘yes’ from him.
Progress.
And hey, this time there’s no chance of him getting his organs harvested by some stranger on the internet.
Two birds, one stone, and all that jazz.
Eddie’s voice is small, just a little nervous, when he asks, “Are you sure they won’t mind having me over?”
*
“So, fun fact,” Richie says, holding a little too tightly onto what is technically his third coffee of the day. He blames the fact that he’s shaking on that, and not general nervousness.
Beverly still in her Starbucks apron and technically still working gives into the prompting - this is, of course, when Richie came to her, because at least Bev always seems a bit happy to put up with his bullshit - “What?”
“I found someone to pretend to be my boyfriend for the holidays.”
“Shit, I owe Bill ten bucks. I thought the whole Craigslist thing wouldn’t work.”
“Oh, it didn’t!”
Bev, who had pulled out her phone, probably to venmo Bill, freezes - “Wait, then how did you find someone?”
“Act surprised.”
“I’m literally asking you a question, Richie, if I knew the answer-”
“It’s Eddie.”
She doesn’t act surprised.
Just looks confused and then concerned and, “Oh sweetie, do you really think that’s the best idea?”
“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”
*
“You’re not seriously just taking a backpack are you?”
“It’s only for a few days,” Richie says, with a shrug, “And it’s a big backpack.”
It’s not really.
It’s the same beat up jansport that Richie had bought for the half a semester that he attempted to go to college before dropping out. That he now usually uses to tote around his podcasting equipment. It fits about two changes of clothing and his laptop. Which, for a weekend at his parents (a place that most certainly includes a closet still filled with all the clothes Richie didn’t feel like bringing to New York City with him the last time he was there) is more than enough.
Though Richie understands why Eddie, who always overprepares and currently is carrying not one, but two suitcases down to Richie’s car is concerned.
“You’re not even bringing a coat.”
Eddie’s nose is a little red from the cold, his beanie pulled down a bit too far, he always gets cold too easily. And it’s cute, so fucking cute, a realization that Richie has been dealing with for years. Eddie is always cute and cold in the winter.
Whereas Richie - “I’ll be fine. I’m warm blooded.”
“All people are warm blooded,” Eddie tells him in a deadpan tone, “That’s not what that means.”
“Uh, not the lizard people.”
“I’m sorry, do you know any lizard people ?”
“I think Bill might be, it would explain a lot about him.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I thought ahead and packed your coat, otherwise you’d be running back up those stairs.”
“Thanks mom,” Richie snarks back.
Eddie always thinks of him. Takes care of Richie whenever Richie forgets to take care of himself. Sure, he does it with a grumble and a generally disapproving tone, but even with all of his protests, Eddie wouldn’t leave him to suffer in the cold too much.
Maybe just a little bit to try and teach Richie a lesson that he never learns.
Because this is better.
This is the way things have always been between them, since they were kids, and Eddie was buying Richie an extra ice cream cone because otherwise Richie always forgot wallet at home.
They settle together into familiarity.
Bags in the back seat, the two of them in front, pulling out onto a familiar stretch of highway.
They’d done this together before, year after year, going back to their hometowns and Richie pretending to be straight and normal for the holidays. Richie can’t imagine what it would be like, doing this drive with anyone other than Eddie.
Can’t imagine wanting to.
“This isn’t going to be weird, right?”
“Eds, I’m already on the fucking highway, I’m not turning around.”
“I know, I just…” Eddie trails off, doesn’t say anything, and for a second it’s just the sound of Richie’s very well curated 80s hits playlist playing, before Eddie says. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience or anything.”
“You’re not,” Richie says. “I mean, you’re doing me a favor too, making this whole fucking coming out to my parents bullshit a little easier.”
Unless.
That was what he meant.
They didn’t really talk about it.
Sure, Richie was out with all their friends, but Eddie… Well, Eddie was so focused on his work, always said that he didn’t have time to date people, guys or girls, and never was more specific than that.
And Richie had just taken the quiet and easy rejection for what it was and buried any feelings he might have had for Eddie long ago. I mean, sure, he thought Chris Hemsworth was hot, but anyone who had eyes thinks that Chris Hemsworth is hot, that didn’t mean that Eddie was gay.
Especially considering that ages ago when Richie had finally worked up the courage to come out all Eddie had said in reply was ‘ Oh neat ’. Not exactly a coming out of his own.
Maybe that’s why this whole thing felt so awkward.
“Look, just fuck it,” Richie says, pointedly looking out at the highway in front of them, not allowing himself to even glance Eddie’s way, “If you think it will be weird we can just drop it, I can tell my parents you’re just a friend and that I didn’t want you to be alone for the holidays so I came up with this whole bullshit thing.”
That would actually be pretty on brand for Richie.
It’s not like this parents wouldn’t believe the story.
“I just, fuck, I don’t want you to hate me, or think that I am the weird one,” Richie says quickly. “You’re my best friend, Eddie, I don’t want to fuck things up just because-”
“No, Richie, it’s fine,” Eddie cuts him off. Lets out a long sigh. It’s only a true testament of Richie’s will that he doesn’t turn away from the road to look at Eddie, when he says, “I want to be your pretend boyfriend for the weekend. I want to help you with this.”
He doesn’t deserve Eddie.
Fuck, if Richie hasn’t known that for years.
Why couldn’t his dumb heart just accept that the universe had given him the best possible friend in the world and stop wanting for something more.
“Okay,” Richie says, because no other words come to mind.
“Okay,” Eddie echoes a moment later.
The song changes, Africa coming on, and it’s their song and they should both be doing a terrible karaoke rendering to the song, but instead their both silent, the air heavy.
Eddie breaks it when the chorus comes on to ask, “Should we come up with a backstory of something?”
“A what?”
“You know like how we met?”
“We met in Kindergarten,” Richie says, the obviously implied.
“I mean, I know that.”
“And my parents know when we met,” Richie points out. “Seeing as you’ve been crashing at my place since we like eight.”
Eddie lets out another one of his sighs. “I don’t know, I just thought we might need a backstory of how we got together since we’re supposed to be boyfriends .”
Richie shrugs
“I guess we’ll just say that one day, one of us finally realized Oh hey I’ve been in love with this idiot my whole life and made a move or something,” Richie says. “I mean, we’ve been living together since we were eighteen that’s for fucking ever, Eds, it’s not that inbelievable.” .
It’s so simple to him.
Maybe because he’s been in love with Eddie for so long that Richie has forgotten how to love anyone else.
But unlike the story Richie crafts for them, he’s never been able to make the first move, never sure that the fall out when Eddie would inevitably let him down was worth the risk.
Eddie falls silent again.
And maybe that was taking it too far, but it’s too late to try and take the words back.
Even if Richie wishes the universe would just swallow him whole.
“So you’re just going to tell your parents that you’re in love me or something?”
“I do love you,” Richie says, because he does. Every fiber of his being is made of love for Eddie. But Eddie can’t know how deep those feelings run. “I mean, in a super platonic bro way, but it still fucking counts, right? Because you’re my bro and-”
“Shut the fuck up, Richie,” Eddie says, “And give me the aux cord, I’m not dealing with your dumb Apple Music ass anymore.”
“Hello, Siri! I’m being bullied!”
Eddie grabs his phone, but just restarts their song, and suddenly the topic of this being potentially awkward is dropped and long forgotten, as Eddie sings alone to their song as if nothing is wrong at all.
*
By the time they make it to his house, Eddie has seemed to reach some sort of zen, a picture of relaxed and chill, meanwhile Richie is more nervous than he’s ever been. Almost driving them around the block again just to avoid talking to his parents.
“You know it’s not too late to drive back to New York,” Eddie offers, even though they’re pulling into Richie’s driveway and his parents are waiting out on the front steps and it’s literally the definition of too late .
It’s not terrible really.
His parents are good people, a lot better than most of their other friends parents thought the standard is literally the floor, but… They help with the bags, act like nothing is out of the normal, greet Eddie like an old friend, because really that’s exactly what he is.
It’s not until Eddie goes back for his toiletry bag that Richie’s mother pulls him into a hug and says, “Oh sweetheart, we should have known. It seems so obvious now, it’s always been the two of you.”
So soft, and gentle, and so accepting without question that Richie’s heart aches.
Richie’s eyes fall to Eddie when he stumbles back into the house, his little bag retrieved, “Yeah, it always has been.”
His mother smiles in her own soft and gentle way, stepping back to look at the two of them with such fondness. It almost makes him feel bad that he doesn’t visit home more often. That he had been too worried and ashamed to before. That he had thought they might so easily hate him and throw him out.
“We already ate, but I could warm you two up something?”
“We ate on the road,” Richie tells her. “Or, well, Eddie made us stop and get out to eat, because apparently eating and driving is dangerous.”
“Did you know that you’re 3.6 times more likely to get into a car accident if you’re eating in the car,” Eddie tells them.
Richie, who has heard this statistic multiple times, just sighs - “See what that college education did to him!”
His mother laughs. “You two have always been this way, it’s not all that surprising. Though speaking of always , I would offer Eddie the guest room, but you always shared Richie’s room when you were kids, so I don’t imagine anything has changed now.”
“I mean, we do live together,” Richie points out.
Even though he knows that’s not what she means.
Because she’s not thinking of them as roommates, she’s thinking of them as…
“As long as you promise no funny business in my house, I’m fine with it.”
“ Funny business ,” Richie repeats in one of his exaggeratedly loud voices.
Which is right when his dad chimes in with, “She means sex , son.”
Beside him Eddie makes a half choked noise.
And while Richie hadn’t been thinking about it before, had been making a joke, now all he can think about is the idea of it . Of having sex with Eddie , and okay it’s not the first time that Richie has thought about that. He’s spent plenty of time with his hand in the shower picturing all sorts of things, but he had done his best to push those thoughts down. Lock them in a box never to see the light of day.
But now with Eddie flush beside him, it’s all Richie can think about.
How he and Eddie are going to be sharing a bed , and how his parents think that the two of them have had sex, and how much Richie really likes the idea getting laid in his childhood bedroom and-
“We won’t Mr. Tozier, I promise,” Eddie says.
His face is still bright red, but at least he remembers how to speak.
Something that Richie currently cannot manage.
“How many times have I told you just call me Wentworth.”
*
They’ve done this before.
Plenty of times when they were kids, pressed too close, because neither of them wanted to take the floor during sleepovers.
Plenty of times when they first moved to New York and their heater didn’t work and Richie would end up leaving the futon for the warmth of Eddie’s bed.
Plenty of times in recent years when Richie was a little too drunk to remember what room was his, and Eddie never complained because he knew it was just an excuse for Richie not wanting to be alone.
But this is different.
Somehow.
Because all Richie can think about is how little space there is between them, and how he wishes he could close that space.
And how much of a bad idea that would be.
“Maybe I should take the floor,” Richie offers, because he’s pressed against the edge of the bed, trying to give Eddie as much space as possible.
“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie tells him, throwing a leg over Richie to keep him in place.
Richie swears in the silence of his bedroom that Eddie should be able to hear thr way his heart is beating out of his chest.
But Eddie doesn’t.
He just falls asleep.
And Richie stares up at the ceiling and the glow in the dark stars that they put up there as kids, and tries to tell himself that he’s not going to ruin everything just because of one weekend.
*
When he wakes to an empty bed, for a moment, Richie feels relief.
But then all the memories of the last day fall back into place and the idea that Eddie is down there alone with his parents has Richie stumbling out of bed so quickly that he forgets his glasses until he is halfway down the stairs and too late to go back for them.
He registers the blurry shape of Eddie at the kitchen table, writing on what Richie knows from experience more than sight is probably the newspaper, the distant sound of the Macy’s Parade coming from the living room, and his mother making what smells like pancakes for breakfast.
Everything so simple and normal that Richie feels like a little bit of an idiot for having run down the stairs in a panic.
Especially when the blurry figure of Eddie gives him a look that is probably disapproval and says, “Where are your glasses?”
“I lost them.”
“How many fingers am I holding up,” Eddie says, flipping him off, because he’s a little bit.
Richie replies, “Eleven,” because he’s a little shit too.
Eddie snorts, and says, “I’ll grab them for you when I finish my crossword. You shouldn’t have come down without them, I know you can’t see for shit.”
Richie shrugs, taking the seat next to Eddie and squinting down at the newspaper, as though he could make the crossword suddenly become less of a newsprint blur. It does not. But it was worth a shot. “You weren’t there when I woke up and I got worried.”
He almost misses the soft aww from his mother, who up until that moment Richie had forgotten was in the kitchen, because Eddie uses his space hand to grab Richie’s and squeeze just a little bit in comfort. “Hey, I’m right here, idiot.”
Thankfully, he’s saved from having to embarrass himself further by his mother bringing pancakes over for the two of them. “No syrup, right, Eddie?”
“Right, thank you,” he says.
“I remember, from when you used to stay over,” she says.
“Yeah, when Eddie’s mom would let him stay out later than six pm,” Richie says. A familiar joke, but this time it falls short. Serves as a reminder of why Eddie is spending Thanksgiving with them and not down the street and - “Fuck, Eddie, I didn’t mean...”
“Language, Richard.”
“I’m twenty-four! I’m allowed to cuss!”
“It’s fine,” Eddie says, though Richie isn’t sure to which of them he is talking to. “Actually, if you don’t have any plans for the morning, I was thinking of stopping by the graveyard after breakfast, I know that’s depressing but…”
Eddie trails off.
Richie wishes he had remembered his glasses, if only so he could see Eddie’s features, and tell what sort of comfort he needs.
For now, all Richie can do is squeeze Eddie’s hand back.
“I think the plan was just to watch the game.”
“You don’t have to come with me,” Eddie says. So queit, and soft.
And fuck, Richie doesn’t want to go.
But he doesn’t want Eddie to go alone.
Not when he already had to go to the funeral alone.
“I guess it’s a good thing you packed my coat.”
After breakfast they head back upstairs, Eddie holding his hand so that Richie doesn’t trip over the stairs since he still can’t see them. Both of them changing into decent winter clothing, and heading out into the cold.
It’s chilly in Maine, different from New York City winters, even though they’re really not that far away.
But here there is snow on the ground and no buildings to block the wind, and a sense of quiet that sticks with them through the long walk to the graveyard.
The whole place is depressing, and Richie can’t imagine that it was any better back in May. He hadn’t gone with Eddie, hadn’t felt like it was his place, because to be honest he wasn’t really mourning her. He had felt horrible being relieved at the news of her passing, but after the mourning period was over it had felt like a burden was lifted off of Eddie’s shoulders, and fuck if Richie hadn’t been a little thankful for that.
“I know I’m supposed to say something sentimental,” Eddie says, when they’re both standing in front of her headstone. “But coming back here, without going home , it’s not so terrible. I always hated the holidays, but now… Getting breakfast with your parents. Is it awful that a small part of me felt relieved? Does that make me a bad son?”
“No,” Richie says quickly. “No, of course not, I mean if anyone is a bas sone, it’s probably me, who lied to my parents about having a boyfriend so that it would be easier to come out. I’m a fucking coward.”
“You’re not a bad person for being gay, Richie.”
“Don’t say that too loud, the rest of the town might hear you.”
But nobody hears them.
It’s just the wind and a bunch of tombstones keeping them company.
“Because,” Eddie says, so soft, barely heard above the wind, “That would make me a bad person too?”
And oh wait, that can’t be right, that can’t mean…
But when he looks up at Eddie, there’s a red tint to his face from the cold, but also an open honesty that makes Richie’s whole heart ache.
“Fuck, you really took me all the way out to your mom’s grave just to finally come out,” Richie says. “This puts my coming out to shame.”
“I mean, since we’re doing the whole meet the parents thing,” Eddie says with a shrug.
“Well, your mom always hated me,” Richie points out. “She thought I was a bad influence or some shit.”
“You are,” Eddie says. But it’s just a little bit fond. “The worst influence.”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
*
Eddie’s face is still red once they make it back home. He blames it on the cold, even though they’ve got mugs of hot chocolate in their hands, and they’re sharing one of those quilts Richie’s mother makes, and there’s no way that Eddie is still cold.
But Richie lets him make the excuse, because it means they can cuddle closer together.
He tells himself that it’s because it helps with their cover story, not because he wants to stay as close to Eddie as possible for as long as he can.
They’re technically watching the sports game, but Richie isn’t able to pay attention, partly because Eddie is pressed so close, and also partly because he’s gay and really who pays attention to sports in the good year of 2019 anyways, everyone knows the Patriots are just going to win the whole thing again again because Tom Brady’s deal with the devil isn’t yet and as someone who is technically from New England he is supposed to be vaguely supportive of this whole bullshit.
So really what does it matter if the Bears beat the Lions?
They make it to halftime, until Richie’s dad gets up to get another beer, before Richie shifts just a bit too give Eddie more space, and whispers to ask, “This isn’t weird, right? This couple shit.”
Eddie gives him a confused look. “This isn’t couple shit, we’re always like this.”
And really, isn’t that the funny thing.
That this fake relationship between them is so simple and easy and believable, because this is just how they are. They’ve always been this close. Only before this whole thing began Richie never thought much of it, of what being this close with someone that he had feelings for might mean.
It was just the way that their friendship worked.
The way it always has.
Only now Richie is pulling back, putting even more space between them.
Eddie frowns at him - “Stop that, now you’re being weird.”
“I’m not being weird,” Richie insists. Even though he knows that he kind of is.
“There’s nothing wrong with cuddling,” Eddie says, “It’s not like we’re making out.”
Richie’s heart aches a little at that. At the dismissive way Eddie says it, as though he can’t even imagine making out with Richie.
“Ouch, Eds.”
Eddie’s frown is so soft and confusing, and Richie can’t stand to look at him, so he tugs another blanket off of the back of the couch and wraps himself all up on his own. Tries his best to ignore the confused look that his dad shoots the two of them when he comes back in the room, and suddenly all Richie wants to do is pay attention to and talk about the game.
When he goes up to get more hot chocolate after the next first down, Richie doesn’t miss the way his father asks Eddie in what is a very weak whisper, “Trouble in paradise?”
He doesn’t hang around to listen to Eddie’s answer.
*
Thanksgiving dinner is so normal.
So fucking normal.
That Richie can’t help but wonder why he was so worried about all of this.
They talk about the weather, and the game that Richie only sort of paid attention to, and how Eddie’s work is doing in New York, and what his mother grew in her garden this summer, and it’s all so fucking normal.
As if nothing is out of place.
As if this has always been where Eddie belonged.
Sure, maybe if Richie had brought someone else, some random he had met off of Craigslist or even a real boyfriend, his parents might have had questions. Might have shot them disapproving looks. But here, with Eddie talking about an insurance claim that he was working on, cutting his turkey into the smallest bites possible so that they wouldn’t be a choking hazard, everything feels so fucking normal.
Why couldn’t his life be this easy?
Why did loving Eddie have to be like this, a whole mix of emotions that he couldn’t explain, that despite years of keeping them locked away, now feel ready to bubble forth at any moment. To spill out from him until there is no way of stopping them.
He can’t take his eyes off Eddie, can’t focus on everything else, it’s so bad that Richie misses a question directed towards him. Only coming back to himself when Eddie shoots him a wildly confused look and mouths ‘what’s wrong’ when he thinks that Richie’s parents can’t see.
And Richie can’t explain.
Because he’s pretty sure if he opens his mouth he’s going to blurt out how much he loves Eddie.
Instead he says, “Can you pass the cranberry sauce?” And pretends that nothing is out of the ordinary.
*
Eddie drags him out to the mall after dinner is over, because everyone knows that Black Friday really starts the second Thanksgiving dinner ends and that if you wait until the next morning everything will be gone.
There’s something about it, standing here in the mall that they often used to hang out in as kids. Eddie, having bought them both Starbucks, and now outlining his master plan to take advantage of as many deals as physically possible and it hits Richie so suddenly, that he could spend the rest of his life doing this.
That he has been spending his entire life doing this.
It’s always been them.
Richie and Eddie.
Eddie and Richie.
And Richie was a fool to have thought for a second that anyone else would fit so perfectly together with him.
These last few days have only proven that they already act like a couple, it was just a matter of taking the last few steps out there, which is why, in the middle of Eddie explaining all the coupons he has tracked in his phone, Richie blurts out the words - “I love you.”
But this time he doesn’t tack the super platonic ‘bro’ at the end of his sentence.
Eddie pauses, “Because of my coupons.”
“No,” Richie shakes his head, “Because of everything , I’m in love with you.”
They’ve been holding hands like they were real boyfriends, even though his parents aren’t around to see. And for a second, Richie thinks that Eddie is going to pull his hand away, but he doesn’t.
Richie can’t bring himself to look at Eddie, can’t handle the thought of his disapproval, not when his heart is finally on the line.
But eventually, Eddie speaks, with an almost casual tone. (Almost, because Richie knows him too well.) “Okay, yeah, me too.”
“Yeah, sorry, I- Wait, what ? What did you just say.”
And this time he does turn and look at Eddie.
Eddie, who is currently looking at Richie like he is the biggest idiot in the world.
Which, okay, fair.
“Me too,” Eddie repeats.
Slower this time.
But that… That can’t possibly be, right?
“Wait, are we talking about the same thing?”
“Obviously.”
“Are you sure because-”
“Fuck, Richie, as much as I would love to have this emotioanl crisis, the Old Navy sale is starting in ten minutes and if I miss out on those business casual sweaters because you finally made a move after one hundred years, I’m never going to talk to you again.”
“Is it kinda weird that your passion of Old Navy sales turns me on a bit?”
*
Later.
That night.
Crammed together in Richie’s bed like they’re kids again.
Wearing their brand new fuzzy and warm Old Navy pajamas that Eddie bought with no less than fourteen coupons.
So close, not really any space between them.
The same as before.
But also not the same at all.
The question comes up again, spoken by Eddie, so quiet, that it is nothing more than a 2am whisper in Richie’s childhood bedroom - “Did you mean that? What you said before, at the mall, about being in love with me?”
Richie’s heart feels like it is going to burst out of his chest when he asks - “Does it change things if I did?”
“Only in a good way,” Eddie promises.
“I meant it, I love you, not platonically, not in a bro way,” Richie says. The words seeming easier now. “I’ve kinda loved you for a long time.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, and then after a moment. “Me too.”
“We’re really both idiots aren’t we?”
Eddie laughs. “Yeah, we are.”
“But you’re my idiot, and I’m yours so…”
“You know, I didn’t want you to come here with someone you met on Craigslist, not because I was worried you would get murdered-”
“Wow thanks, Eds!”
“-But because I was jealous.”
“Jealous of my Craigslist game?”
“Jealous of whatever mystery man might get to kiss you before I could.”
“You do know that I’m not a virgin, right?”
“That’s not what I-”
“Wait, fuck, Eddie, are you a virgin?”
“Shut up, Richie.”
“Make me.”
And he does.
Eddie kisses him.
There under the covers.
So innocent.
And it’s everything that he had imagined it would be when they were kids, and still somehow so much better. Because this wasn’t just a dream he would have, a quiet hope he would keep in his heart. This wasn’t playing pretend to make his coming out easier.
This is the real deal.
It’s beautiful and wonderful and- “Hey Eddie, I don’t want you to be my fake boyfriend anymore.”
“What the fuck, Richie?”
“I want you to be my real boyfriend!”
And then he kisses Eddie again, just because he can.
*
In the morning (or well afternoon), when he stumbles down to breakfast again, Eddie is there doing the crosswords just like the day before.
But things are different now.
Because that’s his boyfriend .
“How is my most wonderful boyfriend this morning?”
He’s never going to get sick of that word.
Never sick of calling Eddie his boyfriend .
Not after waiting so long for this moment.
And Eddie smiles at him, all soft and sure, and fuck it if Richie doesn’t fall for him all over again, when he asks, “What’s a five letter word for holiday home ?”
“Eddie.”
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
*
(And later, when they’re back in New York, and Richie can’t help but introduce Eddie as his boyfriend to all of their friends, as though they weren’t all very well aware of who Eddie is, he pretends not to notice everyone opening up their phones to pay Bev ten dollars for having correctly guested how this would all go down.)