Work Text:
Richie doesn't know who's fucking idea this was but he hates it. They had locked Bill's basement door - it had been a thankful fall where Bill's basement was not flooded and what was left its place was firm, relentless and cold concrete beneath their feet - and resigned themselves to some of the liquors they had stolen from upstairs. Bill's parents didn't notice, never did and when he realized this, Bradley Donovan had exclaimed, "Cool!"
Richie doubts it is cool when he's noticed how thin Bill is around the stomach or how Bill had to bribe Georgie into leaving them alone on promising to take him outside to explore together tomorrow - he didn't know but tomorrow Bill would fall sick.
There is an extra one breathing in the air between them tonight and as though the cosmos are telling him, Richie knows it isn't the right one but Bradley Donovan had heard Bill running over his lines in the speech therapy appointment waiting of what his plans were for the weekend, Bradley had asked if he could join them. Bill had said yes because Bill Denbrough is godsent on his worst days and a savior of mankind on his best.
But now, judging by the way Bill moved his sleeping bag closer to Stan in their circle, Richie assumes that Bill is starting to regret that decision. He might not be though, Richie admits, maybe he's just drunk and cuddly from his sudden appearing need to pool himself across Stan's thighs.
Bill may be more intoxicated than the rest of them - heavily. Richie admires how Bill's auburn locks flow over the crotch of Stan's otherwise unremarkable khakis and how a beautiful smile has carved itself into his face... Richie needs to pause, he's long since gotten over his middle school crush on Bill Denbrough - but the vodka is dwindling down in the bottle faster than usual and Richie is trapped in his thoughts.
Usually, he and Denbrough are the only ones taking sips but tonight, Stan had taken a large swig after Bradley had gone in on a rant, Denbrough had drunk a lot and Eddie had taken the smallest sip from the bottle to the point where Richie isn't sure he actually had any.
Richie himself has drank quite a lot too. Maybe that is why his recollection is missing in the parts his brain has deemed unimportant -- or maybe it's that tonight, everything changed.
- If he attempts to recall far enough back, he would remember that Bradley Donovan is the one who starts the game of truth or dare.
The game starts easy: Bradley asks them all if they like someone, in turn, Bill asks truth or dare and then dares them to try to lick their elbow or something and Stan dares Richie to lick his own foot then Bradley says it...
"Richie, truth or dare?" And because Richie doesn't want the inevitable question following his last answer to be Bradley having to ask who he likes, he answers dare.
The air seems punched out of his lungs and Richie wants to slap him until he can't talk when Bradley lisps out, "I dare you to kiss Eddie."
Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak. Eds Kaspbrak. His angel, the cosmos that have been hung in his sky and Bradley wants him to kiss him? Bradley wants him to smear his hand through the stars carefully placed on his cheeks as though God placed his freckles there himself and stain his hands like that? As their lips touch?
Bradley wants the others to know he is a fag?
He stutters, not unlike Bill and when he glances over at them, Stan is watching Bradley with skeptic eyes and Bill has gone surprisingly stiff in his lap but Eddie's sigh catches him off-guard, "Okay..."
Eddie's voice is strangely okay with it but Richie does not have the time to consider when Eddie, in the skip of a heartbeat, presses his lips against Richie's own.
Here Richie is, sitting in Stuttering Bill Denbrough's cold basement with four other boys as he kisses someone he is sure he will love for the rest of his life. He only has one sock on.
But Eddie's lips are chapped against his own, real and raw and unsure, but young in practice - they're fourteen, Richie's mother had always said in the future, he will fall in love but at fourteen, Richie Tozier knows he will love Eddie Kaspbrak for life. - and Richie does not think any of them have had their first kiss. But it's nice, it's a passion tingling up their skin as they kiss lightly and Richie raises his hands but he does not touch. Will not touch Eddie like a fag in front of Big Bill or Jew Stan or Stranger Bradley.
Eddie cups his face and moves the kiss into a more open-mouthed lean and Richie is surprised; Eddie is surprisingly leading in the kiss, Richie's heart skips a beat, as though he has considered kissing Richie before.
Eddie's small and soft hand fits well on his face and Richie never wants it to move but both their breathing becomes strange and irradicated so they pull back.
Eddie's hazel eyes stare into his own when Richie pulls back and Richie is shocked to see that the pupil of Eddie's eyes has diluted into the sweet hazel-brown.
"Wait to make out like a couple of fags."
"Fu-fu-fuck off, Bra-Bra-Bradley."
When he wakes up at 3 am, Eddie is tucked into his side, his arms cradled around Richie like a hug but Richie feels tears bloom in his eyes. It's so hard to have something you want so bad so close but with an invisible wall between the two of them. When he knows, loving Eddie is death -- loving Eddie has always been death.
Richie cries until 4:50 am, teeth clamped in his pillow to avoid making any noise with his only company being his thoughts -- and a pair of glowing orange eyes on his back but Richie doesn't know that either.