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ARE YOU MAD AT YOUR PARENTS?
Eddie stops short before he's even processed the words on the flyer posted in the quad, and he very nearly says 'yes' out loud. All week he's been dreading going home, in fact, because he's mad at his mother, he's furious with her, but it's Thanksgiving and she's expecting him and she wants him home.
She always wants him home. He's trying to have a life, but he's going to school so close to home that he keeps running back. He's trying to be himself, and every time he's with her, she tears him back down. The last time he'd gone home, he'd worked up the courage to come out to her on his way there, and by the time she'd finished screaming and crying about it, he felt deeper in the closet than ever.
A mistake, she'd said. Confused, she'd said. And so he avoided going back, and she had called him on the phone, and she had started asking him about girls like he hadn't said 'Mommy, I think I'm gay'-- think! As if he hadn't known! But when he talks to her he can never just know himself, he can never just be sure-- and he doesn't want to go back, he never wants to go back, but he doesn't see a whole lot of options. Even if he was ready to be on his own, it's Thanksgiving. There may be precious little comfort back home, but what there is comes in the form of food.
ARE YOU MAD AT YOUR PARENTS?
"Fuck yes I am." Eddie says, and he reads the rest of the flyer.
If you go to school here and you have to go home for Thanksgiving weekend and you're mad at your parents, consider hiring me to be your fake boyfriend.
Your dad will not approve of my haircut. Your mom will not like the bands on any of my tee shirts. I am going to be a stand-up comedian, which your parents will definitely hate. If you bring me home as your date, I will make sure that they approve of your next (real) boyfriend just because he won't be me. It is up to you whether I discuss our imaginary sex life at the dinner table, or if you really want to make a scene, I will pretend to propose to you. I am not afraid to argue about politics with your drunk uncle who still kisses Reagan's ass.
No payment required if you can give me a ride/arrange for my travel, and if your parents put us in the same room I will sleep on the floor no problem. All I'm looking for is a good dinner and a funny story for the future. If you need your parents to think you're making bad life decisions but you don't want to actually make bad life decisions, call me.
There are times specified, for when best to reach this mysterious bad boyfriend. None of the numbers have been torn off of the flyer. Eddie takes the whole thing down, his heart pounding. When their schedules line up to allow it, he makes the call.
"Yello, you've got Richie Tozier."
Richie Tozier. Eddie wonders if they know each other, or know some of the same people. The name is familiar. The voice is nice.
"Hi-- um-- this is about the flyer?"
"Oh, cool, cool, cool." He can hear Richie moving around-- things on his desk, maybe, in his dorm? Eddie wishes he knew how to picture him. "You trying to look good by comparison, or is this for you? Because that's cool! No one else has-- like, I think people probably thought it was a joke, but..."
"For me." Eddie says, and his heart is pounding all over again, but Richie just says 'cool' again, like it's not a big deal at all. "I want a date for me-- fake date. I-- Ugh. I don't know why I'm doing this..."
"Because you're mad at your parents? Hey, look-- no pressure to go through with it just because you called me, but tomorrow, let's meet up, and if you want to go ahead with the plan, we'll figure out the details. Cool?"
"Cool."
There's not much else. Eddie gives Richie a phone number, they hash out their schedules, they discover there's a dining hall that's convenient to both of them and agree on meeting up over lunch... it's not terrifying. It shouldn't be terrifying.
When his mother calls, he tells her he's bringing someone home after all. He cuts the call short.
Richie Tozier, when Eddie goes to meet him, is... well, he's pretty much as-advertised. His hair is too long, his glasses have been taped back together, he's wearing a tee shirt for a band Sonia Kaspbrak would most assuredly hate-- underneath a loud floral camp shirt-- and there's just a general air about him that says he's all the things any parent wouldn't want to see showing up for Thanksgiving dinner. He looks loud, and dirty, and rude.
He's cute.
"Are you Eddie?" He sits up a little straighter in his seat. "Eddie Kaspbrak?"
"Yes." Eddie sets his tray down, and tells himself there's no reason to start blushing. "I think... I think I want to do this. I mean, I told her I was-- I told my mother I was bringing someone home this year."
"Tell me about her. What's the deal, what do you need me to do? Just standard obnoxiousness? Or, like, I can act like I'm trying really hard to get along and make her like me but I'm just really bad at it?"
"It's just..." He has to force his shoulders not to hover up around the vicinity of his ears. This whole thing is insane... but for all that Richie seems like a gross and obnoxious person just looking at him, he also seems... He seems like someone it's safe to just relax around. "When I came out to my mother, she... She's been pretending it never happened. Well, I mean, first she told me it wasn't happening, and that I was wrong, and that I was confused, and that I didn't want to get AIDS and go to Hell, and she didn't want me to get AIDS and go to Hell, and then the next morning she just started pretending we never fought about it and I never said anything, and she asks me about girls at college, and she talks about introducing me to girls whose mothers she knows, and... I thought, if I showed up to Thanksgiving with a boyfriend, she couldn't pretend I was... I don't know. Confused, or making it up for attention, or whatever the hell she thinks."
"But you don't have a boyfriend right now, so you're going with me." Richie nods, gesturing broadly with a french fry. "A sound choice on your part if you're looking to sweeten the deal with a little revenge, because like the flyer says, I am fully prepared to be her worst nightmare, in terms of guys her son could be seriously dating."
"Well, if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't subject him to my mother, if I could help it." Eddie rolls his eyes. "And anyone I brought home would be her worst nightmare. But I saw your flyer and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so... A briefing on my mother, she is a bigot, and she's the reason I'm a hypochondriac, and the only reason she wants me to bring a girl home is so she can believe I'm not gay after all, since she'd honestly much rather have me never move out of her house. And she... I don't know. She's just... she's difficult to be around."
"Baby, so am I." Richie winks.
"Honestly... I kind of just... It's just the two of us-- I mean, my aunts will be there for the dinner, but the rest of the time it's just the two of us, and her sisters are all like her, and... I don't know. I thought... It would be nice to have someone around. Just, like... so you could tell me if she's really crazy, or if I'm crazy, or--" He stops himself again, doesn't know how to say it, doesn't know how to even approach the mountain of unease that surrounds the idea that she told him he was always sick as a boy, that he was always in the hospital, during those years he doesn't remember, but all he really knows is that he never feels sick when he's at college. At college, he can run without his asthma bothering him, his frequent stomach troubles rarely keep him in bed, he's not fatigued... but he doesn't know, really. He doesn't know if there's something he's allergic to in the house that doesn't affect him at school, or if it's only the stress that weakens his immune system, because it's stressful being home but the kind of stress he's under at school is the kind he can thrive under. He doesn't want to think it's something she does to him on purpose. But if someone else, someone normal, could just be there to watch, maybe then he'd know... something.
"Okay, okay. So I'm your boyfriend-- we haven't been seeing each other too long but we're serious?"
"A couple months. I'll say I tried to tell her I was gay before because I'd just met you, and we've been seeing each other since but we only recently got serious."
"Cool, cool." Richie nods. He doesn't look very cool.
"Look, if you weren't expecting a guy, you don't have to go--"
"No! No, I-- It's not that. Um, just... No, I want to." He shakes his head. "I'm just kind of... like, figuring out a script for this thing. Do I plow you?"
Eddie chokes on his tea. "Excuse me?"
"Shit-- sorry! I'm just wondering, like... Presumably we're banging, for the purposes of this fake relationship, but like, do I plow you, or...? Because I'll be honest, if like, you wanna play it like you're the one who plows me, that's just harder for me to pull off. I mean I will! I just don't, um, I don't know how?"
"Well, my mother doesn't need to know what our preferred sexual positions are." He raises an eyebrow. "But... I mean, if it helps you get into character, you can think of it that way."
"It only matters if you want me to work blue, but I mean, like... Forget it. We'll keep that vague. No bringing up sexual positions at the dinner table. Just tasteful comments on how hot you are, and a little gentle implication that we're banging."
Eddie snorts in spite of himself. "Tasteful. Great. Definitely tell her you're going to be a comedian, I can't wait to see how that goes over... And you want to support me through grad school. We can't get married, but we could still tell her we're going to live together."
"I'll ask you to run away with me to LA. Oh-- oh, I'll say I'm dropping out of school to pursue comedy full-time and taking you across the country, we're gonna, we're gonna fucking... live in West Hollywood. Oh, shit, I'll see if I can find my class ring from high school, just because it's not legal doesn't mean I can't bust out a proposal in front of all your relatives. That is a promised part of the Richie Tozier service package. Okay, okay, tell me about you, though-- it should seem like we actually know each other. What do you like, what are you into? What childhood pets would you have told me all about by now?"
"I never had a pet. Or a childhood." Eddie says, and Richie laughs. "I mean... I don't remember my childhood, much."
"Me either." Richie's voice is soft all of a sudden, there's something in his eyes. "Well, cool, we have something in common. What's your favorite ice cream?"
"Vanilla. I-- I guess I'm actually... really boring." He blushes.
"Actually, I read that people whose favorite ice cream is vanilla tend to be risk takers. The type of person who appreciates the complexity in a 'safe' ice cream choice is also the type of person who's getting their kicks elsewhere."
"I don't think that's true for me... but thanks. That or rainbow sherbet."
"Oh, I like vanilla more than rainbow sherbet." Richie makes a face. "Rainbow sherbet is like... In the church basement? There'd be a big block of it in the punch bowl and then sprite over it? Like, I literally don't remember my childhood but I remember that church basement. What about pizza toppings? Coke or a Pepsi man? Music? Movies?"
"Plain cheese. Pepsi. I don't know, I listen to everything-- I guess I haven't kept up with new music lately. I like David Bowie a lot. And, um... I don't know. I like music you can dance to. I mean, I don't dance, but I like the music. I like funny movies."
"Plain cheese? I take it back, Eds, you are boring." Richie groans, and Eddie wants to protest the nickname, except it settles into an empty place in him.
"Okay, what about you, then, if you're the arbiter of taste?"
"Hawaiian. And Pepsi's fine. And I live for rock and roll, the louder the better. Um, but David Bowie's cool, I guess. I don't dance. Or, I'm told I shouldn't. I... think I used to watch a lot of monster movies. I like comedy. I like action. What do you do for fun?"
"I run-- don't make that face, it's important to me, okay? I have asthma, so... like, I don't know, okay? It feels good to be able to do it. Um, I don't know, I mean I listen to music, like... just, my old tapes. When I'm cleaning or studying. I'm learning to do all my own maintenance work on my car."
"That's cool. You've got a car?"
"My mom doesn't really drive, so... when I went off to college I took the car. And I've been keeping it in really good shape, actually!"
"So I take it we're driving up?"
"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I guess we are. If you want to drive together, yeah."
"Cool. Um, I have a slot deejaying the campus radio station. And I do open mic nights, stand up. I have an old Sega Genesis that I'm very committed to."
"How come you're doing this?" Eddie asks-- it's blunt, but somehow it feels less dangerous than asking when Richie is on air, where he does his open mic nights, whether he'd want to do something other than pretend to be Eddie's boyfriend for one hellish weekend. "Do you also hate your parents?"
"Nah." He laughs, as if it isn't incredibly rude of Eddie to have asked him that. "Mags and Went are cool, but like... I couldn't swing going back for Thanksgiving and Christmas, so... I'll see them next month and we'll have all the same foods. I figured since I couldn't make the trip home, I could at least finagle my way into a plate at someone else's. And being loud and obnoxious is the one skill set I have. That and my enormous dick."
Eddie isn't even drinking anything, but he chokes anyway.
"Sorry." Richie grins.
"Just having a big dick isn't a skill, let alone a skill set." He says primly, recovering as much dignity as he can. Richie just laughs.
"I stand corrected. But it is impressive."
He wasn't supposed to find him charming... Richie Tozier was supposed to be-- as advertised on the flyer-- kind of grungy-looking, loud-mouthed, uncouth, and horrible to be around. This whole stupid plan was supposed to be safe because he wasn't supposed to like him. He definitely wasn't supposed to talk to him for five minutes and feel as if he'd known him all his life... so why does he like this gross, awful boy so much?
Richie has a laid back, dismissive air, but when it comes to planning, he's actually focused and dedicated. It's not just the meeting that goes well, when the time comes to set out, Richie is punctual and prepared. Well... he has a backpack where presumably he has a couple changes of clothes and a toothbrush, and his clothes are just getting progressively more wrinkled, but that, too, may be part of the Richie Tozier service package. They jam out to one of Eddie's old cassettes on the drive to his mother's, and that's when things stop going smoothly.
He knew he was starting a fight by bringing Richie. He knew exactly what he was doing by arranging to have a fake boyfriend. Even if Richie had been a model young man, she would have thrown a fit. But Eddie barely gets through the door on his arm, barely says 'Mommy, this is my boyfriend, Richie Tozier', before everything goes to hell. He'd thought she'd given quite the performance when he came out-- and she had. But if that had been a performance, then this is the real thing. The hot-and-cold fury, the rabid lecture, the talk of sin and rot, the way she talks about Richie as if she knows anything about him... well, to be fair, Richie has a carefully-calculated appearance, designed to drive parents batty, but this doesn't feel like anger at a tee shirt and a haircut.
They wind up on the front porch, his mother still screaming at them as Eddie feels his lungs shut down, as he struggles to get any air. He nearly drops his inhaler, and Richie catches it before he can lose it completely. Richie, who just signed up to catch a few dirty looks and a lecture about his idea of a career plan in exchange for a hot meal, he helps Eddie get the inhaler shaken up. Presses down on it once before bringing it to Eddie's lips and then holds it steady for him.
"Breathe." He says. He looks white, stricken, but he holds it together until Eddie doesn't feel like he might die. He still isn't getting enough air, but he's not gasping and struggling uselessly, either. "Eds, hey-- breathe, come on."
After a couple of puffs, Eddie nods and shoves his inhaler back into his own bag. They make it back to the car before he bursts into tears.
"Hey, hey... I'm sorry."
"I'm stupid, I knew-- I knew--"
"No, come on." Richie runs a shaky hand through Eddie's hair, smoothing it out. "You didn't know. You knew she'd be mad, but..."
"I'm sorry." He heaves in a hiccuping sob. "I'm sorry I took your flyer, I'm sorry I brought you here. You could be eating with someone else. Or you could be at school at least, without my mother accusing you of-- of-- all kinds of things, and--"
"I'm glad you took it. Okay? I'm glad you didn't come here alone." Richie insists, even though he looks like he's on the verge of a panic attack of his own.
Eddie wouldn't blame him. Being yelled at in the street about corrupting Sonia Kaspbrak's son, being called awful names, the way she said he was no good... sure, he might not have to care what Eddie's mother thinks of him, but that doesn't make it a fun thing to go through.
"Can you drive?" He asks, his voice small. He's driven too long already and he's shaking so badly, but they're not welcome inside, they've got to go somewhere.
"Yeah." Richie wipes at his face. "Switch seats, you can take a nap, okay? I'll drive and then we'll eat."
"Not the dinner I promised you."
"I don't really care about that right now."
They switch. Eddie falls into an uncomfortable sleep pretty quickly, familiar music playing, his seat leaned back and the rhythm of the road beneath them. But sleep is always uncomfortable after an attack or an argument. He tries to tell Richie he's taking the wrong ramp, but barely any sound comes out as it claims him.
When he wakes, Richie is pulling up to a house, is regarding Eddie with an expectant worry.
"Okay, I know this is, like..." He takes a deep breath. "Not what you were thinking? But your mom's house was already halfway to my parents' house, and I thought... like, I couldn't afford a train ticket but I could afford to chip in on gas for the trip home, and if we had to drive the same number of hours tonight, then we should get to at least eat some leftovers. I stopped on the way to call from a payphone, you were pretty deeply asleep. But... but I told my mom a friend had a big fight with his family and it wasn't your fault and your mom was just-- and-- Do you want to come to dinner with my family? Like... as a real friend?"
Eddie nods, speechless. This is so far outside the realm of what he thought might happen that he doesn't know what to say. Richie helps him with his bags as if he's still playing the boyfriend role-- only, not a terrible boyfriend that no one would approve of, but a thoughtful boyfriend.
"Mom? Dad?" He calls, opening the door, left unlocked in anticipation of his arrival, their arrival. "I'm home! And this is Eddie Kaspbrak-- I told you on the phone...?"
"You didn't tell us it was Eddie!" A woman-- presumably Mrs. Tozier-- hurries to meet them, pulls Eddie into a hug after Richie, and he collapses into her arms with a sob, he remembers. He remembers the smell of her perfume and he remembers the Toziers' finished basement and sleepovers and being hugged goodnight alongside her son as if he was simply a part of the family, and he remembers Richie. "Eddie, honey-- Richard, I can't believe you didn't even mention you were at college with Eddie! Oh, look at you, you've gotten so tall!"
He hasn't. He waits for Richie to say as much, meets his eyes and sees the same shock, the same hollow ache, the same wonder, the same thrill.
"I can't believe your mother put you out on Thanksgiving! Well, you come on in-- oh, I haven't seen you since you were fifteen!-- and you help yourself to dinner, there's plenty left." Maggie kisses his forehead, and leads him through to the kitchen. "I remember you-- oh, you were over so often, I remember when you were seven years old... Went, honey, the boys are here-- you remember little Eddie Kaspbrak?"
It's too much, it's too much. For a moment he doesn't know how he'll breathe ever again, but Richie meets his eyes again, and nods, tells him with a look that he knows, that he didn't remember before but he remembers now-- or he's starting to. And that means he isn't crazy, at least. This is all happening and it's too much, but he and Richie are in it together.
And Richie's dad remembers him, too, and he and Richie wind up in the living room, they wind up on the floor in front of the fireplace with afghans around their shoulders, legs crossed and plates balanced on knees, and it's such a strange sort of half-familiar.
It's too much, but they treat him as if he belongs here. As if there was no gap in his presence in their lives.
There are still touches of Richie, in the guest room that had once been his bedroom. Their bags are there together. After Eddie has gotten ready for bed, he finds himself facing the prospect of Richie, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. Familiar, and new.
"Your flyer said you would take the floor." Eddie teases, desperate to cover for the way he reacts to the idea of being in Richie's bed again after all this time. The blush, his racing pulse, his breaths coming shallow for reasons that have nothing to do with asthma.
"The flyer said I'd take the floor in your room, but this is my room. Eds... it's us. I mean, if you really want--"
"No! I don't. I just... You don't... mind?" He gestures to himself. "Even though I'm..."
"I don't mind." Richie shakes his head, reaching out. It's not any more intimate a touch than they've shared before. No moreso than the way Richie had touched him to help him with his inhaler, or wiped away his tears. No moreso than a thousand hazy half-remembered touches through childhood, adolescence. But there's a weight to his words, to his gaze. "Eddie, I don't mind."
"Rich..."
"I missed you so much, and I didn't know what I was missing. There's nothing about you I could ever mind enough not to want-- not to want to be close to you again."
"You don't mind sharing a bed with a gay guy?"
"I really don't. Anyway... according to your mother, I made you gay, so..."
"Shit." He laughs-- he didn't think he'd be ready to laugh about that, but he can't help himself. He doubles over into Richie's arms with it. "Shit, my mom remembered you, too, that's why she went off on you! Shit, my mom knew I had a thing for you."
"... You did?"
"Uhhh...." Eddie's head snaps up. His mouth hangs open.
"I wish I'd known that, I could have gone to Thanksgiving as your real boyfriend instead of your fake one." Richie says. He looks like he's about to puke, and his voice is shaking too much for the line to come off as smooth, but Eddie thinks it's smooth enough-- at least, compared to his own inarticulate fly-catching routine.
"You could still do that."
"I don't know. I'm not as brave as you." He says, but he draws Eddie into his arms just the same. "I've never-- they don't know. About me. I mean I think they'd be okay but it's just... hard."
"It's okay."
"I could bring you home as my boyfriend at Christmas, though."
Eddie blinks up at him, sees the soft light in his eyes, the hope and the warmth, and he aches for lost time, and he wants to learn everything about the Richie Tozier that exists now, what the boy he'd loved grew into in their few years apart...
"You've got yourself a deal." He nods, leaning up to kiss him. They can worry about Richie's coming out later, they can worry about everything in the world later. For now, he just wants to enjoy having Richie back in his life. Falling asleep in his arms sounds like a damn good start.