Chapter Text
You know how the old saying goes.
You never forget your first time.
The first time you get hit in the face with a Nokia.
Turns out it hurts a fuckload as Richie ends up flat on his ass, the merciless linoleum floor of the corridor making sure he feels it right down to the damn butt bones. If there are bones in such a place. He’s really not sure.
“Oh my god, oh my god!” Some guy is shrieking and scrambling up to him, falling to his knees before him, tan hands fluttering around as Richie gropes the ground for his fucking glasses. “I am so sorry, I had no idea someone was there and I just -”
“What the fuck, man?” Richie squints at the blurred vision of General Face Area. “I might not be an expert on cellphone usage but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that. And also -OW?”
“No, I know, I know,” the guy babbles, “it’s just that there was a spider on my phone and when I saw it just lost my fucking shit and - oh my god, your glasses. I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t see them yet but the fact that you’re apologizing about them is enough for the foreboding to set in,” Richie says, reaching out to snatch the thick black frames he can make out in the guy’s hand. Wordlessly he holds them up and a little piece of his heart snaps in two when he realizes they too are fucking snapped. Not only snapped, but one lens splintered.
“Are you okay? Your eye is bruising, I think.”
Richie squints at the guy and doesn’t see much but for the fuzz of his face and the fact that he’s wearing light blue. Richie hasn’t been able to see clearly a foot past his face since he was eight.
“You owe me for these,” is all Richie says as he groans to his feet and throws his ancient patched and buttoned messenger bag over his shoulder.
“Owe you?” The guy sounds shocked, which - like he has the right, right? Richie had literally shut the door behind him and turned his head only to be assaulted by the equivalent weight of a brick out of nowhere . “Wh- don’t you have an extra pair of glasses?”
“An extra pair of glasses? Who am I, Paris Hilton?” Richie tucks the twisted wreckage away in the front pocket of his banana printed shirt. “That shit costs, man.”
“Contacts?”
“I don’t touch my eyes. Eyes are gross.”
“How can they be gross? They’re in your own face.”
“Yeah and your shit comes out your ass but you’re not rolling in it. Or are you? I mean, we barely know each other, no need to explain our kinks just yet but I won’t lie when I say that’s kind of a deal breaker -”
“You’re disgusting,” the guy snaps, and the blur of his relatively short body moves to place hands on hips. The more Richie squints, the more he realizes the guy is in a full Adidas tracksuit, baby blue with white stripes down the sides and pristine white sneakers to match. Richie grins his most infuriating, unflinching grin in the wake of the rising decibel of the chatterbox. “And anyway, everyone should have an extra pair of glasses. In fact, you should have three of everything. Having two of something is like having none of it. If your second one breaks then it’s game over.”
“Well, thanks to you it’s game over now , and I didn’t even get a save point before the big fight of Baby Blue Tracksuit Boss & his Nokia bazooka.”
“There was a spider on it!”
“So hurling it into the sun was your first and only option?”
“I wasn’t exactly putting thought into ethical disposal of giant fucking spiders but I’ll take it up with PETA next time I see them if it makes you stop whining.”
“Whining?” Richie realizes it’s just past nine in the morning and they are two strangers yelling in the hallway, but what the actual fuck? Since when did this become about him? He is the victim here, not this high pitched freak. “You hit me!”
“BECAUSE OF THE SPIDER, DUMBASS, OH MY GOD. DID YOUR GLASSES TAKE TOUR HEARING TOO?”
“If only it had so I would have to suffer the octave of your voice, Baby Blue.”
The guy scoffs and has the gall to seem to be checking his ugly ass phone as he speaks.
“Oh, fuck off. I already apologized like twenty times.”
“And yet my glasses remain broken as your mom’s bed when I’m done with her for the night.”
Baby Blue’s silence is more palpable than his screaming, the dark hole of his face clearly a jaw dropped before he shakes his head.
“Holy shit, everything that comes out of your mouth is trash, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve only had the distinctive displeasure of talking to you for ten minutes, but the hallway is practically a garbage dump at this point.”
“You like? I can talk dirtier if you w-hey, you can’t just walk away from me! I’m basically blind without my glasses!”
Baby Blue holds a hand up in a fuzzy wave, his voice growing distant.
“Well, I can’t pay you back! I’m poor!”
“So neither of us are Paris Hilton,” Richie yells, cupping his hands around his mouth and following in quick pursuit. “I feel like you especially are sad about that. Do you have that outfit in pink velour?”
The guy whirls and Richie wishes he could see what his face was really like. He suspects livid, but just what brand, he can’t be sure. He’s pretty fucking funny to push around, though.
“No, you haven’t let me borrow it from you yet. What do you want with me?”
“Aside from riches, fame, and one of those monogrammed cursive necklaces of your name that all the cute girls are wearing? Obviously, I want you to be my eyes for the day.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Baby Blue stresses, his voice tight. “I have classes!”
Richie makes a durr face and noise.
“So do I. Classes where I need to take, y’know, notes and shit.”
“I don’t even know you -”
“At least get a man’s name before I facefuck them with a Nokia, that’s what I always say. I’m Richie. Richie Tozier.”
“Eddie.”
“It’s been an absolute pleasure.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You keep saying that, but I assure you I am almost always kidding.”
“What ?” Eddie replies, not missing a beat. He’s yet to trip up over Richie’s blatantly infuriating personality and it’s kind of almost impressive. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re fucking insane.This is insane. I’m sorry about your face -”
“Don’t worry, I get that a lot -”
“But can’t you just, like, tape them together? I have a class in twenty minutes.”
Richie laughs in Eddie’s face outright.
“Uh, they’re not broken down the middle, in case you hadn’t noticed. Unless you want me to go to class holding up one side of my glasses like a fucking monocle -”
“I feel like that would suit you, somehow.”
“I mean, no doubt. No doubt. But take notes while holding said monocle? Troublesome, to say the least.”
Eddie sighs, arms folded across his body. Glasses or not, Richie can tell his petite, but his features are still basically a muddy blank. Long face, dark features and hair.
“Richie…”
“Listen, Eds -”
“Eddie.”
“Spaghetti. Ha, see what I did there?”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“I won’t make you pay me back, but you’ve gotta do the thing for me, today. Come to class with me. Take my notes, be my sexy assistant. Maybe get yourself a nice pair of heels -”
“Unless the heels are for gouging out my own eyes at this point, I don’t think they’ll be needed.”
Richie cracks a wide grin and bursts into motion, giving Eddie a light punch in the shoulder that literally makes the guy go EEK.
“So you’ll do it?”
“Ugh.” Eddie’s arms flop out to the sides, his body language clear resignation. “I mean, I guess. It’s - it’s my fault after all, and it’s only the second day of school and you’re already without glasses -”
“Damn, you're good at guilting yourself. It’s almost like I don’t even have to do it myself.”
“Shut up, dumbass.” The shove to Richie’s arm comes as a surprise. Not the violence, but the way Eddie is like a secret gremlin doing a really shitty job of hiding it. “I’ll take your damn notes for you. But only today. After that, you need to find a way to right this wrong.”
“Right your wrong, you mean,” Richie says with a pointed, smug smile as they descend the two flights of stairs together.
“I - yes. I feel bad, okay?! Jesus, you’re obnoxious.”
“I know you do, it’s adorable, I could just squish your cheeks -”
This time little Eddie body checks Richie at the base of the stairs as he mutters and beelines for the building doors.
“Try and die.”
Richie stumbles, laughing all the way as he jogs to catch up.
Feisty.
Richie brushes his arm against Eddie’s shoulder as they emerge into the fresh early autumn air.
“Walk with me. Link your arm with me -”
“Hell no.”
“Where do they grow guys like you, anyway?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You wanna start something? Anyway, that’s none of your business.”
“I don’t know. You’re the first dude I’ve had a real conversation with since I got here.”
Eddie doesn’t reply for a while as they meander the sidewalks leading toward the lecture halls. Finally, he sighed.
“Yeah, same here. I mean, aside from my roommate, and he’s just my friend from home, so -”
“Same. See, look at the bright side of things. Consider this networking.”
“Blunt force trauma on strangers is not networking.”
“Listen, everything is socialization if your standards are low enough.”
“Personal motto?”
“Oh yeah, absolutely. You should try it sometime.”
“I feel like I’ve already seen enough and I’m not impressed.”
Richie has no idea what this kid looks like but he’s fucking hilarious and totally unflinching in the face of Richie’s horrible jokes and even his better ones.
“Tough nut to crack, eh? That’s fine, my thighs are like steel. I could snap a man in half with them.”
Eddie scoffs and that gets a short snort of laughter out of him.
“You look like a walking beansprout. No offence.”
“We can’t all look like the obligatory pretty boy band member, Eddie. Somebody has to be the mediocre opening band. I would know, I’m in one.”
“I am not pretty,” Eddie snaps. “Can you even see me?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“Dumbass. Which way is your class, anyway?”
“Oh.” Richie stops and looks around, the world a kind of delightful blur of shape and color that makes him feel a little drunk. “I don’t know. Never been yet.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Richie!”
Turns out, Eddie is the kind of nutcase who sits front and center of class, and although he’s the one copying the board and listening intently, every time Richie allows his head to lull and his eyes to fall shut, he receives a vicious kick to the shins and a hiss of displeasure at his behavior. The entire experience is a lot less fun or lazy than he had assumed it was going to be, but at least day two of college isn’t mind-numbingly boring as day one.
He needs to party. Really fucking bad. And he has a sneaking suspicion that goody two shoes here is the last person to ask about under the radar activities.
“Alright,” Eddie says as he packs Richie’s own notebooks in his ratty messenger bag, and isn’t that adorably dutiful. “While this has been… an experience, I’ll be heading off -”
“Wait.” Richie pouts. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Eddie laughs nervously, choked-off and riddled with more anxiety than a shaking chihuahua.
“To - to my next class? I thought we were done here.”
“No way, man!” Richie stumbles to his feet with more flare and drama than strictly necessary. “I’ll die crossing the campus if I don’t have help! And anyway, I’m hungry, Eds, hungry. Aren’t you? You’re too tiny. Put some meat on those bones. Lead me to the cafeteria, Spaghetti Man.”
Eddie has his lips pressed shut and is making a screaming noise in his throat before he gasps for breath and dives in.
“I swear to god, Richie, if you’re fucking me around right now -”
“Me?” Richie gawks, both hands pressed to his chest. “Have you met me? I’m a goddamn Boy Scout.”
“As much as Adam Sandler was a Boy Scout, sure.”
“Oh man, that was the best skit.” Richie shoulders his bag once more and tugs on Eddie’s arm, earning a slap on the wrist which he good-naturedly allows and removes his hand as they stroll down the hall. “You watch SNL? I didn’t peg you for funny. I mean you’re fucking hysterical, but mostly at the cost of yourself. But then again you like me so -”
“I never said I liked you,” Eddie bites off, and throws his entire body against the building doors like he’s dying to be free.
“Yeah, but you’re here, so -”
“Only because of your stupid monocle situation, believe me.”
“Right, of course. A man with a monocle often pulls pity from people, true facts.”
There’s a second strangled laugh, like Eddie can’t bear it himself, and Richie only smiles at his blurred profile. Maybe getting hit in the face really is a good way to insinuate yourself into social situations.
“You’re unreal. Also, you’ve got a bruise under your eye.”
“That’s hot. It’s hot, right?”
“As much as bodily injury ever can be.”
“You watch Jackass? I’d tap Johnny Knoxville.”
Richie doesn’t have to see Eddie to hear that he makes a face.
“Gross. Isn’t he the one who stapled his balls to his thigh?”
“No, that was Steve-O, the fucking madman. Wouldn’t fuck him. I feel like he’d have crabs or something.”
“Look, I know we’ve only known each other for less than six hours, but please take it personally when I ask you to shut your trash mouth and let me live in silence for more than five seconds.”
Richie counts to thirty and holds the cafeteria door open for Eddie.
“Speaking of crabs, I’m starving.”
Eddie literally gags and dry heaves, and Richie has to support himself against the wall as he loses his shit laughing.
“Richie! I think I just threw up in my fucking mouth!”
“Now that’s hot.”
Another muffled, close-mouthed scream as Eddie physically shoves Richie toward the cafeteria cacophony resonating from the open glass doors.
“Please, stop, I’m begging you.”
“But you’re just so fun, Eds! Like a new toy who’s guilted into playing with me -”
“How lonely is your life -”
“Hey, do you happen to see a sexy grunge redhead with a relatively boring looking guy plus a hot white bro and a tall drink of hot chocolate man?” Richie asks as he screeches his Converse to a halt despite Eddie’s pushy hands on his back.
“What the hell are you -” Eddie peeks around Richie’s shoulder and if that isn’t adorable, Richie doesn’t know what is. Eddie could be ugly as sin but this was cute . “Okay, yeah, I guess I do.”
“Sweeeet. Those are my friends.” Richie only has to roll his shoulder and angle his body to drape an arm over Eddie’s shoulders and, yeah, his slim build is more obvious like this. Definitely a little one. “Come eat with us.”
Eddie ducks out from under him faster than the first chick Richie had sex with.
“Th-that - that’s okay, Richie. I’m not exactly - with new people -”
“They’re harmless. Nicer than me, anyway.”
“That’s hardly a decent scale to work off of.”
“Brutal. I’m fucking charming.”
Eddie sputters and sighs, talks with his hands in a way Richie wishes he could clearly see.
“I don’t have the energy to argue with you. I’m sure getting help from your friends will be much better than from a stranger.”
“Stranger? But we’ve bonded so much over the past -”
“Listen, I’ll see you around, okay?” Eddie waves, or at least Richie thinks he does, because his voice is fading and he’s walking backward but away from him. “I hope you get your glasses thing sorted out.”
“I will,” Richie says faintly, frowning after Eddie’s quick retreat. Then he shrugs, turns, and yells. “BILL? BILLIAM ? ARE YOU THERE, HONEY? I’M LOST AND I CAN’T SEE AND -”
The Blob That Would Be Bill darts into Richie’s view, hand on his wrist.
“Richie, where are your glass-”
Grinning, Richie reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out his fucked glasses and sets them on his face. The refracted viewing lens instantly makes him want to puke.
“You like? I hear this style is all the rage with losers across the country.”
Bill groans and snatches the glasses off.
“Did you break them in class or something? Don’t you have doubles back at the dorm?”
“Sure do, buddy ol’ pal,” Richie agrees as he allows Bill to lead him to the group table. “But they weren't worth going back for. I just had the best morning, so I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Somewhere out there, Richie is sure Eddie just felt the cold hand of death over his shoulder from being compared to a horse. Richie can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.
Next time, he’ll put the face to the name.