Archive of Our Own ^beta

'Goodnight, everyone,' Richie whispered into the room, to varying degrees of murmured response from the other Losers. He rolled onto his side to catch eyes with the boy laying on the neighbouring mattress. As quietly as he could muster, he breathed, 'Night, Eds.' 

Brown eyes heavy, face half-concealed as it squished into the pillow, Eddie softly smiled. 'Night, Rich. Don't call me Eds.'   

Richie smiled back at him, watching as Eddie's eyelashes fluttered closed. He slid his glasses off his nose and laid them on the carpet, then wormed his arms underneath his pillow and tried to get comfortable enough to sleep.

Through the cracks in the blinds, thin strips of moon and lamplight illuminated the space between them, tying them together. It glinted off Richie's lenses and the zipper of Eddie's discarded fanny-pack.

Shifting, struggling to drift off as he was too warm, Richie shrugged the duvet down and let one of his wrists hang over the lip of the mattress.

The noise perturbed Eddie enough for him to flicker his eyes open, and he saw that Richie's hand dangled inches from his own. Aching to reach out and lace their fingers together, but not so naïve as to believe he could, Eddie stretched, cat-like, just to allow his arm to edge out far enough that inches dwindled to millimetres. Should Richie twitch, their fingertips might just brush as they dreamed.

As though he could sense static electricity hovering between them, Richie's hand tremored, and his fingernail grazed lightly against Eddie's skin. Instinctively, he snatched it slightly away, eyes tremoring open to ensure that Eddie hadn't noticed.

Without looking, as though he may have fallen asleep, Eddie's hand moved ever so subtly back towards Richie's, chasing after him.

Tentative, almost sure that Eddie was still awake, Richie let his fingernail repeat its movement, then settled, index fingertips just sustaining contact. His heart thrummed loudly in his ears.

The seconds eked out like hours, but Eddie did not move away, consciously ensuring the steady rise and fall in his chest even as his throat clenched. His spine tingled at the precious touch that lingered between them, intimacy that he knew they both craved but so rarely allowed when they were in the other Losers' company.

Richie hardly wanted to sleep now, eyes periodically reopening to reaffirm the reality, securing this moment into his memories. Yet, in the final tranquil, night wearing steadily onwards, exhaustion prevailed.

--

Dawn rose, gleaming through the blinds in its soft orange glow, dappling onto Richie and Eddie's upturned cheeks. It disturbed them both almost simultaneously. Stickily, their eyelashes stuttered, and they each flicked their gaze momentarily down at the bridge they had built between them, but still neither made effort to break it.

'Morning,' Richie mouthed.

'Morning,' Eddie reciprocated.

Richie chewed on his lower lip. 'How'd you sleep?'

'Good,' he assured gently. 'You?'

'Good.' Unable to bear it any longer, he retracted his hand from Eddie's and craned to peer around the room. He mused, 'Think everyone else is still asleep.'

Nodding, Eddie wished he didn't feel so hollowed. 'Think so.'

'Coffee?'

Pouting, Eddie corrected, 'Tea.'

Richie rolled his eyes but smiled. 'Sure.'

Careful not to arouse anyone else, they crawled out of their duvets and hauled to their feet. Eddie bent down and swept up Richie's glasses, rubbing them clean on the hem of his shirt before handing them over.

They trekked downstairs to the kitchen where Eddie filled the kettle. Richie lightly rested his palm against the small of Eddie's back as he reached over his shoulders to the cupboard to pull out two mugs.

The tea brewed, colouring the water from clear to a rich, dark brown, not dissimilar from Eddie's irises. Idly, Richie stirred in two spoonfuls of sugar as he stared out of the window at the new day.

'You should try and cut down to one sugar,' Eddie said, not for the first time.

'Because I'm sweet enough already?' Richie teased. Habit at this point; he didn't even avert his gaze from the bird which settled itself on the ash tree. He wondered what breed it was; Stan would know.

Eddie followed Richie's eye line out of the window. 'Want to drink these out on the back porch?'

Richie blew at the steam emanating from the liquid's surface. 'Sure.'

They pushed through the screen door and out onto the porch. There was a bench which sat overlooking the garden, and they sat beside one another. It was small enough a space that they could sit close without much thought, elbows and knees grazing. It reminded Eddie of the years which they had spent fighting over the hammock in the underground hideout, before they had grown too old for it.

'Nice day,' Richie said wistfully.

'Yeah, it is,' Eddie agreed, surveying the azure, cloudless skies.

'Curse you for turning me into a morning person,' Richie grumbled, but he didn't mean it.

'It's better for you,' Eddie insisted, taking a slow sip of his tea. 'And I like you better in the mornings too.'

Richie grinned. 'Oh yeah? Why's that?'

Eddie grinned too. 'You're quieter.'

With a laugh, Richie shook his head. 'Always wanting me to shut up.'

'Absolutely.'

'Don't blame you.'

The bird on the ash tree ruffled its feathers, plumping its chest.

'Rich?'

'Yeah?'

Eddie tapped his nails anxiously against the ceramic. 'Why do you always say goodnight to me?'

'What do you mean?' Richie asked, slurping at his mug.

'Whenever we have a sleepover with any of the other Losers, we all say goodnight but then you always turn and whisper goodnight just to me.'

Sighing, Richie admitted, 'Yeah, I guess I do.'

'You never noticed?' Eddie pushed.

'I did,' Richie refuted quietly. 'I just didn't realise that you'd noticed.'

'So why do you do it?' He knew the answer, but Richie had never said it. Eddie wanted to hear it, just once.

'I guess,' Richie flattened his lips, 'you must be my favourite.'

The corner of his mouth quivering upwards, Eddie felt giddy. 'Oh yeah? Well, you get points for good taste.'

'Huh,' Richie balked. 'Normally I'm known for my bad taste.'

Jaw dropping, Eddie chuckled, 'Asshole.'

'You know you're my favourite,' Richie said softly, almost defeated.

'I do,' Eddie conceded, then added, 'You're my favourite too.'

Eyebrows knitting, Richie's chest twanged mercilessly. 'Really?'

'Yeah.'

Trying and failing to swallow the lump in his throat, Richie said, 'I didn't know that.'

'Oh,' Eddie said sadly, unsure whether he was surprised. 'Why not?'

Richie shrugged. 'You always say Bill's your best friend.'

'He is. But you're my favourite.'   

Melancholic joy trickled through Richie along with the dregs of his tea. 'Then I have to question your taste,' he joked.

'Let me know if you find an answer,' Eddie rebuffed, finishing his own cup.

'Asshole.'

Synchronised, they set their mugs down on the floor. Without the heat in his hands, Eddie shivered, huddling slightly closer to Richie.

'You cold?' Richie asked, the warmth of Eddie's shoulder against his setting his own skin ablaze.

'Yeah.'

Hoping that the tremor in his hands wouldn't translate to a crack in his voice, Richie slung his arm around Eddie's neck, fingertips just grazing his collarbone. 'Better?'

Eddie didn't answer, but sank into the hold, twisting his head around to face Richie.

Too aware of being looked at, Richie mirrored him, but he hadn't realised quite how near they were to one another. 'Whoa. Hi,' he said nervously, pupils flicking between Eddie's, not knowing on which one to settle.

'Hi,' Eddie mumbled, unsmiling, the tension seeming taut and unbearable to him. So much so, that he dared to let the tip of his nose brush against Richie's. His stomach twisted as he watched the fear flash behind Richie's eyes, azure as the sky.

Testing, entirely disbelieving, Richie mimicked Eddie's gesture, and the contact shuddered through him as a shallow breath crept through his newly parted lips.

Unwilling to let the opportunity race past him, as he had waited so long for it to manifest itself, Eddie closed his eyes and kissed him. Feather-light and fragile as glass, it couldn’t have lasted for more than a couple of seconds before he pulled away. Silence sat around them heavily.

Elated and terrified in equal measure, the emotion crowded into Richie's face. 'You kissed me,' he said quietly.

Eddie smiled, brimming with affection, almost mournfully so. 'Yeah,' he said, barely audible, raising his palm to cup Richie's jaw.

Hurried, as though he feared that he was still dreaming and couldn't bear that he might wake up at any second, Richie pressed their lips together. It was rushed but heated, as Richie let the dams stopped up in his arteries bust open, flooding through him and out into Eddie.

When they finally broke apart, Richie leaned his forehead up against Eddie's. 'Oh, fuck,' he gushed.

Eddie wasn't sure what Richie meant by this. Usually he could read him pretty well, but then this wasn't a usual moment for them. A first kiss and a second; it was a reverie Eddie had indulged all too often, and had wrestled with whether he wanted to bring to fruition.

To try and gauge Richie better, Eddie tugged at the arm slung around his shoulder and brought it down between them. Like he had longed to do the night before, he slipped his hand into Richie's and laced their fingers together. His heart swelled as Richie squeezed his palm, tracing his thumb back and forth.

Richie turned to look back out over the garden. The bird cooed its greeting to the morning. Unseen, another bird called its reply.

Resting his head on Richie's shoulder, Eddie asked, 'What happens now?'

Jaw clenching, Richie begged, 'Don't ask that. Not yet. Just give me a minute.'

'Okay,' Eddie said, but his voice hitched, tears pricking.

Richie wanted to squeeze every last drop of happiness that hung misty in the atmosphere; he wanted it to be perfect, for as long as it could be. Wanting to gift Eddie as much of the same, he leaned to dot a kiss on Eddie's forehead, then stayed there with his nose burrowed into the soft strands of Eddie's chestnut hair.

Only, Eddie broke. His body quaked as he cried, trying to hold in as much as he could and finding it impossible. Overwhelmed, he whimpered, even as Richie gripped his hand tighter, kissed his temple, kissed his cheekbone.

'Fuck. Sorry,' Eddie managed, bringing his free hand to his face in an attempt to blot the stream. 'I'm sorry, but I just want you to know that –'

Desperate, Richie tried to cut him off. 'Eds –'

'I really like you,' Eddie blubbered.

They were words that had plagued Richie's dreams and his nightmares. 'You do?'

'And I know that you like me too.'

'You do.' It didn't sound like a question.

'I know how fucking unfair that feeling is,' he choked. 'And I know how hard it is. And I know how much you have to fucking lie.'

Richie hated to hear the pain in his voice. 'Yeah,' he strained, fighting his own tears.

'But,' Eddie sputtered, 'I wanted you to know that I knew, that I know. Even when you were telling lies that you had to tell, I never felt like you were lying when you were with me. It never felt like you were pretending.'

For once in his life, Richie didn't have any words to say. Instead, every sentiment he couldn't form trickled out of his tear ducts and rolled down the sides of his nose.

'I was so scared,' Eddie went on, 'that if I ever actually got the fucking chance to kiss you, you'd suddenly start pretending. So, thanks for not doing that.'

Richie's hands slid either side of Eddie's neck. He kissed him again, softer and slower than he had done before, wallowing even as it tasted of salt from their tears. 'I'm glad I didn't,' he said.

'I really wanted us to have this,' Eddie huffed. 'Even if we only have it now. Once. Because I didn't know how else you'd ever believe that I feel the same way.'  

Recognising the look in Eddie's eyes for the first time, Richie groaned helplessly, 'I wish things could be different for us. I wish we could –'

'Me too,' Eddie interrupted.

Frowning, Richie promised, 'I do really like you, Eds.'

Hopeful, plaintive, Eddie stammered, 'I mean, I still want,' but he couldn't finish the sentence, because he knew what Richie's expression was telling him. While Richie's thumbs stroked his cheeks, he tried to force it out. 'I still want –'

'You've always been braver than me,' Richie said forlornly.

With a beaten sigh, Eddie jested, 'You're the one that had the balls to fuck my mom.'

Richie laughed despite his tears. He kissed each of Eddie's cheeks in turn, then drew him into a tight embrace. 'I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.'

Eddie swept his palms up and down Richie's back. 'It's okay, Rich. I know we can’t.'

'Maybe one day.'

'I'd like that.'

Bolts scored through Eddie's body as Richie kissed up the length of his neck and along the curve of his jawline. Chasing, Eddie tilted his chin until his mouth found Richie's, dragging his hands to nestle in the curls of Richie's black hair.

Richie let the kiss run away with him, hauling Eddie as close as he could while he fervently brought their lips together again and again. He wished with every bone in his body that he wasn't so afraid, that his fear for himself and for Eddie didn't cripple his spirit and hamper his heart. If Eddie could be brave for these minutes, then Richie was doing his best to be brave enough for him, but it wouldn't last forever.

Eventually, the kiss slowed. Eddie stared at the boy in front of him with gorgeous unrestraint, wanting him to see just how richly the emotions stirred inside him, now that Richie could see beyond the wall of his own self-doubt and anxiety.

'Fuck it,' Eddie muttered under his breath.

'What?'

Licking his lips, tasting whatever was left of Richie there, Eddie mustered his courage. 'I love you.'

Richie felt like he had just leapt from the cliff's edge at the quarry, locked in that perfect moment of suspension in mid-air before gravity takes its full hold. He gripped Eddie's shoulders firmly, as though rooting him to the spot, like a helium balloon that will inevitably float away once it's been let go.

'I love you.'

When they kissed again, they both knew it was the last time. They both knew that they would never say those three words again, at least for now. But it was enough.

It was enough that they had stolen this morning for themselves, carved themselves a slice of resilient, desperate hope out of the miserable town which had consumed their childhoods. It was enough that they loved each other, that the other knew they were loved. It was enough to share those few precious kisses, each so different and rapt with love. It was enough to learn how each other moved, how their lips slotted together, how it felt to hold one another in the way they had both ached to. It was enough, just.

After the kiss, they bleared the tearstains on each other's faces, laced their fingers together once more, and smiled. Then they turned to look out once more over the garden. Dew settled gracefully on each blade of grass. A single, fluffy cloud swept over the sun's rays. On the ash tree, the bird cocked its head, shuffled, then beat its wings to flap away.

'Shall we go back in?' Eddie suggested.

'Yeah.'

Unlocking their hands, Eddie patted Richie's thigh as he got to his feet. 'Come on then, Trashmouth.'

Richie watched as Eddie started to make his way back to the door. 'Right behind you, Spaghetti.'