Chapter Text
"Never have I ever…" Eddie paused for a moment and looked around the group, "... uh, drank water from a hose." Majority of his friends groaned from where they sat in the cool Clubhouse. It was a little colder underground than it was outside, but at least the crisp February air felt nice to breathe in.
"Oh, fuck you," Richie said, putting a finger down so he had two left up. The others followed suit, glancing around at each other’s hands. Ben was the only one besides Eddie to keep his fingers up. "Ben, do you ever even go outside?"
"I do. I just don't drink hose water," he defended, shifting his weight across his feet a little. Richie rolled his eyes and lightly dragged his shoe across the ground to swing the hammock a bit. He liked to do it now that he could, ever since he kept growing and growing over the past few years. By the time this year was over and he'd graduated, he wouldn't be able to fit in this thing at all. "It's not even cold a lot of the time, anyway," Ben finished.
"B-But still," Bill said, grabbing the cup in front of him, "everyone d-does it." Mike mimicked Bill and picked up his own cup, nodding. They sat next to each other on the floor of the Clubhouse.
"That is so unsanitary. This is why I don't share drinks with you guys," Eddie said matter-of-factly, watching as his friends took a sip of their colas. Mike just shrugged and grabbed the two-liter of soda to refill his cup before setting it back down. The swing he was sat on moved back and forth slightly.
“It’s summer, Eds,” Richie assured him, a big grin on his face, “soon, we’ll get you drinking the finest seventy-degree hose water Maine has to offer!” Eddie’s face screwed up, but Mike cut in before he could say anything.
"Dude, whatever. My turn." Mike set his cup down and, grinning, stared Eddie dead in the eyes from across the space. "Never have I ever used two fanny packs."
"Ugh, dick!" Eddie exclaimed, curling his hand into a fist and hitting the floor. The other Losers laughed as he begrudgingly took a sip of his drink. He gulped it down quickly and slammed the cup down (as much as one could "slam" a plastic cup, anyway) before pointing at his ambusher angrily. "They're convenient and practical!"
"That's exactly what I told Mrs. K when I saw her knockers for the first time." Richie barely finished the joke before Eddie threw his cup at him. It bounced off his forehead when he cringed back, a big grin on his face.
"Okay, you guys, relax! My turn. Never have I ever..." Ben had one finger up as he chuckled. The boy thought for a moment before toeing the dirt floor with his shoe to swing a little bit. "Hm. Never have I ever kissed a girl."
Eddie put a finger down before anyone else could, and the Losers stared in surprise. He looked at all of them, who were obviously put-out.
"I've kissed my mom," he said innocently. The rest of the Losers nodded, slumping down again. Richie just about had a heart attack for a second, there.
"Yeah? I've kissed her, too," Richie laughed, and Eddie shrieked with rage as he reached over to grab a magazine and rear his arm back to throw it at him. Richie just cackled, being an asshole, and even snorted when Eddie threw the magazine onto the floor instead.
"Ben, did you mean kiss, or kiss?" Mike asked, crossing his arms with his cup in one hand. Ben shrugged, but seeing as mothers suddenly counted, everyone in the group put a finger down if they hadn't already.
"Okay, then… N-Never have I ever kissed a girl who isn't family," Bill suggested, even though it was Richie’s turn. Bill, Ben, and Mike put a finger down. Mike was hounded immediately, letting out little laughs and shielding his face away from the others in embarrassment. Richie could barely complain about his lost turn or get a joke out through his surprised guffaws.
"So wait, you've literally never kissed anyone before?" Richie asked a few hours later, staying still on the hammock to look at Eddie. Everyone else had left, but there was still bright sunlight shining down into the Clubhouse. They all had things to do back home, including homework Richie had finished and Eddie had copied off of him. Eddie didn't feel like going home, and they didn't even have to look at each other to know Richie would follow him wherever he went.
Across the room, Eddie frowned, his brows furrowing and jaw clenching in a way that made him look extremely cute. Rich was whipped.
"What's it to you, asshole?" Eddie snapped back. Richie took in his friend's hunch, his downturned mouth, his crossed arms as he glared down into the dirt.
It's just surprising, he thought to himself. How could anyone not want to kiss you?
"At least we got that in common," he said instead. Eddie looked up at him, and he snorted. "The fact that the only action we get is from your mom, I mean."
"Dude, shut the fuck up, that is so fucking gross." Eddie kicked dirt up towards the hammock, making the other boy laugh. Then, without really thinking about it,
"I could teach you," Richie blurted out. Eddie froze, suddenly wide-eyed and bewildered. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. His mouth opened, but Richie quickly continued before he could say anything. "Like, we're seniors and summer's coming up in a few months and neither of us have even had a girlfriend yet. We're getting pretty close to real girlfriend territory, like, fucking around in college kinda shit, and you don't have any skills. I pity you, dude."
Another beat of silence. Eddie kept staring, and Richie suddenly became super aware of how dusty the Clubhouse was. It felt like his lungs stopped working.
"You've never kissed anyone either, fucknut," Eddie said, the waver in his voice making it less sharp than he probably meant for it to be. Richie blinked once before shrugging far too nonchalantly.
"How hard could it be?" He hoped his grin was cocky enough to distract from the way his hands were shaking. He flipped his comic book closed and laid it over his chest, like that would keep his heart from beating straight through it. "That a yes?"
"Shut up, Richie." But before he could play it off as a joke, Eddie came forward and hopped up into the hammock. Richie automatically adjusted, the two boys becoming a brief mess of kicking legs and awkward scrambling for space before they settled down again. One disadvantage of their growth spurts was that it took a while to get situated in the hammock together; it was much easier to squeeze in when they were kids, but at the same time, Richie kind of liked how they were forced to touch more in order to avoid falling out.
Eddie propped a socked foot onto Richie's stomach, making him huff and rest his hand at Eddie's ankle. His own leg was outstretched, ending up at Eddie's side, right where his waist slimmed beneath his shirt. The position was familiar; never really addressed by anyone besides a few quirked brows from the other Losers. Even then, it became an unspoken norm after the first few times. Richie imagined the Losers just thought it was the trademark of Richie and Eddie—they were bound to be touching in some way at all times, and it wasn't weird at all.
Despite the familiarity, they couldn't quite meet each other's eyes. Richie's hand twitched nervously over his friend's ankle, but Eddie didn't bring it up. He flexed his fingers before relaxing them again.
"So what, like, practice?" the brunet asked. Richie shrugged for the second time. A few moments of awkward silence… then, "Okay."
"Okay?" Richie swore to all holiness that his heart stopped beating for a second. It took everything in him to keep still, like one shift could make Eddie change his mind and leave. His hand twitched again. He had to remind himself to breathe.
"I don't want to be a bad kisser when I get a girlfriend, do you even know how embarrassing that is?" Eddie said quickly, gesturing with his hand a little. "I'll take what I can get, dickhead, just brush your teeth before we do it."
"What, like, now?" Eddie hesitated before shaking his head. "Okay, uh… You can bring a toothbrush to my house tomorrow, if you want. My parents are off fucking in some motel for the weekend or something. Well—they called it business, so it might just be business. They left me money, anyway, in case you want me to buy, like, mouthwash or whatever."
"You don't use mouthwash? You're so fucking disgusting, do you even floss, you idiot?" Eddie kicked at him, and Richie finally managed to laugh. "Do you even know how much plaque builds up when you don't clean your fucking mouth? No, no, I'm actually serious, Richie, stop fucking laughing!"
That led them to now. They were on Richie's bed, with Richie propped up against the headboard and Eddie leaning against the wall that the side of the bed was pushed up against. Richie kept his legs crossed, but Eddie took it to himself to stretch out so his socked feet dangled over the other side of the bed.
It was a really nice day outside (as it usually was in the few months before Derry summers, despite the town that didn't deserve it) but both boys weren't interested in leaving the room, much less the house. There were more important things to do; like stalling.
“No, no, it’s because they leave. They leave the tree, man, that’s the whole point,” Richie insisted for the third time. Eddie was torn between laughing at his earnest expression and fuming at his logic.
“Leaves is a plural for leaf, there’s no correlation there! There’s none!” Eddie exclaimed, his hands out in front of him like the answer was in an invisible box. “Do you even hear the words you’re saying right now?”
“If there’s no correlation then why would they call them leaves, idiot?”
“Because there are multiple leaves!”
“That sounds false.”
“You sound false.” Richie shot a hand forward, right into Eddie’s side. The brunet barely dodged the tickle attempt, and Richie burst into laughter. "Hey! Your arms are too fucking long."
"Yeah? Wait till you see my wang," he snorted, reaching a foot out to get at his side one more time. Eddie flung himself away, arms flailing all dumb-looking.
"That is so gross, don't even say that." Eddie was at the opposite end of the bed, a big grin on his face now, and turned to kick at Richie's legs. Richie kicked back, their game of footsie lasting until Eddie nearly fell over again.
"Okay, okay, truce!" Richie wheezed when Eddie managed to land a kick at his stomach. The shorter boy cackled and allowed himself to shuffle up so he was on the middle of the bed, legs criss-crossed. Richie spread his legs to give him the space, propping one up on Eddie's knee.
"Truce," Eddie agreed. He shifted a little in his spot, and Richie did the same, shifting his pillows further away until one dropped off the edge of the bed. They both looked at it, and when Richie moved his gaze to Eddie again, he noticed his gaze was still on the pillow, even as he spoke, "So… So—Hey."
"So, hey," Richie replied. Eddie looked up at him, then quickly flicked his gaze back to the pillow. Richie watched as he leaned back, placing one hand on his knee and the other on Richie's calf. Then he seemed to think better of it and let that hand drop to the mattress, though Richie swore his skin tingled at the brief contact.
"It's been, like, an hour," Eddie continued, dragging his gaze to the alarm clock at Richie's bedside. Richie nodded, wondering what he was getting at. Did he want to leave? Eddie was glancing around the messy room now, and Richie could practically see the nerves crawling over his friend's shoulders. He was about to ask what was up when Eddie finally made eye contact, and the words got caught in his throat.
"Should we brush our teeth now?" he asked, head tilted down so his big brown eyes pierced Richie through a fan of dark lashes. God, his huge eyes. His fucking doe eyes. A moment passed before Richie comprehended the question.
"Oh." Richie's brows shot to his hairline, a sudden burst of butterflies coming to life in his stomach. Eddie shrunk a little, mouth opening to say what he could only assume to be some sarcastic pick at his eloquence, but Richie quickly nodded. "Yeah! Yeah, no, if you still want to."
"If you still want to," he shot back, like it was an insult. Richie nodded again, his glasses becoming a little askew, and tried to swing his leg over Eddie to get off the bed. He managed to kick Eddie's head instead.
"Ow! Motherfucker!" Eddie shouted, breaking through whatever weird tension there had been. Richie busted out laughing, until Eddie shoved his leg off his knee and he ended up falling to the floor in a mess of limbs. His shoulder became alight with a dull pain, but Eddie's laughter from above made him pleasantly warm all over.
After Eddie ended up on the floor too (courtesy of Richie, of course), and they wrestled for a few minutes, the pair finally made haste to the bathroom. There was still that underlying nervousness, even as Richie used his toothbrush to serenade Eddie as they brushed their teeth and got minty foam all over his hand.
He did, in fact, own mouthwash, to Eddie's pleasant surprise (which, “Why’d you think there was a bottle of this in my bathroom, Eds?”). Eddie had brought his own bottle, and taught Richie how to properly use it. He even emphasized words like "gargle" and "swish", just to make sure Richie knew that he knew what he was talking about, and Richie didn’t feel like interrupting him.
When they got back to the bed, Richie climbed up onto it first. He bounced himself slightly when he dropped against the headboard, making himself comfy in the same spot he was before. Eddie didn't follow for a second, but eventually told him to "Scoot over, stupid," and took the spot right next to him. They looked at each other once, then promptly looked away.
"Okay." Eddie said, and Richie could feel the nervousness radiating off of him in waves. He hated feeling like Eddie was nervous because of him, even though the circumstances were… sort of unusual. But hey, it wasn't anything bad! He was just trying to help a friend out! He wouldn't actually offer just… for his own reasons. Richie wanted to say as such.
"Why so nervous, ol' chap!" he said instead, a Voice coming easy to him. He nudged Eddie so hard, the kid almost toppled off the edge of the bed straight onto the bedside table. Eddie yelped, but seemed more surprised than irritated. "We're just fellows doin' a good deed! Think of the future missus!"
"Yeah, yeah, shut up!" Eddie huffed, though he had a grin on his face as he caught himself and shoved Richie back. It wasn't enough to move him, but Richie took it to himself to comply and scooted over more until he was squished between the corner of the headboard and the wall to allow his friend more space. "Tell me again what makes you qualified to do this?"
"Duh," Richie snorted, dropping the Voice. He gestured vaguely to himself, and Eddie looked entirely unimpressed. "I don't need experience to be a kissing expert. I've seen enough of it happen in, like, the movies."
"The movies aren't real life, though," Eddie pointed out as he moved a little closer. He turned, too, so he was facing Richie a bit more. "And the kissing scenes barely last."
"I pay good enough attention," he claimed. "And even if I don't, which isn't the situation at all, we can figure it out on our own! How hard can it be? It’s just mouths."
"Right." It was then that Richie noticed how fidgety Eddie was getting, and how little he was looking at him. Eddie shifted around in his spot like he couldn't decide whether to get even closer or to fling himself off the bed. "Uh, maybe we should brush our teeth again or something, I don't know if—"
"Hey, Eds," Richie interrupted, letting his voice drop down to be reassuring. Eddie's eyes snapped from the wrinkled sheets to Richie's face. "You know we don't actually have to do this, right? Like, no, I wasn’t joking, I was serious about it, but—if-if you're backing out, I won't blame you. I'm having enough fun hanging out with you right now, burning mouthwash included."
"I'm not backing out," Eddie disagreed quickly, and his face was starting to get red. Richie would’ve made fun of him, except he felt like he was getting a little flushed, too.
"But you're nervous," Richie pointed out, trying to be nonchalant and doing a very bad job at it. Eddie frowned, his mouth twisting up and his nose scrunching a little.
"Yeah, but—but that's not because I don't want to, I—" His mouth clamped shut before he could finish, and Richie's curiosity was officially piqued. Before he could ask, though, Eddie continued, "Whatever, can we just fucking get to it already? I'm not nervous."
"Okay, Not Nervous," Richie conceded, hands up in surrender, "but seriously, dude. If you want to stop, you know you can just tell me, right?"
"Don’t call me dude right now," Eddie grumbled. But he nodded, leaning in a little, and Richie couldn't help but inhale slowly, "I trust you."
And then they were kissing. And it was… wow.
And really, okay, Richie couldn't deny the bad thoughts. He couldn't help but be reminded about how much he actually dreamed about this happening, about how kissing another person and that person being a boy was scary and new and wrong, about how he knew he was a fairy but never once got the courage to think about it for more than a few minutes, about how his parents might react if their getaway was cut short and they came home to their only son messing around with another boy in their house, in his room, on his bed, turning out to be gay—
Richie couldn't deny the bad thoughts, but each bad thought led to one thing: he was kissing Eddie Kaspbrak. He was kissing Eddie Kaspbrak. He was kissing Eddie Kaspbrak, his best friend, and Eddie felt so soft and warm and kind and nice. He tasted like gross too-strong mouthwash and holy shit his hand was coming up to graze against the front of Richie's shirt. His mouth was slow and perfect, and his lips slotted against his like they were meant to be there.
Richie felt like he was floating. If this is what being a fairy felt like, then he was never going to stop being one. Kissing his best friend was the best thing he’d ever experienced in his life, and he would never want to take it back, even if he could.
Eddie was the one to pull away, his fingertips still brushing Richie's chest through the worn fabric of his shirt, like he was too shy to lay his hand there and feel Richie's heart pounding against his ribcage. Richie had to take a second before his eyes fluttered open. Eddie's face was completely flushed, red glowing over his nose and cheeks, and his mouth was still parted and pink and a little slick with spit. Richie couldn't take his gaze off of that mouth, even as they moved to form words and it looked like they were in slow motion. Oh, he was saying something.
"Huh? What'd you say?" he asked dumbly. Eddie rolled his eyes, but the sarcasm was lost on Richie with his eyes being glossy and glazed in a way Richie had never seen them before.
"I asked how it was," Eddie replied. Richie's fingers twitched, brushing against soft skin and soft hair, Eddie was so soft, and he suddenly noticed his hand was cupping the back of Eddie's neck. When did that get there?
"It was good," he said, voice a little strangled. He realized then the totally dazed expression must have been mutual, because Eddie's big brown eyes seemed to be drawn to his own lips, which he could feel were a little wet, too. Eddie's spit was on his lips, and it felt like they were tingling. Was the tingling a kissing thing or an Eddie thing? Was it both? "Hey, are your lips tingling?"
"Yeah," Eddie replied, and then they were kissing again, and Richie was a little more aware of how his hand flexed on Eddie's neck and pulled him a little closer. The pad of Eddie's thumb pressed against his clothed sternum, and the little touch spread all over his body and made him feel warm and fluttery all over.
Needless to say, the kiss was good. It was great! So Richie was kind of put out when they were both too nervous to talk about kissing more afterwards. Maybe Eddie didn't like it as much as he seemed to. Maybe Richie was being too eager or something. Whatever it was, Eddie had left his house soon after an awkward little excuse, something about needing to do chores at home. Richie had waved at him from his porch and got a middle finger and a grin back before his friend was off on his bike. He'd let his eyes linger until Eddie pedalled out of sight.
They didn't mention it when they saw each other again with the Losers the next day, which was an obvious agreement. The usual jokes and insults and laughter were shared without any tension, which was good, but they didn't get a moment to themselves amongst the rest of the group. They biked around town, over narrow sidewalks and wide streets, solid pavement and warm dirt, then stopped for snacks and took a long break at the park. The sun was still high in the sky when Bill suggested heading to the quarry.
"Not to swim," he clarified when Ben said he didn't think he wanted to jump, "we can walk around the b-bottom. Look at b-b-b—ah, shoot—bugs on the ground, or something."
"We can look at birds in the trees," Ben offered, squinting up at nearby trees as if he could see any birds from the bench they sat on. "I've been learning some mating calls. I think I still remember the ones Stan taught me."
They fell quiet for a moment, thinking about their lost friend. Stan had moved two years ago, just a few months after school started. Just like Beverly, he’d promised to call, but never did. Richie didn’t like the silence, because he didn’t like thinking about Stan or Beverly (not unless he was in his room and could angry-cry), and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"The only mating call I need is Eddie's mom's phone number," he quipped. Eddie elbowed him sharply in the side, promptly ending the tense moment. "Ow! Asshole."
“Beep beep, Richie,” Bill said, shuffling away from the two so he wouldn’t get caught by a stray arm. Ben wasn’t even near the pair, but he scooted away after Bill.
"That didn't even make any sense, Richie," Eddie shot back. Richie tried to bat at his head, but Eddie just slapped at Richie’s forearm to get it out of the air. He kicked Richie's calf when he just tried to do it a second time.
"I'm up for it," Mike agreed, pointedly ignoring their shenanigans. Richie lightly punched Eddie in the stomach, making him yelp. As Eddie keeled over, he slapped Richie hard in the thigh right below his shorts. "If we have time, we can even head to the farm for some food after. I made some lemonade yesterday, and I was meaning to share it with you guys."
"I like lemonade," Bill nodded, a smile spreading across his face that the other boys couldn't help but return. He glanced at Eddie, who was glaring at Richie's big grin even as his thigh started to bloom pink. "Are you guys com-coming?" Eddie took the time to think for a second, likely trying to recall whether he had finished copying Richie’s homework for the day.
"Oh, I also read a book about bugs a couple weeks ago. I don't have it on me, but I can remember some of the cool-looking ones," Ben said thoughtfully, and Mike looked extra interested at that. "Maybe I can find some and point them out to you guys."
"Yeah? Maybe I can, too. We can put 'em in Eddie's hair like little accessories," Richie teased, bending his long fingers awkwardly to mimic spiders crawling up his shoulders and onto his head. Eddie shouted in objection and grabbed Richie's wrists so tight, his fingers froze up as his friend yanked them out of his hair.
"I'll come, but only to make sure Richie doesn't end up eating a fucking beetle or something," Eddie hissed, throwing Richie's wrists down so he lost balance while he laughed. Richie grabbed onto Eddie's shoulders to keep himself steady, and the brunet let him. "Dumbass."
"Good," Bill said, happy to have all his friends available. Richie made a sound like he was offended, letting his hands drop when Eddie decided he had enough and started batting at his wrists.
"Hey, you didn't even ask if I could come," he said. Bill didn't even blink, just shifted his stare to Richie before replying rather matter-of-factly,
"Eddie's going, of course y-you're going.” Richie made another noise, a blank “Huh.” more than anything. Then he threw his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, grinning widely even as his friend yelped and nearly fell over from the sudden weight.
“Looks like we’re off to the woods, Eddie Spaghetti!” Eddie paused in his struggle to throw Richie’s arm off to look up at him with his mouth all screwed up. “To grandmother’s house we go!”
“Your breath smells like cheap cheese puffs,” Eddie hissed, as if there was such a thing as expensive cheese puffs. Richie just let his mouth fall open and moved his head down to exhale right into Eddie’s face, only stopping to laugh when it made Eddie shriek and gag.
Richie was still coming down from the high of spending a warm summer’s day with his friends by the time the others were bidding their goodbyes and steering their bikes to separate from the group. The day was just starting to slip into night and they were steadily pedaling towards Eddie’s road. Richie opened his mouth to say something stupid, probably something about kissing Mrs. K goodnight, when Eddie interrupted him.
“Do you wanna kiss again?” Richie choked on his joke and his right foot slipped off his bike pedal. In less than a second, he was on his back on the pavement, staring straight up at the clouds drifting idly through the sky. “Oh, holy shit! Richie!”
He heard the chain of a bike being yanked back, then the clatter of the bike hitting the ground. A moment later, Eddie’s concerned face was blocking the wide evening sky. His brown eyes were wide with worry, and his brows were scrunched up into a funny little line. His hair had gotten messed up earlier when Richie had pretended to drop an ant into it and Eddie had freaked out, squawking indignancies as he frantically ran his hands over his head. Currently, some brown strands gave in to gravity and hung over his forehead.
Even upside-down, he’s pretty, Richie thought. How does someone get to be that pretty?
“Rich? What the fuck, are you okay? Are you hurt? Why the fuck would you suddenly stop like that you fucking dumbass, you flew over the handles and went rolling, you’re so fucking stupid, do you feel any pain? Do you need a bandaid? Richie? Do you have a concussion? How many fingers am I holding up?” Eddie held up three fingers.
“Yeah,” Richie said dreamily. Eddie jerked his head back a little, quickly becoming bewildered as he stared at his own hand.
“What? How many fingers is ‘yeah’?” Richie thought he might’ve wiggled his fingers as he counted them off, but he was too busy staring at Eddie’s face to notice.
“No, I meant—I mean, like, yeah, I wanna kiss you again.” Eddie looked back down at him, confused, then flustered, then irritated—but fake irritated, like when Richie cracked a joke at the wrong time and Eddie wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to encourage him. His face went a little pink, and Richie admired the soft color in dazed awe.
“Get up, idiot, are your parents home yet?” Richie shook his head. They would be gone for another day, and would probably stop somewhere to get him some vegetables, or something. Eddie pushed himself back to stand, then shuffled around to offer a hand to tug his friend off the ground. “Any scrapes? Cuts? Bruises? Did you hit your stupid head on the ground?”
“I’m all good, Eddie Spaghetti,” he chirped cheerfully even as he struggled to get his bike upright and mount it without tripping over the back wheel.
“I changed my mind. I hope you get run over by a car.” Richie laughed aloud and Eddie let his frown turn into a smile as he hopped onto his own bike. “Hurry up. Use the window and I’ll meet you in my room.”
The ride to Eddie’s house was a bit more rushed than their unhurried pedalling on the main road, but there was a new buzz in the air. Richie couldn’t help but grin to himself all the way to Eddie’s house, and briefly tried to school his expression into something normal until Eddie looked over his shoulder at him and he turned out to be smiling, too.
They both sneaked around to the right of the house to prop their bikes up against the side of it, and Eddie nodded up towards his bedroom window on the second floor before making his way back to the front door. Richie scaled the tree, barely having to think as his hands found the familiar nooks and crannies they’d been relying on for years. He pulled himself up with only a little difficulty, and reached out to open Eddie’s window with one hand before stretching his leg out to step on the windowsill. It was much easier to get in now that he’d hit, like, fifty growth spurts.
Richie barely had to strain to carefully hop into the room, huffing once he was inside. The window creaked a little when he pushed it down, leaving it open enough to shove his fingers under it when he needed to open it again. There. Mission accomplished. Now to sneakily brush his teeth, or whatever. Eddie kept a spare toothbrush for Richie hidden in his cabinet because he hated impromptu sleepovers turning into him going a whole day with “fucking disgusting morning breath, Richie, shut your fucking mouth until you learn to be a human being!”
By the time Eddie had eaten dinner and promised his mother to shower before going to bed, Richie had long since made himself comfortable on the bed with his breath minty fresh. He was nestled atop the clean sheets with a stray comic in his hands, and peeked over it when Eddie pushed the door open.
“No medical supplies for little ol’ me, Dr. K? Heartless,” Richie quipped when his friend carefully shut the door behind him. Eddie’s hand paused on the knob, and he paused to scrutinize Richie.
“Do you need any?” he asked back. Richie shook his head and Eddie locked the door. “Okay. Did you brush your teeth?”
“No, I was busy going through your mom’s underwear drawer.” Eddie’s face twisted, but before he could get worked up, Richie laughed at him and shut the comic. “I brushed my teeth! Don’t wanna cause any delay.” He wiggled his eyebrows for good measure.
“You’re so stupid.” Eddie came up to the bed and hopped onto his, letting himself bounce a little. Richie reached down to gently lay the comic on the floor, next to where he’d placed his worn shoes, as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He decided to ignore the heat growing in his face and the nervousness filling his chest in favor of grinning at his friend.
“You love it.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Eddie shuffled forward on his knees to sit on the bed right next to Richie, both of them facing each other. He reached up to carefully take Richie’s glasses off, folding them and placing them in his lap. Richie blinked a few times as his vision became blurry, but didn’t protest. Soft hands came up to the sides of his face, and his hands twitched where they stayed planted on the bed sheets. He was afraid to touch Eddie, and his mind started to drift.
What if it wasn’t as good as the first time? What if Eddie didn’t actually even like the first time, and this was his last chance to be good enough at kissing for them to keep doing it? What if he put his hands on Eddie again and it became too much? What if—Eddie patted his face enough to get Richie’s attention.
“Quit thinking,” he said, though he looked a little nervous. “Uh, is this still okay? We don’t have to—I mean, if you’re second-guessing it—” Richie shook his head a little, careful not to shake Eddie’s hands off, and leaned forward.
“It’s okay. You still want to, right?” he asked, squinting a little and stopping just far enough to see Eddie clearly. When he was this close, he could see the freckles delicately spattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Richie wanted to count them all, but he would probably keep finding ways to get lost in Eddie’s doe eyes instead.
“Only if you do,” Eddie said, ever the gentleman. His hands were still on either side of Richie’s face, and his thumbs moved back and forth over his cheekbones a couple times. Richie wanted to melt into his palms and never leave.
“Okay,” he sighed a little, feeling like goo. Eddie grinned at him, then shifted a little to get closer. “Get to it, Eddie Spaghetti.”
“You’re the one who got me talking,” Eddie blamed without any bite. He leaned in and Richie’s eyes fluttered closed as their lips connected, slotting into each other without issue.
The slide of their mouths together was almost effortless, like it was coded into Richie’s fucking DNA. Eddie’s lips were soft and languid against his own, and Richie could feel his insides turning into liquid. He leaned up a little more, bringing his hand up to snake around Eddie’s back and rest at the middle of it to bring him a little closer. Eddie gasped a little, whether because the touch was unexpected or welcome or both, Richie didn’t know, but he could barely contain his shudder either way.
It was hypnotizing, the warmth cradling his face and the wetness over his lips. Richie didn’t know if, objectively, either of them was a good kisser, but it didn’t matter. He was just happy to be kissing Eddie. Eddie Eddie Eddie. Truly, this was the peak of his lifetime. Richie wanted to stay in this moment forever.
Unfortunately, his lungs disagreed. Eddie must have had the same problem, because he broke the kiss after a few more tender moments. They didn’t move too far from each other; Richie could feel Eddie’s exhales fanning over his lips as they both got used to breathing again. Again, Eddie was gently grazing his thumbs over his face, tracing over his cheekbones as if he could feel the blush transferring from Richie’s skin onto his careful fingers.
I want to kiss you forever, Richie wanted to say. Your lips make me feel like I’m on another planet.
“You taste like toothpaste,” Richie said instead. Eddie snorted, and let his hands fall from Richie’s face. He tried not to feel sad over it.
“You do, too, idiot. We both brushed our teeth,” he said, the “duh” going unsaid. It was usually implied whenever any of the Losers were talking to Richie, really.
“Yeah? That do anything for you?” Richie asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Eddie burst into laughter before slapping his hand over his mouth. They both held their breaths, but heard no Sonia approach or ask what he was laughing at.
“Shut up, you’re gonna get us in trouble,” Eddie hissed, keeping his voice low as he lowered his hand to hit Richie in the arm instead. Richie snickered and took his own hands away, batting Eddie’s arm right back. Of course, this sprung them into a wrestling match, and Richie grinned every time Eddie’s silent laughter replaced the quiet of the room.
They settled down after a little while, talking and joking until Eddie had to take a shower and came back fifteen minutes later. By then, Richie had changed into a shirt and sweatpants that were far too big for Eddie. It was his go-to sleepover outfit, since Richie couldn’t keep any of his own clothes here or sneak them into the laundry without Sonia finding them. He liked to borrow the clothes, anyway, since they smelled like Eddie. They were pretty soft, too, from how often he slept over.
The boys fit together snugly on the bed when they lay down to read comics, and neither complained when Richie practically had Eddie squished up to his wall in order to keep from falling off. They’d relaxed enough to let themselves become absorbed in their individual comics, the only sound between them being the flipping of pages and quiet snickers at funny dialogue.
Eventually, though, Richie was drawn out of his reading when Eddie nudged at his leg with a socked foot. Richie just nudged him right back, until Eddie closed his comic and kicked Richie hard enough to get his attention.
“Ow,” he said, even though it hadn’t hurt at all. Richie let his own comic lay flat on his stomach, adjusting his glasses before looking at Eddie. “What’s up, Eds?”
“Don’t call me that,” he said, probably more out of instinct than anything. His brown eyes were trained on the ceiling, and he looked deep in thought. "Was it good? The kiss."
"Yeah, why?" Richie asked without missing a beat. Eddie didn't look at him, but he made a face. Richie could only see his profile, but he let his gaze traveled over his friend's grimace and furrowed brow, the curve of his jaw, the shell of his ear.
"We're supposed to be getting better at kissing. Or, like, learning how to kiss." He paused, and Richie watched his eyes dart around the empty ceiling for a second. "Isn't that why… I mean, that's why you suggested it in the first place. To practice. Before we graduate."
"Oh." Richie had forgotten about that. He suddenly felt a sick stickiness inside his chest, and he couldn't tear his eyes from Eddie's face. "Oh yeah. 'Course."
He was lying to Eddie, and he hated it. He was being a creep. What kind of person was he, offering help but really just meaning to find any excuse to kiss his best friend? Who the fuck does that? He was taking advantage of Eddie, and-and Eddie didn't know, and Richie found himself disgusting for it. Shame slinked over his body like a cold blanket, making his hand start to tremble and his jaw begin to clench.
What he was doing, lying about "practice kissing", it was so wrong. It was worse than wrong. He was betraying Eddie's trust, and he'd done it so easily, he'd done it twice! He had to break it off right now, it was too gross, it was bad, it was barely consent if Eddie didn't know the real reason Richie wanted to swap spit, it was—"Rich? What do you think?"
"Huh?" he choked out, his voice sounding fucked. Eddie finally looked over at him, and Richie must have looked horrible, because his eyes widened suddenly and the brunet quickly moved to lay on his side facing Richie. Richie panicked and sat up, but Eddie just followed.
"Rich? W-What's wrong? Are you okay, you're super pale." Eddie's hand came up to press gently against Richie's forehead, making him wince. Like he’d burned him, Eddie quickly took his hand away. "Are you hurt? Did I say something?"
"N-No, no, I—Fuck, give me a sec, Eds." Richie shoved his glasses off and pressed the heels of both hands to his eyes in one swift move. "Shit. Ah, what did you say? Sorry, I'm—I checked out for a minute there."
"Uh… yeah," Eddie said, sounding incredibly concerned, but understanding that Richie didn't want to talk about it. Richie tried extremely hard not to let any tears slip, or Eddie really wouldn't let it go. "I was just asking if you really did want to practice."
"What?" Richie's heart dropped to his toes. Eddie found out. He found out and he's going to kill him for it, or worse, shove him out of his house and stop being friends with him. He almost didn’t want to put his glasses back on, just to avoid being able to make out the features of Eddie’s face. Maybe he could let Eddie be blurry forever.
"No, just hear me out," Eddie insisted, and carefully took the frames from Richie’s grip to slide them onto his face himself. His face came into focus, and Richie’s breath caught in his throat at his open, hopeful expression. "We… Look, I don't think we're going to get girlfriends anytime soon. Not 'cause we'd be bad at getting girls, or—okay, maybe, but that's not the point. I don't think we'll date anyone by the time we graduate. This year is so busy already."
He looked so cute. Even when he was stumbling over his words a little, Eddie looked so perfect. His brows were furrowed a little, but not in a bad way; more like he was staring at a really dumb math problem, except he was staring past Richie’s face as he thought. His lips were downturned, but not quite frowning. Eddie gently brought Richie's hands down from where they’d started to run through his black hair and held them in his own hands as he continued,
"We don't need to kiss for practice. We can… I mean, if you want to, we can just… kiss for fun? I don't know, it's kinda dumb, but I'm—I think we could use the practice, but we don't have to call it practice. I kind of… the only person I'd ever really be comfortable kissing is you, Rich.” Eddie was flushed already, but the color in his face seemed to get deeper. He avoided Richie’s gaze, but kept holding onto his hands. “I don't want you to think you're, like, the middle man. Or something.”
Eddie wanted to kiss. For fun. Richie was staring, dumbstruck, at his best friend. Eddie wanted to kiss him. Not even for practice, but just because he could? Or because he… wanted to?
“Rich?” Eddie was looking at him again, but it was like he was straining to keep eye contact. He started to tense, looking a little more anxious as each silent second passed. “Richie? Is that okay?” Richie realized his jaw had dropped and he quickly closed his mouth with a tiny click of his teeth. Then he blinked a few times, like drawing himself out of a stupor. He shook his head, then nodded.
“Yeah. Yeah, no, yeah, it’s—that’s okay. I, uh…” He could very obviously feel the heat in his face, and immediately decided that if Eddie pointed out his blush, he would call him a raging hypocrite. “I actually wanted that, too. To, like, kiss for fun. If that’s okay.”
“Yeah,” Eddie echoed, nodding as well when Richie did it again. They were both nodding for a few seconds, and Richie almost wanted to laugh. He probably looked like a deer in headlights in his borrowed t-shirt and sweats that, despite being too big for Eddie, barely made it to Richie’s ankles. “If—I mean, why didn’t you say anything?”
“What, that I wanted to—?” Richie couldn’t even finish his sentence, he was so embarrassed. There was no reason to be, considering Eddie just said it, but Eddie had always been braver than Richie. “I dunno, I just thought… I dunno.”
“You thought I’d say no?” Eddie’s gentle hold on his hands shifted a little, and Richie had honestly forgotten they were holding hands until he looked down. He’d been too focused on his face to notice, but now he was hyper-focused on the way Eddie’s hands looked as he turned them over to intertwine their fingers. “Well, I’m saying yes.”
When Richie looked up again, Eddie was staring straight at him, with a spark in his big brown eyes that hadn’t been there a moment before. He looked determined, and confident, and brave. He looked so Eddie, and Eddie looked so perfect that Richie barely even realized he was moving until their lips met again.
This kiss was the most tentative out of the few they’d shared so far. Richie could feel Eddie freeze up at first, but then he’d melted against Richie and took one hand away from their loose grip to cup his cheek again. Richie leaned into Eddie’s palm, and as a response, Eddie pressed a little closer. Their mouths were slow and shy, but by the time they’d separated, Richie was dizzy with the feeling of it. Or maybe he’d been dazed after the other kisses, too, and he just couldn’t remember right now. What were they talking about?
“Was that okay?” Eddie breathed, his eyes a little unfocused. Was that how Richie looked, too? Richie nodded a little, wanting to bring his own hand up over Eddie’s to keep him there, but instead keeping it at his side.
“It was good,” he said honestly, too honestly, but Eddie smiled a little and Richie could have sworn he could feel himself melt right into the mattress. “More than good. Top ratings from Richie Tozier. Ten out of ten. Way better than your mother.”
“Oh my god,” Eddie scoffed out, the joke surprising him and Richie both. Eddie let his hand fall from Richie’s cheek, but before Richie could even come up with a protest it was on his upper arm, tugging him down. “Beep beep, Richie. Go to sleep, it’s late and that stupid joke made me feel like I haven’t slept in days, we have school tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t say days, exactly, Eds; however, I’ve definitely kept Mrs. K up several nights in a row—”
“Beep beep, asshole! And don’t hog the fucking blankets next time, I swear to god, you come into my room and have the fucking nerve…”
After that, their kissing became… not that big of a deal. Yeah, Richie felt his chest tighten and his face flush even thinking about it, but it wasn’t, like, a lie anymore. He knew he was doing it because he liked Eddie. Romantically. The point was, he used to freak out about taking advantage of Eddie by kissing under the guise of “practice”. After Eddie decided they were both hopeless in the sense of relationships, however, and they were kissing just for fun, Richie wasn’t really lying anymore.
He tried to rationalize kissing as just an activity, like sharing ice cream and dunking each other in the quarry. He and Eddie both wanted to share ice cream sometimes, right? And it wasn’t weird for Richie to notice their hands brushing as they traded off, or look away at the sight of Eddie’s tongue sticking out to lick at his—literal, mind you—Rocket Pop. It wasn’t weird for Richie to shove Eddie into murky water when he knew he would be shoved right back, or to note the warmth of Eddie’s hands on his bare shoulders. They were both high school seniors, and they would both be legal adults in March, and they were both friends, and they both wanted to do friendly activities with each other.
In this case, friendly kissing was an activity. It wasn’t weird to think about it. Why would it be weird to think about it? This was just like every other thing they did together, except they actually had to have some shame over it. Couldn’t have the other Losers see them kiss and blow it out of proportion. It was just mashing their mouths together, really, why did it have to be a romantic thing?
Except Richie knew it was a romantic thing. He didn’t want to go around kissing Bill, or Mike, or Ben, and definitely not Stan. Not even Beverly, if she hadn’t moved away all those years back (then again, he might be tempted to smack a kiss right on her lips if she turned up again. He missed Bev. They all did! Except, maybe he missed Stan even more than her, because now that he thought about it, he’d kiss Stan if he came back, too). He knew it was a romantic thing because it was an Eddie thing. He’d only ever wanted to kiss Eddie.
And sure, he could probably try to unpack all that, but he could also just ignore his feelings and relish in the fact that kissing Eddie is something he could actually do now. Only in either of their houses after they’d brushed their teeth, really, but that was fine to Richie. He liked brushing his teeth now, just because it reminded him of Eddie. Well, everything did, but especially brushing his teeth.
Kissing Eddie just because he could was nice. It was great! Richie knew they wouldn’t ever do anything further than that, but he was more than happy. Ever since deeming it a friendly activity, it just became another part of hanging out. They’d have fun with the other Losers after school if they were able to, and then hang out alone together when they didn’t have to go home right away. It became an added way to relax after and jokes were told and snacks were shared and teeth were brushed. Richie and Eddie were still only best friends—now, they were best friends who also, like, made out.
That was the main thing, though, the best friend part. Even if they hadn’t started kissing at all, not even as practice, Richie loved Eddie as a friend, as a Loser, way before whatever else had developed after that. He thought about it every day, when Eddie was laughing at something he said or nodding along to what Ben was explaining or socking Mike in the arm after a playful insult or bumping into Bill when they were walking next to each other. He loved all the Losers, even the ones who had left Derry and lost their home phone numbers.
He loved all his friends in a different way than he loved his parents. He wasn’t sure he’d ever find anyone quite like any members of the Lucky Seven. It wasn’t like he wanted to. And Eddie was his best friend out of all of them, and he knew he was Eddie’s. These were probably the only things Richie could be sure of in his entire life. He was sure of it back during the rock fight, when they’d all finally found each other.
He was especially sure of it now, when his mother called him down to the living room a couple of hours after dinner and Richie had come down the stairs to see Eddie sitting with her on the couch. He’d been ready to complain about doing the dishes before doing the dishes, as usual, but the false rebellion died in his throat when he saw Eddie turn to look at him with big, sad eyes and a puffy, flushed face.
“Eds? Are you okay? What happened, are you hurt?” Richie jumped down the last few steps, not minding his socks, and rushed to the couch. His mom placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder in that comforting “It’ll be okay,” Maggie Tozier way, before standing. “Eddie?”
“Just tired, Richie, it’s okay,” Eddie sniffed. Even though he seemed to have stopped crying, the fact that he'd started at all made Richie's chest cave in on itself. He flung himself into his mom's spot on the couch once she’d moved, already reaching out to touch Eddie, but hesitating a few inches from his arm.
“Would you like some tea before bed, Eddie?” Maggie offered, clasping her hands in front of her as she smiled kindly at the boy who was avoiding eye contact. Eddie took a second to consider this before nodding once, almost shyly, his gaze somewhere on the carpet. “Does your mother know you’re here?” Eddie hesitated again, and Richie lowered his hand to grab his friend’s hand instead, where it was gripping onto the shorts Eddie usually wore to sleep.
“Uh, she—I told her I was going to sleep. She won’t check on me, so she won’t notice,” he said quietly, voice a little stuffy from the tears and snot, and Maggie nodded in understanding when Eddie looked up at her. Without looking away, he let go of his shorts to flip his hand over and hold Richie’s just as tightly as he repeated, “She won’t notice.”
“Sounds good, sweetheart. If she does, and she calls, I’ll have to let her know you’ll be sleeping over. That okay?” Eddie nodded again, and Maggie finally shifted her gaze to Richie. She’d definitely noticed their hands, but didn’t bring it up (like all the things she noticed about Richie and Eddie, really). “Richie, tea?”
“I’m okay, ma. Thank you,” he said distractedly, bringing his other hand to place it over Eddie’s so it was sandwiched between his palms. He noted his mother’s footsteps retreating into the kitchen, and searched Eddie’s face for any signs of pain. Eddie had never gotten hurt before on nights like this, but Richie always checked.
He found nothing more than the blend of anger, sadness, and embarrassment Eddie usually wore whenever things at home became too much and he left to another Loser’s house for the night. He came to Richie's house most often, since his parents were understanding enough not to ask questions after a long talk with their son when they caught him sneaking Eddie out the first time. Eddie didn’t have to hide from the Tozier parents like he did most of the others, but sometimes he needed the other Losers’ company depending on what had gotten him so upset.
Eddie had showed up at Richie’s house tonight, meaning he’d rather not risk being caught and having to explain himself or risk a phone call home. Richie wouldn’t pry, and neither would his parents. He knew that Eddie knew he was welcome to tell them anything he wanted, whenever he wanted. For now, and maybe forever, Richie was just happy to provide the company Eddie wanted at the moment.
“Why, it’s me ol’ chap, Doctah K!” he said in his British Voice, grinning when Eddie lifted his head just to give him an eye roll. The corners of his mouth were already turning up, even as he sniffed again. “Come back for another cuppa, ‘ave ya?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie said, even when he brought his other hand to place it on Richie’s so they had their hands stacked up. He looked at their hands, but Richie’s eyes kept darting around Eddie’s pink face. “Haven’t heard British guy in, what, an hour?”
“Downright shameful,” Richie confirmed. He bounced their hands up and down in some weird, crowded handshake, before they separated. Maggie came back with a cup of tea for Eddie, probably having had some water heating already to make herself a cup before Eddie came over. “Thank you for the tea, Miss!”
“I thought British people liked tea. Shame I didn't make you any,” she mused after Eddie was nursing his warm mug of chamomile and honey. Richie laughed a little and Maggie put her hands on her hips. “Eddie, you know where our spare toothbrushes are. I’ll wake you up in the morning to take you home. At least it’s a weekend, huh?”
Richie’s grin grew even as Eddie flushed a little. On mornings after Eddie snuck over, Maggie made sure to huddle the boys in the family car and make idle conversation on the way to Eddie’s block so neither of them would freeze on the way—especially now, with winter coming to an end.
Eddie was kind of embarrassed to have her know he was sneaking in and out of his own house, and even more embarrassed that she insisted the three of them have breakfast together before leaving (“Just some toast, Eddie, in case you can’t get to sleep before your mother wakes up!”). Still, Richie could tell Eddie and his mom got along really well. It was nice to watch, sometimes.
“You boys don’t stay up too late,” Maggie called as she made her way back. Eddie thanked her and she smiled over her shoulder in response, pausing in the kitchen doorway. “Richie, would you mind letting your father know Eddie’s come to visit? He’s in his study.” He gave her a thumbs-up, and his mom bid them goodnight before disappearing to make her own tea.
“Come along then!” he encouraged, standing and holding a hand to help Eddie up even though they both knew he didn't need it. Eddie took it and carefully moved to his feet, then followed after Richie as he gently led him towards the stairs. When they were about halfway up, Richie dropped the Voice to ask, “Are you okay, Eds?”
“I’m… I dunno,” Eddie answered honestly, and his voice was still small and shy. It was so unlike Eddie, and Richie felt his heart become a little heavier. His free hand was carefully curled around his cup of tea, and Richie made sure to keep his pace slow so he wouldn’t have to let go of their hands at the risk of Eddie spilling it. “I’ll be okay.”
“You’ll be okay,” Richie assured him, keeping his voice optimistic. He barely even had to try, because he knew it would be true. They made it to the second floor and passed Wentworth’s office, the door wide open. Without slowing down, Richie called, “Dad, Eddie’s here!”
“Hey there, Eddie,” Wentworth automatically called out in response, looking up in time to see Richie waving as he passed by with his friend trailing behind him. Eddie had time to smile bashfully and greet him. Went called out his goodnight with a smile as kind as his wife's, not mentioning the puffy eyes or remnants of a runny nose, and returned to his work. Richie grinned to himself as he caught the interaction over his shoulder, and finally led Eddie into his room.
“Welcome back to my humble abode,” Richie said grandly, letting their hands release each other as he gave a sweeping bow. Eddie shut the bedroom door behind him and gently kicked a stray button-up shirt on the floor out of the way as he floated to Richie’s bed.
“Your humble abode is your house, Richie,” he informed, immediately shoving a few pillows out of the way and making himself comfortable against the headboard. Richie got out of his bow only to bend over and pick a few things up off the floor, just so Eddie wouldn’t tell him to do it later.
“Yeah? I never got to greet you to my house earlier, either, so now you just look like an asshole," Richie joked. He threw his dirty clothes into his laundry basket, then followed Eddie to the bed and sat down, trying to keep his bouncing to a minimum.
Eddie sipped his tea, giving him a half-hearted glare over the rim of the cup. It was hard to take it seriously when the faint scent of chamomile and honey wafted into Richie's face, though, and Richie just laughed.
They goofed off for a little bit to get Eddie's mind off things, even if neither of them pointed that out. Richie was filled with even more fluttery feelings than usual when he got Eddie to laugh at some dumb anecdote he'd heard a hundred times before. Eddie started being a little more lively as they kept talking, and finished his tea somewhere between jokes and jabs and laughs.
By the time they were side by side in the bathroom, brushing their teeth and nudging each other out of the view of the mirror, it was like Eddie hadn't even been crying in the first place. In fact, they'd just been getting ready to actually go to sleep when it came up in bed.
"My mom, she…" Eddie faltered when Richie looked at him from where he was fixing the blankets over his chest, but relaxed a little when Richie offered a half-smile as encouragement. It was a little hard to see in the dark of the room, but neither of them moved to turn the lamp back on. "She was talking about college again. About how, like, I have to keep doing good in school or I won't get into a good college and I won't be able to take care of her, and… I don't… She's my mom, but…"
"She's your mom, so you want to take care of her," Richie supplied, keeping his voice low to keep from riling Eddie up. His job right now was to listen, and he would do it. He didn't want to let Eddie blow up, not when they were both lying next to each other beneath the covers of his cramped twin. Eddie had turned the bedside lamp off fairly quickly, which made Richie think he didn't want to show his face. Richie's glasses were already off anyway, so it didn't matter much. "But…"
"Yeah. But. She's my mom, so I want—I feel like I have to take care of her. And I will." It sounded like Eddie was trying to convince himself of this, like he thought it was his responsibility when it really wasn't, not when Sonia was the way she was. Richie decided to keep his mouth shut, though, and let Eddie get it out. "But it's like... I don't like feeling like that's the only reason she wants me around. She could hire a nurse if all she wants is me to help her out instead of... living a life without her over my shoulder all the time. Without her curfew or chores or lectures. You know?"
"Not firsthand," Richie admitted, folding his hands neatly over his stomach as he stared at the blurry ceiling. His eyes were adjusting to the dark, but without his glasses, it wasn’t like he could make anything out even then. "But… yeah. I think I know what you mean."
"Probably not." It didn't sound like Eddie was trying to be mean; he was just stating a fact. "With your parents? You wouldn't know what I mean. I wouldn't want you to."
"I wish you didn't have to," Richie uttered, the words squeezing out of his throat and making him shut his eyes tight. Eddie went quiet for a moment, and Richie sniffled. Aw, fuck. Why was he crying? He didn’t know the half of what Eddie had to go through every day, what he had to go home to. “Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie laughed a little, but his voice cracked a little in a way that couldn’t be blamed on puberty. They were far past that, anyway; they were both almost grown-ups, albeit in the awkward, newborn stage of adulthood. Together. “Hey… Richie. Rich, look at me.”
Richie blinked his eyes open, then shut them immediately afterwards when tears finally slipped out. Then he felt the bed dip as Eddie shifted, before a hand lightly came up to his cheek and a thumb lightly swept over the corner of his eyes, without his glasses there to be in the way. Richie opened his eyes, and Eddie was so close, his face wasn’t even that blurry. It was a little flushed, and his eyes were a little damp with the start of tears, but there was a small smile on his face.
“I’ll be okay,” he repeated from what must have been hours ago, when they were first coming up the stairs together. Richie shifted, too, so they were both on their side facing each other. He was desperate to be close to Eddie, to breathe his air, and see all his freckles in perfect detail without his dumb lenses in the way. “It’s just my mom. She’s just… too much sometimes.”
They both knew that covered none of Sonia’s behavior. Richie wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if he’d asked Eddie never to go home again. He wondered whether they could leave together, get jobs together, find an apartment together, and be away from all the people in this town that didn’t want them in the first place. Derry didn’t deserve Eddie Kaspbrak. Really, no one deserved Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie definitely didn’t.
It hit him just then that if he really wanted to, he could move forward just a few inches and they’d be kissing. Eddie would probably let me.
“I’m glad we’re friends,” Richie blurted out instead, meaning every single word despite not even thinking to say them. Eddie’s smile grew a bit bigger, and his hand fell from Richie’s face. He brought his arms up to his own head, one hand beneath the pillow they shared and one hand on top.
“I’m glad, too,” Eddie said, and how could Richie ever ask for more when he was already lucky enough to have this? Richie could feel himself making goo-goo eyes at his best friend, but couldn’t bother trying to hide it. Eddie stared at him for a few seconds, then decidedly made a face. “Now stop being a baby, Richie, you’re gonna get snot all over the pillow.” Richie laughed, kicking Eddie’s leg beneath the sheets.
“This is my pillow, you little turd, you could sleep on the floor for all I care,” he snorted, even as he swung his leg over Eddie’s, anyway. Eddie grumbled when it tugged the sheets down a little, and then squawked out an indignity when Richie pulled most of the blanket away from him with a mighty tug.
Their wrestling match was interrupted by Maggie knocking gently on the bedroom door before she shut the hallway lights off. It took them another twenty minutes after that to stifle their giggles, but the night caught up to them eventually. Eddie ended up falling asleep first.
His head rested on the squishy area above Richie’s armpit, nestled under the arm Richie had slung around his shoulders to rest on Eddie’s side. His brown hair looked black in the darkness, and his head was tilted in a way that didn’t let Richie see his face. Richie could feel Eddie’s warm breath fanning over his chest, in rhythm with the rise and fall of his side as he slept. It felt like he belonged there.
Richie’s free hand was on his own chest, at the left side right next to Eddie’s head. If he stayed still, he could feel his own heart beating beneath his soft shirt. It was slow and steady, even as Eddie’s body pressing into his made him dizzy. The beating of his heart now was incredibly slow—nothing like how it raced when they were kissing, with Eddie’s mouth sliding against his, their hands moving over each other’s necks and arms, their occasional smiles that allowed their teeth to become too involved.
“You’ll be okay,” Richie said to no one. Eddie was undisturbed, his breaths continuing evenly. Richie ran his hand up and down Eddie’s side once, feeling the faint outline of his ribs through the fabric of his pajamas. Eddie snuggled away from the light touch, his cheek nuzzling further into Richie’s chest. You’ll be okay, he thought, not wanting to wake him up.
Somehow, Richie believed it. He hoped that Eddie did, too.