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The stars hung, sparkling, shining in the nighttime sky without a care in the world. Eddie stared up into the vast expanse of space above him, and wondered not for the first time what it would be like to be a star. The center of a solar system from up close, but one of billions working together to weave an intricate tapestry from far away. Free to dance, bringing light and warmth to those around him. Something beautiful, something to behold, something that others couldn’t help but look at and think, ‘ wow, I want that ’. That sounded like someone he knew.
Quietly, trying to move as subtly as he could, Eddie turned to gaze at the boy beside him, the sun of his own solar system. Richie, his best friend, his first love, the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. As far as Eddie was concerned, Richie was the closest thing to a star the Earth had to offer. And the stars in the sky could try to rival him, Eddie had no doubt they would, but they could never win. Richie’s smile, his laugh, his bravery, everything about him made him unbeatable. Even the things others saw as flaws; his ability to keep a joke going far past when it was funny, his wild curls and thick, thick glasses, his seemingly carefree recklessness. All of it screamed Richie, and that made all of it perfect.
Eddie watched the way Richie’s chest rose and fell with him breaths, the tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The locks of hair that curled around his ears and that lay on his forehead. His head rested on his hands as he looked to the sky. The stars reflected in his glasses, and in his eyes too if Eddie angled his head just right.
Eddie sighed into the silent, cool air and shifted back to looking at the sky. Really, he wanted to stare at Richie all night, to take in everything about the boy next to him. But the longer he looked, the more likely he was to get caught. The more likely Richie was to catch onto how Eddie felt. He couldn’t risk it, he couldn’t risk losing Richie. There was nothing that could replace Richie. No one who could fill the air with obnoxious jokes and smirks, all while managing to only draw Eddie in closer. Eddie missed Richie like all hell whenever he left for week-long vacations with his family, missed the otherwise ever-present jabs at Eddie. He had to keep Richie in his life, even if it wasn’t exactly how he wanted him.
Truth be told, Eddie wanted to be able to kiss him, to breath him in while finding out if he tasted like the skittles and sodas Eddie so often found him with. He wanted to feel their hands together, to bring Richie’s hand up to his face and kiss each of his knuckles. He wanted to cup Richie’s jaw in his hands and rest their foreheads together and laugh about whatever life threw at them.
Eddie wanted Richie to love him the way Eddie loved him.
But Eddie knew better; he knew what living in this town did to you. He knew how it made you think, no matter how screwed up it was. Small casual comments that most barely even noticed that just served to further indoctrinate you into a system of hate and intolerance. And he knew that Richie liked girls from the way he talked. Sure, most of his jokes somehow revolved around Eddie’s mom, but there were a few thrown in there that made it seem impossible to be any other way.
What Eddie wanted and what Eddie knew were two very, very different things.
He shifted again, this time to spread out his legs instead of keeping them neatly tucked next to him. The shingles scraped gently against his skin, not hard enough to leave marks but with enough pressure to remind Eddie that they were there. That he was sat on a rooftop, the rooftop of the house of the boy of his dreams, with said boy.
At first, Eddie protested to the idea of going on the roof. They could slip and fall, and they were on the second story so it would hurt like shit. It reminded him of Neibolt and of falling through the decrepit floor, finding himself with a broken arm and nowhere to go, no ability to do anything to help himself. Eddie tried to keep the emotion off of his face, but Richie noticed regardless. And then Richie sent him a sympathetic look, with soft eyes and an even softer smile, and told Eddie that they didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. That filled Eddie with a strange determination, the part of him that always wanted Richie’s attention on him flaring up.
When they first climbed onto the roof, Richie talked about anything that came to mind. Maybe it was a story about Bill that they had both witnessed real time, or a description of a funny looking dog he had seen the other day. Eddie stayed mostly quiet, content to listen to the sound of Richie’s voice for days, occasionally piping up to throw in a lighthearted insult. Eventually, though, Richie trailed off and they fell into a comfortable silence. For a bit, Eddie would look to check if Richie had fallen asleep, but after 20 or so minutes he stopped. Richie too seemed to be lost in thought.
A rather cold breeze passed over them, and Eddie involuntarily shivered. He saw movement out of his peripheral; he watched as Richie sat up, looking at him all the while. Eddie mirrored him a moment later.
“You cold?” Richie asked. Eddie noticed the unspoken implications, that all Eddie had to do was say the word and they could head in. Richie had always been like that; caring, willing to give up his own fun just to make sure others had a good time.
“A little. It’s okay, though,” Eddie said. Richie nodded, then his brows furrowed for a few moments. Eddie nearly opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Richie shed his outermost hoodie.
Eddie would have objected if Richie had merely handed the hoodie to him. It was Richie’s, and Eddie knew that he wore it because he got cold easily. However, Richie didn’t just hand it to him. Richie extended his arms, gently draping the hoodie around Eddie’s shoulders. His fingers brushed against Eddie’s bare arm as he drew his hands back, and Eddie felt his brain short-circuit.
A moment passed where they just stared at each other. Eddie’s mouth was slightly agape as he watched Richie scoot infinitesimally closer. He felt his gaze flicker down to Richie’s mouth as he watched him and his nervous smile, a look in his eyes that Eddie couldn’t quite place. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath as the moment teetered.
“Couldn’t let my little spaghetti turn into an Edscicle, right?”
The moment broke.
And yet, Eddie found Richie’s nervous laugh impossibly endearing. The way he unconsciously lifted his hand, scratching the back of his neck. The caring nature under the brash exterior. The moment was gone, but Eddie’s feelings were still at the forefront of his mind.
“Somehow, that’s worse that the other nicknames,” Eddie teased, finding it easy to joke with Richie no matter what.
Richie mocked offense, though the smile on his lips was playful as he said, “It works so well, though! Edscicle! It’s perfect!”
“Everything you say to defend it makes me hate it a little more.”
“Oh, you just have no taste.”
“I think I have the most taste, actually!”
“What the fuck- what does that even mean?”
Eddie hesitated. He wanted to say, “ Well, obviously. I love you, can’t get tastier than that ” but that says so much more than Eddie can admit. He scolded himself, reminded himself not to ruin the best thing he had. Maybe Richie’s tendency to ward off serious statements with jokes had rubbed off on him (it wouldn’t be surprising if it had,) because instead he said;
“I am sleeping with your sister, afterall.”
Eddie hoped the way his voice broke slightly was hidden in the joke. He couldn’t tell, fully, as he watched Richie’s face drop for a split second before he let out a snort. And then a giggle, and he kept laughing until he had to lay back down, holding his stomach with one hand over his mouth to keep from waking his parents up. Eddie felt pride replace the sadness in his gut, knowing that he made Richie laugh like that. He made Richie laugh without restraint, complete and utter joy spilling from his grin.
“Eddie Spaghetti gets off a good one!” Richie said once his laughter died down enough that he could get more than a single syllable out at a time.
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie replied, a knee-jerk reaction. Then, after a moment, “asshole.”
Richie’s laughter picked up again. He slapped his hand onto Eddie’s arm, holding it like a lifetime. Eddie stared at the point of contact like it would go up in flames if he removed his focus from it for a single second. Then, he chanced a look to Richie’s face. Something shone on his cheek. Closer inspection revealed in to be a tear. Panic gripped Eddie as he raced to figure out what was wrong, but Richie’s body was still shaking with giggles. So Eddie made him laugh so hard he cried.
There was something so deeply personal about seeing Richie cry, even if it was out of joy. Eddie could count the amount of times he’d seen Richie be brought to tears on one hand. Once, when they were in second grade and Richie had fallen off the playground onto the woodchips below. And then in fifth grade, when Richie had first come up with the connection between Eddie and spaghetti, with Eddie vehemently against it. That, too, hand been out of laughter. Another in seventh grade after Bowers said something particularly cruel, though Eddie had no idea what he had said specifically. And then, a few nights after their first group run-in with the clown, after Bill punched Richie, when Richie had crawled in through Eddie’s window and they sobbed into each other’s arms for hours. So this was the fifth time.
Subconsciously, Eddie’s hand found its way to Richie’s face to wipe away the stray tear. Richie leaned into the touch, then he blinked and met Eddie’s eyes. Eddie realized what he was doing and started to pull his hand away before Richie’s shot up, anchoring Eddie’s against his cheek. Eddie’s gaze shifted between their hands and Richie’s eyes, a silent question.
“It’s- It’s okay,” Richie whispered, his hand slowly dropping to his side.
Eddie’s breath hitched, and he adjusted his hand to hold Richie more comfortably. He settled on Richie’s jawline, angling his face towards Eddie’s ever so slightly. Slowly, his other hand was drawn towards Richie, settling on his shoulder in a move far too intimate to be platonic. But Richie, he was looking at Eddie like he was his sun, he was looking at Eddie like he felt the same as Eddie. Richie’s hands settled on Eddie’s hips, and Eddie found himself flinching at the thought of Richie learning more than Eddie had told him. Richie must have felt Eddie tense, as his eyes filled with something akin to terror as he drew in a sharp breath. He began to pull away, but Eddie only tightened his grip. This was progress; he couldn’t lose this. Not yet.
Still, Richie’s hands fell away from Eddie. He didn’t move away any further than that, though. He looked deeply apologetic, somewhat fearful, and it was viscerally real. Eddie didn’t know the last time he’d seen Richie look so authentic; or rather, he did, but he didn’t want to think about the look on Richie’s face through the gaps in Pennywise’s fingers in Neibolt. It hurt Eddie so deeply to see Richie like that, and his most basic instinct was to make Richie feel okay. To take on any pain that Richie felt. Eddie took a deep breath, cleared his thoughts as best as he could, and let that instinct take over.
Instinct, as it turns out, has an affinity for romance. At least in Eddie’s case.
Eddie found himself leaning towards Richie, only pausing for a moment when they were mere inches apart to let Richie escape if he wanted to. Richie made no such move, so Eddie allowed himself to close the gap between them. Their lips met slowly, gently. Richie stayed still for a moment before he seemed to come alive beneath Eddie, his hands shooting up, one to Eddie’s bicep and the other to his hair, his lips moving with Eddie’s. Eddie smiled into the kiss, unable to contain the happiness he felt sitting with Richie here. Sitting with Richie on a rooftop, the only witnesses the stars above them. Cupping his face, Richie’s hands carding through the hair on the nape of his neck, kissing each other in a way that felt right like so few things did. Richie, too, began to beam. Their smiles only grew until they had to separate.
Eddie pressed his forehead against Richie’s, closing his eyes and soaking in the warmth. Richie sighed, satisfied, before he jolted backwards, knocking their heads together in the process. Eddie let out a small hiss of pain as he touched his forehead and looked up to Richie, confused. Richie’s jaw was dropped as he stared at Eddie. His hands hovered an inch away from Eddie’s forehead, like he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how. He looked small and scared, eyes wide like a puppy’s.
“Chee?” The childhood nickname slipped out on it’s own, but Eddie didn’t regret it. He didn’t think he could, given the way it caused Richie’s eyes to snap down and meet his. Eddie felt himself grow bolder with Richie’s undivided attention. “You alright?”
“Yeah, just- yeah,” Richie replied, voice trailing off and eyes dropping.
Eddie moved down and positioned himself so he could catch Richie’s gaze. This felt weird, and Eddie didn’t like it, but he felt like he was starting to understand things better. Two things, specifically.
One, Richie loved him back. Or at the very least, liked him as more than a friend. There was too much meaning in the looks they shared, too much joy because of one kiss and a few touches. Other things started to fit into place, too, with this realization. Richie had always been different with Eddie, Eddie knew that much, but for a while he assumed it was just because he was easy to rile up and could keep up with Richie’s banter better than anyone. Now, it seemed to make more sense that it was because Richie wanted Eddie to look at him, to talk to him, the way Eddie wanted Richie too.
Two, this feeling scared Richie. Whether it was love or something else, it scared him enough that he wasn’t fully processing what was happening. Eddie could practically see the cogs in his head working overtime, trying to come to some sort of conclusion. And judging by the look on Richie’s face, the conclusion he was headed towards wasn’t a good one.
Eddie huffed a short breath, determination settled on his face. He surged forward, wrapped his arms tightly around Richie in a way that he hoped felt supportive rather than suffocating. Richie placed his hands on Eddie’s back, but it was light, hesitant,
“Hey, Chee. We’re okay?” Eddie whispered. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I know what’s going on in mine. And in mine, it’s just me thinking about how much I love you.”
That got something out of Richie, a small gasp, his grip tightening.
“I love you so much it’s unreal, Richie. You’re the center to my everything. The light of my life, the apple of my eye, all that shit you say to tease me? It’s absolutely how I feel for you. You make me feel like I’m gonna lose my mind, Rich, and I think I do when it comes to you. I love you.”
A shudder, then arms wrapped fully around him. Eddie feels Richie bury his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. Eddie moved his hand to Richie’s head, scratching his scalp. Richie felt like he was in his most vulnerable state, and Eddie felt an overwhelming need to protect him. Richie gripped the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. Eddie held him closer, pressing a kiss into the side of his head. He looked to the stars in the distance and wondered if they felt pity for the two humans on the rooftop.
They sat like that for God knows how long. Richie’s grasp on Eddie slowly loosening. Eventually he leaned back, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and laughing wetly.
“Shit. Shit, Eds, I love you too,” he said, a smile small but more genuine than any Eddie had ever seen on his face. “Don’t know if I can muster the brain power to say it in as many words as you did, but I love you.”
“Hey, it’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I guess- it just doesn’t feel real, you know? Like a dream,” Richie admitted. Eddie extended one of his hands toward Richie. Richie took it, running his index over Eddie’s palm and playing with his fingers.
“Is it okay if I say some things?” Eddie asked. Richie nodded slightly, fixing his stare on Eddie. Eddie took a moment to watch him, see the way his eyes still shone in the dim light. He looked content. “Earlier, when you rested your hands on my hips, I flinched.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“I know,” Eddie said, taking a deep breath. “Rich, I’m trans. And it scared me that you might find out, but I do want you to know. You’re my best friend, and I love you, and I trust you with this. I’m still a boy, just as much as I always have been,” Eddie spoke. Richie continued to stare at him, mouth parting slowly.
“Thank you, Eds. For trusting me. And you being trans isn’t gonna change how I feel.”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, you don’t have to thank me for showing basic human decency! Besides, who wants to deal with cis dudes? Gross,” Richie said, adding in a little shudder for effect.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Richie sighed. “So, how are we feeling, Eddito? Two trans bros sitting on a rooftop, all in love and shit?”
“Well, I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me, too. And I’m glad that we’re on the same wavelength here. We’re absolutely talking about how you came out to me, called me Eddito, called us bros, and said that we’re in love in the same breath. Later though, I wanna kiss you again.”
“Oh, I look forward to it.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, but he placed his hand behind Richie’s head to pull him in.
Eddie found himself lying next to Richie on a bed that should be too small for the both of them but they’re cuddling, pressed close against each other, so neither of them really seemed to mind. Eddie’s chest was pressed against Richie’s back, one arm supporting his head and the other lazily slung around his waist. Richie had his hands around Eddie’s, softly caressing his skin with his thumb. He landed a kiss on the nape of Richie’s neck, breathing in the strawberry scented shampoo in his hair. Richie laughed.
“I know it’s only been like an hour, but I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to that,” Richie spoke into the dark.
“Good. It’ll never get old then.”
“Oh, Eds, that’s absolutely impossible. I love you too much!”
“I love you too, Rich,” Eddie smiled.
His eyes tracked around the room, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside. There were poorly taped band posters lining the walls, and a bookshelf filled with unread novels and well-loved comics. A collection of graphic tees were stacks on top of a dresser, next to a little wooden box that Richie had had for years but today opened to Eddie for the first time to show the collection of empty T bottles it hid.
Eddie looked out of the window, past the baby-blue curtains that hung on it, to the stars. He smirked to himself, barely containing the urge to flip off the window. Fuck the stars in the sky, he had the most precious one in his arms.