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He’s fifteen when he has his first kiss. It’s in the hayloft of his family’s barn on a cool Sunday evening in December. His mom made hot chocolate and it’s warm enough with the hay and the animals that Eddie let them take off their coats with only a little complaining.
He remembers feeling warm and at peace. Winter break meant that Eddie didn’t have to go home, or at least, that he felt secure enough in his ability to stand up to Sonia. Without school as a reason to keep him contained at a reasonable curfew, Eddie was free to do what he wanted. Staying at any of the Loser’s houses or in the clubhouse until well past nightfall. They’d spent the day together. Eddie joining them for the church service in the morning and then riding with Mike in the back of his father’s truck all the way back to the farm.
It was a good day. One that Mike wouldn’t have minded letting stretch on forever...or maybe just a year. He’d miss the other Losers and he knows Eddie would too.
He supposes the way these things usually go, someone brings up kissing, but it’s not like that. There’s nothing leading up to it. No discussion beforehand or pact to be each other’s first kisses just to get it over with.
All he’s thinking is that Eddie’s nose crinkles when he laughs, summer’s fading freckles just barely visible across the bridge of it. There’s something about the soft brown color of his eyes that makes Mike feel warmer than any winter coat ever could.
They stare at each other for a beat. Conversation melting into silence and a static sense of anticipation thickening in his chest. At the time he’d had no idea where this was going until Eddie was tilting his head up and he was tilting his own to meet him.
It’s the first kiss for both of them.
Soft, sweet, and barely lingering. Their lips brush at first before Eddie, brave ferocious Eddie, adds pressure to it.
When it breaks, their sighs mingle in the air between them. Eddie’s tongue drags across his lips to wet them, or to savor the lingering taste of hot chocolate and Mike’s own mouth, he’s not sure which. He just knows that he loves this boy. Loves the giant heart in his chest and the way he seems ready to burst out of his own skin.
They don’t say anything about it, but they smile at each other and that’s enough.
-----
Bev is casual with her kisses after Derry. The affection she holds for all of them is a volcano that’s been forced to lay dormant for the past forty years. Once she remembers, once the clown is defeated, and her ex is soundly torn from the picture, she bursts. As fiery as the copper color of her hair. Her hands linger on forearms and curled around elbows. She doesn’t so much as stand on tiptoe as she hauls them all down to her level. Pressing kisses to cheeks and foreheads and lips.
Mike is sure they’re all in love with her.
“Mike Hanlon in the tabloids? Oh, the scandal. Whatever will the little old ladies at your library think?” Bev’s smile is Cheshire-cat-wide and her eyes are flashing. Like it’s just him in the picture and not the two of them.
“They’d think this means I can get them a discount on Marsh originals.” He chuckles, setting his coffee mug down and sliding the magazine closer. It had been left on the kitchen counter by Ben on his way to work this morning a sticky note with a hastily drawn shocked Pikachu stuck to the cover.
It’s the two of them, out shopping during the last Loser’s get-together. Bev looks radiant in a pastel yellow sundress dotted with sunflowers, her red hair long enough now to require an elaborate collection of pins just to keep it in place. Even then there are whisps coming loose in a look of mild dishevelment that he’s still not sure wasn’t purposeful.
The main shot is their kiss. Her hand resting against the side of his face, the corners of her lips curled up in a barely restrained smile. They’d been laughing and it showed in the expressions they were trying so desperately to tame for the sake of the kiss, he could almost hear the sound of it echoing from the photo.
It was far from their first kiss and it’d hardly be their last. Not with how addictive Bev’s kisses were. The flavor of her lipstick, the determination she put behind each one. Pulling her partner in close and not the least bit afraid to add tongue. She kissed with a smile. Kissed in laughter despite how awkward it could be. Her kisses spoke. You’re beautiful, they said. You’re a work of art. She left you feeling like you were standing in the middle of a raging fire where nothing burned. The only flames he’d never be scared of.
The kiss itself had been cropped and zoomed in, along with Bev’s hand where Ben’s engagement ring caught the afternoon light.
BEVERLY MARSH CHEATING?
Written in bold, eye-catching font across the top of the page. “Who is Ms. Marsh’s mystery beau?” He laughed, “Not sure how I feel about being called beau,” he slid the magazine back across to her, tapping the cover. “I do want a copy of this picture though.”
“We do look amazing don’t we?”
“Hottest members of the Loser’s club, hands down.”
----
It’s hard to believe he was scared of seeing Stan after everything was said and done. He’d spent his entire drive into Georgia with his heart lodged in the back of his throat and his stomach twisted in hard knots. He expected to find anger or resentment in the other man’s eyes. He’d seen how strong Stan’s hatred could grow, how it simmered behind his gaze just deep enough to be seen.
The idea that he’d almost missed out on this because of fear is almost as terrifying as the clown had been.
When he arrived at the Uris’ home he was greeted not with stone-cold stares and thinly pressed mouths, but with open arms and radiant smiles.
To think that he’d be lost and wandering when he could be here, pressed between two people he loved with his whole heart. One, an old friend, and the other a new one. He’d miss their movie nights, their date nights, and days spent in the garden. He’d miss meeting them both for lunch during the week. He’d miss seeing Stan smile and laugh with a freedom he hadn’t had as a child. He’d miss Patty singing to the birds in the early morning and bringing them fresh coffee on the front porch.
He’d miss listening to two passionate people talk about what made their faces light up from within. He’d miss waking up with someone in his arms. He’d miss the kisses: the ones in the morning with no accounting for morning breath and the ones in the evening that whisper a soft “Sweet dreams,” and a gentle “I love you.”
He never settled, always passed through, but when he was here it was beautiful.
He’d planned a whole month for them. Set it aside delicately and rode his RV halfway across the country to park on the Uris’ driveway. They’d welcomed him like they always did: with warm smiles, and tight hugs. Meeting his tired, travel-worn body with a sense of home.
They spend that evening on the couch watching documentaries.
Stan kisses him when he sees the rapture in his eyes as he listens. He kisses like he can’t help himself. It was a surprise the first time and it's been a surprise almost every time since. He’s firm but gentle and when Patty’s there he’s playful- nipping at Mike’s lips and peppering them across his cheeks.
Patty by contrast kisses like it’s something she’s thought about all day, a treat she finally allowed herself to have. She presses kisses to his fingertips, his knuckles, the corners of his lips when they turn up in a smile. Here, on this couch, in the glow of the tv light, she kisses the lines of his palms and smiles into the crook of his neck.
He feels loved.
----
They might as well be the last ones left. Mike knows in the very depths of himself that soon it’ll be just him, but for right now he cherishes what he has. Ben, who spends his days in the library or on the farm with him, and Richie, who’s as flighty and distant as a bird after Eddie leaves. They know that something happens when you’re gone. That the memories fade and Derry becomes something faded and distant.
There are days when Richie believes it and they don’t see him. Where he holes up in his room or goes off somewhere on his own. Days when he pulls away from them like he’s trying to prepare himself for what’s coming. Mike has half a mind to tell him that he’s not going to be the one that has to stay...if only to see if that’ll bring him back to them. On those days when he doesn’t believe it, when he swears up and down Eddie and Stan would never forget him, he talks about leaving Derry and finding them. Of plans, they’d all made when they were young and optimistic about what the future had in store for them.
He hates to think it but it’s a relief to have Ben there. He knows he should try harder to keep Richie close but Ben makes it easy. Ben’s like him. Growing up lonely and desperate for friends seeking some kind of solace in the pages of a book.
It’s Ben’s idea that something makes you forget. Either growing up or leaving Derry or both. It’s the optimism in him, the belief he has in their friendship that’s contagious on a level as strong as Bill’s convictions.
“Beverly wouldn’t ignore us. She’s not like that.” He says in a whisper, all their heads bowed together around one of the tables in the library.
“Bill wouldn’t either.” Eddie’s voice is less of a whisper but he’s backed by Richie who nods his head.
“Stan swore he’d call me.” At that point, Stan had only been gone a week and already Richie was different. On the one hand, he was more withdrawn on the other, there was something reckless and wild about him.
Was it any wonder that he gravitated towards Ben?
Ben kissed him goodbye right before he left. Shy and with sad eyes, like he knew what was coming. That Mike would be here until they were needed again. Both of them heartbroken at the thought that this wasn’t over.
As a man, his kisses are still soft and somewhat shy. Firm in their conviction and almost desperate. Eyes closed tight and brows furrowed like he was trying to will his heart to travel through the touch of their lips.
At least...they are at first.
With time, with friends, Ben turns soft around the edges. His smile is brighter and his laughter fills a room. There’s this new enthusiasm behind his kisses, a sense of welcome. He kisses in greetings and not just goodbyes.
Welcome, my love. Each kiss whispers as it’s pressed to his skin, peppered across his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, and his eyelids. Sometimes it’s just them and Ben kisses like he’s not shy anymore. Like he’s not scared to take up space. When Bev is with them he kisses them both, loud and playful, until they break into fits of laughter. He beams and it’s like staring into the sun.
----
Richie stays with him when Eddie goes back to New York.
“I just want to feel useful,” he says, shuffling some books into a cardboard box. “Help you move out of this shithole, you know?”
He knows any attempt at refuting that statement and the connotations it carries would fall on deaf ears. He’d be met with snorted, artificial laughter, and self-deprecating jokes. So instead he smiles, “I’d be glad to have you Rich.”
He knows Richie is supposed to be on tour and not sharing Mike’s bed. They know that Eddie went to New York to get a divorce, but he thinks that maybe some part of Richie thinks this is like the last time Eddie left him. In some ways...it is. It’s just them like it eventually was back then.
Bev and Bill gone.
Stan and Eddie gone.
Ben gone.
Like Ben, Richie’s kisses are shy but in a way that hurts. It’s a shyness born from self-hatred. An expectation built up in the back of Richie’s mind that the person he’s kissing is going to change their mind. That this...no matter how good it feels...will turn to dust in the palms of his hands.
Still. Richie kisses with everything he has. Hands cupping Mike’s face like he’s made of porcelain and the slightest move could shatter him to pieces.
The first night it’s tentative and small. A peck on the lips and a question in those dark blue eyes. Is this okay? Do you hate me? He answers by pulling Richie in close and kissing him again and again and again.
It takes a week to pack everything and get what few possessions he’s keeping loaded into his RV. In that week they hold hands more than they kiss, fingers intertwined as they sit in Mike’s steadily emptying apartment and watch TV, or lay facing each other on the bed.
But it’s not until he’s out of Derry that he finds out what it’s really like to kiss Richie Tozier.
Richie kisses like he needs it to breathe. He’s gentle when he holds your face, but there’s force behind it. A determination to make this last or milk it for all its worth.
Mike holds one of his wrists and lets himself be pushed back against the side of his RV. They’re parked just outside town limits, Mike’s first real step into the outside world.
“Never leaving you behind again Mikey. Never again,” he says, and he can feel it in their kiss, those words having all the power of an old blood oath taken twenty-seven long years ago
----.
Bill kisses him for the first time in victory. The clown is dead, really and truly dead, and Derry is free. Their foreheads touch and God is that more than he could have asked for. Then Bill pulls him down the rest of the way and he sees stars. Hope floods his chest with enough force to stun him. He’s frozen in place for a moment with nothing but the electrical feeling of Bill Denbrough’s lips against his. A bolt of lightning that races up his spine.
Getting kissed by Bill is like following him into battle.
He kisses with conviction.
Like you are the only person he could ever want to kiss, despite there being eight others vying for his attention at any given time.
That first kiss leads to another and another. Kisses before bed and kisses holding each other at an airport terminal like tragic lovers. Kisses that make his toes curl and his head feel light and airy.
Kisses he’s dreamed about since the first time he got caught in those icy blue eyes.
“D-d-don’t let Trashmouth show you too good a time, alright?” Bill’s stutter has all but vanished, slipping out in moments of heightened emotion or when he’s distracted. Mike kind of misses it. It reminds him of all the memories his friends just got returned to them.
“Are you asking me to get him to behave? Do I look like Stan to you?”
He makes Bill laugh; they're so close he can feel it vibrating through the both of them.
Eventually they move in together. All of them under one roof, never to be separated again. Until then however, he crosses the country and even the ocean to be at Bill’s side. Meeting him in Los Angeles and London. Seeing the world with Bill on one arm and Audra on the other. Like Patty she’s found her way into his heart as surely as the rest of the Losers have.
The kisses still come and they still leave him breathless.
Most of his time is spent at Bill’s...no, their home. He lives here too. As surely as he lives in the RV or at Richie and Eddie’s or Stan and Patty’s or Ben and Bev’s. Some might call him homeless, a nomad, but he’s far from those things. His home is just not a building or a place, it’s eight hearts spread out across the country. They know he gets restless and they know that he’ll settle one day when he gets to have all of them, until then he’s happy like this. Travelling the country and the world to be with the people he loves.
“He needs a distraction.” Audra hums, gently taking the book from his hands and guiding him to his feet. “He’s been staring at that story for hours. Soon we’ll have to pry his eyes from the screen with a crowbar.”
When she kisses him it’s butterfly light and etched in a smile. Green eyes crinkling at the corners. She’s one of the only people he’s ever met that can wiggle her nose and she does it without fail whenever she’s being mischievous. Her hands skirting up his arms and tracing the lines of his muscles through the fabric of his shirt as she presses up on the tips of her toes. “I suggest you go in there and scoop him up in these big strong arms.”
“Do you, now?” His own smile is growing, “And what do you propose we do once I’ve kidnapped our dear Bill from his work?”
She pretends to consider, tapping her chin, before wiggling out of the circle of his embrace. Light on her feet and graceful, he can’t help but think of a fairy coming to entice him away.
He’d follow her, he realizes. He’d follow all of them to wherever they’d wish to lead him.
“Guess you boys will have to figure that out yourselves.” A gentle pat to his cheek, “Put those big strong brains to good use.”
She gives him more kisses, butterfly light, then smiles against his lips. “Garden. Five minutes.”
Later as he stretches out on the blankets and stares up at the night he holds them both in his arms. Bill still kisses with conviction, leaving bruises with the force of his determination, and Audra kisses in contrast soft and light and soothing. They kiss him like they never want to let him go.
“I love you.” He says each time.
“I love you,” Bill and Audra say with their arms thrown across his chest.
“I love you,” Bev and Ben say while they press against him in their bed.
“I love you,” Stan and Patty say as they hold him on the couch.
“I love you,” Richie and Eddie say when they kiss him every morning and again every night.