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Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt ‘It’- ‘It’ of course being the heart wrenching, stomach knotting and brain melting feeling people more commonly call a ‘crush’. It was a lie Eddie told himself, operating by telling himself ‘It’ was nausea or hate. That was easy.
Really it was, especially compared to admitting he felt any more than disdain toward Richie Trashmouth Tozier. He was vulgar and obscene, had a dirty habit of smoking and listened to too-loud rock music while bouncing around and badly miming air guitar. He was the biggest fool Eddie ever knew. So it was really easy for Eddie to pretend he didn't feel like he was stuffed with cotton around Richie.
There were three times his defence tried to slip past him. And one time it betrayed him entirely.
Or- The three times Eddie Kaspbrack wanted to kiss Richie Tozier. And the one time he finally did.
1: Enter Mr and Mrs Newark (for the first time). Richie was the only person Eddie knew at the wedding party excluding his mother. And while the adults were getting drunk and congratulating the new couple (but mainly getting drunk) the pair had wandered around to the front porch.
The summer air hummed like the comforting static of an old radio, and Eddie was starting to feel tiredness tug at his limbs. Richie was fighting with the beer bottle he'd stolen and crudely shoved into his pants, he took off the cap and held it up triumphantly.
“Come on, Eds, let's see what all the fuss is about, eh?” He offered the bottle to Eddie first, in whatever twist of chivalry a Trashmouth could manage.
“I’ll pass, I mean do you even know what that crap does to your brain and not to mention your liver!”
Richie didn’t listen, like always, and brought the bottle up to his lips. His face twisted.
“Maybe it’ll grow on me,” he winced and took another hefty swig, met with the same contorted face.
He held it out to Eddie again, who just ignored it. The bottle was placed down and pushed towards him, teasing. Richie pulled one of his stolen cigarettes from his pocket, balancing it between his teeth.
“God are you trying to die before 30?” Eddie scoffed, never admitting Richie looked a little cool with the tab in his mouth.
All of a sudden Eddie couldn’t stop staring at Richie’s mouth. The way they tightened around the filtered end as he leant forward to light the end. The smoke traipsing out from between them, a purple-grey haze that made Eddie's nose scrunch from the smell.
“Yeah that’s the plan, if I make it to 20 something went wrong”
Eddie snapped his head away from Richie, feeling a weird charge run through his veins. Like a very slow electrocution. Yeah; a very slow suffocating death of denial.
“Don’t talk like that,” Eddie sighed, letting go of his reluctance towards sincerity.
“What’s the matter Ed’s, you care about me?” Richie’s face was closer to eddies now, he could feel the heat radiating off him, but the smoke didn’t follow. Richie always did that, he knew how Eddie hates him smoking and would do his best to keep the smoke away from him.
Eddie hated how much he couldn’t actually hate Richie.
“Don’t call me Ed’s,” he stared at Richie, ignoring the mere inch between them.
That slow electric shock became stronger, and it felt like there was a magnet pulling Eddie into Richie. Eddie could taste the tobacco greeting Richie’s lips, teeth and tongue and for a second he didn’t want to spit it out.
“Oh Eddie spaghetti! Why so cold!” Richie dramatically pulled back, hand clutching his heart, laughing with his usual recklessness.
Eddie just watched him. His head spinning off his shoulders.
Richie didn’t seem to notice or care, even though Eddie now had a stalker-ish stare problem.
“Hey Ed’s,” Richie’s voice had changed, and summer air swept through the hair on Eddie’s forehead- it felt like being dunked in ice water. “You know all this wedding crap, summer love or whatever, it…” Richie trailed off, the ash from the half forgotten cigarette piling up by his shoes.
“It makes me real glad your mom is just in it for the cock, ‘cause boy! I couldn’t do all this!” he laughed, but something sounded fake and Eddie noticed. Because of course he would notice.
Eddie just kept staring at Richie, like if he looked away or blinked for so much of a second the boy would cease to exist entirely. Something made him feel heavy, and against his best instincts he flopped his head onto Richie’s shoulder. Like an old stuffed animal with its stuffing all out of place.
His hand tentatively took the glass bottle from between them and took a sip. Doing his best to not spit out the bitter drink, he scrunched his face up.
Richie laughed a big stupid guffawing laugh, throwing his arm around Eddie and closing the gap between them. “Let’s stick to cola, yeah, Eds?”
“Yeah…”
The music and laughter from the party sounded hazy and drowned out as it travelled to the pair. Some pop song (one Richie would never admit he sang alone in his bedroom) mixed with the crude vocals of drunk 35 year olds.
Eddie just stayed with Richie in the comfort of electric summer air and the faint smell of cigarette smoke.
2: It was a typical day for the Losers Club: hang out in the woods away from society.
The ground was a sludge of mulch from the recent rain, and it was a wonder they could stand without falling ass first. Never mind run and jump about the way they all did.
Richie had thrown mud at Bev. Who then threw some back, but missed and hit Mike. And now there was a mud fight.
Eddie was trying not to lose his mind as the others pranced so carelessly in all the dirt and disease, so when they all begged for a snack run he was first to volunteer.
Richie volunteered too, wiping his mud covered hands on his jeans. Eddie was admittedly glad Richie offered to come with, he dreaded driving Mike’s truck. It was old and rickety and felt like the suspension was ready to snap at every pebble. But Mike loved it, so if Eddie got even a scratch on that truck he was a dead man. He’d let Richie take his place in the grave instead.
The drive was short, and mostly Eddie glaring at Richie like a judgy Christian stares at teenagers who, well who looked like Richie. Dirty, loud and unapologetic Richie.
“I’ll go buy stuff, you stay here,” Eddie said sternly, Richie would get them kicked out in fear of a hepatitis outbreak- A,B and, C. He’d also try and shoplift Cheetos.
“Why?”
“You look you just crawled out of a grave, Rich, your filthy,”
“I like it when you call me Rich,” Eddie paused his hand on the handle, as if there was about to be some profound confession, “sounds better when your mom moans it though,” Nope! Just trashmouth.
Eddie moved swiftly out the truck and into the store, the Losers collective cash in his fanny pack. He did his best to ignore the slight jump of his heart when Richie said he liked when Eddie called him Rich. Even though it was a set up for a lame joke, it made Eddie feel all fuzzy.
Yeah, he definitely needed to forget that fuzzy feeling.
After collecting the assorted snacks and drinks, Eddie payed quickly and left, only to find Richie no longer in the van; this can’t be good.
There’s a certain horror you can feel in a situation like this. An idiot running free and unsupervised into the world, nonetheless an idiot you're responsible for.
“Richie! Where the fucking hell are you?” He looked around, now locked out of the van too.
“Relax man! A dude’s gotta take a leak sometime!” He barks back, spinning the car keys around his index finger.
“Gosh Ed’s, you gotta relax a little, I can be trusted for two min-” Eddie watched it unfold in slow motion; the keys flying off Richie’s fingers, the momentum sending them soaring away from the boy and through the loops of a chain link fence. They landed on the dirt behind the fence, too far to reach with a stick or your hand. Richie seemed to freeze too, as they landed with a thump that may well have been an explosion.
“Richie,” Eddie spoke calmly despite being on the verge of an asthma attack, “you just lost the keys…”
“Yeah I see that,” Richie stared at the fence with a frightening concentration, “and I can get 'em back!” He raced off, and leaped at the fence, immediately starting to climb his way over. This of course was ignoring the many many ‘no trespassing’ and ‘trespassers will be prosecuted’ signage.
“You're gonna fall Rich!” Eddie cried in an almost sincere tone. Watching as he manoeuvred over the perm of barbed wire at the top. If he wasn’t an idiot it’d be impressive.
“Nah, I’m good! Trespassing is my middle name!“
But Richard (Trespassing Trashmouth) Tozier was an idiot- and once again Eddie Kasprack witnessed the world come to a slow halt as the end of the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt Richie adorned got snagged on the wire as he tried to jump down.
He barely had the time to yell out a warning as the other tumbled down the ground in a less than flattering ordeal. He ran up to the fence, “holy shit Richie! You fucking idiot are you okay?”
“Ed’s, I think- I think I fell…” Richie groaned, lying on their back with a pained expression scrunching their features.
“Yeah no shit dumbass,”
“…fell for your mom!”
Eddie hit the fence, making it rattle and shake as Richie slowly sat himself up. Rubbing his head fixing his wonky glasses back onto his face. At least they couldn’t break more.
“Just get the keys, Trashmouth,” Eddie scoffed, returning to his previous position beside the truck.
Richie scavenged the keys back and once again leapt at the fence, managing to hop over unscathed- truly a miracle. There was however a small scrap of Haitian shirt forever stuck on top of the fence.
Richie hopped down with a thud.
“See Ed’s- all good,” Richie had a smug smile on his face, like he didn’t just fall on his ass two minutes ago.
Once they were back in the car, returning to the barrens where the rest of loser’s remained was when Eddie noticed the red gash against Richie’s cheek.
“Richie! You're bleeding! Oh my god you're bleeding! Pull over!” Eddie was ready to lean over and grab the wheel, swerve them to the side of the road.
“It’s a scratch I’m not gonna die,” Richie didn’t stop driving, using one hand to wipe away some of the blood from his face.
“Pull over!” Eddie yelled, clawing for the steering wheel.
Richie yelled and did as Eddie said, stopping the car before they crashed off to the wayside.
“Eddie what the fuck?”
“You are bleeding…” Eddie felt no regret, if blood got onto the seats the whole truck became a biohazard. You just can’t risk that type of thing. I mean who knows what Richie is carrying. And what if he cut it on the fence or wires- that’s tetanus!
“Ok doctor K, I’m all yours,” Richie winked, making eddies lip curl with disgust, “you can do whatever you want with me, sodomy is not off the table!”
“Just stay still, asshole,” Eddie grumbled as he searched his trusty fanny pack for alcohol wipes and a bandage; ignoring the heat rushing to his face.
“I wanna a hello kitty bandage!”
“No,”
Eddie leaned forward, ‘accidentally’ pressing too hard with the alcohol wipe, causing Richie to wince and inhale sharply.
“Fuck Ed’s, what’s that for,” he groaned, pulling his face away.
“Stay fucking still,” he opened the bandage, plain and beige and to Richie’s disappointment.
The proximity of Eddies face to Richie’s was almost unbearable. Neither of them mention the way Edfies
hand lingered as he pressed the bandage to Richie’s cheek, or how Richie actually shut up and just let Eddie work, or how neither of them seemed to blink or breathe for those insufferably tense 5 seconds.
No one said anything- Eddie out of the sheer embarrassment of having a silly crush on someone who literally picks up half smoked cigarettes from the ground and calls his penis “the sledgehammer”. And Richie, either out of politeness or awkwardness.
“So we should go back,” Eddie rushes out the words, not trusting his own movements, and looking out the passenger side window. Trying to escape from Richie’s eyes and the claustrophobic interior of the truck.
“Yeah, yeah, cool, cool,” Richie shook his head and started the truck up, continuing their commute back to the rest of the group.
Eddie couldn’t stand the crushing silence that overtook them. He felt like he was going to explode.
“Yo Ed’s, is your mom free tonight? I think we could do something? I’d say seafood, but I’ll get enough fish from her for dessert eh?”
“Beep beep Richie,”
3: almost 3 decades later and the losers are finally all together again. It only took a wedding to get them there- more specifically the wedding of Stanley Uris and Patricia Blum (now) Uris.
The wedding was beautiful, but like everyone, the losers were more excited for the after party.
As a kid a wedding is something dragged to- watching two people you don’t even know the names of kiss for an audience (gross!). As an adult it’s an excuse to get wasted.
Eddie was yet to take full advantage of the bar, only having had two beers so far- and the complimentary champagne.
This is part he’s confused about, because he wasn’t sure how it happened, but once again he was sat outside a wedding with Richie trashmouth Tozier.
“Eds! No way! Come here!” Richie had yelled him closer when he spotted him coming out for some air.
The now adult trashmouth sat on the steps, bathed in total darkness par the gentle orange illumination of street lamps.
Eddie was caught and took the spot next to him, like a real sucker of a fish.
“How ya been, Rich,”
“Oh great! You know, my career is over, I had to go to rehab, but who doesn’t love a comeback!” He barked a laugh, loud and full of life “Return of the trashmouth! I can see it now!” He shot his hands up pulling them apart as he pictured his name back in lights.
“Glad to see you never change,” Eddie looked at his feet. It had been 6 years since they had been in the same room, never mind alone. It was strange, to see someone so familiar, someone Eddie grew up with and spent all his adolescence with, and not even have a clue about what’s going on in his life. Sure, he’d seen the headlines ( everyone had)
‘Comedian found disorientated and half-nude inside neighbours pool’
’Richard Tozier charged with disorderly driving- again!’
‘Comedian walks off during set, speculations of cocaine use,’
‘disgraced comedian Richard Tozier is spotted for first time after rehabilitation’
But those flashes of Richie’s shortcomings were all Eddie knew.
“Eddie…I know we haven’t been close and all the things people say and all the things I did- they can’t have left a good impression,”
“Well your were never someone you’d take back to meet the parents,”
“No, not exactly. I just- I don’t know I feel like I owe you an apology or something,” Richie chuckled, that fake canned chuckle which left a bitter sadness in the air.
“Rich- look you’ve always been my best friend, a fucking annoying prick of a best friend, but still- you don’t have to apologise,” Eddie was saying the words before he could even think them, “people do love a comeback! What you thinking, sex tape leak?”
“Ha! Solid plan but your mother died years back, don’t think her corpse is up for it,” crude. Gross. Unashamed. Trashmouth. It was almost heart warming if you ignored what he said.
“Charming as always,”
“Then again, if I can find a beached whale and slap a wig on it- could play the part well,”
“Oh yes, very funny, I get it! I get it! My other was a great big fat person, ha ha ,”
Richie laughed for real, looking at Eddie with the same look a father gives his son after he hits his first baseball.
“You know I’m joking, spaghetti man!” Richie’s arm was thrown over Eddie's shoulders. They were both in button up shirts, blazers discarded away somewhere inside the venue. “You know we wouldn’t make a half bad sex tape- I mean Richie Tozier comes out with shocking sex tape! What a headline!”
Eddie looked up at Richie’s face, his eyes were crinkled up as he laughed. For a second he looked like that 13 yr old who stole firecrackers and smoked cigarettes he found on bathroom floors, hiding in the girls bathroom with Beverly Marsh. Then he took notice of the sharper jaw and stubble, but it was so unmistakably Richie.
“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie rolled his eyes as warmth flooded his face.
“Aww, Ed’s what the matter? You don’t love me enough to make a sex tape with me? That’s cold man,”
“Fuck off and drink your apple juice,” Eddie was serious for that last part, you’d think the cocaine was the issue but it was the drinking that really got Richie. That’s why they fell out of touch in the first place. So now he nursed a whiskey glass with ice cold apple juice like the overgrown toddler he was. Except this overgrown toddler also kept a lit cigarette in clutch.
There was a heavy soft silence, like a fresh dried blanket suffocating them.
“Spag-eds,” the nicknames were getting worse, “if I tell you something you promise…you promise not to laugh,” Richie’s voice was light yet serious.
“I suppose I can try,” Eddie gave a half smile, trying to lift some of the tension he felt. It worked as Richie returned the gesture, his shoulders dripping with a sigh.
“It’s really dumb but, when we kids…I had a this stupid big fat crush ,” it was at that moment Eddie realised he’d frozen under Richie’s stare, turned to stone.
Yet he waited- waited for the punchline, the “your mom” which never seemed to take absence from Richie’s tongue (he’d make a joke about that).
It didn’t happen, “no, not even a crush Ed’s, I think,” he stumbled again, ash falling onto his knees as the cigarette was held in a death grip between his middle and index finger. “I think I might’ve been in love with you,”
“ Might’ve” Eddie repeated, a melancholy pulling him down. What might’ve been if he got the balls to do something?
“Definitely am,” they were in a staring contest now, and god damn did Eddie want to lose.
“I think- I think I might’ve been in love with you too…” he thought about it, slowly sorting through his thoughts like he was parting the Red Sea. The roaring waves pausing to reveal Richie at the end where he’d always been. He swallowed thickly, the youthful sparkle he fell for was still in Richie’s eyes, surrounded by crows feet now. Eddie studied the contour of his nose, the quirk of slightly parted lips. The pair were as good at touching now, single breathes commingled into one in the cold air.
“Definitely am,”
A whipping crack forced the pair to jolt apart. The fireworks. Patty had insisted on them, Eddie caught his breath looking up at the explosions of colour. But Richie was looking at him, like always.
“Hey spaghetti…” that softness would kill him, Eddie was feeling his heart and brain dissolve and melt down to his feet.
“Yeah, Rich…”
He looked at him with a smile and apologetic eyes.
Sorry this took me 30 fucking years!
Richie's lips curled into a goofy grin the second they collided with Eddie’s. The fireworks became nothing more but white noise as they laughed and broke apart, only to join together again milliseconds later. The taste of beer on Eddie's tongue and the taste of apple juice on Richie’s. A melody only they could concoct.
“You kiss better than your mom,”
“So do you!”