Archive of Our Own

Derry, Maine is an enigma of a place. It seems to live right inside its own plane of existence. A combined elementary and middle school, a high school with under 400 people enrolled, two mom-and-pop diners, half a movie theater, a pharmacy, and two thousand shells of maybe-people. 

Richie doesn’t really consider himself or his friends to be a part of that population. They seem to be in full color, the only people heard laughing, the anomaly group in Derry. 

He supposes that’s why they’re all friends. Some otherworldly force drew them all together because it knew they were the only real people in this town. They were the only ones to jump off of that quarry’s edge, they were the only ones who really knew about the barrens. For Christ's sake, they have an underground clubhouse. He doesn’t guess anyone else has anything like that in Derry. 

He also reasons that it’s definitely narcissistic to think this way. But he also loves to think about the possibility of it all being true. 

They’re in their final year of high school and everything is feeling too final. Every time Richie drives Stan, Eddie, and Ben home from school, he has that scary, terrifying thought, “This is one of the last times I’ll ever do this.” Then his nose starts to burn and his eyes get all strained and he has to turn his music up and drown out his friends talking. 

He does everything but talks to his friends about it. Whenever he gets too quiet while they hang out and everyone notices, he just makes a joke about staying up late with Eddie’s mom. Which gets him a punch in the arm and a “Richie, you’re so fucking annoying.” But it’s okay. He’ll take anything he can get. 

It’s the December of their senior year of high school. Their last ever Christmas break as they are. Richie’s trying to be as okay and normal about it as he can be. He’s fine, cool as a cucumber, and totally not about to burst into tears. 

“Last day before break!” Ben chimes at lunch, just beaming at the table. Richie wants to strangle him for being so happy about it. He wants everyone to realize that it’s all wrong and sad. Why are they celebrating? 

Ben’s acknowledgment is met with a few cheers and a “Whoop Whoop!” from Beverly. 

“We should do so-something today.” Bill says, “Go eat somewhere, I do-don’t know.” 

“Aw, Big Bill, if you want to go out alone together, that’s okay too.” Richie gives him a good eyebrow raise, deflecting, ignoring. 

“Beep beep!” Stan says. 

“Who’s collecting Mike?” Beverly asks. 

“I can if you guys think you want to cram another person in the back.” Richie offers. 

Stan, Eddie, and Ben all talk for a moment about if they’re willing to cram back there. Well, it’s more of a Stan and Ben conversation. Eddie has dedicated himself as the certified passenger seat of Richie’s car. He always gets it, because when someone else is in the seat he whines and groans to Richie until the seat is his again. Richie always gives it to him easily, though. It’s not much arguing. The others don’t really try anymore. 

It’s also not too much of a discussion, it’s obviously fine if Mike joins them. 

They go about the rest of the day with ease. Richie tries not to dwell on the finality of everything. Tries to not let it ruin something as nice and beautiful as his friends. He also tries to stop thinking like that. He feels stupid and too poetic. Like someone is going to know what he’s thinking and make fun of him. 

This results in not thinking, period. Just letting the music and random thoughts enter his head and not the fear of getting older and losing everything. It’s fine, he’s fine. 

He picks up everyone when he’s supposed to, sort of going through the motions. It’s always Eddie first, Stan, Ben, and lastly Mike. He thinks it would be awkward asking someone to move to the back so Eddie can sit right next to him. 

They join the rest of the losers at their favorite diner. It’s at the very edge of the town, surrounded by laundrymats, small general stores, and one bank. Richie feels like he’s in one of the movies Ben likes every time he’s in it. Small towns, football teams, he kind of loves it. 

That’s the thing about Richie and Derry. It’s full of outdated politics, poverty, tragedies, and people who are against his very own existence. It sucks. But it’s also full of people who know everyone, churches who volunteer to help people who don’t even believe, local businesses who write cheers for the football team on their windows, and it has a James’ Drive-In. (Where they currently are.)

He hates Derry and absolutely loathes it, but at the same time, he can’t imagine growing up anywhere that could have what Derry has. 

He walks in and Big Bill and Beverly are already sitting at their regular booth. Ben sits next to Bev, Stan sits next to him, Mike sits next to Bill, Eddie sits next to Mike, and Richie pulls a chair up at the end of the booth and sits at the end. That’s always how the seating chart is. Sometimes in mixed orders, but Richie always finds a way to sit near Eddie. 

“Now that we’re all sitting down, should we get up and order?” Stan says. 

“You know what, Staniel? I think that sounds like a great idea.” 

They all climb out of their seats to go order at the front of the restaurant. 

It’s kind of a mindless thing for him. He always orders the same thing, he just waits for his turn. He says what he wants and waits for his total. This is until Eddie pushes up toward the front and orders what he wants, too. Richie looks at him, confused. 

Eddie gives him an, “I got it,” takes out his wallet, and pays for both of their orders. 

He doesn’t really know what to do with that. It’s fine. He takes his arm and wraps it around Eddie’s shoulders, “Thanks, Eds!” 

Eddie laughs and pushes him off, “No problem, Rich.” 

Their orders get called out one by one, and Richie is the self-appointed order go-geter. His and Eddie’s are called out last, he very deliberately divides up whose is whose. When he hands Eddie his food, he’s looking at him in a certain way. It’s something Richie can’t fully decipher but makes him nervous anyways. 

They sit and eat for a while, not focusing on anything else. When everyone starts to talk, Eddie props his legs up on Richie’s. Richie tries to be normal about it, he really does. He doesn’t know what the appropriate amount of hands-on-ankles are, so he holds his burger in one hand and rests his other on Eddie’s ankle. It’s fine. 

“Georgie wants me to take him to go look at Christmas lights sometime soon,” Bill says, a huge smile on his face, one of his only true loves being his younger brother. 

“That sounds.. fun,” Bev says, clearly meaning the opposite. 

“I mean, yeah, I can’t say I’m super excited about it, but that kid rules my life. I have to do it. You guys know I’d kill like three people for him.” Bill shrugs, helpless. 

“Me, Ben, Stan!” Richie shouts.

“What?” Stan looks at him confused. 

“The three people Bill would murder in cold blood for Georgie,” Richie says like that’s something they should’ve figured out already.

“No? Not any of you guys!” Bill says defensively, “Maybe Richie, actually.” 

“I already have dibs on killing Richie, so you’ll have to pick someone else,” Eddie says matter-of-factly. 

“Well, if I can’t kill Richie then no one, I guess.” 

He knows they’re joking, he knows it, but deep down in his mind, he’s convincing himself that they’re being serious. That out of everyone in the group, if they had the choice, they would kill him. They don’t really like him, they just tolerate having him around. That pretty much shuts him up for the rest of the night. Every time he goes to speak he reminds himself that if they had a choice, they would. 

He understands that no one would do it, it’s a joke, a joke that he started himself. But if anyone is going to ruin his night, it’s going to be himself. 

During the night and the first round of ice cream cones that they ordered, Eddie looks at him like he knows what's going on. He silently hands Richie an old french fry, a peace offering, or something like that. Richie smiles and wipes it in his ice cream. 

Eventually, the diner begins to close, the temperature gets colder outside, and everyone begins to feel tired. It’s time to go. Richie packs the people he can into his car and starts the route home. First, Mike, then Ben, then Stan, and lastly Eddie. 

Eddie is the last person to be dropped off because he always is. Richie doesn’t really know what to make of it. Why he does it. He knows why, deep down, it’s always been, Eddie. It will continue to always be Eddie for as long as he knows him. But he doesn’t have to acknowledge it. It’s on the list of things he’s avoiding thinking about. 

Eddie, since he’s always the passenger, has proclaimed himself the DJ. The choices are always from a few mixes Richie has made over the years, but it’s mostly if not always the ones that Richie had made while thinking about Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know that, though. 

Richie’s quiet, and he has been all night. Too caught up in his own melancholy to actually have fun and make memories. He’s doing it again. 

Eddie turns the music down so it’s just something soft, for some reason it makes his heart jump, thinking something serious is about to happen. 

“Are you okay, Rich?” Eddie asks softly like he’s looking down into Richie’s brain and he knows exactly what’s wrong. That he knows that in every waking moment Richie is avoiding thinking about the ending of everything, or him, the boy in his passenger seat. 

“Ah, is anyone ever okay?” Richie’s favorite word, deflection. 

“You’re not, not lately. You’re quiet.” Eddie sounds genuinely worried and Richie feels like a dick for not being okay. 

“I’m, uh, I don’t know. I guess I’m just thinking about school and everything. Like it’s almost over, and life is about to start. But I’m sad about it.” He’s gotten part of it out, now it’s like water from a tap, “I’m terrified that whenever we come back from breaks and college that it won’t be the same. It’s going to fucking suck. What am I going to do when I don’t have Stan to bother the fuck out of, or when I don’t have you right there next to me?” Richie freezes after he said that. He’s horrified that it was too much, too much of another truth he’s not afraid to let out yet. 

Eddie pauses for a moment, and Richie’s scared it’s because of the wrong reason. By the time he starts to speak, they’re pulling into Eddie’s driveway. “I’m scared too. Like unbelievably, shitting my pants, terrified.” 

“Gross,” Richie says, and Eddie gives him a glare strong enough that he swears lasers are about to come out of his head. “Sorry.” He holds his hands up in defense. 

“I think about all of that stuff too. I mean, I’m going to have to actually get my license. That was a joke. But, uh, I’m just as scared to lose everyone as you are. I think everyone else is too. I think that’s why Bill suggested we all hang out tonight. We’re all scared shitless. But I think we’re stronger than that, they’re something out there looking out for us. We’re different from everyone else.” Eddie says definitively, slightly nodding with a furrow in his brow. He’s convincing himself while also convincing Richie. 

He almost does it at that moment, almost reaches over and grabs his hand, almost reaches over to cup his face and kiss his mouth. He’s sure there is no one else out there for him other than Eddie. He said almost exactly what Richie’s been thinking for months, they’re some kind of supergroup. There is something out there looking after them. There has to be. 

Richie coughs, holding back tears and trying to get rid of that deep impulse to kiss Eddie stupid where his mom is almost certainly looking through the window waiting for him to come back inside. “I think you’re right. We’re different. Thank you, Eds.” Richie smiles at him and Eddie beams back. 

Eddie touches Richie’s hand where it’s sitting on the shift, it sends a jolt up Richie’s spine. “Night, Rich.” He opens the car door and goes into his house. It felt like half a second. Eddie was there touching his hand and then he was in the house. 

He tries not to stare dumbly at Eddie’s house for too long, he backs out of the driveway and drives home in silence and awe. 

Richie wakes the next morning with a different feeling. He feels good. Eddie touched his hand, last night. It should be enough to fuel him for a week. God, he feels pathetic. 

He walks over to the phone hanging in his kitchen. He ponders, twirling his fingers in the cord. He decides to call Beverly. Not Eddie, definitely not Eddie right now. 

She answers the phone like she always does, “Marsh residence.”

“Red,” Richie says, she’ll know who he is. 

“Hey, Rich! What has you calling at 9 in the morning on a Saturday? Did an alien overtake your body?” 

“Nope, actually, I feel better than I have in weeks. What do you say we do the regular?” He offers. The regular is code for stealing cigarettes from Mr. Keene’s, thrifting because they can’t afford anything else, and going back to Richie’s to try them all on and smoke close to a pack. 

“Pick me up at 10?” She asks. 

“You got it, Red. See ya at 10.” With that, he hangs the phone up and starts to get ready. 

Richie’s version of getting ready is brushing his teeth, making sure his hair isn’t disgusting, putting on a shirt and jeans that he might’ve worn yesterday, and sliding on his two-year-old tennis shoes that he doesn’t have to tie anymore. He loves it, he thinks he looks good. 

Richie’s about to leave the house but his mom stops him. “Put on a coat.” 

“Don’t make me do it, mom. We do this every day.” He says, defeated. 

“Richie, it’s 37 degrees outside and cloudy. Wear a coat, don’t be a toddler about it.” His mother stands her ground, she isn’t going to budge. 

Because he realizes she could make him stay home and take away his keys, he obliges, which is what he does every morning. He finds an old windbreaker and calls it a day. He kisses her on the cheek and tells her bye. 

He pulls up to the front of Beverly’s apartment building. She’s waiting by the window and smiles wide when she sees him. He watches her dash away from the window and waits for her to appear from the door. When she finally does, he waves at her and she waves back. 

When she opens the car door, the first thing she notices is the coat, “Lost the war against Maggie again today?” 

“I decided to give her a break.” He shrugs, “So, where to first?” 

“I don’t think I can go through my day without knowing we have a fresh pack in our safety,” Beverly says, and Richie agrees. 

“It’s like you read my mind.” 

It’s not hard to steal from Mr. Keene. All they have to do is let Beverly take off her coat, start talking, and Richie to slide the pack off of the counter like he’s just perusing around. You would figure he would figure out who was stealing the cigarettes by now, but he just isn’t getting it. 

It goes smoothly because it always does. They leave the store laughing and stumbling over each other. Richie pushes back the sad thoughts in his head about enjoying it while it lasts. Because he’s trying to, he’s really trying to enjoy it while it lasts. 

They walk arm in arm to the thrift store, but not without the quick cigarette hidden in the alley. Although it’s the complete opposite, it feels like a breath of fresh air in his lungs. He laughs a little bit to himself about it. 

“Whatcha laughing about?” She asks. 

“I fucking love smoking.” He laughs harder at that. 

Beverly joins him in his laughing. “Amen to that.”

“Eddie would be so mad at me if he knew I just said that,” Richie says what he’s thinking, it kills his laughter almost instantly. 

Beverly notices, he can tell, but by the grace of God, she doesn’t mention how serious he’s gotten. “He already knows, Rich, you’re fine.” She flicks her cigarette on the ground, “C’mon, let's buy shit we don’t need.” 

She walks out of the alley and he follows suit. 

He loves thrifting with Bev. He feels like she’s the only person who really understands his tastes, she’s also the only person willing to look through every rack for something worth saving or wearing. Trying to find the potential in something that someone else didn’t. 

She’s like a Richie Clothes magnet. Finding the right flannels, disgusting but sort of perfect button-ups, and jeans that are somehow always in his size. He’s eternally grateful for her. The extent of his thrifting abilities is finding something he thinks is hilarious and Bev somehow finding it cute. To him, they make a perfect team. 

Richie ends up spending about $20 on a week's worth of new clothes. Bev spends less than him and he tries to ignore all of the things she put back because she couldn’t afford them. He’s tried to pay for her before, but if there is anything Beverly hates most, it’s feeling like a charity case. 

Since there is no Eddie, Bev gets to pick the music in the car. Out of everyone else, they have the most alike music taste. She plays something that Richie gifted her a few months ago for her birthday. He smiles as the first song begins and turns it up as loud as he can. Bev whoops and starts playing the air guitar with her feet on the dash. 

It feels like summer. 

Having a fashion show, as Bev calls it, is probably his favorite part of the whole ordeal. Bev styles his new shirts in the way that looks best, he’s obsessed with how easy she makes it. The moves she’s making are logical, no clashing colors or patterns, loose pants, tighter shirts, and flowing flannels. He looks good in every outfit that she picks out. 

Then, he gets to watch her style herself. Not that he’s interested in the changing of clothes like everyone else in their group would be, he just likes watching it all come together. Beverly seems to kind of know this because she has no problem changing in front of him. They’re like brother and sister. 

And because he’s Richie, he starts thinking about if he were to have a sibling, out of anyone, he would want it to be Bev. He gets emotional in his own thought, trying to blink away the wetness in his eyes. He’s fine, it's December, and he’s crazy. Ignore, deflect. 

Beverly turns around from fixing herself up in his mirror, “So, what do you think?” She strikes a few poses, mostly joking, but Richie thinks she looks really cool. 

“It’s fucking awesome.” He nods definitively. 

“I know, right?” She walks over to his window and fully opens it, “So, how about our favorite part?” 

“I never thought you’d ask.” He dramatically puts his hand over his heart. 

It’s a ritual. Passing one back and forth to the other. They sit in silence by his window, just appreciating the day they had and the smokes they stole. 

Beverly looks at him, she holds the cigarette in her fingers cooly. It’s just effortless. “Eddie’s going to love what you’re wearing.” She takes a long drag, forcing Richie to kind of sit with that. 

“Why do you say that?” He laughs awkwardly to himself. Jesus H. Christ. 

“I just feel like he’d like it.” She shrugs. 

Richie holds his fingers out for the smoke. If she’s going to say shit like this at least let the man smoke while he hears it. He takes a drag and leans his head against his wall. “What the fuck am I going to do?” He mumbles, maybe to Beverly, maybe to himself, he doesn’t know. 

“Rich, I have a hunch that it’s going to be okay.” She pulls herself next to him and wraps her arm around his shoulders. 

He can’t do this right now. How would he even put it into words? “It’s just so much right now.” 

“I know, me too.” She drops her arm and puts her head on his shoulder. 

“Ben?” He asks, it’s obvious, everyone kind of already knows. 

She sighs, a little with frustration and a lot with giddy, “Ben.” 

“I’m hoping he kind of just feels the same and will do something about it. I think I’m content with sitting on this feeling until I die.” Richie says. 

“Rich, that’s no way to live.” 

“It’s different, though. You know it is.” He says, Jesus, he’s so sad. 

“It is, I can’t lie, but he won’t betray you even if he doesn’t feel the same. That’s not who he is.” Bev says, and she’s right. 

He nods and wraps his arms around her. A silent thank you. 

He watches her check the time on her wrist. Knowing she has to get home before her dad does. This day has to end. “Time to go?” He asks. 

“Time to go.” She nods. 

They do the same thing again. Music all the way up, her feet on the dash. His knees driving and his hands playing an air guitar. It’s everything. 

When he parks at her apartment she reaches over the console and hugs him, “Thank you for today.” 

“Of course, Red. Days like this are my favorite.” He says honestly. Who is going to turn his poem filter off for him?

She beams, “Mine too. Okay, I’ll see you later.” She hops out of his car, waves him bye, and walks into her building. 

When he gets home, he’s filled with this deep sense of loneliness. Like he wasn’t just with someone he considers a sister for hours. He wishes for one day he could actually be happy with how his life is. Not worrying about what’s to come and who he’s going to lose. 

  He flops himself down on his couch in the living room, turns on the TV, and just stares at it. 

His mother comes into the room and pauses in her steps, “Richie, honey,  what’s wrong?”

There goes the dam he’s built up. He groans and feels the tears leaking. He sits up but doesn’t meet his mother’s eye. He just holds his face in his hands. 

She rushes next to him and holds his crying body. “What’s wrong? Did something happen while you were out?” 

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, “I just-uh- I’m just. I’m so scared.” He gets it out, that initial hurdle is the hardest. 

“Scared of what?” She pushes deeper. She combs her fingers through his hair and pats his back. 

“School, my life, college, me.” He pauses and allows himself to breathe, “I’m scared of the future and losing my friends. I feel like I can’t live my life because all I’m thinking about is losing them.” 

“Aw, Richie, I don’t think that’s going to happen. You guys are codependent. I’m almost worried about how attached you guys are. I think you’ll be okay. And if you aren’t as close as you used to be, that’s okay too. It’s rare when people stay friends with people they knew in high school.” 

Richie thinks about this. He feels sick. He can’t even reason that they might not know each other in a year. “I guess so,” He says, just wanting her to move off of this topic. He releases himself from his mother’s grasp and looks at her. She looks worried. “I have something else, too. And I really don’t want you to be mad, but I guess it’s okay if you are.” He says, already bracing himself for rejection. 

“Did you do hard drugs?” 

“No!” 

“Did you murder someone else in cold blood?” She asks. 

“Mom? What? No!”

“Then whatever it is, I won’t be mad.” She says. 

He averts his gaze and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, “I um,” He’s shaking, “I’m gay, or, well, yeah gay.” He couldn’t be looking more in the opposite direction of his mom. 

She reaches out for his hand, “That’s okay. Thank you for telling me. Why would I be mad?” 

“I’m afraid everyone is going to be mad when they figure it out.” He says, shamefully. 

She cards her fingers through his hair, “No one is going to be mad. And if they are, your father and I will murder them. I’m not kidding.” 

He looks at her, smiles, and laughs. “Thanks, Mom.” 

“This is serious. We will go to federal prison. No laughing.” She smiles back at him. 

He tries very hard to stop smiling, “No laughing.”

She wipes the tears from his face, kisses his forehead, and gets up off of the couch, “Very serious business.” 

He nods, a certain weight lifted off his shoulders. “Can you tell Dad for me?” 

She gives him a thumbs up. He smiles at her. 

He spends the rest of the day in a good mood. He doesn’t try to leave the house anymore or talk to anyone else. He sits on his couch and watches TV until his eyes hurt and he can’t think anymore. When his mom and dad start cooking dinner he sits at the counter and offers to help. The rest of his night is filled with chopping vegetables, eating, and laughing with his mom and dad. It’s good, it’s a good change of pace. 

On Sunday mornings, there is a list of people he shouldn’t call because they’ll be doing church-related activities: 

• Mike Hanlon
• Bill Denbrough
• Sometimes Eddie Kaspbrak 

He takes a chance with that sometimes and calls Eddie anyways, sue him. It rings a few times and Richie thinks no one is going to answer. He almost puts the phone up, but then the dial tone ends and he hears a rustling on the other end. 

“Kaspbrak residence.” Eddie’s voice rings out. 

“Eds! No church today?” He asks. 

“Hi, Rich. No, no church.” Richie can hear the smile on the other side of the phone. 

“You wanna come over and read the new issue I got?” He offers, hoping he’ll say he’s not busy later.

“You got some issues alright,” He laughs to himself.

Richie laughs too much at a joke that’s insulting him, “Eds gets off on a good one!” There's a pause, “So you’ll come over?” 

“Yes. See you soon.” With that, he can hear Eddie click the phone back to the wall. 

Richie puts his phone back and punches the air. 

He hurriedly puts on the outfit Bev told him Eddie would like. It’s fine, he’s cool, no biggie. 

By the time he’s done making sure his hair isn’t a total fucking disaster, he heard Eddie’s knock at the door. He knew it was Eddie because his knock is always the same thing. A string of quick knocks that are the same every time. And because he knew Eddie was coming over. 

He runs from his room and opens the front door fast enough for it to startle Eddie. 

First thing Eddie says is, “You look nice,” A sort of confused look on his face, but there is something in his voice and eyes that makes Richie want to throw up. 

“Missus Marsh helped me.” He says, a smile wide on his face and cheeks heating up.

Eddie’s red-nosed and out of breath from riding his bike in this weather. It’s so cute that Richie feels like he might die. “Let me in, I’m freezing,” He begs. 

Richie steps aside and lets Eddie step inside and away from the door. Eddie comes in and almost immediately begins taking off his coat, scarf, and gloves. 

Richie shuts the door, “You live ten minutes away on bike, it’s not cold enough for that.” 

“I’m cold, you dick.” 

He holds up his hands defensively, “You’re right, I should’ve known you can’t handle it.” 

“Shut the fuck up, I’ll go home.” Eddie teases, a smile on his face. 

“Do it.” Richie dares, which in Richie’s secret language, means “Please don’t ever leave me again. Live with me forever.” He’s fine, it’s normal. 

Eddie picks up his coat and begins putting it back on. 

“Fine! I break! Don’t leave.” Richie says. 

Eddie cracks a huge smile on his face, “I win!” 

They move from the entrance of his house to his room.

Richie finds his new issue somewhere under his bed, where he put it when he was done reading it last. Eddie flops himself down on Richie’s bed and makes himself comfortable. 

“You’ve already read it?” Eddie asks. 

“Duh, try to keep me from Spider-Man. Not possible. I’m just going to read it again from over your shoulder.” He says. 

“Don’t breathe on my neck.” 

Richie cozies himself up next to Eddie under the excuse that he wants to read the comic. It takes Eddie about 15 minutes to read the whole thing, which is about half the time it took Richie. 

“That one was okay,” Eddie says indifferently. 

Richie shrugs, “I liked it.” 

“Thanks for letting me read it.” Eddie turns to look at him, their faces are close enough that Richie can count the leftover freckles that summer gave him. 

“Anytime.” He says, mouth dry. 

Eddie pauses, he looks unsure, nervous maybe, “I actually kind of need to talk to you about something.” 

Richie’s face falls, shit shit shit, he knows. He prepares himself for the worst, “Okay.” It’s not okay. Richie is about to lose his best friend because he’s in love with him, this sucks.  

“I don’t know how you’re going to react, but I was talking to Bev about it, and she made me feel better,” Eddie says, the inclusion of Bev is making Richie’s heart drop to his ass. “God, I don’t know how to say it.” Eddie’s hands fly up to his eyes and he wipes the stress from his face. 

“I won’t be mad, whatever it is, it’s you,” Richie says, it’s kind of vague, but it seems to have helped Eddie. 

Richie thinks he hears Eddie mumble, “Fuck it.” And then he’s being kissed. Holy shit.

It’s a nervous kiss. Something barely there, but it’s getting the point across. Richie has his eyes open for the entirety of the kiss. He’s like a deer caught in the headlights, he’s pretty sure he’s sending the wrong signal. 

Eddie pulls away in a hurry, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” He starts climbing out of Richie’s bed. 

Richie grabs his hand and stops him from walking away. “No, wait. It’s okay.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s fine, save it. I get it.” 

“Eddie. No. It’s okay .” He waves his hand in front of his chest, C’mon Eds, pick up what I'm putting down.

“Oh.” He says, biting his lip, fighting a smile. 

“Oh! He says! He got it.” Richie teases, pulling Eddie to sit back down next to him. Their legs hanging off the side of the bed. 

Eddie punches Richie’s shoulder, his cheeks no longer red from the wind, but from Richie. “Then why didn’t you kiss me back?” 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“Come on… Please.” Eddie says softly. 

For once in his life, Richie says something that he’s thinking, “When someone you’ve been quietly having feelings for years kisses you, you feel kind of unprepared. I mean I invited you over to read comics not let this stuff be known.” Richie pauses, considering his next words, “Well. I don’t know if that’s entirely true. I think I was going to do it soon.” 

Eddie smiles, “I was just thinking about what you said in the car the other night. It’s senior year. Our last year, but it doesn’t have to be our forever last year. I think I needed to do something about it. Have an extra string attached to you.” 

Richie closes his eyes and flops back on his bed and smiles harder than he has in weeks. “That’s so cute.” He covers his face with his hands. “I almost kissed you in the car.”

“Me too.” 

“I wish you did.” He says. 

“Well, we can make up for lost time now,” Eddie suggests.

“I think that sounds like a good idea.” 

It’s different this time because of course it is. Richie is prepared. He can be calculated in how he’s going to do it. He’s sure he’s going to be until Eddie is twisting around to kiss Richie who is still laying down. He leans up and meets him in the middle. Then he lost all of his thoughts and calculations. It’s just Eddie Kaspbrak in his mind, filling up his senses. 

 It’s kind of an awkward angle but that isn’t even on the top five of his list of concerns at this moment. 

Eddie’s a fire. He doesn’t know how else to put it. A fire that smells like apple shampoo and tastes like medicated chapstick. To anyone else, he’s sure these sound like unattractive qualities, but they’re really doing it for him right now. 

He can feel Eddie smile into the kiss, which makes him smile, and then it’s all teeth and barely any kissing. Just noses touching, heavy breathing, and the biggest smiles they could imagine. 

“I can’t believe this is my life. I can’t believe you’re real.” Richie says. 

“Shut up and kiss me,” Eddie whispers, and he doesn’t have to ask twice. 

For the next few hours, it’s kissing and giggling about the fact that they’re kissing. Richie might die. 

If he wakes up and this has all been a dream he’s going to have to have a very serious, angry discussion with God. But luckily for him, he hasn’t woken up, and it’s getting more real every moment. 

They stop for a moment and Eddie checks his watch. Richie knows what this means. Sonia will get home soon, and their happiness has to end. 

“Don’t go.” He says before Eddie even says he has to leave. 

“Rich, you know it’s not that simple,” Eddie says, defeated.

“I know.” He attempts to kiss the sad look from Eddie’s face, but it only kind of works. 

“Will you at least drive me home?” Eddie asks. 

“Eds, you could ask to skin me alive and wear me like a suit and I wouldn’t ask a single question.” He says honestly, maybe too honest. 

But it did its trick, Eddie snorts, “Why do I even like you?” 

“For my cool hair and optimal music choices.” 

“Oh, you’re funny, Mr. Funnyman. Take me home.” 

He does, but not without putting up a fight. He mopes while he packs Eddie’s bike in his backseat, and asks him just to stay another ten minutes. And of course, Eddie has to leave. 

When they’re on the drive there, Richie just leaves his right arm on the console. He’ll let Eddie decide what he wants to do with it, at risk of being too much, he doesn’t want to make any sudden moves. 

Eddie seems to have noticed, he holds onto Richie’s hand. 

At Eddie’s house, there is no sign of Sonia Kaspbrak. No car, no lights, no sickenly cold breeze in the air. It seems to be a Sonia-free zone. Eddie seemed to have noticed too. 

“Thanks for driving me home.” Eddie unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the car, Richie does the same thing. “Why are you getting out?” Eddie smiles, kind of already knowing the answer. 

“To help my good man with his bike, of course.” He says, already opening the backseat and pulling it out. He leads it to lean up against Eddie’s house like he’s seen it be for all of his life. 

“Thanks, Rich.” He pulls on Richie’s arm and sneaks him back to a more secluded area of his house. 

Richie knows the drill already. He touches Eddie’s chin as he leans in to kiss him. It’s slow and wholesome. A thank you. Thank you for liking me back, thank you for coming over today, thank you for being Eddie, thank you for existing. 

Eddie smiles into the kiss again, which he’s been doing quite a bit of. 

“When’s the last time you smoked?” Eddie asks. 

“Sometime in between the time of my parents leaving this morning and you getting to my house. Why?” 

“I couldn’t even tell.” He sounds kind of pissed off that he couldn’t taste it. 

“I’ll be sure to smoke more?” Richie says. 

“Don’t piss me off, Richie.” Eddie says, kissing him again, “Go home before my mom gets here.” He lightly pushes on Richie’s chest with his fingers. “I’ll call you.” 

Richie tosses his keys up in the air and catches them, “You better.” 

On the drive home, Richie can’t believe his life. Everything has sort of come together, he’s out to his parents, Eddie likes him back, and he’s starting to worry less about the future. He feels good. He turns up the Carole King he has playing. He feels light.

He memorizes the houses on his street, the kids playing in their yards, and the broken storm gutters, this is the part of Derry he loves. The people, the houses, his friends, Eddie, who just officially became a little more than a friend. 

He knows that later tonight he’s going to call Eddie again and help him sneak in his window, a ritual that they’ve been doing for years, a ritual that is going to feel different. They’ll talk about the future, telling their friends, keeping it just theirs, moving away but maybe together. For the first time in months, Richie is counting the seconds, hoping for them to move by faster.