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Richie Tozier was a lot of things: a trashmouth, a proud loser, and a quick thinker. Unfortunately, being cautious was not one of them.
That’s how he ended up with a bloody nose after a fight with Henry Bowers. He had been waiting outside the movie theater for Eddie when he saw Bowers and his gang walk up to him. He immediately turned the other way, pretending he hadn’t seen them, but it was too late.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing out here, you fuckin’ fairy?” Richie felt the weight of Bowers crash into him, his sour breath hanging in the air.
“What the fuck, man?” Richie backed away, his fists balled up. “I’m not looking for a fight.”
“You’re not denying you’re a fairy, huh?” Bowers leaned in so close that Richie could see all his pores. “Get the fuck out of my town!” He yelled so loudly that Richie jumped, which made him laugh maniacally. Richie tried to run, but Patrick seized him.
“Let go of me, fucker!” Richie thrashed and kicked Patrick hard. Patrick groaned and let him go. Bowers grabbed him and threw him on the ground. “We don’t have room here for fuckin’ fairies like you.”
Richie wasn’t thinking at all when he punched Bowers square in the face. He just kept punching him, Bowers’s blood staining Richie’s shirt. Bowers screamed and punched him so hard that his nose started to bleed immediately, his glasses flying off his face.
Bowers punched him again and again as his friends egged him on. A siren sounded, and Bowers immediately got up. “I’m not fuckin’ finished with you,” he threatened, laughing and coughing up blood. Patrick and Huggins each spit on the ground next to Richie and left with Bowers.
Of course, the police were no help. The car kept going even though one of the cops had to have seen what had happened. Richie took a few deep breaths, which was hard because he couldn’t really feel his face much. He was dimly aware of the blood pouring out of his nose, soaking his neck and making his shirt even more red. He started to cry, slowly sitting up and covering his face with his blood-stained hands.
“Richie?” he heard a voice and looked up to see Eddie, his eyes full of concern. “What the fuck happened?”
Oh god. “Just…Bowers.” Richie said, hoping Eddie hadn’t seen much. He quickly wiped his tears away with his hands, but it was no use. Eddie had already seen him crying, and now his face was even more smeared with blood. He felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment.
“I will fucking kill him.” Eddie said in one breath, which made Richie crack a smile.
“Shit, shit you’re bleeding fuckin’ everywhere,” Eddie started fumbling with his fanny pack, taking out a pack of gauze and a small waterbottle. He kneeled down next to Richie and wet the gauze, gently dragging it across his face. Richie felt his breath catch and laughed nervously. “Um, what are you doing?”
Eddie gave him a look that read are you stupid? “I’m cleaning you up, dipshit. In case you didn’t notice, you’re bleeding a lot.”
Surprisingly, Richie didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he felt like crying again, but this time, out of gratitude. “Thanks, Eds,” he said, a soft smile on his lips.
Eddie was taken aback. He had been waiting for a sarcastic answer, and Richie was being genuine for once. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, with Richie saying “ow” and Eddie responding “sorry” every couple minutes as he cleaned up the blood. Eddie felt himself getting flustered; they were so close, and Richie’s glasses were missing, which forced Eddie to take in his face fully. He was really kind of beautiful without those huge glasses…
“What?” Richie laughed and shook his head.
“Hm?” Eddie said, his face getting red.
“You said I’m, quote, ‘kinda beautiful without those huge glasses’”.
“I said kind of, fucker, not kinda.” Eddie snapped before realizing what he did.
“Potato potahto. Do you mean it?” Richie felt his heart rate increase.
Eddie didn’t reply and instead dropped his gaze to his fanny pack, trying and failing to get a new roll of gauze because his hands were shaking.
“Eddie,” Richie said gently.
“Doesn’t matter if I meant it, dummy. You’re still bleeding.”
“Answer me or I’ll smear my blood on your face.”
“Alright, yeah, I meant it, okay? Happy now?” Eddie huffed, his cheeks now completely red. “Now sit back so I can clean the blood off your neck.”
Richie grinned and ignored Eddie’s command. “How beautiful do you think I am, though? On a scale of one to ten.”
“Shut the fuck up or I’m gonna leave you here.” Eddie’s ears were now pink.
“You wouldn’t do that.” Richie moved a bit closer, testing the waters. He heard Eddie’s breath catch.
“You don’t know that, dipshit.”
“I know all your moves.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure about that?”
“Hundred percent.” A grin overtook Richie’s face.
Without warning, Eddie grabbed a fistful of Richie’s shirt and kissed him.
Richie overcame his initial shock and responded eagerly, kissing him back. Richie’s hands pressed onto Eddie’s cheeks and Eddie’s ended up in Richie’s hair.
When they eventually broke apart, they were both breathing hard. Eddie took out his inhaler and breathed. Richie’s hair was mussed, his clothes wrinkled, and Eddie’s cheeks were still tinted pink.
“Oh shit,” Richie said, touching Eddie’s cheek. “My blood is on you.”
“Course it is, you’re such a piece of shit.” Eddie wiped it off, giggling a bit, his usual worries about sickness through blood transfusion mostly gone.
He didn’t want to focus on anything other than this moment: Richie’s lips a bit swollen, his hair a mess and his clothes in an even worse state. Eddie felt like he was on a high, and he never wanted to come down.
Richie laughed too, feeling around for his glasses. When he finally found them and put them on, he leaned close to Eddie and whispered, “You still think I’m beautiful?”
“Shut up, trashmouth,” Eddie said, right before Richie pressed his lips to his.