Archive of Our Own ^beta

A second chance at love...

The night was humid, starry even with the city lights. The night wasn't very cold, but Richie still felt the need to wear a jacket. He wanted to wear something more impressive for his first date, but the autumn night fog prevented him from doing so. He walks down the busy 5th Jones street in the big city — Manhattan — with his wobbly legs and dizzy head, thinking to himself:

°What the hell did you do, Richie? You'll never be able to do that.
Where did you get that courage, you animal? Is he really coming? Calm down, wait, I think my blood pressure is dropping.°

Desperate thoughts run through poor Richie's head...

In early September, he began his first semester at the City University of New York. Richie wanted to make a living from comedy and become a comedian. But he realized that he probably wouldn't have a good quality of life, so he decided to “humble himself to his studies” — in his own words — to study filmmaking, which might also draw on his irresistible comedy.

As a child, he had a foul mouth and always had the best jokes to torment his friends, but it was just his unusual way of showing affection.
When he was twelve, he was a skinny boy from Derry, with dark, curly, and considerably long hair, a childish face, crooked teeth, and always wearing glasses with very thick lenses because of his moderate myopia.

At the time, he didn't understand it very well, but he was in love with a friend, a best friend—Eddie Kaspbrak—the boy was always very fearful and Richie protected him, teased him, they went out riding bikes and even had ice cream together.

The disappointing thing is that little Richie always wanted to intertwine his fingers with the boy's, kiss him on the cheek, mess up his hair, and sleep in his lap. Eddie only saw him as a cool friend. An innocent child who didn't understand that, didn't understand that he was crossing a line, especially in the early 1980s
The day his little child's heart truly broke was at the school's winter dance in '84, when he saw Eddie dancing with a pretty girl. He remembers his eyes filling with tears behind his glasses and walking away with his head down, feeling sad.

Bullies intimidated him, calling him “faggot” or “queer.” Not to mention the bizarre clown who scared him and said he was dirty for wanting to love a boy. Before, he just cried and ran away, but today he understands how painful those words were for the child.

He also remembers a dark sewer, balloons, and promises made in blood that they would return to Derry. It was difficult to remember Derry clearly. It was all very hazy. It could be that his memory was failing, or that his glasses were too weak and he had never seen very well...

He feels a shock coursing through his body, snapping him out of his wandering thoughts. Someone has bumped into him.

“Hey, watch where you're going, kid!” shouts a man in a hurry.

Richie, still a little dazed, bumps into more people who curse at him. If this had happened to 14-year-old Richie, he would have committed three crimes, hurt two people's feelings, and destroyed five families. But 20-year-old Richie was just confused and disoriented. Bright lights blur his vision, and he leans against the wall of a vinyl record store and focuses his eyes.

“Where am I?” Richie exclaims, almost whispering. “Oh, shit,” Richie groans.

He looks around and doesn't recognize where he is. Cars drive by on the busy street, the wide sidewalk is full of people, buildings and more buildings. He looks back through the store window and sees a clock inside. Richie squints.

7:57 p.m.

“Damn it, oh, fuck!” he says too loudly, getting up desperately.

An older woman with a child glares at him. Maybe he never stopped being a foul-mouthed person.
.

The orange and purple lights cast a warm glow over the room. Welcome To Paradise played in the background. Will actually liked the new band of the moment, Green Day. Will observes the environment, somewhat nervous, many glasses, colorful drinks, beautiful people, couples dancing, kissing, and what is probably most surprising, women caressing other women's waists, men sniffing other men's necks, queer people, or rather, people. People who are loved and who love.

Will could be worried about some bad person coming in and hurting people, but that would be unrealistic. He was in New York, Manhattan, where people could raise colorful flags almost without judgment; in any other city, you can't even mention them. Very different from Hawkins.

Since coming to the big city in the east, he has had many reality checks. The city seemed like paradise, with all the shops, libraries, and cafes concentrated there. He was living a very good and promising life, so to speak. He came with his brother to New York in July 1991. His brother, Jonathan, was studying journalism at the same university where Will was studying art, at the City University of New York.

He lived in an apartment with his brother a few hours away from where his mother and father lived, on the beach. Will liked to go there to sunbathe and surf. He had always been a little pale, but now his skin was more beautiful and healthy — Will would never admit that.

He even missed Hawkins. Actually, he missed the people more than Hawkins itself. But his time there was over. He had been through a lot there.
It was the first time he had found someone so funny, cool, and — maybe, just maybe — handsome, after so long since his first love and heartbreak.

Mike. He wasn't sure how he felt when he thought about him. Nostalgia? The smell of childhood? Anger? Everything but longing. He missed Max, Robin, Lucas, Dustin terribly. But honestly? Mike? Maybe he just didn't know, or still doesn't know, how to deal with Will. That had hurt Will so much, and he didn't want to remember it.

When he was forced by... Vecna in 1987 to come out to everyone and get over Mike, it was devastating. Will always felt that his life depended on being loved by Mike. When he lied that he had gotten over his years-long crush, Mike understood that it was him. And he did something really stupid — according to Max and Robin — he apologized, Will asked to be friends, Mike refused. In that brief moment, a flower that was already dead had bloomed for a second, hope shone in his eye. He hadn't gotten over Mike. When the flower became another dead flower in Will's stomach as quickly as it had bloomed. “Best friends,” Mike says.

Will gradually realized that maybe Mike had always wanted Will, he just didn't have the courage to feel it. That's why he continues with the stupid game of staring at his lips, getting close and flirting with Will, even after everything. Dustin was the one who noticed how uncomfortable Will was.

Gee, he always hoped that Mike would love him the same way one day, that he could draw a picture of him with himself, that he could give him his poems and do romantic things that he did with Jane. But when Robin gave Will a reality check, he realized that Mike's attitude in deceiving him was horrible and painful. A cycle of Mike playing with Will's feelings, it wasn't enough to have played with Jane's.

Dustin confronted Mike. Who felt offended and betrayed. Lucas still talks in calls that Mike wanted to have done differently with Will. But he could have done differently long before...

“Hey there, sweetie!” Will is snapped out of his thoughts by an energetic voice. “Aren't you going to order anything? Or are you waiting for someone?”

The bartender — William isn't sure of the gender of the person in front of him, but as a big fan of David Bowie, gender doesn't matter. The person is well dressed in a vest and short colored hair, with stunning artistic makeup. They are mixing a typical bartender's alcoholic concoction.

There was no malice in their words, only curiosity and charisma. But Will blushed a little under the lights. Will has a weakness for compliments. Jonathan said that in the last year, Will had become a handsome man. Not that he was ugly before, he was always described as cute by his family. But now it was different, his angelic face remained, his smile was rosy, but now he had grown, he had muscles, he was stronger. He hadn't given up his bowl cut yet. Will tried to style it in a cooler way for today but gave up because he thought it looked ridiculous. Since his hair was no longer straight but wavy and uneven, his “ridiculous bowl cut” was beautiful and youthful.

And that's better. Because hair was probably one of the reasons Richie had been drooling over Will for the past two months in their shared classes between the Arts and Film courses at the University.

“Um... I'm waiting... for someone,” says Will, looking at the bar counter while drumming his fingers frantically on the marble.

It's not like Will had noticed Richie Tozier much... His conversations with Jonathan, and his calls with Robin, Dustin, and whoever else he was entitled to talk to, were like this when he told them he had been asked on a date:

°Like, he's...

Hot?

NO!! I mean, he's not ugly. He's... acceptable... there.

Nobody says “acceptable,” Will. Either handsome or ugly. Spit it out.

Oh, is that necessary? Okay, okay, okay, sorry, no need to stress... He's... attractive, I guess... He's always making jokes about the jerks in class, and it's kind of funny to see the look on their faces. He dresses well, too...

And how exactly did he ask you out?

He made a joke about grumpy Professor Staney, I laughed, he gave me a little nudge and at the end of class he said, 'Hey, Will, do you want to go out with me next week, on Friday, is that okay?

Did you do anything?

No...

I know you're lying, and just for the record, he wants to kiss you.°

“And what time did this person arrange to meet you here? I noticed you've been here for at least twenty minutes. Is this person late, or are you in a hurry?” says the bartender, curiosity in his eyes.

“He said he would meet me here at eight o'clock,” says Will, his stomach churning with nervousness.

The bartender looks toward the east side of the establishment while drying some glasses. Will follows his gaze. There was a giant analog clock on the wall, mesmerizing in the light.

7:59 p.m.

Will's heart breaks.

°He didn't come. Of course he wouldn't come. Why did I think I still had a chance? It was just another bad joke, I'm used to it by now, right?°

Poor Byers, his heart was in his throat when Richie asked him for a date, his stomach churned every time Richie said his handwriting was beautiful, he broke out in a cold sweat earlier when he should have been choosing an outfit for the date.

Will was already rushing, getting up from the bench and apologizing to the bartender. His eyes were already filled with tears.

“Hey, are you crazy?” says the bartender, getting Will's attention. “Man, you still have a minute before the love of your life arrives.”
.

“Damn it, answer it,” Richie says hurriedly as the landline phone on the sidewalk rings. The call is answered.

“Hello?”

“Bev! Thank God you answered!” Richie exclaims as if a knife had been pulled from his throat.

“Richie? Dude, it's almost 8 p.m. on a Friday night, what are you doing?” Richie's friend Beverly asks indignantly.

"Listen to me, please. I'll explain later, but I need to get somewhere first." Richie starts panting "I need to get to the Stonewall Inn now. I have a date there at eight and I got lost. I'm in front of Record Runner, you know, the record store. How the hell do I get there? Tell me you know? You know this neighborhood like the back of your hand!"

“Richie, calm down! Wait, you have a date?”

“Bev!” Richie shouts, and some people look at him like he's crazy. But he couldn't lose Will Byers because of his stupidity.
.

11/01/1991

Sweaty and stuffy is how you'd describe the university hallways. Will walks into the visual expression and composition class, trying not to stop breathing—not because of the awful smell, but because of something else. Richie is there again, sitting next to his desk, the two desks pushed together.

Richie was tapping his legs nervously, wearing more formal clothes — a dress shirt and dark pants — which Richie would never normally wear, but his heart spoke louder that day, telling him he had to dress better to impress William Byers. Because Will always dressed more formally for class. He had even put on cologne, something he didn't do every day. When he saw the boy entering the room. Richie's heart nearly jumped out of his mouth, his chest tightened.

Will had apparently thought the same thing, he wanted to impress Richard and he succeeded. Will wore much looser clothes, baggy jeans and a Superman shirt and worn-out All Star sneakers stolen from his brother.

Richard would never admit it, but the blood rushed to his ears and his whole face flushed. He tried to hide his sparkling eyes as if nothing had happened. He waved his arm for Will to come closer. Will Byers smiled, and Richie's stomach almost did its tenth somersault of the day.

His brain went into overdrive: °what should I call him? Love? No, too emotional. Sweetie? No. Honey? No, it'll look like I'm hitting on him.°

“What happened to you, Romeo?” Will pondered as he settled down at the back of the room next to Richie. “Which teacher forced you to read Shakespeare to get you like this?”
Will also had no idea where all this courage came from, but as Richie always joked, wouldn't it be fair if Will also started to be bold?

It had been two months since they had started their studies and at least a month since Richie had gone up to Will and asked to sit with him in their shared class. Richie had noticed Will's dedication and gaze since the first day of class. He could smell his perfume when he walked down the hallway, or watch how Will always scratched the back of his neck, watch how Will used his brush in art class — which Richie could only see because he peeked through the classroom window.

Richie thought Will had never looked at him properly, like Eddie did, but he was wrong. Will also peeked through the window of the extra classroom where Richie played guitar alone, or when Richie slept in class, Will tried to count his mini freckles, or even how Will had imagined a thousand ways Richie would look without his glasses.
Richie froze in embarrassment:

“Is it that bad?” he asked, lowering his head.

“Rich, I'm kidding! You look beautiful...” Will stops the moment he realizes he shouldn't have said that. He thinks Richie is going to be mad at him for seeming to hit on his friend. Will didn't want to do that again. He looks away at his backpack, trying not to think about it, trying not to think about the mistake he might have made.
On the contrary, Richie is burning up, he wouldn't be upset if Professor Staney called him a tomato right now — he hates tomatoes. His heart is a nuclear bomb exploding inside him. Rich, Romeo, beautiful. He thought he was hallucinating, but he pinched himself quickly and didn't wake up. Even though he slept like a log, he didn't think it was a dream.
“Th-thank you...” he dared to say. “Y-you look very beautiful, too.”

°Damn it, Richie. Why are you acting like that stutterer Bill? Fix this shit now, say something!!°

“I mean, you look beautiful today, my Romeo. Not as beautiful as me, of course,” Richie began confidently, catching Will's attention, who looked at him with teary eyes and a flushed face, “but I really like your pants, your shirt, your All Stars, and your hair, it's really messy, isn't it?” I like it..." Richie loses himself again looking at Will's face and forces himself to stop talking.

A thousand butterflies fluttered and danced in Will's stomach when Richie said, “My Romeo.” What did that mean? Richie seemed nervous. Will's eyes sparkled...
Will laughed at Richie's confidence and nervousness, a failed but genuine laugh, even a little shy. If he hadn't been sitting down, Richie would have thought he was in free fall. The euphoric feeling Richie felt filling his heart when Will laughed at his antics was incredible. It seemed like every day that feeling got better. Richie wanted to make Will laugh forever, showing his crooked teeth, teary eyes, red cheeks, and complaints of stomachaches from laughing so hard.

Will gives Richie a little push as he tries to compose himself. The touch of their shoulders colliding ran through Richie's entire body, and he pushed back, this time making Will feel the shock. With flushed faces, they look at each other with the typical silly smile on their faces.

They are soon interrupted by the arrival of the grumpy Professor Staney. The class continues, but Richie can only think about Will calling him Romeo and praising him. His ego swells, and he feels like nothing can stop him.

“For example, humans in love often convey their love through looks, compliments, nervousness, silliness, and laughter...”
Professor Staney continues talking, but Richie doesn't miss the opportunity. He looks at Will, who is leaning over the table, making random notes about the class. Richie approaches Will. Their knees touch for a second. Will feels the air grow heavy as Richie approaches.

“I think he's using us as an example,” Richie whispers in Will's ear, already laughing at his own silliness. Will chokes on his own breath and starts to laugh quietly along with Richie.
When the bell rings, everyone gets up to leave for another weekend away from school. As Will and Richie get ready, Richie says:

“Hey, Will, so,” Will looks at him with a smile, “if you want... We could go out, you know? I mean, me, um...” There's a cool club in Greenwich Village, if you want to check it out, I don't know..."

“Are you asking me to go on a date, Richie?” Will asks with amusement on his flushed face.

Richie hesitates. “Yeah, no, not really a date, only if you want to, of course. Like, I don't know... let's... just get to know each other better than just here in this hellhole...”

Richie is interrupted by Will laughing at Richard's nervousness. Will finds Richie's disheveled appearance as perfect as it is messy. His glasses are crooked, his clothes are wrinkled, his face is flushed, sweat is dripping from his forehead—perhaps from the heat of the day, perhaps from something else—his eyes dart across the room in a second, and his hair is messy—Will has lost count of how many times Richie has touched his hair while trying to speak.

“Relax, Rich,” Will begins, still laughing. “I want to get to know you beyond this hell too.” Will confesses, it's a sincere confession, but he uses a mocking tone that makes Richie blush with embarrassment.

They leave the room with Richie choosing the time, date, explaining the location, everything to be more precise.

.

“Look, I know it's disappointing when they're late, I've seen it happen a lot,” the bartender consoled Will, “but give them at least five minutes. I've been working here for two years, and in that time only three people have been stood up.”

“What if I'm next?” Will asked, playing with the sleeve of his jacket. The docile person in front of him reminded Robin of someone always giving advice.

“Hey,” the barman said, approaching him, “this place is very special. I think one day it will become one of the most famous places in the world. This place is incredible. No one invites a heartthrob like you to come here and stands you up for free!” The bartender continued trying to cheer William up, offering him a glass with a beautiful non-alcoholic drink, but he just shook his head...

The barman throws out his last words to try to cheer the boy up: “Give him at least five minutes to arrive...”

Meanwhile, Richard ran through the night fog, bumping into crowds. He ran fast; the last time he remembered running so fast was when a killer clown was on his floor, trying to destroy his future. It was almost the same thing, Richie was racing against time to find his beloved, with whom he dreamed of his future. How could this have happened in such a short time? Richie couldn't explain it, but what made him fall so deeply in love with Will was seeing that his eyes sparkled too. Not a “best friends” sparkle, but a “you are everything” sparkle.

He enters the alley that Beverly had directed him to, hoping it's the right one. He comes out on a not-so-busy street and sees the Stonewall Inn, its name shining in the spotlight. For a second, a feeling of disappointment runs through the young man:

°Why am I so desperate? What if he didn't even come?°

But his heart still flutters when he remembers Byers, so he continues, taking in the scents floating in the air, the colorful indirect lighting, and the romantic music in his ears.
And then he sees him. With his back to him, at the counter, alone, he would recognize that hair anywhere, he had admired it so much. William was wearing loose jeans, dress shoes, and a reddish-brown coat—or jacket, or overcoat.

Will turned his head slightly toward the large clock, only to lower his head again.

8:04 p.m.

°Five minutes of tolerance for your love.°

Will counted the seconds until he could leave and cry in peace.

“Ah, hi” the music is loud, but Will hears the sound. Will turns slightly to see where the noise is coming from and:

Richie.

Time stood still for a moment under the dazzling lights of the place. The pieces of his heart begin to beat fiercely even before they come together. The knee of the leg that was resting on the floor, ready to leave, fails. His mouth opens in surprise and his eyes shine brighter than ever...
Richard Tozier, you came... you look beautiful...

Will's heart sent this message at a thousand miles an hour to his brain, causing short circuits. Will lost himself in Richie's chiseled face, his freckles, his curls, how sweaty he was — had he run here? — how his glasses slid down his crooked nose as he panted...and his full lips...

“Will... I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry!” the man hurried to say softly. “I-I should have come earlier, o-or I don't know, I should have picked you up at home...”
Richie could keep apologizing all night, but Will didn't want to waste that time.

“Rich...” he says, getting Richie's attention, who was embarrassed for being late. “It's okay, what matters is that you came.” Richie's eyes widen and his cheeks flush at Byers' words. Will leaned closer to Richie's ear, closing the distance between them. “The important thing is that you didn't stand me up this time!” Will whispered in Richie's ear, who shuddered.

°He stood Will up? Tell me, who would stand that man up? Will was so handsome, amazing, intelligent, and gentle... Wait... “This time”?... Were there other times?°

Will walked away, motioning for the other man to sit on the bench. Richie wore black jeans, a leather jacket, high-top All Stars, and silver necklaces. Even his nervous hands were stylish, with black nails and silver rings. His punk-rock style surprised William, who smiled as he leaned on the counter, when Richard hurriedly said:

"No, seriously. I'm really sorry. I was on my way, but I got distracted and ended up getting lost. You know, I only got here in June, so I haven't fully memorized this place yet. There are so many stores, restaurants, hotels... nightclubs... Then I realized I was late and came running...
He stuttered, gestured, and sweated cold with nervousness. You ask me, how could Richard Tozier, the foul-mouthed, shameless boy who hit on everyone, be so nervous in Will's presence?

Will was different from the others. Will took Richie's flirting seriously, Will actually laughed at his jokes, Will didn't tell him to shut up when he talked too much, Will looked at him. Will saw Richie, much better than his mother, better than even Bev, or his first crush, Eddie.

“Then I had to call a friend who helped me...”

He is interrupted by Will

“A friend?” Will asks, feigning jealousy.

“No,” Richie exclaims too loudly, then lowers his voice. “I mean, we're childhood friends, s—she's married, she helps me find my way around here, you know, she's lived here longer than I have and...”

Will laughs. “I'm kidding, Rich. I have female friends too.”

Richie realizes how ridiculous he's being and blushes under the lights of the Stonewall Inn. They laugh shyly, doing that silly thing of exchanging sparkling glances. Sometimes their elbows touch over the counter. They get into random topics, just to try to impress each other, but that's not even necessary. Just having each other's company there was wonderful.

“Would you like something to drink? I'll pay, since I invited you and I was late,” Richie asks after a while.

“No, thanks. I don't think it's very reliable to get drunk with a guy in a bar I don't even know,” Will says with a playful smile.

“Oh, of course. Sorry,” Richie said, trying to justify himself. “I'll show you around this place better and bring you here more often so you can drink in peace.”

They both laughed a little, blushing slightly at the thought of future visits.
Will noticed how Richie was trembling a little. He had never imagined that anyone would be so nervous — in a good way — around him. It was so different. He really cared about Will. It made the butterflies in Will's stomach flutter all over his body. It wasn't like someone had ever done to him before. Someone who had led him on even though they knew how Will felt. Someone who didn't even want to spend the slightest amount of time with him. Richie clearly wanted — very much — to spend time with Will.

Will remembers when he realized he wasn't going to pass his college exams and would fail a subject, thus spending the next vacation at university. Richie wanted to make sure he failed at least one subject too, just so the young man wouldn't be alone. He ended up having to retake three subjects. He said: Relax, Byers, you won't be alone, you'll have my company. I'll be three times as bad as you in that oven.

This wasn't a comparison between that person and Richie, but how the mini version of Will blamed himself for falling so deeply in love with his best friend. He thought he would never find anyone else who made him feel better. But here's the difference... What did Will feel with Mike? Fear of losing him, insecurity, a tight heart, a lump in his throat, and cold sweat. He thought that's what love was like, scary. Until Richie looked at him, sent him notes under the table praising his answers to the teachers' questions, or started listening to The Cure because Will liked them. He noticed how his heart warmed in his chest when he spoke and Richie smiled spontaneously, showing his braces, or how his stomach turned when he realized that Richie had blushed when they were called lovebirds by Professor Staney in the hallways.

Will looks around and points “Look! They have fries. If you want, we can share a portion. Do you prefer Coca-Cola or Pepsi? I'll pay.”

“Coca-Cola. I like fries” said Richie, a little confused by the words “No, I'll pay, really.”

They placed their order, but the debate continued over who should pay for the snack. They were already eating the salty chips, but between deep breaths, bites of chips, and sips of cold soda, they argued:

° I asked you out.

But I insist.

No, you don't.

It's cheap, I'll pay.

If you want to pay, you'll have to ask me out again. I was late, I'll pay.

But you gave me the class notes when I missed Tuesday, I owe you, Richie.

I did the least I could, right? You don't owe me anything. °

In the end, Will let Richie pay for the chips and drinks. But he already had other plans.

As Richard leans against the counter paying for the food, William watches the atmosphere change, the last song ending, the red lights reflecting off Richie's glasses. He hears the familiar beats filling the room. On the stage at the back of the club, a small cover band was starting to play a song.

~ Whenever I'm alone with you ~

Will recognizes the lyrics and the romantic sound. The Lovesong by The Cure begins to play in the background.

“Hey, Richie!”

Will grabs the slimmer man's wrist, leading him into the warm crowd. Richie stumbles over his own feet in surprise. Will smiles as adrenaline rushes through his entire body.

They bump into each other, the tension between them palpable. Will lets go of his hand, still facing him. Richie's eyes widen a little as he notices how Will has applied dark shadow under his eyes, giving him a more punk look. Richie leans close to Will's ear, his heart still racing.

“Let's have some fun, Byers.”

They share a look of consent. They are independent now, whether they like it or not. They spread out among the lights, among the dancing people. Will gets distracted as he approaches the stage, feeling the music through his blood.

~ You make me feel like I am whole again ~

The declarative love song fills the atmosphere. Women cast him longing glances. Men watch him with pleasure. Will manages to feel so free. Free from supernatural monsters, free from threats, free from judgment, free from his traumatic past. He is filled only with the youthful pleasure of surpassing himself. He feels independent and yet chooses to fall in love with the rough Tozier.

“Hey, cutie! Lost?”

Will feels a shock running through his body from his shoulder. The crowd of people had already bumped into and touched Will, but that push on his shoulder was very intentional and purposeful. He turns slightly.

Richard. Richard, with the most confident smile Will had ever seen in his life, looks at him with a mocking gaze.

~ You make me feel like I am fun again ~

Will smiled incredulously. Richie had slicked his hair back and taken off his glasses — he was hiding them behind his back with his left arm — while extending his right hand in an exaggerated pose toward Will:

“Would you like to dance with the spectacular Richard Tozier?” Richie was ridiculously... attractive to Will. Will feels his legs buckle as he accepts Richie's warm hand.

Richie pulls him away from the stage, heading straight for the larger dance floor. Richie turns to the younger man, releasing his wrist, and feels time stand still.

A more upbeat song comes on. With more frenetic lights, smoke and colorful confetti fall on them. Will feels the hot atmosphere of a nightclub for the first time. If it weren't for the space, he would have taken off his jacket right there because of the sweat. People jump, scream, dance, and drink as if time had stopped right there on a Friday in 1991.
He watches Richie's dark eyes as Richie stares into his green ones. Their hearts danced in incredible sync.

The beats of electrifying pop music filled their ears. Richie put his glasses back on, shaking his head. They both felt the music running through their veins as they danced. They didn't touch each other, only increasing the tension between them.

It wasn't perfect. It had its flaws, Richard's typical smile was dirty with a few crumbs of potato stuck between his teeth and braces. Sweat melted some of Will's makeup. Or how Will's earring was crooked. Richie already had experience dancing at the clubs he had frequented, but Will “got in his way” and made him trip over his own feet sometimes.

But honestly? They just noticed the flaws, laughed at them, and appreciated the good things. Like how Will's husky voice sounded with the music close to Richie's ear. Richie was about an inch taller than Will — he would definitely tease Will a lot with that information — but they were still the perfect height for a couple, Richie didn't even have to strain to see Will's sweaty lips. How Richie moved his hips well while they danced, which made Will unable to take his eyes off him. Or how his legs faltered, losing the rhythm of the jumps when he looked at the confident smile of the man in front of him.

The last lively song of the party begins to lose its rhythm. The muffled sighs of the two grow closer. They look at the hair stuck to their foreheads as if they had run a marathon, and not danced for at least two hours, looking at each other with their hearts racing.

A slower, warmer song that Richie doesn't know but Will surely does begins to play. William approaches Richie with a sideways smile. Richie doesn't know exactly what that smile means, only that it's very attractive. Richie didn't even know his body could get any hotter. Will brushes his fingers against Richie's waist.
Will doesn't take his eyes off Richie's face as he wraps his palm around Richie's hip. The movements are slow, like everyone else's. Just feeling the romantic music corrode their brains. Richard's brain completely shut down when Will attacked him like that.

With a simple gesture, Richie reaches for the collar of Will's jacket to fix it, keeping his hand there. They didn't look away at any moment. Nor did they get any closer, they didn't want to go so fast. It was consent. They had time, they could take it easy. For now, they had so much to observe in those beautiful eyes.
Ashamed, but not as much as his courage, Richie brings his head closer to Will's neck. Will feels a quick shiver invade his body by surprise, runs his hands up Richie's waist to his ribs, playing a little with the details of Richie's leather jacket.

Richie sighs into Will's neck and inhales the scent. Even with the sweat, it still has Will's scent: apple, perhaps. It seems a little childish, but Richie manages to love that sweet smell. His glasses slip a little out of place when he rests his head between the man's neck and shoulder. Will was beside himself, his lips curving into a silly smile. Static in the lights, dance, touch, and Richie's strong perfume. Will enjoyed the curly hair on the back of Richie's neck, giving him an incredible view.

Richard senses something bad nearby and focuses his gaze. He raises his head slightly and sees a man in the distance. Probably drunk, watching Byers' back with malice. Will couldn't see anything, but Richie could. Something grows fervently inside him. He glares at the man so hard that his eyebrows start to itch.

Will's heart races when he feels Richie's hands quickly moving down from his chest to his waist. The warm, firm touch makes Will's breath fail miserably as their bodies press together. Richie notices and lifts his head, looking at Will's face, which is wide-eyed with surprise and red cheeks. Richie realizes he may have gone too far, too soon.

“Did I overdo it?” His smile falters when he looks at how close he is to Will and his slightly parted lips.

Will lets out a laugh through his nose, sliding his hands up Richie's shoulders and deciding to enjoy the moment. Will says something that Richie can't quite make out over the music. Maybe “you're unbearable” or “you're unbelievable.” Will wraps his arms around Richard's shoulders, pressing their bodies together again, and rests his head on Richie's shoulder. Richie also lowers his head, burying it in Will's neck. Glaring again at the unknown man with a victorious smile, he tightens his fingers around Will's waist, leaving white knuckles — but without hurting him — to be more visible to the man who frowned at the scene.

The orange lights pass over them with a few flashes of pink. Their bodies and hearts were warm and comfortable. It was like skydiving, but being 100% safe. Their hearts were racing, but with the welcoming warmth of the embrace, they weren't afraid of anything.

Will was already very sleepy. He didn't know what time it was. Richie's black curls trailed down his sweaty, shiny neck. Will wanted to have that view forever. He was so stunned that he even brushed his lips and nose there.

Richie caressed Will, moving his hands between his ribs, waist, and hips, as if his hands fit perfectly there. As they enjoyed the music, dancing slowly, Richie felt the weight of Will's body when his knee gave way. He separated himself slightly from Will, his right hand resting on Will's lower back, like an anchor.

Richie looks at Will's face: his face colored by the red lights, his hoop earring, his curved nose, his thin lips slightly parted, his downcast eyes, and his messy hair.

“Are you okay?” Richie asks sincerely. “You're tired, aren't you? Do you have a curfew? It must be late...”

“Yeah, I didn't think I'd stay up this late... My brother said I had to be home by midnight,” Will says, half asleep.

Will looks up at Richie — who seems to be looking for something, perhaps the large colorful analog clock — his eyes shining at the sight of Tozier's freckles, his slightly drooping glasses reflecting the lights, his full lips, his crooked nose, and that slightly nerdy tone that made Will melt.

William sees Richard's eyes widen slightly behind his glasses and follows his gaze.

01:47 a.m.

Richie groans in fear — I think it's time for Cinderella to go home, don't you think?

Will looks so sleepy that he doesn't even complain about the “Cinderella” reference "What about you? Don't you want to stay? I'll deal with Jonathan, it's no big deal..."

Will is interrupted by Richie's right arm wrapping even tighter around his waist, guiding him toward the exit. Will wanted to leave, not because of Richie, but because he was already tired. He feels on clouds seeing how Richie noticed this and welcomed him. They pass through the exit, shivering in the cold night wind blowing in their faces.

“I already paid the cover charge too, it's okay, Will,” Richie quickly begins. “I go to bars, have a few drinks, and then I go home. I'm not one to stay out late. I don't think you are either.”

“That's true,” Will begins with a nasal smile. “It was my first time at a nightclub, but I definitely can't handle it for long...”

Richie laughs in agreement with Will, his cheeks warming up in the cold. “So, Will, can I walk you home? I know your apartment isn't far from here, and I don't know... Only if you want to, of course...”

Richie scratches his hair nervously again, Will blushes with a silly smile still on his face.

“Sure, Richie...”

They start walking side by side, without touching, only their fingers brush a little, as if they want to intertwine their hands. There weren't many people on the sidewalk at that time of day. Richie was blindly turning to cross the street when Will grabbed his wrist.

“Where are you going?” Will asks, confused, looking at Richie.

“To your house. . .” Richie replies, almost hesitantly, noticing Will's gaze. “Isn't it that way?”

“No...” Will pulls Richie closer by the wrist, laughing at his embarrassed face. “Follow me. How do you manage to get lost so easily here, Rich?”
Richie moves closer to Will as if to warm himself in the cold of dawn. Stunned with embarrassment by the confusion, he listens to Will's sincere laughter. He flashes a silly smile and glances sideways at Will.

“You can be my GPS and follow me for the rest of my life...”

“Oh, okay,” Will replies, laughing indignantly.

“What? Am I that bad?” He raises his voice in indignation, distancing himself from the other's response.

Will laughs even harder, his knees buckling and his stomach aching. He loves how Richie always takes everything literally. How he is more rational than him, who is always embarrassed and trembling because of it. Richie walks, standing straighter out of indignation. His glasses crooked, cheeks red, and a shy smile.

“No! I mean...” Will hurried to say when he caught his breath. “You can still improve a lot...”

Will said it to tease him in an ironic way. Richie looked offended, thinking about how he could change the situation.

“Is your mom still married?”

Richie began to ask maliciously, but was quickly interrupted by Will:

“Stop this shit right now, Richie!”

“Why? It's a sincere question...” Richie quickly justified himself with a laugh when he saw Will blushing. “I'm not going to stay with her, no... Even though she's very beautiful and intelligent, I prefer her...”

“Richie!” Will interrupts him again. He decides to take advantage of the fact that Richie is gesturing with his arms, leaving the thin fabric of his shirt vulnerable, and pinches his belly to end the conversation.

“Ouch!? Are you crazy, Byers?” Richie whines. “No, relax, I won't mess with your mom anymore...”

“You better not...” Will says, laughing a little at Richie's drama.

Richie, still massaging his abdomen where Will pinched him — hoping his mother won't see the bruise and think it's something else — not wanting to miss out on the joke, flashes Will another mischievous smile. Will, who was looking around at the illuminated city, feels the gaze. When he turns to look at Richie, he blushes slightly, his eyes widening immediately afterwards, already knowing what's coming...

“But... how's your stepdad doing?”

Richie bitterly regrets continuing the joke when Will kicks his ankle. The kick sends a shock through his entire body.

° Mental note: never piss off the short guy when he's wearing those dress shoes. That shit is hard as hell. °

Richie groans in pain, apologizing and laughing nervously. Will can't resist and also laughs at Richard's sloppy situation. They walked down Waverly PI together, warm in the cold night fog with their hearts even warmer. People still pass by, and Richie wonders how New York never sleeps, everything always seems to be open. ° Better that way, I have more places to go with him at night, ° Richie thinks, brushing his fingers against Will's, giving him a slight shock.

They cross W 10th Street in front of Julius', another old bar frequented by queer people. Richie had never been there, but he knew it from some friends and knew it had great burgers. ° Would he like to have dinner here? ° Richie thinks, and coincidentally Will thinks the same thing, but nothing is said.

Richie had already lost track of the conversation, and Will didn't have anything good to say either. His brain seemed to be shutting down, even though he didn't want it to. A warmer, heavier wind blew past them. Richie decided to be serious for the first time that night:

“Ah, Will...” Richie began, almost like a moan, getting Will's attention. “How was it telling them?” You know, how you found out and how it was to tell your family that you..."

“Like boys?” Will finishes the sentence more quietly, realizing that Richie couldn't finish it. He also prefers not to say the word “gay” because there are some strangers nearby.

Richie looks down, nodding slightly. He seems a little stunned, as if he doesn't want to bring up a subject that might make Will uncomfortable.

“I kind of fell in love with a boy when I was about eleven,” Will pauses, not knowing how to begin. “He was my best friend. I think the big shock that I felt something different than usual for him was when I started to get really jealous when he started dating my sister.”

Richie looks at William — who is staring intently at the horizon — thinking, ° Is he jealous? Only positives...° He smiles. ° Stop it, Richie, focus. °

"I had tried to confess my feelings a few times, but he didn't understand. When I was sixteen, I met Robin, a friend, she was older and dating a woman. She helped me understand that loving wasn't... wrong. At that time, I was also in a vulnerable place, you could say..."

Will pauses as he turns a corner and encounters a group of drunk men — that type. The two quickly distance themselves, without making eye contact. Their minds race and their hearts pound as they see the older men's glances. It wasn't common for some people to see two boys who were so well-groomed and disheveled at the same time walking together in the early hours of the morning. As soon as they walk a few meters, they automatically get closer, as if they need to break the distance, and Will speaks again:

"I was kind of desperate, thinking that everyone would abandon me, so I ended up telling my mom, my siblings, my friends, all at once. It was terrifying. I don't know why I did it, actually, but everyone supported me and welcomed me. My mom and brother always imagined... But they always waited for the right time for me... And you? How was it?"

Richie was so focused on Will's beauty and story that he froze when he asked about him. He let out a weak laugh before the disaster:

“Your story is much better. Don't complain, seriously.” Richie lets out a sound, almost a grunt or a moan, and Will laughs a little nervously. His stomach churns seeing Richie nervous.

“Is it that bad? Were you kicked out of your house? Massacred? Something like that?”

“No, it's just embarrassing,” Richie denies, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses, as if trying to force himself to look at the starry sky.

“How do I start?” Richie asks into the void, smiling, while Will laughs slightly out of curiosity.

“I also fell in love with my straight best friend. But when I saw him dancing with a girl at the school winter dance when I was thirteen, I gave up right away, you could say...”

Will thinks, ° It would have been so much easier if I had also given up when I saw Mike with Jane. I'm an idiot too. ° Will almost stops everything and slaps his forehead in stupidity. But he chooses to continue listening to Richie instead of freaking out.

“My mom must have suffered some trauma when she was young, I think...” Richie says, then immediately justifies himself when he notices Will's concerned look. “Not that she's a bad mom, no! She's loving, cool, but she's just distant. We didn't talk about very serious subjects. My dad...”

“I know. Skip that part,” Will says after noticing Richie's pause, who nods.

They had already talked the other day about their relationships with their biological fathers. About how Richie had lost his father, but that he had influenced him to be rude and distant. And about Will's father, who abandoned him early on, soon after being abusive and aggressive with everyone in the house. Will and Richie promised not to dwell on the subject, for their own good.

“I used to talk shit so my friends wouldn't pay attention to these problems. The first person I told was Beverly, the friend who helped me today, you know?” Richie says, laughing a little when he sees Will roll his eyes. “I used to talk about sex and getting all the women in town when I was little, so my mom got used to that disgusting kid. I had a bunch of women's magazines, which I didn't even open, actually, and then..."

Richie stops suddenly, starting to laugh hard, his knees buckling. Will looks at how silly Richie is being: talking nonsense, laughing with tears in his eyes, his smile so contagious that he starts laughing too.

“Go on, Rich! I'm curious!”

“Okay, calm down, wait.” Richie tried to catch his breath, laughter filling the cold air.

"I was in high school, going home after school. And I come across my mom almost fainting with indignation when she went to clean my room and found my magazines of Johnny Depp posing sexily.

Will's eyes widened when he heard the whole sentence. He imagined skinny Richie, tired from school, coming home to find his mother looking at a magazine with a shirtless Johnny Depp. Will couldn't imagine laughing more that night. Richie's face burned with embarrassment as he remembered the event. But telling someone else about it seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.

“Then she kind of found out, right?” Richie tried to speak, breathless from laughing so hard.

“At least those Johnny magazines were good for something,” Richie said again, not missing the joke, pointing down. Will blushed even more, putting his hand over his face in regret. He cursed himself internally for understanding the joke so quickly and having such a fertile mind. Their stomachs hurt from laughing so hard. Anyone watching would have thought they were two street junkies laughing at the wind.

“Okay, I understand. Johnny Depp is very attractive.” Will tried to speak, composing himself, thinking about the subject.

“Definitely.” Richie agrees. “But not more than me.”

They laugh even more at Richard's ridiculous confidence. They walk a little further, talking about memorable moments in the life of a queer person. Like when Will went to the mall for the first time and came across a lingerie store. When a girl tried to kiss Richie and he froze completely. On the night of the Hawkins winter dance, Will danced awkwardly with a girl. Or the time when all of Richie's friends were admiring Beverly's body and Richie was incredulous and disgusted.

“My mom doesn't quite understand how a kid who only talked about naked women at the dinner table likes to kiss men instead of women.” Richie returns to the subject, putting his right arm around Will's neck. “But I'm sure she'll be more understanding when she meets you, sweetie.”

“So you just want to kiss me and introduce me to your mom?” Will asks, going along with it.

“And that's not much? I mean, we can do more things too, of course,” Richie says indignantly. Will laughs, pushing Richie lightly, who pushes him back.

“My mom will like you too...” Will says thoughtfully, smiling as he imagines the scene, looking at the empty horizon. He arrives home and it seems like everyone has disappeared, probably sensing Jonathan's negative energy and running away.

“Really?” Richie says excitedly, jumping up and down, making Will smile even more.

“If you behave yourself and don't say anything stupid, yes. She'll like you.” Will feels Richie's gaze wilting and stares at him. “Is that too difficult?”

“Yes. But I can try for your mom.” Richie quickly understands Will's absolute silence. “No! Sorry, really, Will. That was unintentional, I swear!” Richie bends down a little, putting his hands together like a begging puppy.

Will immediately loses his angry face, blushes at Richie's bright eyes, smiles and looks away, tells Richie to stop messing around and that he's forgiven. They spot the cluster of cheap apartments that Jonathan miraculously managed to get for the two of them in the middle of the big city. The traditional pizzeria NY Fresh Pizza — located below the apartments — even when closed fills the air with the aroma of pepperoni and oregano. They slow their pace, still smiling like fools for no reason. Sometimes they bump elbows on purpose. Will takes a deep breath and stops in front of Richard.

Richie closes his half-open mouth, focusing his gaze entirely on Will in front of him. Now seeing Will face to face again, he remembers how beautiful he is and looks. His nose red from the cold, brown shadows under his green eyes as bright as the starry sky, the warm air coming out of his lips contrasting with the cold, his curved eyelashes, seemingly soft hair, defined jawline, everything that makes Richie melt completely.

“Erh, Rich...” Will begins, almost like a needy sigh, looking up into his dark, deep eyes. “Thanks for coming with me, for everything really... for the food, for the night...”

Will could go on, but he is interrupted by Tozier's nervous voice:

“I'm the one who should be thanking you, totally. If you want, we can go out tomorrow afternoon, get some ice cream or do something else you want to do..." He fiddled frantically with one of the thin silver necklaces around his neck, trying to speak, or arrange another meeting with Byers, who smiled surreptitiously at his failed attempt.

“I'd love to, Rich, but I have plans.”

He would spend the day at his mother's house on the beach. Jonathan and he would leave early, and he hadn't even packed a bag yet. That was probably why his brother had given him until midnight to get home, to rest. But being with Richie was already a rest for Will. But he would also take advantage of the day to process the events of last night.

Richie immediately begins to justify himself with grumbling after being rejected. Will, already with other plans, interrupts him. They were so nervous, experiencing mini shocks through their bodies that they kept interrupting each other.

“But if you want... I'm free on Sunday afternoon. We can go get ice cream at Scoops Ahoy...”

Richie's eyes regained their sparkle with Will's smile and courage. Seeing that Will really wanted to go out with him made his heart beat even faster. Will's shy and attacking smile made one of his knees buckle, without taking his eyes off Will's. It took Richie a second to process that the boy had stopped talking, and he frantically nodded in acceptance of Will's request.

William smiled more, lowering his gaze when he saw Richie's embarrassment. “Okay, so Sunday at the ice cream shop? At 3 p.m., is that okay?”

“Yes, of course, definitely.” Richie agreed. They both smiled shyly.

“So... I just want to say thanks, Rich. I think I'd better go, and you too, just make sure you don't get lost on your way home.”

“Yes, of course...” Richie stared mesmerized at Will's rosy lips. Will stared at Richie's too. Richie took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Will looked into Richie's eyes, who realized how close he was and immediately lowered his head and feigned a smile:

“Um, yeah, good night then?” Richie was red with embarrassment for accidentally getting so close to Will. He distanced himself, slowly passing Will toward Perry Street.

Will tries to respond to the “good night,” but only an unidentified sound comes out. For a second, time stops, the fragrance of Richie's Obsession for Men perfume fading away, the cold of the night filling him without Richie like ice, his heart racing with the idea that had been lingering in his head for a few days. With clenched fists, he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to muster the courage that comes — as if his heart would only beat again if he did this:

“Richie!”

His pulse quickens as he realizes there's no turning back now, his heart beats like never before, and his legs forget how to work. Richie turns around as if he wants Will to call him. Their eyes meet so quickly, it seems as if they were connected and needed to find each other urgently. Will sees the sparkle in Richie's eyes and finds the strength to take two steps toward him. The space between them shrinks, bringing the heat back.

Richie shares his gaze between Will's eyes and lips as he slowly approaches. It seems that only they exist in the world, the night shops seem empty, no cars pass on the street, nor pedestrians. The night was starry, they were under a yellow streetlight that illuminated them, the nostalgic smell of pizza mixed with the smell of various perfumes in the air, and imaginary fertilizer ran through William and Richard's bodies, ready to help fields of flowers bloom.

Richie's body is completely electrified by the shock of Will's hands on him - Will lightly places his left hand on Richie's warm neck and his right hand fills Richie's left cheek, which is as warm as the back of his neck. Their faces are so close, their eyes fixed on each other's lips and their hearts exploding in their chests. The nerves in Richie's body sent a thousand kinds of messages to his brain, which couldn't process any of them:

° Will? What do we do? Holy shit. Why is his mouth so close? His hand is cold. I think our cheeks are on fire. We're burning up! Do we get closer? Damn, his hair is so beautiful. Grab his waist. No! Put your arms around his shoulders, damn it. Guys, his leg touched ours! Is anyone watching? Are our glasses crooked? Guys, the pressure is rising again. Can your gums feel if your teeth are dirty? Or if you have bad breath? Our mouths are open, just close them. I think we better run away. But I wanted to kiss him, damn it. Shut up! °

Before Richie's inside out characters could collapse, he feels the gentle, soft touch of Will's lips on his warm cheek. It's a long, intentional touch. Wet lips on his burning right cheek. A tulip blooms inside Richie, spreading a sweet scent through his body. Will kissed him on the cheek...

Will pulls away from Richie's face, looking at him lovingly. Richie's eyes sparkled behind his glasses, his lips parted in surprise, grateful that Will was still holding his face, otherwise he would have fallen apart completely.

“Good night, Romeo...” Will whispers, moving away from Richie. He pulls his hands away from Richie and lowers his gaze, ready to walk away. Richie hadn't even blinked or moved. He could have just screwed up and ruined another friendship, and he doesn't dare look Richard in the eye again. He really thought Richie wanted a kiss, but he didn't even react.
Guilt hit William hard. ° Always ruining everything. Always being too deluded. Listening to his heart more than his brain. ° Even with the warm touch on Richie's cheek, everything felt cold without the reciprocal touch...

On the other hand, Richie's heart seemed to send blood throughout his body much faster, wanting to control everything. Like a bare wire ready to explode with electricity. He wanted to kiss Will's sweet lips, but he would wait until Will wanted to. For now, he had that innocent and affectionate touch on his face.

Will, his eyes already burning, holding back tears of something wrong, is abruptly torn from his negative world when Richie's warm hands find his cold skin. He feels long fingers between his neck and hair — messing it up slightly — his thumb rubbing his temple, and a shock of temperature with the warm palm and cold metal rings on the back of his neck. His eyes widened, and he would have to process later how he hadn't fallen to the floor with that. He feels Richie's full lips press firmly against his cheek, his nose brushing against his face and his glasses slipping as usual. Richard did something. Richard returns the adorable touch.

“Good night, my Romeo,” Richie whispers in Will’s ear, smiling. “Again…”

Richie pulls away, making eye contact with Will. Their half-open lips form a shy smile, their robust cheeks blush. Richie caresses Will's neck a little more before moving away. The touch was reciprocated, the dreams were shared, the pasts were similar, the desperate beating of their hearts was rhythmic, the passion was mutual, and the love was long.

Green eyes like refreshing rivers in small towns meet black eyes like shiny rocks around rivers. The tension between them smells like ice water perfume, chocolate milk in bed in the morning, melodies from an out-of-tune guitar, and fresh ink on craft paper. Everything is comforting and new. So comforting that Richie wanted to sink into Will's chest forever, and Will also wanted to sleep in the clouds that were his marked neck. So new that every touch was as if it were the first or last time in his life doing that.

Richie touches Will's fingers, grabbing them. Will soon reciprocates, holding hands. They drag themselves to the entrance of the large building. Will takes a small key from his pocket and opens the box on the wall, giving access to a telephone. Richie watches him closely as he dials a number on the old phone.

"Hello?"

They hear some grumbling that is too loud to be grumbling from the phone. Will grimaces. He hangs up without another word. They look at each other with understanding glances of fear and laugh. A click is heard in the silent night. Richie — being the gentleman that he is — opens the door for Will. He tries not to frown as he struggles to open the old, jammed door.

Before Will can enter, he wraps his arms around Richie's waist, nestling his face against his chest. Richie is a little embarrassed and soon returns the hug. They are so tired that they exchange nothing more than good night, bye, take care, don't get lost, sleep well, and rosy smiles.

When Will finally enters the building, he smiles as if he were the happiest person in the world — or the second happiest. Richie, outside in the cold, manages to walk the streets infecting everyone with his smile. The health of his body, heart, and brain has never been better. His mind is so clouded with all the kinds of flowers blooming inside him that he doesn't even get lost on his way home.

Will enters the apartment, smelling the scent of a shared apartment. His silly face, limp body, and bright eyes meet Jonathan's angry, deep ones.

“Come in now. Go take a shower and go to sleep.”

William gets a few more scoldings from his brother, but nothing can bother him now. His heart pounded with desire when he remembered Richie, who wouldn't leave his mind. Feeling loved — in a romantic way — by someone was magical. Especially since it was Richard Tozier.

And honestly, what could go wrong? Maybe just the first kisses with Richie chattering his teeth on Will's, Mrs. Marge finding a man sleeping in her son's bed one morning, Richie and Will thinking they had scored a date when — because of a lack of clear communication — they had gone to different bars, threats from Jonathan and Hopper, Will buying padlock and key necklaces to ask Richie to be his official boyfriend and Richie doing the same thing at the same time, Richie going to deliver flowers to Will on a Sunday morning and encountering an angry Jonathan, delayed trips to London, and failed recipes in the kitchen. Things so mundane and beautiful that you couldn't even call them horrifying situations.

They were still preparing for such beautiful things as: warm nights by the pool at Will's parents' house, late afternoon walks hand in hand on the beach, graduating from college together, forgetting anniversary dates, babysitting Beverly and Benjamin's brats, cold mornings in London, Richie releasing his first film directed with Bill Denbrough, launches of Will's visual art collections, Lakers basketball games, and therapy sessions with Beverly.

And for you, my lonely reader, when you think that nothing will ever surpass that unrequited teenage crush, remember that you have all the cities in the world to visit, many parties to attend, various college courses to take, many cafes and restaurants to discover, and eight billion people like you scattered around. You may not think you're the best, you may think you're foul-mouthed, nerdy, and weird, but there will be an angel who will make your heart beat faster and call you Romeo — and it's very important that you call him my Romeo back. When his eyes sparkle, it's very likely that you'll believe your nerves and ask him out. When your heart tells you to, go ahead and return the sweet touch. Don't be afraid to love. Confess your feelings, take a weight off your shoulders, and if it's not mutual, it becomes a story to inspire your next love. Everything is worth it, and what doesn't work out becomes poetry. You have many rapid heartbeats to give, many flowers to bloom, many shocks to take, and many failed sighs to let out.

And most importantly:

Give yourself five minutes of tolerance for the love of your life to arrive.