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If you had asked Will Byers a week ago what he thought his first kiss would be like, he would say he wasn’t sure. He’s a gay teen living in the 1980’s for crying out loud so he wasn’t planning on getting one any time soon.
He had dreams and fantasies of what he wanted his first kiss to be like. Where he’d be, who it’d be with, how it’d feel.
It was usually on the couch in Mike Wheeler’s basement, with his best friend of a little over a decade, and it would feel like jumping into Lover’s Lake on a hot Summer day.
Which is a dream and a fantasy for a reason. Mike isn’t like him. He doesn’t like boys like that. And he kissed his step-sister at the Snow Ball three years ago. She wasn’t his sister at the time but that remains the biggest piece of evidence he has.
His first kiss wouldn’t be with Mike, he made peace with that the moment Dustin blurted out what he saw when that song about stalking an ex or whatever ended.
And since he was a gay teen in Indiana, he wasn’t expecting his first kiss until adulthood. When he’d find out if the rumor about “experimenting” in college was true.
So with that in mind, he’s pretty taken aback when his where, who, and feel questions are answered on a random afternoon in early November of his fourteenth year of living.
The where: on his bed in his bedroom. Not his one in Hawkins, but his new one in Lenora. He’s been a gay teen in California for about two months now. And that was probably a big factor in why this kiss happened years before he thought it would.
The who: Richie Tozier. His only friend in Lenora. He’s loud and crass. He constantly makes jokes, with about eighty five percent of them being sex related. He dresses like a clown on an exotic vacation. And he’s pretty openly bisexual.
They met on the first day of school in the office where Jane and himself were waiting to get their schedules and a map. Will had asked the secretary for his and Jane’s and then Richie stepped in close to him and said, “I’ll have what they’re having, but hold the map, and can you make sure the schedule is freshly printed? I like the feeling of warm paper on my face in the morning. Thanks, dollface.”, while leaning over the counter and grabbing a hard candy from a bowl that wasn’t in reach for students. The secretary closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose before asking for all their names and leaving to fetch them.
Richie immediately turned to them and asked, “You two come here often?” while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the candy swirling around his mouth noisily. And Will looked at Jane, not knowing whether he should even engage with this exclamation point of a person at all.
But then he looked back at him. And he seemed relatively harmless, in an average class clown kind of way. Plus there was also something about him that seemed familiar and comforting somehow.
So he decided to mildly play along and said, “First time. You?”
Then Richie’s blue eyes twinkled behind his black rimmed, Coke bottle glasses. He made a show of thinking they were dirty so he took them off to clean, and when he did that, Will’s breath hitched. How the hell did Mike Wheeler follow him across the country, he briefly thought. The resemblance was almost one-to-one, their noses and lanky bodies were uncannily similar. They were both pale with dark hair, had long fingers, even their lips were close to the same size. The only big difference lay in their jaws, Mike’s was sharper while Richie’s was soft. Why the universe decided to give him a Mike replacement is not something he can think about without getting a headache.
He’d managed to school his face into one of pure neutrality just as Richie placed his glasses back on, completing his comedy bit. Then he said, “Thought I was seeing double there for a second. Let me guess. Cousins?”
“Brother and sister.” Jane differentiated.
Will had to correct her, “Step-brother and sister.”
“Bitchin’.” Richie chimed in, leaning his back against the counter and crossing his arms, “You two could make some decent amateur porn off that dynamic.”
“What does that mean?” Jane innocently asked him in a whisper.
But before Will could respond that he’d tell her later, fully intending not to, Richie ducked down and stage whispered, “It means you could film yourself, with your hot brother over here, having sex and sell it to desperate men for buckoo bucks.”
Will’s face turned red from the secondhand embarrassment. Who could say things like that without even blinking an eye?
“Does ‘buckoo bucks’ mean a lot of money?” Jane asked Will who could only nod silently in reply. She appeared to be thinking about Richie’s inappropriate suggestion until she ultimately shook her head.
“I don’t want to see Will naked. No matter how much money we could get—”
Will barely let her finish her sentence before he started doing damage control, “He wasn’t being serious. Right, guy we just met?”
He gave Richie a pointed look but he already moved on, miming complete shock and uttered, “So last night meant nothing to you, Will?”
“Oh my God, what’s wrong with you?” Will laughed incredulously, more in awe at the audacity of this Mike-clone than truly offended. This guy was gross but didn’t seem like a pervert in the clinical sense.
Richie smiled wide, a real shit eating grin if Will had ever seen one, and leaned against the counter, “So much, my bowl haired friend. So very much.”
Will rolled his eyes and thanked the secretary when she returned with everyone’s papers. He quickly compared his schedule to Jane’s and they only had one class together, P.E., but it wasn’t until after lunch. He made sure to help her find her homeroom on the map before he looked for his. He watched forlornly as she skittered away to the other side of the school.
“You heading my way, stranger?” Richie winked as he sidled up to him.
“Room 108?” Will questioned, betting the odds of them having the same homeroom was close to zero.
But then Richie’s entire face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning and Will dramatically groaned. A small smile of his own creeping in the longer he looked at this guy’s intense excitement.
“It’s kismet! Destiny! Fate! I knew it the moment I saw you, Bowl Cut.”
“My name’s Will.” He tried, feeling his eyes roll of their own accord.
“And I’m Richie.” Richie stuck his hand out like he was seriously waiting for a handshake, and even followed through when Will took the bait. He then opened the office door and held it for Will to walk through first, quickly following behind him with clear intentions to keep the conversation going as they walked to the same classroom. He threw his arm around Will’s shoulders, “But enough about me, Bowl Cut, I want to know everything about my new friend, Will.”
And that was the start of their friendship. It was no swing set on the first day of kindergarten but Richie could never truly measure up to Mike, even if he partially resembled him.
They ended up having three classes together that semester, including homeroom. Will almost had no choice but to lean into this bizarre and unlikely friendship from that day on. He was pretty sure Richie would’ve actually left him alone if he seriously told him too so it’s not like he was held against his will.
He found they had tons in common, like their love of arcades and video games. They also both liked comics. Not similar genres in the slightest but they’d spent a few afternoons lost in the stacks, ribbing each other about their purchases. Richie left a solid friend group behind in his hometown as well. And a boy who stole his heart.
That was by far the biggest similarity they shared. They both liked boys. Richie liked girls too but the fact was they were equally head over heels for a boy they had to leave behind.
Richie’s boy’s name was Eddie. Small, asthmatic, germaphobic, and easily angered to hilarious ends, is how Richie described him. Will had never seen him look so sincere or act so tender before. Even the smile he gave was sweet, teetering on dopily lovesick.
Hearing him talk about Eddie gave Will the courage to tell him about Mike. And when he did, he fully came out to him right there in his bedroom. He said the words out loud. Richie squeezed the life out of him in a bone crushing hug after his slightly teary admission, cheering him on by quietly chanting, “Hip hip, you’re gay!” over and over until Will shoved a pillow in his face.
That conversation happened just a few weeks ago, and everyone in his family had noticed how much closer he and Richie had gotten since. Jane totally thought he and Richie were dating now. She teased him relentlessly about how they interacted with each other. Mostly about all the completely platonic cuddling she caught them doing in his bed semi-regularly.
But his mom liked Richie well enough, more than Mike’s dad tolerated Dustin anyway. Hopper had no idea what to do with a loud mouthed boy he technically couldn’t actually discipline. And Jonathan had his hands full with his own strange new friend, but he smelled like a skunk and was named after a fabric pattern.
That’s who Richie was with at the moment. Argyle had gotten Jonathan into marijuana and they spent most of their afternoons holed up in Jonathan’s room getting high. His brother said it helped him relax and other than the sporadic memory blanks, the drug didn’t affect him negatively so Will looked the other way.
He wasn’t too keen on asking to try it himself but Richie jumped at the chance every time he came over to the house while Argyle was there. Jonathan was a fantastic big brother and role model so he only let Richie do it with them once a week, normally on a Saturday.
And every time Richie returned from Jonathan’s room, he’d smell terrible and turn into mush the second he hit the edge of Will’s bed. He’d slither like a snake from the foot all the way to the head, citing how weed always made his bones feel like jelly. Yet he never had a problem clinging to Will’s body like he was a baby koala.
“Good afternoon, Joey.” Will would say and then Richie would pretend to nurse from him, which tickled but he was never that upset about it.
He really liked how affectionate Richie was. It felt kind of like how he and Mike used to be before puberty happened. The absentminded touches, from a shoulder bump to turning into each other during their sleep when one of them spent the night. Although he and Mike held hands more. Richie never reached for Will’s hand ever.
Today was no exception. Richie clung to Will’s side, one leg tossed over and tangled up in his legs, an arm draped over his stomach, and his head snuggled into the crook of his shoulder. It was a little bit too cold for the window to be fully open but Will didn’t want that nasty weed smell to permeate his room anymore than it already did.
“It’s November and it’s finally getting cold here.” Will observed quietly, skimming his comic book idly.
Richie sat up quickly, bumping into every part of Will’s body he had been touching, and cupped his face with both hands. He stared straight into his eyes without blinking, “I’m not blowing smoke up your amazing ass when I say this: I was thinking the exact. same. thing.” Then he gasped, “Let’s get hitched.”
“It’s illegal, Richie.” Will dropped the comic to pull his friend’s hands off his face.
“So is weed, Willy.” He raised his eyebrows and flicked two finger guns at him, “But look at me go.”
Will rolled his eyes with a smile, “You’re an idiot.”
“But I’m your idiot.” Richie poked him in the nose and then pinched his cheeks.
“Yeah, yeah.” Will swatted his hands away, taking in the state of his annoying friend before scrunching his nose at him, “Lay back down, your eyes go all buggy when you smoke and it freaks me out.”
Instead of following directions, Richie tore his glasses off and flung them to the other side of the bed with a flourish.
“Better?” He vogued at him.
Will just sighed in response.
“Oh, right.” Richie’s tone went from jovial to serious quickly, he bit his bottom lip before commenting, “I’m so fucking glad the only two things you and Eddie have in common are your big eyes and your smokin’ asses.”
“Yeah, so you’ve said.” He replied flatly.
“I fucking love being an ass man.” Richie swooned, changing topics as quickly as he usually did, “Everyone has one!”
“I’m so happy for you.”
Richie’s eyes flashed as he finally acknowledged Will’s tonal shift. He frowned, “Do you want me to put my glasses back on?”
Yes, he wanted to say. The resemblance was still a lot to get used to. He was lucky Richie’s and Mike’s personalities were nothing alike. It made it a little easier to forget they were each other’s doppelgängers.
“No, it’s fine.” He lied, ducking behind his comic to hide his face.
Richie shook his head and chuckled, pulling the comic away to get his full attention, “You know I know it’s not.”
“Yeah, I know you know I know.” Will slumped back down into the bed spread, sticking his tongue out like a child.
Richie pretended like he was going to bite it and then threw his head back and posed like a pin up model, “At least we know you have impeccable taste in men.”
“A small consolation.”
Richie snorted at Will’s deadpan reply and plopped back down, snuggling in closer. His way of saying this branch of the conversation had tapered off. They lay in silence. The only noises were made from Will flipping through the pages and the sad British punk rock music Jonathan listened to that came through the walls, muffled but clear enough for Will to know what song was playing.
“Bowl Cut?” Richie called out quietly, his hand absentmindedly folding a small part of Will’s shirt into an accordion.
Will abandoned his comic next to Richie’s glasses and decided to card his finger through his friend’s hair, “Yeah, Four Eyes?”
“Do you ever wish that you’d fallen in love with someone who could actually love you back?” He said this shyly, completely unlike his usual boisterous demeanor.
The thing about a high Richie Tozier is: he’s philosophical. Definitely not in a worldly way, he’s not contemplating how to end wars or anything, but it’s like the marijuana shuts him up long enough for his brain to actually think before speaking. It’s usually about something unimportant like what he would do if met with a supernatural entity that can take the form of whatever you’re most afraid of.
It’d turn into this giant Paul Bunyan statue from his hometown that he found both terrifying and hot, and taunt him about being a queer. Will’s would just be everyone he loves turning on him when they found out he was gay. But when Richie blew a raspberry and said that wasn’t scary enough, Will placed the monster in the woods at night to appease his stupid friend.
His thoughts never hit this close to home before.
“All the time.” Will replied instantly.
“Me too.” Richie agreed as he folded in on himself.
If Will subscribed to militia propaganda, he’d count Richie as a fellow soldier in the battle of unrequited love. Brothers in arms or something. Instead of a purple heart, they’d get rainbow ones. You can’t get contact high by simply being close to someone who smoked, can you?
“Will?”
“Yeah, Rich?”
He lifted his head up and looked at Will, his bloodshot eyes boring into his soul, “Do you think we could find a way to love each other back?”
Will would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. When Richie told him he liked boys too, it was tempting to fall into something romantic. Finally finding someone like him who incidentally looked almost exactly like the boy he was actually in love with felt serendipitous.
But it also felt too convenient. Too easy. There had to be some kind of catch. And the catch was how blatantly incompatible their personalities were. Richie was the kind of guy you couldn’t help but love, he was the life of the party even if the party only had one guest. He wasn’t exactly boyfriend material in Will’s eyes. And he had the foresight to make note of that before he did something he’d regret.
“I don’t know.” He answered honestly.
“Do you think we could try?”
Richie sat up then, perching on his knees with his heels tucked under himself. Will followed suit, wrapping his arms around his shins as he sat up.
Will took a moment to fully situate himself while he pondered what exactly Richie was asking for.
“What are you trying to say?” He asked tentatively.
“I was just thinking. You’re probably the best person in this whole fucking world. And if the guy you love can’t love you back, then there’s clearly no hope for a pathetic shmuck like me.” Richie shrugged nonchalantly, like he didn’t just end a compliment with the most self-deprecating comment.
Will frowned at that but kept quiet.
Richie played with the hem of his tropical print button up, purposefully not meeting Will’s eyes, “And I mean, I definitely don’t deserve you. You’re like the fucking personification of sunshine. But I know I could love you. I do love you.”
He looked up through his lashes, his smile was small and sad but very real. Richie meant what he said. Then he sighed heavily, “What I’m saying is: Could you love me?”
“Richie…” Will called out softly.
He immediately started waving his hands around dismissively, his cheeks turning red in a shocking show of embarrassment, “It’s stupid, I know. I’m the last guy on anyone’s wet dream wish list but I’d try to do right by you, treat you nicely, I’d even get contacts—!”
Will held a hand out to silence his misguided friend, “You don't need to get contacts, Richie.”
“But I would! If it made it easier for you to love me, I totally would.”
“I already love you.” Will corrected, giving Richie a small smile of his own. “But if we were interested in each other like that, we’d probably already be dating.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Will Byers: the Goddamn voice of reason, everyone.” Richie slumped down and pouted, his face smushed into Will’s pillow.
“What’s gotten into you today?” Will asked while playing with Richie’s hair again.
He turned his face out to talk, “I don’t want to be in love with Eddie anymore. It hurts too fucking much.”
“So you want to get over him by dating me?” Will asked incredulously.
Richie glared at him, “It’s called being proactive, Bowl Cut.”
“It’s actually called running away from your emotions, Four Eyes.”
“Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.” Richie rolled to his back and waved a hand dismissively, tucking the other behind his head.
Will stared down at his friend with undisguised pity, he’s practically legally blind so thankfully he won’t notice. Richie settled a hand on his stomach, his fingers tapping out rhythmically like they would if he was in an arcade, and kept his gaze directed at the ceiling.
It would make life a lot easier if they were into each other and not hopelessly in love with their straight best friends. It’d probably be really nice to have their feelings be reciprocated for a change. And maybe if they’d met sooner, it’d be possible.
Will repositioned his body so he lay on his stomach, propping himself up with his forearms. He pressed their limbs together for comfort and to get Richie’s attention.
“I don’t want to be in love with Mike either.” Will confessed. “But the truth is, I am.”
Richie merely glanced his way for a second before turning back to the ceiling with his lips pressed in a thin line.
Will fiddled with the end of his blanket and sheet but continued on with his thought, “I think unrequited love is something every queer kid has to go through. It’s our very own badge of honor.”
“Well I don’t fucking want it.” Richie spat out vehemently.
Will huffed out a half laugh, half sigh, abandoning his fidgeting for turning to fully face Richie. He lay his head on his friend’s shoulder and wrapped his arm around his middle. Their hands made no move to hold the other’s, even though they were only an inch apart.
“We’ll be okay in the end, you know.” Will finally said.
“You know I know you know.” Richie teased quietly but he didn’t have his usual playful tone.
After a few moments of pointed silence, Richie’s stomach rumbled loudly. And even though weed makes him generally contemplative, he’s still A.) high, and B.) Richie Tozier.
“Señor Stomach says it’s time for tex mex.” He informed Will, then he placed both hands on his stomach and squished it like he was making it talk, giving it a terrible Spanish accent, “It is tex mex o’clock, el niños!”
Will rolled off of Richie and slid off the bed just in time for a full view of his puppeteering performance. He was going for an unamused look but ended up genuinely laughing because that’s what always happens with Richie’s normal jokes.
With a giant grin, he slapped his glasses back on and crawled off the bed gracelessly. As they reached the bedroom door Richie immediately stopped them and crouched forward in front of Will, his arms held behind him like you would if you were expecting to piggyback someone.
“Quick! Get on, my liege! I shall run us to libations!”
Will’s heart squeezed hearing the medieval words, thinking only of Mike and trying not to feel disappointed that the boy crouched in front of him wasn’t him. He scoffed indignantly, “I’m not doing that.”
“Scared I’ll get horny from having your dick slap against my back the whole way?” Richie peered back, the mischievous glint in his eyes crushing any kind of yearning Will had felt by those words.
Will’s jaw dropped, shaking his head disappointedly as he walked past him to leave the room, “Beep, beep, Richard.”
“Oof. That actually sent a chill down my spine just now.” Richie scurried after him through the door, “You sure you’re not magic?”
“Positive. You’re just experiencing mild PTSD from childhood.” Will joked.
“That’s an understatement.”
Will knocked on Jane’s bedroom door to collect her on their way through the house before leaving, like he did every time they made their trek to Taco Bell. She didn’t hang out with him when Richie was over anymore. Not that she did all that much in the past, but she made a point to not do it after the first time she saw them cuddling. Now her Saturdays were for writing letters to their friends back home. Max and Dustin got one every week while Lucas got one every month or so. Mike never sent her any kind of letter in the first place so she didn’t feel bad about leaving him out.
She also received weekly calls from both Max and Dustin, telling him to say hi but only letting him to actually talk to Max for longer than that. He had to wrestle the phone out of her grasp by the third time she refused to hand it over when Dustin called, he’s one of his best friends after all. But she continued to stand there, anxiously waiting to get the phone back, so Will kept it short and sweet. Even though he desperately wanted to hear a familiar voice at the time, it wasn’t the voice he really wanted to hear so he ultimately relented.
Will tried not to be too upset that Mike rarely called. The phone worked both ways and he could pick up and dial just as easily, but part of him thought hearing his voice directly into his ear would be too overwhelming to fully survive. He had called Lucas a few times since the move and he always volunteered information about how everyone was, including Mike, so it wasn’t like he was deep in the dark about him. But their letters were vague, streams of consciousness jumbles that rarely touched on anything life related so he ate the crumbs he was given.
On their walk, Richie would run ahead and then return like a talking boomerang. Jane kept trying to get Will to admit they were dating when he was far enough away, which he adamantly shut down only for her to roll her eyes.
Richie scarfed down his abundant amount of food quicker than a starved animal. It freed his mouth up to ask even more deep questions, like why McDonald’s had a place for kids to play but Taco Bell didn’t. And how they should combine fast food places with arcades. He nearly fell out of his chair when Will reminded him about the existence of Chuck E. Cheese.
When they returned home, Jane went straight to the kitchen, probably to call Max, and he and Richie retreated back to his room for his friend’s post munchie meal nap. But when Will turned around after closing the door, Richie was wide awake and almost vibrating with energy.
He jumped straight into it before Will could comment on his energy shift, “Okay, so I know dating’s off the table. But I’ve thought of the most perfect counter offer: we kiss.”
Will narrowed his eyes and laughed nervously, “You just said we decided not to date!”
“But kissing isn’t dating.” Richie argued, stepping into Will’s space like he was sharing a conspiracy theory.
“You want us to kiss but not date?” Will clarified, enunciating every syllable so he was sure Richie heard every word.
He nodded vigorously in reply which caused Will to shake his head back at him. When he finally noticed, he took Will’s arm and walked them to the bed, sitting them both down on the edge. He brought a leg up so he was fully facing Will.
“Right, okay, stay with me here.” Richie held his hands out and cleared his throat, “You like boys. I like boys. You haven’t had your first kiss yet. And neither have I, unless you count all the times I fucked your mom.”
“Um, beep, beep?” Will tried weakly.
“Noted.” He acknowledged, “Anyway, I know you want your first kiss to be special because you’re a fucking romantic. Whereas I don’t necessarily care one way or the other, but it’d be nice to get a kiss before I die. Still with me?”
“Um, sure.”
“So I think we should have our first kisses with each other. That way I get to kiss the second cutest boy I’ve ever seen and you’ll get to say you had your first kiss with someone who gives a shit about you.”
Richie’s eyebrows lifted up and he smiled expectantly, proudly holding eye contact while he awaited Will’s thoughts on his suggestion.
Will had to look away, electing to watch his fingers play with the cuffs of his flannel. Suddenly, it makes sense to have actual control over your own future. He didn’t want his first kiss to happen during some fraternity party where the guy would be too drunk to remember and surely ignore him after. He didn’t want it to happen in the bathroom of a club with a stranger double his age. He’d really rather share his first kiss with someone who wanted the same things as he did.
They don’t want each other, but they can’t have who they really want, so this might be the next best thing.
“Okay.” He answered finally.
Richie breathed in like he was about to argue but then let most of it out before stuttering, “W-wait, really?”
“Yeah.” Will smiled wide and felt his eyes crinkle at the edges, his voice coming out light and feathery, “I mean, I trust you. I love you. And I do want my first kiss to matter and mean something.”
“Fuck yeah!” Richie celebrated quizzically, nodding his head continuously, “Okay, great!”
Neither of them leaned forward for a few moments, though, so Will cleared his throat, “Now, right?”
“Uh, yeah, totally!” Richie stammered, stretching his arms and cracking his neck. He shook his hands out like he did backstage before his cue and then asked, “So do you wanna do this standing? Or- or we should do it on the bed, right? I think we—”
“Richie?” Will tried, scooting back on the bedspread while his friend nervously rambled.
“—should but not like, on the edge. We should move into the middle—”
“Hey, babe?” Will called teasingly.
“Yes, dear?” Richie immediately answered, turning to see him better.
“Come here.”
“Okay.”
Richie quickly crawled onto the bed, nearly head butting Will with how fast he was moving. They shared a chuckle and Richie mumbled out a small, “Sorry. It’s my first time.”
Will leaned back on his hands to dodge his clumsy friend and attempted to cut the tension, “Crawling up a bed?”
Richie nodded, moving the rest of the way on his knees and sitting on his heels when he got close enough, “To get to a guy so I can kiss him? Uh, yeah.”
They were laughing softly as they leaned in, but then their lips met, and the laughter immediately stopped. Richie’s lips were warm and dry, not as soft as Will imagined lips would feel but it did give him butterflies. It was nice to know that he enjoyed kissing boys, regardless of his lack of romantic attraction towards his loud friend.
Richie’s hands lightly clapped down onto the side of Will’s face so Will placed his hands in Richie’s waist. He felt a tongue poke at the seam of his lips so he opened his mouth for Richie to slip his inside. He tasted like mild Taco Bell hot sauce with an undercurrent of weed and Will had to fight through the general weirdness of what they were doing. He chose to focus on experimenting with what his own tongue could accomplish during their kiss.
Will concentrated on all the sensations he was experiencing. The warmth that pooled in his belly, the tingling that flowed through his body from head to toe, the hot breath blowing out of both their noses as they remained lip locked, the soft noises coming from their throats whenever one of them did something the other enjoyed.
Kissing was fun. He really wanted to try it while sitting in a lap, straddling a pair of thighs so it was easier to go further if desired. That sounded like even more fun. And he was a second away from suggesting they do that when Richie pulled back, gasping and shuddering for breath. But it wasn’t from the lack of oxygen.
When Will opened his eyes, he was met with a crying Richie in front of him, blubbering out an incoherent apology about how much of an idiot he was.
“Woah, hey, what just happened?” Will whispered, bringing his hands to Richie’s shoulders. He waited a moment to allow his friend to answer and when he didn’t, Will gasped, “Am I bad at this?”
The joke landed and Richie chuckled but his tears never stopped flowing. He sniffed, “You’re fine. Great, even. I’m just pathetic.”
“No, you’re not, Richie.” Will patted his arms soothingly.
He scoffed loudly, hiccuping halfway through his outburst, “I’m fucking crying because even though kissing you took me to fucking Boner Town, you’re not him! Fucking fuck me, right?”
Will frowned, watching Richie wipe the tears from his cheeks and sniff up the mucus threatening to come out. He guided his friend to lay down on top of him and held him close. His hands rubbed over his back soothingly.
“I’m sorry I’m not Eddie.” He nuzzled his cheek into Richie’s head.
“I’ll fucking survive, I guess.” Richie sounded superficially put out about it, like he was in a restaurant and ordered a steak but got a salad instead. Then he continued, quieter, “Sorry I’m not Mike.”
“It’s okay.” Will admonished almost immediately.
Richie choked out a watery laugh, “Yeah, I can tell by the fact that you’re not crying about it like a goddamn fucking loser!”
Will scoffed then sighed, “It’s only because I don’t let myself feel as strongly as I used to. I, um, I guess you could say I’ve made myself numb to my feelings.”
Richie blew out a low whistle, “Damn, Byers.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You know I know you know.”
That was the last thing either of them said for the rest of the afternoon. They laughed weakly at their inside joke and then held each other on Will’s bed in silence. Richie continued sniffling softly and Will felt a tear or two roll out the sides of his eyes but ultimately ignored them.
His first kiss is definitely memorable. He’s grateful to Richie for suggesting they give them to each other. The next best thing is still a “best thing”. The lesser degree didn’t negate its overall quality, Will thought.
Who knows when and where his next kiss will happen, or who it’ll even be with, but he’s glad his first one was with a friend.