"You look cute," Richie repeated, still squinting, but positive he was right. His glasses -- well, he wasn't sure where he'd put them last, but now wasn't the time for moving. He'd find them later.
Richie was a little groggy still, maybe, but he was up and the fog was clearing slowly and Eddie was talking -- and he was listening, he was. Because he scoffed vaguely at the concept of how he'd feel if someone he didn't know was flirting with Eddie and - well. Richie knew himself well enough to know he would have handled it differently. Maybe more obnoxiously, too, but there wouldn't be any silences from Richie. He'd just butt in and either make friends while staking a claim or uselessly offer to bust some kneecaps. He might have said so, but Eddie was pressing his palm flat in order to stop him touching which only had him touching more and god, if that wasn't distracting. Eddie's skin was cool, the expanse of his thigh long and inviting and Richie wanted to touch more, even if he knew he should stick around mentally for this apology.
But if Eddie had been looking for a heart to heart without lewd thoughts from Richie, he shouldn't have found the kind of shorts that had been the reason for Richie's dick being chafed when he was sixteen. That wasn't fair.
"Oh," he said, momentarily distracted by Eddie's words, tearing his blurry gaze away from that thigh and toward Eddie's face. Fuck, he hated not being able to see anything. "Of course I'm fucking scared." He was always a little scared, always a little hesitant. But he'd promised to try and he wanted to-- wanted to be a version of himself he'd never allowed himself before now. And he wanted it with Eddie. "But who the fuck cares? We deal with it, like we always do. You're brave. And there's no one in this entire place that doesn't have issues, Eds. Just so happens ours match. That's not a bad thing." Whether or not he deserved better wasn't the point, not even remotely.
No one else would get Richie quite the same. No one else on in this town or in the entire damn universe would look at Richie and apologize for not yelling at him. Richie didn't fucking want anyone else, no matter what level of confidence or experience. He wanted Eddie. In those stupid red shorts. Even if he was a dipshit who kissed him on the cheek after professing his love.
"Well," he said, flattening his palm further against Eddie's leg. "Thanks. For the apology. And I'll hold you to it. To trying. Fucking-- talk to me next time? Please." Because Richie wasn't going to get accusing, and he wasn't going to get dramatic about it or even really talk about what had been going through his head - but he hadn't fucking liked it, or himself. Richie was, and always had been, generous and easily forgiving in ways a lot of people weren't. But he was old enough now to know there were some things he wouldn't deal with forever if it was to his own constant detriment. He didn't think Eddie'd be like that, not really, because Eddie knew abuse, was better than that. It wasn't in his nature to be cruel to others for no reason. He'd just been scared. But that wasn't a hall-pass he got to keep forever. Richie was pretty sure Eddie knew it without having to say anything.
"I love you," he murmured, "I'll write you a list why later. Just. Kiss me, Eds. Please."