Much, much later, Eddie would have time to process everything that led up to finding himself in an alternate dimension with his best friend's hand clutched in his white-knuckled grip. Descending into the lair of an ancient, demonic evil. Meeting ITs brethren that used human children as vessels. Befriending said spidery creatures. Killing their eldritch horror of a leader. None of that had really settled in his mind yet. He hadn't allowed it to. There were far more important things to be focusing on: like getting his friends to safety, which meant cramming into Bill's garage like they were thirteen again, each of them taking turns showering and being looked over by Eddie, who insisted he evaluate their injuries and patch everyone up. Some were worse than others, like the fucking clown bite on his arm, but everyone was alive. He tried to keep telling himself that if only to stop his hands from shaking when Bev stitched his wound and Eddie administered the others more antibiotic ointment. Perhaps it was because, after everything, he was still running on nothing more than pure adrenaline that his first reaction to ending up in an alternate dimension was fear. But for him, fear almost always translated into anger.
Like a cornered animal, Eddie bared his teeth, barking out a sharp, "Stay the FUCK away from us." He pushed Richie slightly behind him, too, and brandished a—yes, that was a broken metal fence post—in his hand like a rapier. Not that he had any idea how to actually use one, but it seemed sufficiently threatening enough. Like hell he was going to let anyone near his best friend when he had no idea what was happening or where their other friends were. Except … there wasn't anyone actually around. Eddie just didn't realize it. He was shaking too badly, his breathing coming out in wheezy, too-sharp gasps, like he couldn't quite catch his breath. He tried to remind himself to breathe, to focus, but his brain only seemed capable of a cold, detached sense of utter terror washing over him. You're panicking, Eds, he thought. Of course he fucking was. He was a coward. That's what cowards did.
All he could do was use his barbed, bitten-off threats. "I swear to God, don't test me. Don't FUCKING test me!" he snarled through gritted teeth, then added a broken, wavering, "Where's the damn clown?" Because it had to be Pennywise. And since Eddie was shorter than all his friends (next to Richie, he'd seem even shorter), height wasn't his advantage—his words were. He used that now in hopes of buying them time, and inched toward the door to their left. He'd spotted it earlier, and he led them there now as best he could, one hand still gripping Richie's painfully tight while the other was occupied with his makeshift weapon.
"Are you okay?" Eddie hissed at his best friend, not daring to look over his shoulder at him. He just needed to know he was safe.
Stomach still flipping and tying itself in knots, Richie had felt lightheaded but ecstatic in some unnameable way, though all of it was still overshadowed by a trembling terror that he just couldn’t shake. Way back in middle school, the last place Richie ever thought he’d go to again was that stinking fucking sewer and he didn’t think he would ever have to face that living nightmare again. But they had. The Losers had descended back into that cocoon and they had stared down horrors, teamed up with those walking, living nightmares and put an end to that crawling, spider-like bitch once and for all. His mind had been racing but his body was numb and he didn’t feel any of the things that Eddie was doing in his fussing over him and the rest of the gang. Richie could feel the waves of lingering fear and anxiety rolling off of his best friend, but he’d stayed quiet, speechless for once, and just let Eddie work out that nervous energy in a productive way. He’d planned on talking to him later that night, when it was just them and he could maybe hold Eddie’s hand and not in the knuckle-clenching, painful way they had clung to each other before.
But of fucking course it wasn’t over.
Or at least, that was what Richie had thought when he blinked some kind of dust out of his eyes and saw that he wasn’t inside Bill’s garage with the sounds of Stan and Ben and Beverly trying to get Mike to stop hooting and hollering. Just a few seconds ago, Richie had been rolling his eyes at his friends and now he and Eddie were fucking who even knew where. It wasn’t as dark, creepy or abandoned as the old, rotting house and it wasn’t the sewer or the lair underneath, but it wasn’t Bill’s house. It almost sounded like there was noise coming from outside, but Richie could barely hear over the wild beating of his heart in his ears and the sound of Eddie shouting at nothing.
Right about now, Richie wished that he still had that stupid barbed wire-wrapped bat that he’d threatened those possessed whatevers down in the sewer with. It would have at least been more intimidating than a fucking fence post. Still, Richie was just as convinced this was some kind of trick and he wasn’t just going to stand behind Eddie and balk like some kind of an idiot. As he reached down to pick up a hefty looking rock, he noticed a pair of animals sitting close to them and he stared at them before jumping and falling flat on his ass at the sound of a voice coming from one of them softly in greeting.
“Eddie, the fucking rabbit just talked to me,” he sputtered, darting for the rock again and gripping it tightly. Reaching up and shaking his best friend, Richie was suddenly more focused on the fact that an animal just said hello to him. “Eddie.” Richie’s voice had risen in pitch awkwardly, almost cracking like when he was still going through puberty, but he didn’t have time to be embarrassed by that. Instead he was reaching for Eddie’s hand and trying to pull him back away from the hare and the…. ferret? “Eddie shut up for a second, it just said fucking hi to me.”
Eddie didn't hesitate. Before he'd even processed the fact that more animals were talking (because Pennywise had most certainly been a talking animal, as were the cluster of spider aliens they'd befriended), he was rounding on the two woodland creatures and pointing his fence post. "Alright, you jumped up Disney fucks," Eddie snapped, a wild look in his brown eyes. They cowered, and for a brief moment, he felt—guilty? Eddie tried to shake that off, clutching his weapon tighter. "What's your deal? Where's Bill and the others?" Frightened as he was, Richie's hand clutching his own was like an anchor. They were alive, and like every other horror they'd faced, they would make it through this one too because they were together. That's how it worked. He believed that. Even if he maybe startled pretty badly when the ferret tried to venture closer, sniffing the air between them. She reared back too, and for a long moment, they stared, as if sizing each other up.
"I'm Joan," the ferret said.
Eddie blinked. Then blinked again, lowering his fence post a little. It wasn't just his empathy that tugged at his heart in that moment, although that was certainly part of it. He'd thought to speak to and reason with The Children back in the sewers because of this: a deep, profound instinct toward kindness that his mother had never managed to completely rip from him. But he also felt ... connected to these animals somehow, and that scared him. A lot. "Eddie," he managed anyway, his own voice cracking this time. Joan—smiled? And nudged the hare sitting next to her, which sent a warm, pleasant shock up Eddie's spine at the touch. "What the fuck," he hissed, finally risking a glance at Richie to see how he was handling all of this. He squeezed his best friend's hand again, as much offering comfort as he was seeking it. But he couldn't take his eyes off their unusual companions for long. If nothing else, he was breathing a little easier now. Less gasping, but still too fast.
Joan cleared her throat to get their attention, and Eddie's eyes snapped back to her. "We're you," she enthused, voice filled with excitement and hope. Then the ferret raised up on her hind legs and did a little ... wiggle dance? "—okay, that's. Kind of cute," Eddie admitted, reluctant despite the stirring in his heart that confirmed her theory. She was him. Somehow. God, he was getting such a headache. "We didn't just get indoctrinated into the spider space hivemind, did we?" Eddie asked weakly.
"No!" Another wiggle.
Eddie frowned. "Are you fucking dancing right now?"
"Yes!"
"Oh my god."
Talking animals was weird but not the weirdest and Richie almost laughed but he was so scared it got stuck in his throat and he coughed. He snorted at Eddie’s exclamation only to immediately feel a vice grip around his heart when the animals shrunk back from the threat and the waving fence post. Despite its obvious trepidation though, the hare perked up a little, crowding the little ferret like it was ready to take a whack from the makeshift weapon while holding Richie’s eyes. Maybe that was the weirdest part, because Richie felt like he was looking at himself just then, and not in the way he’d seen that possessed, zombified version of himself in the sewers. This was just like looking in a mirror except it was a rabbit looking back at him and not his own stupid face.
Vaguely aware of the little ferret scooting closer out of the corner of his eye, Richie’s whole attention, for once, was just focused on the rabbit. With two little hops, she approached though kept a wary eye on Eddie, her tiny nose twitching. “We didn’t see anyone else. Except for us,” she vocalised, “We’d have known if the rest of the Losers were here. Maybe. But they’re not. It’s just us.” She sat back on her haunches then, the hare tipped her head to the side as she focused back on Richie. “I’m Elara.”
Elara wasn’t as perky as Joan seemed to be, and she definitely wasn’t doing any little dances but she spoke confidently even though she rambled just like Richie tended to always, especially when nervous.
“What the fuck,” Richie whispered.
“Is that a new nickname?”
A beat. “Did you just… did the rabbit just sass me?”
“I’m a hare actually.”
Speechless again, Richie just stared at the creature, slack-jawed. The more they talked, the more that Richie could sense that connection, like he was just talking with the voice inside his head. That little nudge sent a spark of some kind of weirdly intimate feeling through Richie and he held onto Eddie’s hand tighter. Catching Eddie’s gaze, all Richie could do was shrug his shoulders and offer a half laugh of total confusion as he squeezed Eddie’s hand back. None of this made any fucking sense but Richie didn’t feel that same bone-deep dread he had when they’d talked to those spiderlike children.
Still, Richie was worried about Eddie and it seemed like Elara did too. “Hey, don’t make me kiss you to stop you from hyperventilating,” Richie joked, glancing away from the two animals though he didn’t completely miss the way that Elara turned to look at Joan. “Wait, you’re us?” Eyebrows knitting together, Richie wasn’t sure how to process the fact that his intuition was right for once. “Jesus fuck that’s adorable. She’s cute, just like you Eds.” Richie laughed, but he wasn’t mocking them, just the same gentle teasing he always leveled on his friend. Teasing, with a healthy amount of honesty in there too, because Richie really did think Eddie was cute.
“I don’t think the hivemind would want us,” the hare shot back and Richie just blinked before losing it again.
“They’re definitely us.”
Eddie only started to really relax when Elara began speaking, but then, that sort of made sense. He so rarely trusted his own instincts—constantly assessing and reassessing situations. If these animals were tied to them somehow, it was Richie's consistency and warmth that brought him comfort, not his own instincts. And then the hare was sassing his best friend, which drew a helpless little laugh from Eddie. It felt really fucking good to let out some of his nervous energy that way, and he smirked a bit at Richie before focusing his attention on Elara again. "She's cool," he decided, charmed despite his lingering fear. "Even if this is a trick." The fence post was still clutched in his free hand, though, and he didn't back down from where he stood slightly in front of Richie, but it was something. But Eddie continued to tremble, mostly from residual stress. He'd be utterly exhausted later. Would his life ever slow the fuck down for half a minute?
It was about to, apparently. His anxiety completely forgotten, Eddie stared at Richie as if he'd grown three heads, Don't make me kiss you playing on loop over and over in his head. Was he serious? Did something like that even work for panic attacks? Had Richie thought about kissing him before? His heart pounded in his ears while Eddie attempted to sort through the sudden onslaught of questions in his head, struggling to come up with a response. Something. Anything. "How—" he croaked, then cleared his throat, voice still wavering. "How would that help?" It wasn't a no. Jesus. Fuck. It wasn't a no. What the hell was he even doing? Did he want his best friend to kiss him? Did said best friend even remember when Eddie had kissed him that one time they were barely fourteen and Richie was having a nightmare? He'd been so desperate to help him that he could only think of how Ben had saved Bev from the Deadlights. So he'd—he'd—
Turning five shades of red, Eddie quickly looked away, scowling. "I'm not fucking cute," he snapped just as Joan cut in with, "You're cute too!" Eddie looked horrified and shot the ferret a look that could curdle milk. "Can you not?" Joan just wiggled again, and he threw his head back and groaned. Still, as frustrated and embarrassed as he was, Eddie could feel himself relaxing more and more. Whatever these creatures were, they weren't here to hurt them. Probably.
"Maybe yours is. I don't know so much about mine," Eddie muttered, though Elara's smartmouth comment did make his mouth twitch a little in amusement. He shifted to lean some of his weight against Richie, feeling shaky and exhausted in the wake of all that adrenaline finally starting to leave him. "Alright. I'll bite. If you can tell it's just us here, where is here?" In the meantime, Joan inched closer, but Eddie stiffened. She made an unhappy noise. He tried not to feel guilty all over again. It was impossible. Her eyes were so sad, but he was still scared, dammit.
Completely out of his depth, Richie didn’t even know if he had instincts to really trust. He wasn’t good in a crisis, locking up a lot and depending on the others — on Eddie — to keep him focused, and now was no different. Richie’s reaction to being under pressure was to either throw up, run away or both, but he couldn’t run because he couldn’t leave Eddie. His best friend was his source of confidence, was the reason Richie had any strength at all. For Eddie, Richie would face a million spider alien fucks or a whole herd of weird talking animals, because Eddie was his most important thing and he wasn’t going anywhere.
Richie smiled a little when Eddie laughed, shoulders slumping a little as he exhaled some of the stress he was feeling. “They’re both cool,” he corrected, squinting a little at the little ferret to see her in the dim light of the room, still wiggling. Richie couldn’t help but notice a warm little feeling bloom inside of him when he looked at Joan, because she really was cute. Just like Eddie.
Seeing Eddie almost shivering, Richie dropped the rock he was still gripping with white knuckles to just wrap his arms around his best friend. He knew he wasn’t cold because Eddie didn’t feel cold, but Richie hoped that the hug helped with whatever he was feeling.
“It could work,” Richie insisted, red faced, when Eddie stared at him. Thoroughly embarrassed and wishing he could take the words back, Richie tried to find a real justification for what he’d said, just in case Eddie was getting weirded out by it. They’d kissed before, way back when they were younger, and they hadn’t acted weird about it, but Richie thought about it a lot, Like a lot. Because Richie wanted to kiss him a lot. “It could like… reset your brain or something. Like a shock. I don’t know.” Richie’s voice got quieter when he spoke next. “Or it could work like when you kissed me after my nightmare. Like a cure or something. I don’t know. Forget it.” Richie felt his ears burning and he stepped away from Eddie a little, but he still reached out for his hand. Even when he felt like disappearing into himself, Richie still reached out for Eddie and he probably always would.
“You are,” Elara repeated, looking between Richie and Eddie and Joan with her ears perked up.
Richie’s face felt like it was on fire now. “What’s wrong with being cute?” He risked a look at Eddie just as Joan exclaimed that he was cute too. “I’m like a giraffe on roller skates. I’m not.” He never felt like he was attractive. Not like the rest of the Losers. Not like Eddie, who he thought was more than cute now.
“No, I can definitely see you in there,” Richie insisted. Of all the stress he was feeling, none of it was attached to the two animals. They didn’t seem dangerous, and none of the tricks that clown had used had ever lasted this long before getting all twisted and terrifying. When Eddie leaned against him, Richie did his best to support him with an arm around him again.
At the question, Elara’s ears flattened against her head. “I don’t know. I only know as much as you guys do. I peeked under the door but I couldn’t really see anything. Sorry.”
Watching Joan try to get closer, only to freeze, Richie couldn’t help but feel bad for her and for them. He could feel Eddie go rigid and he held onto him more, trying to tell Eddie that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. Richie wasn’t good at actually saying stuff like that, stuff like I’m here for you okay, so he trying to express it through his body.
Elara didn’t make any move to get closer to him like Joan tried with Eddie, but instead hopped closer to the ferret and pressed against her side as if she was trying to protect her like Richie was trying to protect Eddie.
He felt infinitely better the moment Richie wrapped his arms around him, and Eddie finally, finally dropped the damn fence post if only so he could hug him back. For a moment, he just squeezed his best friend tight and buried his face into his chest. This was what he needed—what he always needed, really, but was too riddled with anxiety to ask for. They constantly found ways to invade each other's spaces, though, and for that he was eternally grateful. Richie seemed so fearless about these things compared to him, but then, they'd never really talked about it. Eddie was too terrified to bring it up, like if he mentioned all the touching it would suddenly stop. That wasn't something he could bear.
But then, miraculously, Richie was talking about kissing him, and Eddie felt lightheaded his heart started beating so fast. "Get your ass back here," he said sharply, tugging Richie back the moment he tried to pull away. His stomach flipped. What was he doing? "It's not a bad idea, I just ... didn't expect it," he continued, far more conviction in his voice than he really felt. False bravado. He could totally do this. But did he want to?
Eddie swallowed hard, consent on the tip of his tongue, heart beating wildly, except they were arguing about who was and wasn't cute, and his brain honestly felt too scrambled to really make sense of it all. "Goddammit, Rich," he hissed, irritable and—okay, so maybe he was flustered. "What the hell do you have against giraffes? They're cute. You're just being mean." To yourself, he almost said, but it was always easier to cloak affection with cutting words. Even if he really did wish he could tell Richie he thought he was cute. And funny. And kind.
He exhaled a shaky sigh. "It's okay," he told Elara, softening just a bit. It gave Eddie time to take in their surroundings, which were ... cramped? "I think we're in a closet," he said, mystified. "Or some, like, storage room." Still gripping Richie's hand, Eddie took a step or two further inside, glancing around the few shelves and lockers that surrounded them. Weird, but they were definitely alone. His eyes flicked back to the talking animals, who were huddled together like they were, then to Richie, hesitant for a second before he blurted out, "Okay. Let's see if your idea works." Because he sure as hell wasn't backing down now that the suggestion was on the table. It might actually work, besides. Hadn't it for his best friend when they were still barely teenagers? Eddie tipped his chin up and gazed at Richie with a mixture of challenge and something else in his eyes. Something warm, and a little hesitant, and—God, he was hopeful.
"Kiss me." What the fuck.
If Richie wasn’t so focused on his best friend, he probably would have jumped at the loud clang of the fence post dropping to the floor. But he didn’t hear it, because Eddie had all his attention and he clung tighter when his best friend’s arms wound around him in return. They definitely made excuses to touch each other, Richie guilty of it just as much as Eddie was, but he always wished he didn’t have to. Richie wanted to be able to hug Eddie or flop down across his lap or sling his arm around him and lean in without having to come up with some perfectly imperfect reason. He didn’t though, because he was afraid it would end too and Richie didn’t want it to end.
“I’m not a boomerang, dumbass,” Richie answered though he let himself be pulled back in. And it was his own fault he was pulling away. He’d panicked, but Eddie didn’t seem weirded out by his suggestion, by his offer to kiss him. Richie didn’t know how to process that, actually. Eddie could have been humoring him, waiting for him to play it off like some kind of stupid your mom joke but it didn’t feel like it? “I don’t know. I thought it could like… stall out your brain and then you’d be able to breathe normally again.” There he went, justifying a touch just like always. Part of it was genuine though, Richie somehow really thinking that a kiss could hit the pause button on a panic attack and all he ever wanted to do was to help stop Eddie from being pulled under by those. And then part of it was just… because Richie wanted to kiss him.
Flinching a little, Richie felt his cheeks burning as he softened that reaction with a laugh. “Have you ever seen a newborn giraffe? Those things look stupid. Sorry for offending your favorite animal apparently.” It was a lot easier to joke about something and deflect the idea of Eddie thinking he was cute because if he misinterpreted that, it would only end up hurting.
Richie decided to actually look around them too when Eddie did, though he didn’t really have any brilliant insight to where they were either. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe we’re in a school? There’s a stack of books on the shelf over here but I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of this one?” Not that Richie was really a reader. Well, he was, but not really the kind that they made him read in school. When Eddie moved, Richie did too, holding his hand tight and staying close by. Not that it was hard to do in the cramped space they were in, but Richie was admittedly crowded closer than was probably considered normal.
He was still trying to make out shapes in the dim room when Eddie turned to him and brought up the kissing thing again to his surprise. Richie blinked at him for a second or maybe a hundred before the words actually clicked in his head. “Okay,” he replied then, trying to sound like his heart wasn’t in his throat, beating rapidly in its apparent attempt to escape through his mouth.
With one hand still in Eddie’s and the other on his friend’s shoulder, Richie leaned in and pressed a timid and innocent kiss to Eddie’s lips.
"Then stop moving away," Eddie muttered, sounding annoyed. He wasn't actually angry, though. He never was with Richie. How could he be? It was just—against the best friend code of conduct. Or something. Eddie closed his eyes for a second or two and savored the warmth from that hug for as long as he could. Eventually, he knew they would have to let go of each other and crack a joke and start bickering again, but right now, right here, he could have this. They could have this. Not that Eddie really understood what This (and it was capitalized in his head) really was. It had been making him feel jittery and warm ever since those awful nightmares started and sleepovers officially became a thing. Maybe they were too old to be climbing into bed with each other now, all knobby knees and gangly legs, but it felt nice, dammit. And they had so few nice things in a town like Derry.
The comment about his brain stalling out earned an eyeroll on principle. "I'm not a fucking car," Eddie grumbled without any heat behind it. But the more he thought about it, the more pleasant it sounded. He might not be feeling quite as bad as he'd been only moments ago, but that didn't mean he wasn't still trembling, traces of fear and suspicion still clinging to him like the spidery, rotted fingers of the zombie-like creature back in Neibolt.
Eddie was broken out of his thoughts when Joan made an unhappy sound. "It's not our favorite animal. We think you're c—"
"HEY. Peanut gallery. Shut up."
Joan perked up. "But it's true! You should tell him." His glare was severe, but the ferret simply continued gazing at him with a hopeful, puppy-eyed look Eddie wouldn't recognize because he'd never actually seen it in use. It was the one he tried whenever he wanted to get Richie to do something. "It's okay," she added, softer now, and he felt his whole face turn red. "He won't think it's weird."
"Oh, are we speaking for Rich now?" Eddie bristled, and rounded on his best friend next, flustered and embarrassed and desperate to play it off. "Can you believe this? First she's me, now she's you." Somehow, Joan didn't seem affected at all. If anything, she just waved cheerfully when the two humans looked in their direction again. Eddie felt his eye twitch. It made absolutely no sense that they had been standing in Bill's garage only minutes ago and now they were talking to Disney side character rejects in some, "Fucking rich-ass prep school, probably," which he muttered under his breath. If this wasn't a trick from that demonic clown, what the fuck could it be? The other spiders having a fun time?
His breathing had started to pick up again. Eddie grimaced, rubbing his chest. This really wasn't good. He'd work himself into a panic and that would worry Richie and dammit, he was so tired of feeling terrified. All of this was supposed to have ended when they killed Pennywise. This, too, was rather typical of Eddie: getting so caught up in his anxieties that he didn't notice Richie's internal debate. That's why he looked so surprised when his best friend actually agreed to kiss him. What? Eddie held very, very still while Richie leaned in, not moving an inch when his best friend did just that. He did, however, inhale sharply through his nose, a riot of butterflies taking flight in his stomach. It was like an electric shock to his system, all heat and shivery and incredible, and he was already forgetting his stress.
Five years. They hadn't done this in five whole years. Why did they stop again? Eddie couldn't remember—not that he was capable of thinking about anything right now. He just tilted his head to the side and pushed up off his heels, steadying himself with a hand on Richie's arm so he could press into that waiting mouth. The kiss was still innocent, and inexperienced, but God did it feel good. So. It was working. This was definitely anti-stress magic.
“I can do what I want,” Richie countered, but he wasn’t even thinking of moving away, despite trying to sound annoyed too. “Bossy.” But Richie never really had a problem with Eddie’s micromanaging because he never really saw it that way. He might have joked about it, but he always too willingly complied. Like now, holding his best friend tightly in a hug and not wanting to let go. Because eventually they’d pull apart and Richie would inevitably say something stupid and then overthink and obsess about This later (because it was also part of that capitalized Thing they had that neither of them talked about). Richie was always afraid to talk about it because he wanted to hold onto it forever, and they were definitely passed the age where squeezing together on one bed was probably normal, and the nervous and jittery but warm feeling inside of him whenever Eddie was around was definitely implying more than friendship.
Richie shrugged off Eddie’s dismissal and tried to backpedal a little. “It was just an idea. Never mind. I’ll keep my anti-panic kiss to myself then.” This close to his best friend and with his arms still around him, Richie could feel that he was still shaking and he was afraid he wasn’t helping. Maybe the hug was a stupid selfish thing that Eddie was just tolerating. Because, of course, Richie always sold himself short and he didn’t see that Eddie was shaking less, just that it hadn’t stopped, and he felt like he failed.
In his chest, Richie’s heart started racing as Joan talked and even Elara perked up again but Eddie cut her off and Richie swallowed hard around the lump in his throat.
Watching Eddie and Joan argue, Richie immediately recognized that kicked puppy look that she used on him because Eddie used it all the time when he tried to convince Richie to do stuff. A lot of the time, it actually worked though it couldn’t get him to quit smoking. Actually, for pretty much everything but his nicotine addiction, that looked worked and Richie’d even put out cigarettes to not expose Eddie to secondhand smoke.
There wasn’t anything Richie wouldn’t do for Eddie.
“I mean, I can,” Elara piped in, looking at Eddie. “And Joan’s right.” And as that implication clicked in Richie’s head, he flushed and turned his face away from his best friend in case something obvious was written all over it. Something like I wouldn’t think it’s weird because I like you. The hare seemed to pick up on what he was feeling and she bounded into his line of sight. “Maybe you should say something too.”
Instead, Richie latched onto Eddie’s grumbled comment. “I bet everyone has one of those dumb sweatervests with the school’s logo on them.” Even as he was joking though, Richie just wished he could make some kind of fucking sense out of all of this. Part of him expected he’d just wake up on the floor of Bill’s garage and they’d tell him that he’d passed out or something and this was just a weird dream. But Eddie was here too and he didn’t feel like a dream. Richie would know — he dreamed about Eddie all the time.
When Eddie started to look physically uncomfortable, Richie’s heart squeeze painfully and he reached out to touch him, to grip Eddie’s arms, hoping that somehow he could get through to him. Richie couldn’t remember the last time Eddie’d had a full out panic attack, but he could remember how he felt seeing it. He felt panicked too, and it hurt like he had sympathy pains or something, just like now.
But then they were kissing again, Eddie was leaning in and Richie did too. It wasn’t a perfect kiss, not in a technical sense, but it was perfect to Richie. The last time they kissed was when they were barely fourteen and Richie really hoped that the next time didn’t take another five years. Not that he had much brainpower to think about that because he was totally focused on this. Later, he’d stress out a little about this kiss and what it meant, but right now, he was pretty stress-free too and he wanted this kiss to last as long as it could.
Eddie knew perfectly well that he could be pushy. Like, really pushy. And sometimes it worried him. He didn't want to behave like his mother did—overbearing, controlling, manipulative. Her love had always been conditional, her affection rationed and weaponized like a tool. It was a balancing act, then, to make sure he didn't let his anxiety cloud his judgment, and Eddie knew he didn't always succeed in that. It's why he appreciated his friends calling him out whenever he crossed a line. And he would always, always back off in those instances and reassess whether he was helping or hurting. The Losers had fairly open communication amongst each other despite being awkward teenagers. None of them wanted to become like the rest of the adults in Derry, after all.
I can do what I want. Eddie's stomach twisted, uneasy and uncertain. But Richie wasn't moving away, so that meant he didn't mind. Right? He watched his best friend very carefully for any signs that he might be uncomfortable, tentatively pleased when he couldn't find any. "I'm thinking about it, asshole," he grumbled into Richie's shirt, grateful for the fact that his best friend couldn't see how horribly flushed he was.
Later—much, much later—Eddie would think about the strange little exchange between the four of them. It was quickly dismissed when Richie and Eddie began trying to figure out where they'd ended up, but Elara's Maybe you should say something too stuck in Eddie's mind for a long time after. He'd be sneaking glances at his best friend, heart fluttering, trying to untangle his own feelings while he attempted to puzzle out Richie's. What did Elara want him to say? And was it the same thing Joan was trying to get him to confess? They were so awful at talking about their feelings. But if they did, would they lose everything?
He was about to point out fancy private schools usually made you iron your uniforms, or at least, that's what a transfer student told him once, but Richie was holding his arm, and looking at him, and Eddie forgot about laundry. He forgot about his stress. It was a little like suddenly being caught in headlights: Richie's eyes were so bright, and he always seemed to notice everything about Eddie, even the stuff he tried to hide. Like always, his heart raced, and his stomach gave a funny little flip. He almost didn't believe they were actually kissing until a moment too late, but then his brain turned off. Uh oh.
Eddie made a soft noise and reached up—blindly—to grasp the back of Richie's neck. He wanted to make sure he wasn't stooping over too much, but he also wanted to touch him, because it seemed imperative in this moment. Something to ground him and make this real before he had to pull away. But he wasn't. Stop, Eddie struggled to tell himself despite kissing Richie again. You can't do this. Oh, it felt wonderful, though, thrilling and electrifying and gentle all at once. He was still careful about it, but only barely, already getting lost in the taste of his friend's lips each time he pressed in closer.
If he’d known what Eddie was thinking, Richie would have told him that he’d never thought his best friend was pushy or bossy. Or anything like his mom. Maybe Eddie didn’t say things nicely, but when he piped up and said something, it was because he was looking out for whoever he was talking to, and Richie never had a problem with Eddie telling him what to do. Richie would follow Eddie anywhere and do anything for him, and that kinda thing wasn’t conditional. It was all wrapped up in these feelings Richie had for Eddie, those feelings he didn’t know how to express or even if he should, but he showed them in little ways because he couldn’t not. They just sort of leaked out because those feelings were so great, it was impossible for him to contain them anymore. He tried to, but he couldn’t hold them all in like he might have when they were younger. Or maybe it was because he hadn’t really known what these feelings were back then and now that he did, they grew too big for him to control.
Either way, he had them and he didn’t want to extinguish them. That Richie knew one-hundred percent.
“Well think faster then,” Richie shot back, though he was smirking. There wasn’t an expiration date on his offer, but he was still trying to play it off, just in case it was going too far. Ever since Richie’d figured out that he was in love with Eddie, he wasn’t sure what was too far anymore and he didn’t want to create a rift between them by crossing a line he shouldn’t have. Richie was always afraid of stumbling over that line and losing his best friend. It kept him up at night sometimes when he was curled up in bed with Eddie, wondering if they were supposed to outgrow this kind of thing, if Eddie would outgrow it and start wanting to share a bed with a girlfriend or something and not his stupid, gangly best friend. Just that thought hurt and Richie tried not to think about it, worried it would show up on his face.
In the back if his mind, all the words spoken in this stupid little closet were swirling around, eating at him. Richie wished he could have listened to Elara and said something. He wished that Eddie hadn’t interrupted whatever Joan had tried to say. Maybe if one of those things happened, this squeezing, breathless feeling that was gripping him would go away and Richie could finally stop wondering about if he was alone in what he felt. Even if Eddie didn’t like him that way, at least then it would like closure. Richie didn’t think his feelings would go away, but at least then he’d know. That had to be better than pining forever without being certain.
Though the kiss was rapidly making it impossible for RIchie to think about anything other than Eddie’s lips against his, just as soft as he remembered and warm. The hand on his neck and the noise his best friend made did something funny to Richie’s insides, melting them like a candle and he felt flushed as he leaned in a little more, pressing closer and wishing he knew how to kiss better because he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get another one.
Richie didn’t want to be the one to break the kiss so he didn’t, instead moving his hand to cradle Eddie’s jaw as he pressed in more, trying to emulate something he saw in a movie and hoping it wasn’t as awkward as he felt it was.
Eddie was, admittedly, way behind the curve when it came to recognizing what his feelings meant. He was always too caught up in a hundred other things that stressed him out to really focus on the nebulous storm of emotions that surfaced whenever Richie cracked a joke or smiled at him or fuck, just looked at Eddie. But then, maybe he'd been using some of that to ignore what was happening between them—changing. Because it was definitely changing whether they wanted it to or not. That's what getting older meant, and although Eddie didn't realize it, he felt similar anxiety over Richie finding someone else to spend all his time with. Stan had said it first back during that summer from hell, about how none of their parents had stayed friends with the people they met back in middle school. The Losers Club did, though. They were still going strong. Could they continue that? Would they always be together? Eddie swallowed hard and looked away. He didn't want to think about any of that right now. It wasn't really productive anyway, given the fact that Richie was still holding on to him and—suggesting they kiss.
God, he really couldn't imagine his life without his best friend in it. He didn't want to. And he definitely didn't want to deal with the thing Joan was trying to get him to say out loud. So the kiss made for a very nice distraction, and yes, they were both completely inexperienced (and a little voice in the back of his head whispered maybe they could practice), it didn't matter. It was perfect. Achingly perfect because it was Richie, even with his glasses kind of getting in the way and their noses bumping at one point and Eddie might have giggled a little too, nervous, before he got the hang of it. Then it was nothing but utterly blissful, warmth flooding through him like hot cocoa during a cold winter morning.
It was a long, long moment before he realized their daemons were crowded by the door. And, um. Talking to someone. Eddie broke away from Richie reluctantly, flustered as all hell but smiling a bit, hesitant, reaching to give his friend's hand a squeeze. "It worked," he said, breathless, barely able to get his tongue to cooperate after that. "Um. Thanks." Understatement of the century. Eddie glanced at Richie's mouth for a second, then his eyes, before managing to tear himself away so he could demand answers from whoever was coming to meet them. At least he kept the fence post on the floor.