Chapter 9: part 1

Richie's earliest memory, was he thinks, his mom and his dad taking him to the playground during December. It was some random day, before Christmas, he can't remember how old he was, or if he could even talk by then. But he did remember, the way it was so cold, that no other kids were at the park but him.

He had just gotten back from the dentist. He was told how lucky he was that his father was his own doctor. But he didn't really know, his gums still hurt, and he still didn't like it there.

So they took him to the park, as a reward.

The sun felt nice, but he couldn't enjoy it fully, because his nose felt like it might freeze off, and the air that escaped his lips would be steamy. He kind of liked the effect though, made him feel like he was smoking, trying desperately to mimic his parents.

His tiny hand was being held by his mother's, he was wearing a winter coat that was far too big on him, and she was in some kind of sweater. It looked itchy and uncomfortable. He reached out and ran his hand over the material to see. It was.

But most of all, he distinctly remembers how his mom looked with the sun peaking through her hair, like little strands of light sculpting her face. She smiled at him and lifted him up to the slide, letting him sit on the cold metal.

He gripped her hand tight, scared he might get hurt, but she just pressed a kiss to his chin, and pushed him down.

In retrospect, going down a 3 foot slide should be by all means, safe. But Richie had absolutely freaked out, and stuck his feet out, causing him to jam his heals into the bottom of the slide and flip out of it, landing on his face in the wood chips.

He could hear his mother and father quickly run up to him, his dads strong arms lifting him off the ground. They both looked at him with worried eyes, looking over his small frame for  possible injuries.

They watched him, waiting, then, he smiled. Big, wide, lopsided and goofy.

"I want to do it again!" He laughed hard, causing his tiny body to bounce.

And the worried expression on his parents faces were replaced with amusement just as quickly, until they were also laughing, heads falling back. They walked him back over to the slide, placing him down again.

The second time he was able to get it right, he clapped, proud with himself.

And when they smiled at him, Richie thought that, that is what love looked like.

His prospective on life definitely changed over the years however.

Richie sat in his room, having previously cleaned it up a bit yesterday, because he knew he would have company. He shoved his now growing collection of Play Girl magazines under his mattress, his cheeks flushed with the distant memory of how he was able acquire them.

"So you are getting this for your girlfriend?" The guy asked, looking Richie up and down as if he didn't believe some awkward, scrawny, coke bottle glasses kid could ever get a girl.

"Yeah. We are trying to spice it up a bit. You know how it is with the ladies, always looking for more ya know?" Richie gapes, rubbing the back of his neck and trying his best to avoid eye contact. The dude was in his early 20's probably, and only agreed the get Richie the magazines from the store if he gave him a few extra bucks.

The guy eyebrows raised slightly, and he let out a laugh of disbelief. "Jesus, kids these days." But none the less, the guy got Richie the magazines, these ones. A lot more. Graphic.

He was curious, and it wasn't like he could get any other jack off material from anywhere else. Thinking about Eddie's legs can only get you so far.

The guy hands him over, Richie's now prized homoerotic laminated spank bank, and watches Richie, with a questioning gaze, like he was trying to connect the dots. Instead, he says, "you owe me for what I had to pay."

Richie frowns, "dude what do you think? I got a million bucks?"

"It was 3.49$ pay up kid or your girlfriend isn't gonna get her mags."

Richie groaned, reaching into his pocket and getting the last of his money. Whatever. In the end. It would be worth it. And as the guy walked away, Richie glared daggers at the back of his head. If Richie did have a million bucks, he'd have his army of deer trample that guy to death.
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It would be a week until school would have to start: and two weeks after his first kiss with Eddie. It wasn't like he was counting or anything, but he was pretty sure, it would also be his last at this rate.

In a ironic turn of events, Eddie was the one avoiding Richie like he had small pox.

It made him worry, but that was a understatement. He cried and complained to Stan and Beverley, his babbling was incoherent, and all they did was roll their eyes, assuring him everything would be okay.

Today, he would test that theory. Because Eddie was coming over, finally coming over. He had used the excuse that he was sick to avoid everyone, but you can only hide for so long from the losers before someone calls you out. That person was Stan, yelling at Eddie, quote: "I don't care if this is some weird gay mating ritual, but if I have to deal with Richie's depressed ass for another week, I won't be able to prepare for the first week of high school, and you know I need. Everything. Prepared. And. Organized. Go talk to him, so he can leave my house."

Or that's at least how Beverley said he said it.

Eddie would arrive at noon, but Richie was so excited he got up early at 6 am, taking a shower, already picking what outfit to wear, brushing his teeth thoroughly, doing his hair and spraying himself in way too much Cologne.

And he finished all of that, by 7 am.

So there he was, sitting on his bed, looking at his watch, checking every 5 minutes as if time would speed up just for him, for the remanding 5 hours.

Eddie didn't even arrive until 30 minutes after noon. But that didn't matter, when Richie heard the door open downstairs, and then the light foot steps coming up the stairs, he quickly fixed his hair one last time, and then grabbed a comic book next to his desk, opening it to a random page and pretending he was reading.

Eddie opens the door slowly, peering in and looking to Richie. He smiles soft, and steps in, gently pushing the door shut behind him.

"Sorry I'm a little late. Did I make you wait too long?"

Richie finally moves his gaze from the comic, up to Eddie, he isn't wearing shorts, (which is a bummer) but instead some jeans, and a shirt that was way too small for him, (thank you Mrs. K) He gulped and shook his head, "nah? I didn't even notice. I forgot you were even coming." He tries for nonchalant but it more comes out as pained.

Eddie frowns, but still moves to sit next to Richie on the bed, like always. Except its different, Richie's heart starts slamming like pots and pans on his rib cage.

Being so close to Eddie after having kissed him, even if it was a few weeks ago, felt like he just snorted a entire boot of cocaine.

He was buzzing, and wanted to grab everything, mainly Eddie's hand, but controlled himself.

But even with the new weight between them, it still felt, in the end, the same. Richie guesses because maybe there was always something between them, even in the very start. But now? The cats out of the bag, and the cat is screaming, waking up the whole town, and demanding someone pet it.

Eddie is first to speak. "Whatcha reading?" He asks, leaning closer. What was Richie reading? He closes the comic slightly, just to look at the cover, and instantly recognizes the issue. Number 220, 'A Coffin for Spider-Man!' One of his favorite.

He flips back to the front page, and allowed Eddie to read with him. They each trade turns reading out loud for each character's speech bubble, Richie making exuberant voices for each villain, because Eddie had demanded to voice Spiderman.

It was cozy, limbs tangled together, faces squished up against each other's cheeks, flipping each page, reading all the way through to the end.

It was nice, but Richie was still twitchy, trying calm his nerves. He reaches for a cigarette pack, grabbing one and watching Eddie cringe at it. But he knew he couldn't say anything, this was Richie's room. He remembered the one time he tried smoking in Eddie's, it involved Eddie screeching at him for hours, and almost setting off the fire alarm, Eddie didn't let him come back for months.

He lights the cig, taking a deep inhale, and blowing it out of his nose. It calmed him, it really did, but at the same time, holding it, looking down at the flaming red tip made his hands begin to tremble.

His eyes flickered, just for a brief second to the second cigarette burn on his arm next to the first. Like he thought, it didn't stop. His mom had bought him some more long sleeved shirts though, knowing he was going to start school soon. They didn't want any CPS knocking on their door anytime soon.

And he knows Eddie notices him staring at the little cancer stick, looking anxious, and like he might vomit.

Hey, but look on the bright side huh? Maybe a little bit of trauma can help a guy out with quitting smoking? Though he doesn't think they will start implementing that technique at any addiction AA meetings.

'So, you snort crack cocaine off strippers asses, and shoot up heroin? Might I prescribe getting physically abused by your family?'

'Thanks doc! But I'm pretty sure my daddy issues are the reason why I started Crystal meth in the first place.'

Eddie takes the cigarette away from Richie, easily swiping it from between Richie's fingers as he was lost in thought.

"You do realize how bad these are for you right?" Eddie sneers, looking from between Richie and the cigarette.

Or, you could say, looking between two fags.

The audience boo's. Damn. Harsh crowd.

"The amount of health issues alone? You and Bev need to stop. It's not just cancer. Oh no." He fidgets with it, waving it around as he spoke, "You two nerds are now at a higher risk of stroke and brain damage. Not to mention eye cataracts, macular degeneration, yellowing of whites of eyes. Your teeth could fall out! Heart disease, Fertility problems. Risk of pregnancy complications. Risk of type 2 diabetes. Weakened immune systems!"

"Damn I would hate for my pregnancy to be anymore complicated then it will have to be. I was looking forward to motherhood, I heard you glow after giving birth, and I'm not about to pass up on the chance to look like a walking disco-ball."

"Obviously for that one, I was talking about Bev." Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

"Still, the point is, this is dangerous." He points at the cigarette, eyes big and concerned, looking like a mix of either being doe'd eyed or on the brink of death.

"Yeah. But being dangerous, is cool." Richie reply's lamely, taking another hit from the cigarette, while it was still tightly pinched between Eddie's fingers, making a show of it, never breaking eye contact as he did.

Eddie's eyes follow his movements, watching his lips wrap around the end of it in defiance, and blow the smoke out at the side of his head.

"Fine then I'll try it." Eddie mumbles out quickly, turning the cigarette to put it to his lips.

Richie pauses, staring at Eddie like he had grown two heads. He tilted his head to the side, tapping his ear like maybe he had some type of alien stuck in there, distorting Eddie's words.

"What now?" Richie babbles, gripping Eddie's knees as he brought the cigarette close to his mouth.

"You heard what I said. I'm going to try it."

Richie still feels like maybe he is dreaming, or is in some alternate universe, or maybe this is a prank, trying to see if Richie can be a good influence. He obviously isn't though, when Eddie puts it between his lips.

"Didn't you just lecture me about the health issues? What if something bad happens to you? I don't want you to like, i don't know. Get that stuff you listed. It's fine if I get it. But you?"

"Well now you know how it feels." Eddie eyes him, with a sad glare. "Plus. Like you said, it's cool." He mocks, finally taking a deep inhale.

At first, it seems Eddie takes it actually really well, blowing out the smoke, eyes only watering a little bit at the corners, and then, he is coughing.

Coughing so fucking hard Richie is afraid his lungs might fling out of his tiny body, and into Richie's lap. Richie quickly moves to firmly pat Eddie's back, trying his best to help him out as he wheezes and groans, voice sounding completely wrecked.

The coughing fit lasts for almost a whole minute while rummaging through his pockets,  finding his inhaler. He takes three large puffs, trying to catch his breathe, desperate to breath in clean air.

Richie watches him, feeling a pain in his chest, and then looks back at the cigarette, still lit, and so tempting. Instead, he puts it out on his bed post, and throws the other half in the garbage.

Then he turns and looks at Eddie, trying to figure out what to say.

Before he can even think though, Eddie, very slowly, offers him, his inhaler. Richie looks down still it, Eddie's tight grip on the plastic, finger on top of the canister, ready to press down and give Richie some in return.

Eddie breaths, slow and soft, "it helps. Maybe it will help you." He sounds so sincere and genuine it almost breaks him. "It's better then cigarettes."

At the time, Richie didn't really understand the magnitude of what Eddie's home life was like, and how that, this inhaler, did nothing but serve as a coping mechanism rather then actually serving any medical function. He didn't understand that, Eddie desperately wanted, needed, to be able to share this crippling part of him with someone. But he would learn, in time.

Richie leans forward, wrapping his mouth around the mouth piece without hesitation, and hits it.

It doesn't really taste like anything, but it does puff some air into his mouth. He watched as Eddie pulls it away straight from his mouth, and then back into his own. A indirect kiss.

They are inches away from each other, eyes never breaking from one another, as Eddie takes another puff, and presses the inhaler back into Richie's lips, this time his eyes daring to move to look at said lips. Richie accepts another puff.

"Yeah." Richie whispers when Eddie pulls the inhaler down, never moving his own face away from Richie's. "Maybe it does help." He hums, almost basically against Eddie's lips. They are so close, it makes him feel dizzy.

And then they kiss. It's quick, yet so soft and dreaming. It's like a peck, and then they pull away.

Richie can't help the smile stretching over his cheeks, Eddie following suit, smiling ever so slightly. They just sit there, staring, inhaler between them, smiling at each other like two crazy people.

Their happy bliss only last for a few moments however, when Eddie frowns, and Richie's heart drops to his stomach.

Did he do something wrong?

"Richie..." he says, in the kind of tone someone uses when they feel pity for him.

Oh god no. This must be a joke.

No, it isn't a joke. The only joke here, is you. And you're stupid feelings. Quickly, try to deflect by telling a crude joke, smother your emotions with humor and all will go back to normal. If you try hard enough, to you laugh about it enough, if you ignore it long enough, you can pretend you never felt a thing.

"Hey. I get it Eds" Richie comes in, voice easy and natural.

"I wouldn't want to kiss me either. I mean common, I'm not no Cary Elwes. I could maybe pass as some junky wannabe hipster version of Dr. Emmet Brown, but who's would wanna be anything other then best friends with a disgraced nuclear physicist."

Eddie stares at him, like he was stupid. Which, in Eddie's defense, Richie usually was.

"Richie I'm being serious. And no. It's not you. God no it's not you." He says, voice cracking at the honesty. He sounds so vulnerable and sad, that it makes the jokes in Richie's throat die out.

For once, he listens.

"Eds. If it isn't me. Then—?"

"It's not you it's me."

"Wow, haven't heard that one before, did you have to say the most cliche thing? I know you wanna let me down easy, but using a line like that on me is just insult to injury."

Eddie growls, like literally growls in frustration. "I'm being serious here Rich." He pinches his nose, brows knitting together.

He takes in a deep breath, composing himself the best he can. "Rich. I. I know how you feel about me. And I'm okay with it. Let me clarify, I'm not uncomfortable with it, and it doesn't make me think differently of you."

He cards a hand through Richie's hair, eyes gentle and touch even more so, like he was touching something so delegate it might fall apart in his hands. Richie thinks he might, just from the sad look in Eddie's eyes.

"And I do care about you. And I do have these feelings, about boys. And maybe you. Probably you. But. I'm just. It's, it's so much. And I'm just..." he searches for the words, voice becoming tiny.

"Confused?" Richie offers, and Eddie nods. He understands, god he understands.

He guesses he didn't think about this. Richie had a few years of denial, and questioning, and some time to process and accept who he was.

But Eddie? Eddie, out of all the other losers, even Richie, was specifically bullied for being gay. Targeted even. Because he was so high maintenance, overly clean and very heavily opinionated. And all that other stupid ass stereotypes. He must have been horrified to know that, in the end, unfortunately, it was true.

He was so enraptured in not being, well.

Sick.

Unclean.

Or ill in anyway. And in a place like Derry? You best believe homosexuality is associated to all of that, and then some. Not to mention, the AIDS epidemic is at its highest as of now.

That might freak someone like Eddie out.

That's Richie's theory at least. But it also could just be, that Eddie was a late bloomer, and that he personally needs more time. To figure himself out and his feelings.

That's Eddie's theory at least.

"I just. I don't know how to feel about it. I'm confused, and I don't know if I like it."

"You didn't like to kiss?" Richie's eyes almost pop out of his head, as regret and remorse fill him. Had he forced Eddie into those kisses? Was he a terrible friend?

"Did you hate it??" Oh no.

"No!" Eddie quickly reassures, reaching to intertwine their hands. "I didn't hate it either I just. It's. Confusing. I had just came out to myself that very day. I didn't even know I felt that way. I had never thought about it, until after you came out during the slumber party. I didn't even hit me, until the movie was halfway through. So this is a lot of development I wasn't really prepared for."

Richie physically relaxes.

"Eds." He smiles, watching Eddie's tense shoulders, "I completely understand." He coo'd.

"I'm sorry. I just. I need time." Eddie adds, and Richie nods. "All my 13 years of life, I had my mother plan everything out for me. The kind of girl I would marry, what kind of house I would have, how many children I'd have. And now I just feel like all of that has been uprooted, and everything I've ever known, is now. Just. I don't know!" He rests his face in his hands.

"I understand." Richie answers honestly.

"And, I just, I need to also figure out my feelings, not just about you, but about boys in general, about everything about me. What it means about me. And how I act. And just. Ugh. Everything."

"I understand."

"And I'm just. So overwhelmed and it's just—"

"I understand." Richie smiles, "god I understand Eddie spaghetti. And you know what? You have me. Someone who is dealing with the same exact experience. So. If we ever need to trade notes, talk about it. We have each other."

Eddie pauses, eyes meeting Richie's, as a small smile, slowly slinks over his lips. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" He whispers, and this time it's Richie reaching out to comb a hand through the other boy's hair.

"Kill a demon clown?"

Eddie laughs slightly, and it fills Richie with so much warmth he feels like he might burst at the seams.

"The kisses won't ruin our friendship right?" Eddie asks, leaning into Richie's touch.

Well he didn't think the conversation would go to this so quickly.

"Nah. I also kissed Beverly and Bill, so really, we can just see those kisses as the same thing. Friends helping friends. They helped me figure out my sexuality, it's all just what bro's do for each other you know?"

Homies helping out homies.

Dudes being dudes.

Just buddies taking care of buddies.

Eddie hums in thought. "So.... if I kiss you. It can be considered as you helping me out?"

Richie grins. He very, very much likes this idea. "Oh yeah, of course. Totally."

Of course the difference was, he only ever kissed the other two for a few seconds. But with Eddie? He could kiss him for days and never get tired. Of course Eddie didn't need to know that.

"Okay. Well. I don't think I'm ready to do that yet." Richie frowns slightly, but his hopes hang onto the word 'yet.'

"It's okay. Take your time. All the time you need. I don't want to rush you, or push you or anything. I know. How it feels. You know. And god, if I have to wait, to kiss you, I'll wait till the end of time Eds."

He can see the dusty pink blush on Eddie's cheeks and the top of his ears.

"Thank you." Eddie says, finally laying his head on Richie's chest. Richie could die happy from just being able to hold Eddie like this, let alone the silent promise between them that maybe, at some point in the foreseeable future, they could become make out buddies. But knowing Eddie, that could be a year, or even two. But Richie really is willing to wait, for as long as he has to, until Eddie was sure of his feeling.

He wraps his arms around Eddie, inhaling his intoxicating smell. He knows, that no matter what, the most important thing is Eddie's feelings, and how he is coping and handling all of this. And well, even Richie was still figuring things out, trying to push back any of the last bits of self hate and internalized hate towards being gay.

They both had a long way to go, and a lot to figure out. But that was part of growing up. At least they had each other. So as their fingers interlock, Richie know, for Eddie, he really would wait for him, for 10. 15. 20. Maybe even 27 years if he had to.

And he kept that promise too. For longer then both of them even could even imagine.