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Richie and Eddie were reclining on the yellow sofa. The day had been a fairly bland one so far; but they were tired, or perhaps just bored, and couldn’t be bothered to do much other than sit there for the time being. It was strange for them both to be in such a quiet mood, but nothing unpleasant was afoot. They simply had nothing to talk about, not even themselves. Everything about this day was so unremarkable; neither was motivated to do much of anything, but neither was miserable either. Perhaps it was just a strange sort of peace.
Out of the blue, Richie realized how close he and Eddie were to each other - in fact, Eddie’s head was on his shoulder. He wondered how this had come to be, and how he hadn’t noticed it happening. There was something so obnoxious about Eddie, something so grating about being near him - or at least, there usually was. Yet somehow in their silent, somewhat dazed sitting, Eddie’s head had made its way to his shoulder, and Richie hadn’t bothered to do anything about it.
He supposed he didn’t mind.
Eddie had been aware of the head-shoulder situation for longer, though he didn’t feel totally responsible for it. He was sure, although he too hadn’t really noticed, that it was Richie who had scooted so close to him. His head had felt heavy, and resting it on a human seemed a lot more inviting than his previous state of letting his head droop in one direction or another onto nothing. If Richie was going to get so close, why not use his shoulder as a pillow?
Richie stared blankly ahead, wondering if he ought to be doing something else. But what was he supposed to do? And why bother getting up now, anyway? It was actually rather nice sitting here with Eddie. As long as they were doing this, his minder would probably refrain from saying or doing stupid, annoying things and being otherwise bothersome. So he stayed right where he was, wondering why this sort of thing hadn’t happened before and, though he’d hate to admit it, hoping it would happen again. There was just something so beautiful going on, how quiet it was, how unproblematic life felt at the moment, how content he supposed Eddie must feel with his head on his shoulder…
Richie grimaced a bit at his own train of thought. It was getting a little… slushy. He had disturbed himself enough to try moving his arm a little, not sure what his aim was. He just didn’t want to be in the exact same position that he had been when such a sappy-seeming thought occurred to him. He ended up with his arm draped over the back of the couch at a mildly awkward angle, since Eddie’s head shifted onto the front part of his shoulder, thus continuing to rob him of total freedom over his joints.
Eddie wiggled around for a moment, trying to get comfortable again now that his newfound headrest had moved. He was still silent, not communicating with Richie - not for lack of wanting, but simply for lack of need. He didn’t have to bother starting a whole conversation simply because he was less comfy than he was a second ago. After a few seconds, he was contented again and got back to sitting still, doing practically nothing but thinking.
But as if things weren’t unusual enough, what with the serenity of the place and how much the two men were secretly enjoying their close proximity to each other, Richie found his hand (on the arm that he had draped over the back of the sofa) reaching for Eddie’s head. Without even thinking about it, he started to stroke Eddie’s hair. He realized after a minute what he was doing, but this time he didn’t feel grossed out by himself. He didn’t feel inclined to stop unless Eddie objected to it, but it didn’t look like he would anytime soon.
With his eyes closed, it almost seemed like Eddie was asleep, though in truth he was very conscious, albeit serene. When he had awoken that morning, he hadn’t expected to later be sitting on the sofa so close to Richie, letting him run his fingers through his hair. But unexpected as it was, it was pleasant. He felt like a cat. Which was almost funny, he thought, since the word “cat” was in his last name. Despite it only being so amusing, he chuckled a bit to himself, just a quiet sort of “Hmmhmm.”
It was enough for Richie to notice, and he said the first word either of them had said in over an hour. “What?”
He wished he could take that one word back. He’d loved this moment, but actually speaking out loud felt like he was acknowledging it in a different way. His voice had been as soft as Eddie’s laughter, and it was just one harmless word. The aura of the room hadn’t changed at all yet. But he was terribly afraid that he’d shattered the tranquility. Or that Eddie might if he were to respond.
Eddie didn’t want to try to explain the cause of the chuckle and make himself look stupid. Plus, he too feared that conversation might ruin whatever wonderful thing was going on. But it would have been cruel to completely leave Richie hanging, so he mumbled, “Nothing,” and refocused his attention on the way Richie’s hand felt on his head. He was glad that even with the brief “interruption” of his laughter and the ensuing two-word dialogue, Richie hadn’t ceased to pet his noggin.
As they carried on, they both came to be grateful for the brief exchange of words. Somehow it made it more real, harder to forget, and both Richie and Eddie thought to themselves that that was probably a good thing. Who would want to forget a circumstance so delightful?
Eddie marveled at it. He and Richie, essentially cuddling on the couch. It seemed like such an outlandish concept. Richie was a self-obsessed, unsavory bastard - hardly cuddle buddy material. But there was something about him that kept Eddie around, something he truly loved about him, even if he wasn’t sure what.
He still didn’t want to spoil the magic, but Eddie figured things couldn’t get much weirder. He wanted to be open with Richie and tell him how he felt, even if it could probably go unsaid. The words trickled out of his mouth, slightly slurred - he was too afraid to say it clearly: “I love you, Richie.”
Richie thought he could feel all of his organs convulsing. He hadn’t expected this. Not what Eddie had said, but the fact that he said it. He’d been trying for so long to ignore the corner of his mind that had just jumped for joy, the suspicion that he and Eddie felt the same way but mutually pretended that neither of them knew it. But maybe now he could face it and get it over with. If Eddie had been able to admit it, there was no reason why he shouldn’t.
After a mildly awkward pause, Richie’s mind calmed down and he replied, “I love you too, Eddie.” He looked down at Eddie’s head on his shoulder and, praying that he wouldn’t regret it, placed a momentary kiss on his forehead. Eddie looked up at him with a soft grin.
Richie smiled back at him as their gazes met. Previously he’d lamented what a drearily bland day it was. Not anymore. Now he rather liked today.
Eddie did too. He was looking forward to more days like this.