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~.~
"Like it changes who he is." Beverly snarled quietly, watching the boy being ostracised by his usual group.
Everybody else was quiet, watching while pretending not to stare. The cafeteria was full of whispering as the boy sat at one end of a long table, the people at the other side shuffling away like he was contagious. Richie couldn't define the feeling in his gut, watching the boy being ignored, being treated like something foul, and the gorgeous quiet fire that lit his friend's eyes as she spoke. A small flicker of pleasantness in a sea of awful. He loved her, he realised, for like the millionth time, he loved her hard.
"Should we ask him to sit with us?" Ben asked, his voice quiet and tentative.
Richie held his breath, listening to the quiet that fell between them all awkwardly, the implications, the knowledge of how that would go down with the whole school watching. He trembled, clenching his hands under the table. He worked his jaw but couldn't speak, staring down at his plate as the silence stretched. Nobody said anything for a while, and Richie thought, stupidly, for just a second, that he hated them all.
He didn't, and he felt guilty as soon as he thought it, his eyes burning.
"I th-think his n-n-name is Ch-charlie." Bill eventually answered, staring down at his own tray, his face twisted in something hard to read.
Hope leaked across Richie's chest. He couldn't help looking at the rest of them, all there but Mike; Stan beside him, biting his lip, Bev looking thoughtful, Ben shy and afraid, Bill awkward. He dared to look at Eddie, who was watching the boy - Charlie, as the latter hung his head and pushed his fork around his plate. He might be crying, Richie realised, and he hated the horrible feeling in his stomach as what he'd eaten of his lunch threatened to come back up.
"You know what Bowers will do to us," Eddie whispered under his breath, still watching the boy folded into himself, surrounded by space like he had a plague, "he'll kill us all. He's just as bad as his cousin."
"Tries to do that anyway." Richie didn't mean to say, looking away from his best friend as the shorter boy's words cut into his skin and twisted in his heart, "For being us."
Eddie looked up at him, biting his lip in the corner of Richie's eye, and Richie wondered what he could see when he met those doe-like brown eyes, hating that he loved them the way he did and at the same time feeling sorry he'd spoken so harshly. A light passed through them, and Eddie's expression shifted. He looked away, at Beverly, and Richie's heart lurched as the boy spoke again.
"Bev, d'you wanna…" one hand gave a weak, jerky movement, as though afraid it'd be seen.
Before Richie could say anything, Beverly's face had taken on the same, brave expression as Eddie's and she lifted her head.
"Charlie?" she called, the entire, huge cafeteria falling quiet as she did, the dark head rising fearfully, looking at them with a mix of fear and uncertainty, "We have a space."
They didn't, not really, but even as she said it Eddie shuffled closer to Richie, pushing him a little into Stan, to make a space next to Eddie at the edge of their bench. The moment hung, as Charlie glanced around, the entire room watching in stunned silence, but Beverly didn't back down. She smiled confidently, friendly, raising an eyebrow in question. Eddie's lips were a thin line, but his smile was quick when Charlie looked at him. Richie felt a confusing kind of heat in his chest at the two of them.
The boy gripped the edges of his tray, his face scarlet before he stood up and walked the distance to their table, passing people who hissed and whispered. Noise exploded back into the room but the Losers ignored it as Charlie slipped silently onto the bench.
It was a squish. But Eddie took up very little space and was incredibly adept at making himself smaller, and Richie didn't mind having him sealed right up against him, Stan along his other side, going as far as to throw his trapped arm over Eddie's shoulders to make just an inch or so more room. He'd always liked it, really, being crushed between his friends.
Eddie squirmed and muttered, but maybe he too knew it was a better option, because he didn't duck away.
They ate eventually, silence falling. But when Beverly caught Richie's eye across the table, a smile touching her lips, he couldn't help but mouth 'I love you' to her. Her grin was wide, her eyes gleaming brightly, and Richie felt it in his chest; the love she had for him. For them all. He was lucky to have her and he knew it.
It was Eddie who broke the silence, which would have surprised Richie as much as it surprised the others, if he didn't know why he himself was being quiet.
"Rich," he said quietly, almost nervous but familiar as he scowled and knocked him gently with an elbow, "if you flick sauce on my plate once more, I'm gonna hurl."
Richie wasn't doing it on purpose, but he chuckled anyway. The others were still quiet, only Bev hiding a smile, but he squeezed Eddie close to his side anyway and waved his fork precariously between their trays, watching the horror in the shorter boy's face.
"What, spaghetti sauce on Spaghetti so wrong?" he taunted, and Eddie groaned.
"Don't call me that! And it's not even spaghetti, it's, like, linguine or something."
Richie brayed a laugh as the spell seemed broken, the other Losers sniggering too as he turned bright, gleaming eyes on Eddie. The shorter boy coloured a little, realising what was coming as Richie's grin widened.
"Linguine?"
"Yeah." Eddie muttered, gaze darting to Stan for help, scowling when Richie snickered again, "It's like spaghetti but it's thicker, and-"
"You hearin' this, Bev? Linguine!"
Bev snorted, coughing as she choked on her own food, and Ben thumped her helpfully on the back, quicker than Bill.
"I know I'm hilarious," Richie grinned, "but try not to die from it."
Stan shoved him half-heartedly, aware there was little space, and Bill rolled his eyes, finally looking at the awkward stranger at their table.
"W-w-welcome to the l-l-loser's table." he sighed, offering a tight smile, "I-I'm Bill."
"Ben." Ben said, offering a hand across the table, as Bev smiled warmly.
"Hiya, Charlie."
"Hey Beverly."
Curious eyes flicked between them but Beverly only laughed.
"Here, it's Bev. That's what my friends call me."
Charlie coloured a little, shifting uncomfortably.
"That's Stan," Bev pointed, "Richie you'll know about, since he never shuts up, and Eddie."
Eddie raised a couple fingers in an awkward little wave while Richie grumbled about how his jokes were too good not to share, and Charlie's eyes darted between them all.
"I'm not, you know." he said, his face scrunching funny as if he was saying something distasteful.
Or trying not to.
"Not what?" Richie asked before he could help himself, something in him angry and wounded still, his words almost a challenge.
Charlie shrugged and looked down uncomfortably.
"You know. What they were saying."
The table was quiet for a beat.
"A fag." Richie supplied, feeling Eddie tense a little against his side and wondering if it was at the reminder of what trouble they'd just brought upon themselves, or simply the venom in his tone.
Beverly flicked a fry across the table at him, scowling when he looked at her.
"Richie! What the fuck?"
"What?"
"Don't say that." Eddie muttered.
Richie opened his mouth again, staring at Bev in confusion, but she only rolled her eyes and turned back to Charlie.
"We don't care." she said firmly, flashing Richie a look, "If you are, or not."
Nobody said anything in agreement, and the awkward air settled against Richie's skin. Beverly was staring at him, her eyes hard and fiery, and his throat was restricting. He knew she knew, she thought it, at the very least. She'd never said it out loud and he'd never denied it. But he could tell, the way she looked at him sometimes, when the topic came up around them in school. She knew.
But having her look at him while she said those words… it felt too real. His heart thumping hard in his chest, he dropped his fork on his tray and wriggled himself out from between Stan and Eddie.
"Rich-"
"I'm uh, I'm gonna- bathroom." he blurted lamely, hurrying away without another look at the seven surprised faces looking his way.
~.~
He drew his feet up onto the lid of the toilet when sound of the bathroom door opening came. Hopefully, it was someone who'd come in, do their business and leave, fast, so that Richie could get back to not feeling like his skin was crawling off.
He stayed as quiet as possible, aware that the locked stall door probably gave him away, but the silence stretched for several long moments with no indication the new occupant was even there. Richie knew he was, in that strange way you can sense someone is in a room, silent and unmoving.
Fear trickled over the space between his shoulder blades as it occurred to him they might be lying in wait. The silence dragged on, even as his breathing got harder to keep slow and quiet.
Peace. That was all he'd wanted, just a minute of peace to get himself back to equilibrium. Tos hove everything back down inside and lock it up.
"Rich?" the familiar voice startled him, though maybe he should have expected it, "I know you're there."
"No, you don't." he retorted, when it was obvious he wasn't to be left alone, "I could be Bowers, taking a giant dump before I beat the shit out-"
"Beep Beep."
Richie winced, glad it couldn't be seen how his eyes sprung with a new sting. He let the silence stretch again, uncertain he could hold his voice totally steady just yet.
"Richie, come on." Eddie's impatient voice cut through the air again, "I don't want to spend all lunchtime in the fucking toilets."
"Then go away."
Okay, shit, that had definitely wobbled.
"Rich," yeah, Eddie's voice had lost its bite a little, and Richie closed his eyes against it, "come out."
"No."
Eddie heaved a sigh, his feet moving quietly across the gross linoleum flooring towards the sinks, where he started washing his hands. Richie listened to him, the gurgled rinsing of the water, the seconds ticking by as Eddie washed for the longest time, the rattle of the hand towel dispenser, the papery scrape as it was scrubbed over skin, again and again, the turning of the tap with the clump of paper towel before the soft whumf of it being tossed in the trash.
It was stupid, but it was… whatever. The itching in his skin receded, and it was Richie's turn to sigh, to unfold his legs and unlock the stall door, to face the little spitfire who was staring impatiently at him.
"Well?"
"Well what? You want the deets on my dumps, now?"
Eddie's face screwed up predictably, disgust writ large in his eyes as he waved one hand at the taller boy.
"Fuck off, asshole, you're fucking gross."
Richie merely gave him a grin and leaned back against the sinks, hands shoved in his pockets just to irk him. He watched as Eddie's gaze darted uneasily to the stall he'd vacated, the lid still down, the water still… still. The indecisive anxiety in his eyes did what it always had, Richie's grin growing wide, the urge to push burning up under his skin.
"What d'ya want, Spaghetti?" he taunted, adjusting his glasses, watching Eddie's gaze flicker to the movement, the suppressed disgust, as the smaller boy worked through whether he thought Richie's hands needed washing, "Something on your mind?"
"What's it to you, asshole?"
Richie laughed, palms up in the air between them, grinning brighter when Eddie inched just a little further out of reach.
"You're the one following me into the bathroom, Kaspbrak. You've skipped the line of ladies waiting out there for their turn with the Tozier-"
"Beep beep, dickwad."
Richie rolled his eyes and folded his arms tight against his chest before he felt safe laying his gaze on his best friend once more.
"Seriously dude, can't a guy get a minute to shit without-"
"You weren't… in there." Eddie waved an impatient hand, "You were hiding."
Richie rolled his eyes dismissively.
"Yeah, sure, this is my genius hiding spot. Grow up, E-"
"Because of Charlie."
Richie felt his blood flow cold. For a moment his mouth wouldn't respond, his jaw locked uselessly halfway through a word, his hand limp in the air between them. A moment of silent, frozen terror.
Before flooding, raging panic, hot and burning through his nerves as he managed to meet Eddie's eyes.
Brown and ambered, they glared up at him so familiarly, so- so- Shit, he might hurl, he needed out, he need out of this fucking situation right this fucking minute.
"What's your problem, Rich? Don't you think Bowers is enough of a dickhead? You gotta help?"
"What?" he blinked incoherently, belatedly realising that Eddie was kind of pissed.
"Bev called him over so he'd know he wasn't the only Loser in this fucking town, and you-"
"He's not a Loser." Richie surprised them both again with the venom in his tone, the defensive growl of his words.
Eddie blinked at him when he didn't back off, brown eyes wide when Richie decided to commit.
"He's not one of us, and Bev should have left him the fuck alone."
Eddie blinked up at him and took a step back with something else, something awful in his eyes, as Richie listened to his mouth run without his input.
"He's not. We're the Losers. He's just Bowers' latest flavour of the day, and we shouldn't be getting involved in it."
Eddie shook his head, a new colour of fire beginning to kindle in his face.
"You're a bastard, Richie."
"No," Richie snapped, "I'm not. Come on, Eddie! Do you really want this kid around? We don't know shit about him, but he's at our table, probably gathering every piece of information he can, ready to leak it all out to Derry to buy his way back in. You guys are idiots if you believe there'll ever be another one of us."
"Fuck you, Rich. What if we'd said that about Ben?"
Richie laughed darkly.
"That's not the same, and you know it! What happened with Ben was Bowers'-"
"And Bev? What about Bev?"
Richie glared at him.
"That's nowhere near close. Bev was-"
"And Mike?" Eddie's voice was hushed and weird, wounded but scary, but Richie wouldn't listen.
"Eds come off it, there's no-"
"Should we have left Mike? Bowers was there. We picked that fight-"
"No, Bowers pick-"
"We picked that fight. For Mike. Why shouldn't we pick it for Charlie?"
"Because Charlie is nothing like Mike. He's nothing like us! He's just some kid that-"
"Mike was just some kid we didn't know! Ben was brand new! Bev's-"
"That's not the same, Eddie, and you know it." Richie growled low and threateningly, taking a step towards him, "This is different. This is taking in a fag in front of the whole fucking school-"
"Fuck you, Richie! Stop that!"
"No," the curly-haired boy snarled, "I won't, because this kid is going to bring Bowers down on all of us."
"He needs friends just like any of us did-"
"Don't compare him to us! He's nothing like us!"
Eddie shoved Richie hard, pushing space between them, suddenly returning Richie's aggression ten-fold.
"Fuck off! How is he any different from Ben or Mike or Bev or-"
"Because he's a fag! God, Eddie, do you even hear yourself?"
"I don't care." Eddie said, suddenly quiet, his gaze falling away to the floor. "Maybe I just don't care, Rich."
A long, horrible, shuddering fear tore through Richie, his eyes stinging, his lungs choked with adrenaline and denial, and it all just… snapped.
"A fag? You don't care he's a fag?" he shoved the shorter boy back, kept shoving, "What happens when Bowers says we're fags too? What about when he calls Stan a fag, when he's by himself after Maths?" he advanced another step, "What about Bev? You think he won't chase her after her Painting class for hanging out with fags? Or Bill, on his way to Track?"
He took a heaving breath to run his hands through his hair, the knife edge of panic wavering in his voice.
"Shit, Eddie! This kid is putting them all in the firing line! What about when he calls you a fag and gets you on the way home, huh? What about your mom? We're asking for him to pay us attention!"
"I wish you wouldn't say that!" Eddie snapped at him, his face red and his eyes flashing with a light that Richie recognised as dangerous to his health.
But Richie was gone from self-preservation, because it didn't stop him from running his mouth, his voice loud and clear and right in Eddie's face as if it could solve anything, as if saying it enough times would stop it hurting, deep in his chest.
He wasn't expecting Eddie to hit him.
He definitely wasn't expecting Eddie to hit him hard, not like he did. Eddie's knuckles connected with Richie's face so solidly that it cracked Richie's head all the way to one side and sent him careening into the door of the stall. He went down hard, his shoulder driven painfully into the lip of the toilet bowl and blooming a hot pain all down his arm.
It hurt like a bitch. But he hadn't expected it, couldn't even process it fast enough to cry out because his breath stuck in his throat as he scraped his hands on the floor, his head knocking into the wall. He blinked up at Eddie in a swampy kind of surprise, realising that one half of his vision was blurry. Oh, nope, make that all his vision. God, why could he taste pennies?
The figure that he knew was Eddie was standing at the stall door, and staring right back at him. For a couple seconds he couldn't do anything other than blink in surprise, his face feeling slack and uncooperative when he tried to swallow. His shoulder throbbed with a low heat that made his fingers feel numb, and his face was stinging sharp and dull at the same time.
"You hit me."
Was that his voice? Thin and reedy with surprise? There it came again, oh, it was his voice. Why was it his voice?
Eddie had hit him? Eddie had hit him. What the fuck. Eddie had- Eddie was crying. Richie couldn't see him properly, and maybe the sound was being filtered through the raging river that thumped past his ears like a heartbeat - oh that was his heartbeat, and fuck his breathing was all rapid like he'd been running and- Eddie was crying. Richie knew that sound, he didn't need to see the shoulders of the blurred person shaking to tell him that's what he was hearing.
"I'm sorry!"
Eddie's voice jumped and bent too, cracked like a whip through the empty air of the boy's bathroom. Richie felt himself staring but he was stuck like that, struggling to take back control of his own body instead of sitting there on the floor just gaping at Eddie like a fucking fish out of water.
Eddie stepped forwards and then hesitated, and Richie didn't need his glasses to know the look on Eddie's face. Bizarrely, it was that more than anything else that kicked his brain back into gear.
"You hit me." he repeated lamely, and Eddie just sobbed and shook his head weakly, his catching breath tripping and tumbling much more rapidly than Richie's was.
Richie wriggled awkwardly to the side to escape the hug of the toilet and the wall, and Eddie backed up to let him out.
"You hit me."
"I'm sorry, I swear, I didn- didn- didn-" his sentence broke off with a choked hiccup, and Richie felt his stomach turn for a whole other reason.
Panic attack, that's what was happening, shit, and he didn't have the spare inhaler with him, or his glasses, shit shit shit. He stumbled when he got to his feet, but he leaned on the wall against the wobble and reached out a hand to his friend. Eddie flinched but didn't move far enough away, and Richie curled one hand around the shorter boy's shoulder and squeezed it hard as he could, fingers digging into his shirt.
"Breathe, Eds. You gotta breathe, or it's gonna get worse."
Eddie shook his head again, but up this close Richie could make out the features of his face, the wet shine of tears and the way his brow twisted and his skin reddened, and he hated it. He tucked his other hand over Eddie's other shoulder and squeezed them both at the same time.
"Cummon, take a real breath. You do it all day. You can do it now."
Eddie shook his head again, but this time it was weaker. More a reflex than a belief. Richie kept talking, mumbling the words real quiet and calm like he knew helped. Eddie struggled, he often did without the inhaler to help, but all Richie could do was keep his voice calm and soothing like Eddie had told him helped, and pray that nobody came in while they waited for his lungs to relax.
Eddie's hands wound around Richie's wrists to ground himself, and Richie felt the way his pulse fluttered under the skin at the touch. Not exactly the most romantic time for a skipping heartbeat, but he couldn't help it. When it was starting to calm down, Richie found himself a grin.
"Oh thank jesus, it'd suck to have you die."
Eddie's croaky words were wry and unamused, even while his face looked frightened.
"I wasn't going to die, moron."
Richie hummed, and squeezed one last time when Eddie let him go and tried to pull away.
"Not on the floor in the men's room, not Eddie Kaspbrak."
He caught the eye roll. But even better he caught the weak, accidental smile. That made the whole thing worth it. Oh right, the whole thing.
"You hit me." he said again, because apparently even with his extensive vocabulary that was all his brain wanted to say on the subject, and Eddie cringed away properly.
"I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to, it just… It just happened."
While Richie blinked at him Eddie shrugged and shifted, before ducking down near their feet. When he came back up he turned to the sinks and ran the water. Richie watched him stupidly, confused and preoccupied as he ran the whole argument through his head again to pinpoint exactly what had done it, and before he knew it Eddie was pressing familiar plastic onto his face. He grinned as Eddie came into glorious sharp focus, and let his gaze roam. He didn't often get to have him this close without them bickering, so you bet your ass he was gonna take advantage of that chance.
Eddie looked sheepish and apologetic, stepping back to wring his hands together and then reach for white tissue from the dispenser on the wall. He gave Richie a strange, uncertain glance before it disappeared from his eyes, and he scrunched the bundle of tissue up and stepped back up into Richie's space, pressing it gently to his face. His freckles were visible even under the red of his flushed cheeks and he was biting his bottom lip, and Richie was entirely too distracted by the sight. Despite the red rimming Eddie's eyes and the tears pooling in the corners, the rich brown of his irises was warm and inviting, and Richie had to catch himself before he swayed any closer, their faces far too close together to explain away if they were walked in on right now.
"I'm really sorry, Rich." Eddie said miserably when Richie only blinked at him.
"For what?"
Eddie looked at him like he was crazy. Oh, right. That.
"Oh. S'alright."
Eddie frowned at him, his eyes watering further despite how he gathered the argument around him like Richie had watched him do a million times, ready to unleash it. Richie forced a grin back on his face even though it hurt his cheek.
"Seriously. Don't sweat it."
Eddie glared at him for several long seconds before deflating, and Richie thought maybe Eddie looking pitiful wasn't actually a better option, even if it was really fucking cute the way he nibbled his bottom lip. God, what a freak was he, wanting to kiss the guy five minutes after he'd punched him? Stupid fucking crushes, man.
"Richie this looks really bad." Eddie whispered.
His eyes met Richie's worriedly, his flush starting to pale. The taste of pennies was thick in Richie's mouth and he knew now it was his nose bleeding. It probably wasn't really as bad as Eddie worried it was, but seeing his best friend look worried always made Richie's confidence fade too. So he did what he did best. He winked, and waggled his eyebrows even though it hurt.
"Because you swing a helluva right hook, probably."
Eddie scowled, torn between angry and sorry, and Richie felt bad for toying with him. It was clear Eddie felt wretched about it. He'd never hit Richie like this, not properly. Honestly, Richie would have expected the fallout to be way worse, and probably for it to have come way earlier. Hell, all the years they'd been friends, Eddie had never hurt him this bad. It was kind of incredible. All because he'd… Actually, hang on.
"Wait."
"What?" Eddie hissed instantly, drawing the tissue away, eyes darting fearfully.
"No, not that, the- Why? Why'd you hit me?"
If possible, Eddie seemed to shrink even further into himself. His face was paling more rapidly, and suddenly he couldn't meet Richie's eye anymore. Curiosity sparked all the way along Richie's veins. Intriguing. Eddie shrugged weakly, turning his full attention to the bloody nose he was dabbing so expertly, and so carefully. His avoidance was even more interesting.
"Eds?"
"Don't call me that."
The retort was weak at best. Something was definitely up, if Eddie punching him in the face hadn't been a neon fucking sign that something was wrong. Richie took a chance, reaching up to take hold of the hand near his face, sliding his thumb into Eddie's palm, fingers closing around Eddie's warm skin. Eddie froze, indecision on his face. Richie held firm, waiting. Forcing Eddie to choose between drawing away and avoiding the topic, and taking care of his nose. A shitty move, maybe. But hey, Eddie punched him. He was allowed to make shitty moves.
"Rich, don't." Eddie pleaded softly.
"Come on, Eddie. Something's definitely up. I can see it."
Eddie looked away, and that time he really did draw his hand away, scrunching the bloody tissue into a tight ball without looking up. Richie looked at the disarray of Eddie's normally perfect, wavy hair, the sign of Eddie's fingers clutching it when he was arguing with him. The fluorescent light on the ceiling wasn't a patch on real sunlight, but it still slipped and danced clumsily across the crown of Eddie's head in a way that made his hair look both darker and brighter at the same time.
"Eds." he said again.
Eddie turned away and put the ball of tissue in the open trashcan and walked towards the door with slow, deliberate steps.
"You probably don't need to see the nurse." he murmured with his hand on the door handle, his face still turned fully away from Richie.
"Eds." his voice had taken on a faint edge of pleading.
Eddie tensed, the muscles in his shoulders tightening up towards his ears. Richie wished he'd turn around. Suspicion was winding around his stomach without source, something was up and he had no idea what but it was bad enough that Eddie wouldn't share it with him, so it was important. Important enough that Richie wanted to know. To make sure Eddie was okay.
"Keep tissue against it." Eddie recited softly, before he opened the door and slipped through, leaving Richie to stare at the closed door in confused upset.
~.~
"Christ, Richie!" Bev yelped when he returned to their table to find them all still there.
Well, all but one.
"Wh-what happened t-to your f-f-f-face?"
Richie waved a hand weakly, wincing when it burned his shoulder. Their trays still sat unfinished, but Eddie was nowhere to be seen. They stared at him in mixed horror, but he didn't have time to address that. Later, once he'd sussed out what was wrong with his friend.
"You guys seen Eddie?"
Ben's gaze flickered between them all with a dawning kind of concern.
"We thought he went after you."
Richie nodded, mind already flicking through the list of places Eddie might disappear to. His locker? The bleachers? The Library, maybe. His next class. The music room Richie sometimes played his guitar in, maybe. He brushed off Bev's hand when she took hold of his arm.
"Rich? What the fuck happened?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah. He found me. But then he ran off. I gotta go."
"Rich!"
"Richie?"
He ignored them, heading back out of the cafeteria and towards the main hall. At the big left turn towards the staircase for the library, he paused. And then, on a whim, he turned towards the huge double doors of the main entrance, stepping out into the sunshine and squinting towards the flattened area of asphalt.
By the time Richie reached his truck, there was no doubt to be had that the figure sitting with their knees tucked right under their chin and their face buried in their arms was anyone but Eddie. Richie didn't say anything at first, even when he got close enough that Eddie must have heard his feet by now. He just climbed right up onto the hood beside him, shuffling till his butt rested against the windshield and his hip pressed into Eddie's. He looped his arm past Eddie's back to lean his weight on his palms. And then, he tipped his head up towards the sky and closed his eyes to let the heat of it sink lazily into his skin.
It wouldn't be long until the true summer heat was upon them, and Richie couldn't wait. Even when it was scorching hot and mid-July, and they were hiding in the Clubhouse they had almost outgrown, he still wouldn't mind it. Because soon it'd be summer and school would be over and he'd have Eddie and the others by his side for every hour they could squeeze out of the day, and it'd be worth the whole year they'd spent in this shitty school in this shitty town.
Richie, despite his near-constant burning itch to fill each and every second of silence with words and laughter, was inhumanly good at keeping his mouth shut when it came to Eddie needing time. Richie sat for what might have been hours but was barely ten minutes, soaking up the sunlight and pretending not to notice the way the tension gripping Eddie seemed to unwind second by second, the pressure between them increasing until Eddie's whole side was leaning subtly into Richie in a way that anybody passing by might miss.
"My nose stopped bleeding." he said eventually, keeping his voice light and conversational, and Eddie's head finally dropped back against the glass with a groan.
"I'm so fucking sorry, Richie."
"I know."
They sat a moment longer in the uncomfortable silence before Richie tipped his head to look at him. Eddie looked wrecked, his eyes puffy from crying, his face blotchy. His eyes were anguished, in a way Richie rarely saw these days. He pressed his shoulder a little further into the shorter boy's, but Eddie wouldn't meet his eye.
"What was that about?"
Eddie slumped, arms crossing over himself self-consciously. Another moment passed where Richie thought maybe Eddie wouldn't tell him. He was starting to think maybe Eddie would actually keep his tongue bitten this time, and that made him feel sicker than the low throb in his shoulder or the unsettled feeling from the lunch table.
"I hate that word." Eddie muttered eventually, his eyes downcast while he picked at his nails.
Richie really wished they were somewhere safe like his room or the Clubhouse, so he could reach out and squeeze Eddie's fingers to make sure he knew he was there for him. He didn't need to ask what word. Probably the word he'd been rolling around in his mouth like a poison when Eddie punched him.
But he was Richie Tozier.
"Fag?"
Eddie gave a full-body flinch, and Richie instantly regretted opening his mouth as his best friend's walls all rose from resigned to closed off in the blink of an eye. Why did Eddie hate that word? Sure, Bowers had screamed it after them enough times that anyone would hate it, but Eddie was pissed with Richie. For real pissed, and that practically never happened. So was that it?
Did… Did Eddie really hate guys like him that much?
Was there no hope for their friendship if he got found out? He swallowed the taste of bile as a cold tremor wracked him.
"Fuck off, Rich."
"Okay, okay." he bit out, hands up in truce when Eddie leaned forward as though to leave, "I'm sorry, shit, Eds. What the fuck is it?"
Eddie stared off across the parking lot as if he was contemplating leaving, his expression hard and unreadable. Richie was finding it difficult not to say anything else in case he fucked it up, but shit, it was tempting.
"I just don't like it."
Richie watched him, but Eddie was better now at hiding his expression than he ever was when they were younger. And he'd been good then, too. Something thrummed under Richie's skin, something kind of powerful, something kind of scary. Push, it said. So Richie did. Quietly, like they were talking about secrets. Eddie wasn't to know that Richie really was.
"It's just a word, Eds."
Eddie scoffed, and it was a vile kind of sound. Nasty, angry. His brown doe eyes hardened further.
"It's never just a word, Richie."
"Okay. But… it's always been the same word."
Eddie turned his face further away, and Richie could feel that he was losing him. With another wrong step, Eddie would shut down and the topic would be gone for good. There was rarely any coming back once Eddie Kaspbrak had made a decision. He chewed the inside of his cheek and thought about it properly before he said anything else. This felt important. This… this could change things, and he didn't stop to wonder if it'd be for the good. Stopping to think would make it worse. Apparently, he thought about it too long, because Eddie sighed and leaned back against the glass again, dragging his feet up flat on the hood of the truck.
Richie was struck by how much he liked the image, even if Eddie was mad at him, of his best friend on the hood of his truck, sneakers flat on the old metal, shoulders resting on the windshield. Eddie was always gorgeous, in Richie's opinion. But right then was something kind of sweet, something kind of right. That it was Richie's truck, that he was there with him when something was so clearly bothering him. His heart tugged deep in his ribcage, to have Eddie with him even when it meant he could see things Eddie didn't want anyone to see.
He took a guess.
"Bowers? What did he do?"
Eddie shrugged, looking down at his feet again. Richie sighed.
"Anything I can do?"
Eddie finally looked at him, to shoot him a glare. There was little heat in it, really. More a worried warning than anything real. But it was a start.
"Don't do anything. You know how that goes."
Richie shrugged that time, but when he leaned back he pressed their shoulders together again, and swallowed the relief when Eddie didn't move away.
"I would though." he pouted, not really arguing, "I should."
"No." Eddie complained gently, finally easing into the contact once more, "Why? It doesn't do any good."
Richie stayed quiet, or tried to. But after a moment he answered.
"Because it's you."
Eddie didn't argue that, but he didn't need to. He didn't need to say anything. They both knew what Richie meant, anyway. Another few, long moments stretched between them. Richie listened to the sound of the road outside the school boundary, listened to the birds in the trees even further away. He listened to the muffled sounds of the kids inside. Lunch would be over soon, their time up, and he wouldn't see Eddie again until the final bell had rung. He didn't want to go, childishly, tempted to skip if Eddie would join him. He wanted to stick right by Eddie until his friend felt better.
"I hate Derry." Eddie finally whispered mournfully.
Richie's heart panged at the sound and he tucked his arm back around him, tugging him close for just long enough to drop a kiss into his hair. Eddie didn't wriggle away like always, didn't grumble or growl or shove him, because this wasn't a game. This was important, even Richie could feel it when he drew a more respectable distance away, knew it as surely as he could smell Eddie's shampoo or taste the penny taste that was hanging around behind his teeth.
"I do too."
You should join the Club. he usually would say, We don't have jerseys but we do have a Clubhouse and a secret handshake. But Eddie knew that, and it didn't need to be said. The moment didn't need to be broken with a shitty joke, not this time. Eddie needed him.
"I won't use it anymore." he added, eventually.
From the way Eddie looked up at him gratefully, he knew there was no explanation needed. He still wanted to know, but if this was what Eddie needed then that's what he'd get. And he could take comfort in the fact that Eddie hated the word as much as Richie did. Maybe even more, by the looks of it. Richie burned to know why. But now wasn't the time.
Eddie's eyes were liquid when they flashed up to meet his, and it was worth crushing down his own curiosity to see the way Eddie's mouth curled into something soft. Something meaningful. Richie smiled back.
"Thanks, Rich." he mumbled, genuine and vulnerable, and Richie bit down hard on the familiar urge to throw out a joke so that he could avoid the tenderness.
"Anytime, Eds."
Eddie hugged him hard for just a second before he seemed to draw himself up, no longer looking so small. He shoved Richie's chest real deliberate and pulled a face.
"Not my fucking name."
He laughed with Richie when the taller boy brayed out an ugly cackle in surprise, and Richie knew it was going to be okay. They killed the rest of lunch just the two of them, right there on the hood of Richie's truck, and by the time the bell went Richie had all but forgotten the dull pain in his cheek because Eddie's eyes were bright and lovely and happy once more and that made everything better.
~.~