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It all started (he thinks) when he first met Eddie.
Richie thought Eddie was pretty. Like the girls in his grade. He liked the way Eddie pouted when Richie took his crayons, when Eddie giggled when Richie made a funny face and all Richie could think was pretty, pretty, pretty.
He thought it was normal, thinking a boy was pretty. He heard Johnny talk about a pretty girl in their grade. Then again, he was just six, he didn’t know much.
But he wanted to understand.
To understand when the other boys whispered in their little groups, (“Like girls,” Richie added.) quietly talking about how some kid named David was a fag. He didn’t understand and was more confused when he asked his mom and she looked away nervously, saying it “wasn’t important” and pushed him into his room, telling him to play with his toys. He ended up shrugging it off though, running to his bed to his toy box.
It was until he was eleven when he really learned what a fag was. When a rude kid, who he didn’t know that well, pushed him against the wall of his bathroom, knocking the glasses off his face.
Fuck, he swore in his head, they better not be broken.
“Hey, you little faggot,” the kid spat, making Richie flinch, “tell your little fairy friends to stay the fuck away from-“
“Hey,” Richie looked over the kids shoulder seeing a teacher, “What do you think you’re doing? Get off him right now!”
Richie let out a relieved sigh when the kid moved off him, his eyes darting to the teacher back to Richie, “You’re safe,” he said, jabbing his finger into Richie’s chest, “For now.”
The bully walked off, knocking arms with the teacher.
“Get back to class,” the teacher said when he finally looked at Richie, rubbing his face.
Richie picked up his glasses, Bitch ass teacher, can’t even do anything, he thought as he walked out the boys bathroom, immediately seeing Eddie.
Eddie paused and then huffed, walking over to him in quick, small steps, “You absolute idiot! I saw that kid come out of the bathroom, you could’ve got killed,” Eddie yelled quietly before his eyes darted to Richie’s glasses and he added in a softer voice, “Did he hurt you?”
Richie put on a grin, “Nah, I’m fine,” Richie said, slapping Eddie’s arm, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Eds, just broke them by fucking your mom so —“
“Beep, beep fuckface!” Eddie yelled before storming off to his other class.
Richie smiled softly, and he didn’t understand why suddenly he was so hot and his heart was basically beating out his chest. Was it because of Eddie? No. No. Richie wasn’t a queer.
Right?
Richie still denied it, even when he was sixteen and realized he was never into his previous girlfriends, no matter how pretty or how good their kisses were. They just weren’t..
“Eddie!”
Richie hopped over to him, bumping shoulders and their fingers touched and Richie tried to ignore the way he desperately wanted to hold his hand, “quarry? The others are waiting.”
Eddie looked over at him, annoyance clear on his face.
Richie’s grin faltered for a second before it went back up, “What’s wrong, spaghetti?”
“First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all, I just had to jump out my window to get away from my mom.”
Richie stopped smiling and suddenly he was angry, “Fuck your mom. It’s horrible you have to sneak in and out of your own house,” Richie grabbed Eddie’s arm, “C’mon lets go meet up with the others.”
Eddie smiled slightly and followed after Richie, “I hope we haven’t been away for too long.”
“Nah, they can wait for us.”
-
It was until he was eighteen when he realized, hey, he might like dick.
He got out of Beverly’s car, hearing her protests when he slammed the door.
“You ass! Don’t slam the doors so hard,” he heard her yell, but he just flipped her off and walked over to the house. Eddie’s house.
It was his senior prom and he didn’t have a date. Didn’t want one. He just thought he and his friends were going together, no dates needed. (Besides Ben being with Bev, of course.)
He looked down at his clothes, it wasn’t a suit, but it was formal enough for him. He looked back up, knocking on the door.
He heard footsteps before the door opened and Eddie stood in the doorway, “Oh, hey Richie.”
“Eds,” Richie said and grinned, “we’re waiting for you. For prom.”
“What?”
“We’re going as a group?”
“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed, as if he didn’t know, “oh.”
“So,” Richie rocked back on his feet, “You comin’?”
“I — um have a.. date,” Eddie looked at Richie then awkwardly rubbed his arm.
“Oh, like — like a girl?”
“Yeah,” Eddie said and laughed a little, “of course it’s a girl. I’m not gay. ”
Richie put his lips in a thin line.
Eddie said the word like it was dirty. Disgusting. Like he couldn’t even stand to hear the word, let a long, say it.
“Right,” Richie said, stepping back, “have fun with your girlfriend.”
He turned away sharply, just to hear Eddie sputter about ‘she’s not my girlfriend!’
Richie was mad. Pissed. He wasn’t mad at Eddie being straight, or even having a girlfriend. He was just upset about him ditching. Yeah. That’s it.
But —
He wished that was what he was mad about.
He got to Bev’s car and knocked on the window and she rolled it down, about to speak before Richie blurted out, “I’m going home.”
“What?” Bev said and all five of the losers seemed to stare at him.
“I don’t wanna go, okay?” Richie said and turned away.
“Richie,” Bev leaned to grab his arm but he yanked it away, “Rich, baby, what’s wrong?”
He mumbled out a, “tired” before turning to walk away.
Needless to say, he didn’t go to prom.
He kicked off his shoes, letting them hit his desk and he changed out of his stupid formal shirt and stupid black jeans.
He got into more comfortable clothes and laid on his bed, huffing.
He didn’t want to be mad.
He just wanted to hang out with his friends and have fun without stupid girls (Besides Bev) ruining the fun.
He jolted up when he heard rocks hit his window.
He went over to the window to look down and see Eddie.
He slid it open, “Eddie? What — “
Eddie threw a rock at his face, “Shush. Let me in.”
Richie did so, making his way downstairs and let Eddie in.
Eddie sighed and made his way to Richie’s room, toeing off his shoes and he flopped down on his bed.
“So whats — “
“I’m gay.”
Richie stopped, closing the door behind him, “You’re what?”
“Im gay,” Eddie slapped his hands on his thighs, “Im gay and I’ve only gotten with that girl so it would be normal, so I would be normal. I - I didn’t want anyone to know because I knew it would be a whole thing and the nicknames would just get louder and louder and,” he looked up at Richie, “They’re true. Me being a fairy or a faggot. They’re true.”
Richie frowned, “Eddie,” he bent down in front of him, “Eddie, don’t you ever call yourself that. It doesn’t matter if your gay, straight, trans or whatever I love — we love you. Fuck, I think I’m gay myself.”
“Really?”
“I mean, yeah —“
Suddenly, his voice was muffled and he didn’t know what was happening, honestly. He closed his eyes when he realized lips were pressed against his, and he realized they were connected to Eddie.
He swore he passed out for a moment.
Before he could kiss back, Eddie leaned away.
“Oh- oh I’m sorry. I didn’t,” Eddie looked away, “I didn’t mean to. I mean I did, but I know just ‘cus you like guys too doesn’t mean-“
“Oh my god, shut up,” Richie groaned before leaning in again, feeling Eddie’s hands go up to cup his cheeks as their lips touched. And, fuck, Richie was in heaven.
All that was racing through his mind was Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. It was a constant loop. Looping through his head until it hurt to think.
They did have to pull away though, their lungs aching from the lack of oxygen.
“Fuck.”
Eddie laughed, pressing another quick kiss to Richie’s lips.
Richie grinned against the kiss and this was probably the best moment of his life.
“You wanna have prom here?”
“In my shitty bedroom.”
“It’s not that bad,” Eddie replied, “Well, actually.”
Richie groaned, “Don’t tell me how horrible my room is, I know.”
Eddie grinned and stood up, going over to the tiny radio Richie had and he turned it on, switching stations until a romantic-ish song came on.
“Ooh, Eddie spaghetti, is this a top 40s hit?”
“Shut up and dance with me.”
Richie nodded and stood closer to Eddie, lacing their fingers with on hand and putting the other on his waist. Eddie slid his up Richie’s arm, resting it on his shoulder.
They didn’t know what they were doing, awkwardly swinging side to side but Richie wouldn’t it any other way, especially when Eddie leans his head on Richie’s shoulder, humming the song faintly.