Lover| IT

So wrong but so right

E.K

I hate that I'm crying. I hate that I let Myra's yelling affect me. I hate that I don't stand up for myself. I hate that I can't escape from the likes of her and my mother.

To cut a long story short, Myra yelled at me for not checking up on her until 11pm. Then yelled at me when I proceeded to tell her I made some friends. It's like she doesn't want me to have friends. It's like she doesn't want me to be happy.

It's one in the morning and I'm just sat in my dorm room crying. This happens a lot. Myra and I have an argument and I end up in tears. I just hate feeling powerless. I beat up a demonic clown when I was 13 and I can't even run away from my mom and my girlfriend. I need to speak to someone. Anyone. Tell them about it. And there's only one person I want to talk to about it.

So, I leave my dorm and head to Richie's. I'm so glad we live in the same block. I don't even care that I'm in my pyjamas and walking around bare foot. I need to talk to Richie. I knock on the door and bite my nails, a bad habit I started doing after I started dating Myra.

"Huh?" Richie yawns as he opens the door. Then he sees me standing there and smiles. He's wearing his boxers and the same Hawaiian shirt as earlier. I'm guessing that's his usual pyjama attire." Eduardo! What can I do for you this fine morning?"

"Did I wake you?" I ask, suddenly feeling guilty.

"No no. I wasn't asleep. I don't fall asleep until like three." He replies.

"Makes sense for why you're late to your classes." I say and he chuckles and I get this warm feeling in my stomach. I ignore it and look at him. His glasses really are falling apart.

"What can I do for you?" He asks, letting me in. His room is a mess. There's clothes everywhere and empty pizza boxes and soda cans. But it's very Richie. I move a pair of his boxers off of his desk chair and sit down, trying to ignore the blush on my face. Richie sits down on his bed and picks up a pot noodle I guess he'd been eating before I arrived. I look at the TV, which is paused, and he's watching some comedy show.

"I needed to talk to someone about something and...I only really feel comfortable talking with you. It's like you said. We used to tell one another everything." I begin and Richie nods as he eats his food.

"What's up, Spagheds?" Richie asks and I sigh. I say I hate the nicknames but I secretly love them. I adore them actually. I never want him to stop calling me them. But I have to act like I hate them.

"It's about Myra." I begin and he stares at me. The look in his eye is sincere, like he really does want to listen to my feelings...and I almost cry. I've missed him. A lot." She's just like my mom."

"Hot." Richie jokes.

"For fucks sake, Richie!" I snap. He chuckles slightly at his own statement and then apologises. He tells me to continue so I do." She's so overbearing. We argue all the time. She makes me feel like shit and like i'm sick and I need to be cured. It hurts. It really does and I'm someone who fought a demon clown at thirteen. Yet, I'm so scared to run away from my mom and my girlfriend. Scared to cut all ties because I don't wanna be alone."

"Yeah. I get that. I'm sort of running from something too." He says and I glance at him. It's clear he doesn't wanna talk about it by the way he said it. I nod and sigh slightly." But, hey, you're the bravest guy I know...and you won't be alone. You have us. The losers club. Including Mikey, wherever he is. But, most importantly, Eds, you have me. I will never leave you, okay?"

"Thanks." I say and I'm so overwhelmed. Richie can be an asshole but he really knows how to make me feel better. The butterflies in my stomach return and, even if it's difficult, I ignore them.

"Is it okay to hug you?" Richie asks, looking at me nervously. I don't know why he's asking. He never used to ask when we were kids. I nod and he smiles, standing up and hugging me.

I start to cry into his embrace. It's gentle and welcoming. He smells like he used to, like a comic book store and cigarette smoke, with alcohol mixed in. That's new. I inhale a little, trying to get the familiarity around me. I don't want to break away. I just want to stay in this hug forever. I oddly feel loved in a way, even if Richie is straight and I'm straight too. I'm straight. But I can't help but love Richie. I love everything about him. From his stupid jokes, to the way he dresses, to the way he knows just how to comfort me.

"I got you, man." Richie says and I hug him tighter." If you ever want anything. Just knock. You know where I am."

"Thanks, Rich. Thank you." I sniff, trying to control my tears. I don't want to cry anymore but I can't help it. He's always been able to say the right thing to calm me down. He's always been able to comfort me.

Richie holds me for a while, seeming to also want some familiarity around him. I like it. The butterflies haven't gone away though. I don't know why I feel that way about Richie again. That started back in sophomore year. I'd always get butterflies when I was with Richie. It's odd. I feel like my fifteen year old self again.

"Hey, do you wanna listen to some music?" Richie asks, pulling away from the hug slightly but keeping his arms around me.

"It's almost two in the morning." I state and he just shrugs. So he's the guy that's been playing music at the early hours of the morning.

Much to my dismay, he lets go of me and walks over to his record player, picking up a vinyl and putting it on. It's Raining Men by The Weather Girls begins to play and I blush. So, we listen to the same music. I've always known that but it's still shocking we both listen to this. It's 1996 and we're both still listening to shit we listened to in '89.

"Care to dance, Eduardo?" He asks. I roll my eyes but suddenly I'm dancing. I'm dancing with Richie Tozier in his messy dormitory, both of us in our pyjamas...and he keeps looking at my lips. I suddenly want to kiss him. Want to
hold him. Want to be with him.

Stop, Eddie. Stop it. You aren't attracted to Richie fucking Tozier. That's gross. Stop thinking like that! Stop it, dipshit. I hate these thoughts and I hate these feelings. They seem so wrong but feel so right. I love at Richie and he smiles, a loving look in his eyes, sparking the butterflies back into my stomach. I smile back. I'm so glad I decided to visit him.